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There
is a lot to be found
about Nina in the
Kandinsky literature,
where there often seem
to be two versions of
her. In one, she was
the interloper many
loved to hate, or to
roll their eyes
about—the 17-year
old who snagged the
well-to-do painter who
was nearly 50, and then
remained perpetually at
his side thereafter,
full of gaffes and
herself. In the other,
she was her
husband's faithful
and beloved helpmate,
who suffered with him
uncomplainingly through
periods of sorrow and
privation, and then
dedicated her remaining
life to his work after
his death.
But Jelena's piece
here is all her
own—not "in
the literature,"
but her complex,
personal account of
knowing and working
with Nina Kandinsky,
written for readers of
this "Kandinsky
Anew" series. When
you are reading Jelena
on Nina, you are only a
few degrees of
separation from Nina
herself—and who
else do you know
besides Jelena who had
lunch prepared for her
by Nina Kandinsky!
To go with her unusual
piece, I selected
photos—not what
you'll tend to see
when you open a popular
book or website on
Kandinsky—but
photos from far afield,
rare, and unusual.
Note that the expected December 2023 release of Jelena's book, Kandinsky: A Life in Letters 1889–1944 was delayed and will be out on March 21, 2024.
L.T. Renaud
Oakland, California
*
Unforgettable! Our
first meeting, in
February of 1968, was
at her vacation home in
Gstaad, Switzerland.
The director of the
Munich museum, Hans
Konrad Roethel, had
sent me to her:
"You can speak
Russian with her, and
you'll get
along," he said.
"She will never
stop being suspicious
of me, since naturally
I'm on the side of
Gabriele Münter."
He said
"naturally,"
because in 1957
Gabriele,
Kandinsky's
longtime partner before
he met Nina, had
donated hundreds of
precious paintings by
Kandinsky to
Roethel's museum,
the Lenbachhaus.
Wassily and Nina Kandinsky in Dessau, 1926
I arrived at Nina's door, quite curious, since I knew how unpopular she was
in Germany. Nina's 10-year lawsuit against author L.G. Buchheim for
critical remarks about Kandinsky had even inspired him to publish other
remarks on how to burn the widows of artists at the stake! — Nina had
hardly opened her door when I heard: "You are 30 years old." I confirmed,
but I was puzzled since she had no way of knowing and I, a northern type,
looked so much younger than 30 that already for several years my
university students had kept mistaking me for a student. But this proved
that Nina was right about her special intuitive ability, which she had in
common with my mother and many other—mainly Eastern and
Southern—women. — Next, Nina sort of excused herself: "My eyelashes
were recently cut before an eye operation, but they will grow back. And
here is my sister from Moscow who is helping me after that operation," she
said, pointing at a modestly dressed woman whom I had mistaken for her
maid. Nina, on the contrary, was dressed in an elegant robe with a violet
pattern and a bright red label, "Dior"; in those days, those tasteless labels
were not yet common—and the red on violet added another shock for me!
Yes, she was vain, and more shocks followed. For instance, she remarked
that Kandinsky should have designed dresses for her, as he had done for
Gabriele Münter, but this time, with photos of his paintings printed on
them! In addition, Nina's too-obvious love of diamonds did not promote
her reputation.
But we Kandinsky scholars had nothing to complain of: she helped us
generously, and each time we finished a book, we received a small
watercolor by Kandinsky. In Paris, Nina gave me access to Kandinsky's
large collection of books, and once she even prepared lunch for me. She let
me photograph lots of sketches, and we often met at Karl Flinker's
important Paris gallery, from where she let me walk out with precious
manuscripts to the nearby copy shop. Our cooperation lasted 12 years.
Wassily and Nina Kandinsky in Mürren,
Switzerland, February 1937.
Nina made enormous efforts to promote Kandinsky's art, lending and
selling paintings to select museums in various countries. Becoming
wealthy, she created a foundation for young abstract artists. Sometimes she
went too far, for instance insisting—contrary to obvious facts—that
Kandinsky did not know Churlionis, the composer-artist of early, semi
-abstract, allegorical paintings. She was not aware that Churlionis would
have been in no way a threat to Kandinsky's reputation as the very first
abstract artist. — Nina published, with the help of the expert, Werner
Krüger, an important book, Kandinsky und ich [Kandinsky and Me] in
1976, which was translated from German into French a few years later.
Except for hiding her age and falsely claiming that Kandinsky was as
superstitious as she was, the book contains a lot of important and
interesting facts. It should be translated into English!
Nina with son, Vsevolod Kandinsky, 1919.
Wassily and Nina Kandinsky with their son Vsevolod
("Lodja"), Moscow, 1920.
There were some facts that only became known after Nina's death, such as
their deep suffering during the famine in Russia before they emigrated
back to Germany in 1921. Mainly, they had kept secret their son Vsevolod,
who died in 1920 just before the age of three. Nina had confided this
tragedy only once: to a close friend, a German editor, who privately passed
it on to Roethel, who shared it with me just so it would not be forgotten.
But we kept it confidential. What also became public after Nina died was
her age (1899-1980), which she had always kept secret, just as famous
actresses used to do.
Portrait of Nina Kandinsky, 1927. Photo Hugo Erfurth
Once when Roethel and I visited Nina, she told us about their theatre visits
when the first Bauhaus was located in Weimar: "Our box was opposite the
box of the young duke who, every time after he greeted the audience,
bowed slightly in our direction." Silence from Roethel—so she helped him:
"To whom do you think he was bowing?" I prayed he would not say
"Kandinsky." But after another moment of silence he answered: "Well, to
Kandinsky." Nina was quite outraged: "But he was hardly known then, only
at the Bauhaus where he was teaching!" I found it politic to add, especially
since it was true: "Nina Kandinsky was an extraordinary beauty and always
elegantly dressed! It was not only the duke who noticed and appreciated
it!" — But had she now become an attractive elderly lady? Alas, no: her
style was all too artificial, and although she didn't really look old, and in
spite of her temperament, her face seemed somewhat lifeless. (Personal
digression: "lifeless" especially when compared with Olga de Hartmann
(1885-1979), singer and wife of Kandinsky's dearest friend, Thomas. Olga's
face was much older, totally covered with wrinkles, but she had a fine,
natural beauty, full of life and love).
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Nina with Kenda Bar-Gera at the Kandinsky show in her
Cologne gallery, 1973. Photo Jeanmarc202020
To be continued…
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