Such is the title of a one-woman show underway at the Children’s Academy of the Arts. The author, noted Kyiv artist Valentyna Chaikovska, says, “Life would be dull and meaningless if we did not rejuvenate and revive. Tranquillity, idleness, and replete self-confidence are not for a lively mind and searching heart. Awakening oneself takes great effort, the willpower to discover a miracle within oneself, filling oneself with bright particles that cannot be found in any of the five classical elements. These particles will dissolve, rejuvenate, and cure not only the artist, but also those exploring his pictures. By filling oneself, one’s heart with inspiration, we will be able to inspire one another.”
The idea — or concept, as is the fashionable word these days — of the exposition is determined by the very space of the academy, but it is a children’s institution. Childhood, youth, a period of fairy tales, happy listening, watching, and learning.
Chaikovska’s paintings are different: treatises on mastery and inspiration turned into yet another beautiful tale, the artist’s “creative experience” (“A Song about a Miracle and Endless Canvas” and “The Doors between Realities”). More often than not, her canvases have broader and narrower contents — broader because they are about everlasting things: God, love, life, and death; narrower because the topic is invariable contained in a gracefully and richly decorated vessel, not a parable but some mystical aphorism, which is certainly comprehensible only to the Initiated (“Unfreezable Depth,” “Back Home,” and “Outside the Five Elements”). Yet, in all honesty, dealing with the initiated is not a very pleasant experience, not if there is a choice. But here there is a choice. Because a miracle is not only the frankness so hard to reach; it is also a holiday and magic. At least children believe so.
There are plenty of children in Chaikovska’s paintings. Their presence and participation turn meaningful secret rites into beautiful cozy tales with crystal castles and a multitude of fragile towers, mysterious caves, well-wishing wizards, treasures, and mascots capable of working all kinds of miracles. Children boldly and joyfully attest that their world “out of five elements” can unfold at any moment (“Once There Was Pink Snow...”), and that it is not only perfectly safe, but also and absolutely captivating. Rather than assume an important look and make a clever face, they prefer to blow bubbles (“Children’s Games”) and light sparklers (“Light It!”), and they are quite right. In any case, children are those who can help adults figure out their complicated relationships with the world and each other (“Master of Stained Glass,” “He that Sees through Centuries,” and “Eternally Open Skies”), or at least direct them to the right path (“Fern”). Perhaps all this is true of the artist; the portrait of her daughter is not only a manifestation of maternal love, but also a sign of gratitude (“My Continuation: A Little Fern.”).
