Issue link: http://read.uberflip.com/i/1088861
5 Kiev: Bogomazov: Kiev is, in the plasticity of its volume, full of beautiful diverse deep dynamism. Here the streets are resting on the sky. Forms are elastic. Lines are energetic. They fall, break, sing and play. Look at our stone box-houses and you will feel the amplified movement of upwards mass. Look into a small one-storey house - how it bends to the ground, how it wants to crawl to the sides. And how sharp and strong does the angle of the corner of an iron roof strike a quiet group of green trees! Caucasus: Bogomazov to Wanda: If you could see what a wonderful mountain view we have from our balcony. The air is transparent, visible afar and all form appears to have blossomed in amazing luxuriousness. It is so strong, sonorous... a little bit further in the distance the blue top of some mountain can be seen. The soul responds to all this beauty and rejoices... I want to own it and, listening to its voice, I want to glorify it consciously and with my art. I want to devote my loud songs to her and, in her honour, to make my own picturesque rhymes... I feel that I can, that I am in power, that a little time will pass and I will sing freely! Sawyers: Asya, Bogomazov's daughter: My father worked a lot, took part in public life, though his day was structured almost to the minute because of the strict regime associated with his tuberculosis...but he had time for my upbringing. He made a wonderful alphabet with each letter, carefully drawn, placed on a 5 x 5 cm piece of paper on the background of a subject which began with this letter. The figures were written on paper mugs. He worked with me and I was immediately admitted to school in the second grade. Every summer we travelled to Boyarka to the dacha... one of the best times in my life...we breakfasted early, my father took a folding chair, and we set off to the construction which was carried out in the meadow of a felled forest. The glade was covered with fresh sawdust, the logs seemed to be ringing in the sun, resinous, shiny. The figures of workers on these log structures seemed huge against a background of bright blue sky. The high sound of a saw rang in the air. Nearby, in a chair sat father, deep in work... In our short moments of rest, we hastened into the forest. He took great interest in telling me about everything in the forest. I rejoice that my grandfather continues to live in exhibitions (he lived only 50 years on earth). and I am happy to witness such times. I thank James Butterwick and TEFAF for hosting the exhibition of Alexander Bogomazov and for their understanding and reverence for this original and great artist. Tatiana Popova Granddaughter of A. Bogomazov