Category Archives: KÖNIGSBERG

Victor Ryabinin, Artist — A Grave Decision

On the sixth anniversary of Victor Ryabinin’s Death

18 July 2025: Victor Ryabinin, Artist — A Grave Decision

As the sixth anniversary of our friend, Königsberg artist Victor Ryabinin’s, death approached, the established etiquette of paying our respects to him at his graveside was brought into question by a discourse on the imperative or expectations of doing so. The postulation was challenged by another: that unconditionally consecrating the memory of the deceased is greater testimony to everlasting endearment than obedience to the yearly ritual of paying homage at the grave.

Looked at from the departed’s point of view, having stepped out of mortal time to make room for eternity, like the fabled ten thousand men of the Grand Old Duke of York, who, when they were up, they were up, and when they were down, they were down, within the abyss of eternity, when we are there, we are there, and when we are not, we are here. Or are we?

In mortal terms, but not in the dominion of the mortal deceased, a time will come when everyone known to him personally — family, friends and work colleagues, indeed, in time, his entire generation — will no longer be soil-side up, an incommoding inevitability which is almost certain to make visitations of any order difficult, with, perhaps, the exception of the supernatural kind.

Never is this inability to reunite at the graveside more problematic than when you are in your own grave. And never is this fact driven more firmly home than when walking solitarily, consumed by quiet reflection, among the weathered and stooping tombstones within a typical English churchyard.

Samuel Treeby's gravestone in Ringmore churchyard 2025

Gravestone in South Devon graveyard, Victorian

^^Grave of Samuel Treeby, Ringmore, who departed this life in 1828 …

Pull back the ivy and brush away the lichen and moss from the tombstone of your choice, and there you will find the names of those who lie beneath your feet. There is every possibility that they have been lying there for nigh on a hundred years or more, living their lives again and again, trapped inside the immutable time capsule that begins with birth and ends in death but which only culminates long enough to begin the process all over again. Not a single detail of their lives — our lives — is vulnerable to change, once the lid has been screwed down and the capsule sealed forever. Even Britain’s most fanatical revisionists, the history-rewriting BBC, who constantly lie to the young, are but fleetingly successful in their ideological ambition to reshape and corrupt the past. Their falsification of history may persist for a while, briefly, for a flirtatious interlude, but bound by the law of immutability, the past, when it does, as it will, eventually reasserts itself, all is reset as it should be.

In the last analysis, the already interred are safe, and we who are waiting to be interred, we are safe as well. Somewhere, out there, in our future, locked within our immutable time capsules, the dates and the details of our lives, literally written in stone, are irreversibly and unrevisably sacrosanct: date of birth, date of death and everything in between — nothing and no one can change that, not even those that hate you for living out your life without ever paying for a TV licence.

Comparatively, the world has changed considerably in the six years that Victor Ryabinin moved decisively out of time. Coronavirus, the Ukraine conflict, the shift towards, or constant references to the shift towards, a New World Order (most of us are patiently waiting for a world order of any kind!), I wonder what Victor would have made of all this. I am sure the events of the past few years would have elicited a sketch or two in his daily journal or sent him reaching irresistibly for his easel and his paintbrush.

All deaths are hard to accept, especially for those who are most affected by them, but the death of a creative person is perhaps among the hardest deaths to reconcile. The imponderable is forever present: what would they, the artist, have gone on to create had death not overtaken them? What gems of culture has the world been deprived of?

Victor Ryabinin, Artist – a Grave Decision

The death of someone creative who was also a valuable lynchpin between the lives of numerous people from different backgrounds and walks of life, as Victor professionally and personally was, adds to this imponderability, since once the main link breaks, instantly or gradually, the remaining links are bound to suffer severance, resulting, either way, in the chain’s disintegration. I wonder how many of Victor’s relatives, his friends and art-world colleagues will honour him with their presence this year. Time is often praised, and so it should be, for being the healer it indubitably is, but people are apt to forget that the great healer is also a great invalidator and that with the more time that passes, the more forgetful we become and the easier it becomes to simply forget.

Where anniversaries are concerned, particularly those that relate to death, it is often the case that, willed or not, life gets in the way. ‘Time waits for no man’, making it rather sexist, and life, the bugger, it just goes on until, of course, it doesn’t.

I remember watching a film in which somebody utters the common idiom to the main protagonist, whose fictional wife has recently died, [paraphrased] ‘Life must go on,’ to which the main protagonist replies, “Well, I don’t know about must go on, but go on it certainly does.”

I think we will all agree that life does exactly that: it just goes on, with or without us. Its perpetual motion never ceases: the daily grind with its wearing demands, the past’s emotional baggage bearing heavily down upon us, the cast-iron plans we make for a future we may not live to see, the years that blow away with yesterday’s confetti, more deaths in one’s personal circle and, with each successive page that lifts and flies from the calendar, even be they on angel’s wings, the encroaching prospect of one’s own demise getting ever closer and growing ever larger in one’s consciousness. Yes, I think we can safely say that life goes on alright, irrespective of who we are, what we are, who we weren’t, and who we would have liked to have been and nevermore can be.

The death of a loved one may slow us down, but however hard it slams on the brakes, nothing stops life’s carousel from turning. Life and the world are indifferent mechanisms: Around and around and around they go; why they do it, nobody knows. As one gets off, another gets on. The organ grinder keeps on grinding. Hark! He’s playing our tune. Hum along; it’s called ‘Tricked by Nature’.

It was Mr Wilcox who said to me, “We are fighting a war against human nature.” He went and died in Spain, you know. He imparted these words of wisdom to me when I was at an impressionable age. His words made a lasting impression.

I have often wondered since, as I wonder now, have most of us surrendered? Conscientious objectors to thought are everywhere, and if actions speak louder than words, think what they can do to logic. Losing is never impossible, but fighting on the losing side has its compensations: it relieves you of responsibility and releases you from a troubled conscience should you ever wake in the middle of parenthood with the words upon your lips, “Lord, what is it that I have done?!” The Grand Old Duke of York had ten thousand men, none of whom, like you or me, ever escaped their destiny: when they were up, they were up, and when they were down, they were down. And we’ll all be that way some day and forever.

And so it is with our dear friend Victor: born 17 December 1946, died 18 July 2019.

Victor Ryabinin, artist — *Victor Ryabinin in his art studio, February 2019*, displaying a work of art – a bottle of cognac

I never made it to Victor’s grave this year. Intention was vetoed by humdrumicity. In other words, life got in the way. I did raise a glass to his memory and to who he was and would always be, consoling myself with the thought that I was exactly where I had left myself in the summer of 2019. That’s the other haunting thing that old graves have in common: the mourners never get to leave them, no matter how often they return or if they never return at all.

Königsberg Artist Beyond the One in a Million

Thoughts on the fifth anniversary of the death of Victor Ryabinin

18 July 2024 ~ Königsberg Artist Beyond the One in a Million

I am asked by the curious both in my native country, England, and in Russia, why my blog is dedicated to Victor Ryabinin.

Surely, a blog written in English whose target audience is presumably English people could have been dedicated to any one of a number of English friends or colleagues with whom I am close or hold in high esteem?

To answer this question, I turned to the many people whom I have crossed paths with, and some with whom I have crossed swords, and drew the conclusion that outside of my family circle only three people, excluding Victor, qualified. One is my friend of 44 years, Mel (Melbourne) Smith; the other his brother, Rolly Smith; and the last, but by no means least, Mr Richard Oberman, my former English literature tutor, who taught at Kettering Technical College, aka Tresham College.

Mel and Rolly Smith are two of my life’s most colourful characters. They were an investment in experience which paid dividends in friendship. Without them I would have foregone so much by way of excitement and laughter that an omission of this magnitude would have been nothing short of criminal. Looking back, with the help of my diaries, the exploits that we shared have taken on a legendary status, made more so by the retelling of them. Of all the things in life that cannot be overvalued, friendship, laughter and camaraderie are difficult to compete with. Theirs is the currency in which we trust: the gold standard.

Richard Oberman was a master of his vocation. Dry humoured, slightly off the wall but always in control, he would play his classes like a fiddle. As good a psychologist as he was a teacher, he would deftly juggle his act using the stick and carrot approach to win his students over. He was our general, we were his troops, and like every astute and accomplished leader he brought us on by steady degrees to trust, obey and admire him. Displaying an in-depth knowledge of and an absolute love for his subject, better than any who would teach me later at university level, by the encouragement he gave and the respect that he engendered, he opened up a future for me to which before I had been oblivious and in the process of doing so changed the course of my life forever.

Set against this exquisite triumvirate, Mel, Rolly and Richard Oberman, who and what was Victor Ryabinin?

Königsberg Artist Victor Ryabinin

Victor Ryabinin was born in Königsberg, where, like the great German philosopher Emmanuel Kant before him, he worked, lived out his life and died. He shared with Emmanuel Kant a genuine, singular love for the city, and though he travelled quite extensively whereas Emmanuel Kant did not, he shared the convictions of the city’s academia that Königsberg was a spiritual magnet drawing into its centre intellectual and artistic excellence from the highest minds and most sentient hearts and from every sphere of imaginable talent.

Victor Ryabinin, the artist and historian, charmed all who came in contact with him. His professional and bohemian side possessed an aura of mystique and an intuited profundity. Like most creative minds, a managing ego must have been working somewhere behind the scenes, but wherever he kept it hidden it never got the upper hand and through all the years I knew him, he was never anything less than open, honest, affable, modest and perfectly unassuming. Indeed, Victor Ryabinin, the man, epitomised the best that human nature can offer. He was everything you could want and more than you could hope for. He was an ambassador for humankind.

Victor had a gentle heart, a warm welcome, and no edge to his character. He had a wonderful sense of humour that was often self-effacing (he said that those who could laugh at themselves had a right to laugh at others). He was endowed with a gravitational presence, a generous sense of spirit and had the most enchanting art studio, where I, for one, never painted but sat with him for hours on end, talking history, eating gherkins, smoking cigars of a cherry flavour and drinking beer and vodka.

Victor’s company never grew old. Victor himself never grew old. He collected years like the Königsberg relics with which he adorned his studio, but the years, like all who knew him, respected his ageless spirit. Driven and sustained by an endless curiosity and an endearing fascination for everybody and every new thing, this was perhaps the secret elixir by which he kept himself ever young.

The grim irony of his dying just nine short months from the time when he, more than anyone else, brought me to Kaliningrad, and the way in which his death, inconceivable and unexpected, swept away the blueprint of my future, came as a stark reminder, as it had with the death of my friend Mel Smith, that whilst we may all be unique and some of us exceptional, those most precious to us are simply irreplaceable, so that when they up and leave arm in arm with death a sizeable chunk of our present and more, much more, of our future leaves the table with them.

Victor Ryabinin disclosed that he would reach out to such people who possessed the qualities that he lacked. This statement alone reveals the modesty and humility that endeared him to so many, for it is difficult to imagine what those qualities could have been that he failed to see in himself whilst everyone around him saw them with such clarity.

If throughout my life I had taken a leaf from Victor’s book and leant towards those people whose qualities I lack, I would, to paraphrase my old friend Cohen, have “leant that way forever”.

In retrospect, my choice of friends would appear to have been determined on criteria not dissimilar to that adopted by Molly Fox, my former boss at a publishing house, who once confided in me that she no longer filled job placements on applicant suitability but according to their eccentricity, interest value and personality.

If ever a man could tick these boxes, and the many more besides by which exceptionality can be measured and companionship appreciated, then Victor Ryabinin was that man.

I have yet to meet another like him. I know I never will.

Königsberg Artist, Victor Ryabinin's tombstone

Victor Ryabinin Königsberg-Kaliningrad

“I first met Victor Ryabinin in the spring of 2001. A friend of my wife’s, knowing how much my wife liked art and how fascinated I was with anything to do with the past, suggested that we meet this ‘very interesting’ man, who was an artist and a historian.” ~ by Mick Hart

An artist who can hear angels speak

“The first year of Victor Ryabinin’s life could have been his last. There was an epidemic in Königsberg which wiped out hundreds of children, both German and Russian. The military doctor who came to visit the Ryabinin family broke Victor’s parents’ heart when he delivered the verdict that there was nothing to be done to help their child. ‘A day, perhaps two,’ he said, ‘and the child will die’.” ~ by Boris Nisnevich

“One in a million? Perhaps just one …”

“At first sight, from a teenager’s point of view, he was this small and funny man, but very soon our attention was attracted to his methods of teaching. He was a breath of fresh air in my understanding of art. He was so alive in comparison with many of the other teachers. He ignited our imagination” ~ by Stanislav Konovalov ~ student and friend of Victor Ryabinin

Kaliningrad Celebrates Kant on his 300th Year

Kant be fairer than that!

30 April 2024 ~ Kaliningrad Celebrates Kant on his 300th Year

Of the many things that Kant and I do not have in common, two stand out more than others. The first is that he was one of the world’s great philosophers, considered to be the third wheel behind Plato and Aristotle, the second he did not like beer. The first is an accomplishment worthy of applause; the second we will let quietly slip away, as it does not behove a gentleman of such intellectual stature whose name is synonymous with logic and reason.

Not widely read today, because his style of writing does not conform to the SEO prescription for sentences of 20 words or less, it is indeed a sobering thought that had Kant lived in the early 21^st century, the systematic dumbing down of language and generational attention deficit attendant on this rule, would seriously have obstructed him in his quest to play linguistic games on paper. Instead of engaging the intellect with works of a ground-breaking nature, he would most likely be biding his time posting snippets to Twitter, taking selfies for social media, and pinning pictures of cakes on Pint-rest (incorrectly referred to as Pinterest). Deprived of these unspeakable pleasures, he had to be content with the lesser mental dynamics required to come to grips with epistemology, metaphysics, ethics, and aesthetics.

300 Years of Kant

Immanuel Kant was born on 22 April 1724 in Königsberg, East Prussia, where he lived until he died on 12 February 1804. Hardly venturing from his home city, Kant, nevertheless, through philosophical thought based on transcendental idealism, is largely credited for changing the way that people think around the world. So, if you have ever wondered why it is that you think the way you do, just think Kant and you have the answer.

Kaliningrad Celebrates Kant on his 300th Year

In life, Kant was a professor at Königsberg University, specialising in logic and metaphysics; in death, he lays entombed near Königsberg Cathedral on the appropriately named Kant Island ~ Kneiphof Island in Königsberg times.

Did you know?
Kant was German. I bet you knew that. But did you know that for seven years he became a Russian subject? During the ‘Seven Years’ War’ in Europe, Austria’s allies, Russia, captured the East Prussian city of Königsberg , whereupon Kant, along with other Konigsberg citizens, pledged his allegiance to the Russian empress, Elizabeth. It was an allegiance he would not renounce even after Königsberg was returned to East Prussian rule.

As a philosopher of universal acclaim, a distinguished member of Königsberg ’s academia and one of the city’s most prominent citizens, Kant was fully qualified to be buried inside the cathedral itself. In 1880 that honour was extended when his remains were exhumed and rehoused in a chapel purpose built for him at the cathedral’s northeast corner, opposite the then prestigious Albertina University.

Was he boring, Kant?
History has it that Kant was so regular in his routines that Königsbergians could set their watch by him. His habit of walking the same route at the same time each day earnt him the nickname of ‘The Konigsberg Clock’. However, contrary to his stereotype, that he was dull and prone to reclusiveness, Kant, by all accounts, possessed an uncommonly good sense of humour, loved to drink red wine and was a congenial host of dinner parties.

The university perished in the heavy Allied bombing of World War Two, but the mausoleum that would eventually replace Kant’s chapel, the one that we know today, whilst not escaping damage entirely at least escaped it sufficiently to allow for restoration.

Described by some as ‘minimalist’, the simple column and canopy structure has a certain aesthetic elegance and a dignity not detracting from the cathedral’s Gothic profile. The chapel, built in 1924, is the brainchild of Friedrich Lahrs, renowned East Prussian architect.

Kaliningrad Celebrates Kant

The 300th anniversary of Kant in Kaliningrad in 2024: how the philosopher’s birthday will be celebrated in his homeland.

“The anniversary of the philosopher will be celebrated by the whole of Kaliningrad and guests of the city. The International Kantian Congress, various lectures, presentations, seminars, concerts, excursions, performances, as well as several exhibitions are planned here. Events dedicated to the 300th anniversary of Kant will take place in the city throughout 2024.”

Click on the link below for the Schedule of Events.
300th Anniversary of Kant in Kaliningrad 2024: Holiday Program, Schedule of Events (kp.ru)

Photographs have been reproduced with kind permission of Vladimir Chilikin

Victor Ryabinin Artist Four Years Out of Time

Victor Ryabinin left Königsberg in 2019 to go back there. There is so much presence in his absence that it is hard to say if he ever went at all.

18 July 2023 ~ Victor Ryabinin Artist Four Years Out of Time

Featured image: Victor Ryabinin with Mick Hart, The London Pub, Kaliningrad, 2015

Our friend, artist, philosopher and local historian, VIctor Ryabinin, who lived out his entire life in Königsberg, died on 18 July 2019. He was, as I and others have written, a most unassuming, but in spite of and because of this, most remarkable man, both intellectually and on the level of humanity.

This is the first year that I will be unable to make the annual homage to his grave, as I am in England at present doing all the things that we people have to do whilst we are alive and which, when we die, mean very little if nothing to anyone. “Is it worth it?” sang Elvis Costello.

Such is not the case with Victor: Victor left behind a concatenation of friends and colleagues who filled the hall at his funeral to pay their last respects to him, who have written heart-felt eulogies to him, enough to fill a book, and who continue to speak of him with great affection and reverence. This is the yardstick of a worthwhile life: to have people remember you for the essence of the person you were and the light that you brought to their life.

It was a small affair, my funeral: There was the vicar, who begrudgingly turned out on a wet afternoon when the pubs were open, Ginger the cat, who had nothing better to do, and two professionals from Rent A Mourner. No one could be asked to dig the grave, so they used a post-hole digger and buried me standing up. My brother, the one who is a carpenter, made the coffin from MDF, his stock-in-trade material and, in order to keep things cheap, cut corners literally so that my feet stuck out one end. Happily ~ purely for the sake of appearances, mind, nothing to do with respect ~ someone found an old pair of wellies, so that took care of that.

Leonard Cohen was played throughout, and a man, chosen because of his serious face and the fact he cost a fiver, read an excerpt from my favourite short story, Ligeia, by Edgar Allan Poe, and then the graveside bystanders, muttering “He always was a miserable bugger.” ~ Ginger the cat said “Meow!” ~ off they went to the nearest pub at a gallop and by the time their first pint had been downed they had forgotten I ever existed.

Victor Ryabinin Artist

Something as ignominious as this could never happen to the likes of Victor Ryabinin, because he was a truly likeable man: admired, respected, loved, revered, warm of company and generous in spirit.

In 2022, we privately and officially celebrated Victor’s life and commemorated his death with a plaque that we had commissioned, and which is now attached to the wall of our dacha. There was talk once, there always is a lot of talk full of good intentions immediately after someone dies, of erecting a plaque in Victor’s honour on the wall of the building where his studio once was. It is a great pity that this idea has never been brought to fruition, as many people ~ poets, architects, historians, artists, museum curators and me ~ were privileged to sit with him there, surrounded by relics from Königsberg and the artworks created in his own hand, artworks which these relics, these haunting pieces of the past combined with his personal memories, had assigned him to compose and pass on for posterity.

Another building that deserves to be endowed with a plaque in memory of Victory Ryabinin is the Kaliningrad Art School, where Victor worked as an art teacher for many years. His former students speak warmly of him, both of the man and the teacher, and it is gratifying to discover that the inspiration that he instilled shines through their sketches and paintings, which are displayed at various times in solo exhibitions and with the works of other artists in Kaliningrad’s art museums.

Today, I am far away and unable to make my annual trip to Victor’s graveside. When he died, I vowed this would never happen, but show me the man who is master of his destiny and we’ll sit together and talk of lies. Fortunately, our minds are capable of travelling far greater distances than any machine, and special people and unique places never stray far from our thoughts. They are a source of great comfort in its ever having been and a source of equal pain in its never to be again.

What happens to the heart? Leonard Cohen asks. And well he might. Whatever it is, we have no choice but to live with it, if only, thankfully, for a little while longer ~ somehow.

Victor Ryabinin
Arrived in Königsberg 17^th December 1946
Returned to Königsberg 18^th July 2019

Victor Ryabinin Königsberg Artist-Historian: A biographical essay by author Boris Nisnevich

Victor Ryabinin Königsberg Kaliningrad: Mick Hart recalls how fortunate he was to have met and to have known Victor Ryabinin

“Through Victor, I learnt many things that I had seen throughout my life in Königsberg but had never really thought about.“ ~ Stanislav Konovalov, student and personal friend of Victor Ryabinin

Kaliningrad German Helmet in all its Steampunk Glory

An illuminating experience

11 June 2023 ~ Kaliningrad German Helmet in all its Steampunk Glory

On the subject of vintage and antiques, which we were in my last post and are in this one, the object featured today is, in its reincarnated form, neither, but as peculiar and fascinating things go, it has a promising future, and who knows who’s interest it may collect from someone for whom it was destined.

This item, which is a lamp, was made by and purchased from a Kaliningrad metalwares’ sculptor and is yet another example of the talent and creativity which artist Victor Ryabinin spoke of when he talked of the special people who are drawn to, or who have been nurtured within, the ancient Königsberg region.

The components of the piece are identifiable enough: the shade most obviously is a WWII German military helmet; the stem is a length of shaped and sculpted pipework; and the base, though not so easily categorised, seems to have been taken from an engine of some description.

The industrial look, the interior design concept which continues to dominate cafés, bars, restaurants and nightclubs is simpatico. A close relative of steampunk, it, too, cuts to the basics, wedding and distorting common objects from the industrial past with their future in the present.

Kaliningrad German Helmet goes all steampunk

My lamp, or rather the lamp I am looking after for future generations, is artistically endowed with an evocative bronze patina, which, when the lamp is lit, creates a deep and mellow aura.

Sometimes, when I am alone in the attic regarding the lamp over a beer, a macabre realisation seeps quietly out through the helmet’s ragged holes and makes its way into my mind: “Just think,” it says, “once upon a time the light bulb in this helmet was nothing of the sort; there was a German head inside the helmet.” And I go on to wonder who that German was and what eventually became of him. Did he survive the war?

Hmmm? Pieces from the past do that to you sometimes; they talk to you in your present and make you long to complete the jigsaw.

Is the Königsberg Amber Room still in Kaliningrad?

… and if not, where is it?

Published: 15 February 2023 ~ Is the Königsberg Amber Room still in Kaliningrad?

Last seen in Königsberg Castle before the end of the war, ever since the Amber Room went missing ~ missing presumed dead by some, missing presumed purloined by others ~ historians and treasure hunters alike have turned the search for the Amber Room into a latter day Holy Grail that has kept them guessing and occupied for more than three-quarters of a century.

We don’t all love mysteries, but we sure do like to solve them, and so it is with the Amber Room, which disappeared from Königsberg Castle in the final months of World War II. The search for what was once described as the Eighth Wonder of the World has become an historians’ and treasure hunters’ Holy Grail. Numerous theories abound regarding the room’s vanishing act and its whereabouts today.

Recently, my wife Olga attended a lecture delivered by one of these Argonauts, a man who has spent considerable time and energy researching the history of the Amber Room and most of his ambition engaged in a quest to locate it.

Unlike a good many historians, the gentleman in question does not hold with the popular conviction that the Amber Room was destroyed either as a result of the RAF’s bombing raids or by the artillery fire of the advancing Soviet army. Neither does he hold with the myriad theories that would have the room plundered and shipped elsewhere. In his opinion the Amber Room that was, is the Amber Room that very much is. Furthermore, he believes not only is it alive and kicking but kicking about in Kaliningrad.

Is the Königsberg Amber Room still in Kaliningrad?

For those of you unacquainted with the story of the Amber Room, it goes like this:

The Amber Room was a chamber richly decorated with ornate amber panels, elaborately highlighted with gold leaf, complemented by magnificent baroque-framed mirrors and illuminated with flickering candles. Those who had the privilege of beholding it in person were overwhelmed by its singular beauty.

Amber Baltic Coast Kaliningrad from an exhibition in the old Königsberg Stock Exchange

Amber: What it is and why is it so precious?

In order to protect themselves from parasites, harmful insects and to act as a restorative for external damage, trees produce a protective resin. This substance exuded through the bark of the tree, eventually hardens, forming a seal, against which the gnawing activities of harmful insects are rendered inoperable.

Extinct, fossilised tree trunks from primordial forests produce fossilised resin, and this is the substance we now call Amber. The Kaliningrad region on the Baltic Coast contains the world’s largest amber reserves; more than 90 per cent of the world’s amber is located in this region.

Amber has been appreciated for its natural beauty and colour for thousands of years. Its tactile quality and variation in hues from light yellow, dark brown, green, blue and white, the latter referred to as milk amber, make it the perfect gemstone for jewellery and for use in the creation of a wide variety of decorative and functional objects including framed art, vases, paperweights, plaques, pens and elaborate clocks.

Naturally sticky, in its mobile state amber resin would sometimes entrap plant life as well as small insects. Known as inclusions, amber containing organic matter from times of antiquity often command higher prices than pieces that are clean.

The three photographs above are from the 2020 exhibition, Rhythms of Kaliningrad.

The Amber Room was designed and crafted by the German sculptor Andreas Schlüter and the Danish amber artisan Gottfried Wolfram in the early years of the 18^th century and completed from 1707 by Gottfried Turau and Ernst Schacht from Danzig (now Gdańsk).

Originally part of the Berlin City Palace, in 1716 the Amber Room, then considered the Eighth Wonder of the World, was gifted by the Prussian King Frederick William I to Peter the Great of the Russian Empire. It was reassembled, renovated and expanded in the summer residence of the Russian tsars, the Catherine Palace, a grand Rococo edifice approximately 30km south of St Petersburg. By the time the room was completed, it is said to have contained over six tonnes of the precious resin, amber.

Amber Room is it still in Kaliningrad? — **Hand-coloured photograph of the original Amber Room, 1932**

Following the invasion of Soviet Russia in WWII, the Amber Room was swifty removed by the Germans, taken to Prussian Königsberg and reconstructed in Königsberg Castle. In early 1944, as Königsberg braced itself for the inevitable Allied onslaught, it is alleged that the Amber Room was dismantled and its components stashed away in the castle basement.

In August 1944, Königsberg came under heavy bombardment by the Royal Air Force (RAF). A large percentage of the munitions used were incendiary by nature and in the conflagration that followed the city was all but consumed.

Extensive damage was further inflicted by Red Army artillery fire in the days and hours immediately preceding Königsberg’s capitulation on 9^th April 1945.

Photographs and ciné films taken shortly after the Soviet victory document the extent of Königsberg’s destruction. Both city and castle were gutted, and the Amber Room was never found.

Whilst the simplest and most credible explanation for the disappearance of the celebrated room is that like the rest of the castle and most of the city it had gone up in smoke, absence of hard evidence to nail this theory firmly to fact sparked a plethora of alternatives whose versions of the room’s fate live on to this day. So far, however, none of these would-be explanations have come up with the goods, and thus the Eighth Wonder of the World is currently having to bide its time as one of the world’s enduring mysteries.

It is well to remember, however, that mysteries rarely live alone; they tend to cohabitate in tormented sin, in a hotbed of rampant reveries, many of which over time turn radical or romantic. And the Amber Room is no exception.

Of course, there are conspiracy theories. It is far more palatable to indulge the notion of the Amber Room spirited away, living the life of privileged ease in some Oligarch’s chateau or other, than to accept the unthinkable thought that this irreplaceable work of art has been indifferently obliterated. Nevertheless, the official position seems to endorse this postulate.

This is because once Königsberg had fallen, Soviet soldiers were dispatched post-haste to investigate the castle ruins for the presence of the Amber Room. It is a matter of public record that their report concluded ‘Amber Room not found’, from which intelligence it was inferred that the Amber Room had perished.

However, drawing a line under the mystery with no hard evidence to back it up was and continues to be a red flag to more bullish minds, which persist in bringing into the field of debate alternative theories, speculation and hope.

For example, eyewitness reports place the missing room’s whereabouts in at least two underwater locations: one, that it went down with the Wilhelm Gustloff, a German ship sunk by a Soviet submarine on 30 January 1945; two, that it lies in part at the bottom of the sea, put there by Soviet aircraft when they attacked and destroyed the SS Karlsruhe, a German evacuation ship that sailed from Königsberg in 1945.

Such theories, which provide the basis for the ongoing search, gained particular impetus from the 1997 discovery of one of a series of four stone mosaics, ‘Feel and Touch’, which, once an integral part of the Amber Room, turned up in the family home of a former German soldier, who claimed that he acquired the mosaic whilst helping to pack the dismantled room in crates for transportation. As far as I am aware, however, he did not recall, or did not name, the final destination for which those crates were bound.

A year later, two unrelated teams, one German and the other Lithuanian, stated publicly that they had found the Amber Room. The German team alleged that it was secreted in a silver mine; the Lithuanian team that it was immersed within a lagoon; neither were correct.

Although a detailed assessment of the evidence such as it was, as undertaken in 2004 by two British journalists, concluded that the Amber Room may not have survived the combined devastation of the 1944 air raids and subsequent shelling by Soviet artillery, which was also the official Soviet line, not everyone is convinced.

Amber Room last seen in Konigsberg — **The Amber Room in the Catherine Palace, 1917**

One of the most enticing theories, by virtue of its ongoing nature, is that the Amber Room never left Kaliningrad. This theory postulates that it is either squirreled away in one of the many tunnels that are alleged to form a labyrinth beneath the Royal Castle or is safe and secure in secret rooms beneath the bunker of Otto Lasch, the general who was tasked with the unenviable responsibility of commanding the defence of Königsberg in 1945.

Otto Lasch’s command bunker survives to this day. Known simply as the Museum Bunker, it is situated at the front of the Kaliningrad State University, a few minutes’ walk from Victory Square and likewise from Königsberg Cathedral.

From what I can gather, the theory that the last resting place of the Amber Room is but a short distance away from the place where it was last displayed, namely Königsberg Castle, is not new. It has been in circulation for years.

Indeed, in a news report published on 5 December 2022*, it was made public that surveys of the bunker of the last commandant of Königsberg, Otto Lasch, had been resumed ~ resumed meaning that the latest investigations were a continuation of those last undertaken in autumn 2009.

The 2022 resumption, which was supervised by the head of the bunker museum, as well as local historian Sergei Trifonov, used echo radar in an attempt to penetrate the voids behind the walls and the ground beneath the bunker.

“Trifonov himself said that the researchers ‘found what they were looking for’, but the press service of the museum noted that the survey report is not yet ready and will be published in the near future.”*

We wait with bated breath.

I hear tell, but don’t quote me on this, that what they found was a considerable depth of concrete, so considerable that anything that might be concealed beneath it fell outside the range and spectrum of the electronic equipment used.

Apart from being a historic treasure, and one of the most beautiful and awe-inspiring interior works of art that the world has ever known, the estimated value of the Amber Room in strictly material terms was quoted as $500 million in 2016. One presumes that in the past eight years its value has appreciated.

The decision to excavate the historic Königsberg bunker presumably rests on the presentation of sufficient credible evidence to justify the disruption and ultimately the cost of the amount of work involved. It is by no means an easy decsion to make. On the one hand, it might unearth a unique historical legacy immense in artistic and material value; on the other, a whole lot of concrete, half a dozen incumbent worms and the odd German helmet or two.

Until that decision is taken of one thing we can be sure, the search for the Amber Room goes on.

Image attributions

Amber Room 1932: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Catherine_Palace_interior_-_Amber_Room_(1).jpg
Amber Room in Catherine Palace: By Андрей Андреевич Зеест – http://igor-bon.narod.ru/index/avtokhrom/0-106, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36742083
Cardboard box empty room:
https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Cardboard-box-on-a-wooden-floor-vector-illustration/20718.html
Baroque mirror:
https://www.freepik.com/free-vector/picture-frame-sticker-home-decor-vintage-gold-design-vector_20775420.htm#query=vintage%20mirror%20frame&position=5&from_view=keyword&track=ais
Spiral: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Spiral-black-and-white-image/52695.html

Reference
*In Kaliningrad, the survey of the voids of the bunker of the last commandant of Königsberg was resumed – Kaliningrad News – New Kaliningrad. Ru

Remembering Victor Ryabinin, Artist, Königsberg

On the third anniversary of Victor Ryabinin’s death

Published: 18 July 2022 ~ Remembering Victor Ryabinin, Artist, Königsberg

Photograph: Victor Ryabinin seated on the right at the far end of the table

On 30th June this year, the thought occurred to me that three years ago to this date in less than four weeks we would be deprived of one of the most significant people in our lives.

On this, the third anniversary of Victor Ryabinin’s death, I have rescued from my photo archives an image for this post that was taken in a Kaliningrad restaurant shortly after I moved to Kaliningrad in the winter of 2018.

This restaurant, situated below ground level not far from the Kaliningrad Hotel, had become a popular haunt of Victor’s and his inner circle, his coterie of friends and fellow artists, not purely for its Soviet theme, although this coalesced perfectly with Victor’s love of history, but also for the very practical and very reasonable reason that the food was affordably priced and, more importantly, it was one of those rapidly fading establishments where customers were permitted to bring their own alcohol with them.

In the intervening period between my last visit to Kaliningrad and my return in 2018, a revolution had occurred, not arguably of the magnitude and life-changing tempestuousness as that experienced in Russia in the early years of the twentieth century but nevertheless in drinking circles on the scale of one to 10 somewhere close to 11: Victor and his clan had largely renounced the drinking of vodka and taken to cognac instead.

In the last few months of Victor’s life, and our association with him, the new trend was so evidently established that whenever we would meet, I would refer to those occasions as a meeting of The Cognac Club.

Remembering Victor Ryabinin, Artist, Königsberg

Sadly, not only is Victor no longer with us, but the old haunt, the Soviet café, has also vanished from our living timeline.

For as much as it appealed to me, I am not entirely sorry that the cafe has ceased to exist. Knowing me and memories, it would have been all too tempting to return there and try to close the gap between what once was and nevermore can be. Life, as we grow older, is full of half-way houses where we hope one day we might meet again and mausoleums where if we do at least we won’t be alone, even if none of us know it.

The photograph I have used for this post was taken in the Soviet café at a time before we knew what it would eventually come to mean for us. Not every grain can be counted or heard as the sand runs down in the hour glass. Victor Ryabinin passed away a few months after this photograph was taken.

The memories you painted, all are good my friend …

Dedicated to Victor Ryabinin
Victor Ryabinin Königsberg Kaliningard
Дух Кенигсберга Виктор Рябинин
Victor Ryabinin Königsberg Artist Historian
Художник Виктор Рябинин Кёнигсберг

How to make a film based in Königsberg

The Wisdom of Filming at Nizovie Museum

Published: 29 May 2022 ~ How to make a film based in Königsberg

THE LAST DAY OF FILMING as far as we were concerned for Yury Grozmani’s Last Tango in Königsberg (a film made with the support of the Presidential Foundation for Cultural Initiatives) took place today on 26 May at Ivan Zverev’s atmospheric museum in Nizovie.

I was fighting a private battle with a decaying wisdom tooth. “You’re such a hero,” my good lady wife never said, “for ignoring your pain and going ahead with the film.”

How to make a film based in Königsberg

Arthur Eagle, the film’s production enforcer, promised that the filming wouldn’t take long. If I remember rightly, I believe he said ten minutes. Of course, he was rather economical with the truth, and we were there all day, sometimes in the sun, sometimes in the rain but mostly in the wind and cold. It was one of those days that managed to fit all four seasons into one afternoon.

Mick Hart in a Russian Film — **Mick Hart playing a role in Yury Grozmani’s film at Nizovie Museum, Kaliningrad, Russia**

My scene came first. It was done in a couple of takes; that’s professional for you! But thereafter came lots of hanging about. My wife, Olga, had agreed to take a part in the production, and unbeknown to us the scene in which she had been cast would not take place until a good while later.

Olga Hart & Inara Eagle in Russian Film 2022 — **Aleksandr Kostenko, commandant**, **with Olga Hart and Inara Eagle in Yury Grozmani’s** ***Last Tango in Königsberg***

As stated in my previous post, famous and even not so famous actors performing for the large or not so large screen are no strangers to hanging around. After a short induction it quickly becomes something of a skill, kicking your heels whilst each scene is repeated umpteen times; first filmed this way, then filmed that way, a camera angle from here, a camera angle from there, a close up followed by a closer close up; and all this without including numerous takes and retakes and the repetition of parts of scenes for homing in on and improving sound quality.

I was not too perturbed about playing the waiting game as Nizovie museum is my kind of place: an old building, imaginatively restored and with the additional bonus of being extremely full of antique and obsolete items ~ including my wisdom tooth (“And the rest!” ~ who said that?).

Mick Hart with Hanomag & actor Michail Gvozdenko — **Mick Hart with actor & Hanomag owner Michail Gvozdenko**

Olga Hart with Hanomag vintage German car — Olga Hart with Hanomag on the film set of Yury Grozmanl’s *Last Tango in Königsberg*

Another plus of waiting was that later in the day the last scene to be shot outside would feature the 1927 Cadillac, a Soviet Gaz-67 and also the Hanomag, the car that had a starring role in the film noir, Agnes, recently shown at Waldau Castle.

Soviet & German vehicles Nizovie — **Gaz-67 and Hanomag**

As the weather travelled through its yearly cycle in under six hours, Olga and I took refuge in the Hanomag, where we were able to furnish ourselves with some rather nice photographs of a vintage car so thoroughly German that I could almost feel the Gestapo breathing down my neck. In fact, it was Yury Grozmani, the writer and producer of the film, urging me to take part in a scene for which I had not been scheduled. And so it came to pass.

Coaching for this scene took place behind Mr Zverev’s car. It occurred to me that there was every possibility that this was the first time that I had stood behind a 1927 Cadillac wearing a 1940s’ trilby with a Russian gent waiting to cue me for a film sequence. Before going on he said to me, “Try to look tragic.” What else, I thought.

Mick Hart with 1927 Cadillac Kaliningrad — **Mick Hart with Ivan Zverev’s 1927 Cadillac**

The last scene of the day was filmed outside on the forecourt and upon the steps leading to the museum. A gale force wind had blown in from somewhere with a rather nasty edge to it, but it was worth getting your wisdom tooth cold for just to see the combination of all three vehicles in close proximity and in the conjoining presence of uniformed Soviet actors.

There are still quite a few scenes left to be shot before the film is in the can, but my bit is complete. My next act, which will take considerably more skill to master, is trying to look brave at the dentists!

*The film is made with the support of the Presidential Foundation for Cultural Initiatives

A Film Set in Königsberg During World War Two

Filming Last Tango in Königsberg

Published: 9 April 2022 ~ A Film Set in Königsberg During World War Two

In two earlier posts ~ ‘Königsberg in WWII Nazi Spies and a 1927 Cadillac’ and ‘1927 Bootleggers’ Cadillac is the Star in Kaliningrad Film’ ~ I wrote about Last Tango in Königsberg, a film conceived by author, journalist and historian Yury Grozmani, who also wrote the script and screenplay.

Obviously attuned to my star quality and having absolutely nothing to do with the 1940s’ period pieces that make perfect props for a film of this era, which we brought with us when we moved from England, Yury offered me an interesting part within his historical drama. I outlined the role in my previous posts along with the film itself.

A film set in Königsberg during World War Two

On Thursday 24 February 2022, the film crew assembled at our home to assess the potential sets where three scenes would be filmed and to undertake various technical tests with regard to the lighting and laying of cables.

I must say that the arrival of the production team was exciting, rolling up as they did in three or four vehicles and a large TV van …“

As today was the precursor to actual filming, our involvement was minimal. We arranged furniture, fetched props and assisted when required, but our main contribution was keeping out of the way.

Filming was due to take place on the 27 February, which gave me three days to polish up my lines.

I would like to gild the lily by saying that come the day not only was I word perfect but also as cool as an agorochek, but let’s not be BBC about this. The truth is that I had been rehearsing my two scenes, five minutes of script, for weeks but was still tripping myself up and was nowhere near not as nervous as I pretended to be.

Before my debut on the silver screen, consisting of two scenes both of which would be filmed in the attic, another scene had first to be filmed downstairs.

They say that film and TV work involves lots of waiting and hanging around. Doesn’t it just! It also requires the ability to keep quiet whilst filming is in progress (or during ‘takes’, as we creative types like to say). Hyped up and killing time, this was no mean feat, especially when Arthur Eagle, the show’s enabler, came barging into the dining room looking all hot and flustered. Apparently, moments before, the female star of the show had changed her costume in front of him. Said Arthur, bashfully: “I didn’t know where to look!” Which was a pity, because if I had been there, I could have advised him.

A film set in Königsberg during World War Two

Numerous cups of tea and mental line-rehearsing later and at last we were ready to do it. But it didn’t just happen. Five minutes of filming required so many different ‘takes’ ~ camera angles, close ups, minor scene alterations and object cutaways ~ that by the time we had finished any illusions of glamour that I may have entertained about work in the film and TV industry had vanished, leaving in their place an honest sense of relief that I had not embarked on an acting career.

Whilst relatively pleased with my performance, I think my most convincing role came later when the completed scenes were ‘in the can’, whereupon I played the part of a person who opens a bottle of vodka to toast a job well done!

A Film Set in Königsberg During World War Two

Musing later on the day’s events and my role in the forthcoming film, it struck me that Yury Grozmani was not only to be congratulated on his multiple creativities but also admired for his plain-speaking honesty. Asked in Baltic Plus radio’s studio last week why he had chosen me for a part in his film, Yury replied that he wanted someone who was distinguished-looking, noble, intelligent, resourceful and who bore more than a passing resemblance to Hollywood legend Kirk Douglas.

The obvious answer to this is, apart from the old Specsavers’ joke, that when he couldn’t find that person, he turned to me instead. But I remain undaunted. As I said on Baltic Plus radio, I consider this film to be the first step on the ladder to stardom. No sooner will Moscow film producers get a load of my performance than my phone will never stop ringing: “Our advice to you is don’t give up your day job, unless you’d like to audition for sweeping the studio floors …”

Ahh, fame, it’s difficult to live with, but I suppose that I’ll get used to it.

1927 Bootleggers’ Cadillac is the Star in Kaliningrad Film

1927 Bootleggers’ Cadillac stars in Last Tango in Kaliningrad

Published: 22 February 2022 ~ 1927 Bootleggers’ Cadillac is the Star in Kaliningrad Film

A couple of days ago I wrote a post in which I recounted a recent interview about a forthcoming film in which I play the part of a wartime MI6 officer. Within that post I practised humility by confessing that the only reason I was interviewed and not the star of the film was because cars can’t talk, and even if it could we would have never got it up the steps and into the studio of Baltic Plus radio.

The star of the film Last Tango in Konigsberg, conceived and written by journalist, author, historian and screenplay writer Yury Grozmani, is a 1927 Cadillac.

Apparently, this particular model was designed for use as an ambulance, but the elongated, tall and rectangular shape of the body made it highly suitable for servicing hotels, representational functions in embassies and consulates and the final ride to the graveyard.

The current owner of the vehicle, a Mr Ivan Zverev, is a well-known collector. In addition to the Cadillac, he owns an excellent collection of household items from the German era and the Soviet period and is the founder and creator of the historical museum in the village of Nizovie, Guryevsky district, Kaliningrad Oblast.

According to Mr Zverev, bootleggers used the Cadillac to transport illegal alcoholic beverages during the prohibition era in the United States, which possibly explains the presence of several bullet holes in the cabin and the body of the vehicle.

I have it on good authority that the bootleggers had just such a car in Billy Wilder’s famous film, Some Like it Hot.

Technical spec
Make: Cadillac
Series: 314 (One of the ‘Superlux’ models)
Manufacture: Cadillac Motor Car Co, Michigan, USA
Date of manufacture: 31 December 1927
Engine configuration: V8
Engine size: 5173cc
Engine power: 80hp