History of the painting (August 2022):
I have always been interested in who we are, but in the last six months, this question has gained considerable urgency and importance.
I look at the pictures of our people. Ordinary people: soldiers, in their eyes, in their hands holding weapons; farmers who planted and harvested bread under shelling in mined fields; Firefighters extinguishing the fields and getting people and animals out from under the rubble, I look into the colors of the burning fields (so that I never, never forget this); I look into the tired eyes of the paramedics, who with death on “you” and drive away its bony hands from those who still have to live and live… every photo with destroyed cities and lives is an unbearable pain, but I have to stamp it on my heart.
I have to.
And so yesterday I came across a clip with a disgusting hysterical Russian propagandist, who was spewing saliva and squealing like a slaughtered pig: “burn, burn” in relation to a karaoke bar in Crimea, where the song “Wild Field” was performed.
If this monster is so mad, then the song is worth listening to (shame on me, I haven’t heard it before). I listened to her. I listened again and watched the clip.
And I understood: we are the Wild Field. Unconquered and unbreakable.
|Dimensions||100 × 100 cm|
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