BEING SERGEI PARAJANOV

Sergei Parajanov had no free time. For him, art was at the same time a drive and
an instinct, as opposed to a need, a wish, a possibility or a job. Everything that
surrounded him in his waking life and that he interacted with in any way he
furnished with artistic meaning. That artistic meaning wasn't something he
invented, or patched with usual events. He would find it there and just point at it,
making a performance. Like in dreams.

Absolutely everything can be seen and perceived through art. Beauty is here;
one only has to notice it and give it due attention, at least equal to the attention
one dedicates to the practical relationship with the world around him: "Suitcases
turn into elephants, and then the elephants turn into suitcases" - painted Sergei
Parajanov with words. World would have been (would be) much more beautiful if
we hadn't been (weren't) repeaters, but inspired in our everyday duties, routines,
responsibilities, repetitions. Let alone the cases that directly invoke inspiration. If
world is a work of art (and if it is not) we can all be artists, but also background
actors and observers. And listeners. And thinkers...

What are the today's proportions of the notion "absolute artist"? The one who
decorates, beautifies everything that's "in front of his nose", makes art out of
scraps of paper, plastic, porcelain, his own desk, photography, philosophy,
human relations, relations with big and little artists (children!), relations with
ancestors, celebration of someone else's birthday, funeral, receiving guests,
being a guest, camera, fabric, reproduction, lace, story, pills, springs, pocket
calendars, press clippings in colour or black and white, customs, clothes, fruits,
facts, scissors, politics, inventions, bathing, conversations, anger, sorrow...

Andrei Tarkovsky analyzes his friend, apprentice and teacher: "He makes
collages, dolls, hats, drawings, something that could even be called design.
However, there is at the same time something much more powerful, an endless
talent and nobility. That is real art. What is the secret of that beauty? In
spontaneity. When he has an idea, he doesn't waste time on planning, organizing
and estimating the best way to do something. There is no difference between an
idea and its implementation, there is no elapsed time in whose cracks something
might disappear. The emotion that spawned creativity is turned into something
completed without having lost a single drop. It reaches us in its original purity,
spontaneity and naïveté.

It is known that Parajanov used to refer to his collages as to "condensed films".

The reflection of this truth in a mirror reminds us of the stillness of a camera: his
films are more or less stretched collages, ripe or even overripe images extracted
from (absolute) density and arranged in particular order. How many films there
are in one film! It is required of the spectator to be or become an artist, in the
same way that a work of art reaches its full meaning only by being exposed to an
audience, and in that union a higher reality is born - one that changes
consciousness and the work of art itself. The union mustn't be "mere". The
spectators have been selected and capable of highest aesthetical soars, of the
artistic experiences in which it is no longer important who is the artist, since all
that are present are at the same level of excitement as the artist during the
process of creation: the soul spreads its wings ("the winged soul" - a peacock!),
the spirit acquires the properties of ocean and fire at the same time, and the
senses become receptive as if being transparent. The feeling that remains after
the climax becomes sublime memory and inspiration for life.

His films were sometimes built out of images in a child's head, that inadvertently
occur while reading or listening to fairy tales. To a spectator he sometimes offers
fantastic, surreal images, awakening transformation, inspiration and
bewitchedness, like in the presence of a miracle, an outstanding moment.
Information, logic, history, fact and plot are used in the film only in their
transcended form. Parajanov is focused more on the awakening of the
artistic/poetic experience in the spectator and on kindling that experience, on
becoming an artist, than on creating a great work of art that is subject to analysis
and can be clarified by the use of different logics for revealing ambiguities. The
assertion that he is "too hermetic" doesn't stand, except in the case of flawed
analysis. His film language is not taught in film schools (there is no one to teach
it), but any possible exception should be honoured. He once compared his
filmmaking strivings to ballet: "Only in ballet can one see pure beauty", adding
that the best films would be those made for deaf and mute, because that is the
only way of keeping the absolute clarity of experience, without unnecessary
stories and rationalization. The best films will leave us speechless!

Sergei Parajanov uses reality and oneirism, imagination, possibility and

transcendentality in his films evenly, being thoroughly careful about the artistic
experience. It is for the spectator to discern what goes on when (or together in
one) while being offered with awakening in poetry, a chance to participate with
his whole being, to grow, to be bored or to relish the clarity of the higher aesthetic
sphere. He managed to turn just a few of his topics into films, with a lot of
tribulations and risk, using different ploys to deceive Soviet censors.
Nevertheless, he didn't manage to avoid four years of prison and ten years
without the possibility of employment (shooting films) only because his art
couldn't be controlled and predicted. He wasn't a dissident. His aesthetic freedom
became a problem for Soviet authorities. After the ecstatic dedication "to the
shadows of forgotten ancestors" and the religious-poetic-oneiric attempt at
thoroughly illuminating the possible feelings of Sayat Nova, the 18th century
Armenian poet - which became even bigger ethno-monument than the poet
himself - and receiving awards and praises from the decadent West, nobody
could imagine what could happen next, so the "next" was abolished. Luckily, not
forever...
Before death, he managed to shoot one more fairy tale and one more legend.
Unfortunately for the seventh and other arts, he never managed to shoot his
Confession, even though he "worked" on it for the last twenty years of his life.

Sergei Parajanov died - in his own words - in his childhood...