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Eduard Dolgunov

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The Royal Infant (Part 3)

The Studio of K. Malevich. 1915.

— Kazimir Severinovich, — Stepan yawned, — permit me to be curious, why, when you paint a picture, do you always sing - Tumba - tumba - tumba?

— You see, Stepan, — stepping back a pace from the easel, Malevich said thoughtfully, — this motif helps me to unite three religions in my paintings - Catholicism, Orthodoxy and Judaism! Here, what do you see on the canvas?

— Well, a black square, it seems, — Stepan answered uncertainly.

— There! — Kazimir waved his hand, — and repeated, — there! Then, looking carefully at the painting, he resolutely added, — if you, apart from the black color, see nothing, then you are an uneducated person, an enemy of art, an obscurantist, a retrograde and an enemy of democracy!

— Why are you swearing? — Stepan took offense, — we were not educated in gymnasiums, not taught sciences. You should tell me, the dark one, what I should see there, and not get angry in vain.

— You understand, my good man, — ignoring the servant's moans, Malevich said in thought, — if you look long and concentratedly straight into the middle of the square, not distracted by anything, like in a "camera obscura", then, in the end, you will begin to feel it. Do you understand?

— Well, not really, — Stepan said uncertainly, — and what does this mean?

— And this means, dear, — not taking his eyes off the easel, the artist said, — that, sometimes, we do not know what we actually created and only future generations will figure it out. And it is not a fact that they will succeed in this! And I foresee how someone, someday will exclaim: "The history of painting and all these Vrubels before such squares are - zero!"

— Well, you know better, — looking at the painting, Stepan said, — maybe they will exclaim, — shaking his head with doubt, he went to clean the studio.

Odessa. 1991.

— What do you mean a large box, — the old man cursed, — and how will I transport the furniture, on my shoulders? Do you know how old that furniture is? And on what am I, a veteran of labor, who worked for so many years in socialist production, in your opinion, going to rest in my old age?

— Listen, Nikolai Ivanovich, — the customs officer looked imploringly at the shift supervisor, — I have no more strength from this old man. I beg you, put a stamp on the cargo of this veteran and let them leave with their junk already. You look what rubbish these rednecks are taking with them, as if they won't be able to buy normal furniture there.

— Alright, alright! — the boss stamped the sealed box, — passed! Citizen Feldman, — he approached the old man, — receive the papers in the office and you may go. Your luggage has passed customs and you will receive it at the indicated address.

— Yes, — leaving the customs together with the old man, Ivanopulo smiled and looked at Yashka, — I must admit that this is a very original plan. To upholster an old sofa with fabric with the canvas of a painting sewn in for $20 million and send the luggage to Israel? Brilliant! I have never used such mail before.

San Francisco. 2011.

— I remember, — grandpa Izya poured himself beer, — I remember this customs.

— Yashka! — Sema excitedly wedged into the conversation, — I don't understand anything! What mail? What fabric? What does customs have to do with this?

— Sema, don't worry, — Sofa stroked his head, — you shouldn't worry. Now the boy will tell.

— Uncle, — Yasha smiled, — do you remember how a couple of days after our operation, we sent the Feldmans' luggage from customs to Israel?

— Well, I remember, — Sema nodded his head, — and what?

— So here, — the nephew continued, — remember, when we were preparing the luggage for shipment, Tsilya sewed the upholstery for their old sofa on the sewing machine. You saw it, such a black and white one, in a large check.

— Well, of course I remember, — Sema nodded his head, — I was still surprised then, why this stupid upholstery was needed and who came up with such an idiotic fantasy.

— Me, uncle, — the nephew smirked, — I came up with it. The thing is that we sewed the original Malevich painting into this upholstery, the one we demonstrated to the "expert". Then, under his control, the box was packed, customs sealed it and the luggage with the painting went to Israel. We fulfilled our part of the contract and the money was transferred to the required account.

— How? — everyone exclaimed at once, — the "Black Square" went abroad?

— Well, — Yashka smiled, — not quite like that. We sewed another, exactly the same upholstery, only this time without the painting, and during the packaging of the cargo we distracted the attention of the "expert", and to swap it, for the professional thimbleriggers from "Privoz" led by Kolya, is a one-minute matter. So, an ordinary black and white upholstery without the painting went abroad, and we returned the original to our museum director.

— Phew, — Sema wiped his sweat, — well, thank God. Yes, and what about this director? I didn't fully understand how he ended up in Siberia?

— With Vladimir Pavlovich? — Yasha smiled, — with him is a special story. After the conversation with the banker, the museum director lost his sleep. He did not trust his brother and was sure that as soon as the money for the painting hit the bank account in some South American country, the banker would scram to the West and "rip off" his relative. This thought gave him no peace, we took this into account and played our game.

— Fima, do you remember that evening? — Yashka asked, — well, the ventilation pipe from the cleaning lady Aunt Valya's closet?

— You bet, — the friend smiled, — I then imitated with a muffled voice, allegedly, a phone conversation of the guide with the director of Combank, which Vladimir Pavlovich "accidentally" heard. It became clear to him that he was superfluous in this matter and they wanted to get rid of him. The next day he summoned his assistant Oleg, the head of museum security, as he thought, his own man, and they developed their plan to steal the painting. On the same day, Kolya's brother, being a member of our team, told us about their conversation in all its details. But their plan did not interest us, since we had our own and we decided to play ahead, which we successfully did. The director, stupefied that the painting miraculously fell into his hands, became confused. At this moment Oleg ran into his office and saying that during the robbery he was in the hall, saw everything and suggested the frightened Vladimir Pavlovich use this gift of fate and run with the painting. Crazy from everything he had experienced, the director agreed, they quickly removed the canvas from the frame, rolled it into a roll, left the museum through the back door and Oleg took the director with the painting home. The next day, finding out that the Combank messenger Semen Petrovich is in the KPZ and does not know his residential address, the director with the painting was taken to this safe house, in which a couple of hours earlier the "expert" evaluated the painting. There we swapped the director's copy for the original.

— When the next day, — Yashka continued Fima's story, — Oleg reported that the bank director was summoned from Moscow and, at the request of the investigation, together with the guide he had to assess the damage caused, Oprya was terribly frightened.

— You need to hide, — Oleg "heated up" the situation, — until everything settles down. On the one hand, law enforcement agencies are interested in you, on the other the mafia. This is very serious, therefore you must reliably hide.

— And then Yashka called us, — everyone turned to a middle-aged man and woman who entered the courtyard with bags in their hands, — remembered his parents.

— Yeah, you'll forget you guys, — Sofa shook her head, taking a bag from her sister, — the devil pulled you to marry this bindyuzhnik, — she grumbled.

— No, well, where have you seen a Jewish geologist, I ask you? Jewish alcoholics are more common even, — taking out groceries from the bag, she said, — it would be better if he drank! And where did she find him? — she sighed, — in Krasnoyarsk!

— And what, — smiling, Yashka continued, — it turned out not bad? Oleg suggested the director hide in Krasnoyarsk, allegedly, with his geologist friend, there, he said, they definitely won't find him. Sit it out for some time, and then we'll see. Oprya was so frightened that he agreed without a murmur. The geologist (and this was Leva, Yashka's father), warmly greeted the director and said that on TV they had already reported the robbery and he was declared on the all-Union wanted list. Therefore, Leva offers to go with his geological group to the Sayans, where he is heading with an expedition. Vladimir Pavlovich was so frightened that he agreed without a murmur and taking the tube with the original painting, a few days later was already plowing the boundless expanses of the taiga. After some time, the expedition came upon a human settlement, located in a remote place on the bank of a beautiful river.

— This is a religious community, — Leva mysteriously told him, — very pleasant people. They live as hermits, so you can be calm, no one will find you here. Sit here for some time, and then we'll see. This is the most reliable option, — and leaving the director, the geologists left.

— So what? — Sema looked at Yashka, — our director became a leader of a sect with them? Good job, — he admired, — and made a career there!

— And not just a career, — Leva added, — geologist friends who visited their sect wrote me that he is a real "guru" in the sect, named their community "Children of the Sun", a great authority with his own religion, to whom they unquestioningly submit. Well, and I didn't see him again, since my wife and I, together with you, — he scanned everyone with his eyes, — soon emigrated. Ah, and here is Benya, — he waved his hand, — everyone is here. Uncle Izya, — he turned to the veteran, — your son has come. A short man approached the table.

— What's the big gathering? — he asked smiling, — for what occasion are we celebrating so strangely?

— Why strangely? — the veteran asked, — we sit, drink, have a snack.

— And strangely because, — Benya raised his finger, — for the first time in my life I don't hear the voices of our women. Where is my wife, did she leave in an unknown direction?

— You wish, — said Tsilya and putting a cutlet and fish on a plate, handed it to her husband, — here, misfortune, eat already. And we are silent because, — she added, — because such "secrets of the Madrid court" are clearing up here, that Stierlitz takes a rest. Only one thing is offensive, — she sighed, — all the men participated in that operation, but my husband didn't even stand nearby! Dad, — she turned to the grandfather, — your son is a shlemazl!

— Well, you are saying this in vain, — Yashka shook his head, — what do you mean didn't participate? And where, in your opinion, was your husband when we were conducting this action?

— On a business trip, and what? — Tsilya frowned, — said that he was sent from work.

— Exactly, on a business trip, — Yashka laughed, — only not from work, but we sent him. And he was in Israel, where he met with whom...?

— With Borka, — Benya smiled, — with your beloved brother, Tsilya!

A mute scene at the table.

— What, — Tsilya exhaled, — where? With whom?

— Opana, — Sofa sighed quietly, — Tsilya! Having lived all our lives with these bindyuzhniks, it turns out we don't know them at all? Are they spies?

— Okay, — drinking some beer, Benya said, — listen, I can say it now. According to our plan, I urgently flew to Israel, where Borka, Tsilya's brother, has lived with his family for many years. He rose to the rank of police colonel there and through him I got to the Israeli branch of Interpol. I told them everything about our case and a special operation was developed by them. Do you remember how three months after our emigration to Israel, we received luggage?

— Well, of course, you and I went to their customs to get it, — said grandfather Izya.

— Right, — continued Benya, — and when we took it apart at home, I gave the upholstery from the sofa to the movers who brought in the furniture for us, the one in a check, remember Tsilya? Well, the one you sewed before leaving?

— Of course I remember, — the wife shook her head, — when you suddenly took it off the sofa and gave it to them, I even called you a moron.

— Well here, — Benya laughed, — these were mafia people and they thought they were taking away the original painting "Black Square". But on the way, the police were already waiting for them, and through them, Interpol reached the customers. Everyone was tied up. Well, and we were transferred then to America, where we reunited with you, right Fimka? — he hugged his son.

— Attaboy Benchik! — Izya exclaimed, — eagle! And you say, shlemazl, — he looked at his daughter-in-law.

— Yes! — the shocked Tsilya opened her eyes wide, hugging her husband, — really Sofa, we did not know them after all!

— So, — grandfather Izya stood up, — if today is a day of revelations, I as a veteran, demand to finally explain to us, — he looked at Yashka and Fima, — how we ended up in our courtyard on Peter the Great street, but not in Odessa, but here, in San Francisco? What is this miracle? Like a movie.

— Grandpa! — Fima hugged the old man, — you don't even imagine how much you hit the mark. Exactly, a movie, — he laughed, — a real movie. Yashka, tell.

— So here, dear neighbors, — Yashka stood up, — the time has come to reveal all the cards. It is truly a miracle that we live again in our courtyard on our Peter the Great street. Well, what to say, Fimka and I were born in that courtyard. And when here, in San Francisco, one major American film company found us and offered to sell them the rights to create a film about our detective story with the "Black Square", we, as always, offered them a counter plan. OK, — we told them, — we agree, but on our terms. To film the movie not in Odessa, but here, in San Francisco. For this, it is necessary to build an exact copy of our street and courtyard. But, to build not cardboard scenery, but real houses, which then, instead of money, should remain with us, the participants of this "detective". They agreed and here we are together again. Such a movie, grandpa Izya! Moreover, according to the script, it was required to build our native "Privoz" as well, which, for realism and plausibility, had to be functional. And as soon as Oleg Kutko became the manager, the market became a success not only among our Russian emigrants, but also among native Americans, who gladly buy our Russian products here and play his "thimbles" with Kolya. And now, — Yashka smiled, — the main surprise! — and he went towards a man entering the courtyard, — allow me to present to you the scriptwriter of the film.

— It's the "expert"! — Fima gasped, — from the museum! I don't understand?!

— Yes, gentlemen, — the guide smiled, — it's me. Glad to greet you all. I see bewilderment on faces, but I am ready to explain.

— Yashka! — Semen spread his hands, — did we miss something? How to understand this?

— Friends! — Yashka said calmly, — don't "flap your wings". I hid nothing from you, I myself was surprised when the "expert", suddenly, appeared. Let's better listen to him. Continue, Mr. Ivanopulo.

— After your friendly emigration, — the guide sighed, — I worked for some time in the museum. Suddenly, I get a message from the director of Combank that the members of our group were arrested in Israel and, for safety reasons, he terminates our communication. Since the case was closed and law enforcement agencies had no claims against me, I quit and unimpededly went to one Siberian city, where I got a job in a local museum of local lore as a guide. By irony of fate, in the art gallery of this museum hung a copy of Malevich's painting "Black Square", which annoyed me extremely. Several years passed and once, during an excursion I heard how one visitor said that he saw a similar painting in a religious community living in the remote Siberian taiga. After the excursion I asked him to tell more about it and he said that he works as a geologist and, once, being on an expedition, stopped for the night in a settlement where a religious community named "Children of the Sun" lived. And there, in their prayer hall, he saw a painting similar to ours, the museum one, and they worshiped it like an icon. And what's interesting, this strange attire of the sectarians - a white robe with a black square on the back. I took their coordinates from him, — Ivanopulo squinted, — and made a decision - to find! An inexplicable force pulled me there. I had to see the painting. I grew a beard and a month later, dressed in shabby clothes, got to the community and introduced myself as a traveler lost in the forest. I was met very cordially, fed and introduced to the leader of the community, whom they called the "Cardinal". I almost lost consciousness, — waving his hands, Ivanopulo cried out, — when I saw...

— The director of the museum, — the listeners shouted in chorus.

— How? — the guide was amazed, — how do you know?

— Well, — Yashka smirked, — you yourself once told me that you like to deal with smart people. Yes, we knew about the director, it was part of our plan. Continue, please.

— Of course, — Ivanopulo continued his story, — the director changed a lot. Not so much externally, as internally. He became extremely religious, even, I would say, fanatical. Remembers nothing of the past, or doesn't want to remember. In the community he is called the "Cardinal". He didn't recognize me. After a few days, having passed the rite of "purification from the worldly", I was changed into a white, like everyone else, robe, with a black square on the back and admitted to the prayer hall, the so-called "Red Room". We entered a large hall and with chants began to circle around the pedestal on which I saw the "Black Square"! One look from me was enough to understand - this is the original!

— Vayz mir! — Sara said quietly, — just like in the movies.

— Oh, don't interrupt listening, — Tsilya hissed at her, — continue! And what happened next?

— Next? — Ivanopulo continued sadly, — having lived in the community for a month, I swapped the painting for a copy that I brought with me and fled with the original.

— What do you mean fled? — the grandfather shouted and jumped up from the bench, — stole our "Square"?

— Now I'll explain, — the guide sighed, — don't be nervous. I prepared for the meeting with the "Black Square", therefore I prepared a copy of the painting in advance. Understand, I could not act otherwise, I had to return it to the people. And for the religious rites of the community, as I thought, a copy is quite enough. I left the community, wandered through the taiga for a long time, but, in the end, came out to the people. I waited some time and decided, for conspiracy, to go to Samara, where I took a loan from a branch of Combank, and gave the painting to them as collateral. Then, when the bank went bankrupt, I found out that some businessman bought it for a million dollars and gifted it to the Hermitage, where it has been since then.

— Interesting, and what happened to the director of Combank, — asked Fima, — do you know?

— With him, everything is fine, — Ivanopulo smirked, — he is now a deputy of the State Duma, though I don't remember from which party. And I, under the impression of everything experienced, described the adventures of the "Black Square", sent the manuscript to my relative living in America, and he turned out to have a friend connected to the film industry. So, — he finished his story, — this material fell into the right hands and I, as the author, was invited to the film studio.

— Oh, people! — Manya ran into the courtyard with a shout, — what I'll tell you! There, — tearing the fox skin from her neck, she waved her hand towards the gates, — on the market, — she whispered in horror, — some bandits in white coats with black squares are walking and singing. Oh, hear?, — she raised a finger, — coming here!

"Black raven, why are you hovering,

Over our native Russia.

You will not wait for prey

The Russian people, you are alive."

The chorus of voices approached.

— Sema, — clinging to her husband, Sofa asked quietly, — what is this?

— Oh, people, they are coming in, — Manya shouted in horror, — it will start now, — and hid behind the men's backs. Into the courtyard, in orderly rows, came a group of people dressed in white robes with black squares on their backs. At the head of the column walked a man in the same robe, only bright red. They surrounded the pedestal with the painting and raising their hands to the sky, continued to sing.

— Do not worry, — Ivanopulo told the frightened women, — these are the "Children of the Sun", a religious community, we brought them from Siberia. And their songs are this, "folklore epic of an ethnic community". They are not dangerous, — he calmed the frightened women, — I will lead them to their place of residence. In the local forest we built an exact copy of their settlement in the taiga. Only, as long as they see the object of their worship, — he turned to Yashka and pointed to the painting, — they will not leave here. May I take it?

— Yes, no problem, — Fima wedged into the conversation, — take it! I have another one at home. They approached the cube, Yashka took out the painting and solemnly handed it to the guide.

— "Cardinal"! — Ivanopulo addressed the leader, — permit me to address your people?

— Speak, — the man in red nodded his head solemnly, — I permit it.

— Brothers and sisters! — the guide raised the painting above himself, — the "Black Square" concentrates in itself the infinite universal space, carries in itself the expression of "everything" in the universe. Concentrates this "everything", — the guide's voice gained strength, — in an impersonal geometric form and an impenetrable black surface.

Movement appeared in the ranks of the sectarians, heavy breathing was heard, some began to sway from side to side.

— The "Black Square" captures, — Ivanopulo continued to broadcast and slowly moved towards the exit from the courtyard, — absorbs and disturbs, gives a sense of the achieved, but, unconditionally, keeps in tension and integrally, without dismembering, projects the spectator into itself, leaving him absolutely free in reflection.

The community, led by the "Cardinal", looking fixedly at the painting, stretched out after him. The procession left the courtyard.

— So, I didn't get it, — grandfather Izya opened his eyes, — will there be a pogrom or not?

— Oh, calm down already, dad, — Tsilya sighed, — you are not in Odessa. What pogrom can there be in America?

— What, there won't be?, — the veteran asked disappointedly, — a pity, otherwise, I would have warmed up.

— Fima! — Yashka threw a newspaper on the table, — read what the Russian press writes about our "Square". "The provocative hanging of the 'Black Square' as an 'icon' has become a demonstrative blasphemy in the public art of Orthodox Russia - an 'apocalypse of the coming time'".

— Let me, let me, — said grandfather Izya approaching, — I also want to hear what they write about us there. Read grandson.

— This is an anti-icon of "satanic forces", — Fima continued reading, — a ritual Jewish sign, clearly manifested on the eve of the revolution at the beginning of the 20th century. As Kazimir Malevich himself said: "Concentrate of the new universe". And what the builders of the new universe did to Russia is well known to us".

Grandpa Izya listened in silence, sighed sadly and said: What, are Jews to blame again? Then he looked intently into the center of the "Black Square" for a long time and whispered: Yes, Kazimir Severinovich, now I feel: "A ritual Jewish sign"! And suddenly, he heard a quiet voice: You see, Stepan! I told you so!

The old man smiled and looked at the sky. What only can not be imagined by an elderly person sitting in a courtyard on Peter the Great street in San Francisco!

But the goyim are goyim, as always,

The sad Jewish fate,

Looks at us from the "Black Square"!

What can we add to this? Except that:

What is the secret of the square, in which of the corners?

Maybe it is somewhere in the middle?

And we need to tear the cover off this secret,

But I feel, we can't do without vodka here!

P. S. The start of filming is constantly postponed, as disagreements arose with the title of the film. At first they wanted to call it: "Battle of Negroes in a Black Tunnel", but this offends the feelings of African Americans. Then - "The Royal Infant", but the society for the protection of children does not allow them. The third option is "The Jewish War", but they remembered that Josephus Flavius already used this title and, in general, there is no need to insult the feelings of Muslims. Therefore, in order not to offend anyone, for now they settled on the working title: "Jews" - "Black Square"!