Temptations and turbulence

The beautiful weather continues here in Sofia – 24 yesterday – and, invigorated by the exercises and swim at Rodina hotel, I strolled  for some 4 hours visiting my small galleries 

First the Absinthe gallery (where I bought this aquarelle of a view from a window - by a young woman - Klementina Mancheva); 

then Vihra at the Astry Gallery (tempted by this fetching Kostadinov figure in the red dress on the right): 

My friend Yassen was showing his latest oil at his Konus gallery; 

A rarer visit to the Kristal gallery had me tempted by an Alexandrov and a Zhekov;

and, finally, a first visit to the Grita gallery just past the Opera for a Vernissaj - one of four apparently which were taking place that evening in the capital. 

A lovely little area this last – between the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral and General Dondukov Boulevard – with a tiny gem of a classical disc shop just outside the Opera house on Vrabcha St from which I emerged with 20 odd discs – mainly Dvorak. Incidentally, I was shocked to see the extremist party Ataka offices prominently sitting ajowl the Opera!!

Earlier I had purchased some charming Bulgarian ceramics and also reproductions of the irresistable Angela Minkova - at Albena's wonderful tiny but joyful shop- Art Magazin at the corner of the Catholic Church and Skobelev St (number 38);  and popped into the Raiko Aleksiev gallery on Rakovsky St which turned out to be celebrating the works of one Nikolay Rostovchev (1898-1988). 

Rostovchev was an officer in the Russian dragoons who was part of the residue of the White Army which landed in Varna in 1921. In 1925 he enrolled in Boris Mitov’s class at the Art Academy in Sofia and graduated in 1930, exhibiting in the annual exhibitions of the Association of Independent Artists until 1945 – at which point the new communist authorities stripped him of his membership of all associations. His past was against him – not only presumably his time with the White Army but his religious painting during most of the 1930s – for example his work on the St Nedelya Church. What a turbulent life he had - fleeing from the Bolsheviks only to land up 20-odd years later facing their successors who at least only ostracised him. It was appropriate therefore that the exhibition is in the Raiko Aleksiev gallery since Aleksiev died in custody a few weeks after the communist takeover.    

On this historical note, I was aware of the slaughter which took place in 1925 at the church but had not properly connected it with the September 1923 communist uprising. I remember passing a monument to communists at the roadside near Vratsa in the north-east of the country – and wondering about it. I posted last year about the massacres which took place in the communist takeover of September 1944 - 70 years ago next year. I wonder how the period will be remembered next year??

My evening finished with another nice discovery as I took a side road back to the flat – a small bookshop which had a copy of a remarkable 500 page book on Bulgaria – Bulgaria Terra Europeansis Incognita by Ivan Daraktchiev. Original both in its provocative text and superb photos of old ceramics. There's an interview with the author here.

Imagining a future

A space for books, paintings, wine and….ideas? A possible new concept for Sofia – European City of Culture?

As well as conducting my usual haunts of galleries and bookshops here in Sofia, I’m looking at property – and feel that any flat has to be large enough to take my present (let alone future) stock of books and paintings. 

I found a dream flat – on the edge of a forest a mere 20 minutes’ drive (or metro) from the centre – but it’s only 70 sq metres; and does not allow the flaneur life I love in the centre of town.

And the second-hand and remaindered books whose titles appealed to me in the last few days (and now lie around the flat) speak powerfully of the importance of serendipity and conversations - eg 

• JG Ballard’s dystopian novel Kingdom Come (2006); 
• Charles Bukowski's collection of despairing poetry - War all the time (1984)  
• a book about the Anglo-Scottish borderlands between the 14^th and 16^th centuries -The Reivers; 
• Desperately seeking Paradise – journeys of a sceptical muslim (2004) by Ziauddin Sardar;
• Dinner with Persephone; travels in Greece by Patricia Storace (1996); 
• Hungarian Antal Szerb’s 1937 masterpiece Journey by Moonlight ; 
• the final (third) part of Russe-born Nobel-prize winning Elias Cannetti’s auobiography The Play of the Eyes (1986);  
• Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie; and
• The Language Wars; a History of Proper English (2011) by the improbably-named Henry Hitchings

So why not a small gallery space in the centre where I can hang the paintings, display books, offer wines and converse in whatever language......? Fine for experience - but what would I actually sell - apart from glasses of wine?? The books (eg my extensive collection of about Bulgarian painters) and paintings would not leave the shop but simply be a catalyst for conversation.....
Now that the British Council here has closed its library of books, perhaps there is a place for people to go who wish a taste of European (if not British) culture. I could add French and German books; link with the British butcher and the second-hand English bookshop here; and with cultural centres such as The Red House........Dream on.......

Yovo Yovchev - a painter to watch!

My great friend Yovo Yovchev of Sofia has had an exhibition these last few weeks – at the Finesse Gallery in Hristo Belchev St just off Solunska St. 

Here he is with my other great gallerist friend, Yassen Gochev at the exhibition - which, sadly, ends tomorrow. Yassen's artistry is variously surrealist (oil) and realist (aquarelle and oil) - and you can find him at his Konos Gallery
Yovo was the first guy to introduce me to the great traditions of Bulgarian painting - he sold me my first Emilia Radusheva (I have about 5 now) and was the first person to show me the catalogues of the Victoria Gallery Auction House....and hence help captivate me into the incredible tradition of Bulgarian painting .

Tomorrow is the last day of the exhibition - and 3-4 of his paintings have caught my eye.
I managed to buy the second of these.....

Global Looting - Taxing Times

Rumours about a tax on bank savings – have been sweeping Europe according to The Slog blog which implicates a document available on the IMF website dated ‘October 2013′. This document with the significant title Fiscal Monitor; Taxing Times argues that a 10% tax on bank accounts would bring public debt in European countries back to 2007 levels! Go the box at page 49 for the full argument

You thought the Cyprus raid was a one-off?!!
Be very afraid.

Savings in bank accounts are not safe - on the other hand, is it really possible that European governments are so suicidal as to be contemplating the infliction of losses on their middle classes???????? But thee IMF has now given them the legitimacy.....The unthinkable has become the thinkable.......

But where are those of us who haven't sunk our money in property to put it? Money that we earned (in my case) in consultancy fees over the past 20 years. I had nothing except a mortgage in 1990. Now I have a fair amount. I cashed in the investments in the mid 2000s just before the whistle went on the financial system. Since then they were earning a pittance in the northern banks! So I transferred most to Romanian and Bulgarian banks where they have been earning about 4%. Now I even insist on checking the serial numbers of notes withdrawn - and the watermarks.....

Zest for Life

A zest for Life seems to me the most admirable of qualities. So many of the people I have blogged about in the past year – eg Naomi Mitchison, Dennis Healey, Dervla Murphy, Diana Athill , Tisa von der Schulenberg, Georgy Faludy (1910-2006) all had it in buckets – and so, I think, did Iris Origo (1902-1988) whose incredible Images and Shadows I found this week in the Vasil Levsky branch of Knigomania (for 4 euros).  The blurb tells us that -

Iris Origo was born in 1902 and was instantly catapulted into a life of "unfair advantages of birth, education, money, environment and opportunity." But she used this birth-right wisely, and her legacy includes a string of books apparently beloved and admired equally by historians, biographers, and readers.
Iris spent her youth in the ancestral estate on Long Island and in her grandfather's castle in Ireland. Her father died tragically when she was eight, and she continued her peripatetic life with her indefatigable mother and beloved governess. A woman who always knew her mind, in 1923 Origo bought La Foce, an entire valley, almost feudal in organization, in the Val d'Orcia of Tuscany. There for fifty years she worked tirelessly with her (Italian) husband, improving the land and the lot of the peasants, saving endangered children from the brutal incursions of the Nazis, and writing history and memoirs that are still considered classics of the genre.
Origo was at once a woman of action and introspection, of boundless curiosity and endearing innocence. She writes beautifully, thoughtfully, and lucidly.

The introduction to her memoir is typical of her style: "It has sometimes been pointed out to me that I have had a very varied and interesting life, have lived in some extremely beautiful places and have met some remarkable people. I suppose it is true, but now that I have reached `the end game', I do not find myself dwelling upon these pieces on the board. The figures that still stand out there now are the people to whom, in different ways and in different degrees, I have been bound by affection. Not only are they the people whom I most vividly remember, but I realise that it is only through them that I have learned anything about life at all. The brilliant talk that I heard at I Tatti in my youth, in Bloomsbury in the thirties, in New York and Rome in later years, has lost some of its glitter. All that is left to me of my past life that has not faded into mist has passed through the filter, not of my mind, but of my affections. What has not warmed by them is now for me as if it had never been."

Born into an international family, Origo spent her childhood years between her paternal grandparents' estate in Westbrook, Long Island, her maternal grandparents' home in Great Britain, and her mother's villa in Fiesole. Although her father died early, he made sure his daughter grew up devoid of limiting national identity and open to different cultural influences. Her mother instilled a passion for travel and books. While grateful to her family for the comfort and care they provided, Origo portrays certain aspects of her upbringing with restrained criticism. 

Her proper British mother, for instance, insisted on Origo's private education by governesses and tutors, opposed her desire to enroll in university, and committed her to a tasteless, nauseatingly ``healthy'' diet. In hindsight, Origo considers her period of ``coming out'' into high society a considerable waste of time. Readers, however, will appreciate her colorful accounts of balls and theater visits as a glimpse of elite diversions in bygone days. Origo's descriptions of early 20th-century American magnates and patrons of the arts and her detailed reconstruction of Italian landowners' traditional life are among many other engaging passages. Sketching her own character in an irreproachably modest tone, she commands respect for her ability to apply her superb education, knowledge of the world, and financial means to worthy causes. She helped modernize devastated farmland in Tuscany, volunteered in the Red Cross during WWII, and sheltered orphaned children at her home after the war. This active, creative attitude arises out of Origo's profound sense of being ``singularly fortunate,'' despite some personal tragedies a rare and therefore doubly appealing trait. Along with its exquisite style and thought-provoking digressions on the philosophy of writing, this autobiography documents fascinating experiences of the modern European and American aristocracy.
She is marvellous at nuances of place and personality, writing with a subtle mingling of candour and affection that lingers in the mind.

Images and Shadows seems to be one of a few of her a books which are still in print (or rather reprinted in a lovely 1999 Nonpareil edition). It is time her other books saw the light of day again eg her 1953 biography of the Italian poet Leopardi whose proliferous Notebooks have just been published in a huge translated version, 

Through Tourist eyes - and taste buds

A hectic few days as my youngest daughter and her husband flew in for a long weekend. Sofia and Bulgaria were looking at their best – with the early morning mist, later sun and autumn foliage much in evidence as we visited the isolated redoubt of Koporivishtica village to the east of Sofia and, the next day, Rilski Monastery two hours’ drive south of Sofia.

Koprivshtitsa is a captivating mountain town, unique with its cobblestone alleys, houses painted in bright colors with expansive verandahs and picturesque eaves.
During the Ottoman rule, Koprivshtitsa withstood many a raid- although it was reduced to ashes several times and its inhabitants were frequently robbed and driven away.
The wealthier townsfolk managed to “ransom” Koprivshtitsa from the Turkish rulers and win some special privileges, thus keeping the Bulgarian traditions and atmosphere of the town intact.
In this way Koprivshtitsa was able to preserve its freedom-loving, patriotic spirit and hand it down to its children. Quite a few Bulgarians who laid down their lives for the liberation of their country were born here.

The April Uprising, which broke out in Koprivshtitsa on April 20, 1876, gave voice to the desire and efforts of the Bulgarian people to win back its freedom after five centuries of Ottoman oppression. A lot of foreign journalists reported the events of the spring of 1876 and showed the world that there was a people on the Balkan Peninsula who had not lost their identity and were willing to strive for independence. Eventually, in 1878 Bulgaria won the freedom it had so long yearned for, at least partly helped by the publicity of the April Uprising and its subsequent brutal suppression.

We were not the only ones to visit Rila – one of my favourite ex-pat bloggers about the Sofia scene (now sadly back in the US) was there at the beginning of the month (and also at Plovdiv)

Rilski Monastery is now a UNESCO site and, much as I enjoyed this time the exuberance of the recently repainted artwork,

I felt that it was actually a bit over the top and inconsistent with the soul of the place. The screams of hordes of kids shattered what little calm the Saturday crowds allowed the monks in their warren of cells.

The only calm element were the postures of the 3 Japanese visitors who sketched the buildings.

 In between times a bachanalian  feast of Bulgarian dishes and wines was enjoyed – particularly at the two restaurants in my area, one of which is vegetarian and cooks superb black bread on the premises,

Words ....and silences

I suppose I live an odd life – for the past 23 years in countries whose languages I don’t speak (although I had a good stab at Russian during the 7 years I spent in its old empire in Central Asia and the Caucasus). But the last 6 years I’ve been living alternately in Bulgaria and Romania and confess to have made no real effort to learn their languages - which are just so much musical background for me. I note the different intonations, stresses, voice and delivery pitches as if I was listening to a symphony….

I think, read and write in English – and am spoiled by having access to great English bookshops in Bucharest and Sofia (the latter the second-hand “Elephant” just a few minutes’ stroll from my flat). It was my first port of call the day of my arrival and I quickly picked up a couple of books - Dennis Healey’s Time of my Life (a 1989 hardback) and Dervla Murphy’s Silverland – a winter journey beyond  the Urals . Murphy has become a favourite of mine and I have always had a soft spot for Labour statesman Healey - he may have been a bruiser but he was (indeed is - going strong at 95 like his friend Helmut Schmidt) a highly cultured man with a real European perspective - working in the Socialist International in the 1930s - a taste of poetry and paintings and strong opinions. 

The next day I was back and left with three interesting books  - Tony Benn’s More Time for Politics- Diaries 2001-2007 ; Arthur Marwick’s British Society since 1945 (2003) ; and Roy Jenkins’ Gallery of 20^th Century Portraits (1988)

Coincidentally I came across an excellent Bulgarian online bookstore which gives short resumes in English and actually has a short list of books in English on Bulgarian topics. The resumes give me precisely the glimpse of Bulgarian life I need.

I don’t mind not being able to read the newspapers (which contain noise in every country we are better off without) but I do miss not being part of other conversations on matters literary and artistic.

And, while on the subject of noise, let me draw your attention to a fascinating read - A Book of Silence by Sarah Maitland

The sculpture is one of the bronze ones which are in the grounds of the Sofia City Art Gallery.
The oil painting I got for 50 euros from my antique dealer Alexander Alesandriev and is by an unknown. The sketch (also from the AA gallery) is apparently by (or of?) Petr Chukovsky, a teacher of Ilyia Beshkov.

Two who died too young

Two wonderful exhibitions – first the Sofia City Gallery’s one of Jules Pascin’s amusing erotic drawings from 100 years ago.

I wrote about Pascin last October - referring to a dedicated website  and a blogpost about his oil portraits, The gallery's coverage says - Julius Mordecai Pincas, known as Jules Pascin, was born on 31 March, 1885 in the city of Vidin. In 1892, his family moved to Bucharest. Pascin graduated from high school in Vienna. Between 1902 and 1905 he received training at the art academies in Vienna, Budapest, Munich and Berlin. He contributed to the “Simplicissimus “ magazine published in Munich. In 1905, he moved to Paris, where he met his future wife, Hermine David. In 1907, he organized his first solo exhibition at Paul Cassirer’s gallery in Berlin. In 1914 he left for New York, where he lived until 1920. He travelled to the Southern states and Cuba. Then he went back to Paris, where he lived until his death in 1930. Pascin reflected in his paintings the influence of Art Noveau, and later – of expressionism. The exhibition includes artworks belonging to all major themes and genres but particularly the nude body,

There is an exhibition catalogue in Bulgarian and French, including all artworks featured in the exhibition. The research paper “Jules Pascin and Artistic Developments at the Turn of the 20th Century”, compiled by the exhibition’s curator Maria Vassileva is also available (again in Bulgarian and French) as a separate edition.

I then paid a visit to the School of Art in Vassil Levsky Boulevard – and was very touched to view a small exhibition of the aquarelles of a young man - Margarit Tsanev - who committed suicide in 1969 at the age of only 25. 
The curator told me that they had been found only in the 1980s (?) and donated to the School - which exhibits them annually on a rotating basis. Pity the exhibition ends tomorrow!