Buhály József

buhaly_jozsef-1-274x412At home it was feared there would be a scandal. I spent the third month in Moscow. That was the strict time of the Brezhnev rule. It was a cold winter, and we lived in a poorly heated dorm. In 1977, I won a one-year scholarship to the Surikov Moscow Institute of Art together with a sculptor. Every day I went to the studio at the corner of the Red Square, I got neither canvas nor paint, of course.                                                     .

 

 

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Turkmens lived in our neighboring rooms. ‘Try to make linocuts, we give you material and tools’. (I had similar friendly gestures in other times as well). I never made linoprint before; I did not like it, I found so dry and dull. Always a rude Derkovits linoprint on György Dózsa came to my mind. I had not the slightest intention to make linocuts, but I could not do against it. Standing in front of a mirror, I managed to force myself to cut a self-portrait, resembling me somehow.

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Working on the linocut, I got the trick of it, I enjoyed the fine thin lines and the large black surfaces. According the old technique, lines indicate the space; the grafitto process applies several layers, scraping back the upper layer where necessary.

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It quickly became clear that they know everything about me. To test the system, I told Sasha, Natasha and the other girls amazing and unthinkable things just for kidding. They were very lovable, but, as it turned out, all of my words were passed on.

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The tension grew in my soul. At home, they were informed as well. That time Dora Kogan, an art historian from the Soviet Union was studying Csontváry at Pécs, and when she returned, she brought me a suitcase of powder paints. My friends, sending the paints said that there were no problems to recognize me: my fur-coat were unmistakable. The train arrived. All passengers leaving, I stood on the platform in my traditional lace-patterned suede fur-coat. And the elegant lady came to me directly.

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“You’re not a typical socialist painter!” – the depertament chef of Lenin head said angrily when reading my applications. For this reason, I never saw the Ermitage in Leningrad.

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What is the socialist painting? I never knew it.

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An antique shop owner asked the city’s artists to draw pictures of horses. I made 5-6 sketches (“croquis”) when horses moving. In return, I asked these old frames. I restored them, smearing with golden paste.

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I work in the old artist’s settlement of Szentendre. At the end of October I move to Budapest, but in spring, of course, I return to Szentendre as soon as possible.

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It is a good to smudge the fibreboard! When starting, memories are returning and the fantasy starts. It occurs to me my childhood memories, taking shape the old ladies of headkerchiefs, or the gadgets on the wall of our summer kitchen, revealing the lights and shadows…

22/11/2011 Budapest

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