A glimpse of Bella. Romantic chronicle

14.04.2024

Boris Messerer is a famous painter, graphic artist, and set designer. Extensive memoirs cover almost the entire second half of the twentieth century and the beginning of the twenty-first century. Vivid portraits of his father, the outstanding dancer and choreographer Asaf Messerer, his mother, the silent film actress and beauty Anel Sudakevich, and his sister, the great ballerina Maya Plisetskaya. Life in post-war Moscow and the underground of the sixties and seventies, the workshop on Povarskaya, where the entire Moscow and Western elite gathered and where the famous almanac “Metropol” was born. Friendship with Vasily Aksenov, Andrei Bitov, Evgeny Popov, Joseph Brodsky, Vladimir Vysotsky, Lev Zbarsky, Tonino Guerra, Sergei Parajanov, Otar Ioseliani. And – Bella Akhmadulina, who was the wife of Boris Messerer for almost forty years. Her appearance, her “glimpse”, her poetry. A romantic chronicle of life with one of the most amazing women of our time.

The book is illustrated with unique photographs from the author's personal archive.

The work was published in 2016 by AST Publishing House. The book is part of the "Great Sixties" series. On our website you can download the book "Bella's Flash" in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format or read online. The book's rating is 3.5 out of 5. Here, before reading, you can also turn to reviews from readers who are already familiar with the book and find out their opinion. In our partner's online store you can buy and read the book in paper form.

And now I think that we do not have time to find out our happiness. Actually, what is happiness? This is a conscious moment of being. And if you understand this, then you will already have enough...

Bella Akhmadulina

The book includes letters and photographs from the family archive of Boris Messerer, as well as works by photographers V. Akhlomov, V. Bazhenov, Yu. Korolev, M. Larionova, V. Malyshev, A. Osmulsky, M. Paziy, I. Palmin, V. Perelman, V. Plotnikov, Yu. Rost, A. Saakov, M. Trakhman, L. Tugolev, B. Shcherbakov

Old Cinema House on Povarskaya. Ground floor lobby. Perhaps it was called the “ticket hall”. There is melting snow on the floor. There are crowds of people, languishing in anticipation of upcoming meetings. Leva Zbarsky and I are also standing, waiting for someone. The door is constantly opening to let incoming people through. The beautiful stranger seems to float into the space of the hall. She is in a slippery fur coat, without a hat, with snowflakes on her tousled hair. Passing by, she glances at us briefly and just as briefly sends us a subtle greeting with her hand.

- Who is this? – I ask Leva.

– This is Bella Akhmadulina!

First impression. Strong. Memorable. This is how it will remain in memory. It’s fleeting, but the feeling of falling in love arises...

Spring 1974. The courtyard of the House of Cinematographers on Chernyakhovsky Street, near the Airport metro station. I'm walking my dog Ricky, a Tibetan terrier.

Bella Akhmadulina appears in the yard with a brown poodle. His name is Thomas. Bella lives one entrance away from me, in the former apartment of Alexander Galich. Bella at home. In low-heeled shoes. Dark sweater. The hairstyle is random.

The sight of her tiny, slender figure begins to ache in your heart.

We are talking. Nothing. Bella listens absentmindedly. We're talking about dogs.

About dogs that are not nearly as peaceful as they seem at first. Ricky tries to start a fight. He succeeds and bites through Foma’s nose. Drops of blood. Bella is unhappy. I am embarrassed. Soon she leaves. And suddenly, with all the clarity that came out of nowhere, I understand that if this woman wanted, then I, without a moment’s hesitation, would leave with her forever. Anywhere.

Then Bella will write:

What is the meaning of fate's delay between us?

Why is the zigzag so bizarre and long?

While we were dating and didn’t know the secret,

Who cared about us, smiled and knew?

Inevitably, like two in the ring,

We met in this hateful courtyard.

Thanks to the incomparable Ricky

For your participation in our destiny...

Sometimes something happens between people that they cannot understand themselves. There were three such meetings in the yard. On the last one, Bella suggested:

– Come to Pasternak’s dacha in two days. We will celebrate his memory day.

I painfully imagined my appearance in this sacred house for me, having only Bella's verbal invitation. At seven o'clock in the evening of the appointed day I appeared in Peredelkino near Pasternak's house. The gates were, as always, open. I was greeted by a large red-brown chow chow. It was impossible to read his attitude towards me from the dog’s face. I headed towards the house. I called and went in. A large company was sitting around the table. Of the guests, I remember well Alexander Galich, Nikolai Nikolaevich William-Vilmont, Stasik Neuhaus and his wife Galya, Evgeniy Borisovich Pasternak and Alena, Leonid Pasternak and his wife Natasha. Bella sat in the center. The guests seemed surprised by my arrival. One Bella exclaimed joyfully:

- It’s so good that you came!

– I invited Boris to this solemn day and I am very glad that he is with us today.

They pulled up a chair for me and offered me a glass of vodka. My arrival interrupted Galich’s reading of poetry. The reading continued. But suddenly Bella abruptly interrupted Galich and began to enthusiastically read her dedication to Pasternak:

Burn to eyes, hands - cold,

my love, my cry - Tiflis!

Nature's concave cornice,

where God is capricious, having fallen into caprice,

that miracle perched above the world...

The poem, read in one breath, brightly and swiftly, sounded like a challenge to Galich’s monotonous reading. Undoubtedly, his politicized poems accompanied by strummed guitar irritated Bella. Although she immediately began to hug and praise Galich, trying to make amends for her indomitable impulse. He continued his speech.

I remember an unexpected meeting with Bella at the dacha of playwright Alexander Petrovich Stein and his wife Lyudmila Yakovlevna Putievskaya. My close friend Igor Kvasha and his wife Tanya, daughter of Lyudmila Yakovlevna, were there. I was very glad to see Bella again, I rushed to her, we talked all evening and decided to see each other in Moscow.

Two months pass. Mixed company. Bella and I meet in the apartment of the writer Yuli Edlis, in a house on the corner of Sadovaya and Povarskaya. A lot of people, a lot of wine drunk. Everyone is in high spirits. Everyone wants the evening to continue.

Suddenly Edlis says:

- Guys, let's go to Messerer's workshop. It's nearby, on the same street.

Suddenly everyone agrees. I'm happy. Bella and I are leading the procession. I lead the company straight along the roadway. The street is completely deserted. We go to my house - No. 20 on Povarskaya. We take the elevator to the sixth floor, in groups of four. Four lifts. I have a lot of different drinks. Guests are impressed by the workshop. And Bella too...

Bella leaves for Abkhazia to perform. Two weeks of agonizing waiting. Phone call, her voice:

- I invite you to a restaurant.

And my answer:

- No, I’m inviting you to the restaurant.

We go to the House of Cinema restaurant on Vasilyevskaya Street.

I was not an outside observer, but a participant in this crazy but happy life. I have always had many friends, communication with whom took up a significant part of my time. But the main instinct in life was the desire to preserve and protect Bella, to protect her. Immediately after being impressed by her beauty and fantastic talent, I discerned a certain trait of disastrous nature, Bella’s vulnerability and defenselessness, as a person not adapted to the everyday side of life.

Boris Messerer

A glimpse of Bella. Romantic chronicle

And now I think that we do not have time to find out our happiness. Actually, what is happiness? This is a conscious moment of being. And if you understand this, then you will already have enough...

Bella Akhmadulina

- Who is this? – I ask Leva.

– This is Bella Akhmadulina!

First impression. Strong. Memorable. This is how it will remain in memory. It’s fleeting, but the feeling of falling in love arises...

Spring 1974. The courtyard of the House of Cinematographers on Chernyakhovsky Street, near the Airport metro station. I'm walking my dog Ricky, a Tibetan terrier.

The sight of her tiny, slender figure begins to ache in your heart.

We are talking. Nothing. Bella listens absentmindedly. We're talking about dogs.

Then Bella will write:

What is the meaning of fate's delay between us?
Why is the zigzag so bizarre and long?
While we were dating and didn’t know the secret,
Who cared about us, smiled and knew?
Inevitably, like two in the ring,
We met in this hateful courtyard.
Thanks to the incomparable Ricky
For your participation in our destiny...

Sometimes something happens between people that they cannot understand themselves. There were three such meetings in the yard. On the last one, Bella suggested:

– Come to Pasternak’s dacha in two days. We will celebrate his memory day.

- It’s so good that you came!

– I invited Boris to this solemn day and I am very glad that he is with us today.

Burn to eyes, hands - cold,
my love, my cry - Tiflis!
Nature's concave cornice,
where God is capricious, having fallen into caprice,
that miracle perched above the world...

Suddenly Edlis says:

- Guys, let's go to Messerer's workshop. It's nearby, on the same street.

Bella leaves for Abkhazia to perform. Two weeks of agonizing waiting. Phone call, her voice:

- I invite you to a restaurant.

And my answer:

- No, I’m inviting you to the restaurant.

We go to the House of Cinema restaurant on Vasilyevskaya Street.

Usually in such a situation, I continuously say something to my companion and completely capture her attention. Here everything happens the other way around - I can’t get a single word in.

We are going to my workshop.

And life begins again. From my new page...

In that December and in that space
my soul has rejected evil,
and everyone seemed beautiful to me,
and it couldn’t be otherwise.
Love for a loved one is tenderness
to everyone near and far.
Infinity pulsated
in the chest, in the wrist and in the temple...

Bella's memories

The idea of writing down, recording my observations and impressions became stronger in my mind after Bella’s and my life paths coincided.

If before that I had met many interesting people whom it would be correct to remember, then after the coincidence with Bella the number of such meetings increased immeasurably. She gave me a whole circle of wonderful writers, and I rejoiced at her entry into the artistic and theatrical spheres. This process was completely organic, there was no premeditation in it.

Boris Messerer

A glimpse of Bella. Romantic chronicle

And now I think that we do not have time to find out our happiness. Actually, what is happiness? This is a conscious moment of being. And if you understand this, then you will already have enough...

Bella Akhmadulina

- Who is this? – I ask Leva.

– This is Bella Akhmadulina!

First impression. Strong. Memorable. This is how it will remain in memory. It’s fleeting, but the feeling of falling in love arises...

Spring 1974. The courtyard of the House of Cinematographers on Chernyakhovsky Street, near the Airport metro station. I'm walking my dog Ricky, a Tibetan terrier.

The sight of her tiny, slender figure begins to ache in your heart.

We are talking. Nothing. Bella listens absentmindedly. We're talking about dogs.

Then Bella will write:

Sometimes something happens between people that they cannot understand themselves. There were three such meetings in the yard. On the last one, Bella suggested:

– Come to Pasternak’s dacha in two days. We will celebrate his memory day.

- It’s so good that you came!

– I invited Boris to this solemn day and I am very glad that he is with us today.

Burn to eyes, hands - cold,
my love, my cry - Tiflis!
Nature's concave cornice,
where God is capricious, having fallen into caprice,
that miracle perched above the world...

How am I different from the woman with the flower?
from the girl who laughs
who plays with a ring,
and the ring is not given to her?

I'm distinguished by a room with wallpaper,
where am I sitting at the end of the day?
and a woman with sable cuffs
the arrogant gaze looks away from me.

How I pity her arrogant look,
and I'm afraid, afraid to scare her away,
when she's over a copper ashtray
bends down to shake off the ashes.

Oh, God, how I feel sorry for her,
her shoulder, her drooping shoulder,
and a thin white neck,
which is so hot under the fur!

And I'm afraid that suddenly she will cry,
that her lips will scream terribly,
that she will hide her hands in her sleeves
and the beads will clatter on the floor...

Bella Akhmadulina. 1950s

10.04.1937 - 29.11.2010

Boris Messerer created for the 75th anniversary of Bella Akhmadulina
truly a living monument: actually written by the talented
documentary novel "Bella's Flash". Published a luxurious
an album with Bella's own drawings and poems,
dedicated to the white nights of St. Petersburg and the poets of St. Petersburg.

Since 1974, a loving and beloved man has secretly and voluntarily
became a devoted chronicler of an unpredictable woman,
which I fell in love with at first sight, without even reading it
not one of her poems.

He loved the woman in her! Bright, capable of one quick
pierce your consciousness with a glance and call for you. Even
fragments of the novel make you feel what passion
and passion cemented this union.

Messerer allowed himself to be a penny-pincher - to collect handwritten sketches, notes, dedicatory inscriptions on books for friends from the infinitely generous Bella. And everything was useful to him! The book is filled with the most interesting meetings, poetic evenings, where her magical voice sounded like a crying flute, and with her reading style she plunged listeners into some kind of ecstasy of ardent worship. Let's read some excerpts from the book:

Old Cinema House on Povarskaya. First floor lobby. Perhaps it was called the "Cash Hall". There is melting snow on the floor. There are a lot of people languishing in anticipation of upcoming meetings. Leva Zbarsky and I are also standing waiting for someone. The door constantly opens to let incoming people through.

The beautiful stranger seems to float into the space of the hall. She is in a slippery fur coat, without a hat, with snowflakes on her tousled hair. Passing by, she glances at us briefly and just as briefly sends us a subtle greeting with her hand.

Who is this? - I ask Leva.
- This is Bella Akhmadulina!

First impression. Strong. Memorable. This is how it will remain in memory. It’s fleeting, but the feeling of falling in love arises...

Spring of '74.

The courtyard of the House of Cinematographers on Chernyakhovsky Street, near the Airport metro station. I'm walking my dog Ricky, a Tibetan terrier. It belongs to the beautiful film actress Ella Lezhdei, the woman I love, with whom I live in this house.

From the sight of her tiny slender figure
my heart begins to ache.

We are talking. Nothing. Bella is listening
absently. We're talking about dogs.

Two months pass.

Mixed company. Bella and I meet in the apartment of the writer Iuliu Edlis, in a house on the corner of Sadovaya and Povarskaya. A lot of people, a lot of wine drunk. Everyone is in high spirits. Everyone wants the evening to continue. Suddenly Edlis says:

Guys, let's go to Messerer's workshop.
It's nearby, on the same street.

Suddenly everyone agrees. I'm happy. Bella and I are leading the procession. I am leading the company straight along the Povarskaya roadway. The street is completely deserted. We go to my house - number 20 on Povarskaya. We take the elevator to the sixth floor, in groups of four. Four lifts. I have a lot of different drinks. I notice that the guests are impressed by the workshop. And Bella too...

Bella leaves for Abkhazia to perform.
Two weeks of agonizing waiting.

Phone call: - I invite you to a restaurant.

And my answer: - No, I’m inviting you to the restaurant.

We go to the House of Cinema restaurant on Vasilyevskaya Street.

Usually in such a situation, I continuously say something to my companion and completely capture her attention. Here the opposite happens - I can’t get a single word in.

We are going to my workshop. And life begins
at first. From my new page...

In that December and in that space
My soul rejected evil
and everyone seemed beautiful to me,
and it couldn’t be otherwise.

Love for a loved one is tenderness
to everyone near and far.
Infinity pulsated
in the chest, in the wrist and in the temple...

In the first days of our coincidence with Bella, we cut ourselves off from the outside world, plunged into nirvana and, as Vysotsky said, lay on the bottom like a submarine, and did not give call signs... We did not communicate with anyone, no one knew where we were .

On the fifth day of Bella’s voluntary imprisonment in the workshop, I returned from the city and saw on the table a large sheet of whatman paper covered with poetry. Bella sat next to her. I read the poems and was amazed - they were very good poems, and they were dedicated to me. Before this I had not read Bella’s poems - it just so happened.

After meeting her, I, of course, wanted to read it, but I didn’t do it because I didn’t want to jinx our nascent relationship. I recognized that Bella wrote beautiful poetry, but I did not want my feelings to be influenced by literary interest in her poetry.

I, of course, was very happy about both the poems and the impulse that pushed Bella to create them. I was filled with joy and rushed towards her...

Bella always wrote in a kind of frantic
a burst of genuine feeling.

Passerby, boy, what are you doing? Past
go and don't look after me.
I love the one by whom I am loved!
Besides, know: I am many years old.

Pupils hot sullenness
hold on to me for a moment:
then the laughter of love, sparkling like youth,
gilded my features.

I'm coming... February is healing with coolness
cheeks hot... and the snow is snowing
so much... and sparkles immodestly
the beauty of love is my face.

The love that arose is captured in wonderful poems written in the workshop on Povarskaya... Love in the absence of everyday life... No one cooked or cooked anything in the workshop. She resembled a ship that glides over the waves, almost without touching them, glides over everyday life, almost without touching it:

Enter the incredible house,
Where is life - in neighbors with the universe,
Where eternity is an instant chill
Was aware of people and things,

And a splash of silver hearts
About the draft of otherworldly spaces
Guests who once sat here,
He announced mysteriously.

The peak of the madness of our relationship coincided with a complete lack of money. As if on purpose, I was not paid at that time. They were simply absent. And so does Bella. Nobody paid her anything either.

I called the head of the book,
I was looking for roundabout ways
Find out about possible changes
In the fate of my words and children.

There - someone was languishing and running,
He kept saying: he’s gone! He's gone!
It got dark, and he was still having dinner,
I ate my huge lunch...

Other fragments of Boris Messerer’s book published in the Znamya magazine can be read on the Magazine Hall website here:

In March 2013, the Kultura TV channel premiered the documentary film “Monologue of a Free Artist,” dedicated to the 80th anniversary of Boris Messerer. A series of 5 short films about the life and creative destiny of a theater artist, set designer, People's Artist of the Russian Federation, and an extraordinary and touching husband with whom Akhmadulina has lived for the last 36 years.

The documentary film “Monologue of a Free Artist” is not only about the love of two outstanding people - the poet Bella Akhmadullina and the artist Boris Messerer, but also the history of relationships against the backdrop of the era. It is not just a double portrait of Akhmadulina and Messerer, but also a unique multi-figure composition, a gallery of grandiose portraits presented to the audience: Vsevolod Abdulov and Alexander Mitta, Michelangelo Antonioni and Tonino Guerra, Vladimir Vysotsky and Marina Vladi, Venedikt Erofeev and Eduard Volodarsky.

These portraits were painted not with the brush of Boris Messerer, but with his equally bright and sincere words; this is the whole history of the twentieth century, seen through the eyes of a great artist and felt by the heart of a truly great man.

“I called my memoirs “A Glimpse of Bella,” says Boris Asafovich. - Even before I met Bella, I met many interesting people whom it would be right to remember... Bella gave me a whole circle of wonderful writers, and I rejoiced at her entry into the artistic and theatrical spheres... I was not an outside observer, but a participant this crazy but happy life."

Watch the video “Monologue of a Free Artist. Boris Messerer. A glimpse of Bella." The film is filled with poems by Bella Akhmadullina, which she herself recites in her inimitable manner. Enjoy watching!

Bella herself admitted that for her the most important
there have always been “esteemed readers.”

“In recent years, only one question has occupied me,” said Akhmadulina. “I am wondering how to repay my precious friends and listeners, whom I respect so deeply and tenderly, for the kindness and love so lavishly bestowed upon me.”

April

Here are the girls - they want love.
Here are the boys - they want to go hiking.
Weather changes in April
Unites all people with people.

O new month, new sovereign,
So you are looking for favor,
So you are generous with favors,
The calendar is tilting towards amnesties.

Yes, you will rescue the rivers from their shackles,
You will bring any distance closer,
You grant enlightenment to the madman
And you will heal the ailments of the elderly.

Only I am not given your mercy.
There is no greed to ask you for this.
You ask - I hesitate to answer
And I turn off the light, and the room is dark

On the Poetry Library website you can additionally
read about a wonderful woman, a poet with a capital P, whose work has yet to be realized and understood.