Author: chief editor Source: Music Academy magazine (2006 №2) < Translated using Google Translate >

...Igor Zhukov's artistic activity has been lasting for half a century. These are more than one thousand concerts (solo and with an orchestra) in the Motherland and abroad, performances in ensembles (the evenings of the Trio with the brothers G. and V. Feigins were especially noticeable), dozens of phonograph records, repeatedly reprinted in different countries, plus the current compact discs... But all this is just one form of talent. Beginning in the 1970s, Zhukov increasingly became a conductor (in Ulyanovsk, Voronezh), and in 1981 he created his own chamber orchestra in Moscow and led it for almost a decade and a half, leading this ensemble to world heights of excellence. And then, leaving the stationary ensemble, Zhukov closely combines pianism with conducting, acting as a guest maestro in orchestras in Kaliningrad, Riga, and in recent years Nizhny Novgorod. In a word, Igor Mikhailovich meets his 70th birthday wise with a unique human and aesthetic experience. Congratulating on both anniversaries our long-time friend and author of many materials both in "Soviet Music" and in the "Musical Academy" - the author, endowed with a sovereign literary intonation, we begin the publication of his original memoirs, the inner meaning of which is accurately reflected in their title ... INSTEAD OF FOREWORD Now, when the main (most) part of life is already behind, and it is possible to draw some conclusions on the basis of what has been lived and done, first of all, I want to say: “I am a lucky person.” Of course, such a postulate requires certain explanations of what “luck” is, because it can have an innumerable number of specific manifestations (“luck” and “bad luck” can accompany both a great scientist and a notorious bandit!). So, without denying the justice of folk wisdom, which says that “man himself is the blacksmith of his own happiness,” I cannot get rid of the thought that in nature there is some truly difficult to know “institute of guardian angels” (!). Actually, I am not a religious person, but not so much as not to understand (and not feel?) that nature is a programmed phenomenon, and each of us has, in modern terms, a kind of “floppy disk” that determines the direction and nature of life. activity of its "owner". Please believe me that this is not the notorious "fermentation of the mind" (or, as it is sometimes called, "home philosophizing"); I came to such a “metaphorical” conclusion based on my own life retrospection, namely: yes, I tried to be the “blacksmith of my own happiness”, but why at one or another important (or key) moment the “blacksmith’s hammer” fell precisely at this point , and not in some other? Why were instant decisions sometimes made (as if without hesitation), on which the future essentially depended (!), and why the opposite happened more than once, when in no less in the end, the decision and even the result came as if by themselves. Here it is, this is the big why, to which I have neither a "materialistic" nor even the slightest reasonable answer. But this big why is decomposed into many small private moments that will be present in the subsequent further conversation, and I hope that the reader will understand why I began communication with him on such a semi-mystical note, so to speak. I'll start with how I started making music. The great Fyodor Ivanovich Chaliapin wrote that he remembers himself from the age of five. I am almost sure: apparently, then something significant happened in his life, which, so to speak, turned on his memory for “permanent” work. But children's memory - it is secret, that is, almost not selective, it just needs to be given the necessary impetus. Such an impetus for me was the first day of the war - June 22, 1941. I remember that day like now (I was then incomplete 5 years old). Of course, some “prehistoric” moments were also preserved in the memory, but they were most likely of an informational and educational nature (for example, that electricity can “hit”, I was empirically convinced by putting my finger into the socket when no one was at home, although I was told about this danger more than once!), and the system itself turned on on that fateful day. We lived then in a dacha near Moscow. It was Sunday, a day off, and my mother and I went (she was very fond of flowers) to the gardener for seedlings. Arriving there, we saw many people listening to the speech of V. Molotov - the war began! Of course, there was no time for flowers anymore: on the way back, passing by the railway station, I saw how the trains from Moscow were almost empty, and to Moscow they were full. My father was a military man, and he, like many others, received an order to evacuate his family from Moscow. We were quickly taken to the city of Kirov (closer to the Urals), where we stayed until the beginning of 1943. (Here I would like to digress a little from the course of events and return to the conversation about “system memory”: it was truly a shock for me when, having arrived in Kirov on tour in 1962, I was able to walk around the old part of the city, as if I had only left it yesterday Everything was absolutely recognizable and, what is most amazing, the city did not become lower for me, and in 1941 I was only 5 years old!) So, we are in Kirov. I must say that traditionally in Russian provincial cities, especially not very large ones, there were, so to speak, sphinx personalities who determined the spiritual, cultural hypostasis of the environment and enjoyed special honor and respect among the population. Such a "sphinx" in Kirov was Alexander Semenovich Eremin - a musician, a singer who graduated from the St. Petersburg Conservatory in his time. He organized an amateur choir that gave charity concerts for the wounded in hospitals, for workers in factories, etc. My mother was not a musician, but she was a musical nature, and, of course, went to sing in this choir (perhaps the genes spoke : the mother was Latvian, and the choral "epidemic" in Latvia, as well as throughout the Baltics, is well known). It is not difficult to guess that I often accompanied her to concerts and even sometimes, standing on a chair, “recited” some children's poems (I remember that every time this was accompanied by persuasion, because I was afraid that they would suddenly start laughing). So, at one of the concerts - I don’t remember whether it was during a break or after the concert - I seized the moment, crept up to the piano and, for the first time in my life, began to make some sounds with all my fingers. However, the "improvisation" was short-lived: there were several girls nearby (and there was also a children's group in the choir), who made me laugh: is this how they play? I burst into tears, and my mother quickly pulled me out of the laughing company. But, oddly enough, it was this “public fiasco” of mine that had a positive continuation: my mother brought me to the house of A. Eremin, they sat me down at the piano and ... began to teach. His (Eremin's) daughter studied with me, who before the war managed to finish a ten-year music school at the Leningrad State Chapel. (Here again I want to give a small remark: Lyudmila Alexandrovna Eremina was much younger than my mother, but, nevertheless, very friendly relations developed between them in Kirov, which continued later. And - downright mystic: after the war, Lyudmila Eremina married ... Latvian musicologist Arvid Darkevits and went to live in Riga, the city where my mother was born!). But back to the piano, for which they put me. I emphasize - planted. I can say one thing: I did not resist and, apparently, there were still some results, especially considering that, of course, in Kirov we did not have an instrument at home, and my communication with the keyboard continued only with Eremin. In any case, by the end of our stay in Kirov, I was already able to "depict" some of Burgmuller's sketches. Moreover, at parting, this notebook with sketches was presented to me with the inscription: “To dear Igochka (that was my name, Lyudmila Alexandrovna), a talented student from Aunt Mila” (that is what I called her). Well, if we talk about other musical impressions of that time, then, I think, my first knowledge of musical literature is connected ... with loudspeakers on the streets of Kirov, from which Russian symphonic music sounded between official military messages. Of course, I did not know the names of the composers, the titles of the works, but the children's secret memory scrupulously recorded everything, and later I, so to speak, found out that, it turns out, I was familiar with the Bogatyr Symphony by Borodin, the First Kalinnikov Symphony, the March "In Memory of Suvorov" by Arensky, " Solemn Polonaise" by Lyadov, etc. (Again, a remark: this is very opportune, if we recall the constant and fruitless discussions about what is "understandable by the people." When music sounds like an attribute of everyday life, it enters you without special propaganda !! !). Even today, these works, no, no, yes, and they evoke in me “visions” of the Kirov landscapes of that time ... That was the beginning. Can anyone deny that everything happened purely by chance! Perhaps only a combination of circumstances and a little, but - luck (A. Eremin's personality). Now about who was my first teacher at school and what was her role in life. First, I will repeat the words of my father at the celebration of my 40th birthday: “Igor always had two mothers, and that second mother, in addition to her own, was Vera Viktorovna!” There is not a shadow of “sweetness” here, polite table flattery and other attributes of official doxology. Without the slightest exaggeration, this is the pure truth. And, perhaps, one of my first big “lucks” in life was to be at the age of 7 in the hands (namely, in the hands, and not just “under guardianship”) of Vera Viktorovna Chertova. I have every reason to assert now that he was a legendary teacher, in the full sense of the word, an educator. And - a person, in a sense, unique. Even before the revolution, she graduated from the pedagogical faculty of the Moscow Conservatory under the famous Alexander Fedorovich Gedike, she taught children for almost 70 (!) years, having passed away at more than a respectable age (93) (the last 2 years she no longer worked). But her uniqueness is not limited to this - there was another other thing that allowed and still allows me to talk about her, if I may say so, “improbability complex”. In fact, it is unbelievable, but it is a fact: as far as I knew her (and this was from 1943), she could not play, since since the time of the conservatory she began to develop a difficulty, mysterious for those times, of the functioning of her right hand, which, despite to all the measures taken, has steadily progressed over the years. When I came to Vera Viktorovna's class, I remember I was very surprised to see that she was writing with her left hand (but then it was almost a law of decency to hold a pencil in her right hand!). And now - with such a “one-armed” teacher, all the students without exception played, and played at such a level that sometimes evil tongues started all sorts of rumors that, they say, she, being the head of the piano department of the school, specially selects better students for herself, thereby depriving other educators. In fact (I knew and saw this, and many others too) the students were of the most varied “dignity”, and sometimes simply unpromising, but with a fine selection of repertoire and a complex of “special measures” available only to her, she, as they say, she knew how to bring them to a decent, and sometimes even to a very decent "presentation". I remember how someone (I think it was D.B.Kabalevsky, many of whose plays it was the students of Vera Viktorovna, and I among them, gave a start in life) said: "She will teach the elephant to play." I see a deep subtext in this phrase: if you came to Chertovaya’s class, then, regardless of your natural talent, you must, must live and work according to the laws of the art to which you are (even if not with the goal of becoming a “pro”) touch; you must feel and realize that this is not “tra-la-la”, not pleasure, but serious and hard work. Moreover, such, so to speak, "charter" was presented not only to the pupil, but also to his parents. Perhaps today it may seem strange, but sometimes the parents got more for the sins of the students than the students themselves! I say this in the sense that if something was forgiven to the student, then parents never and never had any forgiveness. I remember how once a respectable man, the father of one of Vera Viktorovna's students, confessed to me in the 1970s: “You know, Igor, this is an amazing woman! I fought, I lost my leg in the war, I know what fear is, but sometimes I’m just like a student in front of her: she just looks at me, and I feel: something is wrong! And I was absolutely in solidarity with him, because with such, as they say, the method did not arise (or significantly reduced) the notorious "scissors" so often encountered between home and school education criteria. Her authority (professional authority of the teacher) was indisputable, any kind of discussions like “but I don’t agree” or “but I think that it is necessary in a different way” were absolutely inappropriate here, because the pedagogical “charter” I mentioned above had its basis the main values of human professionalism, namely, complete dedication and unconditional honesty. And this complex was supposed to be the law for everyone, regardless of the size of talent, possible creative prospects in the future, etc. In short, as I now clearly see and understand, she brought up in her students, first of all, a deep understanding of what professionalism is in general and what moral and ethical obligations a person should have in relation to his chosen profession. In this sense, for her, there were no “white” and “black” students, beloved and unloved, talented and mediocre. I have already said that she knew how to bring everyone to the level of "decent presentation"; of course, this “level” was different for everyone, but the moral and moral levers for achieving it were the same for everyone! It would be naive to think that the class of V.V. was a laboratory for the production of musical celebrities, and without exception, all students (and their parents too) certainly initially aimed it at the future profession of a musician. This is something - I repeat - just did not exist! She never “prophesied” anything, did not put the notorious “stamp” on anyone, but, having excellent command of the art of “virtuoso” vision, she seemed to gradually guide the student (and again his parents) which path to choose in the future, after graduation. schools. The variety of such recommendations was simply amazing. For example, knowing and seeing the student's desire to continue his professional education, but at the same time realizing that he had little chance as a pianist, she could advise him to follow the path of, say, a theorist, perhaps a choirmaster. In another case, she could say: if you want, look, orient yourself. If she did not see a prospect for someone, then she very often strongly did not recommend (despite the desire of both the student and the parents!) And to think about the possibility of continuing professional education. And, the most interesting thing, as the future showed, that she was almost one hundred percent right: the unlucky "applicants" could not take place. However, there were situations when V.V. was uncompromising and uncompromising. For example, if in response to her advice to look for another path in life, something like - “well, at least I will become a music teacher” - she literally soared: “What is it, will you cripple children?!!!”. The same kind of her uncompromisingness, only with the opposite sign, manifested itself in the case of me. With some kind of instinct peculiar to her, she, having felt the general mood of my family - to finish teaching me until graduation, and then let me go along some other channel, they say, I learned for myself and that’s enough, - she unequivocally stated: “In that case, take him, I refuse to work with him!” And the family backed up! (Many, many years later, she told me: “You were a very difficult child, but when you just came to me, I felt that in front of me was a person.” True, how difficult it was for me with her and, of course, how she had a hard time with me! But we'll talk about that later). Alas, this was not a general trend at that time, but looked like something extraordinary. I'm not talking about today, when - let's be frank - the teacher is essentially reduced to the level of a servant who is obliged to just please the pupil, to follow the whims of his parents, when the "opinion" of the student about the teacher is sometimes valued higher than the opinion teach- la about the student, when sometimes you might think that absolutely everyone understands pedagogy now, with the exception of ... the teacher himself! The functions of Vera Viktorovna were not limited to punctual classes, as they used to say, in the specialty (by the way, this formulation very accurately reflects the state of affairs, confusing and literally turned upside down today, when the concept of "pianist", as well as "violinist "", "flute player", etc., began to be interpreted as a profession, although, according to elementary logic, a profession should be a broader concept - a musician. In relation to primary education, we can say this: the ability to play an instrument is the path to knowledge and understanding of music , and not a narrow end in itself!). In parallel with this, all the students of V.V. were obliged to attend subscription children's symphony concerts (such visits were carried out by the whole class, led by herself!), and a few days before the concert, again, everyone got together, and one of the former students talked about composers, works that will sound in the program, fragments of this music were shown - in a word, the children came to the concert already “previously educated”. I will also say that at a later time I was involved as a teacher in such preliminary "lectures". But that was not all. An obligatory tradition of her class was ensemble music playing (piano 4- hands, two pianos 4-hands, two pianos 8-hands), and this did not have an “optional”, secret, intra-class character. Everything was meticulously learned (moreover, outside school hours!), practiced and presented to the public in the reporting concerts of the school and concerts of the students of Chertovaya's class. As for the ensemble repertoire, it was often arranged especially for us from opera, ballet and symphonic music, which again worked to broaden our musical horizons and gain a real idea of what music is, and not just playing an instrument. Until now, in my memory, the period of four years of being in the role of "first violin" in an 8- hand ensemble (from 3rd to 6th grade). Apparently, it was then that I developed an irrepressible interest in the orchestra, which led me many decades later to the conductor's stand: we played fragments from Glinka's operas, Tchaikovsky's ballets, Mozart's symphonies... Special mention should be made of the concerts of Vera Viktorovna's class. For many years they were held annually. These were paid concerts, the proceeds from which were given to the trade union committee to help the poor students of the school. Such an action was not “official”, it was not carried out “by order”; it was V.V.'s own initiative: she organized, so to speak, a parent management group and, being at the head of it, implemented her plans. The programs were sometimes more than "full-length": sometimes the same student went on stage two or three times in different guises - both a soloist and a member of a small or large ensemble. In addition, almost always one of the students who recently graduated from school - students of the Music College at the Conservatory - completed the program. For us it has always been a true event! And for the public too. The energy and activity of Vera Viktorovna were simply inexhaustible: already at the beginning of the school year, she gathered parents and students together and announced an action plan for the whole year. These were not meetings on the topic of study (although this was also discussed). Here we could talk about an excursion, say, to the Tretyakov Gallery, about the anniversary of Pushkin (where everyone had to read something, and then play some play suitable for the occasion), about a trip to Klin, to the Tchaikovsky House-Museum, in order to give a concert there on his birthday, playing on his (Tchaikovsky!) piano ... She did not let anyone "cool down", and at the same time remained "in the shade" all the time; she was modest and ascetic to the point of improbability; as far as I remember, all kinds of "presidiums", pedagogical, as they say now, parties were simply not for her. The desire somewhere and somehow to “light up” was not only unusual for her, she downright “aggressively” denied this. Only once it was possible to "persuade" her, when we managed to organize a concert of her students in the Small Hall of the Conservatory on the occasion of the 60th anniversary of our teacher. But one should have seen how at the very beginning of the concert, after the title announcement, she was literally forcibly pushed onto the stage, and she, as if surprised by the applause that arose, smiled embarrassedly, bowed as if frightened, and immediately disappeared through the door. Her students were there, and it was always her indispensable duty to admonish them before going on stage and meet them after the stage "battles". She didn't recognize anyone else... Now, recalling all the years spent in contact with Vera Viktorovna (and this is more than 40 years!), I never tire of being amazed at her true - not only digital - longevity: losing, naturally, over the years, a physical, energy charge, sometimes being severely self-critical to this process, until the very end she kept a fresh mind, a perception of life as it really is. There was not an iota of archaic, senile "museum" in her - and it was amazing how she, at her age, could talk and debate with us, people several orders of magnitude younger, from positions corresponding to today ! Probably, the secret here is in the integrity of Chertova's nature, in her selfless fidelity to the path chosen once - to be, figuratively speaking, the eternal novice of the monastery of music. And, if not for her in my life, then who? I cannot imagine... Before talking about the next period of study, it makes sense to dwell on the system of musical education in our country, which existed then, and even now it is preserved in almost the same form. There are two parallel paths here: one of them is a ten-year music school and then a conservatory (Hochschule); the other is a seven-year music school, then a music school (4 years) and then a conservatory (5 years). Ten-year schools were only in cities where conservatories functioned, at which they were members, the second system existed in cities where there were conservatories, and in cities where there were none. The music school itself is, as you know, a secondary specialized educational institution, graduating from which a person receives a diploma of secondary specialized musical education and has the right to work at a strictly defined professional level (by analogy, say, with a secondary technical education). But, of course, if desired, the holder of such a diploma can continue his education further at the conservatory. I repeat that today such a system has practically been preserved in the same form, only a “colorfulness” of beautiful, catchy names has appeared, such as college, academy, etc. So, Moscow at that time had two “combines”, which included both of the above-mentioned paths of musical education: these were the Moscow State Tchaikovsky Conservatory and the Gnesins State Musical and Pedagogical Institute. In addition, there were two more autonomous schools in Moscow - the name of Ippolitov-Ivanov (traditional-classical direction) and the music school named after the October Revolution, where future performers on Russian folk instruments studied, and they could further continue their education at the Gnessin Institute (there was a special faculty and, by the way, it was there that the legendary Russian school of accordionists was formed, which later received worldwide fame and fame!). As for me, from the very beginning I ended up in the “seven-year plan - school - conservatory” system and, looking ahead, I will say that this again became one of the components of my “luck” in life, although in terms of “greatness”, “ publicity”, the feeling of “elitism” was definitely inferior to the Central Musical School-Ten Years (TsMSh), in comparison with which we looked “more modest” (?!). But we had one indisputable advantage, namely, the internal atmosphere in the school was absolutely devoid of any hint of the elements of the so- called star fever! Here everyone was “equal before the law”, and that, I think, says it all. One would only have to add that for 25 years at the head (or rather, on guard!) of this law was the director of the school and college, the unforgettable Rakhil Lvovna Bluman, a student of Alexander Borisovich Goldenweiser, a person, as they say, of the “old education” - a principled, uncompromising and at the same time humanely kind and sympathetic nature. And although sometimes, in moments of emotional outburst from her indignant voice, one might say, the walls were ready to collapse (just a Jericho trumpet, you could hear it on all three floors!), No one was offended by her, and it often seemed to me that now, having finished my "speech", she will laugh! There was not even a shadow of rancor in her, the desire to “crush” someone with her power; on the contrary, with her power, she did (as far as it was possible at that time) a lot of really good deeds, but not in terms of "production of stars." The forge of the "stars" was just the Central Music School, where every year, the "new" Mozarts, Gilels, Rubinsteins were announced. (By the way, at its inception in the late 30s of the last century, the Central Music School was called the “Music School for Especially Gifted Children”, and this was completely fair, because the then contingent of students, so to speak, was enharmonious to the name, but - the further, the more the concepts themselves were replaced, and now - the children of big and not very big celebrities almost a priori became students of the Central Music School, while for others the desire to get into the Central Music School and getting there already aroused the syndrome of stellar immunodeficiency: it is no coincidence that even in the years of the school I heard, how the Central Music School was sometimes called "School for children of especially gifted parents"! Perhaps too evil, but in fact - not far from reality ...) However, let's get back to my admission to the school... Once again, I can't do without a little backstory. Vera Viktorovna Chertova had a practice of regularly showing those of her students, in whom she saw some kind of perspective, to one of the teachers of the school, and not only to one person, but to different teachers, and not at the very last moment before graduation, and already from the 4th or 5th grade. In my case, regular "visits" were made to two teachers of the school - Professor Avrelian Grigorievich Rubbakh and Associate Professor Leonid Isaakovich Roizman. I think it is worth saying a few words about each of them. Professor Rubbach then looked in my eyes like a "hardened" master (although he was only about 50 years old), his appearance - a heavy figure, an impressive bald head, large glasses on a no less "outstanding" nose; huge, as it seemed to me then, hands, a low, hoarse (smoky?) voice - gave the impression of great solidity, significance (by the notorious "importance"). He took competence, but not ambition, not "the height of the nose." Being a professor at the school, at the same time he was officially the curator and consultant at the school, being present at all tests and exams, and the relationship between him and Vera Viktorovna was of a truly contact nature (neither then, nor later, I can’t remember at least one moment of any "civil strife"). My “visits” to him (of course, accompanied by Vera Viktorovna) began quite early — in any case, it was precisely recorded in my memory that it was he who accompanied me when in the 4th grade I played Haydn’s concerto in D major at the exam. Another, so to speak, consultant was Leonid Roizman - a man of a completely different appearance, character, age. A young (slightly over 30) assistant professor, no doubt a handsome man, though not tall, but with a chic high curly hair that compensates for this "shortcoming", piercing short-sighted eyes (glasses even enhanced this "needle" look!), With a melodious, usually in an insinuatingly ironic voice. This man knew how (didn't "try", didn't "exhibit") to present himself! Apparently, his intellectual component very precisely "steered": due to his youth, he was not yet a master, but knowledge was his reliable ally, so to speak, the security guard of his authority. Maybe I am explaining this a bit intricately, but I can’t give a general portrait of Roizman in another way: behind his, as some people sometimes said, “cock- like” self-delivery, there was not emptiness, but, on the contrary, concentrated professional fullness. Now, retrospectively, I would reveal the subtext of his peculiar artistry of those years in this way: he seemed to let people know that I will not argue with you, but, if you want, I will tell and explain what I already know and what I am categorically sure of, and from whom I should learn further - I will decide for myself! Comparing these, by no means, of course, exhaustive, characteristics of two personalities, it is not difficult to guess that their consultations could not be and were not fundamentally similar. The main difference was that if Avrelian Grigoryevich, from the height of his experience, saw in me (and it was true!) A newly fledged chick who can be reproached for not learning to fly quite right, but at the same time time to praise for individual attempts to “wave wings”, then Leonid Isaakovich initially took a radically maximalist position: “what does a chick mean? If you want to be a bird - fly, and no one! Of course, one can argue (and most often, alas, just rant!) About the “correctness”, “truth” of this or that Method, but, as for me, when at the beginning of the last, 7th grade, my harsh “old woman ”(this is how I always call Vera Viktorovna, meaning, of course, her wealth of experience and her influence on me throughout my life) suddenly (this is with her imperiousness!) She asked me who I would like to study at the school - Rubbach or Roizman, I chose Roizman. It seemed that this was somewhat unexpected for her, and she asked again: “Are you sure you decided this?” (Actually, the question was not accidental, because, as far as I remember, all her students before me, when entering the school, almost “automatically” went to Rubbach’s class. So I turned out to be, as it were, a dissident.) Having received another affirmative answer, she calmly took it as a fait accompli (here is the flip side of her severity and uncompromisingness!). But here, naturally, the question arises: where did the decision to make this choice come from? Could I, then a 14-year-old boy, see everything the way I describe it now? Of course - no and no! And in general, even now I would not dare to talk about any awareness of such a choice (it would still look like “pretty boasting”), and then, if there could be any specific impulse for choice (and it could be “ conscious”?), then he also came from the depths of a gradually formed character – not like everyone else! Subsequently, with this postulate, I had to “sip” a lot, but not grief, but constant tension, endless tasks and efforts, but so far I have not a drop of regret about it. And so much had to "sip" in the four years spent with Roizman! All the severity of Vera Viktorovna literally faded before the maximalist Roizman "prominences"! It was the dictatorship of the law, the law of relationships with the piano, the law of subordination to music, the law of subordination to the profession of a musician. Beautiful slogans? Is everyone talking about it? But he - Roizman - did not speak, he demanded and did not recognize any retreats and indulgences. Here I cannot do without, it may seem, premature generalizations, because, looking back, I clearly see that it is precisely in what he cruelly taught us that the task and function of a teacher of a secondary musical educational institution consists, namely, in elementary school they teach literacy, and in the middle - literacy; you will almost never find such things today and in the afternoon with fire: “theorize”, “philosophize” - please, as much as you like, even if you don’t feed bread, but as soon as it comes to practical implementation ... I prefer to refrain from wording - now it’s considered a little whether a sign of bad taste. For Roizman, for example, disregard for rhythm was considered a sign of bad tone (or even a crime!) One should not think that the conversation was about “metricity”, all the requirements were based on the indestructible canons of the musical “Bible”, which, according to Hans von Bülow, begins with the words: “In the beginning there was rhythm” !!! In general, Roizman considered any “shock-axe”, primitive-force impact on the keyboard to be a crime. His sharply negative attitude towards such techniques was probably fueled by the fact that he was also a concert organist and was certainly “in the know” regarding sound extraction issues. For example, the inability to form (albeit quite simply, but - to form!) A musical phrase served as a sign of elementary illiteracy, and the “optionality” of this process was qualified as a lack of professionalism. And, of course, respect for the text - that was truly the holy of holies. For example, a student is playing, Roizman stops him: “Where is crescendo written?” Student: “Ah, do it earlier?” Roizman's reaction: "Not earlier, not later, but where it is written by the composer!" Another example - the moment of a musical pause comes, Roizman does not allow to continue: “It's just emptiness, not a pause! Pause also needs to be played!” Further, the student “bubbles” the passages. Blocking the flow of sounds, a cry is heard: “Singing, melodious, you need to play passages!” Well, and even when a rough sound was “demonstrated”, and the piano strings did not tremble, but began to “crack”, then the characteristics were ruthless, like - “That’s not how they play the piano, but stick a fork in the side!” or "It's not the sound of a piano, it's just a half-cut piglet screaming!" He was really ruthless when one of us allowed himself to be treated, to put it mildly, later sleeves (this also happened to me, I won’t hide): having come to the lesson in an “unassembled” form, each of us risked (and most often it happened) to receive an immediate “resignation” in five minutes: that is, notes rushed to the door , and after them their unfortunate owner was expelled from the class. And - where did that insinuatingly ironic voice that was part of his image go?! Even now it is difficult for me to describe in words the nature of this downright “explosion”: it was a clot of anger, the effect of which, at least on me, was such that I really felt guilty and, at least for a while, collected my thoughts (and how could you not come to your senses if, for example, you are rushing after you: “You have to fight, fight for the right to play the piano, but you don’t have such a right yet!” Or something else in the same moral vein?). But really (I felt it much later), how terrible it is to be guilty before your profession! (It is even more terrible that in our time, between screaming and anger with a calm soul, an equal sign is put, and anger is equated with screaming, the object of anger considers himself "injured". For example, - this is from my observations - during a rehearsal of an orchestra, the conductor : “I showed you why you didn’t join???” Answer: “Well, I didn’t play, why are you yelling at me?” To be honest, it was not with me, but the example is quite indicative.) I must say that only in the 4th, last year of the school, I was free from my second load - after all, in parallel, I studied in a regular secondary school for all the years. This, of course, is not a reason for any plaintive excuses, but it is quite possible to imagine the degree of tension. But Roizman, with all his actions, made me understand that two loads are my problem and I have to solve it myself. I do not know in what mode he worked with other students, but the mode of working with me can hardly be classified as traditional. I am still inclined to assert that the teacher took into account my “double” employment, but this was limited only by the fact that he did not load me with an endless repertoire; the repertoire that I went through at the school, even at that time looked, perhaps, more than modestly (and even by today's scale it can be considered scanty!), but everything was brought to the end, worked out in detail, took on a "commodity" look: it was performed at reporting concerts, academic evenings, exams. Moreover, this small repertoire was diverse in terms of style, and while working on each of the works, a certain professional problem was eliminated and brought up to, say, a decent level. And, God forbid, if while working on the next work I "forgot" what was acquired earlier... The next surge of His Majesty's Wrath was guaranteed in advance! The development of certain tasks and principles very often took place in this mode: Monday, the lesson is over, they tell me - you will come tomorrow; Tuesday, the lesson ended, again - you will come tomorrow ... and so on all week! And then, at some of the lessons, I hear: “Well, I think it’s almost ready, now don’t do anything special anymore.” I'm a bit confused - are you ready? But everything is very simple: I received an object lesson, even science, how to work every day without cooling down, and specifically move forward. Calling me to daily lessons, Roizman simply did not let me cool down and taught me concentration. How well I remember it, and how useful it was later! And I don’t want to indulge in memories of the accompanying moments, say, less positive ones, or something. Ultimately, such moments - as they say, vanity of vanities, because people do not always and not always agree on everything. And when I hear, decades later, someone says about someone: “I still haven’t forgiven him for this!”, I simply feel sorry for the one who said it. Therefore, I will end this part of my story in a similar way, even with the same words as the previous one: “And if not him, then who?” ...Before moving on to the Conservatory years, one should specify one point that necessarily arises when thinking about the biography of a particular subject, namely, how his professional choice was determined. Most often it looks almost like a single, standard: he dreamed from childhood ... So, no matter how it looks, whether it’s originality, or a special form of “coquetry”, etc., but, as for me, I ask you to believe that that there were no childhood dreams at all: as was already clear from the above, my musical education and upbringing did not take place in a “euphoric environment” around my person, but in an atmosphere of constant exactingness, without any concessions and excuses. Thus, my psychological attitude, as far as I was able to assess it from the point of view of the past years, was oriented not towards a “bright future”, but towards the constant need to prove (fortunately I was granted a certain pride from above!), That I was in a state of something achieve and that I, in fact, am worth something ... In no case do I intend to interpret this state of affairs as some kind of "difficult fate" or something else in the same spirit, on the contrary - it turned out to be powerful, as I later I became convinced of this, hardening and the beginning of acquiring real (active, not passive!) life and professional experience. Consequently, the moment of the final choice was bound to come, because I studied at the same time in an ordinary secondary school and had the opportunity to choose some institute to continue my education, especially since for many years I was seriously interested in radio electronics, which for many subsequent years was not only my favorite hobby, but also a great help when I had to plunge into the whirlpool of problems associated with the specifics of sound recording. So, the moment of choice came in the last year of high school, and he, the choice, came by itself. I did not guess, did not "calculate" the situation, just as if I was "from somewhere" indicated the direction of my further movement. Well, since this happened, the next decision, that is, to whom, was not a subject of thought: of course, to Emil Grigorievich Gilels! If you ask me now why the choice was so unambiguous, I will not be able to say anything more or less intelligible, however, and then I would hardly be able to somehow argue this (truly, it was some kind of mysterious clue; it is no coincidence that at the very beginning of my story, I mentioned the image of the "Guardian Angel. Mysticism! However, you can’t go against the facts ... When E.G., having listened to me even before the entrance exams, agreed to take me to his class, for the first time (!!!) in life (somewhere deep inside myself, and by no means at the level of ambition) felt that I was already some kind, albeit small, but “mathematical value". This feeling of mine was confirmed later: after a harsh (but, as I "dictatorship" of the past years, our studies with E.G. looked like the triumph of "democracy". This situation should be considered from several angles. First of all, being a concert performer, Gilels regularly absented himself from Moscow, and I had the opportunity to for more or less long periods to work independently, flexibly adjusting the working mode (in order to do something not sooner, but more!). True, like other professors of the conservatory, he had an assistant, the unforgettable Pavel Valerianovich Messner (not only his former student, but also a former student of V.V. Chertovaya, my first teacher. Therefore, I knew him from the time when 7-year-old came to her class!), I, however, was not obliged to come to his classes without fail (according to the schedule), our meetings were dictated by real necessity and had a “nutritious” character for me: P.V. was not “programmed” by nature for a concert-performing profile, but he was a musician created by nature, as they say, to the marrow of his bones. (His father, Valerian Osipovich, was a distant relative of the Medtner family, and his mother, Tatyana Georgievna, was the daughter of the Russian composer of French origin Georgy Lvovich Catoire - so, contrary to many well-known precedents, in this case, nature on Messner, as they say, is by no means rested). By the "nutrition" of our meetings, I mean not only conversations about the works on which I worked, but also the search for possible analogies or, conversely, contrasts in other musical styles, the possibility of options for their combinations or oppositions, and what else was characteristic of him , necessarily at the end there was a sentence - to play some kind of symphony in four hands. After all that has been said, I think it becomes clear that the professor's long absence was in no way synonymous with "pause". Secondly, and this also stemmed from the concert incarnation of Emil Grigorievich, his attitude to some failures, imperfections was of a differentiated nature. At first, I remember, his calm (and in fact, almost none!) reaction to private "blunders" in my game at the lesson plunged me into some kind of special shock (I expected, if not a "storm", then at least some - something of a reprimand): he did not say a word about this, but began to talk about something else that concerns this particular work. And it was not only with me, I observed the same in relationships with other students in his class. Later, this crystallized for me as a well- defined thesis: there is a more than significant difference between “failed” and “not done”, and being able to distinguish between these two points is part of true professionalism. Someone who, let alone E.G. knew and understood these differences! I remember once our classes took place in the evening at his house, and I came after several lectures on related conservatory disciplines. The state was by no means optimal, I could not “wind” myself in any way, I saw that everything was going wrong, but suddenly I heard how E.G. in an undertone says to the assistant: “He is already tired today!” (One should not think that Gilels was so "kind" - if frank hack-work was really visible, then one could also hear something completely "in a different key".) Well, as for the third, it was due to my pre-conservative "being": being from the very beginning under the pressure of the uncompromising "not bad, but still not enough", I somehow got used to this situation, and Gilels's "democracy", oddly enough, sometimes even more provoked me to remember the “dictatorship” in those moments when he approved of what I had done and advised me to take it to the public, and I continued to think that perhaps not everything was done yet. To be honest, he used to remain seriously dissatisfied with my obstinacy. However, what to do, we are all people, besides different. So it is here: he was domineering by nature, but I am a stubborn person in a certain sense (that is, there is the possibility of any compromise, but strictly limited). By the way, powerful personalities - and history confirms this! - by no means so “reinforced concrete”, and Gilels is no exception here. Two years spent in close contact with him completely convinced me of this: up close, I really felt how much inner strength it cost him to impress his listeners with the “iron Emil”! And, by the way, this is not given for nothing: I remember, once, I was sitting at his concert and I felt that I was shaking, and the whole first part. The second comes, and I feel absolutely calm... Somewhat later, having seized the moment, I told the teacher about my then state in a personal conversation and heard in response: “Well, what are you, my hands were trembling!”. Something similar happened during Gilels' concerts and with his assistant, he himself told me about it. Truly, when you get to know the artist better, you begin to feel that his work is not good, but wear and tear... However, let us return to the issue of Authority and Stubbornness... At the end of the first academic year, E.G. says that I need to prepare for an international competition in Paris. For me, this was a complete surprise, at that time it didn’t even occur to me to think about it, and, moreover, it didn’t fit in my soul that Gilels so quickly believed in my capabilities. In a word, one more euphoria did not subside (I am in the class of Gilels himself), when the second fell: he puts me forward for the competition. To be honest, both of these euphorias, oddly enough, “knocked me down”. First of all, a sharp change in the style of work: instead of systematic studies, to which I was disposed, there was a forced regime of preparation “by all means”. Little by little I began to feel that it was becoming more difficult to play; often, figuratively speaking, I had to jump from the first step to the third, not paying attention to the second - instead of calm concentration, which had already begun to be indicated at that time, an undesirable nervousness came, spiced up with some kind of lethargy that was incomprehensible to me ... In a word , I began to understand that I was leaving the form (still I am perplexed by the primitiveness of our instrumentalist interpretation of the concept of “form”, which is squeezed by the Procrustean bed, whose name is to do more! And by “doing” is meant only the hours spent at the piano... But how negligible this is! For some reason, athletes look at this problem with wider eyes. We would like that!). True, there were moments of success - in particular, according to the general opinion (and I felt it myself) I performed very well at the first preliminary selection among the students of the conservatory (at that time, auditions for competitions were held in several stages, until 3-4 were selected performer for a trip to the competition at public expense), but after my speech, E.G. told me literally the following: “For a concert in the Great Hall of the Conservatory it would be great, but for the competition (!?) this is clearly not enough.” Until now, this phrase sounds in my ears and still sees it as some kind of “monster”. Was it not then that a contemptuous-negative attitude towards the institution of all kinds of competitions settled in my brain subcortex? One way or another, it was a difficult and at the same time unique period: everything was mixed up here - both the desire to play in the competition, and the internal rejection of the so-called "preparation"; Gilels demanded to do more, and I - much more? - sometimes he simply became dumb from endless contact with the instrument! I still idolized my professor and at the same time a protest grew inside - after all, last year he saw how I can work, how I can work, so why did he take me on a “short leash” and do not let me breathe freely? I am almost sure that he, as a concert musician, saw, felt that, to put it mildly, I was not at ease, however, as the deadline for the competition approached, he suddenly began to convince me that there was no reason to worry, that I was in great shape . Oh, Emil Grigorievich, you should then put yourself in my place! Who better than you, the king of the stage, to know all our psychological vicissitudes! Alas, the imperiousness of one and the stubbornness (quite based, if I may say so) of the other did not find a point for soft contact. Gilels was nervous during the competition; I did the best I could - in any case, by the end of Prokofiev's Third Concerto in the final round, the “focus” in my eyes began to falter (I still feel this piercingly visibly: when one old lady, for some reason, evoked in me an association with ... The queen of the night (!), sitting on the balcony right in front of my eyes, as soon as I raised them, I suddenly began to see me as if smeared with watercolors), and there was only one thought in my head - to hold out ... This is truly the Higher Good that everything ended happily (isn't it happiness - the 2nd Grand Prix!) ... But - remember Tolstoy, his "Resurrection", when Katyusha Maslova came to the station to see Nekhlyudov and from that night she stopped believing in God. From July 1957, I stopped believing in the necessity and, all the more so, in the real usefulness of competitions. Well, here you are, and everything about that unforgettable, unique and controversial period of my student days at the Moscow Conservatory. I will only add that again, as before, I was just lucky. I remember that at the beginning of our communication, E.G. said that he was not an apologist for the idea of a "permanent teacher". And in this situation, feeling, so to speak, the difference in strategic views, he considered it expedient to leave and asked G. G. Neuhaus to take me to his class. What else, besides deep gratitude, can cause such a step? But I would say even more: if we turn to the beginning of my story, namely, to the main postulate, which to a large extent determined many and by no means unimportant details and nuances of my creative (and not only creative!) biography, then we have to admit once again that the luck of which I spoke was again on my side. In fact, Gilels was quite right to let the course of events go in a different direction, suggesting that I “look for ways to some other professor,” and I think it would never have occurred to anyone to qualify this as an injustice or something like that. But - Emil Grigorievich acted in this case as he did: his request, his recommendation opened the door for me to the class of an artist, whose name for me since childhood was shrouded in some kind of inexplicable mystery ... I remember that if they spoke to him, sometimes they spoke somehow differently than about other, albeit no less important, musicians and, which especially attracted attention, only the name itself was pronounced with some special intonation, whether it was his ardent admirer or no less ardent opponent. I had to hear different things about him then, and there is no need to delve into such reminiscences here. Much more important is the fact that in the old days, when the so-called promotion characteristic of our “glorious” time was not even in sight (!), to have such a legendary “publicity” as Henry Gustavovich had meant, if not everything, then almost all. Naturally, I say this already from the perspective of the past years, retrospectively summarizing my memories and impressions, which, I think, allow me in my own way (that is, I do not claim the role of “truth” in the last instance) to try to reveal the essence of the Neuhausian Legend . I categorically disagree with the prevailing dogma, whose name is the "School of Neuhaus". I believe that it was not the "School" that existed, but the atmosphere of Neuhaus. Heinrich Gustavovich did not teach - one could learn from him. His pedagogy was that he was not and could not be a "coach" or "dictator". He was an artist, and everyone who got into his class (or came for a consultation - and the doors were always open for those who wished!), Was free and took for himself what he was able to take to the best of his talent. Unfortunately, I don’t know the author of a very apt characterization of Neuhaus as a teacher, which, in my opinion, is unique in its imagery: “Neuhaus is an acid that, corroding the outer coating, exposes the inner content of the object.” You probably can't be more precise! However, I ran too far ahead ... And then the prospect that opened up to be in the "mysterious galaxy" (I note that not in accordance with some kind of my own "strategic plan", but vice versa - by coincidence, truly - all of a sudden!), no matter how strange it seemed, it was not a stressful irritant for me, but on the contrary: the nervousness of the last months seemed to disappear, and a calm summary came by itself: it was difficult to find a better solution to the problem that had arisen. I want to emphasize once again - a calm summary, because my consciousness was concentrated on how I, the “alien”, could get used to the conditions of the new (and I had no doubt that it was new for me), metaphorically speaking, gravity. The fact is that even in my first year (or rather, at the beginning of my first year), I was lucky once to have, so to speak, a “business” contact with Genrikh Gustavovich: it was one of his open lessons, where I played him Scriabin’s Second Sonata . Gilels was on a long tour of the United States at the time, and his assistant advised me to take advantage of this happy opportunity. Now I do not remember this lesson, I remember it! And I don’t remember verbatim, that is, what he said, but I remember the atmosphere, how it was. If any “syndrome” of a boy-student was present in me during the first performance of the sonata, then he himself withdrew along with the last chord: at the next piano was not a “professor”, not a “master”, not a “boss” (as anyone ) - not a shadow of criticism, not a shadow of omniscience, no pressure or "indication"! And in exchange for these attributes, figuratively speaking, a myriad of additional “accessories” accompanying this music were laid out on the table - something “to choose from”, and something as an urgent need, still unknown to me at that time. This so-called “lesson” (no irony here, because it was really “not a lesson”) lasted almost 2 hours (after my first performance, we went through the entire sonata in detail from beginning to end, after which Neuhaus said: “Well, and now play the whole sonata once”), and all these 2 hours they didn’t “teach” me - they talked to me, they advised me, they opened something new to me ... In a word, I can’t resist again so as not to run ahead: already being in the class from Genrikh Gustavovich, I heard him say to his students more than once - "I am not your professor, I am your senior comrade." I must say that my appearance in Neuhaus's class for many (even for very many) turned out to be akin to a sensation. I remember that at the very beginning of the academic year there was a concert (it was a tradition for many years) by the students of the Neuhaus department. For those around me, my participation looked quite natural, because Gilels was a professor at the Neuhaus department. However, when I was introduced as a student of Professor Neuhaus, there was a noise in the hall, and I had to wait for some time to go on stage. Yes, and for some time after that, they sometimes literally pressed me with questions - what, yes, why and how ... Someone approved, someone was surprised, but it happened, and they accused me of tyranny, boyishness, etc. I tried especially not to go into in explanations, sometimes excused only by the already mentioned problem of the relationship between Imperiousness and Stubbornness, especially since soon Emil Grigorievich took a 2-year academic leave due to the heavy workload of touring activities. So everything, as they say, fell into place, all sorts of “oohs and aahs” gradually faded away, and I had to decide, first of all, in front of myself and try to begin to realize myself in a new environment ... To be honest, the first emotions were by no means rosy, I would even say somewhat depressing. No, by no means do I mean that I was treated as an "outsider". I knew all the students and graduate students of the Neuhaus class earlier, there were natural collegiate relations between us and they accepted me absolutely naturally. By the way, it was naturalness that was an important component of the many components of the already mentioned "Neuhaus atmosphere": over the years spent here, I did not smell the slightest sign of any internal confrontations, competition of ambitions and other "charms" of this kind! The Russian proverb is true: “What is the priest, such is the parish”: the professor was out of the orbit of any kind of intrigue, and that says it all. Moreover, I am deeply grateful to many colleagues who naturally accepted me for the fact that at the very dawn of my concert activity (and this dawn just fell on the years of study with Neuhaus) they became my true “fans” - they worried, supported .. How many years have passed, but I remember it as if it was a maximum the day before yesterday! As for the depressing emotions, they came from the direction from where, to be frank, I did not expect them: after just a few lessons with Genrikh Gustavovich, I was forced, doomed to admit to myself that, apart from being quite tolerable in a professional sense, I on the piano, I still can’t do much (and I don’t know how much!): the professor’s thinking turned out to be so much higher than my then competence that for the first time I felt like a blind kitten who poke around in the corners and couldn’t find the door in any way . No, he did not convict me of any elementary flaws (by that time, with the “elementary theory of performance”, I was, as they say, almost on “you”); his remarks were by no means humiliating, on the contrary, benevolent; but this did not make it any easier, because each “prominence” he threw out literally burned, and His Majesty stood up to his full height. The question is: how to approach all this, how to comprehend at least the beginning of the beginnings? I didn’t have an answer then, but his remark that I regularly heard - “Darling, you are a musical person, try to understand ...” - left me a chance, although in my heart I often gave myself a different assessment - “I am also a laureate!”. However, I did not fall into pessimism - my notorious stubbornness did not allow me to do this. I will say more: something in me, so to speak, turned from one side to the other (!?). This, so to speak, metaphor is quite appropriate here, no matter how clumsy it may look. This inner upheaval made itself felt when I suddenly realized that my thinking was moving along a channel that had not been known to me until now. In other words, I began to think differently than before. Much later, I was able to conclude what and how actually happened, why it happened. But everything turned out to be utterly simple: there was, according to elementary dialectics, the transition of quantity into quality. By quantity, I mean the years of study at school, college and (in some part) in the class of E.G. Gilels, that is, a fairly long period of acquiring tough professional skills, and (if you remember what I wrote about those years), along with this, there was a period that definitely taught me, using the terminology of a boxer, to take a punch (stubbornness?) . I admit: not every reader will be able to fully understand me, and this is not surprising, because in order to understand, one must be, as they say, in that “skin” himself: not everyone (and I observed this with my own eyes) will be able to go through such a beautiful thing in its rigidity and intransigence "purgatory". As for me, I'm just happy that I had such an experience. So, summing up all the "quantity years", we can say that those were the years of tunneling. And suddenly the time comes when it turns out that you can break through something endlessly, but where? And even why? After all, there is already a tunnel, and at the end of it there is light, only this tunnel needs to be found, its direction determined and this light found ... In other words, try to become a digger from a sinker (and it was not by chance that I felt like a blind kitten!!!) . Here it is - quality: to be able to walk through the labyrinths of music. Namely, they, the labyrinths of music, were the "possessions" of Heinrich Gustavovich, and he opened up the opportunity for us to "situate" in them and enjoy their benefits. So, what kind of “mazes” did I, so to speak, “discover” for myself? I emphasize FOR MYSELF, because further on many of my judgments may seem - and in fact will to a certain extent, if not contradict, then at least not very consistent with the postulates that can be read in a number of memoirs about Heinrich Gustavovich, which there are enough of us now, but which, to be honest, do not cause much enthusiasm for me, because the painfully familiar thesis is almost always clearly visible: I (name) am a “product”, heir, follower, etc. Neuhaus, his schools, traditions... Please understand me adequately: I do not aim to disavow the authors of memoirs, my respected colleagues, but let's be honest with ourselves! — is there at least one of us who in reality would look today the way we see, say, the late Academician P. L. Kapitsa, together with his teacher Niels Bohr? Here is a truly classic example of a “product”, an heir, a successor! They were commensurable characters - the Guru and his disciple, who later became the Guru for his students - and as for us, having the good fortune to communicate with our Guru (Neuhaus), we remained (and are doomed to remain!) Only teachers of our students, to which we are able to convey only what remains in us from those distant years, and even to a fair extent in our own “interpretation”, which, moreover, is often subject to, I will say cautiously, “the influence of the era”. Whether it's good or bad, let's not argue, life is life, but let's not forget about the variety of concepts, among which "lost" such as the only one. In my opinion, this concept is different from other high categories, such as brilliant, great, outstanding, etc. All of the above belong to the hierarchical category, within which there is an inescapable “fight” (higher - lower, closer - farther). And - whether we like it or not - these categories put pressure on everything around, they are jealous, often rage in the excitement of competition, they are infected with the “authority” syndrome (if you wish, you can continue). A completely different thing happens with the unique - it does not press, it LIGHTS, it shines forward, around, but not into the eyes, and therefore you can see (if, of course, you wish!), Or rather, see the richness and diversity of something that is still unknown . So, for me, it turned out to be an enduring value precisely that Neuhaus turned my face to where I could see first reflections, then rays and, finally, the LIGHT itself, the absorption of which already depended on myself. It is this process that will be discussed further ... I have already said that the beginning was by no means rosy: perhaps for the first time in my life I found myself not in front of an obstacle that needed to be overcome and not in a situation where it was necessary to concentrate on the fulfillment (or solution) of the next professional task, but in some hitherto unfamiliar to me, figuratively speaking, rarefied space; its horizons, firstly, turned out to be much more distant in comparison with my previous visions, and secondly, my “sharpness of vision” turned out to be clearly insufficient to see all this in a sufficiently focused form. Perhaps what I have said will seem to the reader, even a professional one, too intricate, metaphorical, but - the true truth! - I really found myself, one might say, in the position of some fairy-tale hero at a fork in the road, but only without a stone with pointers where to go and what to find (!). To be honest, I was not very prepared for this turn of events. It would be more accurate to say that I assumed the appearance of some kind of “discoveries” (in this regard, it would be useful to recall what Leonid Borisovich Kogan told me immediately after the announcement of the results of the competition in Paris: “Well, as they say, I played and “grabbed”, and now we have to start working!”), but for my line of life to lay such a turn... Just like an apple that fell on the head of Isaac Newton! But - that was Newton, and as for me - there was no question of any clarity in my head then, on the contrary - continuous "Brownian motion". No, it was not panic, I would call my then state of great intrigue, the cause of which was a violation of the sense of habitual inner balance. Anticipating another reproach for some intricacy, I will say in a different way: the time has come for a certain reassessment of values, but not in the sense of denying some of them in favor of others, but with the aim of such a rearrangement of those already available in order to make room for others, no less significant . I emphasize again: at that time, these conclusions were more of a sensual (or Anticipatory) character: you will have to change something (Change), look somewhere (find), think about something (wait with final conclusions, decisions). And, as I recall now, the first thing that became clear to me was that “student status” should be done away with. I do not mean the notorious blind obedience, the fulfillment of the will of the “master”: the character given to me by nature, even in my distant childhood years, warned against total obedience. Here such a "historical" example, one of those deposited in the memory of the years of study at a music school, would be appropriate. When I was in the second grade (I was 9 years old), I played Beethoven's Variations in F major on a Swiss theme, which I remember very much, first of all, because the lessons were always somehow difficult: almost everything I did turned out to be like -something "not exactly the way" as I was interpreted (!). Nevertheless, I played these Variations in the annual exam. And now, some 25- 30 years later, Vera Viktorovna, my school teacher, commenting on some of my concerts in Moscow, suddenly says: “And you have always been l'enfant terrible”! I remember your Beethoven variations well. I told you so, and you in your own way, I told you again, and you in your own way. Colleagues from the commission tell me - what is he doing? And I answer: no matter how hard I tried, everything was useless!.. Indeed, what is usually a bunch (let's call it that) "student-teacher" or "student-professor"? And someone who is above me (teacher, professor), a kind of "pointing finger". And here I found myself in a previously unknown "configuration" - Neuhaus was not above me, he was in front. In contrast to the pointing finger, it was the leading hand (They say that the late academician Lev Davidovich Landau structured his interviews with students and graduate students in such a way that later a serious dissertation could arise from some of his brief thesis. I do not put an absolute equal sign between a theoretical physicist and a musician-artist, but a creative parallel here it is obvious: firstly, his lessons were more like creative interviews, where there was no place for a banal “professorial inspection”, but thinking aloud reigned, I would even call it strategic theses, in leading to further thought.) Further, I consider it necessary to touch on one rather delicate, but at the same time very painful problem, which it is very difficult for me personally to formulate briefly, but I see this problem as one of the cornerstones in the aforementioned “student-teacher” connection (by the way, this problem, alas , then moves to the next step, and a new link arises: "performer - critic"). To be brief and as accurately understood as possible, I will limit myself to two positions that clearly enough reflect the deep essence of the above problem, namely: “Do as I do” (or “It must be done THIS!”) and “Of course, this is not bad (nothing, good ), but (!!!) all the same, it should not be so. I will not develop this idea further - let the reader understand what it is about: about how many fingers are now pointing and what is the shortage of leading hands ... But enough lyrical digressions - back to the realities of the past. I have already mentioned the loss of the usual inner balance, and now it is clear to me that this inevitably had to happen, because, as the further course of events showed, the former life “What is to be done”? has outlived its usefulness, and the need has come to find support in the life “To be or not to be?”. But “to be” means, first of all, to think, - here the main “hitch” turned out to be hidden: I came to Neuhaus’s class really being able to think quite well (“what to do”?!), and he, as I felt, is understood immediately. I came to his class “playing well (and maybe very well),” and he gave me credit for this, but, here is a private, but telling moment of our first period of communication. I play for him in class (I don’t remember what, is it really that important?), in the class, as it almost traditionally happened, there are a lot of people, and not only his students. When he finished playing, Neuhaus, addressing the audience, said: “Hmm, he plays well, doesn’t he?”, And then to me: “Darling, you are great at playing fast and loudly, and now you need to learn how to play slowly and quietly! » What is "Wechselbad", huh?! Oh, I really got it with this "slow and quiet"! True, this was not some incredible surprise for me: as far as I remember, around me (maybe sometimes deliberately, I don’t presume to say) an aura of a virtuoso (fast and loud?) ?), and even some of my successes, which were (I still thought!), were practically not taken into account. By the way, as for me, I always treated the label of “virtuoso” stuck on me, not even with distrust, but simply with disbelief in authenticity, and that is why I often took into my repertoire what was “contraindicated” for me. And now, as if on purpose "in defiance" of this a priori, the Neuhausian one sounds - "you need to learn!". But how? You can’t jump out of “what to do” so easily! Yes, and the very posing of the question (you need to study) - Neuhaus will not teach, show, etc. I must learn from him - not to wait for his instructions, but to think about what and what he says, let it through himself, and not postulate mechanically its verbal and sound information. To be honest, the need for such a path became clear pretty quickly, but what about the implementation? Using today's terminology, I couldn't get into his "program" without understanding his programming language. And it was really hard to do. For example, the torments of hell with the slow part of Chopin's B minor sonata: all my efforts to make "beautiful music" looked pitiful compared to his individual "sound productions" that he showed me as he played. (By the way, I almost never heard him play any voluminous episodes for us; his “touches” on the piano were most often limited to individual phraseological turns, or even individual (!) Sounds that have a key meaning in a phrase or episode. But what touches! It was a live sound, it was a sound ether!) How could one not fall into some despondency and not ask oneself the question: from where, how??? And why do I, with my fairly solid pianistic baggage, often find myself powerless to do with my fingers what he can do even by pressing a key ... with a pencil? Speaking of "despondency", I actually went too far. On the contrary, such moments most often turned me on: damn it, can't I finally crack this nut?! Naturally, I could not succumb to the influence of the general atmosphere in the class, and, of course, I became another "auditor" of the lessons of Heinrich Gustavovich. I will not specifically expand on these lessons, I will only say that these were my lessons. (Indeed, passive practice under certain conditions can give no less than active, provided that you are a person who is truly interested. By the way, there is real confirmation of this later, when 20 years of passive practice led me to the conductor's stand.) These were lessons that, as it were, gradually gave me food for thought. I say “gradually”, because how could I, say, leave after the end of the next many hours of “session”, like not remembering anything (!), but (subconscious?) at some point, later, as if suddenly some kind of - a generalized thought, some kind of private summary, etc. Sometimes this inspired some kind of optimism (repeatedly noticing that Genrikh Gustavovich did not “beat” someone for those miscalculations or absurdities that, in the case of me, caused him dissatisfaction, I had every reason to think that he believed in my capabilities, demanding more), in another case, his “branded” general comment on what he listened to is “Well done! Know what you're doing!" - often subsequently stimulated me to ask myself: "Do you really know what you are doing?". You can go on and on, but the most important thing was that he, Neuhaus, always had something to talk about, what another "fantasy" to share with his junior colleague (I say "colleague" not for a red word), his own Truth was - he repeatedly liked to repeat to us: "I'm not your professor, I'm your senior comrade!") Many who are familiar with the book by G. G. Neuhaus “The Art of Piano Playing” probably paid attention to the following paragraph in the preface: “In order to speak and have the right to be heard, one must not only be able to speak, but, above all, have something to say. It is as simple as two times two is four, and yet it is not difficult to prove that hundreds and thousands of performers sin against this rule all the time. Truly, what is true has no statute of limitations: the book, first published in 1958, is up-to-date even today! In addition to the above quote, I would like to draw attention to one very subtle nuance, namely, the wording of the title. Not "The Art of Piano Playing", but "The Art of Piano Playing"! Amazing accuracy of the wording: piano playing is music, and "playing the piano" - what is it? .. In general, having made an attempt to write something about my years of communication with Heinrich Gustavovich, I realized that remembering Her Majesty the Essence is practically useless, you will still cling only to the elements of the Essence that have affected you to one degree or another and which in to some extent predetermined or determined your own destiny. In this sense, I am grateful to both Fate and the combination of circumstances that gave me seven unforgettable years. But again, I digress from the main thing - how it all happened. Trying to describe my “Nehausian era”, I am not always able to adhere to the chronology of events, because many phenomena, being in a causal relationship (although scattered over time), cannot today be split into separate parts. So, returning to the above concept of “junior colleague”, it seems to me necessary that, in my opinion, characterizes primarily the humanistic component of Neuhausian pedagogy. I cannot definitely say where this can be read and whether it is even in printed form, but I vouch for the veracity of what will be given below, because I heard it from the lips of Genrikh Gustavovich himself. Here is a summary of his thought: “I am deeply grateful to all my students, all - both good and bad! Good for teaching me what is good, and bad for showing me what is bad. So, regarding what was “good”, he was extremely loyal (remember - “You know what you are doing!”), even if the Neuhausian impulse led someone to a result different from his own ideas: he and in this case, I found how to adequately comment on it. Well, as for what is “bad”, here the situation often created such that, as they say, at least endure the saints). chaos, no art!” It was chaos (and I would say more specifically, familiarity in music!) that could simply infuriate him, and from a “senior comrade” he turned downright into a medieval inquisitor, executor (whatever), almost without embarrassment in expressions (of course he could, despite the audience traditionally present in the class, as they say, destroy such a representative of chaos. A couple of times I happened to witness such outbreaks (and they say that in his younger years he was even ” in such manifestations!), And the one who turned out to be “nailed”, as they say, didn’t seem enough (I remember one girl, a student of another teacher who asked Neuhaus for a consultation, after a complete fiasco, standing with me in the corridor, repeated only one: "What a shame, what a shame!"). When such episodes pop up in my memory, I am literally overwhelmed by a feeling of special and some kind of hopeless nostalgia. No, these are not conservative “sighs for the past times”, this is a state in many respects close to the essence of the old Russian proverb: “What we have, we don’t keep, but when we lose it, we cry.” True, with a slight clarification: a lot has already been lost (but not all yet!) But it seems that they decided to leave crying to someone else, in the future (after us - even a flood?!). Is it harshly said? I agree? But I am fully responsible for this, so to speak, passage, because I have more than enough reasons for that. The "sparing" inflicted by Genrikh Gustavovich on the aforementioned student, her subsequent reaction - all this is not some particular case from life, on the contrary, is part of that great whole that initially determines the value and true functionality of any profession, namely, the moral and the moral foundations of someone who expects to be a professional. Here they are, the origins of the nostalgia that I am talking about now, because today Neuhaus’s remark, often thrown by him as if by chance - “Now everyone is playing well!”, is by no means harmless, and Grigory Romanovich Ginzburg turned out to be downright a prophet, promising turning the specialty of a pianist into ... a profession (!!!) Yes, memories are not always chronological. And I will end my next “plot” with the next episode, which, it seems to me, has a direct connection with the content of the previous one. So, sad October 1964, the death of Genrikh Gustavovich, a memorial service in the Great Hall of the Conservatory. We talk with a colleague, and he says to me: “Well, the holiday is over. Now only hard workers and careerists are left!” This is not my invention - the pure truth, I remember how it is now! I am not naming a name, as it was said confidentially, face to face, and I can only add that now this is our outstanding MUSICIAN (profession!), Whom I respect and love... It would be time, as they say, to return to Neuhaus' class and still try to outline, as far as possible, the process of my adaptation in a completely new outer space. And yet, before doing so, I would like to touch on an episode of a later period that echoes what has just been told. So, thank God, I passed the Neuhausian “dressing down” (did my previous upbringing affect?), but I remember one “mad” lesson. And I remember it not because it really happened once, but because it became a life lesson for me. Here we should remind the reader what was significant for us in the second half of the 1950s. The main thing was that the sad memory of the ideological and informational press of the party "verdict" of 1948 was actually eliminated, and in different ways we got records of world music, which we had no idea about. It was truly an information boom! And somehow I had a record with D. Menotti's operas "Medium" and "Telephone" for several days. In Neuhaus's classroom there are not only “lessons”, but also constant communication. Of course, I did not fail to brag. The reaction is instant: “Darling, I also want to listen! Come Friday." And on Thursday - a lesson, I play Scriabin's Fourth Sonata for him (it was already a post-adaptation period, I already began to feel a little "self-sufficient" - the reader will learn the details a little later), and .., God forbid, - this has begun! I don’t remember everything, but the most striking was: “What are you doing, how is Sofronitsky out of sorts?” (!!!) But I’m already “a little self- sufficient”, and the answer follows: “God forbid I play like Sofronitsky out of sorts! ". In a word, he is furious, and I dare to argue - the air shudders. By the way, there are a lot of people in the class, as always, and not only students!! (Here, of course, the essence was hidden in the sacramental "If only youth knew ...", and not in the Neuhaus-Sofronitsky confrontation! Everyone knew their friendly and respectful relations. And youth, that is, I, was simultaneously under two suns and could not yet find the golden mean.) In short, I said (!) That I did not agree on everything, to which Genrikh Gustavovich replied: "Well, everyone will scold you!" I said: "Well, let it be!" and left. But tomorrow is Friday! After such as: to go - not to go? Honestly - I was like sitting between two chairs, and only I had to decide ... And literally at the last moment: "Oh, I was not there - they will go!" I come, I call, the door opens, GG stands: “Hmm, he came after all!”. Valuable lesson, isn't it? I was tormented, and he was waiting for my decision, and it, as it turned out, received a positive assessment. I don’t know how our relations would develop in the future, if I didn’t come to him then ... And in this case it seemed to me that his respect for me increased. Well, finally, I return to the description of my first Neuhausian year. I have already spoken about the priority he proclaimed for me - to learn to play slowly and quietly. But this task, even if simple in its wording, actually turned out to be like a snake that slips away as soon as it seemed to you that you were about to grab it: you play quietly - it doesn’t sound, you play slowly - everything stands still! Yes, in fact, with what concerned the reverse incarnation - quickly and loudly - it also turned out to be not so, let's say, ideal. And if in the school years, L.I. Roizman, especially in the first period, regularly reproached me that even though I play loudly, it sounds sluggish (it seems paradoxical, but, in fact, it’s true!), now there is a certain overabundance energy, emotional overflow. And, of course, the result is diametrically opposed to what is desired, because, as the well-known truth says: too many emotions means no emotions. Of course, this understanding came much later as a result of trial and error, observations, experiments, and so on. I just want to emphasize one important detail, and, perhaps, this was one of the traits of my character (by the way, I had to listen to a lot of all sorts of reproaches in connection with this), namely, I did not accept anything as an axiom, as a “guide to execution” , somehow a kind of auto-training began to function by itself, forcing me to think about why I was unconvincing at the moment in the embodiment of my intentions, in the sincerity and truthfulness of which I was absolutely sure. Further experience confirmed the correctness of the position taken, the meaning of which can be formulated as follows: one must learn to believe in oneself (nothing to do with self-confidence!), then doubts will become part of the search for ways to improve, and not a sign of insecurity or a syndrome of being pleasing to everyone and everyone. In this regard, it is not out of place to cite a parable that was once told to me: one of the students of D.F. Oistrakh, already a concert laureate, shared his problem with him: he supposedly heard a lot of reproaches about the insufficiently stable rhythm, but when he began to intently follow this, they began to reproach him for being static. To which Oistrakh told him: “If I had listened to everyone, I would not have played for a long time.” In my opinion, the perfectly fair implication of this superficially simple summary needs no explanation. It's one thing when you read something and every time you refer to the authority; It's another matter when by some (albeit tortuous, difficult) way you come to some result or conclusion, and then you find out that this is almost one to one converges with someone's authoritative opinion. Speaking in modern slang, what a thrill! One of such moments in my life is the thesis of N.K. Medtner: "The loss of the piano is the loss of the forte." But after all, I read this already after I had made the same conclusion for myself and was convinced of its validity in practice: if there are problems with the forte, immediately check what happened to the piano! Perhaps not everyone will understand what I have said above, moreover, I can assume that there will be reproaches for some kind of contradiction to myself. What could I say about this? Indeed, today, peering into the past, I never cease, let’s say, to be surprised at how it was that with my (I confess honestly!), With all my rigidity and low compliance, I still managed, figuratively speaking, like an affectionate calf to suck seven mothers? Apparently, Pushkin swung too far, believing that only a genius is a friend of paradoxes. Probably, this also happens with simpler personalities ... But about the fact that experience is the son of difficult mistakes, in my opinion, he got into the top ten. But - only their own mistakes, and not erroneously executed other people's instructions. You will never repeat your mistakes (if you understand, of course), and you can make mistakes on other people's postulates until death, but you never gain experience (and knowledge too!). You need to study all your life, but looking for someone to teach me is a road to nowhere. One could learn from Neuhaus (I think I have already said this) endlessly, if one initially “charges oneself” with absorbing, absorbing (you can continue if you wish) an infinite number of catalysts for artistic thinking, exciters sometimes truly “Brownian movement” of creative fantasy, perhaps not always leading to something coherent, harmonious, but never falling into the field - forgive me for the excessive use of chemical and physical terms! - Toricelli's emptiness, in other words, the so-called common truths, which are correct in their "sound", but in reality they are not always interpreted correctly. Well, let's say, one day I happened to hear in a personal conversation from one of our then luminaries- professors (this is not irony!) one of these "truths": Beethoven, you see, provides (did he call him on the phone?) in his music unity of tempo? (I repeat once again: I am not naming names only because of the unwillingness to cast at least some shadow on the personalities of our really large, outstanding figures, but I consider it my right to express my disagreement with their views.) Such a statement immediately entered into an insoluble contradiction with Neuhausian agogic thinking - tempo flexibility depending on musical fluctuations while maintaining a single tempo axis. Difference? Yes! And what! I remembered Beethoven very opportunely: it was he who, in my first Neuhausian year (in the “face” of his Twenty-seventh, op. mentioned earlier. (To be honest, it’s very strange, but I remember that year more as a general, somewhat indefinite state than individual details. Even with regard to the repertoire, only three - but what! - creations remained in my memory: the Fourth Scriabin (even before the post- adaptation period), B minor Chopin and this Beethovenskaya.) I can’t remember anything else, although there must have been something else, but, apparently, it passed like a morning mist, since there was nothing left in the repertoire ... As for the choice of repertoire, then, and later, and even now (!) I can’t at least sketch a picture in which one could find the snake that provoked me to try this or that apple of paradise (a rather clumsy allegory, I agree , but essentially accurate). Everything happened outwardly absolutely spontaneously, suddenly - I wanted to, and that's it! - but is it "suddenly"? I still can't find any clear justification for this. So, about the 27th sonata of Beethoven. If you try to think smartly, then from the point of view of the educational routine, everything is correct, logical (but what about without Beethoven? Mandatory classics!). With Beethoven, I already had key life “tie-ins”: I graduated from school with the “Pathetique”, with the Fifth Concerto I graduated from the college, I played the 31st sonata at a competition in Paris, and all this was quite successful (for the corresponding moment, of course). But still - why is the 27th, so little played, "shortened", in a word, dangerous, because "not typical"? Probably, it was these features that turned out to be the causative agents of an irresistible desire to be (I apologize for some vulgarity!) In close relations with this mysterious "lady". I am running far ahead again, but looking back once again, I can state with full confidence that the work on this sonata, I would say, gave me the first hint of how the notorious “work” can be reoriented towards the factor of communication with music , the search for ways of a special kind of mutual understanding between the real (pianist) and the virtual (music text of the composer), which, in turn, over time, radically influences the final, I dare to think now, positioning of the performing credo: “You say that you love music (or - this music), but have you asked yourself the question: does Music love you? Indeed, how difficult it is to make Music love you! And these are not "philosophical tales", my dear potential opponents. Whether you like it or not, this is the Truth, and if you treat it without due respect ... Here is one example for you - not so long ago review of one "star" performer today, placed in the German press: "With his performance, he very convincingly proved that this is music of average quality." And in contrast to this, it would be appropriate to recall how Chaliapin elevated Massenet's opera with his performance of Don Quixote. Here it is, the mission of a performer, artist, artist - to be able to make good music out of so-called average music, and not out of good average music, which, alas and ah, is taking place more and more often today ... My deepest bow to Beethoven for his 27th sonata, which, by the will of fate, became one of the defining milestones on my musical path! It so happened that I had to (or rather, happened to) work on it, having before my eyes the edition edited by G. von Bülow. Genrikh Gustavovich already at the first lesson spoke very favorably about this edition, while expressing his regret that there were no repeated editions. The reason for such regret was quite understandable, because Bulow's editing was more like a performance analysis and suggestions of possible ways to decipher the author's instructions, both articulatory and textural plans. It was interesting even to look into these notes: the episodes were clearly visible, in some places accompanied by brief comments, ways of concretizing the articulation outlined by Beethoven were proposed ... But the main thing is that there was not a trace of imposing the dogma of the notorious unity of tempo (!), but an agogic harmony was assumed. Apparently, Neuhaus's sympathy for this edition was based on this, in the first place. In any case, as far as I remember, there was not a single remark of his going against Bulow's idea; his remarks related to my "manifestations", which were not so much of any premeditation, but of a state of intuitive search for what is already heard, but not yet seen. And what else was really new for me was that the remarks, even objections (discussion?) touched on some particular or more general point, but did not carry any professorial orders or imperative prohibitions (of course , if everything presented by the student remained within professional good form). Over the years, it became clear to me that Neuhaus was able in each case to determine for the student, first of all, the "area", that is, the inhabited space for a given style of music. The characteristic properties of the atmosphere, emotional mood, etc. I have already said: his ability to turn sound combinations and sequences into almost tangible images was amazing, and THAT plunged me into a state of some kind of “uncertainty”. Indeed: for example, a student plays the E-flat-minor prelude from the I volume of the HTC Bach. What is the conversation about - about the style, about the phrase, about the left hand that has set the teeth on edge? Not! Heinrich Gustavovich begins to talk about the state of eternal rest, about the fact that this rest is guarded by white marble and black (!) cypress ... But in fact - Bach, Thomas Church, a cemetery at the church ... As they say, why not and no? And if not, something else, but not only "correctly" played notes! And this happened all the time: he, so to speak, clung not to irregularities, but to emptiness, hinting in every possible way how to fill these emptiness. Well, where is this path - find it yourself. For example, his portrait of Brahms looked like this: “Brahms is such a beard (shows), such a belly (shows) and such aaaaa (spreads his arms as wide as possible) Soul!”. So how do you play Brahms? How can one feel (and realize!) that Brahms' Schumannism does not at all mean that Brahms is pastiching Schumann? How to avoid outright banality (the outward simplicity of Brahms' thought provokes this)? I remember that back in the Gilels period, I witnessed how Emil Grigorievich sarcastically remarked to one student that one of the episodes of the Brahms play sounded “in the style of Bakalov” (songwriter of the 1940s-50s). In fact, banality is very dangerous because you can fall into it, even without actively wanting it. The understanding that sometimes everything can be expressed with three notes, and sometimes only something with ten notes, came to me much later, as well as many other things. And at that time, having taken up the 27th sonata, I, apparently - almost according to Griboyedov - "went into a room, got into another: Neuhaus's comment on the performance of the main theme of the first movement was then super unexpected for me (later I appreciated him as exhaustive]). He sat down at the piano, and... the same theme, accompanied by a triple waltz left hand, turned into an emotional outburst of a drunken tavern pianist! We all who were in the class literally rolled with laughter, and he said: “You see how careful you must be!”. (By the way, now it seems to me more and more that the aforementioned main theme of the first part of op. 90 was a distant prototype of the main theme of the sonata op. 106. Their, if I may say so, constructive-contrasting similarity haunts me). . Of course, behind the “be careful” was by no means the silent (again according to Griboyedov) “moderation and accuracy”, but - the initial respect, moreover, the boundless respect for the author’s intention, for the text, which in no case allows you to go (or, as they say, hit!) into an uncontrollable and even anarchic state, which is very often postulated as “but I feel that way” (!!!) But how much such “own” music with other people's notes has been and still has to be heard! In my mind, the Neuhausian "be careful" had the ultimate goal of reorienting the ambitious "I feel this way" into the respectful "I perceive it this way" (to confirm what was said - the famous Neuhausian "contraverse" ": I play Chopin, and I play Chopin). Here it is appropriate to note one of, I would say, the most important qualities of the Personality of Henry Gustavovich: he knew how to rejoice, admire. And again we have to digress and give at least one example. 1958, Moscow, the First International Tchaikovsky Competition, III round, played by Van Clyburn... His performance ended, there was a frenzied ovation in the hall, and I see how G.G. (he was a member of the jury) jumps up and starts running from one jury member to another and, leaning towards each of them, something excited (it was obvious!) to say. A few days later, we gathered at his house on the occasion of his birthday (70 years old! By the way, he always invited students to his place, calling it a “Grrrrandy party”), and he, seeing our excited state, said: “Ah, I understand, why are you all like this today - WE HAVE CLIBURN! (So, according to the booklet of the competition, then the winner of the competition was called.) So, this quality, which is difficult to overestimate, in many ways, very much determined the artistic credo of Neuhaus: to be careful for him meant to be on guard of beauty (how not to remember Dostoevsky - "Beauty will save the world!"). I will immediately put a barrier on possible “crooked” interpretation of what has been said: we are not talking about “pretty”! Beauty is stereotyped in its essence, while beauty is singular and makes an impression only when, as they say, it is in place. On the basis of my experience, I undertake to assert that there is no beauty at all (isn’t it a template?), As well as such formulas as “good piano sound” or “artistic performance "... In a word, it seems to me that the first lessons of beauty (not external, but of an aesthetic order!) I received precisely on the example of the 27th sonata. No, this does not mean that G.G. philosophized about all sorts of "charms" or "high matters" - everything was much simpler: he either hinted or suggested something. I play some episode, trying to combine it as much as possible (I will especially note - trying!); he also draws attention to the fact that I could find where it would be appropriate to put, say, a comma, but at the same time not stop the general movement. How simple and wise! I try to stretch everything in one breath (formally!) and, of course, I miss it, and his remark allows, having found a point where you can “take a breath”, to play the same episode really, and not formally, in one breath. And, most importantly, it suddenly begins to seem to me (and how often, by the way, we have to hear from the performer - “but it seemed to me that it was like that, but in fact ...”!) That I should not “try”. To be honest, I did not immediately understand such a “turn”, when “diligence” begins to give way to something else. It was this something else that hovered around me all that period, tormented, intrigued, and the main question arose for me: where does he (Genrikh Gustavovich) get all this from? And I... Who am I? Here it would be absolutely useless to try to recall, “pull out of memory” any specific instructions of G.G. in the course of our work at that time: firstly, I am not able to do this today, because I did not write any “summaries” of his lessons, and secondly, on the basis of what I had lived, I came to the conclusion that Neuhaus’s lessons can only be generalized. Excessive detailing will certainly cause the intention to ask what others think about this, and then fall into reasoning like "what if ...". But great figures are great because their similarity and at the same time difference (sometimes striking) are components of a single whole. Isn't that why it was common in our time that a student of, say, Feinberg or Goldenweiser could attend Neuhaus's class (or even play with him), and, conversely, a Neuhaus student would pay a visit to some other class? Let me use here the allegory of V. Furtwängler, who said: a piece of music is a plasma, and the task of the performer is to create something unified, whole out of that plasma. In relation to my thought, this allegory may look like this: each of our greats is a personal, unique plasma, and in each of them we must see the whole, and not get burned, pulling out separate pieces that for some reason especially tempt us. It is here that one should look for the main intrigue (for me personally!) Of that period - I somehow subconsciously felt that behind the seemingly private, sometimes literally “pointed” remarks of Heinrich Gustavovich, something more voluminous, deeply significant, clear to him and that’s all still ghostly to me. Therefore, as if by itself, a twofold process was taking place: the desire to pay maximum attention to his private remarks inevitably provoked me to “peer” more closely (I don’t say: listen! Before that, it was still quite far away. later, I will touch on this issue specifically sometime) in what happened before and what can happen after. That is, it was just what I was talking about a few lines above: “where does he get all this from?” Neo-Hamlet question!! Apparently, something sensible happened with the Beethoven Sonata (I will not deny that the description of this period looks rather vague and not very specific, but this description is completely identical to the vague and not very specific state of that time), because Heinrich Gustavovich, as they say, a beautiful day directly ordered (I tried to resist at first!) to play it at his next cool evening, and this order was made no more than a week before the concert, truly like snow on the head! In a word, no special training (as it used to be) - play! It would not be superfluous to say that this was already my third appearance on the Neuhaus class stage that year: at the very beginning, even when I entered his class, I played Prokofiev’s Third Concerto (which was prepared with Gilels and was my “star” moment at the competition in Paris), then I dared to portray Scriabin's Fourth Sonata, already mentioned more than once (the absence of a sense of possible danger inherent in youth: if I want, then I can - the sea is knee-deep to me!), where I flashed a brightly played coda. But - no more than that. And now God loves a trinity ... Order! Beethoven... Someone ask me then (and now too!) - how was it? By God, I can’t say anything except what happened after the concert. Neuhaus said to me: “Darling, I am very glad. You need to play more of this kind of music!” What a subtle chess move!.. < to be continued >