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Anatoly Lyutenko
"When I paint sunflowers, I look for not just a resemblance, but a symbol of warmth and gratitude."
(Van Gogh)

Still life is a genre thoroughly studied by art historians. It would seem that there is nothing more to add: the apparent simplicity of this genre speaks for itself. But if you delve deeper into this topic, applying the theory of chiaroscuro, you can imagine everything from a completely different perspective!
Beginning with the ancient Egyptians, where still life elements were integrated into overall compositions depicting scenes of offerings to the gods or burial rituals. Even when painting their dishes, the ancient Greeks used images of everyday objects at an angle – purely as a color pattern. We'll skip the Van Eyck brothers, Giotto, and all the artists of the Italian Proto-Renaissance—at that time, still life had not yet emerged as a distinct genre from the general flood of painting. We'll begin our examination only with the Dutch painters, who considered still life as a kind of exhibition and "shop window" for their achievements in science and technology, filling their canvases with views of
geographical maps and globes. The mystical Italians, meanwhile, gravitated toward religious symbolism and paraphernalia associated with faith, decorating the walls of their homes with beautiful "trompe l'oeil" depicting the gifts sent to them by their beautiful land.
In still life, the composition itself plays an important role, as does the relationship between the inanimate objects depicted and the color and shadows. And we can also
add the "pure idea" that the artist puts into their work, and
along with it, the "addressee"—the one to whom the painting
is directly addressed. Perhaps a canvas is painted for the interior of a room, to
simply decorate a wall or expand the space (or, conversely,

reduce it) where the finished work is placed. Perhaps it is to
bring a certain focal point to the interior—so that
the objects placed in the room or hall feel like a single
unit...
Here it's a matter of taste... and the goals the artist has set for himself! But the essence
of the genre remains unchanged. Everyday objects are united in a single composition,
where their functional and aesthetic essence is revealed. As
Jean-Baptiste-Sim;on Chardin wrote: "I must forget everything I have seen before and
look at the object as if I were seeing it for the first time."

The overall large space remains beyond the boundaries of the canvas, as if "behind
the brackets." And the viewer must figure out for themselves what they would like to see. Each
thing in a still life has its own character and its own idea. And here, the artist's skill as a creator comes to the fore: how he manages, with
brush and paint, to penetrate the invisible essence of an object, to literally "take its soul out," and then demonstrate it to the viewer. Technique can vary: from thick strokes of a palette knife to
applying paint with fingertips!
It's not even the style that matters—Cubism or hyperrealism—the main components
are the artist's sincerity and taste. In a still life, like nowhere else,
special attention is paid to tiny details, which ultimately create the painting as a whole. The viewer's perception is focused on the special mood emanating from the work.
A still life is always a tiny fragment of life, torn from the overall
picture of the surrounding dynamic world (artificially deadened
by the artist to please the human eye). It is that crack through which
the viewer penetrates into a world of things frozen in a single second – and, as it were,
having absorbed the suspended time! Things stand still, and with them, time itself has stopped its course...

"Stop, moment, you beautiful one!" exclaimed Faust, and vanished into the abyss
of eternity... But let's leave the pretentious classics alone. We're talking about the
earthly now!
*
...I've always enjoyed painting old Soviet things. They preserve
the memory of childhood and another bygone life: the scent of that myth within which
we all lived for many years. The viewer's associations come into play, for whom the objects depicted on the canvas also carry a symbolic meaning, hidden in the depths of our memory.
Perhaps this is why still lifes with
village themes are so popular among Russian artists: clay pots, samovars, wooden spoons,
painted towels and tablecloths. In Soviet literature, the equivalent could be
the "Village Workers" movement, created specifically to supplant the literary liberals of the 1970s and 1980s.
Socialist still lifes with Pioneer symbols, various horns and
drums. Komsomol maps of new construction sites... or open tin cans, aluminum spoons and forks! These are all just objects, but they speak of
an entire era and country, which, like Atlantis, has disappeared into the depths of history. Objects can not only stop time (by preserving it within themselves), but also revive its flow through our associations, which were once associated with things that have long since become unnecessary.
But can a still life look into the future, or does it belong only to things of the past? But that's a completely different topic—we'll discuss it another time.
We live in a reality constructed from myths, which are actively generated by the surrounding information.