Farewell to th Front
Nikolay Nikitovich Repin. Farewell to the Front
Oil on canvas, 2018
I was just a 14-year-old boy, when the first mass farewell to the front set a seal on all my life. A lot of people gather on the square almost every day. Their undivided attention is converged on those who are going to the front. People crowd around them. Relatives, ones who care - everyone wants to be closer to their special person. Mothers, wives, brides cling to their loved ones, dear ones. There are also children here. Those who are older strive to come next to their father.
And the younger ones are in the hands of their mothers clasping their very own, beloved child to the breast. Oh, how heartbreaking are the moments of parting, when loved ones, dear ones go into the unknown. Everyone is talking, advising, instructing, but it feels that none of this is what one should say. It would be necessary to express the most important, cherished things. But these remain unsaid or too deep for words.
So nature itself, as it were, quieted down, saddened along with everyone. The sun is somewhere high in the sky. Its brightness is muted. In the heated air, the leaves on the trees drooped, which makes them look somehow sad and gloomy, experiencing this tragic time together with people.
And the younger ones are in the hands of their mothers clasping their very own, beloved child to the breast. Oh, how heartbreaking are the moments of parting, when loved ones, dear ones go into the unknown. Everyone is talking, advising, instructing, but it feels that none of this is what one should say. It would be necessary to express the most important, cherished things. But these remain unsaid or too deep for words.
So nature itself, as it were, quieted down, saddened along with everyone. The sun is somewhere high in the sky. Its brightness is muted. In the heated air, the leaves on the trees drooped, which makes them look somehow sad and gloomy, experiencing this tragic time together with people.