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I was born in 1968 in the town of Polotsk (Belarus). As I remember, I always liked drawing. With pencils. I grew up in an ordinary, poor working-class family, and I could not even think of learning painting. After army service, I settled down to married life and had my first child. I kept working at an ordinary factory until some genuine oil paints from St. Petersburg were brought to our provincial town. It was in early nineties, the times of total shortages. I had not even seen such paints before. The same evening I painted my first oil landscape on the dinner plate, as I remember. A haystack. And I liked it terribly.


My first landscapes were like windows into some wonderful, colorful world, radically different from the rigors of everyday provincial industrial city of the 1990,s. I found an occupation that just elated me. Every day I looked forward to evenings, weekends, so that I could to take up my paints, feel their smell, a small miracle to happen again - a picture. A bit crooked, ugly, but dearly loved. At that time I was stunned and inspired by this feeling - the feeling of freedom and creativity.


 On this wave of inspiration for several years, I was like a sponge, absorbing knowledge about painting, its techniques, composition, history of art from all available sources: books, transmissions, reproductions, communication with artists. I painted and studied every day. I rummaged all libraries. I could examine albums of Korovin, Serov, Repin all thought the night and reading, reading, reading. And all these years I have been struck by the huge dissonance between ability to feel and  ability to render it. Why can I see and understand all the finest beauty of Russian nature, these exquisite modest semitones of "birch calico" but cannot express it in paints. Why could Levitan do it, and I cannot? But it did lose heart. I always knew it was only resistance of the material to the will of the young artist. Resistance of paint, colors, shapes, resistance of stereotypes of vision. And sooner or later it can be overcome. I realized that most great artists were not just born to be the great painter. They learned somewhere, someone gave them knowledge about color, composition, perspective. The sum of all this knowledge enriched by experience, and one’s own taste, makes an artist. I understood that painting, for most part was handicraft - a set of knowledge and its application. Besides, of course, love for this occupation, love for what you want to portray.

 I just want to congratulate an emerging artist that he found himself. There are lots of happy days and nights in store for him since actual painting process itself is  great pleasure. Art can change one’s life completely and truly make a person free. Primarily it will teach you to understand yourself, to think. It will open your eyes even more on this beautiful world.

буйко buiko художник олег ись маслом москва

буйко buiko художник олег
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