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I WAS PAINTING ALMOST EVERY DAY
BY THE AGE OF FOUR. AT THE SAME TIME I STARTED ATTENDING AN ART STUDIO FOR
CHILDREN AT one of Kiev's Universities. I WAS VERY LUCKY TO HAVE AN
INSTRUCTOR WHO DIDN'T PUSH ME INTO DRAWING FROM OBSERVATION, BUT WHO LET ME,
INSTEAD, PAINT WHATEVER I WANTED TO. HE SAID THAT, IF YOU FORCE CHILDREN TO
IMPROVE THEIR TECHNIQUE IT'LL KILL THEIR IMAGINATION. I THINK IT APPLIES TO
ADULTS AS WELL. technique comes with practice, however, style comes with
imagination and style is definitely something that separates artists from
one another. DURING THE YEARS I WENT TO THE STUDIO I WAS NEVER FORCED INTO
painting ANYTHING THAT I DIDN'T WANT TO AND EVERYONE, WHO LOOKED AT MY WORK
AT THAT TIME, SAID, THAT I HAD AN AMAZING SENSE OF COLOR AND COMPOSITION
(and that I was amazingly modest, just kidding). I NEVER HAd TO THINK
WHICH COLOR goes WHERE or how should I arrange a composition. Actually i
still don't think about that and i never do sketches. While in college I was
told that sketches are an essential part of painting and in order to get
better grades I even dabbled in backward sketching (when you do a painting
first and then do the sketches to please your professor). During first
year of college, WHEN PEOPLE STARTED TELLING ME WHAT IS THE RIGHT
THING TO DO in art; MY WORK SUFFERED TERRIBLY AND SO DID I. FOR THE FIRST
TIME IN MY LIFE I STARTED THINKING ABOUT COMPOSITION AND SUCH LIKE. AS A
RESULT, I HAD TO FORCE OUT OF MYSELF THINGS THAT USED TO COME TO ME
NATURALLY. I'M NOT KNOCKING out THE POWER OF EDUCATION for some people,
but I JUST WANna POINT OUT THAT when you have a talent on loan from god
(quoting Rush Limbaugh) IT might be BETTER NOT TO HAVE A FORMAL Education in
art...
ANYWAY, LET'S GO BACK TO MY
CHILDHOOD YEARS. I WASN'T WHAT YOU'D CALL A PRETTY GIRL. IN FACT, EVERYONE
THOUGHT I WAS A BOY UP UNTIL I WAS, AT LEAST, 11 YEARS OLD. WHEN I WAS IN A
HOSPITAL WITH APPENDICITIS, THE DOCTOR TOLD MY MOTHER, THAT SINCE HER SON
(meaning me) IS little SHE CAN STAY WITH ME IN THE ROOM ON THE WOMEN'S
FLOOR. I WAS WEARING A SKIRT AT THAT TIME, FOR GOD'S SAKE! SO, YOU CAN
IMAGINE WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO BE ME.
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WHO COULD'VE, POSSIBLY,
KNOWN THAT I'D GROW UP LOOKING SO GIRLY, (somewhat girly. hmmmm...
sometimes girly looking). certainly, not a friend i had when i was four
and who asked my mother after a couple of months of knowing me, if i was
a boy or a girl. on your right you see a picture of me when i was
four. don't you agree, that, if i would've had longer hair i would've
looked more like a female child? well... what's done is done and in any
case i had a pretty good childhood. i just didn't have too many
girl-friends, which i think was for the best, anyway. i had just one
girl-friend up until i was 14 and she screwed me up badly at the end OF
OUR SO-CALLED FRIENDSHIP, that I don't even want to imagine how screwed
up I'd now be, if I had a couple of girl-friends growing up. At any
case I was blessed with wonderful guy friends, so don't feel too sorry
for me. |
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IF I HAD TO DESCRIBE MY
CHILDHOOD I'D DESCRIBE IT WITH TWO WORDS: BOOKS AND TREES.
MY GRANDMOTHER HAD AN AMAZING LIBRARY; THE COMPLETE WORKS OF EVERY
AUTHOR WHO'S CONTRIBUTED TO THE DOMAIN WE CALL CLASSICAL LITERATURE. I
DIDN'T REALLY START READING UNTIL I WAS EIGHT. BEFORE THAT ALL I WAS
INTERESTED IN WAS CLIMBING TREES. WHEN MY MOTHER HAD TO CALL ME FOR
DINNER SHE'D WALK AROUND THE NEIGHBORHOOD WITH HER HEAD LIFTED up,
shouting MY NAME INTO THE SKY, 'CUZ THE ONLY PLACE I'D BE, WAS SITTING
SOMEWHERE ON A TREE. THEN, WHEN I WAS ALMOST EIGHT CHERNOBYL HAPPENED,
(happened is not a word strong enough to describe it, so substitute it
with your own). I LIVED IN KIEV, ONLY 60 MILES AWAY FROM CHERNOBYL AND
A COUPLE OF WEEKS AFTER THE TRAGEDY, I GOT SICK AND WAS PUT INTO A
HOSPITAL. FOR A WHILE I WAS KEPT IN An isolated ROOM. I COULDN'T GET
OUT AND THE ONLY PERSON I'D SEE WAS MY NURSE, WHO'D COME TO EXAMINE ME
AND GIVE ME FOOD AND MEDICINE. FOR THE REST OF THE TIME I WAS THERE
ALONE WITH nothing that COULD ENTERTAIN ME. I'D SIT BY THE WINDOW FOR
HOURS AND LOOK AT THE KIDS PLAYING OUTSIDE. THEN, A WOMAN, WHO WAS
VISITING HER SICK DAUGHTER IN THE HOSPITAL, SAW ME AT THE WINDOW AND
PASSED HER DAUGHTER'S CHILDREN BOOK TO MY NURSE TO GIVE ME. IT WAS ONE
OF THE BEST GIFTS IN MY LIFE. I STARTED READING AND I LOVED IT. AFTER
THAT I STARTED INHALING EVERY BOOK THAT CAME MY WAY. I READ EVERY NOVEL
AND EVERY SHORT STORY IN MY GRANDMA'S LIBRARY. NO ONE WAS CENSORING
WHAT I WAS READING, SO BY THE AGE OF TEN I KNEW ABOUT LOVE, SEX,
seduction AND MANY OTHER ISSUES THAT PEOPLE (AND WOMEN, IN PARTICULAR),
HAD TO DEAL WITH. IN FOURTH GRADE I ALMOST GAVE A HEART ATTACK TO MY
LITERATURE TEACHER WHEN I STARTED DISCUSSING THE WORK OF GUY DE
MAUPASSANT WITH HER. I WAS, PROBABLY, THE ONLY ONE ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD IN
MY SCHOOL, WHO READ THE COMPLETE WORKS OF HEMINGWAY, PROSPER MERIME,
GEORGE SAND AND MANY OTHERS. HONESTLY, IF I HAD TO DO IT AGAIN, AT THE
AGE I AM AT NOW, I THINK I' D DIE OF BOREDOM READING CONSUELO.
BACK THEN, I DIDN'T CARE, IF A BOOK WAS BORING. I WASN'T POPULAR OR
PRETTY, SO I WAS GETTING A SICK SENSE OF JOY OUT OF FEELING
INTELLECTUALLY SUPERIOR TO MY PEERS (what a kind girl I was!). I
changed since then and I don't think that anybody's better than anybody
else, but I still have problems tolerating ignorance. when i was young
I'D TELL MYSELF, THAT IT'S O.K. NOT TO BE CUTE, AS LONG AS I'M SMART.
SO WHENEVER I WAS INSULTED BY THE GIRLS IN MY CLASS, I'D JUST REMIND
MYSELF THAT IT WAS BECAUSE THEY WEREN'T SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW BETTER AND
THE THOUGHT GAVE ME COMFORT. Being smart didn't help my
self-confidence much and I WAS quite SCREWED UP in the head. MY PARENTS
GOT DIVORCED, WHEN I WAS SEVEN AND I DIDN'T TELL ANYONE ABOUT IT FOR
EIGHT YEARS. NONE OF MY FRIENDS' PARENTS WERE DIVORCED AND I FELT
somewhat INFERIOR KNOWING THAT MINE WERE. I HAD ENOUGH LOVE FROM MY
PARENTS, BUT SOMETHING WAS MISSING. I HAD NO INNER PIECE. WHEN I
TURNED THIRTEEN, BOYS STARTED NOTICING ME AND I THOUGHT THAT I COULD
FILL THE VOID INSIDE, IF I FOUND A BOY-FRIEND. when I STARTED DATING
the most popular guy in my class I SUDDENLY REALIZED THAT I BECAME
POPULAR. EVERYONE WANTED TO GO OUT WITH ME. THE GIRLS IN MY CLASS
WHO'D NEVER PAID ATTENTION TO ME, WANTED TO BE MY FRIENDS. IN A MATTER
OF FACT, EVERYONE WANTED TO BE MY FRIEND. BY THE TIME I TURNED FIFTEEN,
SO MANY GUYS WOULD CALL ME, THAT MY GRANDMA SUGGESTED THAT I SHOULD HIRE
A SECRETARY TO KEEP TRACK OF THEM. I WAS FINALLY LIVING MY DREAM OF
BEING THE CENTER OF ATTENTION. I GOT a bit HIGH ON MYSELF too; I FELT
NO FEAR AND NO REMORSE. I ENJOYED HAVING NUMEROUS ADMIRERS AROUND AND I
FELT THAT it was all right to joggle guys any way i wanted to. AS FOR
MY NEWLY-ACQUIRED GIRL-FRIENDS; I THOUGHT MYSELF TO BE THEIR QUEEN AND I
BEHAVED ACCORDINGLY. THEN, IT ALL CHANGED. AT THE AGE OF 16, I MOVED
TO THE U.S. IT WAS PRETTY MUCH LIKE GOING BACK TO MY CHILDHOOD. ONCE
AGAIN I WAS AN OUTSIDER IN A SCHOOL FULL OF SNOBS. ONLY THIS TIME IT
WAS MUCH WORSE, SINCE I DIDN'T SPEAK ENGLISH AND THEREFORE DIDN'T EVEN
HAVE A CHANCE TO SHOW PEOPLE What kind of person I WAS. ONCE AGAIN, I
FELT alone and DEPRESSED. So I STARTED STUDYING. I'D COME FROM SCHOOL
AND STUDY NON-STOP TILL MIDNIGHT EVERY SINGLE DAY. EVEN THOUGH, I
ENTERED HIGH-SCHOOL IN THE MIDDLE OF JUNIOR YEAR I GRADUATED IN THE TOP
5% OF MY CLASS WITH THE PRESIDENT'S EDUCATION AWARD, AND AWARDS IN
CREATIVE WRITING AND IN EXCELLENCE IN SPANISH LANGUAGE AND HISPANIC
CULTURES. I WAS VERY PROUD OF MYSELF and STILL VERY LONELY. THE NEXT
FALL I STARTED COLLEGE AND THE VICIOUS CIRCLE BEGAN AGAIN. ONCE MORE I
WAS POPULAR. THEN I GOT A 'WAKE-UP' CALL FROM A FRIEND OF MINE IN
UKRAINE. WHEN I WAS FIFTEEN I HAD AN ADMIRER. HE WAS A VERY SHY AND
QUIET GUY. THE FIRST TIME I MET HIM I SMILED AT HIM AND AFTER THAT DAY
HE'D WAIT IN FRONT OF MY APARTMENT BUILDING EVERY SINGLE NIGHT FOR ME TO
COME HOME. I'D TALK TO HIM FOR A WHILE AND THE NEXT NIGHT HE'D BE THERE
AGAIN. I LIKED THE ATTENTION. I EVEN KISSED HIM ONCE. THEN, WHEN HE
FINALLY GOT THE NERVE TO ASK ME OUT I LAUGHED. IN A COUPLE OF DAYS HE
STARTED DATING MY NEIGHBOR, AN OLDER WOMAN WITH TWO KIDS. SHE WAS A
PROSTITUTE AND AN ALCOHOLIC. EVENTUALLY THEY GOT MARRIED, HE ADOPTED
THE CHILDREN AND I FORGOT ALL ABOUT HIM. THEN, WHEN MY FRIEND CALLED
ME, SHE told ME, THAT MY LONG-FORGOTTEN SHY ADMIRER WAS KILLED BY ONE OF
HIS WIFE'S LOVERS... AFTER I HEARD THE NEWS - MY LIFE CHANGED. I
THOUGHT, THAT HE'D BE STILL ALIVE, IF BACK THEN, I DIDN'T CARE ABOUT
DATING POPULAR PEOPLE AND WENT OUT WITH HIM. I WOWED, THAT NEVER AGAIN
WOULD I LOOK DOWN ON PEOPLE AND NEVER AGAIN WOULD I BRAKE ANYONE'S
HEART, (which later on I proved on numerous occasions, when my own heart
got broken). I consider myself a strong person and a somewhat spiritual
person, and I believe that I can handle things that other people might
not be able to handle. I'd rather be hurt myself, than inflict pain on
someone else. I LEARNED HOW TO MANAGE MY EMOTIONS. I LOST FRIENDS,
BECAUSE I WASN'T WILLING TO SACRIFICE MY DIGNITY FOR POPULARITY... AND
BY THE JUNIOR YEAR IN COLLEGE I, FINALLY, FOUND THE PIECE I WAS
SEARCHING FOR. I KNEW WHO I WAS AND I WAS FINALLY HAPPY WITH MYSELF. I
LOOK FORWARD TO MY FUTURE AND I'M ECSTATIC NOT KNOWING WHAT'S GOING TO
HAPPEN TO ME. I'M NOT AFRAID TO BE ALONE, I FIND LIFE BEAUTIFUL AND I
KNOW WHAT MY PRIORITIES ARE...
P.S. Does this statement
qualify as a biography? if not, wait for twenty years or so and i'll
write a story and facts of my life in a more appropriate format. |
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