Tóth Ernő


“In my university time, during the summer artists’ camp we with my mate were making the required drawings on a roadside crucifix. Suddenly a woman wearing rubber boots appeared. Seemingly she worked at the local wine farm. “Every day I pass by this Christ “ she said,” and I should like to buy what you draw. What is the price? “ “But it is not ready!” I said incredulously. “ No problem” she answered.



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I was in trouble. I did not sell anything to anybody before. I did not dare to ask twenty, ten was not enough, so I said, 15 forints. “Right. Then I wait you in the evening “ she said, giving her address. We went three. Well surprised, because she prepared good food, and there was vine on the table. Frankly said, it was a strong wetting of bargain. The time passed, we hardly succeeded to stand up from the table, and we left toward the camp in total darkness. But we lost our way in a bush, and wandered till dawn. After daybreak, we realized that we have been roving in a few square meters round. Some years later, as a scene-painter/sculptor at the Opera House, I had to paint a forest. The director ordered: “Be realistic, dense, mystic, have perspective, and be crossed with wandering paths”. Based the former experience, I applied buckets of paint. That is the habit in the theatre. Well, I priced my next picture more daringly…

A studio in a peaceful country house style.


A tiny pond in the garden, a statue waiting for its customer below the porch, two Transsylvanian hounds. Just coming Bagheera, the cat. Furniture of partly middle-class, partly peasant-baroque style. An old stove gives us the fine warmth, the radio tuned to an oratorio.

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Knobbly, bony, surreal sculptures on unexpected places, as though the cargo of a sunken ancient ship, or findings of an excavation.


The loft, as an attic in the time of our childhood. I remember: when we were visiting a village house, we waded laughing through the heaps of discarded armchairs, old lamps, bird-cages, rocking horse, caskets, lace skirts, grandmother’s clothes. We were knee-deep in corn. Funny, but those objects are reflected in his paintings.

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Insects are clattering, mouse, blue cat, frog are on the canvasses. In the air a butterfly and an airship are flying, together with a house and a car.

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A busted lady preens herself on the couch; red-nosed hunters have a debauch. Among the roof balks, pastels are whispering, in other places colours are crying.

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The whole tabletop serves as a paint palette. “ You shoot my dirt?” my host asks, and while we look for the matched colours, he finds a real mildew green. Inspired by the extraordinary hue, he paints the colour patches into their final locations in ecstasy.

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While he paints and smears, we take photos. The life can be taken seriously until there are humor and poetry!

12/1/2011 Érd


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