Artists

Evgeniy Grigorievich Zhiryakov

Born in 1949 in the village of Selivanovo in Vladimir region. At present time Evgeniy lives in the village of Palekh in Ivanovo region.

Zhiryakov graduated from the Art College in 1972. His teachers were M.I. Shemarov, A.V. Kovaliov, V.I. Golov, and K.S. Semaikin. The master's diploma work was the miniature "Construction of the Russian Fleet".

Now Zhiryakov works at Palekh Workshops and at the Association of Palekh artists. Evgeniy Grigorievich paints in the traditions of Palekh lacquered miniature.

Zhiryakov is a member of the Artists' Union of Russia; he was awarded to a diploma, a letter of the secretariat of the Union's board for achievements in creative work. His miniatures are in disposal of the Revolution Museum (Moscow) and the Ministry of Culture of Russia.

In painting Eugeniy is interested in the diversified plots: historical, fantastic, epic, bible, phantasmagoric. Sometimes the artist accompanies his works with quatrains. Beginning a new piece, he tries to put his heart into its painting. For the master choice of colors depends on a miniature's idea. Work on a box Zhiryakov considers it to be completed after realization of ideas and all technical features of Palekh miniature. The master spends different amount of time to make a miniature because of its size and complexity of work.

Zhiryakov, as well as the majority of artists, has personal methods of painting, basically they are traditional, but work prompts the author how to paint. Eugeniy Grigorievich believes admirers of his creativity will remember the theme and execution of his pieces.

At leisure the artist likes to paint in oils from life landscapes in realistic manner.

He would like to tell admirers of his art that fine art is rather labor-intensive occupation.



Reference: page 304 of Feoktistova T.E., 1999, "OGI", Moscow, 5-900241-63-7 ,

The Schism
The temple of Art is filled with the horrific,
passion boils over within the everywhere.
A turbulent battle wages forward,
life becomes an inferno.

A time before they were together-our own,
All have become the enemy.
Once distracted from the goblet,
It is contents poisoned .

A rock impedes the path of the sickle,
None to give way.
Hearts consumed by intense flame,
All will drink from this very cup...

Ash Berry

I once undressed an Ash Berry tree in Fall,
Placing scarlet dress into the basket.
Radiant clusters of berries lie within,
A tree, now sorrowful and cold.

Rainfall flows around the branches,
Ice will dictate grids in winter.
Becoming frozen, there will be remembrance,
of the golden autumn that once was.

I have left you standing barren, naked.
Do not gaze with such depressed yearning,
You shall not stand like this forever.
Spring will grant you cloth of dress,
To be wed you surely will.

Village

A wooden hut,
Gold shines upon the icons.
In the quiet still, an old woman recites prayer,
A storm is brewing.

Darkened clouds form an assembly,
which covered the deep blue heavens.
Behind the river, behind the spirit of the land,
The pine forest moans exhausted.
Turbulent winds lash out over the hut,
violently breaking shutters from their hinges.
Again, the old woman prays,
I am ready. Now. I am ready.

Lightning illuminates,
Thunder roars in the sky,
Clouds pass rapidly,
The forest moans again.

The old woman recites prayer,
I had faith knowing you d come.
A knocking at the hut s door,
The long awaited rain. Arrived.