Guévork Aivazian
Studio NDSM-plein 45, Kunststad, NDSM LOODS
Title : Alpine Flowers (Ongoing project)
Oil painting on linen and cotton canvases. Various small formats.
-Alpine Flowers-
From Amsterdam to an art research and residency in Turin (Italy) and back to Amsterdam.
This project started in September 2024 at NDSM , Amsterdam. After During this artistic residency in Turin, I focus on studying and painting endangered alpine flowers. Each flower becomes a fragment of memory, a fragile witness to the mountain landscapes I traverse and observe during several months. The work aims to build a bridge between the Alps and in next months, the mountains of Armenia, and Georgia, connecting territories, memories, and sensibilities.
Each presentation of the project is conceived as an performance : the paintings are exhibited, accompanied by poetry readings in multiple languages and the unveiling of a trilingual artist’s book (will be released on 24 of November 2025) designed to engage children and adults in the beauty and fragility of alpine flowers. The first presentation will take in Erevan (Armenia) at Mkhitar Sebastatsi Art School (in workshops with children aged from 8 to 13)
The project transforms the fragility of nature into a meditation on time, memory, dreaming and construction of new bonds where the poetry of mountains makes us feel more alive the presence of flowers - happier.
Nine Voices in the Shadow of the Peaks
I wandered alone, my soul in a weightless dress,
Through paths where summer overflows in tears,
Under a dawn that dances, where stones confess,
I climbed in search of the color that appears.
The wind above — a painter with no shore —
Unrolled the hours on glaciers lost in dream,
And the heavens broke their shining core
Like an organ trembling in the cosmic stream.
Yet it was neither rock nor silence deep
That pinned my heart into the mountain’s seam:
It was the cry, transparent and steep,
Of nine corollas fading into dream.
Guévørk Aivazian
July 2025.
Negen stemmen in de schaduw van de toppen
Ik liep alleen, mijn ziel in lichte kledij,
Langs paden waar de zomer weent en vloeit,
Onder een dageraad die danst, waar stenen schrei,
Klimde ik omhoog naar kleur die zich ontsluit.
Daarboven waaide de wind — een schilder zonder spoor —
Hij rolde de uren over slapende gletsjers heen,
En de hemel spleet zijn kelk open door
Als een diep orgel in het firmament, sereen.
Maar noch rots, noch stilte hield mijn hart gevangen,
Noch sloot mij vast in de kloof zo fijn:
Het was de klacht, doorzichtig opgefangen,
Van negen kelken met een eindig lot, zo klein.