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The saga of Mihai Poturnice narrates about many. Living and from a life left the wheel By Valeriu Cupci Runs. Ion Vatamanu, Andrei Lupan, Mihai Greek, Andrey Surbu, Igor Vieru, the Ion and Doina Teodorovici Beautiful faces. Thin hands. Grace, nothin
Where the poetic image is born? At home. In road. At a meeting with friends. In dispute the Thought, having faced with heard or seen, cuts "spark". There is "ignition". Also have gone to work its millstones. Often already without pauses. Certainly, if you want and are able to think. If you the artist.

Mihai Poturnice I know for a long time. The first meeting also has presented its unforgettable detail in destiny. It went to native village on funeral of the brother. On any kilometre of road was dumbfounded literally, having seen a disk of the coming sun which, having reflected in an evening smooth surface of lake, very much resembled a candle. Already then, having looked at it a photoobjective eye through the stalk leant to it, has made out a wick. Also did not think, that, having developed a film, will see a miracle: Eternal fire lighted by the nature in memory of the died native person

Who has presented Mihai Poturnice ability to see surrounding so, instead of differently? He considers, that - the known film directors who once have chosen vicinities of their village for shootings. Was among them and an idol of its youth . From it once also has heard: you Wish to remove, study. Tried. And even handed over documents in . Attempt has broken. And it has gone to the newspaper.

It has enriched and has branched out his life. The ordinary everyday, inspiring to another boredom, constant necessity to wind watch for new days and to work on them in number, in - has presented so much meetings and so much "ignitions". In plots and persons it immortalised memory of Time which for it always lives in concrete dates. This a habit and today at it in blood. Somehow at an exhibition of the works he named not only year, but also number I have seen the Person of this ninety-year woman in September, ninety third. And this priest has removed October, twelfth, 2000. Also strewed, strewed dates.

Usually, telling about expositions of professional artists, I always crossed a threshold of expositions where their works have been exposed. Has crossed and now. Also I will not hide: it has been shaken. Seen it seemed to me the huge Moldavian saga with heads and , with a prologue and an epilogue, with the name natural and simple, as a life, - the Paternal house. On plan its plot originated at the snow-covered wheel symbolising eternal movement. To it is more visible. And it was presented to me, that photostory pages about a life not one generation have begun to rustle since that minute when it is direct at an input on me eyes of two old men who have clung to a window native at home in expectation of interlocutors have looked. In this sight - it is so much past and thoughts, it is so much still unexpressed - that during lifetime we, children, have not time to listen, and having gathered, we are late more often

The sight of old men turned to descendants , probably, also begins With it each photoshort story of the master. Old men in the paternal house, whence the youth today parts, now it is a lot of. Fallen asleep at the lop-sided fences, on porch steps, on an arable land, near to grandsons, on a country churchyard the wheel One of a life Rushes leave. Others come. This thought lives and in their sight. And as tell hands of old men much. The photoobjective of the master shows them largely, unvarnished, yours faithfully. The native of village Mihaj saw them time and again in a black touch of breed on which they, and only they pull out so a maturity of grain necessary for people, saw on the steering wheel heated by heat, saw the palms stretched to the sun in which just born wheaten kernel dried up, saw wearily hung. There and then on an arable land Bent by care of a daily bread wise country hands. They are able to love and hate, mourn and exult. They are able to think of the future. Therefore transfer to successors the most invaluable - the heavy cross.

Whether about it also has told once :

Too much we said lies about love to the Paternal house, dishonouring its fake pomp. Anything originally great is not created without victims. And if our earth is still fine, for it is paid by health and a life of our ancestors and parents Hills of Moldova, hills of our life were charged with them the hump

And what is fantastic-fine leave to its descendants!. Powdered with a white petal blizzard during a time of flowering of the gardens, captured by a bright fire of autumn during a September time and become silent under a snow cover of winter From these photoshots a sight to tear off it is impossible. And in archives of their artist becomes more and more. Why? At any crossroads of destiny it from the newspaper has left. Became the free pictorialist. Such scales of a life, its such distances also have opened. The impression, that expectation of a meeting with the master of veins also lives all Paternal house, each pair of eyes opposite.

The thought of the artist in the union with a photoobjective hurries up not to miss, stop an instant - always unique. Means inherent only in it he forces also us to peer more steadfastly at a life, during its each instant from which the world surrounding us is weaved. Life call always was sacred for photomasters. Once the known French photographer and artist Anri Cartier-Bresson has very precisely told about it: Our business to mix up with crowd, to be the butterfly freely flying among ministers, presidents, swindlers and loose women

Our talented fellow countryman, probably, should not be the butterfly, to be concealed behind a corner in expectation of the necessary foreshortening. Its world - the Paternal house where it enters without knock into everyday life, in days of celebrations and minute of grief that sees, both tells. Also it is happy, if in , in photoshow-windows under glass appears more than light persons of those its fellow countrymen who have reached any peaks and have opened the world of our paternal house for others. The saga of Mihai Poturnice narrates about many. Living and from a life left the wheel By Valeriu Cupci Runs. Ion Vatamanu, Andrei Lupan, Mihai Greek, Andrey Surbu, Igor Vieru, the Ion and Doina Teodorovici  Beautiful faces. Thin hands. Grace, nothing conceding world famous masters... Beautiful faces. Thin hands. Grace, nothing conceding world famous masters.

Today, when freely creating master had a free time, he creates magnificent picture albums about the compatriots. The album the Paternal house has received the award of confederation of the Union of journalists of the USSR. Its other picture albums are perfectly well published also: the Paternal house. Portraits, foreheads , "Maria Bieshu", "Kishinev", To the Opera and ballet theatre 50 anniversary, Republic Moldova Parliament, "Valentina Savitskaja", the Word about Maria Chibotari, Dialogues with conductor Samoile

Today often happens abroad. Austria, Germany, France, the Great Britain, India, Laos, Nepal are entered in its address book More recently already went to Romania. These days works over an album, devoted to 600 anniversary .

Though, he admitted to me, finishing conversation, - from all business trips I am torn home. There is no for me an earth more expensively

This love also penetrates each page of all picture albums. Thanks, , for these unforgettable meetings opened by an eye of the artist and presented us.

Raisa .

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