#Ivan Aivazovsky 'Moonlit Night'

[blueiscoool]

Moscow Auction House Sells a $1 Million Painting Stolen from a Ukrainian Museum

In Russia, Ukrainian artist Ivan Aivazovsky’s painting “Moonlit Night” has been put up for auction, according to Ukraine’s former Deputy Attorney General and Prosecutor of the Autonomous Republic of Crimea, Gyunduz Mamedov, who has reported the auction plans.

Russia’s looting and destruction of Ukrainian museums and cultural heritage sites have resulted in significant losses, with nearly 40 museums plundered and almost 700 heritage sites damaged or destroyed since the invasion began in February 2022, causing cultural losses estimated in the hundreds of millions of euros.

The first report that “Moonlit Night” will be the main lot of the auction, which will take place at the Moscow Auction House on 18 February, appeared on the Telegram channel by Russia’s state-funded news agency RIA Novosti, noting that the painting was estimated at 100 million rubles (approximately $1.09 million) before the sale.

‘In 2017, [Interpol], at the request of [Prosecutor’s Office of the Republic of Crimea], put the paintings on the international wanted list. Thus, Russia openly disregards [international law], as according to the 1970 UNESCO Convention, the export of cultural properties and transfer of ownership is prohibited,” Mamedov emphasized on X.

In 2014, during the early stages of Russia’s occupation of Crimea, Aivazovsky’s painting “Moonlit Night” was illegally transferred to the Simferopol Art Museum, along with 52 other artworks.

In 2022, during the Russian invasion of Ukraine, some of his works were destroyed in an airstrike on the Kuindzhi Art Museum in Mariupol, and others were looted by Russian forces from Mariupol and Kherson museums, including “The Storm Subsides,” which was moved to the Central Taurida Museum in Simferopol, Crimea.

[illustratus]

A Moonlit Night at Sea by Ivan Aivazovsky

[classicdavinci]

Ivan Aivazovsky | Moonlit Night on the Dnieper (1887)

[spirit-of-art]

Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky, The bay of Naples on a moonlit night. Vesuvius (Неаполитанский залив в лунную ночь. Везувий), 1840s

[simena]

Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky - A Moonlit Night on the Crimean Coast

[octothorpetopus]

how i waded into your grave as if trying it on,

how, when the waves came,

they gave me back

black sails (2014) / “whatever you do” by brandi carlile / moonlit night (1899) by ivan aivazovsky / “postcard from gone” by leila chatti / unknown piece by peter wever / “upon realizing there are ghosts in the water” by leila chatti / “figure carrying skeleton” by eric macleod / honeybee by trista mateer

[moonlitmistyforest]

Ivan Aivazovsky - A Moonlit Night at Sea, 1885 oil on canvas, 83 cm (32.6 in) x 135 cm (53.1 in) Private collection The moon frequently features in Aivazovsky’s works, adding an intense amount of drama to his darker, more monotone seascapes. In the present work, the moon itself is hidden behind ominous clouds but its cool light illuminates the beach to reveal a small boat washed ashore and two steamships in the background. This masterwork is a stunning example of Aivazovsky’s adept talent in depicting light.

[the-cricket-chirps]

Ivan Aivazovsky

Storm at Sea on a Moonlit Night

1866

[destinedjourneyofwords]

I know,when we meet I am going to memorize every feeling of mine for you.The name of yours will be a constant chant,a sweet refrain,I'll say it with a twirl or scream it with joy and whisper softly sometimes.The way my heart is going to take wings every time I think of you,the way my smile genuinely going to extend from ear to ear when you're with me,the way my dimples gonna betray me by telling the effect of you on me.The way my gaze gonna shift when I see you anywhere and everywhere.I want to memorize your heavenly voice,your angelic eyes,your sparkling soul,the warmth of your hands,your pure heart everything and anything about you.I simply want to carry you in my breath.I simply want to love you anyway and in every way,my love.

Painting :  "Moonlit Night on the Dnieper" by Ivan Aivazovsky

[ltwilliammowett]

Sailing along the Crimean Coast in the moonlit night, by Ivan Aivazovsky (1817-1900)

[classicalcanvas]

Title: Moonlit Night on the Bosphorus

Artist: Ivan Aivazovsky

Date: 1894

Style: Romanticism

Genre: Cityscape

[ahaura]

Ivan Aivazovsky (Russian, 1817–1900) detail of Storm at Sea on a Moonlit Night

[illustratus]

A Moonlit Night on the Crimean Coast by Ivan Aivazovsky

[godbeautyorder]

Ivan Aivazovsky | Passing ship on a moonlit night, 1868

[spirit-of-art]

Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky, A moonlit night on the Bosphorus (Лунная ночь на Босфоре), 1894

[captaingreenpeas]

[Image credits: "Moonlit landscape with a ship" - Ivan Aivazovsky, 1881]

Writing sample. Below are the first few paragraphs of an (admittedly slightly overdramatic) short story I wrote a while ago, retelling the story of "Der Erlkönig"/"The Elf-King" by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. The full piece can be founds HERE. If you need further samples of more RP-related writing, feel free to reach out!

Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?

Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;

Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,

Er fasst ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.

Wind whips around Hagens face as he drives his heels into the flank of a panting horse, gray as the storm around them. The animal is grunting, heavy hooves thundering on the tossed-up ground below them. Cold, white sweat clings to his back, foam bubbles at its mouth, the drag of reigns forcing it to round its neck and blow breaths of hot fog into its own chest. Hagen can feel the steed’s muscles move through even the thick leather of its worn-out saddle that has been bruising its once shining fur for weeks now. It is dull, dull as the sky is, hidden behind stormy clouds and rain that cuts his face like blades of ice. The sea tosses raging waves of salt toward him, punishing him for riding along the dike this late. Trees bend and crack and ache under the force of the element, white bark tears and exposes gentle, brown flesh and golden blood like the souls of the woodlands are dying in this rage, too.

He remembers them, the old stories of the Fae in these woods that would keep him waking, crying in the night. His mother would tell him of old kings, of trolls and specters between the trunks, looking to lead you astray in the marshes until you sink between moss and roots to be reborn as a ghostly birch yourself. She would stand at the door to await the return of his father, tan with skin of leather forged into armor by the sun and the sea. She would not let him peek out the window when the howling of hounds filled winter nights.

Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht? –

Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?

Den Erlenkönig mit Kron’ und Schweif? –

Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif. –

Hagen looks down at his son, the boys face tucked tightly to his heavy, wool coat that is drenched and heavy with water and mud. The tufts of his soft, black hair are tussled and knotted, his little hands grasp so tightly at him, as though he was afraid the Mother Sea would take him from his father’s arms and cradle him in her depths until he gifts her his last breath.

But then, his boy raises his head, looks past him, behind them on the path. His gray eyes are wide, equal the moon past thinning clouds when autumn rolls around. Soft cheeks redden with cold, lips parted for a gasp of fear. He pulls at Hagen, turns to him, speaks softly, as though he was afraid they be heard by anyone but the hailing rain. [...] [Image credits (below): "Der Erlkönig" - Moritz von Schwind, app.1830]