"Well, somehow I live, old man!"

The publishing house “New Literary Review” in the series “Essays on Visuality” is published by the book “Edik Steinberg. Materials of biography ” , dedicated to the life and work of the artist. COLTA . Ru publishes a fragment from the collection - letters of Viktor Pivovarov Eduard Steinberg.

Prague - Moscow, beginning of 1980

1.

Edyusha, dear, hello!

I am writing to you from my beautiful far to your beautiful far away. Already a week, as in Prague Ira with Pashka . They live with us, in our small apartment, but somehow we all fit and settled here. Ira will be here in Prague for about a month, and then he will leave and leave Pasha with me, and I am in early September, i.e. Then, when you will return with Pasha to Moscow.

Then an unpleasant story happened to me. March 21, with one rank, I sent a package for Pashka to Moscow, various sweets, cookies, etc. And with her letters to you and Lily. This type disappeared, and I could not find it, Pasha appeared in Pasha two months later, and the letters evaporated. In this letter, I described in detail how Galya Kungurova was visiting in Prague here in Prague. I gave her your point of view on the story with paintings. It is already useless to write about all this, see you, and I will tell you everything. But the fact that this letter disappeared is very offended. I hope that this rank just did not take it.

He was a man who came in a reinforced concrete bag of his own concepts, and his main concern was not to see anything, not to hear anything, not to understand anything.

What to tell about yourself? Well, somehow I live, old man! I got used to the everyday and household side itself. There were a lot of worries and work with us with a new apartment. Milena (Milena Slavitskaya, curator, critic, art historian, second wife of Viktor Pivovarova.- Ed .) Received an apartment of the so-called 4th category-i.e. Without a bathroom, without heating, without a phone, without an elevator, etc. It was necessary to make a large reconstruction, repairs, connecting a small pantry with a restroom, made a shower, made a kitchen in the corridor, it was necessary to make water there, change the entire electrician, put the tile in the kitchen. Now everything is already in order with the exception of heating. There is heating in only one room - electric. And in another, maybe by the fall it will be possible to obtain a permit for gas heating. All these concerns fell on Milena’s shoulders, because to agree with the workers, get out different broilers, stoves, etc. I could not. We moved on May 5 and now we have been living in a new apartment for two months, but all sorts of little things have not yet been completed.

For these six months, I visited me in my Mikhailovsky, except Gali, from our Ilya Kabakov and Nina Shulina. Ilya was two weeks, and I spent whole days with him. I must say that, of course, it was a great joy for me to see a loved one, but he produced a terrifying sight. He was a man who came in a reinforced concrete bag of his own concepts, and his main concern was not to see anything, not to hear anything, not to understand anything. It was mental protection against any form of extraneous influence. I even think that he didn’t want to go. Vika, apparently, decided that it was already inconvenient to abandon numerous invitations, and insisted on this trip. This trip was extremely useless for Ilya and our Prague friends. Ilya could not and did not want to understand the art of the Czechs, and with the most benevolent attitude they could not understand Ilya, because In his armored bag, he lost his ability to contact so much that he was not able to somehow introduce and interest in his ideas of our Czech colleagues.

On the other hand, I perfectly understand that each artist has the right to defend himself in any way if he experiences an internal necessity in this and if such protection helps him to cook his stew in his reinforced concrete bag. Ilya, in fact, is happening. Everything is actually in order, only this visit itself was absurd.

Ninochka Shulgina was in her translation affairs in Bratislava and came to Prague almost exclusively to see me. She talked about all Moscow news, for example, about the fight against "brewer" in Detgiz, under which Lidochka , her husband and some other young artists fell.

Well, my dear, such things!

I myself, in addition to different economic arrangements, made fifty color drawings and one album. Writing oil in apartment conditions is not entirely convenient. But now I have the opportunity to temporarily use the workshop of one friend, and I hope to start writing. I’m going to be long, you're right, old man! Well, the rest is a meeting.

I hug you and wish you to gain new strength. I kiss the checkmark . The most cordial and kind wishes from Milena. If everything is in order, then in September she will come with me to Moscow to the Moscow-Paris exhibition (an exhibition of Russian and French art of the 1900-1930s in the FMI named after A.S. Pushkin in 1981.-Ed. ). I also tremble with impatience to see this exhibition.

Once again I kiss and love, always and endlessly your V.P.

2.

My dear and loved ones, Edik and Fuck!

Happy New Year and Merry Christmas heartily. Both I and Milena wish you happiness, health and creative energy.

You, apparently, know that we had a difficult time. Milena was in the hospital for a month, and I had to be a mother. Well, he withstood a month. I handed over Mashenka from hand to hand in perfect order. Milena feels better, although he will still go for treatment, and from time to time her unfortunate female organs aches her.

We have such news. It looks like I will have a workshop. Now it is in the design stage. True, very small, 15-16 meters, but bright. With my desire to do big things, this workshop is not good for the line, but at least something than nothing is better. Her benefit that she is five minutes from our house.

This is anything, but not an art exhibition - a morgue, showing visual aids, an archive of ethnographic documents - I do not know what else.

Another news - I bought two paintings from me in the Prague National Gallery. Which is very pleasant. There are several exhibitions in Prague. One of them is an exhibition of modern Spanish painting, on which there are three huge things of Miro and three also large paintings by Antonio Tapiesa. I am not talking about others, but these are staggering with their great freedom, light and a pulsating life.

Not far, in another hall, an exhibition of Soviet art from 1917 to the present. I jumped out of there as scalded. Such heavy brown air. This is despite the fact that there were even Malevich, Petrov-Vodkin, Labas. No, they failed to discharge this air with something. The bulk is the 30-50s. I just seemed to find myself again at the exhibition in some native 51st year. It is interesting that in general the impression is that you are not at the exhibition. This is anything, but not an art exhibition - a morgue, showing visual aids, an archive of ethnographic documents - I do not know what else.

I read here at the leisure of the 70s of our good common friend (Ilya Kabakov.- Ed .). I heard that you, Volodya and Misha Schwartzmann are very sharp objections. As for the last two, this can be understood, Volodya only mentions and does not stop him due to the complete absence of his interest in him, and writes about Schwarzman quite sharply. If I wrote, I would write even more sharply, because the more time passes and the more I am free from our home stereotypes, the more clearly I see how the stuffy bubble it is. As for the fragments - the heads of you, Weisberg and Yakovlev , it seemed to me that they were written with great warmth and deep respect. From the point of view of penetration into the essence of each of these ones, this is a more problematic issue. In my opinion, the least successful piece of Yakovlev, whom Ilya understands only fragmentarily. Yakovlev is a phenomenon, much more complex and deep, it practically does not lend itself to rational analysis. However, undoubtedly, an extremely valuable part is devoted to its own creativity. This is an unusually rare, if not - unique, example in the history of arts of such introspection.

It's just that these five most important are Van Gogh, Morandi, Shagal, Steinberg, Kabakov.

I also want to tell you one thing concerning you. The month when Milena was in the hospital, I walked every day for two hours in a park with a stroller. I had a lot of time, and I walked and thought. Thinking about many things, most often about all nonsense, but also about serious things. Different nonsense came to my mind. For example, I compiled such a schedule - my closest people - in the middle I was, then there was a circle of the closest, behind it a little less close, then a circle of even a little less close, etc., then I made a similar schedule of my favorite artists. This schedule was slightly different. In the center, too, of course, I was, and there were five artists around, as if the most important in my life, and already behind them the other artists of my loved ones, of which a total of a little more than 20, were somehow distributed by themselves. Why am I telling all this? It's just that these five most important are Van Gogh, Morandi, Shagal, Steinberg, Kabakov. And in that first schedule of the closest people, in the very first circle of the closest, there are also five, and among them also Steinberg.

Now, my dear Edik, you understand why I have been telling for so long about my stupid graphs compiled during a walk with a baby stroller.

I will be very grateful if you convey my best wishes and congratulations on the New Year Volodya Yankilevsky from me and Milena. And Rimme too. We do not correspond with him, but I very often think about him.

I kiss you and a checkmark.

Always your V.P.
01/01/1986

3.

Dear Edik and Galya!

I am sending you an invitation, let's start acting. We all wait for you very much and we will be endlessly happy. As for the time of arrival, you can choose any time convenient for you.

You just need to think about what to do with Merry Christmas. The fact is that two weeks before Christmas and weeks two after it all visits, guests, visits and meetings are canceled. Christmas here, if you remember, December 25th. So maybe the best time is the beginning of December, so that the artists walk around, and find a piece of Christmas. Christmas here is so beautiful that it is worth it at this time. But, of course, as it turns out. Keep me only in the know, and if you get permission, be sure to call.

Everyone is sick with us now - Milena, Masha and I have flu. The muse suddenly descended on me, and in a few days I wrote two dozen poems. I will rewrite a couple for you.

Poems written in the restroom.

I'm sitting on the toilet
And I look at linoleum on top
The abstract pattern is formed in faces,
At home, windows
Leather suitcase
A piece of the column here
Moron profile.
The picture is peaceful
Small to tears
Harmony is spilled in everything
In the Linoleum pattern on the floor
And in a spider, which hid in the corner.

Dark room.

Summer is in full swing
The sun shines
Hot and sweaty and heat
In the room is dark
The dusk gaps
Inexceptioned guilt.
Summer is gray
And autumn honey
They tell me a whisper
In the room is dark
In the corner of the hidden
Black stars are burning.

***

Lavender shine in heaven
The chicken sparkle
And the crust flins
The knitting needles flicker
In the sun, the wheel
And the kettle on the stove is already boiling.
We will drink tea
You can with a pie
Then a little
We will talk jokingly
After
We’ll defeat somewhere a little
And we will continue to live
Leisurely.

And finally:
Message to friends.
(In the style of Velimir Khlebnikov.)

The poor are poor
Squirrels are passenger
Runners are unlucky
The sufferers are nothing
Nemrak are obsessed
Stirring to height
I have fun with laughter
Chatting in the void.

Well, one thing happened terrible. I will not breed about it, I have no strength for this, I only report. Pashka threw the institute. I already have no possibilities to influence him.

I kiss and love you.

Your V.P.
10/13/1987