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Sergei Eisenstein
director
If you stood with his back to the other side, which stretched deep into the vast horizons of the river and meadows, before you all, that is constructed - apparently built in the species at this horizon. And an octagonal pavilion, completed spire and raised above the ground, taller than a man. And the balcony over the verandah, which seems to flying down the slope toward the river: these distances. And alley liquid seated apple, trying to connect the solemn descent seized languor gave a house with a few disheveled arbor. All the runs there, these horizons ...
However, if following this trend of land and buildings, and most turn in the direction of these distances, we find something unexpected: none of these distances on the other side of the arbor there.
Sloping land, all its character is meant to run to the river, nor to what river does not run over, and rests on the demeaning path overgrown with all sorts of rubbish. And for the path instead of distances, fields and meadows, cascading to the opposite shore, is growing weeds. Burian becomes vulgar hazel and small aspen, from which muffled everything. This chaos evil rests on the greens soon littered with fences and sagging bottoms of some construction projects. Above all this, of course, the sky is - but where is he still be? But the crimson sunsets and pale-pink morning dawns, it is not available. Inspired verandah his outburst directed toward any sunrises, sunsets in any way ... Fool on the hill, it sticks out a gust of dissatisfaction with the non-existent in the distance ...
How many of us would say come from the town philosopher: impulse we deserve span horizons. Our eyes opened, the perception of fiery sunsets and sunrises pale. And incidentally, we are hard-nosed noses in some backyards, aspen, hazel yes weeds.
But to us a philosopher of another warehouse. Middle him Severinovich. His name is Casimir. Costume on it striped. Dark-gray stripes, as in a vise, squeezing him light gray. Material rough. And it seems that it is all sewn from deryuzhnyh peasant trousers. Now he is leaning. Fist of his operas in the ground. A huge hairy, Cubist fist. Despite the density of the figures, he gets punched the ground. Hand extended. And the hand and fist, hard-nosed into the ground, and the slope of the figure complete with gestures openly lewd narrative Casimir Severinovich about the manners and anatomical features of donkeys.
Like everything in the world, and ends with this intriguing story. Short massive figure is now upright. Emphasis can be seen in his tanned face loose, eaten old smallpox, and lightly fringed with red, yellow proteins. Fist he holds before him. Voltage, with which it is compressed, can be felt by a slight bloating sleeves on the spot where the sleeve covers himself biceps. The feeling of power emanates from his striped figure. Force, among other things, physical and not moral. And to talk about their own power, he goes, leaving the subject of love power of donkeys.
In the statutes of the orders of chivalry, attributable to the ninth-twelfth century, means that only once beaten can become a full knight. Otherwise, no malice. Only those whose bones cracked in the fall, whose teeth are scraped and staggered under the blow, whose crush his head on a rock - is able to attack with full fury on the other.
Story Casimir Severinovich its own strength - a living proof of it. He is not a knight, not the Templar and not John. But he is obliged to force its the same, which owe their courage former gendarmes Europe - crusader scum of the Sword, Teutonic and Livonians. Force, he is obliged to its zubodrobleniyu, beaten, humiliated.
Now he - supremacist. Once was not. Then he humbly went with a box of paints, easel, a folding stool. Overshadowed by "their booths," somewhere in a river. I tried to entice excitement and radiance of sunlight of the day in the colorful strips of oil paint, nervously escaping from under the brushes of various sizes on the surface of the canvas lined with charcoal, then they are in the shadow of a closed box froze, but it shoots like a lava preserved in its bends traces once pursuing the their temperament. Temperament was great. Colors are bright. Beautifully it was, bold and a bit rude. Himself he was relatively feeble and behaved violently, mainly on the palette. So in the day when the group passed by the village boys lifted him to laugh. Tame svetospektr - one. Disperse the color on the canvas and subdue their immutability of rhythm - one. To confront the easel forms of nature according to his will - one. And should not the omnipotence of the creator of his universe on his canvas to expand beyond. Audacity is strong not only the consciousness of strength, but also the presence of her. The response audacity Malevich was not based on force. There were many. He was alone. They went further. And he lay in hospital a month.
It seems that this month he ate and drank. Perhaps taking medicines. It can not be to lay all the time without uttering a word.
Nevertheless, imagination paints it in this month with his teeth, not even once decompressed.
Maybe these yellow squares, uneven among themselves, but put together a strong series, and decompresses the sometimes physically, but morally jaws were clenched on this month in the hospital. And for the next month for its walls. And for many, many months ahead. During those months, short fingers of his hands clasped quadrangular not only a copper snake pens from a box of paints. Not only the leather strip, nailed two nails to the leg of the easel so as to allow him nosis. And not only the leg of a portable chair. In these months in these hands have called with increasing weight of not only the brush, differing in size. During those months, those hands have known contact with bars, clubs, weights.
The top row of teeth, firmly pressing the bottom row of their yellow counterparts, it seemed, serves (...) hand-emitting gravity up and slowly shake in tight muscles downwards.
Geary grew. And in his swollen leg muscles. Finally, the weight soared. Pudovik. As balls, they have to take off again and dutifully returned to grasping their fists on the fly.
She came virtuosity. Virtuosity insidious game juggling Pudovik. Purpose move up.
Idle boys were sitting at the hay scales. Near scales. In the Shadow - weights. Over the outskirts of the village is already between day and dusk. By idle fellows man approached. They did not recognize him. But the eye of the artist, multiplied by the severity of hate, whom to know. Not all were the ones who beat him once. But among them were those.
Modestly artist sat in the shade. As if by chance some weights. As if accidentally pulled Pudovik the ear. Turned around guys. As the ball jumped Pudovik in the hands of a stranger.
Surprisingly, how quickly the Russian people are standing in a circle.
The stranger left the dumbbell, as if catching his breath.
And now stretched to Pudovik other hand.
Sidelong glance from under his knitted brows stranger identified: one of those.
Up flew Pudovik. And down. Past hands.
Recycled up. But the secondary broke down sharply in flight for two. Before the fist guy. And after. Before flying down it was a fist like a fist. And after the flight - five killed seeds scraped from the blood. Curled up on its side, lay Pudovik, in reverse flight smashed his fist.
I do not know whether laughter around, and mockery. I think not. Rather, scowling. So I see the second. Unlike the first - ash-blond-chop black. With dark skin surface of baked apples. The first was a white-faced. With a bright glow, vigorously scattered from the center to the edges rounded cheeks covered with skin. Not dobegaya to the edge of those blush, it seemed ashamed. Stopped and uneven feature of the watershed ended abruptly, avoiding soft transition for some reason the rest of the surface of a white person. We are not ashamed to blush, but the lad, and a blush spread over him far beyond the usual contours of his naschechnogo wrong spot. Spots persisted, but now it has moved under the jaw. Lay ... the edge of the open gate of Russian T-shirts, lined with very thin black and white ornamental strip. Looking from above him by the collar, it could be assumed redness ranging over further. But on the chest a guy no one was looking. Looked at the gypsy, who, spitting, and, apparently, while matyugayas, wrap a broken hand in a checkered scarf, obligingly slipped his death terrified girl.
Shame in front of a stranger. Or uharstvo to their failures. The desire to be affected before the girls - however, and the girls do not so hot any, and a number of two or three - incomprehensible force drove the guy for a guy to catch a weight. Guy for a guy to throw it in the air. Guy for a guy with broken wrists to depart from evil scheme. Variety was not enough. Is that the one blood with the first roll, and the other from the second or third. Yes, even two or three on top weightlifter fell to his feet. It became very quiet. And somehow scared looking subdued razhie bullies, from whose fists trembled District, sitting in the shadow of a stranger. However, he no longer sitting. However, it has not yet stood. A was in the state imperceptible transition from rest to standing, where it is difficult to determine to which position he belonged more. He moved from one state to another. But so slowly that the movement seemed ominous. Until then, until a sharp jerk did not straighten up his tight figure, hrustnuv bones, from which the whole of his face became even more ominous.
Hryas-hryas! ... Almost next blow came on the two jaws. "Oh thick girls and the girls shriek, filed a handkerchief, merged together, and suddenly stopped. The blow in the teeth rocked a blond guy in the nose land ash-gray dust. Unnoticed before the chicken, as if only in order and came to emphasize his fall, rushed to the side. Gypsy stood on their feet. Took off his jacket, hanging on one shoulder. Wipe and punch in the chest with a stranger was a matter of moments. Moments, culminating in a hoarse howl of a gypsy, who had forgotten about his broken fingers. Remembered, but too late. The stranger stood there, frozen, and only rare, but accurate short punched him in the temple then flew alone. So in cheek to another. That under the eyes. That ear. So in the teeth. Blood and saliva spray flew into the dust. Girls gone. And everything was done so smoothly and quietly, not counting the rattle so knocking their fists on the bone is recovered after the first fright chicken stolidly continued to peck at an unknown organization, only occasionally wondering splashes of blood balls kativshimsya dry dusty sand. At first she tried to overtake them in the running. Under well-aimed blow of the beak, they fly away to nothing. And the chicken turned to a much more reliable power supply to the object - the manure, not wasting time on such an unusual, even for her sight, hollow, full of blood of a tooth with an excessively large roots, which lay among the dried-litter. Far down the street leaving the stranger. His place was full. An eye for an eye. Tooth for a tooth.
29.5.1939.
TSGALI, fax. 1923 units. Mts. 1050
Publication Waqar I.
Recollections SM Eisenstein
Commented Specialist
Sergei Eisenstein, and Kazimir Malevich. The two names are well known throughout the world. Producer and artist whose work is inspired by the ideas of October, its transformative power. Both - the bold experimenters, discoverers of new ways in art, had a significant impact on the culture of the XX century. Did they know, what were the relationships between them?
First Malevich and Eisenstein met in the summer of 1925 in Nemchinovka, in the country, where the company settled filmmakers who worked on several productions. In Eisenstein's recollection, he was "on the top floor with Agadzhanova worked on the script for" Fifth Year "(a fragment of which formed the basis of the film" Battleship Potemkin "- IV), and the bottom - with Babel on the screenplay" Benya Krik (. ..) And in the corner alcove drank "zubrovka with Kazimir Malevich, people came from the city.
Malevich at that time was already Nemchinovka veteran: he came here in the summer months since the beginning of 1910-ies. Probably even before meeting with Eisenstein happened his acquaintance with Nina Ferdinandovna Agadzhanova, goodness and which attracted to the cottage with a veranda and pergola many people. In the words of Eisenstein, she was always surrounded by "adorable" creative people, as Aibolit diseased animals.
Here, in the country, and proceeded a long conversation between the two great artists, one of whom Malevich described the episode of his youth, later at the basis of the literary sketch Eisenstein "Nemchinov Post. Malevich's story is written not by "hot pursuit", and fourteen years, when the artist was no longer alive. Much has changed in the fate of Eisenstein, and in life in general. The story told by Malevich, apparently acquired for Eisenstein a deeper, more general meaning. Therefore, he chooses not a traditional genre of memoirs, documents the events of the past, and creates "Free Exercise", the story behind the simplicity of the plot of a certain second place when buying a shade of parables.
This is the story of the birth of a strong man, the education of faith and the upbringing of anger. This exciting story of revenge: the author is clearly fascinated by the will, the sequence, the cunning of his hero - Malevich, action, first slowly, rapidly growing, evolving under the laws of adventure literature, or film-westerns. But Eisenstein at the beginning of the story is not accidentally dropped the phrase "physical, not moral" strength of character. Finale - "An eye for an eye. Tooth for a tooth "- suddenly had resulted not portable, and direct sense, makes us think. Revenge was accomplished. Purification did not happen. Evil has created evil. Humiliation - the "physical, not moral." Eisenstein, who had just taken off his film "Alexander Nevsky", on the eve of World War II, reflects on the fact that there is resistance to aggression and that is revenge, as to distinguish them among themselves?
Perhaps there was another, more personal dimension in the thinking of the director, by that time the surviving administrative interference in their work, and then ban his film "Bezhin meadow": that brute force to oppose, ridicule, misunderstanding?
Experience of Malevich in this regard causes Eisenstein, apparently ambivalent feeling. As the very nature of this talented man, passionately defending their understanding of art and often intolerant of those who was not his soul mate. Wonder, describing the "sick animals" surrounding Agadzhanova, Eisenstein continues: "harmless" those rabbits with bandaged legs, most often was, of course, more than a relative. Just remember that it is here (...) I first met (and was very fond of) such a tireless stubborn and principled fighter, as Kazimir Malevich, during his very fierce struggle for the direction of the institute, which he ran the aggressive enough. "
"Nemchinov Post - a prose sketch, holistic, though not finished in the details. It was written quickly and "fair copy", almost no changes. For all that he can appreciate the literary gift Eisenstein, his special, cinematic vision. The story is based on the change of plans "- from the general to major and megacities (clenched teeth), the bright and extremely visual images, rhythmically interchanging. Sometimes the real objects in the image of the author suddenly acquire resemblance to the details of Malevich's paintings: "squares" teeth flashed as fragments of futuristic paintings, is a powerful fist "cubistic.
Memoirs Eisenstein and interesting fact short, but trusted communication between the two great masters, and that sheds light on little-known period in the life of Kazimir Malevich. And for residents Nemchinovka and its environs, it is valuable, in addition, and their "place of action": it Nemchinovka left trace not only the life of Malevich (about this many times the newspaper), but also in the works of Eisenstein. No coincidence that one of the scripts written by him in the same summer in 1925 in conjunction with GV Alexandrov, was signed by a pseudonym: "Taras Nemchinov.
MI Vakar,
Senior Researcher
State Tretyakov Gallery,
member of the organizing committee on preparation for the anniversary of Malevich in Nemchinovka
The newspaper "New Frontier" (Odintsovo, Moscow Region),
№ № 12-13 (11051-11052)
28.01.1988