City landscape, cafe on the seashore, sailboat, painting, photo, resort city streets. Pier in Gurzuf

The history of one masterpiece: Konstantin Korovin "Pier in Gurzuf"

Konstantin Korovin "Pier in Gurzuf" - . 1914. Oil on canvas. 89 x 121 cm. State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg.

This picture belongs to the best canvases of Korovin, created by him during the First World War. He always liked the Crimea, he was here more than once, and each one aroused delight in him. Although the reason for the visit in 1914 was sad and was associated with his son Alexei, the artist found the strength to paint stunning canvases in terms of depth and ease of perception.

This picture depicts a pier in the small resort town of Gurzuf, very popular with the then resting public. The canvas is written in exceptionally cheerful and bright colors, perfectly reflecting the hot Crimean summer. The landscape is flooded with sun, so there are clear shadows everywhere and incredible sun glare on the water. The whole image is created by numerous, energetic and sweeping strokes, giving the picture dynamics and expressiveness. Strokes of different sizes, densities and colors, thanks to which the colors on the canvas literally shimmer and glow.

An ordinary day in the life of vacationers unfolds in front of the viewer: a woman in a white summer dress and a large hat decorated with red and pink flowers sits under a canopy in the shade. In front of her on the table are several bottles of colored drinks and a filled glass. There are two more chairs at the table, pushed back so that it becomes clear that just a minute ago two more people were sitting here.

A colorful landscape unfolds behind the woman's back. A large sailboat with unfolded sails is sailing on the sea, people are crowding on the pier, it seems that they are waiting for the arrival of the ship. Most likely, these people are sailing or waiting for those who will arrive on a schooner. The waves of the Black Sea are splashing and shimmering around. The background of this lyrical and joyful image is the city, climbing steps along the steep coast. It is not possible to distinguish between a specific image of individual components, and it is not required. The city is a cluster of white and colored houses, juicy spots scattered across the canvas. A hot summer bliss literally emanates from the picture.

The sky is written in the same expressive and energetic manner. Clouds are moving along it, rising from the Crimean mountains, but they almost merge with the blue of the sky, adding to it lilac, grayish and dove colors. Multidirectional strokes add airiness and mobility, make the clouds more real, “felt”.

The picture pleases with light and color, there is no tension and fear in it, as if there is no war and misfortunes. This canvas is a dream of happiness, complete, boundless, calm.
source: Art Encyclopedia>Gennady Zanegin

Konstantin Alekseevich Korovin was born on November 23, 1861 in a wealthy merchant family. In 1875, Korovin entered the architectural department of the Moscow School of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture, where his older brother Sergei, later a famous realist artist, also studied painting. By this time, their family was ruined. “I had to be in great need,” Konstantin Korovin recalled about his years of study, “for fifteen years I had been giving drawing lessons and earning my bread.”

In 1877, having presented the landscapes painted during the holidays, Korovin moved to the painting department in the class of A.K. Savrasov, who paid great attention to sketches from nature and taught his pupils to see the beauty of Russian nature. Later, Korovin recalled Savrasov's instructions: "Go write, write sketches, study, most importantly - feel ...".

Under the influence of Savrasov, Konstantin Korovin's attraction to the landscape early affected. Already in the school, trying to preserve the freshness of the impression, he finishes his work directly on nature. In the paintings "Village" (1878), "Early Spring" (1870s), "Bridge" (1880s), careful observation of nature is combined with its direct perception.

Since 1882, V. D. Polenov became Konstantin Korovin's teacher, who attached serious importance to the issues of art form.

Konstantin Korovin is perhaps one of the most cheerful Russian artists. All his life he sought to convey the joy and beauty of the world around him. Painter, theater decorator, architect, artist applied arts, writer, teacher - he seems to have possessed all conceivable and inconceivable talents. And, amazingly, in all this he succeeded with brilliance.

"Korovin's painting - impudently careless, rough - seemed to many simply inept in the 19th century. No one then suspected that both the painting and the colors in these paintings were of high dignity, that their author was a real painter. A misunderstanding in relation to K. Korovin - of the most deplorable quality. It best of all proves how far the Russian public is in general from any understanding of painting. What sadness that this huge master, this bright original talent, who twice spent his strength on such ephemeral creations as exhibition panels, all time spending them on even more ephemeral creations - on theatrical scenery, will probably not get the opportunity to perpetuate himself and bestow Russia with a truly beautiful, majestic work ... "continuation"

.:: Mikhail Nesterov remembers Konstantin Korovin ::.

"Kostya was a type of artist, irresistibly acting on the imagination, he" fell in love "with himself right and left, never leaving room for a long offense, no matter how unexpectedly he did it. All his" qualities "were covered by his special, marvelous talent as a painter "Easily and cheerfully Kostya went through his school, and then his worldly path. Kostya was lucky, and he, fluttering carelessly, plucked "flowers of pleasure." Then an aristocratic family took him somewhere to an old estate on the Volga, in the wilderness, and there he he captivated everyone, from stiff old women to “Turgenev’s” noble girls, telling, while dying, about some unfortunate fate of his; now he wrote magnificent sketches and spoke so beautifully, fascinatingly about art; beautifully, he sang with such feeling ... "continuation"

.:: Grigory Ostrovsky about Konstantin Korovin ::.

"Korovin was not gifted with a comprehensive talent. The harmony of truth and beauty, illuminating the art of V. Serov, the tragic ecstasy of M. Vrubel or the inexhaustible imagination of N. Roerich, were not available to him, and from the point of view of academic science, Korovin did not always and in everything satisfy the strict connoisseurs and judges. Beautiful juicy in color, works interspersed with unsuccessful, and sometimes banal paintings; magnificent examples of color mastery - with "raw" paint, bravura, sweeping brushstroke, loose and approximate drawing. Korovin must be accepted as he was, with its strong and weaknesses, this is how he entered the history of Russian painting of the late XIX - early XX century ... "

Speaking of Russian impressionism, one cannot pass by such a colorful and powerful figure as Konstantin Korovin. Perhaps, he, along with Valentin Serov, is both in spirit and in artistic means a real impressionist, close to his French colleagues. Today in my virtual gallery is a painting by Konstantin Korovin "Pier in Gurzuf", painted in 1914.

Impressionism of the Russian school has a pronounced national specificity and in many respects does not coincide with the textbook ideas about classical impressionism, born in France XIX century. Objectivity and materiality dominate in the painting of the “Russian Impressionists”.

Most of the "Russian impressionists" were graduates not of the Imperial Academy of Arts in St. Petersburg, but of the Moscow School of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture - more free and cheerful educational institution. Russian impressionism is characterized by a greater load of meaning and less dynamization compared to the French urban version, which determines its “village” character, and the so-called. "the cult of the etude". The genetic relationship between Impressionism and Realism is obvious. The French Impressionists emphasized the impression of what they saw, while the Russians added display internal state artist. The work was to be completed in one session.

Korovin's paintings appeared at the very moment when the concept of beauty in Russian painting was tightly and unconditionally forgotten - forgotten under the onslaught of the dark and moralizing painting of the Wanderers. Perhaps only Levitan still remembered beauty, but his beauty was so "sad and full of sadness" that it was understandable to the few. Repin also gave several examples of works that were excellent in terms of color, mostly sketches from nature, but rarely anyone admired these works of his. And even his admirers were more amazed at the fidelity of the transmission of nature than at the beauty resulting from this fidelity.

In general, there was little talk about beauty, and even completely forgot about its existence. Korovin's paintings, in which the artist achieved only one beautiful colorful spot, naturally, should have confused many. This was also facilitated by Korovin's painting itself, his painting technique: impudently careless, rude and, as it seemed to many, simply inept. No one then suspected that both the painting and the colors in these paintings were of high dignity, that their author was a real painter.

See how much light and colors are in Korovin's painting. Everything that is specific to paintings is here. French Impressionists- the play of light, bright colors, rough strokes, as if the artist was trying to stop time and keep up with the movement of light, but at the same time, the picture does not have that transience and momentary nature that are characteristic of Monet and Renoir. Each figure, each stroke - from the figure of a woman in the center of the composition, to the sailboat and flowering trees on the shore, seem to tell us about what fills the world around us.

Korovin studied in the landscape class, first with Alexei Savrasov, then with Vasily Polenov. Korovin learned from Savrasov to find hidden poetry and lyrics in seemingly invisible corners of nature, he learned to correctly grasp and emotionally convey the feeling of life in a landscape. This is very clear in the picture. Korovin is an amazing, born stylist. No worse than the Japanese and not at all imitating them, with amazing wit, with amazing understanding, he reduces the means of expression to a minimum and thereby achieves extraordinary power in his work.

IN late XIX- at the beginning of the 20th century, the southern coast of Crimea became a place of pilgrimage not only for the Russian aristocracy and the bourgeoisie, but for creative people, truly brilliant people. Among them was a special caste - artists. Their admiration of the southern beauties was reflected in hundreds of paintings. It is possible to name dozens of names that glorified Yalta and its surroundings in paintings: K. Bossoli, N. G. Chernetsov, F. I. Gross, F. A. Vasiliev, Yu. Yu. P. Latri, V. D. Orlovsky, I. E. Krachkovsky, A. I. Kuindzhi and many others. However, no one can compare with Konstantin Korovin in terms of the number of painted paintings dedicated to the Crimean roses.

K.A. Korovin. 1916

“In the Crimea, in Gurzuf, by the sea, I built myself a house with fourteen rooms. The house was good. When you woke up, you saw roses from the balcony and the blue sea... From the terrace you could see Odalary - two large rocks protruding from the sea - "desert rocks". No one lived on these rocks. Only swifts flew with a whistle. There was no water, no vegetation." Korovin gave the name of his dacha somewhat unusual for the Crimea - "Salambo", in memory of the just successfully completed work on the scenery for the ballet "Salambo" by A.F. novel of the same name G. Flaubert.
The two-storey villa was built on the site of a former tavern and with its clear geometric shapes testified to the advent of the era of constructivism in architecture. During 1910-1917, the artist lived for a long time at the Gurzuf dacha. Here the artist worked a lot and fruitfully. He painted “Portrait of F.I. Chaliapin (1911), Gurzuf in the Evening (1912), Pier in Gurzuf (1912), Gurzuf (1915), Flower Market in Gurzuf (1917), Gurzuf (1917). I.E. Repin, R.I. Surikov, A.M. Gorky, A.I. Kuprin, D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak, F.I. Shyalyapin visited the dacha "Salambo". The house was cheerful and lively from numerous guests.

K. Korovin. Gurzuf. 1914

K. Korovin. Pier in Gurzuf. 1916

In the workshop of Konstantin Alekseevich there was antique dark red furniture, the walls were trimmed with brown wood. On the balcony of the workshop, Korovin painted several famous sketches - “Balcony in the Crimea”, “On the Terrace”, “Evening. Interior" and others. Korovin worked well in Gurzuf. At sunrise, he painted a morning sketch, after breakfast he left to work on the day one, and at dusk he started the third one - in the evening. Evening streets, dukhans and shops with lights and dark figures especially inspired the artist. And so, while he lived in Gurzuf, he passed almost every day. At first, Korovin visited "Salambo" on short trips, in 1914-1917 he lived almost without a break, leaving only for the summer. Of the seasons in the Crimea, I loved most of all early spring when everything was blooming by the sea, and there was still snow on the mountains.

K. Korovin. Portrait of I. Chaliapin. 1911

The construction of a dacha in Gurzuf by Korovin coincided with his new passion for still life. The master depicted bouquets at the window, on the terrace, combined flowers and fruits, inscribing compositions in a large beautiful world sun, sea and piercing light - blue, cream, apricot. Korovin moved his extensive collection of vases and jugs to the Gurzuf dacha. He was always very concerned about the correspondence of the flower vessel to the nature of the bouquet. And Korovin made bouquets for each room himself, and he wrote a great variety of Crimean roses. He painted roses, wet from the morning dew, withering from the midday heat, inhaling the evening coolness, roses in crystal, in smooth porcelain, in colored jugs, on the window, in a wicker country chair. Sometimes a slender woman appeared next to the roses. female figure, sometimes the blue expanse of the sea or the starry sky turned black as the background of the bouquet, but roses always reigned on the canvas.

K. Korovin about Gurzuf.

(from the book "Konstantin Korovin remembers", 1990)

IN TO RYMU

IN TO In the rymu, in Gurzuf, by the sea, I built myself a house with fourteen rooms. The house was good. When you woke up, you saw roses from the balcony and the blue sea. However, no matter how beautiful Gurzuf was, I still loved more my village house, among the tall fir trees of my beautiful homeland.

Chaliapin p came to see me in the Crimea. And not alone. With him were: Chinese, Gorky and someone else. I invited a special chef, as Chaliapin said:

— I would like to eat real barbecue and kebab.

From O From my dining room I could see how the hillocks of Gurzuf were piled up with a lonely villa at the top. At breakfast, Chaliapin said seriously:

— IN from this mountain I buy and will live here.

AND P After breakfast he went to see the places he liked. E he was accompanied by a Greek Mesalidi, who supplied me with the stone to build the house.

Back, Sh Alyapin went to the terrace - it was very spacious and went out to the sea itself; above it was a trellis covered with grapes. Chaliapin was followed by a whole crowd of people.

When I went out onto the terrace, Chaliapin was lying in a rocking chair. Around him stood: Mesalidi, some Tatars, and a police officer Romanov with a sleepy, round face and a hoarse voice; the meeting was going on.

WITH T terraces were visible Odalary - two large rocks protruding from the sea - desert rocks. No one lived on these rocks. Only swifts flew with a whistle. There was no water, no vegetation.

— R yeseno. I buy these rocks,” Chaliapin said.

— H what are they to you? - objected to the policeman Romanov. - After all, they are raiders. There is no water there.

Chaliapin d grimaced ruefully. I left, not wanting to interfere with the discussion of serious matters.

WITH uh That day, Chaliapin forgot both Gorky and his friends, every day he went by boat to these rocks and only talked about them.

buddy e Go, Wanderer, spent whole days in my room. He said that he liked my desk - it was convenient to write. He sat and wrote. He wrote and sang.

side n and on the table were beer, red wine, and lemonade. When I entered a room for some reason, he was not very pleased ...

Once I saw him sleeping on my bed. Then I dragged my big table into the room I gave him...

Soon G Orky and other friends of Chaliapin left, and he went to Yalta to find out how he could get Odalara from the treasury.

before about On his way out, he said to me:

— What's the matter? I want to buy these Odalary.

— H you can't live on them. These are bare rocks.

— I'll blow them up and make playgrounds. I'll get the water. I will plant gardens.

— H what about a stone?

— H oh, sir, I'll bring the black soil - don't worry, I know. You will build me a villa there, and I will ask Sukhomlinov for old guns.

— W what about guns? I was surprised.

— And then, so that these different correspondents, reporters do not climb on me. I want to live alone, you know, alone.

— H Oh, in a storm, Fedya, for weeks you will be deprived of the opportunity to come here, to the shore.

— H uh, no-s. I'll pass. I'll order a tunnel to be dug under the strait to the shore.

— TO how can you break through the tunnel? The coast is someone else's! You will begin to crawl out of the tunnel, and the owner of the earth will up the top of you - where are you climbing, my land ...

Chaliapin R got angry.

— T oh, how is it, let me?

— D and. He will charge you for a piece of land where your tunnel will go, a hundred thousand a year.

Well V Oh, I knew it! You can't live in this country! Then I will make a pool, I will bring water.

- B pool? I doubted. - The water will run dry.

Chaliapin he waved his hand in annoyance and ordered to call the policeman Romanov - recently he had become his bosom friend. Almost every day they went by boat to Odalary. From Odalar, Romanov was barely able to return and went to sleep in a boat, of which there are many on the seashore. Meeting me on the street, Romanov once said to me in a hoarse voice:

— F Edor Ivanovich - what is that? God! Right God! Here is what h man. Wait a minute see who Romanov will be. They catch at Yalta - who catches? The gendarmes catch. Who is being caught? The political is caught. And Fyodor Ivanovich said to me: “Wait a minute, Romanov, I will show you. political". Got it? Will show. And I have him without gendarmes, by the gills. Who caught? Romanov p oymal. The policeman caught. Got it? It will come to the very end, then who will Romanov be?

I have smiled.

A O Why is your voice hoarse, Romanov?

— TO ok why? Who works day and night? Romanov. In a tavern, in a tavern, you have to yell the devil everywhere. Look, I have a scratch on my neck. Everything is mischief. It is necessary to plant in the guardhouse. Torment! Well, of course, and you will drink, without it it is impossible.

— TO What kind of political criminal do you want to show Romanov?” I asked Chaliapin.

Chaliapin laughed.

- AND Romanov complained to me that there was no promotion in the service: “I have been suffering for twelve years, but here is shish. A uniform must be sewn. The sovereign will soon arrive in Livadia. Need to meet. The gendarmes have come in large numbers, the political ones are being caught. If only I could! I told him: “I will show you, Romanov, a political one.” I want to show him one well-known barrister. He will screw him up.

AND W Alyapin laughed merrily...

IN T The same day a lady arrived from Suuk-su in a carriage. High, n row. brought Chaliapin a magnificent basket of flowers, and another with peaches

and a pricots. She asked him to come to Suuk-Su for dinner. Chaliapin, having learned that she was the owner of Suuk-Su, went. There were a lot of visitors. Chaliapin sang willingly and charmed the ladies.

At night, n on the elevated seashore, near Suuk-Subyl, fireworks were lit and a big picnic was arranged. Champagne was pouring, guests were throwing glasses from a cliff into the sea, they rode in a boat, with torches, to show Chaliapin Pushkin's grotto.

Mistress Suuk-su said:

— This land, over the grotto of the great poet, I ask you to accept a gift from me, Fyodor Ivanovich, This is your place. You will build yourself a villa here.

Chaliapin b I was delighted and stayed in Suuk-su. The next day in the morning he already had a notary and wrote a donation. The odalars were forgotten. Chaliapin said:

— H hell of a hurry. I stay here to live.

Called Mesalidi and immediately ordered to build a wall enclosing his land. And all night until the morning he sat with me over the paper, explaining what he wants to build a house for himself. I listened and drew.

draw m not an underground passage to the sea. There will always be a yacht so that I can leave when I want ...

strange in more: Chaliapin was always afraid of someone ...

Need to l and say that Chaliapin's villa was never built after all. At the time of Kerensky I was in Gurzuf. Mesali complained to me that Chaliapin did not answer his letters. And began to dismantle the wall ...

IN TO RYMU

VC rymu, in Gurzuf, I found a beautiful piece of land near the sea,
bought it and built a house, a wonderful house. There, guests came to me, my friends - artists, artists, and many of them stayed with me all summer.

I r caustically visited Gurzuf. I liked my workshop in the Vladimir province, there was my native nature. I liked everything there - nettles by the dilapidated shed, birches and fog over the moss swamp. Cheerful morning, shepherd's horn and evening dawn... And on the river - yellow water lilies, reeds and crystal water. Opposite, across the river, Föklin Bor and there is no end to the forests: they walked a hundred and four miles without villages. My relatives were also there. I loved peasants wherever I saw them - in Russian districts, provinces, in their alluring villages and villages ...

A in Gurzuf, in the Crimea, there were Tatars, modest, honest people, also
men. And with them there was a chief - police officer Romanov.

— U behold, I understand everything,” he said, “I’ll have a look and plant, I don’t have
take a walk ... I’ll take care of everyone, I’ll put anyone you want in a bedbug ....

He N He called the prisoner a "bugger", as well as a "guardhouse".

— Yavot Romanov,” he said, “but he lives in Livadia...

— D umbadze? my mocking friend Baron Klodt asked him.

— N uh...” and Romanov laughed.

He b he was small in stature, swollen, his voice was hoarse, his face was round with
with gray eyes like pewter buttons, a bruise healing under his eyes, and fresh scratches and freckles on his face. The upper lip somehow did not cover the teeth. The face is angry and drunk in the morning.

— E then here is my uniform, Lord, she-she, old, in the mud, torn ...
she-she... What do you get? Forty-two ... What ... she-she ... It's well, death

what... K how to live?.. The Sovereign arrives in Livadia, she-she... How will I meet you?

Uniform... d twenty-five rubles; no less. You will do a favor. On loan...

Not d Hell, I’ll know through whom I don’t meet the sovereign ... hey, she ... Khvospovich

ask: in I’ll tell you - I didn’t do it ... I’m not asking - the service is asking ... she-she ...

Romanov p came to me every day.

- H are you doing it here? Roses are different, you write off the pictures. And what is it?

About V no position can be given to you ... We also protect you, we preserve ... but

who is naet, we walk under God ... Describe ... There, I look, nadys: far,

u s cal sit. But what if someone takes you out of the revolver? You are with

chair to Uvyrk, that means ... legs up. And who is responsible? Romanov in

answer, in here I am ... Hey, look, look! ..

He is in sighed:

— H and what is your rank?

- WITH tat advisor.

— M al ... We send the real ones ...

Behind m Her dacha in Gurzuf was a bazaar - a small square and two-story houses with signs, taverns and coffee shops. Here Romanov reigned every evening, without hesitation:

— In Livadia - he, - said Romanov. - And here - I am. Order is needed.

in the evening and in the bazaar there were battles. Romanov dragged drunks by the collar from the taverns to the guards.

Mind Enya had a friend, the Tatar Asan, a young guy, handsome. On the back of the head is a small round hat, like a yarmulke. Asan's dark eyes were always laughing, and he moved them like an Arabian horse. When he laughed, his teeth glowed like peeled almonds.

Unknown. why, the policeman Romanov avoided Asan. Asan was respectful with him, exquisitely polite, serious. But Asan's eyes were laughing...

Romanov p for some reason did not look at him and left when Asan was with me.

- H then Romanov doesn't love you? I once asked Asana.

— M enya? Uh-uh... he? He loves me, he loves me! Yours is mine, loves like a brother. I am not afraid of him - he is not afraid of me ... like a brother.

Asan x Yitro laughs.

- X good boss Romanov. He loves to judge, he loves fighting, he loves wine, he loves everything... The Tatar taught him. Good boss.

— TO How did this Tatar teach? Baron Klodt asked Asan.

— T ok, - says Asan, - so little... He took me to Odalary by boat. You know? Two Odalara brothers? Empty mountains, the swift bird lives there, there is no water, there is no one ... You can’t go anywhere - straight up, the mountain. I brought him crabs to catch and left. He rested there for three days. He shouted - no one hears ... Well, he brought him back again. Such a good boss has become, as it should be ... I told him: “You will be a good boss! Not yours, not mine. And then the Tatar will take him away again, completely there - to catch crabs ... Here ... "

Somehow at At the same time, I painted roses and the sea from nature on the balcony. per l ladder, which walked from the house to the sea, Romanov was standing near the police station, in a new uniform, and; Stretching out, he held his hand near his cap, saluting.

"What t whats up with him? - Think. I turned around again: Romanov again drew himself up and saluted. What's happened? .. "I went into the room from the balcony and said to my friends Klodt and Sakhnovsky:

- H Something happened to Romanov...

All m oh my friends went to see. The police officer stood at attention and saluted with bulging eyes.

- H then with you, Romanov? Yuri Sergeevich Sakhnovsky asked him.

— N I can not know - ordered! Romanov answered loudly.

- H what the hell? It's unclear... What happened to Romanov? ! After breakfast, my friends and I sat in the dining room. Suddenly opened

door, in Romanov walked in and with a frightened face shouted hoarsely:

- AND dut-s...

We are in become. Police officer Khvostovich, of heroic stature, stood at the door and

watched frightened of yourself, open door. What is it, what is being done?..

still b to our greater bewilderment, a short stature appeared at the door

mister in a cauldron - a gray-haired, unprepossessing stranger.

- X I would like to see ... - the newcomer said quietly, - the artist Korovin ... I would like ...

- IN from him,” said the friends, pointing at me.

— Hello, dear Konstantin Alekseevich," said the newcomer.

affectionately.— I received an order from Vladimir Arkadyevich [Telyakovsky]: to go to bow to you. I am a musician ... a musician ... Taneyev - my brother is also a musician .... I have sinned, Konstantin Alekseevich - I wrote an opera ...

This h something like that ... opera ... Here I have it ... And he took out a large bundle from his pocket.

— I’m your neighbor, in Livadia, not far ... We’ll agree, you’ll come to me, maybe you’ll be welcome, I’ll play for you ... If you have an instrument, I’ll play music here too ...

My p The scholars looked at the men in uniform standing behind Taneyev—Khvostovich, Romanov, and some others with open mouths—and

laughed. T Aneev looked at us all with surprise:

— TO how fun you have here ... It's nice when it's fun ... they laugh ...

- P please feel free to contact us. I have already received a letter,” I said, “from the director, and I have sketched the scenery. I sent them to Petersburg to show you. But you must have been here before. Taneyev was hell get to know with musicians - Sakhnovsky, Vargin Kurov. They started talking. When the musicians talk, for a long time: before dinner, at dinner, after dinner ... In the evening I looked from the balcony and saw policemen at the entrance, Khvostovich and Romanov with them.

- WITH tell me what it means...” I asked Taneyev, “the police are standing

here? W with what?

— P uskai are standing.

When T Aneev left, Vargin explained to me that this Taneev was the brother

composer T aneeva, also a composer. But also the personal secretary of the sovereign. Then I understood why the whole ceremony. Romanov after that already came to me and ran from me, as from Asan.

Somehow in the night I wrote from the window of the cafe Bazaar. The taverns are lit, music can be heard from the windows. People were staggering up and down the stairs to and from the tavern. Suddenly - a dump, din. A drunk flies out of the tavern straight onto the pavement. Fight. I see Romanov holding two by the collar. They break out. Romanov beats, they beat him too. Then everything is silent. They climb into the tavern again, then again they shout: “Sentry!”. Fight. And so the whole evening.

— H is that what it is? I tell Asan.

— N what, the boss loves "your - mine" - you have to show yourself ...

— D and they beat him...

— N what... Bute. Well, then they put up - they drink ... They drink wine ...

But oh Romanov lived and cheered up when Fyodor Ivanovich Chaliapin came to visit me in Gurzuf. Romanov liked Chaliapin so much that the police officer said:

— D for Fyodor Ivanovich, she-she, I’ll spread it in a thread, these are people like that, she-she, there’s nowhere ... This is what - boh! I’m going to hurt myself right for him ... she-she ...

S W Alyapin got in trouble. He sailed with the military inistrom
Sukhomlinov on a destroyer, and Fyodor Ivanovich was blown away. Mind enya,
waking up In the morning, he felt unwell. Can't neither tin
to turn, nor get out of bed, terrible pain.

Near and or a doctor - he lived summer and winter in Gurzuf. About him stands with say
some words.

architect, to who built my Gurzuf dacha, Pyotr Kuzmich, was
sick with tuberculosis. The doctor cured him - the architect became fat, like
barrel, same as doctor. And the doctor treated him with vodka and cognac - both
drunk every day in the morning.

- T uberculosis comes out of such a person ... - the doctor said. - He likes it, well, he leaves.

Looking Sh alyapin, the doctor said.

- P rostrell.

I p painted Chaliapin cognac.

When I came, the doctor and his patient were blowing cognac together. So,
seriously, silently, our doctor treated and left Chaliapin late, barely
mozhahu ... And Fedor Ivanovich said something to me before going to bed: about numbers:
Mukhina in St. Petersburg, about the samovar, bagels are heated on the samovar ... you will come.
from the bath, it’s good in Mukhin’s rooms ... He talked and talked and fell asleep.

Morning Sh Alyapin was already moving his head, but the backache was still sitting - and Fedor
Ivanovich could not get up, again the doctor treated the whole day and again he barely left.
mozhahu.

Visited F Yodor Ivanovich and the district police officer Romanov. He brought newspapers and letters, behaved respectfully.

I g I tell Chaliapin:

- ABOUT chopping is not bad ...

Yes, x orosh.

— The doctor is also not bad with us ...

— D A. But how is it ... Two bottles of cognac - a minute ... He's it.
the sea will drink - and nothing.

Soon F Edor Ivanovich went out of his room into the garden by the sea, where there was a terrace. It was called "frying pan", as it was open, and the Crimean sun was frying on it. At the edge of the terrace, tall oleanders grew in large boxes, and pink color the shores of the mountains cheered them against the backdrop of the blue sea.

- IN from there, these mountains are Odalary, - said Chaliapin, lying on the compartment.
ke.- These are the islands. There is also a photographer living there. What's the matter? I'm
ask them to give them to me. How do you think?

— D I think that they will give deserted rocks [...]

— E that's right, - confirmed the policeman Romanov, who was also here. What else, she-she, what are they for? Who needs Odalary? What is there? And nothing grows. The sea beats them. There are stones on stones. If you like, Fyodor Ivanovich, we'll take them right away. The photographer sits there, takes pictures of such different people that go there. I have him from there to the shah-monk! Instantly! What to look, take it!

— E then, probably, volcanic hills, - said the doctor. - You level them, build a house - fine. Well, what if: an eruption, smoke, lava, geysers gushing...

— H here, geysers... You can't live here, you can't.

— T trees cannot grow, the wind is north-east.

Well uh what is it? You can't live. No water, north-east.

- IN You can tear them apart, noted the architect Pyotr Kuzmich. “But there might be a crawler there.

— E what else is it? Fyodor Ivanovich was surprised. What's happened?

— T It's crawling around here," said the police officer Romanov. "Use. The mountain crawls by the sea, the road, the chassis creeps. At Yalta, Krasnov's house crawled away by the sea.

- IN It’s true,” the architect confirmed. “Anapa, a Greek city, has crawled away into the sea.”

— W you know, Konstantin,” Fyodor Ivanovich looked at me. “Your house will crawl away too.

— ABOUT very simple,” the doctor consoled.

— But Monte Carlo doesn't crawl," said Fyodor Ivanovich. "It's not a country. You can't live here.

— E that's right. That's right. I what? District warden, I live here, I get forty-two, I would like to go somewhere. What is there in winter - north-east, hard on your feet you can not stand. The wind is blowing straight, what a passion.

Fedor I Vanovich recovered and went to Yalta in a carriage.

Behind n Romanov, a district police officer, galloped behind them on a white horse in a raincoat. The cloak fluttered, and the herring-saber jumped over the horse's thighs.

— E X, G Romanov yelled later. “That kind of person Fyodor Ivanovich, that's a man. Wherever he puts me, a police officer, right here, right on the mountain, he smokes. Soon Romanov will see what will happen. And then they gossip: Romanov is drinking, a drunkard ...

But Romanov never made it up the hill.

Once upon a time came to Gurzuf, on the way from Simferopol, in a carriage. Stopped at a restaurant. An elderly man of very tall stature, a middle-aged lady, got out of the carriage. Old man took off his hat and brushed off the dust with a handkerchief, saying to the lady:

— A x, I'm tired.

Okolotochny R Omanov was nearby and noticed:

— They go in a wheelchair, but they say they are tired. Didn't walk.

Elderly h The man heard, looked intently at the policeman, and said sternly to him:

— AND di under arrest. I will send for you.

AND at went with a lady to a restaurant.

Romanov about on foot.

— TO then this barin? he asked the coachman.

Coachman m yelled.

— H his. Mute, or something, be silent. Say, I'll give you a ruble, she-she. Five ladies
she-she. Who?

Coachman m yelled.

— D twenty ladies, I will not regret it, tell me.

But to the teacher was silent. Romanov looked confused.

— E ka, grief. Wow, grief. Oh, and he's not wearing a uniform. Who? B atyushki,
gone missing I disappeared.

And about he walked, shaking his head, saying:

— IN from what, that's what happened.

At night h and the convoy came to Romanov, and he was taken to Simferopol. So he was gone in Gurzuf. And who was this tall gentleman, I do not know even today ...

Pier in Gurzuf. 1914

Korovin K.A.
Canvas, oil
89 x 121

Russian Museum

annotation

The creative individuality of K. Korovin was clearly manifested in one of his best works "Pier in Gurzuf". In front of a woman sitting on the veranda of a cafe, a characteristic Crimean landscape opens up: mountains, sea and sails of yachts. Southern mood summer day the artist conveys, first of all, through color and light - the elements of K. Korovin. In his painting, light becomes the same direct expression of feelings as sound in music. Being one of major representatives Russian impressionism, Korovin said: "I write for those who know how to enjoy the sun, the endless variety of colors, shapes, who never ceases to be amazed at the easily changing play of light and shadow."

Author biography

Korovin K.A.

Korovin Konstantin Alekseevich (1861, Moscow - 1939, Paris)
Painter, theater artist.
Academician of the Imperial Academy of Arts (since 1905). Knight of the Order of the Legion of Honor.
Born in Moscow. He studied at the Moscow School of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture under I.M. Pryanishnikova, A.K. Savrasova, V.G. Perova, V.D. Polenov (1875–1883), at the Academy of Arts (1882). He taught at the Moscow School, heading the genre-portrait class (1901–1918). Member of the Abramtsevo circle (since 1885), the World of Art societies (since 1899), the Union of Russian Artists (since 1903). He designed performances for the Mammoth Private Opera, worked for the Imperial Theaters (since 1900). Designed over 100 productions for theaters in Moscow and St. Petersburg. From 1910 he was the chief decorator of the Moscow Imperial Theatres.
From 1917 he actively participated in public life- was a member of the Special Council for the Arts and other governing bodies artistic life. In 1918–1919 he taught at the State Free Art Workshops. Since 1923 - abroad, in 1924 he settled in Paris.
Author of landscapes, portraits, still lifes and genre paintings.