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 …
To coincide with what would have been Victor Ryabinin’s 75th birthday, a book has been published which celebrates and commemorates his life and work. Conceived, supervised and edited by Kaliningrad artist Marina Simkina, daughter of the famous Russian poet Sam Simkin, and Boris Nisnevich, author and journalist, this fascinating book contains personal memories of Victor Ryabinin and critical acclaim of his work and career from 28 of his friends and colleagues.
More information about the book can be found by following this link [Victor Ryabinin the Artist Born in Königsberg], which will take you to the permanent pages on this blog under the category Victor Ryabinin Königsberg.
An artist who can hear angels speak Художник, у которого ангелы говорят Kaliningrad author and journalist, Boris Nisnevich’s essay on the haunting influence that Königsberg’s ruins had on Victor Ryabinin’s philosophy and art: “When I wrote the draft to this article, I wrote that I believe there is no equal to him in Kaliningrad — I still believe he has no equal.” ~ Boris Nisnevich
In Memory of Victor Ryabinin This article was published in memoriam on the first anniversary of Victor’s death. Victor died on 18 July 2019.
Personal Tour Guide Kaliningrad Stanislav Konovalov (Stas) was a student and close friend of Victor Ryabinin. In the months following Victor’s death Stas supervised and worked on the emotionally and physically difficult task of dismantling, packing, transporting and storing the many and various Königsberg artefacts, artworks and assorted relics that once adorned and constituted The Studio ~ Victor’s atmospheric art studio and celebrated reception room. Stas took detailed photographs and measurements of the room in the hope one day that it could be reconstructed as part of a permanent exhibition to Victor and his work. Sadly, Stas himself passed away in November 2020. We live in hope that someone will continue the work that his untimely demise left unfinished. This is Stas’ story.
Victor Ryabinin’s Headstone Königsberg After quite a hiatus Victor’s grave was finally bestowed with a headstone befitting the man and the artist. It shows Victor sitting on a stool in his art studio. He is leaning nonchalantly in his chair, relaxed, unassuming, in tune with himself, his life and the world around him. His right arm is resting on one of his art-historian creations, his left arm cradling the base. The artwork is an assemblage, a composition of assorted Königsberg relics assembled icon-like within a frame …
Published: 18 July 2021 ~ Victor Ryabinin a word with him after his Death
On the second anniversary of Victor Ryabinin’s death, I recall Victor saying of himself, “I suppose you could call me a cheerful pessimist.” His ironic self-assessment led me to the conclusion that if he could call himself a cheerful pessimist, I could call myself (amongst other things!) a pragmatic Romanticist.
My wife, Olga, however, is an explorer of and believer in esoteric, spiritual and metaphysical doctrines. Thus, it was no contraindication of our normality that just before falling asleep one night Olga should embark upon an epilogue that adumbrated her philosophic convictions that human kind, the world as we perceive it and the universe of which we are a part operate as an omnipotent mechanism, a machine of Art Nouveau amalgamation melding and interconnecting all of nature’s components, giving them purpose and place within a grand and mysterious scheme that starts before life and does not end with death.
I prefer to count sheep myself, or beer bottles, but that’s pragmatic Romanticism for you.
Olga believes that if you want something and that you visualise that something with devout conviction you can shape your own reality. It is simply another way of saying, “Life is what you make it”, or in Hollywood speak, “Dreams really can come true”.
On this particular occasion, however, she was not talking about her extreme good fortune of having met and married me, but about her increasing interest in and love for Königsberg-Kaliningrad, which has received inspirational impetus from her recent discovery of the architectural splendours of Komsomolskaya street, the street on which the Home for Veterans is situated, a street which has more than its fair share of late 19th century early 20th century buildings, built, embellished, thankfully preserved and carefully restored, in the grand style. She was so entranced by her May-time visit to this street that she wrote about it on her Facebook page:
Olga Korosteleva-Hart [Facebook]
Shared with Public
Do not underestimate the importance of the human factor! These beautiful bas-reliefs would have been destroyed if it were not for the woman in this series of pictures, whose name I sadly did not ask. She told me that building site workers tried to hammer the bas-reliefs from the walls of this 19th century house just before they began to paint the building, arguing that the symbols were Germanic and therefore were not relevant to Russians. It was only when the lady reasoned with them and wrote complaints to the city’s administration that the reliefs were restored and repainted in their original colour.
The history of the suburb of Hufen (the location of the buildings) is mentioned in the 13th century, but only in the 19th century did it begin to assume the shape that Kaliningrad’s residents see today. Queen Louise of Prussia spent her summer months in Luisenval, as this area was known in her time [early 19th century] , and this was the reason for its rapid development.
In the 19th century Hufen was divided into three parts: Forder Hufen – Far Hufen, Mittelhufen – Middle Hufen and Hinter Hufen ~ Further Hufen and was later renamed Amalienau. By this time, the urban layout of the streets had already been formed, and the wealthy owners of the villas laid a cobblestone road. In 1896, an architectural competition for the development of the Luisenallee, organised by the Eastern Bank of Konigsberg, established planning rules. The first and most important rule was to restrict the height of the buildings, the second was to adhere to half-timbered construction and the third to incorporate abundant decorative elements. The rules also spelt out several mandatory cosmetic conditions, one of which involved the addition of elegant ornamentation iconic to Gothic architecture or associated with national romantic symbols.
I would like to thank the lovely lady who managed to save these evocative ancient pagan symbols from modern barbarism. If we all cared about our environment and our shared history regardless of nationality as she does, life would be so much more beautiful!
And, note this:
“I love my city! Vibrant, busy and green!”
Victor Ryabinin, a word with him after his death
She told me that whilst she was walking along this street, she realised just how much she loved Kaliningrad. She said that she sees its imperfections less and less and that, like Victor, she is always discovering and learning something new.
She thought how pleased Victor would have been to have known how much Kaliningrad and its Königsberg heritage meant to her, and, as she was thinking this, Victor appeared to her.
She said, I spoke to him. I asked what he was doing now, and he replied that I am still learning; I am just in another realm.
She connected these mutual feelings about Kaliningrad to her ‘life is what you want it to be’ philosophy. Some people, she infers, can see the good in Kaliningrad, others cannot or will not. But, she believes, that if you see and feel Kaliningrad-Königsberg in a positive light, the city will reward you.
She proceeded to remind me of a day we spent with Victor. We were walking past an old, partly burnt-out Königsberg building. When we brought this building to Victor’s attention, he chuckled. He told us that years ago it used to be a police station. He must have been rather drunk one night, because having been arrested on the streets of Kaliningrad he had the pleasure of spending the night in the cells of this building. When they released him, he cursed the place and wished it would burn down. Shortly afterwards, it did.
From which we had to conclude that our kind, inoffensive and easy-going friend was something of a subliminal pyromaniac. Still, I never had a problem when we visited him in his studio in getting a light for my cigar.
But it was not the mysterious elements of these two stories that had prompted Olga to recall this day. It was Victor’s enthusiasm for a number of old buildings along the street where the burnt-out police station stood.
“I could not understand how Victor could be so excited by these buildings and by the spaces occupied by new buildings where old buildings used to be. I just did not get it,” said Olga. “But now I understand.”
The Mystical Nature of Victor Ryabinin
She alluded to the mystical qualities inherent in this city, referring to the symbolism expressed in the many bas-reliefs and in the other forms of ancient decoration, concluding that in days gone by, and not so long ago, people were more attuned to the other dimension, the world beyond our material existence. It was this intuitiveness that endowed people with a sense of belonging, belonging to the world and the universe. It imparted knowledge of the ‘otherness’ and the place that mortals occupy within its schema. It gave people a deeper insight into and understanding of the mystical, all of which is now threatened by an overt and misappropriated emphasis instilled and prosecuted by the globalists for the sake of their ‘Me, Myself, I’ culture, at the centre of which is alienating technology and the drive to reduce us all to nothing more than consumer clones. And I am sure that within this context coronavirus and its divisive objective also got a mention.
I thought for a moment, and then said, “There was certainly something mystical about Victor.”
“We were perceptive to this,” she emphasised. “This is why we enjoyed Victor’s company, because we were on the same wavelength. Victor was unique in many ways. He was non-judgemental; he accepted people for what they were, and he accepted situations; I do not remember him being really negative about anything or anyone.”
It is two years now, by our understanding of time, since Victor stepped out of time, but hardly a day goes by when we do not mention him. Since his death, Victor has become the benchmark by which we judge both the architectural and cultural developments in this region. Whenever we observe something new, such as the restoration of an old building or the construction of a new one, one or other of us will ask, “I wonder if Victor would have approved of this?” or will categorically state, “Victor would have loved this!” or “Victor would not have liked this!” whatever the case may be.
On 20 May 2021, Olga learnt that the green light had been given for Kaliningrad to invest in and organise the Kant celebration, which is scheduled to take place on the anniversary of the birth of Immanuel Kant, the German philosopher, in 2024.
As a boy who grew up in the ruins of Konigsberg and for whom this city and its history was his first love and his life’s work, the prospect of the Kant celebration was something that was very dear to Victor’s heart and something he had been looking forward to experiencing. Said Olga, on hearing the news that the Kant celebration was to go head: “Victor would have been so proud!”
We, too, are proud, to have been blessed with the friendship of Victor Ryabinin.
Postscript:
On the first anniversary of Victor Ryabinin’s death, our friend Stas (Stanislav Konovalov), student and friend of Victor Ryabinin, drove us to Victor’s graveside to pay our respects. Afterwards, we stopped in Kaliningrad and went for a short walk along the top of the ramparts and defensive banks next to the King’s Gate. Stas died in November 2020.
On the 75th anniversary of Victor Ryabinin’s birth
Published: 17 December 2020 ~ A book about Victor Ryabinin
To coincide with what would have been Victor Ryabinin’s 75th birthday, a book has been published which celebrates and commemorates his life and work. Conceived, supervised and edited by Kaliningrad artist Marina Simkina, daughter of the famous Russian poet Sam Simkin, and Boris Nisnevich, author and journalist, this fascinating book contains personal memories of Victor Ryabinin and critical acclaim of his work and career from 28 of his friends and colleagues.
More information about the book can be found by following this link [Victor Ryabinin the Artist Born in Königsberg], which will take you to the permanent pages on this blog under the category Victor Ryabinin Königsberg.
The following articles relating to Victor, his life and his art, also appear in this category:
An artist who can hear angels speak Художник, у которого ангелы говорят Kaliningrad author and journalist, Boris Nisnevich’s essay on the haunting influence that Königsberg’s ruins had on Victor Ryabinin’s philosophy and art: “When I wrote the draft to this article, I wrote that I believe there is no equal to him in Kaliningrad — I still believe he has no equal.” ~ Boris Nisnevich
In Memory of Victor Ryabinin This article was published in memoriam on the first anniversary of Victor’s death. Victor died on 18 July 2019.
Personal Tour Guide Kaliningrad Stanislav Konovalov (Stas) was a student and close friend of Victor Ryabinin. In the months following Victor’s death Stas supervised and worked on the emotionally and physically difficult task of dismantling, packing, transporting and storing the many and various Königsberg artefacts, artworks and assorted relics that once adorned and constituted The Studio ~ Victor’s atmospheric art studio and celebrated reception room. Stas took detailed photographs and measurements of the room in the hope one day that it could be reconstructed as part of a permanent exhibition to Victor and his work. Sadly, Stas himself passed away in November 2020. We live in hope that someone will continue the work that his untimely demise left unfinished. This is Stas’ story.
Victor Ryabinin’s Headstone Königsberg After quite a hiatus Victor’s grave was finally bestowed with a headstone befitting the man and the artist. It shows Victor sitting on a stool in his art studio. He is leaning nonchalantly in his chair, relaxed, unassuming, in tune with himself, his life and the world around him. His right arm is resting on one of his art-historian creations, his left arm cradling the base. The artwork is an assemblage, a composition of assorted Königsberg relics assembled icon-like within a frame …
Published: 17 December 2020 ~ Victor Ryabinin the Artist Born in Königsberg
To coincide with what would have been Victor Ryabinin’s 75th birthday, a book has been published which celebrates and commemorates his life and work. Conceived, supervised and edited by Kaliningrad artist Marina Simkina, daughter of the famous Russian poet Sam Simkin, and Boris Nisnevich, author and journalist, this fascinating book contains personal memories of Victor Ryabinin and critical acclaim of his work and career from 28 of his friends and colleagues.
Young artists! Victor Ryabinin & Marina Simkina (From the book Victor Ryabinin the Artist Born in Königsberg (Marina Simkina)
This 198-page commemorative anthology, which has been produced to the highest standards in full colour and landscape format, provides a valuable and affectionate insight into who Victor Ryabinin was and his unique contribution to our understanding of Königsberg-Kaliningrad’s remarkable legacy as a place of dramatic change, an incomparable centre of culture and a magnetic hub for creative talent.
A Victor Ryabinin ‘Assemblage’ (From the book Victor Ryabinin the Artist Born in Königsberg)
The book contains numerous photographs capturing Victor both in creative mode and at leisure. It also incorporates examples of some of his most memorable works, presenting his sketches, drawings and paintings and includes his idiosyncratic and evocative Königsberg ‘assemblages’ ~ large frames in which random fragments of Königsberg are artistically assembled to form latter-day icons, a symbolic act which enabled Victor to explore his philosophy of universal interconnectivity, in this instance the destiny of two cultures symbiotically fused by time, place and fate.
The book also contains various extracts from Victor’s phenomenal pictorial diaries, which for me are the most fascinating and thought-provoking accomplishments of his career.
Victor Ryabinin’s pictorial diary (From the book Victor Ryabinin the Artist Born in Königsberg)
Victor was hardly ever without his sketch book, his ubiquitous fold-over drawing pad, in which he would faithfully and meticulously record everything that interested him. Spanning a period of 50 years, the page-a-day inclusions range from simple sketches and notes, verse and philosophic comments, often entered in a beautifully flowing calligraphic hand, typically sharing space on the same page with a bottle label, sweet wrapper or any other souvenir arbitrarily collected from a restaurant, bar or anywhere else he had frequented on a particular day, to highly intricate and detailed drawings, mostly symbolic in nature.
Victor Ryabinin’s pictorial diary (From the book Victor Ryabinin the Artist Born in Königsberg)
Each page, with its distinctively different collage, told him where he had been and what he had seen that day. It also captures his mood and artistic frame of mind at the moment of representation. Whilst functioning as a journal and being works of art in themselves, each sketch book contains pages, and within those pages numerous stimuli, of inspirational material that Victor could use at a later date for a broader and larger canvas.
Victor Ryabinin’s pictorial diary (From the book Victor Ryabinin the Artist Born in Königsberg)
The range and scope of artistic expression within these journals alone demonstrate Victor’s acute observation of the world in which he lived whilst revealing glimpses into his inner world, the one shaped by symbolism, in which he worked and flourished.
Book illustrations by Victor Ryabinin
Whenever I mention Victor Ryabinin, I am met with the same reply, “Ahh, you mean Victor Ryabinin the artist!” But I tend to think of him as Victor Ryabinin the social historian, the art-historian, not somebody who studied the history of art but who made the unique history of the ruined city in which he was born and lived his lifelong study, and who made sense of it and articulated his thoughts and feelings about it using art and the symbolist genre as his medium for expression.
Victor Ryabinin was truly a one-off, both in terms of his defined artistic-historical focus and in being one of the most agreeable, charmingly charismatic and humanistic of people that you could ever wish to meet.
(From the book Victor Ryabinin the Artist Born in Königsberg(Sergey Federov)
Within the covers of this superb publication, thanks to Boris Nisnevich and Marina Simkina, those who knew Victor, loved him, valued his work and everything that he stood for, pay tribute to the artist and the man, the likes of which in all probability we will never meet again.
Victor Ryabinin is a synonym for Königsberg. And this is the book by which he will be remembered.
(From the book Victor Ryabinin the Artist Born in Königsberg)
Photographs & inspiration fromVictor Ryabinin the Artist Born in Königsberg, compiled, edited and published byMarina Simkina and Boris Nisnevich (2020)
Victor’s grave is adorned with a headstone befitting the artist and the man
Published: 14 August 2020
Yesterday (Thursday 13 August 2020) a friend emailed a photograph to us of Victor Ryabinin’s recently completed and erected headstone. I was expecting the headstone to incorporate a photographic likeness of Victor’s face, as most gravestones in Russia seem to display a portrait of the deceased, but the image on Victor’s tombstone is more than that and all the more poignant for it.
It shows Victor sitting on a stool in his art studio. He is leaning nonchalantly in his chair, relaxed, unassuming, in tune with himself, his life and the world around him. His right arm is resting on one of his art-historian creations, his left arm cradling the base. The artwork is an assemblage, a composition of assorted Königsberg relics assembled icon-like within a frame, a symbolic reincarnation of parts that in their new unity pay homage to the unique bi-cultural character by which Victor defined the seamlessness of the Königsberg-Kaliningrad time continuum.
The image depicts a man forever and inextricably connected with the subject of his life’s work ~ Königsberg. It captures the eternal spiritual symbiosis that exists between each. It also captures the essence of the man himself: his unaffected attitude towards life and people, his open good-natured manner and his kind, calm and collected philosophical disposition.
Victor Ryabinin’s Headstone Königsberg
Victor was a larger than life person. He had a magnetic personality, first appreciated and then adored, and the fact that he is no longer part of life as we understand it is hard to accept, but the ethos and quality of this monument are a fitting tribute to him, both to the art-historian and the man.
When I look on this image it does not make missing him any easier. It captures who he was so well that it is difficult to gaze upon without wanting the yesterday we all once shared.
Consolation is all elusive, except for what we find in destiny and I cannot help believing in that respect that our loss is Königsberg’s gain.
Published: 18 July 2020 on the first anniversary of Victor Ryabinin’s death
Victor Ryabinin died on 18 July 2019
For those who knew him well, it has been a difficult 12 months. The first 12 months after someone dear passes away always is. There are so many occasions that memory will not let go of, everything becomes a commemorative anniversary of the last time, and it is virtually impossible not to fall victim to the ‘this time last year’ syndrome.
As the anniversary of Victor’s death closed in, it has also been impossible not to fall under the insidious spell of that morbid countdown: viz, this time last year Victor had only four weeks left to live … It is a macabre thought is it not, that last 60 seconds of life ticking inexorably away and then nothing? Not just the physical man himself gone but, as Leonard Cohen so eloquently puts it, “that tangle of matter and ghost”. A lifetime lost in a second. A unique loss of personality, thoughts, talent, experience, good nature, kindness, humanity. It is, indeed, a morbid thought, but as a friend of mine pragmatically said about death, “Well, you can’t stop it, can you?”
There is nothing much longer than eternity, but notwithstanding in the past 12 months those of us who were fortunate enough to be counted among Victor’s friends and those whom he taught and mentored have been just as busy preserving his memory as we have been cherishing it and missing him.
Book celebrating Victor Ryabinin’s work
As well as my blog, which is dedicated to Victor Ryabinin, to his artistic talent, to the magic that he found in and brought to Königsberg-Kaliningrad and to the man himself, one of Victor’s closest friends, Marina Simkina, herself an artist, has been working with writer and journalist Boris Nisnevich to bring to fruition a book about the life and work of this remarkable man: a thematically related text with essays, personal recollections, interviews, letters and poems which taken together speak of the rich legacy that Victor has bequeathed in his paintings, assemblages, collages and diaries and, for those of us who knew him personally, in the light that his sincerity, goodwill, open nature and profound interest in everything he heard or saw brought into our lives.
On the first anniversary of Victor’s death, I have added another article to the pages of my blog contributed by our friend Stanislov, whom Victor introduced us to shortly before he passed away
Catalogue of Victor Ryabinin’s work
Stas, as we know him, is actively involved in a project which will hopefully see the canon of Victor Ryabinin’s artistic work and his collection of Königsberg ‘relics’ housed and displayed in a permanent exhibition here in Kaliningrad. He also hopes to catalogue Victor’s work and produce a definitive version in print of the extraordinary talent of this man whose self-genre as Königsberg’s art-historian captured, celebrated and ultimately cast him as the spirit of the ruined city he had spent his life divining ~ the very Spirit of Königsberg.
Victor Ryabinin’s love affair with the interconnectivity of Königsberg’s past and Kaliningrad’s present, the surface paradox of two cultures hammered together in war but mysteriously wed by time and destiny, was as devotional as it was unconditional. For him, both transition and movement were seamless; it was the place itself that ‘drew people in’ as it had drawn him in.
Victor’s childhood impressions and art-historian perspective surpassed that of mere academia ~ he lived and breathed Königsberg. It was not a lifestyle choice; it was made for him; it was predestined. The symbiotic relationship that he formed with this special, this unique place, as he called the Königsberg.-Kaliningrad continuum, continually reminded him that his soul existed in two cultures, both Russian and German, and as much as he enjoyed anywhere else he intuitively knew he belonged nowhere else. He could not precisely say why, ‘I cannot explain this magic’, but as a child of Königsberg’s ruins he instinctively knew “this is my city”.
His city, represented symbolically through the artistic fusion of his childhood memories, the interaction between Gothic ruins and Hoffman’s Gothic fantasy, transcended time and place, engendering philosophical interpretations on a universal scale. His enduring belief in the insolubility of the past’s effect on the present and of existence viewed as a fantastic web of interconnectivity may suggest that whilst he had a definite sense of place and his place in it, he was also a child of the universe, but if so he was a prodigy.
In memory of Victor Ryabinin
The oft-cited opinion of those who were close to him, that he exhibited an almost childlike fascination in everything new that he saw or heard, was not a slight on his character but a character trait to be envious of. For the majority of people, interest, as with every other human faculty, slips further and further away from us the older we become, but not so with Victor, who remained alert, fascinated, enthralled to the last. Even in the latter days of his life, when in hindsight, by recourse to photographs of that time, he appeared discernibly older and more frail, he never lost his curiosity, he never grew old as others grow old, giving up his zest for life only when life itself decided that the time had come for him to paint his last picture, make his last entry in his pictorial diary and drink his last cognac with friends.
In the shadow of death and even more desperately in its gloomy, memory-filled aftermath, we rake among the embers not of the life that has passed, the life that has been extinguished, but in what remains of our left-behind lives, in hope of consolation.
But my consolation in Victor’s death lies in the certain knowledge that whilst we grieve for ourselves, we have no real need to grieve for him, for he has returned to the self-same spot where it all began. He is a child again in the ruins of Königsberg. His spirit has gone home. He is now a part of that history which so fascinated and clung to him from the moment of his birth. It is my belief that it never let go; he was just given to us on loan; and he drew us into Königsberg as he himself had been drawn in.
If you do not believe me just listen to and read the testimonials of those who knew him and what they have to say ~ his students, friends and colleagues. Through their words and their impressions, they seek to understand the mystical aura with which Victor was endowed. We may never comprehend it entirely, but we share one thing in common which is a sense of pride and privilege that in this ephemeral but interconnected world it was fortunately predetermined that our paths should cross with his.
We shall miss him always, forget him never.
Victor Ryabinin died on 18 July 2020 Forever Königsberg
Stanislav Konovalov ~ Stas ~ passed away in November 2020 from post-operative complications whilst undergoing hospital treatment. We salute him for the memories he has bequeathed us and grieve for those that would have been had death not suddenly deprived us of his company. The biographical article that follows was originally written and published on 18th July 2020. It stands in testament to Stas’ love of the history of this city and this land and as a tribute to Stas himself, a man that we are proud to have known and been able to call our friend.
About Stas Konovalov Stas Konovalov is a professional tour guide who specialises in tours of Kaliningrad and the Kaliningrad region. His tours are given in Russian and English. His love for this land was nurtured and advanced by his friend and mentor, Victor Ryabinin, the legendary artist-historian, for whom life began in the ruins of Königsberg and for whom Königsberg became his life. Under Victor’s tuition, Stas honed his knowledge of the city and its region, from its ancient Prussian roots, through the years of the Weimar Republic, through its rise, fall and eventual destruction from the beginning to end of WWII, its fate under Soviet rule, onto the modern bustling city, attractive coastal resorts and UNESCO heritage status by which it is defined today. Stas’ tours, given in both Russian and English, can be either broad-based or thematically tailored to suit individual or group interests. He refers to them in the second half of this article, where you will also find links to his internet tour page and his introductory YouTube videos.
Originally published: 18 July 2020 on the first anniversary of Victor Ryabinin’s death
My wife and I were introduced to Stanislov (Stas) in the winter of 2018 by Victor Ryabinin. He prefaced the meeting with “I want you to meet a very good friend of mine. He has a love for Königsberg. He is an interesting man, with a very interesting flat!”
At that time my wife and I were in temporary accommodation, looking for property to buy in Kaliningrad. It was but a short walk from where we were living to ‘the interesting man and his flat’. It had been snowing and it was snowing, and I will always remember Victor jumping up and down outside the door to the block of flats where Stas lives and clicking his heels together to shake the snow from his heels, saying “This is possibly the only flat in Kaliningrad where you are not expected to take off your shoes and run around in your socks.” Apart from this phenomenon, the interesting man and his interesting flat did not disappoint.
Sadly, our mutual friend Victor died in the summer of 2019.
At the end of his funeral, we thanked Stas for his support and his company. He replied, simply but sincerely: “I think we consoled each other.”
Since then we have continued to console each other, and Stas and his girlfriend (another Olga) have become good friends. I said to my wife, Olga, it was very fortunate that Victor introduced us to Stas when he did. Typically, Olga replied, “It was no coincidence. It was meant to be.”
Stas is planning to produce a catalogue of Victor’s work and is directly involved in attempts to establish a permanent exhibition, where the legacy of Victor’s art and relics from Königsberg can be properly displayed for future generations.
This is Stas’ story, of his life leading up to his meeting with Victor Ryabinin and how under Victor’s tutelage his life going forward has been directed and shaped.
Stanislav Konovalov ~ a brief biography
Upon leaving school, I entered the Kaliningrad Technical University Commercial Fisheries Department. In 1985, it was not difficult as that department was no longer popular. The course was not easy to follow in that it covered all aspects of engineering in depth, that is theoretical mechanics, strength of materials, physics, mathematics and so on.
My university study was interrupted for two years by national service in the Soviet Army. It was a period in the mid-1980s called ‘children of the children of WWII ’, when the army had to compensate for staff shortages by enlisting students, even from technical universities in spite of the fact that these had their own military departments.
My national service was undertaken mainly in the chemical defence forces. Once completed, I was so afraid that military service had kicked my brains out that when I returned to university I needed to prove otherwise and worked as hard as I could.
Army life ~ Only 100 Days to Go!!
At university, I met old friends and made new ones who felt the same way about the possible adverse effects of army life, so we united as a group of six to seven guys and studied eagerly. Soon, we were enjoying our studies and were surprised to find that on completion of our first ‘after army’ exams we were not as stupid as we thought. Thereafter, having developed a taste for study our later successes did not surprise us so much.
As undergraduates we were eager to invent and implement something extraordinary which would push commercial fisheries forward. My diploma thesis supervisor was Professor A L Fridman, who had studied under Professor F I Baranov. A street in Kaliningrad is named after Professor Baranov, who was the founder of scientific application for commercial fisheries. His name is well known among colleagues worldwide, as his book Techniques ofCommercial Fisheries, written in 1933, was translated into many languages.
The idea which I presented to Professor Fridman was to combine fish biology (fish behavior) with specific fishing equipment in order to develop efficient and selective fisheries.
Professor Fridman, who had professional contacts worldwide, arranged for lectures to be given at our university by two doctors of science from the Aberdeen Marine Laboratory, Scotland. Some of the topics encompassed by these lectures approximated to ideas covered in my course project, so I asked if I could meet with Clem Wardle, one of the visiting lecturers, to discuss these. I felt quite confident about my English, and besides Dr Wardle had extensive experience of communicating with non-English students.
These discussions led to me being invited for a training course at the Aberdeen Marine Laboratory, prior agreement having been made that two students from our university would participate in studies in Scotland.
I presented my Diploma Statement in both Russian and English, and the next day I became an engineer and assistant of the Commercial Fisheries Department of the university. But it did not last long. Perestroika was in full swing, and I had to channel my time and energy into earning money to feed my young family, which left little time for scientific research.
When did you first become interested in art?
I was seven years old when an art enthusiast, Alevtina Maksimova, created an experimental art group in the Kaliningrad Art School. At that time, entrance was restricted to children in the 10 to 12 age group. I cannot begin to imagine the effort she must have put into creating such a group under the Soviet system. Anyway, she succeeded.
Bureaucratic barriers having been overcome, she visited schools in Kaliningrad, examined children’s drawings and selected potential students on the basis of their work. I was one of them. Initially, the art lesson lasted 15 minutes, three times a week, but gradually class time was extended to normal hours.
For the next four years, I studied sculpture, painting, drawing, history of art and so on, and it soon became routine.
When did you first meet Victor Ryabinin and what part did he play in your artistic interest?
We were drawing and painting still life and in warm seasons went outside to practise. The last academic year included the subject Applicable Composition (Design). Viktor Ryabinin was our teacher.
As for the arts, Ryabinin directed me more towards feeling the harmony and philosophy of art. It was a sort of magic. He did it so gently that I thought that I had discovered it myself.
Stanislav Konovalov
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. He was not backward in pointing out our mistakes, but he inspired! And he took a sincere interest in our artistic development, which extended beyond the classroom.
When he invited us to his art studio, I was impressed on two accounts: first, that he had invited us at all; and second, by the studio itself. It was not as cluttered as it became in later years, but it had a special atmosphere that charmed me forever.
As for the arts, Ryabinin directed me more towards feeling the harmony and philosophy of art. It was a sort of magic. He did it so gently that I thought that I had discovered it myself.
With Victor’s help, I became interested in many artistic genres: Symbolism, Surrealism and others, and creating in graphics or in colour. Ryabinin attracted my attention to Impressionism as a means of playing with colours. Still life and landscape pictures are definitely important to me as are learning basic techniques from which drawing skills accumulate that can be implemented in any genre.
As a mentor, Victor was kind but did not hold back when pointing out mistakes. Drawing my attention to the Impressionists, he repeated the words of his mentor Valentine Grigoriev, “dark – darker, light – lighter”. What this means, for example, is that the shadow of a green apple must never be painted in a dark, green colour. He said (about any object drawn): “It must be tasty and alive!”
I continued to draw and paint after finishing art school. I showed Victor each new picture, listened to his remarks and very often corrected mistakes to which he alluded and even re-drew some of my pictures. When a new picture was ready, I would telephone Victor, and we would agree on a time to meet at his studio. Later, when I stopped drawing, we remained in contact.
What made you become more interested in the history of Königsberg than to proceed with your art studies?
I have been charmed by Königsberg for as long as I can remember. Of course, in my youth there were a lot of myths circulating among children and teenagers about underground objects relevant to old Königsberg that impressed my sense of fantasy. But it was Victor who inspired a new surge of interest in the history of the city and the surrounding land. Victor was an authority on Königsberg urban life. He knew very well the history of certain districts and even certain houses. He was an excellent storyteller, often attracting your attention to particular details that had passed you by in daily life.
Through Victor, I learnt many things that I had seen throughout my life in Königsberg but had never really thought about.
Stanislav Konovalov
I learnt a lot of things from Victor of this nature, for example about the hatches on the streets and pavements, in which factories they had been made and how they were brought to Königsberg; that the granite curb stones and cobbles used in the construction of the pavements and roads had been shipped from Scandinavia. Through Victor, I learnt many things that I had seen throughout my life in Königsberg but had never really thought about.
Have you any particular memories of your association with Victor both as mentor and friend?
Victor was always pleased when I arranged to meet him at his Kaliningrad studio with visitors from other Russian cities and from abroad. By the way, the first signature in his Guest Book was that of Noel Mizen, an engineer from the ELGA Pure Water Company, England. I was an interpreter for him when he installed the purification system at Kaliningrad’s vodka plant.
Being an artist, Victor had a sharp eye. I remember once walking with him among the ruins of Balga Castle and around the lagoon coast. We had a flask of cognac, from which we sipped from time to time. The weather was good and the leisurely walk enjoyable.
Next to the water’s edge Victor picked up a small piece of something and showed it to me. He explained that it was a metal button from the trousers of a Wehrmacht soldier. I was impressed that such a tiny detail had not escaped his notice. This was part of his magic: his ability to give a lesson invisibly.
I am happy I knew Victor and that I met with him a lot. For the last years of his life we lived almost in the same street, so we would bump into each other quite often. Victor appreciated my cooking. I used to invite him for a meal, and we would sit in my kitchen, talk, and often look at and discuss the latest entries in his pictorial diaries.
I am very lucky to have met Victor and to have been his student. I learnt a lot from him. He was a great artist and a good man.
By the way, I also feel lucky that I took lessons in in martial arts from Guy Aerts, 6-dan master, the student of Tanemura Sensei, the patriarch of the Traditional Jujutsu school and that I took guitar lessons from one of the best musicians and guitar players, Sergey Teplyakov.
Stas learnt to play the guitar, but he did not mention anything about horses!
Although, I can count some achievements, I have no pretensions of being a star student. I remember the words of one of the martial arts masters: “All your achievements are the achievements of your teachers. All your defeats are the result of your remissness.”
However, I keep in contact with all my teachers, and it seems to me they enjoy it too ~ I hope!
History-based tours of Kaliningrad
(a) Can you remember the first tour that you organised? To be honest, I can’t remember my first tour. It sometimes seems as if I have been doing them all of my life. As a child I shared the knowledge that I had gained about Königsberg-Kaliningrad from adults that I had met and from my parents’ friends with my mates. When I was older, I would use that knowledge to entertain visitors in the companies where I worked. I knew more about Königsberg than my colleagues, and this enabled me to arrange sightseeing trips. Of course, looking back I see how funny and unprofessional those tours were, but the main purpose was achieved – people came on my tours, received a first impression of the place they were interested in and, wanting to know more, returned again and again.
There are two occasions that I remember in particular. The second half of my national service was undertaken in Kaliningrad, but through my national service I had made friends with guys from all over the USSR. One of them came from Samara (at that time Kuibyshev) before he was sent to Kaliningrad. This friend would walk a lot through the city. He even created a chart of the routes he had taken.
He once opined that there was nothing to see in Kaliningrad. Although we were friends, his comment irritated me. Nevertheless, I patiently asked where exactly had he walked and what had he seen? He replied, and I explained to him exactly what he had seen and what had escaped his eye. After my ellucidation his route chart extended dramatically.
Later ~ 20 years later ~ thanks to the internet, we contacted each other again. He decided to visit me in Kaliningrad and stay for five days. When I met him at the airport, he introduced me to his wife: “Meet Stas, who I told you about,” he said. “It was he who made me fall in love with Kaliningrad.”
The second occasion that I recall concerns the regional manager in Germany of the company for which I worked. She had visited the company where I would eventually work six years before I joined it and had been avoiding Kaliningrad ever since! We got to know each other and met several times at events in Moscow and in Germany. Finally, she came to Kaliningrad again.
I didn’t try to show her something extraordinary in Kaliningrad or ‘the best of the best’, after all she had lived in Bremen and Schweinfurt for decades ~ two interesting cities. I simply showed her Kaliningrad, and we went for a walk around the coastal resort Svetlogorsk. I told her about Kaliningrad after the war and included some true stories about families that I knew. At the close of her visit, I gave her a lift to Gdansk Airport. As we embraced and said our farewells, she paid me the highest compliment: “I disliked Kaliningrad,” she said, “but, thanks to you, I have almost fallen in love with it!” For me, who loves the city and introduces visitors to it, what could be better to hear?
(b) How have your tours progressed since then? Having been told by many people for whom I have organised tours that I am in the wrong job, ie that I would be better as a tour guide, I asked if I was such a bad logistics manager. My friends and colleagues then tried to assure me that I was an excellent logistics manager, but my tour-guide abilities are superb. So, whilst accepting the compliment, I still doubt my logistics professionalism.
As I became more involved in giving tours, I set about reading up on the history of Königsberg-Kaliningrad and researched particular topics. It is one thing to give sightseeing tours to friends but quite another to visitors who might be well-read on the history of Königsberg and interested in specific details. My biggest problem is memorising exact dates, and this worried me. After a while, however, I consoled myself with the thought that bachelors and masters graduates of university history departments are not typical of the type of people who want to enlist my tour service, and that ‘normal’ people don’t usually want to be overloaded with precise dates (except, perhaps, with regard to a very few extremely interesting places or situations).
Exactly a year ago, as I am writing this, I received a tourist from Moscow. The young lady, a manager in a big international company in Moscow, had a background in history. She knew the history of Königsberg quite well. I must admit that I was rather nervous about the prospect of showing her around, especially as I was recommended to her by a mutual friend. I felt that it was more like an exam for me than an excursion for her. The excursion took about 10 hours instead of the expected three-and-a-half to four hours. She was open-minded, analytical but happy to see what it was that she had read about. We understood each other well, and I think I calculated quite accurately what she wanted to see on the tour and what would impress her. Several times I hit the bullseye!
(c) Which tours specifically do you offer now? Normally, I offer a general sightseeing tour, with some particular interest deviation, for example the history of beer brewing in Königsberg-Kaliningrad, Königsberg as a fortress city, the exploration of certain districts comparing its history with its modern life, the Curonian Spit, Baltic seaside towns and so on. What is most interesting for me about guiding is trying to identify the ‘general trend’ that a particular tourist or group are interested in ~ what they expect to see and hear.
The more detailed I am able to make a narrative, the more excited they get. But I never invent my own myths; I extract the expected theme from the history I have researched and then animate it. I focus on their interest with a view towards inspiring further interest in a specific topic, place and the history that surrounds it.
YouTube videos
(a) How many YouTube videos have you completed to date? There are six at the moment. The first video I did was undertaken for a tour guides’ competition. When it was completed, I watched my video and compared it with the videos made by other participants. I was pleased to discover that the theme of my video went beyond the format required by the contest. I immediately prepared two more videos. I did not get any reward for these, except for a phone call from a federal radio channel and the pleasure of having a couple of minutes conversation on-air with radio presenters whom I particularly like.
I posted my videos on my Facebook page and also on the YouTube channel and got a few positive responses, so I thought it would be a good idea to make some more videos, the idea being that they would act as a video business-card. In my opinion, very few people are prepared to read about you, but people respond to videos in the same way as they interact with television, using the remote-control mentality. You press a button listing the TV channels. If something attracts you, grabs your attention, you might stay on one channel for a few seconds. If not, you list forward. So, my videos are brief. On one hand, to demonstrate who I am and my ability to communicate, and on the other to provide a glimpse of what my tours are about and what can be learnt at a deeper level.
(b) Elaborate on the work involved, the difficulties and the positive aspects I’m not sure if I followed it to the letter, but I keep in mind Chekhov’s idea, “be short with words, but wide with thoughts”. It took quite a while to write texts based on that precept. The initial texts were excluded. When I checked the time that it took me to read them, I was able to work out what needed to be excluded. It was a good experience. After the fourth video, my camera man, a professional, said to me “You can now work on TV”, as we made fewer single-takes than we had before.
(c) Which of your current videos do you like the best and why? I both like and hate all of them. I hate my appearance in all of them. I like what we did and how we did it. I became friends with the camera man, Mikhail. My son handled the video editing. It was, besides the purpose behind producing them, fun to make these videos. Once my son, Ed, presented me with a ‘gift’ video; it contained all my pratfalls. I laughed watching it. That was great!
Good news. I talked to Galina Zabolotskaya, the Director of the Art Museum, and she told me that they could mount a permanent exhibition of Victor’s work within a hall on the museum’s ground floor in which they commemorate artists of Königsberg and Kaliningrad. She proposed that Victor’s masterpieces be displayed in a room reserved for his work exclusively. In my estimation, this could take some time. Sergey, Victor’s nephew, wants, on one hand, to bring Victor’s pictures and his collection to as wide an audience as possible but, on the other, he is extremely cautious about who he entrusts Victor’s work to.
I can see no benefit in trying to persuade him to act until he himself is ready; in fact, I am of the opinion that too push too hard will simply provoke resistance. I keep in contact with him, and we have taken some important steps in the right direction. I feel that he is pleased with what we have done.
Apart from, and in addition to, setting up a permanent exhibition, I would like to see Victor, the man and art-historian, and the unique contribution that he has made to the memory of Königsberg, commemorated by publishing an album, or catalogue, of his work and collection. I am on the case and will keep you informed about how things are progressing.
We were outside and walking down the street! It felt alien
and wonderful at one and the same time. ‘O brave new world that has such people
in’t!’ And, as I reflected on recent events in the western media, by the
kindness of history, where we were today, no such people innit …
We were on the way first to the post office to post a letter
to my mother and family, which I had started writing in March but had not
posted due to coronavirus close-down, and then our mission was to find the
whereabouts of Königsberg’s Max Aschmann Park.
We knew it was not far away, and we were aware that it is a park of some magnitude, but our objective was to discover the way in, so that at some point in the not-to-distant future we could lessen the more austere effects of isolating by going on a picnic.
It was a beautiful summer’s day and Kaliningrad was at its greenest and, therefore, at its best. On the way we bought a couple of ice creams and stopped off at a small park not far from where we live. In the centre of this park, and a few feet away from where we were sitting, was a Soviet statue. I winked at him. “You’re safe mate,” I thought. “This is not the UK.”
Proceeding from here, feeling extremely grateful that I was far enough away from the multicultural malaise that is now, as Enoch predicted, blighting every aspect of British daily life and threatening to obliterate its cultural identity, we spotted, peeping through a small fringe of trees at the side of the road, another monument. Further investigation revealed that this great carved slab of granite sitting on a concrete plinth and vandalised only by the same natural influence that vandalises our bodies ~ Time ~ was German and of Königsberg origin, dedicated to 100 graduates of the Altstadt Gymnasium who lost their lives during the First World War.
WWI MONUMENT, KÖNIGSBERG (Kaliningrad), IN MEMORY OF 100 GRADUATES OF THE ALTSTADT GYMNASIUM WHO DIED IN THE FIRST WORLD WAR
As the photograph in this post shows, the monument is flanked by two trees which, as the architects intended, have now grown into mighty and impressive sentinels.
WWI GERMAN MONUMENT KÖNIGSBERG (Kaliningrad) MARAUNENHOF SUBURBS
Criss-crossing the streets a couple of times, and feeling a
little foolish asking people ‘do you know where the Max Aschmann Park is?’
aware as we are that the park is huge, our bearings suddenly returned to us.
Olga declared, “We are on the road that leads to the yellow church.” I also
knew that this road led to a couple of café bars, which I also knew, courtesy
of Coro, sadly would be closed.
In the heat of the day, against the green and blue backdrop of trees, shrubs and sky, a reference to this time last year flashed through me. It was a little schizophrenic moment, a duality of emotion, part sorrow, part joy ~ one rooted in grievous loss, the other in poignant memory. For a split second I saw, and quite vividly, our deceased friend Victor Ryabinin walking by our side, as he could well have been in life. The moment passed as quickly as it had arrived, and I was left with that bittersweet sensation to which we are helpless when we miss someone dear to us, something between chasmic wistfulness and eternal gratitude, the longing for yesterday softened by the sense of privilege for paths that could so easily not have crossed on our strange little journey through life.
My wife, being an advocate of predeterminism, saw it as a
fait accompli ~ whatever will be is meant to be ~ and she must be right,
because in next to no time, after a brief excursion into the grounds of an
interesting church, we arrived at the undisclosed entrance to Max Aschmann
Park.
We had never been here with Victor, but Boris Nisnevich does refer to it in his biographical essay An artist that can hear angels speak. Victor cites the park as one of the places that had been earmarked for restoration, although rumour has it that whilst some remedial work has been undertaken the project has stalled.
The Max Aschmann Park
The Max Aschmann Park was named after its benefactor who, in 1903 bequeathed the Maraunenhof estate to the city of Königsberg together with a substantial sum of money to aid in the park’s construction. The 25-hectare park took seven years to complete. By the 1940s the park had been greatly improved and expanded. It was now approximately three times the size of the original and equipped with an elaborate network of ponds, natural habitats ringed and intersected with paths and bridges, woodland groves, sporting facilities, playgrounds, curious buildings and monuments. As with most of Königsberg, the park fell victim to the Second World War and, thereafter, was neglected. Its abandoned status made it the perfect venue for itinerant drinkers and a place to rendezvous for impromptu barbecues, further contributing to its fall from grace. Sporadic maintenance has taken place in more recent years and plans for a more elaborate renovation programme are known to have been discussed. Victor Ryabinin, artist and local historian, refers to such in Boris Nisnevich’s biographical essay An artist /that can hear angels speak, but rumour has it that any plans that may have been discussed have been postponed indefinitely which, if true, is rather sad.
Our meeting today with Max Aschmann would be brief. As I said earlier, we were on a reconnaissance mission. But we followed the winding block-paved road that led to the park and tarried awhile in the wooded perimeter at the side of a large pond, a delightful interlude interwoven with beaten tracks and so natural that you could have been anywhere, anywhere that is except in the suburbs of a bustling city.
WOODLAND POND IN THE MAX ASCHMANN PARK, FORMER KÖNIGSBERG , NOW KALININGRAD
We wended our way home via a different route, stopping off
at a magazin for victuals and, oh yes, a couple of litres of beer. Well,
it was such a nice day after all …
One of these beers, a monopolistic mainstay of the Soviet era, has an interesting history, which, if I can remember anything about it after drinking the beer, I will jot down for your edification.
Our second cultural day in a row (yesterday we attended an unusual art exhibition) found us heading off for a guided tour around a flat that had belonged to a Königsberg merchant in the early 20th century. I had heard of this flat from our dear friend Victor Ryabinin ~ artist, philosopher, historian (sadly now deceased) ~ who had, as with all things Königsberg, stimulated my curiosity by informing us that the flat in question had been preserved, and restored where necessary, in all its original glory.
The flat we were going to visit today is located at
11-1 Krasnaya Street, Kaliningrad. The official name of the venue is simply but
effectively ‘Apartment Museum’. A century ago, it was the home of merchant and
grocery store owner, Gustav Grossmann, and his family. As the advertising
leaflet boldly and honestly claims, the authentic interior allows you to
‘travel back a hundred years’ and experience life ‘as a citizen of Eastern
Prussia’.
Public interest in and success of the project had prompted the exhibition owner to invest in a retro café on the site of Grossmann’s original store, which is located in the same building as the merchant’s flat, and it was here that we were rendezvousing with friend and Königsberg historian Stanislav Konovalov, known to us as Stas.
The café, which is housed in a corner section of the historic apartment building, extends from the main structure out towards the pavement. The entrance to Grossmann’s apartment is recessed, away from the pavement, a small flagstoned area leading to the front door, and can therefore be easily missed. However, the café signage does a wonderful job, calling your attention to a building of stature, which is distinctive and old-world gentrified thanks predominantly to the large show window on the ground floor and above it on the first and second floors the unusual arched windows.
The lower window has been fitted out with shelving and, even before we climbed the small flight of steps leading to the café entrance, it excited us to see a variety of bygone items beckoning us inside. The artefacts displayed included, but were not limited to, kitchen pans, clothes’ irons, ceramic pots, oil lamps and the stock in trade of antique emporiums in this part of the world, the ubiquitous German stein.
Gustav Grossmann Cafe, Kaliningrad
Anyone obsessed with the past could tell, from the demeanour of the building and the items displayed in the window, that you would not be disappointed when you stepped inside. The interior of the building has been subject to a complete and comprehensive retro makeover, with so much by way of antiques and collectables adorning shelves, festooned on the walls, cuddling in cabinets, swinging from the ceiling and dotted here and there that ~ as it is with the nature of such places ~ it was impossible at first glance and even ten minutes afterwards to take everything in. Certain features, however, made their mark and stayed there. Behind the front counter, for example ~ a long counter and one of impressive height ~ wall-to-ceiling shelving has been erected, and this shelving, consisting as it does of different sized compartments, the top section reserved for larger items such as a pair of antique radios, is occupied by a mixture of vintage and antique objects rubbing shoulders with the modern accoutrements that are vital for running a business like this, such as branded cups and saucers, selections of teas, different kinds of coffee varieties and so on. The café till, which may be modern, appears on the customer side of the counter as though it is made of wood, whilst the coffee machine, all made of shining chrome, is, in shape and appearance, an icon of the 1950s. Indeed, not everything in the café was what we English would call Edwardian or of early 20th century origin: the radio in the window, which has most likely been fitted with an electronic player, was post WWII, although the music it aired pre-dated it as late 1920s or 30s.
Window Seat, Apartment Museum, Kaliningrad
As with the interior décor no expense in detail had been spared with regard to the café’s furniture, all of which has a heritage background, from the open-sided armchair beside the counter to the two armchairs and circular salon table in front of the window. As these chairs were occupied by patrons, who were studiously observing an unwritten code of conduct, which is, or so it would seem, to adhere to a kind of library silence in the presence of the past, we took up temporary residence in the only seats available, Olga on a dining chair with a Rococo-style splat and myself on an interesting settle, which was comfortably upholstered and had, at either end, small fitted cabinets with carved, pierced fronts.
Partaking of tea in Apartment Museum Cafe ~ Königsberg
Tea was served in two dish-shaped china cups with matching saucers, backstamped Konig… . We could not make out the exact wording, but we felt certain that the proprietor of this establishment would not have trusted us with an original Königsberg tea service.
Vintage china tea cup, Gustav Grossmann Cafe, Königsberg
More or less observing the silence that everyone else was bound to, we drank our tea and continued our visual assessment, taking in the various enamel-fronted advertising signs that no antique-oriented premise should ever be without and recognising three wall-mounted cast-iron signs as tram destination plates, each bearing the number of a specific tram and the Königsberg districts which each tram had served. These distinctive and, I should imagine, highly sought-after Königsberg mementoes, which remembered the route that specific trams took, I had only seen once before and that was in the art studio of our late friend Victor Ryabinin.
Apartment Museum Cafe sells antiques
Alas, these plaques were not for sale, but some of the items were. There were three large wood and glass display cabinets containing all manner of small antique pieces ~ ceramics, tableware, relics from Königsberg ~ as well as some larger items, such as a silver-topped walking cane and a silk top hat, all of which could be purchased. Both Olga and I took an interest in the two-tier, Art Nouveau plant stand, which was slightly more unusual than the standard fare, but as the asking price was considerably higher than that which I would normally expect to pay for a similar piece in England, our interest remained just that.
We finished our tea and now that Stas had arrived and wanted a smoke, we joined the other interested parties who were waiting outside on the damp and chilly streets for the venue to open.
As 11am came and went Stas took the initiative to ring the doorbell. And seconds later the door was opened by a tall lady appropriately dressed Edwardian style, that is in a high-necked blouse and long woolen dress fastened and highlighted around the waist by an enamel-buckled cinch belt.
We were shown in to the communal hallway of the
building, a spacious entrance hall with a flight of six or seven steps to the
ground-floor landing, beyond which could be seen a rather imposing wooden railed
staircase.
The door to the time capsule we were about to enter was mid-brown wood, with long vertical paneling , the upper section letting in light through a series of small windows, the glass inside being of the wire-reinforced variety. Our little entourage filed one by one inside and as we passed ~ me gratefully ~ from the 21st century into the past, I pointed out the doorbell to Olga, which was housed in a metal plate wrought into a typical and prepossessing Art Nouveau design.
Art Nouveau doorbell, Apartment Museum, Kaliningrad
The corridor inside the flat was rather narrow and, indeed, we were soon to discover that this merchant’s flat was of no great proportion anywhere. Naturally, the space was made considerably less by the unusual volume of people that it now occupied, all at once milling and jostling as they tried to divest themselves of their outer winter garments to place in temporary storage within the deep, but not very wide, cloakroom reserved for this purpose.
Naturally, the initial impact of the transition from now to then, from new to old, would be better served with less people present, but ventures such as these need to be administered and maintained, and I would anticipate that the fee for a private viewing might prove cost-prohibitive. Nevertheless, I did find room to reflect on how reserved and dignified Mr Grossmann’s hallway was, with its black and white tiled floor, tall dark doors fitted with ornate and heavy brass handles and its wonderful bygone telephone, equipped with open cradle and sporting a large pair of bells.
Open-plan design
When we were all partially disrobed, so to speak, we were led into the living quarters, which was fundamentally one large room divided into two halves by the simple decorative effect of wooden vertical frames and pierced and moulded fretwork where the uprights meet the ceiling.
The door through which we had entered had taken us effectively into the living room/study. In the corner of the room, in front of the window, was a desk with shelves and drawers in all the usual places and with more incorporated in the elevated section of a glazed cabinet super structure. The desk held various interesting and curious pieces, including the first typewriter I had seen manufactured by Mercedes Benz. Next to the desk there was a large double-fronted glazed cabinet, containing many antique artefacts, and next to that a small sofa and copper-topped circular table.
This table was one for us. It had a built-in standard lamp, with a large bell-shaped fabric lampshade centred above it, c.1920s. Other objects of interest in this part of the room included a small, circular gramophone table complete with horn-type gramophone, a very nice carved and stuffed-over seat corner chair, used here as a desk chair, and various wall-hung paintings and antique ornaments.
Mr Grumpy (photograph withheld)
One thing that Olga had not forewarned me about was that Stas would be translating as the guide spoke, and Stas, in turn, had not been forewarned that Mr Grumpy was present. Mr Grumpy took umbrage at Stas’ mumblings in English, and even after Stas had explained his intent and purpose, Mr G could not quite permit himself the liberty of graciousness, turning every now and then to scowl at us, until eventually he slid away. At first I felt myself lean charitably in his direction, after all had not he paid for the tour like everyone else? ~ so why would he want to be distracted by Stas’ infernal utterances? But by and by I noticed that he was pretty much dissatisfied with everybody and everything. Perhaps his wife had dragged him there when he should have been in the bar? (If that had been the case, then it was perfectly understandable!)
Gustav Grossmann? No, Mick Hart at Gustav’s desk!
The guide’s talk continued for some time but the duration was necessary as we were not after all in the Palace of Versailles but in a very small, lower middle-class apartment, which, had the guide whipped us through, would have no doubt had Mr Grumpy demanding his entrance fee back!
Judging by the reaction of the rest of the group, with the omission of Mr Grumpy, the guide’s efforts appeared to meet with universal appreciation. Even with my sparse knowledge of Russian I could tell that she was a good speaker, instigating and maintaining interest and adding to it, from time to time, by drawing our attention to certain curious items, which she passed around for people to hold and examine, asking if anyone knew what they had been used for in their previous life. This technique was adopted throughout the tour, and, I am proud to say, I got most of the items right, except for a small pagoda-style, black-lacquered miniature house which, it transpired, had been a pet sanctuary for crickets, no less. As they say, and quite rightly so, you learn something new every day.
The second half of the room into which we had first been shown functioned as the dining area, the taper-legged table and simple but appealing early 20th century chairs occupying centre place. Behind the table, set against the wall, stood a typical Könisbergian lump of a sideboard. I do not mean to sound disparaging, since these heavy, massy pieces of furniture typically adorned with heraldic and armorial appliques and supported on chunky ball and claw feet or, as in this example, large lion pads, solicit the Gothic in me, but I fully understand that their dominating presence is not, as we English are wont to say, everyone’s cup of tea.
Apartment Museum magnificent fireplace/stove
In this instance, however, it was the fireplace that got the better. Here we had a typical German glazed-tile fire-come-boiler affair ~ a masonry heater ~ distinguished above any I had seen hitherto, with the possible exception of one very ornate example, which may or may not be original, which resides within a hotel bar on a picturesque stretch of the river a few kilometers from Königsberg.
The fireplace we were privy to today owed its impressive status to its two-tiered format, and the fact that the decorative tiling was taken up from floor to ceiling, the top being surmounted with a rather elaborate carved and scrolled finial.
The metal grate doors at the lower level of the boiler also expressed an Art Nouveau intricacy, the artistic quality of which I have not witnessed elsewhere in this region.
Overall, the furnished and decorative note struck in Mr Grossmann’s flat was a mellow and conservative one, possessing and conveying an unaffected dignity. Towards this consummation the doors, all of which exhibited the same uniformity of design, added not a little. In fact, they stamped an authority of social standing on the nature of this abode, their dark-wood, tall and sober character surmounted by a dignifying architectural gable pediment.
Crotchless bloomers
The next stop on the itinerary was the bedroom. It was not at all very spacious and the two wooden single beds pushed together to make a pseudo double bed allowed for nothing more than a cabinet and a dressing table. The most remarkable bygone in this room was the mannequin, or rather the female underwear in which it was dressed, of which the principal feature was the long pantaloons. These, our guide revealed, were split-crotched in the most significant manner, which, my wife concluded, explained why men in the early 20th century made such an eager audience when young ladies danced the can-can.
Apartment Museum guide, Kaliningrad
You see what I mean when I say, ‘you learn something
new every day’.
We could not all get into the confines of the bed chamber, so some of us were necessitated to undertake our viewing from the hall, along which we then walked, as instructed by our guide, to the kitchen.
Nowhere does bygone domestic life impress itself more contrastively than in the kitchen setting. The kitchen décor of our modern age and the implements we use therein would seem so thoroughly futuristic from an early 20th century point of view, and also more recently for those who lived in the 1940s, as to make them impossible to envision. In years gone by kitchen items were heavy, solid-state, screwed, riveted, mechanical; they were constructed from metal and glazed stoneware, cast and wrought iron, and they were obviously made to last, which is why they are still with us. A few people aspire when they behold kitchens of yester-year to recreate something similar in their own home as a retro statement, but few people ~ only those of the most stalwart nature with a near to obsessive love of obsolescent times ~ are willing to go the whole hog, completely renouncing smooth, easy-to-clean surfaces and modern, time-saving kitchen utensils [see Art Exhibition Kaliningrad] for their more quirky but difficult to use and maintain predecessors.
Early 20th century kitchen utensils
In Mr Grossmann’s flat, the kitchen was quite small. Too many cooks was certainly not an option. The kitchen stove, or range, ruled the visual roost, it was, after all, an indispensable piece of home-living equipment, in this case cast iron, the front beige and green-enamel tiled and the whole raised on sculpted, ornate cabriole legs.
Above the cooker there was a row of hooks containing various kitchen utensils and, on the wall, cream and white enamel back-plates with integral hooks on which hung various straining, stirring and other culinary implements. The back plates to these utensil holders are lovingly shaped and are much sought after today by discerning collectors and interior decorators. Enamel products were, of course, the kitchen equipment stalwarts of their day, and another nice example, one of which I had seen before in Victor Ryabinin’s studio, was a three-compartmentalised kitchen-cleaning substance holder, which included a slot for a product well-known in England, Persil, the name of which, along with others, is printed on the surface.
Slider-controlled enamel kitchen shopping list reminder, c1910-20
One item that I was not acquainted with was an early refrigerator. The appliance looked like a tall, square, solid wooden box, but when the lid was lifted the top section could be seen to contain a perforated metal basket. The cabinet space below held the provisions whilst the ice above cooled the interior. A simple mechanism indeed, but I suppose it must have worked.
The kitchen was large enough to accommodate a dresser,
with glazed cabinets to the upper middle section flanked by two enclosed
cabinets, in which an assortment of curious contraptions were displayed, and
the storage space offered by this piece of furniture was augmented by a small
larder in the corner of the room, containing a stimulating jamboree of bottles,
tins and jars, many with ageing contents.
The last room on the inventory was the toilet and bathroom, and this indispensable facility was to be found on the left just inside the door. You’ve just got to love a proper toilet, being one with a high-rise cistern with a chain and porcelain hand-pull, of German heritage of course.
Gustav Grossmann’s toilet requisites
Whether large country estate, stately home or a relatively small apartment such as this one, the question I always ask myself at the conclusion of my visit is not did it interest me but did it have the desired effect, namely during the time I spent there was I there at the time and in a different time at the same time? The answer in the case of Kaliningrad’s (Königsberg’s) Museum Apartment is Yes. Thank you Apartment Museum and thank you Mr Grossmann!
