When I was a nipper, I would like nothing more when we visited the seaside than spending my parents’ money on the funfair rides. Sea and sand are OK to look at, but I like water in tea, and I am no beach lizard.
If you live in or are visiting Kaliningrad, you can get your funfair fix at the Youth amusement park, which is a spacious and well-equipped amusement park across the road from the Upper Lake.
Recently, on my birthday, I was smitten by the regressive desire to go oscillating on the park’s big wheel. This is quite unlike me, as I gave up heights in preference for the sure-footedness of good old terra firma many moons ago. But it was my birthday, I had eaten an ice cream by the lake, and the wheel, which I had often regarded with curiosity whilst partaking of beer at the front of the Mercor Hotel, must have said something to me today like, “you’d better do it now, before you get too old!”
Kaliningrad Ferris wheel at Youth Park
I have never argued with a Ferris wheel before, have you? And today was no exception. But had I have been inclined to do so nothing would have come of it, because Kaliningrad’s big wheel is not one of those fast-moving fairground attractions where you sit with your friends suspended in chairs and when the wheel stops at the top your friend begins to rock it and is no longer your friend anymore, it is, in its construction and spirit of revolution, more akin to the London Eye ~ big, solid, friendly and sedate.
Nevertheless, at 50 metres it is high enough for me, and as we stood on the departure platform waiting for one of the empty cars to descend and allow us to board, I caught myself thinking yet again how unlike me this is, even on my birthday.
Kaliningrad Ferris Wheel at Youth Park
The cars roll around at a gentle pace but even so you clamber quickly aboard goaded to do so by the Imp of the Perverse who is whispering in your ear, “Quick, imagine your trouser leg getting caught on the edge of the car; how embarrassing that would be, to go hopping off towards the end of the platform!”
Mick Hart about to board Kaliningrad’s Ferris wheel
This thought, or thoughts similar, have you jumping aboard in no time. The car lurches and swings in response to your opposing momentum, but it is alright: the thing seems sturdy enough, and before you can say ‘motion sickness’ you have plonked yourself down on the bench seat.
Olga Hart not at all frightened on Kaliningrad’s Ferris wheel
The wheel’s cars are in fact quite spacious and would, I imagine, hold six people quite comfortably. The cars have glass doors, so you are fully enclosed, and the wide windows offer an awesome and spectacular view not just of Kaliningrad from an aerial perspective but of the steel lattice-work fabric, nuts, bolts and bearings from which the revolving contraption is made.
View of Kaliningrad’s Ferris wheel and Kaliningrad itself from one of the wheel’s cars
As we levelled out at a 45-degree angle to the ground, the angle of the dangle incidentally causing you to feel more vulnerable than when the car reaches the summit, this is when both the wheel’s superstructure and park layout below are at their most dramatic; and then, slowly, very slowly, as the car begins to rise, Kaliningrad in all its (as I have said before) green glory and contrasting urban extensiveness folds quietly out beneath you inciting a landmark-spotters epiphany.
Looking out across the once Königsberg district of Maraunenhof from Kaliningrad Ferris wheel
Away with apprehension and out with the camera, I get some fairly good shots of the wheel itself and some admiral ones of the city. Yes, the photographs would have been better had I come prepared with a proper camera instead of relying on the mobile phone’s, but spur of the moment decisions respect nothing but opportunism so, as I did not plan ahead, I have to be contented.
Kaliningrad Upper Lake
Kaliningrad boating lake
The view from the wheel’s highest point is nothing short of breathtaking, and for 200 rubles a ride (£1.99), presuming you do not own a microlight, this is the next best way to reach the dizzy heights, in other words to see the city of Kaliningrad as you have never seen it before.
Next on the bucket list is a spin on the wheel as dusk settles, when the wheel and the cityscape are bedecked with illumination.
Whereabouts
The Youth Park of Culture and Recreation is located in the Leningrad district of Kaliningrad at 3 Telman Street, opposite the Upper Lake.
It only seems five minutes ago that I was remarking on the welcome novelty of buds and leaves appearing on the Königsberg-Kaliningrad trees, and now here we are in September, the leaves turning brown and yellow and falling to the ground.
Early yesterday morning I was alerted to this fact by our cat, who jumped off the sideboard and scampered out of the room. Gin-Ginskey is extremely intrepid when it comes to hunting flies but anything that sounds like a vacuum cleaner is bound to send him dashing for cover, and in this instance the vacuum cleaner was of the large lorry variety, sucking up leaves from the old cobbled streets and pavements in front of our house.
Kaliningrad a green city adorned with flowers
In spring and summer Kaliningrad is one of the greenest cities imaginable, a feature which the art-historian Victor Ryabinin noted was not true of its predecessor Königsberg. In what was the Maraunenhof district of Königsberg and in other areas developed during the first years of the 20th century through to the 1920s, the streets are lined with Königsberg trees. Now they are old and gnarled, venerable survivors of a brutalised city, but back in the day when they were mere precocious saplings they would not have provided the streets of Königsberg with the leafy green vistas and avenues of which Kaliningrad is the fortunate benefactor.
Indeed, Kaliningrad is a city of green open spaces: along the banks of the Pregel river where warehouses once have stood, surrounding the cathedral on Kneiphof Island, around and in front of the House of Soviets, that most controversial of Kaliningrad’s structures, in the numerous grassed quadrangles between the flats, and around the banks and perimeter of the upper and lower ponds.
Three or four large public parks, each endowed with their own distinctive character, contribute copiously to the leafy green landscape, creating rural backwaters in the heart of the city, which in the spring and summer months form natural retreats from the relentless pace and energy of urban living.
Kaliningrad green & adorned with flowers
Kaliningrad in the kind seasons is also a city rich with blooms and flowers of seemingly endless variety. You will find them everywhere: in the enviable gardens of the Maraunenhof villas, along the banks of the river, in municipal planters and thoughtfully planted flower beds, in the small border gardens that front the old German flats and the cottage gardens lovingly planted and tended at the foot of the Khrushchev flats ~ these borders can be surprisingly large and full of the most eclectic variety of flowers and flora.
You will find flowers adorning balconies, in window boxes and hanging baskets, some so prodigiously and impressively arranged that they are left to spill over on their own accord or are trained to cascade imaginatively into the garden below.
Shrubs, bushes, silver birch, pine, all manner of fir trees ~ even blue ones! ~ are thrown into the mix. Evergreen hedgerows tower above and push their way through perimeter railings, forming dense thickets for garden privacy, whilst fences new and old act as impromptu trellis work for climbing plants of every denomination.
And even though Kaliningrad is a bustling modern city, one of its more appealing attributes to my mind is that here and there you can stumble upon curious pockets of wild naturalistic vegetation, small friendly jungles that turn otherwise neglected spaces and mundane objects into inherently picturesque compositions ~ an old garage door, for example, biffed and battered through age and use, transformed by climbing foliage into a quaint vignette of antiquity or a ropey looking fence entwined with vines instantly elevated to photographic status~ the very stuff that artists delight in for its authentic old-world charm.
Although, as summer retreats, the pines and firs will not forsake us, in a few weeks from now the deciduous varieties will lose their foliage, the scene will shift to winter and the built-on urban landscape will assert itself again.
Hopefully, however, our collection of photographs taken during the spring and summer months will remind you how blessed Kaliningrad is to possess such examples of nature’s beauty and will help to sustain and lift your spirits through the winter months to come.
Leaf it to me 25 November 2025 – Kaliningrad in Autumn: Turning over an old leaf From the earliest time of recollection, autumn has been for me my favourite season. In the days before real climate change, as distinct from the racketeering kind championed by the EU (achieve Net Zero or else!), I remember encountering… Read more: Kaliningrad in Autumn: Turning over an old leaf
A few snapshots from my Kaliningrad album 22 May 2024 ~ Life in Kaliningrad through the lens of a camera They could be curated, they could be aggregated, but I suspect that they are a random collection of photographs, some more recent than others, taken in and of Kaliningrad. Judge for yourselves. Life in Kaliningrad… Read more: Life in Kaliningrad through the lens of a camera
Snowy scenes in Kaliningrad 2021/2022 Published: 31 January 2022 ~ All White in Kaliningrad More Snow on its Way! For the past three or four days the rain has been teeming down here in Kaliningrad. It has washed away the snow and left the city and my shirt, which is hanging on the balcony railings,… Read more: All White in Kaliningrad More Snow on its Way!
Captain sinks with his ship off Königsberg Pond Published: 4 October 2021 ~ Pondering on the future of Kaliningrad Pond There are two lakes in Kaliningrad that are not lakes, they are in fact man-made water features and, as such, their real nomenclature is ‘pond’, even though rural English folk of a certain age will… Read more: Pondering on the future of Kaliningrad Pond
Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)
Introduction
Published: 30 June 2020 ~ Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad
Everybody knows that vodka is Russia’s national tipple, but it may come as surprise to learn that the second favourite is beer. From personal observation, I would say that here in Kaliningrad young people tend to favour beer over vodka, which would explain why the variety and availability of different beer types and brands have mushroomed in pace with the numerous new bars, restaurants and hotels that have opened in recent years.
Gone are the days when if you felt like a beer you either went to the billiard hall or stopped off for a jar and a chat with friends at the side of the road. The little yellow two-wheeled tankers that provided this service have since been pensioned off, as far as beer is concerned, but can still be seen today now dispensing another traditional Russian drink of the non-alcoholic variety known as Kvass.
The increase in on-licensed premises since I first came to Kaliningrad in 2000 is nothing short of phenomenal and, coronavirus willing, may it continue to be that way. To service this industry there is not just a greater variety of Russian-brewed beer but also many international imports, both mainstream brands and interesting lesser known products, offering plenty of scope for exploration.
The craft beer bar has also made its debut in Kaliningrad. I believe there are five such outlets, the most popular and well-known being the Yeltsin Bar. These fairly small, but magnificently well-stocked beer bars, are reminiscent of the UK’s micro- or pop-up pubs but offer a substantially greater quantity and variety of beers at any one time sourced from around the world and purveyed on a rotational basis.
Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad
The brewed-on-the premises concept is also well established, with brew bars producing their own house brands and proudly displaying their brewing equipment for all to see on the premises. A good, large and exciting example of this would be the Pivovar Restaurant Brewery just off Victory Square in the centre of Kaliningrad, where the rows upon rows of deep copper brewing kettles and those mounted monolithically behind the bar are nothing short of magnificent
BEER KETTLE behind the bar at Pivovar Restaurant Brewery, just off Victory Square, Kaliningrad
British ales are obtainable in Kaliningrad, such as Fuller’s ESB and various IPA varieties, most conspicuously in the Sir Francis Drake English-style pub, the first of such bars in Kaliningrad, which was certainly functioning when I first came here in the year 2000. But, as might be expected, the British ales that are served here are the keg export equivalent of their real-ale counterparts. But hey! ~ you did not travel all this way to drink a pint of Charlie Wells, did you?
Bottled British-brewed craft ales are also no stranger to Kaliningrad. You can expect to find both mainstream and more exotic brands in Kaliningrad’s specialist beer shops, and some supermarkets, both small and large, often stock a surprisingly diverse range of British beers.
Imported beer is, not very strangely, more expensive to buy than home-grown varieties, whether bought for consumption in restaurants or bars or as an off-sale from specialist beer shops. The typical price of half a litre of British beer in the Sir Francis Drake, for example, would set you back 250 to 360 rubles, which is between £2.90 and £4.18, whereas a half litre of Russian beer in one of the Britannica bars (a chain of British-themed ale houses along the lines of Wetherspoons) will leave your pocket a lot less stressed at around 130 rubles (£1.51).
BREW BAR which operates from a spacious underground environment under one of Kaliningrad’s suburban supermarkets
Naturally, beer purchased from supermarkets can be obtained at more economical prices. My favourite Kaliningrad bottle beer, Ostmark (strong), which weighs in at a not inconsiderable 6.7% alcohol by volume ~ rather too strong for my normal preference of 4.5% max, but with more taste than most lager beers ~ costs between 160 rubles and 136 rubles for a 1.35 litre bottle, the price differentiation can be explained by the presence of two small supermarkets close to where we live, one of which is cheaper. In the cheaper supermarket, special offers occur on a daily basis, and I have seen good quality beers in 1.35 litre bottles going for less than a quid. Incidentally, this same supermarket does a good discounted range of quality vodkas as well, from around £2.80 for a 75cl bottle.
It looks British, it sounds British but it is, in fact, an English-style pale ale from the Gletcher Brewery in Russia
Another must for the beer connoisseur and further testimony to the take-up of beer in Kaliningrad specifically and Russia overall are the well-patronised specialist beer-dispensing shops. These establishments offer a wide selection of Russian and imported speciality beers on tap, which once purchased are conveniently decanted into screw-topped 2-litre plastic bottles.
Surprisingly, given its relatively small size, one of our local supermarkets incorporates an outlet of this nature. It stocks around 10 different beers on tap as well as some bottled varieties. The beer is good, both in terms of variety and quality, and is also competitively priced, making this venue a particular favourite of my brothers when he visited us last summer.
Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad
In Russia, beers tend to be grouped into categories determined by their hue: light, red and dark. In restaurants or bars, you will also often be asked whether you want a particular beer to be filtered or unfiltered. Simply translated this means that you have a choice between cosmetic surgery or beer in its natural state.
As the articles which follow deal exclusively with beers that I have been buying at random from our local supermarkets in 1.35l bottles, the light, dark, filtered and unfiltered taxonomy is only relevant insofar as appearance is concerned, and you can only really determine this once the bottle is open and the contents have been poured.
These beers may not be the crème de la crème in the sense that they are supermarket bought, not purchased from craft-beer outlets, but they do have something very important going for them: they have helped to sustain me through the isolating process, and during social distancing have become a much appreciated part of my personal New Normal in the wake of closed bars whilst the dreaded spectre of Coro continues to stalk the land.
😏 Feature image: Mick & Olga Hart enjoying a beer on the terrace at the palatial Residence of the Kings, Kaliningrad, in the pre-coronavirus summer of 2019
Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)
Preface
Published: 21 June 2020 ~ Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad
Prompted by no other motivation than a love of beer drinking, I have decided to review some of the bottled beers I am drinking here in Kaliningrad, Russia, whilst the bars remain closed due to social distancing rules. This is the preface to a series of posts on that most hallowed of subjects, beer. It places my own beer-drinking experiences in a biographical and historical context and is a precursor to explaining how I am surviving without real ale in Kaliningrad, the alternative beers available and a personal review of the quality and marketing success of the bottled beers that I have sampled. As they say, it’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it!*
Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad
When I told fellow Brits that I was moving to Russia, three responses
stick in my mind. The first, and the most obvious, was aghast amazement that I
was leaving behind the most celebrated democracy in the world (Ha! Ha!). The
second, a rather cynical comment on the number of times I visit the doctors,
was made by one of my brothers: “It’s a long way to travel to see Dr Kelly each
week!” And the third, “How are you going to survive without real ale?” The last
one worried me.
I was a victim of the first wave of lager drinking, which infected the UK back in the 1970s. I will not call it a love affair, it was more like sex for sale. In those days, the UK pub industry was dominated by the Big Six ~ six major breweries that had consolidated their monopolies by buying up many smaller regional breweries and their tied houses and incorporating them into their business portfolio. Real beer had long since been challenged, and in many public houses replaced, by what CAMRA (the Campaign for Real Ale) pejoratively dubbed ‘fizz’, keg beer, which was spearheaded in the 1960s by the now infamous Watneys Red Keg Barrel, both brewer and beer having since become a cipher for poor quality, mass produced.
It is an irony of fate that the beer and the brewery which set out, and partly succeeded, in changing the drinking habits of the nation ended up as the beer-drinkers’ pariah.
Remember the Firkin pubs?
Of the many insults levelled at Watney’s, possibly the quintessential one, certainly the one that I remember best, was when the Flamingo and Firkin in Derby, one of the David Bruce-inspired craft-ale chain of pubs, refitted the gents toilet with an oversized water cistern masquerading as a Red Barrel. The barrel design, shade of red and even the Watney’s name emblazoned across the front in a typeface identical to the one that Watney’s used, was the pièce de résistance of piss taking, and in that respect it was in the right place.
Whilst no one can defend with any credibility the instigatory role that Watney’s played in the fizz revolution, Red Barrel was not alone for long. Who can forget the dubious delights of such mass-produced keg mediocrity as Ind Coope’s Double Diamond (‘Double Diamond Works Wonders’ ~ it didn’t) Whitbread Trophy (‘Whitbread Big Head Trophy Bitter the pint that thinks it’s a quart’ ~ well it would; it was all head, no strength and as inflatable as a hydrogen balloon) and Charles Wells’ Noggin (its bar-top beer-pump head made of wood to look like a nautical mooring post complete with rope wrapped around it, presumably to remind you that the 15 pence you had just spent was ‘money for old rope’).
The bland and sterile taste that these truly revolting beers left in one’s mouth was gradually, but then meteorically, replaced by something not dissimilar. It, too, was gassy, bland and sterile but sold well, thanks mainly to the money thrown at it in mass advertising campaigns that succeeded in hiding its meretricious nature behind a macho, blokey image, similar in aspiration to the rugged sexuality exploited by aftershave brands Brut and Hai Karate and enlisting the same flared trousers, tight-fitting tank tops and downturned droopy moustache approach.
Make way for lager
Initially, the lager market was aimed at female and young mixed clientele, but its rapid uptake quickly recommended it as a manly alternative to keg, escalating sales into brand warfare as brewers vied with one another to gas-tap their product into the number one slot.
My lagers of choice at that time were Lamont, Tuborg Gold and Tennent’s Extra. But the gold standard in lager for myself and my drinking confederates was undoubtedly Stella Artois, which, unfortunately, we could only seem to find in freehouses, and in our area these were few and far between.
My return to beer drinking and my induction into real ale is
a vivid memory. It was 1979 and I was on a pub crawl in Norwich with a fellow
student from the University of East Anglia, a chap called Clive. We had not
known each other long, but long enough to know that we both liked beer. We met
in the student’s bar on the then Fifers Lane campus. It was a full house that
evening and a group of us were sitting on the floor surrounded by beer cans.
Clive had just rolled in from a late game of squash. “A fitness fanatic,” I
thought. I revised my opinion six pints later, but I have to say it was beer at
first sight.
Clive was a Londoner and as such, insofar as beer-drinking
trends were concerned, he was far ahead of the game than folk like myself who
hailed from the sticks or from small provincial towns, places at that time
where the only escape from the big brewers and their bog-standard fare was the
occasional hard-to-find freehouse.
It was Clive who introduced me to real ale. We were in a pub overlooking Norwich market when Clive asked if I would like a pint of Director’s. As a lager drinker, used to less esoteric names, such as ‘Extra’, ‘Gold’ and ‘Red Stripe’, I remember thinking ‘what a bloody silly name for a beer’. Moreover, I had not drunk anything from a wooden handle pulled at the bar since my light and bitter days. Gas-tap beer was typically dispensed through a little plastic box with a light bulb behind it, whilst lager frothed and foamed worse than the liberal-left from out of conspicuous chromium taps, large, brassy and brazen things which over the years have become incredibly more stupid. Where does the light and bitter fit in? We were young when we started drinking in pubs, about 14 I think, but even then we eschewed Charles Wells’ bitter, which, unfortunately was a staple brew in most of the pubs in our area. We could drink it, but only ‘half-and-half’, that is a half pint of Charlie from the handpump diluted with light ale from the bottle.
Silly name or not, Directors was my first pint of real ale,
and to me, at that time, it tasted like nectar. I was hooked from the first
sip. Here, at last, was something different; something which had flavour!
All praise to CAMRA!
It was CAMRA (the Campaign for Real Ale) which revived the fortunes of real ale and put the final nail in the keg-bitter coffin. CAMRA launched a relentless campaign throughout the 80s and 90s, encouraging small and later micro-breweries to experiment with and increase their beer type and range and as the ‘cold tea’, as my cockney friend called ale, caught on the major brewers were forced to follow suit and up their real-ale ante to keep pace with the craft-beer experts.
Local beer guides and national Good Pub Guides
coinciding with the arrival and development of the soon to become ubiquitous beer
festival, which ranged from large-scale events featuring scores of brewers from
around the country, fast-food outlets and live music to mini-festivals held in
pubs, compounded and accelerated what for real legacy Britons such as myself is
a unique and treasured part of our national heritage: proper beers and British
pubs! No wonder that our saviour from the European Union, the indefatigable
Nigel Farage, is himself a beer connoisseur!
Opening time at the Rushden Cavalcade beer tent c.2017
But these are troubled times, comrades. Coronavirus’s New Normal is sweeping across the land like an out-of-control temperance league and ideological agendas threaten British life with a rehashed version of British heritage. Our only hope is that beer-drinking patriots stand firm in the face of adversary. Keep the beer-drinking faith and stamp the virus out! Pubs are a national treasure and beer the jewel in its crown.
It is not ‘Time Gentleman, please’, yet gentlemen!
Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad
In the next astonishing instalment of Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers in Kaliningrad, we will see how exactly Mick Hart adjusted to the New Drinking Normal of no real ale!
Mick Hart, with his wife Olga, enjoying a magnificently well-kept pint of real ale, on the platform of The Station, Rushden, Northants, England c.2017
*If you make your obsession your profession you will never work again ~ so some clever fellow once said. Well, I was fortunate to make one of my obsessions, beer, my profession for a while, and yes, if I had not moved on to something else, I might never have worked again! I was fortunate enough in my publishing career to work on and contribute to various licensed trade publications, hospitality titles, pub guides and drinkers’ manuals, which also gave me the opportunity to interview brewers, publicans and report on real ale and cider festivals. Consequently, I can vouch for the fact that you can have too much of a good thing, so I switched from drinks’ publications to medical ones, thus exchanging the fear of becoming an alcoholic for becoming a hypochondriac.
My wife has been nagging (they do, don’t they) for the
past couple of days for me to leave the house and go outside, but the weather
has been so awful that I have used it as an excuse to stay indoors and not get
the fresh air that is so good for me.
Today, however, the sun came out and with my excuse rendered null and void I was forced to give in. We were off to the central market, and I had been told that it would be very beneficial for me if we walked, and besides I would enjoy it.
As it happens I did, but you don’t tell them that in a
hurry.
On the way we took some photographs of some
interesting bas relief work to some of the buildings close to the market.
We were off shopping for vegetables, and I must say
that Kaliningrad’s covered market is such a joy to shop in (more of that later)
that by the time we got there I had stopped complaining.
Loaded with all sorts of edibles that are not meat, we
then decided to stop off somewhere for a spot of lunch.
We chose Mama Mia’s, a restaurant on the edge of
Victory Square opposite the cathedral.
Mama Mia is a rather modern affair, certainly not the sort of place that I could wear my 1940s’ clothes in, but it is bright, comfortable and above all relaxing. On one side, the side we were in, you can look out of the windows and watch the world go by ~ I spotted a van with a large hammer and sickle motif stuck to it ~ or, for a slightly more reclusive experience, you can turn left where the room is divided up into larger seating areas favourable for group dining.
Mama Mia Restaurant
Mick Hart drinking sensibly at Mama Mia’s Restaurant, Kaliningrad, Russia
In here there are two rather interesting things: one,
a wall-mounted water feature, which resembles a mirror but has water cascading
down the inside of it; and two, a display of giant piano keys overlaid with outsized
wooden portholes.
I was content to be in our little seats, seeing vans
go by with hammers and sickles on them at a table where it is possible to flag
the waiter’s attention literally at the press of a button.
We did not have the chance to use this communication
mechanism, as we were straight in and ordering two ‘business lunches’. These
are preset lunches at a very good price. I had Greek salad, soup and pizza
accompanied by cranberry juice. My wife had chicken soup and chicken cutlets
with brown rice, and between us, in a see-through teapot, we had freshly made
ginger tea. The meals cost us £2.50 apiece and the speciality tea £1.70.
Comfortable and competitively priced: Mama Mia Restaurant, Kaliningrad, Russia
Shame on me, I did not partake of beer this lunchtime
as I had a workout scheduled. But perhaps tomorrow night…
We snapped a few pictures whilst we were in there, caught a taxi home and I left one bag behind, had to go back for it and got nagged at for being дурак (silly)
That’s a nice thing to say to your husband, I’m sure.
Essential Details:
Mama Mia Klover Siti Tsentr Ploschtschad Pobedy 10, Kaliningrad Kaliningrad Oblast, 236006
Continuing with our theme of Kaliningrad City of Contrasts, I was out walking the other day and I came across this rather splendiferous example.
On one side of the road you have this spanking new
block of flats; on the other, this rather sad and sorry ruined Königsberg
cottage.
This side
That side
Kaliningrad City of Contrasts
Could the latter be restored, I hear you say? Or, is
that just the sound of my own Romanticist fantasy ringing inside my head?
If I had a flat which faced the street in the new
apartment block pictured here, every day I looked out of my window and beheld
this ruined abode, I would be confronted with the question, is this building
restorable?
I would need you there to laugh at me.
But something has to be built on this site at some
time. So, let us rephrase the question: would it be possible to salvage
something from this former home and integrate it into a new build as a historic
feature?
You are laughing at me again!
But look at those marvelous chimney stacks, and is that an enamel sign peeping through the trees on the right-hand side? And who knows what may still be lurking on the inside under the debris? Perhaps one of those remarkable tiled Königsberg stoves; 1920s’ door handles; additions and renovations from the Soviet era. If nothing else, the red bricks have to be a reusable, recyclable commodity?
What’s that you say?
It would be easier to keep the curtains shut or buy a flat on the other side of the building.
February 8th 2020 was a big day in Kaliningrad, to be more precise, it was Big Sausage Day*. Reputedly, it is the day that the ladies of Kaliningrad walk around with smiles upon their faces and quite a lot of the men most sensibly stay at home (source: anonymous). But not me. Unfazed by the reports of a giant object of cylindrical length being disported on the open streets, I set out, in defiance of the Vegetarian Society, one day late as usual.
The Big Sausage fest has become so popular here in
recent years that it has undergone an extension, turning it effectively from a
Big Sausage Day into a Big Sausage Weekend. Unfortunately, the huge and
eponymous object makes its debut on Saturday morning. This year we had been
invited to attend on Sunday and last year both I and our invitee were too
hungover to attend. So, instead of reviewing how the Big Sausage went and where
it went, I am going to make a few comments instead on the much-vaunted subject
of ‘Kaliningrad: a place of contrasts’.
This expression is a stock-in-trade of most
travelogues where Kaliningrad is concerned, and why not? It is a good one. The
term is often applied to the striking and very often incongruous juxtaposition
of architectural forms here in Kaliningrad.
Kaliningrad architectural contrasts
The connection between a whopping great sausage and
architecture is not as obtuse as first it may seem. On the second day of this
weekend’s event, the Big Sausage, understandably exhausted from Saturday’s
exertions, goes into hiding, allowing the festivities to continue in a more
circumscribed place. The venue this year was in the paved area surrounding one
of Konigsberg’s restored monuments, the King’s Gate (more of which at another
time).
Königsberg ‘s KIng’s Gate & Kaliningrad’s Soviet flats ~ a City of contrasts. Notice the old tram tracks!
Kaliningrad King’s Gate
You can see from the photograph supplied, the red-brick Gothic structure of the King’s Gate in the foreground (photographed from the back) and there in the background a long row of 1970s’ Soviet-built flats. Needless to say, the world’s most renowned architects eschew these rather than applaud them, but, like them or not, they are all part and parcel of Königsberg-Kaliningrad’s diverse and rich history.
In my humble vegetarianskee opinion, these flats could be employed to good purpose this time next year. By attaching a giant inflatable sausage from the rooftops, running from one end to the other, the venue for Second Sausage Day would be unmissable and the advertising potential for certain types of products phenomenal. Food for thought?
A view of the King’s Gate from the rear surrounded by Big Sausage Day event stalls
*The Long Sausage holiday has a long tradition. The medieval holiday was first held in Königsberg in 1520. Königsberg’s butchers cooked 16 metre’s of sausage and carried it around the city. The participants then ate the sausage, drank beer and danced. Today, the people of Kaliningrad continue the old tradition and enjoy the holiday of old Königsberg .
Sadly, Plyushkin is now as deceased as it’s fictional namesake😥
It is not called ‘Lampshades’ but why not is anybody’s guess. Plyushkin (which is the name of a fictional character in Gogol’s novel Dead Souls) is a bar/restaurant located on a busy intersection in Kaliningrad opposite the Amber Museum. It is nice and central, and situated as it is on a bustling traffic hub, easy to get to by bus, mini-bus or tram. From the outside, it is deceptive, especially at night, when all that can be seen is a small foyer and the neon sign above it, but the bar/restaurant is below ground and once inside the place is truly TARDISial.
Plyushkin bar & restaurant, Kaliningrad, where lampshades abound
Be that as it may, the furnishings, décor and lighting make for a very comfortable, cozy and inviting feel. When you stop marveling at the oversized lampshades, you are rendered agog by the seating arrangements. Where would you like to sit? It is not an easy choice. In Plyushkin no dining suite is the same as the next, although we narrowed down the selection from traditional table and dining-room chairs to low-slung settees and tables to match.
Lampshades galore at the Plyushkin bar & restaurant, Kaliningrad
Plyushkin Bar & Restaurant Kaliningrad
The accent is upon old-world charm ~ reproduction
antique furniture ~ but non-conformist enough to find walnut-veneer-framed divans sharing the same
space as 1960s’ designs and Avant Garde spectaculars, such as one table which
has a coiled rope columnar support, not dissimilar to a cat’s gigantic
scratching post.
Along the side of one wall runs an eclectic series of
mismatching sideboards and tallboys, both parodies from and originals to
disparate eras. The walls and lateral
ceiling supports are profusely covered in framed vintage photographs and
prints, including one of a young Queen Elizabeth II (G’ord Bless yu Maam!),
although one wall of painted brick has been left relatively clear with respect
to the current industrial look.
Queen Elizabeth II in Plyushkin, Kaliningrad ~ that’s her on the wall by the way …
Pigs’ Snouts
The menu is deliberately ‘old style’ Russian, and
whilst pig snouts in mustard sauce may not be everyone’s idea of culinary
heaven, just think it could be worse, and there might have been a photograph in
the menu.
Nevertheless, we have dined here four or five times,
and my carnivore associates assure me that their choice of meals has been very
tasty and value for money.
The bar is well stocked, leaving nothing to the
imagination, and I can vouch for the beer. The cheapest is about 112 rubles
(which is about £1.36), whilst the premium, which weighs in at around 7%
gravity, is about 275 rubles (£3.33).
Service is spot-on, unlike some places I could mention
~ and no doubt will, as we get around.
Live music
All in all, Plyushkin is extremely atmospheric, and on Saturday evenings live music adds to the ambience. The pendant lampshades, of which there are many, are huge, creatively different and pose a curious question, if not ‘Lampshades’ why not ‘Not One the Same’? ~ both would make super alternative names.
The bar area at the Plyushkin, Kaliningrad
Lenin says, “I’m always at the Plyushkin!”
Essential details:
Plyushkin Restuarant Kaliningrad, pl. Marshal Vasilevsky, 2
Before going anywhere today, the first thing we do is
consult the internet. If you undertake ~ or have already undertaken ~ an
internet search of ‘Kaliningrad’ chances are that you will turn up, or have
already turned up, a disproportionate amount of negativity. This is especially
true of UK media articles, that is articles disseminated by the mainstream UK
press, particularly articles written prior to and up to 2018, when Kaliningrad
hosted the World Cup tournament in which England played against Belgium.
In the months leading up to the World Cup the
concerted vitriol reached its apotheosis, which was rather unfortunate for the
British press as, almost without exception, the majority of British fans who
were not dissuaded from coming to Kaliningrad agreed that they had enjoyed
themselves in Russia and in Kaliningrad in particular. So, it was a warm
welcome for the British footer fans and a red face for the British media.
Since 2018, there has been a noticeable change in tone,
with some, though not all, journalists adopting a more honest appraisal of Kaliningrad’s
status as a tourist destination. Leading travel guides for English-language
readers blaze the trail, using such words to describe Kaliningrad as ‘exciting,
vibrant, a city and region of contrasts, fascinating, quirky and historically
unique’.
Indeed, our late friend Victor Rybinin, artist and
historian, defined its unique character as the combination of two cultures, first
German and then Russian, and it is somewhere between this polarity that its
fascination resides.
Königsberg: a city that refuses to die
Kaliningrad’s duality really begins at the close of WWII. Until that time it had been the capital of East Prussia, an imposing and noble city, boasting an architectural composition of Romanesque, Baroque and Gothic designs. Originally known as Königsberg, the city changed names when it changed people and country in 1946, the historical city of Königsberg having been all but extirpated from aerial bombing in 1944 and the Soviet siege and battle of 1945. From 1946 onwards, Königsberg, now renamed Kaliningrad, and the territory surrounding it, was absorbed by the Soviet Union.
Home to the Baltic Fleet, and of strategic geo-political importance, the area became a closed domain and remained this way until the collapse of the Soviet Union. The dissolution of the satellite Baltic states in the 1990s and their subsequent harvesting by the European Union created a physical and psychological barrier ~ physical in that the Kaliningrad region is separated by countries unallied to Russia, psychological in the sense that this little piece of land, the westernmost outpost of the Russian Federation, has become a political/military bogeyman for the West to rattle its sabres at ~ little wonder, therefore, that it is ringed with NATO bases! Never mind, it does not worry the locals, so it need not worry you.
History is Kaliningrad’s speciality
For the history buff, especially those interested in
WWI, WWII and the Cold War, Königsberg-Kaliningrad has plenty to offer. The
city contains a number of wartime monuments and museums and so many underground
shelters that I have often amused myself whilst travelling from one side of the
city to the next by taking part in my own spot the bunker competition. One of
the bunkers, the aptly named Museum Bunker, is open to the public. It is very
Nazispheric and replete with military history exhibits.
Spot the German bunker competition
The most obvious examples of Königsberg’s military
history predate the conflicts of the 20th century, although, like
every building in the beleaguered city of 1945, they played a not
inconsiderable defensive role in the final battle for Königsberg.
Königsberg was a fortress city, which, by the middle
and the late 19th century, was heavily defended by two continuous
rings of red-brick forts joined by an elaborate network of slit walls,
bastions, gates, ramparts and crenelated towers. A prodigious proportion of
both defensive rings is extant today, thanks to their solid construction, the determination
of local history groups to conserve them and considerable restoration
investment. Some of the forts now house museums; others are work in progress.
One of Königsberg’s inner circle of fortsMoat surrounding one of Königsberg’s forts in the outer ring
Smaller relics both of Königsberg and from its military
past can be found in any one of the city’s antique shops and ~ joy of all joys
~ at the city’s central street market. This haven for collectors has evolved
into a boot fair/flea market hybrid, selling all manner of WWII and Soviet
relics along with remnants of Königsberg itself.
One of the most atmospheric, or should that be claustrophobic,
reminders of the Cold War is the Soviet submarine which is moored at the side
of the Pregolya (German: Pregel) River on a bankside development mainly
devoted to other marine vessels, museums and education centres under the
auspices of the World Ocean Museum.
Soviet submarine, Kaliningrad
Kaliningrad’s Amber Museum is possibly the most well-known museum in the city and its territory. It was established in 1972 and occupies one of the inner-circle forts on the bank of one of Kaliningrad’s lakes (the correct terminology for which, I am told, is ‘pond’ ~ which makes it a very big one!) This, incidentally, is the same tower depicted in various YouTube videos, on which victorious Russian troops hoist the Soviet flag high across the war-torn landscape which, in 1945, is all that remained of Königsberg ~ at least in its physical form.
Kaliningrad amber
Amber Museum, Kaliningrad, Russia
Established in the richest amber-producing area in the world, the Amber Museum holds impressive and ornate examples of artisan craftsmanship, and both the city and coastal resorts are dotted with specialist amber shops, supplemented by market stalls specialising in every conceivable manifestation of amber-work imaginable and in all its various hues ~ jewellery, souvenirs, framed pictures, clocks, statues, household goods … the list is seemingly endless.
Exotic amber jewellery, Kaliningrad, Russia
Opulent amber covered vase/urn, Kaliningrad, Russia
Coastal resorts of the Kaliningrad region
The largest coastal resorts, Svetlogorsk and Zelenogradsk,
are respectively a mere thirty and forty-five minutes away from Kaliningrad
city centre by car, train, taxi or bus. As both towns are extensively populated
with shops and stalls selling amber, and as the amount and range of goods for
sale is little short of amazing, amber hunters visiting these resorts can
combine their shopping expedition with a relaxing day by the sea.
Svetlogorsk (German: Rauschen) is a traditional
coastal spa resort nestled on an undulating headland, sprinkled with fir and
beech woods, in which quaint German houses of Hoffmanesque character peep out
from within small enclaves of trees.
High Gothic, Svetlogorsk, Russia
In recent years, renovation and large-scale investment has, like Kaliningrad, made this a place of contrasts and with it evoked controversy. Lavish and extravagant villas, high-rise buildings, even an entire street reconstructed in retrospective styles, have inevitably been precipitated by its growing popularity as a well-appointed, attractive coastal retreat.
Half-timbered reconstruction, Svetlogorsk, Russia
Following in the style of Rauschen (Svetlogorsk)
The, in my opinion, outsized multicomplex theatre and shopping centre, constructed in Svetlogorsk in 2015, seems to have been accepted, but there is decidedly less tolerance for what many see as a disproportionate extension to the seafront promenade, an enormous elevated walkway that has robbed Svetlogorsk of some of its little sandy beach and is destined to serve as the frontage for a parade of grand hotels and exclusive sea-view apartments. This notwithstanding, the older parts of Svetlogorsk are resolutely anchored by firm historical roots which, at the time of writing, continue to nurture the fairy tale.
Entertainment centre, Svetlogorsk, Russia
Zelenogradsk (German: Cranz) is by far the better option if sandy beaches are your thing. In German times, Cranz was considered to be the first resort and Rauschen the second, a position reversed in Soviet times and persisting to this day, but my prejudice is gradually moving in favour of Zelenogradsk. With its broad, golden swathe of beach, wide service-filled promenade, interesting beach-side cafes and restaurants offering unobstructed views of the sea, and its calm and easy serpentine high street containing many fine old buildings, some tastefully renovated others honestly gnarled and time-weathered, and not forgetting its awe-inspiring sunsets, a heavenly fusion of the sublime and surreal, Zelenogradsk for me is the perfect seaside retreat.
Zelinogradsk promenade, Russia
Zelinogradsk High Street, Russia
Zelinogradsk Hotel, Cranz Style
Lenin in Zelinogradsk
As stated previously, Svetlogorsk and Zelenogradsk are
the two main regional coastal resorts, but they are not the only ones along
this stretch of the Baltic coastline. Smaller and more secluded places await
the intrepid traveller!
Sandy beaches hidden away on Kaliningrad’s Baltic coatline
For nature lovers, and lovers of the great outdoors, the
Kaliningrad region’s jewel in the crown is indubitably Korski Spit (the
Curonian Spit) ~ a long (98km) narrow sand dune that arcs from the Kaliningrad region into south-west Lithuania,
with the Curonian Lagoon on one side and the Baltic Sea coast the other.
Carpeted with pine forest, and intricately laced with white sandy dips and
hollows, this Unesco World Heritage Site is a phenomenal natural landscape and a
natural habitat for a multitude of bird, animal and plant species. Wooden
pathways constructed by volunteers permit the traveller to enjoy the natural
beauty of the Curonian Spit whilst preserving the fragile ecosystem. It is
along one of these that you are invited to walk to the Dancing Forest ~ so
named because of the coiled and twisted nature of its trees. Visitors to the
Spit will find viewing platforms from which to appreciate the beauty of both
land and seascape, level cycle trails, and cafes tucked away in quiet little
woodland glades. As for guest houses in this protected part of the Kaliningrad
region, such are not prolific, although you may be lucky and find one in one of
the two small secluded settlements hidden away on the Spit.
Meanwhile, back in Kaliningrad, no reference to its
historic past would be complete without acknowledging the enduring presence of Königsberg
Cathedral. A mere husk after the war, sterling work, much effort, considerable
investment and skill has seen this fine specimen of 14th century
Gothic architecture restored to an unbelievable standard. In the daytime its unmistakable
profile hints at the glory of what once was; in the twilight its silhouette is
an eerie reminder of total war and the obliteration that still haunts this
city.
Kaliningrad: ‘City of Contrasts’
Kaliningrad: Victory Square
The label a ‘city of contrasts’ is as good as one as
any to try to hang on a place which is as enigmatic as it is ambiguous.
Modern-day Kaliningrad is vibrant and bustling ~ new apartment blocks,
expensive reconstructions cast in the mould of its Königsberg predecessors, an
eclectic array of bars, cafes, restaurants and clubs, brand-spanking
international hotel complexes rub shoulders with down-at-heel swathes of
Soviet-era concrete flats, all sharing the same physical and spiritual space as
the monuments to and memories of the ruins from which they have grown ~ Königsberg.
Original Königsberg building, Kaliningrad
Epilogue
When I began writing this article, I had envisaged a
succinct work of some 500 to 600 words. The fact that I have greatly exceeded
that is testament to the great variety of things to see and do here, within Kaliningrad
itself and its outlying region, and whilst I have deliberately focused on some
of the more prominent, more defining features unique to this special place, those
that I have not mentioned ~ of which there are many ~ less known, perhaps, but
equally deserving, are urging me to write about them and, more importantly, for
you to come and discover them for yourself.
Tour Guide/Accommodation
English-speaking visitors to this region are welcome
to contact us on email Königsbergmick@mail.com.
We provide a friendly, personal tour guide/interpreter service tailored to your
requirements. We also offer accommodation (maximum two people).
The former Königsberg Stock Exchange, aka the Khudozhestvennaya Galereya, is home to a permanent exhibition, the title of which is The Shadow of Königsberg. It also holds temporary exhibitions on a regular basis. Two exhibitions attracted us recently, Alexander I and Napoleon Meeting on the Neman and Rhythms of Kaliningrad.
The Königsberg Stock Exchange (now the Khudozhestvennaya Galereya) is an impressive two-storey Neo-Renaissance-style building, which stands on the southern side of the Pregel River.
The grand building, which
opened in 1875, was the work of architect Heinrich Muller and Emil Hundrieser,
the latter to which is owed the external decoration, including the allegorical
figures at roof-top level and the two lions on either side of the entrance
steps.
As with most of Königsberg’s municipal buildings, the Stock Exchange suffered extensive damage when bombed by the RAF in 1944 and again during the Siege of Königsberg in 1945. It is believed that it narrowly escaped the systematic demolition programme of what remained of Königsberg after the war, as the new owners and powers that were ~ the Soviets ~ identified Russian Neo-Classical features in its construction (pphhhewww!). Since the building was reprieved, reinstated and reconstructed in 1967, it has passed through various transitions and is today one of Kaliningrad’s most important, and unequivocally, one of its most regal cultural centres [see the Tripadvisor website for photographs of this magnificent building].
Khudozhestvennaya Galereya
Napoleonic exhibition
The Khudozhestvennaya Galereya stages changing exhibitions on a regular
basis. The building can accommodate two or three exhibitions at any one time,
depending, of course, on the size, using dedicated and versatile screening
facilities. To the right of the entrance hall and on the second floor, space is
reserved for a permanent exhibition, The
Shadow of Königsberg, which traces the history of this unique city and
region through the turbulent transitions of its 20th century
history. Whether you are a professional historian, amateur historian, budding
history scholar or are simply fascinated by the changing fortunes and character
of Königsberg-Kaliningrad, The Shadow of Königsberg
provides a pictorial timeline of indelible significance through drawings,
sketches, paintings and photographs, supported by detailed models and
electronic simulation. Its depiction of pre-war Königsberg in contrast with its
post-war ruins and subsequent Soviet inheritance and legacy, that of life lived
for three decades among weed-strewn, crumbling buildings, a hollowed out shell
of a once noble city, has a pathos seldom encountered in the modern world we
inhabit today.
I really would like this poster …
Alexander I and Napoleon Meeting on the Neman
The exhibition, Alexander I and Napoleon Meeting on the
Neman [River], opened in the former Königsberg Stock Exchange building, now
a cultural centre, on 19 October 2019 and runs until 15 December 2019. The
exhibition is dedicated to one of the two Tilsit* Treaties, that which took
place on 7 July 1807 following Napoleon’s victory in Friedland. The treaty,
which was well-satirised in the British press of the time, examples of which
are included in the exhibition, is unforgettable not least because it took
place on a purpose-built raft anchored in the middle of the Neman River. But
its real importance was the ensuing impact it had on regional and world
geo-politics. The principal loser of the treaty was Prussia, which was forced
to surrender almost 50 percent of its territory. Russia and France achieved a
peaceful settlement, a settlement which not all Russian’s were agreeable to,
but the peace only lasted five years: in 1812 Napoleon returned to the Neman
River, crossing it this time with invasion in mind. Be this as it may, the treaty
inspired numerous artistic representations, both in Europe and Russia. And this
is what this exhibition is dedicated to.
The exhibition contains
about 60 exhibits from the collection of The State Hermitage Museum in St
Petersburg, including paintings, drawings and sculptures, as well as original
uniforms of Russian and French soldiers and is complemented by works
contributed by the Kaliningrad Museum of Fine Arts and Private Collections.
*Tilsit was renamed Sovetsk when the East Prussian region changed hands at the close of World War II. It is located in the Kaliningrad Oblast.
Rhythms of Kaliningrad
Exotic & Ornate & Highly Desirable!!
The Rhythms of Kaliningrad exhibition comprised an eclectic selection of art ~ paintings, sketches, drawings, sculptures ~ and even elaborate contributions from the Kaliningrad region’s world-renowned amber industry, examples of which included handmade jewellery of the most imaginative and exquisite calibre, highly detailed icons and an urn of Classical and Baroque form lavishly adorned. Designer clothing, handmade and avant-garde, added an unpredictable dimension to what was already an exotic and exhilarating showcase of regional artistic talent.
Taken as a collection, the thematic denominator subsumes the randomness of each subject into a distillation, and the compendium of impressions is a lyrical exposition that neither aggrandises nor underestimates the unique heritage, urban environment and natural images by which it is informed but rather acknowledges them and celebrates them as a compound expression of an esoteric experience. Sunsets across water, abstracts, natural landscapes, urban landscapes, pseudo-incarnations of Königsberg’s nobility ~ the castle and the city’s monuments ~ (none of which ever existed in the modern artist’s memory), Expressionism, Impressionism, Surrealism, Realism, Painterly and the rest, a gamut of artistic subjects and the styles through which they are brought into being vying to define, striving to encapsulate what it is about this place, this city and its territory, that draws you inexorably into its soul.
A personal reflection
Haunting painting of Konigsberg by Sherbak-Pyankova
In delivering the essence of the exhibition’s title, Rhythms of Kaliningrad, no one artwork should be singled out for being lesser or greater than the others in its company, but spectators and critics alike are fickle, prone, as we all are, to the common human failing for putting personal preference before impartiality, and thus although I would shy away from the impossible task of deciding which work of art was the best, whatever the given criteria, there was, inevitably, one among the paintings which resonated resoundingly with my not altogether impartial predilection for the sublime and metaphysical.
This painting was by the artist Sherbak-Pyankova. It was the study of a Königsberg house, a villa, set back in its own grounds, surrounded by its own garden, demarcated by iron railings with a wrought iron gate of unusual splendour.
Naturally, reliant on the theme of the exhibition, the subject matter in and of itself was not by any means a surprising leap into incongruity, but to narrow down the appeal criteria not to what had been painted but the way in which it had been painted ~ no, more, much more than this ~ the manner of its composition, its inherent composition and the intrinsic affect it had upon me, is how I would like to proceed.
In this
respect I have no inclination to classify the artist’s technique within a
particular school or style, because by doing so I would by default promote
taught technique above inspirational teaching and, ultimately, individual
creativity. My attraction to this piece of work was at once instantaneous ~ an
impulse, a reaction ~ the rationalisation that ensued, if indeed you can call
it this, being a process of thought, of mind.
When I first
examined the painting I was, as is the norm, standing relatively close to it.
The outlines of the house were distinct enough but the details, although present, impressed me with the notion that they were fading before my eyes. It was as though my view was partially obscured or obfuscated by a thin veil, or a light film, as though the building was slipping away from me. Suspecting the fault lay in my eyesight, I stepped back a few paces and took another look. From my new, more removed, position, unless I was mistaken, the subject on which I now gazed had developed a clarity hitherto unseen. Encouraged by this promising shift in perspective, I removed myself still further, at which greater distance the details became so clear that I could well have been standing outside the house itself, next to the ornate gate, not viewing it on canvas.
So now I began walking slowly back towards the picture and, as I did, I was relieved to discover that the suspicions about my eyesight were unfounded. With each step that I took the mist that had so impeded my vision from the moment I looked upon the picture was, by stealth and with steady degrees, returning.
I repeated
the exercise, just to make certain.
I was of the understanding that the further I removed myself from the Königsberg house the closer I came to it, or it to me; conversely, the closer I came to the house, the further away it became, until almost evaporating.
This
inversion of physics bemused as much as the metaphysics eluded, but then, with
a Eureka moment, Romanticism kicked in and the haze before the house, being the
haze behind my eyes, lifted in the subjective sunlight.
Of course,
the visibility of the house was so much better delineated from a distance. The distance
between myself and the house was not the insoluble distance of time that I had
first believed it to be, but in fact quite the reverse. The further I walked
away from the house the closer I came to Königsberg. Walking back was walking
back in time towards the point of origin. But when I approach the house, in an
attempt to go backwards, I walk back into the present, Königsberg slips from my
grasp and all that I am left with is the hazy, phantasmagorical image of
something I aspire to see, to experience in the physical world.
Konisberg street by Sherbak-Pyankova
This painting, and a second painting of a street in Königsberg-Kaliningrad by the same artist, got both my vote and my wife’s Olga’s before we knew anything about either the artist or her mentor. However, given the profound effect that her work had on us, it should not have surprised us to learn that the artist she had studied under, and had an enduring respect for, was a mutual friend ~ Victor Rybinin.
Victor had taught art for many years at the Kaliningrad Art School. He had, as he said, ‘grown up among the ruins of Königsberg’ and was ‘the product of two cultures’; he invested his entire life in the philosophical, artistic and historic exploration of the Königsberg-Kaliningrad continuum. As our artist and historian friend Stanislav Konovalov said, who had himself been taught by Victor, Victor’s artistic representations came from the heart, they are each and every one imbued with a symbolic mysticism, a profundity, a deep soulfulness which emanates from his appreciation of and unwavering love for Königsberg-Kaliningrad, always described by Victor, with characteristic understatement, as ‘this unique place’.
That none of Victor Rybinin’s art saw inclusion in the Rhythms of Kaliningrad exhibition is a sorrowful oversight, particularly since those who knew him and who know his art share the conviction that he was and will remain a principal figure in the city’s and its region’s cultural history ~ history being the final judge.
Romanticist
attribution or irony of fate? Either way it is an uncanny coincidence that we
should choose as favourite the painting which we chose today …
