THE MASTER OF SOUL

There have been many cases in the history of art when the most seemingly incredible ideas both transformed the gifted and talented artists to the true masters of art and elevated the very concept of artistic thinking. But where is the dividing line between a well-made work and a true masterpiece, what prevents or helps to create, to realise the conceived ideas? What are the challenges facing contemporary art? Our guest is Professor Fuad SALAYEV, People's Artist, sculptor, Honorary Academician of the Russian Academy of Arts, Vice-Rector of the Academy of Arts of Azerbaijan.

"There is a popular expression that 'architecture is the frozen music'. Does it apply to sculpture as well?"

"Definitely! Even drawings and paintings resemble a frozen colour vision, a harmony. The same is true for sculpture. It is sensible in the frozen lines, plasticity, rhythm, even melody — just like an extended note when playing a violin. So the principles and objectives are the same, but the methods of expression are different. If you take, for example, the sculpture of the human body, it's the same music. As in ballet... When you look at it, you probably don't think about who is dancing. What you see is the plasticity, the elegance of the lines."

"Still there should be a difference between the aesthetic view of an artist and that of a layman."

"An artist can see what the others cannot. A musician can hear what an artist cannot. Or take a writer, the wizard of words and literary techniques. He is the creator of a certain mystery, which only the gifted persons can interpret. In general, all kinds of art echo each other. They all have a sense of rhythm, plasticity, music, colour, volume and space. Just the language of self-expression is different."

"Why did you choose sculpture as an artist? For an outsider like me it should be a labour-intensive activity, which consumes a lot of energy and space. Why not pencils, paints and canvas?"

"As a sculptor, I do not consider my work as a labour. It is a kind of self-expression for me. There is no physical fatigue, but only satisfaction from my work. It's true that sometimes I get exhausted and say to myself: that's it, I'll continue tomorrow. But the same is true for painters, composers or poets, too."

"Is it possible that you lose the sense of satisfaction one day; the inspiration that was burning you from the inside yesterday leaves you the next day?"

"It's a very serious issue. Yes, you may find yourself not in the right mood and mess up your work, overworking or underdelivering it. In short, you can lose the thread."

"What about the professionalism, craftsmanship and school?"

"Well, they are definitely helpful like the tools necessary for any writer to model his plot with words, commas and colons used in the right place. But sometimes one needs to step out of the school of art. Because almost everyone can learn the craft, but the value of artisan works lies in the artist's own vision, in his feeling and outlook."

"But even for great and outstanding masters, creating a sculpture, a painting or a novel is a daily painstaking routine. But it is impossible to get completely exhausted every single day."

"Yes, we are all human beings with our own desires, ideas and weaknesses. And no artist can be successful from start to finish. There comes the day when they get exhausted completely. Why did Ernest Hemingway suddenly commit suicide at the age of 61? Because he lost the feeling of joy from his works. He stopped writing."

"Was there a moment when you also wanted to give up everything and switch to something different?"

"Not at all. I wished to drop everything secondary and go even deeper into creativity (laughs). After all, failures are mostly due to the fact that the artist gets distracted and loses the line of thought. His eyes get tired, his vision washes out, the feeling of freshness and novelty disappears. But you have to survive this moment. Sometimes I receive calls from fellow artists who invite me to come and have a look at their works, because they feel tired and can't see anything. And I can do the same, I too may need a fresh look."

"How not to confuse a failure with a complete fiasco to avoid following in Hemingway's footsteps?"

"Failures happen to everyone, and that's normal. And you can't hide them in a sculpture, it stands there still like frozen music. Sometimes the artists get rushed and strictly controlled. For example, a customer seeing your unfinished work may request you to do something differently. But we are artists, not copyists. What makes us valuable is our ability to see what the others cannot see. Because we are personalities. That's why an artist should have an opportunity to express himself. Only then can he produce his best works."

"Did you have the same opportunity to do what you wanted during the Soviet period? Or maybe you had to create within the limits of certain censorship or ideology?"

"Let me tell you a very short story. After graduating from the Surikov Moscow State Institute of Arts, I returned to Baku. I was 28 at that time, when the Union of Artists announced a competition to create a bas-relief for the House-Museum of Sergei Yesenin. Mine was made of plasticine and was presented to Heydar Aliyev among other sketches. Interestingly enough, he liked my work. It was my first monumental work. I did it the way I wanted. Nobody directed me, did not limit me, did not set any limits. I had full freedom of creativity."

"How do you accept criticism?"

"You can't please everyone. I remember the day when a monument to Rashid Behbudov was being installed in front of the Song Theatre. As I was supervising the work, a woman stopped by and asked who made the sculpture. I said it was me. Then the woman said that Rashid Behbudov did not look like himself in the sculpture. Perhaps, I said, but I trust Behbudov's wife, who endorsed the work and told me not to touch anything else, because everything was fine, and she was very pleased. Probably, she had seen the great singer only in his last years or when he was very young. That's why one has to take into account age-related changes in appearance. It's all very individual. But the main thing is that the image is recognisable. It is possible to sculpt a person with a very similar nose, eyes, head shape, but it won't be him at all."

"Can we judge the talent of a painter or a sculptor based on the resemblance of their works to their original counterparts only? What is the artistic mission of a master?"

"Our mission as artists is to find and portray the character. For example, a monument to a composer or musician must depict him. In any case, it must be a recognisable monument. And it's not necessary to show him or her at the piano or with a violin in hands. In Paris, there is a monument to Honoré de Balzac by Auguste Rodin, where the great thinker stands in a dressing gown and huge shoes... That's how Rodin wanted to sculpt him. He made several versions, but, apparently, was not satisfied with his works physical resemblance; he wanted to make Balzac a man of literature. I saw this sculpture and the author's previous versions, you could even touch them. But here it is: Balzac in a dressing gown, a moustache and with slits instead of eyes. But that's Balzac, that's his character. It's a wonderful feeling to trust an artist, and terrible when he gets rushed. I was in the Rodin Museum in Paris, and I saw a great number of sketches for Balzac there, which means he had the opportunity to work hard and search."

"Has the change of epochs, the collapse of the USSR and systemic reorientation somehow changed the values previously appreciated by the intelligentsia?"

"Yes, it was a truly historical event that eventually affected artistic values as well. How viable they were is another question. The main driver of the visual arts at that time was socialist realism. This period will be remembered thanks to prominent names and great achievements in ballet, piano art and literature. Take, for example, the sculpture Worker and Kolkhoz Woman by Vera Mukhina? Yes, it is socialist realism, relatively politicised, but still it is an outstanding work. Any period in time gives birth to talents and geniuses. Nevertheless, during the so-called Perestroika, when all restrictions of the past were removed, artists became freer. On the flip side though, with no censorship and restraining measures, there was no place for high professionalism either. Yes, there were bold experiments with forms, but they were there before. We were lucky to witness these experiments and new artistic interpretations back in the mid 20th century. They all came to us from the abroad. Back in the first half of the 1960s, I was lucky enough to see the Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky staged by George Balanchine here in Baku. There were no reeds, swans or lake on the stage of the Opera and Ballet Theatre, but it was a delightful experience. On the stage danced a ballet company dressed not in ballet shoes and camisoles, but in white stockings-type tights. One could watch in real time all the plasticity of dances without the usual ballet stereotypes: the beauty of lines, transitions, the dance itself. Yet it was the real Swan Lake, but in a different interpretation. In other words, all the required elements of ballet art, namely, representation of the idea through plasticity and choreography, were performed with the highest level of professionalism. The withdrawal of politics from art has indeed provided artists with the freedom of thought. But we are still in the process of transition. At least we can still feel the reverberations of the past."

"I appreciate your views on social realism. But why do we still involuntarily compare the works of contemporary painters and sculptors with the works of the masters of the Renaissance, classicism, impressionism? Do they still hold the bar? Are they still a standard?"

"Because the Renaissance was the apogee of the haute art. Can you imagine that we still refer to the pieces of art from the 16th century?! The highest achievement of primitive art was when someone depicted his fellow compatriot in paint or in sculpture. The mission of the Renaissance creators was also to praise the beauty of the human body. These are ancient, mythical, biblical subjects, if you will. But then came the time of Impressionists, who declared their school of thought through impressions. Artists stopped draw images from nature; the tasks were completely different. By the way, the general public did not receive their works well initially. Today we can see the paintings by Van Gogh or Gauguin worth millions at various auctions. But time had to pass for that to happen. And then the civilisation transitioned to the abstract embodiment of thought, artistic ideas, which eventually led to the emergence of abstract art. It is true that quackery could not be avoided."

"How should an inexperienced person tell the difference between quackery and a true work of abstract art?"

"It all depends on the professional intent of the piece. This is immediately visible. If it matches what is embodies in the work, then we can define it as as a serious work of art."

"But this is visible to a professional. How can a mere mortal understand the idea of a painter, sculptor?"

"You know, an untrained person will not appreciate even Michelangelo's works, let alone the works of abstractionists!"

"You often talk about the missions of various kinds of art. What should be the missions of contemporary masters? How do you define the national missions of Azerbaijani artists, for example?"

"The concept of 'national' basically narrows down the identity of the artist. But there are traditions based on values that cannot be abandoned. Otherwise we will be lost in this world. As persons born and raised in the traditions of Islam, we cannot give up the greatest works of the Muslim architectural art. The Alhambra in Spain or the Taj Mahal in India are the peaks of creativity, just as Gothic cathedrals, for example. It is true that the goals and objectives of architects or artists varied in different periods. The goals relevant in the seventh century became irrelevant in the fourteenth. Yet they have left us true masterpieces. As to the present time... Two of my equestrian figures stand in front of the Museum Centre in Baku, opposite the Boulevard. Actually it is a triptych, as there are three of them. One of them, the very first one, is at my house. It was made back in 1989, during the most difficult period for Azerbaijan. It's called The Riderless War Horse. No one encouraged me to sculpt something on this theme. I am just one of the citizens of Azerbaijan who lived with his fellow compatriots and suffered from the common tragedy of its people. You may ask what horses have to do with it.  For me, they are the symbols of Garabagh horses. Well, the idea was not to specifically sculpt a Garabagh horse. I didn't need to, actually. I just used the image of a horse. The second figure, Traveller, is dedicated to our people, refugees who were expelled from their native lands, who were mocked and killed... The third figure, Winner, is a warrior with a raised shield, which I created in 2006, way before our victory in Garabagh. The raised shield is a symbol of victory and readiness to defend native lands. I can say that my sculpture was a kind of precursor of recent events. So that's all for the specific themes and missions you asked me about. Everything is individual."

"You are a professor, teaching at the Academy of Arts. Do you teach your students anything else besides the basics of sculpture? Do you discuss with them philosophical and cultural topics or personal and civic issues?"

"There was once a funny phrase: the mission of parents is to make sure that their children live to the retirement age. Such universal love often deprives our children of independence. They cannot yet earn money on their own, yet they already have a house, a car and everything for a normal comfortable life. But they do not know the value of these items. They take it for granted, as a gift. But it means a lot, I think. First of all, a person must be able to achieve his goals, he must be able to distinguish between the bad and the good. I have been teaching sculpture and composition since 1982. But this does not mean that I teach how to sculpt and how not to sculpt. Doing art seriously requires having a certain position on life, even if you are young. You cannot raise an artist otherwise. 'We do not teach artists, we educate them' was a phrase popular during my years at the university. There is a very significant difference. We teach artistic thinking and taste."

"Are geniuses and villains still incompatible?"

"I think not. A true artist lives in other categories, he has other things to do. Yet the history of art knows such names as Caravaggio, who is a prominent figure of the Italian Baroque. But he was also a killer who stabbed a man to death. But this was a produce of affect, anger, emotions, not conscious villainy. Still, I agree with Pushkin that these concepts do not overlap in art."