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(E-E) Evgenij Kozlov: Leningrad 80s • No.116 >>
Letter E (May 1983) – Saigon Letter E is a short note dated 29 May 83, that is, written towards the end of Catherine Mannick’s studies in the USSR, which lasted from October 1982 to early June 1983. The American student had received a stipend to study at Moscow State University, in the first place at the Law Faculty, but she also engaged herself in Russia’s cultural and intellectual history. During these months, Kozlov received seven letters he numbered 14a to 14ж; I renumbered them 14a to 14g, using Latin letters. Kozlov’s answers to those letters no longer exist, but a number of references in his diaries help reconstruct their encounters during that period. Mannick had spoken of her wish to study for a semester in the Soviet Union already in December 1981 (Letter 12). She had also mentioned the possibility of a stipend “abroad” in June 1982 (Letter 13), but had not confirmed it in the letter preceding her arrival (Letter 14, August 1982) – because, as she remembers:
Soon after her arrival, she informed her friend that she was now in Moscow (Letter 14a). He immediately called her and decided to travel to Moscow for her birthday, at the end of October – which required gathering money for the train-ticket and other expenses (Diary III, p-3-40, p. 3-43 more>>). He stayed for three days, bringing along his birthday presents, the wooden bust of a “Wizard of Halloween” (see Letter D) and “Таинственный свет Америки / The Mystic Light of America”, a drawing on a page from a “book of hours” (see Letter D more>>, Diary III, pp 3-40-44 more>> and Slides 1980-1983).
 Mannick and Kozlov hadn’t seen each other for more than three years, since the summer of 1979, when they had first met in Leningrad. Although they both again felt close to each other, their relationship remained somewhat ambiguous. It is highly plausible that Kozlov, after their encounter, wrote Mannick what their friendship meant to him, or perhaps what he had been hoping it could be to him, because in her answer from December 1982, Mannick replied that she felt unable to support him in the “long and tortuous path” to his “deepest and truest capabilities as an artist.” Towards the end of January 1983, Kozlov noted in his diary
On the other hand, neither of them wanted to give up their friendship, as it was significant to both of them, and they continued exchanging letters. In March 1983, Mannick announced a study trip to Leningrad for the following month, where she was able to visit the opening of the second general exhibition of the Society for Experimental Visual Art (ТЭИИ / TEII) on 5 April 1983. It included works by more than forty mostly “unofficial” artists[3] and was, in all likelihood, Kozlov’s first public display of his art. At the end of 1982, he had started experimenting with a new, more international style, and he took great care in selecting his works. Mannick documented Kozlov’s section with a number of slides See Slides 1980-1983, Table 2. Kozlov’s six (or seven) works from 1981 to 1983, each year presenting a different style, made a mini-retrospective of his early artwork.[4]
 Mannick again visited Leningrad in the second half of May, shortly before she left the Soviet Union. Kozlov’s note from 29 May 1983 refers to this visit. Except for the two names Katя (Katia) and Женя (Zhenya, short for Evgenij), he wrote it in English.
Dear Katя, May we see each other on the 30th of May at 6 p.m in “Saigon” Good Night, Женя. 8 p.m.
I assume that Kozlov had spent the day in Leningrad and left the note at the hotel or student’s dorm where Mannick was staying, perhaps after calling her in vain. In those days, arranging a meeting was difficult, especially when time was running short. Kozlov had no telephone in his flat, and the number of properly functioning telephone booths was rather limited. One the other hand, to just “drop by” was no option, since he lived in Peterhof, 30 kms from the centre of Leningrad, or one and a half hours in terms of commuting.
Catherine Mannick recalls the difficulties of passing on messages:
The meeting place Kozlov proposed was Leningrad’s legendary Saigon, or Café Saigon. “Saigon” was the unofficial name of an otherwise unnamed self-service cafeteria with stand-up tables, located on Nevsky prospect 49 on the corner Vladimirsky prospect, and one of the few places in the city that served good coffee.
Kozlov’s note doesn’t mention the address, since Mannick was familiar with the place.
Looking back, Kozlov says that it was the most natural place to meet like-minded people from Yerevan, Volgograd, Riga – or a young American, for that matter, because at the Saigon, they didn’t feel strange as strangers. Café Saigon Strolling along Nevsky prospect in the summer of 1987 – my first visit to Leningrad, where I attended a language course at Leningrad University – I went into one of those many cafés lining the city’s main boulevard. On the face of it, there was nothing special about it; the interior was as uninviting as most others. I didn’t know it was the Saigon, a place famous throughout the Soviet Union. Soon one of the regular visitors involved me in a conversation. Saigon folk were curious and easily talked to foreigners, and I didn’t look like a local. He invited me for a walk to Sofia Perovskaya street, a side street of Nevsky Prospekt (today once more Malaya Konyushennaya street and a pedestrian zone). It turned out he was a roommate of Boris Grebenshikov,[8] sharing the same communal flat in the attic of Sofia Perovskaya street no. 5, a building that belonged to Saint Peter's School, the German Petrischule on Nevsky Prospekt founded in 1709. At that time, the staircase was covered with graffiti dedicated to Grebenshikov’s already legendary band Aquarium (Аквариум / Akvarium), a name with which I was familiar. To my regret, Grebenshikov had left for the summer, but climbing through the kitchen window to the rooftop, I had a chance to enjoy a spectacular view on the city. I actually knew some of Grebenshikov’s songs, but not the one with the line “I spent my childhood at the Saigon”.[9] According to Russian Wikipedia, it is one three of Grebenshikov’s songs mentioning the place, of a total of nineteen songs referring to it – which illustrates the importance the Saigon played in the cultural history of Leningrad. The Saigon was opened in 1964 on the ground floor of a large turn of the century building, formerly Hotel Moscow and today the Radisson Royal Hotel. Situated in the very heart of Leningrad, it soon became a hot spot for Leningrad’s bohemia, initially for writers, poets and artists and later, in the eighties, also for musicians and punks, until it was closed in March 1989[10] or December 1991.[11] In recent years, many books, articles and exhibitions have been dedicated to this place. Quotes In this article are mainly from three different sources. The October 1996 edition of пчела / www.pchela.ru, focusing on Nevsky Prospekt, has several articles and interviews about the Saigon.[12] In 2003, Elena Zdravomyslova, who wrote the introduction to this pchela edition, published a sociological analysis of its history: The Cafe 'Saigon' Tusovka.[13] The third source, Сумерки «Сайгона» /The Twilight of the “Saigon” from 2009 is a vast compilation of interviews, personal accounts, poetry, and photographs. With an index of approximately one thousand names, it appears to be the most extensive documentation on this place.[14]
The Saigon had three sections. Next to the entrance, alcohol and snacks were sold, while the second, larger room was for coffee lovers. Not only was the coffee rather cheap, at least in comparison to the alcoholic drinks sold in the entrance area, but also quite tasty. According to poet Viktor Krivulin, one of the Saigon’s main figures, the room was equipped with seven or eight coffee machines where people were always queuing.[15] Writer Evgeniy Belodubrovskiy remembers that these machines were given a “(dissident) brand name”: ESPRESSO ITALIJANO NAPOLI.[16] I suppose that the letter J in “italjiano” was a “dissident” misprint. In Sergey Chubraev's collection, there are some artefacts from the Saigon, including parts of a coffee machine and its label from the late 1980s, which, however, displays a Hungarian company.
A picture in The Twilight of the “Saigon” shows the installation of these machines prior to the Saigon’s opening, in what was called “the cafeteria of the restaurant Moscow”. Finally, there was a third section with a buffet for cheap hot meals.[17]
Belodubrovskiy also refers to poet Mark Mazya (Марк Мазья) as the person who came up with the name Saigon, but without giving further explanations.[18] There are various explanations to its origin. Journalist Olga Starovoytova tells a rather charming story about her friend Natasha.
Viktor Toporov offers a more elaborate version:
Be that as it may, everybody agrees that the name expressed a protest against the official Soviet doctrine of anti-Americanism. Olga Starovoytova resumes the situation:
“Good bye America, ohh …where I will never be... we have been taught for so long to love your forbidden fruit...”[21] Besides, the naming of places was not restricted to the Saigon, as Zdravomyslova notes:
Saigon visitors fell into different categories – regular, occasional and accidental visitors. The regular visitors were the сайгонщики, saigonshchiki or Saigonites,[23]. Kozlov was a regular visitor insofar as whenever he was in town – which wasn’t too often – he had a cup of coffee at the Saigon. It was only a short walk from other places he visited, like the antiquarian bookshop Bukinist and Timur Novikov’s place more>>, both on Liteyney prospect, or the Rock club on Rubinshtein street more>>. Catherine Mannick confirms that visiting the Saigon had no absolute priority to him:
Since Kozlov often took pictures of places he visited, I looked through his photo archive in search of images of the Saigon’s interior, but was surprised that I couldn’t find any. What is even stranger is that I couldn’t find any in the internet nor among those 157 pictures published in “The Twilight of the ‘Saigon’”, with the exception of the one mentioned earlier, presenting the Saigon prior to its opening. Kozlov explained me that taking pictures inside the Saigon would have been моветон – mauvais ton. Everybody knew that the Saigon was packed with KGB people in plainclothes and that every other visitor was an informer. Therefore, taking pictures would have raised the suspicion of the other guests. Besides, the KGB was not only interested in young intellectuals, perhaps not even in the first place, because, as Viktor Krivulin stated:
As Catherine Mannick notes, “book lovers”, or simply book sellers, made an important contribution to Saigon’s literary period:
In an article for pchela.ru (October 1996), Grebenshikov stresses the uniqueness of the Saigon, arguing that a similar concentration of the young intelligentsia in one place couldn’t be found in Moscow – basically because in Leningrad, they had nowhere else to go.
In the same edition of pchela, film critic Mikhail Trofimenkov defines the young intelligentsia that frequented the Saigon as a more or less homogenous social group, one among several others defining Leningrad’s cultural life. Trofimenkov gives the examples of Gosfilmfond’s international art-house screenings:
Philosopher and theologian Tatiana Goricheva sets the Saigon in an international context and equates the place’s function with that of the Saint-Jacques Tower in Paris:
The fundamental difference with France was that Russia had cut its ties to the past
In a conversation with Nikolai Beliak from 1988, poet and translator Arkadi Dragomoshenko offers a sociological definition of this group of people:
Despite the fact that Soviet society propagated the value of heroic deeds, when it came to everyday life, the scale of values offered was rather unpretentious and didn’t include eccentric behaviour. Soviet role models, like Gagarin, were presented as simple Soviet people – the narod, unspoiled folk leading a modest life-style.[31] Political scientist Vladimir Pastukhov goes even further and describes late Soviet society as dominated by “petty bourgeois” or philistine values.
Seen in this light, Saigonites refused not only hierarchies, but also the kind of pragmatism that promised a comfortable, philistine life. Elena Zdravomyslova underlines the devastating consequences of such a choice – self-destruction through heavy drinking and drugs, sometimes leading to suicide attempts[33] – and concludes:
Dragomoshenko also sees the shortcomings of choosing freedom instead of pragmatism:
What Dragomoshenko’s calls “the inability to work” is, in his understanding, a lack of target-oriented productivity, which, in turn, is due to the lack of any prospect to intervene in the course of history. Put differently, just discussing philosophy or reading one’s poetry to others doesn’t lead to a revolution.
It may well be true that, on the whole, Saigonites were no political dissidents. In this respect, the Saigon can be seen as a very peculiar form of a salon – a salon without a host, set in the public sphere. Yet concerning their impact on society, things weren’t as bad as Dragomoshenko’s statement suggests. In spite of their “romantic idealism”, a number of Saigonites were actually quite successful in academic and cultural institutions. Later, perestroika provided new possibilities, and Dragomoshenko himself was able to teach at several American universities.[37] But new possibilities also brought new risks. Olga Starovoytova’s recalls her sister Galina Starovoytova, another regular visitor to the Saigon. Galina Starovoytova, an anthropologist and human rights activist who started her political career in 1989, became the leader of Democratic Russia party in 1998, and was assassinated in a political murder not long thereafter.[38] With regard to Leningrad’s cultural scene, another one of Dragomoshenko observations seems noteworthy to me:
When irony becomes a habitual practise, a “postmodernist” manner of behaviour, it brings in an element of obsessiveness into an artist’s means of expression, for better or worse. I discussed this aspect with musician and composer Sergey Kuryokhin, one of the central figures of the Leningrad underground of the 1980s and, of course, a Saigonite.[40] Yet irony was by no means a concept purely of the Saigon intelligentsia. Rather, it was a Soviet phenomenon known as “styob” — “a new, dissecting way of thinking and a new oppositional-destructive way of being”[41] that appeared in the 1970s and 1980s among young Soviet intellectuals. It was a trademark of many Soviet (rooted) artists, especially of Moscow conceptualists, like the group Inspection Medical Hermeneutics. Others, such as Komar and Melamid, Ilya Kabakov, and Erik Bulatov, became very successful in the West, which – ironically – featured those “being thrown out of society” as the true representatives of the Zeitgeist – Soviet pop art. If Café Saigon was a product of its time, it is logical that it couldn’t survive the resurgence of capitalism – and of individual freedom. Put differently, even if the place hadn’t closed in 1989/1991 to be reopened as a shop selling Italian bathroom equipment, it wouldn’t have kept its spirit as a refuge for free people in an unfree country. Artists and musicians now created their own art centres, like Fontanka 145 more>> or Pushkinskaya 10. Many departed to western countries – some for good, while others returned disenchanted. The Saigon became a myth. In Tatiana Goricheva’s words:
Speaking of “a combination of poverty with spiritual wealth” Goricheva, intentionally or intentionally, brings to mind Russian Orthodox asceticism with its concept of sacrificing worldly goods for a higher purpose. It isn’t that Goricheva insists on poverty being a condition for spiritual wealth; it’s just not clear whether she thinks material wealth precludes the spiritual. In Russia, rich people (in general) and “the West” (in particular) are often accused of materialism on this basis. Whatever the case, regarding the Saigonites, I would make a distinction between “having no money” and “being poor”. People had no money, which they surely experienced as a trial. Yet their “poverty” was unlike the misery of a deprived class. They participated in the city’s rich cultural life and, to a degree, even shaped it. If there was any relation between the pilgrims attracted by a remote hermitage and Leningrad’s young urban intelligentsia attracted by the Saigon, it was their quest for meaning:
I carry this through in the periods between when I am asleep. (E-E) Evgenij Kozlov, Diary I, p.1-33, 19 March 1980 Hannelore Fobo, 21 April 2023 [1] Private note from April 2023. I am grateful to Catherine Mannick for her comments on Letter E which I included in the final version of my text. [2] К. в Москве. Уже месяц ничего не слышно о ней. Мы не стремимся друг к другу. После объяснения все почти встало на свои места. Думаю, что только моя бедность и безызвестность – причина нашего отдаления, мы открыты как друзья, а этого мало для моего искусства. (Diary III, p.3-77 more>>) [3] The TEII (1981-1991) was a newly founded Leningrad art society which was to become an important platform for artists who were, for one reason or another, not members of Union of Artists – “unofficial” artists. [4] When Catherine Mannick sent me the scans of these slides in 2021, I was able to reconstruct Kozlov’s section. more>> [5] Ordinary telephone booths (таксофон / taksofon) for local phone-calls worked with двушки / dvushki, those hard-to-get two-kopek coins that often just disappeared in the telephone slot without establishing a connection. Besides, only few telephones allowed distance calls to other Soviet towns. [6] See footnote 1 [7] See footnote 1 [8] A better transliteration of Гребенщиков is Grebenshchikov, but Grebenshikov is more common, chosen by the musician himself. See also: Alexis Ipatovtsev about Aquarium's Leningrad Period An interview with Hannelore Fobo In February 2022, Boris Grebenshikov was one of the first public figures to speak out against Russia’s invasion of the Ukraine. He cancelled all Russian concerts commemorating Aquarium’s fiftieth anniversary – just before he found his name on a blacklist banning musicians and their songs from public performances. In the summer of 2022, he left his home-town to settle in London. [9] Детство прошло в Сайгоне, from the song Будь для меня как банка / Be for me as a pot from 1994. https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Сайгон_(кафе)Web. 21 April 2023 [10] Russian Wikipedia (no source indicated) https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Сайгон_(кафе) Web. 21 April 2023 Юлия Валиева / Yulia Valieva dates Café Saigon to 1964-1989. Сумерки «Сайгона» / The Twilight of the Saigon, edited by Юлия Валиева / Yulia Valieva, Saint Petersburg: Zamizdat 2009, p. 7 [11] Elena Zdravomyslova. “The Café Saigon Tusovka: Оnе Segment of the Informal public Sphere of Late-Sоviеt Society.” In Biographical Research in Eastern Europe. Altered Lives and Broken Biographies, edited by R. Miller, R. Humphrey, E. Zdravomyslova, pp. 141-177, Ashgate, 2003, p. 145 [12] https://web.archive.org/web/20071030215249/http://www.pchela.ru/podshiv/6/large.htm Web. 21 April 2023 [13] See footnote 11 [14] The 832-pages book Сумерки «Сайгона» / The Twilight of the Saigon (see footnote 10) includes a slightly different Russian version of E. Zdravomyslova‘s article “The Café Saigon Tusovka”. Unfortunately, interviews and articles are not dated, and original sources are not indicated. A second edition of this book was published in 2019 with some minor amendments. See interview with Yulia Valieva in COLTA 22 November 2019. https://www.colta.ru/articles/literature/23003-pereizdana-legendarnaya-kniga-sumerki-saygona Web. 21 April 2023 [15] Виктор Кривулин / Viktor Krivulin. “Невский до и после великой кофейной революции” / Nevsky Prospekt before and after the Great Coffee Revolution. Ibid, p. 16 and pchela #6 (October 1996) https://web.archive.org/web/20071030220302/http://www.pchela.ru/podshiv/6/coffee.htm [16] “C фирменной (диссидентской) надписью.” Евгений Белодубровский / Evgeniy Belodubrovskiy Ibid. p. 73 [17] The Café Saigon Tusovka, p. 151 [18] Сумерки / Twilight, p. 72 [19] Естественно, Наташа показала нам и «Сайгон». Мы спрашивали — почему «Сайгон»? […] Ответ был — это потому что американские парни в Сайгоне пьют. Слова «Вьетнам» Наташа не знала. Что шла война — тоже. Наташа откуда-то знала, что они там пьют. А я что-то знала про войну, но не могла понять, какая тут может быть связь. Ольга Старовойтова. “Мой «Сайгон»” / Olga Starovoytova. “My ‘Saigon’”, ibid., p. 82 [20] …была история такая, что там то разрешали, то запрещали курить внутри, и когда там было запрещено курить, стояли девушки и курили, к ним подошел милиционер и сказал: "Что вы тут курите, безобразие, какой-то "Сайгон" устроили". Тогда шла вьетнамская война и все такое... Мы выпивали каждый день. Интервью с Виктором Топоровым / We drank every day. An interview with Viktor Toporov. Pchela #6 (October 1996), https://web.archive.org/web/20071030220244/http://www.pchela.ru/podshiv/6/drink.htm Web. 21 April 2023 [21] Я никогда позже не думала о происхождении названия «Сайгон». Но оно, конечно, – как и почти всё такое, полузапретное, – было связано с Америкой. Уже тогда был, с одной стороны, мощнейший тупой антиамериканизм, а с другой, естественно, неодолимая тяга к чему американскому. «Гуд бай Америка, оуа…где я не буду никогда…нас так долго учили любить твои запретные черты…» Сумерки / Twilight, Starovoytova, p. 82 [22] The Café Saigon Tusovka, p. 148 [23] Сумерки / Twilight, p. 61. Zdravomyslova uses the term Saigonee, The Café Saigon Tusovka p. 154. Other proper names are сайгонавт / Saigonaut, Сумерки / Twilight, p. 9 and сайгоновец / Saigonovets, ibid., p.369. [24] Zdravomyslova gives the following definition of a tusovka person: Tusovka presumes а certain type of individual: а liberal individual from the Soviet period, integrated to а minor extent into the life of Soviet officialdom and its kollektivy. The Café Saigon Tusovka, P. 144. In a larger sense, tusovka refers to the circle of friends and acquaintances considered as “Kindred by Choice”, to quote the title of one of Goethe’s novels. [25] Там, кроме богемы, собирались фарцовщики, «книжники» (совсем рядом, на Литейном, находился главный городской черный рынок), уголовники разного рода. Сумерки / Twilight, p. 16 [26] Важно учесть и особенности Ленинграда, где интеллигентной молодежи было много, а достойных рабочих мест для нее - во много раз меньше, чем в Москве. Сайгон - чисто ленинградский феномен. Сайгон. Борис Гребенщиков / Saigon. Boris Grebenshikov https://web.archive.org/web/20080328153811/http://www.pchela.ru/podshiv/6/saigon.htm Web. 21 April 2023 [27] Эти шумные кинопоказы были заменой светской жизни. Там встречались как бы все. Эрмитаж, Русский музей, Пушкинский дом, "Сайгон"... Парадоксальная ситуация: с одной стороны - гетто, форма изгнания и диссидентства, с другой - форма светской жизни. Кино на Невском. Интервью с Михаилом Трофименковым / Cinema on Nevsky. An interview with Mikhail Trofimenkov https://web.archive.org/web/20080731044212/http://www.pchela.ru/podshiv/6/film.htm Web. 21 April 2023 According to Trofimenkov, Gosfilmfond’s Leningrad screenings took place at the Kirov House of Culture until 1982 and at the Spartak Movie Theatre thereafter. See also: (E-E) Evgenij Kozlov, Diary I, note to title page 2 more>>. [28] внутри её сидел Паскаль, рядом жил Гюисманс, бродил Бретон – там творилась, так сказать, Вечность. Татьяна Горичева. Сумерки «Сайгона» / Tatiana Goricheva. The Twilight of the “Saigon”. Сумерки / Twilight, p. 61. The book’s title Сумерки «Сайгона» / The Twilight of the “Saigon” is taken from her interview. [29] […] культуры, нравственности, религии не существовало у нас в то время - традиция была абсолютно разрушена, русская традиция, европейская традиция, мировая традиция. Поколения без Бога ... Когда я написала Хайдеггеру письмо, он был им потрясен, так как думал, что в России все живут либо в сумасшедшем доме, либо в тюрьме. И вдруг из этого сумасшедшего дома вырывается на волю безумие, святое безумие сайгонское. «Сайгон» воплощал все то, что происходило в стране ... «Сайгон» воплощал все то, что происходило в стране… Ibid., p. 61. [30] «Сайгон» стал средоточием тех людей, которые (внутренне или по каким-то другим причинам) не могли принять ту шкалу ценностей, те иерархии подчинения, предлагаемые обществом, которые могли бы обеспечить им безбедное и спокойное существование. Аркадий Драгомощенко / Arkadi Dragomoshenko, ibid., p. 146 [31] I discussed the concept of “the simple Soviet guy” in 2020: [32] А мещанин в таком позднесоветском понимании, это есть человек, живущий своим маленьким замкнутым, сконцентрированным на себе мирком, при этом чувствующий некую подвижность. Он в отличие от крестьянина достаточно уже самодостаточен, он лишен этой подчиненности коллективно-общинному сознанию, у него уже этого нету. Он зациклен очень сильно на прагматизм, на сугубо материальные ценности, но при этом не чужд желания такого компенсаторного сознания… ему величия надо очень часто, он очень падок на зрелище… «Пастуховские четверги» Владимир Пастухов – Алексей Венедиктов Pastukhov’s Thursday. Vladimir Pastukhov, Aleksey Venediktov. 20 April 2023. https://echofm.online/programs/pastuhovskie-chetvergi/pastuhovskie-chetvergi-45 Web. 21 April 2023 [33] The Café Saigon Tusovka, p. 164/165 [34] Ibid., p. 175 [35] [этому поколению] было даровано некое подобие свободы, независимости существования в уплату за низкое положение на иерархической лестнице, и эта независимость, в сущности, и стала для него самоцелью, а весь этот романтический идеализм дал только один результат: неумение работать. Сумерки / Twilight, p. 147. [36] Умонастроения «Сайгона» особо не отличалось от умонастроений западных: в Америке, во Франции. Только в итоге в 1968 году во Франции случилась студенческая революция, а здесь ничего не случилось ... Независимо от того, какие были устремления у этого поколения, - оно было альтернативным поколением. А альтернативное поколение - это негатив. Ibid., p. 147. [37] https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Драгомощенко,_Аркадий_Трофимович Web. 21 April 2023 [38] https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Старовойтова,_Галина_Васильевна Web. 21 April 2023 [39] Самая страшная вещь - та ирония, которую выработал «Сайгон». Индивидуум, субъект осознает свою выброшенность из общества, и единственное, что ему остается, - это изживание этой ситуации путем иронии. Сумерки / Twilight, p. 148 [40] Kuryokhin was best known for his chaotic Pop Mekhanika performances. See also: Hannelore Fobo. Pop Mekhanika in the West. The three principles of Kuryokhin’s “action on a totally global scale” more>> [41] Стеб стал домом новой, препарирующей мысли и нового, опозиционно-деструктивного бытия. 18.12. 2007 Yu. L. Vorotnikov, О некоторых особенностях языка средств массовой информации [About some linguistic features of media language] http://gramota.ru/biblio/magazines/gramota/ruspress/28_606 Retrieved 17 December, 2017 [42] ... Потом, когда я путешествовала с докладами по всему миру, я везде искала «Сайгон» И не могла найти. Есть, конечно, прекрасные кафе в Париже, но там, где раньше бывали Модильяни, Ахматова, Гумилев (в «Coupole», например), сейчас сидят только богатые туристы. В других собираются эмигранты - они, конечно, бедные, но они ничего не читают, ни о чем не хотят знать ... А соединение нищеты с духовным богатством - этого нигде в мире нет, только в России. Сумерки / Twilight, p. 63. Because of her engagement in women’s right, Tatiana Goricheva spent eight years in forced exile before she was allowed to return to Leningrad in 1988. She continued travelling to the West thereafter. https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Горичева,_Татьяна_Михайловна Web. 21 April 2023 see also (E-E) Evgenij Kozlov, Catherine Mannick, and Hannelore Fobo papers, 1979-2022 (inclusive) Davis Center for Russian and Eurasian Studies Special Collection Harvard University >> |
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Published 24 April 2023 |
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