How I first heard about Kateryna Bilokur

Mykola Mudry is an extraordinary painter. He combines both words and colors in his creative works. He has a number of books under his belt whose texts (both prose and poetry) and self-made illustrations. His paintings are clear for everybody: picturesque landscapes, moving portraits (especially the ones of his beloved wife Liudmyla) and sketches. The philosophy and creative manner of this extraordinary painter are beyond everything called now the “topical art,” beyond its means and meanings. However, the creativity embodied by Mudry takes us back to something close and eternal.

Mudry has dedicated one of his brochures and several canvases to Kateryna Bilokur. He recalls how he first heard about the painter in the 1950s. We found this short story notable enough for the Ukrainian 20th century.

“In 1955, I came back from the army. I resumed my work at the plant and my studies in the evening school and a couple of days later I went to the Shevchenko Museum to see his skillful drawings as I was preparing to enter the institute. I visited all the halls and stopped at the exit to see Kobzars printed in several languages. I was looking at the books and didn’t notice a man wearing a dark-blue suit who approached coughing and bowing. Suddenly, he turned around and made a step or two towards a man approaching him with short yet quick steps.

“How is she?” – I heard and recognized Pavlo Tychyna’s voice heard on the radio many times.

They were talking about Kateryna Bilokur. Later I learnt from the books about the person who had approached Tychyna with short steps then. It was the director of the museum of decorative and applied arts. I heard his quiet reply: “She’s ill in the bed, in a sheepskin coat, covered with sackcloth and several shawls. It’s cold in her house, there’s nothing to fire the furnace with. I went to the head of the village council; there was her cousin there, a communist by the way. She couldn’t provide a straw since the council had resolved not to give it to those who underworked at the beetroot field! I went to the head of the kolkhoz and he promised to give some firewood and didn’t take the money as he was afraid.”

“Did you give her the canvases, brushes and paints?”

“She paints with her own brushes; I just put them on the bench. She didn’t want to take any money, so I secretly put it under a cup.”

“So you just left?”

“But what could I have done?”

“Pavlo Tychyna bowed and started coughing more often. His arms hung loose, he put his hands into the pockets, took the handkerchief and wiped his nose, lips and forehead. He shifted from one foot to another. He probably wanted to help Kateryna Bilokur this way. I heard this name at the end of their conversation…”

Mykola Mudry writes: “I bow my head in front of Kateryna Bilokur’s Ukrainian genius that didn’t ask people for a piece of bread but asked them just to be humans!”