Emotional Extremism In The Cultural Continuum
By Victor Forbes
When Mikhail Gorbachev became General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in March 1985, he launched his nation on a dramatic new course. His dual program of “perestroika” (“restructuring”) and “glasnost” (“openness”) introduced profound changes and set the stage for the 1991 breakdown of the Soviet Union.
"Pomegranate Power" by Ara Barbaryan
The portrayal of pain more than resonates in the art of Berberyan — it is exalted, made beautiful yet ultimately conquered. “...Over and done,” the song goes, “But the heartache lives on inside.”
For many years it had to, but in the stunning collapse of the USSR a legion of gifted artists emerged from behind the Iron Curtain finally liberated from the formless and all-too- real shackles of life-threatening oppression. These artists with paintings and stories full of power and truth emerged on the New York City art scene in 1985 via the prowess of a Jewish emigre, Eduard Nakhamkin, who was hosting us in his very spacious Soho Gallery where we were introduced to Oleg Tselkov, the artist and the man. It was an unforgettable interview, translated by M. Nakhamkin, and available in full online. In short, the artist related his story of how he arrived in New York, via Paris. After years of seeking to get out of Russia, he and his family were approved for a visa with one caveat: his paintings had to stay. He told the KGB he would burn them in Red Square before that would happen. They let him go and he rapidly became one of the big three —the Triumvirate — of the first wave of Russian artists to hit big in the art area. Mikhail Chemiakin and Ernest Neizvestny being the other two.
Asking Berberyan if he would mind a comparison to the aforementioned Tselkov, whose faces could be those of the immediate ancestors of his subjects, “No,” he remarked seeming to appreciate the comparison. It’s a good starting point for taking a deeper look at Berberyan’s work in the context of modern art history. He is in the right lineage with the primary difference that Tselkov’s faces are in the grey area between shadow and reality, as menacing as they are fearful. Not quite there, but very there. Berberyan appreciated the comparison and the fact that he is linking the chain of the cultural continuum for a new generation of art collectors is not lost. His faces are literally in your face! The heartache lives on, but not necessarily inside any longer.
"Fear" by Ara Berberyan
“They represent,” notes gallerist and Berberyan’s publisher Elliot Blinder, “the extreme of emotions that are familiar to us these days, as we try to navigate through trying times and modern challenges in a world that is often confusing and unfair.”
In his striking portraits of figures real and imagined, Berberyan reveals the development of his own evolution. The colors — so beautiful and strong — reflect, the artists states, “The beautiful colors in my country, Armenia where nature is very alluring.” Berberyan manages to capture this vibrancy with his oils and acrylics almost as if he is creating the art with pigments he distilled himself, from the very soil of his homeland. His connection to the depth and vibrancy of the shades, hues and casts in his portraits comes from the way he feels. “To express emotions, to get contrast and excitement in the painting.”
Continues Blinder, “Berberyan is here to remind us of our human shortcomings. Yet, we can all look at these faces and say, ‘That’s not me.’”
The resultant imagery is certainly unique to this artist. His faces are not simply portraits but landscapes of the soul. That is why they are so deep and diverse. As a colorist and portraitist, getting the colors he wants is just a vehicle in the sociological and dare we say political resultant works of art. “To be truthful, the Communists did not look like this,” says Berberyan. “But, if you could peer inside their souls, “these kinds of feelings would be revealed over and over again.”
"I'm Not Going in There Again" by Ara BarBaryan
Berberyan knows this from first-hand experience. His fears and frustrations are quite evident, even dating back to his
childhood. He knows all too well about atrocity and man’s inhumanity to man. His grandmother was a survivor of the genocide of 1915. “She was seven or eight years old when it happened and told me a lot about it. It’s a very emotional, very tough topic. I am preparing to do a large painting on that subject. It’s a very deep thing and I don’t want to rush it,” he declares. “It is a very important painting on an extremely serious theme and subject, very emotional and very deep, as I said, for every Armenian. Even from the relative safety of the USA, the planet sometimes seems like it is coming apart.”
As a university student, Berberyan studied a lot of anatomy. He “absolutely loves to paint listening to classical music and B.B. King.” His love of jazz is reflected in his improvisational renditions of human features. Like a Coltrane or Charlie Parker, you have to know all the scales before you can tear them apart and reconstruct them with authority.
Like Tselkov, Berberyan is a reflection in dichotomy. Gentle and quiet, both are heroes by necessity. While Tselkov’s canvases take men, women and children who look like cave-dwelling brutes out of the dark to be bathed in light, Berberyan’s characters are showcased with background colors that give more ideas to the point that the face expresses. “More deeper,” he says. “than just something to lighten up the day. There is a certain state of mind, what people feel in a certain moment, a certain time as we all do.”
From a repressed place, both artists via real art — reality — tell us human beings carry some wild feelings and emotions inside. “He sees something deeper and more than we can see,” said Nakhamkin of Tselkov. “As in his families. They are wild and cruel- looking people, yet all of a sudden, someone is shining light on them.” Berberyan’s hope is that “Everything is going to be OK with mankind, everybody will understand that we have to respect each other and have peace, respect each other’s traditions.”
The study of anatomy, a love of painting and a deep emotionalism are the hallmarks of these two indisputably great artists who bring so much of themselves into each and every brush stroke. Our hope is that even these twisted Orwellian characters can find peace, love and happiness and emerge from the shadows of distrust and fear to inspire us all to be better people — cognizant of our shortcomings but ready for love.
“Hopefully,” concludes Berberyan, “It will get better.”
