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Sergey
Lukyanov
sometimes reminds me of Kurt Vonnegut Pilgrim, a traveller who lost himself in the time. Making some movements, he brings us to the Ancient world, to the Middle Ages, under the green and emerald Mediterranean sky, to the heated darkness of deserts, to the sun-burnt countries without names. Here, armies clash, cities are built and destroyed, aeronauts rise and fly.
However, all this seems to be a travel from one epoch to another. In fact,
Lukyanov's uniform time is unchangeable and infinite. It has embodied everything that ever took place and will never pass to oblivion. This is the time that belongs to the romantic universe of an artist. Here, some kind of continuous performance is played, changing every minute.
This game involves monuments, their phantoms and living similarities, cities, their remnants and shadows, lands that have never been mapped and unknown skies
It would be a purely intellectual game, an exercise of passeism if it were not for acute feeling of reality, breating life in every painting: the artist lives in the worlds created by him, and everything, which might have taken place, was reality, he saw, and so did we, and we need only to remember when and where.
The paintings of Sergey Lukyanov symbolize a premonition of some sort of antiuniverse, other dimension, which is adjacent but incompatible with ours. Every painting and all of them together conceal a puzzle; they may be also parables, and each of them has its own sense. Wno khows?
"During
the great mystery and drama of life known as the
Manvantara, real Kosmos is like the object placed behind
the white screen upon which are thrown the Chinese
shadows, called forth by the magic lantern" H. P. Blavatsky
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2005 All Right Reserved
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