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Andy i Za - Artist

Andy i Za Art Collections

Browse and shop art collections created by Andy i Za.

ART.   Art WaR.   Art LoVE.   Art LiFE. 'The world had changed, yet stayed the same'.Andy i Za has gone through a thorny and long path of development as a person and as an artist.   His interest in classical art allowed him to master academic drawing with a simple pencil in his early years.   During his school years, he showed a craving for classical realism and the opportunity to work with paints, especially watercolors.   The army service allowed him to create fruitfully in the style of abstract expressionism.   The artist has...more
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2014

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PUSHKIN. Ruslan and Lyudmila.

Ruslan and Lyudmila was written for adults – to impress with the variety of its literary pastiche, to astonish with the freshness of its idiom, to delight with the music of its sounds and rhythms, to fascinate with the inventiveness of its narratives, to entertain with the liveliness of its descriptions and to amuse with the ebullience of its irony and humour. On seashore far a green oak towers, And to it with a gold chain bound, A learned cat whiles away the hours By walking slowly round and round. To right he walks, and sings a ditty; To left he walks, and tells a tale... A strange place! There a mermaid sits in A tree; there prowls a sprite; on trails Unknown to man move beasts unseen by His eyes; there stands on chicken feet, Without a door or e'en a window, A tiny hut, a hag's retreat. Both wood and valley there are teeming With wondrous things... When dawn comes, gleaming Waves o'er the sands and grasses creep, And from the clear and shining water Step thirty goodly knights escorted By their old tutor, of the deep An ancient dweller... There a dreaded Tsar by a prince is captive ta'en; There, as all watch, for cloud banks headed, Across the sea and o'er the plain, A mage a warrior bears. There, weeping, A young princess sits in a cell, And Grey Wolf serves her very well. There, in a mortar, onward sweeping All of itself, beneath the skies The wicked Baba-Yaga flies; There Tsar Koshchei o'er his hoard withers... A smell of Russ! Of Russ all breathes there!... There once was I, and the learned cat, As near him 'neath the oak I sat And drank of sweet mead at my leisure, Told me full many a tale... With pleasure These tales of his do I recall And here and now will share with all...

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