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Geniuses are born but rarely: that is precisely why they stir such happy, lively interest in the rest of us when they appear.
Geniuses are born into circumstances that can never be predetermined; they can appear anywhere. And it has been so throughout human history, in every epoch and age. Yet their path in life – their way of Being – is always the same: to renew Civilisation; to increase enlightenment in the people around them, to restore our faith in Perfection and our capacity to better ourselves; to broaden the horizons of creativity, to improve upon the understanding enshrined in academic schools of thought, to challenge torpor and enter into polemics with inertia, to inspire others, the like-minded, the kindred of spirit, of intellect and heart…
Marcel Proust, in his masterpiece À la recherche du temps perdu (Searching for Time Lost), keenly avers that each generation of Artists who create gives birth, according to the mysterious and immutable laws of history, to multiple generations of their own disciples, admirers and devoted followers.
And thus it has ever been. An artist is not born unto a waiting audience. An artist creates that audience out of the substance of the work itself. In painting alone, all the great and glorious names that have come down to us – the Vermeers, the Velázquezes, the Turners (and so many hundreds more!) – have made their journey over the same, solitary way that consists wholly of single-mindedly working to attain perfection in the discipline – in the art.
There is no other way, no alternative ‘path to glory’ for those who seek to serve the advancement and rise of Civilisation, rather than its stagnation, or decay, or decline.
This way, this journey towards perfection, whether in painting, or in any of the other disciplines, begins with the constant, diligent study of the fundamental technique of the chosen field of endeavour – down to its minutiae. Only by paying the closest possible attention to technique can an artist (or any other person) attain optimal freedom of worthwhile and fruitful self-expression.
In the twentieth century, when Pablo Picasso impulsively probed the possibility of increasing his visibility and income by shocking the audience of his day, in a deliberate attempt to épater les bourgeois (as he himself called it), a kind of revolution took place in the world of painting – a revolution that ultimately yielded a harvest of poisoned fruit.
Picasso was a fascinating human being, and a great artist. He had talent, knowledge, a mighty command of technique, enormous personal discipline.
He turned his genius to a private vendetta against the philistines that, to his way of thinking, dominated society and the art world. He mocked them, shamed them, exposed them, portrayed them for what they were: and they paid him for it, thanked him and begged for more… But what followed was a sad travesty: hordes of fortune-seekers with no particular skill or vision, with no discipline, no purpose, began to try their luck, as it were, seeing, in Picasso’s work, definitive proof that anything can be Art, and anyone an Artist… So today, a century later, our cities are crammed with all kinds of really hopeless wasted efforts, pretend-paintings, wretched daubings that can even be embarrassing to look at, so thoroughly devoid they are of even the faintest glimmer of knowledge about art, about painting, about the uses of a brush or line or colours – about anything, in short, that for some thousands of years constituted the daily focus of some of the most intelligent and highly skilled human beings that have ever trod the earth.
Imagine if today’s ‘modern (or post-modern) artists’ had been set such tasks as the design and the construction of a lasting edifice, or a complex sculptural ensemble – as had been Giotto, or Michelangelo… What would the leading cities of the world look like? Would they even be standing?
The vocation of artists has never changed, nor has it ever been abolished or revised, by any authority. The purpose of visual art is to open the eyes of the beholder to the perception of Beauty – of Beauty specifically! – to the Beautiful that is to be discovered everywhere in the cosmos, in all its infinite variety; to captivate the viewer, guiding her or his gaze and thereby directing thoughts to be framed in the mind, about the meaning that exists in all things: in a flower, in the face of a child, in a pomegranate, in a napkin, in a goblet of wine, in a landscape, in a house worn down by time, in a sunset, in clouds, in an overcast sky, in a gust of wind rising in a column over a field, in moonlight, in the quiet discourse of two figures walking slowly along an overgrown path in the woods…
How can a painter express, in a single brush-stroke, the rhythm of the gait of a woman walking away – a woman about half an inch in height?
But because he has spent years, and in fact decades, perfecting the techniques of brush strokes – how to hold the brush, how to move the arm and the wrist (as was the practice and the norm for painters one, two, three or more centuries ago!) – Ashot can, indeed, give utterance to that one precise fleeting movement that will express that specific gait, instantly recognizable as such, and breathtakingly so!
Look around you: in any large city, you will see offered for purchase all kinds of canvases depicting nothing that anyone could make any kind of sense of… Distorted faces, more often than not expressing rage or despair; peculiarly misshapen limbs of a hue that never existed anywhere; some kinds of flying letters or random phrases, obscure, perhaps obscene, or full of an inscrutable effrontery that requires careful exegesis; some shocking element revealing exactly nothing in the way of concept, or of meaning; the badly executed faces of celebrities weakly drawn by hobbyists and students who ought to keep their attempts private; mealy-mouthed paints applied almost haphazardly, in a single layer (for speed), by the uncertain hand of someone who still has to learn how to see colours, but won’t be bothered to take the time to do something as basic as to study what was done by others before…
Can we in fact call these works paintings?
Is it time to admit that master painters are no longer being born into the world?
No. There is in fact no shortage of true master painters. However, in order to come across a true master, in order to find a new masterpiece created by someone of our own generation, it is first necessary to accept that which is plainly in evidence: mere daubing with paints upon a flat surface does not constitute Painting. It is not Art, any more than taking a sledgehammer to a grand piano could remotely be defined as composing music.
It is called Fine Art because it takes refinement. Exquisite precision. Delicacy. Subtlety. Intelligent, coherent thought. And a trained eye.
Geniuses are born, but they become Masters: they achieve that stature, and evidence it in their works, by following the one way of total, selfless dedication to their purpose, which is to excel in the technique to a degree that brings them as close as humanly possible to Perfection, as would a flawless performance by any virtuoso pianist or violinist of the most eloquent composition by their favourite composer. Mastery in Painting is attained only by the same kind of single-minded, focused and unyielding practice, as we are used to from the most sublime virtuosi, or from stellar athletes, for whom it is not unusual to practice for eight, for ten, even for twelve hours each day, every day.
This kind of perfection in one’s discipline does not come with a diploma or certificate or contract or network of friends, nor is it bestowed through the praises of critics.
This kind of perfection is self-evident to the eye of any beholder; it enthrals, it commands our attention. It is present in the work of art, it emanates from it, envelops us, caresses the eye and the mind with its gentle aura…
And even today, such works of art exist – new works, works by contemporary artists, works celebrating Beauty, Harmony, Content (rather than decay, chaos and emptiness).
These are the kinds of paintings Ashot creates.
These are the kinds of paintings that even the Queen of England, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, appreciates. She has directed her staff repeatedly to write to him in expression of her approval and delight, finding merit in the high level of artistry he has attained through decades of intense study and practice.
Ashot did not earn the favourable opinion of Her Majesty through any kind of special channels, connections, advantageous press coverage, or roundabout efforts.
He accomplished this feat, as he has accomplished everything else that an artist seeks or requires in his life: through his skill with his brush.
Possessed of a technical virtuosity which is indeed almost unique in our generation, even among Master Painters, after spending not one decade, but in fact four decades continuously striving to become even better at what he does best of all, daily and hourly pursuing that one criterion: improving upon what he was born with (a prodigious gift) – has brought about the desired outcome. The youth who, in 1966, captured the attention of connoisseurs with his natural aptitude and remarkable talent, has become, today, a true phenomenon in the world of painting, something rarely seen since Picasso rather arbitrarily decreed the Beautiful to be an obsolete idea.
In his own way, Ashot is doing exactly as Picasso: only in reverse. He is challenging the establishment to admit, after a century of broken lines and fractured colours, that Beauty can, in fact, be… rather refreshing. Pleasing to look at. Excellent company.
And very profitable.
Who else can paint this way, today?
At Ashot’s level of perfection? No one.
At a comparable level, suggestive of a bold new redirection in the field of visual creativity? More and more committed artists who find that, to the eye that matters most – the artist’s own eye – making something Beautiful emerge from under one’s fingertips is infinitely more satisfying than merely daubing or raging… and indeed that the experience of creating a work of Beauty is entirely priceless.
Ashot first broke the taboo against the cause of Beauty while growing up in the most repressive, taboo-bound, overtly dangerous society in the world: the former Soviet Union. It was a society where to break the rules could lead to devastating tragedy, especially for artists. Few dared.
Ashot was one of those few. Fortunately, although he took chances and faced threats, he escaped outright prosecution. Instead, he won the support of highly influential figures from that time and place – people like Raisa Gorbachev, who, due to her husband’s high position (and ultimately supreme authority) within the political hierarchy, were able to extend precious patronage and protection to at least some of the great talents they came across.
Ultimately, because his paintings were so beautiful, so powerful, so elegantly phrased, and so compelling in their silent appeal to the better self that lives within each human, Ashot was able to keep working, and keep getting better, without compromising on his essential purpose: to celebrate the beauty that so abundantly graces all of life, by immortalizing its moments and its details, in his paintings of our age, and for our generation.
And that is why it is his paintings, his destiny, and his creative journey – the way of a true master painter – can only delight those, for whom the kind of world their children and grandchildren shall inherit is not a matter of small consequence.
We all need Beauty. Beauty is Eternal. Beauty is uncomplicated, as obvious and as self-evident, and as gracious, as the dawn. In order to recognize its presence, we don’t need lengthy explanations, footnotes to dissertation chapters, citations from textbooks.
Beauty ennobles the surroundings, the home, a space, a social framework, a country – any country – and the world. Beauty inspires, concentrates the mind, bears witness to something higher than the routine, speaks to us of the eternal, and the all-encompassing considerations all human beings share. Beauty immortalizes our relations with the world around us, and within us – our relations with ideas, and even our relationships with others, with anyone we love.
The most precious, the most unique works of fine art are universally revered as being the most prized treasures of European civilisation, retaining their status as a beloved masterpiece for literally centuries upon centuries…
We gaze upon these works, recognizing that they were similarly gazed upon, and loved, by so many people who came before us, people we have reason to admire, that we have never met because they lived so long ago. These are the works that shape our common bonds, transcending time, and space, and death.
Thanks to Ashot’s unstinting attention to the time-tested traditions of classical European painting, in accordance with which a painting is constructed out of parts, gradually, following certain prescribed procedures, his own paintings are endowed with the same attributes of resistance to decay from moisture, heat, light, touch, and so forth, as are the best known paintings in museums. Thus, it can be attested that with proper handling they will retain their beauty and integrity for many centuries to come.
Over twenty years of active participation in the international art market, out of more than thirty-five years of professional creative effort, have allowed Ashot to attain truly unsurpassed heights in painting.
It is virtually impossible to identify any painter of his generation who can match his technique and eloquence of vision. At the same time, it is exciting to contemplate the certainty that in the generation that will succeed his, there are bound to be many remarkable followers of his example.
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