I was born in the foothills of the Lesser Caucasus in a place with the proud name of Gazakh, in the country of Azerbaijan. I got the first piece of paper and pencil from my mother, who was a teacher. And the first names of colors I heard from her, she repeated: "Red, blue, yellow...". I especially remember the red color. To this day, there is a lot of red in my paintings. My first scratch was red. My father's first voice: "Don't cry, you're a man. It's just red blood." My father taught me geometry and the correctness of shapes and lines.
Very early on, I started listening to various works of Azerbaijani poetry and my first exhibition was held in our house in Gazakh, when we were waiting for a very important guest. My older sister and brother learned poetry, and since I couldn't learn poetry yet , all I had to do was submit my first works on paper.
Then she came in, my aunt Mirvarid Dilbazi. After looking at my first works on white sheets of paper, her face lit up with a smile and she blessed me: "I think we have an artist growing up." Although I was 5 years old at the time, I already knew that everyone has a profession.
My mother was a teacher, my father was a breeding scientist. And I understood that every person has a profession. When I asked what my aunt's profession was, my father said, " She's a writer and it's not a profession, it's a vocation." Then he took me to our home library and showed me all the books published by my aunt and said: "To get such a vocation, you need to work."
Since then, I wanted to find not a profession, but a vocation. Then, after many years of study, school, and academy, when I acquired the profession of a Forestry Engineer, I did not forget about my father's words about my vocation.
At school and at the institute, I always organized small solo exhibitions, created small performances and looked for my audience. The audience, as well as the countries changed: Azerbaijan, Russia, Ukraine-all this was then one country, it was called the Soviet Union. It was easy to move around, and my knowledge of Russian allowed me to communicate everywhere. Then the Soviet Union collapsed and the doors to the wider world opened.
First trip to Europe and discover European culture-cities, artists, museums ...
Then Iran, Turkey, Saudi Arabia-the doors opened to the east, then Central Asia, ancient cities-Bukhara, Samarkand.
When we say the word Rome, we understand that hundreds of thousands of books have been written about it. When we say Samarkand, Baku, Osaka, Seoul, we don't feel the same power that we feel when we say Rome. And I was determined to open up my own places - places of power. Nicholas Roerich, who was always in search of his Shambhala, helps me a lot in this.
Writing about yourself as an artist is like a river that flows down from the mountains with thousands of stones in its path. And to describe two hundred thousand days of an artist's life on a few pages or even hundreds of pages is a very difficult task. To describe it in one sentence is an eternal search.
The search for the past is my father's Dilbazi lineage. These are thousands of incredible stories about my family, whose representatives ruled the territories and minds of people, leaving vivid traces. The Mirolaev family, my mother's, is a family of warriors and farmers. I'm just continuing this trail. In this life, I am a warrior, a farmer, a breeder, a teacher, and all this can be described in one word-an artist. An artist who writes himself into history, first of all his own kind and its continuation. While you live, you write your own story.
To learn more about me, read my books, see my paintings, and come to my exhibitions.
© Alexander Dilbazi
Very early on, I started listening to various works of Azerbaijani poetry and my first exhibition was held in our house in Gazakh, when we were waiting for a very important guest. My older sister and brother learned poetry, and since I couldn't learn poetry yet , all I had to do was submit my first works on paper.
Then she came in, my aunt Mirvarid Dilbazi. After looking at my first works on white sheets of paper, her face lit up with a smile and she blessed me: "I think we have an artist growing up." Although I was 5 years old at the time, I already knew that everyone has a profession.
My mother was a teacher, my father was a breeding scientist. And I understood that every person has a profession. When I asked what my aunt's profession was, my father said, " She's a writer and it's not a profession, it's a vocation." Then he took me to our home library and showed me all the books published by my aunt and said: "To get such a vocation, you need to work."
Since then, I wanted to find not a profession, but a vocation. Then, after many years of study, school, and academy, when I acquired the profession of a Forestry Engineer, I did not forget about my father's words about my vocation.
At school and at the institute, I always organized small solo exhibitions, created small performances and looked for my audience. The audience, as well as the countries changed: Azerbaijan, Russia, Ukraine-all this was then one country, it was called the Soviet Union. It was easy to move around, and my knowledge of Russian allowed me to communicate everywhere. Then the Soviet Union collapsed and the doors to the wider world opened.
First trip to Europe and discover European culture-cities, artists, museums ...
Then Iran, Turkey, Saudi Arabia-the doors opened to the east, then Central Asia, ancient cities-Bukhara, Samarkand.
When we say the word Rome, we understand that hundreds of thousands of books have been written about it. When we say Samarkand, Baku, Osaka, Seoul, we don't feel the same power that we feel when we say Rome. And I was determined to open up my own places - places of power. Nicholas Roerich, who was always in search of his Shambhala, helps me a lot in this.
Writing about yourself as an artist is like a river that flows down from the mountains with thousands of stones in its path. And to describe two hundred thousand days of an artist's life on a few pages or even hundreds of pages is a very difficult task. To describe it in one sentence is an eternal search.
The search for the past is my father's Dilbazi lineage. These are thousands of incredible stories about my family, whose representatives ruled the territories and minds of people, leaving vivid traces. The Mirolaev family, my mother's, is a family of warriors and farmers. I'm just continuing this trail. In this life, I am a warrior, a farmer, a breeder, a teacher, and all this can be described in one word-an artist. An artist who writes himself into history, first of all his own kind and its continuation. While you live, you write your own story.
To learn more about me, read my books, see my paintings, and come to my exhibitions.
© Alexander Dilbazi
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