How did the artist Mikhail Germashev draw the last ray of the setting sun?
The sun sets, and the wind died down, There is no trace of those lights pierced by clouds; Here, on the outskirts, a living and unburning wavered, All that steppe illuminated and faded ray. There is already no sun, there is no day of tireless aspirations, Only the sunset will burn for a long time a little visibly; Oh, if heaven had judged without grievous languor, It would be the same for me, looking back at life, to die! Athanasius Fet Vladimir Egorovich pretty rubbed his hands, shook his disheveled hair. Today is Wednesday, which means – again fun, the joy of creative communication. His house will be filled with noise and noise, heated debate and deafening laughter. The most talented and restless brothers will gather again with him.
Artists are people from God, people are creators. Vladimir Shmarovin organized his famous mediums for them. The modest bookkeeper himself, who became rich only thanks to a successful marriage, he was passionately in love with art, collecting rare porcelain samples, silver charms, from which later he made abundant libations at art evenings, antique bronze and copper earrings. Our soul is decorated with two gifts – talent and purity. For beauty is reflected in purity. Vladimir Egorovich did not create any bright canvases, no sonorous poetic lines, or exquisite sculptures, but his house, an ordinary one-story Moscow house, was a haven for many artists. He fed, watered, provided with paper, canvas, paints, brushes, and even money.
How many of them, subsequently famous, owed him, the humble parent and mastermind of the circle of Artistic environments. How many he brought to the people, helped with the sale of their paintings. Then they began to be considered masterpieces. But then no one knew about them, and their creators were always cocky and hungry. Not without reason for the 30th anniversary of the circle, his regular, noisy and noting everything, Vladimir Gilyarovsky, wrote soulful lines: Oh, you mother dear “Wednesday.” We are old, and you are all young. Thirty years have passed, as if it hadn’t happened. Thirty years have passed today. The same conversation is lively and bold, And your parent, even a little gray, Yes, his soul, as before, is young, Oh you, mother-darling “Wednesday.” Alarmed the heart of Shmarovin these verses. Not in vain, not in vain does he live his own age, he devotedly devoted to art. They will also remember him with a kind word, but what they remember there, they have already remembered. Yes, God be with her, with glory, the main thing is that art live, that talented people are not translated. Shmarovin is carefully prepared for each environment. Sheets of paper – “Bristol” – are already prepared on a separate table in the living room, on which artists, brushes, sharpened pencils will practice their art all night. By eight in the evening, guests will gather. There will be no end to jokes, conversations. Exactly at midnight Shmarovin will hit the tambourine. Oh, Vladimir Egorovich also prepares for dinner knowledgeably, will specially purchase the best products on the Moscow markets: if salted saffron mushrooms, then only the smallest, springiest; if soaked apples, then as for selection – smooth, without a wormhole; pies – only Filipovskie; ham, cheese, fish – the freshest.
Brushes and pencils are replaced by forks and spoons, snacks and an invariable keg of beer appear. They argue, sing, laugh, and boast of just drawn cartoons at each other. Distinguished on this night by a successful drawing or a feast of impromptu drink from the honorary cup “Eagle”. “Morning. Light shines through the curtains, Gilyarovsky recalled. – The family and the ladies are gone … The barrel is empty for a long time … From the “dead” (bedroom for guests) snoring is heard. Some of the artists paint in vivid colors from life: a table with untidy utensils, an empty “Eagle” rises among overturned glasses, a barrel with an open tap, and leaning on the table, Uncle Volodya is napping. ” Who just did not visit the “Wednesday”! From artists – S. I. Yaguzhinsky, I. I. Levitan, V. I. Surikov, K. A. Korovin, I. E. Repin, A. M. Vasnetsov; from the artists – A. P. Lensky, F. I. Chaliapin, V. F. Komissarzhevskaya; of the writers – V. A. Gilyarovsky, I. A. Bunin, V. Ya. Bryusov. Of these names, the name of Levitan is illuminated with bright and gentle light. Vladimir Egorovich always valued friendship with the great landscape painter, and he never forgot that it was Shmarovich who was the first buyer of his paintings. And like a covenant from a brilliant painter – his picture “Evening after the rain” adorns the central wall of the Shmarovin’s house and recalls that the beautiful can lurk not only in the sunny colors of the south, but also in the wet boards of a wooden platform, and in the sad lights of a leaving train, and in the midst of an autumn evening. And today his heart sank in anticipation. A new guest – like a new book, it is not known what is fraught with itself. The artist Mikhail Germashev, who will then be called the successor of Levitan traditions, is today a guest of Shmarovich.
A talented painter whose painting “Snow fell” received the first prize of the Moscow Art Society and which Pavel Tretyakov immediately acquired for his collection, was in love with the nature of central Russia, especially in its winter, early spring and late autumn.