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Unfinished portrait

Painting, 1989, 60×50 cm

Description of the artwork «Unfinished portrait»

All stories (well, almost all, or some ...) begin with the word "Once ...". Even a series of poems such is "Once".
For example, such:

Once, having drunk vodka, Pushkin
Decided to be aggravated by punch
But single-handedly got scared,
And just then, Musin arrived.

Yes. So here. Once I got to the House of Cinema. I must say that in the late 70s, it was very difficult for people from the street to get into the restaurant of the House of Cinema. And I was such, from the street, although I managed to work a little in the publishing house Advertising. And one of thin. Editors, condescending to my youth and some kind of creative poster-like enthusiasm, dragged the young talent through the watchful porter directly into the tender drinking networks. The restaurant’s hall did not differ in its special design, however, it is now thought so - who among the Soviet people was then concerned about this ?! The main thing was what? The main thing was to get! And I got. Both in direct and in figurative.
The table, for which I was seated, did not make an impression of abundance with feast phenomena, but, the girls sitting behind them, made at once! After drinking a few and in a row, he began to explore acquaintances and intentions. Dating went tight, maybe because the intentions were clearly unambiguous. Continuing to persist in drinking and seeing that the beautiful strangers sitting next to each other do not react to these intentions, he moved his eyes to other sides. The other sides were different. But, basically, (and it was for some reason understandable) in two directions - to get drunk and "take off the chick". In my youth, I kept the pressure of a degree well and fully understood after accepting different things inside. There was a second. But with this somehow did not ask. Some of the ladies spat out the words in my direction, others, when they heard my chatter about belonging to an artistic bohemian, immediately began to pour names and learn how many times I drank with these names. I was already beginning not to hope and approach the first direction. Even a young body has a certain level of holding the pressure of the degree. And when I almost came close to him, I accidentally touched my hand (and this is characteristic of me - waving my arms) to a passing girl. Apologizing and uttering drunken nonsense, somehow, not having received a worthy rebuff, I found myself sitting next to her. The editor gave me both boots under the table and made some hints at the top of his editorial body.
Now, when I try to restore the sequence of events, I very little remember how they developed further (time - now and a lot of alcohol - then). I remember two. Crushed shoes and a stage on the street near the House of Cinema, where three characters played - me, a girl and thin. editor. For some reason he decided to observe my morality and shouted something, pushing away from me the "shot of a chick". And ... he reached! The girl laughed (laughed, one might say) and said (I remember that!): "What a young and cute dad you have! You must obey him."
And that's all. And I went home alone. And almost sober. And I was sucked. And I was angry at the editor terribly. But ... I understood that I would have to take a job from him, which means ... That is what it means.
Ten years have passed. A familiar artist came to my workshop, and we ... It’s clear that we took a little while talking extensively "for art". We ended, but then from 10 to 19 (somehow I don’t remember), and my colleague suggested continuing at his home.
Let's go. Continued. He played piano works of his own, produced just (?!). Then the appearance of his wife comes to mind. For some reason, it is late in the evening. Further it should be clear - this was the girl from the House of Cinema.
And I was drunk again, and waving my arms again and again touched her ...
And then I painted her portrait. And then her husband, my colleague, came with a bottle, and left with a scandal. He did not believe me that apart from the portrait, I had no relationship with his wife. Since then there was no place among artists, painting from a photo, the portrait remained unfinished. And all that remains is to miss the scarf ... Ze end.
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About the artwork

This artwork has been added by Arthive user, if it violates copyright please tell us.

Art form: Painting

Subject and objects: Portrait

Style of art: Realism

Technique: Oil

Materials: Canvas, Cardboard

Date of creation: 1989

Size: 60×50 cm


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