Petr Pospelov. We do not refuse inheritance

We do not refuse inheritance
Paper Press Review

Petr Pospelov

Date of publication: September 26, 2000

The week before last, sharing his immediate plans with Andrei Khripin (Nezavisimaya Gazeta), the new artistic director of the Bolshoi Theater Gennady Rozhdestvensky said:

“We are opening the current season not with Ivan Susanin, but with Boris Godunov under my direction. In fact, I believe that Mussorgsky should go to Shostakovich’s edition, but I will not do this, because the editions are retrained (serious discrepancies in the vocal line, rhythm, harmony) is hellish work for singers; it’s easier to learn several new operas.”

So, the season at the Bolshoi opened with “Boris Godunov”. The singers sang as usual, Rozhdestvensky conducted Rimsky-Korsakov’s version, and the performance itself was a production of 1948.

“The idea of ​​replacing the originally announced “Ivan Susanin” with “Boris Godunov” arose right at the troupe’s meeting. Such a replacement cannot be called fundamental - both performances are nothing more than embalmed relics of the end of the Stalin era with its official “grand style.” The meaning of the replacement was "The idea is to let Rozhdestvensky open the season himself. I suspect that when making the decision, Gennady Nikolayevich did not even realize that we were talking about the very play that was staged when he was just entering the conservatory. When he realized, it was too late to retreat, " - suggests Dmitry Morozov ("Evening Club").

What happened?

“Having got from the ship to the ball, Gennady Nikolaevich probably did not have time to get scared, just as he did not have time to fully realize that there was a second edition of “Boris” in the current Bolshoi Theater. One got the feeling that he was conducting the first one - and not in Moscow. it seems that the scale and different sequence of the paintings weighed down. I wanted detail and psychology, I wanted great symphonic contrasts. The wonderful stamped boyars and the people in the form of a museum exhibit from the storerooms seemed like characters from another opera - not today’s, lifeless. Rozhdestvensky, as if surprised by what was coming out of -under his fingers, fell into an epic state. Listening to the score and now, probably stunned by the ugliness of the looming result, he got scared. I can’t explain in any other way the orchestra removed into the background and the tempos slowed to the limit. As a result, a complete failure of all mass scenes, crumpled dramaturgy, long “swings” before the climaxes and the loss of them... Rozhdestvensky completely forgot about the choir and often about the singers (poor Grishka could barely get out his story about the dream, Gennady Nikolaevich was waving too slowly!). He listened to the orchestra, built the lines of the score, and sometimes he succeeded. Separate from the performance. He is not a king at the Bolshoi Theater console yet." - writes Anna Vetkhova (“Culture”).

"A miracle did not happen. In two weeks, it was not possible to clean the most complex opera to a shine. The orchestra under the baton of the famous master was neater than usual, but not too expressive. The charismatic prime minister of the Bolshoi Vladimir Matorin in the title role was unexpectedly ascetic in terms of acting and experienced obvious difficulties with intonation and diction. The rest of the singers sang in the most familiar way: without triumphs or failures, collecting eternal, boring shortcomings - inaccurate intonation and unconvincing extreme registers," - this is the opinion of Maria Babalova ("Vremya Novostei").

Elena Cheremnykh (Kommersant) agrees with her:

“Rozhdestvensky is a good conductor, ” she confirms. “ This time, in fact, there was only one trump card in his vocal deck - Vladimir Matorin in the role of Godunov. But things were turned around in such a way that the leader with the conductor’s curbed charisma not only held the entire performance ", but even contributed to the effect of other singers being competitive with him. At the time of the delivery of "Boris Godunov" at the Bolshoi there were no mezzo-sopranos, no tenors, no characteristic basses, no honest holy fools (the best are on contracts, the worst are on stage)."

“It would be absurd to expect that the Bolshoi vocal troupe would immediately transform and sparkle with the arrival of Rozhdestvensky. But when more than half of the soloists sing below any criticism, this is already too much. The only pleasant exception was the experienced, with good diction, Vladimir Kudryashov in the part of Shuisky that suits him , Yuri Vedeneev (secretary Shchelkalov) and Alexander Naumenko (Pimen) - this artist began to make noticeable success after he sang Ivan the Terrible in "Pskovianka". Vladimir Matorin expressively performed only the death scene, and the entire drawing of his Boris looked like the result of creative disputes - or with himself, or with Rozhdestvensky: Matorin moved very restrainedly, sang strictly according to the text (without losing his mannered and unclear diction), without artistic shouts, and was generally quieter than water - and in the central picture Rozhdestvensky, almost like Gergiev ", cruelly drowned him out with the orchestra. If the maestro wanted to shorten the charismatic prime minister, he succeeded - but the organically rich part of Tsar Boris has not yet been achieved." (Petr Pospelov, Izvestia)

Next, the critics exchange more fundamental considerations:

“Whoever sings, this performance will still remain a corpse, ” ” says Dmitry Morozov (“Evening Club”). “And even Rozhdestvensky’s appearance at the podium could not revive it. On the contrary: the brighter the conductor’s personality, the more glaring the contrast between the sounds becomes. and visible."

Pyotr Pospelov (Izvestia) initially agrees with his colleague:

“The date of production is 1948, its authors are recognized masters of those years, director Baratov and artist Fedorovsky. From the point of view of modern theater, the performance is unthinkably archaic, but this is precisely what makes it unique: a year ago, “Boris” was laid down by sophisticated London. The British froze in raptures at the sight of the written scenery, which has long been out of use on the world stage. The performer of the title role, Vladimir Matorin, captivated them with his powerful bass and the breadth of the Russian spirit. Even Rimsky-Korsakov’s instrumentation, recognized as inadequate to Mussorgsky’s music, in some scenes seemed to the British more impressive than those common now versions of Shostakovich and Mussorgsky himself. The success abroad made us think - perhaps we, as often happens, do not appreciate what we have? Perhaps, against the backdrop of modern modernist productions of "Boris", successful or not, we have something like an authentic Russian opera? Probably not after all - “Boris” at the Bolshoi bears the imprint of Stalin’s theater rather than of the Russian imperial theater. And yet it is not worth eradicating it: it is unlikely that the creators of the modern domestic scene will be able to offer something even equivalent."

Dmitry Morozov (“Evening Club”) doesn’t think so at all:

“I would really like to hope that the tribute to nostalgia has been paid in full and that very soon a new, authentic “Boris” will appear at the Bolshoi.”

However, having looked at “Boris” with his own, and not the British, eyes, Pyotr Pospelov (Izvestia) admits:

“If you look from the stalls, the scene is quite picturesque; if you look from the upper tier (your correspondent changed points during the performance), the worn-out rugs with seemingly tucked edges covering the Kremlin’s Cathedral Square make a depressing impression. The mise-en-scène seems to have lost Barat’s design: the chorus is static, and the movements of individual choristers have a touch of voluntaristic improvisation. Sometimes it seems that there are simply not enough people on stage. Sometimes - as, for example, in the scene of the Pretender's escape through the window - the scenery begins to shake like laundry on a line. Everything in general has a fair amount of character neglected luxury."

With the arrival of new management, the situation at the Bolshoi Theater hung in an uncertain position. But Dmitry Morozov (“Evening Club”) still hopes:

“Pretty soon it will become clear what inheritance the new artistic director of the Bolshoi is going to refuse. It would be good if not only from Vasilievsky (at the theater they say that La Traviata and Swan, shown immediately after Boris, were shown for the last time) . Even more interesting is what legacy Rozhdestvensky will decide to accept. The main thing is that he wants and is able to get rid of the still tenacious concept of the theater-mausoleum. In the late 80s, Alexander Lazarev subjected it to a thorough revision, but under Vasiliev, restoration of Stalinist relics began again. Now again theater at a crossroads."

Meanwhile, the young but already extremely famous violinist Vadim Repin performed in Moscow.

“The violinist’s Russian tour, organized by the production agency “Firebird” with the sponsorship of the Philip Morris company, brought him to Moscow at the end. Two concerts, at the MZK and BZK, allowed us to get a fairly complete impression of the maestro’s work. We heard Repin with chamber repertoire in a duet with pianist Alexander Melnikov and as a soloist with the Tchaikovsky Symphony Orchestra Vladimir Fedoseev, at the podium of which was Vladimir Ziva,” reports Anna Vetkhova (“Culture”).

Critics were unanimous in their assessment of the violinist’s two Moscow concerts:

“The first of them threatened with disappointment; however, everything went on increasing, and by the end Vadim Repin fully proved that he was not so famous in vain.” (Petr Pospelov, Izvestia)

“Both concerts played in Moscow left no doubt about the highest level of professionalism - there was no false note or bad taste to be found here. Nevertheless, it is worth recognizing that in the orchestral format in the Great Hall, against the backdrop of the symphony orchestra, the violinist looked more natural than in the chamber format version in the company of only one piano. The partners assigned to the soloist also contributed to this impression. Pianist Alexander Melnikov, with whom Repin had already performed dozens of programs, oddly enough, turned out to be much less successful than Vladimir Ziva, who first stood at the podium of the BSO. The most brilliant chamber number program (Five Melodies by Prokofiev, Beethoven's Seventh Sonata, Chausson's Poem and Franck's Sonata) was an encore performance of Ravel's "Gypsy" - this apotheosis of violin virtuosity, which is intended to be the best." (Ekaterina Biryukova, “Vremya Novostei”)

“The program with the piano in the Small Hall (Prokofiev, Beethoven, Chausson, Frank) was not as great as the concerts with the orchestra (Bruch, Beethoven) in the Bolshoi. From this one could conclude that the violinist is closer to the big stage, large form and broad romantic emotion rather than the intellectual nuances of the chamber format. Hardly: at the end of the tour, he flawlessly played the solo Sarabande from Bach's Partita. It's more about his partners. The chamber program together with Repin was played by the young pianist Alexander Melnikov, who is good in his own right (but not in Franck's Sonata, which he simply couldn't cope with), nervously and reflectively at war with his own passive nature. But Melnikov's ensemble with Repin was expressed only in the formal coincidence of eighth and sixteenth notes. Only occasionally did the piano and violin form a sound unity - which indicates a serious internal discrepancy between the partners ". (Petr Pospelov, Izvestia)

"The duet of Repin and Melnikov, once blessed by Svyatoslav Richter himself, has existed for many years. A lot has been played. The program was chosen from that. Probably in a hurry - the list of works was announced on the eve of the concert. The tandem did not look like a single organism. Five melodies by Prokofiev, which opened the concert, promised an interesting evening. The filigree workmanship of the piano part, rich colors and nuances, the special matte sound found by Repin... Followed by Beethoven’s Seventh Sonata, in which the violinist unleashed romantic passions, forgetting about phrasing and style. Melnikov, who tried to introduce something that had gotten out of control the development of events in a classicist direction only determined the line between the two parties. The pianist’s intellect in this situation did not save the situation, the duet fell apart, and Melnikov broke into a “scream.” Having played Chausson’s poem in a state of passion, he was unable to return to normal in the Franck sonata Repin led the line in large strokes, as if not noticing the transitions from one work to another, like one big, spectacular solo. The powerful sound of his violin was as if locked in the Small Hall. He began to play with all the overtones only at the Bolshoi. In Bruch's concerto and especially in Beethoven's violin opus, Repin sounded not only as a virtuoso, but as a musician. The orchestra was wonderful, and Vladimir Ziva, who, it seems, was conducting the BSO for the first time, performed his role superbly.” (Anna Vethova, "Culture")

“If only the Fedoseevites would be able to accompany the entire upcoming season like this, if only Repin would have such partners when he comes to Russia again. The beautiful romantic Concerto of Max Bruch no longer left much to be desired, and when the time came for such a masterpiece as the Beethoven Concerto, something rare in routine practice came a state of complete mutual hearing between the soloist, the orchestra, the conductor - and the breathless audience. Having received kind and sensitive support, Repin perked up and discovered both free hearing over long distances and variety in details, not to mention the exceptional polyphonic technique with which the cadenzas were played" . (Petr Pospelov, Izvestia)

“The overture from “William Tell” was a good warm-up, played by the Fedoseevites and the young conductor Vladimir Ziva with genuine quality and operatic courage. And after that, two violin Concertos at once - the textbook Bruch and the more rare Beethoven - recommended Repin as a master of the large form, who wisely does not flaunt his technique, sportily controls the doses of romanticism and is absolutely not shy about purely pioneer positivism." (Elena Cheremnykh, Izvestia)

“Repin himself likes to apply sports terminology to himself, comparing, for example, his exhausting touring life with the life of an athlete, and performances at home (which happen about once a year) with playing on his home field. This series of comparisons is worth continuing. The beauty of it "The game seems to have some kind of non-musical quality, it is akin to that in sports. Repin plays powerfully, accurately and prudently, leaving emotions to the listeners." (Ekaterina Biryukova, “Vremya Novostei”)

“You can enjoy his sound, which is always rich, voluminous, always flying - no matter what kind of music is performed. And in other cases, you notice that the musician is probably still young, because he is not thirty, and the experience of the heart is not yet so great ", in order to master skill, - and in other cases to admire the wonderful coincidence of breathing, emotions, sounds and pauses, which form the magic of music, which does not need mental and mythological supports. At two Moscow concerts there was both." (Petr Pospelov, Izvestia)

“And yet I was haunted by the feeling that each composition for Repin is a kind of musical distance, filled with beauty, impressions, emotions, memories, finally. However, the meaning of the path from the first to the last sound was not fully realized by him. Or, worse, is no longer realized from "because this path is too familiar to them. However, at the end there was a revelation - a solo Bach, and this point in depth and strength was worth both concerts." (Anna Vetkhova, "Culture")

During his Russian tour, Vadim Repin played in different cities with partner orchestras of varying quality. Describing the performance in Kazan, Natalia Titova (Izvestia) reports:

“The heaviness of the orchestra and several moments when the wind players wanted to be taken out of the hall deprived the performance of Beethoven’s concerto of a certain amount of brilliance. But the merits of the violinist completely compensated for the musical losses of the orchestra. In general, Repin recommended himself as a musician “without excess” - moderately strong, moderately talented.”

“Or maybe he’s very talented - if he meets a good partner,” suggests Pyotr Pospelov (Izvestia).

Having seen a new film from the familiar series by Alexander Rogozhkin, critics were convinced that “Peculiarities of National Hunting in Winter” was not about their honor, but about the general audience. But they didn’t scold him too much, deciding to find hidden virtues in him.

“We can, of course, say that this film is nothing more than a rehash of the previous two, ” writes Anna Starobinets (“Vremya Novostei”). “ And we can agree with producer Konstantin Ernst, who claims that “the film is very stylish.” In a sense, the style is really consistent. Once again, a completely mythological bear willingly joins the company, and the rock garden allows you to meditate even in winter. And the actors are familiar. The swan-like general Ivolgin was played by Alexei Buldakov, the philosophizing Kuzmich - Viktor Bychkov, and the policeman Semenov - Sergei Gusinsky .The charming Finn Willy, unfortunately, is not present.This time, the function of a stranger, not familiar with the culture of the country, is performed by the hero of the ancient Chinese legend, Hu Zhou - a very spectacular character in the drunken delirium of the heroes.

Particular emphasis in the film is placed on the philosophical side of the matter. And for you Buddhism, and for you Russia between East and West, and for you “yes, we are Scythians, yes, we are Asians.” It is this oriental flavor that allows the characters to behave calmly and detachedly, as befits an absurd comedy. The signs of action-comedy from the next “National Peculiarities” are finally supplanted, which only benefits the film.”

Svetlana Khokhryakova ("Culture") was saddened by the film:

“It’s somehow sad. From everything. From what is happening with the characters in the frame, from the artistic result - quite high-quality and professional, but somehow not, because everything is put on stream. I just want to paraphrase Pelevin: Rogozhkin and emptiness.

Where does this sadness come from? Let's try to understand. Once again we have a picture of remarkable Russian sloppiness, male sloppiness. There is only one lady in the frame: big, portly, initially mistaken by the heroes for their man-brother. Aunt, let's be honest, is crazy and crazy. Cheerful, indeed, in light of these marvelous qualities. But in light of the latest events with the Kursk submarine and other troubles that befall Russians almost every day and which often occur due to thoughtlessness, bungling, and the ever-present Russian sloppiness, Rogozhkin’s picture takes on an ominous meaning. So we live at random: maybe it will blow by, maybe nothing will happen. And if it suddenly happens, we’ll quickly wipe ourselves off, forget everything overnight and let’s live again like the last idiots. Without this, Russia seems to be not Russia at all, but some kind of Luxembourg. In this sense, the new “Features...” is a conceptual picture for our miserable country. I admit that the film crew had no conscious desire in this direction. They made jokes once again, strung anecdotal stories one on top of the other, why not, since there is a consumer demand for such jokes, without thinking about anything tragically absurd, but life has set its own accents. We filmed the “winter period” in the early warm spring. The temperature was above zero. The puddles blurred underfoot. There was a catastrophic shortage of snow. They gave him a ride. It’s also very like us to shoot winter in summer.”

And on the last warm days in Anapa, Eldar Ryazanov accepted the Grand Prix of the Kinoshock festival for his new film "Quiet Pools". The critics didn't have a good word to say about this picture.

“This very drawn-out film is long, tedious and unconvincing about the spiritual and love tossing of the middle-aged academician of medicine Kashtanov (Alexander Abdulov). And although the author of the script in this case was Emil Braginsky (this work was his last brainchild), there are an insane number of situations in the plot of the film, causing bewilderment to viewers." (Ekaterina Volodina, "Time MN")

Perhaps Ryazanov’s film, if it had not received the main prize, would not have caused such sadness, but critics were upset that “Three Brothers” by Serik Aprymov, “27 Lost Kisses” by Nana Dzhoradze, or “27 Lost Kisses” received a special jury prize, or were noted for directing and cinematography.” "The Life of Elsa" by Algimantas Puipa, as well as the non-award-winning "The Scary Summer" by Aigars Grauba, despite all possible claims, is a high-quality, professionally sound film. "Still Pools" is, alas, a weak film. But here the situation obliges." (Alena Solntseva, “News Time”)

The same critic devotes a separate detailed article to Ryazanov’s film, where he warns:

“The easiest way is to dismiss it, concluding that world cinema has long gone in a completely different direction, and let old directors chew on their reserves, sitting on the sidelines. However, practice shows that inert and unmodernized tastes and views that have developed over decades of Soviet culture form a force "which has to be taken into account when promoting both goods and ideas, artistic and political. Therefore, rather than brushing it aside, it would not be a bad idea to understand what is hidden behind the seeming absurdities."

After describing the film, the reviewer makes a guess:

“I’m afraid that Ryazanov is making a “real movie.” He is offended when, after watching it, they ask him, for example: “What about your millions, who stole them?” It’s strange for the director that in a story about great love he is pestered with motivations. The great convention of art, he taught in his youth, does not at all need everyday verisimilitude. Here is the beauty of gentle Russian nature: sunsets and sunrises, fog over the river, mushrooms in the dew, this is real life, sincere love - a sleeping girl on a man’s shoulder , misty gazes and other patterns. But the pathetic result is the final meeting of the heroes in a stream of cars under the New Year's night rain. The bitter look of a cowardly academician, his wife sits next to him, trying on a necklace bought as a gift, and his beloved is sobbing in her rusty car. Here your heart should clench captivated spectator. Does not shrink.

Alexander Abdulov is a very good artist. Even in this cranberry, he tries seriously. Either he demonstrates nobility and wisdom, or he reveals funny weaknesses. Sometimes he exalts the hero, sometimes he lowers him to parody. It’s just a pity that neither he nor the director understand that this is no longer possible, that all these sunsets and mushrooms have disappeared even from postcards, rugs with swans are no longer on sale, and simple stories require more witty arrangements. The filmmakers are angry, reproaching their critics for their heartlessness, who cannot be swayed by eternal values.

One can lament the disappearance, along with censorship, of the institution of editors and artistic councils that had the power to curb addicted artists. I'm afraid it's not a lack of sense of proportion. There are simply too many people, including talented ones, who were brought up in a system that, in principle, does not imply changes. Therefore, their conservatism - both aesthetic and ideological - is a condition for the preservation of reason. Ryazanov accomplishes a kind of feat, defending at all costs the integrity of his personality, for which any change means destruction. The very movement of history seems to him a catastrophe, and he stubbornly multiplies remakes, not noticing the difference between the original and the fake, just like so many representatives of his generation, who stubbornly want to enter the same water an infinite number of times. And Ryazanov has a lot of supporters in this. The main prize of the Kinoshock festival for the film "Quiet Whirlpools" is another proof of this."

And only Sergei Sinyakov (“Evening Club”) gives the unfortunate film the lines carved with a chisel:

""Old Nags" were, by and large, a good example of heavy thrash, take, for example, Gurchenko in swimming trunks. Since then, heavy insanity, as usual, has grown stronger, established itself as an independent school, and reached its apogee, which we see in "Quiet Whirlpools" ". It seemed that it was impossible to rise above the level of the prohibitive aesthetic pornography of "Old Nags". Ryazanov succeeded. His today's ability to make expensive, infinitely bad films (and this is what film fans have rightfully appreciated for a long time) with unconvincing flabby love, poor gags and pompous emptiness ideas put Ryazanov on a par with the authors of "Austin Powers" and "Kuban Cossacks". The creator of "Cruel Romance" is as fresh and relevant as ever and stands out favorably against the backdrop of the acid generation of film directors. Only Evgeny Matveev can compete with him in this sense, if for the next “Kinoshock” he makes “Love in Russian 3.” Although the caliber is not the same.”

Not all newspapers gave reviews to the Aivazovsky exhibition that opened at the Russian Museum. Moreover, it is worth quoting an article from the newspaper “Vremya Novostei”, in which Sofya Krynskaya certifies the classic of Russian painting as follows:

“Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky is one of the most famous graphomaniacs in the history of art. Only the famous French artist Gustave Doré (Bible illustrator), whose creative heritage amounts to thousands of engravings and paintings, can be compared with him. Aivazovsky painted about six thousand canvases, most of which are very similar at each other. Sea views - calms, storms, storms, ships in the bays of Constantinople, Venice and other cities. It is known that he almost never painted from life, but always from memory, making not real, but fantastic seascapes. It is believed also that he simply could not draw anything other than the sea, although meticulous researchers discovered both genre and allegorical scenes in him. However, they are almost never shown - they are too bad (like, for example, the painting presented at the exhibition in the Russian Museum "The Deluge" is full of poorly written nudes.) Aivazovsky's work is described exclusively in the sublime terms that impressionable lovers of beauty love so much. For example: “The blue element, with its eternal movement and immobility, contains a secret” (I quote from one of the catalogues).

In fact, there is no secret of Aivazovsky. He was a typical romantic, thinking in terms of “apocalypse”, “crisis of civilization”, “triumph of nature”. Hence his favorite theme - the wreck of ships caught in a storm. But artists in different countries of the world thought in a similar way: both the Englishman John Martin and the American Thomas Cole, who painted much better fantasy landscapes on the themes of the global flood, the collapse of empires and the death of humanity. Moreover, Aivazovsky brought all these romantic themes into circulation, turning them into decorative art that decorates naval institutions (for many years he worked as a painter of the Main Naval Staff) or home interiors. Instead of romantic tragedy - salon beauty."

In another article, the same Sofia Krynskaya (Vremya Novostey) focuses on another classic, who just celebrated his 125th birthday:

“To write about Churlionis is to remember your childhood. The end of the 70s... Unlike Ilya Glazunov, who was loved then (as, indeed, now) by the people, it was the Soviet intelligentsia who fell for Churlionis. Actually, the sixties discovered him when they saw in the paintings, inaccessible, and therefore so desirable, mysticism and symbolism. Brought up on reproductions of Shishkin and Aivazovsky from school textbooks, tired of monotonous images of milkmaids and machine operators, not very involved in the narrow circles of unofficial art, they - the intellectuals of the 60s - had a completely bad, or rather , no artistic taste. But this taste - for Čiurlionis or for Salvador Dali - was passed on by inheritance. Lacking Dali and Čiurlionis in Moscow, we then went to the "Gruzinka" - a tiny exhibition hall in which they were allowed to exhibit Soviet surrealism... All it was. And also - the fashion in the Baltic states, where every summer the Moscow intelligentsia went on vacation. And there was so much there! Rustic furniture (our then “Ikea”). Handmade rugs. Liqueur "Old Tallinn". There are restaurants at every turn, where salads for some reason were served in glasses. Allowed "Western" art. Amber. Inscriptions in foreign languages. Willows. Anne Veski and Tõnis Mägi... Remembering all this is strange and funny. I threw away the postcards I bought at the Čiurlionis Museum a long time ago. The willows were covered with book dust. I recently saw Anne Veski on TV in the “SV-show” - she has noticeably gained weight. To travel to Jurmala, you need a visa. Art like Churlenisov’s (or “Georgian”) is now sold on Arbat and at the House of Artists on Krymsky Val. But new books about symbolism certainly contain reproductions of Čiurlionis’ paintings. And two paragraphs of text. These two paragraphs say that he was a representative of northern modernism and national romanticism, that he actively participated in the St. Petersburg artistic life (even exhibited at World of Art exhibitions), that he wrote in a graphic manner, mainly in pastels and tempera, that, since he was a musician (although music experts say that his symphonies are very dull), he always strived for a synthesis of arts and painted his paintings according to the laws of music (hence their names: “Spring Sonata”, “Sonata of the Sun”, “Sea Sonata”, “Sonata of the Snake”, “Sonata of the Pyramids” and so on ad infinitum), that at the end of his life he fell ill with mental illness (just like Vrubel) and died early (at the age of 36). That's all, actually. What else can I write about this beauty, which, as it has now become clear, cannot be called anything other than sugary salon symbolism, which you cannot look at, otherwise you will cry, and which will remain a constant reminder of the mistakes of our happy childhood.”

And yet, artistic life gave critics a gratifying impression - the exhibition of Lev Bruni in the State Tretyakov Gallery.

“Bruni’s works reflect a huge layer of Russian culture, ” writes Evgraf Konchin (“Culture”), “ from the 20s, from the famous exhibitions “World of Art”, “Makovets”, “Four Arts”, where many stars of Russian graphics rose , among which Lev Bruni was the first magnitude, until the 40s with all the breaks and fractures, ups and downs and dramatic falls... But always, with all these complex, contradictory changes, Lev Bruni remained a Russian intellectual with rich family traditions and, of course, a brilliant, magnificent master, a professional of the highest standard, which is the enduring value of his art."

“Of course, Lev Bruni paid tribute to experiments and the search for a new artistic form - the exhibition includes the picturesque “Mask Sector” (1916), filled with geometric motifs, and non-objective drawings executed a few years later. But the main thing in the artist’s legacy is not them. Among them lyrical and, as we are now tired of saying, “figurative" his subjects contain a lot of the mundane. Interiors at dusk, portraits of his wife and children, a Samarkand teahouse. Geography - Goats, Sudak, Batum, central Russia; favorite technique - working in ink or almost monochrome watercolor with the addition of sonorous red cadmium on tinted paper. The artist, whose work fell on not the most cloudless times of Russian history, managed to escape the openly ideological government order. In any case, there are no such works at the exhibition, but the presented sketches of monumental paintings of the Moscow House of Architects (1930s ) they only talk about Bruni’s love for his native nature,” finds Sergei Safonov (“Vremya Novostei”).

And maybe even more, if you listen to Grigory Revzin (Kommersant):

“Calm, quiet love for everything he sees. The drawings say: “Lord, thank you for the miracle that my son is sleeping; thank you for the miracle that my wife is sleeping; thank you for the miracle that there is a forest." Something really happens to matter. Orthodox aesthetics (say, Khomyakov) does not take a completed form, it strives for living matter, transformed not so much by spirit as by love - that’s how Bruni and It turns out. And masterfully. In a sense, this is an exhibition in the “if only” genre - what the art of the Russian avant-garde could have been like if it had not entered into an alliance with the Russian revolution, if only for the Makovets group, where this religious avant-garde developed, existed in a more successful time and place than the USSR of the 20s. This did not work out. But something else turned out - a surprisingly lyrical “authentic proof” that God exists, presented in the form of a completely isolated personal experience. That, perhaps, , no less significant."