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Painting
ЖАНДАРДЫН ЖЫЙНАГЫ
(COLLECTION OF SOULS)
AMANTUR IUN | KYRGYZSTAN
(COLLECTION OF SOULS)
AMANTUR IUN | KYRGYZSTAN
In such a moment, can a person think clearly? Can one distinguish a friend from the enemy? I doubt it.
While rereading the great epic "Manas" once again, I found myself struck by a strange thought: none of us truly know what this legendary hero looked like, or whether he existed in reality. For me, his image is not a historical document, but a poetic construct — a collective portrait shaped by folk memory.
I began to think: the hero is only a flash, a catalyst. But the true driving force of history is always people themselves — those who follow the leader, believe in him, and share his burdens. In this work, I chose to remove the figure of Manas entirely; I have left only those who follow him: their intertwined bodies, faces, emotions, and fractured destinies; different colors and perspectives — somewhere they are resonating, somewhere they are in contrast to each other.
I have always been troubled by the way epic narratives depict the enemy as a faceless evil, stripped of human traits. But on the other side, there are also people capable of feeling pain, fear, and joy. When external layers are removed and emotions are exposed, we become strikingly similar.
In "Collection of Souls" I attempt to depict the chaos of battle: noise, panic, disorientation. Imagine a vast endless field, thousands of people and horses, the ground trembling under the roar of hooves, the dust obscuring the sun, with no points of orientation.
My painting is neither an illustration of a text nor an attempt to dispute myth. It is an effort to view the national epic as a field of complex human experience, where heroism coexists with fear, and pride is inseparable from confusion. The monumental myth disintegrates on my canvas into countless fragile human lives.
I began to think: the hero is only a flash, a catalyst. But the true driving force of history is always people themselves — those who follow the leader, believe in him, and share his burdens. In this work, I chose to remove the figure of Manas entirely; I have left only those who follow him: their intertwined bodies, faces, emotions, and fractured destinies; different colors and perspectives — somewhere they are resonating, somewhere they are in contrast to each other.
I have always been troubled by the way epic narratives depict the enemy as a faceless evil, stripped of human traits. But on the other side, there are also people capable of feeling pain, fear, and joy. When external layers are removed and emotions are exposed, we become strikingly similar.
In "Collection of Souls" I attempt to depict the chaos of battle: noise, panic, disorientation. Imagine a vast endless field, thousands of people and horses, the ground trembling under the roar of hooves, the dust obscuring the sun, with no points of orientation.
My painting is neither an illustration of a text nor an attempt to dispute myth. It is an effort to view the national epic as a field of complex human experience, where heroism coexists with fear, and pride is inseparable from confusion. The monumental myth disintegrates on my canvas into countless fragile human lives.
While rereading the great epic "Manas" once again, I found myself struck by a strange thought: none of us truly know what this legendary hero looked like, or whether he existed in reality.
For me, his image is not a historical document, but a poetic construct — a collective portrait shaped by folk memory.
I began to think: the hero is only a flash, a catalyst. But the true driving force of history is always people themselves — those who follow the leader, believe in him, and share his burdens. In this work, I chose to remove the figure of Manas entirely; I have left only those who follow him: their intertwined bodies, faces, emotions, and fractured destinies; different colors and perspectives — somewhere they are resonating, somewhere they are in contrast to each other.
I have always been troubled by the way epic narratives depict the enemy as a faceless evil, stripped of human traits. But on the other side, there are also people capable of feeling pain, fear, and joy. When external layers are removed and emotions are exposed, we become strikingly similar.
In "Collection of Souls" I attempt to depict the chaos of battle: noise, panic, disorientation. Imagine a vast endless field, thousands of people and horses, the ground trembling under the roar of hooves, the dust obscuring the sun, with no points of orientation. In such a moment, can a person think clearly? Can one distinguish a friend from the enemy? I doubt it.
My painting is neither an illustration of a text nor an attempt to dispute myth. It is an effort to view the national epic as a field of complex human experience, where heroism coexists with fear, and pride is inseparable from confusion. The monumental myth disintegrates on my canvas into countless fragile human lives.
I began to think: the hero is only a flash, a catalyst. But the true driving force of history is always people themselves — those who follow the leader, believe in him, and share his burdens. In this work, I chose to remove the figure of Manas entirely; I have left only those who follow him: their intertwined bodies, faces, emotions, and fractured destinies; different colors and perspectives — somewhere they are resonating, somewhere they are in contrast to each other.
I have always been troubled by the way epic narratives depict the enemy as a faceless evil, stripped of human traits. But on the other side, there are also people capable of feeling pain, fear, and joy. When external layers are removed and emotions are exposed, we become strikingly similar.
In "Collection of Souls" I attempt to depict the chaos of battle: noise, panic, disorientation. Imagine a vast endless field, thousands of people and horses, the ground trembling under the roar of hooves, the dust obscuring the sun, with no points of orientation. In such a moment, can a person think clearly? Can one distinguish a friend from the enemy? I doubt it.
My painting is neither an illustration of a text nor an attempt to dispute myth. It is an effort to view the national epic as a field of complex human experience, where heroism coexists with fear, and pride is inseparable from confusion. The monumental myth disintegrates on my canvas into countless fragile human lives.