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Wrtings and Colleagues

visions of rememberance . .

" Across there... these beautiful princess islands...almost everyday i journeyed to them while biting my juicy sweet peach which was dripping all over my fingers and my eyes close to my mind were distancing themselves in that horizon beyond these islands...- Once one learns swimming in those shores, one goes on -it is not a swimming back and forth-it is swimming continuously till you reached the first...the second ... the third...the forth in the longing sea of Marmara. One day it just happened that i crossed the ocean.. the big calling ocean named Atlantic...the gigantic waves gulped my islands and i lost my peach no more biting of that sweet juicy peach...the gluey wetness.. the sweet taste of it along with my magical islands sank in the depth of my soul and it rushes to my rescue whenever my breath is caged. 

Thanks to my third eye i see myself swimming to my islands...this recovered sensation pinches me so...i begin to see new magical shores to arrive.... A voice.. an expression in the eye.. a sound of wave...the smell of the sea...a breeze...flock of birds...evokes moments of life. The endless remembrance of a golden childhood or is it the pain... the pain that lingers me to the visions of the past-the sacrificial past to the present- lives merging into the future--the language is the dilemma -the forgotten voices of memory sways its way into the waves of my soul - body. Good morning "Pari Louys" "Kind Light" in Armenian. I greet you kind light ...I need you "pari louys"...Dignity is the louys -Dignity in you...without it you are a Xerox copy.. bare .. defeated in the homogenization of our gloriously civilized world. To love to paint to dream to make money to eat healthy to dance to sing to think to say everything to say nothing to understand do you understand? What is understanding has no senses...still yearning stands under. Love, the living moment of who you are...all the other senses can stream into the expression of some pulse. You earthly wind! you blew this colorful leave to my window...i recognize this golden leaf from the age of two... " 

He told me not to forget his name ..
" Do not forget who I am! His name is NUBAR HADJIAN. I will not forget his name as long as my existent allows. It was in the back yard of the old church, Surp Hovhannes, in Istanbul. He was an old man resembling my grandfather Garabed.. I followed him like a ghost wherever he led me.. I went to his dilapidated home - went through shabby stairs up to Nubar Hadjian the survivor of Gedik Pasha.. He is the only one still continues, you continue the life so adamantly-- the life the dreams I have in my mind.. I salute you Nubar Hadjian! I will only and can only make paintings after your name each one of them Nubar Hadjian, you are my existing hero..
Do I sound so sentimental, yet you don’t know what it is to be erased from the face of history and yet to be erased from the neighborhood where you lived 30 years ago and changed. changed into …*.. Nubar Hadjian I bow in front of you... You are my hero.. It is no Van Gogh, no mathematician, no politician, no big shot.. Just Nubar Hadjian.. You will be remembered as long as I will be able to paint throw this colors on the canvas - you embark in you.
Actually you brought Van Gogh alive to me in these abandoned streets of Gedik Pasha…in that pencil drawing on your wall of your parents portraits you are my Van you are my Ani, you have the “schuntz” of my “mezdmayrig” and “medzhayrig.” You are the breath! Nubar Hadjian in my third day of arrival at my childhood home it was clear no history no home no condolences with the past history, life engulfs everything in whichever way it just does - you are a survivor to watch all these evolution, we left for more “prosperous” lands my dear Hadjian sometimes I have the luxury to tell you that I envy your inability to escape.. I salute people who can not escape.. because I am caught in my soul so much in between,, I am paying for that with all the torment of my soul. NUBAR HADJIAN "


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I have been painting professionally for over thirty years, giving solo and group exhibits in America and Europe. Though it is difficult to characterize my own painting in a set phrase, I work in the neighborhood of expressionism; seeking to create an art that integrates intuitive and intellectual processes involved with the exploration, the expression, the celebration of life. I use oils, acrylics on linen, canvas, wood; gouache, ink, pencil, pastel, and acrylics on paper. Figures, portraits, eternal circular shapes enter into my works on paper , or on canvas, either in an abstracted frenzy or in a more relaxed way, depending on how the painting evolves. At times, my aim is to create an impact without figures, bringing the ghost of the painting out. 

As an expressionist, I believe that Art should first and foremost relate to emotions. Often times, I feel that my Art screams in silence, slashing the apathy of emotions in the worlds of advertisement and entertainment where merely design and décor reign, and where “what sells” and “homogenized Art” rules. Being Armenian, born in the ancient city of Istanbul, descending from an old culture, and immigrating to the New World to continue my education all contributed to my beliefs and aspirations in Art; this is reflected in the way of my paintings.