by Mick Hart

Published: 18 April 2020

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.

When somebody prefaces an introduction with ‘you’ll like him/her’, the Imp of the Perverse often ensures that you won’t, but there is no doubt in my mind, or memory, that I warmed to him immediately. This surprised me, because I am naturally, or unnaturally depending on your definition, cautious when meeting someone new, and I am somewhat selective when it comes to making friends. But Victor won me over in an instant.

How much of his good nature, depth of intellect, openness and sincerity were perceived at that moment is open to question, and I am sure that the surroundings in which I found myself contributed not a little to my relaxed frame of mind, but I still recall that overriding impression of being in the company of someone very special.

The Studio: Victor Ryabinin Artist Historian

We met in Victor’s studio ~ a small, wedge-shaped room at the top of a non-descript concrete Soviet block of flats. Little did I know then as I climbed the tier upon tier of crumbling steps leading to his studio, how many more times over the next 18 years I would climb them or how enthusiastically.

As an inveterate collector of vintage, antiques, junk, and having been obsessed with the past for as long as I can remember, at least from the age of four, Victor’s studio was an absolute paradise. It was a cornucopia of relics, a living memorial to the past splendour of Königsberg, a stimulating reminder of its World War II legacy and its subsequent reincarnation as the Soviet city Kaliningrad.

The back wall of the studio alone was worth travelling one thousand, one hundred and seventy-five miles for! It had been clad from floor to ceiling with a carefully orchestrated mosaic of old enamel advertising, information and military signs, some from pre-war Königsberg, others of wartime origin, identified as such by the presence of the Nazi swastika.

The back wall of the studio alone was worth travelling one thousand, one hundred and seventy-five miles for!

Everywhere else there was stuff: bottles dug out of the Königsberg ruins, the corroded remains of wartime weapons, vintage Soviet uniforms, metal wall plaques ~ including profiles of Hitler and Stalin ~ German and Soviet military helmets, plates, cutlery, bits and bobs of jewellry, fragments of porcelain, bottle tops. Everywhere ~ on tables, shelving, walls and floor was stuff ~ relics from a dissolved city, sublimely intermingled with Victor’s works of art-history: symbolic paintings, surreal sculptures and unique subliminally haunting ‘assemblages’.

Living history: Victor Ryabinin Königsberg Kaliningrad

In one corner, by the wall, there was a set of old wooden steps that led to a small gantry, which had a slatted rail to the front. When we first visited the studio, this rail was adorned with one or two vintage flags and three or four military visor caps. In those days, the ‘upper storey’ had been sufficiently empty for Victor to bed down there if the mood so took him. When we last visited in 2019, however, the entire front rail of the gantry was obscured with all manner of flags, hats and other items and the gantry itself was full. This, as they say, was a man after my own heart! The studio was a nostalgists heaven! And a work of living history to a city that had ceased to be.

On our first visit to the studio, we had taken with us a ‘picnic’: some meats, cheeses, salad items, crisps, olives and pickled gherkins. We had also taken some vodka and sat around the small rectangular table shared by all sorts of interesting bygones, including the busts of Karl Marx and Lenin, who were watching us intently. This set in motion a social ritual which would be practiced many times over the next 18 years.

Artist Historian Victor Ryabinin Königsberg Kaliningrad

On my office wall, in the antique emporium that we used to run in England, I had a framed photograph of myself and Victor taken during a rainy day on Svetlogorsk (Rauschen) beach in winter 2004, together with a framed printed plaque of Lenin, which Victor had presented to me in the form of a spoof award. On this plaque he had written the presentation in beautifully scrolled and flowing calligraphic script, and because he did not know my last name and as at the time when he produced the plaque I was living in Bedford, he wrote the dedication to me in the name of ‘Mick Bedford’.

These two items were guaranteed to raise questions from friends and customers alike, and I was only too happy and extremely proud to introduce them to my friend Victor, a Russian from Kaliningrad who was an accomplished artist, philosopher, historian and a wonderful human being.

I would show them the many photographs of my trips to Kaliningrad, when we were in Victor’s presence, especially photographs that had been taken in the studio, and I would say to them, “It is worth going to Kaliningrad, just to meet this man.”

Sometimes I liked to add a touch of mystery. Just before I left for Kaliningrad, I would drop a hint that I was off on holiday. Where too? they would ask. My answer: “To the Shrine to Königsberg.” ~ Victor’s studio.

Victor Ryabinin Artist Historian: Königsberg

Whenever I holidayed in Kaliningrad I would make the most of it, staying there for four or five weeks at a time. Victor and the studio were constantly top of my itinerary list, and I have lost count of the number of social evenings we spent in that hallowed place, the studio, and, later, the excursions we went on, both around Kaliningrad itself and further into the region. Suffice it to say, they were wonderful times.

We had begun talking about moving to Kaliningrad as far back as 2015, although I do not think that I had any intention of committing myself at that time. However, Victor’s enthusiasm, positivity, indefatigable interest in novelty and his sincere affirmation, ‘of course you could live here!’, must have worked its magic behind the scenes of consciousness, for, one day, when my wife and I were discussing the prospect more earnestly, it suddenly dawned on me that if I did move to Kaliningrad I would be living in Victor’s city, the city that was his life and his life’s work.

That I believe was the defining moment; that was when I made the decision to move. I looked upon the possibility of living in Victor’s Königsberg to be an honour and a privilege. I could hardly believe that by doing so I would be able to associate with him more often and looked forward to more historical excursions around the city and region and, under his tutelage, developing my historical knowledge of the city’s past. I was also looking forward, of course, to those evenings of camaraderie, sitting in the atmospheric studio, the Shrine to Königsberg, relaxing in the company of mutual friends, chatting whilst drinking vodka or cognac.

From that moment, it was no longer a question of should I move, but how quickly could I move?

Unfortunately, the practical aspects of relocation took too long and by the time we arrived in Kaliningrad in December 2018, unbeknown to us and to Victor himself, Victor’s life was ebbing way and in seven months’ time he would be dead.

Victor Ryabinin Königsberg Kaliningrad

Victor Ryabinin was, without question, one of the finest people I have ever known. He was an exceptional human being. In the words of a mutual friend, “I am proud that I was close to this great man”.

I admired him for his artistic talent; I respected him for his phiIosophy; I adored him for his love of history; I loved him as a person.

When he died, last July (July 2019), of cancer, it was a great personal tragedy for me. Apart from my wife, Olga, he was the single most influential person to tip the scales in favour of me coming to live in Kaliningrad. If he was here today, he would correct me at this juncture ~ “Königsberg, Mike!” In fact, this became something of an in-joke. I would purposefully refer to the city as Kaliningrad just to have him correct me. He continues to do so. I think he always will.

Victor Ryabinin was not just an artist-historian. He was far, far and away beyond that. He was a time traveller: a man who could talk to the past, empathise with the past and commune with it.

He was a man of small stature but great presence. He had an aura about him, a magnetic personality and was thoroughly and utterly engaged and engaging. The magic ethos with which Victor was infused stemmed from many sources. His personality was one of calm and calming repose. He was good natured, good humoured, his sense of humour was playful but never acerbic. His philosophy of life seemed to be based on two short words: ‘ne problem’ ~ things could be an ‘issue’ but never ‘a problem’, and issues could always be resolved, or would resolve themselves in the fullness of time. This reassuring attitude, this positive philosophy made Victor’s company always good. No matter how you felt before meeting with him, you came away from his company with an overwhelming sense of wellbeing. Victor’s company had the feelgood factor.

The Spirit of Königsberg

As an artist and historian, there was profundity and depth, but they were free from the heaviness and pretentiousness by which these qualities are so often confounded. Victor practised humility and was never confrontational. He would express himself and then move on. He never forced his point of view upon you.

The magnetism of his innate character came from a spiritual energy, which I believe was made more potent as it was drawn from the same source, the same well from that which Königsberg drew its spiritual energy. Victor was not just one among a number of talented people who originated from or who worked in Königsberg, he was the Spirit of Königsberg.

Last but by no means least, there was Victor’s inquisitiveness. It was one of his most endearing character traits.

At the gathering of friends and family after his funeral, Victor’s nephew said of Victor that he had a childlike inquisitiveness, a curiosity to know, to learn, to explore and that this quality remained with him throughout his life. It is true that Victor exhibited profound and sincere astonishment at every new revelation. He was a keen observer of life for whom everything had an intrinsic interest; nothing passed him by. As Boris Nisnevich records in his article An Artist Who Can Hear Angels Speak, Victor himself said, “I can only guess what boredom is”.

“I can only guess what boredom is”.

Victor Ryabinin

Another of his friends claimed that ‘Victor created his own reality’. I suppose that each and every one of us does this. Victor’s reality is possibly best summed up in the name he gave to one of his final compositions (‘assemblages’, as he liked to call them). He called it The Relics that will Save my Soul.

In the last analysis, it is impossible to extricate, separate or divorce Victor Ryabinin from Königsberg. Whenever I see the word Königsberg and whenever I hear it, it is impossible not to think of Victor. The two were, are and always will be synonymous.

In the work that follows, a biographical essay of Victor’s life and the experiences and influences that informed his art and love of Königsberg,  Boris Nisnevich celebrates the life of a unique artist-historian and an exceptional human being.

Victor Ryabinin could talk to angels, there is no doubt about that, and through his work and in his memory those angels speak to us.

I miss him.

Victor Ryabinin, Artist, Historian, Philosopher ~ The Spirit of Königsberg
{17 December 1946 ~ 18 July 2019}

Copyright © 2018-2020 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.