Зинченко Елена Васильевна

Foto_E.ZinchenkoЧлен Международной Гильдии Писателей (Германия), писатель, драматург, лауреат международных литературных конкурсов («Русский Stil-2013» (Германия), «Зелёная волна-2012», «Корнейчуковская премия» (Украина), «Кварнерский турнир» (Хорватия), конкурс им.В.Г.Короленко (Россия). Печатаюсь в периодической прессе (в Украине, Израиле, России, Германии, Хорватии), в международных альманахах. Мои книги издавались в Германии, Канаде, России, Украине. В писательском активе – исторические, приключенческие романы, детективы, сценарии к кинофильмам, мультфильмам, пьесы, сказки, фантастика. Хобби – фотография, иллюстрация: иллюстрирую свои книги и обложки к ним.

I am a member of the International Guild of Writers (Germany), writer, playwright, the winner of the international literary competitions (“Russian Stil-2013” (Germany), “Green Wave 2012”, “Korneychukovskaya Premiya” (Ukraine), “Kvarner Tournament” (Croatia) V.G.Korolenko competition (Russia). My articles published in international journals and anthologies (Ukraine, Israel, Russia, Germany, Croatia). My books have been published in different countries: Germany, Canada, Russia, and Ukraine. There are  historical, adventure novels, detective stories, scripts for films, fairy tales, fantasy in my Writer’s Archive. My hobby are photography, illustration and I do the illustrations for my book.





         My hands skim the surface of sculptures clumsily. Strange, but that is exactly what I’ve always wanted to do contemplating the wonderful works of outstanding artists – to touch that moment of the ancient world’s Greek mythology, bygone deep into the centuries, which is captured in marble. They say, ancient craftsmen coated marble sculptures with a mixture of olive oil, wax, or a mixture of milk and saffron, after which they acquired the tone of human skin, and a sculpture came to life, as it were. But even without those frills, the beauty of a human soul and body, masterfully extracted from a stone cover by an artist’s hands, appeared lively and tremulous to me.

        “It always seemed to me, – Michelangelo wrote, – that a sculpture is a lamp of pictural art, and that the difference between them is the same as the difference between the sun and the moon”. And today I had a special chance to feel this difference. Namely to feel… because today my hands became… my eyes! Here in Athens, in the Tactual Museum, tightly blindfolded, I had to spend a few hours under cover of darkness – a short period of time, during which I, voluntarily renounced only one of human senses – the sense of vision, had to acquire an unusual experience.

        Blind minutes skilfully weave the strong net of time from restless moments of darkness. Its wise companion – a habit – takes toll… and I start to recognize familiar shapes. It is incredible – my fingers feel that light motion, which enlivens bodies of Greek statues! It happened: my hands, perceiving a sculpture’s design, gain the ability to feel the beauty, frozen in time… Graceful body curve, embraced by volant dress folds, elegant gesture, putting the sandal’s strap right: it is impossible not to recognize and not to feel the storyline lyrism of the famous Acropolis relief of Nike goddess, who came down from heavens on the Temple of Apteros. My hands feel the vivid flex of tense muscles on the body of a mighty athlete… springy, powerful stride and blistering span of an arm, stretched forward in an angry impulse with a view to cast an imaginary trident into a foe. Inspired face: how wonderful his manly features are… it seems that water is flowing down his hair and beard… well, certainly, it is the embodiment of the mighty waves, to which headstrongness there are no barriers – this is the Poseidon God!

        My hands, having forgotten about their clumsiness, skim the surface of sculptures, retracing the path of a genius chisel of Phidias, Agesander of Antioch, Praxiteles. We live in the world of colors kaleidoscope, which makes striking storylines out of the placer of shades fragments and the play of highlights. But outside this familiar space there’s something more: come here, close your eyes, stretch your arm and try to distinguish an air volution in Nike Goddess’s chiton wrinkle from a wind’s step in Poseidon’s hair. Did you manage? So you also know it now – this wonderful sixth sense, which is not yet defined by the science, but which is inherent in those, who can see only with their hands…

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