Leon Bakst is called a great theater artist, and rightly so. But is it possible that the works he performed in differentAre portraits or genre painting less good using these techniques? Judge for yourself...

Portrait of a girl in a Russian kokoshnik, 1911

K. Sokolsky - I dreamed

Leon Bakst (1866-1924) - one of the most prominent representatives of Russian Art Nouveau, artist, set designer, master of easel painting and theatrical graphics, was born in Grodno. His father is Israel Rosenberg. Some call him a Talmudic scholar, others call him a mediocre businessman. It is possible that he was both at the same time. Israel Rosenberg named his son Leib-Chaim. Later, Leib became Leo. Leo - Leon. The usual transformation of Jewish names in the Russian-speaking environment. Soon after the birth of their son, the Rosenberg family moved from Grodno to St. Petersburg.

Portrait of a Woman, 1906

He spent his childhood in St. Petersburg, where his grandfather lived, who loved social life and luxury. Grandfather was a rich tailor. The boy grew up sickly and had a noticeable imbalance of character. From his mother he inherited a love of books and read them voraciously, at random. The child owed his first vivid impressions to his grandfather, a former Parisian who brought the chic of a French salon to his apartment on Nevsky Prospekt. Walls covered with yellow silk, antique furniture, paintings, ornamental plants, gilded cages with canaries - everything here was “not at home”, everything delighted the emotional boy. The stories of parents returning from the Italian opera also caused joyful excitement.

Young Dahomean, 1895

As a boy, he enthusiastically performed in front of his sisters plays invented and staged by himself. Figures cut out from books and magazines turned into heroes of dramatizations performed in front of the sisters. But then the moment came when adults began to take the boy with them to the theater, and a magical world opened up before him. Could anyone have thought then that it was here that many years later he would find his true calling.

Portrait of Alexandre Benois, 1898

Very early on, Leo developed a passion for painting. My father resisted to the best of his ability. As a Talmudist, it’s not a Jewish thing to “paint little men.” And as a businessman. Painting was considered unprofitable. The artists, for the most part, led a semi-beggarly existence. Israel Rosenberg was a tolerant man. And, in order to make sure what the picturesque efforts of the indomitable son were, either through mutual friends or through relatives, he contacted the sculptor Mark Antokolky. The master looked at the drawings, found in them undoubted signs of talent and strongly advised him to study.

Portrait of a dancer M. Casati, 1912

The advice took effect and in 1883 young Rosenberg entered the Academy of Arts as a volunteer. The future Bakst stayed here from 1883 to 1887. Academic training did not correspond much to the trends of the era. The professors, for the most part, strictly adhered to the classical canons. And they completely ignored new trends in painting, the notorious Art Nouveau in its diverse forms and manifestations. And, to the best of our ability, we discouraged students from leaving the once and for all beaten path. Bakst did not study too hard. Failed the competition for a silver medal. After which he left the Academy. Either as a sign of protest. Either having finally lost faith.

Lady on the Sofa, 1905

After Leon Bakst left the Academy, at that time Rosenberg was still studying painting with Albert Benois. The father, apparently, refused to further finance his son’s creative endeavors. And the young artist earned his living and paid for his lessons in some publishing house. He illustrated children's books. In 1889, Leib-Chaim Rosenberg became Leon Bakst. The artist borrowed his new surname, or rather pseudonym, from his maternal grandmother, shortening it somewhat. Grandmother's last name was Baxter. The appearance of the catchy pseudonym was associated with the first exhibition at which the artist decided to present his works. It seemed to him that in the eyes of the Russian public, an artist named Leon Bakst had undeniable advantages over the artist Leib-Chaim Rosenberg.

Portrait of Zinaida Gippius, 1906

Also in 1893, Leon Bakst arrived in Paris. He studied at Jerome's studio and at the Académie Julien. In places widely known among artists all over the world, where one could learn and, accordingly, learn new art, not connected with centuries-old traditions. Life was difficult for Bakst in Paris. He lived mainly from the sales of his paintings. More precisely sketches. In a letter to a friend, Leon Bakst complained bitterly: “I am still struggling not to leave Paris... The art seller impudently takes my best sketches for a pittance.” Leon Bakst lived in Paris for six years.

Portrait of Andrei Lvovich Bakst, son of the artist, 1908

From time to time he came to St. Petersburg. Either to unwind and relax, or to make new connections and exchange impressions. During one of his visits, Leon Bakst met the Neva Pickwickians. It was a self-education circle organized by the famous Russian artist, art historian, and art critic Alexander Benois. The circle included Konstantin Somov, Dmitry Filosofov, Sergei Diaghilev and some other artists, art critics and writers, who eventually formed the famous artistic association “World of Art”.

Portrait of the future Countess Henri de Boisgelin, 1924

In 1898, the first issue of the magazine "World of Art" was published - the organ of an artistic association and a group of symbolist writers. The editor of the magazine was Sergei Diaghilev. The magazine's editorial office was located in the editor's house; the first years on Liteiny Prospekt, 45, and from 1900 on the Fontanka River Embankment, 11. The art department of the magazine was headed by Leon Bakst. He also came up with a stamp for the magazine with an eagle “reigning arrogantly, mysteriously and lonely on a snowy peak.” The art department of the magazine widely exhibited works by outstanding representatives of domestic and foreign painting. This determined the high artistic and aesthetic level of the publication, made it a mouthpiece for new trends in art, and influenced the development of Russian culture at the turn of the century.

Model

In 1903, Bakst became friends with the widow of the artist Gritsenko, Lyubov Pavlovna. She was the daughter of an eminent merchant, a great connoisseur and collector of paintings, the founder of the world famous gallery P.M. Tretyakov. Tretyakov adhered to liberal views and had nothing against Jews in general, and Bakst himself in particular. I appreciated him as an artist. I willingly bought paintings. But Baksta did not perceive Baksta as a son-in-law as a Jew. A Jew - no matter what. But a Jew, a person associated with Jewish religion, did not fit into centuries-old family traditions. And Bakst had to make concessions. According to one version, he converted from Judaism to Lutheranism. According to another, he became Orthodox in order to perform a church wedding ceremony.

Portrait of Walter Fedorovich Nouvel, 1895

In 1907, Bakst had a son, Andrei (in the future - a theater and film artist, died in 1972 in Paris). The marriage turned out to be fragile. In 1909, Leon Bakst left the family. The divorce did not affect the relationship with his ex-wife. They remained invariably friendly. When Lyubov Pavlovna left Russia with her son in 1921, Leon Bakst supported them financially until the end of his days. Another thing is interesting. Soon after the divorce, Christian convert Leon Bakst returned to the faith of his fathers.

Portrait of Anna Pavlova, 1908

In 1909, in accordance with the new law on Jews in the Russian Empire, he was asked to leave St. Petersburg. Bakst had extensive connections. Many influential acquaintances. The Imperial Court used his services. But he decided not to resort to anyone's help. And he left for Paris. The powers that be changed their anger to the mercy of those in power in 1914. This year Bakst was elected a member of the Academy of Arts. And in this capacity, regardless of religion, he had the right to live wherever he pleased.

Portrait of a girl. 1905

From 1908 to 1910, during visits from Paris to St. Petersburg, Leon Bakst taught at Zvantseva's private painting school. One of Bakst's students was Marc Chagall. Bakst drew attention to the remarkable talent of the young Chagall. Although, as they write, he did not entirely approve of him and was strict in his assessments. For all his innovation, Bakst believed that for an artist, regardless of direction, nature should serve as a model. Chagall's alogisms and Chagall's notorious "picture mania" embarrassed him. Chagall's fellow student Obolenskaya recalled that, looking at Chagall's painting of a violinist sitting on a mountain, Bakst could not understand how the violinist managed to drag such a large chair up such a large mountain.

Portrait of Andrei Bely, 1905

Chagall wanted to follow his teacher to Paris. He was irresistibly drawn to Europe. Bakst was against it. “So you are happy with the prospect of dying among 30 thousand artists flocking to Paris from all over the world,” he said. Judging by the manuscript of Chagall's book "My Life", Bakst simply cursed his student. Chagall's wife Bella, while preparing the book for publication, blotted out several out-of-the-ordinary expressions. In those years, unlike our time, profanity was not allowed on the pages of literary works. According to Chagall, Bakst handed him one hundred rubles and advised him to use them to greater advantage in Russia. He had supported Chagall financially before.

Portrait of the writer Dmitry Fedorovich Filosofov, 1897

Bakst did a lot of portrait painting and willingly. His brushes include portraits of famous figures of literature and art: Levitan, Diaghilev, Rozanov, Zinaida Gippius, Isadora Duncan, Jean Cocteau, Konstantin Somov, Andrei Bely. Andrei Bely recalled: “The red-haired, ruddy, clever Bakst refused to write me simply, he needed me to be animated to the point of ecstasy! To do this, he brought his friend from the editorial office of the World of Art magazine, who ate ten dogs in terms of the ability to revive and tell clever stories and anecdotes, then the predatory tiger Bakst, his eyes flashing, sneaked up on me, clutching my brush.” Art historians consider Bakst one of the most prominent Russian portrait painters of the early twentieth century.

Portrait of Princess Olga Konstantinovna Orlova, 1909

Leon Bakst was not only a wonderful portrait painter. He proved himself to be an outstanding landscape painter. His graphic works, as contemporaries noted, were “strikingly decorative, full of special mysterious poetry and very “bookish.” Despite the variety of manifestations of artistic talent and the associated opportunities, Bakst did not have any special income. Constantly in need of money, Bakst collaborated with satirical magazines, worked on book graphics, designed the interiors of various exhibitions, and taught drawing to children of wealthy parents.

Portrait of L.P. Gritsenko (wife of L. Bakst and daughter of P.M. Tretyakov), 1903

In 1903, in St. Petersburg, Bakst was asked to take part in the design of the ballet “The Fairy of Puppets”. The set and costume designs created by Bakst were received enthusiastically. “From the first steps,” Alexander Benois later wrote, “Bakst took a truly dominant position and since then has remained unique and unsurpassed.”

Portrait of Madame T., 1918

In Paris, Bakst joined the ballet group of the organizer of the Russian Seasons in Paris, Sergei Diaghilev. Sergei Pavlovich brought several ballets to Paris. These ballets, which served as the basis for the Russian Seasons, shocked the jaded French and aroused in them a storm of incomparable delight. Diaghilev's Russian Seasons owed its triumph, first of all, to Bakst's exceptionally beautiful productions. A special, “Bakst” style, with its wonderful, almost mysterious, amazing interweaving of the magic of ornament and combination of colors.

Portrait of Sergei Diaghilev with his nanny, 1906

The theatrical costumes created by Bakst, which were written about a lot in various art-related publications, thanks to rhythmically repeating color patterns, emphasized the dynamics of the dance and the actor’s movements. The pinnacle of Bakst's creativity was the scenery for Diaghilev's ballets: "Cleopatra" 1909, "Scheherazade" 1910, "Carnival" 1910, "Narcissus" 1911, "Daphnis and Chloe" 1912. These productions, as critics wrote, literally “drove Paris crazy.” And they laid the foundation for the artist’s world fame.

Nude, 1905

The Russian artist, art critic and memoirist Mstislav Dobuzhinsky, who knew Bakst since the days of joint teaching at the Zvantseva school of painting and was thoroughly familiar with his work, wrote: “He was recognized and “crowned” by the refined and capricious Paris itself, and what is surprising, despite the kaleidoscopic the change of idols, the variability of Parisian hobbies, despite all the “shifts” caused by the war, new phenomena in the field of art, the noise of futurism - Bakst still remained one of the unchangeable legislators of “taste.” Paris had already forgotten that Bakst was a foreigner, that he has his “roots” in St. Petersburg, that he is an artist of the “World of Art.” Leon Bakst - began to sound like the most Parisian of Parisian names.”

Lady with Oranges (Dinner), 1902

In 1918, Leon Bakst left Diaghilev's group. His departure is attributed to a number of reasons. This is a world war. The French had no time for "Russian Seasons". In addition, Bakst found himself cut off from Diaghilev’s troupe. The troupe remained in Paris, and Bakst was in Switzerland at that time. Bakst’s departure from the troupe, and this is perhaps the most important thing, was prompted by aesthetic differences with Diaghilev and growing contradictions. Diaghilev was a dictator. Long before the “Paris Seasons,” while working on a portrait of Diaghilev, Bakst complained that Diaghilev absolutely did not know how to pose, that he watched literally every stroke, and demanded that he look more beautiful in the portrait than in life. Apparently, while working on the sketches, Diaghilev tried to influence, strongly advised something, and made demands. Bakst didn't like this. And at some stage he refused to cooperate.

Portrait of Isaac Levitan, 1899

In Paris, Bakst was extremely popular. His style was adopted by the trendsetters of Parisian fashion. And they began to use it widely. Russian poet Maximilian Voloshin wrote: “Bakst managed to capture that elusive nerve of Paris that rules fashion, and its influence is now being felt everywhere in Paris - both in ladies’ dresses and at art exhibitions.” A book dedicated to Bakst’s work was published. This book, according to contemporaries, “represented the height of technical perfection.” The French government awarded Bakst the Order of the Legion of Honor.

Portrait of Isadora Duncan

Bakst's loud Parisian fame and world fame meant little for Russia. For the Russian authorities, Bakst, first of all, was a Jew, with all the ensuing consequences. Russian publicist, art and literary critic Dmitry Filosofov wrote: “After the first revolution, already “famous”, with a red ribbon in his buttonhole, he came from Paris to St. Petersburg, completely forgetting that he was a Jew from the Pale of Settlement. Imagine his surprise when a police officer came to him and said that he must immediately leave either for Berdichev or for Zhitomir.” The late vice-president of the Academy of Arts, Count Ivan Ivanovich Tolstoy (later the mayor) was indignant, the press made a fuss, and Bakst was left alone. Yes, of course, he was a Jew. But he felt like a son of Russia, firstly, and a human being, secondly. And most importantly, an artist.

Self-portrait, 1893

Bakst's popularity and his great fame had a tragic impact on his fate. Bakst was inundated with orders that he could not, and did not want to refuse. Overwork undermined his health. Leon Bakst died on December 27, 1924 in Paris, at the age of 58. While working on the ballet "Istar" for Ida Rubinstein's troupe, he suffered a "nervous attack." Bakst was hospitalized at the Riel-Malmaison hospital. They couldn't help him. According to another version, kidney disease brought Bakst to his grave. Another cause is called “pulmonary edema”. Perhaps we are talking about manifestations of the same disease. People who were not very knowledgeable in medicine were based not so much on the diagnosis as on its dominant manifestations. Bakst was buried in the Batignolles cemetery in Paris.

Portrait of Countess Keller, 1902

Based on materials from Valentin Domil’s article “The Great Bakst”

Carnival in Paris in honor of the arrival of Russian sailors October 5, 1893, 1900

Rainfall, 1906

And yet, when talking about the famous theater designer Leon Bakst, it is impossible to do without his stunning sketches of stage costumes and scenery (it’s a pity, you have to limit yourself in quantity):

Costume design for a dancer for Paul Paré's ballet "Confused Artemis", 1922

Costume design for the ballet "Scheherazade" - Silver Negro, 1910

Costume design for Ethel Levy for the revue Hello Tango, 1914

Costume design by Paganini for the ballet "The Magic Night" by Gabriele d'Annunzio

Set design for the ballet "Scheherazade", 1910

Costume design for Cleopatra for Ida Rubinstein for the ballet "Cleopatra"

Costume design for the ballet "Narcissus" - The Bacchae, 1911

Costume design by Tamara Karsavina for the ballet "Firebird", 1910

Costume design for the ballet "The Blue God" - The Bride, 1912

Set design for the ballet "Daphnis and Chloe"

Fantasia on the Theme of Modern Costume (Atalanta), 1912

Ida Rubinstein as Istar in the ballet of the same name by Vincent d'Indy, 1924

Set design for the ballet "The Martyrdom of Saint Sebastian", 1911

Dance of the Seven Veils. Costume design for Salome for O. Wilde's drama "Salome", 1908

Costume design for the ballet "Afternoon of a Faun" - Second Nymph, 1912

Costume design for Ida Rubinstein for the mystery play "The Martyrdom of St. Sebastian", 1911

Costume design for Ida Rubinstein in the role of Helen in the tragedy "Helen in Sparta"

Set design for the ballet "The Afternoon of a Faun", 1911

Sketch of an odalisque costume for the production of "Scheherazade", 1910

Costume design for the ballet "Indian Love", 1913

Chinese mandarin. Costume design for The Sleeping Beauty, 1921

Costume design for Vaslav Nijinsky for Paul Dukas's choreographic poem "Peri", 1911

Set design for the ballet "The Sleeping Beauty", 1921

Costume of Natalia Trukhanova as Peri, 1911 / Costume design for the ballet "Scheherazade" - Blue Sultan, 1910 (right)

Sketch of the Harlequin costume in R. Schumann's "Carnival" / Drawing by Vaslav Nijinsky in "Scheherazade" (right)

Set design for the production of "Boris Godunov", 1913

“They spoke of her as a provincial girl who had risen to the literary salon in Paris,
evil, proud, smart, conceited.
Except for “smart”, everything is wrong, that is, maybe evil,
Yes, not to the extent, not in the style that is commonly thought of.
No more proud than those who know their worth.
Self-important - no, not at all in a bad way.
But, of course, she knows her specific gravity...”
- Bunin’s wife would later write in her memoirs.
"The Uniqueness of Zinaida Gippius"
That's what Alexander Blok called
a completely unique combination of personality and poetry.

Berdyaev wrote about her in his autobiography “Self-Knowledge”: “I consider Zinaida Nikolaevna a very wonderful person, but also a very painful one. I was always struck by her serpentine coldness. There was no human warmth in her. There was clearly a mixture of female and male nature, and it was difficult to determine ", which is stronger. There was genuine suffering. Zinaida Nikolaevna is an unhappy person by nature."

They called her both a “witch” and a “Satan,” they praised her literary talent and called her the “Decade Madonna,” they feared and worshiped her. A green-eyed beauty, a dashing Amazon with a floor-length braid, a slender figure and a halo of sunny hair, teasing her fans with caustic words and caustic hints. A St. Petersburg society lady, calm in her marriage, the owner of a famous salon in St. Petersburg. A tireless debater and organizer of daily heated philosophical, literary, political and historical discussions. All this is her - Zinaida Gippius.
Challenging the public, even ten years after her wedding to Merezhkovsky, she appeared in public with a braid - an emphasized sign of virginity. In general, she allowed herself everything that was forbidden to others. For example, she wore men's clothes (as depicted in her famous portrait by Lev Bakst) or sewed dresses for herself, which passers-by in St. Petersburg and Paris looked at in bewilderment and horror; she obviously used cosmetics indecently - she applied a thick layer of powder to her delicate white skin brick color. And in 1905, long before Coco Chanel, she got a short haircut. - See more at: http://labrys.ru/node/6939#sthash.rgHnw1Ry.dpuf

Through the path into the forest, in the welcoming comfort,
Filled with sunshine and shade,
The spider's thread is elastic and clean,
Hung in the sky; and unnoticeable trembling
The wind shakes the thread, trying in vain to break;
It is strong, thin, transparent and simple.
The living emptiness of the sky is cut
A sparkling line - a multi-colored string.
We are accustomed to appreciate what is unclear.
In tangled knots, with some false passion,
We look for subtleties, not believing what is possible
Combine greatness with simplicity in the soul.
But everything that is complex is pitiful, deathly and rude;
And the subtle soul is as simple as this thread...
Zinaida GIPPIUS

Rumors, gossip, and legends swarmed around her, which Gippius not only collected with pleasure, but also actively multiplied. She was very fond of hoaxes. For example, she wrote letters to her husband in different handwritings, as if from fans, in which, depending on the situation, she scolded or praised him. In Silver Age intellectual and artistic circles, Gippius was well known for her advocacy of "androgynous and psychological unisex." Sergei Makovsky wrote about her: “She was all “on the contrary”, defiantly, not like everyone else..”

Hobbies and loves happened to both spouses (including same-sex ones). But Zinaida Nikolaevna never went beyond kissing. Gippius believed that only in a kiss lovers are equal, and in what should follow next, someone will definitely stand above the other. And Zinaida could not allow this under any circumstances. For her, the most important thing has always been equality and union of souls - but not bodies. All this made it possible to call the marriage of Gippius and Merezhkovsky “the union of a lesbian and a homosexual.” Letters were thrown into Merezhkovsky’s apartment: “Aphrodite took revenge on you by sending her hermaphrodite wife.”

Dmitry Merezhkovsky Nizhny Novgorod, 1890s

L.Bakst, Portrait

L.S.Bakst. Portrait of D.V. Filosofov. 1898

S.I. Vitkevich (Vitkatsi). Portrait of D.V. Filosofov. June 1932.
http://www.nasledie-rus.ru/podshivka/6406.php

Zinaida Gippius and ballet critic L.S. Volynsky. .

In the late 1890s, Gippius was in a close relationship with the English Baroness Elisabeth von Overbeck. Coming from a family of Russified Germans, Elisabeth von Overbeck collaborated as a composer with Merezhkovsky - she wrote music for the tragedies of Euripides and Sophocles translated by him, which were staged at the Alexandrinsky Theater. Gippius dedicated several poems to Elisabeth von Overbeck.

Today I will hide your name
And I won’t say it out loud to others.
But you will hear that I am with you,
Again you - alone - I live.
In the humid sky the star is huge,
Its edges tremble, flowing.
And I look into the night, and my heart remembers,
That this night is yours, yours!
Let me see my dear eyes again,
Look into their depth - into their breadth - and blue.
Earthly heart on the great night
In his melancholy - oh, don’t leave!
And more and more greedily, more and more steadily
It calls - one - you.
Take my heart in your palms,
Warm - comfort - comfort, loving...

From Gippius's intimate diary "Contes d'amour" (1893) it is clear that she liked courtship and was attracted to some men, but at the same time they repelled her. “In my thoughts, my desires, in my spirit - I am more a man, in my body - I am more a woman. But they are so merged that I don’t know anything.” She tried to enter into a love affair with Dmitry Filosofov, a companion of the Merezhkovskys, based on the fact that he was a person with a clear predominance of the feminine principle (he was a homosexual), and she herself had a distinctly masculine character. Naturally, nothing came of this; Gippius wrote a story about this failure in letters

Looks like she's still a virgin. But their fifty-year spiritual union with Dmitry Merezhkovsky gave Russian culture and literature perhaps much more than if they had been a traditional married couple. Her death caused an explosion of emotions. Those who hated Gippius came to see for themselves that she was dead. Those who respected and appreciated her saw in her death the end of an era... Ivan Bunin, who never came to the funeral - he was terrified of death and everything connected with it - practically did not leave the coffin....1902

I honor the High One
His covenant.
For the lonely -
There is no victory.
But there's only one way
Open to the soul
And the mysterious call
Like a war cry,
It sounds, it sounds...
Lord epiphany
He gave us now;
For achievement -
The road is narrow,
Let the bold one
But unchanging
One, - joint -
He pointed.
1902

Time cuts flowers and herbs
At the very root of a shiny scythe:
Buttercup of love, aster of glory...
But the roots are all intact - there, underground.

Life and my mind, fiery-clear!
You two are the most merciless to me:
You tear up by the roots what is beautiful,
In my soul after you - nothing, nothing!
1903

Lev Bakst. “Portrait of Zinaida Gippius” (1906)
Paper, pencil, sanguine. 54 x 44 cm
State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia

Graphic portrait made on paper. The artist used a pencil and sanguine. Moreover, the sheet of paper is glued together. The point is that Zinaida Nikolaevna had an absolutely amazing figure, her marvelous legs were especially remarkable, and therefore these long, endless legs that Bakst wanted to show, he was able to do only by gluing a little more paper.
The portrait was scandalous, starting from the costume and ending with a completely indecent pose.
Gippius is wearing a boy's suit, this is the costume of Little Lord Pumplerob - a story that was written by the Anglo-American writer Bardned in 1886. And it became very widely known in 1888; it was already translated into Russian. In general, this story has been translated into 17 foreign languages.

The hero is a boy, a seven-year-old American, a staunch republican, a very intelligent child with noble actions and thoughts, who, by the will of fate, ended up in England. Moreover, someone who happens to be a lord by birth behaves just as democratically and friendly.

So, he was a golden-haired boy who appeared before the readers, before his grandfather-lord, in a black velvet suit, in short trousers, in a shirt with a lace frill, and this fashion, it then tormented wonderful, lively, emotional children - boys from the entire end of the 19th century.

So, the very fact that Zinaida Nikolaevna is trying on this suit, which suited her extremely well, there is also an element of irony and provocation in this.

Zinaida Gippius dedicated two sonnets to Bakst.
I. Salvation

We judge, sometimes we speak so beautifully,
And it seems that great powers have been given to us.
We preach, we are intoxicated with ourselves,
And we call everyone to us decisively and authoritatively.
Alas for us: we are walking along a dangerous road.
We are doomed to remain silent before someone else's grief, -
We are so helpless, so pitiful and funny,
When we try to help others in vain.

Only the one who will console you in sorrow, will help you
Who is joyful and simple and always believes,
That life is joy, that everything is blessed;
Who loves without longing and lives like a child.
I humbly bow before the true power;
We don’t save the world: love will save it.

Through the path into the forest, in the welcoming comfort,
Filled with sunshine and shade,
The spider's thread is elastic and clean,
Hung in the sky; and unnoticeable trembling
The wind shakes the thread, trying in vain to break;
It is strong, thin, transparent and simple.
The living emptiness of the sky is cut
A sparkling line - a multi-colored string.

We are accustomed to appreciate what is unclear.
In tangled knots, with some false passion,
We look for subtleties, not believing what is possible
Combine greatness with simplicity in the soul.
But everything that is complex is pitiful, deathly and rude;
And the subtle soul is as simple as this thread.

This article was automatically added from the community

SMART SOUL (ABOUT BAXT)

I both want and don’t want to talk about Bakst now. I want to because everyone thinks about him these days. But, of course, I can only say two words, a hundredth part of what I think and remember. Most people talk about a person when he has just died. That's how it is. But I can't do this. I’m talking either about the living or about those who died long ago, accustomed be dead. And death is close - it should infect with silence. But it does not infect; and it all seems that the noise of our words disturbs the deceased.

I will talk about Bakst briefly, quietly, in a half whisper. Far from listing his artistic merits—others will do that in their time—no, it’s simple about Bakst. About Bakst - the man. After all, after all, I will repeat until the end of my life, a man first, an artist later. In the face of death this is especially clear. You especially understand that you can be the greatest artist and die, and no one’s heart will ache for you. And who knows if this is not the only thing valuable to the deceased, and whether he really needs admiration and praise from beyond the grave?

Bakst was an amazing person in his almost childlike, cheerful and kind manner. simplicity. Slowness in his movements and in his speech sometimes gave him some kind of “importance,” rather, the innocent “importance” of a schoolboy; he naturally, naturally always remained a bit of a schoolboy. His kind simplicity deprived him of any pretension, a hint of pretension, and this was also natural to him... Not secretive - he was, however, naturally closed, did not have that nasty Russian “soul wide open.”

His friends in the “World of Art” (Bakst was a member of their close circle in 1898-1904) know him better and closer than me. Almost all of them are alive and someday they will remember and tell us about Bakst the comrade, with his sweet “unbearability” and irreplaceability, about the Bakst of distant times. But I want to note - and now - the features that were revealed to me sometimes in his letters, sometimes in an unexpected conversation; they are worth being celebrated.

Did anyone know that Bakst has not only great and talented, but also smart soul? They knew, of course, but weren’t interested: are they interested in the artist’s mind? And the poet is happily forgiven for stupidity (is it just stupidity?), and in an artist or musician it is even customary to silently encourage it. Somewhere it came down to it that art and a great mind are incompatible. Whoever does not say this is thinking. That’s why there is no interest in the artist’s mind.

I had this interest, and I assert that Bakst had a serious, surprisingly subtle mind. I’m not talking about intuitive subtlety, it is not uncommon in an artist, an artist is entitled to it, but precisely about subtlety smart. He never pretended to have long metaphysical rants - they were in great fashion at that time - but, I repeat: was it an accidental letter, was it an accidental moment of serious conversation, and again I am surprised at the intelligence, namely the intelligence, of this man, such a rarity among professional smart guys.

In Bakst, the smart guy got along well not only with the artist, but also with a cheerful schoolboy, a high school student, sometimes thoughtful, sometimes simply cheerful and mischievous. Our “serious conversations” did not at all prevent us from sometimes inventing some kind of fun together. So, I remember, we decided one day (Bakst came by by chance) to write a story, and immediately began to write it. Bakst gave the topic, and since it was very funny, we, after thinking about it, decided to write in French. The story turned out to be not bad at all: it was called “La cle”. I was sorry later that the last sheet had disappeared somewhere. Now, however, I would have disappeared anyway, just as Bakst’s letters disappeared along with my entire archive.

In those years, we constantly met in my intimate circle, very literary, but where Bakst was a welcome guest. And at work I had to see him two or three times: when he did my portraits and when he did, with us, a portrait of Andrei Bely.

He worked persistently, hard, always dissatisfied with himself. Bely, having almost finished, suddenly covered it up and started again. And with me it turned out even more curious.

I don’t know why - his workshop was then in the premises of some exotic embassy, ​​either Japanese or Chinese, on Kirochnaya. Our sessions took place there, three or four in total, it seems.

The portrait was again almost ready, but Bakst silently did not like it. What's the matter? I looked and looked, thought and thought - and suddenly I cut it in half, horizontally.

- What are you doing?

- In short, you are longer. We need to add more.

And, indeed, he “added me” by a whole strip. This portrait, with the inserted stripe, was later displayed at the exhibition.

Another trait that would seem completely unusual for Bakst, with his exoticism, Parisianism and external “snobbery”: tenderness for nature, for the earth Russian, just to the earth, to the village forest, ordinary, your own. Perhaps this did not remain in him in recent decades, it was forgotten, erased (probably erased), but it was still there: after all, it was said once with such irresistible sincerity in a letter to me from St. Petersburg in the village that I still remember it now.

We saw and corresponded with Bakst periodically; It happened that we lost each other over the years. My frequent absences abroad contributed to this; the “World of Art” was coming to an end; its heyday was past.

Once back in St. Petersburg, I heard: Bakst is getting married. Then: Bakst got married. And then, after some time: Bakst is sick. I ask his friends: what are you sick with? They themselves don’t know or don’t understand: some strange melancholy, despondency; he is very suspicious, and it seems to him that unknown troubles await him, since he converted to Christianity (to Lutheranism, for marriage, his wife is Russian).

Friends shrug their shoulders, consider it suspiciousness, “Levushka’s eccentricities,” trifles. After all, it’s just a formality, if only he were a “believer”! Others saw here, probably, the beginning of mental illness... But this led me, and many of us, to completely different thoughts.

And when, in 906 or 7, in Paris, I happened to see Bakst cheerful, vigorous, resurrected, these reflections took the form of clear conclusions. What resurrected Bakst? Paris, the wide road of art, your favorite job, a rising star of success? Then the conquest of Paris by the Russian Ballet began... Well, of course, whoever it would give vigor and cheerfulness. And it gave Bakst, but precisely it gave him, added life - to the living. And he came to life, came out of the fit of his strange melancholy, earlier: when he was able (after the revolution of 05) to remove the “formality” of Christianity imposed on him. He recovered physiologically, returning to his native Judaism.

How why? After all, Bakst is just as much an “unbeliever” Jew as an unbeliever Christian? What does religion have to do with it?

It turns out that it has nothing to do with it. Here is another sign of depth and integrity Baksta-man. The quality and strength of the fabric of his being. A real person is physiologically true to his age-old history; and the centuries-old history of the Jewish people is not metaphysically or philosophically, but also physiologically religious. Every Jew, a genuine Jewish person, suffers from a rupture, even a purely external one, and the more acutely, the more complete and profound he himself is. The point is not in faith, not in consciousness: the point is in the value of the human personality and in its righteous, down to physiology, connection with its history.

After many years (and what!) meeting with Bakst again here in Paris.

I look, I talk and only little by little I begin to “recognize” him. The process of combining the Bakst of old, from St. Petersburg, with this, the present, is slowly taking place in me. This is how it always happens, for everyone, if you don’t see each other for a very long time. Even when people don’t change much in appearance. Has Bakst changed much? Well, he has changed, of course, but unlike all of us who escaped from the Soviet of Deputies: he is lucky, he has never seen the Bolsheviks; and it is clear how they cannot be imagined by someone who has not seen them. His naivety about the unimaginable life in St. Petersburg makes us smile, like adults smile at children.

Sometimes I close my eyes and, listening to the peculiar slow conversation, I completely see the old Bakst in front of me: his short, young figure, his pleasantly ugly face, hook-nosed, with a sweet childish smile, light eyes in which there was always something sad, even when they laughed; reddish thick hair with a brush...

No, and this is Bakst; he became all thicker, became united and motionless, his hair did not stand like a brush, but stuck smoothly to his forehead; but the same eyes, smiling slyly, sad and schoolboy, he is just as unbearable, annoying, naive, suspicious - and simple. This is Bakst, twenty years older, Bakst - in fame, happiness and wealth. Essentially, this is the same Bakst.

But I will finally recognize Bakst next summer, when between us again, for the last time! — correspondence began. Again, thin, sharp, intelligent letters, the words are so true, precise, under the joke there is depth and sadness, under the smile there is anxiety. He sent me his book “Serov and I in Greece.” This book... but I don't want to talk about the book. I don’t want to talk about “literature”. I will only say that Bakst knew how to find words for what he saw as an artist. But he also found them for what was visible with a different look, an inner one - his words, very transparent, very simple, very deep.

And so he died.

I was told this late in the evening. Has Bakst died? Can't be! Someone remarked a long time ago: “There is no one coming to Bakst to die.” Yes, perhaps, from the outside it should have seemed so. But I know that Bakst never wanted to think about death and constantly thought about it. His death is a surprise, an improbability, because every death is always a surprise and an improbability. Even for us, living in the most mortal of times, every single death is a surprise. You have to get used to each one separately.

It will take me a long time to get used to the fact that Bakst has died, that his excited, gentle and intelligent soul has gone somewhere.

Notes:

Lev Samoilovich Bakst (Rosenberg, 1866-1924. December 23) - Russian painter and theater artist, one of the organizers of the World of Art circle (1898-1904), where he often met with the Merezhkovskys. The portraits of Z.N. he painted are known. Gippius, V.V. Rozanov, A. Bely. In 1907 he traveled with V.A. Serov on Greece and created the decorative panel “Ancient Horror”, the analysis of which was given by Vyach. Ivanov in the book “According to the Stars” (1919). In 1903 he married L.P. Gritsenko (daughter of P.M. Tretyakov and widow of the artist N.N. Gritsenko), for which he accepted Lutheranism. In 1910, he designed many Russian ballets by S.P. Diaghilev in Paris. After the break with Diaghilev he worked for Parisian theaters.