Artist about this artwork
Beneath the grandeur of a towering spruce, a scene unfolds - a mother and her daughter, sharing a moment of quietude. Once upon a time, the mother herself was a girl, standing no taller than this very Christmas tree.
It's likely that she, too, frequented the dacha with her parents, eagerly anticipating the New Year's festivities, and adorning the tree with ornaments, each one placed with her own hands. Those were the days when the holiday spirit danced in the air, and the tree seemed to touch the sky.
In the passage of time, the ornaments remained suspended, untouched, a testament to those bygone celebrations. As the children grew, the allure of the ancestral dacha waned, and visits became infrequent. Now, those once-cherished decorations dangle high above, like delicate memories of a time when the trees stood smaller, but the joy was boundless. They serve as whispered reminders that even the mightiest trees were once but saplings, reaching for the sky.
It's likely that she, too, frequented the dacha with her parents, eagerly anticipating the New Year's festivities, and adorning the tree with ornaments, each one placed with her own hands. Those were the days when the holiday spirit danced in the air, and the tree seemed to touch the sky. In the passage of time, the ornaments remained suspended, untouched, a testament to those bygone celebrations. As the children grew, the allure of the ancestral dacha waned, and visits became infrequent. Now, those once-cherished decorations dangle high above, like delicate memories of a time when the trees stood smaller, but the joy was boundless. They serve as whispered reminders that even the mightiest trees were once but saplings, reaching for the sky.