Tweet
Gyumri Painter: "People don't have money so they buy those Chinese imports"
Yeranuhi Soghoyan
13:48, January 8, 2015
Natural landscapes and Armenian churches dominate the oil paintings
hanging from the walls of the Gyumri living room of 82 year-old
Aleksandr (Shoura) Zhamakochyan.
The room reminds a visitor of a small art gallery.
Mr. Zhamakochyan confesses that like many others the 1988 Spitak
earthquake has divided his life into pre and post-earthquake concepts
and that the disaster has also influenced his artistic works.
The atheist communist saw the light and became a devout Christian
while cowering under the panels of a building that collapsed around
him. He was baptized at the age of 56 and made it his life's mission
to eternalize all Armenian churches by painting them.
Even though Mr. Zhamakochyan gets around with the aid of a cane, one
glimpses a nimbleness of step in the artist. He sits in an armchair
and suggests that I take a seat on the couch. Tamara, his daughter,
rushes to the kitchen to make some coffee.
He speaks clearly and his memory remains unclouded by time.
Nevertheless, the artist senses my unease and responds with a laugh.
"On occasion my hearing fails me and my feet hurt. Other than that, I
have no deficiencies," Mr. Zhamakochyan says, explaining that his
humor has been inherited.
Mr. Zhamakochyan's grandfather was known in Gyumri circles by the
moniker "Tapak Seto" - a man who liked to joke and entertain friends
at a snack bar he ran near the Gyumri bus station. People visited not
just to eat but to hear Seto's unique sense of dry wit.
Aleksandr says he inherited his humor and artistic tastes from his grandfather.
"I would have surely become an ambassador if allowed. But my father
was a man of position and he wanted me to become a doctor. Of course,
it wasn't for me. My world was painting. My brother became the doctor.
I lasted two months at a medical school before leaving. I then
enrolled as a corresponding student at the Novosibirsk Kuybyshev
Engineering and Construction Institute. I figured it would be alright
to become a draftsman and that at least it was akin to painting," the
artist tells me.
Mr. Zhamakochyan has inherited his talent for painting from his
mother, a member of the Narimanashvili family, who were famous artists
in Georgia.
"My mother was a Georgian who married my father when she was
seventeen. She could prepare delicious meals, both Armenian and
Georgian. My only child, Tamara, is a pianist. Her three kids are all
good painters but they pursued medicine and became dentists," says Mr.
Zhamakochyan.
Shoura started painting as a young child and his talent was discovered
by a friend who was enrolled at Gyumri's Merkurovi Art School. The
friend, upon seeing some of Shoura's paintings, suggested that he
visit the school as well. The principal placed a piece of paper and a
pencil in the young boy's hand and told him to sketch. He was admitted
to the school on the spot.
In 1963, while taking classes at the Novosibirsk institute, Mr.
Zhamakochyan also worked at the Leninakan (former name of Gyumri) "Hay
Reklam" advertising company as a drawer.
"My boss was Khachik Vardbaronyan. We worked together for thirty
years. And what years they were. I met some fabulous artists. We all
know that painters like to have a good time, so we'd get together
often. We'd frequently go to Moscow. Back then, you could buy a ticket
in the morning, fly out, and return that same night," the painter says
with a grin, leaning his white-haired head to one side. "You don't
believe me? It's the truth. Travelling to Moscow was easy. Now it's
expensive and time consuming."
He recounts those parties where artists like Minas Avetisyan and Hakob
Hakobyan would show up. Mr. Zhamakochyan even had an opportunity to
work with John Papikyan, an artist awarded the title Meritorious
Painter of the USSR, who was teaching at Leningrad's Ilya Repin
Academy of Arts at the time.
Mr. Zhamakochyan tells me life was good back in the day. He made
700-900 rubles a month at the advertising company and painted when he
had the time. The artist recounts that on the occasion of the 100th
anniversary of Lenin's birth he won a 1,200 prize and spent it all on
a piano for his daughter.
Today, Mr. Zhamakochyan receives a 48,000 AMD (US$102) monthly
pension. He also sells some of his paintings for additional revenue.
"I have no paintings left for sale. Whatever is left can be used for
an exhibit. I sell copies of the original. I used to take them to a
salon on Rizhkov promenade in Gyumri. The life of a painter has
gotten much more difficult today. People now prefer to buy those
Chinese imports that are less expensive. I'm not saying that the
numbers who appreciate real art have decreased, it's just that people
don't have money. So they buy those Chinese imports and hang them on
their walls."
Mr. Zhamakochyan hasn't been able to stand before his easel for a few
months now. His legs hurt and his walks around his beloved town of
Gyumri have become rarer. Currently, he's trying to finish older
sketches. He's painted for his grandkids and now paints for his great
grandkids.
Tamara and her father Aleksandr Zhamakochyan
In his heyday, Mr. Zhamakochyan participated in numerous group
exhibitions. The artist laments that he hasn't painted his beloved
Gyumri all that much.
"I've never had the desire to live anywhere else. I've only stayed in
Yerevan for a few hours at most. This town is in my being," he
exclaims, complaining about a recent bout of memory loss. "It's mostly
names that I can't immediately recount. They come to me later."
Tamara says that her father loves football and is a big Chelsea fan.
"When he forgets the Chelsea name, he immediately phones my husband.
'Ashot, those gunsmiths are playing.'" Tamara says with a grin.
http://hetq.am/eng/news/58031/gyumri-painter-people-dont-have-money-so-they-buy-those-chinese-imports.html
Yeranuhi Soghoyan
13:48, January 8, 2015
Natural landscapes and Armenian churches dominate the oil paintings
hanging from the walls of the Gyumri living room of 82 year-old
Aleksandr (Shoura) Zhamakochyan.
The room reminds a visitor of a small art gallery.
Mr. Zhamakochyan confesses that like many others the 1988 Spitak
earthquake has divided his life into pre and post-earthquake concepts
and that the disaster has also influenced his artistic works.
The atheist communist saw the light and became a devout Christian
while cowering under the panels of a building that collapsed around
him. He was baptized at the age of 56 and made it his life's mission
to eternalize all Armenian churches by painting them.
Even though Mr. Zhamakochyan gets around with the aid of a cane, one
glimpses a nimbleness of step in the artist. He sits in an armchair
and suggests that I take a seat on the couch. Tamara, his daughter,
rushes to the kitchen to make some coffee.
He speaks clearly and his memory remains unclouded by time.
Nevertheless, the artist senses my unease and responds with a laugh.
"On occasion my hearing fails me and my feet hurt. Other than that, I
have no deficiencies," Mr. Zhamakochyan says, explaining that his
humor has been inherited.
Mr. Zhamakochyan's grandfather was known in Gyumri circles by the
moniker "Tapak Seto" - a man who liked to joke and entertain friends
at a snack bar he ran near the Gyumri bus station. People visited not
just to eat but to hear Seto's unique sense of dry wit.
Aleksandr says he inherited his humor and artistic tastes from his grandfather.
"I would have surely become an ambassador if allowed. But my father
was a man of position and he wanted me to become a doctor. Of course,
it wasn't for me. My world was painting. My brother became the doctor.
I lasted two months at a medical school before leaving. I then
enrolled as a corresponding student at the Novosibirsk Kuybyshev
Engineering and Construction Institute. I figured it would be alright
to become a draftsman and that at least it was akin to painting," the
artist tells me.
Mr. Zhamakochyan has inherited his talent for painting from his
mother, a member of the Narimanashvili family, who were famous artists
in Georgia.
"My mother was a Georgian who married my father when she was
seventeen. She could prepare delicious meals, both Armenian and
Georgian. My only child, Tamara, is a pianist. Her three kids are all
good painters but they pursued medicine and became dentists," says Mr.
Zhamakochyan.
Shoura started painting as a young child and his talent was discovered
by a friend who was enrolled at Gyumri's Merkurovi Art School. The
friend, upon seeing some of Shoura's paintings, suggested that he
visit the school as well. The principal placed a piece of paper and a
pencil in the young boy's hand and told him to sketch. He was admitted
to the school on the spot.
In 1963, while taking classes at the Novosibirsk institute, Mr.
Zhamakochyan also worked at the Leninakan (former name of Gyumri) "Hay
Reklam" advertising company as a drawer.
"My boss was Khachik Vardbaronyan. We worked together for thirty
years. And what years they were. I met some fabulous artists. We all
know that painters like to have a good time, so we'd get together
often. We'd frequently go to Moscow. Back then, you could buy a ticket
in the morning, fly out, and return that same night," the painter says
with a grin, leaning his white-haired head to one side. "You don't
believe me? It's the truth. Travelling to Moscow was easy. Now it's
expensive and time consuming."
He recounts those parties where artists like Minas Avetisyan and Hakob
Hakobyan would show up. Mr. Zhamakochyan even had an opportunity to
work with John Papikyan, an artist awarded the title Meritorious
Painter of the USSR, who was teaching at Leningrad's Ilya Repin
Academy of Arts at the time.
Mr. Zhamakochyan tells me life was good back in the day. He made
700-900 rubles a month at the advertising company and painted when he
had the time. The artist recounts that on the occasion of the 100th
anniversary of Lenin's birth he won a 1,200 prize and spent it all on
a piano for his daughter.
Today, Mr. Zhamakochyan receives a 48,000 AMD (US$102) monthly
pension. He also sells some of his paintings for additional revenue.
"I have no paintings left for sale. Whatever is left can be used for
an exhibit. I sell copies of the original. I used to take them to a
salon on Rizhkov promenade in Gyumri. The life of a painter has
gotten much more difficult today. People now prefer to buy those
Chinese imports that are less expensive. I'm not saying that the
numbers who appreciate real art have decreased, it's just that people
don't have money. So they buy those Chinese imports and hang them on
their walls."
Mr. Zhamakochyan hasn't been able to stand before his easel for a few
months now. His legs hurt and his walks around his beloved town of
Gyumri have become rarer. Currently, he's trying to finish older
sketches. He's painted for his grandkids and now paints for his great
grandkids.
Tamara and her father Aleksandr Zhamakochyan
In his heyday, Mr. Zhamakochyan participated in numerous group
exhibitions. The artist laments that he hasn't painted his beloved
Gyumri all that much.
"I've never had the desire to live anywhere else. I've only stayed in
Yerevan for a few hours at most. This town is in my being," he
exclaims, complaining about a recent bout of memory loss. "It's mostly
names that I can't immediately recount. They come to me later."
Tamara says that her father loves football and is a big Chelsea fan.
"When he forgets the Chelsea name, he immediately phones my husband.
'Ashot, those gunsmiths are playing.'" Tamara says with a grin.
http://hetq.am/eng/news/58031/gyumri-painter-people-dont-have-money-so-they-buy-those-chinese-imports.html