Attila Kovács Biography
Hungary, born 1964
On September 5, 1964, I stepped onto the world stage in a beautifullittle town, Vynohradiv, at the foot of the Black Mountain. I spent a partof my childhood in my grandfather's house, where he introduced me topainting as he would spend his free time creating artworks. He wouldtell stories before bedtime, weaving his own imagination into them.
Then came school, where I was as introverted as a prison door. Whilereading art books, I parked myself with Dali after Da Vinci andMichelangelo. Towards the end of school, my spirit broke free from thebottle, as it tends to happen at that age.
My cousin recommended me to a local artist named Miklós Papp, fromwhom I learned a lot about worldviews and artistic movements. I had anopportunity to exhibit some of my paintings in a joint exhibition withlocal artists, but the local realist audience didn't receive them withgreat enthusiasm.
I continued my studies at the Vynohradiv Polytechnic, from where Ihad to go for an internship in Moldavia in the spring of 1983. As afarewell, we had a party with friends, which ended up with spray-painted wall art. We said our goodbyes, I left the next day, and newsreached me in Moldavia that the former KGB was looking for mebecause of the graffiti. They harassed my friends and even my uncle,who had been a political prisoner in '56. By the time I returned home, theKGB and communist party members were waiting for me. It seemedthat my wall art had a bigger impact on them than my drawings. After afew days of interrogation, they decided that the military couldstraighten me out. Thus ended my adolescence.
With the involvement of the KGB and party members, I was expelledfrom the Komsomol (which didn't really manage to sadden me), but onDecember 5, they set me off for military service and made me promiseto write about my first (and hopefully last) encounter with polar bears.After a rainy December, it was quite terrifying when the train stopped atthe Perm station, with snow piled up about one and a half meters higheverywhere. This was not good. But it got worse. They took me north, tothe northern part of the Ural Mountains, to the city of Solikamsk, andeven further north, next to the Komi ASSR, to a small village where therewere more prisoners than villagers. Forests and swamps surrounded thevillage, and you could only enter or leave by car in winter or summerwhen the road would either freeze over the marsh or dry up.
Difficult days followed, and there were bad news from home as well.My father was fired from his job because of me, and they threatened mymother too. The older soldiers scared me by saying that it would be coldfor only 3 months and then very cold for 9 months. As I adapted to thenew environment, I learned that a prisoner (convicted of multiplemurders) was working in the heating plant of the barracks, and he was apainter as a side job, painting posters for the military and his ownpaintings as well. After that, in the evenings, when I had the time andopportunity, I could sneak out of the barracks and drink tea called chefirwith my newfound friend in the heating plant and we paint together.
In 1985, I managed to escape from hell, and I returned home in time forChristmas to finally embrace my mother, father, and sister. There werea few new friendships, love, new experiences near at River Tisza inKőbánya Lake, and then the great love—I got married, had two sons. Butthe tough years came back. I worked (and did everything I could) tosupport my family. We lived in a small room, the floor being the onlyspace where I could paint. I tried to sell my paintings, and everyonepraised how good they were, but no one was really interested.
Now I have the time to paint again, I still have some thoughts, I stillhave one more shot, so I'll give it a try.
