Evenings at Skaryatinsky: Victor Pivovarov
February 5, 2011
Victor Pivovarov belongs to that brilliant breed of artists as gifted literarily as they are artistically. And instead of cancelling each other out, those gifts always work together in perfect harmony. Taken together, art and talking about art are and always have made up everything worthy of being called artistic practice.
Since the early 1980s, Viktor Pivovarov has lived what he calls his “second life” – this is the title of one of his books – in Prague.
I remember his “first life,” his, so to speak, Moscow period well. I remember someone showing me a children’s book - Ole Lukøie, I think – and being struck by the illustrations. “Don’t you know who Pivovarov is?” he asked me. “I don’t have a clue,” I replied. “But I’d love to know.” Later, I did, and I’ve loved him ever since. I also knew his friends, wonderful artists who I became friends with too as a result. I also knew his family then – his wife Irina and his young son Pasha, now the famous artist and writer Pavel Pepperstein. That circle became mine too for several years.
Today Victor Pivovarov is an established figure in Russian and European contemporary art, so I can proceed without further ado and simply take the opportunity to express my gratitude and admiration for him once again.