http://artshop.nnov.ru/ ARTs shop en 1440 Sat, 11 Sep 2010 01:53:10 +0400 osCommerce VaM Edition RSS 2.0 Feed Copyright (c) 2010 ART shop manager artnn-support@artshop.nnov.ru (ART shop manager) http://artshop.nnov.ru/ http://artshop.nnov.ru/favicon.ico http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=5 hokhloma is the name of a big village in former Semenovsky district on the left bank of the Volga river. Craftsmen from nearby villages brought there their handicraft wares to sell. Merchants bought up the attractive goods to sell them at fairs in other Russian towns and abroad. Thus this territory is rich in history and original culture. Khokhloma painting amazes you with its delicate grass pattern and festive coloring, which is based on combination of scarlet cinnabar and flittering gold against the black lacquer background. This is Khokhloma specific feature. Masters used tin powder and lacquer to obtain such gold color. Now they use aluminum powder. At that time Khokhloma production was not large scale. It was because of expensive imported tin. In 1720s after the end of the North War tin flow to Russian increased. The price went down and the material came within reach of many masters. The production and the sales of brightly painted wood tableware expanded. The 17th and 18th centuries proved that the beauty of Khokhloma wood-ware was highly valued. In the 20s and 30s of the 19th century Khokhloma craftsmen made some innovations. They started to gild not only parts but the whole surface and covered their bowls and cups with intricate grass painting. These improvements brought big success of this folk craft. The articles were acclaimed at many shows and exhibitions. In 1931 "Export" cartel was organized in Semyonov which later became joint-stock company "Khokhlomskaya Rospis". Brussels and London, Osaka and Moscow, Montreal and Leipzig, Pyongyang and Paris and many other cities awarded Khokhloma articles with medals and diplomas of international significance. Now about 1500 artists work at Khokhlomskaya Rospis to create an unforgettable beauty of traditional Russian wooden souvenirs. In the range of their products there are also many different Matryoshka dolls. Articles with Khokhloma ornamentation combine a range of valuable utilitarian properties (they are resistant to hot temperature and food acids) and add a fine touch to the wooden interior. There are few things that can equally serve a stable appointments and interior decor. Yet such is the Golden Khokhloma! A piece of beauty, always and everywhere! http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=5 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=4 The town of Semenov is situated 70 km north of Nizhny Novgorod. For many years it was famous for spoon-making. Half a million spoons were sold daily in the local market. In 1916 a school of wood-painting was opened where the best masters were invited. Since then we have known beautiful works of Khokhloma painting. Khokhloma painting on wood is unique to Russian folk art. Its original design and "gilding" have been famous since the 17 century. This handicraft got its name from one of its birthplaces – the village of Khokhloma in the Nizhny Novgorod region near of the town of Semenov and is very popular in Russia. Now the center of Khokhloma folk art is Semenov, which is known as "Golden Khokhloma". This fame was achieved by the master painters of the Semenov association "Khokhlomskaya rospis", which is the biggest producer of wooden goods with traditional folk painting in Russia. Here the secrets of genuine folk art are being preserved and perfected. Century-old traditions of manufacturing wooden utensils and furniture are reflected in beautiful vases, bowls and other Khokhloma goods. The miraculous process of converting wood into a piece of art takes about two months. Several layers of different kinds of paints and drying and baking to temperatures over 100 degrees C guarantee a beautiful and durable exterior. Semenov "Golden Khokhloma" resists hot water, alcohol and food stains without loss of its exterior quality. The soul of the Russian people is reflected in Khokhloma products, which demand skill, effort and patience. Even on rainy days they will bring light and comfort to your home, like drops of sunshine. http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=4 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=3 Khokhloma painting is a bright distinctive phenomenon of Russian folk decorative applied art. This traditional art craft first appeared in XVII century in the Nizhegorodskaya province and took its name after a large trading village Khokhloma, where all wooden works of art were brought to. Originally Khokhloma dishes were produced in monasteries and for the royal court only. Later, when a competitive cheap metal and faience dishes appeared for sale, unique colours of Semenov’s objects of art made them popular among the customers. In XIX century Khokhloma dishes can be found in every region of Russia, and also in Persia, India, Middle Asia, USA and Australia. After the World Exhibition in 1889 in Paris, export of Khokhloma objects of art increased significantly. . . In 1916 the Semenov School of Khokhloma Art welcomed its first students, and the first leavers of it organized a small work association (1931), grown later into a large production association “Khokhloma Painting”. Polished with ages, the unique techniques of gilding of wooden articles, come from icon painting, is today being maintained without any changes. It consists of 5 main operations. Before getting “gold”, a wooden article can look like “earthen” and “silver”. First, the dishes are shaped on a lathe from the dried lime wood, which are turned into bowls, vases, small barrels and canisters, spoons. They are dried and covered with red and brown primer, so that they start looking like earthen. The unpainted articles are now coated with drying oil. Next they are polished with powdered aluminium. They become dull shining, like silver, and go to the painting division. Painted articles are then varnished and hardened in ovens at the temperature of 120-130 degrees. The heat turns the varnish yellow, the “silver” into “gold” and mellows the vivid design with an even, golden tone. Thanks to the special varnish and high-temperature processing they are quite practical and safe in use. You can drink and eat using these Khokhloma dishes, besides it keeps fit with cold and hot, salty and sour food. http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=3 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=6 Originally Khokhloma wood tableware were produced in monasteries and for the czar court only. At that time Khokhloma tableware production was not large scale. It was because of expensive imported tin. In 1720s after the end of the North War tin flow to Russian increased. The price went down and the material came within reach of many masters. The production and the sales of brightly painted hand made art works expanded.Thus in the XIX century items with khokhloma painting were famous not only in Russia but in Persia, India, Middle East, the USA and Australia as well. The export of khokhloma items grew after the worldwide exhibition in 1889 in Paris.In 1916 Nizhegorodskoye Zemstvo established the first School for Wood-Working Arts and Crafts in Semyonov. The folk arts and folklore flourished in Volga region near Nizhny Novgorod province. No other territory in Russia could equal it in the number and originality of the folk arts and crafts that had sprang to life and were developed in the local communities. The Khokhloma art painting on wooden tableware is the type of Nizhny Novgorod folk art craft that became most popular in Russia and foreign countries.The "grass-leaves" decorative ornaments and their peculiar color scheme suggest that the Khokhloma art is rooted in the ancient Russian decorative culture while the imitation of gilt ornaments on wood dates back to the medieval Russian handicraft skills. The painting technique has been somewhat upgraded but remains essentially the same as in the ancient time.Khokhloma russian painting amazes you with its delicate grass pattern and festive coloring, which is based on combination of scarlet cinnabar and flittering gold against the black lacquer background. This is Khokhloma specific feature. Masters used tin powder and lacquer to obtain such gold color. Now they use aluminum powder. First, the art tableware are shaped on a lathe from the dried lime wood, which are turned into bowls, vases, mugs, dishes and spoons.To achieve the gold effect on wood is far from simple. First, the unpainted articles are primed and coated with drying oil. Next they are polished with powdered aluminum (powdered tin and more rarely silver were used in the past). The 'silvered' wares are then painted with heat resistant Colours, varnished and fired in kilns. The heat turns the varnish yellow, the 'silver into 'gold' and mellows the vivid design with an even, golden tone'The Khokhloma dishes, cups and wooden drink pots were used for serving food at holiday feasts. The wooden tableware using at the Moscow house of an important statesman had to look valuable; accordingly, they were modeled on the rich painted plates decorated with real golden fabricated by the jewelers for the luxurious homes of the Russian nobility. Thanks to the special varnish and high-temperature processing they are quite practical and safe in use. You can drink and eat using these Khokhloma tableware, because such wares not sensitive to cold and hot, salty and sour food.Apart from Khokhloma art presents of tableware most visitors to Russia will have at least one set of Matrioshka dolls in their luggage. These dolls within dolls have long been a source of fascination. The undoing of the main doll to reveal others almost ad-in-finitem has always produced wonderment and appreciation for the woodcrafts art.Examples of beautiful Khokhloma wood art presents, Paleh and Mstera lacquered miniatures you can look at art shop online site. It is amazing that what started out as a true folk tradition over 300 years ago is still thriving and remains basically true to it's roots, albeit on a more organized scale. http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=6 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=8 There once lived an old man and his good-wife On the shore of the deep blue ocean; They lived in a tumble-down hovel For thirty-three summers and winters. The old man used to fish for his living, And his wife spun yarn on her distaff. He once cast his net in the ocean, And pulled it up with mud from the bottom; He again cast his net in the ocean, And this time caught nothing but seaweed; When he cast his net for the third time, One fish was all that he landed, No common fish, though, but a goldfish. Now the goldfish began to implore him, And it spoke like a real human being: The old man was astonished and frightened - He'd been fishing for thirty-three summers, Bat had not heard of any fish talking. So with care he untangled the goldfish And tenderly said as he did so: To his wife the old fisherman hastened To tell her about this great marvel. His wife started scolding her husband: The old man returned to the seashore, Where the blue waves were frolicking lightly. He called out aloud for the goldfish, And the goldfish swam up and demanded: With a bow, the old man said in answer: The goldfish murmured in answer: To his wife the old fisherman hastened, And behold - there it was, the new wash-tub. But she scolded him louder than ever: Again he went back to the seashore, And this time the blue sea was troubled. He called out aloud for the goldfish, And the goldfish swam up and demanded: With a bow, the old man said in answer: The goldfish murmured in answer: So back the old man turned his footsteps; Not a sign did he see of his hovel. In its place stood a new gabled cottage, With a chimney of brick, newly whitewashed, A fence with oak gates stood around it; And there sat his wife at a window; When she saw him, she scolded him roundly: The old man then returned to the seashore, Where the ocean was restlessly foaming, He called out aloud for the goldfish. The goldfish swam up and demanded: With a bow, the old man said in answer: The goldfish murmured in answer: To his wife the old fisherman hastened, And what did he see? - a tall mansion; On its white marble stairs - his old woman. She was wearing a rich sable jacket, And s head-dress, in gold all embroidered; Her neck was with pearls heavy laden; She wore golden rings on her fingers; She was shod in the softest red leather; Zealous servants bowed meekly before her, As she cuffed them and rated them roundly. The old man then approached his wife, saying. She angrily bade him be silent And sent him to serve in the stables.First a week slowly passed, then another, The old woman grew prouder than ever. One morning she sent for her husband, And said: Her husband implored her in terror, Saying: http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=8 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=9 In the north of Holy Russia lies the mighty and glorious town of Novgorod, known to all as Lord Novgorod the Great. And once there lived in great Novgorod a bard, a musician of some repute, by name: Sadko. He had little in the way of gold, and to support himself he made the rounds of the noble feasts and banquets, entrancing and delighting everyone, whether prince or boyar, merchant or peasant, with his marvelous skill on the gusli and his golden voice and his skill at weaving words and music into mighty visions of the exploits of Russian folk. He was always in demand and he looked forward to a day when he might have saved enough money to allow him to sing and play simly for pleasure rather than sustenance. Alas! Misfortune strikes us all, and so it struck Sadko. A day arrived when no one called for his presence, and he did not sing that day, neither did he receive any payment for his music. A second day passed without feast or banquet calling for his songs, and then a third. His money pouch was quicky being depleted, and his plans for an easier life being thwarted.Sighing with regret, Sadko journeyed down to the shores of Lake Ilmen and sat upon a rock by the waters. He began to pluck the strings of his faithful gusli, and to sing a song of lament. All the day, from just after the rising of the great, red sun until late in the afternoon as that same sun sank toward the western hills, Sadko played and sang. First a lament, then a mighty ballad of a great bogatyr, then a love song, then another lament, and so on through the passing hours. Just as evening fell, as he finished another song, there was a disturbance in the waters of the lake. Suddenly the waves began to swirl and a great noise of thunder rose from the depths of the waters. Great clouds of sand darkened the lake still further. Sadko, quite frightened, tucked his gusli under his arm and fled back to the town of Novgorod.The dark night passed and once again the sun rose into the heavens, but once again no invitation to perform came to Sadko. Being forced into idleness is tremendously wearing, so the bard went once again to the lovely shores of Lake Ilmen, sat upon the rocks by the blue waters, and began to sing. This day he sang new songs, songs he was only then composing in his mind. He sang to the glory of Novgorod, and to the prince, and he sang to the glory of Christ our Lord and to His Mother, the Theotokos. He sang new tales of Russian bogatyri and of magical beings who played tricks on unwary travelers. All the day long he played, and as it grew on toward dusk, there was a disturbance in the waters of the lake. Suddenly the waves began to swirl and a great noise of thunder rose from the depths of the waters. Great clouds of sand darkened the lake still further. Sadko, once more afraid, returned swiftly back to Novgorod.On the third morning the door remained undarkened by anyone inviting Sadko to play at feasting, and so for the third time he went again to the stones on the shore of Lake Ilmen and sat in the warm sun and played his gusli while he sang sweet songs. As on the previous two days, at dusk the waves began to swirl and a great noise of thunder rose from the depths of the waters. Great clouds of sand darkened the lake still further. This time, however, Sadko remained in his place atop a great boulder and continued to sing and to play. He played as the night came on, a long while or a short while, it matters not a bit, for all of a sudden the waves grew high and crashed at the baseof Sadko's stone, and the thunderous roar of the waters grew louder than ever before. Then, before the terrified bard could move a muscle, the waters sank back into quietude and parted! Up from the depths of Lake Ilmen strode the mighty form of the King of the Blue Seas!"Many thanks to you, O Sadko the Bard of Novgorod," cried the King, and his voice was like the crashing of waves and rushing of waters. "For three days now you have greatly entertained us, for I have been holding feastday in my palace beneath Lake Ilmen. All have been bewitched by the golden tones of your voice, the dexterity of your fingers on the gusli, and the wit and wisdom of your words. Would that we could reward you adequately, but I know not how I should... But wait! Go now to your home in Novgorod, O Sadko, and on the morrow you shall be called to perform at the banquet of the wealthiest merchant of the city. Everyone will be present, from the veche, to the prince, to the merchants. As always happens with men, when they have eaten and drunk all they desire, they will begin to boast, and oh, such boasting as would make a bard's ears tingle with ideas for rollicking songs! One will brag of his great wealth, another of his noble steed, yet another of his great might and prowess in battle, and even more of his youth. Wisdom will boast of his elderly father and mother, foolishness will boast of his sweet young wife. But you, Sadko the Bard, will make a boast to shame theirs! Say to them: 'I, Sadko the Bard, knowthat dwelling in Lake Ilmen are fish with fins of pure gold!" Those rich (and ignorant) merchants of Novgorod will delight t ridiculing your words, and they will contradict you and deny that such fish are in Lake Ilmen. Thereupon you must wager with them, setting your turbulent head against all their shops and precious goods. When they accept (and they will, for foolish men always do), take a net of silk and come here, casting the net into the lake three times. Whenyou do this, I will send you each time a fishwith fins of pure gold. And in this way you will win markets full of shops and become Sadko the richest merchant of Novgorod, and you will be able to play and sing solely for pleasure rather than sustenance!"Sadko returned to Novgorod, sighing over the tricks of a head left to sit too long in the heat of the sun. But lo and behold! on the morrow when he went forth from his bed he was greeted by the chamberlain of the richest merchant in town, and invited to grace a great feast with song and story. And everything happened just as the King of the Blue Sea had predicted.When everyone present, the veche, the prince, and the rich merchants, had eaten and drunk all they desired, they began to boast and oh! the braggarts told tales that would make fodder for many fine witticisms of Sadko the Bard for long years to come! One boasted of his great riches and endless treasures, another of his noble steed descended from the most ancient and worthy bloodlines, yet another of his knightly bearing on the field of battle and his prowess a arms, while a wise man boasted of his elderly and saintly father and mother, and a fool bragged of his sweet young wife. All the while, Sadko sat and spoke not a word. When the feasters had finished their bragging, the host of the banquet turned to the silent and smiling Sadko and asked him whether he had nothing to boast of. Laying aside his gusli, Sadko arose and said:"Aie me! O noble merchants of Novgorod, o mighty prince, o all-powerful veche, what could a poor man such as I, Sadko the Bard, have to match against your glorious boasts? I have no goden treasure, I have no sweet wife. My music is a gift of God and not mine to boast of. I know of only one thing whereof I could boast, for I alone know that in Lake Ilmen swim fish with fins of gold!"At first there was silence, then a snicker, and finally the merchants of Novgorod roared with laughter! Then they began to argue and contend with the bard, asserting that no such fish existed in the lake, or even in the wide world."Ah, if I were rich, like you," lamented Sadko, "I would be able to wager much gold on the truth of my words. But alas! I have nothing but my own turbulent head to offer as stakes.""We gladly accept your wager, Sadko!" chuckled the over-confident merchants. "We say no fish with fins of gold are in Lake Ilmen, and we shall wager all of our shops in the Great Market and all of their fine goods against your turbulent head!"Then Sadko took a net of silk and went straightaway to the shores of Lake Ilmen and cast it into the waters. When he drew it out, there lay within it a tiny fish with fins of pure gold. The merchants were amazed, but Sadko did as the King of the Blue Sea had bidden him and cast the net into the lake twice more, and each time he drew forth a tiny fish with fins of pure gold. Without argument and seeing that the bard had spoken truth (for the merchants of Novgorod prided themselves on their honesty), they turned over to Sadko the shops in the Great market and all their fine goods. Thus did Sadko the Bard become one of the richest merchants in the glorious town of Novgorod, and no more sang for sustenance, but rather for pleasure. http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=9 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=10 Once upon a time in a Russian village lived an old peasant. He had three sons. The two elder sons were clever, but the youngest was a fool named Ivanushka. The family had a wheat field. One day they noticed that at night something had come into the field and trampled the wheat. The old peasant sent his sons to guard the field. On the first night the eldest son went to the field, but did not try hard enough to stay awake and fell asleep. On the second night the middle son went to the field, but he too fell asleep and did not see anything. On the third night Ivanushka went there. At midnight he saw a great chestnut-gray stallion wearing a gold saddle and a silver bridle. The stallion started to eat and trampled the wheat. Ivanushka managed to catch the wonderful horse. The stallion said, "Let me go free, I will be your friend. If you need something, go to the field, whistle and say, "Sivka-Burka, appear here!" I will come and help you." Ivanushka agreed and let him go free. It happened about that time that the tsar, who had no son, organized a contest to determine who would succeed him as tsar. He placed his beautiful daughter on the top floor of a very tall tower and announced that the man who could reach the princess jumping on a horse and could take the ring from her finger would win her hand in marriage and rule the land. The older brothers decided to go to the competition, but Ivanushka stayed home. When his brothers left, he whistled and called Sivka-Burka, who rose thundering out of the ground. Ivanushka climbed in his right ear and climbed out of the left ear a very handsome, well-dressed young man. Then he rode to the competition to try his luck. Sivka jumped trying to reach the princess. Ivan was very close to her, but couldn't quite reach the ring. He quickly turned the horse and galloped home. There he turned back into his previous self. When his brothers came from the tsar's courtyard they told Ivanushka about the handsome man who almost reached the princess. Ivanushka only laughed at them. The next day the same thing happened. On the third day, Ivanushka and Sivka-Burka reached the princess and took the ring from her finger. Then they galloped away so quickly that nobody could even see Ivanushka's face. At home he turned back into his previous self but he had one hand in a bandage. His brothers asked him, "What is wrong with your hand?" He laughed and said, "Nothing serious, just a scratch." Three days later, the tsar invited everyone to a feast. The old peasant came with his three sons. They sat at the table ate, drank and had fun. At the end of the feast the tsar's daughter herself served honey to the guests. When she approached Ivanushka, she noticed the bandage on his hand and asked him, "Good young man, why do have a bandage on your hand? Let me look at it!" And there everyone saw the ring on his finger. The princess said, "Dear father, here is my fiance!" Ivanushka called Sivka-Burka, turned into the handsome man and married the princess. http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=10 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=11 There was once a widow who had two daughters, Helen, her own child by her dead husband, and Marouckla, his daughter by his first wife. She loved Helen, but hated the poor orphan because she was far prettier than her own daughter. Marouckla did not think about her good looks, and could not understand why her stepmother should be angry at the sight of her. The hardest work fell to her share. She cleaned out the rooms, cooked, washed, sewed, spun, wove, brought in the hay, milked the cow, and all this without any help. Helen, meanwhile, did nothing but dress herself in her best clothes and go to one amusement after another. But Marouckla never complained. She bore the scoldings and bad temper of mother and sister with a smile on her lips, and the patience of a lamb. But this angelic behavior did not soften them. They became even more tyrannical and grumpy, for Marouckla grew daily more beautiful, while Helen's ugliness increased. So the stepmother determined to get rid of Marouckla, for she knew that while she remained, her own daughter would have no suitors. Hunger, every kind of privation, abuse, every means was used to make the girl's life miserable. But in spite of it all Marouckla grew ever sweeter and more charming. One day in the middle of winter Helen wanted some wood-violets. "Listen," cried she to Marouckla, "you must go up the mountain and find me violets. I want some to put in my gown. They must be fresh and sweet-scented-do you hear?" "But, my dear sister, whoever heard of violets blooming in the snow?" said the poor orphan. "You wretched creature! Do you dare to disobey me?" said Helen. "Not another word. Off with you! If you do not bring me some violets from the mountain forest I will kill you." The stepmother also added her threats to those of Helen, and with vigorous blows they pushed Marouckla outside and shut the door upon her. The weeping girl made her way to the mountain. The snow lay deep, and there was no trace of any human being. Long she wandered hither and thither, and lost herself in the wood. She was hungry, and shivered with cold, and prayed to die. Suddenly she saw a light in the distance, and climbed toward it till she reached the top of the mountain. Upon the highest peak burned a large fire, surrounded by twelve blocks of stone on which sat twelve strange beings. Of these the first three had white hair, three were not quite so old, three were young and handsome, and the rest still younger. There they all sat silently looking at the fire. They were the Twelve Months of the Year. The great January was placed higher than the others. His hair and mustache were white as snow, and in his hand he held a wand. At first Marouckla was afraid, but after a while her courage returned, and drawing near, she said: -- "Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? I am chilled by the winter cold." The great January raised his head and answered: "What brings thee here, my daughter? What dost thou seek?" "I am looking for violets," replied the maiden. "This is not the season for violets. Dost thou not see the snow everywhere?" said January. "I know well, but my sister Helen and my stepmother have ordered me to bring them violets from your mountain. If I return without them they will kill me. I pray you, good shepherds, tell me where they may be found." Here the great January arose and went over to the youngest of the Months, and, placing his wand in his hand, said: -- "Brother March, do thou take the highest place." March obeyed, at the same time waving his wand over the fire. Immediately the flames rose toward the sky, the snow began to melt and the trees and shrubs to bud. The grass became green, and from between its blades peeped the pale primrose. It was spring, and the meadows were blue with violets. "Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said March. Joyfully she hastened to pick the flowers, and having soon a large bunch she thanked them and ran home. Helen and the stepmother were amazed at the sight of the flowers, the scent of which filled the house. "Where did you find them?" asked Helen. "Under the trees on the mountain-side," said Marouckla. Helen kept the flowers for herself and her mother. She did not even thank her stepsister for the trouble she had taken. The next day she desired Marouckla to fetch her strawberries. "Run," said she, "and fetch me strawberries from the mountain. They must be very sweet and ripe." "But whoever heard of strawberries ripening in the snow?" exclaimed Marouckla. "Hold your tongue, worm; don't answer me. If I don't have my strawberries I will kill you," said Helen. Then the stepmother pushed Marouckla into the yard and bolted the door. The unhappy girl made her way toward the mountain and to the large fire round which sat the Twelve Months. The great January occupied the highest place. "Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near. The great January raised his head and asked: "Why comest thou here? What dost thou seek?" "I am looking for strawberries," said she. "We are in the midst of winter," replied January, "strawberries do not grow in the snow." "I know," said the girl sadly, "but my sister and stepmother have ordered me to bring them strawberries. If I do not they will kill me. Pray, good shepherds, tell me where to find them." The great January arose, crossed over to the Month opposite him, and putting the wand in his hand, said: "Brother June, do thou take the highest place." June obeyed, and as he waved his wand over the fire the flames leaped toward the sky. Instantly the snow melted, the earth was covered with verdure, trees were clothed with leaves, birds began to sing, and various flowers blossomed in the forest. It was summer. Under the bushes masses of star-shaped flowers changed into ripening strawberries, and instantly they covered the glade, making it look like a sea of blood. "Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said June. Joyfully she thanked the Months, and having filled her apron ran happily home. Helen and her mother wondered at seeing the strawberries, which filled the house with their delicious fragrance. "Wherever did you find them?" asked Helen crossly. "Right up among the mountains. Those from under the beech trees are not bad," answered Marouckla. Helen gave a few to her mother and ate the rest herself. Not one did she offer to her stepsister. Being tired of strawberries, on the third day she took a fancy for some fresh, red apples. "Run, Marouckla," said she, "and fetch me fresh, red apples from the mountain." "Apples in winter, sister? Why, the trees have neither leaves nor fruit!" "Idle thing, go this minute," said Helen; "unless you bring back apples we will kill you." As before, the stepmother seized her roughly and turned her out of the house. The poor girl went weeping up the mountain, across the deep snow, and on toward the fire round which were the Twelve Months. Motionless they sat there, and on the highest stone was the great January. "Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills me," said she, drawing near. The great January raised his head. "Why comest thou here? What does thou seek?" asked he. "I am come to look for red apples," replied Marouckla. "But this is winter, and not the season for red apples," observed the great January. "I know," answered the girl, "but my sister and stepmother sent me to fetch red apples from the mountain. If I return without them they will kill me." Thereupon the great January arose and went over to one of the elderly Months, to whom he handed the wand saying: -- "Brother September, do thou take the highest place." September moved to the highest stone, and waved his wand over the fire. There was a flare of red flames, the snow disappeared, but the fading leaves which trembled on the trees were sent by a cold northeast wind in yellow masses to the glade. Only a few flowers of autumn were visible. At first Marouckla looked in vain for red apples. Then she espied a tree which grew at a great height, and from the branches of this hung the bright, red fruit. September ordered her to gather some quickly. The girl was delighted and shook the tree. First one apple fell, then another. "That is enough," said September; "hurry home." Thanking the Months she returned joyfully. Helen and the stepmother wondered at seeing the fruit. "Where did you gather them?" asked the stepsister. "There are more on the mountain-top," answered Marouckla. "Then, why did you not bring more?" said Helen angrily. "You must have eaten them on your way back, you wicked girl." "No, dear sister, I have not even tasted them," said Marouckla. "I shook the tree twice. One apple fell each time. Some shepherds would not allow me to shake it again, but told me to return home." "Listen, mother," said Helen. "Give me my cloak. I will fetch some more apples myself. I shall be able to find the mountain and the tree. The shepherds may cry `Stop!' but I will not leave go till I have shaken down all the apples." In spite of her mother's advice she wrapped herself in her pelisse, put on a warm hood, and took the road to the mountain. Snow covered everything. Helen lost herself and wandered hither and thither. After a while she saw a light above her, and, following in its direction, reached the mountain-top. There was the flaming fire, the twelve blocks of stone, and the Twelve Months. At first she was frightened and hesitated; then she came nearer and warmed her hands. She did not ask permission, nor did she speak one polite word. "What hath brought thee here? What dost thou seek?" said the great January severely. "I am not obliged to tell you, old graybeard. What business is it of yours?" she replied disdainfully, turning her back on the fire and going toward the forest. The great January frowned, and waved his wand over his head. Instantly the sky became covered with clouds, the fire went down, snow fell in large flakes, an icy wind howled round the mountain. Amid the fury of the storm Helen stumbled about. The pelisse failed to warm her benumbed limbs. The mother kept on waiting for her. She looked from the window, she watched from the doorstep, but her daughter came not. The hours passed slowly, but Helen did not return. "Can it be that the apples have charmed her from her home?" thought the mother. Then she clad herself in hood and pelisse, and went in search of her daughter. Snow fell in huge masses. It covered all things. For long she wandered hither and thither, the icy northeast wind whistled in the mountain, but no voice answered her cries. Day after day Marouckla worked, and prayed, and waited, but neither stepmother nor sister returned. They had been frozen to death on the mountain. The inheritance of a small house, a field, and a cow fell to Marouckla. In course of time an honest farmer came to share them with her, and their lives were happy and peaceful. http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=11 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=12 In the famous city of Murom, in the village of Karatcharof, lived a peasant, Ivan Timofeewitch. He had an only child, Ilya Murometz. He sat as children do for thirty years, and when thirty years had passed, he began to walk firmly on his feet, became conscious of vast strength, made himself a warrior's equipment and a steel spear, and saddled a good horse, worthy of a hero. He went to his father and mother, and begged their blessing. 'My honoured father and mother, let me go to the famous city of Kief to perform my devotions to God, and to kneel to the Prince of Kief.' His father and mother gave him their blessing, laid upon him serious injunctions, and spoke to this effect: 'Ride straight to the city of Kief; straight to the city of Chernigof, and on your road do no injury, shed no Christian blood causelessly.' Ivan Murometz received the blessing of his father and mother, prayed to God, took leave of his father and mother, and started on his journey. He travelled far on into the gloomy forest, until he came to a robbers' camp. The robbers espied Ilya Murometz, and their robber hearts burned for his heroic horse, and they began to talk together about taking his horse from him, for they were not wont to see such horses anywhere, and now an unknown man was riding on so good a horse. And they arose to assail Ilya Murometz by tens and twenties. Ilya Murometz halted his heroic horse, and took out of his quiver an arrow of guelder-rosewood, and placed it on his tough bow. He shot the arrow of guelder-rosewood along the ground, and it penetrated to the distance of a fathom slanting. Seeing this, the robbers were terrified, collected into an orb, fell on their knees, and said: You are our lord and father, valiant and good youth! We are guilty before you; take for such a fault as ours as much as you please of coloured raiment and herds of horses.' Ilya smiled and said: 'I've nowhere to put it; but if you wish to live, don't venture any further!' and rode on his way to the famous city of Kief.He rode on to the city of Chernigof, and under that city of Chernigof were standing armies of heathen innumerable, and they were besieging the city of Chernigof, and wanted to destroy it and ravage the churches of God therein, and to take into captivity the Prince and Duke of Chernigof himself. Ilya Murometz was terrified at this great force; nevertheless, he committed himself to the Lord God, his Creator, and determined to risk his head for the Christian faith. Ilya Murometz began to slaughter the heathen forces with his steel spear, and defeated all the pagan power, and took captive the heathen prince, and led him into the city of Chernigof. The citizens came out of the city of Chernigof to meet him with honour; the Prince and Duke of Chernigof came himself. They received the good youth with honour, and gave thanks to the Lord God, because the Lord unexpectedly sent deliverance to the city, and caused them not all to perish in vain at the hands of such a heathen host. They received him into their houses, made him a great entertainment, and let him proceed on his journey.Ilya Murometz rode off towards the city of Kief by the direct road from Chernigof, which had been beset for full thirty years by Nightingale the robber, who allowed neither horseman nor foot-traveller to pass, and slew them not by any weapon, but by his robber whistling. Out rode Ilya Murometz into the open country, and espied the tracks of horses, and rode on upon them, and arrived at the Branskian forest, at the muddy swamps, at the bridges of guelder-rosewood, and at the river Smorodinka. Nightingale the robber forboded his end and a great misfortune, and before Ilya Murometz approached within twenty versts, began to whistle vigorously with his robber whistling; but the hero's heart was not terrified. Then, before he approached within ten versts, he began to whistle still more violently, and from this whistling Ilya Murometz's horse tottered under him. Ilya Murometz rode up to the nest itself, which was constructed upon twelve oaks. Nightingale the robber espied the hero of Holy Russia, whistled with all his might, and wanted to smite Ilya Murometz to death.Ilya Murometz took down his tough bow, placed on it an arrow of guelder-rosewood, shot it at Nightingale's nest, struck his right eye and knocked it out. Nightingale the robber tumbled down like a sack of oats. Ilya Murometz took Nightingale the robber, bound him fast to his steel stirrup, and rode on towards the famous city of Kief. On the way stood a mansion belonging to Nightingale the robber, and when Ilya Murometz came opposite the robber's mansion, the windows thereof were open, and at these windows the robber's three daughters were looking out. The youngest daughter saw him, and cried to her sisters: 'There's our father outside coming with booty, and leading to us a man bound to his steel stirrup.' But the eldest daughter looked, and began to weep bitterly. That isn't our father coming: it's an unknown man coming, and leading our father.' They began to scream to their husbands: 'Our dear husbands! ride and meet the man, and take our father from him; do not let our family be put to such contempt.' Their husbands, strong heroes, rode against the hero of Holy Russia; their horses were good, their spears were sharp, and they were about to receive Ilya on their spears. Nightingale the robber espied this, and said to them: 'My dear sons-in-law, do not cause yourselves to be put to shame, and do not provoke so mighty a hero; rather with humility entreat him to drink a cup of green wine in my house.' At the request of the sons-in-law, Ilya turned into the house, not knowing their villainy. The eldest daughter raised on chains an iron slab, which was placed over the door, in order to crush him. But Ilya observed her at the door, struck her with his spear, and smote her to death.When Ilya Murometz arrived at Kief city, he rode straight to the prince's palace, and entered the house, which was of white stone, prayed to God, and knelt to the prince. The Prince of Kief asked him: 'Tell me, good youth, how men name you, and of what city you are a native?' Ilya Murometz made reply: 'My lord, men call me Little Ilya, but by my father's family I am an Ivanof; a native of the city of Murom, of the village of Karatcharof.' The prince inquired: 'By what road did you ride from Murom?' 'By that of Chernigof, and under the walls of Chernigof I defeated an innumerable heathen host, and delivered the city of Chernigof. Thence I proceeded by the direct road, and took captive the mighty hero, Nightingale the robber, and led him hither with me bound to my steel stirrup.' The prince, becoming angry, said: 'What a lie you are telling!' When the heroes, Alesha Popovitch and Dobrynya Nikititch, heard this, they flew to look, and assured the prince that it really was so. The prince ordered a cup of green wine to be brought to the good youth. The prince had a wish to listen to the robber's whistling. Ilya enveloped the prince and princess in a sable mantle, placed them beneath his arms, summoned Nightingale, and commanded him to give the Nightingale whistle with half strength. But Nightingale the robber whistled with his full robber whistle, and deafened the heroes, so that they fell on the floor. For this Ilya Murometz slew him.Ilya Murometz made a brotherhood with Dobrynya Nikititch. They saddled their good steeds, and rode into the open country to seek adventures; and they rode full three months without finding any adversary. But they rode on in the open country; there came a wandering beggar: the ragged dress upon his back weighed fifty poods, his hat nine poods, his staff was ten fathoms long. Ilya Murometz began to urge his horse toward him, and was about to match his heroic strength with him. The wandering beggar recognised Ilya Murometz, and said 'Oh! you are Ilya Murometz. If you remember, we learnt to read and write together at one school, and now you are urging your horse against a poor cripple like me, as against an enemy. But this you don't know, that in the famous city of Kief a great misfortune has happened. An infidel, a mighty hero, the unclean Idolishtcha, has arrived. His head is as big as a beer caldron, his shoulders are a fathom broad, the distance between his eyebrows is a span, that between his ears is an arrow of guelder-rosewood; he eats an ox at a time, and drinks a caldron at a draught; and the Prince of Kief is very grieved about you, because you have left him in such perplexity.' Clothing himself in the beggar's dress, Ilya Murometz went straight to the prince's court, and cried with heroic voice: 'Oh, is it you, Prince of Kief? Send me an alms, wandering beggar that I am.' The prince saw him, and spake as follows: 'Come into the palace to me, beggar; I will give you your fill of food and drink, and gold for your journey.' And the beggar entered the palace and stood by the stove; he looked on at what was occurring. Idolishtcha asked for something to eat. They brought him a whole ox roasted, and he ate it up, bones and all. Idolishtcha asked for something to drink. They brought him a caldron of beer, carried by twenty men; he took it up by the handles, and drank it all up. Ilya Murometz said: 'My father had a greedy mare; she over-ate herself and died.' Idolishtcha didn't stand that, and said: 'Oh, it's you, wandering beggar! Why do you insult me? It's nothing to me to take you up in my hands. Nay, what are you? If such an one as Ilya Murometz was among you, I'd make a fight of it even with him.' 'Then here's such an one as he,' said Ilya Murometz, and, taking off his hat, struck him gently on the head with it.--But he broke through the wall of the house, took the corpse of Idolishtcha, and threw it out by the rent. For this the prince honoured Ilya Murometz with great commendations, and placed him on the list of mighty heroes. http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=12 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=13 National school of Mstyora (Mstera) lacquer painting was appeared on the base of the icon painting. This settlement was mentioned in the chronicles for the first time in 1626. In the reign of Peter I the settlement belonged to Prince Fyodor Yurievitch Romodanovsky, companion-in-arms of the tsar and head of the Preobrazhensky department, and was called the Bogoyavlenskaya Sloboda. Since the 18th century icon-painting became the leading trade of this village. The icon-painting style of Mstyora was determined by the tastes and demands of the old believers not of the Moscow region alone, but also of the Urals, Siberia, Zavolzhie (the Volga region) and Pomorie (coast area). Different groups of the old believers had different style requirements which made Mstyora masters imitate various icon-painters. In the 19th century the settlement was named Mstyora. The indigenous inhabitants claim that the name derives from the Russian word "mastera" - masters. Local master-craftsmen made icon mountings for churches and monasteries. It laid the groundwork for the local jewelry art employing the technique of filigree known in the time of the Kiev Russia. Many talented artists lived here in the 1700s, so many different kinds of folk art arose here such as an icon painting, gold and silver embroidery and engraving. Art works with a delicate miniature pattern was developed in Mstyora before the revolution, along with the famous Vladimir stitch with a massive ornament. Nowadays, Mstyora is the center of the popular Russian art of miniature painting on lacquer articles made of papier-mache. The Mstyora miniatures usually represent scenes from real life, fairy tales, folklore, literary and history works. Special place in Mstera painting takes icon painting. As it has some specific features. This tradition was held by Byzantine art, the successors of which were first and foremost the Vladimir and Suzdal icon painters.The Byzantine technique of painting with flux and Byzantine icon painting was preserved in Mstera for many centuries, right up until the start of the 20th century. Carpet decoration, variety and refinement of picturesque tinges, which contain with general tone of all composition are typical peculiarities of Mstyora miniature painting. Warmth and gentleness of colors, depth of landscape backgrounds (often with blue dales in the back), small size and squatness of human figurines, and subtlety of framing pattern done in gold are typical for the Mstyora miniature. Colors gamut of Mstera artists is blue-silver or yellow-red. Sometimes artists of Mstera are painting their works by only one ornament (pattern from grass, leaves and fruits). Masterpieces of Mstyora artists are well-known around the world. They were awards by Gran-Prix, the gold and silver medals on the world exhibitions. The Art of Mstyora is represented in the collections of the biggest museums in Russia (Russian Museum, Tretyakov Gallery) and in the world. Our Art Shop offers art collection of Mstyora lacquer miniatures as birthday gift idea for you and your family. http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=13 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=14 We subscribe out art shop news at RSSHugger.com just. We will add some info about our attempr in future, but there is some intro about RSS and RSSHugger:Who is RSSHugger owner?His name is Collin LaHay, and he is an experienced entrepreneur, search engine optimizer, and internet marketer looking to expand his portfolio.What is RSS?RSS (Rich Site Summary) is a format for delivering regularly changing web content. Many news-related sites, weblogs and other online publishers syndicate their content as an RSS Feed to whoever wants it. RSS solves a problem for people who regularly use the web. It allows you to easily stay informed by retrieving the latest content from the sites you are interested in. You save time by not needing to visit each site individually. You ensure your privacy, by not needing to join each site's email newsletter. The number of sites offering RSS feeds is growing rapidly and includes big names like Yahoo News.Collin LaHay write about his Goal:"My goal was originally to get 50,000 blogs signed up with a $10 joiners fee, but due to the fact that I want to support all of the great bloggers, even those who cannot afford $10, I changed this goal to sign up 250,000 free blogs within the first year of operation. With over 112 million registered blogs, with about 175,000 new ones per day, I feel this goal is possible. The money will be used to pay off college expenses, to invest in my other internet startup companies, sponsor like-minded business folk, and continue to support Kiva, who support entrepreneurs in the developing world. "What are the benefits of owning a blog page with rsshugger?For the blog owners:· Raise awareness of your blog · Build deep-links for your blog posts to help with search engine optimization · Send tons of visitors to your blog · Share traffic with the community · Be part of a viral/buzz marketing campaign · Get new interested RSS subscribers who view your content on a regular basis. http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=14 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=19 If you admire an art casket with thin and smooth drawing on the black background plentifully decorated with gold shading know: before you - a Palekh lacquer miniature. It is based on a long local history of icon painting. Icon painting craft has arisen in the early thirties in village Palekh of the Ivanovo area. In spite of the fact that the church demanded to fulfill precisely every element of icon, Palekh painters did it in their own manner of writing faces, figures, elements of landscape, buildings, carriages and so on. On the icons you could see some domestic details such as furniture, clothes, arms, horse harness. Some of them have been kept in todays Palekh miniature art painting somewhat changed creatively. Palekh painting wasn't born accidentally. It was a result of century-old traditions in new historical conditions based on the knowledge of icon-painting handicraft of many generations. Their methods were rich and varied. From the very beginning Palekh artists had been studying and keeping old Russian art traditions. Therefore at an icon and a product executed in the spirit of palekh miniature have much common. After the 1917 Revolution, when the icon business went into the deepest of declines, Palekh masters tried their hands at decorating art wood tableware, kitchen utensils, toys, dishes, porcelain and glass. As it turned out, the most interesting way was the painting of paper-mache boxes that became the black-lacquered miniature. The varnish miniature is executed by tempera paint on a papier-mache. Colour of palekh painting is based on a combination of three colours - red, yellow and green. The Palekh miniatures usually represent characters from real life, literary works, fairy tales, bylinas, and songs. They are painted with local bright paints over the black background and are known for their delicate and smooth design, abundance of golden shading, and accurate silhouettes of flattened figures, which often cover the surface of the lids and sides of the articles completely. Poetic magic of the Palekh characters, decorativeness of landscapes and architecture, and elongated proportions of the figures go back to the icon-painting traditions. The miniatures are usually set off with a complicated pattern made with gold dissolved in aqua regia. Palekh lacquered miniatures are painted on articles - caskets and boxes, brooches and hairpins for ties, a panel and ashtrays and great number of other little things made of papier-mache. The process of making Palekh articles is the following: The first operation in the making of these gems of folk art is the cutting out of the cardboard. The strips of cardboard are covered with flour paste, placed on circular or rectangular moulds and pressed. After that the material is given a coating of warm linseed oil. The carefully checked pieces are handed to the joiners. Then the undercoat is applied to the article with a steel palette knife. The outside of Palekh articles is painted with black lacquer. The inside is painted with red lacquer. The final operation before painting: about seven coats of transparent oil varnish is applied to the outside and inside of the article. Every coat applied is dried in the furnace for 9 hours at 90°C. The articles are now ready to be handed to the artists. The work of the artist begins with preparation of the paint. In Palekh the paints are mixed with egg emulsion. The yolk, separated from the white, is returned to the shell where a mixture of water and vinegar is added. Then the emulsion is stirred with a special brush. Before painting the article, the artist draws on the design. Then the composition is outlined in white lead with a very fine squirrel brush and the colours are then applied in strict succession. The work of the miniature painter requires not only creative inspiration, but also extreme care and precision which is why Palekh painters frequently make use of a magnifying glass. When the painting is over, the artist begins the gold work. The gold must be polished to give it the necessary shine. After having signed the article the artist coats it by transparent oil varnish and polish by hand. The village of Palekh is situated in 65 km to the east from Ivanovo town on the bank of the Paleshka-river, which flows among the hills covered by leaf-bearing forests. In the 15th century it was a part of the Vladimir Susdal lands and was one of the first ancient centers of the icon art. In the 17th and 18th centuries Palekh's craftsmen rose to become the most famous in all of icon art. They developed a unique style identifiably distinguished by the fine line tempera drawing saturated with gold of their own. These art works were valued for the depth of the images, the subtlety of color placement, their intricate and minute attention to detail as much as for their fairy-tale-like ornamental design. Palekh artists are universally regarded as the most highly trained of the Russian miniature painters. The discipline and masterful technique of the ancient art of icon painting is readily seen in works of the various artists. Luxurious art gifts of wood tableware and Palekh, Mstiora lacquered miniatures you can look at online Art Store site. It is amazing that what started out as a true folk tradition over hundreds years ago is still thriving and remains basically true to it's roots, albeit on a more organized scale. Our Art Shop offers art collection of lacquer miniatures as birthday gift idea for you and your family. http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=19 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=17 Russian folk arts and crafts and ancient art painting occupies a very significant place in the world culture. But where their sources? How many territories these sources occupy in the Russia? Only very small "gold" triangle of arts! Certainly, there are many other ancient russian crafts, but we examined only ancient painting centres (including icon-painting), that were originated in boundaries XIV-XVII of centuries. What famous centers of painting arts and crafts were kept till present time in Russia: Semenov - Khokhloma, painting of wooden tableware, furniture and other handmade products. Mstyora - lacquer miniatures, art painting of caskets and other wooden and papier-mache goods. Palekh - lacquer miniatures, art painting of caskets and other wooden and papier-mache goods. Kholui - lacquer miniatures, art painting of caskets and other wooden and papier-mache goods. Fedoskino - lacquer miniatures, art painting of caskets and other wooden and papier-mache goods. Zhostovo - art painting of trays. Rostov - Rostov enamel. Art painting of metal wares covered of enamel. Gzhel - art painting of ceramic tableware and toys. Dymkovo - art painting of ceramic toys. If you will pay attention to google map where the most known centres of ancient handicraft and painting arts are marked, then you can notice, that all of them are located in the small territory alike a triangle, near Oka and Volga rivers region to the north and the east from Moscow. Only a tiny spot in huge territory of Russia! View Larger Map Why it happened so? It is possible to suppose only, not claim it is absolute truth... First, such centers were created near large cities and trading ways, so cities Moscow, Vladimir, Yaroslavl, Nizhni Novgorod were largest centers at that time. But why there are not sources of painting arts to the south and to the west from Moscow? Probably, constant attacks of nomads from the south border and military threat from the West burnt out weak beginnings of culture in the villages located there. In addition, local people should care more about safety and build defensive constructions in towns and monasteries (for example, city of armourers Tula is located to the south from Moscow). But icon-painting demands calmness in minds and hearts... Second, all other east territory of Russia has been populated in XVIII-XIX of centuries and by this time there were powerful centers of crafts, and further development of painting (and artists) are concentred in large cities of european part of Russia, where it was closer to rich estates of merchants and manufacturers. http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=17 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300 http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=18 View Larger Map http://artshop.nnov.ru/article_info.php?articles_id=18 Thu, 01 Jan 1970 02:59:59 +0300