Konrad and Alexandra (pdf) - Rolf Gross

ankles, this très-solide, yet well proportioned derrière, her full back were they truly Alexandra’s
or a predilection of the artist? I went back to the other nudes on exhibition, frontal views of
several very different women: splayed on his bed, seated in a red easychair, modestly covering
one breast with a silk scarf to make the other stand out more stunningly, or in the apathetic,
spent pose after making love.
None of them had the subtleties of the Nude reclining on her left side, nor did they have
the elegance and imperious beauty of Alexandra, her proud, contemptuous face and the
skepsis of her look.
How and when had she been in Paris? Considering the compromising pose it seemed
difficult to imagine that Konrad had accompanid her. She must have been traveling with one of
her female friends. It could not have been Tamara, she was pregnant, Helena? No! Izabel and
Marti were the only people, who knew the painter colony in Paris. But they had been missing
for five years.
I called my old father that night, and to approach the touchy question of Alexandra in the
nude on Modigliani's bed, I cautiously inquired after the whereabouts of the Sisakians in 1911.
"Marti vanished in Baku and Izabel appeared one night in St. Petersburg," said the tired
voice on the other end. "Mother and father had a dramatic reunion with her. Later Izabel was
pursued by the Okhrana and fled to Paris. It must have been 1911. Why, you didn’t come
across Izabel’s tracks in Paris?"
Now I was sure of my construction.
"No, but I ran into traces of Alexandra’s. Did she ever visit Izabel in Paris?"
There was silence at the other end of the line. Then he said with a weary voice, "Mother
traveled much in those years, leaving us in Elisabeth’s care. She may have been to Paris
before Konrads’s trip to China. What ‘traces’ of her did you discover?"
"A painting by Modigliani, which beyond doubt shows Alexandra."
I waited for a sound of recognition from him that could spare me a further description.
But father had never heard of a painting of his mother except the one in his possession.
"It’s a fabulous painting, Alexandra in the nude. More than I would ever have been
allowed to see, had I been fortunate enough to meet this fascinating woman."
I should have kept my mouth shut, but I had to share this discovery with somebody.
With a dangerously sharp voice my father began to shout into the phone. "This part of
her life is none of your business. All you want to know is, what was her sex life like? I have
never seen or heard of a painting of my mother in the nude, and if I did know of such an affair, I
would be too embarrassed to tell you."
Piqued, I had without malicious intent lifted an edge of the veil which vovered
Alexandra’s life and had found her naked in the bed of a famous painter, and father tells me
that this was none of my business?
I added insult to injury. "How about Vladimir, for example?"
There was silence on the line. Did father misunderstand me on purpose? I now
regretted the edge in my question.
Ashamed I listened to his tired, old voice.
"I told you, that Vladimir was fully occupied with Tamara in those years, he did not have
an affair with my mother, and he certainly did not go to Paris with her. But you are right, Mother
did accompany Izabel to Paris in 1911 to cover up Izabel’s flight from the Okhrana. There
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