Ivan Zverev saves old German building from terminal decline
Published: 31 December 2021 ~ Restoration brings Museum to Life in Nizovie
There are good days and bad days, and Christmas day is no exception. But this year there was no need to wonder what we were going to do. If I had been in the UK, I could have put on my Christmas-cracker hat and high-tailed it to the nearest McDonald’s for a Yuletide jab, but as I was in Kaliningrad I would have to accept the next best thing, which was an invitation to attend the opening of Zverev’s museum in the village of Nizovie.
Restoration and museum comes to life in Nizovie
As long as you know where Nizovie is, the museum is impossible to miss. It is a large, red-brick, three-storey German building, set back from the road; very municipal-looking; very formal; and unmistakeably civic.
Today, its presence was even more unmissable. In addition to the soviet pennants fluttering in the breeze on either side of the imposing entrance and next to them a red sign bearing the words ‘NKO USSR, Military Commandant of Waldau’, and a large, decorated and illuminated Christmas tree on one side of the forecourt upstaged only by the pea-green 18th century carriage located on the opposite side and a very active music system, a not insubstantial crowd was gathering, some of the younger folk among it dressed in animal costumes and some among the older in the velvet-rich finery and lace that would have been worn by the well-to-do back in the 18th century.
😊Waldau Castle and Museum are a short distance from the Zverev museum, making it possible to visit all three on the same day …
Snow, and lots of it, completed a scene which for me was exceedingly 25th of December, although the meaning that I attributed to it may have been lost on the crowd, as in Russia Christmas is celebrated according to the Orthodox calendar, and thus falls later on the 7th of January.
Nevertheless, we were into the festive season and the composition all told engendered a perfect seasonal atmosphere.
Restoration brings Museum to Life in Nizovie
The official opening of the museum took place at the foot and on top of the steps leading to the main entrance. The ribbon was cut by a representative of Kaliningrad’s administration and then, after a short speech from this gentleman, Mr Ivan Zverev, owner of the building, chief restorer and curator of the museum, delivered a slightly longer one, upon completion of which up went the volume of the music and with it a herd of people who, whilst no doubt endeared by the snowy scene around them, which was extremely picturesque, could not forbear a moment longer the urgent need to throw themselves inside the warmth that the building offered.
I endured for a few minutes more, as I wanted to have my photograph taken with the man from the 18th century and his female entourage. That done, I, too, shot up the steps and into the entrance hall behind the great wooden door.
As I passed through the doorway, someone remarked ‘original’. It could have been me they were talking about, in which case I am glad that I did not catch the last word, but I think they meant the door, which they believed was genuinely old. The key to the door looked old, also. I did not stop to verify this as my toes were nipped and nippy, but I must say that I would not want this heavy, six-inch metal object hanging on my key ring.
The 18th century photograph taken outside had been a prelude to what awaited me on the other side of the door, a flirtation with the past possessing curious overtones of baronial medievalness and 19th century sobriety. Too many facets for immediate computation presented themselves, but the tiled flooring, stained glass partition windows, beamed and lattice-work ceilings, heavy Tudor-style wrought iron chandeliers, enamel and metal signs and, on either side of the hall, views of an eclectic profusion of bygones announced your departure from the 21st century, which, let us not be shy in saying it, can by no means be misconstrued as anything but agreeable.
The extent of the building’s restoration to date is confined to the ground floor, but make no mistake, given the size of the building and the condition in which it was found after 10 years of neglect, the work involved so far has been nothing short of considerable.
If you were to put the plaster entirely back on the walls and mask out the curios and relics, the feeling of being back at school would be understandably justified since, in Soviet times, this is what it had been ~ Nizovie village school. Interestingly, some among today’s visitors were former pupils who attended the school in the 1960s and 70s.
Prior to its scholastic purpose, in German times the building had served the village as an all-inclusive health centre and, considering Nizovie’s diminutive size, an elaborate one at that. It had contained a dentist’s surgery, doctor’s surgery and also an apothecary.
The apothecary theme has been picked up by the building’s restorers and built into the first room on the left hand-side of the hall, which today doubled as an exhibit’s gallery and refreshment centre. The room is screened off, but not enclosed, by a decorative wrought iron framework, likewise the room opposite. This is an excellent arrangement as it affords irresistible glimpses of all that lies beyond.
Today, it was a choice of hot beverages and snacks, or, if you were so inclined, exotic and novel alcoholic infusions. Into the room we went!
The first one I sampled was a herb-based liqueur, the secret ingredient of which, or so it was whispered, is amber, over which the liquid recipe is poured and then slowly left to marinate. I took a nip of this not knowing what to expect and instantly wished I had been more greedy!
The second beverage was difficult to decant. It sat within a giant, thin-necked oblong bottle. Snow-bitten fingers and hands that looked like salmon made manoeuvring this a risky endeavour, but not one to forego a challenge, at least when it comes to alcohol, needless to say I excelled myself and was thus rewarded with a delicious glass, which then became two, of mead. Other people in the room must also have been unsure as to whether they had the dexterity to safely handle the bottle, since nobody made for the mead until I had shown them the way, after which I was quickly promoted to chief difficult bottle controller and mead dispenser extraordinaire!
Whilst drinking this pick-me-up, I was able to enjoy the many and various apothecary elements displayed in the wall-side cabinets as well as reflect favourably on specific details of restoration, for example the technique repeated throughout the building of contrasting exposed and clean brickwork with asymmetrical flowing panels of plaster.
In this room, the plastered section has been artistically decorated with large, coloured illustrations of herbs and plants, accompanied by short descriptions of their medicinal value and the curative or health-giving properties that each is said to impart. The apothecary theme is further enhanced by a line of suspended dried plants strung against the ceiling and, of course, by a multiplicity of obsolete bottles together with teeth-chilling dentistry and twinge-inducing surgical instruments.
Anaesthetised by the pleasant brew, I did, however, eventually vacate this room and, fortified as much if not more than I should be, given the time of day, I set off floating somewhat on a personal voyage of discovery.
Restoration brings Museum to Life in Nizovie
Having stopped for five minutes to enjoy the resuscitating heat puthering out from a great barrel of a wood burner, which bore an uncanny resemblance to a vintage eight-cylinder car engine, my explorations revealed that the building’s ground floor is arranged around a T-shaped profile. The entrance hall, flanked by the two rooms, has no door at its opposite end. A corridor running at right angles to it lets into rooms adjacent, and at either end of this corridor, within two symmetrical wings, a room in each is located transverse to the others.
The room on the opposite side of the entrance hall, the apothecary’s counterpart, is chocker block, mostly with relics of a domestic nature, ranging from kitchen utensils to telephones, whilst the end room in the wing on the right contains larger, more bulky household devices and many other items and implements once commonplace to gardening and agricultural work. All this was good, educational and insightful stuff from the past, reminding us that before the universality of plastic everything from watering cans to ‘washing machines’ had been manufactured from heavy, solid materials including, but not limited to, galvanised steel, wrought iron and wood.
The most inspiring and thought-provoking of the museum’s exhibit rooms are, without question, the one themed around bygone motorcycles, associated vehicle parts and ephemera and the other which is devoted to the Second World War.
As a westerner, the two-wheeled Soviet transport displayed offered me an intriguing chance to compare the similarities of and differences between the mopeds and motorbikes used in postwar Soviet Russia with models I was familiar with in the UK that had been manufactured and ridden in an era contemporaneous to that of their Russian counterparts.
This room also contains a number of enamel wall signs, most of them German, some advertising motor oils, others vehicle requisites.
These signs are a particular favourite of mine and were, and no doubt still are, highly sought-after by collectors and interior designers. When we owned and ran our UK-based antique and vintage emporium enamel signs were never out of demand.
The Nizovie exhibition of Soviet war memorabilia is really in a class of its own. Naturally, it helps with a display of this kind that the environment in which it is housed has a stark, industrial feel to it, a backdrop which comes naturally to buildings of a certain age where the walls and floors are made of brick, the ceilings lined with thick oak beams and the lighting commercial in character.
Mr Zverev and his helpers have spared nothing creatively in an effort to frame the exhibits in such a way that they guarantee emotivity.
Two explicitly detailed and dramatic murals, one a battle scene raging above and around Königsberg Castle, the other a depiction of vanquished Hitler youth and battle-exhausted German soldiers forlornly resigned to their fate as they huddle against the walls of a bomb-gutted Königsberg Cathedral, capture the hell of war in its devastating consequences for culture and humanity.
Suffering and death are also served up in two macabre symbolic compositions: one is a life-sized skeleton dressed in a German greatcoat wearing a gas mask; the other, aligned above him, is a wall painting of a Nazi officer in full military uniform locked behind a grid of real iron bars. The mask used for the face in this depiction has allowed the artist to twist and distort it into a crumpled agony of bewildered despair.
Displayed against this sensory backdrop is a diverse assortment of German and Soviet field gear, some excavated others well-preserved, as well as small arms, edged weapons, military uniforms, flags and banners and examples of heavier weapons such as the Maxim M1910, Degtyaryov machine gun DP-27 and what I think may be a tripod-mounted German MG34 anti-aircraft gun. A particularly interesting exhibit is the military motorbike and sidecar combination fully equipped with machine guns.
Another valuable asset was the war room’s guide — a knowledgeable re-enactor dressed in full Soviet combat uniform. As my Russian is slow and still has a few shell holes in it waiting to be plugged, the fact that this particular Russian infantryman could speak good English and, as with most re-enactors, was a mine of information (Did you get it? ‘Mine’ of information? Alright, well you do better!) proved most beneficial.
In conclusion, Ivan Zverev’s red-bricked building, a one-time German centre for a doctor’s, dentist’s and apothecary, which later became a Soviet school, has been rescued from extinction. It is a deserving restoration project, a first-class example of the architectural style of its time and the culture from which it derives, which now, in addition to its intrinsic merit, accommodates, thanks to Mr Zverev, a unique historical exposition that combines the satisfaction of entertainment with an improved understanding of the socio-cultural timeline of this fascinating region.
All in all, I must say that this Christmas Day was one to remember. Thank you, Ivan Zverev, for your gracious invitation!
Ivan Zverev and the Zverev Creation
Ivan Zverev, the inspiration behind the restoration of the former Soviet school and medical centre in the village of Nizovie, is a Kaliningrad businessman. He purchased the derelict school after a long search for somewhere close to Kaliningrad where he could establish a museum dedicated to the history of Königsberg and its territory which would encompass its pre-war German, wartime and Soviet periods.
Already, a percentage of that vision has been brought to fruition with exhibitions devoted to a German pharmacy, German post office, motorcycles of the 1960s and 70s (a personal interest of Mr Zverev’s), a WWII exposition and artefacts pertaining to gardening and agriculture. Mr Zverev has also obtained thousands of photographs and associated documentation relating to the building when it was a school, which he intends to use as a basis for a classroom diorama.
Ivan Zverev is a hands-on restorer. He fully understood from the outset that the restoration of a building as large and run down as Nizovie School would be no undertaking for the faint hearted, but often the hard graft that underscores labour for love is not without its special compensations, and Ivan was rewarded for his hard work.
In a hitherto unknown or forgotten cellar, exciting finds were unearthed ~ a mummified mouse in a mousetrap (possibly of German ancestry), shelves containing cans of unopened food and ~ joy upon joys ~ a real German motorbike in remarkably good condition!
In a disused well at the back of the building a further discovery was made, which Ivan Zverev considers to be one of the most poignant and historically valuable. It is a white enamel dentist’s sign, inscribed in German ‘Dental Practice, Kai Marx, Dentist’. As this find ties in with at least one important vocational aspect of the building’s history, it now has pride of place in Nizovie’s entrance hall.
Ivan Zverev’s business and cultural curriculum vitae testify to a long-standing interest in and love for the past, especially for the land in which he lives and for the Soviet era in general. It is also reflected in his passion for acquiring antiques and collectable and in ‘Chevalier’, the quirky mediaeval-styled restaurant which he conceived, created, owns and operates in Alexander Kosmodemyansky, a village outlying Kaliningrad.
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