Summary
Marc Chagall: My Life
This book is not a strictly factual biography, behind which there is some clearly identifiable reality, accurate data. It's simple - a book. Maybe poetic prose, maybe a series of prose poems, maybe neither. A book similar to itself. As well as the author's pictures. A book that sometimes delights and sometimes confuses. Sometimes it makes me happy, not to mention - it makes me laugh, and often it scares...
Many people have written about Chagall, many have praised him, many have challenged him. Many classified, liked, many rejected. Explained. And he simply did not know how to think like others. In his paintings, they found mysticism, poetry, certain meanings, the influence of Russian folk art, "luboka", traces of Jewish tradition and symbols, but he had simple, unexpected, "non-painting" answers to all of this. As he cried in these autobiographical records: "God, you who hide in the clouds, or behind the cobbler's house, let me discover my soul, the yearning soul of a stuttering boy, reveal to me my way." I don't want to be like everyone else; I want to see a new world." Maybe he didn't find it in reality, but he found it, actually created it, in his paintings...
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