The Color of Claret Belongs to Us 1931

Azim Azimzade made this drawing in 1931, the title a splashy declaration like a battle cry against a background of muted browns, blues and greens. Imagine Azimzade, pen in hand, leaning into this scene, trying to capture the weight of the moment: the girl's distress, the looming figures, the silent crowd. This is clearly a story, but what is it? The bodies are carefully outlined, but there's a certain flatness. The drawing feels urgent, like he had to get it down quickly, before the moment slipped away. You sense that Azimzade is concerned less with technical perfection and more with conveying an idea, a feeling. And in this rawness, there’s an honesty that transcends the need for precise detail. It reminds me of Goya's dark visions, those etchings filled with social critique, or maybe even some of Kathe Kollwitz's stark depictions of suffering. Like them, Azimzade isn't just showing us a picture. He's inviting us to witness a story.