TWO AXES

Sergey Kalmykov

 

Sergey Kalmykov is an artist-philosopher, artist-inventor, surrealist writer, author of numerous folios, of his diaries, his autobiography, unsent letters, dedications, aphorisms, sarcasm and lyrics!

 

In short, for Sergey Kalmykov Everything is simple and above All by himself, Always, in composition, in aphorism, in theory, in Portrait - all by himself. Restless, ambitious, mischievous, always alone in his quest. He finds a resemblance to others in himself. Then - he jumps over them and goes back to being - alone. Sergey Kalmykov is always new. He looks for himself in nature, in mathematical combinations of points, lines and nebulae. In astronomical combinations of Stars he Looks for the justification of his fantasies.

 

Sergey Kalmykov has two axes: the first one is for visual art - calculation, taste and chance. Three incompatible elements. His three accidental companions!

 

Sergey Kalmykov enveloped Himself with this theory like the lace foliage of a dense forest through which hot sunbeams penetrate and split into a thousand fragments. Through a lattice of points, lines, nebulae, bowls, and column caps Sergey Kalmykov permeates life: nature, city, humanity, animals, flowers.

 

The second axis of Sergey Kalmykov is literary. Flowing irrepressibly, naturally, understandably, in the thick of the most mundane observations, daily records, concerns, worries and griefs, in his writings unfolds a rich kaleidoscope of experiences, fictions, numerous and unexpected theories, lyrics, letters, and the keen observations of friends and associates, of the strangest artists he meets, to whom Kalmykov is drawn as living senior contemporaries.

 

Sergei Kalmykov's favorite medium of work is the suite. He loves to explore. In his dreams, Sergey Kalmykov parses his subjects with anatomical precision, with love, with many tasks for the future in mind. And there are very few themes: a tract of land, a city block, a silhouette of a circus in the city, the occasional bandstand, the last gasps of a folk celebration, the blotch of a bench set against a finely-wrought railroad bridge, the wiry nerves of a city.

 

Sergey Kalmykov loves the sun, earth and air, but his sun lies behind his lattice of intrusive points, lines and nebulae. The light in his paintings is diffuse, silvery, sparing, and muted. Sergey Kalmykov’s land is densely populated, built up, full of wealth. Sergey Kalmykov, a sharp and restless observer, watches over it.

 

And the air in the artist’s works is not clean, woodsy, and natural, but urban, smoky, populated by fog and sound, and entangled with wires, fumes, and dust. And as a consequence of everything, like gray hair from long years lived, like habitual human movement, Sergey Kalmykov’s technique prevails: line and color - in movement and vibration. Shapes - in incompletion, colors - in strict combinations.

​

​

Translated by Alex Warburton