Description of Mikhail Medvedev’s series of paintings “Beetles”
Mikhail Medvedev is a new artist at our gallery, creating works rich in intriguing details and compelling ideas. Viewing works of art often calls for accompanying commentary. To help us understand these works, Mikhail has written an artistic description for his series of paintings entitled "Beetles".
There was once an old grandmother who loved to talk at great length. She would sit down on a bench and reflect aloud on how one thing was good and another bad. She would carry on like this from morning until lunchtime, and then from after lunch until evening. She sat alone on the bench, as the other grandmothers did not want to talk to her.
One sunny morning, the grandmother went out into the courtyard and saw that there was no one to talk to. Suddenly, a grasshopper sprang up beside her and began chirping with its legs. The grandmother was delighted and began to hold forth, so much so that she forgot all about lunch. The grasshopper kept chirping and chirping, while the grandmother kept talking and talking. It seemed that it would never end. But then the grasshopper turned its head towards her and said: "Everyone is the smith of their own happiness, provided they have a forge of their own. I am your grandson Leszek Kumor, the Polish writer; go and light the stove, Grandmother, and bake some pies. I am tired of chirping away with you all day." From that day on, Leszek Kumor spoke to his grandmother only in quotations, while she affectionately called him "my little grasshopper" and baked pies for him. The grandmother’s friends returned because she had stopped reflecting aloud on what was good and what was bad, and had simply become affectionate and caring.
The little water strider was very friendly: she glided across the water, basked in the sun’s rays and nimbly dodged fish and birds, earning herself the nickname Yurka. One day, a flock of loons arrived at the pond, all magnificent and downy. The water strider befriended them and began visiting the birds very often. They treated her to beetles, while the water strider brought them pieces of bread. Autumn came, and hunters arrived at the pond to catch the loons and turn them into ladies’ hats, which were expected to fetch a handsome sum at the market that winter.
When the water strider saw the enemy, she began sending vibrations across the water. The loons realised that something was wrong and, without a moment’s hesitation, soared into the sky. One of the birds took their little helper along. Ever since then, the water strider has travelled everywhere with the loons. The other water striders call her Yurka Gagarin. The loons themselves quack and say that she is just a simple Soviet lad.
Zhulya the Fly was a very beautiful little fly; there was flower pollen in the hairs on her body, and she had a white handkerchief inherited from her grandmother, embroidered with the letters ZV; she looked around and flew.
One day, Zhulya flew to a party of flies by the cowshed near Abramtsevo, saw Vrubel’s bench, saw the church, and finally landed on a branch; her boyfriend flew up to her, began rubbing his legs together and telling her something; he stammered and called Zhulya Zhu-Zhulya. After talking at length, he asked her: Zhulya, are you faithful to me? Zhulya replied: Zhulya Verna! After that, I sit by the fireplace in Abramtsevo, leafing through an album of Vrubel’s paintings and reading a book by Jules Verne, and I realise that Zhulya was faithful...
In spring, boys from the village of Marshal set fire to the grass in a field. The wind rose, and the flames raced towards the village. It seemed that no one could subdue the raging elements. But then Gennady flew in,
hurled himself into the flames, and the fire went out. No one ever saw Gennady again. And the village was renamed.
It is now called Marshal Gennady Zhukov.