Russian fairy tales…

Opening of a personal exhibition «Shrovetide». Exposition fragment with installation of Roman Shtengauer. Siberian Art Space, Novosibirsk. 2020

Prologue

My paintings are my land: the characters here enjoy life, wisely estimating the various events. This is the place full of coziness and individual care. It has the part of Russia that is so close to my heart.

The paintings, drawings, photographs included in this book will bring you to the world warmed with the Russian stove and bright colors.

And yes – I have nothing against progress but I'm against the global monotony. I would like people to value their identity without any arrogance.

And for now – fully enjoy the fairy tale!

I hope it becomes a reality someday…

Bread for the Lust Supper

Our fairy tale begins with this painting. We are at «the inner sanctum» of Russian house – the Russian stove. It baked for us some bread with a golden crust and wrapped it in a soft cloth like mother swaddles her baby.

The little pieces of coal are shining with different shades and talking whether to us or to a magic flower sheltered nearby. And they have a mystery – they remind January stars in the boundless space.

Bread for the Lust Supper. Canvas, oil. 100x80 cm

Winter in the village

Frosty January is the best winter month in Russia. Peaceful atmosphere prevails in the hinterland. Straight smoke from the chimneys creates a special aroma and mood – I want to hug each hut covered with snow.

And as well as the boy in the painting I see good dreams warmed with the icon-lamp and loft – a special bed over the house entrance.

Winter in the village. 2020. Canvas, oil. 80x80 cm

Christmas

Christmas has sheltered on the table and there is a wonderful Christmas tree besides. Someone may notice angels, maybe they have revived all these toys?

And then everything turns into mysterious Universe: even succulent strokes of oil paint remind shining stars.

Christmas. 2011. Canvas, oil. 90x75 cm

Shoe tossing

Have you ever thought why we see the stars? Why every night the sky draws them for us?

The girl in a patterned headscarf decided to play with night horizon. She hasn't just simply tossed the shoe – it is her mediator between the present and the future.

I wonder what it will tell her after its travel to the stars.

Upward (Shoe tossing). 2010. Canvas, oil. 60x62 cm

Epiphany

Once upon a time the stars pointed to the Christ birth. Jesus was christened in Jordan river – the spiritual birth sacrament marked his further path.

I couldn't come up with the composition on this subject for a long time but one episode helped me. I watched water flowing down the sink. At that time I used to wear a cross and I took it off before washing my face. And at that moment the idea of composition sparked in my imagination. The sink turned into the Universe, the mirror gained the features from the distant past, a simple white towel got brighten up with patterns, ceramic tiles disappeared – wood texture defeated soulless high-tech.

Real magic!

Epyphany. 2012. Canvas, oil. 100x80 cm

Best friends

A miracle happened when I gained a loyal friend – snow white Pablo. The miracle repeated again when we sheltered a waxwing Styopa which became a character of several paintings.

Styopa forgot how to fly and during two months we helped him to remember how to do it: Pablo helped his own daring way, as for me, I simply let the bird live in the wild and arranged for him a special place.

We woke up at his long and sweet birdsong. The morning seemed paradise like a whole day.

I think Pablo were surprised that his new friend had been so well-behaved and neat. For instance he skillfully posed for this painting. That moment I was so impressed by Pablo's look, he gazed at Styopa and then looked back at me inquiringly.

In a few days after when I finished this painting I had a feeling that Styopa needed to fly – his soul called for it. I don't know how but I perceived that.

With Pablo we went to walk our guest outside. I wanted to prepare a bag of berries for him – emotions made my blood flow faster through my veins. Styopa looked at us for a few seconds and flew away…

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