Mind is free and one' s fantasy even more. The Russian artist Kira
Kotliar is a magician with paper, paste and paint. Here creatures are
light and colourful with affinity to folklore, fairy tales and
picture-books. But finally they are only Kira's kids.
Kira Kotliar studied at the
Academy of theatre, music and film in St.Petersburg and worked at the
same time as a stage and graphic designer and illustrator. 1995 she came
to Hamburg and stayed. That is where her delicate creatures made of
paper and cotton wool, of colour and fantasy were born. They were all
made to float under the ceiling and dance in the air taking our thoughts
and dreams with them. She says ?'Angels live in heaven, and as they
tend to topple down from there they need to be tied on somehow'.
The
ambivalence is obvious. On the one hand her creatures are inspiring and
happy making. They storm away on flowery stags, ride on tigers,
elephants and dolphins. Fine ladies are on the way like Mary Poppins,
men in colourful national costume enjoy themselves with wine and music,
flowers grow into trees ... anything not yet invented she will invent
later, rest assured! With surprised huge eyes and a mimic interpretable
between gay and ironic they dance in the air, whales just like
ballerinas, animals as well as angels. The weightlessness of this
colourful party still hangs on a silken thread - in both senses of the
word.
Kira's big passion of the last few years is travelling.
She may have enchanted everyone who met her angels very soon after she
arrived in Hamburg. But especially lately she has travelled around
foreign countries like in South America. She tells you delightedly about
her many impressions and her colours sparkle twice as strongly and her
combination of creatures and situations are even more astonishing. And
she looks for the other extreme, in fantastic lamps sparkles pure
white. But the colourful, poetic, the story-telling is obviously her
metier. With this she touches people, delights them and gives them
light-hearted moments, spots of colour in the drabness of everyday
monotony.