My family
My roots
Every true artist, with his expressions, raises the transient and eternal problems that he carries on the path of his life.
And to the question, who am I? Where do I come from? Naturally, where I go, remains a constant question with endless answers, seeking the roots is one of the main ways to answer this almost profound question. By the will of fate, I was born in Yerevan, at 7 Firdus Street. My father, Shmavon Grigor Shahumyan, was from the historical dynasty of the Shahumyans (the family tree has been preserved since 1505). The Shahumyans were the princes of Alashkert, provinces of the Bagrevan and Mangasar, and in 1829 they migrated to Eastern Armenia. My father was a kind, self-contained, masculine and influential man. My mother, Heghine Khachatur Ghlechyan, was from the mason’s family, whose family also relocated in 1829 from Old Bayazet. She was small, kind and caring. My childhood memories are solved by combinations of light, image, feelings in all my paintings, even if I draw a landscape or an abstract idea. I still remember my baptism ceremony in Etchmiadzin when I was three or four years old. I was sealed after the end of World War II, waiting for two years for the return of my missing uncle Garnik. He never returned …
Yerevan yard
Our street was full of trees, with old houses, gardens and flower gardens in the backyards, near the Republic Square, formerly called after Lenin. That street still exists, but, unfortunately, without parks and small canals. Between the two opposite houses was our yard, in the center of a giant mulberry tree, the foliage of which covered the whole area like a canopy from the scorching summer sun.
There were unique people and families living on our street: natives, people from Constantinople (usually called Polsetsiner), Van (Vanetsiner) and Bayazet (Bayazetsiner), so called “Big Men” (Joj Aghas), scientists and workers, thieves and Chekists, pickpockets and civil servants, Turks, Russians, Kurds and mixed race … Neither the social, nor the educational, nor the national differences of this diversity ever prevented people from loving and caring for each other, as a family, and respecting women and children.
The person was more visible and complete. There was almost no traffic on our street, 2-3 cars passed by during the day and the whole street was a playground for boys and girls. We played football, “Esh militsa”, “Havala”, “Banga-Blav”, Seven stones, “Chlik Dasta” and other games. However, not many children had bicycles or skates.
And when I became five, my father bought for me a bicycle, which became a way for me to go out on the street to show my bicycle, and so little by little I got mixed up with the big and the small and, playing, fell and up, got into the whirlpool called life.
My father seldom was at home, often only on Saturdays and Sundays, so my mother took care for me and my older sisters – Victoria, Gohar, and all of our family. Being a wonderful housewife, only with my father’s work, she took good care of us. We were restrained and satisfied. Our relatives were often hosted in our house, and during conversations I sometimes heard the word VOICELESS from my mother, which referred to our family. I could not imagine how it was possible to close a person’s mouth so that it would not be possible to speak. I did not know at that age that my grandfather, Ter-Grigor Shahumyan, was a priest, was arrested and shot in 1937, the same year my father was also arrested as the son of a priest, and our family bore the brunt of the consequences of Stalin’s most were confiscated and inhabited by other people, leaving us with only one room. Despite all of this, people were still optimistic, happy that the war was over, that children would have the opportunity to be educated, that the future would be “bright” …
My adolescent years
My father was a bibliophile, and we had a good library that was still inaccessible to me. But there were two illustrated book in German, one on ancient Greek sculpture and the other on architecture, which fascinated me. I spent hours flipping through those books, trying to copy palaces and sculptures. In those years, there was a general interest in the exact sciences and arts in the USSR. We had great math and physics teachers at school, which made many of our students, including me, stand out in the Republican and All-Union Olympiads. That was the reason why in the seventh grade, when I wanted to study sculpture at the Terlemezyan College, the school administration resisted and, convincing my parents, kept me at school. My interests were various, so were my dreams. I was fascinated and attended aircraft modeling, chemistry, physics, sculpture clubs, I was involved in sports – boxing, bodybuilding. I was already in the tenth grade. The time has come for professional orientation. However, my knowledge may not have been enough to enter the Institute of Fine Arts and become a sculptor. I was advised to improve with a sculptor. We did not have an acquaintance sculptor, and the most famous name was Ara Sargsyan. I was lucky enough to study for two years in that great man’s studio. A new world opened up that gave me the opportunity to relate to real art. In addition to studying, I also participated in the development of Ara Sargsyan’s sketches, which was a great practical and cognitive school for me. It is a happiness to be next to a great artist and a great person as a teenager, to listen and learn. I identified myself with the students who grew up in the studios of the Renaissance masters. In 1962 I passed the exams and entered the Yerevan Institute of Fine Arts. On the contrary, in the same year, by the order of Moscow, the creative faculties of sculpture and painting were closed in the republics, and we, who were admitted, were recruited from both sculpture and painting courses for a new course in monumental-decorative art, where the main profession was painting.
Six months later, the sculpture department reopened and I was offered to transfer, but I was already fascinated by painting. There were eight students in our course, mostly graduates from Terlemezyan College. They were already accomplished artists, and in that environment, having great teachers, I was very interested and had a lot to learn. It was a real art boom. I was a sophomore when my dad died. His last message was this: “Your mother has suffered a lot, you will take good care of your mother …” His death was a great blow to our family. My mother did not work, my sister and I were students. I found a suitable job with the support of my relatives. I was shooting commercials for upcoming movies at the movie theater. These were 8-10 meter posters that I painted at night and did not interfere with the institute classes. That job relieved my sadness and and helped to meet my family and my financial needs.
Awakening and … arrest
It was the 24th of April, 1965, the 50th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide, which raised a wave of unrest in Armenia. The students were more active, as in all times, like the torchbearers and followers of tourchbearers.
The thousands of demonstration illegally organized by the intelligentsia and students were unprecedented in the Soviet reality.
It changed a lot in our consciousness, as well as in the consciousness of each Armenian, laying the foundation for the beginning of our people’s aspirations for freedom. The next day of the demonstration, on April 25, a liturgy in memory of the Genocide victims was served in Etchmiadzin. The authorities did not allow the people to participate in the liturgy in order to prevent further unrest. We, a few students, reached Etchmiadzin on foot through the parks. We were arrested right in the Cathedral. Being in the center of state security in the Soviet reality did not go unnoticed, and as a result of an organized provocation I was arrested on December 15, 1968. I already had a family at that time. I got married to Aytsemik Galstyan, whom I loved, and during our life together she gave me four children: Vahe, Davit, Ara and Heghine.
Open–Air University
The Union of Artists of Armenia was powerful and respected and still inaccessible to us, the youth. The union often screened documentaries and feature films, which were not available to the public, and organized discussions of art and current exhibitions, which later continued in the open-air café next to the union. A place that became a university for the formation of a new culture and its advocacy.
It was an intellectual center, a gathering place for people with merit and deep knowledge, many of us were voluntary listeners with our surprised, delighted and attentive faces. We sat in a wine and coffee smelled open-air cafe, often until late at night.
We had the opportunity to meet our great artists: Saryan, Kochar, Shiraz, Paruyr Sevak, Parajanov, Levon Nersisyan, Kostan Zaryan and others.
During such an evening, I met Sergey Parajanov, a unique person whose conversations were as interesting and instructive as his movies.
Parajanov started filming “The Color of Pomegranate” and invited me to Alaverdi, where the film was being shot. We went to Alaverdi with my older friend Onik Minasyan, who was a wonderful artist and one of the main actors in the film.
There were days with years of value and mystery that started a new friendship and left an indelible mark on my life. In 1969, after six months in detention, Parajanov invited me to a dinner party to celebrate my release.
He learned of my decisive and desperate decision to leave Armenia and gave the example of what had happened to him. It turned out that he was arrested on false charges and sentenced to about six years in prison. He then expressed his grievances and revenge with his best works and urged me to follow his example, an encouragement that has always been my companion in the most difficult moments of my life. Thanks to God, destiny has given me good friends and relatives with whom I have been inspired and given meaning in my life.
My first exposition in the exhibition hall of the Union of Artists took place in 1969, with a portrait of my grandmother “Tirukhni” (exhibition dedicated to the 100th anniversary of Hov. Tumanyan).
I was shown with the great M. Saryan, Yer. Kochar and other respectable masters. I do not hide the fact that I was overwhelmed with happiness and fear. Will I pass this exam with honor? After all, adults dictate the height you have to follow. The fall in values also suggests the absence of great artists, although this is part of the catastrophes of globalization today …
The guarantee of eternity
In the conditions of Soviet ideological restrictions, Armenia was a unique oasis of art, which, however, was associated with the tendences of art in the world. In the years I mentioned, you could already see works of different aesthetic directions in Yerevan exhibition halls. There was a great temptation for something new, unusual and fresh. However, taking the road of the unknown, unfruitful and unrevealing techniques could be the end for an artist. There is nothing in art that is unacceptable, as art and its approaches are a man’s visionary, imaginative and spiritual demands and they give reason as well as, value in the inner energy and spirituality of humankind.
Art is a mystery that is born with a human being and survives after a person, creating a unique communication between the past, present and future, meaning the eternity of life.
Any genre in fine arts – still life, landscape, portrait – should give as much impetus and feeling to think and feel as large-scale compositions, regardless of style or style.
Art is a cosmic infinity that takes on new forms and means of expression over time, in harmony with the requirements of human spiritual and intellectual development.
For millennia, the essence and concerns of man, emotions and dreams have remained the same, so no matter what form and style the artist is in, art carries those emotions and dreams, humanizes man … When the painter creates his unconsciousness and conscious mind is intertwined and in mutual retrospect. It is the spirit that gathers like a conductor, generalizes the material and the spiritual, gives vitality to the work, the spirit communicates and attracts mysteries, emotions, thoughts in an environment that always accompanies humanity. Many of the great masters have confessed that they only began to recognize and understand painting in adulthood … Perfection in art is an unattainable goal that guides you throughout your creative life. The identity, character, place and reputation of each nation are conditioned by the culture created by that nation, which is a message and a guide for future generations.
The individuality, appearance, status and place of a nation is dependent on its people’s creative culture, that belongs as well as give directions its future generations. By way of understanding and resurrection, our nation have for many decades with its most difficult times, even during without a statehood, have created and passed on to us universal values. My series “Narekatsi” (1995-2000) and “Kavaran” (1994-1995), “Armenia” (2012), “My Dream”, “Armenia – the Tree of Life of Mankind” (2011) and others were created with such thoughts and emphasis…
The other side of the curtain
Along with my creative work during the years of 1976 to 1989 I also held the position of Yerevan city’s principle painter. The work was tiresome and complex and took much of my time, but it also gave me an opportunity to meet other artists and more importantly be a part of the new changes that were in place in Yerevan. There is however another point worth mentioning, because of my arrest in 1968, this became a huge burden as it made my leaving the Soviet Union almost impossible and made my life quite difficult. I have dreamed of becoming a traveler since childhood … And that moment came: in 1976, at the Moscow All-Union Exhibition, I received attention and received an offer to go on a creative business trip to Yugoslavia.
I received a phone call in my office from the Committee for State Security of Armenia (the KGB).
He offered to meet with stressed politeness. I immediately realized that the problem was my arrest and the clarification of the circumstances of my trip to Yugoslavia. I was ready to give up, just not to remember those days, and I tried to avoid the meeting. He asked to meet because he was doing his superior’s order and soon realized that human freedom was more precious to me than that business trip and the position I held. Fortunately, the ice was broken and I was freed from those chains that had taken hold of me since 1969 until that day.
The trip was full of unforgettable memories. I had the opportunity to interact with dozens of Yugoslav artists. I visited their studios and exhibitions. I had a small exhibition in Koper, which was well received.
One evening, well-known sculptor Yeje Pohlen invited us, three Soviet artists, to a dinner dedicated to the 75th birthday of the longtime Yugoslav Foreign Minister.
Learning that I am from Armenia, he raised a glass and with great excitement told an episode from his life. How three Armenian guys, who studied in Paris and whose families fell victim to the Armenian Genocide organized and committed by the Turkish state, were kept him in Paris from starvation for four years and help graduate from Sorbonne University. And he stood up with everyone and drank the toast of the Armenian people and me.
One of those guys was the painter Petros Bedikyan, who is famous among the Armenians of Paris.
Later, in Poland, Japan, and other countries, I heard words of gratitude and homage to Armenian people, which, of course, filled my soul with pride and commitment.
The struggle
In 1988 were the independence movement of Karabakh and earthquake. Our country was in turmoil. There were countless victims and injured both in Karabakh and after the earthquake. The people came out to the square, looking for a way to be useful to the country and the people. Normal life was disrupted. In the absence of the basic means necessary for man, in darkness and gloom, there was an infinite rise of morality: compassion, love and unity. No one could deceive the people anymore. The realization of unity was a great force and a source of energy for struggle. The Soviet Empire was in turmoil. The mechanism of a seemingly unshakable country was broken. In 1989, I traveled to Boston, USA, with a delegation of statesmen and intellectuals. Numerous meetings were scheduled at Harvard and other universities. Our goal was to provide real information about the situation in Armenia and Karabakh. Through direct contacts, thousands of Americans listened and learned about the political situation around the Karabakh issue that they did not know before, and often after meetings, the audience shouted “Freedom to Karabakh”. Art is not an appendage and servant of politics, but an artist cannot remain unaware of social movements. Some of my paintings and sculptures from those years bear the stamp of our liberation, struggles and moods (“Blue Dream”, “Whirlpool”, etc.).
Paris: The cherished city
In 1992, I was invited to the United States for an exhibition. In the Boston Exhibition was presented 50 works of recent years – paintings and graphics, which received a warm response. Many of us stayed and created in Armenia in an atmosphere of vital difficulties and mental turmoil. Those years have been the most fruitful and productive for me. I consider it a period of understanding suffering. In 1994 I had an opportunity to spend two months at the Center for the Arts in Paris (citedes arts). I was in the capital of arts for the first time. What artist has not dreamed of appearing in this “dangerous environment” of trial and self-affirmation? I was thinking about the possible exhibition with inner anxiety, I remembered my good friend, the honorable intellectual Levon Nersisyan. The first and last time he was in Paris, he said that the environment was very familiar and familiar to him. I had the same feeling. I had no relatives or friends in Paris. On the second day, Karbis Jrbashyan came to visit, to whom I had a letter to pass. A person with a rich inner world and art, with whom we became good friends. Finally, I had the opportunity to exhibit for four days in a small gallery in St. Paul. The success was unprecedented. In those days and later, during my visits to Paris, I was supported and encouraged by my new friends and acquaintances – Karbis Jrbashyan, Edward and Hasmik, who had moved from Armenia and settled in France.
The last day of the exhibition was marked by the visit of Garzu, whose acquaintance that day and the words of his unbridled joy were relevant and played a certain role in my life. Garzu advised to stay and create in Paris, offering his support. I could not follow that advice because my family needed me. About 35 of my exhibited works were sold, and I was in a hurry to return. We agreed to meet and work together on my next visit, but in 1996, unfortunately, Garzu was already ill, so he did not go out and two years later he died. My visits to Paris were invaluable professional discoveries, and I had the opportunity to see the works of contemporary artists from many countries in galleries and exhibitions. The differences and obstacles that prevented many talented Armenian artists from coming together and finding a worthy place in world art became visible. I met and fell in love with the delicate French art lover, who had a traditional respect for the work and the creator, approached each work with a special feeling and compliment, looking for the unperceived. In the Parisian environment, such were the French, and our compatriots, and many tourists who were in this mysterious city. In such a country and environment, the artist feels the true meaning and value of his and his work.
Epilogue
For fifty years I have breathed the air of Armenian culture, lived in its native atmosphere, formed it by following the art and civilizations of races, nations, peoples, I have seen ups and downs, even the tragedy of changing societies and human drama.
I have had my downfalls, silences and achievements , and every day I go up to my studio, continue to work and think about human existence and the mission of art. Does anything change with my paintings or sculptures? At least, creative inspiration – the energy tells me yes, otherwise the pencil will not turn as it should, the paintbrush will be stubborn, and thus the shades of meaning will diminish. Through the relationship that is between evil and the virtuous, culture will always open man’s concepts and approaches. This is how it has been and will always be. Humanity is the steering wheel of my life, at the same time during this stage of my life, I am still after wisdom. Thus, this is how I have expressed myself via my artwork for the past decades. I simply want to say that on this planet of ours we were the first, we created, gave roots and families and will be here endlessly in our journey, and we have that right to do so. For an artist it is very difficult to be in transition, we become engulfed into a pessimistic world, are in conflict with our future, but after all those downfalls there is the light of salvation that has guides every man’s destiny out of oblivion. Thus Ican truly say that during this lifeof mine am saved from those beastly powers.
