This article is one in a series of articles about my father. I will post short articles about his life and work. My father was an unknown russian artist. My greatest desire is to collect funds so that the wonderful collection of his paintings might be preserved. Because I lack professional skills to take care of my father's paintings. We need a professional who would put all the works under glass and insert them into frames. Today a lot of them are rapidly decaying. Some sketches are drawn on scraps of paper. I hope to make you happy with posts about his life and art. I wish everyone saw this miracle.
My father died recently. At the age of 69. He was born during World War Two. His family was repressed by Stalin's rule and eventually they were exiled to the steppe of Kazakhstan. At the moment of exile my grandfather's family was thrown out of the train into the bleak and bare steppe. They had nothing with them but some rags to clothe themselves with. It goes without saying that during war no-one is going to provide you with food or shelter. You are being thrown out into the wilderness like a kitten. What are you going to search for first before the onslaught of night and exterminating frost? What comes first to your mind when you are almost naked and in the middle of nowhere? You have a couple of hours before the frost takes you over ... . Where will you run?
If you want to snatch the eternal heritage from the scrawny hand of time then resteem, upvote and follow. Share on facebook or wherever you deem necessary. We can not let the glory of our ancestors perish.
