All of we are artists to a
certain extent. And not only, because we draw.
By attitude toward the life, to
attraction to wonderful, by the dream, we surprise a long ago
not only itself but also whole world.
However much, that we do, giving life, fully we ignore by a necessity to
give all it to the complete form. Although as works of art. Our workaday
our endless personal interest by a
daily occurence, hopes, troubles, disappointments
it is scored off, and in the stream
of events we are already unaware, that are related to anything yet. Thus we
are in this world, as though torned on two halves
though outcast from a paradisial garden. Therefore, the art is returning to
returning in paradise. And those,
that, who there returns us, - artists.
The Eduard Stranadko works as tailings of sleeps, complete senses
flight and easy nostalgia.
Landscapes of long-ago which
never existed, but where each of us once, seems
it was. There is some dream in his
works. From it
and plastic method: and as though
nature, but all is unfinished
some dyed haze, pictures, objects
whether stand, whether fly in
space without a clear prospect.
The desire to be hidden appears, to dissolve in
pictures, to hurry from reality and drop off in sleep.
tender, dove-coloured darkness which fills a plane
images on his «eveningly» and «nightly»
pictures, softens a difference objects
to one another. A city landscape acquires symbolic
sounding and has sense of
Other pictures are full the piercing
sun: retrospective provincial streets at
buildings in the sunbeams of output day in day out, nostalgia, oppressive
pain of spirit...
you do not analyse talented works,
only inhale. They, as beauty, as a smile of kid
to give us rare sense weightlessness.
Technique of sepia, mat pape create also
atmosphere of the forgotten
childhood, dream-land after horizon, clean source, ideal...
The facts of the Eduard Stranadko biography are misty and incompatible.
It is known, that after the life in a
frightful barrack in Poltava he lived a few years in Petersburg. Possibly, from there
and attraction to the classics. It
is ordinary on his pictures
young, attractive people with an
easy smile, without theatrical falseness
with thin elusively intimate
problems. Now - also architecture.
As one wise man said, these pictures
looked like «unfrequented
city landscape», where a sun dust
converts city buildings in
mirage, falls on the cornices and as
though swims by the easy cloud of smoke of tobacco.
It seems that a city sleeps and sees
black and white sleeps. Do you hear voice? This - wind
that got lost in time, and his
whisper simply can be heard: «Memoria»...
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