Konrad and Alexandra (pdf) - Rolf Gross

self-portraits, signed A. Schönberg, and a few architectural sketches for an auditorium in
Dornach, Switzerland by Steiner.
Kandinsky took her around, quite obviously more fascinated by her person than by her
interest in his pictures. Fräulein Münter excused herself.
"Art is in a state of rapid change," Kandinsky began to lecture, putting his right hand into
his vest, gesticulating with the other. "We are searching for a new content in art and new forms
of expression in painting as well as in music. Steiner is trying to combine music, dance,
painting, and architecture in one great vision. My aim is more modest, I am trying to find a way
out of symbolism, Russian and Western, and have to confess that I have not found a
satisfactory expression for what I see."
He waved his left at the series of mythological woodcuts. "These are attempts to come
to terms with my emotional Russian baggage, which seems to have followed me to the West.
Memories of fairy tales my mother read to me when I was a child."
He smiled at her winningly for the first time and Alexandra had to fend off an attack of
female weakness. "Is this what one calls Byzantine Symbolism?"
His smile disappeared. "You hurt me! These prints are my very personal exploration of
the symbols that express my emotions and my Russian soul. They do not belong to any
particular style."
She had misjudged the honesty of this man. His search might, after all, be as serious as
her own, but she still could not relate to those dark prints. She thought of Uncle Mouravi’s
remark after Chekhov’s Chaika, "Thank God, we live in a sunnier climate." Maybe the Russians
did after all carry a heavier emotional burden then she.
She softened her voice and said in Russian. "I do like your landscapes, they are full of
light and color, they vibrate and sing. The first painting of yours I saw at the townhouse of the
Sushinskys in St. Petersburg, a melancholy villa on a lake in a park."
His smile returned. "Oh, I painted it at their estate where I spent a beautiful summer as
their guest. Another nostalgic memory."
He pointed at the small oils. "The landscapes you see here are from travels in Holland,
Tunisia, and France in the last few years. They are Studienarbeiten, study pieces that I painted
with and for my students, but they leave me dissatisfied. As I told you, I have not found the
right mode of painting what I see. Nature holds no longer a challenge for me as a painter."
She looked at him and said with feeling. "What is it that you see in your mind? Can you
describe it in words?"
His brown eyes lit up, and his voice warmed. "I could try, if you would allow me to return
to my native Russian."
Disarmed, she nodded and gave him her best smile. Although no more attracted to him
than before, she decided to discard her Queen of Spades.
They found a quiet corner and sat down. He pulled out a silver etui and offered her an
expensive Oriental cigarette. During her hospital work, Alexandra occasionally permitted
herself a cigarette, but she never smoked in public or at social gatherings. This time she
accepted, and Kandinsky gave her a light and lit his own.
"Ach," he fell back into Russian, "the lot of the emigrant. We have no word in Russian
for what I am looking for, dukh, spirit, comes close, spiritualizm spoils it again, our much
abused dusha, soul, is something else, and razum, the mind, is too discredited for my
purpose."
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