Sokolov Vladimir Studio & Gallery

My favorite living artist in the world.
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My home deserves nothing close to his masterpieces. Nor do I. My house is small, simple, full, musical, messy. Total chaos.
It’s not sleek, sexy, cool, minimalistic, or fancy. Far from it. There is always something cooking, always someone laughing, or yelling, or crying. Usually me. All at the same time. If you’ve been and still talk to me? God bless ya.
Etchings of artists like Bob Marley. Black and white photographs of my grandparents playing their prospective instruments, and my one hundred year old piano.
Instruments, instruments, and more instruments. Blank space? No. Clean lines? Nonsense.
In the middle of the mountains of books and clutter, lie two important monuments to promote my smile and soothe my soul. Like those instruments. Two pieces from the collage/​multi-​medium era, signed by the master, Vladimir Sokolov. Two of the first things to be rescued in the event of a fire.
My greatest regret in life is that I did not buy more of his work during his collage era. All of it. How could I have thought it out of my price range? Why didn’t I sell my car!!!
Vladamir’s work moves from the page. Escapes the surface. His collages reach out to the sky. Like sculptures pulling away from their bases. Like a hand coming out of the book that you’re reading and taking hold of your heart.
The colors are so bright and vivid, it’s hard to imagine they came from natural sources. Appropriately named with ethereal titles. Like «Heaven».
I remember the day I found him. Walking around in Laguna, my favorite beach in southern California. Artist galleries consume the boardwalk. Their invitations warm and welcoming.
But you will not be prepared to see Vladamir’s work no matter what you are prepared for. You will expect avant garde, forced-​interesting, like Dali. You’ll expect technically prefect laborious art. You will expect beach-​themed works, portraits of classic women, and phallic nouveau.
But your mind could not conjure such colors, such depth as is on display here. Your dreams are not so dramatic as these. Your eyes will not be ready and they never will be.
Sun, light, water, fire, tears. I stare at his work for hours, days, months, years. To my eyes, like Mozart is to my ears.
I met Vladamir for the first time years ago. He smelled like good cologne and world travels. He told me about the world. I told him I played music. I told him that I understood. I think he bought it.
For over thirty years now, he has been making a living as an artist. I can relate to the miracle that this is. Will bread be on my table in ten years? We’ll see.
I’ve been back many times just to stare. To dream. To want.
The first thing I’m gonna do when I’m rich? Get all the orphans the hell out of Ecuador. The second? Buy up every piece Vladamir has ever painted, chiseled, torn, cut and made breathe life from blank space.
My favorite pieces are the collages. Almost all sold.:-(Cut strips of bright photographs that become sculpture on the canvass. They conjure heavy emotions. Addicting, like narcotic drugs. Or good kisses.
Luguna seems to attract magic and passion. It is an appropriate home for Vladimir’s craft. Laguna beach is the city where one of my my best friends married. The city where I had the best kiss of my life. The city that houses the gallery of my favorite living artist.
Any one of those things is enough to send you home and rethink your life. I retrace the lines from memory. Crushed by sand underneath, waves behind me, stars in the sky leaning heavy on my shoulders. Like a tidal wave tosses shells from the sea, you have wrecked me.
My favorite living artist in the world. Stars are beneath you Vladamir.