SENSE OF LANGUAGES

  There is a long tradition for educated people in the
East to hone different talents. My Father was a
famous Armenian artist, a poet, and wine-master. He
was peaceful man, but after World War II he returned
home a national hero. He was so badly wounded that my
mother would turn away when he took of his clothes.
Our village was in ruins and the people were
frustrated and exhausted, and they didn't know how to
begin life again. The day after my father came home,
he took a shovel, baby-fruit trees, and grape cutters
and he began to plant a public garden. His words were
-"This is my art today". His language of art resonated
for all the people who joined him and soon a beautiful
garden appeared like in a fairytale. Many years later,
when my dad was in heaven, I meet my childhood friend
while traveling through Europe. He said "I had a
gorgeous childhood, because when my Mom told us that
we were going to play in Orduyan's garden it was
always happiness." Last time I saw my father's garden
I was a visitor in my motherland. I approached the
town on a train that ran between the mountains and saw
the garden in the valley below. I met a young boy of
about 16 with head full of curls like I had in my
youth who appointed himself as my guide. He asked me
"Look out the window, do you like my country? You see
the Garden deep down? This is our legend. People feel
much better when they come to that fairy garden,
because it was planted by a good wizard, nobody
remembers how long ago it happened but his name was
Orduyan. From Turkish or Armenian it translates as
'Son of Emperor'." Amazed, I thought to myself how
likely it was that Hans Christian Andersen stories
were based on real events.

  As an artist I did a lot of things: I created
children's playgrounds, organized children's art
museums and exhibitions, and worked an art professor
teaching art to gifted children. I realized that all
children are born artists. Sometimes they speak the
language of art much better than I can understand. And
they do not divide art into different categories like
painting, dancing, theater, and music. They have full
artistic freedom, endless potential.

  Once I gave my students an assignment to create a
painting with a summer theme, and a 5 year old boy
told me, "I want to dance this painting, Teacher could
you dance it with me?" I had never danced before,
because I move like an elephant, but I really danced
for the first time in my life with this boy. I learn a
lot from children.

  In Manhattan the owner of the "Turkish Cousin" asked
me to design a mosaic for the outside of his
restaurant. "Could you do it with Turkish carpet
motif?" When I finished my job he said. "I am one of
the few who understands the language of old Turkish
carpet art. You do, too." I sad "No I can only feel
it". There was a carpet on the wall over my childhood
bed singed by a master with Armenian letters "ARAM".
The language of art, the language of culture, the
language of the motion of the heart is the same for
all people. Even for the Turks and Armenians who have
been separated by a bloody history. I talked to Mark
Chagall in 1975 and I ask him a stupid question: "You
spent 50 years outside of Russia. Why do you still
have such a strong Russian accent?". He said, "It's
not important. What's important is that you should
have your own sense of languages, particularly in the
languages of art."

  And in everything I do I try to feel the languages of
art and the languages of life. And when I create my
art, I want people to feel the language of my art, as
my father did before me.