A good-luck button

They say that a woman’s mind is never young. A woman is already of 3,000 years old at birth. A lot of people know cliches like that. I instantly fell in love with Zhenia Hapchynska, a female artist with a youthful, open, and unfettered heart and a philosopher’s mind, not only because of her creative achievements (we met when she was less well known) but also her spirit, which seeks to overcome cliches; because she believes in happiness and seems to be at ease with herself. Who would think of saying: this person is blindingly unhappy? The important thing is the personality. One begins to understand the origins of her paintings by watching the smiling visitors to the gallery. The philosophy behind her works, although outwardly fragile, is actually rock solid, carefully aimed, observant, and multifaceted. The predominant metaphor is that childhood and adulthood have joined hands; her every subject is unblemished by anyone. This is Hapchynska’s subject.

I remember many things from our infrequent meetings, including what she told me one New Year’s Eve: “It’s good to live in the country, at the cottage. It’s good to wear old clothes with torn sleeves, a worn-out fur coat that you would be ashamed to wear in public. It’s good to walk out of the cottage and stand gazing crazily at the sky. It’s good to feel your true self- a nobody that only you yourself know, feeling cozy and snug at home, feeling six years old and immortal. It’s good to love and not expect any mean tricks; it’s good to nestle against a tree or a person.”

That’s the answer: all her pictures stem from this worldview. She is an individual who cannot stop dreaming, who says that only people who can dream can be happy. Those who think they have achieved everything they could, who believe that all dreams have come true, are doomed to melancholy.

Melancholy is what is absent in this artist. There is not an iota of it. Hapchynska is very much in demand and has had exhibits in France and Ukraine (Lviv). She has created gorgeous illustrations for children’s books and has received attractive business offers from all over the world. She once told me that she and her husband had spent a period of total misery. Zhenia also had health problems. Yet there was a blinding light at the mountain top, because her beloved was next to her.

Take a closer look at her works and ponder the titles; you will realize that all her creations are about love (“The Man I Want to Kiss in the Morning,” “It is Easier to Forget 100 Kisses Than a Single One,” “All I Care about Is Being with You”).

I remember one painting from her last exhibit, and even though I swore I would never attempt to describe a clever work, I must. I am aware of the limitations involved in conveying one’s impressions through an intermediary, but I will try. It is a large canvas with bright-colored butterflies, pinned underneath numbers, like in a herbarium. Number 15 shows a small doll-like girl. The title reads, “I Will Come Alive If You Want.” Zhenia’s heartfelt belief in the possibility of a miracle is powerfully convincing; the miracle will occur.

I know that art gallery owners are loath to answer the undignified question, “How many pictures are created every month?” After all, painting pictures is not assembly-line work. But I would say that the industrious Hapchynska paints between seven and eight works. If she weren’t so intelligent, she would have long been resting on her laurels (a fleeting thought). Vague publicity is not for Zhenia.

One time she gave me a button for good luck. She is a visionary, who never starts a painting if it doesn’t move her. She often cries like a baby after completing a painting. She is a workaholic and regularly takes part in charitable projects. She participates in them sincerely, not for the sake of publicity.

Hapchynska’s Shchastia [Happiness] Gallery at 16 Mykhailivska St. offered visitors milk served in baby bottles decorated by Zhenia. Sipping the milk through straws, we even clinked them, toasting the artist.

Zhenia walked over and gave me a leaflet with this inscription: “I wish you happiness, lots and lots of it forever; there is no shame in this!”

I felt like I was six years old and would live forever.