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ART 2014

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Anna Gavalda … ~ I loved her / I loved him … ~

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Our Favourite Place

My life is like on the bed, I thought. Fragile. Shaky. Suspended.

I said to myself: “Come on, we must cry once and for all. Pour all the tears, squeeze like a sponge, my great body and a sad turn the page. Think about something else. Small steps to move forward and start all over again. ”

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By Your Side
– Do not you think that we are well together?
– Yes.
– Do you agree?
– Yes.
– I think we are well along with you … I love to be with you, because you never miss. Even when we do not talk, even when you are to me, do not touch, even if we are in different rooms, I do not miss. Probably because I trust you, you and your thoughts. Do you understand? I love you and all that I see, and what you do not see. But I see your flaws. But, you know, I think your weaknesses complement my dignity. We are afraid of different things. Even our demons coexist together! You’re better than you pretend, I – on the contrary. I need your opinion, to … to be material, or something. How is it French? Sustainable? As they say, when a person interested in their inner world?
– Depth?
– Exactly! I look like a kite – if someone is holding the coil, I – pfffr – and flying … And you … you know, it’s funny, you’re strong enough to hold me, but you smart enough to let me go free …

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Away From It All

Life, even if you reject it, even if you despise it, is always stronger than you. It is the hardest. People returning from camps and had children. Men and women who are tortured, who have seen their loved ones die as burn their homes, again ran for the bus, discussing the weather and were married daughters. It’s unbelievable, but true. Life the most. And then who are we to attach so much importance own persons? We fuss, cry … Why? For what?

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Another Perfect Day

Either I’m a complete dunce, or too trusting. However, it is the same …

Funny how some metaphors are not just figurative. After all, you need at least once scared to death to understand what a “cold sweat” or seriously worried to realize what it is, when “sucks in his stomach.” Is not that right?

“Abandoned Woman” – the same thing. And who is the only invented?

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A Moment to Reflect

Then I nodded, but did not understand. I did not know this man, so stingy with emotions, to suppress all their feelings. Keep yourself in check for fear seem weak – that I could never understand! In my family, hugging and kissing was as natural as breathing.

How much time do you remember the smell of a man who loved you? And when she stopped loving?
I need an hourglass.

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It’s A Beautiful Day

… I was happy at the time, because I knew that even if we are not together, it exists. This in itself is already a miracle.

I do not know what to do. I … She hugged me, she caught me by surprise.
The world belonged to me.

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A Breath Of Fresh Air
I sat down and took his hands behind his head.
I wanted it to unscrew, put in front of him on the floor and accurate kick to send it as far as possible.
So far, no one to her and never found.
But I’m on the ball and a strike can not.
Probably would have missed.

– You’re cynical.
– I defended.
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Reflections In Time

I never told him that he is the best in the world. I just loved it. Liu Bi-la. You know what I mean?

– You liked it?
– Yes.
– How much?
– I loved her.

Read completely:

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Shining Through

This is not a picture, this technique is called Giclee Board … The gist of it is this: first picture-written original. Explains the artist, paintings, he wrote in watercolor, but more oil. Then the original is printed on a computer with special ink limited edition …

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Happy Days

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Impasto painting Nicola Simbari [1927-2012], Italy

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She, sea and love … | Michael & Inessa Garmash

I love to watch the sunrise and sunset, surprised and delighted by these mysterious phenomena of nature, each time noticing them something unique new!

a12Miledy Jane – Sea Symphony

In the morning, she met with enthusiasm good sun, and it seemed that it all with a joyful smile said: “Good morning, folks! Here again, I come to you to lift your mood, give you light and heat, together with you to spend the day. Today, as always, I’ll be motherly and warm caress you with its gentle rays. And you live, be happy, to write poetry, sing songs! And if you will be too hot, I’ll take care of you – will hide behind a cloud … “.

? Copyright: Alexander Placinta (excerpt), Tale of the book “In the Embrace of the Universe”

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She stood on the beach, frozen in nervous tension, which is guessed at the smallest ripples. Virginal purity of the sea, even frightened …

The sea was not breathing. And she froze. Heart beat like a metronome. Time has gone backwards, in a moment, returning it in childhood. It is no longer a lady advanced age, and the young girl enters the sea. At sea, virgin and pure, as she did. Sea trembled, wafer convex ripples lay on satin emerald water. A shiver ran through his body. The sea is spread transparent hand and carried it deep into the crest of the wave, emerged from nowhere. Warm and affectionate palm sea opened her another world, a world changeable as a woman, it is light and inviting, the heavy and frightening. Was taken to the thickness of transparent waters, aquamarine, turquoise is sometimes emerald, which plays in silver gloss, similar to the silvery scales looked through the bottom of the sea, dotted with light sabers seemed emitting strange sunlight, or something like it. She and sea merge into a sensual ecstasy.

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Soul wanted to fly. And the sea lulled, soothing, caressing, like a mother. And these long-forgotten coveted maternal affection, forced to pull over to the sea, as a warm mother’s breast and forget, turn away from the real … The sea does not forgive. Sea granted hope …

-Any! How do you want to love! Love with all my heart, all my soul to dissolve in love loving person. Merge into the spiritual impulse. Become one soul, one I am!

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Suddenly an extraordinary emotion seized her.
Love! Love the most! Oh my God! How could she not realize that the most important thing – to love and not be loved! Love to oblivion, but without imposing their love, asking nothing in return! But how hard it is to love it!

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Agitated sea. Foamy wave has rolled ashore, hit a rock. Pieces of foam with crystal spray flying in all directions, such as champagne, which she saw with her beloved young in the early morning of crystal glasses, standing on the balcony, and the first rays of the sun caressed their blessing for good luck. Sensuality sea struck. Sea reads thoughts? Sea living? Sea reminded about love, love is not unhappy, but just another … and swimming in the foam as Aphrodite is the first time over the past few years, smiled, remembering a loved one. Or maybe this is love? Sea picked up and carried her in the palm of gentle waves. And the sun, piercing the sea, as if we cry to her:

– You like! Love is you, he, the sea and the sun, I! Love is life!

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I listened to the rain, I thought of you … Artist Alex Chernigin

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Yellow Blues

Grigory Leps – I listened to rain

Square refracted in the river – gold sleeping on the floor. Autumn in my hand. I reflect it. By bridges, roads, past the brick walls wind carries leaf on blue canvas. In the ghostly haze white city of seven hills. I would cry out to you, but there are no words, I’d look for you, but do not open the door …

As you were close. How far now.

Square refracted in the river – as if in a glass-rays. I continued, with whom? Autumn is my silent. Sunny Bunny is sleeping somewhere inside me. Autumn, the capital, spleen. Leaves. Separation. Ya Time tastes bitter wind plays jazz. How many of us the reasons? How many reasons – for us? The air trembles in me – my heart is one.

Where are you now, tell me? Where can I find you?

Square refracted in the river – a kaleidoscope of broken. Autumn in my hand. You – inside of me. Mirror – the threshold. Over it … The city of seven roads – and the ringing of bells, and a string of birds, melting where light. I can not leave – out no more. Square September. River mercury creeps to zero. Autumn lights in their hands.

How I love you …

@ Cat Basho

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Wet Alley

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Amsterdam

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Barbarian in the rain

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Spring rain

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The wind from the river

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Evening sun

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Forgotten apples

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Winter in the Czech Republic

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Summer morning

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October

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Autumn Day

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Autumn

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Prague. Charles Bridge

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View of the Cape Customs

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Spring creeks

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Spring Rozhdestvenka

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View of the Charles Bridge

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May rain

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Evening in Rome

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Quay Rains

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Siesta

Alex Chernigin was born in 1975 in Nizhny Novgorod in the family of well-known Russian artist Alexander Chernigina. He studied painting and graphic design in the Nizhny Novgorod Art School (1990-1994). He graduated from Nizhny Novgorod State Architecture and Construction University with a degree in “Industrial Design” (1994 to 2000 he worked). Since 1998 – member of the Union of Artists of Russia. Since 2001 he has taught at the Art Institute of Humanities and at Nizhny Novgorod State University of Civil Engineering at the Department of “Interior Design”. Engaged in painting, graphics, interior design, photography. A regular participant of personal, regional, national and international exhibitions. His works are in private and gallery collections in Russia and abroad.

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April 2015
Kategori: Ukategorisert | 0 kommentarer » - kl. 10:30

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~ ODILON REDON ~ …

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A little more – and forget about the summer,
Kite out of hand.
And zhuhnet sheet, and we are no longer children,
And we do not wake up in the morning my mother.

Autumn comes exactly three cycles,
And of course we know in advance,
That everything happens because someone or something so,
Maybe more that a little bit, and it will be.

And focus the vision and feeling,
And you can see again, leaving,
As white light crunch to wash up,
Looking through the windows, wet from the rain.

And this tenderness, silly, funny,
Takes by the throat as the handle,
And never let go.
And the only way can hold.

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And we have no one so he does not love,
As promised it was first.
September, like rings on the wooden house,
And is not the place of the word.

Time skolet all our shell
As in the nut – tread inside.
Do not kiss me on the forehead, lips only,
Escort to the subway.

To the corner, to fence, to the edge –
We now all seats are good.
This eternity through us grows
Promise to live.

We are ridiculous, my aging boy
We still shivering from touching.
You see, autumn, as executor,
In the transition costs …

Elena Kasyan

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I wanted to tell you about a very unusual artist …
This master of dreams and hallucinations. But not such as surrealists, and sensual or something …
But hallucinations leave for later … Still to come …:-)

Today I want to bathe you in colors … In memory of summer …

So, get acquainted:

ODILON REDON …

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French painter, graphic artist, painter, one of the founders of symbolism and “the Society of Independent Artists”

Born in Bordeaux April 20, 1840 in a family of entrepreneurs.
Future artist spent his childhood family estate Peyerbald, located a few miles southwest of Bordeaux. Here he was left in the care of a nurse to eleven years. It is believed that the boy suffered from seizures “epilepsy” and parents deliberately hid from the eyes of his friends.
In 1851, Odilon returned to the family and enrolled in school.
In 1857 Redon tried to enter the Paris School of Fine Arts, but failed the first exam.
From 1855 he studied at Bordeaux from a local artist Stanislaw romance Goren, who taught him the technique of watercolor. Here, three years later, the debut of Redon – at the annual exhibition of the Society of Arts, he showed two of his paintings.

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Around the same time, the older brother of the artist introduces it into the circle of young intellectuals. Here, in 1863, Odilon Redon met with Rudolf dragnet, graverom- “protosimvolistom”, experienced profound impact of his work and decided to become a schedule. In 1864 he was engaged in the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris, Jean Leon Gerome. Lithography studied with Henri Fantin-Latour. Thanks to his new comrades Redon met with the poetry of Charles Baudelaire, performing the strong impression on him.

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In 1865-1870 Redon works, mainly coal, then in black and white lithographs, creating large sheets, which are called “black” or “Black”.
From 1867 begins to keep a diary called “self-inflicted” in which he outlined his views on art and creativity. He graduated in 1915.
As painful hypochondriac person Redon long time could not find their place in art, did not believe that could create something worthwhile. In 1868, for example, when a picture of Redon “Roland at Ronsevale” Commission adopted the Paris Salon, the author at the last moment afraid of criticism of the court and took his job.
The turning point in the artist’s life began in 1870. The artist enlisted in the army (was the Franco-Prussian War) and, to the surprise of home and friends, showed himself a brave and persistent warrior. For France, the war ended in humiliating the world, but she gave Redon confidence. But then it did not leave the gloomy vision.

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In March 1874 his father died Redon, and it was a great shock for the artist, although he was never able to get rid of his grudge against him for the “homeless” childhood. However, the death of his father allowed Redon fully devote himself to art. The artist moved to Paris, met with Stephen Mallarme.
1879: Redon decided finally to release an album of his drawings reproduced lithographically. This album is called “In grёze” (“In the world of dreams”), attracted the attention of only a few connoisseurs of art and collectors. In following this cycle followed by others: “Edgar Poe” (1882), “The Roots” (1883), “In honor of Goya” (1885), “The Temptation of St. Anthony” (1888, 1889, 1896), “Gustave Flaubert” (1889), “Flowers of Evil” (1890), “Apocalypse” (1899). In 1881 Redon first exhibited in the room “Wee modern” all their “black” paintings. In 1886 participates in the eighth and last Impressionist exhibition. All the works of these cycles are inhabited by strange creatures, full of bizarre images.

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In 1880, the artist married Camilla Falt (1852-1923), Creole from the French colony of Reunion. This marriage was extremely happy, though the couple had to endure great sorrow – at six months of age died of their firstborn. The artist was so depressed that some time could not work. In 1889 his second son was born. His birth helped Redon cure boredom.
Since 1890 Redon is increasingly turning to oil painting, pastels, experimenting with color. In these works he tries to convey the inner world of man. For this phase of work is characterized by multi-color color scheme and different themes: butterflies, flowers, women against the bright landscape. In 1899 Durand-Ruel organized an exhibition of young artists called “In honor of Redon”, which presented the work with pastels. However, after 1900, he still prefers noticeable colors, April 2, 1906, he wrote to his friend Bonzhe: “In an oily texture, there is something magical: it dominates you, hold the easel, every day more and more painful, all the stronger.”

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Redon also fond of decorative scenes, he painted the dining room in the castle Domes in Burgundy, the bedroom of Mrs. Chausson in Paris, and in 1910-1911 by order of Gustave Fayet – library abbatsstva Fontfroide Aude.
Income Redon, meanwhile, could hardly be called an enviable. He had to sell the estate in Peyerbald, where he spent his childhood. It has taken almost for nothing, and the proceeds of a sum could not cover all the debts of the artist. Looking for a way out of debt, Redon started writing floral still lifes, which were popular and sold well.

In 1906, the Galerie Durand-Ruel was an exhibition of works by Redon in the same year – in the Salon d’Automne. In 1913, the artist’s works were exhibited at the International Exhibition in New York.

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“I am happy with my life – wrote a master in the last decade of his life – and quietly go to meet fate.”

Artist died July 6, 1916, in Paris, leaving a large collection of mysterious graphic sheets and oil paintings. Small key to their understanding Odilon Redon hid in his diary, he wrote:

“Engaged in painting means to create beautiful substance, resorting to a special, inner feeling. In the same way nature creates a diamond, gold, sapphire … This gift is innate sensuality. It can not buy. ”

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I love all who are near …

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April 2015
Kategori: Ukategorisert | 0 kommentarer » - kl. 07:46

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Chinese ink. Liu Maoshan

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Liu Maoshan. Well-known landscape painter, member of the Chinese Artists Association, vice-president of the Academy of Chinese painting, was born in Suzhou in 1942. In 1962 he graduated from the Institute of Applied Arts in Suzhou. Masterly work combines the rigor of European classical painting, impressionism and airy modern Chinese refined detail of the landscape. Travels a lot. In recent years, he visited Japan, England, the USA, Hong Kong and other places where organized his solo exhibitions. His work has received recognition and are now in the permanent collections in museums and galleries in China and abroad. Despite the fact that the paintings resemble a watercolor painting, watercolor painting is not in the traditional sense: its materials – ink, paint and paper.

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Venice of the East – Zhouzhuang (Zhouzhuang). Artist Wang Yihua

When faced with the paintings Wang Yihua, once it becomes obvious that the artist adept in the style of high realism. The artist was born in 1961 in Xi’an, Shaanxi Province, China. Art education in the Central Academy of Fine Arts in Beijing. History, a sense of home, and just humanity …… pattern peaceful village frozen in time in a unique place.

One of the most beautiful towns in China Zhouzhuang Water (Zhouzhuang) more than 900 years. More than half of the buildings date back to the Ming and Qing dynasties. There are about a hundred yards of old classic, more than 60 brick arches, decorated with carvings, 14 ancient bridges. Instead of streets – the river, the passages between the houses are connected by bridges.

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Zhouzhuang – the best place on earth
Zhouzhuang – you are the pearl of China
Nine years reflected bridges.
In the mirror of your channels …
Song flies over the surface of the channel, and takes her young lodochnitsa while deftly maneuvering between scurrying in all directions pleasure boats. Aware of this town, located in the heart of China, that has not changed in all the centuries. In China, as well as all over the world, appreciate the true antiquity, especially in urban areas. Zhouzhuang – a kind of a unique nature reserve of this antiquity, miraculously preserved, almost untouched by time.

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They say that before this fragile world, lost in the rivers and lakes, which in former times could only be accessed through the water could not reach any enemy destroyers or fellow creators, eager to great change. Not entered into the city, the Japanese army occupied in his time nearby Shanghai, got to his Red Guards during the “cultural revolution”. But not only that, but also the beauty and uniqueness of this town on the water, rescued Zhouzhuang from all adversity. Or maybe the case in ancient temples, which were designed to protect the city from enemies. Its history goes back to the Buddhist temple Tsyuanfu “common prosperity”, completed in 1806. The first inhabitants of the city became a Buddhist monk. Over the past century, no water, no bright sun nor damp wind did not destroy the masterpieces of ancient Chinese architecture. Here is still coming architects from distant parts of the country not only in order to admire the creations of his predecessors, but also to smash his head on the secrets of these buildings standing without major repairs than one hundred years.

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Buildings of the period of the Ming and Qing best preserved residences of families Zhang (Zhang) and Shen (Shen). Once through the town on their trading affairs sailed rich merchant from the southern province of Zhejiang surnamed Shen. He was so struck by the beauty of the temple on the water, that he decided to settle permanently in the city and built on one of the channels carved its towers. These buildings have survived and are called the owner – “House of Shen.” Here is located the local museum. Began to build their houses and other rich merchants and officials who come here for the beauty.

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Shen family residence, built in 1742, is located in the Nanshi Jie (st. Nanshi). The house has more than one hundred Shen rooms: for the host, his wives, concubines, guests, servants. In addition to galleries, connecting all these facilities on both sides of the house, built another, secret gallery, on which you can discreetly leave any of the rooms. Why? As can be seen Shen house conceals not only architectural and construction secrets. This is the realm of harmony and good taste. Every detail of the interior: mahogany furniture, fine wood carvings, each character, carved in stone or written on silk scroll contains a deep philosophical meaning. In one of the rooms on the wall scrolls paired signs sage Confucius: “Learning without thought, then, to waste time. Meditate, but not to learn – just useless.” Here, all the evidence suggests that in this room preparing for the exam heir to the famous family. Chinese scrolls with sayings of the wise, porcelain vases fine workmanship, musical instruments, scenery of the rice paper, brushes, ink, tushnitsy …
At 6-foot brick arch in front of the main hall is placed horizontal plate with the inscription: “Always do more good.”

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Another architectural masterpiece – Zhang house. Zhang family residence located south of Shuang Qiao, appeared earlier in the 1436-1449 biennium. In the house you can get without leaving the boat: the channel is in the inner chambers … This feature of his home host sung in verse:
“Let the good wind of hope
Fill your sails
And bring your vehicle
In the hall of my house … ”

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On its territory there are six yards, more than 70 rooms. The main structure – Hall of Jade swallows (Yuyan). This is a big spacious room with impressive columns, a rare example of architecture of the Ming Dynasty. Under the hall is a river in the center of a pond created to turn boats. When you pass through the rooms of the rich and well-maintained home, it seems to happen even some miracle: silk drapes swing open, and the room will include one of the characters of the medieval classic novel “Dream of the Red Chamber” beauty Wang. According to ancient custom, it will be in the red wedding dresses, her face will be closed from prying eyes red veil, which she toss just after the wedding ceremony, and her fiance Bao Yu first saw this beautiful face …

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Over the last 500 years, little has changed not only in the appearance of the city, but also the rhythm of life of citizens. Exactly at 12 am living in the city to a standstill. Comes the sacred in China during lunch. And the townspeople and the numerous tourists each year there are more than one million, spread out over restaurants and eateries. And still the main attraction of Zhouzhuang – artists who came from different parts of China. They are so much that they have since early morning to hold the most favorable place for creativity. The best position local artists. They can do without leaving home. But not only poets and artists inhabit this wonderful city. Local artisans make up a good half of the citizens, they work not only to earn money, but also for the history, preserving the traditions of the ancient masters. In December 1997, Zhouzhuang is included in the list of world cultural heritage by UNESCO.

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text from the book of Vladimir Kulikov “Unknown China”

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Artist Oleg Trofimov * Flower ………….

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               Judy Drew.Natyurmortnoe ..

Still life ..

Judy Drew

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8
April 2015
Kategori: Ukategorisert | 0 kommentarer » - kl. 09:27

Forcing March 8 …

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Write me a letter
I do not believe the calls and visits
The time is coming
Get even a little debt
Even if the rains,
Even if it comes late
Write me what you love,
And if you do not like – Lie
Write me what you love,
And if you do not like – Lie

Write me now
Do not delay, before dawn.
Like a dead bird,
Lie on the ground of the city
Write me a letter,
even if you do not want to answer
Write me a letter
even if you do not remember where
Write me a letter
even if you do not remember where

I forgot about everything
I wander for weeks at a time.
On the Garden Ring
Like a sail in the wilderness starless
Renounce yourself
Write me any lie
Write me a letter
Write .. write … write.
Write me a letter
Write .., write, write ….

A.Tsvetkov

 

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As much as I lived with this woman ?!
For it would be without any bravado
I would head even folded,
What is more difficult balladry!
As much as I lived with this woman!

Dove resigned yesterday gods
I had not listened to the dubious gossip
And I would give her everything is rich,
And she would have got everything than I am poor!
As much as I lived with this woman!

And for her, not knowing guilt,
What can you do such years.
I just watched from the sidelines.
How stupidly lived with her other!
As much as I lived with this woman ?!

But one day, I’m still lucky.
Helps me clean power!
Woman handed me the key,
Realized called, beckoned,
As much as I lived with this woman!

And now, not in dreams, waking,
Not in visions of the night, but in fact,
How do I live with this woman?
Yes, as a bastard, his eyes had not looked!

Valery Pak

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What’s in a name?
It will die as a sad noise
Waves splashed ashore in the future,
Like the sound of the night in the woods deaf.

It is on handouts
Leave a trail of dead, like
Tombstone inscriptions pattern
In an incomprehensible language.

What’s in it? Forgotten for a long time
In the excitement of the new and rebellious,
Your heart will not allow it
Memories of pure, gentle.

But in the day of trouble, in silence,
Say his yearning;
Say there is a memory of me,
There is the world’s heart, where I live …

Pushkin

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I was late for you to life,
I was late to you for eternity.
Autumn leaves mirages
I quietly whisper:
– Inevitable.

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