Educators From Russia

"If you think that we will stop in Ukraine – think 300 times. Let me remind you that Ukraine is only an intermediate stage in ensuring the strategic security of the Russian Federation."

"Russians were not the first to attack Ukraine. Russians are not fighting the Ukrainians but the ‘Banderovitsi’ (Ukrainian nationalists) and Nazis, whom they are hostages of. The Nazis have taken control of Ukraine."

"When this operation concludes, NATO will have to ask itself: "Do we have what we need to defend ourselves? Do we have the people to defend ourselves? And there will be no mercy. There will be no mercy.""

"Not only Ukraine will have to be denazified. The war against Europe and the world is developing a more specific outline, which means we'll have to act differently and to act much more harshly."

"The New York Times published a column with the headline "Russia is a Fascist Country" authored by Yale University Professor [[Timothy D. Snyder|[Timothy] Snyder]]. Pseudo-Professor of a pseudo-University. Snyder knows nothing, understands nothing, he is just a regular liar. They regularly claim that Russia is a fascist country. Listen, you bastards. You're offering hallmarks of a fascist state. Look at those indicators you're proposing. How are they any different from Trump's campaign? Down to the slogan "Make America Great Again". Discussions of former greatness. Donald Trump: "Make America Great Again". Cult of one leader. Visual symbols as a sign of belonging. What about Donald Trump' red hats? Mass events in support of the leader. Do you want me to play a clip of the dancing Trump? Hate speech towards a certain group of people: Look at what Trump used to say about liberals. If cretins like those those teach at Yale University... The majority of that nation are cretins. They know nothing."

"The troops of LPR and DPR are fighting for their land. And now I have a question: What would the Ukrainian territorial defense fight for? None of it is their land."

"Where will we stop? Well, as I was saying today, maybe Stonehenge."

"I don’t mind it when inept people try to rule the world, but it irritates me when they’re so nervous. If you want war with us, then declare war, so we can start swinging."

"Our guys are doing their job. They’re doing it correctly."

"Our next operation may be war with NATO."

"When we used to speak about German culture, it appeared to be a genuine phenomenon, and then 2022 came along!"

"The German Culture Minister. Do you think that after that Government recruited those idiots, scum, louts, and scoundrels, we should talk to them about anything?"

"I don’t care at all whether we officially declared war."

"I believe that we should reject the moratorium on the death penalty and introduce articles allowing the execution of traitors and their accomplices, terrorists and their accomplices, sponsors, and financiers, including shooting deserters who abandoned the combat order and betrayed their comrades."

"If we dealt with you bastards, you would feel differently... I have a question: where is the Polish air defense?"

"I've asked this 100 times, why don't we say: "If you’re shelling us, Kharkiv will be destroyed, wiped off the face of the earth. Kyiv will be destroyed if they decide to enter Belgorod or Kursk.""

"When people are trying to tell me about whether nuclear weapons can be used or not, I will respond to that briefly and clearly, "do you remember this part of Biblical history?" Sodom and Gomorrah?"

"Life is highly overrated. Why fear what is inevitable? Especially when we’re going to heaven. Death is the end of one earthly path and the beginning of another."

"Seryozha was different from all the other Tolstoys because of his great shyness and reserve. He often concealed his emotions, his outbursts of tenderness or passion, under a cloak of deliberate rudeness, or brusqueness. The most serious-minded and industrious of all the Tolstoy brothers, he had his own separate existence; he did not lean toward either his mother, or his father, and he rarely confided his thoughts to the members of his family. It was only when he sat down to the piano and for hours played his beloved Chopin, Beethoven, Bach, Grieg, or attempted to compose something himself, that everyone listened to him."

"A talk with Seryozha. For no reason, he said something rude. I was chagrined and threw everything at him—his bourgeois mentality, dullness, malice, his self-satisfied attitude. And then he said, all of a sudden, that no one loved him, and burst into tears. Dear God, what pain I felt. All day long I walked about, then after dinner I took Seryozha aside and told him, "I feel ashamed...". He burst out sobbing and began kissing me, saying "Forgive me, forgive...". It is a long time since I felt as I did then. That is happiness."

"I have never seen anyone who felt music so strongly and deeply as my father. It upset him, moved him, excited him, made him sob and weep. Sometimes it was even against his will, for it caused him pain and he said: "Que me veut cette musique?""

"[Sergéi] is fair-haired and good-looking; there is something weak and patient in his expression, and very gentle. His laugh is not infectious, but when he cries I can hardly refrain from crying too. Every one says he is like my eldest brother [Nikolái]. I am afraid to believe it. It is too good to be true. My brother's chief characteristic was neither egotism nor self-renunciation, but a strict mean between the two: he never sacrificed himself for any one else, and he always avoided, not only injuring others, but also interfering with them. He kept his happiness and his sufferings entirely to himself. Seryózha (Sergéi) is clever; he has a systematic mind and is sensitive to artistic impressions, does his lessons splendidly, is athletic and lively at games, but gauche and absent-minded. He lacks independent-mindedness; is a slave to his physical condition; according to whether he is well or unwell he is two quite different boys."

"About one p.m. I went into Father's room. His breathing was very rapid. He was having camphor injections and oxygen. But his face was drawn, and his colour blue. I thought that this must be the end. But he rallied a little after the injections. I returned again about ten p.m. He was restless and moaning, trying to get up. At one moment he said: "I'm afraid I'm dying." Then he coughed and made a face of disgust. Then he murmured: "I'll go somewhere where no one will interfere... Leave me in peace." I was terribly shocked when he suddenly sat up and said loudly: "Escape, I must escape!" Soon after that he saw me though I was standing in the dark (there was only one candle in the room) and he called out: "Serejha!" I rushed to the bed and knelt to hear better what he said. He uttered a whole sentence but I could not understand a word. Dushan told me later that he distinguished a few words which he wrote down at once: "Truth... I love all... all of them...""

"I think that with the death of Schumann and Chopin—‘finis musicae'.'’"

"I can recall one memorable afternoon at one of his recitals in the old St. James's Hall, when just as he had begun to play Chopin's Funeral March—no over ever played it like him—a post horn from a coach in Piccadilly suddenly sounded. This so disturbed him (and no wonder) that he took his hands off the piano and dashed them down again pell-mell on the keys in a fit of rage and disgust. After a while he commenced the piece again, but the spirit of the music had left him, and for that day at least we were deprived of the beauty of his rendering."

"... He could, at will, move you to tears, thrill you with emotion, or make you shiver with excitement. It was no longer a piano he played on, but an entire orchestra, in which power, sweetness, and great execution vied with each other to produce effects totally unlike the efforts of any other single instrumentalist I have ever heard. ... The magnetism he exercised over his audiences was quite extraordinary, and I have seen them roused got such a pitch of excitement and enthusiasm that they could not sit still, but had perforce to rise from their seats to watch as well as listen to him. No one could help being absorbed in his performances; indeed, he was so himself, though perhaps not to the same extent, for any extraneous sound or movement would easily upset him and break the thread of his inspiration,"

"A fellow student of Rachmaninoff's at the Moscow Conservatory, Lhevinne studied with Safonoff and made his debut in the Emperor Concerto with Anton Rubinstein conducting. As early as 1906 he made his American debut. (That was the year a young man named Arthur Rubinstein came over for the first time.) Lhevinne's remarkable powers were quickly recognized. His tone was like the morning stars singing together, his technique was flawless even measured against the fingers of Hofmann and Rachmaninoff, and his musicianship was sensitive. He was one of the modern romantics who did not have to pull music apart to get its message across. Even when he played Chopin's Etude in thirds and the octave Etude in B minor―his double notes and octaves were fabulous―he never tried to make a stunt of the music. One of his little tricks, the utmost he would permit himself in the way of outward panache, was to take the octave glissandos of the Brahms Paganini Variations prestissimo, staccato and pianissimo. He accomplished this, one guesses, with a rigidly tight wrist that was propelled by sheer nervous impulses. It provided a quasi-glissando that sounds impossible of achievement; but Lhevinne did it, to the amazement of pianists who heard him, and to the utter disbelief of those who didn't."

"I learned a lot from him, even though he kept saying that there was nothing he could teach me. Music is written to be played and listened to and has always seemed to me to be able to manage without words... This was exactly the case with Heinrich Neuhaus. In his presence I was almost always reduced to total silence. This was an extremely good thing, as it meant that we concentrated exclusively on the music. Above all, he taught me the meaning of silence and the meaning of singing. He said I was incredibly obstinate and did only what I wanted to. It's true that I've only ever played what I wanted. And so he left me to do as I liked."

"He was very musical, an artist. Technique in a pianist never impressed me. I never in my life heard a pianist whom I liked just because of his technique. The moment they start to play very fast I want to go home. Neuhaus was very musical, so I was interested. We played much four-hand and two-piano music. He was a wonderful musician and he introduced me to a great deal of music I had not heard. He played beautifully some late Scriabin sonatas, all of which were new to me. He also analyzed pieces with me. He had studied with Leopold Godowsky in Berlin. I was a provincial boy and was fascinated to hear him describe how Ferruccio Busoni played, how Godowsky played, how Moriz Rosenthal played, how Ignaz Friedman played, how this player and that player sounded. He liked Alfred Cortot best of all."

"As for the piano, I was left to my own devices practically from the age of twelve. As is frequently the case in teachers' families, our parents were so busy with their pupils (literally from morning until late at night) that they hardly had any time for their own children. And that, in spite of the fact that with the favourable prejudice common to all parents, they had a very high opinion of my gifts. (I myself had a much more sober attitude. I was always aware of a great many faults although at times I felt that I had in me something "not quite usual".) But I won't speak of this. As a pianist, I am known. My good and bad points are known and nobody can be interested in my "prehistoric period". I will only say that because of this early "independence" I did a lot of silly things which I could have easily avoided if I had been under the vigilant eye of an experienced and intelligent teacher for another three or four years. I lacked what is known as a "school". I lacked discipline. But it is an ill wind that blows nobody any good; my enforced independence compelled me, though sometimes by very devious ways, to achieve a great deal on my own and even my failures and errors subsequently proved more than once to be useful and educational, and in an occupation such as learning to master an art, where if not all, then almost all depends on individuality, the only sound foundation will always be the knowledge gained as the result of personal effort and personal experience."

"In spite of the fact that this is merely a childish fancy, there is a particle of truth in it and I only mentioned it because now, with my tremendous teaching experience, I know too well how often even talented pupils, able to cope with their task, fail to realize with what tremendous manifestation of the human spirit they are dealing. Obviously this does not make for an artistic performance; in the best of cases they stagnate at the level of good workmanship."

"At first we got along very well. Esipova even boasted outside the class that she had pupils who wrote sonatas (I completed Sonata, Op. 1, and played it to Esipova, who took it home and inserted pedaling). But before long trouble began. Esipova’s method of teaching was to try to fit everyone into a standard pattern. True, it was a very elaborate pattern, and if the pupil’s temperament coincided with her own, the results were admirable. But if the pupil happened to be of an independent cast of mind Esipova would do her best to suppress his individuality instead of helping to develop it. Moreover, I had great difficulty in ridding myself of careless playing, and the Mozart, Schubert and Chopin which she insisted on were somehow not in my line. At that period I was too preoccupied with the search for a new harmonic idiom to understand how anyone could care for the simple harmonies of Mozart."

"Prokofiev’s piano music has always played an important role in my own work as both a performer and a teacher. While a student at the Moscow Tchaikovsky Conservatory, I had the privilege of studying with Lev Oborin. This remarkable pianist premiered both of Prokofiev’s sonatas for violin and piano with David Oistrakh, preparing them under the composer’s guidance. Prokofiev’s works were heard very often in Oborin’s studio, as well as in his own concerts."

"..into this chaos [after the Bolshevik' revolution] came suprematism extolling the square [referring to the Squares of Malevich] as the very source of all creative expression, and then came communism and extolled work as the true source of man's heartbeat."

"For us [the young artists in Vitebsk, before 1920] Suprematism did not signify the recognition of an absolute form which was part of an already completed universal system, on the contrary; here stood revealed for the first time in all its purity the clear sign and plan for a definite new world never before experienced - a world which issues forth from our inner being and which is only now in the first stages of its formation, for this reason the square [ Malevich's Black and Red Square ] of suprematism became a beacon."

"Lissitzky was at first able to sustain a radical suspension of alternatives, to destabilize the spectator's spatial assumptions - as analogues for social assumptions - without replacing them with ready-made solutions; but that, as the dictatorship [of Stalinism ] grew in power, it overwhelmed this fragile possibility and inserted its own new/old closures into the sphere of graphic and ideological work alike. As long as Lissitzky kept intact the Utopian force of his (political) desire the radical project was sustainable; but as soon as the circumstances closed off his Utopian impulse, he was faced with no possibilities other than silence or service."

"There were tasks of a special kind awaiting him. He was needed in his homeland; the Soviet Union needed all his [Lissitzky's] knowledge, his experience, his art."

"Lazar Markovich [Lissitsky], I salute you on the publication of this little book."

"The purpose of architecture is to transmute the emptiness into space, that is into something which our minds can grasp as an organized unity."

"[El] Lissitzky does exclaim 'Schafft Gegenstande' [Make Things]. But by this he does not mean real things.. .But why 'Gegenstande [Things]'? He only wants to make pseudo-things which express his urge for reality, for the earth. Things of the same hardness, immovability, earthbound in the same way as the daily life he sees around him."

"At present [1941], not taking my serious illness into account, I still hope to make something for the 25th anniversary of the October Revolution. - El Lissitzky, June 1941, Moscow Notes."

"In 1928 I designed a photo-montage frieze of 24 by 3.5 m for our 'Pressa' pavilion. It became the example par excellence for all larger-than-life montages, which were a permanent feature of the exhibitions from then on. During Majakovskij's stay in Berlin in 1923 I was commissioned to design his book 'For the Voice'. The book was recognized as the starting-point of a new typography, and the Gutenberg Society in Mainz made me a member. Another field of my work is the artistic and poly-graphic design of albums and periodicals."

"We believe that the elements in the chemical formula of our creative work, problem, invention, and art, correspond to the challenges of our age."

"Not all Constructivists concentrate so strongly on reality.. .Moholy Nagy's work is 'l'art pour l'art' - as opposed to Lissitsky who is demonstrative; he is ethical in as much as he [Lissitsky] propagates the Bolshevist morale of not dreaming but doing, of preferring a direct gesture rather than one of beauty.. .Lissitsky wants nothing to do with 'l'art pour l'art'. 'Proun' – as he called his work – is art in order to demonstrate the feel of reality. In 'Kunstismen' [art magazine, published by Lissitsky and Jean Arp ], Lissitsky defines Proun as the 'Umsteige-station von Malerei nach Architectur' (the 'Step-over from the art of Painting to Architecture')."

"Back in Moscow in 1925 - teacher at 'Vchutemas' of interior design and furniture at the faculty of wood and metalwork. In 1926 my most important artistic work began: designing exhibitions. In that year I was invited by the committee of the International Exhibition of Art in Dresden to design the space for contemporary art. Was sent abroad for by 'VOKS'. [In] 1927 Exhibition of Typography in Moscow."

"During my stay in Germany in 1922 I collaborated with the writer Ehrenburg, on the Magazine 'Veshch' (Gegenstand) [= Object] (first pro-Soviet edition). [I] Took part in organizing the First Russian Art Exhibition 1922-23 in Berlin and Amsterdam. My works were purchased by European and American collectors and museums. The museum in New York acquired a 'Proun' from the Soviet Exhibition. At this time, in 1923, I contracted pulmonary tuberculosis."

"In 1935 I was appointed leading artist of the All-Soviet Agricultural Exhibition. I opposed the errors of the first leader, and resigned. Afterwards, while I was still in the sanatorium, I took over the design of the main building. The design of the main hall has been done according to my idea until now. From 1931 on, I was leading artist-architect of the 'Permanent Building Exhibition'. But as the years went by, my health deteriorating, I had less and less energy left for this type of commission, such as the realization of large-scale exhibitions. I still succeeded in designing the project for the museum-exhibition of the Ministry of 'Social Security'."

"[I] Went to Germany to study there and graduated from the architecture faculty in Darmstadt in 1914. I studied art during my trips through Europe; went to Paris. In the summer of 1912 I traveled more than 1200 km in Italy on foot, learning and drawing. In 1912 my works were accepted for the first time at the large exhibition in Petersburg. From 1915 in I lived in Moscow, exhibiting each year."

"I was born on 23 November 1890 in a village in the province of Smolensk. Grew up in Smolensk, in the home of my grandfather, a cap-maker. Completed secondary school there. At the age of 15 I started earning money by giving drawing lessons. Passed the entrance examination of the art academy in Leningrad but, being a Jew, was not admitted due to the restricted percentage."

"From the beginning of the [Sovjet] Revolution I was a member of the Committee for Art. Was commissioned for the first Soviet flag for the First of May 1918, which was carried across Red Square by members of the government. Later I worked at 'Izo Narkomprosa'. From 1919 I taught at the Higher Artists' Workshops in Vitebsk (our students Suetin, Judin and others)."