Djurdjevic - Personal Photos - Life at Grayhawk

SCOTTSDALE, Dec 12, 2005 - When I came home later on Saturday afternoon, the bougainvilleas at the front of my property were alight by the setting sun.

"How appropriate," I thought, for the Christmas season. "Other people have to buy and hand green and red decorations while I have them provided for free, courtesy of the Grand Decorator Himself." So all I did was wrapped around a few sets of white lights around the plants guarding my entrance door (not visible above).

Later that evening, Karen and I went to a Handel's "Messiah Oratorium" concert by the Phoenix Symphony. On my way to pick up Karen, I had left early and dropped by downtown Scottsdale to peruse the art in the dozens of galleries that line the Main Street. I wanted to see if I can find something for my two bedroom walls, preferably keeping with the navy-and-gold scheme that I envisaged there. I found a print of a Lacroix painting depicting a snowy Paris scene that might work. But a real find was across the street, at a new gallery Elite (rhyme intended).

At first I was attracted to a "woman in red" painting by J. Michael, an American painter who works out of Carmel, CA. As I turned the corner on the way out of that gallery room, I saw a breathtaking portrait of a nude. The artist's handling of the golden light on her back and neck was so delicate that it made the scene seem ethereal. I spent some time talking about the painting to the gallery hostess "J.J.," who set up for me a private viewing of the painting in the back room. J.J. told me the artist was a Russian who now lived in Prague. We exchanged cards, and thanked her for her time and left to pick up Karen.

Handel's "Messiah" was great for about an hour or so, but then we left after that. We were both hungry. "Would you mind taking a look at the paintings I am considering?" I asked Karen. "Not at all," she replied. "I'd love to." She was always an arts lover, so I knew I would not have to twist her hand.

We revisited both galleries and had another private viewing of both paintings at the "Elite". This time, the owner, Greg, also joined us and "ran the show." Karen preferred the "woman in red," while Greg and "J.J." routed for the golden beauty. I listened and watched. "The 'woman in red' is great," I finally said. "It was the first painting here that drew my attention. But I just don't have a wall left where red would work."

I told Greg and J.J. I might be back to view the painting in natural daylight. Then Karen and I left to forage for a needed dinner. "Food for the soul" (art) can only carry you so far... :-)

Even before I fully woke up on Sunday, I caught myself thinking about those three paintings. I must have been even dreaming about them, though I do not remember any details of my "dreamplay" (screenplay for a dream). I was even arranging in my mind the bedroom curtains in gold silk to give the paintings a matching accent. Still, I did not want to rush into anything. So I went about my day without doing anything about them.

By early afternoon, however, I figured the galleries were open. So I left a voice message at the first gallery about the Lacroix print. I never got a call back. I took that as a sign.

I took a yoga class in the late afternoon, and then went to see a Broadway production of "Evita" at the Arizona State University's (ASU) Gammage Auditorium (designed by Frank Lloyd Wright - see below).

I thought I may drop by the "Elite" gallery after the show and see if they are still open. I called them to check about their hours. Greg, the owner, said just to call ahead, and he would open it up for me any time.

"Evita" was a disappointment. It reminded me of that old saying, "you can't judge a book by its cover." It's a one-song musical, as far as I am concerned. I have always loved the "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" tune, which is why I went to the show. But the rest of it left me cold. Except for the dramatic curtain, that you can see above. I must be really into visual arts these days...

On my way to downtown Scottsdale, I drove through downtown Tempe and caught these pretty Christmas street lights...

Downtown Scottsdale greeted me with more of the same... only prettier. Karen and I both remarked the night before how tastefully the "gallery row" was decorated for the holiday season.

And there was this enormous guitar sculpture supposedly celebrating the Route 66 that went through here before the freeways were built across America. At this point, I was still not 100% sure that I wanted to buy that Russian painting. So I walked around for a while thinking about it. Just as I was about to go back to my car, something told me to act rather than procrastinate. Maybe this silly sculpture with all its garishness reminded me of how beautiful and subtle that Russian painting was. I saw myself dialing Greg's number on my cell phone. And the rest is now history. I arrived home last night with my Russian nude in my back seat...

My bedroom, as it actually looks now, before my new navy-and-gold bedspread, pillows and sheets arrive.

And this is a mock up of what the bed might look like (though I hope much better, based on what the fabrics looked like in the store showroom).

I decided to name her Irene. The artist had signed his name as "I. Tsukhanina" on the back of the painting, giving his last name a female gender (in Russian). I am waiting to find out from his agent Sergei what that's all about...

Meanwhile, this is what Irene looks like from the distance... a view toward the master bedroom from the living room. Of course, I'll have some ceiling spotlighting installed eventually, but this is what she looks like for now.

By the way, the icon on the left is that of St. Nicholas, the Djurdjevic family patron saint, whose "Slava" (Saint Day) is coming up in a week (Dec 19).

And, by the way, here are my two "Canadian nudes" (in the guest bedroom) that I've had for over 35 years now. These two watercolors were given to me by a Prince Edward Island artist whose name I've lost over the years. The model is the same woman who was at the time his wife or girlfriend, I am not sure.

SCOTTSDALE, Dec 14, 2005 - Just got off the phone with the Russian artists' agent Sergei Mind. And indeed, the painter who did my new prized possession is a "she," not a "he," as I was told at the Scottsdale gallery (though there is a "he" in the artists' family). What's truly amazing, however, is that her name is Irene - the name I had already given my nude (see above). Talk about transcontinental ESP!

Sergei also told me that Irene and her husband Vladimir are both artists. They are graduates of the Krasnodar Art College, one of the three most prestigious art colleges in Russia (the other two are in Moscow and St. Petersburg). The couple have a daughter who is also showing artistic tendencies. So one can say that art literally runs in their blood. The Tsukhanin family travel quite a bit through Europe, Sergei said. They have lived and painted in Italy (Venice) and Czech Republic (Prague), for example. They are now considering doing some work at the Grand Canyon, Greg, the gallery owner, told me the other day.

SCOTTSDALE, Dec 19, 2005 - As you know, I have been looking for a painting for the other wall in my master bedroom for some time now. I've scoured all downtown Scottsdale galleries without finding anything I really loved. The closest that came to it was a print of a snowy Paris scene by Lacroix (see above story). I liked it, but I didn't really love it. So I just waited for something better to come along. It hasn't... until this afternoon.

Being St. Nicholas Day, my family Slava, I set out this afternoon to do my various errands, hoping to get them done before my 4:30 yoga class. I never even made it to first base. As I was walking toward the Starbucks at Pinnacle Peak and Scottsdale Rd, I noticed a couple of young people displaying some oil paintings on the sidewalk. They were laid out in a sort of a helter-skelter style, the way they do it in Paris on the bank of the Seine, or on the eastern wall of Central Park in New York (along Fifth Ave). The girl was engaged in a conversation with a prospective customer. The young man was at first just kind of hanging out, then used the beautiful sunny afternoon to finish a painting of his own.

I started looking at various art displays. One of them grabbed me. It looked like a place in Greece that I have been to. I gazed at it for a while, trying to imagine it with a gold frame on that other wall in my bedroom. Then I let go of the idea, and walked around, looking at some other art.

"Do you have a question?" the young woman approached me, having evidently finished with the other customer without making a sale.

Her story was quite interesting. The two of them are artists themselves, as as well artist agents working for a Las Vegas art gallery. As the gallery was moving from LV to LA (Hollywood), they were hauling their inventory with them in a van trailer, and trying to sell some art along the way. Quite entrepreneurial, I thought. I liked that.

"There are 27 artists we represent," the girl answered my question (I am ashamed that I've forgotten her name... let's call her Jennifer). She and her friend Brook (not boyfriend!) were two of them. She showed me one of her paintings. It was good, but the colors would not work for me.

We struck up an animated conversation. Jennifer is originally from Nebraska; Brook is from LA. The artist who painted that Greek scene I liked is Antonio Fazzari, an Italian now living and painting in Northern California, while exhibiting mostly in LA (Hollywood and Laguna Beach). "Antonio is our best-selling artist," the girl added.

Then the conversation switched to my Russian nude, and how I got to name her Irene, also the name of the artist (click here to read more about it). They were both fascinated. "You're putting us on," Brook exclaimed, sounding incredulous. When I assured him I was not, he said, "that's really cool. You had a cosmic connection with the artist in Russia. Wow..."

By that stage, the two of them were so into the Irene story that they demanded that I go home and bring them a picture. I said I might, later on (thinking after I get my mocha and do the errands). It was not to be...

We walked back to the Greek painting. The longer I looked at it, the more I liked it. I asked about the price. It was reasonable. Then I asked them if they would frame it for me in a gold and brown frame (to match the color theme of my bedroom). They agreed. Free of charge. We tried out a few frames and found just the right one. All three of us thought it was the perfect one. They finished the job on the spot. I was impressed. I bought them each Starbucks treats while they were mounting the frame. They were very grateful. They had a long drive ahead of them (to LA).

I went home to get my check book and bring back the Russian nude photos. When I returned, both young artists loved them. Since my new Greek painting was too large to fit in my car, Brook delivered it for me in his van's trailer. He followed me to my place at Grayhawk. He even helped me position the painting in the bedroom. And got to admire Irene live in return. He then got very technical about how the nude painting was actually done. He lost me there... it was more than I needed to know. But he was fascinated with the technique.

...and the way it looked tonight when mounted on the wall of my bedroom. Which means that this room has now suddenly (and unwittingly) become a bastion of Orthodox Christian art themes. I chuckled thinking that St. Nicholas actually lived in what was once eastern Greece (today, it is western Turkey). My Greco-Italian connection, supplanting my cosmic Russian one.