by Maria Koby
Light subtle colors of green and summer, off-beat, long and winding road to Mount Ararat. Getting there might seem like eternity but it’s a rejuvenating, mind-blowing exploration. On your way there you are intoxicated by the strong scent of wild flowers, wheat grass; you are smitten by a merciless sun, then you’re showered by a heavy rain, and dried by a gentle sun. The snowy tip of Ararat is your compass, your guiding light. You are covered by a heavy exhaustion from walking miles and miles. You’d rather turn around but you already reached the point of no return. So you keep going up in solitude, surrounded by spontaneous music of birds, grasshoppers and wind. Once you reach the highland, it will be one trippy trip. Adrenaline fills your veins and lungs; you are high high high on heavy clouds of sky, ascending those cliffs. On the peak of the mountain you embrace serenity, at last. That is when you are going to sing Om.
BASHINZHAGYAN, Lot #125
Mount Ararat , 1911
oil on canvas
80 x 129 cm. (31 1/2 x 50 3/4 in.) [sight]
signed in Cyrillic and dated Bashinzhagyan 1911 Tiflis lower left