International Readings on Theory, History and Philosophy of Culture 19

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Ðåäàêöèîííàÿ êîëëåãèÿ: Àëèíà Âåíêîâà, Àëåêñàíäð Ãîãèí, Òàòüÿíà Äåãòÿðåâà, Àííà Êîíåâà, Ëåâ Ëåòÿãèí, Äìèòðèé Ñïèâàê, Âèêòîðèÿ ×åðâà, Áîðèñ Øèôðèí, Alessia Dagnino, Skye Burn Äèçàéí îáëîæêè: Èãîðü Ïàíèí

Ðåäàêöèÿ ñåðäå÷íî áëàãîäàðèò Ìåæäóíàðîäíóþ Àññîöèàöèþ «Ðóññêàÿ êóëüòóðï» çà äðóæåñêóþ ïîääåðæêó è ñîäåéñòâèå â ïîäãîòîâêå íàñòîÿùåãî èçäàíèÿ ê ïóáëèêàöèè

ISBN 5-88607-026-5 © ÔÊÈÖ «ÝÉÄÎÑ», 2004 ST. PETERSBURG BRANCH OF THE RUSSIAN INSTITUTE FOR CULTURAL RESEARCH THE RUSSIAN FEDERATION MINISTRY OF CULTURE UNESCO CHAIR ON COMPARATIVE STUDIES OF SPIRITUAL TRADITIONS

THE PHILOSOPHICAL AND CULTURAL RESEARCH CENTRE «EIDOS» (ST. PETERSBURG ASSOCIATION OF SCIENTISTS AND SCHOLARS)

UNESCO MOSCOW OFFICE

INTERNATIONAL READINGS ON THEORY, HISTORY AND PHILOSOPHY OF CULTURE ¹ 19

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DIFFERENTIATION AND INTEGRATION OF WORLDVIEWS: ARTISTICAL & AESTHETIC EXPERIENCE

Financial support: Russian Federation Ministry of Culture, The Russian Foundation for Basic Studies

Editor-in-chief: Liubava Moreva

Editorial Board: Alina Venkova, Skye Burn, Victoria Cherva, Alessia Dagnino, Alexander Gogin, Tatjana Degtyareva, Anna Koneva, Leo Letyagin, Boris Shifrin, Dimitri Spivak Designer: Igor Panin

With thanks to the International Association «Russian Culture»

ÌÈÐÛ ÂÎÇÇÐÅÍÈÉ: ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÅ ÃÎÐÈÇÎÍÒÛ // WORLDS OF VIEWS: ARTISTIC HORIZONS

Leroy F. Searle ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 9 ÏÐÎÁËÅÌÀ ÌÅÆÊÓËÜÒÓÐÍÎÉ ÊÎÌÌÓÍÈÊÀÖÈÈ Â ÊÎÍÒÅÊÑÒÅ ÔÈËÎÑÎÔÑÊÎ-ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÎÃÎ ÎÑÂÎÅÍÈß ÑÎÂÐÅÌÅÍÍÎÉ ÐÅÀËÜÍÎÑÒÈ Ìàðüÿ Ðîçàíîâà // Maria Rozanova THE PROBLEM OF COMMUNICATION AND PHILOSOPHICAL DEVELOPMENT OF CONTEMPORARY REALITY 28 Ihab Hassan BEYOND POSTMODERNISM: TOWARD AN AESTHETIC OF TRUST 38 ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÉ ÂÊÓÑ È ÄÅÌÎÍÑÒÐÀÒÈÂÍÎÅ ÏÎÒÐÅÁËÅÍÈÅ Þðàòå ×åðíÿâè÷þòå // Jurate Chernevichute ARTISTIC TASTE AND CONSPICUOUS CONSUMPTION 53 ÂÎÑÏÐÈÍÈÌÀÞÙÈÉ ÊÀÊ ÑÎÀÂÒÎÐ ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÎÃÎ ÏÐÎÈÇÂÅÄÅÍÈß Ñâåòëàíà Ìàõëèíà // Svetlana Makhlina THE PERCIPIENT AS THE CO-AUTHOR OF ART 68 ÌÅÆÄÓÐÅ×ÜÅ: ÏÐÎ-ÇÐÅÍÈÅ ÈËÈ ÂÎÇ-ÇÐÅÍÈÅ Âàäèì Ðàáèíîâè÷ // Vadim Rabinovich INTERTONGUE: RE-COVERY – OUT-LOOK 79 ÁÀÉÅÒ ÏÐÎÒÈÂ ÐÎÓËÈÍÃ: ÒÀÊ ËÈ ÑÒÐÀØÍÀ ÌÀÍÈÏÓËßÖÈß? Ìàêñèì Ðÿáêîâ // Maxim Ryabkov THREAT AND FEAT: MANIPULATIVE STRATEGIES OF A BESTSELLER 92 ÈÃÎÐÜ ÑÅÂÅÐßÍÈÍ: ÕÀÊÅÐ È/ÈËÈ ÒÂÎÐÅÖ? Âàëåíòèíà Ìàêàøèíà // Valentyna Makashina IGOR SEVERYANIN: HACKER AND/OR CREATER? 98 ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÎ ÎÁ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÅ: ÏÐÅËÎÌËÅÍÈÅ ÊÓËÜÒÓÐÍÎÃÎ ÏÐÎÑÒÐÀÍÑÒÂÀ Â «ÏÅÒÅÐÁÓÐÃÑÊÈÕ ÑÒÈÕÀÕ» ÑÎÂÐÅÌÅÍÍÎÃÎ ÊÎÐÅÉÑÊÎÃÎ ÏÎÝÒÀ ×ÎÍ Õ¨Í×ÆÎÍÀ Àíàñòàñèÿ Ãóðüåâà // Anastasia Guryeva ART SPEAKING OF ART: THE REFRACTION OF CULTURAL SPACE IN “PETERSBURG POEMS” BY MODERN KOREAN POET CHONG HYON-JONG 114 Kam-ming Wong THE ORCHID AND THE BARBARIC YAWP: TRANSLATING THE BORDERS IN MAXINE HONG KINGSTON 120 ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ Ëþáîâü Áóãàåâà // Liubov Bugaeva ON THE BOUNDARY OF BODY AND TEXT: SHIRIN NESHAT 138 ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ Ñâåòëàíà Ìàõëèíà // Svetlana Makhlina THE SEMIOTICS OF ISLAMIC ART 163 Jean-Godefroy Bidima CREATION AND HISTORICITY: POLITICS AND AESTHETICS IN CONTEMPORARY AFRICA 189 Steven Shankman JUSTICE, INJUSTICE, AND THE DIFFERENTIATION OF THE MONOTHEISTIC WORLDVIEW: REFLECTIONS ON GENESIS 18, 20, AND 22 201 ÖÂÅÒÎÂÀß ÒÐÀÊÒÎÂÊÀ ÊÈÒÀÉÑÊÎÉ «ÊÍÈÃÈ ÏÅÐÅÌÅÍ» È-ÖÇÈÍ Âëàäèìèð Ãðóçäåâ // Vladimir Gruzdev COLOR LAYOUT OF I-CHING, CHINESE BOOK OF CHANGES 213 ÑÒÐÓÊÒÓÐÀ È ÄÈÍÀÌÈÊÀ ÇÐÈÒÅËÜÑÊÎÉ ÀÓÄÈÒÎÐÈÈ ÃÎÑÓÄÀÐÑÒÂÅÍÍÎÃÎ ÐÓÑÑÊÎÃÎ ÌÓÇÅß (1987 2003) Âàëåðèé Êîçèåâ // Valery Koziev STRUCTURE AND DYNAMICS OF AUDIENCE OF THE STATE RUSSIAN MUSEUM: 1987 – 2003. 219 Frank Weiner NEGATIVE THOUGHTS: TIMELY MEDITATIONS ON THE NATURE OF VIOLENCE TOWARDS AN AGONISTIC VIEW OF ARCHITECTURE 230 ÂËÈßÍÈÅ ÄÐÅÂÍÅÉØÈÕ ÒÐÀÄÈÖÈÉ ÍÀ ÀÐÕÈÒÅÊÒÓÐÓ ÀÍÒÈ×ÍÎÃÎ ÕÐÀÌÀ Äìèòðèé Ìàäóðîâ // Dmitri Madurov THE INFLUENCE OF ANCIENT TRADITIONS IN THE ARCHITECTURE OF AN ANTIQUE TEMPLE 244 ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÄßÃÈËÅÂ: ÏÀÐÀÄÎÊÑÛ ÐÅÊËÀÌÍÎÃÎ ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÀ Òàòüÿíà Áóêèíà // Tatiana Bukina SERGEY DIAGHILEV: PARADOXES OF PUBLICITY CREATION 252 ÏÎÈÑÊÈ ÀËÜÒÅÐÍÀÒÈÂÍÎÃÎ ÏÓÒÈ Â ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÅ ÊËÎÄÀ ÄÅÁÞÑÑÈ Ëþáîâü Êóïåö // Liubov Kupetz THE SEARCH OF ALTERNATIVE WAY IN THE WORK BY CL.DEBUSSY 268 ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÐÀÕÌÀÍÈÍÎÂ: ÐÅËÈÃÈÎÇÍÀß ÑÈÌÂÎËÈÊÀ È ÝÂÎËÞÖÈß ÊÐÈÒÅÐÈß ÖÅÍÍÎÑÒÈ Ëþäìèëà Ñêàôòûìîâà // Liudmila Skaftymova SERGEY RACHMANINOV: RELIGIOUS SYMBOLISM AND THE EVOLUTION OF THE CRITERION OF VALUE 282 «ÏËÀ× ÈÅÐÅÌÈÈ» Â. ÌÀÐÒÛÍÎÂÀ: HOMO ERRANS È ÄÐÅÂÍÅÐÓÑÑÊÎÅ ÏÅÂ×ÅÑÊÎÅ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÎ Èðèíà Áðîâèíà // Irina Brovina “CRY OF JEREMIAH” BY VLADIMIR MARTYNOV: HOMO ERRANS AND OLD RUSSIAN ECCLESIATICAL SINGING 292 ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 9

ÌÈÐÛ ÂÎÇÇÐÅÍÈÉ: ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÅ ÃÎÐÈÇÎÍÒÛ WORLDS OF VIEWS: ARTISTIC HORIZONS //

ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 1

Leroy F. SEARLE University of Washington, USA

The events of the last half-century are not only sufficient to destroy any complacency about the future, they are profoundly resistant to any convincing theoretical simplification. The century just concluded is by any measure the most extraordinary in terms of technical achievements, but it is also the bloodiest and most violent period in recorded history. Events that a generation ago seemed to be historical singularities, markers of an epoch in our ethical being in revulsion against genocide, not only have not stopped but have been manifest on every continent, from Bosnia and Serbia, to Laos and Cambodia, Rwanda and Burundi, and so on, seemingly without end, but also without any compelling explanation and certainly without any intellectually sovereign point of view from which to negotiate horrific differences at every level. The so-called end of the cold war, moreover, has not been accompa- nied by a lessening of tensions or hostilities, which continue as actions of opposition driven by seemingly incommensurable ideas. These are actions that cannot be explained as if they were merely emotional or psychological: they are argued for, defended, often elaborately the- orized, and for a time long enough to authorize a disaster, they are persua- sive. Furthermore, it is not clear what it would mean to call such volatile oppositions “political,” since in many instances, what is missing is a sense of 10 Leroy F. SEARLE legitimacy that enables institutions to function politically, with the support of an identifiable constituency or polis. Instead, arguments are directed to an already convinced faction or group – one might use the common metaphor of “preaching to the choir” were it not for fact that it is not at all about devotion or piety, but power – justifying extreme actions in the absence of broad-based consensus or ground of popular support. It is against this practical background that ours has become, with deep irony, a time of theory, not with any sense of philosophical solidity through which theories have claimed to serve an explan- atory function, but rather as a poorly disciplined dialectical exercise of speculation, a seeking to justify courses of action that are driven primarily by an already present (but not necessarily well examined) sense of moral and practical priorities. This applies, with different consequences, both to affairs of state and the state of intellectual exchange in the academy. In the United States, for example, the vaguely political tone of much discourse in the humanities derives largely from a commitment to such ideas as equality, social justice, the sanctity of individual, ethnic, or sexual identity – at the very same time when an elected government claiming only the slender- est thread of technical legitimacy appears bent on following the example set during the administration of Ronald Reagan of dismantling the very govern- mental infrastructure that might serve to protect such interests. On every side, theory comes into play less in the spirit of inquiry than of combat, with the effect that theoretical arguments become rhetorical in a distinctly pejora- tive sense, in the making of arguments that may forego even the pretense of answering complaints against them by simply shifting the ground so as to prevent beliefs held dogmatically from being called into question. The same pattern is evident, with much worse consequences, in the arena of local and international policy, where the focus appears to be how to make a case for war. It is not my purpose to blame theory for these tragedies, but rather to call attention to the practical consequences of hierarchical generalizations which offer simple rules of conduct that lead to and appear to legitimize atrocities, usually in the name of some fundamental principle or article of belief. From the arena of academic discourse to urban battlefields throughout the world, dogmatism and fundamentalism are in the ascendancy, at least for the moment, wherever we find an appeal to some absolute or universal principle that shapes and conditions an entire frame of reference while it is held to be exempt from questioning. ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 11

It would be comforting to say that fundamentalism, whatever its focus, is just bad theory, if it were possible for us to say with conviction that we know how to tell the difference between bad theory and good. The altogether obvious point is that what may appear to one group as lunatic ravings is, to the purported lunatics, the truth, already embedded in a view of the world and a set of cultural practices that, invisible in itself, provides the ground for arguments that do, in fact, guide action. In desperate conflicts where just being a Jew or Muslim, a Tutsi or Hutu, or a member of this or that identity group, is cause enough to be killed, it is not that such actions are senseless or without reason: they are intentional; they are the following out of theories; they are the embodiment or outgrowth of some privileged forms of argument. But just so, they present a deeper problem in showing that any fundamental belief in “reason” as a presumably universal faculty is subject to the same stricture, as people from every corner of the world proceed to conclusions that may strike the outsider as monstrous or stupid, while they are accepted and endorsed by the people involved as not only reasonable, but just, compelling, and perhaps even necessary. While it would be unduly cynical to say that the principle of “reason” may be merely that which conforms to already established beliefs, the activity of giving reasons for what one does in the name of a collectivity does follow this pattern, all too commonly along a pathway to death. I realize that characterizing this as at once a problem of theory and a matter of fundamentalism may itself exemplify, without clarifying, my point. The distinguishing characteristic of fundamentalism is, as I see it, a demand, even a need, for certainty, coupled with a willingness to act on what one believes without tolerance for criticism, usually in the sincere conviction that the truth, having been reached or revealed, does not require it–or more often, will not even tolerate it. In this sense, the faith of the evangelical Christian or the radical Islamist appears to either (and both) as undeniable and necessary, and any criticism is immediately characterized as the perni- cious work of the devil or the detestable act of an infidel. But this is also the characteristic of “rational” belief as well, with the salient difference that in the latter case, critical questioning is not automatically identified as it is in virtually all religious traditions, with blasphemy, impiety, or infidelity. The problem of rational belief is subtler by degree, in that the prevailing practice of criticism itself may not even allow us to formulate radical questions by ruling them out of bounds in advance as “irrational” and indeed, treats reason itself as the absolute or fundamental principle that is not to be ques- 12 Leroy F. SEARLE tioned. While we may choose to be more amused than alarmed at the so- called academic “culture wars,” they are comic only in that they do not usually lead to bloodshed. But in all seriousness, they demonstrate the naiveté of thinking that anyone can make a direct appeal to “reason” as we have con- ventionally defined it precisely because the battles are being fought out between different and sometimes incommensurable worldviews, with no clearly agreed-upon space or terms for translation. In this sense, the academic culture wars are on the same continuum with frustrated politicians in Wash- ington, D. C., turning “democracy” and “freedom” into cheap slogans for justifying violent aggression against apparent enemies, militant settlers appropriating someone else’s land as their own divine inheritance, or suicide bombers shouting ‘God is Great!’ before murdering scores of innocents. The common thread is a rage against complexity, when one intuits that one’s profession, culture, identity, perhaps even one’s very existence may be under immediate threat – with the concomitant feeling that the source of the threat, being incomprehensible, must be evil. If this is a crisis (and I think it is), I believe there are good reasons to treat it as not directly a crisis of culture, nor of theory, nor even of reason, but of reasoning itself. We cannot ignore it because it is manifest directly in political form – or rather, war as the collapse of political form – but neither can we end it by taking direct political action. The reason is quite simple: political action as inherently civil always presupposes some standard of legitimacy that cannot be imposed by force, but must be elicited and ratified by free assent. As we now know from repeated and deadly experience, faith in some exemplified political process (whether it takes the form of voting, legislation, adjudication under law, democratic consensus, or submission to some sanctioned authority) is neither universal nor Platonic, in the sense that it only needs to be elicited dialectically to be accepted.2 On the contrary, it is something that has to be meticulously, painstakingly built, inculcated, and nurtured across the multiplicity of institutions and conventions that make up a functioning society. The perception of a world shrinking by way of elec- tronic technology or the growth of international business serves primarily, in this context, to underscore the enormous danger of multiplicity, in which the inculcated sense of “justice” in one society may indeed have no translation whatsoever into with what another society takes to be just. We have so far burdened ourselves with innumerable clichés about the value of multicultural diversity and the virtue of tolerance, without really ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 13 taking the measure of how it is that this virtue ever came to be regarded as such or what network of dependencies may be necessary to its acceptance. In a post-colonial world, the agonized liberal conscience is better prepared to see (and passionately oppose) the arrogance and stupidity of the colonial overlords, than to recognize the arrogance and stupidity of subaltern peoples coming into possession of their own freedom and sovereignty. Thus, we may simply presume upon what we take to be rational discourse, calling on others, in the words of Isaiah, “to sit down and reason together,” as if we all followed the same rule of reason when it is obvious that we do not. In the privileged West, a faith in reason has been, at least since Duns Scotus, as firm, if not more firm, than faith in God; and it has been a primary source of the vast project of modernism since the Renaissance. What Jean François Lyotard in his discussions of the post-modern has characterized as “meta-narratives”3 that have given shape to history and meaning to commu- nal life, have been constructions of reason, narrowly considered, as the faculty of calculating desire: by two canonical principles, the law of contradiction and the rule of the excluded middle, we form our arguments so as to formally compel conclusions as objective and necessary – thereby leaving out of the equation any consideration of the purpose or telos of the argument itself. If we identify that element as ideological and set ourselves the task of providing a critique of it, the principal result, tirelessly reiterated through twenty-five years of clever deconstruction, is the recognition that we have in our hands only the first beads in an infinite necklace. Scotus understood this problem from the start as a metaphysical puzzle: if the only modes of being we allow are matter and form, the only mode of existence proves to be the existence of a thing, thereby leaving us in the orbit of a vicious paradox that cannot identify any mode of being for such diverse ideas as laws of nature and mathematical principles, or virtues such as love, devotion, or faithfulness. The eventual triumph of nominalism over scholas- tic realism appears, in this light, to have almost happened by default: having no solution for the metaphysical puzzle of the formally abstract universal, it was far easier to treat such things as arbitrary conveniences, mere names, well in advance of Saussure’s simple minded notion of the arbitrary sign. A faith in reasoning likewise defaults into a faith in objectivity by bracket- ing out the very element of choice or election that guides us, or following Charles Sanders Peirce, abducts us concerning where and how to deploy our attention.4 Ironically, the Catholic Church, in condemning Copernicus and Galileo 14 Leroy F. SEARLE and burning Giordano Bruno at the stake did more than it reckoned in strengthening a faith in reason by making it evident that the explicit claims of spirituality or moral probity by themselves can be profoundly fraudulent and self-contradictory, concerned more with holding power than with promoting virtue. The modernist meta-narrative of rational progress, however, has gambled everything on a utopian future, in a vision of a resolutely secular modern world in which ancient mystification would be replaced by enlightenment and super- stition would give way to science – and all the savage, heathen tribes meanwhile would be summarily ‘civilized’ out of existence, usually by the tactics of “shock and awe” to which conquerors have always aspired. This irony inherent in the modernist vision, moreover, is not something we latter day modernists are the first to have seen, as Montaigne points out with a certain exuberance in discoursing upon barbarism in his essay “On Cannibals”: I find that there is nothing barbarous and savage in this nation, by anything that I can gather, excepting, that every one gives the title of barbarism to everything that is not in use in his own country. As, indeed, we have no other level of truth and reason, than the example and idea of the opinions and customs of the place wherein we live: there is always the perfect religion, there the perfect government, there the most exact and accomplished usage of all things.5 The vexation of the modernist project in the West may be, from this perspective, no more than the radical expansion of contact with other countries and customs, wherein it appears that there are many more kinds of barbarians than even Montaigne could have imagined. But irony will only go so far: the constant temptation to have an end to argument, to come to a conclusion traps even Montaigne into a praise for his cannibal as compared with the civilized European that loses its balance over such questions as whether, having killed a man, it is better to eat him or not. The essential problem is that what guides our thoughts is all too often independent of them, anterior to them, carrying us along a course of reasoning that becomes all the more myopic the longer it is continued. When Lyo- tard, for example, fixes his attention on the meta-narratives as guides for knowledge, he may very well miss the importance of the primary narrative, the concrete, detailed story, and not its theoretical skeleton, rattling its bones in deadly imitation of what got it started. The role we accord to knowledge notoriously plays down wisdom because our faith in the reasoning that produces knowledge so often seems to us decisive, and itself independent of (if ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 15 not alien to) our moral sense. Thus in this era of the postmodern, instead of taking the point to be that our meta-narratives are our theories, plain and simple, and they are what has collapsed, we have indulged ourselves, no doubt thinking hard in the prolif- eration of theories that hold sway not by giving exacting or perspicuous explanations but more simply, by tapping into what is already believed, and kept in relentless circulation as a set of quotable phrases, dialectical commonplaces, and simplified analytical strategies, but for all that, getting nowhere. Deconstruction, launched from a serious insight into the metaphysical quandary of representation, now may appear primarily as a set of tricks to teach to sophomores still excited by local rebellion; while critical discourse about power in the social field comes to resemble a video game in which the objective is to find and obliterate The Oppressor. I will come directly to my major claim in this paper: we find ourselves in trouble over reasoning primarily because we have defined it so narrowly and dogmatically that it compromises its own proper ground. In focusing on strictly mathematical criterion of truth, or a narrowly empirical conception of knowledge, we thereby compromise a broader criterion of legitimacy by stripping away the multiplicity of factors that enter into complex judgments. Bearing this in mind, it is just as silly to argue that all scientific statements are socially conditioned or determined as it is to deny that social considerations have anything whatever to do with science. In any particular case, the broader question of legitimacy is the result of a complex negotiation that usually starts as an educative process. Someone who is innocent of advanced mathematics is simply in no position to judge contemporary work in physics, or, for that matter, to really understand it, just as someone who has only heard some rumor about a work of art is not in a very good position to express any opinion about it that commands our respect. Neither case consigns the non-specialist to ignorance, but only to an essential modesty about how far one’s understanding may extend. In speaking earlier of the “proper ground” of reasoning, I take it, following the pragmatic maxim of Peirce, to be a precise imagining of the consequences that may follow from conscious deci- sions.6 Reasoning, in this sense, is broader than inference, but it has the same characteristic of allowing us to proceed from what we do know to something which we do not, something that can only be formulated or discovered by careful and meticulous attention to details. In this view, there is no virtue in supposing the imaginative to be the counter-factual or the false, 16 Leroy F. SEARLE just as there is no point is supposing that reasoning grounded on imagining is either opposed to, or can proceed very far without a reliance on a fairly exacting, even technical sense of logic. For something more than two millennia, reason and reasoning have been generally articulated by opposing them to art, to imagination, to emotion, to religion and politics, under the understandable but mistaken belief that the process of our thinking can be “purified” of the very elements that enable it in the first place. We could, of course, go back to Plato’s notorious gesture of exiling the poets, but more to the immediate purpose is the doctrine cum dogma since the 17th century that truth must be resolutely stripped of metaphor.7 If we did that, such expressions as A=B would drop away in the wash, inasmuch as the idea that one thing can be substituted for another depends first of all upon the perception that the two items equated are, after all, similar in some respect. All metaphor starts in the same place, along with all attributive predications: when we say that something is something else (my shoes are black, the cat is tame, the horse is lame) we are operating in the arena of relations that gain their specificity by refinement, not by ceasing to be inherently relational. To put the matter simply, if we were deprived of metaphor we would be deprived of thought. If we begin from the admission that all thinking, all reasoning, is fundamentally imaginative, meaning nothing more by that, for the moment, than that we must picture or represent to ourselves, to our own minds, the substance of what we are thinking about, then reasoning is absolutely dependent on representation, carried out essentially as experiments with diagrams, explorations aided by pictures, inquiries given shape by representations that are chosen (not given) for their perspicuity relative to the subject of our thoughts.8 My second claim is therefore that when we consider artifacts and objects that are set aside as paradigmatically imaginative – poems and stories, pictures, music, performances – it has been our collective custom to treat them as objects about which to reason (when we do not puritanically condemn them as debased and corrupting), thereby occluding the recognition that imaginative works are already primary forms of reasoning themselves, enabled and sustained by reading and writing.9 This is, moreover, not re- stricted by language or culture: imaginative reasoning is a common resource everywhere. In cases where the semantic register is relatively accessible (words and words applied to pictures), we may find ourselves abducted (not necessarily in a good sense) by our antecedent sense of how words are ordi- ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 17 narily used; but in the harder cases (of dance, sculpture, music) where there is no immediate semantic register upon which to rely (Eb does not mean “Earth”, pace Mahler), we are less likely to see the reasoning, the examina- tion or inquiry, because it requires time and training to perceive the integu- ments of relation by which, say, a dance or a musical composition is held together. If we furthermore take the concept of truth to be a specialization of the broader concept of legitimacy (for to say of a statement that it is true is to vouch for its legitimacy), then our attention to a work of art, contrary to the massive weight of the tradition that has demeaned it, exiled it, or put it aside as for one’s idle time or entertainment, is as important as anything we can do as human beings. Taking a work of art as an inquiry and an argument, moreover, does NOT mean taking out the commonplaces from our handy theoretical tool bag and disassembling it or working up a “reading” of it, informed by this or that current ideological fashion. Less abrasively, one might simply say that one cannot say anything interesting about a novel without really reading it, or about a piece of music without hearing and studying it, on the assumption that what has been made was made for a reason that we might not be shrewd enough to guess. From the start, we should accede to the primary intentionality (not the same as “meaning”) of the work as a made thing. (I will take a polemical short-cut here to say that most of what elicits our attention as “art” on this simple criterion fails miserably to hold it.) Those works that do hold our attention, which cannot be exhausted by a single reading or hearing or viewing, do not require definitions or categorial hedg- es: they simply require our thoughtfulness, our curiosity, our own fund of experience, and above all, our patience. The theoretical impetus in such cases is all the more problematic since the very richness of a metaphor (does, for example, Robert Burns’s “My Love is like a red, red rose / That’s lately sprung in June” mean that my Love has thorns, is seasonally afflicted by aphids, is vegetative and requires much maintenance?) seems to demand some generalization that will curtail such thematic excesses, but to theorize prematurely can only block a recognition of the fact in virtually any poem, any deliberately made literary work, the scope or application of one figure is constrained by another, as in this case, the second line of Burns’s poem: “My Love is like a melody / That’s sweetly played in tune.”10 The poem itself dynamically limits (without eliminating) apparently vagrant implications – even though, in this case, it is entirely appo- 18 Leroy F. SEARLE site and to the point to recognize that love does have “thorns” – by setting semantic and structural attributes within a rich, functional matrix for contemplation. The typical pattern, however, explored very ably by Sandor Goodhart, appears to be that literary critics and theorists systematically reduce the actual details of a text to a much simpler myth, story, or source – and treat the text as identical in meaning to the very source that the literary author meticulously transforms and criticizes in his or her work. When Chaucer is read almost as if he were one of the Patristic fathers, or Shakespeare is treated as if Mac- beth or King Lear could be reduced to stories in Hollingshead’s Chronicles, we may suppose these are the pre-theoretical naïve errors of the past – only to miss the close similarity between such simplistic misreading and rhetorically sophisticated theoretical criticism, where a primary text is simply buried by the intention to develop a ”reading” that expropriates the text as an illus- tration of a principle already decided upon in advance. By urging that we hold back upon the invocation of the meta-narrative so as to see artistic works as primary forms of reasoning, we may enable and invite a different kind of theorizing in which the very point at issue is legitimation, not truth or knowledge understood in an entirely conventional way, starting with a sense of legitimacy in the activity of reading itself. I will illustrate this point briefly by reference to Shakespeare’s The Tem- pest, a text that has been for decades a target for criticism explicitly commit- ted to principles of social justice, finding Shakespeare’s play (and particularly his protagonist, Prospero) to be the very embodiment of imperialist arrogance, colonialist abuse, brutal dispossession, and racial demonizing of the natives, as represented by Caliban. The overarching point of such criticism, to give it its due, is that the founding of colonies, like reports of miracles, covers up untold misery, and that the sense of justice grounded in a perceived sense of unfairness seems, if not Platonic, then surely universal in some sense. As Caliban complains, before the coming of Prospero, he had the whole of the island, without constraint, but since (and notably, following his attempted rape of Prospero’s daughter, Miranda) Caliban has been confined and punished, dispossessed of the land that formerly was his. In many respects, this situation (in one of the relatively few plays of Shakespeare with an entirely original plot) encapsulates the political pages of any major newspaper, in any region of the globe, for the last half-century or more. For the sake of convenience, we may start with a broadly representative case, a reading of The Tempest deployed by Ronald Takaki to shape the entire ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 19 argument of his textbook, A Different Mirror: A History of Multicultural Amer- ica, that consists almost entirely of virtuous commonplaces in the long and hard fought effort to secure fair and equitable treatment of minorities in Amer- ican culture. I note at the outset, moreover, that the very principles Takaki invokes are themselves the result of decades, if not centuries, of cultural, philosophical, and critical negotiation toward the objective of creating a just and decent society in which, as Martin Luther King put it, children “will not be judged not by the color of their skin, but the content of their character”12 – an objective, significantly, shaped by a literary heritage of narratives showing in concrete and material detail the shape and tone of racial and ethnic injustice. The polemical moment of his argument is a sense of outrage, rightly and widely shared, that the principles of equality, having an essential role in conceptu- alizing the specific legitimacy of a culturally democratic country, are so open- ly and insidiously violated in practice. Takaki takes advantage of an already well-developed body of responses to Shakespeare’s play to make it into a kind of declarative and insidious testament to colonialist racism against indigenous peoples and cultures. From the late 1970s to the 1990s, as Deborah Willis has remarked, published criticism of The Tempest covered the extremes of Geof- frey Bullough’s view in 1975 that the play “is not about colonialism” to the opposite position, “from considering colonialism to be a non-issue to considering it to be the only issue.”13 But both extremes are easily shown to depend not just upon different ideological orientations, but plain and simple misreading of what the text actually says. At either extreme, the tendency to treat the literary text as an object about which to argue instead of as itself already a primary form of argument leads readers to substitute for what the text says some analogue, partial source, or item of common knowledge that is both simpler and less subtle. Thus, Takaki draws upon widely circulated commonplaces, such as taking Shakes- peare’s allusion to the “vexed Bermooths” to mean that the play is set in Bermuda, and therefore the New World; or rearranging Caliban’s name as an anagram for cannibal, or appropriating a possible allusion in the name of his god Setebos to a Patagonian mythic figure, to conclude that Caliban is an American Indian.14 By such means, The Tempest itself is made into a meta- narrative of dispossession and racial injustice, where any oppressed or dis- advantaged people are Calibans, while the early English colonists are taken to be like Prospero in viewing “native people as savages.” Thus, according to Takaki, Thomas Jefferson, “like Prospero before him,” sees “the triumph 20 Leroy F. SEARLE over the continent and the Indians as the movement from ‘savagery’ to ‘civilization’” (50); and is identified with all slaveholders whose four million black slaves, “like Caliban,” “served the Prosperos of the master class.” (110) While there have been more or less hagiological denunciations of such interpretations as a violation of Shakespeare, the great English Bard, along with further justifications, together foregrounding the perhaps inevitable presence of disparate contemporary ideological positions,15 the play is incompa- rable more substantive, coherent, and subtle than such warring readings recognize. At the simplest level, inattentive readers may place the action of the play in Bermuda only by failing to notice that the allusion comes when Pros- pero asks Ariel, his magic making spirit, how he has disposed the King’s ship and the rest of the royal fleet: Safely in harbor Is the King’s ship, in the deep nook where once Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vexed Bermoothes, there she’s hid; The mariners all under hatches stowed; and for the rest o’ th’ fleet, Which I dispersed, they all have met again, And are upon the Mediterranean flote Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the King’s ship wracked And his great person perish. It could not be more cl ear that Prospero’s island is in the Mediterra- nean, just as it is obvious in the structure of the action that Prospero, formerly Duke of Milan was usurped by Alonso, the King of Naples, who has come to marry off his daughter, Claribel, to the King of Tunis. A moment with a map, even one as inaccurate as Shakespeare and his contemporaries might have used, makes clear that the political ambitions of Alonso, the King of Naples, not Prospero, are the very stuff of empire building, seeking by treach- ery and alliance to wield dominating influence not just in Milan, the north- ern-most city of Italy and Naples, its greatest western seaport, but on the African coast at Tunis as well. The obvious geographical and political background of the play, that is to say, is absolutely European, and looking soberly upon its long and deadly imperialist history, encapsulates the enormous risk of a far-flung empire being built by conspiracy, force, including the callous ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 21 will to offer his own daughter almost as a pawn to a marriage she does not want.16 But what are the stakes, and what are the implications? First of all, should he succeed, Alonso would have in place an empire greater than Rome (which is, spatially, exactly in the middle of the triangle connecting Milan, Tunis, and Naples) and more profitable by far than Carthage, since it would not only contain Rome but would control access to Europe through Alps and to the East by control of the shipping channel between southern Italy and the closest place on the African coast, Tunis. It is striking that this entirely obvious feature of the setting of the play and the framing of its action has hardly entered critical discussion of the play at all, but even more striking is the handling of Caliban. He has, indeed, been racially demonized, treated as a dark skinned, sub-human monster, costumed and so presented by directors quite consistently since the 19th century on, but it does not happen in Shakespeare’s text.17 Caliban’s mother, Sycorax, is a “blue-eyed hag,” a malevolent witch (as Prospero is presented as a virtuous magician) marooned but allowed to live only because she was with child. The all but universal treatment of Caliban as less than human derives from a plain and simple misreading of these lines by Prospero, meant to chasten Ariel, who is reluctant to help Prospero carry out his plot of self-discovery: Then was this island (Save for the son that she did litter here, a freckled whelp, hag-born) not honored with a human shape. (I, II, 281-84) That is, the island was not honored with a human shape, except for Cal- iban, freckled as would be any blue-eyed, fair-skinned person abandoned on a southern Mediterranean island: he may smell bad, but he is just as Europe- an as the Italians who encounter him. To put the case succinctly, Caliban is not, in this play, judged by the color of his skin, but precisely and exactingly by the content of his character: it is he, after all, who attempts to rape Miran- da, using the language in which he learned to curse to lament that had Pros- pero not prevented him, for he would have “peopled else / This isle with Calibans.” (I,ii, 350-51). For Prospero, moreover, the main concern is not with recovering the kingdom he lost, by his own admission not just to treach- ery but through administrative inattention: he is more concerned to secure a husband for his daughter, and thereby a future for his family. It would be, one might venture, a most peculiar father who would chose her would-be 22 Leroy F. SEARLE rapist for that role, even though it is striking by the end of the play, with the failure of the multiple insane plots for power by men who, dreaming of being home in Naples or Milan, are actually marooned on a desert island with no hope whatsoever of getting off, that Caliban is the only one who clearly understands what a fool he had been to pick for his masters a drunkard and a buffoon, and may be the only one who has really been changed by the events of the play.18 Having gone only this far toward a reading of The Tempest, I believe it is sufficient to explore the claim that this play, considered as a paradigm of humane reasoning, goes to the very heart of the question of cultural legitimation, by presenting in an essentially diagrammatic form a matrix of relations that does not reduce the complexity of social reality and allows us to return, again and again, to its structure and its exact language to think our way through fundamental political dilemmas without confusion – and without ignoring essential elements that pertain to our own human make-up. The fact that this claim may seem counterintuitive derives only from the habit of supposing that literary texts are an expression of some simple theory, or a reflection of some ideological commitment, instead of looking patiently at the evidence that they are inductive and abductive experiments, which think in and through the precisely embodied figures that constitute them. What is most important in this claim is that a text is a carefully constructed matrix of relations that is emphatically not dogmatic. From the perspective of a conventional view of reasoning, this quality appears (and has been so treated) as an objectionable ambiguity, preventing one from affirming a univo- cal “meaning” for a text, but that is its exact and exacting virtue – and does not in any way mean that where reading is concerned any reading is as good as any other. A play like The Tempest, for example, is a thought experiment, in which attention the entire matrix of the play – its characters, setting, structure, syn- tax, and chains of consequential events – enable one to think through a finite case to consider what happens IF. . .? Viewed in this imaginative and essentially hypothetical mode, all the questions that the text may raise have sufficient materials to answer, not categorically but pragmatically. For example, when Shakespeare places the royal party on a desert island, and then proceeds to show first, the diverse plots to seize power, in almost all cases by murderous means, starting from Prospero’s brother, Antonio, persuading Sebastian that they should murder his brother, Alonso, King of Naples, going on to the plot among fools, with Stephano, Trinculo, and Caliban, the circumstances in the first instance (murdering a king to seize his throne, though it is a thousand ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 23 leagues away and for all they know, unreachable) make the conspiracy literally an action by madmen who in the most immediate way do not know where they are and have not given a thought to how they might (and might have to) live there. In the second instance, the parallel between the cases of the court party and Caliban and the fools, reinforces the point that such undertakings, Machi- avelli notwithstanding, are self-defeating in both the short and the long run – even though Prospero understand with exactitude that his real danger comes from Caliban, whom Prospero acknowledges as his own as both an indication of his intimate knowledge of Caliban, and as a metaphorical juxtaposition that identifies Caliban’s qualities with Prospero himself, and more to the point, with everyone who may just want to eat his dinner and enjoy his woman. The point is made all the more solid, moreover, when Prospero, himself having been usurped in Milan, treats Ferdinand (whom we soon understand to be the groom most desired for Miranda) as a violent usurper of his island kingdom. The critical fixation on ambiguity and mulitiplicity of meaning in artistic works as either a scandal, a defect, some kind of intellectual misfortune, stems from a model of reasoning that is anything but imaginative: it is, in the strictest sense, dogmatic, even fundamentalist, not by insisting upon decision criteria, but by not recognizing the multiplicity of factors that come into play in even the most ordinary practical events. In our impatience to assert some fundamental principle of right or wrong, we are more likely to create injury and confusion than to reach any stable sense that justice has been done. The great irony is that all justice is, in a very basic way, poetic – meaning by that not that it is unreal or false or unobtainable, but exactly the opposite. It is that our sense of justice is inculcated as part of education, and is profoundly and deeply shaped by the poems that we privilege, the texts we most revere.19 Whenever we are tempted to suppose that there are universal human rights, or inviolable principles of policy, it should be our first tactic to consider the stories used to illustrate them, that show us concretely, why it is wrong to allow gratuitous suffering, why it is impermissible and damaging to our own nature as persons to use superficial appearances as a basis for treating another group badly, and so on. Perhaps the most fierce academic irony of our times is that in the interest of such virtues, the main tendency has been to show increasing impatience with the literary, even, as in the cases briefly examined here, to treat the literary as if it were complicit with if not itself the cause of the very evils against which literary texts themselves are the best and perhaps the only arguments. 24 Leroy F. SEARLE

Correspondingly, when we consider the alarming rise of terror in our own world, I would argue that our greatest risk lies in the dogmatic insis- tence upon principles whose specific consequences are not concretely imagined. For at least a half-century, we have enacted for ourselves a drama on the world stage, worrying about the hegemonic ambitions or deadly potential of another, opposing group, forgetting all the while that hegemony also means, as Gramsci was among the first to insist,20 gaining assent without coercion. If a political party means to actually gain and hold power, it will never do to neutralize or exterminate all one’s enemies, for the very effort to do so creates an unending spiral of enmity. But this contemporary drama, with its escalating deadliness, is a thoroughly wretched, abysmal play. It is bad art, not even recognizing its own inherent characteristics as such, because the stage on which it is played out does not permit rehearsal, reconsid- eration, contemplative consideration of consequences. A model of imaginative reasoning, seen not as some piece of magic reminiscent of Prospero, but as honoring the mental space in which we examine, contemplate, and imagine a future, is, and always has been, the primary mechanism for reaching assent without coercion. The immemorial work of poetry is to teach us to think, to teach us to come to agreements without dogmatic exclusion, so as to act as human beings, not as Calibans in an endless succession of cos- tumes. It is an enterprise that we must renew, that we cannot neglect.

NOTES 1 Essay for “Differentiation and Integration of Worldviews,” Sixth Annual Interna- tional Congress in Philosophy and Culture, sponsored by UNESCO and The Russian Institute for Cultural Research, St. Petersburg, Russia. October 28-November 3, 2003. 2 It is worth remembering, in this context, that in the locus classicus of this problem, in Plato’s Republic, the argument of Thrasymachus in Book I is never an- swered, but only deflected by Socrates’ appealing to the party to agree, among themselves, to be “both pleaders and judges,” requiring consensus not only as to what claims would be presented and how they would be disposed [348b]. From that moment on, though Thrasymachus stays, he contributes nothing substantive to the ensuing discussion, interjecting only once in Book V (450a), and being mentioned as not likely to agree in Book VI (498c). Otherwise, he says nothing, not even when, at the end of the dialogue, as dawn is breaking, Plato has Socrates return to his deci- sions to exile the poets and expositors of Homer to reiterate them for a new reason: that Homer had never actually held power in any city or state, bearing the unremarked implication that justice is, after all, evidently defined by those in power, as Plato now has this argument entirely in his grasp [599-601]. ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 25

3 See especially Postmodernism: A Report on Knowledge trans. by Geoff Ben- nington and Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1984), 4 See, for example, Charles Sanders Peirce, Collected Papers (Cambridge, MA.: Harvard University Press, 1931-1958, rpt. 1960), on nominalism, 1.15-26; on abduc- tion, 2.96-104. 5 From: The Essays of Michel de Montaigne, trans by Charles Cotton, ed. by W. Carew Hazlitt (New York: A. L. Burt, 1892), p. 210. (Original translation, 1685.) 6 See especially Charles Sanders Peirce, “Issues of Pragmaticism: Six Characters of Critical Common Sensism” in Collected Papers (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1938-52), 5.438-452. The original form of Peirce’s maxim was this: “Consider what effects that might conceivably have practical bearings you conceive the objects of your conception to have. Then, your conception of those effects is the whole of your conception of the object.” The later formulation cited here is: “The entire intellectual purport of any symbol consists in the total of all general modes of rational conduct which, conditionally upon all the possible different circumstances and desires, would ensue upon the acceptance of the symbol.” 7 The sources for this commonplace are too many to cite, coming into fullest prominence in the late 17th and early 18th centuries, from Bacon and Hobbes, to Locke. For a good general introduction to this topic, see Colin Murray Turbane’s classic study, The Myth of Metaphor (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1962; rpt Univ. of South Carolina, 1970). See also, Metaphor and Thought, ed. Andrew Ortony (Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993). 8 Again, Peirce is particularly useful on this matter. See especially CP 2.530; 3.560. 9 This point does require emphasis, since the critical ingredient lies in the art, the precise deployment of material, by which imaginative reasoning can be followed, repeated, and reviewed. This does not exclude orality, but it does acknowledge the difference of institutional potential in print literacy. In fact, oral traditions in our time more and more survive by being recorded and transcribed. See John Miles Foley, “Textualization as Mediation: The Case of Traditional Oral Epic” in Raimonda Modi- ano, Leroy Searle, and Peter Shillingsburg, eds., Voice, Text, Hypertext: Emerging Practices in Textual Studies (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2003), pp. 101- 120. But see also, Martin Jaffee,”Spoken, Written, Incarnate: Ontologies of Textuality in Classical Rabbinic Judaism” in the same volume, pp. 83-100. 10 For a fuller analysis, cf. my “Technology and the Perils of Poetry: or, Why Criticism Never Catches Up,” in Institutions and Originality: ICHD 98 (Seattle: Walter Chapin Simpson Center for the Humanities), 1998, 47-64. 11 Sandor Goodhart, Sacrificing Commentary: Reading the End of Literature (Bal- timore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996). See also, Leroy F. Searle, “The Con- science of the King: Oedipus, Hamlet, and the Problem of Reading,” Comparative Literature 49 (Fall, 1997), 316-343. 26 Leroy F. SEARLE

12 Martin Luther King, “I Have a Dream” address, Washington, D.C., August 28, 1968. See http://www.stanford.edu/group/King/publications/speeches/ address_at_march_on_washington.pdf . 13 Deborah Willis, “Shakespeare’s The Tempest and the Discourse of Colonial- ism,” SEL 29, no. 2 (Spring, 1989), 227-289. 14 Elsewhere Takaki uses the same analogy to urge that Caliban could have been African (50), Irish (149); Asian or any person of color (205); 15 See, for example, George Wills’s Will’s “Literary Politics: ‘The Tempest’? It’s ‘really about imperialism. Emily Dickinson’s poetry? Masturbation,” Newsweek, April 22, 1991, p. 72; and Stephen Greenblatt’s reply, “The Best Way to Kill Our Literary Inheritance Is to Turn It into a Decorous Celebration of the New World Order,” Chronicle of Higher Education, v. 37, no. 39, June 12, 1991, pp. B1, 3. 16 See especially the comments on the folly of this later determination by Antonio and Sebastian, II,1, 118ff. 17 One could hardly find, moreover, a better example in which generations of misreading actually creates the evil that such commentators as Takaki decry. If, for example, the early colonists – surely not at all likely, being Puritans, to have had any patience or even tolerance for reading a work of Satan’s playground, the Theater, just as they could hardly have seen a play that was never performed in public in Shakes- peare’s lifetime-actually had read the play and thought about it, it might have acted as a brake upon deadly imperial and racist ambitions. But that may only imply that they, no less than Takaki, would misread in exactly the same way, assuming that the relevant principle was already known, though the principles are contrary to each other: the one assuming the native to be a vile heathen, and the other, assuming the dominant “Prosperos” to be oppressive monsters. 18 Consider, by contrast, the sullen silence of the two treacherous brothers, Se- bastian and Antonio, who, in thinking so well of themselves as civilized gentlemen, do not even seem to register the fact that both are would traitors and murders. Per- haps the most revealing and tantalizing detail, however, is the fact that when the action of the play concludes, Prospero pulls aside the drape to his cell, revealing Ferdinand and Miranda, not just playing the archetypal political game of chess, but Miranda having caught Ferdinand cheating. He denies it, saying he would not do so “for the world,” to which Miranda replies, “Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle, / And I would call it fair play.” While there is no question whatsoever that kingdoms governed by Ferdinand and Miranda would be incomparably less vicious than what the rule of either Sebastian or Antonio would promise, they represent a real world in which anyone assuming they could claim perfect virtue and still govern would suffer exactly the fate of Prospero, who loses his kingdom in part because he quits doing his job. Caliban, on the other hand, recognizing himself to be a “thrice double ass” has only shown that acting mainly for the satisfaction of his appetites, wanting both his dinner and a woman, renders him altogether incompetent to govern. ART, REASON, AND CULTURAL LEGITIMATION 27

19 See in this context the claim of Walt Whitman in Democratic Vistas (1871) that the greatness of any culture is to found in, and shaped by, its poems. In a less extravagant way, Benedict Anderson makes a similar point in Imagined Communities (London: Verso, 1983, 1991), that the emergence of national consciousness depends on print literacy. See chapter 3, 37-46. In Beyond Belief:Islamic Excursions Among the Converted Peoples (New York: Vintage Books, 1998), V. S. Naipaul makes a possibly even more telling point in lamenting the current condition of Indonesia, from a complementary vantage point: “Sustained great writing, rather than polemic, can only come out of societies that offer true human possibility; and in Indonesia we have, instead, a pastoral people who have lost their history; who have been involved in prodigious, often tragic, events, but are without the means – the education, the language, and above all the freedom – to reflect on them” (71). The reciprocity between great, undogmatic, writing and true human possibility extends, I would argue, much farther than we are presently disposed to acknowledge. 20 See especially, Antonio Gramsci, Selections from the Prison Notebooks (Lon- don: Lawrence and Wishart, 1971, 1991), 330-333; and recent work by Chantel Mouffe and Ernesto Laclau, especially Hegemony and Socialist Strategy: Toward a Radical Democratic Politics (London: Verso, 1985).

ÏÐÎÁËÅÌÀ ÌÅÆÊÓËÜÒÓÐÍÎÉ ÊÎÌÌÓÍÈÊÀÖÈÈ Â ÊÎÍÒÅÊÑÒÅ ÔÈËÎÑÎÔÑÊÎ-ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÎÃÎ ÎÑÂÎÅÍÈß ÑÎÂÐÅÌÅÍÍÎÉ ÐÅÀËÜÍÎÑÒÈ

Ìàðüÿ ÐÎÇÀÍÎÂÀ

Òåîðåòè÷åñêèì ôàêòîðîì, âî ìíîãîì îïðåäåëèâøèì ñîâðåìåííûå èññëåäîâàíèÿ êîììóíèêàöèè, ñòàë ïîâîðîò îò ôèëîñîôñêîé è íàó÷íîé ðåôëåêñèè ê äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè ÿçûêà. Íà÷àëî èññëåäîâàíèé ÿçûêîâûõ è çíàêîâûõ ñòðóêòóð, ïîëîæåííîå â ïåðâîé òðåòè ïðîøëîãî ñòîëåòèÿ ðàáîòàìè Ðàññåëà è åãî ó÷åíèêà Âèòãåíøòåéíà, ïðèíöèïèàëüíî èçìå- íèëî ñàìî ïîíèìàíèå êîììóíèêàöèè, à òàêæå ìåòîäû åå èçó÷åíèÿ. Áëà- ãîäàðÿ íîâîé óñòàíîâêå ÿçûê ñòàëè ðàññìàòðèâàòü íå ïðîñòî êàê ñðåä- ñòâî êîììóíèêàöèè, íî ñàìà êîììóíèêàöèÿ îêàçàëàñü ïðîñòðàíñòâîì, çàêëþ÷àþùèì â ñåáå ñòàíîâëåíèå ÿçûêîâûõ ôîðì. Ìèð â XX âåêå ñòàë íåïîíÿòíûì äëÿ ÷åëîâåêà. Ïðåæíèå ñòåðåîòèïû è æèçíåííûå îðèåíòèðû ïåðåñòàëè ðàáîòàòü, èçìåíèëàñü ñàìà íîðìà. Ãîâîðÿ î íîðìå, îòäåëüíîå âíèìàíèå íóæíî óäåëèòü åå êðèòåðèÿì, ÷òî îñîáåííî àêòóàëüíî äëÿ ïîñëåäíåé ÷åòâåðòè âåêà. Ïðîèçîøëî ñìåùåíèå àêöåíòîâ: èç çàïðåòèòåëüíîé îíà ïðåâðàòèëàñü â ðàçðåøèòåëüíóþ, à â ñîåäèíåíèè ñ ýòèêîé, ôèëîñîôèåé, ïîëèòèêîé, íà ïåðâûé âçãëÿä, ïðèîá- ðåëà ïðîñòî àíîðìàëüíîñòü îòíîñèòåëüíî êëàññè÷åñêèõ ïðèíöèïîâ. Ñóòü òàêèõ èçìåíåíèé îáóñëîâëåíà ëèøü ðàñøèðåíèåì îáëàñòè êëàññè÷åñêîé ðàöèîíàëüíîñòè. Â íåå áûëî âêëþ÷åíî òî, ÷òî ðàíüøå îòâåðãàëîñü êàê íåïðèåìëåìîå: òðàäèöèè, ìèôîëîãèÿ, èíòóèòèâíîå ïîñòèæåíèå ðåàëü- íîñòè è ò. ä. Ïðîèçîøëà ïåðåñòðîéêà ïðèâû÷íîãî íàâûêà ïîíèìàíèÿ. Íî, ñîâåðøàÿ êîììóíèêàòèâíûå àêòû, ÷åëîâåê, êàê è ïðåæäå, ñòàëêèâàåòñÿ ñ äðóãèìè ß è äîëæåí ïðè ýòîì èõ èíòåðïðåòèðîâàòü, îñóùåñòâëÿòü ðåô- ëåêñèþ, îáúÿñíÿòü è ïîíèìàòü âûñêàçûâàíèÿ. Èìåííî äëÿ ýòèõ öåëåé ñòàëè èíòåíñèâíî ðàçðàáàòûâàòüñÿ ðàçëè÷íûå òåîðèè êîììóíèêàöèè. Êîììóíèêàöèÿ îäíîâðåìåííî âîçíèêëà âî ìíîãèõ àêàäåìè÷åñ- êèõ äèñöèïëèíàõ. Ñâîé âêëàä â åå ðàçâèòèå âíåñëè íå òîëüêî òàêèå âåäóùèå â äàííîé îáëàñòè íà ñåãîäíÿøíèé äåíü äèñöèïëèíû êàê ïñè- õîëîãèÿ, ñîöèîëîãèÿ, ôèëîñîôèÿ, íî è ëèòåðàòóðà. Â ÕÕ ñòîëåòèè íàçðåëà íåîáõîäèìîñòü îòâëå÷åíèÿ æèçíåííî-ïðàêòè÷åñêîãî ñîçíà- ÏÐÎÁËÅÌÀ ÌÅÆÊÓËÜÒÓÐÍÎÉ ÊÎÌÌÓÍÈÊÀÖÈÈ 29

íèÿ îò ñâîèõ íåïîñðåäñòâåííûõ íîñèòåëåé, ÷òîáû ïîñðåäñòâîì ïå- ðåîñìûñëåíèÿ ïðåäñòàâèòü åãî â ôèëîñîôñêî-õóäîæåñòâåííî-ëèòå- ðàòóðíîé ôîðìå, ãäå èñïîëüçóþòñÿ íîâûå ïðàêòèêè (òàêèå êàê íî- âûé ðîìàí, äâîéíîå êîäèðîâàíèå, ïàñòèø, ñîçäàíèå áåññèòóàòèâíûõ òåêñòîâ è äð.), ñðåäñòâà ëèòåðàòóðíîãî ÿçûêà ( øèðîêîå ðàñïðîñòðà- íåíèå ïîëó÷àåò ìåòàôîðà, ìåòîíèìèÿ, ýëëèïñèñ- âñå òî, ÷òî ñîñòàâ- ëÿåò îñíîâó ïîýòè÷åñêèõ àññîöèàöèé è âûâîäèò ñòèëü ôèëîñîôñòâî- âàíèÿ çà ïðåäåëû ëîãè÷åñêîãî ìûøëåíèÿ), ÷òîáû çàòåì âíîâü îáðà- òèòü ê ëþäÿì â ôîðìå, ïðèîòêðûâàþùåé çàâåñó íåïðîçðà÷íîñòè íåïîääàþùåãîñÿ îáúÿñíåíèþ õàîñà äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè. Äðóãèìè ñëî- âàìè, ëèòåðàòóðà ïîëó÷àåò ñâîé ìàòåðèàë èç îáûäåííîãî, êóëüòóðíî îáóñëîâëåííîãî ñïîñîáà ðàçìûøëåíèé, íî ôîðìóëèðóåò è ïðåîáðà- çîâûâàåò èõ òàêèì îáðàçîì, ÷òî çàëîæåííûå â íåé òåîðåòè÷åñêèå êîíöåïöèè, â ñâîþ î÷åðåäü, îêàçûâàþò âëèÿíèå íà îáûäåííîå ìûø- ëåíèå è ïîâñåäíåâíóþ ïðàêòèêó, èçìåíÿÿ èõ. À çíà÷èò, ñâÿçü ìåæäó êóëüòóðîé è òåîðèåé îêàçûâàåòñÿ âçàèìîîáðàòíîé. Êîììóíèêàöèÿ â ëèòåðàòóðå â ñèëó åå êóëüòóðíîé óêîðåíåííîñòè è ðåôåêñèâíîñòè, èìååò ïðàêòè÷åñêîå çíà÷åíèå, â òîì ÷èñëå è ïîëèòè÷åñêîå. ×àñòî ëèòåðàòóðó ðàññìàòðèâàþò êàê «èäåîëîãè÷åñêèé àïïàðàò ãîñóäàð- ñòâà», íî íåëüçÿ çàáûâàòü, ÷òî îíà òàêæå è âîñïèòûâàåò, äàåò ÷óâ- ñòâî íîâèçíû, ñòðåìëåíèå ê ëó÷øåìó. Îáðàç ôèëîñîôñòâóþùåãî «ïèñàòåëÿ-ïðîâèäöà» âíîâü ïðèâëåê ê ñåáå âíèìàíèå â XX âåêå óæå â ïîëèòè÷åñêîì ñìûñëå, êîãäà ëèòåðàòóðó (÷òî íàïðÿìóþ ñâÿçàíî ñ åå âçàèìîäåéñòâèåì ñ ôèëîñîôèåé) ñòàëè íàäåëÿòü ñîöèàëüíî-ïîëè- òè÷åñêîé ïðîçîðëèâîñòüþ, íåäîñòàþùåé âñåì îñòàëüíûì ôîðìàì ïðàêòèêè. Êàê ïèñàë Ñàðòð, «ïðîçà òîëüêî ñàìûé óäîáíûé èíñòðó- ìåíò äëÿ ðåàëèçàöèè îïðåäåëåííîãî çàìûñëà», ïîòîìó ÷òî, «êîãäà àêêóðàòíî, ñ çàáîòîé î òî÷íîñòè, ñëîâà ñîáðàíû â ôðàçû, òî â íèõ ïðîñìàòðèâàåòñÿ íàìåðåíèå îòäàòü äðóãèì ïîëó÷åííûå âûâîäû. Ãîâîðèòü îçíà÷àåò äåéñòâîâàòü, ëþáàÿ íàçâàííàÿ âåùü óæå íå òà, êàêîé áûëà äî òîãî, îíà ïîòåðÿëà íåâèííîñòü».1 Ñëîâî «àíãàæè- ðîâàííîãî» ïèñàòåëÿ îêàçûâàåòñÿ äåéñòâèåì. Îí îòäàåò ñåáå îò÷åò â òîì, ÷òî «îáíàæàòü îçíà÷àåò èçìåíèòü Åñëè îáùåñòâî âäðóã óâè- äèò ñåáÿ, ñàì ýòîò ôàêò óæå îñïàðèâàåò ïðèíÿòûå öåííîñòè è îáùå- ñòâåííûé ðåæèì».2 Ñîâðåìåííàÿ ëèòåðàòóðà ïîñòåïåííî îñîçíàëà òî, ÷òî «îíà ñàìà èäåîëîãèÿ». Íî ýòî èìååò è ïîëîæèòåëüíóþ ñòî- ðîíó. Äëÿ èíäèâèäà, çàáðîøåííîãî â êàòàñòðîôè÷åñêîå ïðîñòðàíñòâî 30 Ìàðüÿ ÐÎÇÀÍÎÂÀ

ñîâðåìåííîãî ñóùåñòâîâàíèÿ è çàáëóäèâøåãîñÿ â íåì, ëèòåðàòóðà ÿâëÿåòñÿ åäâà ëè íå åäèíñòâåííûì ñðåäñòâîì ñàìîñîõðàíåíèÿ, à ôè- ëîñîôñòâóþùèé ïèñàòåëü ñòàíîâèòñÿ îäíèì èç ïåðâåéøèõ ìîðàëü- íûõ äåÿòåëåé íûíåøíåãî ìèðà, ïîòîìó ÷òî çàêëàäûâàåò â ñâîè òðó- äû ïîäëèííî ãóìàíèñòè÷åñêèé ïîòåíöèàë, êîòîðûé òàê íåîáõîäèì ñåãîäíÿ äëÿ ïðàâèëüíîé ïîëèòè÷åñêîé îðèåíòàöèè. È åñëè òåîðåòè- êè «îôèöèàëüíîé» êîììóíèêàöèè, êàê ïðàâèëî, ðàáîòàþò íàä ïîä- äåðæàíèåì ïîçèöèè ïðèâèëåãèðîâàííûõ è íàèáîëåå âëèÿòåëüíûõ ñëîåâ îáùåñòâà, òî ëèòåðàòóðà â åå ñî÷åòàíèè ñ ôèëîñîôèåé è íàöå- ëåííîñòè íà îáùåçíà÷èìûå èäåè ãóìàíèçìà, ôîðìèðîâàíèå áàçîâûõ öåííîñòåé, ìîæåò äàâàòü ñìûñëîæèçíåííûå îðèåíòèðû áåç îãëÿäêè íà ñîöèàëüíûå ãðàäàöèè. Çàêîíîìåðíûì ÿâëÿåòñÿ òî, ÷òî ìíîãèå îáðàùàþòñÿ ê ëèòåðàòóðíîìó ñïîñîáó âûðàæåíèÿ ñâîèõ èäåé, ïîòî- ìó êàê èñêóññòâî ñëîâà â äåìîêðàòè÷åñêèõ îáùåñòâàõ ïîëüçóåòñÿ áåñïðåöåäåíòíûìè âîçìîæíîñòÿìè «ïðîëèâàòü ñâåò», âûäâèãàòü àëü- òåðíàòèâû, äàâàòü ïîëèòè÷åñêèå ðåêîìåíäàöèè. Áîëåå òîãî, â ïîýòèçèðóþùåé ôèëîñîôñêîé ìûñëè îòêðûâàåòñÿ åå ñïîñîáíîñòü îáíàðóæåíèÿ òàê íàçûâàåìûõ ñóáúåêòèâíûõ èñòèí, îòíî- ñÿùèõñÿ ê æåëàíèÿì, ÷óâñòâàì, èíòóèöèè. È ýòà ìûñëü ïðèçíàåò èõ â êà÷åñòâå îáúåêòèâíûõ íàðàâíå ñ íåäîñòàòî÷íûìè äëÿ ñîâðåìåííîãî ìèðîîùóùåíèÿ êëàññè÷åñêèìè èñòèíàìè, ïðîâåðåííûìè íà îïûòå è ñòðîãî îãðàíè÷åííûìè â ñâîåé îäíîçíà÷íîñòè ðàöèîíàëüíûì, íàó÷íûì äèñêóðñîì. Öåëü åäèíåíèÿ ëèòåðàòóðû ñ ôèëîñîôñêèì êîíöåïòîì ñâî- äèòñÿ ê òîìó, ÷òîáû ïðåäñòàâèòü çíàíèå íå êàê ìûñëèìîå â òåðìèíàõ ïðîòèâîïîëîæíîñòè îáúåêòà è ñóáúåêòà, íî êàê ñóáúåêòèâèðîâàííîå çíàíèå, â êîòîðîì ïðîèñõîäèò ïðåîäîëåíèå ýòîé òðàäèöèîííîé äëÿ êëàñ- ñè÷åñêîé ôèëîñîôèè îïïîçèöèè. Â ñîâðåìåííûõ óñëîâèÿõ íåïðèåìëå- ìîé ÿâëÿåòñÿ ñàìà âîçìîæíîñòü ñâåäåíèÿ ðàçíîðîäíîãî ìèðà ê äâóì ïðîòèâîïîëîæíîñòÿì, ïðè÷åì ïðè óñëîâèè, ÷òî îäíà èç íèõ îáÿçàòåëü- íî óñòàíàâëèâàåò íàä äðóãîé ñòðîãèé êîíòðîëü, òåì ñàìûì èñêëþ÷àÿ çàðîæäåíèå ëþáîãî äèàëîãà. Êîììóíèêàöèÿ íå ñâîäèòñÿ ê ïåðåäà÷å è óñâîåíèþ èíôîðìàöèè. Çäåñü îáÿçàòåëüíî íàëè÷èå îïðåäåëåííîãî óðîâíÿ êîìïåòåíòíîñòè, ñî- áëþäåíèå ÿçûêîâûõ íîðì. Íåëüçÿ íå ó÷èòûâàòü, ÷òî ïðè ñòîëêíîâåíè- ÿõ ñ äðóãèìè ñîîáùåñòâàìè, îäíèì èç ñïîñîáîâ ïðåîäîëåíèÿ óñòîÿâ- øèõñÿ íîðì, ñëîæèâøèõñÿ ïðåäðàññóäêîâ, èäåîëîãåì ÿâëÿåòñÿ èññëå- äîâàíèå ÿçûêîâîãî ïîëÿ â àñïåêòå âîçìîæíîñòåé ïîíèìàíèÿ è ÏÐÎÁËÅÌÀ ÌÅÆÊÓËÜÒÓÐÍÎÉ ÊÎÌÌÓÍÈÊÀÖÈÈ 31

ïåðåâîäèìîñòè. Òàêîå èññëåäîâàíèå íå ìîæåò îãðàíè÷èâàòüñÿ àäåê- âàòíûì ïåðåâîäîì èíîñòðàííîãî ÿçûêà, îíî âûõîäèò çà åãî ïðåäåëû è çàòðàãèâàåò ïîíèìàíèå èñòîðè÷åñêîãî êîíòåêñòà, âçàèìîäåéñòâèå ïî- çíàâàòåëüíîãî è öåííîñòíîãî, íàó÷íîãî è âíåíàó÷íîãî. Ñëîæíîñòü â óñòàíîâëåíèè êîììóíèêàöèè ñâÿçàíà ñ òåì ôàêòîì, ÷òî äàæå äëÿ ëþ- äåé, ïðèîáùåííûõ ê îäíîé êóëüòóðå, îäíè è òå æå ñëîâà ìîãóò èìåòü ðàçíûå çíà÷åíèÿ, íå âñåãäà ïîääàþùèåñÿ ÷åòêîé äåôèíèöèè, íå ãîâî- ðÿ óæå î òîì, ÷òî ýòè çíà÷åíèÿ çà÷àñòóþ ïåðåäàþòñÿ êîñâåííûì îáðà- çîì. Äèàëîã âêëþ÷àåò â ïðîöåññ êîììóíèêàöèè è èíòåðïðåòàöèþ ïî- íÿòèé, êîíòåêñò è, ÷òî íåìàëîâàæíî, òâîð÷åñêóþ èíòóèöèþ, âîîáðà- æåíèå, ÷åãî íåâîçìîæíî äîñòè÷ü áåç ñðåäñòâ ïîýòè÷åñêîãî ÿçûêà. Íî, íåñìîòðÿ íà âñå ïåðå÷èñëåííûå ïðèåìû, ïîñòðîåíèå äèàëîãà íà ïðàê- òèêå îêàçûâàåòñÿ íåïðîñòûì. Ïî ýòîé òåìå ðàçðàáîòàíî ìíîæåñòâî êîììóíèêàòèâíûõ òåîðèé. Íàïðèìåð, ëîãè÷åñêàÿ òåîðèÿ äèàëîãà íå ïîäðàçóìåâàåò âçàèìîïðî- íèêíîâåíèÿ ñòîðîí, îòêðûòîñòè Äðóãîìó. Çäåñü îáùåíèå âîçìîæíî òîëüêî â îäíîé çàðàíåå âûáðàííîé ïëîñêîñòè, òî åñòü ëèáî Äðóãîé äîëæåí âñòàòü íà ìîè ïîçèöèè, ëèáî ÿ âûíóæäåí ïîä÷èíèòüñÿ. Äëÿ Äðóãîãî ß è Äðóãîé äëÿ ìåíÿ îáúåêòû, íà êîòîðûå ìû íàïðàâëÿåì íàø âçãëÿäû ñ öåëüþ ïîçíàíèÿ, ìàíèïóëÿöèè è ò. ä.. Ïðè òàêîì îáùå- íèè ìû ÷àùå âñåãî õîòèì âèäåòü â Äðóãîì ñêîðåå ñõîäñòâî ñ íàìè ñàìèìè, íåæåëè îòëè÷èÿ, è åñëè íå äîñòèãàåòñÿ öåëü, çàêëþ÷àþùàÿñÿ â «ïðèðó÷åíèè» ýòîãî ×óæîãî, òî ýòî è ñîçäàåò ñàìóþ áîëüøóþ óãðî- çó íàøåìó ïîíÿòíîìó, ïðèâû÷íîìó è ïðåäñêàçóåìîìó ìèðó. Ïðîòèâî- ïîëîæíàÿ ôåíîìåíîëîãè÷åñêàÿ òðàäèöèÿ òåîðèè êîììóíèêàöèè, âî ìíîãîì âåðíî äåëàåò àêöåíò íà òîì, ÷òî ïîäëèííûé äèàëîã ìîæåò ðàç- âèâàòüñÿ òîëüêî ïðè óñëîâèè íàëè÷èÿ äîâåðèòåëüíûõ ÷åëîâå÷åñêèõ îòíîøåíèé. Ñëåäîâàòåëüíî, âñÿêîå ñîçíàòåëüíîå ñòðåìëåíèå ê öåëè, êàêèìè áû áëàãèìè íè áûëè íàìåðåíèÿ ó÷àñòíèêîâ, óíè÷òîæàåò äèà- ëîã, ïîñêîëüêó ëè÷íûå öåëè îêàçûâàþòñÿ, âî ïåðâûõ, ïðåãðàäîé íà ïóòè íåïîñðåäñòâåííîãî ïðèíÿòèÿ äðóãîãî, à âî-âòîðûõ, ïðåïÿòñòâó- þò ðàñêðûòèþ ñîáñòâåííîé ñóùíîñòè.3 È çäåñü ìû ñòàëêèâàåìñÿ ñ òàêîé ñèòóàöèé, êîãäà âîçíèêàåò âîïðîñ: íå îêàçûâàåòñÿ ëè äàííîå òðåáîâàíèå àáñîëþòíîãî äîâåðèÿ ñëèøêîì èäåàëüíûì äëÿ ëþäåé, ïðè- íàäëåæàùèõ ê îäíîé êóëüòóðå, è â ïðèíöèïå íåîñóùåñòâèìûì äëÿ ó÷àñòíèêîâ, èìåþùèõ êóëüòóðíûå ðàçëè÷èÿ? Îòâåò, êîíå÷íî, äîëæåí èñêëþ÷àòü ñîìíåíèå â ñàìîé âîçìîæíîñòè óñòàíîâëåíèÿ äèàëîãà. 32 Ìàðüÿ ÐÎÇÀÍÎÂÀ

Ïðàêòèêà ïîêàçûâàåò, ÷òî ïðåæäå, ÷åì óñòàíîâèòü ïîäëèííûé äèàëîã, ó÷àñòíèêè äîëæíû èìåòü âçàèìíûé èíòåðåñ äðóã ê äðóãó, èçíà÷àëü- íóþ ïðåäðàñïîëîæåííîñòü ê âîñïðèÿòèþ îïûòà Äðóãîãî, èíà÷å îí áóäåò îòòîðãíóò, îñòàíåòñÿ íåçàìå÷åííûì, è â ëó÷øåì ñëó÷àå ïîä- âåðãíóò êðèòè÷åñêîìó îñìûñëåíèþ. Êðîìå òîãî, âñå, ÷òî êàñàåòñÿ îá- ùåíèÿ ñ ×óæèìè, âñåãäà ñîïðÿæåíî ñ íåêîòîðîé ñòåïåíüþ íàïðÿæåí- íîñòè, íåäîâåðèÿ è íåðåäêî ñîïðîâîæäàåòñÿ ãëóáèííî èíñòèíêòèâíûì ÷óâñòâîì îïàñíîñòè. È â òî æå âðåìÿ äàæå òàêîå îáùåíèå ÿâëÿåòñÿ ïîçèòèâíûì. Îíî âûâîäèò íàñ èç ðàâíîâåñèÿ è, ÷òîáû èçáàâèòüñÿ îò îïàñíîñòè óãðîçû è íåîäîëèìîãî áåñïîêîéñòâà, íàâåÿííîãî íåèçâåñò- íîñòüþ, çàñòàâëÿåò íàñ äâèãàòüñÿ, âûáèðàòü ìåòîäû çàùèòû, âûéòè çà ïðåäåëû ñâîåé îãðàíè÷åííîñòè, âûñòðàèâàòü ìåòîäû êîììóíèêàöèè è íàïðÿæåííî èñêàòü âîçìîæíîñòü óñòàíîâëåíèÿ äèàëîãà. Ïðèõîäèòñÿ êîíñòàòèðîâàòü òîò ôàêò, ÷òî àíàëèòè÷åñêèå ïðàêòèêè, ìåòîäîëîãè÷åñêèé ðàöèîíàëèçì íå ïîçâîëÿþò íàéòè ïîäõîä ê Äðóãîìó. Ïîíèìàíèå ìîãóò îáåñïå÷èâàòü ñêîðåå èíòóèöèÿ, âîîáðàæåíèå, òâîð- ÷åñòâî è ïðèíöèïèàëüíàÿ îòêðûòîñòü. Â öåëîì, äëÿ êîììóíèêàòèâíîé ïðàêòèêè àêòóàëüíîé ñòàíîâèòñÿ íå àêàäåìè÷åñêàÿ ôèëîñîôèÿ, à æè- âàÿ, êîòîðàÿ âîïðîøàåò î ÷åëîâåêå, ñìûñëå åãî ïîñòîÿííî ìåíÿþùåéñÿ æèçíè, è êîòîðàÿ ïðåäïîëàãàåò âçàèìíîå êîíñòèòóèðîâàíèå åäèíîãî ñìûñëîâîãî ïîëÿ ïîíèìàíèÿ, ïîìîãàÿ îñìûñëèòü ãëóáèííûå îíòîëîãè- ÷åñêèå è ïñèõîëîãè÷åñêèå ñâÿçè ÷åëîâåêà ñ ìèðîì. Ñàìà êîììóíèêà- òèâíàÿ ïðàêòèêà â ôîðìå åäèíåíèÿ ëèòåðàòóðíîãî ñïîñîáà îïèñàíèÿ è ôèëîñîôñêèõ êîíöåïöèé íàïðÿìóþ ñâÿçàíà ñ îòêðûòèåì äëÿ åâðîïåéñ- êîãî ìûøëåíèÿ òðàäèöèè ïîýòèçèðóþùåé âîñòî÷íîé ìóäðîñòè. È âî ìíîãîì â ðàìêàõ äàííîé ïðîáëåìàòèêè ïðîèñõîäèò ñåãîäíÿ âûñòðàèâà- íèå äèàëîãà ôèëîñîôñêèõ êóëüòóð, ãëàâíîé öåëüþ êîòîðîãî ñëóæèò ðàñ- øèðåíèå ìèðîâîççðåíèÿ, ðàñöâåò òðàäèöèé ñ ñîõðàíåíèåì èõ èíäèâè- äóàëüíîñòè. Ëþáîå ïðîèçâåäåíèå èñêóññòâà êîíñòèòóèðóåò ñóæäåíèå, ïðåäñòàâ- ëÿÿ ñîáîé îñîáûé ñïîñîá óñòàíîâëåíèÿ êîììóíèêàöèè. È, ïðåæäå âñå- ãî, ýòî êàñàåòñÿ ëèòåðàòóðû, ïîñêîëüêó ÿçûê ÷åëîâåêà ÿâëÿåòñÿ óñëîâè- åì åãî ñïîñîáíîñòè âèäåòü, äâèãàòüñÿ, ìûñëèòü, è êàæäîå èç ýòèõ äåé- ñòâèé îí ïðåîáðàçóåò â êîììóíèêàöèþ. Äàæå åñëè óòâåðæäàòü, ÷òî èñêóññòâî ñóùåñòâåííî íè íà ÷òî íå âëèÿåò â ýòîì ìèðå, âñå ðàâíî ïðè- õîäèòñÿ ïðèçíàòü, ÷òî îíî çàñòàâëÿþò ìûñëèòü è ìåíÿòü íàøè óñòîÿâ- øèåñÿ ïðåäñòàâëåíèÿ î ïðèâû÷íûõ âåùàõ.4 ÏÐÎÁËÅÌÀ ÌÅÆÊÓËÜÒÓÐÍÎÉ ÊÎÌÌÓÍÈÊÀÖÈÈ 33

Â Åâðîïå òåíäåíöèÿ ñèíêðåòè÷åñêîãî åäèíñòâà ôèëîñîôñêîãî è õó- äîæåñòâåííîãî ïîëåé ñâîå íàèáîëåå ÿâíîå âûðàæåíèå îáíàðóæèëà â ôè- ëîñîôñêèõ øêîëàõ Ôðàíöèè (Æ. Äåëåç , Ï. Ðèêåð, Þ. Êðèñòåâà, Æ. Äåñ- ñîí è äð. ). Íî âñå æå áîëüøèé èíòåðåñ â äàííîé ñâÿçè âûçûâàåò åå ñòà- íîâëåíèå è âûçðåâàíèå â àíàëèòè÷åñêîé òðàäèöèè. Â ýòîì ñìûñëå íåîáõîäèìî óïîìÿíóòü ôèëîñîôñêî-ëèòåðàòóðíîå òâîð÷åñòâî Áåðòðàíà Ðàññåëà, èçâåñòíîãî â îñíîâíîì êàê îäèí èç îñíîâàòåëåé àíàëèòè÷åñêîé ôèëîñîôèè, ôèëîñîôèè ëîãè÷åñêîãî àòîìèçìà, íî ñî âðåìåíåì çàêîíî- ìåðíî ïðèøåäøåãî ê ëèòåðàòóðíîé ôîðìå èçëîæåíèÿ è ê ïîýòè÷åñêèì âîçìîæíîñòÿì ÿçûêà, òåì ñàìûì ñûãðàâøåãî çíà÷èòåëüíóþ ðîëü â ñòà- íîâëåíèÿ ñîâðåìåííîé êîììóíèêàöèè. Ðàññåë îäíèì èç ïåðâûõ â àíàëè- òè÷åñêîé ñôåðå âûñòóïèë â çàùèòó ìåòàôîðè÷íîñòè â ÿçûêå, äîêàçûâàÿ, ÷òî õîòÿ ñòðîãèé èäåàëüíûé ÿçûê, êîíå÷íî, áåçóïðå÷åí, íî ìû íå ìîæåì ïîëüçîâàòüñÿ èì â æèçíè (ñîâðåìåííûå èññëåäîâàíèÿ àíãëèéñêèõ ôèëî- ñîôîâ ïîäòâåðäèëè â ðàìêàõ òåîðèè ëèíãâèñòè÷åñêîé èíòåðïðåòàöèè, ÷òî íå ñóùåñòâóåò ðàçíèöû ìåæäó ìåòàôîðîé è ñòðîãèì ïîíÿòèåì, îíà ìî- æåò âûÿâèòüñÿ ëèøü â îïðåäåëåííîì êîíòåêñòå). Óæå ê ñåðåäèíå äâàäöà- òîãî ñòîëåòèÿ Ðàññåë â ñâîåì ëèòåðàòóðíîì òâîð÷åñòâå ðàñøèðÿåò ïîíÿ- òèå ðàöèîíàëüíîñòè, ñòàíîâèòñÿ ïðåäâåñòíèêîì ïîñòíåêëàññè÷åñêîé ðà- öèîíàëüíîñòè, êîòîðàÿ ñî÷åòàåò â ñåáå ëîãè÷åñêèå îñíîâàíèÿ ñ êóëüòóðíî-èñòîðè÷åñêèì êîíòåêñòîì. Òîëåðàíòíîñòü èñêóññòâà ëèòåðà- òóðíîãî ïîâåñòâîâàíèÿ ïîçâîëèëà Ðàññåëó äî èçâåñòíîé ñòåïåíè âìåñ- òèòü â ñâîè ðàáîòû âåñü ïðåäøåñòâóþùèé îïûò íå òîëüêî ñâîåé êóëüòó- ðû, íî è îïûò ìèðîâèäåíèÿ äðóãèõ êóëüòóð («Ïðîáëåìà Êèòàÿ»5 ). Áåðò- ðàí Ðàññåë ñòàë îäíèì èç ïåðâûõ çàïàäíûõ ìûñëèòåëåé, ÿñíî îñîçíàâøèì, ÷òî ñ ðåçêî âîçðîñøåé êîììóíèêàöèåé, ÷ðåçâû÷àéíî èíòåíñèâíûì âçàè- ìîäåéñòâèåì êóëüòóð, ÷åëîâå÷åñòâî êàê íèêîãäà íóæäàåòñÿ â ðàâíîïðàâ- íîì äèàëîãå, êîòîðûé ÿâëÿåòñÿ îñíîâîé âçàèìîïîíèìàíèÿ â ñîâðåìåí- íîì ìèðå. Âî ìíîãîì áëàãîäàðÿ åãî òðóäàì èçíà÷àëüíî ñôîðìèðîâàâøå- åñÿ â ðàìêàõ õóäîæåñòâåííîãî ìèðîâèäåíèÿ ïðåäñòàâëåíèå î öåëîñòíîñòè ìèðà, âîçìîæíîñòè ðàâíîïðàâíîãî ñîñóùåñòâîâàíèÿ ðàçëè÷íûõ òî÷åê çðåíèÿ, öåííîñòåé, ïëþðàëèçìà ìåòîäîâ, ïîñòåïåííî ñòàëî ïðîíèêàòü è â äðóãèå îáëàñòè çíàíèÿ. Âî ìíîãîì ïîä âëèÿíèåì òàêèõ íåçàóðÿäíûõ ìûñëèòåëåé êàê Á. Ðàññåë, åâðîïåéñêàÿ ôèëîñîôèÿ ïîñòåïåííî îòêàçà- ëàñü îò ïðèòÿçàíèé íà óíèâåðñàëüíîñòü, ìîíîëîãèçì è ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñî- áîé ìíîãîóðîâíåâûé äèàëîã, â êîòîðîì ëþáûå ôèëîñîôñêèå øêîëû è íàïðàâëåíèÿ èìåþò ðàâíîçíà÷íóþ öåííîñòü. 34 Ìàðüÿ ÐÎÇÀÍÎÂÀ

Îñîáóþ àêòóàëüíîñòü êîììóíèêàòèâíûå òåîðèè ïðèîáðåòàþò â ïå- ðèîä ãëîáàëèçàöèîííûõ ïðîöåññîâ â ìèðå, êîãäà ìû èìååì äåëî ñ ôîð- ìèðîâàíèåì îòêðûòûõ, òåñíî âçàèìîäåéñòâóþùèõ è âçàèìîñâÿçàííûõ êóëüòóð. Íàøà ïîâñåäíåâíàÿ ñðåäà îáùåíèÿ íàïîëíåíà ìíîãî÷èñëåí- íûìè ñèìâîëè÷åñêèìè êîäàìè, îïðåäåëåííûì íàáîðîì ñðåäñòâ êîììó- íèêàòèâíîãî âçàèìîäåéñòâèÿ. Ïðè îáùåíèè ñ Äðóãèìè ìû èñïîëüçóåì ìîäåëè è òàêòèêó ïîâåäåíèÿ, êîòîðûå ïðèíèìàëèñü è, êàê ïðàâèëî, çàê- ðåïëÿëèñü â íàøåé ñîöèîêóëüòóðíîé ñðåäå â õîäå èñòîðè÷åñêîãî ðàçâè- òèÿ. Âìåñòå ñ íèìè ìû âîñïðèíèìàåì è ñòåðåîòèïû, êîòîðûå, íàäî ñêà- çàòü, íå âñåãäà íåâåðíû. Ïðè ñòîëêíîâåíèè ñ èíîé êóëüòóðîé íàø ñîá- ñòâåííûé íàáîð ñòàíäàðòíûõ òèïîâ è ïðàâèë îáùåíèÿ ìîæåò íå ñðàáàòûâàòü, à íåñáûâøèåñÿ îæèäàíèÿ ìåæäó ó÷àñòíèêàìè êîììóíè- êàöèè, óâåëè÷åíèå òðóäíîñòè â ñîãëàñîâàíèè èíòåðåñîâ çà÷àñòóþ îáî- ðà÷èâàþòñÿ ïðè÷èíîé âîçíèêíîâåíèÿ êîíôëèêòîâ. Íåóìåíèå íàéòè äè- àëîã â XX âåêå ïðèâåëî ê òîìó, ÷òî ïîäàâëÿþùàÿ ÷àñòü êîíôëèêòîâ íî- ñèëà íàöèîíàëüíûé õàðàêòåð. Ïîëèòè÷åñêàÿ îáñòàíîâêà â ìèðå íå îòëè÷àåòñÿ ñòàáèëüíîñòüþ, ìíîãèå èíñòèòóòû ðàáîòàþò íàä òâîð÷åñ- êèì ñîçäàíèåì íîâûõ çíà÷åíèé è ñðåäñòâ êîììóíèêàöèè. Â ðàìêàõ ìåæ- êóëüòóðíîé êîììóíèêàöèè îíè ïîìîãàþò ñôîðìóëèðîâàòü íåêèå îáùèå èäåàëû è öåííîñòè (òîëåðàíòíîñòü, ðàâíîïðàâèå òðàäèöèé, ýòèêà è ïî- ëèòèêà îòâåòñòâåííîñòè, è äð.). Íî ïðîöåññ ñîçäàíèÿ åäèíîãî ïîëÿ êîì- ìóíèêàòèâíîãî âçàèìîäåéñòâèÿ íå ïðîõîäèò ãëàäêî. Íàïðèìåð, ïðèíÿ- òûå èçíà÷àëüíî â êà÷åñòâå áàçîâûõ òàêèå «îáùå÷åëîâå÷åñêèå», óíèâåð- ñàëüíûå öåííîñòè êàê ïðàâà ÷åëîâåêà (ñôîðìèðîâàâøèåñÿ, êñòàòè, îòíîñèòåëüíî íåäàâíî â ýïîõó Ïðîñâåùåíèÿ) îêàçûâàþòñÿ âî ìíîãîì íåñîâìåñòèìûìè ñ ïîëèòè÷åñêèìè è êóëüòóðíûìè îáû÷àÿìè ìíîãèõ ñòðàí Âîñòîêà. È çäåñü íà ïîìîùü ìîæåò ïðèéòè îáøèðíûé ôèëîñîô- ñêî-ëèòåðàòóðíûé îïûò, âûðàæàþùèé ïîäëèííóþ ñóùíîñòü ëþáîé êóëüòóðû, ïðåäñêàçûâàþùèé ïåðñïåêòèâû âçàèìîäåéñòâèÿ ðàçëè÷íûõ êîäîâ è ñðåäñòâ ïåðåäà÷è èíôîðìàöèè, è âñåãäà ÷óòêèé ê íîâûì òåí- äåíöèÿì è íîâûì êîììóíèêàòèâíûì ïðàêòèêàì. Ôàêòè÷åñêè, ìîæíî ñäåëàòü âûâîä î òîì, ÷òî íîâàÿ ëèòåðàòóðíî- õóäîæåñòâåííàÿ ôîðìà âûðàæåíèÿ ôèëîñîôñêîé ìûñëè, âî ìíîãîì ñôîð- ìèðîâàâøàÿñÿ ïîä âëèÿíèåì âîñòî÷íîé ìóäðîñòè, è ÿâëÿþùàÿ ñîáîé ðàçâèòèå êîììóíèêàöèè íà íîâîì óðîâíå, ïîìîãàåò ÷åëîâåêó íå òîëüêî îñîçíàòü åãî ìåñòî â ìèðå, íî è îêàçûâàåòñÿ áàçîé, íà êîòîðîé îñóùå- ñòâëÿåòñÿ ñåãîäíÿ äèàëîã êóëüòóð. Íîâàÿ ìåòîäîëîãèÿ ñâîäèòñÿ ê íà- ÏÐÎÁËÅÌÀ ÌÅÆÊÓËÜÒÓÐÍÎÉ ÊÎÌÌÓÍÈÊÀÖÈÈ 35

õîæäåíèþ ïîíèìàíèÿ, îðèåíòèðóþùåãîñÿ íå ñòîëüêî íà ñõîäñòâå, ñêîëü- êî íà ðàçëè÷èè. Áëàãîäàðÿ ýòîìó ìû ïîñòåïåííî óõîäèì îò çàïàäíîé ïàðàäèãìû ñîçäàíèÿ åäèíñòâà â ìíîãîîáðàçèè è ïåðåõîäèì ê áîëåå íåé- òðàëüíîìó ìíîãîîáðàçèþ â åäèíñòâå.

THE PROBLEM OF COMMUNICATION AND PHILOSOPHICAL DEVELOPMENT WITH RESPECT TO CONTEMPORARY REALITY Maria ROZANOVA State Petersburg University, Russia

Philosophy simultaneously reflects concrete aspects of culture while being a product of its intellectual flourishing. The close intercourse and interaction between nations and has given rise to the need to understand the basis for these contacts and this communication. The most important basis is founded on common values. Philosophy is the instrument that helps us analyze the contemporary needs of mankind and choose and define the main values people hold in common throughout the world. In the twentieth century, philosophy helped to develop bridges between different individual and national outlooks. The exchange of ideas between philosophers of West to East regarding the specificity of cultural and philosophical existence has been fruitful, for it has opened new horizons for Western philosophy. What appeared, at first sight, to be two perfectly incompatible opposite cultures ¾ East and West ¾ has, in combination, formed original unity. Which explains why the problem of communication has become very popular. New theories of communication have simultaneously arisen in many academic disciplines, until we now have a pleth- ora of communicative theories reflecting many different viewpoints. For example, the logic theory of dialogue does not refer to ñlose friendly exchanges between participants based on openness to another. It refers only to a certain type of dialogue: should another person accept my position or my principles, or I should accept his? The purpose of this kind of dialogue is manipulation, and the participants in and the substance of this communication are just objects. On the other hand, the phenomenological theory of communication says that real dialogue can be possible only if the participants are open to each other 36 Ìàðüÿ ÐÎÇÀÍÎÂÀ and they exchange confidential human attitudes. In this type of dialogue, understanding can promote intuition, imagination, creativity and openness, whereas analytical practice and methodological rationalism cut off the opportunity for closeness. The latter approach has made a significant contribution in the development of communications in diverse fields, including psychology, sociology, philosophy, and also literature. Literature is a special case. Literature is informed by ordinary reflections, but it formulates and transforms them in a way that the theoretical concepts have influence on ordinary thinking and daily practice, thus changing them. So literary communication has a practical importance, including political. It plays a very positive role. For the individual who has lost himself in the catastrophic space of contemporary existence, literature gives the unique means of self-preservation, humanistic potential, which is necessary for cor- rect orientation. For example, some of the ideas in Bertrand Russell’s literary work, “The Problem of China,” can be helpful in solving actual problems in the dialogue of cultures. In this book, Russell concludes that European values cannot become common in every culture. For instance, the western ideal of human rights is unacceptable to many people of other civilizations. It is not a “universal” principle . At the beginning of the 20th century, Russell sought to protect China’s distinctive culture from western rigid aggressive politics that were tending to eradicate its originality by substituting the original Chinese values with a European or American lifestyle. Russell sought to reverse the trend. Accord- ing to his opinion eastern values such as tolerance can give a positive contribution to western culture and to solve many problems in this way. Russell was one of the first philosophers of the West to proclaim the idea of real equal dialogue between different civilizations. Through this dialogue we gradually move from the western conception of creation of unity in variety toward the more neutral variety in unity. Russell research regarding China ascertained that analytical practice and methodological rationalism do not allow understanding of other cultures. Only a more phenomenological approach involving intuition, imagination, creativity and openness can provide understanding of other cultures. The rapidly changing world is too complex to be fully understood using classical philosophical notions. Conventional philosophical discourse is too old, too simple, primitive and rational for understanding, explaining and capturing the essence of the ÏÐÎÁËÅÌÀ ÌÅÆÊÓËÜÒÓÐÍÎÉ ÊÎÌÌÓÍÈÊÀÖÈÈ 37 processes of the external and internal world. Literary language is much closer to life as it allows for the expression of emotions, feelings and more subtle life processes. Literary language is not so rigid and rational as the special language of classical philosophy; its limits are not so narrow. Bertrand Russell became one of first westerners to realized that the increased communication of the modern age would lead to extremely intensive interaction among cultures, and mankind, as never before, requires equal dialogue based on mutual understanding. Thus, philosophy as essence of culture appears not only the form of uniqueness of cultures, but also their generality. ÏÐÈÌÅ×ÀÍÈß 1 Ñàðòð Æ. Ï. ×òî òàêîå ëèòåðàòóðà? Ñëîâà. Ìí., 1999. Ñ. 20. 2 Òàì æå. Ñ. 22. 3 Êðåéã Ð. Ò. Òåîðèÿ êîììóíèêàöèè êàê îáëàñòü çíàíèÿ // Êîìïàðàòèâèñòèêà - III : Àëüìàíàõ ñðàâíèòåëüíûõ ñîöèîãóìàíèòàðíûõ èññëåäîâàíèé. ÑÏá.: Ñî- öèîëîãè÷åñêîå ñîîáùåñòâî, 2003. Ñ. 105. 4 Äåññîí Æ. Õóäîæåñòâåííàÿ ìûñëü // Ïîçèöèè ñîâðåìåííîé ôèëîñîôèè. Âûï. 2 . Ñ. 40. 5 Russell B. The Problem of China. London, 1922.

BEYOND POSTMODERNISM: TOWARD AN AESTHETIC OF TRUST

Ihab HASSAN Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA

Introduction My theme is the evolution of postmodernism, or rather, our own evolution in postmodern times. Since I owe readers clarity and concision, which have all but abandoned us in academe, let me focus the issue at the start. What lies beyond postmodernism? Of course, no one knows; we hardly know what postmodernism was. But questions have a way of inveigling an answer. I will offer a double response in the form of two, major intertwined themes : postmodernism ex- pands into geopolitical postmodernity while seeking to become a postmodernism not of suspicion but of trust. The braided strands of this proposition may define the cultural code of our moment. How? What Was Postmodernism? Let us step back for a moment. What was postmodernism in the first place? I am not at all certain, for I know less about it today than I did some thirty years ago. No doubt, that is because I have changed, postmodernism has changed, the world has changed, and historical concepts, unlike Platonic Ideas or geo- metrical forms, suffer the tyranny of time. Of course, postmodernism was born in strife and nursed in contention; it still remains moot. Lock ten of its foremost proponents in a room, and watch the blood trickle under the door. Hype and hyperbole, parody and kitsch, media glitz and ideological spite, the sheer, insatiable irrealism of consumer societies all helped to turn postmodernism into a conceptual ectoplasm. I cite – from an essay called “From Postmodernism to Postmodernity” – four current exemplars of the phenomenon, nearly at random: 1. Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao (Spain), Ashton Rag- gatt McDougall’s Storey Hall in Melbourne (Australia), and Arata Isozaki’s Tsukuba Center (Japan) qualify as postmodern architecture. They depart from the pure angular geometries of the Bauhaus, the minimal steel and glass box- es of Mies van der Rohe, mixing aesthetic and historical elements, flirting with fragments, fantasy, and even vulgarity. 2. In a recent encyclical, titled “Fides et Ratio,” Pope John Paul II actually used the word postmodernism to condemn extreme relativism in values and beliefs, acute irony and skepticism toward reason, and the denial of any possibility of truth, human or divine – in short, from the Church’s point of view, incipient nihilism. 3. In cultural studies, a highly politicized field, the term postmodernism often surrenders to postcolonialism, the former deemed historically feckless, being “unpolitical” or, worse, not political in the right way. Postcolonialism is deemed a serious concept, postmodernism a light one. 4. In Pop culture, postmodernism – or PoMo as Yuppies call it insouci- antly – refers to a wide range of phenomena, from Andy Warhol to Madonna, from the colossal plaster Mona Lisa I saw advertising a pachinko parlor in Tokyo to the giant, cardboard figure of Michelangelo’s David – pink dayglo glasses, canary shorts, a camera slung across bare, brawny shoulders – advertising Kon Tiki Travel in New Zealand. What do all these have in common? The answer is familiar by now: fragments, hybridity, relativism, play, parody, pastiche, an ironic, sophistical stance, an ethos bordering on kitsch and camp. So, willy nilly, we have begun to gather a family of words applying to postmodernism; we have begun to sketch a context, if not a definition, for it. (More ambitious readers can consult Hans Bertens’ The Idea of the Postmodern, the best and fairest introduction to the topic I know.) But who needs definitions nowadays, anyway? The desert grows, the desert grows, Nietzsche growled only yesterday, and our mouths now parch with de- definition, with disbelief. Still, rather than construct bizarre tables, contrasting modernism with postmodernism, as certain critics have done, I propose to engage postmodernism in ways that may lead us through it, beyond it. The Equivocal Autobiography of an Age In 1784, Immanuel Kant asked, in a celebrated essay, “Was ist Aufklärung?” The question was taken up by Michel Foucault, though we do better to ask ourselves, in terms of this particular occasion, “Was ist Post- modernismus?” How could we ever share the historical poise of the punctual thinker of Königsberg? Versed in suspicion, inward with incredulity, vota- ries of decenterment, pluralist, pragmatic, polychronic, we can hardly privi- 40 Ihab HASSAN lege our moment as Kant privileged the Enlightenment. Instead, we betray an abandon of belatedness, a delirium of reflexivity, a limitless anxiety of self-nomination. Who am I, who are we – is that not the chorus of the moment? Perhaps postmodernism can be defined, after all, as a continuous exercise in self-definition. Or perhaps we can simply call it the equivocal autobiography of an age. This is not altogether flip: two pivotal points are at issue here. One regards the hermeneutic seductions of postmodernism in developed societies. The other relates to the crisis of identity, driving geopolitics in the postwar era (I will return to that idea in discussing postmodernity). Let me begin with the former. Autobiography, as we all know, is a verbal interpretation – not simply recollection, not simply construction – of a life. So is postmodernism a collective interpretation of an age. More than an artistic style or historical trend, more than a personal sensibility or zeitgeist, postmodernism is a hermeneutic device, a habit of interpretation, a way of reading all our signs under the mandate of misprision. I simply mean that we now see the world through postmodern-tinted glasses. Rabelais? Look at all those excesses of parody and pastiche, all those paratactical lists. Sterne? Please, don’t be obvious. Jane Austen? See all those self-reflexive ironies, those subtle deconstruc- tions of squirearchy not to mention phallocracy. And so it goes (as Vonnegut would say). Moreover, it’s all true, or at least partially true. But not even a fatwa would induce me to consider Rabelais, Sterne, and Austen postmodern or, preposterously, pre-postmodern. Certainly, we read history from the vantage of the present; certainly we write history as narratives, tropic and revisionary. But this gives us no licence to cannibalize our past to feed our flesh. History, too, has its pragmatic truth, its otherness, which refuses assimilation to our needs, our desires. History, too, requires our tact, our respect, our trust: I mean that measure of intuition, empathy, and self-discipline enabling every cognitive act. I hope you do not think I have lost myself in the labyrinths of postmodernism. Words like truth, trust, tact are key to the idiom of this paper, and I will return to them, repeatedly. For the moment, however, I wanted simply to suggest that postmodernism could be understood as a kind of autobiography, an interpretation of our lives in developed societies, linked to an epochal crisis of identity, the other pivotal point. A Global Crisis of Identity What, then, is that global crisis of identity? Look everywhere, the evidence chills the blood, boggles the mind. Fortunately, some sane and read- able books, like Michael Ignatieff’s Blood and Belonging and Amin Maal- ouf’s In the Name of Identity, help us to awake from this particular night- mare of history. The latter work is especially pertinent here, though I can summarize its generous argument only in the baldest terms. Maalouf calls for the acceptance of multiple and dynamic identities, without prejudice to any; he rejects, in all of us, a single, static, essential self, “deep down inside,” coercing other allegiances. And he insists on respect, reciprocity, non-exclusiveness, in the exacerbated traffic between fields of cultural force, anthropological zones, estates of personal being. Still, since modernity is so often perceived as “the hand of the stranger” in many cultures, the shadow of suspicion, indeed of outraged rejection, falls on the West, especially on the United States. In this nexus, a free spirituality, loose- ly attached, or even unattached, to the need to belong, may prove salutary. Maalouf concludes by enjoining us to act and to dream: We must act in such a way as to bring about a situation in which no one feels excluded from the common civilisation that is coming into existence; in which everyone may be able to find the language of his own identity and some symbols of his own culture; and in which everyone can identify to some degree with what he sees emerging in the world about him, instead of seeking refuge in an idealised past (163).

That is, indeed, the practical dream of a pluralist postmodernity. But how is that crisis of identity relevant to postmodernism itself? And how do I distinguish between postmodernism and postmodernity? In the past, I resorted to a neologism, “Indetermanence,” to interpret postmodernism. I meant to designate two decisive antithetical, but not dialectical, tendencies: indeterminacy and immanence. (See “Culture, Indeterminacy, and Immanence” in The Postmodern Turn and the “Postscript” of The Dismember- ment of Orpheus.) Since then, the double process of “localization” and “globalization,” as every CEO now glibly says, has become dire. What I had hinted has become the daily grist of our news: I mean the sundry movements of seces- sion, decolonization, separatism, on the one hand, and the fluent imperium of 42 Ihab HASSAN high-tech, media capitalism, on the other – cargo cults here, satellites there, the Taliban in one place, Madonna everywhere. In sum, cultural postmodernism has mutated into genocidal postmodernity (witness Palestine, Bosnia, Kosovo, Ulster, Rwanda, Chechnya, Kurdistan, Sri Lanka, Sudan, Afghanistan, Tibet…). But cultural postmodernism itself has also metastasized into sterile, campy, kitschy, jokey, dead-end games or sheer media hype. To these changes, the world responded with vast changes of its own, changes that I describe as postmodernity. From Postmodernism to Postmodernity This brings me to the first, braided theme of this essay: namely, the expansion of postmodernism into postmodernity. It is as if the breaks, the indeterminacies, of the former have turned into tribalism (postcolonial fac- tions), and the immanences of the former have accelerated world interactions (globalization). I say “as if” because I distrust large and symmetrical explanations. In any case, the horrendous facts of postmodernity invade our lives continually: diasporas, migrations, refugees, the killing fields, a crisis of personal and cultural values seemingly without parallel in history. Therefore, we may be forgiven to conclude: a specter is haunting Europe and the world – the specter of Identity. Can we wonder that its ghostly steps lead everywhere, from the jungles of the Philippines to those of Peru, from the ruins of the World Trade Center to the wastes of Gaza, from the tenements of Belfast to the mosques of Kashmir? Some will proffer socio-economic explanations, the inequities of north and south, west and east, which feed the iniquities of the world. Some will adduce vast conflicts of civilizations, which, since 9/11, have given Samuel P. Huntington renewed plausibility. And some will cite sociobiology, the “epi- genetic rules” of E. O. Wilson or the “mass soul” of Elias Canetti, hard- wired in our species. Yet none of these facts suffices alone, as Amin Maalouf would agree. Beyond postmodernism, beyond the evasions of poststructuralist theories and pieties of postcolonial studies, we need to discover new relations between selves and others, margins and centers, fragments and wholes – indeed, new relations between selves and selves, margins and margins, centers and centers – discover what I call a new, pragmatic and planetary civility. That’s the crux and issue of postmodernity. But how establish this civility without borders? Needless to say, short of omiscience, short of omnipotence, I find no answer to this query. But I can try to put certain ideas, certain words, into play, words that we have forgotten in academe, words that need, more than refurbishing, reinvention. I mean words like truth, trust, spirit, all uncapital- ized, in addition to words like reciprocity and respect, sympathy and empathy, so central to In the Name of Identity. Here twines the second strand, or major theme, of the essay. Truth and Trust If truth is dead, then everything is permitted – because its alternatives, now more than ever, are rank power and rampant desire. True (pun intended), we no longer share an absolute, transcendent, or foundational Truth. But in daily life, we distinguish well enough between truth and falsehood, from little white lies to darker deceptions. It is repug- nant to pretend that the atrophy of transcendent truths licenses self-deception or justifies tendentiousness – truth is not pravda. Truth is a single phoneme, but it carries the curse of miscellany, of sundry semantemes. There is traditional truth: what myth and tradition hold to have been always so. There is revealed truth: what a divine, sacred, or super- natural authority declares as true. There is the truth of power: what a tyrant proclaims, believe it or die. There is the truth of political or social or personal expediency: it would be good for the party, or for the community, or for my own interest, to assume such to be the case. There is truth as correspon- dence: in naïve science and empiricism. There is the more sophisticated truth of scientific falsification: a theory is held true until disproven. There is truth as coherence: in the arts, especially music, in mathematics and logical systems. There is the truth of a poetic intuition: for instance, Yeats’s quip that we “can refute Hegel but not the Saint or the Song of Sixpence.” There is subjective truth: what you intensely feel or experience or desire becomes incontrovertibly so. There are probably other kinds of imbricated truths, and they all revert to some underlying axiom or belief. William James knew this nearly a century before Rorty or Derrida. In Pragmatism, he acknowledges the fecund diversity of truth, a truth, he says “made, just as health, wealth, and strength are made, in the course of experience” (143). But this is not an invitation to cynicism, self-interest, or ideological mendacity. For at the heart of James’s own philosophical practice is 44 Ihab HASSAN an idea of trust: truth rests not on transcendence but on trust. This fiduciary principle is epistemic, ethical, and personal all at the same time, since our trust must also depend on another’s trust, and our faith, James remarks in The Will To Believe, “is faith in someone else’s faith, and in the greatest matters this is most the case” (9). Hence the self-defeating character of radical relativism, of extreme particularism, which denies reciprocity, denies both empathy and obligation. Epistemic trust flows, in Western cultures at least, from evidence, logic, dispassion, trial, doubt – from intuitions and speculations, too, that can earn our unselfish assent. Altruism, like self-criticism, is conducive to trust. Such trust, I have said, is fragile. “How can one and the same identical fact experience itself so diversely?” James asks in A Pluralistic Universe (94f). And in the end – I repeat, in the end – he answers that our “passional natures” must decide “between propositions, whenever it is a genuine option that cannot by its nature be decided on intellectual grounds” (W,11). But these “passional natures,” I wonder, have they no cognizance of broader restraint, a larger reference? The question reclaims maligned universals. Both social determinism and cultural constructionism find them anathema. Yet universals, not Platonic but empiric, abound. For instance: languages; human emotions; marks of status; ceremonies of birth, marriage, and death; gods, spirits, taboos and their rituals; not to mention sociobiological imperatives like the sixty-seven cross-cultural practices Wilson lists in Consilience (160f.). Human beings are not a terra nullius colonized by myriad systems of signs. Human beings also create themselves and recreate their environments, and chance and ae- ons of biological evolution help shape their lives. (To hard-core cultural con- structionists, I say: browse Matt Ridley’s The Genome Project or Steven Pinker’s The Blank Slate to see the intricacies of “nature” and “nurture,” no longer separable in their interactions.) In sum, human beings not only vary infinitely; they also share a portion in the infinite. Pragmatic or “soft” universals need not alarm us; they enable both individual and collective judgments. Without them, the U.N. Declaration of Hu- man Rights would vaporize; without them, Amnesty International would whistle in the wind; without them, jurists at the Hague would sit in an empty court; without them, Greenpeace or the Kyoto Protocols would founder in the Pacif- ic. In short, without qualified generalizations, no appeal to reason, freedom, or justice can stand; no victim can find redress, no tyrant retribution. I am aware of the arguments against Truth (capitalized), from Nietzsche to Derrida. Nietzsche offered the best challenge, first in his youthful essay on “Truth and Lying in the Ultra Moral Sense,” then in his posthumous Will to Power. Truth, he said in the earlier essay, is “a mobile army of metaphors” (508); truth, he later declared, is an aspect of the “will to power,” thus a “processus in infinitum, an active determining” (298). But the Truth he pre- tends to rout is not pragmatic; it is universal. William James, we have seen, also abandons the transcendental view of truth, opening it to our “willing nature,” nudging it toward a “noetic plural- ism,” a process more than state, subject always to contestation. Still, his view makes place for a will to truth, as strong in certain human beings – the great saints, artists, scientists, intellectuals – as the will to power or the will to believe. Does not Oedipus embody, beyond a shady Freudian complex, that miraculous will to truth – what interest can it possibly serve? – that implacable will to truth, at the cost of self-destruction, entailing blindness, bringing a deeper, luminous sight? Oedipus here is apt. Truth, I have said, rests on trust, personal, social, cognitive trust. But what is trust? Roundly, I answer: more than consensus, trust depends on self-abnegation, self-emptying, something akin to kenosis. It requires dispassion, empathy, attention to others and to the created world, to something not in ourselves. But, ultimately, it demands self-dispossession. That is why truth and trust remain spiritual qualities – not simply psychological, not merely political, but, above all, spiritual values. At the mention of spirit, some may grit their teeth. So, put spirit aside, if you must; I will not insist on a willing suspension of disbelief. Consider another line of thought. The humanities, by the very nature of their episte- mologies, can not resist the incursions of history and politics, ideology and illusion. But that is precisely why the humanities must not yield to their pro- miscuous incursions, which would degrade knowledge, deface evidence, defeat answerability. Truth does matter, as we know from Solzhenitsyn’s Nobel Lecture (a single truth is more powerful than all the weapons of the world, he claimed); as we have rediscovered in the Sokal Affair. Truth matters and the “calm sunlight of the mind” (5), as Susan Haack put it in her wise Manifesto of a Passionate Moderate. We may be all biased, as the je- june slogan goes, but we are not all biased about the same things, or to the same degree, or in the same manner, nor, above all, do we all comply with our biases invariably. Discriminations here are the life-blood of thought, 46 Ihab HASSAN nuance is mind. If nothing else, let us recover the truth of tact and nuance, the trust of intellectual courtesy, which tacitly assumes self-control, if not outright kenosis. Realism and the Aesthetic of Trust I come at last to the aesthetic, to the literary question, in my subtitle: “Toward an Aesthetic of Trust.” As you know, Beauty is back in the work of Elaine Scary, Wendy Stein- er, Charles Jencks, among others – and I am immensely cheered. But I will consider the aesthetic here from another ambit, that of realism. Realism, you cry, in 2002, realism? A moment ago, I spoke of trust as a quality of attention to others, to the created world, to something not in ourself. Is that not the premise of realism? Realism is no light matter: it touches the inviolable mystery of mind’s relation to the world. It refers us to the enigma of representation, the conun- drum of signs, the riddle of language, the chimera of consciousness itself. So let us step gingerly here. Elsewhere, I have presumed to remark on realism in science, philosophy, painting, photography, and literature, concluding that realism, despite its cunning, is a convention built on answerable faith – something like Santa Claus. Ernst Gombrich summed it up in Art and Illusion with wondrous con- cinnity: “the world,” he said, “can never quite look like a picture, but a picture can look like the world” (395). And in literature? We all know the epochal work of Erich Auerbach, a Teutonic hymn to mimesis. But a reader of that work may well conclude that the great scholar regards the loss of mimesis in modernism with acute ambiv- alence. The “uninterpretable symbolism” in the works of Joyce and Woolf; the “multiple reflection of consciousness” leaving the “reader with an impression of hopelessness,” “something confusing, something hazy…something hostile to the reality which…[the works] represent;” the “atmosphere of universal doom” and implied “hatred of civilization” (551) – Auerbach finds all these distressing in modern literature. At the same time, he fairly recognizes that in the work of Virginia Woolf “random occurrence” can yield “something new and elemental…nothing less than the wealth of reality and depth of life in every moment to which we surrender ourselves without prejudice” (552). I am not sure that Saul Bellow or John Updike would disagree with Auerbach. I am not sure that younger writers, like David Malouf (this the Australian not the French Maalouf now) or Salman Rushdie or Vargas Llosa or Michael Ondaatje would disagree either. I am not sure that certain qualified postmodernists would fail to recognize the price literature has paid in renouncing realism altogether. Hence, the innovative, not to say magical, realism in such novels as Malouf’s Remembering Babylon, Rushdie’s Mid- night’s Children, Vargas-Llosa’s The Notebooks of Don Rigoberto, Ondaatje’s Anil’s Ghost (which the author claims to be an accurate description of life in Sri Lanka, a claim similar to that of Garcia Marquez about life in his native Columbia). The critical point here is that literary realism, though it may not suffice, remains indispensable; its discontents spill into, indeed inform, other genres. Myself, I believe that Virginia Woolf’s strictures against certain realists – Mr. Wells, Mr. Bennett, Mr. Galsworthy, as she called them with withering courtesy – still stand. They are “materialists,” she wrote in The Common Reader, by which she meant that “they write of unimportant things; that they spend immense skill and immense industry making the trivial and the transitory appear the true and the enduring” (187). That has ever been the banal flaw of realism. Yet Woolf herself had great faith in the possibilities of the novel, and in the same essay, “Modern Fiction,” she reminds us that there is no limit to the novel’s horizon, “and that nothing – no ‘method,’ no experiment, even the wildest – is forbidden, but only falsity and pretense” (194). Only falsity and pretense are forbidden: these words lead to my penultimate section. On Spirit and the Void Falsity and pretence stand nearly antithetical to truth and trust. Hence my interest in what I will call fiduciary realism, a postmodern aesthetic of trust. Such an aesthetic would assume “negative capability” (Keats), but would go farther toward self-emptying; as in Shakespeare, Kafka, or Beckett, it would become acquainted with Silence, with the Void. For Nothing (Noth- ingness) is the other face of fiduciary realism. Emily Dickinson expressed it stunningly: By lonely gift and hindered Words The human heart is told Of Nothing – “Nothing” is the force That renovates the World 48 Ihab HASSAN

She might have said as well: “That renovates the Word.” For a realism of faith must know that Silence or Absence is the ground of language, the ground of Being itself. This idea, surely central to both modernism and postmodernism, makes us all acolytes of the void. This intuition, central again to postmodernism, surely engages spirit as I understand it. But how do I understand, if not define, spirit? For the last time, I need to step back a little, in order to see past, beyond, postmodernism. By the late eighties, I have said, I began to wonder how postmodernism could recreate its best self. Could it take a spiritual turn? Could the materialist ideologies of the moment open or crack? And what would spirit mean in our intellectual culture of disbelief? Certainly, it would not mean atavism, fundamentalism, or occultism; it may not mean adherence to orthodox religions – Christianity, Judaism, Hunduism, Islam – though it would not exclude them. I did not answer these questions, though I made a stumbling start in an essay titled “The Expense of Spirit in Postmodern Times.” There, with some encouragement from figures as diverse as Friedrich Nietzsche, William James, and John Cage, I envisaged a postmodern, spiritual attitude compatible with emergent technologies; with geopolitical realities (population, pollution, the growing obsolescence of the nation state); with the needs of the wretched of the earth; with the interests of feminists and minorities and multicultural societies; with an ecological, planetary humanism; and perhaps even with millennial hopes. I could so envisage the prospects of a postmodern spiritual attitude, without occult bombinations or New Age platitudes, because spirit pervades a variety of secular experiences, from dreams, creative intuitions in art or science, and a sense of the sublime, to extraordinary, visionary states, including the gift of seeing the eternal in the temporal, an apprehension of primal relations in the universe. Indeed, spirit echoes even in geopolitics, as in current debates of the idea of Forgiveness with regards to genocides ( see the references to Ricoeur, Derrida, Morin, Kristeva, among others, in a recent issue of PMLA). Dictionaries offer many senses of “spirit.” These usually center on something fundamental to human existence yet intangible, an activating principle, a cosmic curiosity, a meaning, often religious or metaphysical in character, shading into the ethical yet irreducible to it. This bedrock meaning is not obsolete; for as Saul Bellow noted in his Nobel Lecture of 1976, when dis- traction increases, so does the desire for essentials. Can that desire be alien to our spiritual impulses? Is it not alive still in the work of another Nobelist, Seamus Heaney, who spoke of poetry as a “matter of angelic potential, a motion of the soul,” and of “tilting the scales of reality towards some transcendent equilibrium” (192, 3)? Yet spirit does not offer invariable solace. As mystics know – I am not one – spirit is exigent; it has its harshness, its clouds of unknowing, its dark nights of the soul. It may begin in agnosticism and end in despair. This is particularly true in postmodern times, times of irony, suspicion, nihilism. Yet even nihilism, at its best, can serve as a penultimate form of lucidity. Thus, as I have insisted, a postmodern spiritual attitude may become deeply acquainted with kenosis – self-emptying, yes, but also the self-undoing of our knowledge in the name of something more fundamental than deconstruction: that is, in the name of Reality. I have no space here to elaborate this concept of unknowing, of cognitive undoing or nescience, a kind of intellectual via negativa. I need only repeat that fiduciary realism – a postmodern realism, if any – demands faith and empathy and trust precisely because it rests on Nothingness, the nothingness within all our representations, the final authority of the Void. But let me conclude now before I vanish into Buddhist nirvana before your eyes. Conclusion My path has been sinuous. Perhaps I can make some amends by carrying forthrightly the argument to its conclusion, a quasi-utopian conclusion, I admit. What lies beyond postmodernism? In the larger scheme, postmodernity looms, postmodernity with its multiple crises of identity, with its diasporas and genocides, with its desperate negotiations between local practices and global procedures. To call this condition simply postcolonial is to misperceive our world. For colonialism and its afterglow cast only a partial light on our condition; colonialism is not the whole of our history. In this regard, I regret that prominent postcolonial critics have sometimes chosen to tap the vast, often justified, resentments of our moment instead of bringing to it fresh, equitable, and true discernment. We, in our literary professions, must turn to truth, truth spoken not only to power but, more anguished, truth spoken to ourselves. This can not be sectar- ian, self-serving truth, which appeals only to partisans and subverts trust. Trust, I have claimed, is a spiritual value, inward with self-dispossession, 50 Ihab HASSAN and in its postmodern form, familiar with the void. For only through nihilism is nihilism overcome. Our second innocence is self-heedlessness, and beyond that, “unknowing.” In the Japanese Hagakura, there is a shocking statement, inviting meditation, not explication: “This man has worth. In the highest level, a man has the look of knowing nothing” (26). I, for one, would trust such a man. I would also trust Voss, in Patrick White’s shattering novel by that name, who at the end of his spiritual agonies in the Australian desert cries: “Now that I am nothing, I am, and love is the simplest of all tongues” (291). Does love have a place in an essay on postmodernism? It does. A postmodern aesthetic of trust, I have argued, brings us to a fiduciary realism, a realism that redefines the relation between subject and object, self and other, in terms of profound trust. Are we not close here to something deeper than empathy, something akin to love? Are we not broaching, beyond realism, Reality? An aesthetic of trust is, ultimately, a stance toward Reality, not toward objects. At the far limit, such a stance demands identification with Reality itself, dissolution of the distinction between the I and not-I. Emerson said it famously in “Nature:” “…all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball. I am nothing, I see all” (10). That is the horizon, infinitely far, at- tainable only by the elect, toward which fiduciary realism tends. I repeat: it is a horizon, seen and perhaps imagined but never reached. But in the sublunary world we inhabit, fiduciary realism must content itself with humbler aims. It needs only acknowledge its debt to spirit, its wide attentive- ness, its intuition of kenosis. Such an intuition may also assuage the trials of postmodernity, the clamors of identity – sages say, the solution to identity is, get lost – thus linking our two themes, cultural postmodernism and global postmodernity. Identities created by an assured way of being in the world flow toward ultimate mysteries, sometimes called sacred, beyond the horizons of their assurance. And they can do so without benefit of dogma – church, mosque, temple, shrine – because spirit finally empties itself out of its own forms. But even that acknowledgment may put on postmodernists too great a demand. Perhaps it will suffice, on any good day, for fiduciary realism, to follow the advice of David Malouf in Remembering Babylon: …the very habit and faculty that makes apprehensible to us what is known and expected dulls our sensitivity to other forms, even with the most obvious. We must rub our eyes and look again, clear our minds of what we are looking for to see what is there (130). Rub your eyes, rub them, please, without undue reflexivity, and without prejudice to Creation. That is my charge to postmodernists, which I hope is neither nostalgic nor utopian.

REFERENCES Auerbach, Erich. The Representation of Reality in Western Literature. Trans. Willard R. Trask. Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1953. Bellow, Saul. It All Adds Up: From the Dim Past to the Uncertain Future. New- York: Viking Penguin, 1994. Bertens, Hans. The Idea of the Postmodern. London and New York: Routledge, 1995. Canetti, Elias. Auto-da-fe. New York: Seabury Press, 1978. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. Essays and Lectures. New York: Library of America, 1983. Gombrich, E. H. Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Repre- sentation. Second Edition. Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1972. Haack, Susan. Manifesto of a Passionate Moderate: Unfashionable Essays. Chi- cago: Chicago University Press, 1998. Hassan, Ihab. The Dismemberment of Orpheus. Second Edition. Madison WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1982. Hassan, Ihab. The Postmodern Turn: Essays in Postmodern Theory and Culture. Columbus OH: Ohio State University Press, 1987. Hassan, Ihab. The Expense of Spirit in Postmodern Times: Between Nihilism and Belief. Georgia Review 51, 1 (Spring 1997). Hassan, Ihab. From Postmodernism to Postmodernity. Philosophy and Litera- ture 25,1 (April 2001). Hassan, Ihab. Realism, Truth, Trust: Reflections of Mind in the World. Symbol- ism and Third Text (forthcoming). Heaney, Seamus. The Redress of Poetry. New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1995. Ignatieff, Michael, Blood and Belonging: Journeys Into the New Nationalism. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1993. James, William. A Pluralistic Universe. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1977. James, William. Pragmatism. New York: Meridian Books, 1955. James, William. The Will to Believe and Other Essays in Popular Philosophy. New York: Dover Publications, 1956. Maalouf, Amin. In the Name of Identity: Violence and the Need to Belong. Tr. Barbara Bray. New York: Arcade Publishing, 2001. Malouf, David. Remembering Babylon. New York: Vintage, 1994. 52 Ihab HASSAN

Nietzsche, Friedrich. Truth and Falsity in an Ultramoral Sense. In The Philoso- phy of Nietzsche. Ed. Geoffrey Clive. New York: New American Library, 1965. Nietzsche, Friedrich. The Will to Power. Trans. Walter J. Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale. New York: Random House, 1967. Pinker, Steven. The Blank Slate. New York: Viking, 2002. PMLA 117, 2 (March 2002). Ridley, Matt. The Genome Project. New York: HarperCollins, 1999. Solzhenitsyn, Aleksandr. The Nobel Lecture on Literature. Tr. Thomas P. Whit- ney. New York: Harper & Row, 1972. White, Patrick. Voss. New York: Viking, 1957. Wilson, E. O. Consilience:The Unity of Knowledge. New York: Random House, 1998. Woolf, Virginia. The Common Reader. London: The Hogarth Press, 1951. Yamamoto, Tsunetomo. Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai. Trans. William Scott Wilson. Tokyo, New York, London: Kodansha International, 1979.

ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÉ ÂÊÓÑ È ÄÅÌÎÍÑÒÐÀÒÈÂÍÎÅ ÏÎÒÐÅÁËÅÍÈÅ

Þðàòå ×ÅÐÍßÂÈ×ÞÒÅ

Ïðîáëåìû êóëüòóðû ñåãîäíÿ íàõîäÿòñÿ â öåíòðå âíèìàíèÿ íå òîëü- êî ó ãóìàíèòàðíûõ íàóê ôèëîñîôèè, èñêóñcòâîâåäåíèÿ è ò.ä., íî äî- ñòàòî÷íî èíòåíñèâíî ðàçðàáàòûâàþòñÿ ñîöèàëüíûìè íàóêàìè ñîöèî- ëîãèåé, ýêîíîìèêîé è òàêèìè «ïðèêëàäíûìè» äèñöèïëèíàìè, êàê ìàð- êåòèíã. Ñ ïðèõîäîì â òðàäèöèîííî «ãóìàíèòàðíóþ» îáëàñòü êàê áû «÷óæèõ» åé ïî ïðèðîäå äèñöèïëèí, òðàäèöèîííûå ïðîáëåìû è ïîíÿòèÿ êóëüòóðû «âûñâå÷èâàþòñÿ» ñ äðóãîé ñòîðîíû è òàêèì îáðàçîì îáîãà- ùàåòñÿ ñîâðåìåííîå ïîíÿòèå êóëüòóðû â öåëîì. Îäíèì èç òàêèõ òðàäèöèîííî ãóìàíèòàðíûõ ïîíÿòèé ÿâëÿåòñÿ ïî- íÿòèå õóäîæåñòâåííîãî âêóñà, êîòîðîå ïðèñòàëüíî àíàëèçèðîâàëè òåî- ðåòèêè ôèëîñîôèè èñêóññòâà, íà÷èíàÿ ñ XVIII âåêà. Â XVIII âåêå õóäî- æåñòâåííûé âêóñ ïîíèìàëè êàê ñóáúåêòèâíóþ ñïîñîáíîñòü îïîñðåäî- âàòü ñîçåðöàíèå îáúåêòèâíî ñóùåñòâóþùåé êðàñîòû. Â ýòî âðåìÿ îêîí÷àòåëüíî ñìåíèëèñü óñòàíîâëåííûå åùå â àíòè÷íîì ìèðå êàíîíû êðàñîòû, êîòîðûå ïîíèìàëèñü êàê çàäàííûå ïðèðîäîé, è òðàíñöåíäåíò- íûå ÷åëîâå÷åñêîìó îïûòó. Èììàíóèë Êàíò â «Êðèòèêå ñïîñîáíîñòè ñóæäåíèÿ» óòâåðæäàë, ÷òî õóäîæåñòâåííûé âêóñ ÿâëÿåòñÿ àâòîíîìíîé ñôåðîé, êîòîðàÿ íå ïîäâåð- æåíà âëèÿíèþ ñî ñòîðîíû. Èìåííî êàíòîâñêàÿ òåîðèÿ õóäîæåñòâåííî- ãî âêóñà äàëà íà÷àëî òåîðèè «èñêóññòâà ðàäè èñêóññòâà», êîòîðàÿ â ñâîþ î÷åðåäü ñòàëà îïîðîé äëÿ çàùèòíèêîâ òàê íàçûâàåìîé «âûñîêîé», ýëè- òàðíîé êóëüòóðû â äèñêóññèè î äîñòîèíñòâàõ è ðàçëè÷èÿõ ìåæäó ïî- ïóëÿðíîé/ ìàññîâîé («íèçêîé») êóëüòóðîé è ýëèòàðíîé êóëüòóðîé èëè èñêóññòâîì êàê âûñøåé äóõîâíîé äåÿòåëüíîñòüþ. Ñòîðîííèêè ýòîé òå- îðèè âêóñà óòâåðæäàëè, ÷òî èñêóññòâî ÿâëÿåòñÿ ðåôëåêñèåé õóäîæåñòâåí- íîãî ãåíèÿ, íà êîòîðóþ íå äîëæíû íàêëàäûâàòüñÿ íèêàêèå ñîöèàëüíûå è ýêîíîìè÷åñêèå îãðàíè÷åíèÿ. Õóäîæíèê-ãåíèé - èñêëþ÷èòåëüíàÿ ëè÷- íîñòü, êîòîðàÿ, ïî ñëîâàì Ýäóàðäà Øèëñà, «íå äîëæíà îáðàùàòü âíè- ìàíèå íà àâòîðèòåòû è çàêîíû îáùåñòâà».1 Íåêîòîðûå àâòîðû õóäîæ- íèêîâ îáúÿâèëè îñîáûì êëàññîì, íîðìû è ñòðåìëåíèÿ êîòîðîé íåïî- 54 Þðàòå ×ÅÐÍßÂÈ×ÞÒÅ

íÿòíû ïðîñòàêàì. Âèêòîð Ãþãî ïèñàë, ÷òî õóäîæíèêè îò ïðîñòûõ «ñìåð- òíûõ» îòëè÷àþòñÿ íå òîëüêî ñâîåé ãåíèàëüíîñòüþ, íî îíè èñïîëíÿþò ðîëü «ñâÿùåííûõ» âîæäåé íàðîäà. Â ýñòåòè÷åñêèõ òåîðèÿõ XX âåêà èñêóññòâî âñå áîëüøå íà÷èíàåò ïîíèìàòüñÿ êàê ñóáúåêòèâíûé îïûò, îòðàæàþùèé ñóãóáî ëè÷íóþ èí- òåðïðåòàöèþ õóäîæíèêîì åãî îêðóæàþùåãî ìèðà. Ýñòåòè÷åñêèé îïûò ëèøàåòñÿ ñâîåé îáúåêòèâíîé îñíîâû, à ïîïûòêè íàéòè óíèâåðñàëüíûå è âå÷íûå ñòàíäàðòû õóäîæåñòâåííîãî âêóñà âûãëÿäÿò èëëþçîðíûìè. Â òî âðåìÿ, êàê ýñòåòè÷åñêèå òåîðèè îòêàçûâàþòñÿ èñêàòü îáúåê- òèâíûå ñòàíäàðòû õóäîæåñòâåííîãî âêóñà, ðàçâèâàþùèåñÿ ñîöèàëüíûå íàóêè íà÷èíàþò àíàëèçèðîâàòü, êàê ðàçíûå ñîöèàëüíûå ñðåäû ôîðìè- ðóþò âêóñ. Íàïðèìåð, ñîöèîëîãèÿ èñõîäèò èç ïðåäïîñûëêè, ÷òî ïîëî- æåíèå â ñîöèàëüíîé ñòðóêòóðå, íàïðèìåð, êëàññ, âëèÿåò íà èíòåðåñû, ïîâåäåíèå è óñòàíîâêè ëþäåé. Ïðåäñòàâèòåëè ñîöèàëüíûõ íàóê ïðè- çíàþò, ÷òî ñòàíäàðòû õóäîæåñòâåííîãî âêóñà ìîãóò ìåíÿòüñÿ, áûòü ðàç- íûìè è íåñîâìåñòèìûìè è âñå îíè ñîñóùåñòâóþò â ìíîãîêóëüòóðíîì, ñëîæíî ñòðàòèôèöèðîâàííîì ñîâðåìåííîì îáùåñòâå. Ïðîáëåìû âêóñà â ñîöèàëüíûõ íàóêàõ ñòàëè îáúåêòîì ïðèñòàëüíî- ãî âíèìàíèÿ ïàðàëëåëüíî ñî ñòàíîâëåíèåì ñîâðåìåííîãî îáùåñòâà ìàñ- ñîâîãî ïîòðåáëåíèÿ è ïîÿâëåíèÿ íîâîãî èñòîðè÷åñêîãî ôåíîìåíà ãå- äîíèñòè÷åñêîãî ïîòðåáèòåëÿ, âûõîäöà èç íîâîãî ñðåäíåãî êëàññà. Îäíîé èç ïåðâûõ ïîïûòîê ñîâðåìåííîãî àíàëèçà âêóñà â ñîöèàëüíûõ íàóêàõ ÿâëÿåòñÿ ðàáîòà àìåðèêàíñêîãî ýêîíîìèñòà Òîðñòåéíà Âåáëåíà «Òåîðèÿ ïðàçäíîãî êëàññà», âûøåäøàÿ 1899 ãîäó. Â ýòîé êíèãå àâòîð âïåðâûå ââîäèò â íàó÷íîå îáðàùåíèå ñàìî ïîíÿòèå «äåìîíñòðàòèâíîãî ïîòðåáëåíèÿ» è ïûòàåòñÿ äåòàëüíî îáúÿñíèòü ïðèðîäó è ïðè÷èíû ðàñ- ïðîñòðàíåíèÿ òàêîãî ïîâåäåíèÿ. Òåîðèÿ äåìîíñòðàòèâíîãî ïîòðåáëåíèÿ óòâåðæäàåò, ÷òî ãëàâíûì ìîòèâîì, îáóñëàâëèâàþùèì ïîÿâëåíèå íîâûõ æåëàíèé, ÿâëÿåòñÿ çàáîòà îá óòâåðæäåíèè èëè óâåëè÷åíèè ñîöèàëüíîãî ñòàòóñà. ×òîáû ïîíÿòü èíäóñòðèàëüíûå îáùåñòâà, íàäî âûÿñíèòü, íå êàê ïðîèçâîäÿòñÿ òîâàðû, íî êàê îíè ïðèîáðåòàþò çíà÷åíèÿ. Òàêîå çà- ìå÷àíèå ñòàëî âàæíûì äîïîëíåíèåì íàèâíîé òðàäèöèè ìàòåðèàëèñòè- ÷åñêîãî óòèëèòàðèçìà. Ò. Âåáëåí â ñâîåé êíèãå óòâåðæäàåò, ÷òî èíäèâèäóàëüíûå ðàçëè÷èÿ è ïîäðàæàíèå ÿâëÿþòñÿ îñíîâíûìè ìîòèâàìè â ñîöèàëüíîì âçàèìî- äåéñòâèè. Öåëü íàêîïëåíèÿ áîãàòñòâà - íå òîëüêî óâåëè÷èòü ïîòðåáëå- íèå, íî è àêêóìóëèðîâàòü çíàêè ïî÷åòà: èíñòèòóò ñîáñòâåííîñòè ñôîð- ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÉ ÂÊÓÑ È ÄÅÌÎÍÑÒÐÀÒÈÂÍÎÅ ÏÎÒÐÅÁËÅÍÈÅ 55

ìèðîâàëñÿ âî âðåìÿ õèùåíèÿ æåíùèí êàê òðîôåÿ, êàê ñðåäñòâà äåìîí- ñòðàöèè ìóæñêîé âëàñòè. Áîãàòñòâî óêàçûâàëî íà «èñêëþ÷èòåëüíîñòü» è èñïîëüçîâàëîñü êàê ñðåäñòâî äåìîíñòðàöèè ñòàòóñà, à òàêæå ñòèìó- ëèðîâàëî çàâèñòü è ïîäðàæàíèå. Â îáùåñòâå, îñíîâàííîì íà ñòàòóñå, ñîñòîÿòåëüíûé èíäèâèä ðàñ- ïîëàãàåò äâóìÿ îñíîâíûìè ñïîñîáàìè äëÿ óòâåðæäåíèÿ ñîöèàëüíîãî ïðåâîñõîäñòâà áîãàòñòâà. Ýòî äåìîíñòðàòèâíàÿ ïðàçäíîñòü, ò.å. äåìîí- ñòðàöèÿ âîçìîæíîñòè ïîòðåáëÿòü âðåìÿ íå äëÿ ïðîèçâîäñòâà è äåìîí- ñòðàòèâíîå ïîòðåáëåíèå, ìîòèâîì êîòîðîãî ÿâëÿåòñÿ íå ïðÿìàÿ ïîëüçà, à äåìîíñòðàöèÿ ôèíàíñîâîãî ïðåâîñõîäñòâà. Äåìîíñòðàòèâíîå ïîòðåá- ëåíèå îòêðûâàåò ïóòü èíäèâèäó ê ïðåñòèæó â îáùåñòâå, â êîòîðîì áî- ãàòñòâî ïðèçíàåòñÿ îñíîâíûì ïðèçíàêîì ñòàòóñà.. Äåìîíñòðàòèâíîå ïîòðåáëåíèå ñâÿçàíî ñ êóëüòóðîé ýëèòû, êîòîðàÿ òàêæå ñèãíàëèçèðóåò ïðåâîñõîäñòâî ñòàòóñà, òðåáóÿ «êóëüòóðíîé æèç- íè»: «çíàíèÿ ìåðòâûõ ÿçûêîâ è îêêóëüòíûõ íàóê; ïðàâèëüíîãî ïèñàíèÿ, ñèíòàêñèñà è ïðîñîäèè; ðàçíûõ ôîðì äîìàøíåé ìóçûêè è äðóãèõ äî- ìàøíèõ èñêóññòâ; à â êîíöå êîíöîâ, ìîäíîé îäåæäû, ìåáåëè è ýêèïà- æåé; èãð, ñïîðòà è ïîðîäèñòûõ æèâîòíûõ, òàêèõ êàê ñîáàêè è ñêàêîâûå ëîøàäè ».2 Âñå ýëèòàðíûå ôîðìû âêóñà è êóëüòóðà ñâèäåòåëüñòâóþò î ïðàçäíîì ïîòðåáëåíèè âðåìåíè. Õîðîøèå ìàíåðû, ðàçâëå÷åíèÿ ýòî ïîäñòàâíîå ïîòðåáëåíèå, êîòîðîå ñèãíàëèçèðóåò î ñòàòóñå. Äåìîíñòðàòèâíîå ðàñòî÷èòåëüñòâî âðåìåíè è âåùåé èìååò è äðó- ãîé êóëüòóðíûé ñìûñë: ïåñòîâàíèå ýñòåòè÷åñêèõ ñïîñîáíîñòåé: «ðàç- âèòûé âêóñ, ðàôèíèðîâàííûå ìàíåðû è îáðàç æèçíè ÿâëÿþòñÿ ïîäõîäÿ- ùèì äîêàçàòåëüñòâîì õîðîøåãî ïðîèñõîæäåíèÿ, ïîòîìó ÷òî õîðîøåå âîñïèòàíèå òðåáóåò âðåìåíè, ñèë è ðàñõîäîâ».3 Ò. Âåáëåí î÷åíü ÿñíî ïîêàçàë ñïîñîá, êîòîðûì âêóñ è ýòèêåò âûñ- øåãî êëàññà íà÷èíàåò äîìèíèðîâàòü â îáùåñòâå è ñòàíîâèòñÿ îáùèì ñòàíäàðòîì õîðîøåãî âêóñà, êîòîðûé êàæäûé ñòàðàåòñÿ ïðèíÿòü. Ñîöè- àëüíûå ãðóïïû èëè êëàññû íå ïûòàþòñÿ ïåðåíÿòü âêóñ è ìàíåðû ñîöè- àëüíîé ýëèòû íàïðÿìóþ, à ñêîðåå òåõ ãðóïï, êîòîðûå çàíèìàþò ïîëî- æåíèå íåïîñðåäñòâåííî íàä íèìè. Òàêèì îáðàçîì â îáùåñòâå ñîçäàåò- ñÿ ìíîãîñòåïåííàÿ ñèñòåìà âêóñîâ è ìàíåð. Âåáëåí îáîáùàåò ñâîþ òî÷êó çðåíèÿ ñëåäóþùèì îáðàçîì: « êàæäûé êëàññ èñïûòûâàåò çàâèñòü è òÿíåòñÿ ê êëàññó, ñòîÿùåìó íà ñîöèàëüíîé ëåñòíèöå ñòåïåíüþ âûøå, ïðè ýòîì ðåäêî ñðàâíèâàÿ ñåáÿ ñ òåìè, êòî íàõîäèòñÿ íèæå èëè çíà÷èòåëüíî îïåðåæàåò åãî. ( ) íîðìà ïðèëè÷å- 56 Þðàòå ×ÅÐÍßÂÈ×ÞÒÅ

ñòâóþùèõ äîõîäîâ, êàê è îñòàëüíûå íîðìû áëàãîïðèñòîéíîñòè, âûçûâàþ- ùèå ñîïåðíè÷åñòâî, ïðàêòè÷åñêè óñòàíàâëèâàþòñÿ òåìè, êòî çàíèìàåò ñëå- äóþùóþ ñòåïåíü ïî÷òåííîñòè. Òàêèì îáðàçîì, îñîáåííî â îáùåñòâå, ãäå êëàññîâûå ðàçëè÷èÿ íåñêîëüêî ðàçìûòû, âñå êàíîíû ïî÷òåííîñòè è áëàãî- ïðèñòîéíîñòè è âñå óñòàíîâêè íà îïðåäåëåííûå óðîâíè ïîòðåáëåíèÿ âîñõî- äÿò ïîñòåïåííûì îáðàçîì ê îáû÷àÿì è ïðèâû÷íîìó ìûøëåíèþ ñàìîãî âûñîêîãî â ñîöèàëüíîì è äåíåæíîì îòíîøåíèè êëàññà ïðàçäíîãî êëàññà áîãàòûõ. ( ) èìåííî ýòîò êëàññ îïðåäåëÿåò, êàêîé îáðàç æèçíè áóäåò ïðè- íèìàòüñÿ îáùåñòâîì êàê áëàãîïðèÿòíûé è ïðåñòèæíûé».4 Ò. Âåáëåí óêàçûâàåò äâà ñìûñëà ïðåêðàñíîãî: äåíåæíóþ êðàñîòó è òàê íàçûâàåìóþ âðîæäåííóþ èëè èñòèííóþ êðàñîòó. Äåíåæíàÿ êðà- ñîòà óâåëè÷èâàåòñÿ â çàâèñèìîñòè îò äîðîãîâèçíû ïðåäìåòà. Íî ñâÿçü ìåæäó êðàñîòîé è öåíîé íå ÿâëÿåòñÿ òàêîé ïðÿìîé è îñîçíàâàåìîé: åñëè êàêîé-ëèáî ïðåäìåò äîñòàâëÿåò íå òîëüêî ýñòåòè÷åñêîå óäîâîëü- ñòâèå, íî è ìîæåò áûòü èñïîëüçîâàí äëÿ ïðàêòè÷åñêèõ öåëåé, åãî ýñ- òåòè÷åñêàÿ öåííîñòü óìåíüøàåòñÿ. Ãàçîí, çàâåäåííûé ñàäîâîäîì, ìî- æåò áûòü áîëåå ïðåêðàñíûì, ÷åì ïàñòáèùå, õîòÿ ýòî òðóäíî ñêàçàòü, ãëÿäÿ íà íèõ. Ïîìèìî äåíåæíîé êðàñîòû, ëþäè èìåþò ñïîñîáíîñòü îòëè÷èòü «èñòèííóþ» êðàñîòó îò «äåíåæíîé». Íàïðèìåð, ýòè äâà ïðèí- öèïà êðàñîòû âçàèìîäåéñòâóþò â ìîäå. Ìîäà ÿâëÿåòñÿ òèïè÷íîé ôîð- ìîé ðàñòî÷èòåëüñòâà: êîãäà ìîäà íà êàêîé- òî ñòèëü ïðîõîäèò, ïðåä- ìåò òåðÿåò öåííîñòü, õîòÿ åãî ôèçè÷åñêîå ñîñòîÿíèå ìîæåò áûòü îò- ëè÷íûì. Îäåæäà ÿâëÿåòñÿ ãëàâíûì ôîðóìîì äåìîíñòðàòèâíîãî ïîòðåáëåíèÿ ïîòîìó, ÷òî îíà âèäèìà. Íî íà ñìåíó ìîäû âëèÿþò è äðóãèå ïðè÷èíû: åñëè áû íà íåå âëèÿëà òîëüêî äåíåæíàÿ êðàñîòà, îíà ñòàëà áû âñå äîðîæå, óæàñíåå è ãðîòåñêíåå. Åñëè áû ìîäà ñëåäîâàëà òîëüêî ïðèöèïó «èñòèííîé êðàñîòû», îíà ïîñòåïåííî ïðèøëà áû ê ñîâåðøåííîé êðàñîòå. Íî ýòî íèêîãäà íå ñëó÷èòñÿ. Ìîäà ÿâëÿåòñÿ íå- ïðåñòàííûì êà÷àíèåì ìåæäó ýòèìè äâóìÿ ïðèíöèïàìè: âðîæäåííûé âêóñ èñïðàâëÿåò èçëèøêè ìîäû âðåìÿ îò âðåìåíè. Ò. Âåáëåí ñ÷èòàë, ÷òî âêóñ âóëüãàðèçèðóåòñÿ, êîãäà ñòàíäàðòû õî- ðîøåãî âêóñà ñïóñêàþòñÿ íèæå ïî ëåñòíèöå ñîöèàëüíîé èåðàðõèè. Âóëüãàðíûé âêóñ ïîÿâëÿåòñÿ òîãäà, êîãäà ïîòðåáëåíèå è ïîòðåáëÿåìûå ïðåäìåòû ñòàíîâÿòñÿ âñå áîëåå âàæíûìè ñèìâîëàìè ñòàòóñà è êàæäûé õî÷åò èõ ïðèîáðåñòè, êàê òîëüêî ó íåãî ïîÿâëÿåòñÿ äîñòàòî÷íî äåíåã. Ïðåäìåòû êàê áû îòðûâàþòñÿ îò èõ èçíà÷àëüíîé ñâÿçè ñî ñòèëåì æèç- íè. Îíè ñòàíîâÿòñÿ ñâîáîäíî ìåíÿåìûìè çíàêàìè ñòèëÿ æèçíè è ñîöè- ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÉ ÂÊÓÑ È ÄÅÌÎÍÑÒÐÀÒÈÂÍÎÅ ÏÎÒÐÅÁËÅÍÈÅ 57

àëüíîé çíà÷èìîñòè. Ýòî ñîçäàåò âïå÷àòëåíèå ïîâåðõíîñòíîñòè è áåç- âêóñèÿ, î êîòîðîì ïèñàë Ò. Âåáëåí. Ïîýòîìó ñîâðåìåííûå òåîðåòèêè ñ÷èòàþò, ÷òî îí ñòàë ïåðâîîòêðûâàòåëåì òåîðèè êèò÷à è ìîäû êèò÷à.5 Íà òåîðèþ äåìîíñòðàòèâíîãî ïîòðåáëåíèÿ Ò. Âåáëåíà ïîõîæè áî- ëåå ïîçäíèå èññëåäîâàíèÿ ñîöèàëüíîãî ñîïåðíè÷åñòâà è ðàçëè÷èÿ, ñðå- äè êîòîðûõ íàèáîëåå èçâåñòíà òåîðèÿ ôðàíöóçñêîãî ñîöèîëîãà Ï. Áóð- äüå. Ýòè òåîðèè ïîä÷åðêèâàþò, ÷òî ñîïåðíè÷åñòâî çà ñîöèàëüíóþ ðåñ- ïåêòàáåëüíîñòü ñâÿçàíî ñ ðàçíûìè ñòèëÿìè æèçíè è ñêëîííîñòüþ óëó÷øèòü è êóëüòèâèðîâàòü âêóñ. Âûøåñòîÿùèå êëàññû âñåãäà ñêëîí- íû îòëè÷èòü ñåáÿ îò íèæåñòîÿùèõ êëàññîâ, êîòîðûå èì ïîäðàæàþò. Ïîýòîìó ñòàíîâÿòñÿ âàæíûìè ðàçëè÷èÿ â êà÷åñòâå è ñòèëå, ðåçóëüòàòîì êîòîðûõ ÿâëÿåòñÿ òàê íàçûâàåìûé ýëèòàðíûé âêóñ è ýñòåòèêà. Íàèáîëåå âëèÿòåëüíîé ñîâðåìåííîé òåîðèåé âêóñà â ñîöèàëüíûõ íàóêàõ ñòàëà òåîðèÿ ðàçëè÷åíèÿ/ðàçãðàíè÷åíèÿ (distinction) ôðàíöóçñ- êîãî ñîöèîëîãà Ïüåðà Áóðäüå. Íàïîäîáèå Âåáëåíà, îí óòâåðæäàåò, ÷òî âêóñ ôîðìèðóåò ñîñòÿçàíèå çà ñòàòóñ: «õîðîøèé âêóñ» ÿâëÿåòñÿ ìàðêå- ðîì ðàçëè÷åíèÿ â äâîéíîì ñìûñëå ðàçëè÷àÿ è íàäåëÿÿ ïî÷åòîì òåõ, êòî çàÿâëÿåò, ÷òî âëàäåþò èì. «Âêóñ êëàññèôèöèðóåò, è îí êëàññèôèöè- ðóåò êëàññèôèêàòîðà» (Taste classifies, and it classifies the classifier»).6 Íî â îòëè÷èè îò Âåáëåíà, Áóðäüå óòâåðæäàåò, ÷òî âêóñ íàäåëÿåò ïî÷å- òîì íå ïîòîìó, ÷òî ÿâëÿåòñÿ ñèãíàëîì ýêîíîìè÷åñêîãî áîãàòñòâà, íî êàê âûðàæåíèå áîãàòñòâà, êîòîðîå ïî ñâîåé ïðèðîäå ÿâëÿåòñÿ êóëüòóðíûì. Âêóñ åñòü íåðàâíîìåðíî ðàñïðåäåëåííàÿ ñïîñîáíîñòü äîñòóïà ê ñèìâî- ëè÷åñêèì è ìàòåðèàëüíû êëàññàì îáúåêòîâ è ïðàêòèê. Âìåñòå ñ óñòà- íîâêàìè, ïðåôåðåíöèÿìè, ìàíåðàìè è ìàíäàòàìè îáðàçîâàíèÿ îí ÿâ- ëÿåòñÿ êîìïîíåíòîì êóëüòóðíîãî êàïèòàëà, êîòîðûé ïåðåäàåòñÿ âî âðå- ìÿ ñëîæíîãî ïðîöåññà ñîöèàëèçàöèè ïîñðåäñòâîì ñåìüè è îáðàçîâàòåëüíîé ñèñòåìû. Áóðäüå ïîïûòàëñÿ ðàçâèòü ñâîþ òåîðèþ î êóëüòóðíîé ïðèðîäå ïî- òðåáëåíèÿ: óòâåðæäàÿ, ÷òî ïðèðîäà ïîòðåáëåíèÿ ÿâëÿåòñÿ êóëüòóðíîé ïîòðåáëÿÿ, ìû èñïîëüçóåì è äåìîíñòðèðóåì íàø âêóñ èëè ñòèëü. Âêóñ íå ÿâëÿåòñÿ èíäèâèäóàëüíûì êàïðèçîì îí ñòðàòèôèöèðîâàí. Ìû ìîæåì êëàññèôèöèðîâàòü ñòðóêòóðó âêóñà, ðàçëè÷àÿ «èíòåëëåêòóàëüíûé»(highbrow), «ìåùàíñêèé»(middlebrow) è «íåðàçâèòûé»(lowbrow) âêóñ äëÿ ðàçíûõ òèïîâ êóëüòóðû. Ýòà êëàññèôè- êàöèÿ âêëþ÷àåò íå òîëüêî ðàçëè÷èå, íî è èåðàðõèþ, êàê íàïðèìåð, ìåæäó òåìè, êòî ëþáèò îïåðó è òåìè, êòî ëþáèò âàðüåòå. Ïî ìíåíèþ Ï. Áóðäüå, 58 Þðàòå ×ÅÐÍßÂÈ×ÞÒÅ

ýòà êëàññèôèêàöèÿ íå îïèðàåòñÿ íà ñàìè âåùè (èõ âíóòðåííþþ öåí- íîñòü) ýòî êëàññèôèêàöèÿ ðàçíûõ ñòðóêòóð âêóñà è ñåòü îæèäàíèé î ïðåôåðåíöèÿõ ëþäåé èç ðàçíûõ êëàññîâ. Ýòà ñåòü ïðåôåðåíöèé ñîöè- àëüíî îðãàíèçóåòñÿ ÷åðåç «habitus» èëè ñòðóêòóðû ñêëîííîñòåé. Áóðäüå èíòåðåñóåò îáüÿñíåíèå, êàê ýòè òèïû ñòðóêòóð âêóñà è ñòèëåé æèçíè âîçíèêàþò è êàê îíè ôóíêöèîíèðóþò ñîöèàëüíî. Äåìîíñòðèðóÿ íàø âêóñ, ìû óêàçûâàåì äðóãèì î íàøåé ñîöèàëüíîé ïîçèöèè. Åñëè ÿ âûá- ðàë îïåðó, à íå ìóçûêàëüíóþ êîìåäèþ, âû ìîæåòå ñäåëàòü âûâîä î ìîåì îáðàçîâàíèè è êëàññîâîé ïîçèöèè, äîõîäàõ è ñîöèàëüíûõ àñïèðàöèÿõ, à òàêæå î ñîîòíîøåíèè ìåæäó ìîèì ýêîíîìè÷åñêèì è êóëüòóðíûì ïî- ëîæåíèåì. Âû ìîæåòå êëàññèôèöèðîâàòü â ñèñòåìå êóëüòóðíîé êëàñ- ñèôèêàöèè, êîòîðóþ ÿ ïðîäåìîíñòðèðîâàë (ìîé «âêóñ»). Âêóñ ïîíèìà- åòñÿ êàê «êóëüòóðíî âûáðàííûé», à íå êàê âíóòðåííÿÿ öåííîñòü. Íî âêóñ íå ÿâëÿåòñÿ ñîöèàëüíî âûáðàííûì: âêóñû òåñíî êîððåëèðóþò ñ ñîöè- àëüíûì ðàçäåëåíèåì, â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü êëàññîâûì. Ñòðàòèôèêàöèÿ ñî- öèàëüíîãî ïîäðàçäåëåíèÿ ñîîòâåòñòâóåò êóëüòóðíîé ñòðàòèôèêàöèè è èåðàðõèè. Ðàçíûå âêóñû èìåþò ðàçíûå ñòåïåíè ñîöèàëüíîé ëåãèòèì- íîñòè â îáùåñòâå. Êóëüòóðíàÿ ðåïðîäóêöèÿ ïîýòîìó âêëþ÷àåò ðàçíûå ôîðìû êîíêóðåíöèè è âëàñòè, â êîòîðûõ èíäèâèäû è èíñòèòóöèè ñèëü- íî çàèíòåðåñîâàíû, â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü êîíêóðåíöèåé çà äîñòóï ê öåíè- ìîìó «êóëüòóðíîìó êàïèòàëó». Â ýòîì ïðîöåññå êóëüòóðà ïîíèìàåòñÿ êàê ïîëå êëàññîâîé áîðüáû è êîíêóðåíöèè. Íî êóëüòóðà íå òîëüêî äå- òåðìèíèðóåòñÿ êëàññîì, ñêîðåå êóëüòóðà ñàìà ñòàíîâèòñÿ ñðåäñòâîì êëàññîâîé êîíêóðåíöèè ñ ãëàâíîé ðîëüþ â ôîðìèðîâàíèè, ðåïðîäóê- öèè è òðàíñôîðìàöèè êëàññîâûõ ñòðóêòóð. Ïðèìåð òîìó «íîâûé ñðåä- íèé êëàññ», êîòîðîãî âûäåëÿåò íîâîå ïîëîæåíèå â ïðîèçâîäñòâå (ñôåðà óñëóã è êóëüòóðíàÿ èíäóñòðèÿ), ïðîòèâîðå÷èâàÿ ïîçèöèÿ â êëàññîâîé ñòðóêòóðå è äåìîíñòðàöèÿ âûñîêîãî è íèçêîãî êóëüòóðíîãî êàïèòàëà. Ýòî äîñòàâëÿåò åìó íåóäîáñòâî â ñâÿçè ñ ñóùåñòâóþùåé èåðàðõèåé âêó- ñà è â òî æå âðåìÿ ïîîùðÿåò åãî ñîîòâåòñòâîâàòü íîâîé ñõåìå êóëüòóð- íûõ ðàçëè÷èé è ëåãèòèìíîñòåé, êîòîðóþ îí äîëæåí èñïîëüçîâàòü äëÿ çàùèòû ñâîèõ èíòåðåñîâ â ýêîíîìè÷åñêîé, ñîöèàëüíîé è êóëüòóðíîé ñôåðàõ. Áóðäüå ðàçëè÷àåò ýêîíîìè÷åñêèé êàïèòàë è êóëüòóðíûé êàïè- òàë àêêóìóëèðîâàííîå çíàíèå è êîìïåòåíöèþ, êàê èñïîëüçîâàòü êîäû ëåãèòèìíîé êóëüòóðû (íàïðèìåð ñïîñîáíîñòü îöåíèâàòü ñîâðåìåííîå èñêóññòâî èëè îáîðóäîâàòü äîì ñ «õîðîøèì âêóñîì»). Êàæäûé èç ýòèõ êàïèòàëîâ âêëþ÷àåò «èåðàðõèè ëåãèòèìíîñòè»: íàïðèìåð, ñóùåñòâóåò ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÉ ÂÊÓÑ È ÄÅÌÎÍÑÒÐÀÒÈÂÍÎÅ ÏÎÒÐÅÁËÅÍÈÅ 59

«ëåãèòèìíàÿ êóëüòóðà» âûñîêîå èñêóññòâî è ìóçûêà, äëÿ êîòîðûõ âêóñ óñòàíàâëèâàþò ïðèçíàííûå àâòîðèòåòû (êðèòèêè, ó÷åíûå, êîëëåêöèî- íåðû). Êàê ÷àñòü êëàññîâîãî habitus âêóñ ÿâëÿåòñÿ îäíèì èç ýëåìåíòîâ ñèñòåìû ïðåôåðåíöèé è äèñïîçèöèé, êîòîðûå âîñïðèíèìàþòñÿ êàê ñâî- áîäíî ïðèíÿòûå ñîöèàëüíûìè àãåíòàìè, íî êîòîðûå âïîëíå îòðàæàþò èõ îáúåêòèâíîå êëàññîâîå ïîëîæåíèå. Íåñìîòðÿ íà âèäèìîñòü, âêóñ ÿâëÿåòñÿ ðàçâèòîé, à íå âðîæäåííîé ñêëîííîñòüþ. Ï. Áóðäüå êðèòèêóåò «÷èñòóþ» ýñòåòèêó ïðåêðàñíîãî, êîòîðóþ ðàç- ðàáîòàë È. Êàíò. Åãî ãëàâíûé àðãóìåíò ïðîòèâ ÷èñòîé ýñòåòèêè È. Êàí- òà ñîñòîèò â òîì, ÷òî îíà ñêðûâàåò ñâîå êëàññîâîå ïðîèñõîæäåíèå è èíòåðåñû ïîä êàæóùèìñÿ îáúåêòèâíûì è íåçàèíòåðåñîâàííûì ôàñà- äîì. Çíàìåíèòóþ àíòèíîìèþ âêóñà È. Êàíòà, ñôîðìóëèðîâàííóþ â åãî «Êðèòèêå ñïîñîáíîñòè ñóæäåíèÿ», ÷òî ÷óâñòâî ïðåêðàñíîãî òðåáóåò, ÷òî- áû îíî áûëî óíèâåðñàëüíûì Ï. Áóðäüå ïûòàåòñÿ ðåøèòü ýìïèðè÷åñ- êèì ñïîñîáîì. Îí óòâåðæäàåò, ÷òî âêóñ ïðàâÿùåãî êëàññà âñåãäà åñòü ëåãèòèìíûé âêóñ îáùåñòâà. Íî ýòîò ëåãèòèìíûé âêóñ íå åñòü èñòèííî õîðîøèé âêóñ: â äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè íåò íèêàêîãî èñòèííîãî õîðîøåãî âêóñà. Ëåãèòèìíûé âêóñ ïðåòåíäóåò áûòü óíèâåðñàëüíî äåéñòâóþùèì è íåçàèíòåðåñîâàííûì õîðîøèì âêóñîì, íî â äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè ýòî åñòü âêóñ îäíîãî êîíêðåòíîãî êëàññà, ïðàâÿùåãî êëàññà. Íàèáîëüøåãî âíèìàíèÿ â àíàëèçå âêóñà Ï. Áóðäüå çàñëóæèâàåò ðàñ- ñìîòðåíèå íîâûõ ñîöèàëüíûõ ãðóïï, ïîäíèìàþùèõñÿ ââåðõ â ñîöèàëü- íîì ïðîñòðàíñòâå ýòî íîâûå áóðæóà, êîòîðûå èì ïðåäñòàâëåíû êàê àâàíãàðä ýñòåòè÷åñêîãî è ýòè÷åñêîãî îáíîâëåíèÿ îáùåñòâà. Ýòè ÷ëåíû íîâîãî ñðåäíåãî êëàññà ÿâëÿþòñÿ èäåàëüíûìè ïîòðåáèòåëÿìè îíè ëå- ëåþò ãåäîíèñòè÷åñêóþ ýòèêó ïîòðåáëåíèÿ, êîòîðàÿ îïèðàåòñÿ íà ðàñòî- ÷èòåëüñòâå. Ïî ìíåíèþ Ï. Áóðäüå, íîâûå áóðæóà äåéñòâóþò êàê áû â ïåðåõîäíîé çîíå è âòÿãèâàåò â ãîíêó ïîòðåáëåíèÿ è êîíêóðåíöèè òåõ, êî- òîðûå òàêèì îáðàçîì õîòÿò âûäåëèòü ñåáÿ. Äåéñòâóÿ òàêèì îáðàçîì, îíè ëåãèòèìèðóþò ñåáÿ, à òàêæå âêóñ è ñòèëü æèçíè ýòîãî ýòè÷åñêîãî àâàí- ãàðäà. Ýòà íîâàÿ ýòèêà, ïîäõâà÷åííàÿ àâàíãàðäîì áóðæóàçèè, ÿâëÿåòñÿ ïî ñâîåé ñóòè ãåäîíèñòè÷åñêîé ýòèêîé: íîâûé ýòè÷åñêèé àâàíãàðä ïðåä- ëàãàåò ìîðàëü óäîâîëüñòâèé êàê äîëã. Óäîâîëüñòâèå íå òîëüêî ðàçðåøàåò- ñÿ, íî è òðåáóåòñÿ, îáîñíîâûâàÿ åå íå òîëüêî ýòè÷åñêè, íî è íàó÷íî.1 Ýòà íîâàÿ ãåäîíèñòè÷åñêàÿ ýòèêà î÷åíü ôóíêöèîíàëüíà â êàïèòà- ëèñòè÷åñêîé ýêîíîìè÷åñêîé ñèñòåìå, îöåíèâàÿ ëþäåé ïî èõ ñïîñîáíîñòè ïîòðåáëÿòü. Ñàìè æå íîâûå áóðæóà æåëàþò ïîòðåáëÿòü ìîäíûå ïðåä- 60 Þðàòå ×ÅÐÍßÂÈ×ÞÒÅ

ìåòû. Ýòî æåëàíèå ïðåäïîëàãàåò, ÷òî áîëüøå íåò îãðàíè÷åíèé òðàäè- öèîííîé ìîðàëè íà èõ ïîâåäåíèå. Êàê ïîä÷åðêíóë M. Ôàéåðñòîóí, ìàëåíüêèå áóðæóà Áóðäüå íå àäàïòèðóþò ñòèëü æèçíè íåðåôëåêñèðóÿ, ÷åðåç òðàäèöèþ èëè ïðèâû÷êè. Ýòè íîâûå ãåðîè ïîòðåáèòåëüñêîé êóëü- òóðû äåëàþò ñòèëü ïðîåêòîì æèçíè: îíè íå ïðèñîåäèíÿþòñÿ ê êîíêðåò- íîìó ñòèëþ, íî ñòàðàþòñÿ ñîîòâåòñòâîâàòü èíòåðåñàì ñàìîãî ñòèëÿ. Ýòèêà íîâîãî ñðåäíåãî êëàññà ýòî ýòèêà ôàíîâ: ñòàðàÿ ìîðàëü äîëãà îïèðàëàñü íà ïðîòèâîïîñòàâëåíèå ìåæäó óäîâîëüñòâèåì è äîáðîì, ïî- îùðÿëà îáùóþ ïîäîçðèòåëüíîñòü ê î÷àðîâàíèþ è ïðèâëåêàòåëüíîñòè, ñòðàõ óäîâîëüñòâèé è îòíîøåíèå ê òåëó êàê «ñäåðæàííîìó», «ñêðîìíî- ìó» è «îáóçäàííîìó», à êàæäîå óäîâëåòâîðåíèå çàïðåùåííûõ èìïóëü- ñîâ îòîæäåñòâëÿëî ñ âèíîé.2 Íîâûé êëàññ çàíèìàåò ñîâåðøåííî íîâóþ ñîöèàëüíóþ ïîçèöèþ, êîòîðàÿ âûïàäàåò èç âñåõ ôîðìàëüíûõ èåðàðõèé. Àäàïòèðóÿ íîâûé ñòèëü æèçíè, îñíîâàííûé íà ãåäîíèçìå, ýòîò íîâûé êëàññ ìîæåò îòëè- ÷èòü ñåáÿ îò ñâîèõ ñîöèàëüíûõ êîíêóðåíòîâ, ñòàâèò ñåáÿ â ïðÿìóþ ýòè- ÷åñêóþ è ýñòåòè÷åñêóþ îïïîçèöèþ ïî îòíîøåíèþ ê ïðàâÿùåìó êëàññó, áðîñàÿ âûçîâ äîìèíèðóþùåìó ëåãèòèìíîìó âêóñó. Äëÿ íîâîãî ñðåäíå- ãî êëàññà ýòà èãðà ðàçëè÷èÿ ôóíêöèîíèðóåò îñîáûì îáðàçîì. Åãî íà- êëîííîñòè è ïðåôåðåíöèè ïûòàþòñÿ îòðèöàòü çíà÷èìîñòü ñòàðîãî ïî- ðÿäêà. Íå ñ÷èòàÿñü ñî âêóñàìè è ñòèëåì æèçíè âûøåñòîÿùèõ, îí ñòàðà- åòñÿ óñòàíîâèòü ñîâåðøåííî íîâóþ èåðàðõèþ âêóñîâ, òðåáóþùóþ ñòàòóñà ëåãèòèìíîñòè èëè õîðîøåãî âêóñà. Òàêèì îáðàçîì, îí áðîñàåò âûçîâ ñòàðîé êóëüòóðå, à íå êàðüåðèñòàì, ïûòàþùèìñÿ ïîäíÿòüñÿ ïî ñîöèàëüíîé ëåñòíèöå. Ëþáîé àíàëèç ñîöèàëüíîãî ìåõàíèçìà ðàçëè÷èÿ è ñîïåðíè÷åñòâà ïîêàçûâàåò, ÷òî äëÿ ëþáîé ãðóïïû â îáùåñòâå âñåãäà ñóùåñòâóþò äâà ñïîñîáà ñîöèàëüíîãî âîçâûøåíèÿ: ñòðîãî ïðèäåðæèâàòüñÿ ïðàâèë èãðû èëè ñîçäàâàòü íîâûå ïðàâèëà. Áóðäüå, êàæåòñÿ, óòâåðæäàåò, ÷òî íîâûé âêóñ, ïðåòåíäóþùèé ñòàòü íîâûì ëåãèòèìíûì èëè õîðîøèì âêóñîì, âñå- ãäà ïðèíèìàåò ñîâåðøåííî ðàçëè÷íóþ îò ñòàðîãî âêóñà ôîðìó. Äëÿ òîãî, ÷òîáû êâàëèôèöèðîâàòü ëåãèòèìíûé âêóñ, íàäî åãî ïðåäñòàâèòü êàê âû- ïàäàþùèé èç âñåõ êëàññèôèêàöèé è èåðàðõèé.7 Îòðèöàíèå çíà÷åíèÿ âñåõ êëàññèôèêàöèé ìàñêèðóåò ôàêò, ÷òî â ðåàëüíîñòè íîâûé âêóñ ïðåäñòàâ- ëÿåò èíóþ êîíêóðèðóþùóþ ñèñòåìó êëàññèôèêàöèé è ðàçëè÷èé. Íàäî îòìåòèòü, ÷òî òàêàÿ ñèñòåìà êîíêóðèðóþùèõ âêóñîâ, êàê åå èçîáðàæàåò Áóðäüå, íå ñîîòâåòñòâóåò õàðàêòåðó áûñòðî ìåíÿþùèõñÿ ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÉ ÂÊÓÑ È ÄÅÌÎÍÑÒÐÀÒÈÂÍÎÅ ÏÎÒÐÅÁËÅÍÈÅ 61

âêóñîâ è ñòèëåé ñîâðåìåííîãî öèêëà ìîäû. Ýòè âêóñû âñåãäà ïðåäñòàâ- ëÿþò ñåáÿ êàê íîâûå è îòëè÷àþùèåñÿ îò ñòàðûõ âêóñîâ, íî îíè íå âñå- ãäà áðîñàþò âûçîâ ïðåäûäóùèì âêóñàì è ñòèëÿì òàêèì ðàäèêàëüíûì ñïîñîáîì. Áûâøàÿ ìîäà ïîïðîñòó çàáûâàåòñÿ.

Äåìîíñòðàòèâíîå ïîòðåáëåíèå, èäåíòèòåò è ñòèëü æèçíè â ñîâðåìåííîì îáùåñòâå èçîáèëèÿ. Èñòîðèêè ýêîíîìèêè îòìå÷àþò, ÷òî â 1950-60õ ãîäàõ â ÑØÀ è Çà- ïàäíîé Åâðîïå íà÷èíàåò ôîðìèðîâàòüñÿ òàê íàçûâàåìîå îáùåñòâî èçî- áèëèÿ (affluent society), äëÿ êîòîðîãî õàðàêòåðíî ìàññîâîå ïîòðåáëåíèå, âûñîêèå òåõíîëîãèè, ìèðîâàÿ êîíêóðåíöèÿ. Âñå áîëüøåå êîëè÷åñòâî ëþäåé ìîæåò ïîçâîëèòü ñåáå çàíÿòüñÿ äåìîíñòðàòèâíûì ïîòðåáëåíè- åì. Ïîâûñèâøèéñÿ óðîâåíü îáðàçîâàíèÿ îáùåñòâà ôîðìèðóåò ìíåíèå, ÷òî ðîñêîøü è íåîáóçäàííîå ðàñòî÷èòåëüñòâî íå ÿâëÿåòñÿ äîìèíèðóþ- ùèì ñèìâîëîì ñòàòóñà, à ñêîðåå óêàçûâàåò íà âóëüãàðíîñòü âêóñà. Äå- ìîíñòðàòèâíîå ïîòðåáëåíèå ïðèîáðåòàåò ôîðìû, êîòîðûå äåìîíñòðè- ðóþò «ðàçâèòûé» âêóñ8 . ×òîáû èçáåæàòü îáâèíåíèé â âóëüãàðíîñòè, â îáùåñòâå èçîáèëèÿ äåìîíñòðàòèâíîå ïîòðåáëåíèå áîãàòûõ îðèåíòèðóåòñÿ íà îñîáî äîðî- ãèå è äëÿ ìàññîâîãî ïîòðåáëåíèÿ íåäîñòóïíûå âåùè (ýêîíîìèñòû ýòî ÿâëåíèå íàçûâàåò «ýôôåêòîì ñíîáà»). Â äåìîíñòðàòèâíîå ïîòðåáëåíèå âêëþ÷àåòñÿ ñðåäíèé êëàññ, ïîòðåáëåíèå êîòîðîãî óêàçûâàåò íå òîëüêî íà ñòàòóñ, íî è íà öåííîñòè è âêóñ. Â ñîâðåìåííîì «ïîñò-òðàäèöèîííîì îáùåñòâå» ñîñóùåñòâóþò ìíî- æåñòâî öåííîñòåé, ñîöèàëüíûõ ðîëåé, àâòîðèòåòîâ è ñèìâîëè÷åñêèõ ðåñóðñîâ, èñïîëüçóÿ êîòîðûå, èíäèâèä ìîæåò êîíñòðóèðîâàòü ñâîé ñî- öèàëüíûé èäåíòèòåò. «Îïîñðåäîâàííûé îïûò» îêàçûâàåòñÿ â öåíòðå ñîöèàëüíîé æèçíè. Ïëþðàëèçì ñîâðåìåííîé æèçíè ïðîÿâëÿåòñÿ ïî- ñðåäñòâîì êîììåðöèè, ãîðîäà, ïóòåøåñòâèé, ñðåäñòâ êîììóíèêàöèé, ìàðêåòèíãà è ðåêëàìû. Ñîâðåìåííàÿ äèíàìèêà ïëþðàëèçàöèè êóëüòó- ðû ïîä÷èíÿåòñÿ ýêîíîìè÷åñêèì öåëÿì ïîòðåáëåíèå îïðåäåëÿþò íå ñîöèîêóëüòóðíûå ïðàâà è ïðèâèëåãèè, à ïîêóïàòåëüíàÿ ñïîñîáíîñòü. Âåùè èñïîëüçóþòñÿ äëÿ êîíñòðóèðîâàíèÿ èäåíòèòåòà è îáðàçà æèçíè. Ñîâðåìåííîñòü îõâàòûâàåò ïðîèçâîäñòâî, ïîêàç è âçàèìîäåéñòâèå ìíî- æåñòâà âîçìîæíûõ ñòèëåé æèçíè, êîòîðûå íå ïðåòåíäóþò ñòàòü êóëü- òóðíûì ýòàëîíîì. Ýòî îáúÿñíÿåò êðèçèñ èäåíòèòåòà èíäèâèäû äîëæ- íû âûáèðàòü, êîíñòðóèðîâàòü, óòâåðæäàòü, èíòåðïðåòèðîâàòü, ñîãëàñî- 62 Þðàòå ×ÅÐÍßÂÈ×ÞÒÅ

âàòü è äåìîíñòðèðîâàòü, êòî îíè åñòü èëè ìîãóò áûòü, èñïîëüçóÿ ðàç- íûå ìàòåðèàëüíûå è ñèìâîëè÷åñêèå ðåñóðñû. Ïàðàëëåëüíî ñ õàðàêòåðèñòèêîé ñîâðåìåííîñòè êàê ýïîõè ìàññî- âîãî êðèçèñà èäåíòèòåòà, ïîä÷åðêèâàåòñÿ äðóãàÿ åå ÷åðòà ïîòðåáè- òåëüñêèé õàðàêòåð êóëüòóðû. Ñîâðåìåííûé èäåíòèòåò ëó÷øå âñåãî ìîæ- íî ïîíÿòü ÷åðåç îáðàç ïîòðåáëåíèÿ. Ìû âûáèðàåì ñâîé èäåíòèòåò ñ âèòðèíû ìàãàçèíà, íàøè äåéñòâèÿ, îïûò è ïðåäìåòû âñå îíè âîñïðè- íèìàþòñÿ êàê ÷àñòü ïîòðåáíîñòè êîíñòðóèðîâàòü è ñàìîóòâåðæäàòü ñâîé èäåíòèòåò. Äàæå ñàì èäåíòèòåò ìîæåò ïîíèìàòüñÿ êàê òîâàð, êîòîðûé ìîæíî ïðîäàâàòü. Ìàòåðèàëüíûå è ñèìâîëè÷åñêèå ðåñóðñû, ïîñðåäñòâîì êîòîðûõ ìû ïðîèçâîäèì è ïîääåðæèâàåì èäåíòèòåòû, âñå áîëüøå ïðèíèìàþò ôîð- ìó ïîòðåáèòåëüñêèõ òîâàðîâ è äåÿòåëüíîñòåé, ÷åðåç êîòîðûå ìû êîíñò- ðóèðóåì âíåøíîñòü è îðãàíèçóåì ñâîáîäíîå âðåìÿ. Êîíñüþìåðèçì ýêñ- ïëóàòèðóåò ìàññîâûé êðèçèñ èäåíòèòåòà, ïðåäëàãàÿ ñâîè òîâàðû êàê ñïîñîá ðåøåíèÿ ïðîáëåì èäåíòèòåòà è äåëàåò ýòîò ïðîöåññ áîëåå èí- òåíñèâíûì, ïðåäëàãàÿ âñå áîëüøå ðàçíûõ öåííîñòåé è ñòèëåé æèçíè. Êàæäîå äåéñòâèå, ñâÿçàííîå ñ ïîòðåáëåíèåì èëè ïîêóïêàìè îäåæäû, åäû, ðàçâëå÷åíèé ÿâëÿåòñÿ íå òîëüêî ðåøåíèåì êàê äåéñòâîâàòü, íî è êåì áûòü. Âåùè, êîòîðûå ÿ ïîòðåáëÿþ, âûðàæàþò ìîé èäåíòèòåò, ìîè öåííîñòè, âêóñ è ò.ä. Äâà íîâûõ òåðìèíà «ýêñïåðòèçà» è «ñòèëü æèç- íè» îáîçíà÷àþò ÷åðòû ñîâðåìåííîé æèçíè, êîòîðûå óïðàâëÿþòñÿ è îðãàíèçóþòñÿ îçàáî÷åííîñòüþ ñîâðåìåííûì èäåíòèòåòîì, è â òî æå âðåìÿ ìîãóò áûòü èñïîëüçîâàíû äëÿ ñãóùåíèÿ ýòèõ ÷åðò. Ñîâðåìåííàÿ êóëüòóðà ýòî êóëüòóðà ýêñïåðòîâ, åå ïîäõîä êî âñåì ïðîáëåìàì, âêëþ÷àÿ ïðîáëåìû èäåíòèòåòà, òåõíîëîãè÷åñêèé: âñå ïðî- áëåìû äîëæíû áûòü ðåøåíû òåõíè÷åñêèìè ìåòîäàìè, à ïðîáëåìû èäåí- òèòåòà ìîæíî ðåøèòü ïðè ïîìîùè ðàçíûõ òîâàðîâ. Íàïðèìåð, ðåêëàìà êîñìåòèêè ðàñ÷ëåíÿåò ëèöî æåíùèíû íà ñåðèþ «ïðîáëåì»: ìåøêè ïîä ãëàçàìè, òîíêèå ãóáû, íåâûðàçèòåëüíûå ñêóëû. Îíà âíóøàåò, ÷òî êàæ- äóþ èç ýòèõ ïðîáëåì ìîæíî ðåøèòü, ïîêóïàÿ íóæíûå òîâàðû è ïðîäóê- òû. Ðåêëàìà ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé «êàðòó ñîâðåìåííîñòè», àâòîðèòåòíûé äèñêóðñ îá îáúåêòàõ è ïîçâîëÿåò íàì ñîðèåíòèðîâàòüñÿ â ñîöèàëüíîì çíà÷åíèè âåùåé â ìèðå êîììåðöèè. Òàêèì îáðàçîì, ðåêëàìà çàìåùàåò òàêèå òðàäèöèîííûå àâòîðèòåòû, êàê ðåëèãèÿ è òðàäèöèè. Âñå ýòè ñòîðîíû ýêñïåðòèçû ñîåäèíÿþò ïðîåêò «ÿ» ñ òîâàðíûì îáìåíîì. Ñòèëü æèçíè òîæå ìîæíî ïîíÿòü êàê ñðåäñòâî, ïîñðåäñòâîì ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÉ ÂÊÓÑ È ÄÅÌÎÍÑÒÐÀÒÈÂÍÎÅ ÏÎÒÐÅÁËÅÍÈÅ 63

êîòîðîãî èíäèâèäû óïðàâëÿþòñÿ ïîñò-òðàäèöèîííûì èäåíòèòåòîì è ýêñïëóàòèðóþòñÿ êîììåðöèåé. Ñòèëü æèçíè ñîáèðàåò âåùè â îïðå- äåëåííîå öåëîå è ðåäóöèðóåò ïëþðàëèçì âûáîðà. «ß» ñòàíîâèòñÿ ïå- ðåâîäèìûì â òîãî, êîòîðûé âëàäååò æåëàåìûìè âåùàìè è ñòðåìèòñÿ ê èñêóññòâåííî ñêîíñòðóèðîâàííîìó ñòèëþ æèçíè. Ïîòðåáëåíèå âñå- ãäà íîâûõ âåùåé ñòàíîâèòñÿ ÷àñòüþ, êîòîðàÿ çàìåùàåò èñòèííîå ðàç- âèòèå «ÿ».9 Ñòèëü æèçíè îòëè÷àåòñÿ îò òðàäèöèîííîãî ñòàòóñíîãî ïîðÿäêà, à òàêæå îò ñîâðåìåííûõ ñîöèàëüíûõ ñòðóêòóð(òàêèõ êàê êëàññû, ýòíè÷åñêèå ãðóïïû) â äâóõ àñïåêòàõ. Âî-ïåðâûõ, ñòèëü æèç- íè óêàçûâàåò íà ÷èñòî êóëüòóðíûé ïàòòåðí: îí ñäåëàí èç çíàêîâ, ðåï- ðåçåíòàöèé è ÿâëÿåòñÿ òàêèì æå íåñòàáèëüíûì è èçìåí÷èâûì, êàê è îíè. Âî-âòîðûõ, êàæäûé èíäèâèä òåîðåòè÷åñêè ìîæåò òàê æå ïåðåé- òè îò îäíîãî ñòèëÿ æèçíè ê äðóãîìó, êàê îí ïåðåäâèãàåòñÿ îò îäíîé âèòðèíû ìàãàçèíà ê äðóãîé, îò îäíîãî ÒÂ êàíàëà ê äðóãîìó, îò îäíîé ïîëêè ñóïåðìàêåòà ê äðóãîé. Íåñòàáèëüíîñòü ñîâðåìåííîãî «ÿ» ïî- íèìàåòñÿ êàê îäèí èç àñïåêòîâ íåñòàáèëüíîñòè ñîâðåìåííûõ ôîðì ñîöèàëüíîãî ÷ëåíñòâà. Ãðóïïû ñòèëåé æèçíè íå õàðàêòåðíû äëÿ îá- ùåñòâ ñ õîðîøî êîíòðîëèðóåìûìè ñîöèàëüíûìè âîðîòàìè è äîëãî- ñðî÷íûìè îáÿçàòåëüñòâàìè. Ãðóïïû ñòèëåé æèçíè ÿâëÿþòñÿ «âûá- ðàííûìè îáùåñòâàìè», ãäå ÷ëåíñòâî ÿâëÿåòñÿ âûáðàííûì, à íå ïðè- ïèñàííûì. Ãëàâíàÿ çàáîòà äëÿ ñîâðåìåííîãî èíäèâèäà, äëÿ êîòîðîãî îòñóò- ñòâóþò àâòîðèòåòíûå êóëüòóðíûå öåííîñòè ñîîòâåòñòâîâàòü îæè- äàíèÿì ñâîåãî áëèæàéøåãî ñîöèàëüíîãî îêðóæåíèÿ, ïðèíÿòü àâòî- ðèòåò êðàòêîâðåìåííîãî ìíåíèÿ ïóáëèêè, ìåäèà, ðåêëàìû, ãðóïïû ðàâíûõ ïî ñîöèàëüíîìó ïîëîæåíèþ. Ïîòðåáèòåëüñêàÿ êóëüòóðà ðàç- âèâàëàñü âìåñòå ñ ñîâðåìåííîñòüþ îò ïðîñòîãî ñîöèàëüíîãî ñîïåð- íè÷åñòâà è êîíôîðìèçìà, ãäå èíäèâèäû èñïîëüçîâàëè âåùè äëÿ ñî- öèàëüíîãî ïðîäâèæåíèÿ, ê áîëåå îïàñíîé ôîðìå íàðöèññèçìó, ãäå îíè ñòðåìÿòñÿ ê ñâîåìó «ÿ» ÷åðåç ïîòðåáëåíèå, âíåøíîñòü è ñî- öèàëüíûé ñïåêòàêëü. Äàâèä Ðèçìàí ïðåäëîæèë òèïîëîãèþ ñïîñîáîâ ïðèîáðåòåíèÿ ñî- öèàëüíîãî ñîîòâåòñòâèÿ: â òðàäèöèîííîì îáùåñòâå ðîäñòâåííûå ñâÿ- çè è ñòðàõ çàñëóæèòü î ñåáå ïëîõîå ìíåíèå çàñòàâëÿåò ïðèñïîñîáèòü âíåøíåå ïîâåäåíèå èíäèâèäîâ ê ôèêñèðîâàííîìó ñîöèàëüíîìó ïî- ðÿäêó. Â ýïîõó ëèáåðàëüíîãî êàïèòàëèçìà ýòîò ïîðÿäîê ðàñùåïëÿåòñÿ íà ìíîæåñòâî íîâûõ ñèòóàöèé, íå èìåþùèõ åäèíîãî êîäà. Ïåðñîíàëü- 64 Þðàòå ×ÅÐÍßÂÈ×ÞÒÅ

íûé âûáîð íîñèò ñòðîãî èíäèâèäóàëèçèðîâàííûé õàðàêòåð. Çäåñü âîç- íèêàåò «âíóòðü íàïðàâëåííûé» òèï õàðàêòåðà. «Íà äðóãèõ-íàïðàâ- ëåííûå» ëè÷íîñòè âîçíèêàþò â ïîñò-ôîðäèñòêîì ìèðå ìèðå, êîòî- ðûé îòëè÷àåòñÿ áîëüøèì ïëþðàëèçìîì áëàãîäàðÿ ìåäèà è ñîöèàëüíîé ìîáèëüíîñòè. Êàðüåðà èíäèâèäà çàâèñèò îò òîãî, «÷òî äðóãèå äóìàþò î íåì»: ÷òîáû ñäåëàòü êàðüåðó, èíäèâèä äîëæåí çàíÿòüñÿ ñîáñòâåííûì ìàðêåòèíãîì, ðàçâèâàÿ îñîáóþ ÷óâñòâèòåëüíîñòü ê äåéñòâèÿì è æåëà- íèÿì äðóãèõ, åãî ïîñòîÿííî ïðåñëåäóþò çàáîòà î ïðåôåðåíöèÿõ, âêó- ñàõ, âíåøíîñòè è ïðàâèëàõ10. Ïðàâèëüíûé ñïîñîá ñàìîâûðàæåíèÿ èí- äèâèäîâ òðåáóåò ïðèñëóøèâàíèÿ ê âîçìîæíûì âêóñàì äðóãèõ íàä «ÿ» äîìèíèðóåò ìîäà, ïîòîìó ÷òî òàê ìîæíî èçáåæàòü îïàñíîñòè ðàç- ëè÷åíèÿ îò òðåáîâàíèé «äðóãèõ». Ýòó âîçìîæíîñòü áûñòðî ïîäõâàòû- âàþò ïðîèçâîäèòåëè òîâàðîâ, ãîòîâûå óñêîðèòü êà÷åëè ìîäû. Â óâåëè÷èâàþøåìñÿ è àíîíèìíîì ñîâðåìåííîì ñîöèàëüíîì ïðî- ñòðàíñòâå èíäèâèäû ó÷àñòâóþò âî ìíîæåñòâå ãðóïï, êîòîðûå íå âñåãäà ñîâïàäàþò. Øèðîêèé ñïåêòð ñòèëåé, î êîòîðûõ ñîîáùàåò ìàññ ìåäèà, ðàñøèðÿåò âîçìîæíîñòè ýêñïåðèìåíòèðîâàíèÿ ñ ñîáîé. Ýëèòà áîëüøå íå ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé òåñíî ñïëî÷åííóþ ãðóïïó ñòàòóñà, íî áîëåå ðàñ- ïðîñòðàíåííóþ ñèñòåìó õîðîøî îáðàçîâàííûõ è ãåîãðàôè÷åñêè ìîáèëü- íûõ ïðîôåññèîíàëîâ è ìåíåäæåðîâ âûñøåãî ýøåëîíà. Â òàêîì êîíòåê- ñòå ñïîñîáíîñòü ìàíèïóëèðîâàòü ðàçíûìè êóëüòóðíûìè ñèìâîëàìè ñòà- íîâèòñÿ âàæíûì ðåñóðñîì ñîöèàëüíîãî âçàèìîäåéñòâèÿ. Çíàíèå êóëüòóðíûõ êîäîâ, ñîîòâåòñòâóþùèõ ðàçíûì ñîöèàëüíûì îêðóæåíèÿì è óìåíèå ñîâåðøàòü êóëüòóðíîå ïåðåêëþ÷åíèå â çàâèñèìîñòè îò îáñòî- ÿòåëüñòâ ñòàíîâèòñÿ áîëåå ïîëåçíûì çíàíèåì, ÷åì çíàíèå îãðàíè÷åí- íîé ñôåðû ñèìâîëîâ ýëèòàðíîé êóëüòóðû. Âêóñ ñòàíîâèòñÿ ÿâíûì âû- ðàæåíèåì èíäèâèäóàëüíûõ ïðåôåðåíöèé è ëè÷íîãî âûáîðà. Íåðàâåí- ñòâî, îïèðàþùååñÿ íà âêóñ, ìîæåò ñóùåñòâîâàòü, íî îíî ñêîðåå èíäèâèäóàëüíî è íå âûðàæàåò êëàññîâîãî äîìèíèðîâàíèÿ. ßâíûì ñòàíîâèòñÿ òî, ÷òî âêóñ áîëüøå íå ðàññìàòðèâàåòñÿ êàê âû- ðàæåíèå óíèâåðñàëüíûõ è âå÷íûõ ñòàíäàðòîâ êðàñîòû, ïðîèñõîæäåíèå êîòîðûõ âûõîäèò çà ðàìêè ñîöèàëüíîãî îïûòà. Âêóñû ÿâëÿþòñÿ ÷àñòüþ ñèñòåìû êëàññèôèêàöèè, êîòîðàÿ âûðàæàåò è ôîðìèðóåò ñîöèàëüíîå âçàèìîäåéñòâèå. Âêóñû ñòàíîâÿòñÿ èíñòðóìåíòàìè äëÿ ñîçäàíèÿ ñèì- âîëè÷åñêèõ ãðàíèö11, ñòåïåíü èåðàðõèçàöèè, ðàçëè÷åíèÿ, ðèòóàëèçàöèè êîòîðûõ ìåíÿåòñÿ âî âðåìåíè è ïðîñòðàíñòâå. ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÉ ÂÊÓÑ È ÄÅÌÎÍÑÒÐÀÒÈÂÍÎÅ ÏÎÒÐÅÁËÅÍÈÅ 65

ARTISTIC TASTE AND CONSPICUOUS CONSUMPTION Jurate CERNEVICIUTE Kaunas Faculty for Humanities Vilnius University, Lithuania

Artistic taste and contemporary culture: The problems of culture are currently addressed not only by the humanities, but also by the social sciences, primarily sociology and economics. These ostensibly “alien disciplines” intruding in the traditional field of the humanities highlight traditional problems and concepts of culture from the new points of view, thus enriching the contemporary discourse on culture. Taste and the making of the modern Self: One of the traditional key concepts in the humanities is that of artistic taste, which has been the object of intensive analytic effort by the art philosophers since the 18th century. These efforts have attempted to elucidate the relationship between subjective experience and the objective standards of taste and delineated in the 18th and 19th centuries, and they have constituted the central thread in the development of aesthetic thought during this time. During this time, the power of rational thinking became the basis for aesthetic discernment, and also for economics, scientific truth and political legitimacy. Immanuel Kant asserted in his “Critique of Judgement” (1790) that artistic taste is an autonomous realm free from external influences. Kant’s theory of artistic taste served as the wellspring for subsequent the theories of “art for art sake”. This theory gaveapologists for the “high” elite culture a weapon in discussions concerning the differences between popular/mass (“low”) culture and elite (“high”) culture, wherein art was conceived as the highest spiritual activity. Adherents of the Kantian theory of taste maintained that art is a creation of artistic genius free from all social and economic restrictions. The aesthetic theories of the 20th century have viewed art as the expression of the subjective experience of an artist reflecting a purely personal interpretation of the artist’s surrounding world. So aesthetic experience has lost its objective foundations, and attempts to detect universal and everlasting standards of artistic taste are now considered illusory. Taste in the social sciences: The 20th century saw the emergence and intensive development of the social sciences. Social scientists have questioned the impact of the social environment on the formation of aesthetic 66 Þðàòå ×ÅÐÍßÂÈ×ÞÒÅ taste. Sociologists have assumed the position of an individual in the social structure (say, membership in a specific class) influences their interests, behavior and attitudes. Social researchers maintain that the standards of artistic taste can vary, differ and be incongruous in the multicultural, highly dif- ferentiated and stratified context of contemporary society. Taste and pecuniary competition: One of the first attempts at a scientific analysis of taste in the social sciences was “Theory of the Leisure Class” by American economist Thorstein Veblen, published in the 1899. Veblen introduced into scientific circulation the concept of “conspicuous consumption,” and he tried to explain in detail the nature and the causes of the prev- alence of this kind of behavior. According to Veblen, an individual who lives in a society founded on status uses two main means to assert his social preeminence. One is conspicuous leisure, i.e. the demonstration of the power to consume time unproduc- tively. The second is conspicuous consumption, which is motivated not by the immediate utility of the object but by the goal of displaying financial superiority. Conspicuous consumption gives an individual prestige in society, where wealth is considered as the most important indication of status. Conspicuous consumption is related to the phenomenon of elitism, with its assumption of superior status. All elite forms of taste and culture evidence the idle use of time. In such a culture, every valuable article must comply not only with the requirements of beauty, but also with high price standards. The requirements of price influence the tastes of people. The conspicuous waste of time and goods has yet another cultural sense: the cultivation of the aesthetic powers. The cultivated taste, refined manners and way of life are an adequate evidence of “good ancestry” because good education needs time and is expensive. Taste and class domination: French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu advanced the most influential contemporary social scientific theory of the taste. Bourdieu’s thinking is similar to that of Veblen. Bourdieu maintains that taste is shaped by the competition for status: good taste is a marker serving for distinction in a double sense: by distinguishing and by bestowing honor on those who successfully claim to be in possession of an object. “Taste classifies, and it classifies the classifier”. Differently from Veblen, Bourdieu maintains that taste bestows honor not because it indicates economic wealth, but because it is an expression of wealth, which is cultural according its very nature. Taste is an unequally distributed access to power reflected in sym- ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÉ ÂÊÓÑ È ÄÅÌÎÍÑÒÐÀÒÈÂÍÎÅ ÏÎÒÐÅÁËÅÍÈÅ 67 bolic and material classes of objects and practices. Taste, together with the attitudes, preferences, and credentials of education, is a part of cultural capital, which is transmitted in the socialization process by the family and the education system. As an integral part of the class habitus, taste is one of the elements in the system of preferences and dispositions which are perceived by the agents themselves as freely chosen, but are in actually a reflection of their objective class positions. Contrary to the appearance, taste is an ac- quired, not an innate disposition. ÏÐÈÌÅ×ÀÍÈß 1 Ñì.:Bell D. Kapitalizmo kultûriniai prieðtaravimai. ALMA LITTERA, 2003. P. 200. 2 Âåáëåí Ò. Òåîðèÿ ïðàçäíîãî êëàññà. Ì., 1984. Ñ. 47. 3 Òàì æå. Ñ. 93. 4 Òàì æå. Ñ. 135. 5 Gronow J. The Sociology of Taste. Routledge, 1997. P. 42. 6 Bourdieu P. Distinction. A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. London: Routledge&Kegan Paul. P. 6. 7 Bourdieu P. Ibidem. P. 370. 8 Galbraith J.K. The Affluent Society. Penguin Books, 1958. P. 83-85. 9 Giddens A. Modernity and Self-Identity: Self and Society in the Late Modern Age.- Cambrodge:Polity Press, 1991.-P.1980. 10 Riesman D. The Lonely Crowd: A Study of Changing American Character. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1961. P. 25. 11 Ñì.: Lamont M.., Fournier M. Cultivating Differences: Symbolic Boundaries and the Making of Inequality. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992.

ÂÎÑÏÐÈÍÈÌÀÞÙÈÉ ÊÀÊ ÑÎÀÂÒÎÐ ÕÓÄÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÎÃÎ ÏÐÎÈÇÂÅÄÅÍÈß

Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

Èñêóññòâî ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé ñëîæíóþ ìíîãîñîñòàâíóþ ñèñòåìó, â êîòîðîé îáÿçàòåëüíûìè ýëåìåíòàìè ÿâëÿþòñÿ àâòîð, õóäîæåñòâåííîå ïðîèçâåäåíèå è åãî âîñïðèíèìàþùèé. Îáû÷íî öåíòðàëüíûì ÿäðîì èñêóññòâà ñ÷èòàåòñÿ ñàìî õóäîæåñòâåííîå ïðîèçâåäåíèå. Äîâîëüíî ÷à- ñòî ïðè ýòîì âñïîìèíàþò åãî àâòîðà. Âîñïðèíèìàþùèé æå, êàê ïðàâè- ëî, ðàññìàòðèâàåòñÿ êàê ïàññèâíîå, âñïîìîãàòåëüíîå ÿâëåíèå, ëèøü ñïîñîáñòâóþùåå áûòîâàíèþ èñêóññòâà â îáùåñòâå. Êëàññè÷åñêèì òðóäîì, ïîñâÿùåííûì èìåííî ñïåöèôèêå âîñïðèÿòèÿ, îñòàåòñÿ äî ñèõ ïîð ñòàòüÿ Â.Ô. Àñìóñà, íàïèñàííàÿ â 30-å ãîäû è îïóá- ëèêîâàííàÿ ëèøü â 60-å ãîäû. Ðàáîòà ýòà íàçûâàåòñÿ «×òåíèå êàê òðóä è òâîð÷åñòâî».1 Èç íàçâàíèÿ ïîíÿòíî, ÷òî ïîñâÿùåíà îíà âîñïðèÿòèþ ëèòå- ðàòóðû. Îäíàêî ãëóáèíà èññëåäîâàíèÿ è øèðîòà âçãëÿäà ïîçâîëÿþò îòíå- ñòè òî, ÷òî àâòîð ãîâîðèò î ÷òåíèè ëèòåðàòóðû, êî âñåì âèäàì èñêóññòâà. Îñíîâíàÿ èäåÿ çàêëþ÷àåòñÿ â òîì, ÷òî îò óðîâíÿ òåçàóðóñà âîñïðèíèìà- þùåãî çàâèñèò ïîñòèæåíèå ñìûñëà õóäîæåñòâåííîãî îáðàçà ïðîèçâåäå- íèÿ, ñ êîòîðûì ðåöèïèåíò êîíòàêòèðóåò. Ìàëî êòî çíàåò, íàïðèìåð, ÷òî â êíèãå «Ãàðãàíòþà è Ïàíòàãðþ- ýëü» â 36-é ãëàâå Ïÿòîé êíèãè (â ãëàâàõ, ñóììà êîòîðûõ ðàâíà 9) Ôðàí- ñóà Ðàáëå âëîæèë òàéíûå çíàíèÿ, â òîì ÷èñëå ñâÿçàííûå ñ õðîíîëîãè- ÷åñêèìè ïðåäñòàâëåíèÿìè êàááàëû, êîòîðóþ èñïîëüçîâàëè ìàñîíû. Íåïîñðåäñòâåííî ê êàááàëå îáðàùàëñÿ Ãóñòàâ Ìàéðèíê, â ðîìàíàõ êî- òîðîãî îáðåòàþò ðåàëüíîñòü êàááàëèñòè÷åñêèå îáðàçû è ìèñòè÷åñêàÿ ïîäîïëåêà îáûäåííîé æèçíè. Íî íå âñå, óâëå÷åííûå òâîð÷åñòâîì Ìè- õàèëà Áóëãàêîâà, çíàþò, ÷òî ðîìàí «Ìàñòåð è Ìàðãàðèòà» íàïèñàí ïîä âîçäåéñòâèåì ðîìàíà Ãóñòàâà Ìàéðèíêà «Àíãåë Çàïàäíîãî îêíà». Íà- ïðèìåð, â ðîìàíå Áóëãàêîâà ìíîãî ãîâîðèòñÿ î ìåñÿöå «íèñàí». Ñëîâî ýòî áëèçêî «íèñèí», ÷òî îçíà÷àåò îòêðûòûå, ÿâíûå ÷óäåñà. Òàêîå íåçíà- íèå ìåøàåò ïðîíèêíîâåíèþ â ãëóáèííûå ñìûñëû âîñïðèíèìàåìûõ ïðîèçâåäåíèé. Çà äîëãîå âðåìÿ ñóùåñòâîâàíèÿ êàæäûé âèä èñêóññòâà âûðàáîòàë ñâîé íàáîð âûðàçèòåëüíûõ ñðåäñòâ, êîòîðûé òðåáóåò ïðåäâàðèòåëüíîãî ÂÎÑÏÐÈÍÈÌÀÞÙÈÉ ÊÀÊ ÑÎÀÂÒÎÐ 69

îñâîåíèÿ è çíàíèÿ. Òàê, íàïðèìåð, öâåò â èêîíå èìåë îïðåäåëåííîå çíà- ÷åíèå. Äëÿ çåìíûõ ïåðñîíàæåé ñèíèé öâåò ÿâëÿåòñÿ àòðèáóòîì öåíò- ðàëüíîãî ëèöà, ïðèñóòñòâóÿ â îäåæäå êàê îáÿçàòåëüíûé ýëåìåíò; âòî- ðûì ïî çíà÷èìîñòè îêàçûâàåòñÿ êðàñíûé öâåò, êàê ïðàâèëî, ñîïðîâîæ- äàþùèé èçîáðàæåíèå öàðåé, òðåòèé ïî èåðàðõèè çíà÷åíèÿ ëèöà ñòàíî- âèòñÿ çåëåíûé èëè äðóãîé öâåò.2 Áîëüøîå âíèìàíèå âîñïðèÿòèþ èñêóññòâà óäåëÿë Ì.Ì. Áàõòèí.3 Îí ðàññìàòðèâàë õóäîæåñòâåííîå ïðîèçâåäåíèå êàê òåêñò, ñâÿçíûé çíàêî- âûé êîìïëåêñ, êîòîðûé ÿâëÿåòñÿ ïåðâè÷íîé äàííîñòüþ äëÿ õóäîæåñòâåí- íîé êóëüòóðû. Îí âûäåëÿë ïèñüìåííûé è óñòíûé, à òàêæå ïîäðàçóìåâà- åìûé òåêñò. Êàæäûé òåêñò õóäîæåñòâåííîãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ èìååò «ñóáúåêòà», àâòîðà è «èñòîëêîâàòåëÿ». Ñàì òåêñò, ïî ìíåíèþ Ì.Ì. Áàõ- òèíà, âêëþ÷àåò â ñåáÿ çàìûñåë è åãî îñóùåñòâëåíèå. Êàê ïðàâèëî, çà- ìûñåë ðàçíèòñÿ îò åãî âîñïðîèçâåäåíèÿ. Áàõòèí ñ÷èòàë, ÷òî ïðè àíàëè- çå õóäîæåñòâåííîãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ ðàñõîæäåíèÿ, äèíàìè÷åñêèå âçàèìî- îòíîøåíèÿ çàìûñëà è åãî ïðåòâîðåíèÿ, èõ áîðüáà ìîãóò ïîìî÷ü ïðî- íèêíîâåíèþ â ñóòü õóäîæåñòâåííîãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ. Èñòîëêîâàíèå æå òåêñòà ìîæåò èìåòü ðàçíûå ôîðìû: 1) ïðèìåðà, 2) âîîáðàæàåìîãî òåê- ñòà, 3) êîíñòðóèðóåìîãî òåêñòà. Ëþáîå õóäîæåñòâåííîå ïðîèçâåäåíèå âñåãäà ñîäåðæèò â ñåáå ïîòåíöèàëüíûé äèàëîã ñ âîñïðèíèìàþùèì, íà êîòîðîãî î íî ðàññ÷èòàíî. Àíàëèçó ýòàïîâ âîñïðèÿòèÿ èçîáðàçèòåëüíîãî èñêóññòâà ïîñâÿùå- íà ñòàòüÿ Í.À. ßêîâëåâîé. Îíà âûäåëÿåò â íåì 9 ôàç. Ýòî: 1) ïðåëþäèÿ ê âîñïðèÿòèþ, 2) áåçìîëâíûé âïå÷àòëÿþùèé êîíòàêò, 3) âåðáàëèçàöèÿ âïå÷àòëåíèÿ, 4) óãëóáëåíèå è ðàöèîíàëèçàöèÿ êîíòàêòà, 5) âåðáàëüíûé àíàëîã âèçóàëüíîãî îáðàçà, 6) ñîáñòâåííî àíàëèç ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ, 7) âîç- âðàùåíèå ê öåëîñòíîñòè âîñïðèÿòèÿ, 8) îïðåäåëåíèå êîîðäèíàò õóäî- æåñòâåííîãî îáðàçà è 9)èññëåäîâàíèå èñòîðè÷åñêîé äèíàìèêè õóäîæå- ñòâåííîãî îáðàçà ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ â öåëîì.4 Êàæäûé èññëåäîâàòåëü âïðà- âå ïî-ñâîåìó âûäåëÿòü ïîðÿäîê è êîëè÷åñòâî øàãîâ â ïîñòèæåíèè õó- äîæåñòâåííîãî îáðàçà. Íî îäíî â ýòîì èññëåäîâàíèè íå âûçûâàåò ñïî- ðà. Ëþáîå ïîñòèæåíèå õóäîæåñòâåííîãî îáðàçà îáÿçàòåëüíî ïðîÿâëÿ- åòñÿ â åãî âåðáàëèçàöèè, ÷òî ïîä÷åðêèâàåòñÿ ìíîãèìè èññëåäîâàòåëÿ- ìè. Äåéñòâèòåëüíî, êîãäà íàñ çàõâàòèëî êàêîå-òî ïðîèçâåäåíèå, ìû ãî- òîâû ïîäåëèòüñÿ ñâîèì âïå÷àòëåíèåì ñ äðóãèìè, îáëåêàÿ â ñëîâà ïðî- ÷èòàííûé ñìûñë. È òåì ñàìûì ïðèâëåêàåì ê ïîíðàâèâøåìóñÿ è ïîëþ- áèâøåìóñÿ ïðîèçâåäåíèþ òåõ, êòî ïðåäñòàâëÿåòñÿ íàì ñïîñîáíûì ýìî- 70 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

öèîíàëüíî îòêëèêíóòüñÿ. Íå ñëó÷àéíî ñîâðåìåííûé ôèëîñîô Æ. Äå- ë¸ç ïèñàë: «Ïèñàòåëü êàê òîò, êòî âèäèò è ñëûøèò, âîò öåëü ëèòå- ðàòóðû: ïåðåõîä æèçíè â ÿçûê, êîòîðûé ó÷ðåæäàåò Èäåè».5 Êîãäà òîò èëè èíîé õóäîæíèê ñîçäàåò êîíêðåòíîå ïðîèçâåäåíèå, îí, îñîçíàííî èëè áåññîçíàòåëüíî, îðèåíòèðóåòñÿ íà îïðåäåëåííûé òèï âîñïðèÿòèÿ. Ýòî ìîæåò áûòü ñòðåìëåíèå çàâîåâàòü ìãíîâåííûé óñïåõ è òîãäà àâòîð âíóòðåííå ìîäåëèðóåò ñòåðåîòèïû âîñïðèÿòèÿ ñâîèõ ñî- âðåìåííèêîâ, ïðè÷åì ïðåäñòàâëÿÿ ñåáå òîò èëè èíîé ñëîé îáùåñòâà. ×àùå àâòîð èìååò â âèäó ïðîñâåùåííîãî ÷èòàòåëÿ, ñëóøàòåëÿ, çðèòåëÿ, êîòîðûé ñìîæ åò îöåíèòü åãî íîâàòîðñòâî, óâû, ëèøü â áóäóùåì. Â ðå- àëüíîñòè óñïåõ íîâîãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ èñêóññòâà, êàê ïðàâèëî, òðóäíî ïðåäóãàäàòü. Çäåñü âñåãäà ìíîãî ôàêòîðîâ, âîçäåéñòâóþùèõ íà æèçíå- ñïîñîáíîñòü òîãî èëè èíîãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ èñêóññòâà. Èñêóññòâî ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé ÿçûê îñîáîãî ðîäà. Êàê ïðàâèëî, êàæäûé âèä èñêóññòâà îáëàäàåò íàáîðîì òîëüêî åìó ïðèñóùèõ çíàêîâ. Â îòëè÷èå îò ëþáîé çíàêîâîé ñèñòåìû ýòè çíàêè íå ÿâëÿþòñÿ ëåãêî âû÷ëåíÿåìûìè, ìåõàíè÷åñêè ïåðåíîñèìûìè èç îäíîãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ â äðóãîå. Åñëè â îáû÷íîé çíàêîâîé ñèñòåìå ôîðìà çíàêà èìååò ìèíèìàëü- íîå çíà÷åíèå, òî â èñêóññòâå èìåííî ôîðìà îêàçûâàåòñÿ âåñüìà ñîäåð- æàòåëüíîé è èìåííî åå ïðèîðèòåò ôîðìèðóåò òî èëè èíîå ñîäåðæàíèå, ò.å. îçíà÷àåìîå çäåñü çàâèñèò îò îçíà÷àþùåãî. Êðîìå òîãî, íåâîçìîæíî ñîñòàâèòü ñëîâàðü ýòèõ çíàêîâ. Êàêîé ïðîñòîé è íåòâîð÷åñêîé ñòàëà áû òîãäà ðàáîòà õóäîæíèêà! Âîò ïî÷åìó ìíîãèå ó÷åíûå ñ÷èòàþò, ÷òî â èñ- êóññòâå ìîæíî ãîâîðèòü ëèøü îá ýëåìåíòàõ çíàêîâîñòè, íî íå ðàññìàò- ðèâàòü åãî êàê çíàêîâóþ ñèñòåìó. Ñóùåñòâóåò òàêæå ìíåíèå, ÷òî èñêóñ- ñòâî èñïîëüçóåò çíàêè îêðóæàþùåé ÷åëîâåêà äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè (Ë. ×åð- òîâ). Ìû æå ïðèäåðæèâàåìñÿ òî÷êè çðåíèÿ, òàêæå ïîëó÷èâøåé øèðî- êîå ðàñïðîñòðàíåíèå â ñîâðåìåííîé íàóêå, ÷òî îäíè ÷åðòû çíàêîâîñòè ïðèëîæèìû ê èñêóññòâó, äðóãèå íåò. Ïîýòîìó èñêóññòâî çíàêîâàÿ ñèñòåìà îñîáîãî ðîäà.6 Êàê áû òî íè áûëî, íî çíàêîâîñòü èñêóññòâà ïðèçíàåòñÿ ñåãîäíÿ âñåìè, êòî çàíèìàåòñÿ èññëåäîâàíèåì åãî ñïåöèôèêè. À ýòî êà÷åñòâî, äåéñòâèòåëüíî ïðèñóùåå èñêóññòâó, ðîæäàåò äëÿ ñîçäàòåëÿ íåîáõîäè- ìîñòü ââåäåíèÿ çíàêîâ, êîäèðîâêè, ìîäåëèðîâàíèÿ îòðàæàåìîãî èì ìèðà. Îäíàêî ñëåäóåò èìåòü â âèäó, ÷òî èñêóññòâî äîâîëüíî ñëîæíîå ÿâëå- íèå. Îíî óíèêàëüíûé êàíàë ñâÿçè, â êîòîðîì èäóùåå îò èñòî÷íèêà èíôîðìàöèè ñîäåðæàíèå ìîæåò ïðè åãî ïðèåìå ëèáî ðàñøèðèòüñÿ (åñëè ÂÎÑÏÐÈÍÈÌÀÞÙÈÉ ÊÀÊ ÑÎÀÂÒÎÐ 71

âîñïðèíèìàþùèé ðàôèíèðîâàí, ãëóáîêî ç íàåò çàêîíû ÿçûêà äàííîãî âèäà èñêóññòâà), ëèáî îñòàòüñÿ çàêîäèðîâàííûì (êîãäà ëèøü íàèáîëåå ÿâíûå, âíåøíèå ýëåìåíòû ôèêñèðóþòñÿ âîñïðèíèìàþùèì è ÷òî ñëó- ÷àåòñÿ äîâîëüíî ÷àñòî). Êàê ïðàâèëî, ñîâðåìåííèêè â ñâîåì áîëüøèí- ñòâå íå â ñîñòîÿíèè âîñïðèíÿòü íîâîå ñîäåðæàíèå, âûðàæåííîå â íå- ïðèâû÷íûõ ôîðìàõ. Ïîýòîìó ëþáîå õóäîæåñòâåííîå ïðîèçâåäåíèå, åñëè îíî íàñòîÿùåå, ïîäëèííîå, ïîòåíöèàëüíî îòêðûòî äëÿ áóäóùåãî. ×åì áîëüøå â ïðîèçâåäåíèè çàëîæåíà «çîíà ðîñòà», òåì ïðîèçâåäåíèå äîë- ãîâå÷íåå è öåííåå. Â ïîñòèæåíèè ñìûñëà îïðåäåëåííûì çâåíîì âûñòó- ïàåò õóäîæåñòâåííàÿ êðèòèêà. Íî äîâîëüíî ÷àñòî îíà ñòîëü áåñïîìîù- íà è áåçäàðíà, ÷òî âûçûâàåò íàñìåøêè íå òîëüêî òâîðöîâ, íî è êîëëåã.7 Íà âîñïðèÿòèå õóäîæåñòâåííûõ ïðîèçâåäåíèé âëèÿþò ìîäà, àòìîñ- ôåðà àæèîòàæà, ñëàâà, ïðîâîöèðóÿ èíòåðåñ è âíèìàíèå ê ïðîèçâåäåíèÿì, âíóòðåííå íå çàòðàãèâàþùèì íåïîäãîòîâëåííîãî èíäèâèäà. Íà çàðå âîç- íèêíîâåíèÿ èñêóññòâà àâòîð è âîñïðèíèìàþùèé áûëè ñëèòû âîåäèíî. Ïî ìåðå ñòàíîâëåíèÿ èñêóññòâà, ðàçäåëåíèÿ åãî âèäîâ, âûðàáîòêè ñðåäñòâ âûðàçèòåëüíîñòè àâòîð è âîñïðèíèìàþùèé ñòàëè îòäàëÿòüñÿ äðóã îò äðó- ãà. Àâòîð ñòàíîâèòñÿ ãåíåðàòîðîì îïðåäåëåííûõ ñþæåòîâ, òåì, èäåé, âîñ- ïðèíèìàþùèé åãî ïàññèâíûì ïîòðåáèòåëåì. Ëèøü â èñïîëíèòåëüñêèõ âèäàõ èñêóññòâà èñïîëíèòåëü îñòàåòñÿ àêòèâíûì ñîàâòîðîì ïðîèçâåäå- íèÿ. Îäíàêî ïàññèâíîñòü âîñïðèíèìàþùåãî ëèøü êàæóùàÿñÿ. Èìåííî îò íåãî çàâèñèò áûòîâàíèå õóäîæåñòâåííîãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ. Äîâîëüíî øè- ðîêî ðàñïðîñòðàíåííàÿ ñåíòåíöèÿ «Òàëàíò âñåãäà ïðîáüåòñÿ» ñîâåð- øåííî íå ñîîòâåòñòâóåò äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè. Òàëàíòëèâûé âîñïðèíèìàþ- ùèé ìîæåò óâèäåòü ãëóáèííûå ñìûñëû â ëþáîì ïðîèçâåäåíèè, à èñòèí- íûé øåäåâð âñåãäà õðàíèò â ñåáå ïëàñòû, êîòîðûå áóäóò îòêðûòû íîâû- ìè ïîêîëåíèÿìè âîñïðèíèìàþùèõ. Øåäåâðû àíòè÷íîñòè ïî-ðàçíîìó èí- òåðïðåòèðîâàëèñü â Ñðåäíåâåêîâüå, Âîçðîæäåíèè è äàëåå âïëîòü äî íà- øåãî âðåìåíè, îòëè÷àÿñü îò èõ ïðî÷òåíèÿ â òå âðåìåíà, êîãäà îíè áûëè ñîçäàíû. Â êà÷åñòâå èäåàëüíîãî âîñïðèíèìàþùåãî ìîæíî ïðèâåñòè èìÿ À.Ñ. Ïóøêèíà. Èìåííî À.Ñ. Ïóøêèí âïåðâûå «ïðî÷åë» ïàìÿòíèê Ïåòðó Âåëèêîìó Ýòüåííà-Ìîðèñà Ôàëüêîíå ïî-íîâîìó è èìåííî ïîñëå íåãî ïà- ìÿòíèê âîøåë â ñîêðîâèùíèöó èñêóññòâà êàê «Ìåäíûé âñàäíèê». Òàêèì îáðàçîì, èìåííî äåêîäèðîâêà, âíåñåíèå íîâîãî ñîäåðæàíèÿ â óæå ñîçäàí- íûé äðóãèì àâòîðîì ïàìÿòíèê ñäåëàëè À.Ñ. Ïóøêèíà íåâîëüíûì ñîàâ- òîðîì Ôàëüêîíå. Òàêèì æå çíà÷èòåëüíûì âêëàäîì â èñòîðèþ âîñïðèÿ- òèÿ õóäîæåñòâåííûõ ïðîèçâåäåíèé ìîæíî ñ÷èòàòü àíàëèç ïîðòðåòà Ì.Í. 72 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

Åðìîëîâîé êèñòè Â.À. Ñåðîâà, ñäåëàííûé Ñåðãååì Ýéçåíøòåéíîì. Òå- ïåðü âíå ìîíòàæíîãî ïðèíöèïà Ýéçåíøòåéíà ïðîñòî íåâîçìîæíî âîñ- ïðèÿòèå ýòîãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ. Ñòîëü æå ãëóáîêèì è óíèêàëüíûì ñòàíî- âèòñÿ îñìûñëåíèå ìíîãèõ øåäåâðîâ ìèðîâîé æèâîïèñè â êèíîêàðòèíàõ À. Òàðêîâñêîãî, Ñ . Ïàðàäæàíîâà. Â íàøå âðåìÿ ðàçâèòèå äèãèòàëüíûõ òåõíèê â èñêóññòâå ñòàâèò âîñ- ïðèíèìàþùåãî â îäèí ðÿä ñ àâòîðîì, ïðåäîñòàâëÿÿ åìó àêòèâíóþ ðîëü â ÷åðåäîâàíèè ýëåìåíòîâ òêàíè ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ, èõ ðàçâèòèè, ïîðîæäå- íèè è ò.ä. Òåì ñàìûì ñîâðåìåííûé ýòàï ðàçâèòèÿ èñêóññòâà âûñâå÷èâà- åò ðîëü âîñïðèíèìàþùåãî èñêóññòâà êàê àêòèâíîãî ñîàâòîðà õóäîæå- ñòâåííîãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ, àêòóàëèçèðóÿ ïðîáëåìó ïîäãîòîâêè àóäèòîðèè, åå âîñïèòàíèÿ, êîòîðàÿ âî âñå âðåìåíà áûëà âàæíîé, à â íàøå âðåìÿ ïðèîáðåòàåò îñîáîå çíà÷åíèå. Èáî ìíîãèå ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ ñîâðåìåííîãî èñêóññòâà òðåáóþò îò âîñïðèíèìàþùåãî ñåðüåçíîãî ñîòðóäíè÷åñòâà. Â ïðîòèâíîì ñëó÷àå îíè îñòàþòñÿ íåïîíÿòûìè, ïðåâðàùàÿñü â ôðàãìåíò ïðîñòðàíñòâà, îáëàäàþùåãî îïðåäåëåííîé öåíîé. Òàêèì äâèæåíèåì, àêòèâèçèðóþùèì ðîëü âîñïðèíèìàþùåãî, ñòàë êîíöåïòóàëèçì, ïîëó÷èâøèé ðàñïðîñòðàíåíèå â êîíöå 1960 70 ãã. Ñòàë- êèâàÿ èñêóññòâî è íå-èñêóññòâî, õóäîæíèêè ýòîãî íàïðàâëåíèÿ ñòðåìÿòñÿ âûçâàòü çðèòåëÿ íà äèñïóò î ïðèðîäå ýñòåòè÷åñêîãî, íàïîëíÿÿ ñìûñëîì òî, ÷òî íàñ îêðóæàåò. Äëÿ êîíöåïòóàëèçìà õàðàêòåðíà ñèñòåìà óìîçðè- òåëüíûõ è àáñòðàãèðîâàííûõ îò ìàòåðèàëüíîé ôîðìû îòíîøåíèé è ïîíÿòèé. ×àñòî ïðè ýòîì èñïîëüçóþòñÿ êèíåòè÷åñêèå îáúåêòû (îáðà- ùåíèå ê âèäåîâîçìîæíîñòÿì ýëåêòðîíèêè). Êîíöåïòóàëèçì ñóùåñòâó- åò â æèâîïèñè è ïîýçèè, ïðîÿâëÿÿ ñåáÿ â ðàáîòå íå ñ ôîðìàìè, òðàäèöè- ÿìè, ñòèëÿìè, à ñ òåì, ÷òî èõ çàäàåò: ñ ìûøëåíèåì, ñîçíàíèåì, èäåîëî- ãèåé. Ïîýòîìó êàðäèíàëüíî ìåíÿåòñÿ âçàèìîîòíîøåíèå âîñïðèíèìàþ- ùåãî ñ ïðîèçâåäåíèåì èñêóññòâà. Çðèòåëü ââîäèòñÿ â óìîçðèòåëüíîå ïðîñòðàíñòâî, è åìó íåîáõîäèìî ñàìîñòîÿòåëüíî ðàçîáðàòüñÿ âî ìíî- æåñòâå êîíòåêñòîâ ýòè÷åñêèõ, ýñòåòè÷åñêèõ, ñîöèàëüíî-ïîëèòè÷åñêèõ, èñòîðèêî-êóëüòóðíûõ è ò.ä. Çðèòåëþ íåîáõîäèìî òâîð÷åñêè òðàêòîâàòü ïðåäëîæåííóþ êîíöåïöèþ. ×àñòî ïîýòîìó êîíöåïòóàëèçì íàçûâàþò ýñòåòè÷åñêîé ïðîâîêàöèåé. Ê ÿâëåíèÿì õóäîæåñòâåííîãî òâîð÷åñòâà, îáëàäàþùèì òàêîé çíà- ìåíàòåëüíîé îáðàùåííîñòüþ ê âîñïðèíèìàþùèì, ìîæíî îòíåñòè êîì- ïüþòåðíîå èñêóññòâî è ìåäèà-àðò. Âïåðâûå ïðèíöèïû èçîáðàæåíèé ñ ïîìîùüþ êîìïüþòåðà áûëè ïðîàíàëèçèðîâàíû Èâàíîì Å. Ñþòåðëåí- ÂÎÑÏÐÈÍÈÌÀÞÙÈÉ ÊÀÊ ÑÎÀÂÒÎÐ 73

äîì.8 Â åãî ñòàòüå áûëè ïîêàçàíû ìåòîäû îáðàáîòêè èíôîðìàöèè è èçîáðàæåíèÿ ñ ïîìîùüþ ìàøèíû è êàê êîìïüþòåð ìîæåò áûòü èñ- ïîëüçîâàí äëÿ èíòåðàêòèâíîãî âçàèìîäåéñòâèÿ ñ èçîáðàæåíèåì. Ýòî áûë ëèøü òåîðåòè÷åñêèé ïåðèîä â ðàçâèòèè êîìïüþòåðíîãî èñêóññò- âà. Ðåàëèçîâàòü åãî îêàçàëîñü íå ïðîñòî. Ðàçâèòèå êîìïüþòåðíîé òåõ- íèêè ñïîñîáñòâîâàëî ðàçâèòèþ êîìïüþòåðíîé ãðàôèêè. Òèìîòè Äæîí- ñîí ðàçâèë ðåçóëüòàòû, ïîëó÷åííûå È. Å. Ñþòåðëåíäîì.9 Âïîñëåäñòâèè Ò. Õàãåí è åãî ñîòðóäíèêè óëó÷øèëè ñêîðîñòíûå ïðåîáðàçîâàíèÿ äëÿ òðåõìåðíûõ èçîáðàæåíèé.10 Êàê ïðàâèëî, ýòà êîìïüþòåðíàÿ ãðàôèêà ðàññ÷èòàíà íà èíòåðàêòèâ- íîå âçàèìîäåéñòâèå ñ ìàøèíîé. Ñ îñâîåíèåì êîìïüþòåðíîé ãðàôèêè ïðèøëî îñîçíàíèå, ÷òî îíà ìîæåò áûòü èñïîëüçîâàíà è äëÿ íóæä êèíå- ìàòîãðàôà, â àíèìàöèè ìóëüòèïëèêàöèîííûõ èçîáðàæåíèé. Íîðìàí Ìàê Ëàðåí â 1968 ã. îïèñàë îñîáåííîñòè êîìïüþòåðíîé àíèìàöèè, íà îñíî- âå êîòîðîé ñòàëî âîçìîæíî ñîçäàâàòü ôèëüìû ñ ïîìîùüþ êîìïüþòåðà. Â 1989 ã. â Êàðëñðóý áûë îñíîâàí Öåíòð èñêóññòâ è ìåäèà-òåõíîëîãèé. Â 1994 ã. çäåñü áûëà îðãàíèçîâàíà ìóëüòèìåäèà-ëàáîðàòîðèÿ. Â íåé ñî- çäàþòñÿ èíñòàëëÿöèè, êîòîðûå ïîçâîëÿþò âñòóïàòü â äèàëîã ñ ðàçíûìè êîíöåïöèÿìè ìóëüòèìåäèà. Èíñòèòóò âèçóàëüíûõ ìåäèà ïðè Öåíòðå èñêóññòâ è ìåäèà-òåõíîëîãèé èçäàåò ñèäèðîìíûå èçäàíèÿ, â êîòîðûõ ïðåäñòàâëåíû ðàáîòû õóäîæíèêîâ ìåäèà-àðòà. Ðàçâèòèå òåõíèêè ïîçâîëèëî ê íàñòîÿùåìó âðåìåíè íåìåäëåííî óâèäåòü íà äèñïëåå ðåçóëüòàò èçìåíåíèé, âíîñèìûõ â äâèæåíèå è ðèòì äèíàìè÷åñêîãî èçîáðàæåíèÿ. Íîâûå òåõíîëîãèè ïîçâîëèëè èçìåíèòü àóäèòîðèþ âìåñòî ñîòíè çðèòåëåé ó÷àñòíèêîâ êîììóíèêàöèè, êîì- ïüþòåð ìîæåò ïîçâîëèòü â ëþáîå âðåìÿ âîñïðèíèìàòü íåêîå ïðîèçâå- äåíèå ëþáîìó êîëè÷åñòâó ëþäåé, ïðè÷åì, èçìåíÿÿ íå òîëüêî àóäèòî- ðèþ, íî è òî, ÷òî ïðåäñòàâëåíî ïî òó ñòîðîíó ýêðàíà (íîâàÿ àðåíà ñåòå- âîé êîììóíèêàöèè), êîãäà çðèòåëü ñòàíîâèòñÿ òâîðöîì. Â êà÷åñòâå ïðè- ìåðà èíòåðåñíî ïðîèçâåäåíèå, ñîçäàííîå êàê ðåçóëüòàò âåñåëîé èãðû, â êîòîðîé ó÷àñòâîâàëè êîìïîçèòîð Êóîøè Ôóðóêàâà, ìåäèà-õóäîæíèê Ìàñàêè Ôóäæèõàòà è õóäîæ íèê-ïðîãðàììèñò Âîëüôàíã Ìóíê (1999). Íàçûâàåòñÿ îíî «Small Fish», íî èìååò è ïîäçàãîëîâîê: «Êàìåðíàÿ ìó- çûêà ñ êàðòèíêàìè äëÿ êîìïüþòåðà è èñïîëíèòåëåé». Ïðîèçâåäåíèå ýòî ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé 15 êîìïîçèöèé, êîòîðûå ìû ñàìè èñïîëíÿåì, âñòóïàÿ â èãðó è çàñòàâëÿÿ çâó÷àòü âñå íîâûå è íîâûå âàðèàöèè. Íîâûå ìàòåðèàëüíûå íîñèòåëè ñïîñîáñòâîâàëè ïîÿâëåíèþ íîâîé 74 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

òåìàòèêè, êîãäà ìàòåðèàëüíî-òåõíè÷åñêèé ïðîãðåññ ñëèëñÿ ñ íîâûì õóäîæåñòâåííûì ñîäåðæàíèåì. Ðåâîëþöèÿ â îáëàñòè èñêóññòâ êîñíó- ëàñü íå òîëüêî îçíà÷àþùèõ, íî è îçíà÷àåìûõ, ðàñøèðèâ ãðàíèöû èñ- êóññòâà, êîòîðîå òåñíî ñîïðèêàñàåòñÿ ñ íàóêîé, ïîëèòèêîé è ýêîíîìè- êîé. Âîñïðèíèìàþùèé ïðè ýòîì óæå íå òîëüêî ó÷àñòíèê êîììóíèêà- òèâíîãî àêòà. Òåïåðü óæå îò ìàòåðèàëüíîãî ïðîäóêòà èñêóññòâî ïåðå- øëî ê íåìàòåðèàëüíûì ôîðìàì, ðàñïîëîæåííûì â ñåòåâîì îáùåñòâå, â êîòîðîì îïëà÷èâàåòñÿ íå ñàì ïðîäóêò, à âð åìÿ, çàòðà÷åííîå íà åãî ïî- òðåáëåíèå. Òàêîâà, íàïðèìåð, «âñòðå÷à âñëåïóþ» (blind date) êàíàäñêîé õóäîæíèöû Ëþê Êóðøåí. Ñòîëü æå ïîêàçàòåëüíà ðàáîòà àìåðèêàíñêîãî õóäîæíèêà Êåíà Ôàéíãîëäà, îòïðàâëÿþùåãî çðèòåëÿ íà îõîòó çà íåñìåò- íûì êîëè÷åñòâîì êîïîøàùèõñÿ ïîçàäè ýêðàíà áàíàëüíûõ ðåêëàìíûõ êàðòèíîê. Â íîâîì èñêóññòâå öàðñòâóåò èíòåðàêòèâíîñòü, êîãäà êèñòü è ïàëèòðó ñìåíèëè êëàâèàòóðà è ñåíñîðû. Ìåäèà-òåõíîëîãèè îêàçàëèñü ñâÿçàííûìè ñ ðàçíûìè âèäàìè èñêóññòâà ôîòîãðàôèåé, êèíîèñêóññò- âîì, òåëåâèäåíèåì, ìóçûêîé. Öåëüþ ýòèõ íîâûõ ïðîÿâëåíèé èñêóññòâà ñòàíîâèòñÿ íå ïðîñòî âîñïðîèçâåäåíèå äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè, à ñîçäàíèå âîçìîæíîñòè àêòèâíî ïîãðóçèòüñÿ â ñîçäàâàåìûé îáðàç âèðòóàëüíîé ðåàëüíîñòè. Òàêîâ, íàïðèìåð, íîâûé âèä êèíîçðåëèùà «àêòèâíûé êè- íåìàòîãðàô», ñîçäàííûé íà áàçå êîìïüþòåðíîé òåõíèêè. Çðèòåëè òàêî- ãî ôèëüìà ìîãóò âîçäåéñòâîâàòü íà ðàçâèòèå äåéñòâèÿ. Èìåííî òåïåðü, íà ñîâðåìåííîì ýòàïå ðàçâèòèÿ èñêóññòâà ñòàëî ïîíÿòíî è íàãëÿäíî âèäíî, ÷òî ïðîöåññ òâîð÷åñòâà è áûòèÿ èñêóññòâà äîïîëíÿåòñÿ åãî âîñïðèÿòèåì. Òåïåðü â ìóçûêå èñïîëíèòåëü óæå íå ïðîñòî âîñïðîèçâîäèò òåêñò êîìïîçèòîðà, íî ñòàíîâèòñÿ àêòèâíûì åãî ñîàâòîðîì, äîïîëíÿÿ åãî òåêñò. Òàê è â äðóãèõ âèäàõ èñêóññòâà âîñïðè- íèìàþùèé âîâëåêàåòñÿ â èãðó ñ òåêñòîì. Î òîì, ÷òî ñîâðåìåííûé âîñïðèíèìàþùèé äîëæåí óïîäîáèòüñÿ òâîðöó, ïèøóò ìíîãèå ñîâðåìåííûå ó÷åíûå, â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü ôðàí- öóçñêèå òåîðåòèêè ïîñòìîäåðíèçìà: Ð. Áàðò, Æ. Äåððèäà, Æ. Äåë¸ç è äð. Çäåñü, îäíàêî, âîçíèêàþò ïðîáëåìû ñëîæíîãî ðàçäåëåíèÿ èñêóññò- âà íà ýëèòàðíîå è ìàññîâîå. Óæå Êîíñòàíòèí Ëåîíòüåâ â êîíöå XIX âåêà ïðîçîðëèâî ïèñàë î òîì, ÷òî ïðîöåññû äåìîêðàòèçàöèè, íàðàñòàþùèå â ýêîíîìè÷åñêîì, ïîëèòè÷åñêîì, èíòåëëåêòóàëüíîì è, êàê ñëåäñòâèå, äàæå ïîëîâîì ðàâåíñòâå â îáùåñòâå, â êîíå÷íîì èòîãå ïðèâåäóò ê ãîñïîäñòâó ñêðîìíûõ, íå ñëèøêîì ìíîãî ðàáîòàþùèõ, îòíþäü íå ñàìûõ óìíûõ, íî îäèíàêîâî ìûñëÿùèõ ëþäåé. Ê òîìó æå íå î÷åíü ñ÷àñòëèâûõ â ñâîåé îäè- ÂÎÑÏÐÈÍÈÌÀÞÙÈÉ ÊÀÊ ÑÎÀÂÒÎÐ 75

íàêîâîñòè. Â ìàññîâîé êóëüòóðå ìû âèäèì èíôàíòèëèçèðîâàííîå ñîäåð- æàíèå.11 Íàó÷íîå è ïðîôàííîå â íåì îáúåäèíÿþòñÿ, ñîçäàâàÿ óðîäëèâûé ñèìáèîç. À èíòåëëåêòóàë, êîòîðûé õîðîøî çíàêîì ñ êðóãîì èäåé â î÷åíü óçêîé îáëàñòè, ïåðåíîñèò èõ íà ñôåðû, íå èìåþùèå îòíîøåíèÿ ê åãî ñïåöèàëüíîñòè, òåì ñàìûì äåëàÿ èõ ñèìâîëîì òîðæåñòâóþùåãî ÷åëîâå- êà-ìàññû. Ñâÿçàíî ýòî ñ äåôèöèòîì ëþäåé, èìåþùèõ øèðîêóþ ãóìàíè- òàðíóþ êóëüòóðó. Êàê ïðàâèëî, ëþäè, èìåþùèå ìóæåñòâî ïîëüçîâàòüñÿ ñîáñòâåííûì óìîì, ñìèðÿþòñÿ ñ íåâîçìîæíîñòüþ áûòü ïîíÿòûìè äðó- ãèìè è îòòîãî èñïûòûâàþò îäèíî÷åñòâî â ýòîì ìèðå. Ìàññîâîå îáùå- ñòâî ïîòðåáëåíèÿ ñòèìóëèðóåò ïîÿâëåíèå ìàññîâîãî èñêóññòâà. À ìàññî- âûé ïîòðåáèòåëü òðåáóåò ñðåäíèõ ïîäåëîê. Îáùåñòâî ïîòðåáëåíèÿ óñ- ðåäíÿåò íå òîëüêî ïðîäóêò, íî è ñàìîãî ïîòðåáèòåëÿ. Óñðåäíåííûå ïðî- èçâåäåíèÿ îðèåíòèðîâàíû íà ñòåðåîòèïíîãî âîñïðèíèìàþùåãî. Ýòîò ñîâðåìåííûé âîñïðèíèìàþùèé ÷àñòî ïîëó÷àåò âìåñòî äóõîâíîé ïèùè íå òîëüêî ïåðåæåâàííûé, íî è ïåðåâàðåííûé ïðîäóêò. È ïðèâûê ýòî ïî- òðåáëÿòü. Ïîòðåáëåíèå òàêîãî «èñêóññòâà» ñòàëî íà ïðåäïðèíèìàòåëüñ- êîé îñíîâå ïðèðàâíèâàòüñÿ ê ëþáûì òîâàðàì åäå, îäåæäå, ïðåäìåòàì áûòà, êîñìåòèêå è ò.ï. Çàñèëüå àìåðèêàíñêèõ áîåâèêîâ, ìàññîâèçàöèÿ ïîòðåáëåíèÿ âûðàæàåò íàäëîì â ñîâðåìåííîé êóëüòóðå. Ñ äðóãîé ñòîðî- íû, òî, ÷òî ìû íàõîäèìñÿ íà ïåðåõîäíîì ýòàïå12, ïîä÷åðêèâàåò ñòðåìëå- íèå èñêóññòâ ê èõ ñèíòåçó. Ñëåäóåò, îäíàêî, ïîìíèòü, ÷òî â ëþáîé ñèòóà- öèè åñòü êàê ïîëîæèòåëüíûå, òàê è îòðèöàòåëüíûå ñòîðîíû. Ñàìà ìàññî- âàÿ êóëüòóðà çàèíòåðåñîâàíà â ýëèòàðíîì èñêóññòâå, êîòîðîå âëèâàåò æèâóþ êðîâü â ýòî èñêóññòâî. Ïîýòîìó ñîàâòîð, ïîòðåáèòåëü èñêóññòâà âñåãäà ôîðìèðóåò èìåííî òåõ, êòî ìîæåò îòëè÷èòü ïîäëèííîå ïðîèçâåäå- íèå èñêóññòâà îò åãî íå ïîäëèííîé ïîääåëêè.

THE PERCIPIENT AS THE CO-AUTHOR OF ART

Svetlana MAKHLINA St. Petersburg State Univesity of Culture and Arts, Russia

Art represents a complex, multi-constituent system in which the necessary elements are the author, the piece of art, and its percipient. The central core of art is usually considered the piece of art itself. Its author is also frequently remembered. However, the percipient is generally considered a passive auxiliary who merely facilitates the existence of art in society. 76 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

In the Middle Ages, an artist bore in mind different levels of perception, those of the simpleton (idiotae), layman, monk, and sage. The deep-laid meanings and many-sided symbolism of the senses would open to consecrated people (initiatio) sages and monks. Their portrayals of meaning often became the «Bible for ignorants» for some people, and a cause of reflection for others. How often while perceiving pieces of art we appear in the role of idiotae! During the long history of art, every type of art has developed its own set of expressive instruments, which require preliminary assimilation and acquisition. It is not easy to perceive literature, though we know how to read. It is likewise difficult to comprehend fine art, music, etc. Thus, apart from the preliminary acquisition, it is necessary to comprehend the language of this type of art. It becomes clear the sense of a work is not perceived at once. Perception is a creative labour similar to that of the creator. Perception is a complex process. Any piece of art always carries in itself a potential dialogue with the percipient. But text is inseparably linked with context. The text is opened only in the situation of a chain of texts and these develop within pure context. At times, we are completely unable to understand the text, and in most cases this lack of understanding involves a certain profundity un- available to our comprehension. The role of percipient in art is rather large. Art represents a special kind of language, and every type of art possesses its own set of inherent signs. The role of percipient is extremely active. A talented percipient is able to see the deep-laid meaning in any work of art, and a true masterpiece always has layers of meaning which will be opened by new generations of perceivers. As a perfect example of a percipient is A.S. Pushkin. After Pushkin «read» the monument to Peter the Great by Etienne-Maurice Falconet in a new way, it went down in history as «The Bronze Horseman». Nowadays, the development of digital techniques in art puts the percipient in the same rank as the author, thus granting him an active role in the alternation of tissue elements of a piece of art, their evolution, generation, and etc. The contemporary stage in the evolution of art highlights the role of the percipient as an active co-author of a piece of art, which gives the problem of auditory training, which has been considered important throughout the history of art, new special significance. ÂÎÑÏÐÈÍÈÌÀÞÙÈÉ ÊÀÊ ÑÎÀÂÒÎÐ 77

This significance arises because many pieces of modern art expect from the percipient significant cooperation. If the percipient fails to coop- erate, the works remain misunderstood. They turn into fragments of space of uncertain value. To exemplify this phenomena of artist creations which have this remarkable directedness to percipients we refer to computer art and media-art. The revolutionary changes in the field of art have not only denotative but also significant implications. The borders of art have expanded to include matters of concern in science, politics and economics. In connection with this, the percipient is not a mere participant in a communicative act. Now, art is consumed. Instead of a material product which is bought and sold, art has turned into material forms which are situated in a network society where you pay not for the product itself but for the time spent on its consumption. (I have just guessed at the meaning of this final sentence. It was not clear to me exactly what the author intended, so I may have got it wrong.) In this new art, interactivity rules. Brushes and palette have been replaced by keyboard and sensors. Media-technologies are concerned with different types of art photography, cinematography, television, music, and the objective of these new manifestations of art is not just the reproduction of reality, but the creation of a possibility to plunge actively into the created vision of virtual reality. On the contemporary stage of art evolution, it has become clear and obvious that the process of creation and the being of art are supplemented with its perception. However, here there appear problems of a complex division into elitist art and art for the mass. As a rule, people who have the courage to use their own intellects put up with the impossibility of being understood by others and they therefore feel their loneliness in this world. The mass consumer society stimulates the appearance of mass art. A mass consumer demands mass products, and the consumer society thus averages not only the product but also the consumer himself. But mass culture is interested in elitist art, and this interest pours fresh blood in this art. Therefore, the co-author, consumer of art can always tell a genuine piece of art from its non-genuine forgery. 78 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

ÏÐÈÌÅ×ÀÍÈß 1 Àñìóñ Â.Ô. Â çàùèòó âûìûñëà. «Ëèòåðàòóðà ôàêòà» è ôàêòû ëèòåðàòóðû //Àñìóñ Â.Ô. Âîïðîñû òåîðèè è èñòîðèè ýñòåòèêè. Ì., 1968. 2 Ïîäðîáíåå îá ýòîì: Ìàõëèíà Ñ.Ò. Õóäîæ åñòâåííàÿ êóëüòóðà Ðîññèè. Äðåâ- íÿÿ Ðóñü // Ìèð ÷åëîâåêà. Ôèëîñîôèÿ. Îáðàçîâàíèå. Êóëüòóðà. Àëüìàíàõ. Âû- ïóñê âòîðîé. Êàëóãà, 1966. Ñ. 82-88. 3 Ñì. åãî ðàáîòû: Áàõòèí Ì.Ì. Ýñòåòèêà ñëîâåñíîãî òâîð÷åñòâà. Ì., 1979; Áàõòèí Ì.Ì. Ïðîáëåìû òåêñòà. Îïûò ôèëîñîôñêîãî àíàëèçà // Âîïðîñû ëèòå- ðàòóðû, 1956. ¹10. Ñ. 122-151; Áàõòèí Ì. Ì. Ëèòåðàòóðíî-êðèòè÷åñêèå ñòà- òüè. Ì., 1986. 4 ßêîâëåâà Í.À. Õóäîæåñòâåííîå ñîòâîð÷åñòâî â èñêóññòâå è ïåäàãîãèêå. Ê îïðåäåëåíèþ ïîíÿòèÿ // Õóäîæåñòâåííûé îáðàç è ïåäàãîãè÷åñêèé ïðîöåññ. Âûï. 1. ÑÏá., 1997. Ñ.15-17. 5 Äåë¸ç Æ.. Êðèòèêà è êëèíèêà. ÑÏá., 2002. Ñ. 17. 6 Ñì. îá ýòîì ïîäðîáíåå: Ìàõëèíà Ñ.Ò. ßçûê èñêóññòâà â êîíòåêñòå êóëüòó- ðû. ÑÏá., 1995. 7 Ñì. ÿäîâèòûå ñòðàíèöû Ñ.Ì. Äàíèýëÿ, âûñìåèâàþùèå òàêîãî ðîäà ïèñà- íèÿ: Äàíèýëü Ñ.Ì. Ñåòè äëÿ Ïðîòåÿ. Ïðîáëåìû èíòåðïðåòàöèè ôîðìû â èçîá- ðàçèòåëüíîì èñêóññòâå ÑÏá., 2002. Ñ. 262-272. 8 Sutherland Ivan E. Sketchpad: a man-machine graphical communication system. Conference-Proceedings, Spring Joint Computer Conference, AFIPS press 1963. 9 Timothy E. Johnson, Sketchpad III: A Computer Program for Drawing in three dimensions. Conference-Proceeding, Spring Joint Computer Conference, AFIPS press 1963. 10 Thomas G. Hagan, Richard J. Nixon and Luis J. Schaefer, The Adage graphical terminal. Adage Inc. Boston. Conference Proceedings, Fall Joint Computer Conference, AFIPS press 1968. 11 Ñì. îá ýòîì â ñòàòüå «Ìàññîâàÿ êóëüòóðà» â êí. Êóëüòóðîëîãèÿ, XX âåê. Ñëîâàðü. ÑÏá., 1997. 12 Àíàëèçó ýòîãî ïîñâÿùåíà êíèãà: Èñêóññòâî â ñèòóàöèè ñìåíû öèêëîâ: Ìåæäèñöèïëèíàðíûå àñïåêòû èññëåäîâàíèÿ õóäîæåñòâåííîé êóëüòóðû â ïåðå- õîäíûõ ïðîöåññàõ / Îòâ. ðåä. Í.À. Õðåíîâ. Ì.: Íàóêà, 2002.

ÌÅÆÄÓÐÅ×ÜÅ

Âàäèì ÐÀÁÈÍÎÂÈ×

Ïðî-çðåíèå - Âîç-çðåíèå Ýòî ñî÷èíåíèå ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé äîêëàä íà VI Ìåæäóíàðîäíîì ôèëîñîôñêî-êóëüòóðîëîãè÷åñêîì êîíãðåññå «Äèôôåðåíöèàöèÿ è èí- òåãðàöèÿ ìèðîâîççðåíèé: äèíàìèêà öåííîñòíûõ îðèåíòàöèé â ñîâðåìåí- íîé êóëüòóðå». Ýòî ñîáûòèå ñëó÷èëîñü â Ñàíêò-Ïåòåðáóðãå 29 îêòÿáðÿ 2 íîÿáðÿ 2003 ãîäà. Âïðî÷åì, îáî âñåì ýòîì ìîæíî áûëî áû íå ãîâîðèòü, ïîòîìó ÷òî ýòî è òàê ÿñíî èç íàçâàíèÿ âñåãî êîðïóñà ïóáëèêàöèé, åñëè áû íå îäíî îáñòîÿòåëüñòâî: â Ïðîãðàììå ýòîãî ìåðîïðèÿòèÿ ìîé äîê- ëàä, ïðîèçíåñåííûé 30 îêòÿáðÿ, â àíãëèéñêîì âàðèàíòå áûë íàçâàí âî- ëåþ ïåðåâîä÷èêîâ òàê: «Mesopotamia: insight or view». Òàê áûëî ïåðå- âåäåíî ìîå Ìåæäóðå÷üå íå êàê ïðåáûâàíèå ìåæäó äâóìÿ ðå÷àìè, à êàê äðåâíåå ãåîãðàôè÷åñêîå íàçâàíèå. Ýòî è ïîñëóæèëî ïîâîäîì äëÿ ýïèãðàììû, êîåé è áûë íà÷àò ìîé äîêëàä:

Ìåñîïîòàìñêîå äâóðå÷üå Â ïîñëåäíèõ ÷èñëàõ îêòÿáðÿ Âçâàëèë íà õóäåíüêèå ïëå÷è, Ïðî ìåæäóðå÷üå ãîâîðÿ.

È âîò, ìåæ Òèãðîì è Åâôðàòîì, Ìèðîâîççðåí÷åñêè áëóäëèâ, Ìå÷óñü, êàê áðîóíîâñêèé àòîì, Êîòîðûé òîëüêî òåì è æèâ. *** Ðå÷ü ïîéäåò î ïüåñå Âåëèìèðà Õëåáíèêîâà «Õî÷ó ÿ». Âîò âñÿ îíà öåëèêîì: Ä î ë è ð ü: Íåáèíè ñêèíóëè, ãëÿíü, ÷åðíîñèíèå òàéèëèùà è â ïëÿñü- ìåíàõ ïîä äóäó âûñîòîâóþ ñìåõóííî äåðçà÷à ñâåðøàþò êðàñîòèííûé õîä äî çàðè. Óòðèíÿ ñ âîñêîâàòûìè óñòàìè óëûáåíååò, íå êàìåííî è 80 Âàäèì ÐÀÁÈÍÎÂÈ×

âëàñòíî ïðîñòèðàåò íàä çåìëåé âñåëåííîâóþ ðóêó. Çîðè÷è-íåáè÷è, áëà- ãîñëîâåæèèçîðè÷è ñûïÿòñÿ ñ íåáà ìèëåáîé íåáà ñ ñîííåþùåé çåì- ëåé íåáîâûå êðàñíî-áàãðÿíûå öâåòû-æàðäå÷ü. Î, íåáàòàÿ òîíåáà ìåíÿ â íåÿ! Íåáàê, ìèðåþùèé âçîðîì è çëàòîâîëíà÷ü âîëîñåæîì, ñòðîéíèâåö ïëå÷àìè è ïðÿìèâåö ñòàíîì áåðåò äíåðîêîòíóþ ñâèðåëü. Óòðî÷ü ñêâîçü âîëíû áåëèçí è ÷åðíèçí ïðàâèò ÷åëí. Ïîâñþäó óòðèðè. Óòðî. ß: Ìèëåáà íåáñêîãî ìîãî÷à è íåáåñêîé ñèëåáû ñ çåìíàòîé õèëå- áîé íå ïðåäâåùàåò ìíå äîáðîòåþùèõ çåëî äåë. Çëîâûé äîæäü, äîæäü çëà, âèæó, îæèäàåò ìåíÿ. Èìåÿ óì ãèáêèé êàê ó áîæåñòâà, òàê êàê ëèøü òî÷êà áîæåñòâà ÿ, êàê è âñå æèâîå, ÿ íàøåë áû âûõîä äîñòîéíûé è òî÷íûé â óäà÷å. Ð ó ÷ ü è í ÿ: Îùóïûâàþùèé ìåíÿ âçîðîì! Âèäóí áóäü, íàäìåííèê, ýòèõ ãëàç: íåêîãäà áûëè ãðîìàäíû êàê ìèð, áóäó÷è ïðîøëûì è áóäó- ùèì âñåëåííîé, è âñåëåííè÷àìè áûëè äåòñêèå âçîðè÷è, áóäó÷è ïàìÿ- òüþ ó îäíîãî è íàäåæäîé ó äðóãîãî. È âñå áûëè áîæè÷àìè. À íûíå ÿ ìåíüøå ñòðåêîçû, è ëèøü ðûáàêè ïóãàþòñÿ ìîåãî òîùåãî òåëà. Ìñòèòü, ìñòèòü! Î, ìñòåíåþùèé çàìûñåë! Ñàìîóáèéñòâîâàòûå êðû- ëüÿ ñëåïè èç äíåé ïðîæèòûõ, è ïóòèíîé íåáåñíàòîé è ÷èñòîé, æåëîìåö íàâèíü è æàëèìåö âñåõ, ëåòè, ëåòè! È, ïîäîáíî ùèòó îñòàíàâëèâàÿ â ñåáå è ìåøêîòñòâóÿ ïîëåòó âñåëåííè÷åé îìèãåíåé áåññðî÷íî, íîâûé âèä áåññðî÷èÿ, áðûçãà áåññìåðòíûõ õëÿáåé è äåëàé òî, ÷òî òåáå ïîäñêàæåò íóæäà. Ñàìîòñòâóÿ, íî èíîòñòâóÿ, ñòàíåøü ïóòèíîé, ãäå áåçóìñòâóþò êîñÿêè ñòðàñòåíîãèõ (ãðèâûõ) êîáûëèö, íî, íåñÿ ñëóæáó èíîé ìîæáå, áóäåøü âîëåí ïàñòü â ïàñòü çåìíûõ äîëèí. Â ñ å ñ ó ù è í ÿ: Ìîæåáíàÿ ñòðàíà âåëèêà, è êòî óçíàë ðóáåæè? <1911?>

Ïåðâûé ñîáëàçí: åùå ðàç (à ìîæåò áûòü, åùå è åùå) ïåðå÷èòàòü. È êàæäûé ðàç âñëóõ. Íà ãîëîñ. Êðåùåíäî. Äèìèíóýíäî. Êîíòðàïóíêòíî è êàíòèëåííî. Ñâîäÿ íà íåò è âíîâü âîçâîäÿ íà äà Äî óìîïîìðà÷åíèÿ, ïîãðóæàÿñü â òåìü è äåáðü çà-óìüÿ êàê ïðåä-óìüÿ. Â çâóêîâóþ ìîë÷ü îãëàøåííîñòåé È âïðàâäó: «×èòàòü â çäðàâîì óìå âîçáðàíÿþ!» Âîâðåìÿ âñïîìíèë êàòåãîðè÷åñêèé èìïåðàòèâ çàïðåòíûé Êðó÷å- íûõ Àëåêñåÿ Åëèñååâè÷à, ïðåäïîñëàííûé èì ê åãî æå ñ Àëÿãðîâûì «Çà- óìíîé ãíèãå». ÌÅÆÄÓÐÅ×ÜÅ 81

Íî ÷òåíèå óæå íà÷àëîñü, è ïðèòîì, íàäåþñü, â çäðàâîì óìå (ïîêà ÷òî). Êðîìå òîãî, êàê ðàç çäðàâîìó óìó è íå âîçáðàíèøü. Ïîòîìó ÷òî íà òî îí è çäðàâûé, ÷òîáû ïûòàòü óìîì íå çäðàâîå, òî åñòü ñâîå ñîáñòâåí- íîå ÷èòàòåëüñêî-àâòîðñêîå çà-óìüåïðåä-óìüå. Ïåðå÷èòàë. Ãóë-ãóä îñòàåòñÿ. Âèñèò òó÷åé-îáëàêîì. Âîðî÷àåòñÿ ìåä- âåæüå-ñëîíîâüå, íî è ìðååò â óòðåíåþùåé âðåìèðíå è ñèíåé íåáåæåòè. Íî îäíîãî ãóäà-ãóëà ìàëî. Ïîòîìó ÷òî ýòî âñå-òàêè ïüåñà ñ íàäìèð- íîé (è ìíîãîìåðíîé) äðàìàòóðãèåé, è ïîýòîìó õî÷åòñÿ óçíàòü, â ÷åì äåëî. À ðàç äåëî, òî è ñìûñë äëÿ äèñêóðñèâíîãî ïåðåñêàçà ñóäüáû ïåð- ñîíàæåé â èõ ðå÷åâûõ æåñòàõ è âçàèìîäåéñòâèÿõ. ×òî æå ñëó÷èëîñü ñ ýòèìè ïåðñîíàæàìè Äåëèðåì, ß, Ðó÷üèíåé è Âñåñóùèíåé? È ýòî íàäî ïîíÿòü ïîâåðõ, èëè ïî-íàä ãóëîì-ãóäîì. Ïî- íàä çâóêîðå÷üþ Âî âñÿêîì ñëó÷àå õî÷åòñÿ ïîíÿòü. Íî ÷åñòíîñòè ðàäè, íàäî ïðèçíàòüñÿ, ÷òî äîïðåæü âñåãî ãåðîè ýòîé ïüåñû ïðåäñòàâëåíû êàæäûé! îáðàçàìè ñâîåé ðå÷è. Íî ãåðìåòè÷åñ- êèìè îáðàçàìè ðå÷è. Ãåðìåòè÷åñêèìè îáðàçàìè ãåðìåòè÷åñêîé ðå÷è. È ÿ êàê ÷èòàòåëü (ñî-èìåííûé ãåðîþ «ß») òùóñü ýòó ðå÷ü ïîíÿòü ñêâîçü ãóä è ãóë, çâóê è çûê. À äëÿ ýòîãî íàäîáíî ãåðìåíåâòè÷åñêè äåãåðìåòè- çèðîâàòü ñëîâà ýòîé ðå÷è, óïëîùèâ ýòó ðå÷ü äî ÿçûêà. Íî ÿçûêà âñå- òàêè â îáëè÷èè ðå÷è. Ñïðàøèâàþ: íóæåí ëè äëÿ âñåõ ýòèõ íàäîá ïåðåâîä? È ýòî ñî- áëàçí âòîðîé. Ðèñêíó.

ÕÎ×Ó ß Ä î ë è ð ü: Ãëÿíü, íåáåñà âñêèíóëèñü è ïîä âûñîêîãîëîñóþ äóäó, ñìåõîçâîííî äåðçàÿ è êðàñèâî êðóæàñü, ïîøëè âûâîäèòü ÷åðíî-ñèíþþ ñâîþ òàéíîïèñü äî çàðè. Óòðî-âîñêîâûå óñòà ðàçóëûáèëîñü, íî óæå íå êàìåííî, íî âñå åùå âëàñòíî ïðîñòèðàåò ñâîþ âñåîõâàòíóþ ðóêó íàä âñåþ çåìëåþ. Íåáåñíî-çîðåâûå àíãåëü÷èêè áëàãèìè âåñòî÷êàìè î ìè- ëîñòè ê ïðîñûïàþùåéñÿ çåìëå óñûïàþò åå ñîáîþ öâåòàìè-æàðêàìè. Óòîíóòü â ïó÷èíå íåáåñ! Õîçÿèí íåáà, ñ óõîäÿùèì âçîðîì, íî øèðîêèé â ïëå÷àõ è ïðÿìîé ñòàíîì, âçâîëíèë çîëîòî âîëîñ, âçÿâ â ðóêè ñâèðåëü äíÿ äëÿ ðîêî÷óùèõ æóð÷ëèâûõ çâóêîâ. Ïàðÿò ðàííèå ñíåãèðè óòð. Ñî- áèðàþòñÿ âìåñòå íà âîëíàõ áåëèçí è ÷åðíèçí. Íà÷èíàåòñÿ Óòðî ß: Ìîãó÷è ìèëîñòè íåáà è ñèëüíà åãî ñèëà, íî íè÷åãî õîðîøåãî íå æäåòñÿ. Äîæäÿ çëà îæèäàþ. Âèæó åãî. Èìåÿ óì ãèáêèé, êàê ó áîæå- 82 Âàäèì ÐÀÁÈÍÎÂÈ×

ñòâà, õîòÿ ÿ åãî òî÷êà, êàê è âñå æèâîå, íî ÿ íàøåë áû âûõîä äîñòîé- íûé è òî÷íûé â óäà÷å. Ð ó ÷ ü è í ÿ: Îùóïûâàþùèé ìåíÿ âçîðîì! Òû íàäìåííî âñåâåäóù, âñìîòðèñü â ìîè ïîòóñêíåâøèå ãëàçà: íåêîãäà îíè áûëè îãðîìíû êàê ìèð, áóäó÷è ïðîøëûì è áóäóùèì âñåëåííîé, è ñàìè îíè áûëè äåòüìè âñåëåííîé è ïî-äåòñêè ïðîñòîäóøíî âñåçðÿ÷èìè, áóäó÷è ïàìÿòüþ ó îäíîãî è íàäåæäîé ó äðóãîãî. È âñå áûëè äåòüìè áîãîâ. À íûíå ÿ ìåíü- øå ñòðåêîçû, è òîëüêî ðûáàêè ïóãàþòñÿ ìîåãî òîùåãî òåëà. Ìñòèòü, ìñòèòü! Î, ìñòåíåþùèé êîñòåíåþùèé çàìûñåë! Ñàìî- óáèéñòâåííûå êðûëüÿ ñëåïè èç äíåé ïðîæèòûõ, è ïóòèíîé íåáåñíîé è ÷èñòîé, æåëàííèê-ïèòîìåö íàâèíü (? Â. Ð.) è æàëåéíèê âñåõ, ëåòè, ëåòè! È, ïîäîáíî ùèòó îñòàíàâëèâàÿ â ñåáå è ìåøàÿ ïîëåòó îòïðûñêîâ âñåëåí- íîé (è òîæå âñåëåííûõ), áåññðî÷íî áóäü ìèãîì (æèâè ìãíîâåíèåì. Â. Ð.), íîâûì âèäîì áåññðî÷èÿ, âçáðûçãîì áåññìåòðíûõ õëÿáåé, è äåëàé òî, ÷òî ïîäñêàæåò íóæäà. Îñòàâàÿñü ñàìèì ñîáîþ, íî áåçóìñòâóÿ, ñòàíåøü ïóòèíîé, ãäå áåçóìñòâóþò êîñÿêè ñòðàñòåíîãèõ (ãðèâûõ), íî, íåñÿ ñëóæ- áó èíîìó ìîãóùåñòâó, áóäåøü âîëåí ïàñòü â ïàñòü çåìíûõ äîëèí. Â ñ å ñ ó ù è í ÿ: Ìîãó÷àÿ ñòðàíà âåëèêà, è êòî çíàåò åå êðàÿ? <1911?>

Íî àäåêâàòåí ëè ýòîò ìîé ïåðåâîä? È çäåñü ïîñìîòðèì Ñîáëàçí òðåòèé: ïîäïðàâèòü, ïðèáëèçèòü. Íî ñîõðàíèòü ïåðåâîä- íîñòü: îá-óìíèòü çà-óìü. Î-ñìûñëèòü, ñìèêøèðîâàòü äî ïðèâû÷íîãî áëàãîçâó÷èÿ ãóë-ãóä-çâóê-çûê. «Íà ôëåéòå», íî «âîäîñòî÷íûõ òðóá». Ãçè- ãçè-ãçýî âýýîì. Ïîïðîáóþ Êóäà ïîäåâàëèñü íåáèíè, ìèëåáû, òîíåáû? À êóäà íåáàê èñ÷åç? Êàê åñëè áû îí áûë ëåøàê êàêîé, âûøåäøèé èç ëåñó. Îòâå÷ó, äëÿ ïðèìåðà, òîëüêî çà íåáàêà, ñòàâøåãî â ïåðåâîäå õîçÿèíîì íåáà. À ïðàâèëüíî ëè? Ïî÷åìó æå íå íàéäåí ïîäõîäÿùèé íåîëîãèçì, ñòàâøèé â ïåðåâîäå âñåãî ëèøü ëîãèçìîì? Ìîæåò áûòü, ïîïðîáîâàòü âñå æå âíîâü íåîëîãèçèðîâàòü, ñáëèçèâ ôîíåòè÷åñêè íåñáëèæàåìîå: íåáàêà è õîçÿèíà íåáà? È òîãäà çàâèñíåò íàäî âñåì, ÷òî åñòü, ìîé Íå- áóñ, ìûñëåííî îêëèêàþùèé àáèññèíñêîãî Íåãóñà âî âñåâëàñòèè íàäî âñåì, ÷òî íè åñòü. Ñîáëàçí ÷åòâåðòûé. À ïî÷åìó íå îñòàâèòü âñå, êàê áûëî? ×åì, â êîíöå êîíöîâ, ïëîõ íåáàê, ïîíÿòíûé è áåç ïåðåâîäà â õîçÿèíà íåáà?! È äàæå åñëè íåìíîæå÷êî íàçàä â Íåãóñà? ÌÅÆÄÓÐÅ×ÜÅ 83

Íî ïîíÿòíûé ëè? Ïîíÿòíî-íåïîíÿòíûé äëÿ ñòèõèè ñòèõà, íî â æå- ëàòåëüíîñòè âñå-òàêè ïîíÿòü, åñëè ýòî ïðîçà, ïóñòü äàæå è â âèäå ïüåñû. Ñîáëàçí òîò æå ÷åòâåðòûé: îñòàâèòü êàê åñòü, ïîñêîëüêó çàóìü íåïåðåâîäèìà. Âåäü

áûëèíû î íàøèõ íàðîäàõ Íèêîãäà íå çâó÷àò â ïåðåâîäàõ (Ì. Ñâåòëîâ èç ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ «Èòàëüÿíåö»)

Íî ìû íå â Èòàëèè, à â Ðîññèè. È ïîòîìó òåì áîëåå íèêîãäà Íî ñîáëàçí ïÿòûé (îí æå âíîâü ïåðâûé): ïåðåâåñòè õî÷åòñÿ, äàáû ïîíÿòü, â ÷åì æå äåëî â ýòîé ïüåñå. Â ñóäüáàõ ñîâîêóïíîé ñóäüáå ýòèõ ÷åòûðåõ ïåðñîíàæåé: Äîëèðÿ, ß, Ðó÷üèíè è Âñåñóùèíè. Íî âñå îíè ðå÷è: íå Äîëèðü, à ðå÷ü Äîëèðÿ; íå ß, à ðå÷ü ýòîãî ß; íå Ðó÷üèíÿ, à åå ðå÷ü; íå Âñåñóùèíÿ ðå÷ü ýòîé ñàìîé Âñåñóùèíè. Õî÷åòñÿ ïåðåâåñòè íà ÿçûê, à ïåðåâîäèòñÿ âñå-òàêè íà ðå÷ü (äâîéíóþ) åãî (Õëåáíèêîâà) è ìîþ (ïåðåâîä÷èêà òîëìà÷à òîëêîâàòåëÿ). Íî è íà ÿçûê, ÷òî ñòðàøíî óùåìëÿåò: æàëêî àâòîðà, íî è ñàìîãî ñåáÿ. Ïåðâîãî çà óòðàòó ðå÷è, âòîðîãî (ìåíÿ), îñòàâøåãîñÿ ñ îñòàòî÷íîé ïîëóðå÷üþ è îáðå- òåííûì ïîëóÿçûêîì. Âîò îò÷åãî âñå ýòè ïÿòü èñêóøåíèé ïÿòü ñîáëàçíîâ. À òåïåðü ïîïðîáóþ ïî óìó (çäðàâîìó) èñòîëêîâàòü çàóìü, êîòîðàÿ íå ïåðåâîäèìà è íå èñòîëêîâûâàåìà. Íî õî÷åòñÿ èñòîëêîâàòü õîòÿ áû ýòó äðàìàòóðãèþ ðå÷è, â êîòîðîé âûñâå÷èâàåòñÿ, êàê íè êðóòè, ðóññêèé ÿçûê, õîòÿ è õëåáíèêîâñêèé. À óæ ýòî èñòîëêîâàíèå îáÿçàíî ëå÷ü íà ÿçûê, ïîòîìó ÷òî èñòîëêîâàíèå íèêîãäà íå ïåðåâîä. Îíî ïåðåñêàç è ïðîñòî-òàêè îáÿçàíî ëå÷ü íà ÿçûê. Îíî-òî è áóäåò òåì ìåæäó: ðå÷àìè- ðå÷åíèÿìè (îðèãèíàëîì è ìîèì ïåðåâîäîì) ñî ñòðóéêàìè (ó ìåíÿ) èëè ñ áûñòðèíàìè-ñòðåìíèíàìè ðå÷è (ó Õëåáíèêîâà). Ìåæäó-ðå÷üå Â íåéòðàëüíîñòè ÿçûêîâîãî ïîêîÿ óñïîêîåííîñòè. Ïåðåñêàæó, â ìåðó ìîåãî ïîíèìàíèÿ ñìûñëîâ çàóìè, è ïîòîìó íå ñìûñëîâ âîâñå, à ñêîðåå äèñêóðñîâ óìíîé ïî÷òè çàóìè (åñëè òîëüêî â çàóìè è â ñàìîì äåëå ñîäåðæèòñÿ óì). Ïåðåñêàç-ïåðåâîä ñ çàóìíîãî íà óìíûé?.. Ñ «âíóòðåííåðå÷åâîãî» íà «âíåøíåÿçûêîâîé»? Ïåðåñêàçûâàþ ýòè äâà â îäíîì (äâà ðå÷åÿçûêà, êîòîðûå äîëæíû ëå÷ü íà ÿçûê ïåðåñêàçà ñ óòðàòîþ ñîáñòâåííûõ ðå÷åâûõ æåñòîâ, íî çàòî àäàï- òèðîâàííûõ ê âíåðå÷åâûì âíåÿçûêîâûì ñìûñëàì, â íåêîòîðîì ðîäå êâàçèñìûñëàì, íàñóùíî íåîáõîäèìûì êóëüòóðíî-êîëëàæíûì öèòàò- 84 Âàäèì ÐÀÁÈÍÎÂÈ×

íûì - àïïëèêàöèÿì-ýêñïëèêàöèÿì, ïðîäóêòèâíî ñîïðîâîæäàþùèì êóëü- òóðó â åå ñîáñòâåííî ïîýòè÷åñêîé êðåàòèâíîñòè. Ïåðåñêàçûâàþ... Äîëèðü îáõîä÷èê äîëüíåãî ìèðà, åãî äóøà è ñìîòðèòåëü ïðèãëà- øàåò â äîëèíó óòðà: ñîëíå÷íóþ, íàäíåáåñíóþ, çâîíêóþ. Íà÷àòóþ ñ óòðà áûòü. Ðå÷èñòóþ, öâåòèñòóþ. Âîçãîâîðèâøóþ ðå÷üþ-ðåêîþ. Îñâåùåí- íóþ óëûáêîé íà÷àëà äíÿ. Óòðèðè-âðåìèðè. Ëåòíèå ñíåãèðè è ÷åëí ïî âîëíàì. Ãîðòàííî è æóð÷ëèâî. ×èñòûé ÷åðíî-ñèíèé çâóê òàéíû. Âíóòðåííÿÿ ðå÷ü Äîëèðÿ-òàéíîâëàäåëüöà. Íî «ß» íå ðàäî. Äîæäü çëà êîïèòñÿ â áåçîáëà÷íîñòè. È ýòî «ß», áîæåñòâåííîå ïî ïðèðîäå, õî÷åò ïåðåõèòðèòü îæèäàåìûé çëûâåíü. (Çëû- âåíü ýòî ìîé ðå÷åâîé æåñò íàâñòðå÷ü ðå÷åâîìó æå âûïàäó «ß» Õëåá- íèêîâà, êîòîðûé â ñâîþ î÷åðåäü íàâñòðå÷ü ðå÷è Äîëèðÿ ñâåòëî-áåççà- áîòíîé ðå÷è. Íî âñòóïàåò â ïîëåìèêó Ðó÷üèíÿ, íåêîãäà ïîëíîâîäíàÿ Óíäèíà ñî ñâîèì äÿäþøêîé ïî èìåíè Ñòðóé, âûçâîëåííûå èç òîïèêè ïðèïîìèíà- íèÿ (Æóêîâñêèé), à ó Õëåáíèêîâà èõ íåò, à ìîãëè áû. Ïðîøëîå ó Ðó÷üè- íè ïîëíîâîäíî è áóäóùåå òîæå. Êàê ìèð ïðè íà÷àëå. Êàê ó äåòåé-áîãîâ ïðè íà÷àëå òâîðåíèÿ. À òåïåðü â ñåé ìèã, â êîòîðîì õóæå íå áûâàåò: « ÿ ìåíüøå ñòðåêîçû, è òîëüêî ðûáàêè ïóãàþòñÿ ìîåãî òîùåãî òåëà». ×èñòûé ïëà÷, â ïåðåâîäå ïî÷òè íå íóæäàþùèéñÿ. Îí íå ïåðåâî- äèì, êàê íå ïåðåâîäèì è ñìåõ («Î, ðàññìåéòåñü, ñìåõà÷è!»). Ñìåõ, îí è â Àôðèêå ñìåõ. Êàê, âïðî÷åì, è ïëà÷. Îíè îäíîïðèðîäíû. Ðå÷ü íà ðå÷ü áåç ïåðåâîäà. Áåçúÿçûêî ×òî æå äåëàòü? Ìñòèòü, æèâÿ ñèì ìèãîì. È ïðè ýòîì áûòü ñàìèì ñîáîþ, âìåñòå ñî âñåé èíîé âîäíîé è çåìíîé æèâíîñòüþ. Ñàìèì ñîáîþ, íî âñå æå ñëóæà èíîìó ìîãóùåñòâó. Íå Áîãó ëè? Âåäü êàæäàÿ òî÷êà áîæåñòâà ïîäîáíà «ß». ×òîáû ñîáñòâåííîþ âîëåé «ïàñòü â ïàñòü çåìíûõ äîëèí». Ðå÷ü ãíåâà, ïîäíà÷èâàþùàÿ ðå÷ü «ß». Ðå÷ü íà ðå÷ü. È íà âñþ «äî- ëèíó ðîâíóþ» âñåëåíñêèé âîèíñòâåííûé êëè÷. À óæ íà âñþ ñòðàíó, òàê íàâåðíÿêà. È äàæå Âñåñóùèíÿ íå çíàåò, ãäå ïðåäåë: «Ìîãó÷àÿ ñòðàíà âåëèêà, è êòî çíàåò åå êðàÿ?» Íàäìèðíî è âñåïå÷àëüíî. È ïîòîìó òîæå ïî÷òè áåç ïåðåâîäà: ìîãó÷àÿ ìîæåáíàÿ (îò ìîæáà ìî÷ü; íî è áîæ- áà: çàêëèíàòåëüíàÿ íåâíÿòèöà â ôèíàëå äèàëîãà ðå÷åé íå ÿçûêîâ; ïî- ÷òè íå ÿçûêîâ, õîòÿ è íå áåç íèõ). Âîò ÷òî ïîëó÷èëîñü â ìåæäóðå÷üå: ìåæ ïðî-çðåíèåì è âîç-çðåíèåì, ïûòàâøèìèñÿ âûñòðîèòü ìèð â ìîäóñå ÌÅÆÄÓÐÅ×ÜÅ 85

ïîâåëåâàíèÿ. Çåìøàðíîãî ïîâåëåâàíèÿ âñåñèëüíîé ïòèöû ïî èìåíè «Õî÷ó ß», êàê âñåîõâàòåí è âñåìîãóù Íåáàê Õîçÿèí Íåáà. Íî è ñðå- äèííûé ìåæðå÷åâîé Íåáóñ (= Íåãóñ), òàê è íå ñêàçàâøèéñÿ â ìåæäóðå- ÷üå, íî îñòàâèâøèé ñëåä ñâîåãî âñåìîãóùåñòâà â ìîæáåáîæáå Íî â ìîæáå íå êàêîãî-òî òàì «ß», à ñòðàíû áåñêðàéíåé. Íå Çåìøàðà ëè, âñå åùå èùóùåãî ñâîåãî Ïðåäñåäàòåëÿ? Ïîýòà ñðåäè äâóõ æåíñêèõ ïðèðîä Ðó÷üèíè è Âñåñóùèíè. À ñàì îí õîòü è òî÷- êà, íî Áîæåñòâà, è ïîòîìó ñèëà òâîðÿùàÿ, âñåëåíñêàÿ. Äîëèííàÿ- äîëüíàÿ íà áåñêðàé âî âñå ñòîðîíû. À ðóáåæåé íå óçíàòü. Åùå ðàç: Ïîýò!.. Íå âåðíóòüñÿ ëè ê Íåáàêó?.. Íî è çäåñü íå îáîøëîñü áåç ðå÷è, õîòü è ÿçûê ïðåîáëàäàë. Âíîâü ìåæäóðå÷üå: ðó÷üÿ è ðó÷åéêà, õîòÿ è ñ äåìîñôåíîâñêèìè êàìóøêàìè- êàìíÿìè. ßçûêîâûìè ïðåïîíàìè-ïðåïèíàíèÿìè. Ñ çàêîâûêàìè è çàïÿ- òûìè ïðåïèíàëèöàìè ðå÷åé ïî õîäó êèðèëëè÷åñêèõ òîêîâ ÿçûêà. Â ÿçûêîâîé ñòèõèè ïðåä-ðå÷üÿ È òóò âïîëíå áóäåò óìåñòíîé åùå îäíà ðåôëåêñèÿ íà ðå÷ü Õëåáíè- êîâà. Ýòî ñëîâíî ïðî íåãî ñêàçàë ïîýò Äàâèä Ñàìîéëîâ:

Íóæíî ñåáÿ ñæå÷ü, ×òîá ïðåâðàòèòüñÿ â ðå÷ü.

Èìåííî òàê Õëåáíèêîâ è ïîñòóïèë (õîðîøî, ÷òî òîëüêî ôèãóðàëüíî).

*** Òàê âîò Îáðàùóñü ê òâîðåíèÿì Â. Ñ. Áèáëåðà, ïî÷óâñòâîâàâøåãî çàóìü òâîðåíèé Õëåáíèêîâà, íî ÷åðåç èäåþ «âíóòðåííåé ðå÷è» Ë.Ñ. Âûãîòñ- êîãî, ðàçâèòóþ èì, â ÷àñòíîñòè, â ðàáîòå «Ìûøëåíèå è ðå÷ü». Ïîïðîáóþ âçÿòü è ýòîò ñëåä. Ïîïðîáóþ (Ïîñëåäóþùåå âçÿòî èç ïðåâîñõîäíîé ðàáîòû Â.Ñ. Áèáëåðà «Íàöè- íàëüíàÿ ðóññêàÿ èäåÿ? Ðóññêàÿ ðå÷ü!», îïóáëèêîâàííîé âî âòîðîé êíèæ- êå æóðíàëà «Îêòÿáðü» çà 1993 ãîä.) «Íåïîñðåäñòâåííî áûòèåì ÷åëîâåêà âíóòðè íåãî ñàìîãî (âíóòðè åãî ëè÷íîñòíîãî áûòèÿ) âûñòóïàåò ðå÷ü; ÷åëîâåê ñëûøèò ñåáÿ. Îí íå ïðîñòî ñëûøèò ñåáÿ. Îí ìîæåò ïðîèçâîëüíî «ñêàçàòü ñåáÿ», îí ìîæåò çàñòàâèòü ñåáÿ âûñëóøàòü ñåáÿ ñàìîãî. È, ãëàâíîå, îí ìîæåò ñëóøàòü ñâîå ìîë÷àíèå. 86 Âàäèì ÐÀÁÈÍÎÂÈ×

Ïðîäóìàåì òàêîé îáðàç. Ýòî òîëüêî îáðàç, îòíþäü íå íàó÷íàÿ òåî- ðèÿ, íå÷òî èäóùåå îò Âåëèìèðà Õëåáíèêîâà (åñëè ïîíèìàòü åãî ÿçûêî- âåä÷åñêèå ôàíòàçèè íå êàê ÿçûêîâåäåíèå, íî êàê î÷åíü ãëóáîêèå îáðà- çû ðå÷è ìûøëåíèÿ). Ïðåäñòàâèì, ÷òî çâóêè ÷åëîâå÷åñêîé ðå÷è (èìåííî êàê ìîìåíòû åäèíîé ðå÷è) ýòî èíòåðèîðèçèðîâàííûå (òî÷íåå, åùå íå îáíàðóæåí- íûå) äåéñòâèÿ ïî îòíîøåíèþ ê ïðåäìåòàì âíåøíåãî ìèðà (âðàùåíèÿ âââ! Óäàðà äððð! Êîøåíèÿ «êîñè, êîñà, ïîêà ðîñà »). Â çâó÷àíèå âõîäèò è ñîïðîòèâëåíèå ìàòåðèàëà äåðåâà, çåìëè, êàìíÿ; äâèæåíèÿ ñðàçó ìåíÿþòñÿ, ñòàíîâÿòñÿ áîëåå íàïðÿæåííûìè, òóãèìè, áîëåå ìÿã- êèìè, ïîãðóæàþùèìèñÿ, ïëàñòè÷íûìè, ïðåîáðàçóåòñÿ è çâóêîâîå âíóò- ðåííåå íàïîëíåíèå ýòèõ äâèæåíèé: ð-ûòü, ë-èòü, ï-èòü (ïîãðóæàòü â ñåáÿ), á-èòü (áûòü îò ñåáÿ), á-ûòü (â ñåáå). Îäíî äâèæåíèå ïåðåõîäèò â äðóãîå, îäíî ïðîòèâîäåéñòâèå ñìåíÿåòñÿ èíûì, çâó÷àíèÿ ñîåäèíÿþòñÿ, ñëèâàþòñÿ, ðàçäåëÿþòñÿ Óæå íå óëîâèòü èõ èçíà÷àëüíîå ïðîèñõîæ- äåíèå. Ó Õëåáíèêîâà ýòîò îáðàç ïðåäåëüíî ïîýòè÷åí îí ðàçâåòâëÿåò- ñÿ è óãëóáëÿåòñÿ, îí ñòàíîâèòñÿ ïîýìîé âíóòðåííåé ðå÷è Ïðîèçâîëüíî âûçâàòü çâóêè îçíà÷àåò «ñëûøàòü» ñîîòâåòñòâóþùèå äâèæåíèÿ è ñîïðîòèâëåíèÿ, êàê ñàìîãî ñåáÿ, çíà÷èò óæå íå òîëüêî îñó- ùåñòâëÿòü èõ (óæå íå îñóùåñòâëÿòü), íî îòñòðàíÿòüñÿ îò íèõ (îò ñåáÿ). Ïîíèìàòü èõ? Ìûñëèòü èõ? Óæå ìûñëèòü?.. ×òî ïðîåêòèðóåò àðõèòåêòîð? Çäàíèå, êîíòðîôîðñû, êîëîííû, ëåñ- òíèöû? Íåò. Ýòî ëèøü ñðåäñòâî. Ýòî òî, ÷òî ìîë÷èò. Ãëàâíîå ñàìî ìîë÷àíèå. Àðõèòåêòîð ïðîåêòèðóåò ïóñòîòó. Äâèæåíèå ëþäåé â ïóñ- òîòå äîìà; óëèöó ïóñòîòó, ñâÿçûâàþùóþ äîìà. Ãîðîä îñîáûé òèï îáùåíèÿ. Îáùåíèå êàê âîçìîæíîñòü, êàê ïðîïóñê, êàê «ýëëèïñèñ». âñïîìíèì õëåáíèêîâñêóþ ïîýòè÷åñêóþ «òåîðèþ ÿçûêà». Äåéñòâèå (ïðåäìåòà èëè íà ïðåäìåò), ïðåâðàùåííîå â ðå÷ü, âî âíóòðåííåå çâó÷à- íèå, îêàçûâàåòñÿ äåÿòåëüíîñòüþ, çàìêíóòîé íà ìåíÿ. ×òî æå âíóòðè ìåíÿ ÿâëÿåòñÿ òåì êàìíåì, çåìëåé, äåðåâîì, êîòîðûå ïîäâåðãàþòñÿ «îáðàáîò- êå»? Òîëüêî ÿ ñàì. Áîëüøå íèêòî. Íî êòî òàêîé «ÿ ñàì»? «ß» âñå áîëåå îáîãàùåííûé òåìè «ýëëèïñèñàìè» êóëüòóðíûõ ñìûñëîâ, êîòîðûå ðàçâè- òû âî ìíå âìåñòå ñ âíåøíåé ðå÷üþ è êîòîðûå âñå áîëåå ñâîáîäíû îò èñ- õîäíûõ çâóêîâ-äåéñòâèé, îò ìîåé ïðèðîäíîé çàïîëíåííîñòè. Ñìûñë âíóòðåííåé ðå÷è èçìåíåíèå ìåíÿ ñàìîãî êàê êóëüòóðíîãî ñóáúåêòà äåÿòåëüíîñòè, êàê åå ïîòåíöèè. Íî âìåñòå ñ òåì ýòî èçìåíå- íèå ìåíÿ êàê ìåòàëëà, äåðåâà, çåìëè. Âåäü èñòîê ðå÷è, äî êîòîðîãî ÿ ÌÅÆÄÓÐÅ×ÜÅ 87

ñíîâà äîõîæó, ñâîðà÷èâàÿ ðå÷ü, îáîãàùåííóþ êóëüòóðîé, ñîïðîòèâëå- íèå ïðåäìåòà ìîåìó äåéñòâèþ, âîñïðîèçâåäåíèå âî ìíå, â ìîåé ïëîòè, ë-èòü, ð-ûòü, ðó-áèòü ×åì áëèæå ÿ ê ñàìîìó ñåáå (ñâîðà÷èâàÿ âèòêè âíåøíåé ðå÷è), òåì ñâîáîäíåå ÿ ìîãó ïðîïóñêàòü â ñâîåé âíóòðåííåé ðå÷è âñ¸ áîëüøèå ôðàã- ìåíòû ñìûñëà, ìîíòèðîâàòü âñ¸ áîëåå îòäàëåííûå êàäðû, ñîåäèíÿòü íàêîðîòêå âñ¸ áîëåå îòäàëåííûå ïîíÿòèÿ. Òåì áîëüøå çèÿíèé â ìîåé âíóòðåííåé ðå÷è, òåì áîëüøå ïóñòîò, ìîë÷àíèÿ, íå çàïîëíåííîãî ñëîâà- ìè, òåì áîëüøå ìûñëè. Òåì ÿ êóëüòóðíåå ìûñëþ. Âåäü êàæäûé òàêîé ïðîïóñê íîâàÿ âîçìîæíîñòü çàïîëíåíèÿ, âàðüèðîâàíèÿ, ïîäðàçóìåâà- íèÿ, íîâàÿ âîçìîæíîñòü ïðîìîë÷àòü íîâîå (ìûñëèòü). Íî ÷åì ñèëüíåå ñæàòà è ñîêðàùåíà ìîÿ âíóòðåííÿÿ ðå÷ü, òåì ðåç÷å âûñòóïàåò â íåé åå èñõîäíîå, «äèêîå» äåéñòâåííîå ïðîèñõîæäåíèå, òåì ìåíåå îíà èíôîð- ìàòèâíà, òåì áîëåå ÿ äàëåê îò êóëüòóðíîãî ñåáÿ, ÿ äåéñòâóþ íà ìîå «ß», êàê íà êàìåíü, æåëåçî, äåðåâî. ×åì áîëåå ÿ òîæäåñòâåí ñ ñîáîé, òåì áîëåå ÿ òîæäåñòâåí ñ äðóãèì âî ìíå, òåì äàëüøå ÿ îò ñàìîãî ñåáÿ. Ýòî è åñòü äèàëåêòèêà ìûñëè êàê ïîýçèè. Êàæäûé ìûñëèòåëü ïîýò. Îí ñîñðåäîòî÷èâàåò çàäàííóþ, ãðàììàòè÷åñêè ïðàâèëüíóþ íåéò- ðàëüíóþ ðå÷ü â åå õëåáíèêîâñêîå çåðíî, ñîåäèíåííûå, îòòàëêèâàþ- ùèåñÿ, ñæàòûå çâóêè-äåéñòâèÿ, ðèòìû-äåéñòâèÿ, ðèòìû-âåùè. Ìåæäó ðå÷üþ-êóëüòóðîé è ðå÷üþ-ñòèõèåé è ñîâåðøàåòñÿ ìûñëü. Ïîýò «ìèëî- ñòüþ Áîæüåé» âîïëîùàåò ïåðâîíà÷àëüíîå çâó÷àíèå â æèâûõ, îáùå- çíà÷èìûõ ñëîâàõ, ðèòìàõ, ðèôìàõ, èçíóòðè ñïàÿííûõ â îäèí ïîòîê ðå÷è, â îäíî ãðîìàäíîå ñëîâî-çàóìü. Ïîýçèÿ ñîñòîÿëàñü, êîãäà åñòü äâóñìûñëèå: â òåêñòå íîðìàëüíàÿ, íî ïîýòè÷åñêè îðãàíèçîâàííàÿ ðå÷ü, â ïîäòåêñòå ñòèõèÿ ðå÷è, åäèíîå ñëîâî-ìûñëü. Åñëè îòñóòñòâó- åò îäèí èç ñìûñëîâ, åñëè íåò äâîéíîãî äâèæåíèÿ ñëîâ, åñëè ÿ íå óãà- äûâàþ â ïîíÿòíûõ ñëîâàõ è ñòðî÷êàõ íåïîíÿòíîãî çâóêîðÿäà (ñòðàø- íî çíà÷èìîãî ñâîåé íåïîíÿòíîñòüþ, «âîò-âîò-ïðîèçíåñåíèåì»), òî ïîýçèè íàïðî÷ü íåò, òîãäà «ß», ÷èòàòåëü, íå ìîãó ðåàëèçîâàòü â ýëëèï- ñèñå ñòèõà ñâîþ ëè÷íîñòü Õëåáíèêîâ (èëè âñÿ ðóññêàÿ ÿçûêîâàÿ ñòèõèÿ äåñÿòûõ ãîäîâ ÕÕ âåêà?) ïûòàëñÿ óòîïè÷åñêè ñîåäèíèòü, âíåãðàììàòè÷åñêè (ìîæåò áûòü, òî÷íåå: â ñèíòàêñèñå è ñåìàíòèêå êîðíåñëîâèé è ñìûñëîâ) ñïëàâèòü ïðîøëîå íàñòîÿùåå è áóäóùåå ÿçûêà (èñòîðèè? ñóäüáû?). Öåðêîâíîñ- ëàâÿíñêèå, äðåâíåñëàâÿíñêèå, îáùåñëàâÿíñêèíå, èíäîåâðîïåéñêèå ïóø- 88 Âàäèì ÐÀÁÈÍÎÂÈ×

êèíñêèå è ãîãîëåâñêèå êîðíè è âåòâè ÿçûêà è áóäåòëÿíñêèå (!) íåîëî- ãèçìû («íåáåäè ») ïåðåïëàâëÿëèñü â íå÷òî åäèíîå è íà ìîìåíò öåëîñòíîå. Ðåçêèå îáðûâû ðèòìà è ìãíîâåííûå ïåðåõîäû îò ðàçìåðà ê ðàçìåðó, îò îäíîãî èíòîíàöèîííîãî ñòðîÿ ê äðóãîìó ïðîèñõîäèëè â ïðå- äåëàõ îäíîãî ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ, äàæå îäíîé ñòðîôû. Âîçíèêàåò êàêàÿ-òî «âñåëåíñêàÿ ñìàçü», â êîòîðîé ñìûòû ãðàíè, ðàçáèòû (è âíîâü âûñòðîå- íû) ìîñòèêè ðàçíûõ ðå÷åâûõ è ïñèõîëîãè÷åñêèõ ýïîõ. Îáíàðóæèâàëîñü (î÷åíü êðàòêîñðî÷íî ) íåêîå âíåâðåìåííîå, âñåâðåìåííîå, òî åñòü òîëü- êî âîçìîæíîå, ðóññêîå ñëîâî, ðóññêîå ñîçíàíèå îáðàç ðå÷è-èäåè, óãàäàííîé Õëåáíèêîâûì, ýòî òðàãè÷åñêèé îáðàç êîñòðà. Â îãîíü èäåò âñå äðåâåñíîå, è ñóõèå äðîâà, è æèâûå ñòîëåòíèå äåðåâüÿ, è êîðíè, è âåòêè, è çåëåíàÿ è æóõëàÿ òðàâà. Îãîíü ñïàëèâàåò (è ñïëàâëÿåò) âñþ ýòó äðåâåñíîñòü â íå÷òî öåëüíîå êðàñ- íîå, áåëîå, ïåïåëüíîå Âñå èíäèâèäóàëüíîå ñãîðàåò, íà ìèã âñïûõè- âàÿ íåïîâòîðèìîé èñêðîé. Âñïûõèâàÿ è ñãîðàÿ â íåóëîâèìîì òîæäå- ñòâå âðåìåí è ðå÷åíèé Öåëîñòíîñòü ðàçðåøàåòñÿ óíè÷òîæåíèåì óíè- êàëüíîñòåé è åäèíñòâåííîñòåé. Íîâûå ñãîðàþùèå âåòâè (ðå÷åíèÿ) êàæäûé ðàç ïðåâðàùàþòñÿ â íîâûå ñâîåîáû÷íûå ÿçûêè ïëàìåíè: âíîâü è âíîâü èñ÷åçàþò â ðå÷åâîì êîñòðå Èñõîäíàÿ õëåáíèêîâñêàÿ ðå÷åâàÿ èäåÿ (ñëîâëåííàÿ â íåðàñòîðæè- ìîì ñëîâåñíîì ñëèòêå «Âðåìÿ ìåðà ìèðà») êàòàðñèñîì âîøëà âãëóáü íàöèîíàëüíîãî ñîçíàíèÿ, ñîñðåäîòî÷èëàñü è ñîõðàíèëàñü êàê íàñóùíûé «ãîäîâîé êðóã» â äðåâå ðîññèéñêèõ ñóäåá. Âïðî÷åì, ñèëà ýòîãî ïðåäñêà- çàíüÿ â òîì, ÷òî îíî íàâåêè îñòàåòñÿ ïðåä-ñêàçàíüåì, âå÷íûì êàíóíîì » Âñ¸ ýòî «ðå÷ü, îáðàùåííàÿ ñàìà ê ñåáå» (Ë.Ñ. Âûãîòñêèé), ãäå ýòà ñàìàÿ «ñàìà ê ñåáå» îáðàçóåò «ôðàçó ñëîâî çâó÷àíèå, ñëèòîå â íåäå- ëèìóþ ìãíîâåííóþ òî÷êó, «äåëèìóþ» ëèøü ñâîèì ïîòåíöèàëüíûì ðàç- âåðòûâàíèåì (âî âíåøíþþ ðå÷ü) è ñâîèì ïðîøëûì áûòèåì (âî âíåøíåé ðå÷è)». (Ýòî òîæå Â.Ñ. Áèáëåð èç ñòàòüè «Ïîíèìàíèå Ë. Ñ. Âûãîòñêèì âíóòðåííåé ðå÷è è ëîãèêà äèàëîãà», îïóáëèêîâàííîé â êíèãå «Ìåòîäîëî- ãè÷åñêèå ïðîáëåìû ïñèõîëîãèè ëè÷íîñòè» â Ìîñêâå â 1981 ãîäó.) Òî åñòü âíóòðåííÿÿ ðå÷ü åñòü «ïîýçèÿ ñàìîé ïîýçèè», êîãäà «â ñëîâî ñïëî÷åíû ñëîâà» (Á. Ïàñòåðíàê) â ìèãå íà÷èíàíèé. Íåñêîí÷àåìûõ íà÷èíàíèé Ïîïðîáóþ ïîëîæèòü áèáëåðîâñêèå ðàñøèôðîâêè íà õëåáíèêîâñêóþ çàóìü â ïüåñå «Õî÷ó ÿ». Íà÷íó ñ «ß» êàê ãåðîÿ ýòîé ïüåñû: «Ìèëåáà íåá- ñêîãî ìîãî÷à è íåáåñêîé ñèëåáû ñ çåìíàòîé õèëåáîé íå ïðåäâåùàåò ìíå äîáðîòåþùèõ çåëî äåë. Çëîâûé äîæäü, äîæäü çëà, âèæó, îæèäàåò ìåíÿ». ÌÅÆÄÓÐÅ×ÜÅ 89

Íî ýòîò ôðàãìåíò èç «ß» â îòâåò íà Óòðèíþ èç Äîëèðÿ äîëèííîãî: «Çîðè÷è-íåáè÷è, áëàãîñëîâåæèèçîðè÷è ñûïÿòñÿ ñ íåáà ìèëåáîé íåáà ñ ñîííåþùåé çåìëåé íåáîâûå êðàñíî-áàãðÿíûå öâåòû-æàðäå÷ü. Î, íåáàòàÿ òîíåáà ìåíÿ â íåÿ!» È òàì, è òàì ïîýò ñëûøèò ñåáÿ è ãîâîðèò ñåáÿ ðå÷üþ. Âíóòðåí- íåé ðå÷üþ, ýêðàíèðîâàííîé ìîë÷àíèåì. Ñâîèì ìîë÷àíèåì, êîòîðîå îí (ïîýò) òîæå ñëûøèò. Ñåáÿ. Íî è äðóãîãî (Äîëèðÿ) êàê ñåáÿ. Ìèëåáà õèëåáà íåáà íåáè÷è ìèëåáà òîíåáà; çåëî çëîâûé çëà Ðèôìû è êîðíåâèùà ê ìèðîçäàíèþ. Ñëóøàþ ìóçûêó ìèðîçäàíèÿ (åñëè ñëåãêà ïîäïðàâèòü Àë. Áëîêà). È ñåáÿ â íåì. Íî ñåáÿ îòñòðàíåí- íîãî. Êàê îáúåêòèâèðîâàííûé îáðàç, êîòîðûé òóò æå è âîçíèêàåò â ÿçû- êå (= ðå÷è?) Ðó÷üèíè. ßñíûé è íå çàóìíûé îáðàç, ïîóìíåâøåé â îòâåò (âñåì îáðàçîì òàêèì îáðàçîì) íà çàóìü Äîëèðÿ (= «ß») è «ß» (â îòâåò Äîëèðþ), ÷òîáû ïîíÿëè äðóã äðóãà. Ðó÷üèíÿ: « À íûíå ÿ ìåíüøå ñòðåêîçû, è ëèøü ðûáàêè ïóãàþòñÿ ìîåãî òîùåãî òåëà.» Âíóòðåííÿÿ ðå÷ü îâíåøíè- ëàñü. «ß» Ðó÷üèíè ñòàëî íå «ÿ» ñòðåêîçû, à ïðîñòî åþ ñàìîé (è äàæå ìåíüøå!). À âîêðóã ïóñòîòà (òàì, ãäå ðàíåå áûëà ðå÷ü â åå ïðîòóáåðàí- öàõ è ïåðåëèâàõ). Ïîâòîðþ Â. Ñ. Áèáëåðà: «×åì áîëåå ÿ òîæäåñòâåí ñ ñîáîé, òåì áî- ëåå ÿ òîæäåñòâåí ñ äðóãèì âî ìíå, òåì äàëüøå ÿ îò ñàìîãî ñåáÿ». Ðó÷åé ñòðåêîçà (íî óæå áåç íåáèíè òîíåáû ìèëåáû õèëåáû ). Çâóê óøåë îñòàëñÿ îáðàç. Âèä âçàìåí çâóêîâèäà. Áóêâîçâóêîâèäà. Ìåæ íèìè ìîë÷àíèå. Ïîñðåäè äâóõ íà-ðå÷èé. Ýëëèïñèñ Ìåæäóðå÷üÿ Â íåì ÿ ñàì êàê âîçìîæíîñòü. Òàêîâ àëãîðèòì ïîýòè÷åñêîãî êàê ñóáñòàíöèè. Òàê «ìåæäó ðå÷üþ- êóëüòóðîé è ðå÷üþ-ñòèõèåé è ñîâåðøàåòñÿ ìûñëü» (Áèáëåð). Ìûñëü êàê ïîýçèÿ. Ñëîâî çàóìü Ñëîâîìûñëü Âíåâðåìåííîå ñâåðøåíèå âðåìåí Âñåãäà ïðè íà÷àëå Íî òîëüêî òàê è ìîæåò äûøàòü ïî÷âà è äûøàòü ñóäüáà ïðè èçáû- âàíèè èñêóññòâà êàê èñêóññòâåííîñòè â ëàêóíàõ ìåæäóðå÷èé. *** À òåïåðü ìîÿ ñòèõîòâîðíàÿ âàðèàöèÿ ê òåìå ìåæäóðå÷üÿ â äðà- ìàòóðãè÷åñêîé ïðîçå «Õî÷ó ß», êîòîðàÿ âñÿ åñòü ïîýçèÿ âïåðåêîð ñâîåé ôîðìàëüíîé ïðîçíîñòè è çûáêîé, ïëîõî ïåðåñêàçûâàåìîé äðà- ìàòóðãèéíîñòè. 90 Âàäèì ÐÀÁÈÍÎÂÈ×

Ìîÿ âàðèàöèÿ íà òåìó ÌÅÆÄÓÐÅ×ÜÅ

Ìåæäóðå÷üå äâà íàðå÷üÿ, Íî ìîë÷àíüå ïîñðåäè. Ñïðàâà àíãåëüñêîå âå÷å, Ñëåâà äûðêà îò CD.

Òîò, êòî ñëåâà, ìàíèò-ìàíèò Â òåìíûé çûê ê èñõîäó ñèë. Òîò, êòî ñïðàâà, òÿíåò-òÿíåò Â õîðû ñòðîéíûå ñâåòèë.

Ãîëóáü ñíåæíûé ìîé è íåæíûé, Êîãäà ëèñò ðîñîþ ñâåæ, Íàãóëè êóëåê íàäåæäû, ×òîáû óäåðæàòüñÿ ìåæ

Åñëè âðåìÿ ìåðà ìèðà Ïîäîéäåò ê êîíöó, óìðó, Êàê íåâîëüíûé ñûí ýôèðà, Îäèíîêèé íà ïèðó.

*** Ïüåñà Âåëèìèðà Õëåáíèêîâà «Õî÷ó ß» âîñïðîèçâîäèòñÿ ïî åãî ñîáðà- íèþ ñî÷èíåíèé â 3-õ òîìàõ (ÑÏá., «Àêàäåìè÷åñêèé ïðîåêò», 2001. Ò.2). Íåîöåíèìóþ ïîìîùü â ïåðåâîäå ñ õëåáíèêîâñêîãî íà ìîé îêàçàëà Íàòàëüÿ Ïåðöîâà òåì, ÷òî ñîñòàâèëà ñâîé âåëèêîëåïíûé «Ñëîâàðü íåî- ëîãèçìîâ Âåëèìèðà Õëåáíèêîâà» (Vien Moskay, 1995), êîèì ÿ è âîñ- ïîëüçîâàëñÿ.

INTERTONGUE: RE-COVERY – OUT-LOOK Vadim RABINOVICH Russian Institute for Cultural Research, Moscow

This paper involves the reconstruction of Velimir Khlebnikcof’s little play “I want” in a modus of the beyond-clever tongue (insight) as the poetic ÌÅÆÄÓÐÅ×ÜÅ 91 substance of its relationship with language as the outer tongue. Before the present reconstruction we have translated this play from beyond-clever (non- understanding) to clever (normal understanding) with the loss of poetic substance and the acquisition of logical narrative. The results of our experiment were related to Bibler’s conception of the two-tonal nature of poetic words, the “language-culture” aspect and the “tongue-element”. “Word-thought” grows in this intertongue region. Poetic language refers synchronously to the text (“regulated language”), and also to the under- text (“tongue-element”). The relationship between apophasis and percept (the text “in total”) attest (about untranslating of beyond-clevering from one side and about eternal temptation to translate from other one in correlation of object (poet substance) and method (humanitarian experiment)). One experiment changes the cultural context from re-covery to out-look.

ÁÀÉÅÒ ÏÐÎÒÈÂ ÐÎÓËÈÍÃ: ÒÀÊ ËÈ ÑÒÐÀØÍÀ ÌÀÍÈÏÓËßÖÈß?*

Ìàêñèì ÐßÁÊÎÂ

Â îäíîì èç èþëüñêèõ íîìåðîâ «Íüþ-Éîðê Òàéìñ», Àíòîíèÿ Áàéåò ïèøåò î ïîïóëÿðíîñòè Ðîóëèíã êàê ñâèäåòåëüñòâå ìàññîâîãî íåäîñòàò- êà âîîáðàæåíèÿ («stunted imagination» âîò òî÷íàÿ ôîðìóëèðîâêà). Ôàí- òàçèÿ ñòàíîâèòñÿ èñòî÷íèêîì èëëþçèè âñåñèëèÿ è ñïîñîáîì óñêîëüçà- íèÿ îò ðåàëüíîñòè. Ìíîãî ìîæíî âîçðàçèòü îá óìåñòíîñòè ýòèõ àðãó- ìåíòîì è èõ ñîðàçìåðíîñòè ïðåäìåòó. Íî Áàéåò, êàê ïðåäñòàâëÿåòñÿ, èìååò áîëüøåå â âèäó, ÷åì òðèâèàëüíî íåãàòèâíóþ îöåíêó áåñòñåëëå- ðà. Áàéåò äðàìàòèçèðóåò ñèòóàöèþ, ïî÷òè ïðèïèñûâàÿ ïîïóëÿðíîñòè Ðîóëèíã çíà÷èìîñòü çàêàòà öèâèëèçàöèè. Ðîóëèíã íå ïðîñòî íå-øåäåâð, íî çíàê óïàäêà. Îñíîâíîé àðãóìåíò Áàéåò ýòî ñðàâíåíèå Ðîóëèíã ñ äðóãèìè ïèñàòåëÿìè, ñîçäàâàâøèìè ôàíòàçèéíûé ìèð. È Ðîóëèíã îêà- çûâàåòñÿ, â èíòåðïðåòàöèè Áàéåò, ñáîðíîé ñîëÿíêîé ðàçíîðîäíûõ ìî- òèâîâ èç ïðîøëîãî êóëüòóðû è ëèòåðàòóðû, à òàêæå ñîâðåìåííûõ ñþæå- òîâ, íàâåÿííûõ òåëåâèçèîííîé êóëüòóðîé, celebrity gossip è ïðî÷èì õëà- ìîì. Åå «âòîðè÷íûé ìèð» ëèøåí ñèëû Òîëêèåíñêîé ôàíòàçèè è òîíêîñòè èðîíèè Ïðàò÷åòòà. Ðîóëèíã èãðàåò íà ïîòðåáíîñòÿõ äåòåé â ëàòåíòíîì ïåðèîäå â ýñêàïèñòñêîé ôàíòàçèè. Íî ðàâíûì îáðàçîì îíà èãðàåò è íà ïîòðåáíîñòè âçðîñëûõ ñíîâà îêóíóòüñÿ â ìèð ôàíòàçèè âîñüìèëåòíèõ, íåâèííûé è ïðèìèòèâíûé. Èòàê: Ms. Rowling’s magic world has no place for the numinous. It is written for people whose imaginative lives are confined to TV cartoons, and the exaggerated (more exciting, not threatening) mirror-worlds of soaps, reality TV and celebrity gossip. Its values, and everything in it, are, as Gatsby said of his own world when the light had gone out of his dream, «only personal». Nobody is trying to save or destroy anything beyond Harry Potter and his friends and family. Ðîóëèíã ìàíèïóëÿòîð ñðåäíåãî ñîçíàíèÿ, îáðå÷åííîãî, âñëåäñòâèå ñëàáîñòè óìñòâåííûõ ñïîñîáíîñòåé, íà òî, ÷òîáû ïîääàòüñÿ êðàñèâî ïîäàííûì èëëþçèÿì è âîîáðàçèòü ñåáÿ âñåñèëüíûì çà íåñêîëüêî ôóí- òîâ, ïîòðà÷åííûõ â êíèæíîì ìàãàçèíå. Íî äàæå ýòî äåëàåòñÿ áåç ïðå- òåíçèè íà òî, ÷òîáû áûòü óìíåå ñâîåãî ÷èòàòåëÿ âòîðîñîðòíî. Ðîóëèíã ÁÀÉÅÒ ÏÐÎÒÈÂ ÐÎÓËÈÍÃ... 93

íå âûõîäèò çà ðàìêè îãðàíè÷åííîãî, ìåùàíñêîãî ïîíèìàíèÿ ìèñòèêè è ìàãèè è îïàñíîñòåé, êîòîðûå ïðåäñòàâëÿëèñü ðåàëüíûìè ïðåæíèì êóëü- òóðàì. Ñëîâàìè Áàéåò: Ms. Rowling, I think, speaks to an adult generation that hasn’t known, and doesn’t care about, mystery. Òàêîâû àðãóìåíòû Áàéåò âêðàòöå. Ýòè àðãóìåíòû ìîãóò ðàññìàò- ðèâàòüñÿ êàê ïðåóâåëè÷åíèå. Âî âñÿêîì ñëó÷àå, òðóäíî ïîíÿòü, ïî÷åìó âîñïðîèçâåäåíèå ìíîæåñòâà áûòîâûõ äåòàëåé ñîâðåìåííîãî ðåàëüíîãî ìèðà â ìàãè÷åñêîì äåòàëåé, íåñóùèõ ìîðàëüíîå çíà÷åíèå îçíà÷àåò ìåíåå ñåðüåçíîå îòíîøåíèå ê ìàãèè è ïåðâîáûòíîìó óæàñó, ÷åì âîñ- ïðîèçâåäåíèå áûòà ñðåäíåâåêîâüÿ, êàê ó ìíîãèõ äðóãèõ ôàíòàñòîâ. Ðàâ- íûì îáðàçîì, íåóáåäèòåëüíî è ïñèõîàíàëèòè÷åñêîå òîëêîâàíèå ïîïó- ëÿðíîñòè Ðîóëèíã: ñîâñåì íå î÷åâèäíî, ÷òî âçðîñëûå è äåòè îäèíàêîâî «èñïîëüçóþò» Ðîóëèíã. Çäåñü íàì ïðîñòî íå õâàòàåò ýìïèðè÷åñêèõ ôàê- òîâ. Âïðî÷åì, èõ íå õâàòàåò ëþáîìó ïñèõîàíàëèòè÷åñêîìó îáîáùåíèþ ïñèõîëîãè÷åñêèõ ðåàêöèé. Â öåëîì, Ðîóëèíã ìîæíî ðàâíûì îáðàçîì ïðåäñòàâèòü êàê çàêîíî- ìåðíîå ðàçâèòèå, à íå ïàäåíèå æàíðà. Íî Áàéåò, êàê ïðåäñòàâëÿåòñÿ, óòâåðæäàåò òàêæå è áîëüøåå, ÷åì âíóòðèæàíðîâîå ñðàâíåíèå íå â ïîëüçó Ðîóëèíã. Îíà ãîâîðèò î êðèçèñå êóëüòóðû íà êîíêðåòíîì ïðèìåðå. Èáî ÷èòàòåëè Ðîóëèíã ýòî ëþäè, õóäøèå, ÷åì ïðåæíèå ïîêîëåíèÿ: They are inhabitants of urban jungles, not of the real wild. They don’t have the skills to tell ersatz magic from the real thing, for as children they daily invested the ersatz with what imagination they had. È âîò ýòîò âîïðîñ ìåíÿ è çàíèìàåò: ìîæåì ëè ìû äåéñòâèòåëüíî ïðîñëåäèòü «êðèçèñ êóëüòóðû» â ïîïóëÿðíîñòè Ðîóëèíã? Åñëè ìû, íàïðèìåð, çàäóìàåìñÿ íàä òåì, ÷òî ìîòèâèðóåò ïîñòóïêè ãåðîåâ òîé æå Áàéåò, òî îòâåò áóäåò â çíà÷èòåëüíîé ñòåïåíè ñêóêà, îùó- ùåíèå êîíå÷íîñòè ñóùåñòâîâàíèÿ, âñå âîçìîæíûå íåñîðàçìåðíîñòè íà- øåé ÷åëîâå÷åñêîé æèçíè. Îäíèì ñëîâîì, çàèìñòâîâàíûì èç XIX âåêà, ñêóêà. Èìåííî ñêóêà îòñóòñòâóåò êàê ìîòèâàöèÿ è äâèæóùàÿ ñèëà â ôàí- òàñòè÷åñêîì ìèðå Ðîóëèíã à òàêæå Ãðèøåìà èëè Êèíãà. Èìåííî ñêóêà ïðèäàåò ðåàëüíîé æèçíè è äåÿòåëüíîñòè ñèëó äåòàëèçèðîâàííîñòè, êîòî- ðîé íåò â æàíðîâîì ðîìàíå. Íî îòñóòñòâèå äåòàëè ïîäîáíî çëó íå ïðîñòî îòñóòñòâèå, íî ïðîñòðàíñòâî, ïðåäíàçíà÷åííîå äëÿ ÷åãî-òî. Ìèð ïî Ðîóëèíã íàõîäèòñÿ â ñîñòîÿíèè ýêñòðåìàëüíîãî íàïðÿæå- 94 Ìàêñèì ÐßÁÊÎÂ

íèÿ. Åñòü óãðîçà è, ñëåäîâàòåëüíî, åñòü ïîäâèã. Åñòü çëî, äîáðî, åñòü ãå- ðîé è åñòü åãî ìèññèÿ. Òàì òîëüêî íåò ñêóêè. Ðåàëüíûå êîíôëèêòû è ìî- ðàëüíûå äèëåììû æèçíè ïåðåíîñÿòñÿ íà ìàòðèöó âåëèêîãî ïðîòèâîñòîÿ- íèÿ. Òåì ñàìûì îíè â îáùåì, îáåñöåíèâàòñÿ, ïîòîìó ÷òî ñàìûé èñòî÷- íèê êîíôëèêòîâ è ïðîòèâîðå÷èé îòñóòñòâóåò âåëèêîå ïðîòèâîñòîÿíèå çàìåùàåò ìàëåíüêèå òðàãåäèè ïîâñåäíåâíîñòè. Âåëèêîáðèòàíèÿ íîâîãî ëåéáîðèçìà ïåðåâîäèòñÿ íà ÿçûê ìàãè÷åñêèõ ïðèêëþ÷åíèé, íî áåç ïî- òåðü â óçíàâàåìîñòè äëÿ ÷èòàòåëÿ. ×åëîâå÷åñêàÿ îãðàíè÷åííîñòü Ôàäæ ïðèîáðåòàåò, áëàãîäàðÿ ïðèñóòñòâèþ Âîëäåìîðòà, èíòðèãóþùóþ ñâÿçü ñî âñåëåíñêèì çëîì äüÿâîëüñêîãî èñêóøåíèÿ, íå òåðÿÿ ñâîåãî áûòîâîãî êîìèçìà è çíà÷èìîñòè àëëåãîðèè ïîëèòè÷åñêîé êîððóïöèè. Â ýòîì äëÿ Áàéåò óðîí, íàíåñåííûé Ðîóëèíã èñêóññòâó ôýíòåçè. Äðóãàÿ òî÷êà çðåíèÿ ñîñòîèò â òîì, ÷òî Ðîóëèíã âñåãî ëèøü åñòåñòâåí- íîå ðàçâèòèå æàíðà. Êàê áû òàì íè áûëî, ðàçâëåêàòåëüíàÿ ñîñòàâëÿþ- ùàÿ îñíîâàíà íà ïîäíÿòèè ãåðîÿ (è ÷èòàòåëÿ) èç ìèðà ñêóêè â ìèð, ãäå ñêóêè áûòü íå ìîæåò. Ñêóêà, íàïðîòèâ, ïðîäóêò ñáàëàíñèðîâàííîãî, óìåðåííîãî êëèìà- òà, ãäå çëî è äîáðî ðàâíî ñëàáîñòè ÷åëîâå÷åñêèå, à òàêæå äîñòîèíñòâà. Ãäå çîëîòî íå ñ òðóäîì êîíòðîëèðóåìûé èñòî÷íèê çëà, à âñåãî ëèøü îäèí èç ìåòàëëîâ. Ãäå òðóäíî íàéòè âðàãà, ãäå ÷åëîâåêó äàíà âîçìîæ- íîñòü áûòü ñàìèì ñîáîé, à ïîýòîìó íåò ãåðîåâ è çëîäååâ, íåò çàäàííûõ íàâñåãäà ðîëåé, íåò ìèññèé. Ãäå áþðîêðàò è ïðîäàæíûé ïîëèòèê çëî- äåè ïîñëåäíåé èíñòàíöèè, à íå ïàðîäèÿ íà áîëüøåå è âåëè÷åñòâåííîå Çëî, ñ êîòîðûì èìååò ñìûñë è äàæå ïðèÿòíî áîðîòüñÿ. Ñ êîòîðûì ãåðîé ðîæäåí áîðîòüñÿ. Â òî âðåìÿ êàê íèêòî, âèäèìî, íå ðîæäåí áîðîòüñÿ ñ áþðîêðàòàìè. Âî âñÿêîì ñëó÷àå, ýòî áûëà áû ìåíåå çàâèäíàÿ ìèññèÿ. Ìèð Ðîóëèíã äîñòàòî÷íî ñëîæåí è â òî æå âðåìÿ óçíàâàåì. Îí áîëåå óçíàâàåì, ÷åì ñàìà ðåàëüíîñòü, êîòîðàÿ ñêîðåå ñïîñîáíà ïðåïîäíîñèòü ñþðïðèçû. Ýòî ìèð çàêîíîìåðíîñòè, êîòîðîé íàøà óìåðåííàÿ ðåàëüíîñòü ëèøåíà. Çàêîíîìåðíîñòü âûðàæàåòñÿ â âèäå êóëüòóðíûõ è áûòîâûõ êëè- øå. Â ýòîì ïëàíå Ðîóëèíã ñáîðíèê êëèøå. Íî ñ äðóãîé ñòîðîíû, êëèøå ýòî âñåãî ëèøü îòíîñèòåëüíàÿ êàòåãîðèÿ. Øóòêà, ïîâòîðåííàÿ ìíîãî ðàç, îáðàùàåòñÿ â êëèøå. Â êîíå÷íîì èòîãå, òîëüêî êëèøå è ðàçâëåêàþò ïóáëèêó. Ãàððè Ïîòòåð íå ñòàëêèâàåòñÿ ñ ìåíåå ñëîæíûìè ïîòîêàìè èíôîðìàöèè è ìîðàëüíûìè âîïðîñàìè, ÷åì ðåàëüíûå íå-âîëøåáíèêè, íî èíôîðìàöèÿ èìååò ñâîéñòâî íàêàïëèâàòüñÿ â îïðåäåëåííîì íàïðàâëå- íèè, èìåííî íàïðàâëåíèè îêîí÷àòåëüíûõ îòâåòîâ íà ñëîæíûå ìîðàëü- ÁÀÉÅÒ ÏÐÎÒÈÂ ÐÎÓËÈÍÃ... 95

íûå âîïðîñû. ×åãî ìû íå èìååì â ðåàëüíîì ìèðå, ãäå ìîðàëüíûå ïðîáëå- ìû ðàññàñûâàþòñÿ, à íå ðåøàþòñÿ, ìèññèè íå çàêàí÷èâàþòñÿ, à óñòàðåâà- þò. Ìèð Ðîóëèíã òàêîâ, ÷òî â íåì äåòàëü âñåãäà ÷àñòü öåëîãî è îáðåòàåò ñìûñë êàê òàêîâàÿ. Â ýòîì ìèðå íåò íè÷åãî îòäåëüíî ëåæàùåãî, âñå óêà- çûâàåò íà ñîáñòâåííîå ìåñòî â ïðèðîäå. Áîëåå òîãî, ðåàëüíîñòü èíäèâèäóàëèçèðîâàíà è îæèâîòâîðåíà: â ìèðå Ðîóëèíã âñå ïîëíî áîãîâ, âñå ñóùåå æèâíîñòü êàæäûé ðàç â ñâî- åì îñîáîì ñìûñëå. Ýòî óïðîùàåò, áåçóñëîâíî, ñèòóàöèþ ãåðîÿ. Åãî ìîðàëüíûå è êîãíèòèâíûå ïðîáëåìû èììàíåíòíû ñàìîìó ìèðó, â êîòî- ðîì îí æèâåò. Â îòëè÷èå îò ðåàëüíîñòè, ñ ôàíòàñòè÷åñêèì ìèðîì ìîæ- íî âåñòè ïåðåãîâîðû, ïîñêîëüêó îí óïðàâëÿåì ñòðàñòÿìè è ìîðàëüíû- ìè öåííîñòÿìè, à íå çàêîíàìè ïðèðîäû. Öåëü, ìèññèÿ, ïîäâèã óêîðåíå- íû â æèâîñòè âñåãî ñóùåãî. Ìèð ýòî ìèð ñòðàñòåé, à íå ñòîëêíîâåíèÿ ÷àñòèö, ìîðàëüíûõ äèëåìì, à íå ñîõðàíåíèÿ ýíåðãèè. Ðîóëèíã â ýòîì ñìûñëå äàåò îíòîëîãè÷åñêîå îñíîâàíèå îòñóòñòâèþ ñêóêè. Ïîñêîëüêó åñëè âñå ïîëíî áîãîâ, òî âñå ñîðàçìåðíî ÷åëîâåêó, âñå àíòðîïîìîðôíî â ìîðàëüíîì ñìûñëå, à ñêóêà ïîðîæäàåòñÿ èìåííî íå- ñîðàçìåðíîñòüþ èíäèâèäà è ìåðòâîé ìàòåðèè âîêðóã. Â ýòîì ñìûñëå Ðîóëèíã íå-ðåàëèñòè÷íà. Íî â ýòîì æå ñìûñëå íåðå- àëèñòè÷íî âñå, ÷òî ðàçâëåêàåò, ïîòîìó ÷òî ðàçâëå÷åíèå ýòî îòâëå÷åíèå îò ñêóêè, ýòî ïðåäñòàâëåíèå ìèðà ñîðàçìåðíûì ÷åëîâåêó êàê îí åñòü. Íåñîðàçìåðíîñòü, ñòðàäàíèå (ðåàëüíîå, íàâñåãäà, áåç ñìûñëà), ñêóêà, âîçìîæíî, ïîðîæäàþò âåëèêóþ ëèòåðàòóðó. Âîïðîñ, îäíàêî, â òîì è çäåñü ÿ ïîäõîæó ê ñàìîìó âàæíîìó, ÷òî Áàéåò ïîêóøàåòñÿ íå òîëüêî íà ðàçâëåêàòåëüíîñòü ëèòåðàòóðû. Îíà ïîêó- øàåòñÿ íà îáúåêòèâíîñòü ìîðàëè. Ïîòîìó ÷òî ðåàëüíàÿ, îáùåñòâåííî ïðè- çíàííàÿ ìîðàëü âîïðåêè Êàíòó îïèðàåòñÿ íà íåðåàëèñòè÷íîå, ìàãè÷åñ- êîå ïðåäñòàâëåíèå ìèðà êàê óïðàâëÿåìîãî öåííîñòÿìè. Ðîóëèíã ñîçäàåò èìåííî òàêîé ìèð, ïðîïèòàííûé ìîðàëüíûì ñìûñëîì. Åå ïðîèçâåäåíèå ìîðàëüíî è ìîðàëèñòè÷íî, êàê òîíêàÿ, ñëîæíàÿ, ïðîäóìàííàÿ è îñíàùåí- íàÿ ïàðàáîëàìè ïðîïîâåäü. È êàê âñÿêàÿ ïðîïîâåäü îíà ïðÿìîëèíåéíà è ïðîñòà. Îíà îáðàùåíà íå ê èäåàëüíîìó èíäèâèäó ê êîíêðåòíîé ïàñòâå. Äëÿ ýòîãî îíà óçíàâàåìà â äåòàëÿõ. Åå ìîðàëü ÷òî çà ñëîæíîñòüþ ñîöè- àëüíîãî ìèðà, ïðåäñòàâëåííîãî âî ìíîæåñòâå äåòàëåé, ñêðûâàþòñÿ âñå- ëåíñêàÿ îïàñíîñòü, ìèññèÿ è ïîäâèã, ê êîòîðîìó ìîæíî áûòü ðîæäåííûì. Ðîóëèíã ïðîòèâîðå÷èò â ýòîì ñåáå: öåíòðàëüíàÿ ïàðàáîëà ïîâåñòâîâàíèÿ î òîì, ÷òî ïðàâî ðîæäåíèÿ âòîðè÷íî ïî îòíîøåíèþ ê ïðàâó èíäèâèäóàëü- íîñòè, íî êîíå÷íûé ìîðàëüíûé âûâîä â òîì, ÷òî âîò ýòîò ãåðîé ðîæäåí äëÿ 96 Ìàêñèì ÐßÁÊÎÂ

ýòîé ìèññèè. Íî ýòî âñåãî ëèøü îòðàæåíèå ïðîòèâîðå÷èÿ ëþáîé ìîðàëè, êîòîðàÿ îòðèöàåò âíà÷àëå òðàäèöèþ èëè ìåñòíûå íðàâû âî èìÿ èíäèâèäó- àëüíî ïðî÷óâñòâîâàííîãî ìîðàëüíîãî çàêîíà, à ïîòîì ïðèïèñûâàåò èíäè- âèäóóìó çíà÷åíèå èñïîëíèòåëÿ ìîðàëüíîãî çàêîíà. Çäåñü Ðîóëèíã äåéñòâèòåëüíî óíèêàëüíà: ñ îäíîé ñòîðîíû, áûòî- âîé è êóëüòóðíî-èñòîðè÷åñêèé êîìèçì ñîâðåìåííîãî íàì îáùåñòâà âîñ- ïðîèçâîäèòñÿ â äåòàëÿõ, êîòîðûå ïðîòèâîðå÷èëè áû äóõó Òîëêèåíà. Ñ äðóãîé ýñõàòîëîãèÿ ìèññèè íàñòîëüêî ñêîíöåíòðèðîâàíà íà îäíîì ãå- ðîå, ÷òî âñå îñòàëüíûå îêàçûâàþòñÿ â èòîãå «sidekicks» ëèáî ãåðîÿ, ëèáî Âðàãà. Â ýòîì, âîçìîæíî, äëÿ Áàéåò è ñîäåðæèòñÿ óïàäîê: ýêëåêòèêà ìîòèâîâ ïðîøëîãî è êîíöåíòðàöèÿ ìèôîòâîð÷åñòâà íà çåìíîé æèçíè îäíîãî ïåðñîíàæà. Ðîóëèíã àïåëëèðóåò ê Ìîðàëèñòó â íàñ. Ýòî, âèäèìî, ïðîèñõîäèò çà ñ÷åò Ýñòåòèêè, êîòîðàÿ íå òåðïèò ýìîöèé íåñîðàçìåðíûõ ñ ñèòóàöèåé, íå òåðïèò ñèìâîëèêè è íåäîñêàçàííîñòè, íå òåðïèò èíñòðóìåíòàëüíîãî èñïîëüçîâàíèÿ ÿçûêà äëÿ ïåðåäà÷è ìîðàëüíîãî çàêîíà. Â ýòîì ñìûñëå, Ðîóëèíã äåéñòâèòåëüíî àïåëëèðóåò ê ðåáåíêó â íàñ. Íå íàéäÿ ïðàâèë èãðû â ðåàëüíîì ìèðå, ìû îáðàùàåìñÿ ê ôàíòàçèè, ãäå ìîæíî âîîáðàçèòü ñåáÿ áëàãîðîäíûì ðûöàðåì èìåííî ïîòîìó, ÷òî òàì ïðàâèëà èãðû íàëèöî. Íî åñëè ôàíòàñòèêà Ðîóëèíã, ýòî êðóïíåéøåå ñîáûòèå íà ðûíêå ëèòåðàòóðû 90-õ, ïðîäîëæàþùååñÿ â íîâîå òûñÿ÷åëåòèå, åñòü, ïî ñóòè, î÷åíü ñëîæíàÿ ìîðàëüíàÿ ïðèò÷à, ñ äîñòàòî÷íî ïðîñòûì íðàâîó÷åíèåì â èòîãå, òî íàñêîëüêî èìååò ñìûñë ãîâîðèòü î ñìåíå âðåìåí, î íîâèçíå â êóëüòóðå? Îáùåñòâî âñå òàêæå ïðèâåðæåíî òðàäèöèè ñîçäàâàòü óäîá- íóþ, ÷åëîâå÷íóþ, ïîëåçíóþ è â öåëîì î÷åíü ïîõâàëüíóþ ìîðàëü â ôîð- ìå çàíÿòíîãî è çàõâàòûâàþùåãî, òî åñòü ðàçâëåêàþùåãî ìèôà. Ðîóëèíã ñîçäàåò ìîðàëüíûé áåñòñåëëåð ñîâðåìåííóþ è ñëîæíóþ ôîðìó ïðèò÷è. Îáùåñòâî íóæäàåòñÿ â äðàìàòèçàöèè ñâîåãî ïîëîæåíèÿ, íî îäíîâðåìåííî è â ìîðàëüíîì óðîêå, óñïåøíî âûó÷èâàåìîì áëàãîäà- ðÿ ýòîé äðàìàòèçàöèè. Òî, ÷òî ìîæíî áûëî áû íàçâàòü «òåìîé òðåâîæ- íîñòè» ïðîõîäèò íå âîïðåêè, à êàê ÷àñòü îáùåãî ïðîöåññà ñàìîäðàìà- òèçàöèè, ðàçâëå÷åíèÿ è ìîðàëüíîãî óðîêà. Â ýòîì îòëè÷èå Ðîóëèíã îò, íàïðèìåð, Äåëèëëî, ó êîòîðîãî òðåâîãà æèçíåííà è íåïðåõîäÿùà, à òàê- æå íå íåñåò â ñåáå ïðîïîâåäè. Èðîíèÿ æå â òîì, ÷òî è Áàéåò, è ìíîãèå äðóãèå óñìàòðèâàþò â ñëîæ- íîì, áåññìûñëåííîì è âëàñòíîì ìèðå ñîâðåìåííîãî íàì Ðàçâëå÷åíèÿ ñ ìîðàëüíûì óêëîíîâ ôóíäàìåíòàëüíûé êðèçèñ, ñìåðòåëüíóþ îïàñ- ÁÀÉÅÒ ÏÐÎÒÈÂ ÐÎÓËÈÍÃ... 97

íîñòü. Íî ýòî è åñòü ëîãèêà áåñòñåëëåðà: âîîáðàçèòü ìèð êàê ïîëíûé îïàñíîñòè è ñêëîííûé ê êàòàñòðîôè÷åñêèì ïåðåìåíàì à çàòåì äîïîë- íèòü îïàñíîñòü ïîäâèãîì, ãåðîåì, ìèññèåé. Èðîíèÿ åùå è â òîì, ÷òî äàæå åñëè è ñîãëàñèòüñÿ ñ òåì, ÷òî Ðîóëèíã óìåëî èãðàåò íà ÷åëîâå÷åñêèõ ñëàáîñòÿõ, íà ñêëîííîñòè ê äðàìàòèçà- öèè è âîçâåëè÷åíèþ ñåáÿ ÷åðåç ïðåóâåëè÷åíèå îïàñíîñòè îêðóæàþùå- ãî ìèðà, òî ÷òî ìîæåò áûòü èíòåðåñíåå åñòåñòâåííåå ïðîÿâëåíèÿ ýòèõ ñëàáîñòåé? Ðîóëèíã ïîïóëÿðíà, ïîòîìó ÷òî ÷åëîâåê ñëàá, ïîòîìó ÷òî îí ÷åëîâåê. Áàéåò ïðîòåñòóåò ïðîòèâ ïðîÿâëåíèÿ ÷åëîâå÷åñêèõ ñëàáîñòåé à ïîòîìó ïðîòèâîðå÷èò ñåáå, âåäü åå òâîð÷åñòâî, ñàìî ñó- ùåñòâîâàíèå «âûñîêîé ëèòåðàòóðû» îñíîâàíî íà ìíîãîîáðàçíûõ ïðî- ÿâëåíèÿõ ÷åëîâå÷åñêîãî, òî åñòü ðàçíûõ ñëàáîñòåé. Âûñîêàÿ ëèòåðàòóðà âêëþ÷àÿ ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ ñàìîé Áàéåò ýòî óòîí- ÷åííûé ïðîäóêò àðòèñòè÷åñêîãî îò÷óæäåíèÿ ÷åëîâå÷åñêèõ ñëàáîñòåé, à íå îòðèöàíèå èõ. Áåñòñåëëåð áîëåå ïðÿìîå è ãðóáîå èõ ïðîÿâëåíèå, ìàíèïóëÿöèè ñ íèìè. Òåì ñàìûì îáà áëèæå äðóã äðóãó, ÷åì ïðèíÿòî ñ÷èòàòü â ñòàíäàðòíîé êðèòèêå èíäóñòðèè Ðàçâëå÷åíèé.

THREAT AND FEAT: THE MANIPULATIVE STRATEGIES OF A BESTSELLER Maxim RYABKOV Central European University, Budapest St. Petersburg Branch of the Russian Institute for Cultural Research A.S. Byatt. Harry Potter and the Childish Adult, New York Times, 07.07.2003 This small paper considers the critique launched by A. S. Byatt against the literary hype of our time surrounding the Harry Porter series by Ms. Rowling. A. S. Byatt sees in Rowling’s popularity a generation crisis, a lowering of taste. Yet the arguments she offers fail to convince. On the contrary, for all its entertainment value and therefore for all its lack of poetry, the Harry Porter series appears to remain fully in line with the tradition of con- veying a moral lesson through the lenses of childish fantasy. It digests, con- centrates and domesticates rather common and laudable notions of good character and behavior. (* Ðàáîòà âûïîëíåíà â ðàìêàõ ïðîåêòà, ïîääåðæàííîãî ÐÔÔÈ, ãðàíò ¹ 03-06-80217.) © Ìàêñèì Ðÿáêîâ, 2004 98 Âàëåíòèíà ÌÀÊÀØÈÍÀ

ÈÃÎÐÜ ÑÅÂÅÐßÍÈÍ: ÕÀÊÅÐ È/ÈËÈ ÒÂÎÐÅÖ?

Âàëåíòèíà ÌÀÊÀØÈÍÀ

Ðóññêèé ñåìàíòè÷åñêèé ñëîâàðü1: ÕÀÊÅÐ, -à, ì. ×åëîâåê, ïîñðåä- ñòâîì êîìïüþòåðíîé òåõíèêè íåçàêîííî ïðîíèêàþùèé â ýëåêòðîííûå ñåòè, â ÷óæèå áàçû äàííûõ ñ õóëèãàíñêèìè èëè ïðåñòóïíûìè öåëÿìè. || ïðèë. õàêåðñêèé, -àÿ, -îå. Ïîïóëÿðíûé ñëîâàðü èíîñòðàííûõ ñëîâ2: ÕÀÊÅÐ, à, ì [àíãë. hacker \ hack ðàçáèâàòü, ëîìàòü] «âçëîìùèê» çàùèòû äàííûõ â êîìïüþòåð- íûõ ñåòÿõ ñ öåëüþ ïîëó÷åíèÿ äîñòóïà ê êàêîé-ë. èíôîðìàöèè (îáû÷íî çàñåêðå÷åííîé). Ñëîâàðü ìîñêîâñêîãî àðãî3: ÕÀÊÅÐ, -à, ì. Êîìïüþòåðíûé «ïèðàò», íåëåãàëüíî äîáûâàþùèé èíôîðìàöèþ â êîìïüþòåðíîé ñåòè. Îò àíãë. to hack. Ïîëóæèðíûì êóðñèâîì çäåñü âûäåëåíû (ìíîé Â. Ì.) ñëîâà, â êî- òîðûõ, íàäî äóìàòü, ñîñðåäîòî÷åíà ñóòü õàêåðñêîé äåÿòåëüíîñòè: «âçëîì- ùèê», «ïèðàò», íåçàêîííî, íåëåãàëüíî, õóëèãàíñêèå, ïðåñòóïíûå è ò.ä. Òàêèì îáðàçîì, íå âûçûâàåò ñîìíåíèé, ÷òî õàêåð âîð. Êàêèì æå îáðà- çîì óêàçàííóþ òåðìèíîëîãèþ ïðèìåíèòü ê ÿâëåíèÿì êóëüòóðû è, â ÷à- ñòíîñòè, ê òâîð÷åñòâó êîíêðåòíîãî ïîýòà? Â 1999 ãîäó â èçäàòåëüñòâå «ÒÅÐÐÀ» â ñåðèè «Íàðîäíàÿ ïîýòè- ÷åñêàÿ áèáëèîòåêà» áûëà âûïóùåíà ìàëîôîðìàòíàÿ êíèæêà ñòèõîò- âîðåíèé Èãîðÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà. Ì. Ëàòûøåâ âî âñòóïèòåëüíîé ñòàòüå ê èçäàíèþ ïîïûòàëñÿ âûðàçèòü ïî âîçìîæíîñòè îáúåêòèâíûé âçãëÿä íà òâîð÷åñòâî Ñåâåðÿíèíà, èìåÿ â âèäó «ñòàíîâëåíèå è ïàäåíèå ëè- òåðàòóðíûõ ðåïóòàöèé, êîòîðûå, êàæåòñÿ, íèêòî âñåðüåç íå èçó÷àë»: «Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí âîò ñàìàÿ î÷åâèäíàÿ æåðòâà ïðèñòðàñòíûõ óñò- ðåìëåíèé ïî ñîáñòâåííîìó âêóñó è ñ âûñîòû ñîáñòâåííûõ è òîëüêî ïîçíàíèé ôîðìèðîâàòü ëèòåðàòóðíûå ðåïóòàöèè!». Îïðàâäûâàÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà, àâòîð ñòàòüè ïèøåò î ïîýòå, ÷òî îí «ïëîòü îò ïëîòè êóëüòóðû ïðåäðåâîëþöèîííîé Ðîññèè», à åãî ïåðâûé ñáîðíèê ñòè- õîâ «Ãðîìîêèïÿùèé êóáîê» (1913) ñàìàÿ ÷èòàåìàÿ êíèãà â ðóññêîé ïîýçèè.4 Âìåñòå ñ òåì Ì. Ëàòûøåâ íå ñìîã íå ñîãëàñèòüñÿ ñ òåì, ÷òî Ñåâåðÿíèí ïîýò, «ë èøåííûé óñòîé÷èâîãî êóëüòóðíîãî ôóíäàìåí- òà».5 Îá ýòîì ïèñàë åùå Îñèï Ìàíäåëüøòàì: «Áåçíàäåæíî ïåðåïó- ÈÃÎÐÜ ÑÅÂÅÐßÍÈÍ: ÕÀÊÅÐ È/ÈËÈ ÒÂÎÐÅÖ? 99

òàâ âñå êóëüòóðû, ïîýò óìååò èíîãäà äàòü î÷àðîâàòåëüíûå ôîðìû õàîñó, öàðÿùåìó â åãî ïðåäñòàâëåíèè».6 Â ïîñëåäíåì ïî âðåìåíè, âåñüìà ñîäåðæàòåëüíîì, äèññåðòàöèîí- íîì èññëåäîâàíèè òâîð÷åñòâà Èãîðÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà, â èçâåñòíîé ñòåïåíè ïîäâîäÿùåì èòîã èçó÷åíèþ åãî íàñëåäèÿ íà äàííîì ýòàïå, àâòîð äàåò åìó îöåíêó êàê ïîýòó, ëèðèêà êîòîðîãî (ïî êðàéíåé ìåðå, 10-õ ãîäîâ XX âåêà) «áîãàòà ðàçíîîáðàçèåì òåì, ìîòèâîâ, îáðàçîâ, ñòèëèñòè÷åñ- êè ìíîãîïëàíîâà, íåîäíîðîäíà». Òàêàÿ «íåîäíîðîäíîñòü» êîñâåííî ñâèäåòåëüñòâóåò î òîì, ÷òî Ñåâåðÿíèí ìíîãîå çàèìñòâîâàë ó ñâîèõ ñî- áðàòüåâ ïî ïåðó è íå òîëüêî. Èññëåäîâàòåëè íåðåäêî íàçûâàþò Ñåâåðÿíèíà ýïèãîíîì Áàëüìîíòà, îäíàêî òàêàÿ õàðàêòåðèñòèêà ñëèøêîì óïðîùàåò ïðîáëåìó çàèìñòâîâà- íèé â ïîýçèè Ñåâåðÿíèíà. Òàê, Ñ. À. Âèêòîðîâà äåëàåò âûâîä î òîì, ÷òî «òâîð÷åñòâî Ñåâåðÿíèíà âîáðàëî è âïèòàëî â ñåáÿ âñå îñíîâíûå ìîòèâû èñêóññòâà Ñåðåáðÿíîãî âåêà íèöøåàíñêèé êóëüò Ýãî, ñîëîãóáîâñêèé ìîòèâ «òâîðèìîé ëåãåíäû», èðîíè÷åñêèå ýëåìåíòû «ìåùàíñêîé äðàìû», àêìåèñòè÷åñêóþ «òîñêó ïî êóëüòóðå», ëèðè÷åñêóþ èðîíèþ è ôóòóðèñòè- ÷åñêèé ïàôîñ». Â äèññåðòàöèè Â. À. Âèêòîðîâîé òâîð÷åñêàÿ áèîãðàôèÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà ïîíèìàåòñÿ êàê «ðåçóëüòàò âåñüìà ñëîæíîãî è ïðèõîòëèâîãî âçàèìîäåéñòâèÿ õóäîæåñòâåííîé èíäèâèäóàëüíîñòè ïîýòà íå ñ îäíîé, à ñðàçó ñ íåñêîëüêèìè «òðàäèöèÿìè» (âûäåëåíî ìíîé Â. Ì.). Àâòîð ïðèâîäèò îáøèðíûé ïåðå÷åíü èñòî÷íèêîâ, èç êîòîðûõ ÷åðïàë Ñåâåðÿ- íèí: « ïîýçèÿ Èãîðÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà íà÷àëà 20 âåêà êîðíÿìè óõîäèò â çàïàäíóþ ýñòåòè÷åñêóþ òðàäèöèþ è ðóññêóþ ïîýçèþ «÷èñòîãî èñêóññò- âà» XIX âåêà. Ïîýòè÷åñêèé ÿçûê Èãîðÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà âîáðàë «ïîýòèçìû», ñàëîííîñòü çàïàäíîãî ýñòåòèçìà è äåíäèçìà (ïîñëåäíÿÿ òðåòü XIX âåêà), «óïîèòåëüíûå øàáëîíû» ñòèõîòâîðíîé ðå÷è ïîýòîâ XIX âåêà, à òàêæå ñèìâîëèñòîâ è «ñëîâîíîâøåñòâî» ôóòóðèñòîâ, ïðèåìû ñòîëè÷íîé è ïðî- âèíöèàëüíîé ãðàôîìàíèè (îò ãðàôà Õâîñòîâà äî êàïèòàíà Ëåáÿäêèíà), ðå÷åâûå îáîðîòû óëè÷íûõ çàçûâàë è ãóëÿê. Èäèîñòèëü Èãîðÿ Ñåâåðÿíè- íà â «ñòèëèñòè÷åñêîé êîëîðàòóðå», â «ñìåøåíèè ñòèëåé» < > Ïðî- áëåìà «÷óæîãî ãîëîñà» â ïîýçèè Èãîðÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà, çàêëþ÷àåò èññëå- äîâàòåëü, ïîçâîëÿåò ðàññìàòðèâàòü åãî ëèðèêó íå òîëüêî ñ ëèòåðàòóðî- âåä÷åñêèõ ïîçèöèé, íî è êàê ñîöèîêóëüòóðíûé ôåíîìåí».7 Åùå Á. Ïàñ- òåðíàê ñêàçàë î Ñåâåðÿíèíå: «..ëèðèê... ïðè âñåé íåðÿøëèâîé ïîøëîñòè ïîðàæàâøèé èìåííî ýòèì ðåäêèì óñòðîéñòâîì ñâîåãî îòêðûòîãî, ðàçîì- êíóòîãî äàðà (âûäåëåíî ìíîé. Â. Ì.)»8 . 100 Âàëåíòèíà ÌÀÊÀØÈÍÀ

Íå ñëó÷àéíî, ïî íàáëþäåíèþ Â. À. Êîøåëåâà è Â. À. Ñàïîãîâà âî âñòóïèòåëüíîé ñòàòüå ê ïÿòèòîìíîìó ñîáðàíèþ ñî÷èíåíèé ïîýòà, «Èãîðü- Ñåâåðÿíèí åäèíñòâåííûé ïîýò, êîòîðûé â ðàçíîå âðåìÿ ðàçíûìè êðè- òèêàìè, èññëåäîâàòåëÿìè è àâòîðàìè ó÷åáíèêîâ áûë âêëþ÷åí âî âñå ëè- òåðàòóðíûå òå÷åíèÿ è íàïðàâëåíèÿ íà÷àëà âåêà îò ïðåäñèìâîëèçìà äî ïîñòñèìâîëèçìà». Íà ñàìîì äåëå íå ïðèìêíóâøèé íè ê ñèìâîëèñòàì, íè ê àêìåèñòàì è ïðåäïðèíÿâøèé ïîïûòêó ñîçäàòü ñîáñòâåííîå ëèòåðàòóð- íîå íàïðàâëåíèå ýãî-ôóòóðèçì Èãîðü-Ñåâåðÿíèí, âîçìîæíî, íàìåòèë íåêèé «òðåòèé» ïóòü äëÿ ðóññêîé ïîýçèè. È íà ýòîì ïóòè ïîýò íå îñòàëñÿ îäèíîêèì. Ïî ìíåíèþ Â. À. Êîøåëåâà è Â. À. Ñàïîãîâà, «ñåâåðÿíèíñ- êàÿ» âåòâü íå èñ÷åçàåò èç ðóññêîé ïîýçèè XX âåêà. Ðåôëåêñû å¸ ïðîÿâëÿ- þòñÿ â ðàçíîå âðåìÿ è â ðàçíûõ ñòèëÿõ îò ÷èñòî ýñòðàäíîé, ðàçâëåêà- òåëüíîé ïîýçèè äî èçûñêàííîãî, ïîñòðîåííîãî íà èíòåëëåêòóàëüíîé èãðå òâîð÷åñòâà îáýðèóòîâ èëè ñîâðåìåííûõ «êîíöåïòóàëèñòîâ».9 Â ïîñëåäíåå âðåìÿ èññëåäîâàòåëè ïèøóò îá èãðîâîì íà÷àëå òâîð- ÷åñòâà Ñåâåðÿíèíà (Þ. Â. Áàáè÷åâà, Â. À. Êîøåëåâ, Â. À. Ñàïîãîâ, Ê. Ã. Èñóïîâ è äð.). Ïîýçèÿ âîîáùå íåìûñëèìà áåç èãðû, è ïîíèìàíèå ïî- ýçèè êàê èãðû, äàâíî èìåâøåå ìåñòî â êóëüòóðå, îáîáùåííî âûðàçèë â ñâîåé çíàìåíèòîé êíèãå «Homo Ludens» Éîõàí Õåéçèíãà: «Åñëè ïîä ñåðüåçíûì ïîíèìàòü òî, ÷òî óäàåòñÿ èñ÷åðïûâàþùå âûðàçèòü ñëîâàìè áîäðñòâåííîé æèçíè, òî ïîýçèÿ íèêîãäà íå áûâàåò ñîâåðøåííî ñåðüåç- íîé. Îíà ðàñïîëàãàåòñÿ ïî òó ñòîðîíó ñåðüåçíîãî â òîé ïåðâîçäàííîé ñòðàíå, îòêóäà ðîäîì äåòè, æèâîòíûå, äèêàðè, ÿñíîâèäöû, â öàðñòâå ãðåçû, âîñòîðãà, îïüÿíåíèÿ, ñìåõà. Äëÿ ïîíèìàíèÿ ïîýçèè íóæíî îá- ëå÷ü ñåáÿ äóøîþ ðåáåíêà, ñëîâíî âîëøåáíîé ñîðî÷êîé, è ìóäðîñòü ðå- áåíêà ïîñòàâèòü âûøå ìóäðîñòè âçðîñëîãî. Òàêîâà ïîíÿòàÿ è âûðàæåí- íàÿ Âèêî óæå äâà ñòîëåòèÿ íàçàä èçíà÷àëüíàÿ ñóùíîñòü ïîýçèè, áëèæå âñåãî ñòîÿùàÿ ê ÷èñòîìó ïîíÿòèþ èãðû».10 Èãðà, âïðî÷åì, çà÷àñòóþ ïîíèìàåòñÿ êàê îáìàí, à òî è ìîøåííè- ÷åñòâî. «Èðîíèçèðóþùåå», èãðàþùåå íà÷àëî ëèðèêè íå áûëî âîñïðè- íÿòî ÷èòàòåëÿìè îäíîçíà÷íî, «àðëåêèíñêèé» ìèð Èãîðÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà, ìèð ýñòåòà è äåíäè, ãóðìàíà è ãåäîíèñòà, ÷åëîâåêà íîâîé ýïîõè è öè- âèëèçàöèè íå ñðàçó áûë ðàçãàäàí è ïîíÿò», ïèøåò Ñ. À. Âèêòîðîâà.11 Å. Ïåðåìûøëåâ â ðåöåíçèè íà ïåðâûå òðè òîìà ïÿòèòîìíîãî èçäàíèÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà, âûøåäøåãî â èçäàòåëüñòâå «Logos» â 199596 ãîäàõ, çà- ìå÷àåò: « îñòàëèñü ïîýòû è ïèñàòåëè, ñ êîòîðûìè íå âåäàþò, êàê ïî- ñòóïèòü, íå ìîãóò ïðåäïîëîæèòü, ïî êàêîìó ðàíæèðó èõ ñòàâèòü íà ÈÃÎÐÜ ÑÅÂÅÐßÍÈÍ: ÕÀÊÅÐ È/ÈËÈ ÒÂÎÐÅÖ? 101

êíèæíûå ïîëêè. Ýòî ïîòîìó, ÷òî ó ðóññêîé ëèòåðàòóðû åñòü òî, ÷åãî íåò ó äðóãèõ, åñòü èíàÿ êëàññèêà, íè÷åãî îáùåãî ñ ïðèçíàííîé íå èìåþ- ùàÿ».12 Ê òàêîé «íåïðèçíàííîé» êëàññèêå è ïðèíàäëåæèò òâîð÷åñòâî Èãîðÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà, îò êîòîðîãî â ó÷åáíèêàõ è õðåñòîìàòèÿõ ñîâåòñêîãî ïåðèîäà îñòàëàñü ëèøü ôðàçà «ß, ãåíèé Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí », äà è â òîé (÷òî ñàìî ïî ñåáå ïîêàçàòåëüíî) çàïÿòóþ çàìåíÿëè íà òèðå. Ñàìîíàäå- ÿííûé ýïèãîí, ïñåâäîïîýò, îäíèì ñëîâîì «íà âîðå è øàïêà ãîðèò» Îäíàêî «âîðîâñòâî» ýòî àðòèñòè÷åñêîå, èãðîâîå (à çíà÷èò, òâîð- ÷åñêîå), «âîð» è íå ñêðûâàåò, ÷òî «íàäóâàåò» ïóáëèêó, ïîñêîëüêó ïðåä- ëàãàåò åé æå «ïåðåäåëàííûé» äî íåóçíàâàåìîñòè «òîâàð» (êîòîðûé ê òîìó æå èäåò íàðàñõâàò!). Òàê Â. À. Ãèëÿðîâñêèé îïèñûâàåò àðòåëü ïîð- òíûõ íà Õèòðîâêå, ïåðåøèâàþùóþ âîðîâàííûå âåùè: «Èç óçëîâ âûíè- ìàþò äîðîãèå øóáû, ëèñüè ðîòîíäû è ãîðó ðàçíîãî ïëàòüÿ. Ñåé÷àñ íà- ÷èíàåòñÿ êðîéêà è øèòüå, à óòðîì ÿâëÿþòñÿ áàðûøíèêè è îõàïêàìè íåñóò íà áàçàð ìåõîâûå øàïêè, æèëåòû, êàðòóçû, øòàíû. Ïîëèöèÿ èùåò øóáû è ðîòîíäû, à èõ óæå íåò: âìåñòî íèõ øàïêè è êàðòóçû».13 Ãëàâíàÿ îïàñíîñòü ïðè ýòîì âî âñÿêîì ñëó÷àå, êîãäà ðå÷ü èäåò î ïîýçèè íå ïîëó÷èòü â ðåçóëüòàòå òðèøêèí êàôòàí. Îïàñíîñòü âåëèêà, ïîñêîëüêó ìíîãèå ó÷àñòâóþò â èãðå, íî ìàëî êîìó òàêîå «ïåðåêðàèâà- íèå» óäàåòñÿ âïîëíå. Ñåâåðÿíèí ñ÷àñòëèâî ýòîé îïàñíîñòè èçáåæàë: îò- êðûòûå çàèìñòâîâàíèÿ è «ïåðåäåëêè» íå îáåðíóëèñü ó íåãî ýïèãîíñòâîì, à â ñèëó òàëàíòà ïîýòà/òâîðöà ïîðîäèëè íîâûé «ñêðåùåííûé» ÿçûê, íåïîâòîðèìûé èäèîñòèëü («ß òðàãåäèþ æèçíè ïðåâðàùó â ãðåçîôàðñ »). Ñåâåðÿíèí, ïðåæäå ÷åì êîíñòàòèðîâàë: «Äà, ñòàëà ëèðèêà èñòðå- ïàííûì êëèøå» («Êëàäáèùåíñêèå ïîýçû. I», 1914, ñá. «Victoria Regia»), óæå «âûäàë» «÷òî íè ñëîâî, òî ñþðïðèç» («Ïðîëîã», 1911, ñá. «Ãðî- ìîêèïÿùèé êóáîê»). Òî åñòü, «ïåðåøèë» âñå òî æå «âîðîâàííîå òðÿïüå» â íå÷òî îðèãèíàëüíîå. Ïðèâåäó ïðèìåð. Õðåñòîìàòèéíîå ñåâåðÿíèíñêîå ñòèõîòâîðåíèå «Ìîðîæåíîå èç ñèðåíè» (1912, ñá. «Ãðîìîêèïÿùèé êóáîê») ïðåäñòàâ- ëÿåò ñîáîé íå ÷òî èíîå êàê «ïåðåäåëàííûé» (ðàçâåðíóòûé) êðèê óëè÷- íîãî òîðãîâöà, ðàçíîñ÷èêà ìîðîæåíîãî: Ìîðîæåíîå èç ñèðåíè! Ìîðîæåíîå èç ñèðåíè! Ïîëïîðöèè äåñÿòü êîïååê, ÷åòûðå êîïåéêè áóøå. Ñóäàðûøíè, ñóäàðè, íàäî ëü? íå äîðîãî ìîæíî áåç ïðåíèé Ïîåøü äåëèêàòíîãî, ïëîùàäü: ïðèäåòñÿ òîâàð ïî äóøå! 102 Âàëåíòèíà ÌÀÊÀØÈÍÀ

ß ñëèâî÷íîãî íå èìåþ, ôèñòàøêîâîå âñå ðàñïðîäàë Àõ, ãðàæäàíå, äà íåóæåëè âû òðåáóåòå êðýì-áðþëå? Ïîðà ïîïóëÿðèòü èçûñêè, óòîí÷èòüñÿ âêóñàì íàðîäà, Íà óëèöó ñïåöèè êóõîíü, îãèìíèâ ýêñöåññ â âèðýëå! Ñèðåíü ñëàäîñòðàñòüÿ ýìáëåìà. Â ëèëîâî-èçíåæåííîì êðåíå Çàëüäèñü, âîäîïàäíîå ñåðäöå, â äóøèñòûé è ñëàäêèé ïóøîê Ìîðîæåíîå èç ñèðåíè! Ìîðîæåíîå èç ñèðåíè! Ýé, ìàëü÷èê ñî ñáèòíåì, ïîïðîáóé! Åé Áîãó, ïîõâàëèøü, äðóæîê! Ïðîèñõîæäåíèå ýòîãî ñàìîãî «ìîðîæåíîãî èç ñèðåíè» íåîáûê- íîâåííî: ýòî îñòðîóìíàÿ «ïåðåäåëêà», íà ÷òî â ñòèõîòâîðåíèè íåäâóñ- ìûñëåííî óêàçûâàåòñÿ: «Â ëèëîâî-èçíåæåííîì êðåíå / Çàëüäèñü, âîäî- ïàäíîå ñåðäöå, â äóøèñòûé è ñëàäêèé ïóøîê » Ìîðîæåíîå «äóøèñ- òûé è ñëàäêèé ïóøîê» ïðèãîòîâëåíî èç çàëåäåíåâøåãî, çàìîðîæåí- íîãî ñåðäöà (ëèëîâûé öâåò ñåðäöà è öâåò ìîðîæåíîãî), ïðåæäå ñòðóÿ- ùåãîñÿ âîäîïàäàìè, è ýòîò «äåëèêàòíûé» ïðîäóêò («íå äîðîãî») ïðåä- ëàãàåòñÿ ìàëü÷èêó, òîðãóþùåìó ñáèòíåì áîëåå ÷åì ïðîçàè÷åñêèì òî- âàðîì ðàçíîñ÷èêà.14 Òàê æèâîå (ñåðäöå) ïðåâðàùàåòñÿ â íåæèâîå (ìî- ðîæåíîå), äâèæóùååñÿ (âîäîïàä) â çàñòûâøåå (ëåä), ò.å. åñòåñòâåííîå â èñêóññòâåííîå, íî ñúåäîáíîå, äîñòóïíîå êàæäîìó (óäîáîâàðèìîå). È âñå-òàêè «âîðó» äàæå è «ïîýòè÷åñêîìó» íåëüçÿ íå ïðÿòàòü- ñÿ. Åìó íåîáõîäèìà «ìàñêà», è Ñåâåðÿíèí òàêîé «ìàñêîé» ïðåäóñ- ìîòðèòåëüíî îáçàâåëñÿ. Èìèäæ Ñåâåðÿíèíà òîæå íå îðèãèíàëüíûé, òî÷íåå, îïÿòü æå «âîðîâàííûé» ïîä Îñêàðà Óàéëüäà. Â îïèñàíèè Áåíåäèêòà Ëèâøèöà, âïðî÷åì, îí ïðåäñòàåò âåñüìà íåïðèãëÿäíûì: «Îí [Ñåâåðÿíèí], âèäèìî, ñòàðàëñÿ ïîõîäèòü íà Óàéëüäà, ñ êîòîðûì ó íåãî áûëî íå÷òî îáùåå â íàðóæíîñòè. Íî äî ÷åãî êàçàëàñü ìíå æàëêîé ðóññêàÿ èíòåðïðåòàöèÿ Äîðèàíà! Ïîìÿòîå ëèöî ñ íåçäîðî- âîé ñåðîâàòîé êîæåé, ïðèïóõøèå âåêè, ìóòíûå ãëàçà. Îí êàê áóäòî òîëüêî ÷òî ïðîñíóëñÿ ïîñëå ïîïîéêè è åùå íå óñïåë ïðèâåñòè ñåáÿ â ïîðÿäîê. Ìåíÿ óäèâèëà íåðÿøëèâîñòü «èçûñêàííîãî ãðåçýðà»: ãðÿç- íûå, äàâíî íå ìûòûå ðóêè, çàëèòûå «êðåì äå âèîëåòîì» ëàöêàíû óàéëüäîâñêîãî ñþðòóêà Íà âîïðîñû, ñ êîòîðûìè ê íåìó èíîãäà îáðàùàëñÿ Êóëüáèí, îí ìíî- ãîçíà÷èòåëüíî ìû÷àë èëè îòâå÷àë äâóìÿ-òðåìÿ ñëîâàìè, âûãîâàðèâàÿ ðóññêîå «í» â íîñ, êàê ýòî äåëàþò ëþäè, æåëàþùèå ùåãîëüíóòü îòñóò- ñòâóþùèì ó íèõ ôðàíöóçñêèì ïðîèçíîøåíèåì».15 ÈÃÎÐÜ ÑÅÂÅÐßÍÈÍ: ÕÀÊÅÐ È/ÈËÈ ÒÂÎÐÅÖ? 103

Íå òîëüêî Á. Ëèâøèö, íî è ìíîãèå ñîâðåìåííèêè íàõîäèëè ïîýòà ïîõîæèì íà «áëèñòàòåëüíîãî Îñêàðà». Ñåâåðÿíèíó æå ýòî, âðîäå áû, îò- íþäü íå ëüñòèëî: «Ëþäè, óâåðÿþùèå ìåíÿ, ÷òî ÿ ïîõîæ íà Îñêàðà Óàéëü- äà, ãîâîðÿò ìíå äåðçîñòü: ÿ î÷åíü ëþáëþ Óàéëüäà, íî ñ ìåíÿ äîñòàòî÷íî áûòü ïîõîæèì íà ñåáÿ».16 Ýòî îïÿòü èãðà, «íàäóâàòåëüñòâî», ïîñêîëüêó ñõîäñòâî âñå-òàêè áûëî, íåäàðîì Ñåâåðÿíèí íàïèñàë îá Óàéëüäå: «Âñå- ëåíåö, çàêëþ÷¸ííûé â ñìîêèíã äýíäè», «èðîíÿùèé Óàéëüä». Ñåâåðÿíèí è ñàìîãî ñåáÿ â ïîýçèè îñîçíàâàë êàê «ëèðè÷åñêîãî èðîíèêà», «èðîíèçè- ðóþùåå äèòÿ» (ñð. ñ ïðèâåäåííîé âûøå öèòàòîé Õåéçèíãè). Â.À. Êîøåëåâ ïèøåò î ëèòåðàòóðíûõ «ìàñêàõ» Ñåâåðÿíèíà è Ãóìè- ë¸âà äâóõ «àíòàãîíèñòîâ» â ðóññêîé ïîýçèè (ïîëüçóÿñü òåðìèíîëîãè- åé Í. Ñ. Ãóìèë¸âà): Ãóìèë¸â «íîñèòåëü ëèðè÷åñêîãî îáëèêà «÷åëîâå- êà êíèãè», äîâåä¸ííîãî äî nec plus ultra <...>. Ñåâåðÿíèí æå íàèáîëåå åñòåñòâåííîå è çíà÷èìîå âûðàæåíèå «÷åëîâåêà ãàçåòû». Â. À. Êîøåëåâ ïîëàãàåò, ÷òî «Ãóìèë¸â áûë åäèíñòâåííûì èç ìíîãî÷èñëåííûõ êðèòè- êîâ è ðåöåíçåíòîâ íà÷àëà âåêà, îáðàùàâøèõñÿ ê ïîýçèè Ñåâåðÿíèíà, êòî óëîâèë òó åñòåñòâåííóþ îïàñíîñòü, êîòîðàÿ èñõîäèëà îò íîâîé, «ñà- ìîçâàííîé» ëèòåðàòóðíîé «ìàñêè». Ñòðàøåí íå Ñåâåðÿíèí ñàì ïî ñåáå, íå åãî èíäèâèäóàëüíîå íàõàëüñòâî, áåçâêóñèå, ìàíåðíîñòü è ò.ï. ßâ- ëåíèå åãî îáðåòøåãî ãîëîñ «÷åëîâåêà ãàçåòû» ýòî ïðåääâåðèå ãðÿäó- ùåãî ðàçðóøèòåëÿ òîé êóëüòóðû, îäíèì èç «êàïèòàíîâ» êîòîðîé Ãóìè- ë¸â îùóùàë ñåáÿ. Íåò, íå Ñåâåðÿíèí ñîâåðøèò íîâûé êóëüòóðíûé ïåðå- âîðîò îí ïðîñòî íàèáîëåå íàãëÿäíî äåìîíñòðèðóåò âîçìîæíîñòü åãî ñîâåðøåíèÿ».17 Â óñëîâèÿõ ñîâðåìåííîé êóëüòóðû, âåðîÿòíî, óìåñòíî ãîâîðèòü åùå è î «÷åëîâåêå Èíòåðíåòà», êåì, ñîáñòâåííî, è ÿâëÿåòñÿ õàêåð, ñîâåðøàþùèé î÷åðåäíîé êóëüòóðíûé ïåðåâîðîò. Âïðî÷åì, ó Ñåâåðÿíèíà, «ïåðåêðàèâàþùåãî» «÷óæîå» íà ñâîé ëàä, «ìàòåðèàë» âñå-òàêè îñòàåòñÿ ïðåæíèì. È Ñåâåðÿíèí çàèìñòâóåò åãî èç äâóõ îñíîâíûõ èñòî÷íèêîâ: 1) ñóùåñòâîâàâøåé äî íåãî ïîýçèè è 2) ñî- âðåìåííîé åìó ìàññîâîé êóëüòóðû. Â óêàçàííûé ïåðèîä â Ðîññèè óæå ñóùåñòâîâàëà íîâàÿ, õîòÿ è åùå ôîðìèðóþùàÿñÿ, ñèñòåìà ìàññîâàÿ êóëüòóðà. È Ñåâåðÿíèí «õàêåðñòâî- âàë» èìåííî â ýòîé ñèñòåìå, «ïîäâîðîâûâàÿ» èç íåå èäåè, îáðàçû, ñèì- âîëû, íàñòðîåíèÿ è «âíåäðÿÿ» â ñâîå òâîð÷åñòâî. Í. Ì. Çîðêàÿ, àíàëèçèðóÿ çðåëèùíûå ôîðìû õóäîæåñòâåííîé êóëü- òóðû, îòìå÷àåò: «Äëÿ òîãî ÷òîáû òåõíèêà äàëà èñêóññòâó íîâûå ýñòåòè- ÷åñêèå ôîðìû, íîâûå õóäîæåñòâåííûå ñðåäñòâà, äëÿ òîãî ÷òîáû èñêóñ- 104 Âàëåíòèíà ÌÀÊÀØÈÍÀ

ñòâî îñîçíàëî è ïðèíÿëî åå, íåîáõîäèìî áûëî ñëåäóþùåå: íîâàÿ òåõíè- êà äîëæíà áûëà îñìûñëèâàòüñÿ êàê íå÷òî ñóùåñòâåííîå äëÿ ïñèõîëî- ãèè ÷åëîâåêà, à íå òîëüêî äëÿ ìàòåðèàëüíîé æèçíè. Ýòî ñâÿçàíî ñ íîâûì ñòðîåì ñîçíàíèÿ ëþäåé íàøåãî âðåìåíè, âðå- ìåíè íàó÷íî-òåõíè÷åñêîé ðåâîëþöèè. Òèïîãðàôñêèé ñòàíîê, èçîáðå- òåííûé â XV ñòîëåòèè Ãóòåíáåðãîì, íå âûçâàë ê æèçíè íè ñòèõîâ, íè æèâîïèñíûõ ïîëîòåí. Îí, òàê ñêàçàòü, íå áûë îòðàæåí íè â ëèòåðàòóðå, íè â èñêóññòâå, íè â ôèëîñîôèè. À âîò, ê ïðèìåðó, æåëåçíàÿ äîðîãà, ïîÿâèâøàÿñÿ â XIX âåêå, ñòàëà äëÿ ëèòåðàòóðû îáðàçîì, ñèìâîëîì, îò- ðàæåííûì è â ïîýçèè, è â ïðîçå» (Íåêðàñîâ, Âë. Ñîëîâüåâ, Áëîê). «Òà- êîé æå ïóòü «ïðèâûêàíèÿ» â æèçíè è â èñêóññòâå ïðîõîäÿò àâòîìîáèëü, òåëåãðàô (îí ïîðîäèò â ëèòåðàòóðå îñîáûé «òåëåãðàôíûé ñòèëü»), àýðî- ïëàí è åãî âîçäóøíûé âëàñòåëèí «àâèàòîð», êàê íàçâàí ëåò÷èê â çíàìå- íèòîì ñòèõîòâîðåíèè Áëîêà. Òðóäíî áûëî ñîåäèíèòü â ñîçíàíèè âåêî- âûå àíòèïîäû ìàøèíó è òâîð÷åñòâî, õóäîæåñòâåííîå è «ìåõàíè÷åñ- êîå». Òðóäíî äàæå òîãäà, êîãäà â ðåçóëüòàòå òåõíè÷åñêîãî ïðîãðåññà âå- ëèêèå èçîáðåòåíèÿ: ôîòîãðàôèÿ, ðàäèî, ôîíîãðàô, òåëåãðàô ïðî÷íî âîøëè â æèçíü è áûò, ñóùåñòâåííî èçìåíèâ ÷åëîâå÷åñêîå áûòèå».18 Ñåâåðÿíèí æå ñìåëî è äàæå âûçûâàþùå ââîäèò â ñâîé ïîýòè÷åñêèé ìèð ýòè «âåëèêèå èçîáðåòåíèÿ»: àýðîïëàí, ìîòîð, àâòî, øîññý, òàíãî è äð. Õàêåð, áåçóñëîâíî, íîñèòåëü ìàññîâîé êóëüòóðû. Êàê, â ñëó÷àå ñ «ïîýòè÷åñêèì õàêåðñòâîì», ýòî ñîâìåùàåòñÿ ñ «âûñîêèì èñêóññòâîì»? Ïðèâåäó îäèí ïðèìåð. Ñåâåðÿíèí îòêðîâåííî íå ëþáèë À. Í. Âåðòèíñ- êîãî, òîæå ÿðêîãî ïðåäñòàâèòåëÿ ìàññîâîé êóëüòóðû íà÷àëà XX âåêà, î ÷åì ñâèäåòåëüñòâóåò, íàïðèìåð, òàêîå âûñêàçûâàíèå ïîýòà: «Â íàñòîÿ- ùåå âðåìÿ ó ìåíÿ íåò áîëüøèíñòâà èç åãî (Ô. Ñîëîãóáà. Â. Ì.) êíèã. È äîñòàòü èõ çàòðóäíèòåëüíî: «êóëüòóðíûé» âåê äàåò ñåáÿ ÷óâñòâîâàòü âåäü ýòî íå íîòû ïåñåíîê Âåðòèíñêîãî ».19 Òåêñòû ïåñåí Âåðòèíñêîãî ñ íîòàìè òîãäà øèðîêî èçäàâàëèñü (Âåðòèíñêèé, êñòàòè, èñïîëíÿë ðî- ìàíñû, â òîì ÷èñëå, è íà ñòèõè Ñåâåðÿíèíà), è åãî êîíöåðòû áûëè íå ìåíåå ïîïóëÿðíû, ÷åì ñåâåðÿíèíñêèå ïîýçîâå÷åðà. Îäíàêî Ñåâåðÿíèí ñîçíàòåëüíî ïîòàêàë âêóñàì òîëïû, ïîìíÿ ïðè ýòîì î «âûñîêîì èñêóñ- ñòâå» («Ìîÿ äâóñìûñëåííàÿ ñëàâà è íåäâóñìûñëåííûé òàëàíò»). Îòðè- öàòåëüíîå îòíîøåíèå Ñåâåðÿíèíà ê Âåðòèíñêîìó ñëåäóåò, âåðîÿòíî, îáúÿñíÿòü òåì, ÷òî Âåðòèíñêèé (ïî êðàéíåé ìåðå, â ïîíèìàíèè Ñåâåðÿ- íèíà) íè íà êàêóþ «äâóñìûñëåííîñòü» è íå ïðåòåíäîâàë. È ïîòîìó Ñå- âåðÿíèí îòíîñèë åãî ê «òîé» êóëüòóðå, êîòîðóþ ñ÷èòàë «ãíèëîé»: ÈÃÎÐÜ ÑÅÂÅÐßÍÈÍ: ÕÀÊÅÐ È/ÈËÈ ÒÂÎÐÅÖ? 105

Äóøà óòîí÷åííî ÷åðñòâååò, Ãíèëà êóëüòóðà, êàê ðîêôîð «Ïðîëîã» (1911, ñá. «Ãðîìîêèïÿùèé êóáîê») Äðóãîå äåëî, ÷òî ïîíèìàíèå Ñåâåðÿíèíîì êóëüòóðû âåñüìà ñïåöè- ôè÷íî, è ýòî òåìà äëÿ îòäåëüíîãî èññëåäîâàíèÿ. Îäíàêî óæå â 1914 ãîäó Âë. Õîäàñåâè÷ â ñòàòüå «Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí è ôóòóðèçì» çàìåòèë: « íóæíî åùå æåëàòü, ÷òîáû Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí ñîçíàë, ÷òî íèêàêàÿ èñ- òèííàÿ êóëüòóðà, êàê íå÷òî æèâîå è æèâóùåå, ãíèëîé áûòü íå ìîæåò. Ãíèëàÿ êóëüòóðà íå êóëüòóðà âîâñå».20 Ñåâåðÿíèí ñîçíàòåëüíî ïðèñïîñàáëèâàåò ñâîå òâîð÷åñòâî äëÿ òîë- ïû, ÷òî â íà÷àëå XX âåêà áûëî ÿâëåíèåì äàëåêî íå åäèíè÷íûì. È. À. Áóíèí êîíñòàòèðîâàë: «Ðóññêàÿ ëèòåðàòóðà ðàçâðàùåíà çà ïîñëå- äíèå äåñÿòèëåòèÿ íåîáûêíîâåííî. Óëèöà, òîëïà íà÷àëà èãðàòü î÷åíü áîëüøóþ ðîëü. Âñå è ëèòåðàòóðà îñîáåííî âûõîäèò íà óëèöó, ñâÿçû- âàåòñÿ ñ íåþ è ïîäïàäàåò ïîä åå âëèÿíèå. È óëèöà ðàçâðàùàåò, íåðâèðó- åò óæå õîòÿ áû ïî îäíîìó òîìó, ÷òî îíà ñòðàøíî íåóìåðåííà â ñâîèõ õâàëàõ, åñëè åé óãîæäàþò. Â ðóññêîé ëèòåðàòóðå òåïåðü òîëüêî «ãåíèè». Èçóìèòåëüíûé óðîæàé! Ãåíèé Áðþñîâ, ãåíèé Ãîðüêèé, ãåíèè Èãîðü Ñå- âåðÿíèí, Áëîê, Áåëûé ».21 Ñåâåðÿíèí è íå îòêàçûâàëñÿ: Âî ìíå âûèñêèâàëè ïîøëîñòü, Èç âèäó âûïóñòèâ îäíî: Âåäü êòî æèâîïèñóåò ïëîùàäü, Òîò ïèøåò êèñòüþ ïëîùàäíîé. «Äâóñìûñëåííàÿ ñëàâà» (1918, ñá. «Ñîëîâåé») Â «Àâòîïðåäèñëîâèè» ê ñáîðíèêó «Òðàãåäèÿ Òèòàíà. Êîñìîñ» (1923) Ñåâåðÿíèí, ïîñòåïåííî îòõîäÿ îò ïðèíöèïîâ ñâîåãî òâîð÷åñòâà äî 1917 ãîäà è ïðèáëèæàÿñü ê òðàäèöèÿì «êëàññè÷åñêîé» ðóññêîé ïîýçèè (ÿð- ÷àéøèì ïðèìåðîì òàêîãî ñáëèæåíèÿ ñòàíåò ñáîðíèê 1931 ãîäà «Êëàñ- ñè÷åñêèå ðîçû»), ïèñàë, îòêðåùèâàÿñü îò ñâîåãî áûëîãî ïîòàêàíèÿ âêó- ñàì òîëïû: «Õóäîæíèê-èíäèâèäóàëèñò, çàõâà÷åííûé íàñòðîåíèÿìè ìàññ, çðåëèùå ÷óäîâèùíî îòâðàòíîå Íûíå, î÷èùåííûé ìóêàìè, ÿ äåëàþ â ýòîé êíèãå ñâîäêó âñåõ ìåòàíèé ñâîåãî äóõà è, ïðèñòûæåííûé ïàäå- íèÿìè è îêðûëåííûé îçàðåíüÿìè, ñòðåìëþñü ê âñåëåíñêèì âåðøèíàì, èäÿ âïåðåäè ñâîåãî âåêà, êàê è ïîäîáàåò Ïîýòó Èñòîìó!» Â 2001 ãîäó âûøåë èç ïå÷àòè ïåðâûé òîì «Ñëîâàðÿ ÿçûêà ðóññêîé ïîýçèè XX âåêà», îäèí èç ñîñòàâèòåëåé êîòîðîãî Â. Ï. Ãðèãîðüåâ â ïðå- 106 Âàëåíòèíà ÌÀÊÀØÈÍÀ

äèñëîâèè ñòàâèò ïåðåä ÷èòàòåëÿìè ðèòîðè÷åñêèé âîïðîñ: « ïî÷åìó â êà÷åñòâå ïðåäñòàâèòåëåé ðóññêîé ïîýçèè XX âåêà è åå ÿçûêà áûëè èç- áðàíû èìåííî ýòè 10 ïîýòîâ Àííåíñêèé, Àõìàòîâà, Áëîê, Åñåíèí, Êóçìèí, Ìàíäåëüøòàì, Ìàÿêîâñêèé, Ïàñòåðíàê, Õëåáíèêîâ, Öâåòàåâà? Ðàçâå òàê óæ ìåíåå äîñòîéíî, ñêàæåì, À. Áåëûé, Áàëüìîíò, Áðþñîâ, Áóíèí, Âîëîøèí, Ãóìèëåâ, Âÿ÷. Èâàíîâ, Êëþåâ, È. Ñåâåðÿíèí, Ñîëîãóá, Õîäàñåâè÷, Ñàøà ×åð- íûé ?».22 Ñîñòàâèòåëü, êîíå÷íî, ëóêàâèò. Âî âñÿêîì ñëó÷àå, íàçûâàÿ èìÿ Èãîðÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà, êîòîðîãî âîñïðèíèìàëè è ïðîäîëæàþò âîñïðèíèìàòü êàê «ïîýòà òîëïû», (à çíà÷èò!) ïñåâäîïîýòà, à åãî òâîð÷åñòâî àññîöèèðóåò- ñÿ, ãëàâíûì îáðàçîì, ñî ñòðîêàìè «ß, ãåíèé Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí » è «Àíàíàñû â øàìïàíñêîì». Áåññïîðíî, ÷òî Ñåâåðÿíèí ñòîÿë ó èñòîêîâ îòå÷åñòâåííîé ìàññî- âîé êóëüòóðû. Ýòî îñîçíàâàëè óæå ñîâðåìåííèêè, íàçûâàâøèå åãî «ïî- ýòîì ñâîåãî âðåìåíè, ñâîåé òîëïû».23 Á Ëèâøèö â âîñïîìèíàíèÿõ î ôó- òóðèçìå çàìåòèë î Ñåâåðÿíèíå: «Îí åùå íå ïîäîøåë ê ïîðîãó ðàííåãî ñèìâîëèçìà, áðîäèë â ïðåäðàññâåòíûõ åãî ñóìåðêàõ è, âîïðåêè ñîáñòâåí- íîìó çàÿâëåíèþ: âî âðåìåíà Ñåâåðÿíèíà Ñëåäóåò çíàòü, ÷òî çà Ïóøêèíûì áûëè è Áëîê è Áàëüìîíò! çàñòûë íà êóëüòå Ëîõâèöêîé è Ôîôàíîâà, òî åñòü íà «Íèâå» äåâÿíî- ñòûõ ãîäîâ ».24 Å. Â. Èâàíîâà ïîëàãàåò, ÷òî, âîñêðåøàÿ èäåè äåêàäåíòîâ 90-õ ãîäîâ, «Ñåâåðÿíèí çàñòàâëÿåò èõ ïðîçâó÷àòü ïî-íîâîìó. Ðóññêèå äåêàäåíòû îòñòàèâàëè ñâîè èäåè â óñëîâèÿõ âðàæäåáíîñòè è íåïîíèìàíèÿ ñî ñòîðîíû ÷èòàþùåé ïóáëèêè, îò÷åãî îíè òàê è îñòàëèñü áðîñêèìè ëîçóíãàìè, èìåâøèìè ñêóäíîå òâîð÷åñêîå ïðåòâîðåíèå. Âîçðîæäàÿ ýòè çàáûòûå èäåè, Ñåâåðÿíèí íàõîäèò òîò î ñîáûé ñòèëü, êîòîðûé äåëàåò èõ ïðèòÿãàòåëüíûìè è äîñòóïíûìè äëÿ ìàññîâîãî ÷èòàòåëÿ (ïîä÷åðêíóòî ìíîé Â. Ì.), òåì ñàìûì ïðèäàâàÿ ýòèì èäåÿì íîâóþ ïîýòè÷åñêóþ æèçíåííîñòü».25 ÈÃÎÐÜ ÑÅÂÅÐßÍÈÍ: ÕÀÊÅÐ È/ÈËÈ ÒÂÎÐÅÖ? 107

Â 10-å ãîäû XX âåêà Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí, ÷èòàâøèé, à òî÷íåå íàïå- âàâøèé ñâîè «ïîýçû» íà ìîòèâ Àìáðóàçà Òîìà26 ñ ýñòðàäû, ïîëüçîâàë- ñÿ ôàíòàñòè÷åñêèì óñïåõîì ó ïóáëèêè. Áåç ó÷åòà ýòîãî îáñòîÿòåëüñòâà íå îáîéòèñü è ñîâðåìåííûì èññëåäîâàòåëÿì òâîð÷åñòâà Ñåâåðÿíèíà: «Êíèãè è êîíöåðòû Ñåâåðÿíèíà ñòàëè, íàðÿäó ñ êèíåìàòîãðàôîì è öû- ãàíñêèì ðîìàíñîì, ôàêòîì ìàññîâîé êóëüòóðû íà÷àëà âåêà. Ñåâåðÿíèí, êàê è Ìàÿêîâñêèé, ïîýò óëèöû, ïîýò òîëïû. Îí òîæå ïûòàëñÿ äàòü ÿçûê «áåçúÿçûêîé» óëèöå. Íî åñëè Ìàÿêîâñêèé îáðàùàëñÿ ê «îòâåð- æåííûì» ãîðîäà, òî Ñåâåðÿíèí ê ïåñòðîìó ãîðîäñêîìó ëþäó: ìåùà- íàì, ãèìíàçèñòàì, áåäíûì ñòóäåíòàì, ãîðíè÷íûì è áåëîøâåéêàì îí ïðåäëàãàë ÿçûê ãðåç»; «Ïîýçîêîíöåðòû Ñåâåðÿíèíà áûëè òàêîé æå ïðè- ìåòîé Ðîññèè 1910-õ ãîäîâ, êàê ñèíåìàòîãðàô, âûñòóïëåíèÿ Âàðè Ïà- íèíîé, Àíàñòàñèè Âÿëüöåâîé, «Ïüåðî»-Âåðòèíñêîãî». È, êàê çàìåòèëè î Ñåâåðÿíèíå Â. À. Êîøåëåâ è Â. À. Ñàïîãîâ, «äóðíîé âêóñ» âõîäèë â ïîýòè÷åñêîå çàäàíèå «ïîýòà óëèöû, ïîýòà òîëïû» êàê íåèçáåæíûé ýëå- ìåíò äåìîêðàòèçàöèè è «ýñòðàäèçàöèè» ïîýçèè».27 Îñèï Ìàíäåëüøòàì â ñòàòüå ñî çíàêîâûì íàçâàíèåì «Âûïàä» ïè- ñàë: «Ïîýòè÷åñêàÿ ãðàìîòíîñòü íè â êîåì ñëó÷àå íå ñîâïàäàåò íè ñ ãðà- ìîòíîñòüþ îáû÷íîé, òî åñòü óìåíüåì ÷èòàòü áóêâû, íè äàæå ñ ëèòåðà- òóðíîé íà÷èòàííîñòüþ. Åñëè ëèòåðàòóðíàÿ íåãðàìîòíîñòü â Ðîññèè âå- ëèêà, òî ïîýòè÷åñêàÿ íåãðàìîòíîñòü ÷óäîâèùíà, è òåì õóæå, ÷òî åå ñìå- øèâàþò ñ îáùåé, è âñÿêèé, óìåþùèé ÷èòàòü, ñ÷èòàåòñÿ ïîýòè÷åñêè ãðà- ìîòíûì. Ñêàçàííîå ñóãóáî îòíîñèòñÿ ê ïîëóîáðàçîâàííîé èíòåëëèãåí- òñêîé ìàññå, çàðàæåííîé ñíîáèçìîì, ïîòåðÿâøåé êîðåííîå ÷óâñòâî ÿçû- êà, ùåêî÷óùåé äàâíî ïðèòóïèâøèåñÿ ÿçûêîâûå íåðâû ëåãêèìè è äåøå- âûìè âîçáóäèòåëÿìè, ñîìíèòåëüíûìè ëèðèçìàìè è íåîëîãèçìàìè, íå- ðåäêî ÷óæäûìè è âðàæäåáíûìè ðóññêîé ðå÷åâîé ñòèõèè. Âîò ïîòðåáíîñòè ýòîé äåêëàññèðîâàííîé â ÿçûêîâîì îòíîøåíèè ñðåäû äîëæíà óäîâëåòâîðÿòü òåêóùàÿ ðóññêàÿ ïîýçèÿ. Ñëîâî, ðîæäåííîå â ãëóáî÷àéøèõ íåäðàõ ðå÷åâîãî ñîçíàíèÿ, îá- ñëóæèâàåò ãëóõîíåìûõ è êîñíîÿçû÷íûõ, êðåòèíîâ è äåãåíåðàòîâ ñëî- âà».28 Íàäî ñêàçàòü, ÷òî ðàçäðàæåííûé «âûïàä» Ìàíäåëüøòàìà ÿðêî èë- ëþñòðèðóåò åãî ïîëÿðíóþ ïðîòèâîïîëîæíîñòü ñåâåðÿíèíñêîé ëèòåðà- òóðíîé ïîçèöèè è «ïîëîæåíèþ». Ïîêàçàòåëüíà â ýòîì ñìûñëå õàðàê- òåðèñòèêà, äàííàÿ Ìàíäåëüøòàìó â ìåìóàðàõ ñîâðåìåííèöû: «Ìàí- äåëüøòàì íå Áàëüìîíò è íå Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí. Îí ïîýò áîëåå ãëó- 108 Âàëåíòèíà ÌÀÊÀØÈÍÀ

áîêîãî ñêëàäà».29 Ñåâåðÿíèí îòäàâàë ñåáå â ýòîì îò÷åò, ñôîðìóëèðîâàâ òî÷êó çðåíèÿ íà ñîáñòâåííîå òâîð÷åñòâî â ñîíåòå «Èãîðü-Ñåâåðÿíèí» (1926), âêëþ- ÷åííîì â ñáîðíèê «Ìåäàëüîíû» (1934): Îí òåì õîðîø, ÷òî îí ñîâñåì íå òî, ×òî äóìàåò î í¸ì òîëïà ïóñòàÿ, Ñòèõîâ ïðèíöèïèàëüíî íå ÷èòàÿ, Ðàç íåò â íèõ àíàíàñîâ è àâòî, Ôîêñòðîò, êèíåìàòîãðàô è ëîòî Âîò, âîò êóäà ëþäñêàÿ ì÷èòñÿ ñòàÿ! À ìåæäó òåì äóøà åãî ïðîñòàÿ, Êàê äåíü âåñíû. Íî çíàåò ýòî êòî? Ñåâåðÿíèí «ïîøåë íàâñòðå÷ó» òîëïå ñîçíàòåëüíî (÷òî äîëãî â äîëæíîé ìåðå íå áûëî ïîíÿòî íè ÷èòàòåëÿìè, íè ëèòåðàòóðîâåäàìè), âñëåä çà Íàäñîíîì è Áàëüìîíòîì, ìîäà íà êîòîðûõ íå ïðîøëà äëÿ Ñåâå- ðÿíèíà íå çàìå÷åííîé. Òàê, îí ïèøåò î ñâîèõ äåòñêèõ âïå÷àòëåíèÿõ â «ïîýìå äåòñòâà» «Ðîñà îðàíæåâîãî ÷àñà» (1923; ðå÷ü èäåò î êóçåíå Âèê- òîðå è êóçèíå Ëèëå, ïåðâîé ëþáâè Ñåâåðÿíèíà â äâåíàäöàòü ëåò): Îíè, ãîäàìè îäíîëåòêè, Ëåò íà ïÿòü ñòàðøèå ìåíÿ, Äåðæàëèñü âìåñòå è â áåñåäêå, Áàëüìîíòîì Íàäñîíà ñìåíÿ, Â òå äíè âõîäèâøåì òîëüêî â ìîäó «Ïîä íåáîì ñåâåðíûì»...30 Íå ñëó÷àéíî åùå Á. Ì. Ýéõåíáàóì â ñòàòüå, íàïèñàííîé â íà÷àëå 1920-õ ãîäîâ, ñðàâíèë Ñåâåðÿíèíà ñ Áåíåäèêòîâûì: «...çâó÷íûé Áåíå- äèêòîâ ôèãóðà ñòîëü æå õàðàêòåðíàÿ äëÿ ñîðîêîâûõ ãîäîâ, êàê Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí äëÿ íàøåãî âðåìåíè».31 Õàðàêòåðíî, ÷òî âî âðåìåíà Áåíå- äèêòîâà (ïî âûðàæåíèþ Â. Ñ. Áàåâñêîãî, ïîýòà äëÿ «÷óâñòâèòåëüíûõ ÷èòàòåëåé ñ íåïðèòÿçàòåëüíûì âêóñîì»32 ) âîçíèêëî åìêîå ïîíÿòèå «áå- íåäèêòîâùèíà» (ß. Ï. Ïîëîíñêèé), âî âðåìåíà Ñåâåðÿíèíà «ñåâåðÿ- íèíùèíà». Ñ. À. Âèêòîðîâà â ñâîåé äèññåðòàöèè óòâåðæäàåò, ÷òî «çà- äîð íåñîîáðàçíîñòåé», êîìèçì íåñîîòâåòñòâèé, ïàðîäèÿ è àâòîïàðîäèÿ áûëè â ïîýçèè Â. Áåíåäèêòîâà, Ê. Ôîôàíîâà (îäíîãî èç êóìèðîâ Ñåâå- ðÿíèíà Â. Ì.) è äð. îñìûñëåííûìè è íàðî÷èòûìè. À ó Â. Áåíåäèêòîâà ÈÃÎÐÜ ÑÅÂÅÐßÍÈÍ: ÕÀÊÅÐ È/ÈËÈ ÒÂÎÐÅÖ? 109

ìîãëè áû ïîó÷èòüñÿ ìíîãèå ïîýòû-êîíöåïòóàëèñòû êîíöà 20 âåêà».33 Íåëüçÿ íå îòìåòèòü, ÷òî íåäîñòàòîê âêóñà, â êîòîðîì òàê ÷àñòî óï- ðåêàëè Ñåâåðÿíèíà, âî ìíîãîì áûë ñëåäñòâèåì íåäîñòàòî÷íîãî îáðàçî- âàíèÿ. Ïîýò ó÷èëñÿ â ðåàëüíîì ó÷èëèùå â ×åðåïîâöå Íîâãîðîäñêîé ãó- áåðíèè, êîòîðîå òàê è íå çàêîí÷èë è î êîòîðîì âñïîìèíàë â «Ðîñå îðàí- æåâîãî ÷àñà»: ×åðåïîâåö, óåçäíûé ãîðîä, Íàä ßãîáðîé ðàñïîëîæ¸í. È â íåì, ñðåäè êîñìàòûõ áîðîä, Ñðåäè åãî ëîõìàòûõ æåí, ß ïðîæèë òðè çèìû, â Ðåàëüíîì, < > Ó÷àñü âñåìó è íè÷åìó. (Ïðîøó ïîêîðíî ñíèñõîæäåíüÿ!..) Çäåñü î÷åâèäíà àëëþçèÿ Ïóøêèíà («Ìû âñå ó÷èëèñü ïîíåìíîãó / ×åìó-íèáóäü è êàê-íèáóäü»), è ãîäû ñâîåé ó÷åáû Ñåâåðÿíèí îïèñûâà- åò âïîëíå â ïóøêèíñêîì äóõå («×èòàë îõîòíî Àïóëåÿ, / À Öèöåðîíà íå ÷èòàë»): ÿ ñëàãàë â òî âðåìÿ ñòàíñû, Øâûðíóâ ó÷åáíèê ïîä çàáîð. < > ×èòàë, ÷òî òîëüêî ìîã ïðî÷åñòü Ïðàâäà, â îòëè÷èå îò Ïóøêèíà, Ñåâåðÿíèí ó÷èëñÿ íå â Öàðñêîñåëü- ñêîì Ëèöåå (êàê Èííîêåíòèé Àííåíñêèé, èçáðàâøèé ñîâñåì èíîé ïóòü â ïîýçèè), à â çàøòàòíîì ðåàëüíîì ó÷èëèùå, è ìíîãî÷èñëåííûå «ìûñ- ëè» Ñåâåðÿíèíà, ñîáðàííûå èì â «Áëåñòêè (Àôîðèçìû, ñîôèçìû, ïàðà- äîêñû)», ïîä÷àñ âåñüìà ïîâåðõíîñòíû è äàæå íàèâíû, åñëè íå ñìåøíû (÷òî, âïðî÷åì, ñàìîãî ïîýòà íå îñòàíàâëèâàëî è íå ñìóùàëî). Â ýòîì, ñ îäíîé ñòîðîíû, óòâåðæäåíèå «ïðàâà íà èñêðåííîñòü». Â ïðåäèñëîâèè ê «Ãðîìîêèïÿùåìó êóáêó» ïîääåðæàâøèé Èãîðÿ Ñåâåðÿ- íèíà êàê íà÷èíàþùåãî ïîýòà Ô¸äîð Ñîëîãóá çàìåòèë: «Âîëÿ ê ñâîáîä- íîìó òâîð÷åñòâó ñîñòàâëÿåò íåíàðî÷íóþ è íåîòúåìëåìóþ ñòèõèþ äóøè åãî».34 Ïî âûðàæåíèþ Í. Ñ. Ãóìèë¸âà, Ñåâåðÿíèí íàñòàèâàë «íà ïðàâå ïîýòà áûòü èñêðåííèì äî âóëüãàðíîñòè», è Ñåâåðÿíèíó, ïî ìíåíèþ Ãó- ìèë¸âà, ýòî óäàëîñü «ïåðâîìó èç âñåõ ïîýòîâ».35 Âîçìîæíî, ïî ýòîé ïðè- 110 Âàëåíòèíà ÌÀÊÀØÈÍÀ

÷èíå òâîð÷åñòâî Ñåâåðÿíèíà, êàê è áîãîòâîðèìîé èì ïîëóçàáûòîé ïî- ýòåññû Ìèððû Ëîõâèöêîé, âûçûâàëî è ïðîäîëæàåò âûçûâàòü ñòîëü ðàç- íîðå÷èâûå ñóæäåíèÿ. Ñ äðóãîé ñòîðîíû ïîâåðõíîñòíîñòü è íàèâíîñòü ìîæåò áûòü íè- ÷åì èíûì, êàê «ïîäûãðûâàíèåì» ïðîñòîìó ëþäó, â ðåçóëüòàòå ïîääåð- æèâàåòñÿ îáðàç «âîðà», èìåþùåãî, êàê ïðàâèëî, íå ñëèøêîì áëàãîðîä- íîå ïðîèñõîæäåíèå è ÷àñòî áëèçêîãî ê îáðàçó «öèâèëèçîâàííîãî ëà- êåÿ» (õîðîøî èçâåñòíîìó â ðóññêîé ëèòåðàòóðå), ìàëîîáðàçîâàííîãî, íî ñ ïðåòåíçèåé íà èçûñêàííîñòü è èíòåëëåêòóàëüíîñòü. Á. Ëèâøèö ñâè- äåòåëüñòâóåò: «Íè îäíîãî èíîñòðàííîãî ÿçûêà Ñåâåðÿíèí íå çíàë; óéäÿ íå òî èç ÷åòâåðòîãî, íå òî èç øåñòîãî êëàññà ãèìíàçèè, îí íà ýòîì è çàêîí÷èë ñâîå îáðàçîâàíèå. Îäíàêî íàäî îòäàòü åìó ñïðàâåäëèâîñòü, îí â ñîâåðøåíñòâå ïîñòèã èñêóññòâî ïàóç, óìîë÷àíèé, îäíîñëîæíûõ ðåï- ëèê, âîçâåäÿ åãî â ñèñòåìó, ïðåêðàñíî ïîìîãàâøóþ åìó ïîääåðæèâàòü ëþáîé ðàçãîâîð. Âïîñëåäñòâèè, ïîçíàêîìèâøèñü ñ íèì ïîáëèæå, ÿ íå ìîã íàäèâèòüñÿ ëîâêîñòè, ñ êîòîðîé îí ìàíåâðèðîâàë ñðåäè ñàìûõ êà- âåðçíûõ òåì».36 Êàæäûé õóäîæíèê õàêåð è òâîðåö îäíîâðåìåííî. Òâîðåö íå ìî- æåò íå áûòü õàêåðîì. Õàêåð ìîæåò íå áûòü òâîðöîì. Ïóøêèí, êàê è Ñåâåðÿíèí, õàêåð, õîòÿ è òâîðåö (Àáðàì Òåðö: «Ïóñòîòà ñîäåðæèìîå Ïóøêèíà»37 ). Ñìåëîå òåðöåâñêîå ñðàâíåíèå Äîíà Ãóàíà / Ïóøêèíà ñ âóðäàëàêîì ïî ñóòè ïîäõîäèò õàêåðó, «âûêà÷èâàþùåìó» è «íàêà÷è- âàþùåìóñÿ» ÷óæîé èíôîðìàöèåé (çàïîëíÿþùåìó ïóñòîòó), êàê âàìïèð ÷óæîé êðîâüþ. Êòî ìóäðûé òâîðåö èëè ðàçóìíûé Äåäàë ìîã âîñêëèêíóòü: «Àé äà Ïóøêèí! Àé äà ñóêèí ñûí!»? Íàâåðíîå, íè òîò íè äðóãîé. Ýòî, ñêî- ðåå, ïðîòîòèï ñîâðåìåííîãî «Yes!» óäà÷ëèâîãî õàêåðà, ñîïðîâîæäàåìî- ãî õàðàêòåðíûì æåñòîì. Ñð.: «ß, ãåíèé Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí ».

IGOR SEVERYANIN: HACKER AND/OR CREATER?

Valentyna MAKASHINA University of Kursk, RUSSIA

The works of Igor Severyanin, a Russian poet of the early twentieth century, are so different and dissimilar we can say they have absorbed all the ÈÃÎÐÜ ÑÅÂÅÐßÍÈÍ: ÕÀÊÅÐ È/ÈËÈ ÒÂÎÐÅÖ? 111 main motifs of the Silver Age art. Severyanins poetry has roots in both the western aesthetic tradition and Russian Pure Ar (Art for Art) of the 19th century, which is why his lyric poetry can be regarded from the standpoint of the history of literature and as sociocultural phenomenon. This article analyzes the game-plan of Severyanins works, the problem of borrowing, which is not feeble imitation (Severyanin is often called «an Epigonus» of Balmont), the «masks» of the poet, and so on. Severyanins works are analyzed as an example of «hackery». The poet takes the material for his works from two sources, the poetry of the past and pop culture of the early XX century. He borrows themes, characters, and artistic methods from the first source, and he takes signs of the time and life (automobile, cinematography, fox-trot) from pop culture. Severyanin is a representative of pop culture. He deliberately created for a crowd, and in this he followed V. Benediktov and S. Nadson. His poems had great success with readers because they met the readers simple taste. Severyanin is veiwed as a hacker, a poetic thief who borrows information from different sources «remakes» the received information so that it cannot be recognized (while the material itself remains readily recogniz- able), and who then returns the remade to admiring readers. N. Gumilyov called Severyanin a newspaper man (contrary to «a man of books» as he considered himself). In modern culture he might be called «a man of the Internet».

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1 Ðóññêèé ñåìàíòè÷åñêèé ñëîâàðü / Ïîä îáùåé ðåä. Í. Þ. Øâåäîâîé. Ì., 1998. 2 Ìóçðóêîâà Ò. Ã., Íå÷àåâà È. Â. Ïîïóëÿðíûé ñëîâàðü èíîñòðàííûõ ñëîâ / Ïîä ðåä. È. Â. Íå÷àåâîé (íàõîäèòñÿ â ïå÷àòè). 3 Åëèñòðàòîâ Â.Ñ. Ñëîâàðü ìîñêîâñêîãî àðãî: Ìàòåðèàëû 19801990-õ ãã. Ì., 2000. 4 «Ãðîìîêèïÿùèé êóáîê» ñ 1913-ãî ïî 1918 ãîä âûäåðæàë 10 èçäàíèé. 5 Ëàòûøåâ Ì. Öàðñòâåííûé ïàÿö // Ñåâåðÿíèí È. Èçáðàííîå. Ì., 1999. Ñ. 6, 9, 10. 6 Ìàíäåëüøòàì Î. Ý. Ñëîâî è êóëüòóðà. Ì., 1987. Ñ. 248. 7 Âèêòîðîâà Ñ.À. Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí è ïîýçèÿ Ñåðåáðÿíîãî âåêà (Òâîð÷åñêèå ñâÿçè è âçàèìîâëèÿíèÿ): Àâòîðåô. äèñ. êàíä. ôèëîë. íàóê. ßðîñëàâëü, 2002. 112 Âàëåíòèíà ÌÀÊÀØÈÍÀ

Ñ. 3, 5, 6, 7. 8 Öèò. ïî: Ìàð÷åíêî À. Îòòîãî, ÷òî ÿ ðóññêèé ïîýò // Ñåâåðÿíèí È. Àíàíàñû â øàìïàíñêîì: Ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ, ìåìóàðû. Ì., 2002. Ñ. 354. 9 Êîøåëåâ Â. À., Ñàïîãîâ Â. À. «Êîðîëü ïîýòîâ Èãîðü-Ñåâåðÿíèí» // Ñåâåðÿ- íèí È. Ñî÷èíåíèÿ. Â 5-òè ò. Ò. 1. ÑÏá., 1995. Ñ. 17, 26. 10 Õåéçèíãà É. Homo Ludens. Ì., 1997. Ñ. 121. 11 Âèêòîðîâà Ñ.À. Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí è ïîýçèÿ Ñåðåáðÿíîãî âåêà ßðîñëàâëü, 2002. Ñ. 3. 12 Ïåðåìûøëåâ Å. Øåñòü ïàðàãðàôîâ î ñëàâå è ñóäüáå // Îêòÿáðü. 1997. ¹ 3. Ñ. 181. 13 Ãèëÿðîâñêèé Â. À. Ìîñêâà è ìîñêâè÷è. Ìèíñê, 1981. Ñ. 24. 14 Â. À. Ãèëÿðîâñêèé, îïèñûâàÿ Îõîòíûé ðÿä â äîðåâîëþöèîííîé Ìîñêâå, çàìå÷àåò: «Ñáèòåíùèêè ðàçëèâàëè, ïî êîïåéêå çà ñòàêàí, ãîðÿ÷èé ñáèòåíü ëþáèìûé òîãäà ìåäîâûé íàïèòîê, ñîãðåâàâøèé èçâîç÷èêîâ è ñëóæàùèõ, çà- ìåðçàâøèõ â õîëîäíûõ ëàâêàõ». Òàì æå. Ñ. 105. 15 Ëèâøèö Á. Ïîëóòîðàãëàçûé ñòðåëåö: Âîñïîìèíàíèÿ. Ì., 1991. Ñ. 149. 16 Ñåâåðÿíèí È. Áëåñòêè (Àôîðèçìû, ñîôèçìû, ïàðàäîêñû). 53 // Ñåâåðÿíèí È. Òîñò áåçîòâåòíûé: Ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ. Ïîýìû. Ïðîçà. Ì., 1999. Ñ. 504. 17 Êîøåëåâ Â.À. Ãóìèë¸â è «ñåâåðÿíèíùèíà»: Äâå «ìàñêè» // Ðóññêàÿ ëèòå- ðàòóðà. 1993. ¹ 1. Ñ. 169. 18 Çîðêàÿ Í.Ì. Çðåëèùíûå ôîðìû õóäîæåñòâåííîé êóëüòóðû. Ì., 1981. Ñ. 20 21. 19 Ñåâåðÿíèí È. Ýñòëÿíäñêèå òðèîëåòû Ñîëîãóáà // Ñåâåðÿíèí È. Òîñò áå- çîòâåòíûé Ñ. 468. 20 Öèò. ïî: http:severyanin.narod.ru/Book/hodas-fut.htm. 21 Áóíèí È.À. Îêàÿííûå äíè. Ì., 1991. Ñ. 63. 22 Ãðèãîðüåâ Â. Ï. Ïðåäèñëîâèå // Ñëîâàðü ÿçûêà ðóññêîé ïîýçèè XX âåêà. Ò. I: ÀÂ. Ì., 2001. Ñ. 10. 23 Ñàäîâñêîé Á. Îçèìü: Ñòàòüè î ðóññêîé ïîýçèè (Ê. Áàëüìîíò. À. Áëîê. Â. Áðþñîâ. È. Ñåâåðÿíèí. Ôóòóðèñòû). Ïã, 1915. Ñ. 29. 24 Ëèâøèö Á. Ïîëóòîðàãëàçûé ñòðåëåö Ñ. 149. 25 Èâàíîâà Å. Â. Ïîýòè÷åñêàÿ ãåíåàëîãèÿ Èãîðÿ Ñåâåðÿíèíà // Î Èãîðå Ñå- âåðÿíèíå. ×åðåïîâåö, 1987. Ñ. 19. 26 Òîìà, Àìáðóàç (181196) ôðàíöóçñêèé êîìïîçèòîð, àâòîð îïåð «Ìèíüî- íà» (ïî ìîòèâàì ðîìàíà Ã¸òå «Ãîäû ó÷åíèÿ Âèëüãåëüìà Ìåéñòåðà») è «Ãàì- ëåò», áàëåòà, ìåññû, êàìåðíîé ìóçûêè è ïåñåí. Ñåâåðÿíèí âûñîêî öåíèë íå ãëóáîêóþ ìóçûêó Òîìà (êàêîâîé îíà åìó íå êàçàëàñü) è ïîñâÿòèë åìó ðÿä ñòè- õîòâîðåíèé. 27 Êîøåëåâ Â. À., Ñàïîãîâ Â. À. «Êîðîëü ïîýòîâ Èãîðü-Ñåâåðÿíèí» Ñ. 12, 10, 18. 28 Ìàíäåëüøòàì Î. Ý. Ñëîâî è êóëüòóðà Ñ. 46. 29 Ãåðøòåéí Ý. Ìåìóàðû. ÑÏá., 1998. Ñ. 419. 30 «Ïîä ñåâåðíûì íåáîì» (1894) êíèãà ñòèõîâ Ê.Ä. Áàëüìîíòà. 31 Ýéõåíáàóì Á. Ì. Ìåëîäèêà ðóññêîãî ëèðè÷åñêîãî ñòèõà // Ýéõåíáàóì Á. Ì. Î ïîýçèè. Ë., 1969. Ñ. 436. 32 Áàåâñêèé Â. Ñ. Èñòîðèÿ ðóññêîé ïîýçèè: 17301980 ãã. Êîìïåíäèóì. Ñìî- ëåíñê, 1994. Ñ. 139. 33 Âèêòîðîâà Ñ. À. Èãîðü Ñåâåðÿíèí è ïîýçèÿ Ñåðåáðÿíîãî âåêà Ñ. 10. 34 Ñîëîãóá Ô. [Ïðåäèñëîâèå] // Ñåâåðÿíèí Èãîðü. Ãðîìîêèïÿùèé êóáîê: Ïîýçû. Ì., 1913. Ñ. 5. 35 Ãóìèë¸â Í. Ñ. Ïèñüìà î ðóññêîé ïîýçèè. Ì., 1990. Ñ. 171. 36 Ëèâøèö Á. Ïîëóòîðàãëàçûé ñòðåëåö Ñ. 149. 37 Àáðàì Òåðö (Àíäðåé Ñèíÿâñêèé). Ïðîãóëêè ñ Ïóøêèíûì. ÑÏá., 1993. Ñ. 50.

ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÎ ÎÁ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÅ: ÏÐÅËÎÌËÅÍÈÅ ÊÓËÜÒÓÐÍÎÃÎ ÏÐÎÑÒÐÀÍÑÒÂÀ Â «ÏÅÒÅÐÁÓÐÃÑÊÈÕ ÑÒÈÕÀÕ» ÑÎÂÐÅÌÅÍÍÎÃÎ ÊÎÐÅÉÑÊÎÃÎ ÏÎÝÒÀ ×ÎÍ Õ¨Í×ÆÎÍÀ

Àíàñòàñèÿ ÃÓÐÜÅÂÀ

×îí Õ¸í÷æîí îäèí èç íàèáîëåå èçâåñòíûõ ñîâðåìåííûõ ïîýòîâ Ðåñïóáëèêè Êîðåÿ. Àâòîð ñåìè ïîýòè÷åñêèõ ñáîðíèêîâ, îí òàêæå èçâå- ñòåí êàê ïåðåâîä÷èê àíãëèéñêîé è èñïàíñêîé ïîýçèè. Ôèëîñîôñêîå îá- ðàçîâàíèå è óâëå÷åíèå çàðóáåæíîé ëèòåðàòóðîé îïðåäåëèëè íåêîòîðûå îñîáåííîñòè òâîð÷åñòâà ×îí Õ¸í÷æîíà-íîâàòîðà êàê ðåçóëüòàò çàïàä- íîãî âëèÿíèÿ. Â òî æå âðåìÿ çíà÷èì è òðàäèöèîííûé ýëåìåíò â ïðîèç- âåäåíèÿõ ïîýòà, èñêóñíî ñî÷åòàåìûé ñ íîâûìè è çàèìñòâîâàííûìè ýëå- ìåíòàìè. Ðóññêèé ÷èòàòåëü îáÿçàí çíàêîìñòâîì ñ òâîð÷åñòâîì ïîýòà ïåðåâîäàì Ìèõàèëà ßñíîâà. Äàííîå ñîîáùåíèå ïîñâÿùåíî òåìå èñêóññòâà â öèêëå «Ïåòåðáóðã- ñêèõ ñòèõîâ» îäíîãî èç ñàìûõ èçâåñòíûõ ïîýòîâ Ðåñïóáëèêè Êîðåÿ ×îí Õ¸í÷æîíà. Ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ öèêëà ïðåäñòàâëÿþò ñîáîé ñêîðåå ñëó÷àé- íûå çàìåòêè íåæåëè ïîñëåäîâàòåëüíûé äíåâíèê, èõ ñëîæíî ñèñòåìàòè- çèðîâàòü. Îíè ñâÿçàíû åäèíîé òåìîé: òåìîé èñêóññòâà. Îáùåé èõ îñîáåííîñòüþ ÿâëÿåòñÿ äåëåíèå íà äâå ÷àñòè íà ñîäåðæàòåëüíîì óðîâ- íå, ÷åìó â îòäåëüíûõ ñëó÷àÿõ ñîîòâåòñòâóåò êîìïîçèöèîííîå ñòðîåíèå ñòèõà. Íåêîå ñîáûòèå (îáîçíà÷åííîå â ïåðâîé ÷àñòè) âûçûâàåò ó àâòîðà ðÿä àññîöèàöèé, êîòîðûå, â ñâîþ î÷åðåäü, äàþò ïî÷âó äëÿ ðàçìûøëå- íèé (âòîðàÿ ÷àñòü). Ïîäîáíûé ñòèëü ìîæíî ñîïîñòàâèòü ñ òðàäèöèîí- íûìè êîðåéñêèìè ýññå ñóïõèëü, íàïèñàííûìè â ïðîçå. Çäåñü Ñàíêò-Ïåòåðáóðã ïîíèìàåòñÿ àâòîðîì êàê ñóãóáî êóëüòóðíîå ïðîñòðàíñòâî. Îêðóæàþùàÿ îáñòàíîâêà è ñîáûòèÿ çíà÷èìû â èõ ñâÿçè ñ èñêóññòâîì. Îíî ñòàíîâèòñÿ ñïîñîáîì âèäåíèÿ ìèðà. Â òî æå âðåìÿ, ïîìèìî íàçâàíèé, â òåêñòàõ ñòèõîòâîðåíèé íåò íèêàêèõ óêàçàíèé íà òî, ÷òî äåéñòâèå ïðîèñõîäèò â Ñàíêò-Ïåòåðáóðãå. Àâòîð íå óïîìèíàåò âñå- ìèðíî èçâåñòíûå ñèìâîëû ýòîãî ãîðîäà. Õîòÿ, âåðîÿòíî, îíè íåçðèìî ñîçäàþò ýòî êóëüòóðíîå ïîëå, â ðàìêàõ êîòîðîãî àâòîð íàõîäèò èñêóññò- âî äàæå â çàãîðîäíîì äîìèêå è àóäèòîðíîé ñòåíå. Ïîñåùåíèå Ïåòåð- ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÎ ÎÁ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÅ 115

áóðãà ïðåâðàùàåòñÿ â ïóòåøåñòâèå â ìèð èñêóññòâà. Îíî ñëóæèò îñ- ìûñëåíèþ çàêîíîâ èñêóññòâà, èñòî÷íèêîâ è ìàñøòàáà åãî âîçìîæíîñ- òåé. Ïî ìûñëè ïîýòà, ìèññèÿ èñêóññòâà çàêëþ÷àåòñÿ â òîì, ÷òî îíî ãîâîðèò î âå÷íîì, îäíîâðåìåííî ñëóæà ñïîñîáîì ïðåîäîëåíèÿ ïîâñåä- íåâíûõ æèçíåííûõ òÿãîò. Èñêóññòâî ïîìîãàåò ÷åëîâåêó îáðàòèòüñÿ ê ñâîåìó âíóòðåííåìó ìèðó. Âñå âûøåèçëîæåííîå ñîîòâåòñòâóåò ïîçè- öèè àâòîðà. Â îäíîì èç äàííûõ ìíå èíòåðâüþ ×îí Õ¸í÷æîí îòìåòèë, ÷òî ñâîå ïîýòè÷åñêîå òâîð÷åñòâî îí ðàññìàòðèâàåò êàê îáðàùåíèå ê ÷èòàòåëÿì, îñîáåííî ìîëîäîìó ïîêîëåíèþ, ñ öåëüþ ïîìî÷ü ñîðèåíòè- ðîâàòüñÿ â ñîâðåìåííîì ìèðå òåõíè÷åñêîãî ïðîãðåññà è ìàòåðèàëüíûõ öåííîñòåé. Îñîáåííîñòè ðàçâèòèÿ ïîäîáíûõ èäåé ìîãóò îêàçàòüñÿ íåî- æèäàííûìè äëÿ ðóññêîãî ÷èòàòåëÿ. Îíè îïðåäåëÿþòñÿ êîðåéñêèì ìè- ðîâîççðåíèåì àâòîðà. Â òåêñòàõ ñòèõîòâîðåíèé äàííûå èäåè ðàçâèâà- þòñÿ ñëåäóþùèì îáðàçîì. Ñêðûòàÿ êðàñîòà. Ýòî ñòèõîòâîðåíèå ïîñòðîåíî íà çâóêîâûõ àññîöèàöèÿõ; çâóê ñëó- æèò ëåéòìîòèâîì òåêñòà. Ñóùåñòâóåò ñâÿçü ìåæäó îáðàçîì ñòó÷àùåéñÿ â äâåðè æåíùèíû è ðàáîòîé ñêóëüïòîðà. Åå äåéñòâèÿ ïðèâîäÿò ê îáíà- ðóæåíèþ ñêðûòîé êðàñîòû. Ïîäîáíî òîìó, èíñòðóìåíò ñêóëüïòîðà «âû- ñòóêèâàåò» èç ìàòåðèàëà êðàñîòó, îáðàç, ñêðûòûé â íåì. Èñêóññòâî ñêóëü- ïòóðû òàêæå àññîöèèðóåòñÿ çäåñü ñ òèøèíîé, ñïóòíèêîì çâóêà. Ñêóëü- ïòóðà âèçóàëüíîå èñêóññòâî, îíî ðàçãîâàðèâàåò ñ ñîçåðöàòåëåì ìîë÷à. Äàííàÿ èäåÿ ñêîíöåíòðèðîâàíà â îáðàçå «ñòàòóé, ñîçäàþùèõ òèøèíó», ãäå ñòàòóè, èñïîëíåííûå âíóòðåííåãî ñìûñëà, ñëîâíî «âïèòûâàþò» çâó- êè îêðóæàþùåãî ìèðà è íàïîëíÿþò ïðîñòðàíñòâî òèøèíîé. Òàêæå â òåêñòå îáíàðóæèâàåòñÿ îñîáàÿ ñâÿçü ìåæäó çâóêîì è âèäîì. Ïîýò íà÷è- íàåò «ëåïèòü ñòàòóþ» â ñâîåì âîîáðàæåíèè, è òàêèì îáðàçîì âñòóïàåò â êîîðäèíàòû èñêóññòâà. Ýòîò òâîð÷åñêèé àêò âîçâåäåí àâòîðîì íà óðî- âåíü ìèðîâîãî ìàñøòàáà. Ëþáîâü ìîÿ âëàñòü Èñêóññòâî òåàòðà è èñêóññòâî ïîýçèè ñëóæàò äåêîðàöèåé ýòîãî ñòè- õîòâîðåíèÿ. Îñíîâíûìè åäèíèöàìè, êîòîðûìè îïåðèðóþò äàííûå âèäû èñêóññòâà, ÿâëÿþòñÿ, ñîîòâåòñòâåííî, æåñò/ïîçà è ñëîâî. Çäåñü èãðà àêòåðà ñòàíîâèòñÿ ÿçûêîì, äîñòóïíûì èíîñòðàííîìó çðèòåëþ, â ÷àñò- íîñòè, ïîýòó, ïî ñóòè, æåñò âûïîëíÿåò ôóíêöèþ ñëîâà. Â äàííûõ ñòðî- 116 Àíàñòàñèÿ ÃÓÐÜÅÂÀ

êàõ àâòîð ïðèâîäèò èíòåðåñíîå ñîîòíîøåíèå: (ñëîâî=öâåòîê)=ëþáîâü. Ñîäåðæàíèå ïüåñû ïîëíîñòüþ ïåðåäàíî èíîñòðàííîìó çðèòåëþ ïîñðåä- ñòâîì óíèâåðñàëüíûõ îáðàçîâ. Â òî æå âðåìÿ, ëþáîâü ïåðñîíèôèöèðó- åòñÿ è ñòàíîâèòñÿ îäíèì èç ãëàâíûõ äåéñòâóþùèõ ëèö ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ. Äëÿ ÷èòàòåëÿ ïüåñà, çðèòåëåì êîòîðîé ÿâëÿåòñÿ ïîýò, ðàçûãðûâàåòñÿ ñàìèì àâòîðîì è åãî ñïóòíèöåé, ëþáîâüþ. Òà ëåãêîñòü Ýòî ñòèõîòâîðåíèå îñíîâàíî íà ñîîòíîøåíèè ëåãêîñòè è òÿæåñòè. Ëåãêîñòü àññîöèèðóåòñÿ ñ èñêóññòâîì òàíöà è ïðîÿâëÿåòñÿ â äâèæåíè- ÿõ òàíöîðà. «Âîçäóøíîñòü» åãî äâèæåíèé ïîíèìàåòñÿ êàê îïïîçèöèÿ òÿãîòàì ïîâñåäíåâíîé æèçíè. Â òî æå âðåìÿ , ëåãêîñòü íå ïðîòèâîïîñ- òàâëÿåòñÿ òÿæåñòè êàê òàêîâîé: ïîýò áëàãîäàðèò òàíöîðà áóðíûìè àï- ëîäèñìåíòàìè «äî áîëè â ëàäîíÿõ». Ýòî äàåò åìó èìïóëüñ ëåãêîñòè. Òàê, ëåãêîñòü îêàçûâàåòñÿ îáðåòåííîé ÷åðåç áîëü. Ïîäîáíûì îáðàçîì, ëåãêîñòü òàíöîðà ÿâëÿåòñÿ ðåçóëüòàòîì òÿæåëûõ óñèëèé çà ñöåíîé. Óñè- ëèÿ è òðóä ïîðîæäàþò ëåãêîñòü, ñïîñîáíóþ ïðåîäîëåòü òÿæåñòü, à òàê- æå òÿãîòû çà ïðåäåëàìè òåàòðà íå òîëüêî â ñëó÷àå ñ òàíöîðîì, íî è çðè- òåëåé. Ñïåöèôèêó ñîîòíîøåíèÿ ëåãêîñòè è òÿæåñòè â äàííîì òåêñòå ìîæíî ñðàâíèòü ñ äàëüíåâîñòî÷íîé êîíöåïöèåé åäèíñòâà è áîðüáû ïðî- òèâîïîëîæíîñòåé. Î, êðàñîòà. Îñíîâíàÿ èäåÿ ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ ñòðîèòñÿ íà ñâÿçè âíóòðåííåãî è âíåøíåãî, à òàêæå èñêóññòâà è ïðèðîäû. Õóäîæåñòâåííûé îáúåêò (ðå- ëüåôíîå èçîáðàæåíèå ëèñòüåâ íà ñòåíå) ïîìåùåí â çàìêíóòîå ïðîñòðàí- ñòâî. Ïðîñòðàíñòâî æå, â êîòîðîì ðàñïîëàãàåòñÿ ïðèðîäíûé îáúåêò (îñåííèå ëèñòüÿ çà îêíîì), ñâîáîäíî îò îãðàíè÷åíèé. Â òî æå âðåìÿ, ñ òî÷êè çðåíèÿ íàáëþäàòåëÿ, íàõîäÿùåãîñÿ âíóòðè, à èìåííî ïîýòà, âíåø- íåå ïðîñòðàíñòâî ñëîâíî îêàçûâàåòñÿ ïîìåùåííûì â ðàìêó îêíà è ÿâ- ëÿåòñÿ ÷àñòüþ âíóòðåííåãî óáðàíñòâà ïîìåùåíèÿ. Ââèäó ïðîçðà÷íîñòè îêíà, ãðàíèöåé âíóòðåííåãî è âíåøíåãî, ïåéçàæ çà îêíîì ñòàíîâèòñÿ ïðîäîëæåíèåì èíòåðüåðà. Ïîäîáíîå ïîíèìàíèå ïðîñòðàíñòâà êàê èìå- þùåãî âåñüìà óñëîâíûå ãðàíèöû ìåæäó âíóòðåííèì è âíåøíèì ìîæ- íî íàçâàòü âïîëíå òðàäèöèîííûì (ñð. ñòðóêòóðó òðàäèöèîííîãî êîðåé- ñêîãî äîìà). Íà êîìïîçèöèîííîì óðîâíå ýòà èäåÿ ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ çàê- ëþ÷àåòñÿ â äâóõ ïåðâûõ ñëîãàõ äâóõ ïåðâûõ ñòðîê ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÎ ÎÁ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÅ 117

ïîñðåäñòâîì èõ ôîíåòè÷åñêîé ñòðóêòóðû: çâóêîâîå è êîìïîçèöèîííîå ñîîòâåòñòâèå îäíîñëîæíûõ ñëîâ, èìåþùèõ çíà÷åíèå «âíóòðè» è «ñíà- ðóæè» è «ñòåíà» è «îêíî» (ãðàíèöû ïðîñòðàíñòâà). Äâà âèäà ëèñòüåâ â ñòðîêàõ ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ ïðåäñòàâëÿþò äâà ìèðà, ñóùåñòâóþùèõ ïî ðàç- íûì çàêîíàì: ìèð èñêóññòâà è ìèð ïðèðîäû. Ñîãëàñíî òåêñòó, ìèð ïðèðîäû àññîöèèðóåòñÿ ñî ñìåíîé âðåìåí ãîäà, ñ öèêëîì ñîáûòèé. Ñóùåñòâîâàíèå ïðåäìåòîâ èñêóññòâà ñòàòè÷íî, îäíàêî îíè èìåþò áî- ëåå êîíêðåòíûå ïðîñòðàíñòâåííûå õàðàêòåðèñòèêè. Åñòåñòâåííûé õîä îñòàíàâëèâàåòñÿ â õóäîæåñòâåííîì îáúåêòå, íî ýòî ïðîèñõîäèò ëîêàëü- íî, â òî âðåìÿ êàê õîä ïðèðîäíûõ ÿâëåíèé îõâàòûâàåò âñåëåííóþ. Ñõîä- ñòâî ëåïíûõ ëèñòüåâ íà ñòåíå è æèâûõ çà îêíîì íàâåâàåò ðàçäóìüÿ î ãàðìîíèè ïðèðîäû è èñêóññòâà. Ýòà ìûñëü àêöåíòèðóåòñÿ â òåêñòå ïó- òåì ðèôìîâêè ñîîòâåòñòâóþùèõ ñëîâ. Äëÿ âûðàæåíèÿ èäåè âñåîáùåãî ñîîòâåòñòâèÿ àâòîð èñïîëüçóåò ïðèåì, êîãäà ïåðâûå ñëîãà âñåõ ÷åòûðåõ ñëîâ ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ èìåþò îáùèé ãëàñíûé çâóê.

Èñêóññòâî Êîìïîçèöèîííî ñòèõîòâîðåíèå, íå èìåþùåå ñòðî÷íîãî ÷ëåíåíèÿ, ñîäåðæèò äâå ÷àñòè. Ýòà êîìïîçèöèÿ ñîîòâåòñòâóåò ÷åòêî ðàçäåëåííîìó íà äâå ÷àñòè ñîäåðæàíèþ òåêñòà: îïûò ïîñåùåíèÿ àâòîðîì íåêðîïîëÿ äåÿòåëåé èñêóññòâ è ïîëó÷åííûå âïå÷àòëåíèÿ. Çàìåòêè àâòîðà ñîçåðöà- òåëüíû è ïðåäñòàâëÿþò ñîáîé ïîýòè÷åñêóþ è íåñêîëüêî ôèëîñîôñêóþ òðàêòîâêó óâèäåííîãî. Ïîýò ñòàíîâèòñÿ ñâèäåòåëåì ôåíîìåíà èñêóññò- âà è åãî âîçìîæíîñòåé. Îäíàêî, åãî èíòåðïðåòàöèÿ íåòèïè÷íà äëÿ çà- ïàäíîãî âîñïðèÿòèÿ. Ñêóëüïòóðíûå èçîáðàæåíèÿ ìûñëÿòñÿ êàê ïðîäîë- æåíèå æèçíè èçîáðàæàåìîãî. Èäåÿ î ïîäîáíîì îòíîøåíèè ìåæäó óìåð- øèì ÷åëîâåêîì è åãî èçîáðàæåíèåì âîñõîäèò ê äðåâíåé êîðåéñêîé òðàäèöèè. Îñíîâíàÿ èäåÿ ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ: èäåÿ î öèêëè÷åñêîì õàðàêòå- ðå æèçíè â èñêóññòâå. Ñëóæèòåëü èñêóññòâà óìèðàåò, íî èñêóññòâî æèâî, ÷òîáû âåðíóòü åãî ê æèçíè - â èñêóññòâå. Èñêóññòâî ïîíèìàåòñÿ çäåñü êàê æèâèòåëüíûé èìïóëüñ. Ýòî òàêæå ñòèìóë äëÿ ïðåîäîëåíèÿ òÿãîò æèçíè. Íà êîìïîçèöèîííîì óðîâíå èäåè àâòîðà ïîä÷åðêíóòû ñ ïîìî- ùüþ ïðèåìà ñåìàíòè÷åñêîãî êîëüöà. *** Àñïåêòû è äåòàëè, êîòîðûå ïðèâëåêëè âíèìàíèå ×îí Õ¸í÷æîíà, à òàêæå ñïîñîá èõ îòðàæåíèÿ â ïîýòè÷åñêîì ñëîâå äåìîíñòðèðóþò åãî 118 Àíàñòàñèÿ ÃÓÐÜÅÂÀ

òâîð÷åñêóþ èíäèâèäóàëüíîñòü. Â òî æå âðåìÿ åãî âèäåíèå è ïîíèìà- íèå ìèðà îáíàðóæèâàþò ãëóáîêèå ñâÿçè ñ ñîáñòâåííîé êóëüòóðíîé òðà- äèöèåé. Àíàëèçèðóåìûå ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ ïðåäñòàâëÿþò ñîáîé îáðàçöû ñëîæíûõ ñ òî÷êè çðåíèÿ êîìïîçèöèè è çâóêà ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ, îäíàêî ýòà ïðîáëåìà ìîæåò ïîñëóæèòü òåìîé îòäåëüíîãî èññëåäîâàíèÿ.

ART SPEAKING OF ART: THE REFRACTION OF CULTURAL SPACE IN “PETERSBURG POEMS” BY THE MODERN KOREAN POET CHONG HYON-JONG Anastasia GURYEVA St .Petersburg State University, Russia

Chong Hyon-jong is one of the most known modern poets of the Repub- lic of Korea. The author of seven volumes he is also well known and loved for his essays and translations of English and Spanish language poetry. Ma- joring in philosophy at the University and years of voracious reading explain some of the innovations in Chong’s poems, which reveal western influence. At the same time there is a traditional element in his poems, reflecting the skillfull mixing of new and borrowed elements. Russian readers are familiar with Chong Hyon-jong’s poems, which have been translated into Russian by Mikhail Yasnov. This paper analyzes five poems composed as a result of Chong Hyon-jong’s visit to Saint Petersburg. Lacking systematic organization these poems are more like random sketches and thoughts than a consequent travel diary. They are united by their topic: art. The common characteristic of the five poems is their division into two parts that structurally support the contents. An event (named in the first part) brings to mind a number of associations that provoke a reflection (the subject of the second part). This style is juxtaposed with traditional Korean prose essays, sup’hil. Saint Petersburg is understood as an entirely cultural space. The surrounding and events are meaningful in their relation to art. Art becomes the way of seeing the world. Except for the titles of the poems, the texts lack indications to the city where the action takes place. The author does not mention the widely recognized cultural symbols of Saint Petersburg. Yet the cultural realm which enables the author see art even in a suburban house or a classroom wall is ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÎ ÎÁ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÅ 119 nevertheless invisibly created by those symbols. Visiting Saint Petersburg becomes a trip into the world of art. Through his visit the poet realizes the laws of art, the sources and the scale of its potentials. The poet ponders the mission of art, which he sees as speaking about everlasting things and serving as the means of overcoming everyday problems and life hardships. Art helps one realize the inner world. Chong shared these ideas in one of our interviews. Chong sees his poems as a way of helping the readers, especially the young generation, find orientation in the world of technical progress and material values. Specific features of the way the poet expresses his ideas may be new for a Russian reader, but they reflect the Korean way of thinking. Art makes the world discrete. Art forms the artistic “meta-world”. Chong emphasizes the borders of this world in the five poems. As this world has certain existential laws, art changes the usual pace of events and influences the subjects and objects that happen to enter its borders.

THE ORCHID AND THE BARBARIC YAWP: TRANSLATING THE BORDERS IN MAXINE HONG KINGSTON1

Kam-ming WONG The University of Georgia

“Even now China wraps double binds around my feet.” The Woman Warrior, 48 “It translated well.” The Woman Warrior, 209

Shortly after the unnamed “I” narrator told the story of Fa Mu Lan the woman warrior, she observed, “Even now China wraps double binds around my feet.” The term “double bind” alludes of course to the practice in traditional China of binding the feet of young girls to impede their normal growth.2 It was done presumably to make the women more sexually appealing or de- sirable, and thus more marriageable. In order to ensure that their daughters marry well, mothers who were victims themselves of this excruciatingly painful practice would impose, in a move that epitomizes the allure of internal- ization or socialization, the same treatment on their own daughters. The actual consequence of such a practice, however, was to severely restrict the women’s freedom of movement and to turn their deformed body into a symbol of patriarchal power and control.3 By the same token, the “I” narrator uses the term to capture in the book4 the binary influence the Chinese tradition has on her as a girl growing up in American society and the tension she experiences trying to negotiate the boundary of being “Chinese feminine” and “American feminine”. On the one hand, Chinese stories such as Fa Mu Lan and the martial arts movies she consumed elevated women to the status of warriors who were often more powerful even physically than men. On the other hand, even in the United States, the Chinese community clings to their ancestral views and attitudes many of which are patriarchal in character and orientation. Thus, the “I” narrator as a young girl was encouraged to aspire to be a warrior woman like Fa Mu Lan while at the same time bound to think THE ORCHID AND THE BARBARIC YAWP 121 and act as a submissive or slavish woman. To be American feminine, the “I” narrator strives to breach the gender divide for sexual equality; to be Chinese feminine she has to be a “quiet girl,” to be as expected a member of a “model minority.”5 If we read the book as a journey undertaken by the “I” narrator to discover her voice and in so doing construct her subjectivity and identity as an Asian American woman she does so by unraveling these double binds. As an American reader of Chinese descent, my aim in this paper is to show how Kingston achieves her goal by listening with the ear of the other6 and translating a host of borders. I shall begin by noting the Neo-Confucian genesis of this double bind and contrast it with Confucius’ original teaching. Along the way I shall detour briefly to glance “sidewise”7 at a number of poems by Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson. Rectification of Names The China that wraps double binds around the “I” narrator’s feet inherits its patriarchal norms and values largely from its Confucian tradition, especially the Neo-Confucian school founded by Zhu Xi in the 12th century.8 As Neo- Confucianism gradually became the dominant ideology of China in subsequent centuries, its influence, particularly its preference for the collective and its patriarchal bias against women, continued to be felt by Chinese communities both within and without China. The treatment given the “I” narrator’s paternal aunt, the “no name woman,” highlights such a preference and bias. The school of thought as originally developed by Confucius and recorded in the Confu- cian classics, however, tells in significant respects a very different story. Two of his key concepts, namely rectification of names (zhengming) and compassion/humaneness (ren)9 , are particularly relevant to the “I” narrator’s project and should be taken into consideration in our analysis. Confucius formulated the concept of rectification of names in answer to a question posed by one of his disciples about government. Confucius posits the rectification of names as the first order of business in government. Un- less names are rectified, he asserts, language (yan, the spoken word) will not be attuned (shun). And unless language is attuned nothing gets done. The result, Confucius predicts, will be the decline of ritual and music and the misuse of law and punishment that in turn will make the people incapable of knowing where to put their hand and foot (The Analects, 13.3). In another dialogue, Confucius further defines the concept in terms of the relationship between ruler and subject and between father and son by underscoring the 122 Kam-ming WONG importance of reciprocity in these interpersonal relationships (ibid., 12.11). By this definition, a ruler is truly a ruler, a father truly a father, and a son truly a son only if he relates to the other in a reciprocal manner that promotes the authority of both. In fact, reciprocity is such an intrinsic part of Confu- cian thought that he made compassion a defining quality of humanity. In Chinese, the character ren is composed of the radical ren , which means human, and the numeral er , which means two. To be truly human, one must body forth this graph and interact with another human in as mutually benefi- cial and empowering a way as possible. That naming is of primary importance to the Chinese communities that people The Woman Warrior is made immediately clear when the “I” narrator names the first chapter “No Name Woman.” Such a move at once highlights the irony inherent in naming a chapter after a character without a name and the punitive application of the Confucian precept by patriarchal culture. By stripping the adulterous aunt of her name, her family is in effect putting Confucian theory perversely into practice – to reciprocate a wrong that she has presumably inflicted on her community by erasing any sign of her existence from the collective consciousness and memory. The juxtaposition of this chapter heading with the title of the book, on the other hand, at once links what the aunt has done with the heroic deeds of a woman warrior. By refusing to name her lover the aunt has herself use anonymity to register her defiance; by throwing herself and her yet-to-be-named new born into the community well she asserts her autonomy at the expense of patriarchal authority. In both instances the “no name aunt” has appropriated the power of erasure and stood tradition and convention on their head. The naming of Fa Mu Lan as the woman warrior par excellence likewise lends support to the importance of rectification of names while at the same time undermines its authority. Disguising herself in the name of her father, Fa Mu Lan achieves heroic status by transgressing gender boundaries and thus the law of the father – a crime punishable by death.10 But her “perfect filiality” (itself a gender crossing that diminishes the role of the son) and her voluntary domestication after the military campaign legitimize in the eyes of patriarchal society and tradition her momentary transgression and allows for her readmission into the patriarchal fold. Thus as an archetype, Fa Mu Lan generates a dual if not contradictory influence on subsequent generations of woman warriors and contributes to the double binds that encircle the “I” narrator’s feet. THE ORCHID AND THE BARBARIC YAWP 123

The name Fa Mu Lan itself embodies contradictory tendencies. To begin with, it is a hybridized transliteration of the Chinese.11 The family name Fa represents the Cantonese pronunciation of the graph for flower which in Hanyu (the Han dialect)12 should have been transliterated as “hua” while her personal name has been transliterated as Mu Lan according to Hanyu pronunciation. Thus the transliteration of the name Fa Mu Lan translates the border between two Chinese dialects. Scholars of the Fa Mu Lan legend have suggested that the story was of non-Chinese origin. Its retelling by the “I” narrator thus translates racial and national borders. In the Analects Con- fucius was recorded to have made disparaging remarks about non-Chinese peoples and cultures, calling them “barbarians.” The appropriation of the Fa Mu Lan legend into the Chinese literary tradition can thus be interpreted as a transgression against the Sage’s teaching that was made possible by domes- ticating the woman warrior and turning her into an exemplar of that cardinal Confucian virtue, filial piety. Like most if not all Chinese names, the name Fa Mu Lan has special semantic significance: it means literally “Flower Wood Orchid,” or more lyrically “Flowering Sylvan Orchid.”13 It is as feminine a name as a woman can get. To give a woman warrior such a name is obviously a gender-crossing act. The orchid is also a symbol of personal purity and integrity, an index of individual devotion to state and society, in the Chinese literary tradition.14 It is a name that is shared by three of the “I” narrator’s aunts: Brave Orchid, Moon Orchid, and Lovely Orchid. Interestingly while Fa Mu Lan is transliterated according to the way the name sounds, the aunts’ names are translated according to their meaning. Such distinct treatment serves, I believe, two complementary functions. It marks the translation of the aunts as fictional characters across cultural, racial and national borders from China to the United States while at the same time underlines in varying degrees their association with the archetypal woman warrior.15 Of the three sisters, Lovely Orchid is mentioned only in passing a couple of times in the book (pp. 119 and 207) and appears to play no larger a role than represent a third or alternative kind of womanhood. The text confines her to Hong Kong and provides little evidence if any of her border crossing activities. Moon Orchid is given far more narrative weight and space, but she is invented by the “I” narrator admittedly out of whole cloth, largely to counterpoint the shaman sister Brave Orchid and to map the decline of a victim of patriarchal oppression. Even so, her association with Fa Mu Lan and the lunar 124 Kam-ming WONG origin of her name, do allow her to translate cultural and national boundaries when she plays mother to younger female inmates in an insane asylum. Nei- ther Lovely Orchid nor Moon Orchid is shown to exhibit any awareness of the double binds. As mother of the “I” narrator, however, Brave Orchid is a woman warrior in her own right. Her decision to become a medical doctor, her struggles with ghosts real or imagined, and her enactment of Virginia Woolf’s program of “a room of one’s own” in sisterhood with her school mates all inscribe her as a worthy heir to Fa Mu Lan.16 But despite her skills in modern Western medicine and her proven track record as a physician in China, Brave Orchid, like her daughter, is doubly bound by China. She is prevented by objective conditions in her new country to translate her training and accomplish- ments into her American experience. Having lost two sons in China, Brave Orchid bore and raised six more children after she rejoined her husband in the States. When she ventures to do battle with Moon Orchid’s errant husband, all her bravery and strategic planning win the sisters only a free lunch. And more tellingly, like numerous mothers before her in China, Brave Orchid herself helps wrap double binds around her Asian American daughter’s feet. Her em- igration to the New World has so disoriented and alienated her that Brave Orchid could translate the life she lived in China to the American milieu only through the stories she tells her daughter and by subscribing to the patriarchal order prevailing in her “model minority” community – an order she had once challenged so heroically back in China but must now submit to in her new American environment. Attunement: “The Ear of the Other” The domestication of Fa Mu Lan, the erasure of “no name aunt”, and the professional retrogression of Brave Orchid all suggest that none of them has truly lived up to their names. In other words, their names remain in Confucian terms not fully rectified. The inevitable consequence as predicted by Confucius of such a lack is that language will not be attuned and interpersonal relationships suffer due to a breakdown of meaningful communication. This is what happens in The Woman Warrior. Out of fear of the unfamiliar or unknown, be it cultural or linguistic, first generation Chinese immigrants like Brave Orchid and her husband seek security and comfort in their ethnic community and become the “model minority” whose silence is both admired and distrusted by the majority Amer- icans. Within their own community the older generation for similar reasons finds it difficult if not impossible to communicate with their American born children: THE ORCHID AND THE BARBARIC YAWP 125

Parents either tell their sons and daughters stories of old China to bind them to an alien ancestry or refuse to address the present concerns of the younger generation. Thus Brave Orchid cautions the “I” narrator with the story of the “no name aunt” to safeguard the daughter’s virtue. To break the silence, the “I” narrator tortures her alter-ego “the quiet girl” to make her talk (171-181). To restore communication within and without her ethnic community, the “I” narrator decon- structs the story of “no name aunt,” revises the legend of Fa Mu Lan, and fabri- cates the encounter between Moon Orchid and her husband. In the end, she recreates the story of Ts’ai Yan to demonstrate her own independence. All in all, what the “I” narrator has done comes down to, in Confucian terms, attune the language she uses. Before we look at this all important episode that brings the narrative to a close, however, we must first pause to consider what Confucius means by the word attune. The graph for “attune” in Chinese shun is composed of two parts: the first, chuan, refers to a large river into which smaller streams converge; the second ye, refers to the head. Etymologically therefore shun connotes something that follows like water in a river the natural flow of things. It functions generally as an adjective as in the expression ming zheng yan shun (if the name is rectified language will be attuned). Being attuned thus suggests an unimpeded flow. When used in conjunction with language it describes a mode or process of communication where every participant is fully attentive to the feelings, thoughts, needs, and wishes of others. To be attuned means in effect then to hear, indeed overhear, with the ear of the other.17 There can be little doubt that such attunement occu- pies a central place in Confucius’ thought. In an autobiographical sketch attributed to him where Confucius takes inventory of his life-long achievements he puts having his ear attuned above knowledge of the mandate of heaven: “At fifty I knew the mandate of heaven; at sixty my ear became attuned” (2.4). No matter how important knowledge of the mandate of heaven is, it is not enough to possess the knowledge alone. One must attune one’s ear to hear with the ear of the other in order to communicate and share this knowledge with others in a language that is equally attuned. Interpreted this way, Confucian attunement her- alds the perspectivism of Zhuangzi, Whitman and Dickinson. The Bird and The Butterfly: Zhuangzi, Walt Whitman, and Emily Dickinson The perspectivism implicit in this mode of communication is also a defining characteristic of Daoism whose naturalistic orientation otherwise contrasts 126 Kam-ming WONG sharply with the humanism of Confucius. The well-known parable of The Butterfly Dream illustrates this point. The philosopher Zhuang Zhou once dreamed that he was a butterfly, but when he awoke he wondered whether it was not the butterfly who dreamed him. Meditation on this paradox led Zhua- ng Zhou to conclude that there must be a distinction between himself and the butterfly, between the dreamer and the dreamed and that this distinction is what makes the transformation of things possible. The Butterfly Dream represents I believe border crossing of the highest order. In a move that anticipates Charles Darwin, Zhuang Zhou projects himself into the heart and mind as it were of a butterfly and seriously entertains the possibility of a complete rever- sal of the subject /object position. It is a move that requires the momentary suspension of one’s selfhood or identity and the ability to hear with the ear of a radical other. It is a move, as I shall shortly demonstrate, that looks forward to Walt Whitman’s “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” (American Poetry, 1.871-877) and Emily Dickinson’s “A Bird came down the Walk” (American Poetry, 2.248). We should also note that the parable was narrated in the past tense and in the third-person and that Zhuang Zhou insisted on there being a distinction. I shall first consider the question of distinction and later relate it to the questions of past tense and third-person. To begin with the obvious, a distinction between philosopher and butterfly is always already generically determined. We might marvel with Dar- win at the discovery that humans had once upon a time shared the same ancestry with butterflies and birds, but homo sapiens do occupy different positions on the evolutionary scale and end up being members of a different species. Moreover, such a distinction carries linguistic and rhetorical implications. No matter how attuned Zhuangzi’s language is he was bound as the rest of humanity to his mother tongue. And no matter how adept the philosopher is in hearing with the ear of the other, he had no technology at his disposal to translate his parable into the tongue of a bird or butterfly. But the very imagining in classical Chinese of a butterfly dreaming a philosopher hints at the possibility of non-verbal or trans-lingual communications that resonate with Confucius’ remark, ”Does heaven speak?” (Analects, 17-19) and the opening line of the Daodejing, “The dao [way, road, path, course] that can be spoken is not the constant dao.” Narrating the parable in past tense and third-person, on the other hand, allows Zhuangzi to objectify an autobiographical experience while situating himself as the third-term on the border. By occupying such a liminal position THE ORCHID AND THE BARBARIC YAWP 127 he was able to embrace at once both the perspectives of the dreamer and the dreamed, be it/he a butterfly or philosopher. Rhetorically, as I have suggested above, this is the kind of move that Whitman and Dickinson make in their bird poems. I shall have more to say about the affinity Kingston has with Whitman later in this essay. For now I shall simply note that in “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” the poet speaking in first-person recalls his boy- hood encounter with a mocking bird when he “absorb[s/ed],” and “translate[s/ ed]” (871) its lament for the loss of its mate. Here as in Zhuangzi’s parable, the speaker listens to the voice of a radical other with the ear of that other and discovers the meaning of gain and loss, life and death by remembering or recapturing the past. By “taking all hints to use them, but swiftly leaping beyond them” (871), the poet projects himself – like the Chinese philosopher – as the third-term onto the border that simultaneously unites and separates him from the other and like the mocking bird objectifies an autobiographical experience by mocking, transforming, and translating it into song. We must keep in mind, however, that the distinction between self and other is critical. Without it, as Zhuangzi so emphatically warns us, no transformation or translation is possible. Selflessness provides no basis for transformation in either direction. It is one thing to imagine Gregor Samsa transformed into a man-sized bug, quite another to find oneself waking up one day mor- phed into one. Or in the era of preemptive wars, the logic of unilateralism must not be allowed to hold sway. Otherwise one country can readily mock national borders with erasure. Attuning her ear to hear with the ear of the other appears also to be the objective that motivates the writing of Dickinson’s poem. The very first stanza focuses attention on a border that separates two worlds: A Bird came down the Walk – He did not know I saw – He bit an Angleworm in halves And ate the fellow, raw, It is a border marked by the distinctive perspective of the speaker, who as we know is a female poet. There is something artificial or man-made about “the Walk,” a space designated on earth for humans to walk on that more likely than not has little categorical significance for a bird. The juxtaposition of the verbs “know” and “saw” also betrays a human perspective linking as they do knowledge with perception. The noun “fellow” and the 128 Kam-ming WONG adjective “raw,” on the other hand, seem at once to divide and combine the two worlds, personifying the angleworm but registering the poet’s distaste at the bird’s uncouth feeding habits. The labeling of the bird as “he” bespeaks, of course, the gendered bias of the speaker. Thus, if we follow Whitman’s example by “taking all hints to use them, but swiftly leaping beyond them,” we will arrive at a border that keeps the self and other distinct, a border that is shaped and informed by all the details I have highlighted. And this I submit is precisely what Dickinson wants us to see. The line “He bit an Angle- worm in halves” clearly codifies the bifocal vision the poet had of the world she inhabits. The bird did not just peck any worm, an inchworm for example, to pieces. Dickinson identifies it as an Angleworm, another name for earth- worm, to highlight its use as bait in fishing and to accentuate the prominence of angle, perspective or point of view. The image of a bird biting an angleworm in halves thus serves as a bait to attract the reader’s attention to the splitting of the phenomenal world into two equal parts. The poem can therefore be read as an attempt by the speaker to reach out to the bird and bridge the divide. I will leave a fuller analysis of this poem for another occasion. For our purposes here I shall simply note with Dickinson that in the end the bird remains out of reach but the line that separates its world from ours becomes “too silver for a seam,” a border translatable only beyond language. “Does heaven speak?” – The Dao of Border Crossing How does one imagine a butterfly dreaming oneself? Does the butterfly have a tongue? How does one translate across species? Confucius raises a similar question when his disciples lament his decision not to speak any- more: “Does heaven speak?” (17/19) and assuming the answer to be negative, he remarks: “And yet the four seasons turn and the myriad things are born and grow in it.” The opening lines of the Daoist classic Dadejing also comments on the limitation of language: “The way that can be spoken is not the constant Way; the name that can be named is not the constant Name”. Thus, despite their differing approaches and orientations, both Confucian- ism and Daoism recognize and indeed play with the paradox inherent in the use of language for communication. To give expression to our feelings and thoughts, we are bound to rely heavily on the spoken word, but verbalization alone can never express the full range of how we feel and think. In other words, for the self to relate to the other, to translate borders that keep self and other apart, we must go beyond language and hear, indeed overhear, with the THE ORCHID AND THE BARBARIC YAWP 129 ear of the other all the overtones that emanate from different cultural, socio- political backgrounds as well as cosmological and ecological environments. This is what Emily Dickinson had attempted to do. In the remaining pages I shall turn to look at how in the wake of Whitman Kingston strives to translate similar borders. Circling with the Barbarians The Woman Warrior ends as it begins with Brave Orchid the mother and the “I” narrator the daughter taking turns telling their stories. Thus in more ways than one, the story of the woman warrior has come full circle. The story of Ts’ai Yen as retold by the “I” narrator counterpoints the story of Fa Mu Lan, brings the process of story telling in the novel to a climax, paves the way for the translation of cultural, racial, national and linguistic borders, and helps the “I” narrator to assert her autonomy and thereby rectify her name. Unlike Fa Mu Lan, Ts’ai Yen appears in the story as a poetess who is a member of the majority Han people.18 Married to a “barbarian” chieftain for twelve years and mothered two children by him, she nevertheless retains the bias the Han people have against the barbarian tribes – a bias as I noted above perhaps grounded in disparaging remarks that Confucius supposedly made about non-Han cultures and peoples.19 Her attitude towards her barbarian captors undergoes a fundamental change, however, when she discovers in their music a note of yearning that resonates with her own: Then, out of Ts’ai Yen’s tent, which was apart from the others, the barbarians heard a woman’s voice singing, as if to her babies, a song so high and clear, it matched the flutes. Ts’ai Yen sang about China and her family there. Her words seem to be Chinese, but the barbarians understood their sadness and anger. Sometimes they thought they could catch barbarian phrases about forever wandering. Her children did not laugh, but eventually sang along when she left her tent to sit by the winter campfires, ringed by barbarians. (209) What happens is nothing less than a moment of epiphany triggered by the moon that enables Ts’ai Yen to cross, in much the same way as Zhuang Zhou in his butterfly dream and Whitman and Dickinson in their bird poems, the borders that separate her from the radical other. It is a crossing that the “I” narrator explicitly characterizes as translation. To fully understand the import of this moment, however, we must take into consideration other factors that contribute to Ts’ai Yen’s transformation. It is significant that the moment occurs on her way home to China after she is ransomed to give her 130 Kam-ming WONG clan Han descendants and at a point where the barbarians and her children join her in reaching mutual understanding. The new found kinship with an alien, apparently inhospitable people coupled with the realization, suppressed but resonantly overheard here, that her own people have reduced her to a reproductive agent must have dampened the joy she felt about her return to her ancestral home. Under such circumstances, the circle she shares with the barbarians marks the place where distinct cultures and nations meet and con- tend. Only by occupying such a boundary position can Ts’ai Yen feel both abroad and at home. In the final analysis then, the image of a Han poetess sitting under the moon by campfires ringed by barbarians and partaking their ritual and music, is what makes her song “The Eighteen Stanzas of A Barbarian Reed Pipe” so translatable. I would further argue that the figure of a circle is similarly pivotal to the “I” narrator’s creative project. It harks back to numerous occurrences of this same figure throughout the narrative. To recall but a few, the villagers raided the family of the “no name aunt” by encircling them, Fa Mu Lan wields her sword in circles and walks into battle in circling steps, and an employer signals his dismissal of the “I” narrator by circling a date on his calendar. Roundness, the “I” narrator tells us represents wholeness of the community for the villagers, and the transgression of the “no name aunt” pollutes that roundness by drowning herself and her new born in the community well.20 By placing Ts’ai Yen in a circle with the barbarians, the “I” narrator has thus appropriated the circle and transforms it into a language that is fully attuned. And by refraining from naming herself21 in the book, the “I” narrator has rectified her own name by authoring herself as a true heir to woman warriors like the ”no name aunt,” Fa Mu Lan and Ts’ai Yen. In the beginning of this paper, I noted that Confucius posited as the ultimate consequence of names not being rectified and language not being attuned the inability of the people to know where to put their hand and foot. I do not at this point fully understand why the image of hand and foot should figure so prominently in Confucius’ formulation of the concept of rectification of names. For the purposes of my argument here, however, I can hazard the following reasons: first, the Chinese graph for human ren depicts a crea- ture standing on his/her two feet, a posture presumably marks him/her as distinct from other species;22 second, a key Daoist concept, zhizu (content- ment) literally means in Chinese “to know where to put one’s foot,” a state of mind that is implied when Confucius remarks: “At seventy I followed my THE ORCHID AND THE BARBARIC YAWP 131 heart’s desire without overstepping the bounds” (Analects, 2.4); and third, a Confucian critic concludes in a treatise on poetry, The Great Preface, that when words alone fail to convey the poet’s intention, he/she begins to dance it forth by moving his/her hand and foot (Owen, 40-41). Given the weight that has been assigned “hand and foot” in Chinese culture, it becomes immediately clear why it was so inhumane for the Chinese to have bound their women’s feet and why the “I” narrator should describe her dilemma in terms of “China wraps double binds around my feet.” Only by circling back to the legend of Fa Mu Lan and the story of Ts’si Yen and by deconstructing the more ethnocentric and patriarchal aspects of Confucianism while translating the various borders with them, I would argue, did the narrator succeed in unwrapping the bindings that encircle her feet. Coda: The Whitman Connection For readers cognizant of Whitman’s lines “I celebrate myself/I sing myself,” the naming of Wittman Ah Sing by Kingston as protagonist in Tripmas- ter Monkey crystallizes her affinity with the American bard. But for readers attuned to her work, the connection was already evident in the ending of The Woman Warrior.23 The sentence that brings the narrative to a close, “it translated well,” strongly echoes the line already alluded to above, “cautiously peer- ing, absorbing, translating,” from “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking.” The figure of the barbarians blowing their reed pipes joined by Ts’ai Yen in song, on the other hand, recalls the lines from the concluding lines of “Song of My- self”: “I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,/I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world”(American Poetry, 1.781). Like Whitman the poet, the “I” narrator of The Woman Warrior” has “sounded the yawp” of the barbarians. In both instances, a self has enlarged itself to embrace a radical other by hearing with the ear of that other and by translating the borders that keep self and other apart. But as it stands at the closure of the book, the line “it translated well” begs a question: Does it refer to the song that Ts’ai Yen composed? The music the barbarians played on their reed pipes? Or The Woman Warrior as a translation of both? And in spite of the translation he has done of the mocking bird’s lament, Whitman seems also to insist on the impossibility of translation when he asserts, “I too am not translatable.”24 The reason that Whitman himself gives for his not being translatable is that he is like the hawk “not tamed,” that is to say, not domesticated, bound, or caged. I would argue that the contradiction apparent in Whitman’s retroactive translation of the 132 Kam-ming WONG mocking bird’s lament and his claim of hawk-like impermeability to translation is predicated on the contradiction willfully advertised in the lines: “Do I contradict myself?/Very well then I contradict myself” (ibid., 780). Such an admission of self-contradiction is in turn grounded parenthetically in the next line: ”(I am large, I contain multitudes).” The poet as embodiment of his/her life and work can never be fully translated because he/she is too large to be bound by a single translation or interpretation. Yet for the “multitudes” he/she embodies to have tangible shape or form, they must be contained. To point out that the constant dao can not be spoken, we still have to speak it in our mother tongue. Whitman, I believe, is making the same point. Read in this light, the line “it translated well” that Kingston uses to cast light on Ts’ai Yen, the barbarians, and the “I” narrator sitting in a ring by the campfire actually wraps them in a double bind. Each self or other is always too large and multitudinous to be translated all at once. By translating Ts’ai Yen translating the barbarians, the “I” narrator has incorporated their humanity into her own and discovered her individual identity and voice. But Ts’ai Yen still returns to China in obeisance to the wishes of its patriarchs, and the barbarians continue to bind reeds to their arrows to make war. To translate well would then mean to be content with translating facets of the other that are more hospitably translatable and to leave well enough alone. Otherwise we would be turning a deaf ear to Zhuangzi’s warning that no transformation is possible without there being a distinction between dreamer and dreamed, between self and other. In the final analysis, therefore, to truly transform herself into a woman warrior and thereby rectify her name, the “I” narrator must translate beyond the model set by Ts’ai Yen, learn to live among the barbarians and when all is said and done feel at home.

NOTES 1 This is part of a larger project I have been doing on narrative theory. Up to this point, I have applied the Confucian concept of rectification of names and attunement along with Zhuangzian perspectivism as exemplified by the Butterfly Dream to a study of traditional Chinese fiction. My analysis of Maxine Hong Kingston’s Woman Warrior in this paper represents my first attempt to read Asian American literature in the same terms. I will follow this with a look along similar lines in two separate papers at China Men, Tripmaster Monkey, and The Fifth Book of Peace. 2 For an account of this peculiar custom, see Howard S. Levy, The Lotus Lovers: The Complete and Erotic History of Chinese Footbinding (Buffalo, N.Y.: Prometheus Books, l992). THE ORCHID AND THE BARBARIC YAWP 133

3 The story, “The Oil Peddler Courts the Courtesan” (maiyoulang du zhan huakui), features a vivid depiction of how helpless a woman could be with her feet bound. See Y.W. Ma and Joseph S.M. Lau, eds., Traditional Chinese Stories: Themes and Varia- tions (Boston/Worcester: Cheng & Tsui Company, l986), 177-208. In a remarkable move, the Chinese writer Li Ruzhen (c.1763-1830) reverses the gender roles in his satiric novel Jinghua yuan (Flowers in the Mirror, A Romance) and has the feet of one of his male characters bound in the Kingdom of Women. In this context, we should also note that Kingston incorporates this episode into the beginning of China Men by attrib- uting the experience to Tang Ao instead of Lin Zhiyang (pp.3-5). 4 I will be using the more general term “book” instead of the genre specific “mem- oir” or “novel” to refer to The Woman Warrior to sidestep the generic controversy surrounding this work. Its use also anticipates my study of Kingston’s most recent work The Fifth Book of Peace. 5 The myth of Asian Americans as a “model minority” originated with William Peterson in l966 and gained national acceptance in the mid-l980s. It highlights Asian Americans, especially Japanese and Chinese Americans as “hardworking, intelligent, and successful” who have realized the American dream through self-reliance. Though initially meant to be complimentary, the label obscures discriminations Asian Americans have faced in the present and the past and justifies the mistreatment of other minorities such as African, Hispanic, and Native Americans. See Jean Yu-wen Shen Wu and Min Song, eds., Asian American Studies: A Reader (New Brunswick, N.J. and London: Rutgers UP, 2000), 370-374. 6 In The Ear of the Other: Otobiography, Transference, Translation, ed. Christie V. McDonald and tr. Peggy Kamuf (New York: Schocken Books, l985), Jacques Derrida grounds his comments on autobiography and translation in a passage from Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra, highlights the image of the ear so prominently displayed there, and argues that the ability to hear with the ear of the other informs the production and reception of any creative work. In various interviews since the l970s Kingston has also called attention to the importance of hearing and listening in her own work. See Conversations with Maxine Hong Kingston, ed. Paul Skenazy and Tera Martin (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, l998). 7 I have borrowed this word from Emily Dickinson’s line: “And then hopped sidewise to the Wall” (American Poetry, 2.248). In the poem, the generic bird, once he has fed on an angleworm, wisely steps aside “to let a beetle pass.” As I shall argue later in my analysis of this poem, such a characterization by the poet/speaker of the bird’s action simultaneously registers a convergence and division of two perceptions and worlds. 8 For a recent assessment of Confucianism’s relation with women, see Chenyang Li, ed., The Sage and the Second Sex: Confucianism, Ethics, and Gender (Chicago and La Salle, Illinois: Open Court, 2000). Howard Levy notes in The Lotus Lovers that Zhu Xi (1130-1200) “who served as governor in Chang Prefecture, Fukien…ordered that all women’s feet be bound to an excessive degree, causing 134 Kam-ming WONG them to be hampered in moving about. He relied on this to change their immoral habits” (p.44). In this light it is noteworthy that Liu E should specify the size of Yugu’s feet at 6 inches, twice the standard size of bound feet, as she, a young woman of 18 or 19, offers a critique of Zhu Xi and Neo-Confucianism in the novel Lao Can youji (Travels of Lao Ts’an, chap.11, p.101), 9 I have adapted the word “compassion” from Kingston to translate the Confucian concept ren which is usually rendered as “benevolence.” Kingston uses this word repeatedly in Conversations to describe the harmony that should underpin self’s relation to the other and to speak of the need for community building. For a provocative attempt to harmonize this foundational Confucian concept with feminist ethics, see Chenyang Li, “The Confucian concept of Jen [ren] and the Feminist ethics of Care: A Comparative Study,” in The Sage and the Second Sex, 23-42. 10 Speaking in the first-person, Fa Mu Lan says in The Woman Warrior: “I never told them [soldiers under her command] the truth. Chinese executed women who disguised themselves as soldiers or students, no matter how bravely they fought or how high they scored on the examinations” (p.39). 11 In her article “A Chinese Woman’s Response to Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior,” Ya-jie Zhang identifies the heroine as Hua Mu Lan. Sau-ling Cyn- thia Wong also notes in passing different ways of transliterating the name in her article “Kingston’s Handling of Traditional Chinese Sources.” See Shirley geok-lin Lim, ed., Approaches to Teaching Kingston’s THE WOMAN WARRIOR (New York: MLA, l991), 26-36. In the same article, Wong also examines Kingston’s treatment of the Fa Mu Lan story. 12 Chinese has been referred to variously as Mandarin Chinese, Guoyu (The Nation- al Language), Putonghua (the common tongue), or Hanyu (language of the Han people). Putonghua is the standard term used on mainland China to downplay the cultural dominance of the majority Han people. I have decided to use Hanyu in this paper to underscore its ethnic association and implications. In Conversations, Kingston talks about her effort to create a language in her writing that would resonate with her mother tongue—what she calls “a real minority dialect in the southwest” [of China], a “peasant, village dialect” (187). 13 Cheng Lok Chua, reading Mu Lan as the Chinese name for magnolia, translates Fa Mu Lan as Magnolia Flower in his article “Mythopoesis East and West in THE WOMAN WARRIOR” (Approaches, 149). 14 As such a symbol, the orchid is archetypically identified with Qu Yuan (ca. 340-278 BCE), the founding father of Chinese poetry, and figures prominently throughout his signature poem “Li Sao” (“On Encountering Sorrow”, Hawkes, 21-34). King- ston names a chapter in China Men “The Li Sao: An Elegy” (257-260). 15 In Conversations Kingston defends her decision to translate Brave Orchid’s name as a way of debunking the practice of Pearl Buck to stereotype Chinese women by giving them such names as “Peony” and “Plum Blossom” (165). THE ORCHID AND THE BARBARIC YAWP 135

16 For insightful comments by Kingston on Woolf’s concept of a room of one’s own see Conversations, p.124. 17 For an in-depth discussion of “thinking as attunement” see Hall and Ames, Thinking Through Confucius, 298-304. It would also be instructive to consider Con- fucian attunement in light of Derrida’s view of the ear of the other. 18 The Cihai (Sea of Verbal Expressions) encyclopedia lists 53 minorities beside the Han (p. 4174). 19 See for example Analects 3/5: “The Master said, ’Barbarian tribes with their rulers are inferior to Chinese states without them’” (Lau, 67). David Hinton, on the other hand, has translated the same passage as: “The Master said: ’Those wild tribes in the far north and east—they still honor their sovereigns. They’re nothing like us: we Chinese have given up such things’” (22). 20 In Conversations, Kingston reveals that the well is situated by the Hong family temple and wishes that she had included in her book certain details she learned about the scene when she visited China in 1984. 21 Kingston calls attention to this fact in Conversations (133). 22 An anecdote in the Zhanguo ce (Legends of the Warring States), generally referred to as “hua she tian zu (drawing a snake with feet),” drives home this point quite well. In it someone who draws a snake and adds feet to it to show off his facility ends up losing the bet even though he finishes first. 23 In Conversations Kingston freely acknowledges her connection with Whitman finding his all inclusive attitude towards gender particularly exemplary. 24 In Conversations Kingston frequently calls attention to her attempt to translate Chinese myths, dialects, and various boundaries in her work. Her remarks often resonate with those Derrida makes in The Ear of the Other especially as they relate in a postmodern vein to the question of ambiguity or indeterminacy in autobiography and translation.

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Chuang Tzu [Zhuangzi]. The Inner Chapters. Tr. David Hinton. Washington, D.C.: Counterpoint, l998. Ci Hai (l961 ed.). Xianggang: Zhonghua, l979.. Crump, J.I., ed. & tr. Legends of the Warring States: Persuasions, Romances, and Stories fromCHAN-KUO TS’E [Zhanguo ce]. Ann Arbor, MI:Center for Chinese Studies, U of Michigan, l998. Hall, David L. and Roger T. Ames. Thinking Through Confucius. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, l987. Hall, David L. and Roger T. Ames. Anticipating China: Thinking Through the Narratives of Chinese and Western Culture. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, l995. Hollander, John, ed. American Poetry: The Nineteenth Century, Vols. 1&2. New York: The Library of America, l993. Hawkes, David, tr. Ch’u Tz’u: The Songs of the South. Boston: Beacon Press, 1962. Jaschok, Maria & Suzanne Miers, ed. Women & Chinese Patriarchy: Submis- sion, Servitude and Escape. London and New Jersey: Hong Kong UP, 1994. Kingston, Maxine Hong. The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of A Girlhood among Ghosts. New York: Vintage, l976. Kingston, Maxine Hong. China Men. New York: Vintage, l990. Kingston, Maxine Hong. Tripmaster Monkey: His Fake Book. New York: Vin- tage, 1990. Kingston, Maxine Hong. The Fifth Book of Peace. New York: Alfred A. Knopl, 2003. Lao Tzu [Laozi]. Tao Te Ching [Dao de jing]. Tr. D.C. Lau. Harmondsworth: Penguin, l963. Lao Tzu [Laozi]. Tao Te Ching [Dao de jing]. Tr. David Hinton. Washington, D.C.: Counterpoint, 2000. Levy, Howard S. The Lotus Lovers: The Complete History of the Curious Erotic Custom of Footbinding in China. Buffalo, NY: Prometheus Books, 1992. Li, Chenyang.,ed. The Sage and the Second Sex: Confucianism, Ethics, and Gen- der. Chaicago and LaSalle, IL: Open Court, 2000. Li, Ruzhen. Jinghua yuan, vols. 1&2. Beijing: Renmin wenxue, l979. Lim, Shirley Geok-lin, ed. Approaches to Teaching Kingston’s THE WOMAN WARRIOR. New York: MLA, 1991. Liu E. Laucan youji. Beijing: Renmin wenxue, l979. Liu E. The Travels of Lao Ts’an [Can]. Tr. Harold Shadick. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell UP, l952. Ma, Y.W. and Joseph S.M. Lau, eds. Traditional Chinese Stories: Themes and Variations. Boston: Cheng & Tsui Company, l986. Owen, Stephen. Readings in Chinese Literary Thought. Cambridge: Harvard UP. l992. THE ORCHID AND THE BARBARIC YAWP 137

Palumbo-liu, David, ed. The Ethnic Cannon: Histories, Institutions, and Inter- ventions. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1995. Ropp, Paul S., ed. Heritage of China: Contemporary Perspectives on Chinese Civilization. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1990. Skandera-Trombley, Laura E., ed. Critical Essays on Maxine Hong Kingston. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1998. Skenazy, Paul and Tera Martin, eds. Conversation with Maxine Hong Kingston. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1998. Tu, Weiming. Humanity and Self-Cultivation: Essays in Confucian Thought. Ber- keley: Asian Humanities Press, l979. Tu, Weiming. Centrality and Commonality: An Essay on Chung-Yung. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, l976. Wong, Sau-ling Cynthia, ed. Maixine Hong Kingston’ s THE WOMAN WAR- RIOR: A Casebook. New York: Oxford UP, l999. Wong, Sau-ling Cynthia. Reading Asian American Literature: From Necessity to Extravagance. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1993. Wong, Sau-ling Cynthia & Stephen H. Sumida, eds. A Resource Guide to Asian American Literature. New York: MLA, 2001. Wolf, Margery and Roxane Witke, ed. Women in Chinese Society. Stanford, CA: Stanford UP, l975. Wolf, Margery. Revolution Postponed: Women in Contemporary China. Stan- ford, CA: Stanford UP, l985. Woolf, Virginia. A Room of One’s Own & Three Guineas. New York: Quality Paperback Book Club, 1992. Wu, Kuang-ming. The Butterfly As Companion: Meditations on the First Three Chapters of the CHUANG TZU. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, l990.

ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ

Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

Òâîð÷åñòâî àìåðèêàíñêîé õóäîæíèöû èðàíñêîãî ïðîèñõîæäåíèÿ Øèðèí Íåøàò ïðèìåð õóäîæåñòâåííîé äèôôåðåíöèàöèè ìèðîâîççðå- íèé Âîñòîêà è Çàïàäà è îäíîâðåìåííî ïîïûòêà èíòåãðàöèè âîñòî÷íîé, â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü èðàíñêîé, êóëüòóðû â çàïàäíûé êóëüòóðíûé êîíòåêñò. Âïðî÷åì, ãåîïîëèòè÷åñêàÿ ïåðñïåêòèâà äàëåêî íå åäèíñòâåííàÿ â ïðî- èçâåäåíèÿõ õóäîæíèöû; ãåîïîëèòèêà ñêîðåå ñïîñîá ñîçäàíèÿ ñåìèîòè- ÷åñêîé íàïðÿæåííîñòè, èíèöèèðóþùåé ïîèñê îòâåòîâ íà âå÷íûå âîïðî- ñû áûòèÿ. Òàê, ôîòîãðàôèè èç ñåðèè Women of Allah (Æåíùèíû Àëëà- õà), ïîëîæèâøèå íà÷àëî åå òâîð÷åñêîé êàðüåðå, êðèïòîñåìèîòè÷íû, ò. å. ÿâëÿþòñÿ òàéíîé êàê òåêñò, è íåêðèïòîñåìèîòè÷íû â îäíî è òî æå âðåìÿ. Â îñíîâå ñåðèè ïîåçäêà Íåøàò â 1990 ãîäó íà ðîäèíó â Èðàí, ïåðâàÿ ïîñëå 16-ëåòíåãî ïåðåðûâà, çàñòàâèâøàÿ õóäîæíèöó îáðàòèòüñÿ ê âîïðî- ñó îïðåäåëåíèÿ ñîáñòâåííîé èäåíòè÷íîñòè. Â êà÷åñòâå îáúåêòîâ èíòåð- ïðåòàöèè âûñòóïàþò íå òîëüêî ôèãóðû æåíùèíû (Øèðèí Íåøàò) è ìàëü- ÷èêà, íî è íàíåñåííûé íà èõ òåëà òåêñò íà ïåðñèäñêîì ÿçûêå. Òåêñò íà ÿçûêå ôàðñè â çàïàäíîé àóäèòîðèè ëèøàåòñÿ ñâîåé îíòîëîãèè, ñáëèæà- ÿñü ñ ïðîèçâåäåíèåì âèçóàëüíîãî èñêóññòâà: àðàáñêàÿ âÿçü íàïîìèíàåò öâåòî÷íûé óçîð. Ãðàôè÷åñêèé ïàðàëëåëèçì áóêâåííîé âÿçè è öâåòî÷íîãî îðíàìåíòà óñèëèâàåòñÿ èõ êîíêóðåíöèåé, âçàèìîäîïîëíÿþùåé ïîçèöè- åé â ðàìêàõ ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêîé ñåðèè: òåêñò (Whispers, Lesbo, Faceless, Stories of Martyrdom etc.) versus óçîð (Faith, Untitled, Bonding etc.). Âïðî- ÷åì, è â ìóñóëüìàíñêîé àóäèòîðèè ïåðñèäñêèé òåêñò âûñòóïàåò â ñâîåé íàèáîëåå îáùåé ôóíêöèè êàê çíàê ñõîäñòâà è ðàçëè÷èÿ. Â êà÷åñòâå àë- ôàâèòà èñïîëüçóåòñÿ àðàáñêàÿ âÿçü (ñõîäñòâî), òåì íå ìåíåå, òåêñò ìîæåò áûòü ïîíÿòåí òîëüêî çíàþùèì ïåðñèäñêèé ÿçûê (ðàçëè÷èå). Â ðåçóëüòà- òå, òåêñò íà ôàðñè ñèãíàë, òðåáóþùèé ðàñøèôðîâêè ïðàêòè÷åñêè âî âñåõ âîçìîæíûõ êîíòåêñòàõ. Ïî È. Ï. Ñìèðíîâó, îäèí èç ïîäòèïîâ òàéíîé çíàêîâîñòè, ïàðàäèã- ìàòè÷åñêèé øèôð, ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé ïîäñòàíîâêó çíàêîâ îäíîãî òèïà íà ìåñòî äðóãîãî (Ñìèðíîâ 1996, 23). Ïåðñèäñêèé òåêñò íà ôîòîãðàôèÿõ Íåøàò ïåðåõîä íà äðóãîé ÿçûê, â äðóãóþ ñèñòåìó ñðåäñòâ âûðàçèòåëü- ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 139

íîñòè, âíåøíåé ãðàôè÷åñêîé ñòîðîíîé âñòðîåííûé â ñèñòåìó âèçó- àëüíûõ ñðåäñòâ ôîòîãðàôèè. Ïîñêîëüêó â îñíîâå ïàðàäèãìàòè÷åñêîãî òèïà êðèïòîòåêñòà ëåæèò ôîëüêëîðíàÿ çàãàäêà, òî êðèïòîòåêñò, êàê è çàãàäêà, «ïðîèçâîäèò èñêëþ÷åíèå èñêîìîãî ïðåäìåòà èç òîãî êëàññà, êóäà îí âõî- äèò, èëè âîîáùå èç êàêîãî-ëèáî êëàññà» (Ñìèðíîâ 1996, 24). Ðåïðåçåíòà- òèâíîñòü ôîòîãðàôèè èñêëþ÷àåò âåðáàëüíûé òåêñò êàê èçîáðàçèòåëüíûé ðÿä. Âèçóàëèçàöèÿ âåðáàëüíîãî òåêñòà, ñáëèæåíèå åãî ñ îðíàìåíòîì èñ- êëþ÷àþò òåêñò â ñèñòåìå ôîòîãðàôèè êàê ñïîñîá âåðáàëüíî-ïèñüìåííîé êîììóíèêàöèè. Íàêîíåö, âûáîð ôàðñè â êà÷åñòâå èñïîëüçóåìîãî ÿçûêà èñêëþ÷àåò ñìûñë òåêñòà äëÿ ðåöèïèåíòà (êàê çàïàäíîãî, òàê è âîñòî÷íî- ãî), íå âëàäåþùåãî ïåðñèäñêèì ÿçûêîì. Îäíàêî èíòåðïðåòàöèè òðåáóþò âñå âèäû çíàêîâ, â ò.÷. íåëèíãâèñòè÷åñêèå çíàêè ñîöèîêóëüòóðíîãî õà- ðàêòåðà, áîëåå òîãî, ñàì àêò ÷òåíèÿ íåâîçìîæåí â ðàìêàõ îäíîé è òîé æå çíàêîâîé ñèñòåìû (Ruthrof 1994, 89). Òîãäà ëîãè÷íûì ÿâëÿåòñÿ ñóùåñòâî- âàíèå ñèñòåìû, â ðàìêàõ êîòîðîé âîçìîæíà èíòåðïðåòàöèÿ âêëþ÷åííîãî â ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêîå èçîáðàæåíèå òåêñòà íà ôàðñè. Íàíåñåííûé íà òåëî òåêñò ôèêñèðóåò âçãëÿä íà ïîâåðõíîñòè. Îò- ñóòñòâèå öâåòîâûõ ïÿòåí â ÷åðíî-áåëîé ïàëèòðå ôîòîãðàôèé Íåøàò1 ëèøàåò ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêóþ ôèãóðàòèâíóþ ðåïðåçåíòàòèâíîñòü èëëþçèè ãëóáèíû. Íà áîëüøèíñòâå ôîòîãðàôèé æåíùèíà è/èëè ðåáåíîê (ðåæå ìóæ÷èíà) ïðåäñòàâëåíû äàëåêî íå â ïîëíûé ðîñò: êàìåðà ôðàãìåíòè- ðóåò ÷åëîâå÷åñêîå òåëî, âûõâàòûâàÿ ëèöî (Rebellious Silence), ÷àñòü ëèöà (Whispers, Speechless), ãëàçà (Offered Eyes), ðóêè (Faith, Stories of Martyrdom, Guardians of Revolution, Bonding), ëèöî è ðóêè (Faceless, Lesbo), íîãè (Allegiance with Wakefulness) Ôðàãìåíòàöèÿ ìîäåëè ïðè ôîòîóâåëè÷åíèè ïðèáëèæàåò íàáëþäàòåëÿ ê ïîâåðõíîñòè òåëà è, â èòî- ãå, ê òåêñòó êàê âèçóàëüíîìó ðÿäó. Çàêîíîìåðíî ïðåäïîëîæèòü ñóùå- ñòâîâàíèå âèðòóàëüíîãî ñìûñëà ïðåäñòàâëåííîãî íà ôîòîãðàôèè òåê- ñòà (ñèãíèôèêàòà-êîíöåïòà åãî çíàêîâîé ñòðóêòóðû) êàê ïðèíàäëåæíî- ñòè ïîâåðõíîñòè ôîòîãðàôèè. Îäíî èç ñëåäñòâèé ìèêðîñêîïè÷åñêîãî çðåíèÿ, àíàëîãà ôîòîóâåëè÷åíèÿ, «èçîëèðîâàíèå äåòàëåé îáúåêòîâ, èñêàæåíèå ïåðñïåêòèâû è àêöåíòèðîâêà ôàêòóð» (ßìïîëüñêèé 2001, 49). Íà ôîòîãðàôèÿõ Øèðèí Íåøàò ôîòîóâåëè÷åííàÿ äåòàëü èçâëåêàåòñÿ èç ñèñòåìû, ïðèâû÷íûå ñâÿçè ðàçðóøàþòñÿ è îáðàçóþòñÿ íîâûå. Òàê, êîì- ïîçèöèîííîå ñîåäèíåíèå ðóê æåíñêèõ, ïîêðûòûõ îðíàìåíòîì è/èëè áóêâåííîé âÿçüþ, è äåòñêèõ, íåóêðàøåííûõ (Faith, Bonding), âûçûâàÿ ðàçíîîáðàçíûå àññîöèàöèè, â ò.÷. è ñåêñóàëüíûå,2 ïðèâîäèò ê ïîëíîìó 140 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

îòâëå÷åíèþ îò ðóêè êàê îò ÷àñòè ÷åëîâå÷åñêîãî òåëà. Ìóæñêîå ëèöî êîíòðàñòèðóåò ñ æåíñêèì (Whispers) íå òîëüêî ïî ãåíäåðíîìó ïðèçíàêó èëè îáðàùåííîñòè ê çðèòåëþ (àíôàñ/ïðîôèëü), íî è êàê ëèöî îðíàìåí- òàëüíîå (ìóæñêîå) / ëèöî íåîðíàìåíòàëüíîå (æåíñêîå) âïëîòü äî ðà- ñòâîðåíèÿ ïðåäìåòíîñòè ëèöà â îïïîçèöèè òåêñò/áåëàÿ ñòðàíèöà. Îò- íîøåíèÿ ìåæäó îáúåêòàìè ôîòîãðàôèè äåòåðìèíèðóþò èíòåðïðåòàöèþ âïèñàííîãî â ôîòîãðàôèþ òåêñòà, âûñòóïàÿ îäíèì èç ïóòåé ê ðàñêðû- òèþ ñèãíèôèêàòà-êîíöåïòà çíàêîâîé ñòðóêòóðû òåêñòà. Îäíàêî «ñèíòàãìàòè÷åñêè è ïàðàäèãìàòè÷åñêè çàøèôðîâàííûå ñîîáùåíèÿ òðåáóþò îò íàñ îòêàçàòüñÿ îò ñîñðåäîòî÷åííîñòè ïî ïðåèìó- ùåñòâó íà âíåøíåé ñòîðîíå çíàêà ðàäè òîãî, ÷òîáû ìû óãëóáèëèñü â åãî âíóòðåííþþ ôîðìó» (Ñìèðíîâ 1996, 25). Â ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêîé ñåðèè Women of Allah òåëî, ëèöî, ðóêè ìîäåëè îïòè÷åñêè ðàñòâîðÿþòñÿ â ïðîñòðàíñòâå òåêñòà-îðíàìåíòà, ãðàíèöà ìåæäó òåëîì è òåêñòîì ðàçìû- âàåòñÿ. Íà ôîòîãðàôèè áåç íàçâàíèÿ (1996) ÷åðíîå ïîêðûâàëî íà æåíñ- êîé ôèãóðå êîíêóðèðóåò ñ öâåòî÷íûì îðíàìåíòîì íà îáíàæåííîì òåëå ìàëü÷èêà. Òåêñò ïàóòèíà, ñåòü3 ñáëèæàåòñÿ ñ ïîêðûâàëîì, èëè ÷àä- ðîé, â ðåçóëüòàòå, òåêñò íà ôàðñè ýòî è êðèïòîòåêñò, è ìàñêà-ïðåãðàäà ìåæäó òåëîì-ñìûñëîì è ïîçíàþùèì ñóáúåêòîì. Òîãäà äåøèôðóþùåå ïðîíèêíîâåíèå â ñìûñë êðèïòîòåêñòà íà ôàðñè àíàëîãè÷íî äåìàñêèðîâ- êå ñðûâàíèþ ÷àäðû. Â òî æå âðåìÿ íåðàçäåëüíîñòü òåëà è òåêñòà-îðíà- ìåíòà,4 àííóëèðóÿ äèñòàíöèþ ìåæäó ëèöîì è/èëè òåëîì è ïîêðûâàëîì, ïðåâðàùàåò ñìûñë òåêñòà êàê ÿâëåíèÿ ãëóáèíû â ïðèíàäëåæíîñòü ïîâåð- õíîñòè. Õàìèä Äàáàøè îöåíèâàåò õóäîæåñòâåííûå ýêñïåðèìåíòû Íåøàò ñ òðàäèöèîííûì îäåÿíèåì ìóñóëüìàíñêîé æåíùèíû êàê the performative disposition of veiling, ñ÷èòàÿ, ÷òî Íåøàò demystifies the act of veiling via the orchestration of the face, simultaneous with the choreography of the body (Dabashi 2002, 43). Íà ôîòîãðàôèÿõ õóäîæíèöû äåñåìèîòèçàöèÿ ñîöè- àëüíîé ïðàêòèêè íîøåíèÿ ÷àäðû ïåðåêëèêàåòñÿ ñ äåñåìèîòèçàöèåé òåê- ñòà-îðíàìåíòà. Â òî æå âðåìÿ ÷àäðà, ìóëüòèïëèöèðóÿñü è ðåäóïëèöèðó- ÿñü â òåêñòàõ-îðíàìåíòàõ, ïîäâåðãàåòñÿ (íàðÿäó ñ îðíàìåíòàëüíîé âÿçüþ òåêñòà) âòîðè÷íîìó ïðîöåññó ñåìèîòèçàöèè. ×àäðà êàê ïðîäîëæåíèå êóëü- òóðíîãî òåëà íå òîëüêî ìàðêèðóåò ãåîïîëèòè÷åñêóþ è/èëè êóëüòóðíóþ îòíåñåííîñòü àâòîðà è ìîäåëè ôîòîãðàôèè, íî è âûñòóïàåò çíàêîì èðàí- ñêîé êóëüòóðû, êàê, âïðî÷åì, è êóëüòóðû â öåëîì. Åñëè ñîîòíåñòè ñ ÷àä- ðîé òåêñò êàê îçíà÷àþùåå êóëüòóðû, òî òîãäà â õóäîæåñòâåííîé ñèñòåìå Íåøàò êóëüòóðå âìåíÿåòñÿ ðîëü çàâåñû, ñêðûâàþùåé íåêîå ïðèðîäíîå ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 141

òåëî îçíà÷àåìîå. Â òàêîì ñëó÷àå èíîðîäíîñòü òåêñòà íà ôàðñè â íå- èðàíñêîé àóäèòîðèè êîððåñïîíäèðóåò ñ ðàçíîðîäíîñòüþ êóëüòóðíîãî è ïðèðîäíîãî ïëàíîâ. Â òåîðèè òåëåñíîé òðàíñôîðìàöèè Øåéõà Àõìàäà Àõñà è (Shaykh Ahmad Ahsai) òåëî â ñâîåì ñóùåñòâîâàíèè è ðàçâèòèè ïðîõîäèò ÷åòû- ðå ñòàäèè, äâå èç íèõ ìîæíî îáîçíà÷èòü òåðìèíîì jasad (corpus) è äâå òåðìèíîì jism (body): «Jasad A is our corporeal body, the body we touch and feel. This body < > is like a garment that a man puts on and later casts off again. < > Jasad B is our quintessential body, the body that survives < > the decomposition of our Jasad A into its constituent elements, when upon death its fire goes to Fire, air to Air, water to Water, and earth to Earth. < > This is the body in which humans are resurrected < > what will resurrect is in fact the caro corporalis but that it has been purified from its opacity and density, while sustaining its identity and ipseity. This invisible luminous body is our caro spiritualis (öèò. ïî: Äàáàøè 2002, 4748).5 Ïî ìíåíèþ Äàáàøè, Øèðèí Íåøàò âèçóàëüíî êîíñòðóèðóåò è ìàòå- ðèàëèçóåò caro spiritualis, êîòîðîå â èñëàìå ñ÷èòàåòñÿ íåäîñòóïíûì äëÿ ÷åëîâå÷åñêîãî çðåíèÿ: In Shirin Neshats ancestral culture, the physical body, caro corporalis, is metaphorically identified as an item of clothing that one wears. < > As soon as the carnal coating is taken off, the quintessence of the human body, its caro spiritualis, becomes imperceptible to the sight of ordinary humans (Dabashi 2002, 50). Òîãäà îðíàìåíòàëüíûé òåêñò íà ôàðñè, ñ îä- íîé ñòîðîíû, ïîäîáíî îäåæäå èëè ïîêðûâàëó, ìàñêèðóåò ÷åëîâå÷åñêîå òåëî â åãî ïåðâîé ñòàäèè ñóùåñòâîâàíèÿ caro corporalis, à ñ äðóãîé ñàì, ïîäîáíî caro corporalis òåëåñíîé îäåæäå, ñêðûâàåò caro spiritualis, ÷åòâåðòóþ ñòàäèþ òåëåñíîé ýâîëþöèè. Â òî æå âðåìÿ caro spiritualis ó Íåøàò åñòü íå÷òî áîëüøåå, ÷åì íåêîå ïðèðîäíîå òåëî, âçÿòîå âíå ïðåä- ñòàâëåííîé òåêñòîì êóëüòóðíî-ðåëèãèîçíîé òðàäèöèè. Ñîîòíåñåííîñòü òåëà è òåêñòà çäåñü èíàÿ. Åñëè èñõîäèòü èç ïîëîæåíèÿ, ÷òî ñêðûòûé ñìûñë ïåðñèäñêîãî òåêñòà íà ôîòîãðàôèÿõ Íåøàò àíàëîãè÷åí ñêðûâàåìîìó îäåæ- äîé è îðíàìåíòîì òåëó, òî òîãäà ñìûñë òåêñòà è åñòü îòâåò íà çàãàäêó èñêîìîå caro spiritualis; ïðîíèêíîâåíèå æå â ñìûñë òåêñòà àíàëîãè÷íî îêîí÷àòåëüíîìó âîñêðåñåíèþ â caro spiritualis. Ïî È. Ï. Ñìèðíîâó, íåîá- õîäèìîå äëÿ ôîðìèðîâàíèÿ «ÿ» äóáëèðîâàíèå òåëà, êîòîðîå îñóùåñòâëÿ- åò «ß-îáúåêò, êîíñòðóèðóþùèé ñåáå ìèìåòè÷åñêóþ ìàñêó», îêàçûâàåòñÿ âîçìîæíûì áëàãîäàðÿ òîìó, ÷òî ÷åëîâåê óæå ñîäåðæèò â ñåáå äâîéíîå 142 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

«ÿ» îáúåêòíîå è ñóáúåêòíîå. Âíåøíèì îáðàçîì ïîäîáíàÿ âíóòðåííÿÿ äâóòåëåñíîñòü ÷åëîâåêà âûðàæàåòñÿ â íîøåíèè îäåæäû (Ñìèðíîâ 1999, 309). Øèðèí Íåøàò, ïîêðûâàÿ òåëà ôîòîìîäåëåé îðíàìåíòîì ìàñêèðóÿ èõ, äóáëèðóåò òåëî è, òåì ñàìûì, ðåïðåçåíòèðóåò ïðîöåññ ñåìèîòèçàöèè. Ïðè ýòîì, îäíàêî, ïåðåâîðà÷èâàåò ïðèâû÷íóþ ñèñòåìó îòíîøåíèé: ìàñ- êà îêàçûâàåòñÿ ëèöîì. Ýêñïåðèìåíòû Øèðèí Íåøàò, ðåñåìàíòèçèðóþùåé ÷àäðó è ïîêðû- âàëî, îòñûëàþò ê îñíîâíûì ïðèíöèïàì ìèñòè÷åñêîé ïîýçèè ñóôèçìà, ê ñòèõàì Ðóìè. Â ïîýçèè ñóôèçìà ñâåòñêàÿ îáðàçíîñòü (ñòðàñòü, êðàñî- òà, âèíî), à â ñëó÷àå îðèåíòèðîâàííîé íà ñóôèéñêóþ òðàäèöèþ Íåøàò îáðàçíîñòü ñîöèàëüíî-ïîëèòè÷åñêàÿ (÷àäðà, ïîêðûâàëî ýëåìåíòû òðàäèöèîííîé îäåæäû ìóñóëüìàíñêîé æåíùèíû) îáîðà÷èâàþòñÿ ñèì- âîëè÷åñêîé òåðìèíîëîãèåé äóõîâíîé òðàíñôîðìàöèè. Â ñòèõàõ Ðóìè ïîêðûâàëó, ïåëåíå, ÷àäðå (ïîíèìàåìûì â øèðîêîì ñìûñëå, âïëîòü äî ïîêðûâàëà êàê ãðàíèöû ìåæäó òåëîì è äóõîì, æèçíüþ è ñìåðòüþ, «ýòèì» è «òåì» ìèðîì, ñëîâîì è ñêðûòûì â íåì ñìûñëîì) âìåíÿåòñÿ îõðàíè- òåëüíî-ñáåðåãàþùàÿ ôóíêöèÿ ïî îòíîøåíèþ ê òàéíå, àññîöèèðóåìîé ñ ãëóáèíîé; ñðûâàíèå æå ÷àäðû àíàëîãè÷íî ïåðåõîäó îò ãëóáèíû ê ïî- âåðõíîñòè. Òàê, èñòèííûé ñìûñë ñëîâ ñóôèÿ, îáëàäàòåëÿ ìèñòè÷åñêîãî çíàíèÿ, íåäîñòóïåí îêðóæàþùèì åãî îáû÷íûì ëþäÿì, íåâèäèì äëÿ íèõ, êàê íåâèäèì äóõ, çàêëþ÷åííûé â òåëåñíóþ îäåæäó: My secrets are buried within my grief Yet to the eye and ear, that’s no relief Body and soul both unveiled in trust Yet sight of soul for body is not a must. <…> Our secrets unveiled, betrayed, defied. Who has borne deadly opium like the reed? Or lovingly to betterment guide and lead? Of the bloody path, will tell many a tale Of Lover’s love, even beyond the veil. <…> All is the beloved, the lover is the veil. (Rumi The Reed Flute) Íå èñêëþ÷åíî òàêæå çíàêîìñòâî Íåøàò ñ âîçíèêøèì èç ñóôèçìà èäåàëèñòè÷åñêèì ó÷åíèåì õóðóôèçìà. Îñíîâàòåëü õóðóôèçìà, â ïðîøëîì ñóôèé, Ôàçëàëëàõ Àñòðàáàäè (Fazalullah Astrabadi; 740796/13391394), àâòîð íàïèñàííîé íà ÿçûêå ôàðñè «Êíèãè î Âå÷íîì», ðàçðàáàòûâàë êîí- öåïöèþ ñëîâà êàê âûñøåé ôîðìû çâóêà, êîòîðûé, ñîáñòâåííî, è ðàçäåëÿ- ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 143

åò ìèð ðåàëüíûé è ìèð ïîòóñòîðîííèé. Ôàçëàëëàõ ïðèïèñûâàë âûñøèé ñìûñë ñîñòàâëÿþùèì ñëîâî áóêâàì (huruf áóêâà), ïðî÷èòûâàÿ èõ â îê- ðóæàþùåì ìèðå è, â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü, íà ëèöå ÷åëîâåêà êàê çíàê ïðåäíàç- íà÷åíèÿ èëè ñóäüáû. Õóðóôèçì, ïîäîáíî êàááàëå, â ÷àñòíîñòè êíèãå Zohar, ìèñòè÷åñêè èíòåðïðåòèðîâàë ÷àñòè ÷åëîâå÷åñêîãî òåëà; ÷åëî- âåê â õóðóôèçìå ðàññìàòðèâàëñÿ êàê ïðîÿâëåíèå áîæåñòâåííîãî íà÷àëà, ðåçóëüòàò ýìàíàöèè Ìèðîâîãî ðàçóìà. Òàéíà ìèðà, â ðåçóëüòàòå, îêàçûâà- ëàñü íåðàçðûâíî ñâÿçàííîé ñ òàéíîé áóêâ, óãàäàííûõ â ÷åëîâåêå.6 Ôîòî- ãðàôèè Øèðèí Íåøàò èç ñåðèè Women of Allah âûñòóïàþò îò÷àñòè ïðîäîëæåíèåì òðàäèöèè êàááàëû è õóðóôèçìà: îáúåêòèâ âûõâàòûâàåò è àêöåíòèðóåò îïðåäåëåííûå ÷àñòè ÷åëîâå÷åñêîãî òåëà ëèöî, íîãè, ðóêè; íàíåñåííûé æå íà òåëî ïîýòè÷åñêèé òåêñò, êàê è âèäèìûå ïðèñòàëüíîìó âçãëÿäó õóðóôèñòà áóêâû íà ëèöå, òðåáóåò ñâîåé ðàñøèôðîâêè.

Â ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêîé ñåðèè Women of Allah òåêñò-îðíàìåíò, ïî- äîáíî ÷àäðå, ñêðûâàåò òåëî îò âçãëÿäà. Ïåðñèäñêèé ÿçûê ìàñêèðóåò ñìûñë òåêñòà. Ïåðåõîä ê òåêñòó íà ôàðñè ïåðåõîä ê íåðåïðåçåíòàòèâ- íîñòè â ðàìêàõ ðåïðåçåíòàòèâíîãî èñêóññòâà ôîòîãðàôèè; îäíàêî, â ðå- çóëüòàòå ïåðåôîêóñèðîâêè âçãëÿäà ïðîèñõîäèò îòêðûòèå ñìûñëîâîé ãëóáèíû òåêñòà, ñóùåñòâóþùåãî êàê ïàðàëëåëüíîå ñìûñëîâîå îáðàçî- âàíèå. Åñëè èñõîäèòü èç ïîëîæåíèÿ Ì. ßìïîëüñêîãî, ÷òî «ñâåðõêðóï- íûé ïëàí òÿãîòååò ê èíòåíñèâíûì ñîçåðöàíèÿì, â êîòîðûõ èíòåíñèâ- íîñòü ïðèñóòñòâèÿ çàñëîíÿåò ñîáîé èíòåëëåêòóàëüíûé ñèíòåç â âîñïðè- ÿòèè îáúåêòà» (ßìïîëüñêèé 2001, 50), òî èíòåíñèâíîå âîñïðèÿòèå äîëæíî èñêëþ÷èòü íà ôîòîãðàôèÿõ Íåøàò óâåëè÷åííûé ôðàãìåíò òåëà è ïåðåêëþ÷èòü ñîçåðöàíèå íà ïîêðûâàþùèé òåëî òåêñò êàê íà íåêóþ èçîëèðîâàííóþ òåëåñíóþ äåòàëü. Òîãäà â ðåçóëüòàòå äåêîìïîçèöèè è äåèåðàðõèçàöèè îðíàìåíòàëüíûé òåêñò, â ñëó÷àå îáû÷íîãî ïëàíà âû- ïîëíÿþùèé äåêîðàòèâíóþ è/èëè ôîíîâóþ ôóíêöèþ, âûäâèãàåòñÿ íà ïåðåäíèé ïëàí. Ïîâåðõíîñòü æå òåëà, íàïðîòèâ, íà÷èíàåò èñïîëíÿòü ðîëü áóìàãè, ôîíà, äëÿ òåêñòà-ñîîáùåíèÿ. Âíóòðåííÿÿ ôîðìà çíàêà êîãíè- òèâíûé êîìïîíåíò âåðáàëüíîãî òåêñòà, âêëþ÷åííîãî â õóäîæåñòâåííóþ ñèñòåìó ôîòîãðàôèè, âîññòàíàâëèâàåòñÿ, îäíàêî, íå ïðîíèêíîâåíèåì âî âíóòðåííþþ ôîðìó òåêñòà, íî êîíñòðóèðóåòñÿ èç ñîîòíåñåííîñòè ñåìèîòèêè ôîòîãðàôèè è èíòåðòåêñòà, ê êîòîðîìó íà ôîòîãðàôèÿõ Øèðèí Íåøàò îòñûëàþò ñòðîêè íà ôàðñè.7 Â êà÷åñòâå ðåôåðåíòà, îò÷à- ñòè àâòîðåôëåêñèâíîãî, âûñòóïàåò òîò áîëåå øèðîêèé èðàíñêèé ïîýòè- 144 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

÷åñêèé êîíòåêñò, ôðàãìåíòîì êîòîðîãî è ÿâëÿþòñÿ äàííûå ñòðîêè, à èìåííî ïîýòè÷åñêîå òâîð÷åñòâî Ôîðóõ Ôàððîõçàä (Forugh Farrokhzad) è, âïðî÷åì, â ìåíüøåé ñòåïåíè, Òàõåðåõ Ñàôôàðçàäåõ (Tahereh Saffarzadeh). Èíòåëëåêòóàëüíûé ñèíòåç, êîòîðîìó îòêàçûâàåò ßìïîëü- ñêèé â ñâåðõêðóïíîì ïëàíå, ðåàëèçóåòñÿ â ôîòîãðàôèÿõ Íåøàò â èíòåð- òåêñòóàëüíîì âçàèìîäåéñòâèè òåëà-òåêñòà è ïîýòè÷åñêîãî òåêñòà, ñóùå- ñòâóþùåãî â ñîçíàíèè çíàêîìîãî ñ èðàíñêîé ïîýçèåé ðåöèïèåíòà ïà- ðàëëåëüíî âîñïðèÿòèþ îáúåêòà. Òàê, ôîòîóâåëè÷åíèå è ôðàãìåíòàöèÿ, ïðèáëèæàÿ ê ïîâåðõíîñòè òåëà, ïðèáëèæàþò, â ðåçóëüòàòå, ê òîé òðóä- íîäîñòóïíîé çîíå áëèçêîãî â òåðìèíîëîãèè Ì. ßìïîëüñêîãî, êîòîðàÿ çàùèùåíà «íåâåðîÿòíîé áëèçîñòüþ ê òàêîé çàãàäî÷íîé, âå÷íî óñêîëü- çàþùåé èíñòàíöèè, êàê íàøå ß» (ßìïîëüñêèé 2001, 6). Ôîðóõ Ôàððîõçàä (19351967), àâòîð ïîýòè÷åñêèõ ñáîðíèêîâ Captive (Asir, 1955), Wall (Divar, 1956), Rebellion (Esyan, 1958), Another Birth (Tavallodi Digar, 1964), îïóáëèêîâàííîãî ïî- ñìåðòíî ñáîðíèêà Let Us Believe In The Beginning Of The Cold Season (Iman Biyavarim beh Agnaz-e Fasl-e Sard, 1974) è íåñêîëüêèõ ôèëü- ìîâ, ïðèâëåêàåò âíèìàíèå êàê ñâîèì òâîð÷åñòâîì îäíà èç íàèáîëåå çíà÷èòåëüíûõ æåíñêèõ ôèãóð â ïåðñèäñêîé ïîýçèè, òàê è ôàêòàìè áèî- ãðàôèè: â 17 ëåò âûøëà çàìóæ âîïðåêè æåëàíèþ ðîäñòâåííèêîâ, â 19 ëåò ïîëó÷èëà ðàçâîä è áûëà âûíóæäåíà îñòàâèòü ñûíà, êîòîðîãî ñ òåõ ïîð áîëüøå íå âèäåëà, â 20 ëåò îïóáëèêîâàëà ïåðâûé ñáîðíèê ñòèõîâ è, ïåðåæèâ íåðâíûé êðèçèñ, ïðîâåëà íåñêîëüêî ìåñÿöåâ â ïñèõèàòðè÷åñ- êîé êëèíèêå, â íåïîëíûõ 30 ëåò óæå áûëà àâòîðîì ÷åòûðåõ ñáîðíèêîâ ñòèõîâ è ôèëüìà î êîëîíèè ïðîêàæåííûõ (The House is Black), â 32 ãîäà òðàãè÷åñêè ïîãèáëà â àâòîêàòàñòðîôå. Ìîòèâíàÿ ñòðóêòóðà ïîýòè÷åñ- êîãî òâîð÷åñòâà Ôîðóõ Ôàððîõçàä îáîçíà÷åíà â íàçâàíèÿõ ïîýòè÷åñêèõ ñáîðíèêîâ: ïëåííèê, ñòåíà, âîññòàíèå, íîâîå ðîæäåíèå. Îáðàç ñòåíû, îäèí èç öåíòðàëüíûõ â åå ïîýçèè, ñòàë ïî èðîíèè ñóäüáû èòîãîâûì â æèçíè: àâòîìîáèëü Ôîðóõ, êîòîðàÿ íàïðàâëÿëàñü äîìîé ïîñëå ïîñåùå- íèÿ ìàòåðè, âðåçàëñÿ â ñòåíó, êîãäà îíà, íàõîäÿñü çà ðóëåì, ïûòàëàñü èçáåæàòü ñòîëêíîâåíèÿ ñî âñòðå÷íîé ìàøèíîé. Ëèðè÷åñêàÿ ãåðîèíÿ ïåðâûõ ñáîðíèêîâ «ïòèöà â êëåòêå», ìîëî- äàÿ æåíùèíà, æåëàþùàÿ âûðâàòüñÿ íà ñâîáîäó è îãðàíè÷åííàÿ, êàê êëåò- êîé, ñîöèàëüíûìè êîíâåíöèÿìè. Êîíêðåòíàÿ ïîýòèêà îäèíî÷åñòâà è íåñâîáîäû ïåðâîãî ñáîðíèêà ñ åãî ìåòàôîðè÷åñêèì îáðàçîì ïòèöû- ïëåííèöû ïåðåðàñòàåò âî âòîðîì ñáîðíèêå â îáîáùåííûé îáðàç ïëåíà, ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 145

òåìàòèçèðîâàííûé â ìîòèâå ïðåãðàäû, ñòåíû êàê óíèâåðñàëüíîé ãðà- íèöû ìåæäó îáëàñòÿìè ñâîáîäû è íåñâîáîäû: Now, again in the silent night, sequestrant walls, border walls like plants entwine < >. (Border Walls) Ñòåíà âòîðîé ïëàí ôîòîãðàôèé Íåøàò, âûäâèãàþùèõ íà ïåðåäíèé ïëàí ôèãóðó æåíùèíû (ïî ïîÿñ èëè â ïîëíûé ðîñò) èëè æåíùèíû è ðå- áåíêà (Faceless, Rebellious Silence, Untitled 1996, Seeking Martyrdom ¹2). Ñîïîëîæåííîñòü â ðàìêàõ îäíîé ñåðèè ôîòîãðàôèé, ãäå òåêñò íàíîñèòñÿ íà ëèöî èëè òåëî (Whispers, Faceless, Stories of Martyrdom, Guardians of Revolution, Rebellious Silence, Speechless, Lesbo), ñ ôîòîãðàôèÿìè, ãäå òåêñò ðàñïîëàãàåòñÿ íà ñòåíå (Seeking Martyrdom #2), ïðèâîäèò ê ïàðàëëåëèçìó òåëà è ñòåíû, àêöåíòèðóÿ îáðàç òåëåñíîé îäåæäû êàê ãðàíèöû, çà êîòî- ðîé íàõîäèòñÿ îáëàñòü ñâîáîäû caro spiritualis.8 Ïåðâàÿ âèäåîèíñòàë- ëÿöèÿ Øèðèí Íåøàò Anchorage, òåìàòè÷åñêè ïðîäîëæàþùàÿ è ðàçâèâà- þùàÿ ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêóþ ñåðèþ Women of Allah, áûëà ñîçäàíà äëÿ îï- ðåäåëåííîãî ìåñòà ïîäçåìíîé ÷àñòè Áðóêëèíñêîãî ìîñòà â Íüþ-Éîðêå. Òàêèì îáðàçîì, ôèëüì, èçîáðàæàþùèé æåíùèíó (Øèðèí Íåøàò) â òðåõ ðàçëè÷íûõ âèäàõ äåÿòåëüíîñòè (ìîëèòâå, óïðàæíåíèÿõ â ñòðåëüáå è òàíöå äåðâèøåé), ïðîåöèðîâàëñÿ íà ýêðàí, âïèñàííûé â êèðïè÷íóþ êëàäêó ïîäçåìåëüÿ ìîñòà ñòåíó, î÷åð÷èâàþùóþ ãðàíèöû ïðåäñòàâëåííîãî â ôèëüìå ìèðà, â êîòîðîì ãåðîèíÿ, óïðàæíÿÿñü â ñòðåëüáå è òàíöóÿ, ïåðå- õîäèò, â ñâîþ î÷åðåäü, ãðàíèöó (ñòåíó), ðàçäåëÿþùóþ ìóæñêóþ è æåíñ- êóþ ñôåðû. Ïîçäíåå â îäíîì èç êàäðîâ ôèëüìà Soliloquy êàìåðà ôèêñè- ðóåò ðóêè ãåðîèíè (Øèðèí Íåøàò), îò÷àÿííî ñæèìàþùèå ïðóòüÿ ðåøåò- êè íà îêíå çäàíèÿ êàäð, îòñûëàþùèé ê îáðàçó «ïòèöû â êëåòêå». Â ôèëüìå Rapture îãðàíè÷åííîå ñòåíàìè êðåïîñòè «ìóæñêîå» ïðîñòðàí- ñòâî ïðîòèâîïîñòàâëåíî îòêðûòîìó «æåíñêîìó» ïðîñòðàíñòâó ïóñòûíè. Çäåñü Íåøàò ïðèáåãàåò ê ïðîçðà÷íîé ñèìâîëèêå ñòåíû êàê ðåïðåçåíòà- öèè êàíîíèçèðîâàííîãî ñîöèàëüíîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî ìóæ- ÷èíû, êîòîðîå îí íå â ñîñòîÿíèè ïîêèíóòü (ìóæ÷èíû â ôèíàëå ôèëüìà îñòàþòñÿ â ñòåíàõ êðåïîñòè). Òàêèì îáðàçîì, ñîçäàåòñÿ êàê îáðàç ïëåí- íèêà-ìóæ÷èíû, òàê è èíäèôôåðåíòíûé â ãåíäåðíîì îòíîøåíèè óíèâåð- ñàëüíûé îáðàç ïëåííèêà. Ôàððîõçàä øèðîêî èñïîëüçóåò ìåòàôîðó îêíà êàê îòêðûòîãî â ñòå- íå ïðîõîäà â äðóãîé ìèð, â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü, ìèð äðóãîãî íåâèçóàëüíî- 146 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

ãî âîñïðèÿòèÿ: â ìèð çàïàõîâ, çâóêîâ, îùóùåíèé, ìîë÷àíèÿ è ò.ï., à òàêæå îêíà êàê âûõîäà â ñâîáîäíîå ïðîñòðàíñòâî: < > if you come to my house, friend bring me a lamp and a window I can look through at the crowd in the happy alley. (Gift) Îêîííîå ñòåêëî âûñòóïàåò êàê ãðàíèöà ìåæäó çîíàìè îïîñðåäî- âàííîãî è íåïîñðåäñòâåííîãî, ðåïðåçåíòàòèâíîãî è íåðåïðåçåíòàòèâ- íîãî. Ôîòîãðàôèÿ, êàê è êàðòèíà, ïðàêòè÷åñêè ñòåðòàÿ ìåòàôîðà îêíà. Ôîòîãðàôèè Íåøàò ñåðèè Women of Allah îêíà â ðåàëüíîñòü èðàíñ- êîé àíòèøàõñêîé ðåâîëþöèè è îêíà âî âíóòðåííèé ìèð õóäîæíèöû. Ïîèñê íîâîé èäåíòè÷íîñòè ñáëèæàåò õóäîæåñòâåííûå èñêàíèÿ Øè- ðèí Íåøàò è Ôîðóõ Ôàððîõçàä, ïîðîæäàÿ ñõîäíóþ ïðîöåññóàëüíóþ, èëè äèíàìè÷åñêóþ èäåíòè÷íîñòü. Èññëåäîâàòåëè îáðàùàþò âíèìàíèå íà íåòèïè÷íóþ äëÿ æåíñêîé è, â îñîáåííîñòè, æåíñêîé ïåðñèäñêîé ïî- ýçèè èíòåðïðåòàöèþ îïïîçèöèè äèíàìèêè è ñòàòèêè â ñòèõàõ Ôàððîõ- çàä. Îäíàêî åñëè äëÿ Ôàððîõçàä âñòóïëåíèå â íîâóþ èäåíòè÷íîñòü åñòü ñòàíîâëåíèå â íîâîé ñîöèàëüíîé ðîëè, îòëè÷íîé îò òðàäèöèîííîé ðîëè æåíû è ìàòåðè, òî äëÿ Øèðèí Íåøàò, íîâàÿ èäåíòè÷íîñòü ñêîðåå ìûñ- ëèòñÿ êàê íîâàÿ èðàíî-àìåðèêàíñêàÿ ãåîïîëèòè÷åñêàÿ îòíåñåííîñòü. Â ýòîì îòíîøåíèè äëÿ Íåøàò àêòóàëüíà ïîýçèÿ Òàõåðåõ Ñàôôàðçàäåõ (1936 ã. ð.), ôðàãìåíòû òåêñòîâ êîòîðîé òàêæå âñòðå÷àþòñÿ íà ôîòîãðà- ôèÿõ. Â îòëè÷èå îò Ôîðóõ Ôàððîõçàä, êîòîðàÿ â ñâîèõ ñòèõàõ íå îáðàùà- ëàñü ê âîïðîñàì èðàíñêîé è àðàáñêîé èäåíòè÷íîñòè, Òàõåðåõ Ñàôôàðçà- äåõ àâòîð, ïðàêòèêóþùèé èñëàì è óòâåðæäàþùèé åãî óíèâåðñàëüíûé íàäíàöèîíàëüíûé õàðàêòåð, ÷òî â öåëîì ñîçâó÷íî ãåîïîëèòè÷åñêèì èí- òåðåñàì Øèðèí Íåøàò, ñòðåìÿùåéñÿ ñîåäèíèòü ïðîòèâîïîëîæíîñòè, â ò.÷. Âîñòîê è Çàïàä. Âïðî÷åì, íåñìîòðÿ íà îïðåäåëåííîå ðàçëè÷èå êàê õóäîæåñòâåííûõ ïîçèöèé, òàê è âûðàçèòåëüíûõ ñðåäñòâ Øèðèí Íåøàò è Ôîðóõ Ôàððîõçàä, îáùåå äëÿ õóäîæíèöû è ïîýòà ÷óâñòâî íåñòàáèëüíîñ- òè, ñâÿçàííîå ó îáåèõ ñ ïîòåðåé ïî ðàçíûì ïðè÷èíàì ðîäíîãî äîìà, ïî- ðîæäàåò îáùèé äëÿ èõ òâîð÷åñòâà ìîòèâ ïóòè-ïîëåòà-áåãñòâà: ó Ôàððîõ- çàä èç îãðàíè÷åííîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà äîìà-êëåòêè â óòîïè÷åñêîå ïðîñòðàí- ñòâî ñâîáîäû îò ñîöèàëüíîñòè ïðîñòðàíñòâî ëþáâè, ó Íåøàò èç âîåíèçèðîâàííîé è ïîëèòèçèðîâàííîé äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè ïåðèîäà àíòè- øàõñêîé ðåâîëþöèè òåëåñíîé òþðüìû â ñâîáîäíîå äóõîâíîå ïðîñòðàí- ñòâî ïîýçèè è ëþáâè, à, â ðåçóëüòàòå, îñâîáîæäåíèå îò ïðåæíåé èäåíòè÷- ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 147

íîñòè «êëåòêè» ó îáåèõ æåíùèí. Õàðàêòåðíîå, â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü, äëÿ ýìèãðàíòîâ, à òàêæå äëÿ âñåõ, òàê èëè èíà÷å óòðàòèâøèõ ðîäíîé äîì, ñòðåìëåíèå ê ðàâíîâåñèþ è óñ- òîé÷èâîñòè íàðÿäó ñ íåîáõîäèìîñòüþ ñìÿã÷åíèÿ ïîñëåäñòâèé ïðîèçî- øåäøåé ïåðåìåíû ìåñòà, ñîñòîÿíèÿ è ñòàòóñà èíèöèèðóåò âîçíèêíîâå- íèå â ïîýçèè Ôàððîõçàä òåìû ïóòåøåñòâèÿ, â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü, ñåíòè- ìåíòàëüíîãî ïóòåøåñòâèÿ ïî ïàìÿòè òåìû, êîòîðàÿ ïîÿâèòñÿ ó Íåøàò ïðè ïåðåõîäå îò ôîòîãðàôèè ê âèäåî: At last one day… I’ll flee from the illusion of conceiving doubt And I’ll radiate like a perfume from the colourful flower of dreams And I’ll diffuse into the wavy hair of night’s zephyr And travel to the very beaches of the Sun In a silent world, within an eternity of calmness. (The Wall) Ïî È. Ï. Ñìèðíîâó, õóäîæíèê-àâàíãàðäèñò çàíèìàåò èñêëþ÷èòåëü- íóþ ïîçèöèþ è â îòðèöàåìîé, è â óòâåðæäàåìîé èì ñèñòåìå, ÷òî ñâèäå- òåëüñòâóåò î êîíòðàäèêòîðíîñòè åãî ýñòåòè÷åñêîãî ñîçíàíèÿ (Ñìèðíîâ 1982, 7273). Ýìèãðàíò, êàê ÷åëîâåê ãðàíèöû, òàêæå ñòðåìèòñÿ çàíÿòü ìàðãèíàëüíóþ ïîçèöèþ â îáîèõ ìèðàõ â ìèðå ïðîøëîãî, ñ êîòîðûì îí ðàññòàåòñÿ, è â íîâîì ìèðå, êóäà îí ñòðåìèòñÿ âîéòè. Õóäîæåñòâåííóþ ïîçèöèþ Øèðèí Íåøàò îòëè÷àåò äâîéíàÿ êîíòðàäèêòîðíîñòü. Ñ îäíîé ñòîðîíû, àìåðèêàíñêàÿ õóäîæíèöà èðàíñêîãî ïðîèñõîæäåíèÿ, Íåøàò çà- íèìàåò ìàðãèíàëüíîå ïîëîæåíèå êàê íà èðàíñêîé ðîäèíå, òàê è â ÑØÀ; øèðå êàê íà Âîñòîêå, òàê è íà Çàïàäå. Ñ äðóãîé ñòîðîíû, õóäîæíèê- àâàíãàðäèñò, îíà áàëàíñèðóåò íà ãðàíèöå ïîñòìîäåðíèçìà è ïîñò-ïîñò- ìîäåðíèçìà. Â ðåçóëüòàòå, êîíòðàäèêòîðíîñòü ñòàíîâèòñÿ îñíîâíîé õà- ðàêòåðèñòèêîé õóäîæåñòâåííîãî ìèðà õóäîæíèöû. Çà î÷åâèäíîé äëÿ çðè- òåëÿ è íåîäíîêðàòíî îòìå÷àåìîé èññëåäîâàòåëÿìè â åå ïðîèçâåäåíèÿõ ïðîòèâîïîñòàâëåííîñòüþ ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî ìèðà Âîñòîêà è ìèðà çàïàä- íîé öèâèëèçàöèè, çà íå ìåíåå î÷åâèäíîé ïðîòèâîïîñòàâëåííîñòüþ ìóæ- ñêîãî è æåíñêîãî ìèðîâ â ìóñóëüìàíñêîì ìèðå (â äàëüíåéøåì àêöåíòè- ðóåìîé â ôèëüìàõ Íåøàò ïàðàëëåëüíîé ïðîåêöèåé íà äâà ýêðàíà) ñêðû- âàåòñÿ íå ñòîëü î÷åâèäíàÿ, íî, ïîæàëóé, íå ìåíåå õóäîæåñòâåííî çíà÷èìàÿ êîíòðàäèêòîðíîñòü ñìûñëîâîãî ìèðà ôîòîïðîèçâåäåíèÿ, âîçíèêàþùàÿ â ðåçóëüòàòå ñîåäèíåíèÿ ðåïðåçåíòàòèâíîãî ôèãóðàòèâíîãî è íåðåïðåçåí- 148 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

òàòèâíîãî íåôèãóðàòèâíîãî ñïîñîáîâ êîíñòðóèðîâàíèÿ ñìûñëà. Ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêàÿ ñåðèÿ Øèðèí Íåøàò Women of Allah ïðè- ìåð êàòàõðåçû, êîòîðóþ ìîæíî îáîçíà÷èòü êàê êàòàõðåçó ðåïðåçåíòà- òèâíóþ. Òàê, âêëþ÷åíèå òåêñòà íà ôàðñè â õóäîæåñòâåííîå ïðîñòðàí- ñòâî ôîòîãðàôèé Øèðèí Íåøàò óìåíüøàåò (â àóäèòîðèè, íå âëàäåþ- ùåé ïåðñèäñêèì ÿçûêîì, àííóëèðóåò) îáúåì çíà÷åíèÿ òåêñòà êàê ñîîáùåíèÿ. Ïðè ýòîì êàòàõðåçà ðåîðãàíèçóåò îáúåì çíà÷åíèÿ òåêñòà íà ôàðñè â ðåçóëüòàòå ñîåäèíåíèÿ âèçóàëüíîãî è íåâèçóàëüíîãî õóäî- æåñòâåííûõ ñðåäñòâ âûðàæåíèÿ: ôðàãìåíòû ñòèõîòâîðåíèé Ôîðóõ Ôàððîõçàä è Òàõåðåõ Ñàôôàðçàäåõ ñâÿçûâàþòñÿ â ñîçíàíèè çðèòåëåé/ ÷èòàòåëåé ñ ïîýòè÷åñêèì òâîð÷åñòâîì èðàíñêèõ ïîýòåññ êàê åäèíûì òåêñòîì. Êîíòðàäèêòîðíîñòü õóäîæåñòâåííîé ñèñòåìû ñìûñëà, ñîåäè- íÿþùåé íåâèçóàëüíûé âåðáàëüíûé òåêñò è íåâåðáàëüíûå âèçóàëüíûå ñðåäñòâà, àêöåíòèðóåò ãåòåðîãåííîñòü ñîñòàâëÿþùèõ ôîòîãðàôè÷åñ- êóþ ñåðèþ êîìïîíåíòîâ. ×åëîâåê â êàòàõðåñòè÷åñêîé êàðòèíå ìèðà â åãî èíäèâèäóàëüíîé, ñîöèàëüíîé è ðîäîâîé ðîëÿõ èçîáðàæàåòñÿ â êà- ÷åñòâå ÷åëîâåêà îò÷óæäåííîãî (Ñìèðíîâ 1982, 7980). Â Women of Allah â çîíå îò÷óæäåíèÿ íå òîëüêî ÷åëîâåê êàê ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêèé îáúåêò, íî è òåêñò íà ôàðñè. Òåêñò îò÷óæäàåòñÿ: êàê íåôèãóðàòèâíîå ñðåäñòâî âûðàæåíèÿ, êàê òåêñò íà íåçíàêîìîì íååâðîïåéñêîì è/èëè íåàðàáñêîì ÿçûêå, êàê ôðàãìåíòàðíûé òåêñò, è, íàêîíåö, êàê òåêñò. Åñëè ó÷åñòü, ÷òî â çîíå îò÷óæäåíèÿ íàõîäèòñÿ ýìèãðàíò â ïåðèîä ïåðåõîäà ê íîâîé èäåíòè÷íîñòè, òî òîãäà òåêñò íà ôàðñè â êîíòåêñòå ôîòîñåðèè Women of Allah çàíèìàåò ïîçèöèþ ñâîåîáðàçíîãî òåêñòà-ýìèãðàí- òà. Ñ îäíîé ñòîðîíû, òåêñò íà ôàðñè îòäåëèëñÿ îò ôèãóðàòèâíîé ðåï- ðåçåíòàòèâíîñòè ôîòîãðàôèè, âèçóàëüíûìè ñðåäñòâàìè ðàçðàáàòûâà- þùåé èðàíñêóþ ò.å. áëèçêîðîäñòâåííóþ òåìó, ñ äðóãîé ñòîðîíû, îí íå âîøåë â ñèñòåìó âåðáàëüíûõ ñðåäñòâ õóäîæåñòâåííîé âûðàçè- òåëüíîñòè. Â òî æå âðåìÿ ïîçèöèÿ ýìèãðàíòà åñòü ìåòàïîçèöèÿ è, â ðåçóëüòàòå, òåêñò íà ôîòîãðàôèÿõ Íåøàò êîíñòðóèðóåò íîâóþ, ìåòà- îïèñàòåëüíóþ, ñèñòåìó ñìûñëà, íàõîäÿñü â äâóõ êîíòåêñòàõ, ôîòî- ãðàôè÷åñêîì è ïîýòè÷åñêîì. Òåêñò íà ôàðñè îäíîâðåìåííî çàìåùàåò ñòîÿùèé çà íèì ïîýòè÷åñêèé òåêñò è èñêëþ÷àåò åãî, ñáëèæàÿñü ñ îð- íàìåíòîì è âûñòóïàÿ êàê ñàìîäîñòàòî÷íîå õóäîæåñòâåííîå ñîîáùå- íèå. Òåêñò íà ôàðñè, ïðàêòè÷åñêè íåäîñòóïíûé ïðî÷òåíèþ, ôðàãìåí- òàðíûé, ýòî îñòàòêè, èëè îáëîìêè, âåðáàëüíîãî èñêóññòâà, îòñòó- ïèâøåãî ïåðåä âèçóàëüíûì, è îòñûëêà ê íåìó. ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 149

Â ïîýçèè Ôàððîõçàä ñåìàíòè÷åñêèå ïîëÿ ñòåíû, ïðåãðàäû, èíèöèè- ðóþùèå òåìó áåãñòâà-ïóòåøåñòâèÿ, ïåðåñåêàþòñÿ ñ ñåìàíòè÷åñêèì ïî- ëåì âçãëÿäà; ñîáñòâåííî, âçãëÿä Äðóãîãî, èñêëþ÷àÿ èç ïîëÿ âîñïðèÿòèÿ ñóáúåêòà îêðóæàþùèé ìèð, è ñîçäàåò ïðåãðàäó ìåæäó «ß» è ìèðîì: With the cold moments of the past fleeting by, Your wild eyes contained in your silent demeanor build a wall around me And I flee from you to a pathless path. <…> But your eyes with their silent scream Will blur my vision Like your dark secrets that Build a wall around me. (The Wall) Ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêàÿ ñåðèÿ Íåøàò ïîïûòêà çàôèêñèðîâàòü è îòðà- çèòü îáðàùåííûé íà ñåáÿ âçãëÿä ñåáÿ êàê Äðóãîãî. Íà áîëüøèíñòâå ôîòîãðàôèé âçãëä Íåøàò-ìîäåëè îáðàùåí ê çðèòåëþ, â ò.÷. è ê ñåáå â ìåòàïîçèöèè íàáëþäàòåëÿ: Offered Eyes (1993), Faceless (1994), Rebellious Silence (1994), Speechless (1996). Â ñëó÷àå æå ôèêñàöèè âçãëÿäà Äðóãîãî (ìóæ÷èíû, ìàëü÷èêà) âçãëÿä Íåøàò-ìîäåëè èçáåãàåò âñòðå÷è: Whispers (1997), Untitled (1996). Íà ôîòîãðàôèè Offered Eyes òåêñò ïî- êðûâàåò ïîâåðõíîñòü ãëàçíîãî ÿáëîêà, òåì ñàìûì, âìåíÿÿ íå òîëüêî òåëó, íî è ãëàçó íîñèòåëþ âçãëÿäà ðîëü ãðàíèöû ìåæäó ìèðàìè. Â òî æå âðåìÿ àâòîîáúåêòíàÿ ôîòîãðàôèÿ ýòî ïîèñê ñâîåãî îáðàçà, ñàìîèäåí- òèôèêàöèÿ. Òîãäà ôîòîãðàôèÿ íà÷èíàåò âûïîëíÿòü ôóíêöèè çåðêàëà. Èäåÿ çåðêàëüíîñòè óòâåðæäàåòñÿ â ñóðàõ Êîðàíà: òâàðíûé ìèð ïîäîáåí çåðêàëó, â êîòîðîå ñìîòðèò Áîã. «Ìåñíåâè» (1273), îñíîâíîå ïðîèçâåäåíèå Ðóìè, íàïèñàííîå èì äëÿ ÷ëåíîâ ñóôèéñêîãî áðàòñòâà, âêëþ÷àåò 25 632 áåéòà ñî ñìåæíîé «çåðêàëüíîé» ðèôìîâêîé (àà áá ââ ãã). Èäåÿ çåðêàëüíîñòè çàêëþ÷åíà â ñàìîì íàçâàíèè ïîýìû, ñî- âïàäàþùåì ñ íàçâàíèåì òâåðäîé ôîðìû ïåðñèäñêîé ïîýçèè «ìåñíå- âè», êîòîðîå ïåðåâîäèòñÿ êàê äâîéñòâåííûé. Ñðåäè ïîñëåäîâàòåëåé õóðóôèçìà, ñëåäû êîòîðîãî îòûñêèâàþòñÿ â òâîð÷åñòâå Øèðèí Íåøàò, òþðêñêèé ïîýò, â ïðîøëîì ïðèâåðæåíåö ñóôèçìà Ñåéèä Èìàäåääèí Íàñèìè (Imadeddin Nasimi; 13691417),9 âñëåä çà õóðóôèñòàìè ðàñ- ñìàòðèâàâøèé ñëîâî, áóêâó â êà÷åñòâå ìèðîâîé ìàòåðèè è óòâåðæäàâ- øèé òîæäåñòâåííîñòü ÷åëîâåêà Áîãó è áîæåñòâåííîñòü ÷åëîâåêà, â ñâîþ 150 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

î÷åðåäü, îòðàæåííîãî â îêðóæàþùåì ìèðå: Âñå â ìèðå ÷åëîâåê, îí ñâåò è ìèðîçäàíüå, È ñîëíöå â íåáåñàõ åñòü ÷åëîâå÷èé ëèê. (Íàñèìè 2001, 265) Â ïîýòè÷åñêîì íàñëåäèè Íàñèìè îñîáîå ìåñòî çàíèìàþò «çåðêàëü- íûå» ãàçåëè; â íèõ îáðàçóþùèå áåéò ïîëóñòèøèÿ (ìèñðà) çåðêàëüíî ïîâòîðÿþò äðóã äðóãà.10 Ðóìè èíòåðïðåòèðóåò çåðêàëî êàê âíóòðåííåå çðåíèå, ïðîòèâîïîñòàâëÿÿ åãî îáû÷íîìó âíåøíåìó çðåíèþ: Close both eyes to see with the other eye. (Rumi. A Community of the Spirit// Persian Poets 2000, 93); This mirror inside me shows I cant say what, but I cant not know! (Rumi. The Shape of My Tongue// Persian Poets 2000, 104)11 Â ñëó÷àå îòñóòñòâèÿ àâòîñîçåðöàíèÿ ïîòåíöèàëüíàÿ ãèïåðìíåçèÿ ÷åëîâå÷åñêîãî ãëàçà (An eye is meant to see things; Rumi Someone Digging in the Ground // Persian Poets 2000, 111)12 ÷ðåâàòà îïàñíîñòüþ ïîòåðè ñóáúåêòíîñòè â çåðêàëüíûõ îòðàæåíèÿõ. Åñëè âñëåä çà Ì. ßì- ïîëüñêèì ïðèíÿòü òî÷êó çðåíèÿ Ñàðòðà î íåâîçìîæíîñòè îäíîâðåìåí- íîãî âîñïðèÿòèÿ ìèðà è îáðàùåííîãî íà íàñ âçãëÿäà (ßìïîëüñêèé 2001, 205),13 òî íàõîäèò îáúÿñíåíèå ñëåïîòà êàê ðåçóëüòàò âñòðå÷è ñ âçãëÿäîì Äðóãîãî. Âñòðå÷à æå ñ îáðàùåííûì íà ñåáÿ ñâîèì ñîáñòâåííûì âçãëÿ- äîì, îñîçíàíèå ñóáúåêòîì ñâîåé ÿ-îáúåêòíîñòè â ðåçóëüòàòå ïîçèöèî- íèðîâàíèÿ ñåáÿ êàê çåðêàëüíîãî îáúåêòà âíóòðåííåãî çðåíèÿ, åñòü, íà- ïðîòèâ, àêòèâèçàöèÿ ïàìÿòè, âåäóùàÿ ê ãèïåðçðåíèþ è ê îòêðûòèþ â ñåáå òðàíñöåíäåíòíîãî íà÷àëà. Ìîíèñòè÷åñêèé ñóôèçì, íàøåäøèé îòðà- æåíèå â ïîýçèè Ðóìè, óòâåðæäàåò åäèíåíèå ñ Äðóãèì, óïîäîáëåíèå äóøè ìèñòèêà è Áîãà. Â ðåçóëüòàòå, ñóôèé åñòü âëþáëåííûé, âîçëþáëåííûé è ñàìà ëþáîâü, ò.å. îäíîâðåìåííî ñóáúåêò, îáúåêò è ñóáúåêòíî-îáúåêò- íàÿ ñâÿçü. Òîãäà âçãëÿä íà ñåáÿ â çåðêàëå, äåìîíñòðèðóþùèé ñîåäèíå- íèå ñóáúåêòíî-îáúåêòíîãî â ïðîöåññå ñîçåðöàíèÿ ñâîåãî çåðêàëüíîãî îòðàæåíèÿ, è åñòü àíàëîã ñóôèéñêîé ìèñòè÷åñêîé ñâÿçè:14 We are the mirror as well as the face in it. We are tasting the taste this minute Of eternity (Rumi Quatrains // Persian Poets 2000, 110); Ðóìè ïèøåò î çåðêàëå êàê î âîçìîæíîñòè âûõîäà â òðàíñöåíäåíòíîå: ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 151

Like a bird thats in flight without a care How can I be aware, see whats around, If there is no showing light or telling sound? Seek the love that cannot be confined Reflection in the mirror is object defined. Do you know why the mirror never lies? Because keeping a clean face is its prize. (Rumi The Reed Flute) Â ñòèõàõ Ôîðóõ Ôàððîõçàä ëîêàëèçîâàííûé â ïðîñòðàíñòâåííî- âðåìåííîì êîíòèíóóìå ïîýòè÷åñêèé îáðàç âîçíèêàåò â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü èç çåðêàëüíîãî îòðàæåíèÿ; èãíîðèðîâàíèå æå «çåðêàëüíîé» ñòàäèè çàê- ðûâàåò äîñòóï â èäåàëüíîå óòîïè÷åñêîå ïðîñòðàíñòâî ñâîáîäû. Êàê èç- âåñòíî, ïåðñîíîëîãè÷íîñòü ñóáúåêòó ñîîáùàåò îñîçíàíèå èì ñâîåé îáúåêòíîñòè.15 Øèðèí Íåøàò îäíîâðåìåííî ñóáúåêò è îáúåêò ñåðèè Women of Allah, àâòîð è ìîäåëü, ïîçèöèîíèðóþùèé è ïîçèöèîíèðóå- ìûé. Ïàðòèöèïèðîâàâ íå ïðèíàäëåæàùèé åé îïûò, ïîìûñëèâ ÷óæîå êàê ñâîå è çàíÿâ ìåñòî Äðóãîãî, Íåøàò âõîäèò â ðîëü «æåíùèíû Àëëà- õà» æåíùèíû-èðàíêè â ïåðèîä àíòèøàõñêîé ðåâîëþöèè. Ïåðåéäÿ çà- òåì â ìåòàïîçèöèþ, îíà ïðåîäîëåâàåò óçêèå ðàìêè ñòàâøåãî ëè÷íûì îïûòà è ïðåäëàãàåò ñâîåãî ïðî÷òåíèå íåäàâíåãî èðàíñêîãî ïðîøëîãî. Äëÿ Íåøàò êàê âõîæäåíèå â ðîëü, òàê è ìåòàïîçèöèÿ ñðåäñòâî ñàìî- ïîçíàíèÿ. Ôîðìèðîâàíèå ñàìîñîçíàíèÿ ïðîèñõîäèò ÷åðåç îáíàðóæåíèå ñâîåé ÿ-îáúåêòíîñòè â îäíîâðåìåííî ñâîåé è íå-ñâîåé ðîëè Äðóãîãî, ÿâëÿþùåãîñÿ åå ïðîñòðàíñòâåííî-âðåìåííûì äâîéíèêîì. Óìáåðòî Ýêî ðàññìàòðèâàåò çåðêàëà êàê â øèðîêîì ñìûñëå ïðî- òåçû, ò.å. êàê àïïàðàòû, ðàñøèðÿþùèå ïîòåíöèè îðãàíà, â ñëó÷àå çåðêà- ëà âçãëÿäà (Eco 1986, 215 237). Çåðêàëî äàåò âîçìîæíîñòü, ñ îäíîé ñòîðîíû, ëó÷øå óâèäåòü ìèð, ñ äðóãîé ñòîðîíû, ïîñìîòðåòü íà ñåáÿ âçãëÿäîì ïîñòîðîííåãî. Â òî æå âðåìÿ çåðêàëüíûé îáðàç, ïî Ýêî, ÿâëÿ- åòñÿ ñêîðåå äâîéíèêîì íå îáúåêòà, à òîãî êîíòåêñòóàëüíîãî ïîëÿ, â êî- òîðîå âïèñàí îòðàæåííûé â çåðêàëå îáúåêò è ê êîòîðîìó ìîæíî ïîëó- ÷èòü äîñòóï, ïåðåìåñòèâ âçãëÿä ñ çåðêàëüíîãî îòðàæåíèÿ íà ñàì îáúåêò. Â çåðêàëüíîì îòðàæåíèè ïðîèñõîäèò óäâîåíèå îäíîâðåìåííî òåëà êàê îáúåêòà è òåëà êàê ñóáúåêòà, îáðàùåííîãî ê ñåáå îáúåêòíîìó (Eco 1986, 222). Ôîòîãðàôèÿ ýòî «çàìîðîæåííîå çåðêàëî»,16 îòïå÷àòîê èëè ñëåä, îñòàâëåííûé îòðàæåííûì â îáúåêòèâå-çåðêàëå îáúåêòîì (Eco 1986, 234). «Îòñðî÷åííîå» îòðàæåíèå äîáàâèì ìû. Åñëè, ñëåäóÿ êîíöåïöèè Äåð- 152 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

ðèäà, ðàññìàòðèâàòü ñëåä êàê ïåðâîíà÷àëüíîå ïðîñëåæèâàíèå è ñòèðà- íèå, òî ïðîöåññ ïðîèçâîäñòâà ôîòîãðàôèè íà÷åðòàíèå ñëåäà ÿâëÿåò- ñÿ îäíîâðåìåííî åãî ñòèðàíèåì â àêòàõ âàðüèðîâàíèÿ è ìóëüòèïëèöè- ðîâàíèÿ ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêîãî îáðàçà, òàê êàê â ëþáîì îòïå÷àòêå (imprint) generic characters ultimately prevail over specific ones (Eco 1986, 235). Øèðèí Íåøàò â ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêîé ñåðèè Women of Allah èñïîëü- çóåò ñåáÿ â êà÷åñòâå ìîäåëè; ôîòîîáúåêòèâ, â ðåçóëüòàòå, èñïîëíÿåò ðîëü çåðêàëà, â êîòîðîì ñóáúåêòíûé âçãëÿä Íåøàò-õóäîæíèöû âñòðå÷àåòñÿ ñ îáúåêòíûì âçãëÿäîì Íåøàò-ìîäåëè, àêòèâèçèðóÿ âîîáðàæåíèå è ïàìÿòü, â ò.÷. ïàìÿòü î íåïðîæèòîì îïûòå èðàíñêîé æåíùèíû âðåìåí àíòè- øàõñêîé ðåâîëþöèè. Ñóáúåêò, âïðî÷åì, íå òîëüêî îñîçíàåò ñâîþ ÿ-îáúåê- òíîñòü, íî ñòàíîâèòñÿ íåäèñòàíöèðîâàííûì îò îáúåêòà. Íà ôîòîãðà- ôèè ñóáúåêò ïðåäñòàåò êàê ÿ-îáúåêò â îäèí èç ìîìåíòîâ ñâîåãî âîîáðà- æàåìîãî îïûòà. Ðîëåâàÿ èãðà, â ðåçóëüòàòå, ñðåäñòâî ïðåîäîëåíèÿ íå Äðóãîãî â ñåáå, íî Äðóãîãî êàê ñåáÿ. Óñëîâèå æå ÿ-îáúåêòíîñòè âîñïî- ìèíàíèå î ïðîøëîì, íå ïðèíàäëåæàùåì ñóáúåêòó. Ïî Ýêî, ëþáóþ ïî- ïûòêó èíòåðïðåòàöèè âîñïðèíèìàåìîãî îáúåêòà ìîæíî ðàññìàòðèâàòü êàê ñåìèîçèñ. Çåðêàëà ñïîñîáíû â ðÿäå ñëó÷àåâ èíèöèèðîâàòü ñåìè- îçèñ, â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü, çåðêàëà, èñêàæàþùèå îòðàæåíèå îáúåêòà. Ôî- òîãðàôè÷åñêàÿ ñåðèÿ Íåøàò Women of Allah, íàðóøàÿ äîñòîâåðíîñòü ðîëè (â ïåðèîä àíòèøàõñêîé ðåâîëþöèè õóäîæíèöà íàõîäèëàñü íå â Èðàíå, à â ÑØÀ), â òî æå âðåìÿ âìåíÿåò õóäîæíèöå îòñóòñòâóþùèé îïûò è, êàê ñëåäñòâèå, ñåìèîòèçèðóåò àêò ñàìîïîçíàíèÿ, êîòîðûé è ýê- ñïëèöèðóåò äàííàÿ ñåðèÿ. Âïðî÷åì, òàê êàê, ïî Ðóìè, «Âñåâûøíèé ýòî âû», îòðàæåííûé â çåðêàëå äóøè, òî âçãëÿä Íåøàò-õóäîæíèöû íà ñåáÿ êàê íà Äðóãîãî åñòü òàêæå ïðåòåíçèÿ íà îñâîáîæäåííûé îò òåëå- ñíîñòè òðàíñöåíäåíòàëüíûé âçãëÿä.17 Çåðêàëüíîå îòðàæåíèå, â èòîãå, ðåïðåçåíòèðóåò îáúåêòèâíîå åäèíñòâî ñàìîñîçíàíèÿ. Çíàêîâàÿ ïðèðîäà ôîòîãðàôèè, óêàçûâàþùåé íà îáúåêò â åãî îòñóò- ñòâèå, ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé áîëüøóþ, ïî ñðàâíåíèþ ñ «çåðêàëüíîé ñòàäè- åé» ñòåïåíü îò÷óæäåíèÿ «ÿ» îò ñâîåãî îòðàæåíèÿ. Ôåíîìåíàëüíîñòü ôî- òîãðàôèè ñîñòîèò â òîì, ÷òî îíà åñòü òðàíñöåíäèðîâàíèå, âûõîä çà ðàìêè íåîáõîäèìîé äëÿ çåðêàëüíîãî îòðàæåíèÿ ñèòóàöèè «çäåñü» è «òåïåðü». Ðàññìàòðèâàÿ ñâîþ ôîòîãðàôèþ è âñïîìèíàÿ îáñòîÿòåëüñòâà, ñ íåé ñâÿ- çàííûå, ÷åëîâåê âîçâðàùàåòñÿ âî âðåìÿ ôîòîãðàôèè. Ñîçäàâàåìûé âîñ- ïîìèíàíèåì ðàçðûâ ìåæäó âðåìåíåì, êîãäà áûëà ñäåëàíà ôîòîãðàôèÿ, è âðåìåíåì, â êîòîðîì íàõîäèòñÿ ðàññìàòðèâàþùèé ôîòîãðàôèþ ÷åëîâåê, ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 153

ñëóæèò ïîêàçàòåëåì èíòåíñèâíîé ðåôëåêñèâíîé äåÿòåëüíîñòè ñîçíàíèÿ íàä âîñïðèíèìàåìûì îáúåêòîì. Âîñïîìèíàíèå îêàçûâàåòñÿ ñõîäíûì ñ õóäîæåñòâåííûì îïèñàíèåì îáúåêòà, ñ ïðåäñòàâëåíèåì åãî â õóäîæåñòâåí- íîì òâîð÷åñòâå. Ñ îäíîé ñòîðîíû, èíèöèèðóåòñÿ ðåôëåêñèÿ, èçìåíåíèå îáðàçà îáúåêòà, ñ äðóãîé ñòîðîíû, ïðîèñõîäèò äèññîöèàöèÿ àêòóàëüíûõ ñâÿçåé îáðàçà, îáúåêò èäåíòèôèöèðóåòñÿ êàê óæå èçâåñòíûé. Ñâÿçàííàÿ ñ âîñïîìèíàíèåì àïïåðöåïöèÿ ïðåäñòàåò íîâûì ñïîñîáîì èíòåðïðåòàöèè îáúåêòà îòñðî÷åííûì âî âðåìåíè ñòàíîâëåíèåì è ðàçâåðòûâàíèåì åãî êîíöåïòóàëüíîé ñòðóêòóðû. Ïî Ýêî, «ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêàÿ ñòàäèÿ», àêöåíòèðóþùàÿ îáùèå õàðàê- òåðèñòèêè îáúåêòà, â îòëè÷èå îò «çåðêàëüíîé ñòàäèè», àêöåíòèðóþ- ùåé â îáúåêòå ñïåöèôè÷åñêîå, â ÷åëîâå÷åñêîì îíòîãåíåçå íàñòóïàåò ãîðàçäî ïîçäíåå «çåðêàëüíîé» (Eco 1986, 234). Â òî æå âðåìÿ «ôîòî- ãðàôè÷åñêàÿ ñòàäèÿ», êàê è «çåðêàëüíàÿ», åñòü ñòàäèÿ ïåðåõîäà îò Âî- îáðàæàåìîãî ê Ñèìâîëè÷åñêîìó. Òîãäà ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêàÿ ñåðèÿ Íåøàò Women of Allah ïî îòíîøåíèþ ê ïðîöåññó ôîðìèðîâàíèÿ «ÿ» õó- äîæíèöû åñòü àíàëîã ëàêàíîâñêîé ñòàäèè çåðêàëà (åñëè ïîíèìàòü åå êàê íà÷àëî ïåðåõîäà îò Âîîáðàæàåìîãî ê Ñèìâîëè÷åñêîìó): ñòàäèÿ êîíñòèòóèðîâàíèÿ ñòðóêòóðû íîâîãî ìèðà ïîñëå òðàâìû ðîæäåíèÿ- ýìèãðàöèè (íîâîãî ðîæäåíèÿ), óñòàíîâëåíèÿ îòíîøåíèé ñ ðåàëüíîñ- òüþ íåäàâíåãî èðàíñêîãî ïðîøëîãî (ïî Ëàêàíó, Innenwelta ñ Umweltoì). Ñåðèÿ Women of Allah åñòü îäíîâðåìåííî ñîçäàíèå õó- äîæíèöåé êîìïëåêñà ïðåäñòàâëåíèé î ñåáå («çåðêàëüíàÿ ñòàäèÿ») è îòõîä îò ñîñðåäîòî÷åííîñòè íà ñåáå, âêëþ÷åíèå â ñèñòåìó ñîöèàëüíûõ è êóëüòóðíûõ íîðì («ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêàÿ ñòàäèÿ»).18 Ïðåäñòàâëåííûé Íåøàò-ìîäåëüþ îáðàç æåíùèíû-èðàíêè â ïåðè- îä ðåâîëþöèè, âíåøíèé ïî îòíîøåíèþ ê Íåøàò-àâòîðó êàê ñ ïîçèöèè äîñòîâåðíîñòè/íåäîñòîâåðíîñòè îïûòà, òàê è ïî õàðàêòåðó îïûòà è êóëüòóðíîé ïàìÿòè ñâîé/÷óæîé, ïîñðåäñòâîì «ãîìåîìîðôíîé èäåí- òèôèêàöèè», òåì íå ìåíåå, ñïîñîáåí ïîâëèÿòü íà ôîðìèðîâàíèå íî- âîé èäåíòè÷íîñòè õóäîæíèöû. Îäíàêî â îòëè÷èå îò ëàêàíîâñêîé äèà- ëåêòèêè òðàâìû, ðàñêàëûâàþùåé ÷åëîâåêà íà ôðàãìåíòàðíûé âíóò- ðåííèé îïûò è âíåøíþþ èäåàëüíóþ ôîðìó ýòîãî îïûòà, êîòîðàÿ ñîáñòâåííî è ñîîáùàåò ôðàãìåíòèðîâàííîìó ñóáúåêòó öåëîñòíîñòü, çåðêàëüíî-ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêèå îòðàæåíèÿ â ñåðèè Women of Allah íå òîëüêî ñîõðàíÿþò, íî äàæå óñèëèâàþò ôðàãìåíòàöèþ òåëà. Öåëîñò- íîñòü òåëåñíîãî îáðàçà ñóáúåêòà â õîäå ïðîñòðàíñòâåííîé èäåíòèôè- 154 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

êàöèè åñëè è äîñòèãàåòñÿ, òî äðóãèì ñïîñîáîì.

Ì. ßìïîëüñêèé âñëåä çà Ê. Ãðèíáåðãîì,19 îïèñûâàÿ ïåðåõîä îò èëëþçèîííîãî ê ïëîñêîìó ïðîñòðàíñòâó íåðåïðåçåíòàòèâíîé æèâîïèñè, èñïîëüçóåò ìåòàôîðó êàðòèíû êàê îêíà ñ íåïðîçðà÷íûì ñòåêëîì (ßì- ïîëüñêèé 2001, 23). Ôîòîãðàôèè Íåøàò, ôðàãìåíòèðóþùèå îáúåêò è ïî- ñðåäñòâîì êàëëèãðàôèè ñòèðàþùèå ðàçëè÷èå ìåæäó îáúåêòîì è ôîíîì, âûñòóïàþò ëèøåííûìè ïåðñïåêòèâû. Ýòî è åñòü îêíî, íå ïðîïóñêàþùåå âçãëÿä, â îòëè÷èå îò êàðòèíû åâðîïåéñêîãî òèïà. Îòñóòñòâèå ïåðñïåêòèâ- íîãî âèäåíèÿ âïèñûâàåò Íåøàò â òðàäèöèþ ïåðñèäñêîé ìèíèàòþðû: â ìèíèàòþðå «ôèãóðû è ïðåäìåòû ðàñïîëîæåíû íà ïëîñêîñòè ëèñòà ïî- äîáíî êðàñî÷íîìó óçîðó» (Äîððè 2002, 22). Î÷åâèäíàÿ äâóõìåðíîñòü, âïðî÷åì, îáîðà÷èâàåòñÿ ìíîãîìåðíîñòüþ è âñåâèäåíèåì: ëèøåíèå èçîá- ðàæåíèÿ èëëþçèè ãëóáèíû ýëèìèíèðóåò âìåñòå ñ ïðîñòðàíñòâåííûì èç- ìåðåíèåì âðåìåííîå. Èçîáðàæåíèå ïåðåõîäèò èç âðåìåíè â âå÷íîñòü.20 Ïåðñèäñêèå õóäîæíèêè, ñîçäàâàÿ ìèíèàòþðû, ðèñîâàëè (ëþäåé, ëîøà- äåé è ò.ï.) ïî ïàìÿòè, à íå ñ íàòóðû.21 Îíè ñ÷èòàëè, ÷òî òàêèì îáðàçîì ìîæíî óâèäåòü âñåëåííóþ òàêîé, êàêîé âèäåë åå Àëëàõ. Ñëåïîòà ñ÷èòà- ëàñü íàãðàäîé, à íå íåñ÷àñòüåì, òàê êàê, ëèøàÿ õóäîæíèêà âíåøíåãî çðå- íèÿ, îíà ñïîñîáñòâîâàëà ðàñêðûòèþ ïîòåíöèàëà âíóòðåííåãî çðåíèÿ. Óñëîâíîñòü áåñïåðñïåêòèâíîãî èçîáðàæåíèÿ íå åäèíñòâåííîå ñõîä- ñòâî ôîòîãðàôè÷åñêîé ìàíåðû Øèðèí Íåøàò ñ ïåðñèäñêîé ìèíèàòþðîé. Òàê, èêîíîáîð÷åñêàÿ òåíäåíöèÿ â èñëàìå, çàïðåùàâøàÿ âñå ïîïûòêè ðåï- ðåçåíòàöèè áîæåñòâåííîãî íà÷àëà, â ðåçóëüòàòå, îáåðíóëàñü ñèìâîëèç- ìîì ñëîâà è áóêâû; èñêóññòâî êàëëèãðàôà îöåíèâàëîñü âûøå èñêóññòâà ìèíèàòþðèñòà (Äîððè 2002, 23). Ïîýòè÷åñêèé òåêñò, âñòàâëåííûé â ïðî- ñòðàíñòâî ôîòîãðàôèé Íåøàò, èñêîìîå caro spiritualis, íîñèòåëü ñêðûòî- ãî ñìûñëà, îáëàäàåò îñîáîé çíà÷èìîñòüþ ïî ñðàâíåíèþ ñ èçîáðàæåíèåì. Àâòîðñêàÿ çàêðåïëåííîñòü òåêñòà íà ôàðñè àíàëîã èíôîðìàöèè î ïèñ- öå, ñîïðîâîæäàâøåé ïðàêòè÷åñêè êàæäûé ïåðñèäñêèé ìàíóñêðèïò; àâ- òîîáúåêòíîñòü ôîòîãðàôèé, ïîçèöèîíèðóþùèõ õóäîæíèêà â êà÷åñòâå ìî- äåëè è òåì ñàìûì âèçóàëüíî ìàðêèðóþùèõ àâòîðñòâî, âàðèàíò àâòîðè- çàöèè ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ. Ïåðñèäñêèå õóäîæíèêè-ìèíèàòþðèñòû ñîçíàòåëüíî îòêàçûâàëèñü îò èíäèâèäóàëèçàöèè ñâîèõ ðàáîò (êàê ïðàâèëî, îíè íè- êîãäà íå îñòàâëÿëè íà ìèíèàòþðå ñâîåé ïîäïèñè), â òî æå âðåìÿ ðàáîòû âåëèêèõ ìàñòåðîâ ëåãêî óçíàâàåìû: ïîäïèñüþ ëèöîì õóäîæíèêà áûëà åãî ìàíåðà ïèñüìà, åãî âàðèàöèÿ óñòàíîâëåííîé òðàäèöèåé íîðìû. Âïðî- ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 155

÷åì, Øèðèí Íåøàò ïåðåâîðà÷èâàåò òðàäèöèîííîå îòíîøåíèå: íå èçîá- ðàæåíèå äîïîëíÿåò òåêñò, íî òåêñò äîïîëíÿåò ìèíèàòþðó. Ïðè ýòîì îíà ïî ñóùåñòâó îêàçûâàåòñÿ áëèæå ê ìóñóëüìàíñêîìó âçãëÿäó íà ìèð, òàê êàê âèçóàëüíîå èñêóññòâî â öåëîì ïåðâè÷íî äëÿ ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî ñîçíà- íèÿ.22 Çäåñü âàæíî åùå ðàç ïîä÷åðêíóòü, ÷òî «ñòàäèÿ âîîáðàæàåìîãî» ñ åå «çåðêàëüíûì ß» ôîðìèðóåòñÿ, ïî Ëàêàíó, íà äîÿçûêîâîì óðîâíå, äî òîãî, êàê «÷èñòûé ñóáúåêò» âñòðåòèòñÿ ñ öåëîñòíîñòüþ ÷åëîâå÷åñêîãî ìèðà îïîñðåäîâàííîãî çíàíèÿ è îïûòà. Åñëè â ïåðñèäñêèõ ðóêîïèñÿõ ðàñòèòåëüíûé îðíàìåíò ñîïðîâîæ- äàåò êàê ñàì òåêñò, òàê è ìèíèàòþðû-èëëþñòðàöèè, òî íà ôîòîãðàôèÿõ Íåøàò ðàñòèòåëüíûé îðíàìåíò çàíèìàåò âçàèìîäîïîëíèòåëüíóþ ïîçè- öèþ ïî îòíîøåíèþ ê âêëþ÷åííîìó â ïðîñòðàíñòâî ôîòîãðàôèè òåêñòó íà ôàðñè.23 Â èçîáðàæåíèè ÷åëîâåêà ìèíèàòþðà, êàê ïðàâèëî, àêöåíòè- ðóåò íå èíäèâèäóàëüíîñòü, à îïðåäåëåííûé òèï. Ôîòîñåðèÿ Íåøàò Women of Allah òàêæå íå ïðîòîêîëèðîâàíèå êîíêðåòíî-èñòîðè÷åñ- êîãî îïûòà, íî ÿâíàÿ òèïèçàöèÿ æåíñêîãî îáðàçà ïåðèîäà àíòèøàõñêîé ðåâîëþöèè. Æèâîïèñè ìèíèàòþðû ïðèñóùà îïðåäåëåííàÿ «êîíöåïöèÿ ìèðîçäàíèÿ»: «Ñîñòîÿíèå ïåðñîíàæåé, íþàíñû íàñòðîåíèÿ ïåðåäàþò- ñÿ ðèòìîì è êîëîðèòìîì, «àêêîìïàíåìåíòîì» ïåéçàæíîãî ôîíà. Íî íåçàâèñèìî îò ñþæåòà â ðåøåíèè ìèíèàòþð ñîõðàíÿåòñÿ ïëîñêîñòíî- îðíàìåíòàëüíîå åäèíñòâî. Ïîäîáíûé ïîäõîä èñêëþ÷àåò îñòðîòó äðà- ìàòèçìà. Îòðóáëåííûå ãîëîâû è ðàññå÷åííûå òåëà íà ïîëå áîÿ âîñïðè- íèìàþòñÿ â åäèíîì óçîðå ñ êîâðîì öâåòîâ, îðíàìåíòîì êîíñêèõ ïîïîí è ùèòîâ» (Äîððè 2002, 24). Â ñåðèè Íåøàò Women of Allah îáíàðóæè- âàåì áëèçêèé ïîäõîä: ðåàëèè âîåíèçèðîâàííîé äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè âðå- ìåí èðàíñêîé ðåâîëþöèè âîñïðèíèìàþòñÿ â åäèíîì óçîðå ñ ðàñòèòåëü- íûì îðíàìåíòîì è ðåøåííûì îðíàìåíòàëüíî ïîýòè÷åñêèì òåêñòîì. Ñîïîëîæåííîñòü îðóæèÿ è òåêñòà-îðíàìåíòà, ñ îäíîé ñòîðîíû, êàê â ïåðñèäñêîé ìèíèàòþðå, ñíèìàåò âíåøíèé äðàìàòèçì, ñîîáùàÿ ôîòî- ãðàôèè äðàìàòèçì íà óðîâíå ãëóáèííîãî ñìûñëà, ñ äðóãîé ñòîðîíû, óñè- ëèâàåò åãî âèçóàëüíûì ïðåäñòàâëåíèåì òðàäèöèîííîé îïïîçèöèè èñ- êóññòâà (ïîýçèè) è æèçíè (âîéíû è ïîëèòèêè). Òàêèì îáðàçîì, âïèñàííîñòü ôîòîãðàôèé Íåøàò, ñî÷åòàþùèõ èçîáðàæåíèå, òåêñò è îðíàìåíò, â òðàäèöèþ ïåðñèäñêîé ìèíèàòþðû îò÷àñòè óïðàçäíÿåò âðåìåííîå èçìåðåíèå ôîòîñíèìêà. Â La chambre claire (Camera lucida) Ðîëàí Áàðò ïðîâîäèò àíàëîãèþ ìåæäó ìåðò- âåííîé ïðèðîäîé ôîòîãðàôèè è ñìåðòüþ, ñâÿçûâàÿ ñî ñìåðòüþ êàê ñôî- 156 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

òîãðàôèðîâàííîãî íåïîäâèæíîãî çàãðèìèðîâàííîãî ìåðòâåöà, òàê è, îò÷àñòè, punctum óêîë â ñåðäöå, íàíîñèìûé çðèòåëþ êàêîé-íèáóäü íåçíà÷èòåëüíîé äåòàëüþ ôîòîãðàôèè. Ôîòîóâåëè÷åíèå äåòàëè, êàê è ñâåðõêðóïíûé ïëàí, òÿãîòååò ê «èçîëèðîâàííîé ìîìåíòàëüíîñòè» (ßì- ïîëüñêèé 2001, 50), ñ îäíîé ñòîðîíû, ñîçäàþùåé èíòåíñèâíîñòü ïðè- ñóòñòâèÿ, ñ äðóãîé ëèøàþùåé îáúåêò äâèæåíèÿ âî âðåìåíè è, êàê ñëåäñòâèå, ñîîòíîñèìîé ñî ñìåðòüþ. Â ñåðèè Women of Allah ôîòî- ãðàôèè, àêöåíòèðóþùèå è èçîëèðóþùèå ÷àñòè ÷åëîâå÷åñêîãî òåëà, ñó- ùåñòâóþò íàðÿäó ñ ôîòîãðàôèÿìè, ãäå òåëî ñîõðàíÿåòñÿ êàê êîíöåïòó- àëüíàÿ ñòðóêòóðà. Äâèæåíèå ôîòîêàìåðû, òî ïðèáëèæàþùåéñÿ ê îáúåê- òó, òî óäàëÿþùåéñÿ îò íåãî, ïîçâîëÿåò ïðåîäîëåòü èçîëèðîâàííóþ ìîìåíòàëüíîñòü ôîòîóâåëè÷åíèÿ, âûâîäÿùóþ îáúåêò çà ðàìêè ïðîñòðàí- ñòâåííî-âðåìåííîãî êîíòèíóóìà, è, â ðåçóëüòàòå, íàìåòèòü ïóòü ê ïðå- îäîëåíèþ ñìåðòè. Âïðî÷åì, âîçìîæíîñòü âûõîäà èç ñîñòîÿíèÿ âðåìåí- íîé ñìåðòè íàìå÷åíà ñàìèì ïðèñóòñòâèåì òåêñòà â ñèñòåìå ôîòîãðà- ôèè. Òàê, ñ òî÷êè çðåíèÿ Ì. ßìïîëüñêîãî, êîòîðûé óòâåðæäàåò, ÷òî «â ïðîöåññå ðåïðåçåíòèðîâàíèÿ ñóáúåêò óòðà÷èâàåò ñâîþ èíäèâèäóàëü- íîñòü è ñòàíîâèòñÿ ÷èñòûì, áåçâîëüíûì ñóáúåêòîì ïîçíàíèÿ» (ßì- ïîëüñêèé 2001, 74), ñâîåãî ðîäà ñìåðòüþ ÿâëÿåòñÿ è ñàì ïðîöåññ ðåïðå- çåíòèðîâàíèÿ. Òîãäà â ðàìêàõ ôîòîãðàôèè êàê èñêóññòâà, êîððåñïîíäè- ðóþùåãî ñ òåìîé ñìåðòè, â ñåðèè Íåøàò Women of Allah âûäåëÿåòñÿ òåêñò, âûïàäàþùèé èç ñôåðû ðåïðåçåíòàöèè è, ñëåäîâàòåëüíî, èç ñôå- ðû ñìåðòè, êàê ìîæíî ïðåäïîëîæèòü, ñëåäóÿ ëîãèêå Ì. ßìïîëüñêîãî, â ñôåðó æèçíåííîãî, â ñôåðó âîëè. Ïåðåéäÿ ïîçäíåå îò ôîòîãðàôèè ê âèäåî, Øèðèí Íåøàò ïåðåøëà â èòîãå îò èäåè áåñêîíå÷íîñòè âðåìåíè ê èäåå åãî äèñêðåòíîñòè, ò.å. èç âå÷íîñòè âî âðåìÿ, äâèæóùååñÿ, êàê è ãåðîèíÿ âèäåî, â îïðåäåëåííîì íàïðàâëåíèè. Êàê èçâåñòíî, ëèíåéíîå âðåìÿ, îäíî èç ïðîÿâëåíèé íåìè- ôè÷åñêîãî âðåìåíè, ïðèñóùå â áîëüøåé ìåðå åâðîïåéñêîìó ñîçíàíèþ. Ðàçâèòèå ïðåäñòàâëåíèé î ëèíåéíîì äâèæåíèè ñâÿçàíî ñ ôîðìèðîâà- íèåì èñòîðè÷åñêîãî ñîçíàíèÿ, ñ îñîçíàíèåì èäåè íà÷àëà è êîíöà, è, êàê ñëåäñòâèå ýâîëþöèè, ðàçâèòèÿ. Ïåðåõîä Íåøàò ê ëèíåéíîìó äâèæå- íèþ, êàê ïðîñòðàíñòâåííîìó, òàê è âðåìåííîìó, çíàìåíóåò, ñ îäíîé ñòî- ðîíû, åå äâèæåíèå îò ìóñóëüìàíñêîé êóëüòóðû â ñòîðîíó êóëüòóðû åâ- ðîïåéñêîãî òèïà, ñ äðóãîé çàâåðøåíèå íà÷àëüíîé ñòàäèè rite de passage,24 îòäåëåíèå îò ïðåæíåãî ìèðà, è âñòóïëåíèå õóäîæíèöû â íî- âóþ ôàçó íà åå ïóòè ê íîâîé èäåíòè÷íîñòè. ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 157

ON THE BOUNDARY OF BODY AND TEXT: SHIRIN NESHAT Lyubov BUGAEVA Russian Institute for Cultural Research, St. Petersburg

This paper concerns works by Shirin Neshat, an American artist from Iran whose works serve as an example of the differentiation of Eastern and Western mentalities and at the same time as an attempt to integrate Iranian experience into a new context and to re-conceptualize it. Meanwhile, the geopolitical perspective is not the only one in Neshat’s works; geopolitics is a means to create a semiotic tension and thus to actualize eternal philosophical questions. Neshat’s first photo series “Women of Allah” attracts attention by its enigmatic and crypto-semantic character: the artist covers the bodies of photo models with text in Farsi. The Farsi language in Neshat’s photos functions as a transfer into another language and into another system of ex- pressiveness incorporated into the visual system of photography. The para- digmatic code, which is a type of secret sign language, substitutes signs with those of a different kind. The crypto-text, like a riddle or an enigma, excludes the sought-for-object from the system to which it belongs and from any other system; and this is what Neshat’s photo series “Women of Allah” demonstrates. The representative character of photography excludes the verbal text. The visualization of the text, drawing it nearer to an ornament, excludes the text as a means of verbal communication. Finally, the choice of the Farsi language excludes the meaning of the text for a viewer (both West- ern and Muslim) who is unfamiliar with Farsi. However, the interpretation of the Farsi text on the photos by Neshat provides a clue to the Eastern men- tality placed within a Western context. In the theory of bodily transformation by Shaykh Ahmad Ahsa’i, the body in its existence and development passes through four stages; two of them can be called ‘jasad’ (corpus) and the other two ‘jism’ (body). What is to be resurrected is in fact the ‘caro corporalis’, though purified of its opacity and density and revealing the invisible luminous body, which then becomes the ‘caro spiritualis’. Shirin Neshat in her photo series tries to con- strue the ‘caro spiritualis’, which in Islam is considered imperceptible to the sight of ordinary humans. The ornamental text in Farsi, on the one hand, like a garment masks the human body in its first stage of existence – ‘caro corpo- 158 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ ralis’. On the other hand, the Farsi text like the ‘caro corporalis’, which is metaphorically identified as an item of clothing that one wears, hides the ‘caro spiritualis’, the forth stage of bodily evolution. If one is to identify the hidden meaning of the Farsi text with the body hidden under the garment and consequently with the sought-for-object ‘caro spiritualis’, then deciphering the text will be an analogue of the final resurrection in ‘caro spiritualis’.The photo series by Neshat explores the traditions of the mystical poetry of Sufism and Rumi in particular, as well as the traditions of hurufism (huruf – ‘let- ter’). As in hurufism, which prescribes high meaning to letters and reads them in the surrounding world as signs of fate and destiny, Shirin Neshat develops the crypto semantics in her photography. The article explores and interprets Shirin Neshat’s crypto technique that, metaphorically speaking, allows one to make visible the hidden and ciphered ‘caro spiritualis’, and hence helps reconstruct partially some characteristics of the Eastern mental landscape within a Western context. ËÈÒÅÐÀÒÓÐÀ Ãåííåï À. âàí. Îáðÿäû ïåðåõîäà. Ñèñòåìàòè÷åñêîå èçó÷åíèå îáðÿäîâ. Ì., 1999. Äîððè Ä. Ïåðñèäñêàÿ ìèíèàòþðà // Ïåðñèÿ. 2002. ¹ 1 (6). Ñ. 2226. Íàñèìè Èìàäàääèí. Ëèðèêà. ÑÏá., 2001. Ïàìóê Îðõàí. Ìåíÿ çîâóò Êðàñíûé: Ðîìàí / Ïåð. Ñ òóð. Â. Ôåîíîâîé. ÑÏá.: Àìôîðà, 2002. Ïàìóê Îðõàí. ×åðíàÿ êíèãà: Ðîìàí / Ïåð. ñ òóð. Â. Ôåîíîâîé. ÑÏá., 2002. Ðóìè Äæàëàëàääèí. Ïîýìà î ñêðûòîì ñìûñëå. Ì., 1986. Ñìèðíîâ È. Ï. Ðîìàí òàéí «Äîêòîð Æèâàãî». Ì., 1996. Ñìèðíîâ È. Ï. ×åëîâåê ÷åëîâåêó ôèëîñîô. ÑÏá., 1999. Ñìèðíîâ È. Ï., Ä¸ðèíã-Ñìèðíîâà È.Ð. Î÷åðêè ïî èñòîðè÷åñêîé òèïîëîãèè êóëüòóðû. Salzburg, 1982. ßìïîëüñêèé Ì. Î áëèçêîì (Î÷åðêè íåìèìåòè÷åñêîãî çðåíèÿ). Ì., 2001. Dabashi Hamid. Bordercrossings: Shirin Neshat’s Body of Evidence // Shirin Neshat. Milan, 2002. P. 36—59. Eco Umberto. Mirrors // Iconicity: Essays on the Nature of Culture. Tübingen, 1986. Neshat Shirin. Works // Shirin Neshat. Milan, 2002. P.79—170. Persian Poets. New York, Toronto. 2000. Ruthrof H. The hidden telos: Hermeneutics in critical rewriting. // Semiotica. Berlin; N. Y., 1994 . Vol. 100, N 1 . P. 69-93. Öèò. Ïî: Èëüèí È. Ï. Ïîñòìîäåð- íèçì. Ñëîâàðü òåðìèíîâ. Ì., 2001. Ñ. 9495. ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 159

ÏÐÈÌÅ×ÀÍÈß 1 Ñðåäè åäèíè÷íûõ èñêëþ÷åíèé ÷åðíî-áåëàÿ ôîòîãðàôèÿ æåíùèíû ñ ðóæüåì, ðóêè êîòîðîé â ïåð÷àòêàõ íåîæèäàííî-êðàñíîãî êðîâàâîãî öâåòà, è ÷åðíî-áåëàÿ ôîòîãðàôèÿ æåíùèíû ñ ðóæüåì è êðàñíî-æåëòûì òþëüïàíîì (Seeking Martyrdom ¹2). 2 This precision of balance [between controlling the visual while releasing the sensual] can visually transform the clasping of two maternal hands into an embracing vaginal hold of two infantile hands in the simulation of a fetus formation. This is the mother-and-child: in the making. In another move with similar features, she can aesthetically transform the dismissive clasp of the vaginal formation into the moment of pregnancy into the inviting openness of a womb (Dabashi 2002, 37). 3 Ì. ßìïîëüñêèé íàïîìèíàåò, ññûëàÿñü íà Â. Áåíüÿìèíà, ÷òî ëàòèíñêîå ñëîâî textum îçíà÷àåò ïàóòèíà, ñåòü (ßìïîëüñêèé 2001, 160). 4 Ïî ìíåíèþ Õàìèäà Äàáàøè, òåëà íà ôîòîãðàôèÿõ Íåøàò are the sites of critical contestations with the cultures that create, seal, and sign them. Bodies are the signed and sealed signatures of a culture. In and of themselves bodies are already inscribed, constituted, defined, veiled beyond recognition. Veils are just the slightly more exaggerated veneers of cultured bodies (Dabashi 2002, 45). 5 Äàáàøè ññûëàåòñÿ íà àíãëèéñêèé ïåðåâîä êíèãè Àõñàè Kitab Sharh al- Ziyarah â: Corbin Henry. Spiritual Body and Celestial Body: From Mazdean Iran to Shiite Iran. Princeton, 1977. P. 180221. Äàáàøè ñóììèðóåò îñíîâíûå ïîëî- æåíèÿ òåîðèè òåëåñíîñòè Àõñàè: We are born into the world in our: Jasad A (Caro Corporalis) Upon our death, our soul departs from our Caro Corporalis and enters our: Jism A (Astral Body) After a cosmic pause and at the wake of the Day of Judgement our soul moves from our Astral Body and enters our: Jism B (Terrestrial Body) And finally on the actual day of Judgement we are bodily resurrected out of our Terrestrial Body and into our: Jasad B (Caro Spiritualis) (Dabashi 2002, 49). 6 Çàìåòèì, ÷òî èäåè õóðóôèçìà îáûãðûâàåò àäðåñîâàííûé íåïîñðåäñòâåí- íî ê ó÷åíèþ Ôàçàëëàëàõà ðîìàí ñîâðåìåííîãî òóðåöêîãî ïèñàòåëÿ Îðõàíà Ïà- ìóêà «×åðíàÿ êíèãà». Ãëàâíûé ãåðîé Ãàëèï èùåò ïðîïàâøóþ æåíó è, âìåñòå ñ òåì, ñòðåìèòñÿ ðàçãàäàòü òàéíó ìèðà, ïûòàÿñü ïðî÷åñòü êàê áóêâû íà ñâîåì ëèöå, òàê è áóêâû-êëþ÷è ê òàéíå ìèðà, ðàññåÿííûå â îêðóæàþùåé äåéñòâè- òåëüíîñòè. 160 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

7 Ïî Â. Áåíüÿìèíó, «õàðàêòåðíîé ÷åðòîé èñòèííîé àóðû ÿâëÿåòñÿ îðíàìåíò, îðíàìåíòàëüíûé íèìá, â êîòîðûé, êàê â ôóòëÿð, çàêëþ÷åíû ïðåäìåò èëè ñóù- íîñòü» (Benjamin Walter. Hashish, Beginning of March 1930. P. 328, öèò. ïî: ßì- ïîëüñêèé 1991, 85). Íà ôîòîãðàôèÿõ Íåøàò àðàáñêàÿ âÿçü, íàïîìèíàþùàÿ îð- íàìåíò, çàêëþ÷àåò â ñåáå ñìûñë òåêñòà, ïîäëåæàùèé ðàñêðûòèþ. 8 Ñð. cî ñòèõàìè Ðóìè, óòâåðæäàþùåãî, ÷òî ñòåíà ýòî ïëîòü, êîòîðàÿ îòäåëÿåò ñòðàæäóùåãî ìèñòèêà îò âîäû èñòî÷íèêà ïîçíàíèÿ: Die now, die now, and break away from this carnal soul, for this carnal soul is as a chain and you are as prisoners (Rumi. Die now // Persian Poets 2000, 122). 9 Íàñèìè ïèñàë íà òðåõ ÿçûêàõ: àçåðáàéäæàíñêîì, àðàáñêîì è ôàðñè. 10 Íàïðèìåð: Êîðàëë òâîèõ óñò êàê ìåä, êàê ìåä òâîèõ óñò êîðàëë, Îí ñòàë ñëàùå æèçíè ìíå, îí ìíå ñëàùå æèçíè ñòàë. Ñèÿíüå ëóíû òâîé ëèê, òâîé ëèê ñèÿíüå ëóíû, Ïóíöîâî-àë ïëàìåíü ùåê, èõ ïëàìåíü ïóíöîâî-àë. (Íàñèìè 2001, 200) 11 Òàê, ñ òî÷êè çðåíèÿ ñóôèçìà, ãðåõè çàãðÿçíÿþ ñåðäöå ÷åëîâåêà, ëèøàÿ åãî ñïîñîáíîñòè îòðàæàòü áîæåñòâî. 12 Ñð. ó Íàñèìè: «Âî âçãëÿäå ÷åëîâåêà ñóòü âñåëåííîé, Âñå, ÷òî Àëëàõ çàìûñëèë è èçðåê» (Íàñèìè 2001, 294). 13 Ì. ßìïîëüñêèé ññûëàåòñÿ íà: Sartre Jean-Paul. Being and Nothingness. New York, Washington Square Press, 1966. P. 346347. 14 «Âîñïîìèíàíèå ýòî ÷òåíèå ÷åãî-òî íåâèäèìîãî äëÿ âíåøíåãî íàáëþ- äàòåëÿ, ÷òåíèå ñêðûòîãî òåêñòà íà ñåò÷àòêå, âûòåñíÿþùåãî âèäåíèå àêòóàëü- íî ñóùåñòâóþùåãî. Ãëàç óòðà÷èâàåò óñòðåìëåííîñòü íà äèñòàíöèðîâàííîå. Îí êàê áû îáðàùàåòñÿ âíóòðü ñàìîãî ñåáÿ. Îáúåêò çðåíèÿ òåïåðü îêàçûâàåòñÿ íå âíå ãëàçà, íî âíóòðè íåãî, íà ñîáñòâåííîé ñåò÷àòêå, êîòîðàÿ ïåðåñòàåò ðå- ãèñòðèðîâàòü âíåøíèå îáúåêòû è ñàìà ñòàíîâèòñÿ îáúåêòîì çðåíèÿ» (ßìïîëü- ñêèé 2001, 150). 15 Î ÿ-îáúåêòíîñòè ñàìîñîçíàíèÿ êàê óñëîâèè ôîðìèðîâàíèÿ «ÿ» ñì.: Ñìèð- íîâ 1999, 32. 16 < > when dealing with such phenomena, we can never totally abandon the memory of the mirror images, of which they are monkeys (Eco 1986, 235). Imprints are not mirror images, but we read them almost as if they were (Eco 1986, 236). 17 Êàê î çåðêàëüíîì îòðàæåíèè ñìîòðÿùåãî Ðóìè ãîâîðèë î ïðîðîêàõ è î ñâÿòûõ: «Òåëî ñâÿòîãî, èñ÷åçíóâ, ñòàíîâèòñÿ çåðêàëîì: â íåì òåïåðü îòðàæàþòñÿ ëèêè äðóãèõ. ÍÀ ÃÐÀÍÈÖÅ ÒÅËÀ È ÒÅÊÑÒÀ: ØÈÐÈÍ ÍÅØÀÒ 161

Íå áóøóé è íå ïëþéñÿ: òû ñåáÿ îïëþåøü, è óäàðû òâîè íà òåáÿ æå ïàäóò. Óðîäëèâ ëèê çåðêàëà? Íåò, òû. Òû âèäèøü Ìàðèþ ñ Èèñóñîì? Äà, òû âèäèøü ñåáÿ. Íî ñâÿòîé è íå òî, è íå ýòî: ëèøü òâîå îòðàæåíüå îí ïðåä òîáîþ ÿâëÿåò» (Ì, 4, 2140-43). Èíòåðåñíî, ÷òî â ðîìàíå Îðõàíà Ïàìóêà «×åðíàÿ êíèãà» äÿäÿ ãëàâíîãî ãåðîÿ, íîñÿùèé ïðîçðà÷íîå èìÿ Äæåëÿëü (Äæàëàë àä-äèí Ðóìè), îïè- ñûâàåò ñîñòîÿíèå ÷åëîâåêà, íàõîäÿùåãîñÿ â ïîëå çðåíèÿ íåêîãî âñåâèäÿùåãî äóõîâíîãî è âíåòåëåñíîãî òðàíñöåíäåíòàëüíîãî ãëàçà. «Ãëàç», ñîçäàííûé ñàìèì Äæåëÿëåì, íåîáõîäèìîå óñëîâèå ñóùåñòâîâàíèÿ ïîñëåäíåãî: «ß ñî- çäàë åãî, à îí ìåíÿ!» (Ïàìóê 2002, 149); «ß ÷óâñòâîâàë, ÷òî ñóùåñòâóþ, òàê êàê êàæäûé ìèã íàõîæóñü ïîä íàáëþäåíèåì. Áóäòî, åñëè ýòîò ãëàç íå áóäåò ìåíÿ âèäåòü, ÿ ïåðåñòàíó ñóùåñòâîâàòü» (òàì æå, 150). Â òî æå âðåìÿ òðàíñöåíäåí- òàëüíûé «ãëàç» è åñòü ñàì Äæåëÿëü: «ß ñðàçó ïîíÿë, ÷òî òîò, êîãî ÿ óâèäåë ìûñëåííûì âçîðîì, íå åñòü ìîå ïîäîáèå ýòî ÿ ñàì. È òîãäà ÿ ïî÷óâñòâîâàë, ÷òî îùóùàåìûé ìíîþ âçãëÿä ãëàçà ýòî ìîé âçãëÿä. Òî åñòü ÿ ñòàë òåì, ÷òî åùå íåäàâíî áûëî «ãëàçîì», è íàáëþäàë ñåáÿ ñî ñòîðîíû» (òàì æå). Â ðåçóëüòà- òå, âçãëÿä íà ñåáÿ ñî ñòîðîíû, ðàçãîâîð ñ ñîáîé «îçíà÷àþò òèõóþ äðóæåñêóþ áåñåäó ñî âòîðûì, à ïîòîì è òðåòüèì «ÿ», êîòîðîå ìû íîñèì â ñåáå» (òàì æå, 151152). Ïî Ïàìóêó, «÷èòàòü ýòî çíà÷èò ñìîòðåòü â çåðêàëî; òå, êòî ìîãóò ïðî÷åñòü òàéíó çåðêàëà, ïåðåõîäÿò â çàçåðêàëüå, à òå, êòî íå èìååò ïîíÿòèÿ î òàéíå áóêâ, âèäÿò òîëüêî áàíàëüíîå îòðàæåíèå ñâîèõ ëèö» (Ïàìóê 2002, 440). 18 «Óäâàèâàÿñü (â ìèìè÷åñêîé ìàñêå, â ïðÿìîõîæäåíèè, â àñèììåòðèè ðóê), òåëî ñòàíîâèòñÿ ñàìîîòíîñèìûì, îòäåëÿåòñÿ îò ñâîåãî ôèçè÷åñêîãî îêðóæå- íèÿ è òåì ñàìûì îáðåòàåò âîçìîæíîñòü îòñûëàòü ê ìèðó êàê ê ÷óæîìó êàê ê òðåáóþùåìó ãëîáàëüíîãî îçíà÷èâàíèÿ, ÷òîáû áûòü àïðîïðèèðîâàííûì ÷åëî- âåêîì» (Ñìèðíîâ 1999, 195). 19 Greenberg Clement. The Collected Essays and Criticism. V. 3. Affirmations and Refusals 19501956. Chicago, 1993. 20 Ñð. â ðîìàíå Îðõàíà Ïàìóêà «Ìåíÿ çîâóò Êðàñíûé»: «Òû âèäèøü, ãîëî- âû Õîñðîâà è Øèðèí ïîâåðíóòû äðóã ê äðóãó, à ôèãóðû ñëåãêà ðàçâåðíóòû â íàøó ñòîðîíó. Ýòî ïîòîìó, ÷òî îíè çíàþò: îíè íàõîäÿòñÿ íà ìèíèàòþðå, è ìû áóäåì íà íåå ñìîòðåòü. Îíè ñëîâíî äàþò íàì ïîíÿòü, ÷òî âûøëè èç ïàìÿòè Àëëàõà. Òàì, íà ðèñóíêå, âðåìÿ îñòàíîâèëîñü. È êàê áû òîðîïëèâî íè ðàçâèâà- ëèñü ñîáûòèÿ ðàññêàçà, èçîáðàæåííîãî íà ðèñóíêå, ãåðîè áóäóò íåïîäâèæíû, îíè íå äâèíóò íè ðóêîé, íè òåëîì, íè äàæå ãëàçàìè. È âìåñòå ñ íèìè çàñòûíåò âñå, ÷òî åñòü â ñèíåé íî÷è; è ïòèöà, ëåòÿùàÿ â òåìíîòå ñðåäè çâåçä, íåïîäâèæíà â âå÷íîñòè, áóäòî ïðèáèòàÿ ê íåáó. Ñòàðûå ìàñòåðà, îæèäàþùèå áàðõàòíîé òüìû Àëëàõà, õîðîøî çíàëè, ÷òî åñëè îíè áóäóò äíÿìè, íåäåëÿìè, íå øåâåëÿñü, ñìîò- ðåòü íà òàêèå ðèñóíêè, òî äóøà èõ â êîíöå êîíöîâ ðàñòâîðèòñÿ â áåñêîíå÷íîì âðåìåíè ðèñóíêà» (Ïàìóê 2002, 436-437); «Èäåÿ áåñêîíå÷íîñòè âðåìåíè, â êî- òîðóþ àðàáñêèå êàëëèãðàôû âåðèëè íà ïðîòÿæåíèè ïÿòèñîò ëåò, âîïëîòèëàñü 162 Ëþáîâü ÁÓÃÀÅÂÀ

íå â òåêñòå, à â ðèñóíêå» (Ïàìóê 2002, 95-96). 21 Ñð. ó Ïàìóêà: «Ïîìíèòü ýòî çíàòü óâèäåííîå. Çíàòü ýòî ïîìíèòü óâèäåííîå. Âèäåòü ýòî çíàòü, íå âñïîìèíàÿ. Ïîëó÷àåòñÿ, ÷òî ðèñîâàòü ýòî çíà÷èò âñïîìèíàòü òüìó. < > Âñå âåëèêèå ìàñòåðà â ñâîèõ ðàáîòàõ ïîñðåä- ñòâîì êðàñîê èùóò òó ãëóáîêóþ òüìó âíå âðåìåíè» (Ïàìóê 2002, 102); «Õóäîæ- íèê ðèñóåò íå òó ëîøàäü, êîòîðóþ îí âèäèò, à òó, êîòîðàÿ îñòàëàñü ó íåãî â ïàìÿòè, êîãäà îí ñìîòðåë íà íåå» (òàì æå, 108). 22 «Àëëàõ ñîçäàâàë ìèð òàê, ÷òîáû ñíà÷àëà åãî ìîæíî áûëî âèäåòü. À ïîòîì äàë íàì ñëîâà, ÷òîáû ìû ìîãëè ïîäåëèòüñÿ óâèäåííûì, íî ìû èç ýòèõ ñëîâ ñäåëàëè èñòîðèè è ñ÷èòàëè, ÷òî ðèñóíîê ñóùåñòâóåò êàê äîïîëíåíèå ê ýòèì èñòîðèÿì. Õîòÿ, íà ñàìîì äåëå, ðèñîâàòü ýòî çíà÷èò èñêàòü Àëëàõà è âèäåòü âñåëåííóþ òàêîé, êàêîé âèäåë îí» (Ïàìóê 2002, 106-107). 23 Çàìåòèì, ÷òî Øèðèí íå åäèíñòâåííàÿ èðàíñêàÿ õóäîæíèöà, ïðîäîëæàþ- ùàÿ òðàäèöèþ ïåðñèäñêîé ìèíèàòþðû. Ñîåäèíåíèå âèçóàëüíîãî è âåðáàëüíî- ãî ðÿäà íàõîäèì â ïðîèçâåäåíèÿõ Çîõðàáà Çåôåðè (Sohrab Sepehri, 19281980). 24 Åñëè ïðèìåíèòü ê ýìèãðàöèè êàê ê ïåðåõîäíîìó ñîñòîÿíèþ ôàçîâóþ êàòå- ãîðèçàöèþ rites de passage, âûäåëÿÿ, êàê è â îáðÿäå ïåðåõîäà, ïðåëèìèíàðíóþ (îáðÿä îòäåëåíèÿ), ëèìèíàðíóþ (ïðîìåæóòî÷íîå ñîñòîÿíèå) è ïîñòëèìèíàðíóþ (îáðÿä âêëþ÷åíèÿ) ôàçû (Ãåííåï 1999, 15, 24, 166), òî, î÷åâèäíî, ÷òî «ôîòîãðà- ôè÷åñêàÿ» ñòàäèÿ òâîð÷åñêîé ýâîëþöèè Øèðèí Íåøàò, ïðåäñòàâëåííàÿ ñåðèåé Women of Allah, çíàìåíóåò ïðåëèìèíàðíóþ ôàçó ïðîöåññà èäåíòèôèêàöèè õó- äîæíèöû-ôîòîãðàôà, à èìåííî: îòäåëåíèå îò ïðåäøåñòâóþùåãî ìåñòà îáèòàíèÿ è çàíèìàåìîé ïðåæäå ïîçèöèè, ñîîòíîñèìîå ñ âðåìåííîé ñìåðòüþ.

ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ

Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

Â ñîâðåìåííîì ìèðå ñòåðåîòèïíîå âîñïðèÿòèå èñëàìà íà Çàïàäå ñâÿ- çàíî ñ òåððîðèçìîì, âîèíñòâåííîñòüþ è àãðåññèâíîñòüþ. Ïîíÿòíî, ÷òî ýòî èñêàæåííîå è íåâåðíîå ïðåäñòàâëåíèå. È íè îäèí îáðàçîâàííûé è ïðîñòî äóìàþùèé ÷åëîâåê íå â ñîñòîÿíèè ðàçäåëÿòü òàêîå ìíåíèå. Èáî èñëàì ðåëèãèÿ, êàê è ëþáàÿ äðóãàÿ, îòíþäü íå ñâÿçàííàÿ ñ àãðåññèåé. Íàîáîðîò. Ñèëà ýòîé ðåëèãèè â òîì, ÷òî åå ïîñëåäîâàòåëåì ìîæåò áûòü ëþáîé ÷åëîâåê ëþáîé íàöèîíàëüíîñòè. Âíèìàíèå ê èñëàìñêîé êóëüòóðå ïî âïîëíå ïîíÿòíûì ïðè÷èíàì â íàøå âðåìÿ àêòóàëüíî è âàæíî. Îñîáåííîñòè èñëàìà íåïîñðåäñòâåííî íàõîäÿò îòðàæåíèå â èñêóññò- âå. Êàê èçâåñòíî, èñëàì âîáðàë â ñåáÿ ýëåìåíòû èóäàèçìà è õðèñòèàí- ñòâà. Èõ çíàêîâûå îñîáåííîñòè âûðàæåíèÿ ñóùíîñòè ÿâëåíèé íàøëè îò- ðàæåíèå è â ìóñóëüìàíñêîì èñêóññòâå. Êñòàòè, è èóäàèçì, è õðèñòèàí- ñòâî ïåðåðàáîòàëè ìíîãèå ÿçû÷åñêèå ïðåäñòàâëåíèÿ. Òàêèì îáðàçîì, â èñêóññòâå ñåìèîòè÷åñêèé ïëàñò ýòèõ ñèìâîëîâ äîâîëüíî ìíîãîîáðàçåí. Îäíàêî è ñàì èñëàì âíåñ ìíîãî íîâîãî, ÷òî íàøëî îòðàæåíèå â çíàêîâûõ ôîðìàõ õóäîæåñòâåííûõ ïðîèçâåäåíèé. È ýòî âòîðîé óðîâåíü çíàêîâîñ- òè ÿçûêà ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà. Áåçóñëîâíî, êàæäûé íàðîä, êàæäûé ðåãèîí ñî âðåìåíåì âûðàáîòàëè ñîáñòâåííûå ñèìâîëè÷åñêèå îáîçíà÷å- íèÿ òåõ èëè èíûõ îñîáåííîñòåé îêðóæàþùåé èõ äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè. Åñ- òåñòâåííî, ÷òî ýòî òàêæå íàøëî âîïëîùåíèå â èñêóññòâå. Ïîìèìî ñòà- íîâëåíèÿ ñèíõðîííûõ ñèìâîëè÷åñêèõ ñðåäñòâ, ñóùåñòâóþò è äèàõðîí- íûå èçìåíåíèÿ, âçàèìîäåéñòâóþùèå ñ íèìè. Ãîâîðÿ î çíàêîâîñòè èñêóññòâà èñëàìà, ñëåäóåò èìåòü â âèäó, ÷òî íåëüçÿ â ýòîì èñêóññòâå âåñ- òè ðå÷ü î çàêîí÷åííîì îòîæäåñòâëåíèè äâóõ ÿâëåíèé çíàêà-ôîðìû è åãî êîíöåïòà. «Îãðàíè÷åííîñòü è êîíå÷íîñòü çíàêà-ôîðìû ïðåîäîëåâà- åòñÿ óâåðåííîñòüþ â áåñêîíå÷íîñòè «âåùè» (èìååòñÿ â âèäó êàê ïðîèçâå- äåíèÿ äåêîðàòèâíî-ïðèêëàäíîãî èñêóññòâà, òàê è ìóçûêàëüíûå ïðîèçâå- äåíèÿ, è àðõèòåêòóðíûå ôîðìû, è ò.ï. Ñ. Ì.), â áóêâàëüíîì ïðåä-âêóøå- íèè çàïîâåäíîãî ñìûñëà».1 Âîò ïî÷åìó ìóñóëüìàíñêîå èñêóññòâî ñòîëü 164 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

ìíîãîîáðàçíî, ïðèâëåêàòåëüíî è ñåãîäíÿ âûçûâàåò íåïîääåëüíûé èíòå- ðåñ âî âñåì ìèðå. Èíòåðåñ ýòîò âûçâàí è òåì, ÷òî èñêóññòâî èñëàìà ÷ðåç- âû÷àéíî êðàñèâî. Ýòî èñêóññòâî ñòðåìèëîñü ïðåòâîðÿòü ýìîöèè, âûçâàí- íûå ÷óâñòâåííûì ïîñòèæåíèåì ïðåêðàñíîãî â óìîçðåíèå. Òàêîå âîñïðè- ÿòèå ñïåöèàëüíî âîñïèòûâàëîñü è äîâîäèëîñü äî ðàôèíèðîâàííîñòè ëèòåðàòóðíî-õóäîæåñòâåííîãî ñîçåðöàíèÿ (àäàáà). Êîíöåïöèÿ êðàñîòû ôîðìóëèðóåòñÿ âî ìíîãèõ õàäèñàõ: «Àëëàõó äæàìèëóí âà þõèáó-ë-äæà- ìàëà» («Áîã Êðàñèâ è Îí ëþáèò êðàñîòó») î÷åíü èçâåñòíûé õàäèñ, ìíî- ãîêðàòíî ïðèâîäèìûé ðàçíûìè àâòîðàìè. Áëèçîê åìó è äðóãîé: «Àââàëó ìà õàëàêà Àëëàõó àë-àêëà» («Àäàì, ÿâëÿþùèéñÿ Ïðîðîêîì, åñòü îáðàç (ñóðàò) ïåðâè÷íîãî Ðàçóìà, à ïåðâè÷íûé ðàçóì îáíàðóæèâàåò â Àäàìå ñâîþ Êðàñîòó è ðàñêðûâàåò ñâîè êà÷åñòâà è èìåíà. Âñåâûøíèé Òâîðåö ñîòâîðèë Àäàìà ïî îáðàçöó ïåðâè÷íîãî ðàçóìà»).2 Êàê ïîíÿòíî èç âûøå- ïðèâåäåííîãî, êðàñîòà ýòà ïîíèìàåòñÿ íå ñòîëüêî ýñòåòè÷åñêè, ñêîëüêî êàê âûðàæåíèå ñîâåðøåíñòâà è ïðîòèâîïîñòàâëåíèÿ ãîðäûíå è íåáëàãî- äàðíîñòè. Êðàñîòà ïîíèìàåòñÿ êàê êà÷åñòâî âíóòðåííåå, äóõîâíîå, à íå âíåøíåå, ôèçèîëîãè÷åñêîå. È âñå æå, íåçàâèñèìî îò ïðî÷òåíèé, èñêóññò- âî èñëàìà íå ìîæåò íå âûçûâàòü âîñõèùåíèÿ èìåííî ñâîåé ýñòåòè÷åñêîé ïðèòÿãàòåëüíîñòüþ. Ýòî ïðîÿâëÿåòñÿ íà âûñòàâêàõ èñêóññòâà èñëàìà. Â Ïåòåðáóðãå â ïîñëåäíåå âðåìÿ ïðîøëî òðè òàêèõ âûñòàâêè. Â 1990 ãîäó â Ãîñóäàðñòâåííîì Ýðìèòàæå ïðîõîäèëà âûñòàâêà èñêóññòâà èñëàìà èç êîë- ëåêöèè ïàìÿòíèêîâ èñëàìñêîé êóëüòóðû.3 Ýòî ñîáðàíèå ñ÷èòàåòñÿ îäíèì èç áîãàòåéøèõ â ìèðå. Íî íà ýòîé âûñòàâêå ýêñïîíèðîâàëèñü è øåäåâðû ñîáðàíèÿ øåéõà Íàñåðà àñ-Ñàáàõà, ÷àñòü èç êîòîðûõ áûëà ïîäàðåíà â 1983 ãîäó Íàöèîíàëüíîìó ìóçåþ Êóâåéòà. Íà âûñòàâêå áûëè ïðåäñòàâëåíû ïàìÿòíèêè Èðàêà, Ñèðèè, Òóðöèè, Åãèïòà, Ñåâåðíîé Àôðèêè, Èñïàíèè, Èðàíà, Ñðåäíåé Àçèè è Êàâêàçà. Â ìàðòå 1993 ãîäà ïðîõîäèëà âûñòàâêà «Àðàáñêèé ìèð íà áåðåãàõ Íåâû», çíàêîìèâøàÿ ñ àðàáñêèìè êîëëåêöèÿ- ìè âîñòî÷íîãî ôàêóëüòåòà Ïåòåðáóðãñêîãî óíèâåðñèòåòà è Ìóçåÿ àíòðî- ïîëîãèè è ýòíîãðàôèè èì. Ïåòðà Âåëèêîãî (Êóíñòêàìåðà). Ýòè êîëëåê- öèè ñôîðìèðîâàëèñü â íàøåì âåêå, îäíàêî ïðåäìåòû çäåñü ñîáèðàëèñü åùå ñî âðåìåí Ïåòðà Ïåðâîãî. Íàêîíåö, â 2000 ãîäó â Ãîñóäàðñòâåííîì Ýðìèòàæå ïðîõîäèëà âûñòàâêà «Çåìíîå èñêóññòâî íåáåñíàÿ êðàñîòà». Âûñòàâêà ýòà áûëà îðãàíèçîâàíà Ýðìèòàæåì ñîâìåñòíî ñ Ôîíäîì Íîâîé Êèðõè (Àìñòåðäàì). Íà íåé áûëè ïðåäñòàâëåíû íå òîëüêî êîëëåêöèÿ Ýðìèòàæà, íî è ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ èç ñîáðàíèé Ìóçåÿ Áåíàêè (Àôèíû), Áðè- òàíñêîãî ìóçåÿ (Ëîíäîí), êîëëåêöèè Íàñåðà Ë. Õàëèëè (Ëîíäîí), Ìóçåÿ Ìåòðîïîëèòåí (Íüþ-Éîðê), Äîìà ðóêîïèñåé (Ñàíà).4 Âûñòàâêà ýòà áûëà ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 165

ïîäãîòîâëåíà ïðè íåïîñðåäñòâåííîì ó÷àñòèè Ì. Á. Ïèîòðîâñêîãî, ãëóáî- êîãî çíàòîêà ÿçûêà èñêóññòâà èñëàìà. Îíà áûëà íåçàáûâàåìîé è âûçâàëà ðåçîíàíñ âî âñåì ìèðå. Íà íåé âîî÷èþ âîçìîæíî áûëî ïîçíàêîìèòüñÿ äåéñòâèòåëüíî ñ íåçåìíîé êðàñîòîé èñêóññòâà èñëàìà, â êîòîðîì â ìàê- ðîêîñìå (ìèðîçäàíèå) è ìèêðîêîñìå (÷åëîâåê) ïðåäñòàâëåíà âñåîõâàòíàÿ öåëîñòíîñòü Ñóùåãî, èñïîëíåííîãî êðàñîòû è ñîâåðøåíñòâà. Âåñü ìèð â èñëàìå îòîæäåñòâëÿëñÿ ñ òåëîì ÷åëîâåêà. Òàêîâî, íàïðèìåð, îïèñàíèå ìèðà â ñóôèéñêîì ñî÷èíåíèè «Çåðöàëî âçûñêóþùèõ èñòèíû»: «Ãîðû ïîäîáíû êîñòÿì, äåðåâüÿ âîëîñàì íà ãîëîâå, ìàëûå ðàñòåíèÿ ïóøêó íà òåëå, íà çåìëå ñåìü êëèìàòè÷åñêèõ ïîÿñîâ, à â òåëå ÷åëîâåêà ñåìü ÷àñòåé: ãîëîâà, äâå ðóêè, äâå íîãè, ñïèíà è æèâîò, â çåìëå çåìëåòðÿñå- íèå, â òåëå ÷èõàíèå, íà çåìëå ðó÷üè â òåëå êðîâåíîñíûå ñîñóäû. Ñðàâíåíèå ãîðüêèõ è ñîëåíûõ èñòî÷íèêîâ è âûäåëåíèé òåëà (ñëåçû, ñëþ- íà, è ò.ä.). Ñðàâíåíèå òåëà ñ íåáîì: 12 çíàêîâ çîäèàêà è 12 îòâåðñòèé â òåëå, 28 ñòîÿíîê Ëóíû è 28 íåðâîâ, 360 ãðàäóñîâ è 360 æèë, ñåìü ïëàíåò è ñåìü óïðàâëÿþùèõ îðãàíîâ, ìíîæåñòâî çâåçä è ìíîæåñòâî «ñèë» òåëà, íåáåñà îêðóæàþò ýëåìåíòû, à òåëî îêðóæàåò 4 ñîêà Âåñíà ïîäîáíà êðî- âè, ëåòî æåë÷è è ò.ï.».5 Äàæå ÷åëîâå÷åñêîå ëèöî âîñïðèíèìàëîñü êàê îòðàæåíèå ðàçëè÷íûõ îíòîëîãè÷åñêèõ óðîâíåé ìàêðîêîñìà, à ðîäèíêà íà ëèöå âîçëþáëåííîé ñðàâíèâàëàñü ñî ñìûñëîâûì öåíòðîì, ñåðäöåì, ñòàíîâÿñü ñèìâîëè÷åñêèì ýêâèâàëåíòîì Ìèðà è äóõîâíîãî öåíòðà ÷åëî- âåêà. «Ðîäèíêà âûñòóïàëà ñèìâîëè÷åñêèì ñîîòâåòñòâèåì áîæåñòâåííîé Ñóùíîñòè â Åå òðàíñöåíäåíòíîì àñïåêòå, ñàìî ëèöî ñèìâîëîì Ñóùíî- ñòè â èììàíåíòíîì àñïåêòå (ò.å. Ñóùíîñòè ñ Àòðèáóòàìè è Èìåíàìè), ãëàçà è ãóáû ñîîòâåòñòâîâàëè Àòðèáóòàì Âåëè÷èÿ è Àòðèáóòàì Êðàñîòû, ïóøîê íà ëèöå ïåðâîé èç áîæåñòâåííûõ ìàíèôåñòàöèé, ìèðó äóõîâ, ëîêîíû ìíîæåñòâåííîñòè, ñêðûâàþùåé Åäèíñòâî, ÷óâñòâåííîìó ìèðó».6 ×åëîâåê, òàêèì îáðàçîì, âûñòóïàë çíàêîì îáîèõ ìèðîâ ìàêðî- êîñìà è ìèêðîêîñìà. À êíèãà è èñêóññòâî ñëåäóþùèé ýòàï Áîæåñòâåí- íîãî òâîðåíèÿ. Íåðåäêî ñàìè õóäîæåñòâåííûå ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ óïîäîáëÿ- ëèñü êðàñîòå ÷åëîâå÷åñêîãî òåëà. Ñëåäóåò èìåòü â âèäó, ÷òî â îòëè÷èå îò äðóãèõ ðåëèãèé, â èñëàìå íå ñóùåñòâîâàëî îôèöèàëüíîãî ïðîòèâîïîñ- òàâëåíèÿ äóõîâíîãî è ñâåòñêîãî, âñå áûëî ïîä÷èíåíî èäåå î ïðåîáëàäà- íèè äóõîâíîãî íàä ìàòåðèàëüíûì. Öåëîñòíîñòü Óíèâåðñóìà ïîðîæäàëàñü â ýòîì èñêóññòâå áûòèéíûì íà÷àëîì Àëëàõîì. Äëÿ âñåõ ïðîèçâåäåíèé èñëàìà õàðàêòåðíî òðè óðîâ- íÿ âûðàæåíèÿ. Ýòà ìíîãîñëîéíîñòü ñìûñëîâ èñêóññòâà ïðåäîïðåäåëåíà ìíîãîñëîéíîñòüþ êîðàíè÷åñêèõ òåêñòîâ, ãäå «ñèìâîë ðàçâîðà÷èâàåòñÿ â 166 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

ñìûñë, â íåñêîëüêî ñìûñëîâ». Â Êîðàíå òåêñò «ñòàíîâèòñÿ çíà÷èòåëüíî áîëåå íàñûùåííûì, ÷åì êàæåòñÿ íà ïåðâûé âçãëÿä Çà ôðàçîé, òåçèñîì, ñèìâîëîì, çà ðàññêàçàìè è âûðàæåíèÿìè ñòîÿò ÷àñòî íå îäèí, à íåñêîëü- êî ñìûñëîâ èëè óðîâíåé ñìûñëà».7 Â èñêóññòâå ïåðâûé, íàèáîëåå äîñ- òóïíûé óðîâåíü âîñïðèÿòèÿ âûñîêîå ìàñòåðñòâî, âûçûâàþùåå âîñõè- ùåíèå è ïîçâîëÿþùåå ëþáîâàòüñÿ ýòèìè ïðîèçâåäåíèÿìè. Âòîðîé, áî- ëåå ãëóáîêèé íàäïèñè, êîòîðûå ïðèñóòñòâóþò âî âñåõ âèäàõ èñêóññòâà. Ïîíÿòíî, ÷òî îíè äîñòóïíû òîëüêî òåì, êòî çíàåò àðàáñêèé ÿçûê. Îíè äàþò áîëåå ãëóáîêóþ èíôîðìàöèþ. Âïðî÷åì, âî ìíîãèõ ñëó÷àÿõ íàäïè- ñè èçîáðàæàþòñÿ â òðóäíîäîñòóïíîì äëÿ ÷òåíèÿ âèäå è ìåñòå, è èõ âåäó- ùåå âîçäåéñòâèå êðàñîòà ïèñüìà è óçîðà. Íàêîíåö, ñàìûé ãëóáèííûé ñëîé ðèòì óçîðîâ, êîòîðûé ïðîáóæäàë áàçîâûå ïîíÿòèÿ ìóñóëüìàíñêî- ãî ìèðîâîççðåíèÿ, åãî âíóòðåííèå ñìûñëû. Îäíàêî îíè âûðàæàëèñü íå òîëüêî êîíêðåòíûìè îáðàçàìè, êàê ýòî õàðàêòåðíî äëÿ õðèñòèàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà, íî ñòèìóëèðîâàëèñü îïðåäåëåííûìè ñòåðåîòèïíûìè èäåÿìè è îùóùåíèÿìè î íåïîçíàâàåìîì Áîãå, î ðàäîñòè Áîæåñòâåííîãî òâîðå- íèÿ è î òîì áëàãîñòíîì ðàéñêîì ìèðå, êîòîðûé íàñòóïèò ïîñëå âòîðîãî òâîðåíèÿ Äíÿ ñóäà. Ýòà òðîéñòâåííîñòü óðîâíåé âîñïðèÿòèÿ èñêóññòâà èñëàìà äèêòîâàëàñü ñðåäè ïðî÷åãî ó÷åíèåì îá èåðàðõèè òðåõ ìèðîâ (â ñóôèçìå): ìóëêà, äæàáàðóòà è ìàëàêóòà. «Â ìàêðîêîñìå ìóëê ýòî ñôåðà ÷óâñòâåííî âîñïðèíèìàåìîãî, ÿâëåííîãî, òåëåñíîãî; ìàëàêóò, íàïðîòèâ, ñôåðà íå âîñïðèíèìàåìîãî ÷óâñòâàìè, íåÿâëåííîãî, äóõîâíîãî; äæàáà- ðóò ñâÿçóþùàÿ ìóëê è ìàëàêóò ñôåðà äåéñòâèÿ áîæåñòâåííûõ èìåí. Â ìèêðîêîñìå ìóëê ýòî òåëî ÷åëîâåêà: ïëîòü, êîñòè, êðîâü è ò.ä.; ìàëà- êóò ðàçóì è àòðèáóòû ÷åëîâå÷åñêîé ñóùíîñòè: æèçíü, çíàíèå, âîëÿ è ò.ä.; äæàáàðóò âíåøíèå ÷óâñòâà: çðåíèå, ñëóõ îñÿçàíèå è ò.ä., ñâÿçóþ- ùèå òåëåñíóþ è äóõîâíóþ ñôåðû».8 Ñàì ìàòåðèàë, èç êîòîðîãî áûë ñäå- ëàí òîò èëè èíîé ïðåäìåò, óæå íåñ îïðåäåëåííóþ çíàêîâóþ íàãðóçêó. Öâåò òàêæå íåñ îïðåäåëåííóþ ñåìàíòèêó: çîëîòîé ñèìâîëèçèðîâàë ñîëíöå, ñèíèé íåáî, çåëåíûé ñàä è ðàé, êðàñíûé äðàãîöåííûå êàìíè. Çíàêà- ìè íåáà áûëè ðîçåòêè, ìíîãîóãîëüíèêè, ðîìáû. Çíàêàìè ñàäà âûñòóïàëè ðàçíîãî ðîäà ïàëüìåòòû, âèíîãðàäíàÿ ëîçà, ëèñòüÿ, öâåòû è ïëîäû, äåðå- âüÿ, êóñòû, áóêåòû, äèêèå è äîìàøíèå æèâîòíûå, äðàêîíû. Çíàêàìè êàì- íåé ñëóæàò îðíàìåíòàëüíûå ðîìáû, îâàëû, «æåì÷óæèíû», êðèñòàëëû. Ôèãóðû ëþäåé ìîãëè âûðàæàòü àñòðîëîãè÷åñêèå çíàêè. Âàæíûì ýëåìåí- òîì çíàêîâîñòè èñêóññòâà èñëàìà áûëî òàêæå èñïîëüçîâàíèå ïóñòîòû. «Â ìèíèàòþðíûõ èçîáðàæåíèÿõ ñóùåñòâóþùàÿ âìåñòî èçîáðàçèòåëüíîãî ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 167

çíàêà ïóñòîòà òåì íå ìåíåå çíà÷èìà, èáî îíà ÿâëÿåòñÿ ñâèäåòåëüñòâîì íåçðèìîãî ïðèñóòñòâèÿ «âåùè». Èçîáðàæåíèÿ ïðîðîêà Ìóõàììàäà, ò.å. çíàêè åãî ïðèñóòñòâèÿ, ìîãóò îòñóòñòâîâàòü, íî Ìóõàììàä êàê «âåùü» ðåàëåí è â ñâîåé «áåç-çíàêîâîñòè» (áè-íèøàìè)».9 Âèííàÿ ñèìâîëèêà îçíà÷àëà îïüÿíåíèå ëþáîâüþ ê Áîãó. Îñíîâíûå èäåè, êîòîðîå âûðàæàëî èñêóññòâî èñëàìà ñóùíîñòü Áîãà è îáðàç ñîçäàííîãî èì äëÿ ïðàâåäíè- êîâ Ðàÿ (Äæàííà ñàä). Ðàé â Êîðàíå ýòî ïðåæäå âñåãî ñàä, îàçèñ, ñ êîòîðûì ñâÿçûâàåòñÿ âñå òî, î ÷åì ìå÷òàåò áåäóèí áîëåå âñåãî î âîäå, ïðîõëàäå, òåíè, ïîêîå è íåãå. Ñëåäóåò èìåòü â âèäó, ÷òî â îòëè÷èå îò õðè- ñòèàíñòâà è áóääèçìà, èñêóññòâî èñëàìà ïðèíöèïèàëüíî áûëî íåêóëüòî- âûì. È ëèøü ìå÷åòü è êàëëèãðàôèÿ âûðàæàëè â ïîëíîé ìåðå ñàêðàëüíûå îñíîâû êóëüòóðû. Çàðîäèëñÿ èñëàì â ïëîäîðîäíîì ðåãèîíå Áëèæíåãî Âîñòîêà. Íå ñëó÷àéíî ñðåäíåâåêîâûå ãåîãðàôû íàçûâàëè Àðàáñêèé Âîñòîê «ãðóäüþ ìèðà». Äåéñòâèòåëüíî, çäåñü â òå÷åíèå ìíîãèõ ñòîëåòèé áèëîñü ñåðäöå ìèðîâîé öèâèëèçàöèè. À þæíàÿ ÷àñòü ïëîäîðîäíîãî Àðàâèéñêîãî ïî- ëóîñòðîâà íàçûâàëàñü «ñ÷àñòëèâîé» áëàãîäàðÿ ñâîåìó âûãîäíîìó ýêî- íîìè÷åñêîìó ïîëîæåíèþ. Ñëåäóåò èìåòü â âèäó, ÷òî õîçÿéñòâî ñ âûñî- êîé ïðîèçâîäèòåëüíîñòüþ äàâàëî îáèëüíûé äîñóã, íåîáõîäèìûé äëÿ äóõîâíîé è èíòåëëåêòóàëüíîé æèçíè. Êðèçèñ â ñâÿçè ñ ïåðåìåùåíèåì òîðãîâûõ ïóòåé ñ Êðàñíîãî ìîðÿ ê Ïåðñèäñêîìó çàëèâó, âðàæäà ïëåìåí, êëàññîâàÿ áîðüáà, ôîðìèðîâàëè ñòðåìëåíèå ê ìîíîòåèçìó. Ðàñïàä êà- çàâøåéñÿ íåçûáëåìîé Ðèìñêîé èìïåðèè, âîéíû, îñòðàÿ áîðüáà ðåëèãè- îçíûõ òå÷åíèé, óíè÷òîæåíèå ñòàðûõ ñîöèàëüíî-ýêîíîìè÷åñêèõ îòíî- øåíèé ñòàëè áàçîé äëÿ ñòðåìëåíèÿ ê ÷åìó-òî íàäåæíîìó, èìåþùåìó àáñîëþòíóþ öåííîñòü. Òàêîé ðåëèãèåé ÿâèëñÿ èñëàì. Èíòåðíàöèîíà- ëèçì èñëàìà ñïîñîáñòâîâàë åãî ïðåèìóùåñòâåííîìó ðàñïðîñòðàíåíèþ. Ìóõàììàä ïîä÷èíèë ñåáå Ìåêêó è Êààáà (ìåòåîðèò «÷åðíûé êàìåíü») â Ìåêêå ñòàëà ãëàâíûì ñâÿòèëèùåì íîâîé ðåëèãèè. Èñëàì âïèòàë â ñåáÿ ïðåäñòàâëåíèÿ ìîíîòåèñòè÷åñêèõ ðåëèãèé èóäàèçìà è õðèñòèàíñòâà. Èìåííî ýòè òðè ðåëèãèè íàçûâàþò àâðààìèñòñêèìè, òàê êàê â íèõ êëþ- ÷åâîé ôèãóðîé ÿâëÿåòñÿ ïðàîòåö Àâðààì, êîòîðûé âî èìÿ âåðû áûë ãî- òîâ ïðèíåñòè â æåðòâó ñîáñòâåííîãî ñûíà. Òðè ñâÿùåííûõ ïèñàíèÿ èñ- ïîëüçóþò íå òîëüêî îáùèå ñþæåòû, íî è âáèðàþò â ñåáÿ áîëåå ðàííèå ýëåìåíòû. Òàê, õðèñòèàíñòâî â Áèáëèþ âêëþ÷àåò Âåòõèé çàâåò Òîðó èóäååâ. Èñëàì ïðèçíàåò Òîðó è Åâàíãåëèÿ. Îäíàêî, â îòëè÷èå îò èóäàèç- ìà, â èñëàìå ïîâòîðÿòü èìåíà Àëëàõà áëàãî÷åñòèâîå äåëî, â òî âðåìÿ 168 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

êàê â èóäàèçìå åãî èìÿ òàáóèðîâàíî. Â îòëè÷èå îò õðèñòèàíñòâà, èñëàì íå ðàçäåëÿåò ñâåòñêîå è äóõîâíîå. Ïîýòîìó ëþáîå õóäîæåñòâåííîå òâîð- ÷åñòâî âñåãäà îïðåäåëÿåòñÿ ðåëèãèîçíûì ìèðîîùóùåíèåì. Êîðàí, êî- òîðûé âêëþ÷èë â ñåáÿ ïèñàíèÿ ïðåäûäóùèõ ðåëèãèé, ïåðåðàáîòàë òàê- æå äðåâíåàðàáñêèå, ÿçû÷åñêèå, ìàãè÷åñêèå è äåìîíîëîãè÷åñêèå ïðåä- ñòàâëåíèÿ. Êàê è â õðèñòèàíñòâå, â èñëàìå óòâåðæäàåòñÿ öåííîñòü ïîòóñòîðîííåãî ìèðà. Ïîíÿòíî, ÷òî Êîðàí, ýòà ñâÿùåííàÿ êíèãà, ñòàëà ñðåäîòî÷èåì õóäîæåñòâåííûõ èäåé. Êðîìå òîãî, îíà çà÷àñòóþ âûñòóïà- åò è êàê îáúåêò õóäîæåñòâåííîé ïðàêòèêè. Êîðàí ýòî íèñïîñëàííîå Àëëàõîì ïðàâèëüíîå Ïèñàíèå. Íîñèòåëåì ñëîâà Àëëàõà ñòàë ïîñëàí- íèê Àëëàõà è Ïðîðîê åãî, Ìóõàììàä, ñûí Àáä Àëëàõà èç ãîðîäà Ìåêêà. Êîðàí ïîýòîìó òðåáîâàë è íóæäàëñÿ â õóäîæåñòâåííîé ïðàêòèêå â âû- ðàæåíèè îòâëå÷åííûõ èñòèí â âèäå ñèìâîëîâ. Âîò ïî÷åìó îðíàìåíò äëÿ ýòîãî ïîäõîäèë áîëüøå âñåãî è ñòàë âàæíåéøèì âûðàçèòåëüíûì ñðåä- ñòâîì èñêóññòâà èñëàìà. Íî ñàìûì ãëàâíûì ñèìâîëîì áûëà êàëëèãðà- ôèÿ âåäóùèé âèä èñêóññòâà èñëàìà. «Àðàáñêîå ïèñüìî äàæå â áîëü- øåé ñòåïåíè, ÷åì ÿçûê, ñòàëî ñâÿùåííûì ñèìâîëîì èñëàìà».10 Ïîíà÷àëó ïðååìíèêè Ìóõàììåäà (õàëèôû) èçáèðàëèñü âîéñêîì. Àáóáåêð (573 634) ïåðâûé õàëèô ïîñëå Ìàãîìåòà, ïðèâåë â ñèñòåìó Êîðàí. Â 661 ã. Ìóàâèÿ àðàáñêèé íàìåñòíèê â Ñèðèè çàõâàòèë âëàñòü è ïîëîæèë íà÷àëî äèíàñòèè Îìåéÿäîâ ñòîëèöà Äàìàñê (âòîðàÿ ïîëîâè- íà VII ïåðâàÿ ïîëâèíà VIII ââ). Õàëèôàò Àááàñèäîâ âòîðàÿ ïîëîâèíà VIII IX ââ. ñî ñòîëèöåé Áàãäàä. Â VII â. Åãèïåò âîøåë â ñîñòàâ Õàëèôà- òà. Ïðàêòè÷åñêè ãîñóäàðñòâî Õàëèôàò â ïåðèîä ñâîåãî ìîãóùåñòâà çàíè- ìàë ïðîñòðàíñòâî îò Èñïàíèè äî Èíäà. Â ñåðåäèíå VII âåêà àðàáû âòîðã- ëèñü íà òåððèòîðèþ Èðàíà è Àôãàíèñòàíà. Âëàñòü õàëèôàòà ïðåêðàòè- ëàñü çäåñü ëèøü ñ çàâîåâàíèåì ìîíãîëîâ. Ê ñåðåäèíå IX â. âëàñòü Áàãäàäà îñëàáåâàåò è èìïåðèÿ äðîáèòñÿ. Òåïåðü îò íåå îòïàäàþò ñíà÷àëà Åãèïåò, çàòåì Ñåâåðíàÿ Àôðèêà, Ñðåäíÿÿ Àçèÿ, Èðàí, Çàêàâêàçüå. Â Åãèïòå è ÷à- ñòè ñåâåðíîé Àôðèêè âîöàðèëàñü äèíàñòèÿ Ôàòèìèäîâ (ïîòîìêè äî÷åðè Ìóõàììàäà Ôàòèìû) 909 1171 ãã., ãäå áûëà ñîçäàíà ñëîæíàÿ ñèñòå- ìà ðåëèãèîçíîãî ó÷åíèÿ, èìåþùàÿ òàéíûå ïðèíöèïû è çíà÷åíèÿ, äîñ- òóïíûå òîëüêî ïîñâÿùåííûì. Çàêîíîìåðíî, ÷òî â èñêóññòâå ýòî ðîæäàëî ìíîãîçíà÷íîå òîëêîâàíèå åãî ýëåìåíòîâ. Ôàòèìèäîâ â Åãèïòå ñìåíèëè Àéþáèäû (1169 1252). Ïîñëå íèõ âëàñòü ïåðåøëà ê Ìàìëþêàì. Ñèðèþ è Ìåñîïîòàìèþ â XI â. è çàõâàòèëè òóðêè-ñåëüäæóêè. Ñåëü- äæóêè ñòàëè ðåâíèòåëÿìè îðòîäîêñàëüíîãî èñëàìà. Èìåííî ñ ýòîãî âðå- ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 169

ìåíè ñëîæèëîñü êëàññè÷åñêîå ìóñóëüìàíñêîå îáùåñòâî. «Òîãäà æå ïî- âñåìåñòíî ðàñïðîñòðàíèëèñü ìíîãèå õóäîæåñòâåííûå ïðèåìû, ñòàâøèå íàâåêè õàðàêòåðíûìè äëÿ èñëàìà. Ãîâîðÿ óïðîùåííî, ê èðàíñêîìó, âè- çàíòèéñêîìó è àðàâèéñêîìó ñóáñòðàòó äîáàâèëèñü âêóñû òþðêñêîé ñòå- ïè. Ñêëàäûâàþòñÿ áîëåå ïîñòîÿííûå òèïû êóïîëîâ è ìèíàðåòîâ, ñòàí- äàðòíûå óçîðû íîâîãî òèïà. Â áðîíçîâûõ èçäåëèÿõ ïîÿâëÿåòñÿ ìåäíàÿ è ñåðåáðÿíûå èíêðóñòàöèè, â êîòîðîé óçíàþòñÿ êèòàéñêèå è èíäèéñêèå ìîòèâû».11 Êàê âèäèì, Ì. Á. Ïèîòðîâñêèé óêàçûâàåò íà èñòî÷íèêè ôîð- ìèðîâàíèÿ ñåìèîòèêè èñêóññòâà èñëàìà, êîòîðîå ïðè ðàçëè÷íûõ âàðè- àíòàõ ïðîÿâëÿëî åäèíñòâî ñòèëÿ â ðàçíûå ýïîõè è â ðàçíûõ ðåãèîíàõ. Â Èíäèè ìóñóëüìàíñêèé ýòàï èñêóññòâà ñâÿçàí ñ âòîðæåíèåì ãàçíåâè- äîâ â XI â. Ãàçíåâèäîâ ñìåíèë Äåëèéñêèé ñóëòàíàò (XIII â.), çàòåì èì- ïåðèÿ Âåëèêèõ Ìîãîëîâ (XIV XVII ââ.). Â êóëüòóðå ñëèëèñü ìåñòíûå òðàäèöèè è ñèñòåìà èñëàìñêèõ ñðåäñòâ âûðàçèòåëüíîñòè. Ñ Çàïàäà ìóñóëüìàíñêîå ãîñóäàðñòâî òåñíèëè êðåñòîíîñöû. Â 1099 ã. Èåðóñàëèì çàõâàòèëè êðåñòîíîñöû, ÷òî, íåñîìíåííî, ïîâëèÿëî íà èñêóñ- ñòâî, èáî ÷àñòî ïðåäìåòû õðèñòèàíñêîãî è èñëàìñêîãî èñêóññòâà èñïîëíÿ- ëèñü îäíèìè è òåìè æå ìàñòåðàìè. Âñå æå çàêîíîìåðíî, ÷òî öåíòðû ìó- ñóëüìàíñêîé ó÷åíîñòè ñìåñòèëèñü â Åãèïåò è Ìàãðèá. Ìàãðèá çàïàä ìåñòî ðàñïðîñòðàíåíèÿ èñëàìà â Èñïàíèè è ñåâåðíîé Àôðèêå. Àëæèð, Òóíèñ, Ìàðîêêî íàçûâàëèñü Ìàãðèá. Àíäàëóñèÿ ê íèì ïðèìûêàëà. Íå- ñìîòðÿ íà ðàçëè÷èÿ, èñêóññòâî ïðåäñòàâëÿëî ñîáîé ÷åòêî âûðàæåííîå åäèíñòâî. Ñíà÷àëà îáà ýòè ðåãèîíà áûëè ÷àñòüþ Ðèìñêîé èìïåðèè. Ïîñ- ëå åå ïàäåíèÿ Èñïàíèÿ ïîïàëà ïîä âëàäû÷åñòâî âåñòãîòîâ, Ñåâåðíàÿ Àô- ðèêà Âèçàíòèéñêîé èìïåðèè. Â 711 ãîäó àðàáî-áåðáåðñêèå âîéñêà îìåé- ÿäñêèõ õàëèôîâ âòîðãëèñü íà Ïèðåíåéñêèé ïîëóîñòðîâ èç ñåâåðíîé Àô- ðèêè è ðàçãðîìèëè êîðîëåâñòâî âåñòãîòîâ. Òàê Èñïàíèÿ ñòàëà ïðîâèíöèåé Äàìàññêîãî õàëèôàòà. Çàòåì îäèí èç Îìåéÿäîâ ïîä÷èíèë ñåáå âñå ìó- ñóëüìàíñêèå âëàäåíèÿ è îñíîâàë Êîðäîâñêèé ýìèðàò ñ öåíòðîì â ãîðîäå Êîðäîâà. Ê X âåêó Èñïàíèÿ ñòàëà öåíòðîì êóëüòóðû íå òîëüêî äëÿ Âîñòî- êà, íî è Çàïàäà. Íà þãå â ïðåäãîðüÿõ Ñüåððà-Íåâàäû ðàñïîëîæèëàñü ñòîëèöà Ãðàíàäñêîãî ýìèðàòà, ñôîðìèðîâàâøåãîñÿ â 1238 ãîäó, Ãðàíà- äà, êîòîðóþ àðàáû íàçûâàëè çåìíûì ðàåì, à ïîýòû âîñïåâàëè êàê «ñâåò- ëóþ çâåçäó íåáà». Îäíàêî è èñïàíñêèì ìóñóëüìàíàì ïðèõîäèëîñü áî- ðîòüñÿ ñ àíàëîãîì êðåñòîâûõ ïîõîäîâ ðåêîíêèñòîé. Óñïåõè ðåêîíêèñòû ïðèâåëè ê òîìó, ÷òî Êîðäîâà ïàëà â 1238 ãîäó, Ãðàíàäñêèé ýìèðàò óäåð- æàëñÿ åùå äâà ñòîëåòèÿ, íî, â êîíöå êîíöîâ, è îí ïàë â 1492 ãîäó. 170 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

Áàãäàä áûë çàõâà÷åí ìîíãîëàìè â 1258 ã. Ïîñëå ðàñïàäà èìïåðèè Àááàñèäîâ âîçíèêëè íîâûå ãîñóäàðñòâà, ãäå ãîñïîäñòâóþùàÿ ìóñóëü- ìàíñêàÿ ðåëèãèÿ äèêòîâàëà îñîáåííîñòè ìåñòíîãî èñêóññòâà. Â XI âåêå âûõîäöû èç Ñðåäíåé Àçèè òóðêè-ñåëüäæóêè îáðàçîâàëè îáøèðíîå ãîñóäàðñòâî, çàíÿâ öåíòðàëüíóþ ÷àñòü ìàëîàçèéñêîãî ïîëó- îñòðîâà, Àðàâèþ, Ìåñîïîòàìèþ, Èðàí, Àôãàíèñòàí, þæíóþ ÷àñòü Ñðåä- íåé Àçèè. Ãîñóäàðñòâî Ñåëüäæóêîâ ñî ñòîëèöåé Êîíèÿ íàçûâàëîñü Êî- íèéñêèé ñóëòàíàò (1077 1307). Åãî ñìåíèëî ãîñïîäñòâî òóðîê-îñìà- íîâ (ïðîñóùåñòâîâàëî ñ íà÷àëà XIV âåêà äî XX âåêà). Òóðöèÿ ñòàëà ïåðåäîâîé äåðæàâîé. Â íàñòîÿùåå âðåìÿ ìóñóëüìàí â ìèðå ñòàíîâèòñÿ âñå áîëüøå. Â Àíãëèè, íàïðèìåð, «èõ ÷èñëî äîñòèãëî äâóõ ìèëëèîíîâ», «â Ðîññèè ïî ðàçíûì îöåíêàì ñåãîäíÿ æèâåò îò 11 äî 22 ìèëëèîíîâ ìóñóëüìàí, ïðè- íàäëåæàùèõ ê áîëåå ÷åì ñîðîêà ýòíîñàì. Âòîðîå ìåñòî ïî ÷èñëåííîñòè ïîñëå ðóññêèõ çàíèìàþò òàòàðû ñâûøå 6 ìèëëèîíîâ; äàëåå áàøêèðû ñâûøå ìèëëèîíà; íà Ñåâåðíîì Êàâêàçå ÷å÷åíöû îêîëî ìèëëèîíà; àâàðöû áîëåå 500 òûñÿ÷; êàáàðäèíöû 360 òûñÿ÷» 12 Êîãäà ìû ãîâîðèì îá èñêóññòâå èñëàìà, ñëåäóåò èìåòü â âèäó, ÷òî îíî âåñüìà ðàçíîîáðàçíî, èáî ïîäðàçóìåâàåò èñêóññòâî ðàçíûõ íàðîäîâ, èñïîâåäóþùèõ èñëàì. Òàê êàê èñëàì èñïîâåäóþò î÷åíü ðàçíûå íàðîäû, òî åñòåñòâåííî, ÷òî â ðàçíûõ ðåãèîíàõ, â ðàçíûõ ýòíîñàõ ìû âèäèì îïðå- äåëåííûå îòëè÷èÿ. Îäíàêî äëÿ âñåãî èñêóññòâà èñëàìà õàðàêòåðíà îïðå- äåëåííàÿ îáùàÿ ñåìàíòèêà, îáúåäèíÿþùàÿ ðàçíûå íàïðàâëåíèÿ, ñâÿçàí- íûå ñ ýòíè÷åñêèìè îñîáåííîñòÿìè. Èáî äëÿ èñëàìà íå ñóùåñòâóþò ðàç- íûå íàöèè, à âñå ìóñóëüìàíå ñîñòàâëÿþò åäèíóþ íàöèþ óììà. Èñêóññòâî èñëàìà âûðàáîòàëî ñâîé îñîáûé íåïîâòîðèìûé ÿçûê. Â íåì åñòü ÷åðòû, êîòîðûå ìîæíî íàéòè è â õðèñòèàíñêîì èñêóññòâå, íî ìîæíî âûäåëèòü íàáîð îòëè÷èòåëüíûõ ÷åðò, ñîçäàþùèõ åäèíóþ õàðàêòåðèñòèêó ÿçûêà èñêóññòâà èñëàìà. Ïîíÿòíî, ÷òî èñêóññòâî èñëàìà ðàçíûõ ýïîõ è ðàçíûõ ðåãèîíîâ îòëè÷àåòñÿ äðóã îò äðóãà. Îäíàêî îáùèå ÷åðòû îáúåäèíÿþò ýòè ðàçíîîáðàçíûå íàïðàâëåíèÿ. Íåñìîòðÿ íà òî, ÷òî îíè ëåãêî óçíàâàåìû, íî îïèñàòü èõ îêàçûâàåòñÿ íå òàê ëåãêî. Ìû áóäåì ðàññìàòðèâàòü ëèøü ñåìèîòèêó ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî èñ- êóññòâà ïåðèîäà åãî ñëîæåíèÿ è ðàñöâåòà. Ñåìèîòè÷åñêèé àñïåêò çàëî- æåí â ïðèðîäå èñêóññòâà èñëàìà, èáî çíàê êàê òàêîâîé âõîäèò â ñôåðó íåïîñðåäñòâåííîãî èíòåðåñà ìóñóëüìàí, çà÷àñòóþ ñòàíîâÿñü ïîâîäîì äëÿ ðàññóæäåíèé î åãî ïðèðîäå è íàçíà÷åíèè. ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 171

Øèðîêî ðàñïðîñòðàíåíî ñòåðåîòèïíîå ïðåäñòàâëåíèå î òîì, ÷òî èñ- êóññòâî èñëàìà íå èñïîëüçîâàëî âîçìîæíîñòåé èçîáðàçèòåëüíîãî èñ- êóññòâà. Íà ñàìîì äåëå ýòî íå ñîâñåì òàê. Ïðîðîê âîññòàâàë ïðîòèâ ïîêëîíåíèÿ èäîëàì. Îí ïîñòîÿííî òðåáîâàë óíè÷òîæåíèÿ èçîáðàæåíèé â äîìàõ ìåäèíöåâ è ìåêêàíöåâ, òàê êàê îíè áûëè ïðîÿâëåíèåì ïîêëî- íåíèÿ èäîëàì, «íàâàæäåíèÿì ñàòàíû». Îáúÿñíÿëîñü ýòî òåì, ÷òî â äåíü ïîñëåäíåãî ñóäà ëèöà, êîòîðûõ õóäîæíèê ïðåäñòàâèë, ñîéäóò ñ êàðòèíû è ïðèäóò ê íåìó ñ òðåáîâàíèåì äàòü èì äóøó. Òîãäà ýòîò ÷åëîâåê, «ìó- ñàââèð», íå ìîãóùèé äàòü ñâîèì ñîçäàíèÿì äóøè, áóäåò ñîææåí â âå÷- íîì îãíå. Âîò ïî÷åìó, íàïðèìåð, â ïåòåðáóðãñêîé ðóêîïèñè «Ìàêàì» àë-Õàðèðè íà ìèíèàòþðàõ îñòðûì èíñòðóìåíòîì «îòðåçàíû» ãîëîâû. Òåì ñàìûì êàêîé-òî áëàãî÷åñòèâûé ìóñóëüìàíèí ñïàñ ýòó ðóêîïèñü îò óíè÷òîæåíèÿ. Ñóùåñòâîâàëî îïðåäåëåííîå îòëè÷èå âûñîêîé êóëüòóðû îò ìàññîâîé. Â âûñîêîé êóëüòóðå ëèöà íå óíè÷òîæàëèñü, à äåëàëèñü ïóñòûìè äëÿ òåõ, ó êîãî, ïî ðåëèãèîçíûì ñîîáðàæåíèÿì, îíè äîëæíû áûëè áûòü ñêðûòû: ïðîðîêè, Ìóõàììàä, ÷ëåíû åãî ñåìüè, õàëèôû, íå- êîòîðûå øàõè, æåíùèíû. Ïóñòîòà ëèö äàâàëà âîçìîæíîñòü âûðàçèòü òå ïðèíöèïû, â êîòîðûõ îòðàæàëñÿ äëÿ ìóñóëüìàí ïðèíöèï îíòîëîãè÷åñ- êîé è ýòè÷åñêîé çíà÷èìîñòè ÷åëîâåêà, åãî ìåñòà è çíà÷åíèÿ â ìèðå. Ñõîä- íûì ÿâëåíèåì â õðèñòèàíñêîì èñêóññòâå ìîãóò ñëóæèòü «äèñêîïîäîá- íûå» ëèöà ïåðñîíàæåé ðàáîò Ïèòåðà Áðåéãåëÿ. Ó Áðåéãåëÿ îíè âûðà- æàëè îòíîøåíèå ê ÷åëîâåêó êàê ÷àñòè áåçëèêîé ìàññû, ïîä÷èíåííîé áåçëèêèì çàêîíàì. Âî ìíîãèõ ñëó÷àÿõ îäíè è òå æå ëþäè â ïîâåñòâîâà- íèè èçîáðàæàëèñü ïî-ðàçíîìó, â ïîñòîÿííîé äèíàìèêå. Èçìåíÿëèñü ÷åðòû ëèöà, êîñòþìà. Ýòî áûëî õàðàêòåðíî äëÿ âñåãî ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà, íåçàâèñèìî îò åãî ïðîñòðàíñòâåííûõ è âðåìåííûõ ðàìîê. Âîò ïî÷åìó, íàïðèìåð, Àáó-çàéä ìîã ïðåäñòàòü è ñòàðöåì, è ìóæ÷èíîé ñðåäíèõ ëåò, è þíîøåé, íàïðèìåð, â «Ìàêàìàõ» àë-Õàðèðè Áåõçàäà àë- Âàñèòè. Ñâÿçàíî ýòî ñ òåì, ÷òî â èñëàìå ñóùåñòâîâàëî ïðåäñòàâëåíèå î ðàçëè÷èè âíåøíåãî, ïðåõîäÿùåãî îáëèêà ÷åëîâåêà è âíóòðåííåãî, èñ- òèííîãî, ÷òî è ïîðîæäàëî ìíîãîëèêîñòü è áåçëèêîñòü ãåðîåâ â ìèíè- àòþðå. Èçîáðàæåíèÿ â ñðåäíåâåêîâîì ìóñóëüìàíñêîì èñêóññòâå íå ïðå- ñëåäîâàëè çðèòåëüíîãî çàêðåïëåíèÿ îáëèêà èçîáðàæàåìûõ ãåðîåâ. Ñòå- ðåîòèïíûå èçîáðàæåíèÿ «ëóíîëèêèõ» ìóæ÷èí è æåíùèí òèïà ìàõðóé èëè ñî÷åòàíèÿ æåíñêèõ è ìóæñêèõ ëèö ñ êîñàìè áûëè òîëüêî àáñòðàêò- íûìè îáðàçàìè. Óçíàòü èõ áåç íàäïèñè èëè âíå òåêñòîâîãî ñîïðîâîæäå- íèÿ íåâîçìîæíî. 172 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

Ýòó ìíîãîëèêîñòü ïåðñîíàæåé â æèâîïèñè è ïðîáëåìó «ïóñòûõ ëèö» â êóëüòóðå èñëàìà Ø. Øóêóðîâ îáúÿñíÿåò ñ ñåìàíòè÷åñêîé òî÷êè çðå- íèÿ êàê «ÿâëåíèå ñõîäíîå è ðåøàþùåå îäíó çàäà÷ó: îñìûñëèòü îáðàç ÷åëîâåêà â åãî ãëóáèííîì îíòîëîãè÷åñêîì èçìåðåíèè». ×åëîâåê «ïðåä- ñòàåò â ïåðâîçäàííîì è âíåâðåìåííîì êîñìîãîíè÷åñêîì îáëè÷üå, ëè- øàÿñü êàê îáëèêà, òàê è èìåíè».13 Â îòëè÷èå îò õðèñòèàíñêîé òðàäè- öèè, â èñëàìå èçîáðàæåíèå îòòàëêèâàëîñü îò ñëîâà, åãî íà÷åðòàíèé. Ïîýòîìó îíî áûëî àññîöèàòèâíûì è àâòîêîììóíèêàòèâíûì. Ëèöî ÷å- ëîâåêà âñå æå îáëàäàëî â ìóñóëüìàíñêîé ñðåäå î÷åâèäíîé ñàìîöåííîñ- òüþ. Íå òîëüêî æåíùèíû, íî è ëèöà Ïðîðîêà è åãî ñåìüè äîëæíû áûëè áûòü ñîêðûòûìè. Âïðî÷åì, ýòî îòíîñèëîñü è ê èìåíàì. Èìÿ, Ëèê è Ñóùíîñòü áûëè âçàèìîñâÿçàíû. Ýòî ðàñ÷ëåíåíèå è ñîêðûòèå Ñëîâà è Èçîáðàæåíèÿ (Èìåíè è Ëèêà) óêëàäûâàåòñÿ â õîðîøî èçâåñòíûé ôàêò ñâÿçè «íåìîòû» è «ñëåïîòû», ñîîòâåòñòâóÿ ïîñëåäîâàòåëüíîñòè àêòîâ «îòâåðçàíèÿ óñò» è «îòâåðçàíèÿ î÷åé». Èåðàðõè÷åñêàÿ ñâÿçü ïîíÿòèé Çíàíèå Ñëîâî Çðåíèå îòðàçèëàñü íà èçîáðàçèòåëüíîñòè èñêóññòâà èñëàìà. Èêîíîáîð÷åñêèå è èêîíè÷åñêèå óñòðåìëåíèÿ áûëè ñâÿçàíû ìåæäó ñîáîé. ×àñòî îíè ñóùåñòâîâàëè îäíîâðåìåííî â èñëàìå è õðèñ- òèàíñòâå. Îäíàêî, â îòëè÷èå îò õðèñòèàíñòâà, â èñëàìå ïðîòèâîïîñòàâ- ëåíèå Ñëîâà è Ëèêà âñåãäà ðàçðåøàëîñü â ïîëüçó Ñëîâà. È âñå æå: èçîá- ðàæåíèÿ äîâîëüíî ÷àñòî âñòðå÷àþòñÿ â ìóñóëüìàíñêîì èñêóññòâå. Ïðàâ- äà, èçîáðàæåíèå çäåñü èãðàåò ïîä÷èíåííóþ ðîëü. Îíî ëèáî ïîäâåðãàåòñÿ ñèëüíîé îðíàìåíòàöèè, ëèáî âûòåñíÿåòñÿ â îãðàíè÷åííûå ñôåðû íà- óêè èëè áûòà. Âîò ïî÷åìó â èñêóññòâå èñëàìà íå ñëîæèëèñü êàíîíû â èçîáðàæåíèè ÷åëîâåêà. Èçîáðàæåíèÿ â ñðåäíåâåêîâîì ìóñóëüìàíñêîì èñêóññòâå íå ïðåñëåäîâàëè çðèòåëüíîãî çàêðåïëåíèÿ îáëèêà èçîáðàæà- åìûõ ãåðîåâ. Îáðàç õàëèôà áûë ëèøåí ýìáëåìàòè÷íîñòè âèçàíòèéñêî- ãî èìïåðàòîðà. «Èçîáðàçèòåëüíûé çíàê â ìóñóëüìàíñêîì èñêóññòâå âñå- ãäà îñòàâàëñÿ çíàêîì, èçìåíÿþùèìñÿ âî âðåìåíè è òîëüêî â ñîçíàíèè íàáëþäàòåëÿ. Èçîáðàæåíèå íå áûëî àäåêâàòíûì ñàìîìó ñåáå. Ñîîòâåò- ñòâåííî, è ëèöî ÷åëîâåêà âñåãäà îñòàâàëîñü äëÿ ìóñóëüìàí íàèáîëåå óÿçâèìûì ìåñòîì: îíî ëèáî ñêðûâàëîñü, ëèáî óíè÷òîæàëîñü íà èçîá- ðàæåíèÿõ (áóêâàëüíî èëè ñèìâîëè÷åñêè), ëèáî ïðåäñòàâëÿëîñü ìíîãî- ëèêèì».14 Çäåñü, ïî ìíåíèþ Øóêóðîâà, «ñîâìåùàþòñÿ äâå ñåìàíòè÷åñ- êèå ñèñòåìû èçîáðàæåíèé, äâà ïðàâèëà ýòèêåòíîñòè. Ïåðâàÿ ñèñòåìà âûðàæåíà ñ ïðåäåëüíîé ÿñíîñòüþ â êîìïîçèöèè ñöåí, òèïå ëþäåé, èõ îäåæäå, èçîáðàæåíèÿõ æèâîòíûõ è ôàíòàñòè÷åñêèõ ñóùåñòâ. Âòîðàÿ ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 173

æå ñèñòåìà îòðàæåíà â ïðèíöèïàõ èçîáðàçèòåëüíîãî âîïëîùåíèÿ îáðà- çà ÷åëîâåêà. Îíà íå ïîä÷èíÿåòñÿ êàíîíó è âíåøíå âûðàæåííîìó ýòè- êåòíîìó ïðåäñòàâëåíèþ».15 Äåéñòâèòåëüíî, äîìèíèðóþùèì ñðåäñòâîì âûðàçèòåëüíîñòè ìóñóëü- ìàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà ÿâëÿåòñÿ îðíàìåíò, êîòîðûé âîñïðèíèìàëñÿ êàê «ìó- çûêà äëÿ ãëàç». Ãëàâíàÿ åãî öåëü ìàíèôåñòàöèÿ Êðàñîòû. Îäíàêî, ïî- äîáíî èêîíå, îðíàìåíò ïîñòîÿííî ñîõðàíÿåò ñâîþ íåèçìåííóþ, ïðèñó- ùóþ èçíà÷àëüíî ýñòåòè÷åñêóþ è ýòè÷åñêóþ çíà÷èìîñòü. Äàæå òîãäà, êîãäà êàëëèãðàôè÷åñêèå íàäïèñè òðóäíû äëÿ ïðî÷òåíèÿ èëè óñëîæíåíû ïî ôîðìå, ÷òî îïÿòü æå äåëàåò èõ òðóäíûìè äëÿ ðàñøèôðîâêè. Èáî ñòèëü ìûøëåíèÿ ìóñóëüìàí ïîëíîñòüþ ðàñïîëàãàåò ê ýòîìó, îñíîâûâàÿ ñâîþ óíèâåðñàëüíîñòü íà âåðå â ìîãóùåñòâî Ñëîâà, èçðå÷åííîãî èëè íà÷åð- òàííîãî. Ñâÿçàíî ýòî áûëî ñ òåì, ÷òî çàïðåò íà èçîáðàæåíèÿ æèâûõ ñó- ùåñòâ ñäåëàë àáñòðàêòíîå èñêóññòâî îðíàìåíòà ãëàâíûì ïðèåìîì äëÿ âûðàæåíèÿ ãîñïîäñòâóþùèõ â òîò èëè èíîé ïåðèîä â îáùåñòâå èäåé. Ìå- òàôîðè÷åñêàÿ èçáûòî÷íîñòü îðíàìåíòàëüíûõ ìîòèâîâ áûëà ïðèçâàíà ïðèäàòü ëþáîé ôîðìå ãëóáèííóþ è íåïîçíàííóþ îñìûñëåííîñòü, ïðî- òèâîïîñòàâëÿÿ ðàöèîíàëüíîìó ïîñòèæåíèþ ïðåäâàðèòåëüíîå ïðåäâêóøå- íèå, ýêñòàòè÷åñêîå âîñïðèÿòèå. Îðíàìåíò â èñëàìñêîì èñêóññòâå âûïîë- íÿåò ðîëü èêîíû â õðèñòèàíñòâå. Îí ïðåäñòàåò êàê íåêèé ïîñðåäíèê ìåæäó ýòèì è ïîòóñòîðîííèì ìèðîì, ãäå ïðèñóòñòâóåò Áîã. Îá ýòîì ïèøóò ìíî- ãèå èññëåäîâàòåëè. Îáúÿñíÿåò ýòî Ø. Ì. Øóêóðîâ òåì, ÷òî «ïîäîáíî òîìó, êàê áîæåñòâåííîå Ñëîâî ñíèçîøëî â òåëà Áîãîìàòåðè è Ìóõàììàäà, àðàá- ñêèå ñàêðàëüíûå íà÷åðòàíèÿ, áóäó÷è «âåùüþ» â ñåáå, ïðåäâêóøàþò è ïîðîæäàþò â ñîçíàíèè âåðóþùèõ íàäåæäó è óâåðåííîñòü â âîçâðàùåíèè ê òðàíñöåíäåíòíûì èñòîêàì Áûòèÿ».16 Ñóùåñòâóåò òðè òèïà îðíàìåíòà: ðàñòèòåëüíûé (àðàáåñê), ãåîìåòðè- ÷åñêèé è êàëëèãðàôè÷åñêèé. Â Õàëèôàòå â VII â. áûë âûðàáîòàí íîâûé òèï îðíàìåíòà àðàáåñêà ñëîæíîå ïîëèãîíàëüíîå ïîñòðîåíèå, ñî÷åòàþ- ùååñÿ ñ àðàáñêèì øðèôòîì ïðÿìîóãîëüíûì («êóôè»), îêðóãëûì («ñóëüñ»), íàñõ, ìóõàêêàê, ðèêà, íàñòàëèê. Âñåãî îñíîâíûìè ïî÷åðêàìè ñ÷èòàåòñÿ øåñòü. Îêðóãëûé «ñóëüñ» è åãî ìåíüøèé ïî ðàçìåðó âàðèàíò «íàñõ» ãëàâíûé ñòàíäàðòíûé ïî÷åðê äëÿ ïåðåïèñêè ðóêîïèñåé. Îí ëåã â îñíîâó ïå÷àòíîãî àðàáñêîãî øðèôòà. Ñëåãêà ðàñòÿíóòûé ïî ãîðèçîíòàëè è ââåðõ ñîëèäíûé «ìóõàêêàê» è åãî óìåíüøåííûé âàðèàíò «ðàéõàíè». Ñòðåìèòåëü- íûé íàêëîí è ïîä÷åðêíóòàÿ çàãíóòîñòü áóêâ õàðàêòåðíû äëÿ «òàâêèà» è åãî óòîí÷åííîãî ìàëîãî âàðèàíòà «ðèêà» ñåãîäíÿ ãëàâíûé êóðñèâíûé 174 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

ïî÷åðê. Ïî÷åðê «êóôè» ñàìûé òîðæåñòâåííûé è óêðàøàë îñîáî îôèöè- àëüíûå ñïèñêè Êîðàíîâ è çäàíèÿ. Àðàáåñêà íàèáîëåå òèïè÷íàÿ îðíàìåí- òàëüíàÿ êîìïîçèöèÿ. Âïîñëåäñòâèè ýòîò îðíàìåíò øèðîêî ðàñïðîñòðàíèëñÿ â åâðîïåéñêîì èñêóññòâå ïîä òåì æå íàçâàíèåì. Ïåðâîíà÷àëüíî â îðíàìåí- òå ïðåîáëàäàëè ðàñòèòåëüíûå ìîòèâû. Îñíîâó åãî ñîñòàâëÿëè çàâèòêè âè- íîãðàäíîé ëîçû, âîïëîùàÿ áëàãîâîëåíèå Àëëàõà ê ëþäÿì, êîòîðûå ïîëüçó- þòñÿ êðàñîòîé è ïëîäàìè âèíîãðàäà. Êàê ïèøåò Á. Ì. Ïèîòðîâñêèé, «Â àðàáåñêå åñòü äâà âíóòðåííèõ ñìûñëà. Ïåðâûé áîëåå ãëóáèííûé. Îí âû- ðàæàåò âå÷íîå äâèæåíèå è ìíîãîîáðàçèå, êîòîðîå ñîçâó÷íî ïîíÿòèþ Àë- ëàõà è ïðèñóòñòâóåò â êàæäîì ïîâòîðÿþùåìñÿ è íåêîí÷àþùåìñÿ îðíàìåíòå. Âòîðîé ñìûñë áîëåå êîíêðåòåí ïåðåä íàìè ïðîñëàâëåíèå è ëþáîâàíèå ìèðîì, ñîçäàííûì Àëëàõîì äëÿ ÷åëîâåêà Îðíàìåíò êàê áû èëëþñòðè- ðóåò è ôèëîñîôñêóþ è êîíêðåòíóþ ñóòü áîæåñòâà. Íàêîíåö èçîáðàæåíèå êðàñîòû è óìèðîòâîðåííîñòè ñàäà ñ ïëîäàìè âûçûâàåò â ïàìÿòè êîðàíè- ÷åñêèå êàðòèíêè ðàéñêèõ ñàäîâ».17 Ïîçäíåå ïîÿâèëñÿ ãèðèõ ëèíåéíî- ãåîìåòðè÷åñêèé îðíàìåíò íà ñî÷åòàíèè ìíîãîóãîëüíèêîâ è ìíîãîëó÷åâûõ çâåçä, ñîåäèíÿÿ ëîãè÷åñêè ñòðîãîå ìàòåìàòè÷åñêîå ïîñòðîåíèå è õóäîæå- ñòâåííóþ ôàíòàçèþ. Ãåîìåòðè÷åñêèé îðíàìåíò ìîã âûðàæàòü èäåþ íåáà, íåñ íàñûùåííóþ èäåéíóþ ïðîãðàììó. Îòäåëüíûå ãåîìåòðè÷åñêèå ôèãó- ðû íàñûùàëèñü ñèìâîëè÷åñêèì è ìàãè÷åñêèì ñìûñëîì. Òàê, ìàãè÷åñêè- óòèëèòàðíûìè áûëè èçîáðàæåíèÿ çíàêîâ Çîäèàêà è ñîçâåçäèé. Íàíåñåí- íûå íà ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ äåêîðàòèâíî-ïðèêëàäíîãî èñêóññòâà, îíè îáåðåãàëè âëàäåëüöà. Òàëèñìàíàìè ìîãëè ñëóæèòü çâåçäà Ñóëàéìàíà, çâåçäà Äàóäà. Áûëè è ïðî÷èå çíàêè. Âñå îíè èñïîëüçîâàëèñü äëÿ ìàãè÷åñêîé çàùèòû. Êàê ñ÷èòàåò Ì. Á. Ïèîòðîâñêèé, « ãåîìåòðèÿ áûëà íå òîëüêî ìåòîäîì, íî è ñîäåðæàíèåì èñêóññòâà Èìåííî â èãðå äâóõìåðíûõ è òðåõìåðíûõ ïðî- ñòðàíñòâ îäíà èç ãëóáèííûõ ïðåëåñòåé ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî îðíàìåíòà».18 Êðóãîâàÿ îðíàìåíòàëüíàÿ êîìïîçèöèÿ òðàêòîâàëàñü êàê òåîöåíòðè÷åñêàÿ êîíöåïöèÿ ìèðà è áûòèÿ, ðàñòèòåëüíûé ìîòèâ ñòàíîâèëñÿ îáðàçîì îáíîâ- ëåíèÿ, Äðåâà æèçíè, âå÷íî ïðåêðàñíîãî ìèðà ïðèðîäû è ò.ï. Íåëüçÿ íå ñî- ãëàñèòüñÿ ñ ìíåíèåì Ì. Á. Ïèîòðîâñêîãî, âûñêàçàííûì ïî îòíîøåíèþ ê ñåìàíòèêå îðíàìåíòà: «Îñìåëèìñÿ ïðåäïîëîæèòü è çàÿâèòü, ÷òî ýòî ñâÿçà- íî ñ ïîíèìàíèåì Áîãà, ñ ïîïûòêîé ðàññêàçàòü î íåì íå òîëüêî ñëîâàìè, íî è õóäîæåñòâåííûìè ýëåìåíòàìè, àáñòðàêòíûì îðíàìåíòîì ðàññêàçàòü îá àáñòðàêòíîì. Ïîâòîðÿþùèéñÿ îðíàìåíò íåíàâÿç÷èâî, íî óïîðíî è ñêðûòî ïðèó÷àåò ÷åëîâåêà ê îùóùåíèÿì, êîòîðûå ñðîäíè ìíîãèì ïðåäñòàâëåíè- ÿì îá Àëëàõå, åäèíîì, åäèíñòâåííîì è íåïîñòèæèìîì äîáðîì Òâîðöå».19 ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 175

Îðíàìåíò íåðåäêî âêëþ÷àë â ñåáÿ òåêñòû, òàê íàçûâàåìûé ýïèãðà- ôè÷åñêèé, êàëëèãðàôè÷åñêèé îðíàìåíò. Âåäóùèì âèäîì èñêóññòâà â àðàáñêèõ ñòðàíàõ áûëà êàëëèãðàôèÿ. Àðàáñêàÿ ãðàôèêà ÿâëÿëàñü äîìè- íèðóþùåé ñåìèîòè÷åñêîé ñèñòåìîé. Åå ðåãóëèðóþùèå ôóíêöèè ïðî- ÿâëÿëèñü âî âñåõ âèäàõ ïëàñòè÷åñêèõ èñêóññòâ è èçÿùíîé ñëîâåñíîñ- òè. Ïåðåïèñàòü òåêñò èç Êîðàíà ñ÷èòàëîñü ïðàâåäíûì äåëîì. Êðàñîòà ïèñüìà ñâÿçûâàëàñü ñ äóõîâíî-íðàâñòâåííîé ñôåðîé ÷åëîâåêà, ñ îëè- öåòâîðåíèåì ïðåêðàñíîãî, íàèáîëåå ïîëíî âîïëîùåííîãî â Áîãå. Âîò ïî÷åìó îðíàìåíò íå ïðîñòî îëèöåòâîðåíèå ïðîñòî êðàñîòû, íî êðàñî- òû èìåííî áîæåñòâåííîé. Äëÿ ïèñüìà èñïîëüçîâàëèñü öèòàòû èç Êîðà- íà, áëàãîïîæåëàíèÿ, ìóäðûå âûñêàçûâàíèÿ, ñòèõè. Êàëëèãðàôèÿ áûëà íàäíàöèîíàëüíûì ýëåìåíòîì êóëüòóðû âî âñåõ ðåãèîíàõ, ãäå ðàñïðîñò- ðàíèëñÿ èñëàì. Êàëëèãðàôè÷åñêàÿ íàäïèñü äîâîëüíî ÷àñòî òðóäíà äëÿ ÷òåíèÿ, èáî åå ïåðâàÿ ôóíêöèÿ ÷èñòî äåêîðàòèâíàÿ. Îíà ïðåñëåäóåò öåëü â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü ðàäîâàòü ãëàç áåñêîíå÷íûì ïîòîêîì ëèíèé, óòî- ïàþùèõ â ìåëêèõ óçîðàõ, âûðàæàÿ áåñêîíå÷íîå äâèæåíèå, íåêîãäà íà- ÷àòîå Àëëàõîì. Ïîäëèííûì ñèìâîëîì âåðû åäèíîáîæèÿ ñ÷èòàåòñÿ 112 ñóðà «Î÷èùåíèå». Â ïåðåâîäå Â. Ïîðîõîâîé îí çâó÷èò òàê: 1. Ñêàæè: «îí Àëëàõ åäèí; 2. Èçâå÷åí Àëëàõ îäèí; 3. Íå ðîæäàë Îí, è íå áûë ðîæäåí, 4. È ñ Íèì íèêòî íå ñðàâíèì».20 Òåêñò ýòîé ñóðû êàëëèãðàôû ïîâòîðÿëè è ïîâòîðÿþò íà ðàçëè÷íûõ ïðåäìåòàõ: ñâåòèëüíèêàõ, ôàêåëàõ, êàëÿìäàíàõ (ïåíàëàõ), ëàðöàõ, è ò.ä.; ðåëèãèîçíûõ è ñâåòñêèõ çäàíèÿõ. Îí ñòàë âàæíûì ýëåìåíòîì ìóñóëü- ìàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà. Ñëåäóåò ïîä÷åðêíóòü, ÷òî òåêñò Êîðàíà âêëþ÷àåò â ñåáÿ íåñêîëüêî óðîâíåé: îò ïîíÿòíûõ îáû÷íîìó ÷åëîâåêó, ÷åðåç ïðî- íèêíîâåíèå â ôèëîñîôñêèé ñìûñë ê óãëóáëåííîìó åãî ïîíèìàíèþ. Òà- êàÿ ìíîãîñòóïåí÷àòîñòü ñìûñëîâ õàðàêòåðíà è äëÿ õóäîæåñòâåííûõ ýëåìåíòîâ èñêóññòâà è áûòîâûõ ïðåäìåòîâ. Îòêàçàâøèñü îò èçîáðàæå- íèé ïîä âëèÿíèåì èóäàèçìà («Íå ñîòâîðè ñåáå êóìèðà» îäíà èç ãëàâ- íûõ åãî çàïîâåäåé), áîëüøîå çíà÷åíèå ïðèîáðåëè íå òîëüêî ñóðû, íî è «õàäèñû» çàïèñè î âûñêàçûâàíèÿõ è ïîñòóïêàõ ïðîðîêà. Òàê îðíà- ìåíò âçÿë íà ñåáÿ ðîëü óíèâåðñàëüíîé ýñòåòè÷åñêîé âûðàçèòåëüíîñòè â èñêóññòâå èñëàìà. Êàê ïðèìåð ìîæíî ïðèâåñòè ñîçäàííûå ïðè Ìàìëþ- êàõ ðóêîïèñè Êîðàíà, êîòîðûå âêëþ÷àþò â ñåáÿ çàïîëíÿþùèé ìíîãèå 176 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

ââîäíûå ñòðàíèöû ãåîìåòðè÷åñêèé îðíàìåíò, ñîäåðæàùèé ìèñòè÷åñ- êèå ñìûñëû â áåñêîíå÷íûõ ñïëåòåíèÿõ àáñòðàêòíûõ ôèãóð è ëèíèé. Ýòè ðóêîïèñíûå êíèãè îòëè÷àþòñÿ, ñêàæåì, îò «êåéðóàíñêèõ» êóôè- ÷åñêèõ Êîðàíîâ Ìàãðèáà. Íàïèñàííûå çîëîòîì íà ñèíåì ôîíå êóôè- ÷åñêèìè ïèñüìåíàìè îñîáîãî òèïà, ñî÷åòàâøåãî â ñåáå îêðóãëîñòü áóêâ è óãëîâàòîñòü ñîåäèíåíèé, ýòè ïàìÿòíèêè êóëüòóðû, äåìîíñòðèðóÿ ñâî- åîáðàçèå èñïàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà, âñå æå íàõîäèëèñü â ðóñëå âûðàçèòåëü- íîñòè ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà. Êàëëèãðàôè÷åñêèå íàäïèñè çíàìåíè- òûõ îñìàíñêèõ êàëëèãðàôîâ Õàìèäóëëû è Êàðàõèñàðè èñïîëüçîâàëè î÷åíü ñëîæíûå ìåëêèå ïî÷åðêè, íàïðèìåð, «ðèêà» ìåëêèå, ïëîòíî òîëïÿùèåñÿ áóêâû. Ïîìèìî ýñòåòè÷åñêîãî çíà÷åíèÿ, òàêîé ïî÷åðê èìåë ïðàêòè÷åñêèé ñìûñë ÷òîáû íà âàæíûõ äîêóìåíòàõ íåëüçÿ áûëî âñòà- âèòü èëè èçìåíèòü çíà÷åíèå íàïèñàííîãî. Îñîáûé ñìûñë èìåëè îñìàí- ñêèå òàìãè çàìûñëîâàòî íàïèñàííûå êàê ãðàôè÷åñêèå ñèìâîëû èìåíà ñóëòàíîâ, ïîõîæèå íà äðåâíèå òþðêñêèå ðîäîâûå çíàêè. Äëÿ ïðåäìåòîâ ðîñêîøè èçîáðàçèòåëüíîñòü âñå æå äîïóñêàëàñü. Îáðàç ÷åëîâåêà, íåñìîòðÿ íà îãðàíè÷åííîñòü îáðàùåíèÿ ê íåìó, íå áûë èñêëþ÷åí èç âíèìàíèÿ õóäîæíèêîâ. Åãî èçîáðàæåíèÿ ìû âñòðå÷àåì â èëëþñòðàöèÿõ ê ðóêîïèñÿì, íà ïðåäìåòàõ ïðèêëàäíîãî èñêóññòâà, íå- ðåäêî îí âñòðå÷àåòñÿ äàæå â ìîíóìåíòàëüíûõ ïàìÿòíèêàõ. Ýòî ìîãóò áûòü èçîáðàæåíèÿ ïðàâèòåëÿ íà òðîíå, ïðèäâîðíûõ, âîèíîâ, âëþáëåí- íûõ, èãðîêîâ â íàðäû, êîííûõ èãðîêîâ â ïîëî (ëþáèìàÿ àðèñòîêðàòè- ÷åñêàÿ èãðà ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî Âîñòîêà), îõîòíèêîâ, ïèðóþùèõ, ñëóã. Âñå ýòè èçîáðàæåíèÿ ÷àñòî ýòèêåòíû ïîçû ïåðñîíàæåé, êîìïîçèöèîííûå ñõåìû ïîåäèíêîâ è ïèðîâ ãåðîåâ, èõ àòðèáóòû (íàïðèìåð, òèãðîâûé êàôòàí ó Ðóñòàìà, ðóáèùå Ìàäæíóíà), ñèñòåìà öâåòîïîñòðîåíèÿ è ïðî- ñòðàíñòâåííîãî ðåøåíèÿ. Íåðåäêè òàêæå èçîáðàæåíèÿ òàíöîðîâ è òàíöîâùèö, ìóçûêàíòîâ ñ ðàçíûìè ìóçûêàëüíûìè èíñòðóìåíòàìè áóáíîì, ëþòíåé, àðôîé, äóäî÷êîé è ò.ä. Æàíðîâûå ñöåíû íåðåäêî âêëþ- ÷àþò èçîáðàæåíèÿ äåðåâüåâ è çâåðåé. Èêîíîãðàôè÷åñêàÿ ñõåìà õðèñòè- àíñêîãî èñêóññòâà, ñèìâîëè÷åñêîå çíà÷åíèå êîòîðîé áûëî èçâåñòíî èñ- ëàìñêèì õóäîæíèêàì, ÷àñòî çàèìñòâîâàëàñü. Òàê, çàèìñòâîâàíà áûëà õðèñòèàíñêàÿ èêîíîãðàôèÿ èçîáðàæåíèÿ «Âúåçä Õðèñòà â Èåðóñàëèì», íàïðèìåð, â èëëþñòðàöèÿõ ê «Øàõ-íàìå» Ôèðäîóñè, «Õàìñå» Íèçàìè. Õóäîæíèêè ìèíèàòþðíîé æèâîïèñè Âîñòîêà íåðåäêî îáðàùàëèñü ê ñêàçàíèþ î Þñóôå (Éóñóôå) Èîñèôå Ïðåêðàñíîì. Ýòî ñêàçàíèå äàæå âîøëî â Êîðàí (12 ñóðà). Ñêàçàíèå «Þñóô è Çóëåéõà» ïîëó÷èë ðàñïðî- ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 177

ñòðàíåíèå â ñðåäíåâåêîâîé ëèòåðàòóðå. Íàèáîëåå ïîïóëÿðíû áûëè ïî- ýìû Ôèðäîóñè, Ðàáãóçè, Äóðáåêà, íî îñîáåííîé èçâåñòíîñòüþ ïîëüçî- âàëñÿ òåêñò Àáäóðàõìàíà Äæàìè, èëëþñòðàöèè ê êîòîðîìó àíàëèçèðó- åò Â. À. Íóðìàòîâà.21 Ýòî ñâèäåòåëüñòâóåò î áëèçîñòè è ñâÿçè íå òîëüêî ðåëèãèé, íî è èñêóññòâà. Òàêîå èñïîëüçîâàíèå èñêóññòâà, ïðåäøåñòâî- âàâøåãî âîçíèêíîâåíèþ èñëàìà è âîâëå÷åííîãî â íîâûå ñèíòàêñè÷åñ- êèå ñâÿçè, âåëî è ê ñåìàíòè÷åñêèì èçìåíåíèÿì. Ñìûñë ñèìâîëîâ ñòà- íîâèëñÿ ðàçëè÷íûì. Äîâîëüíî ÷àñòî ïðè èçîáðàæåíèè ëþäåé ìû âè- äèì íàä ãîëîâîé íèìá, êîòîðûé áûë çàèìñòâîâàí ìóñóëüìàíñêèì èñêóññòâîì ó õðèñòèàíñòâà. Ñìûñë æå áûë ñîâñåì èíîé. Îí íå áûë çíà- êîì êîíôåññèîíàëüíîé ïðèíàäëåæíîñòè. Â ýòîì ïðîÿâëÿëîñü êóëüòóð- íîå ñõîæäåíèå ñ õðèñòèàíñòâîì. Âìåñòå ñ òåì â õðèñòèàíñêîì èñêóññò- âå ôèãóðà âîèíà íà êîíå, ïîðàæàþùåãî çìåÿ, çìååáîðöà, áåçîãîâîðî÷íî èäåíòèôèöèðóåòñÿ êàê Ãåîðãèé Ïîáåäîíîñåö. Äëÿ ìóñóëüìàíèíà æå ýòî ïðîñòî ñþæåò. Ñóäèòü î åãî ñîäåðæàíèè ìîæíî ïðè óñëîâèè óñòíûõ óêàçàíèé èëè òåêñòîâûõ ïîÿñíåíèé. Êîãäà ìû âèäèì â ìóñóëüìàíñêîì èñêóññòâå èçîáðàæåíèå þíîøè íà êîíå, ïðîíçàþùåãî êîïüåì çìåÿ, òî çíà÷åíèå ýòîãî ñþæåòà ñîâåðøåííî îòëè÷íî îò õðèñòèàíñêîãî. Çäåñü îòíþäü íå èìååòñÿ â âèäó Ãåîðãèé Ïîáåäîíîñåö, à âñåãî ëèøü ïîâå- ñòâóåòñÿ îá îõîòå öàðÿ èëè âèòÿçÿ. Íåðåäêî â ïîýçèè ÷åðòàì ëèöà ïðèäàâàëèñü ðàçâåðíóòûå àëëþçèè, ïðèîáðåòàâøèå â ñóôèçìå, íàïðèìåð, çíà÷åíèå ñèìâîëîâ-òåðìèíîâ, êî- òîðûå ïîä÷åðêèâàëèñü â èçîáðàæåíèÿõ. Ýòî îáúÿñíÿåòñÿ òåì, ÷òî ëèòåðà- òóðà è ïîýçèÿ ïðåäñòàâëÿëèñü îñîáîé ýñòåòè÷åñêîé ïðîåêöèåé ìèðîçäà- íèÿ, ÷åðïàþùåé êðàñîòó â Àáñîëþòå âûñøåì îíòîëîãè÷åñêîì èñòî÷íè- êå, è ïîòîìó ñòîëü äåéñòâåííî âëèÿÿ íà ÷åëîâåêà. Òàê, â ïîýçèè Äæàìè ãëàçà ñèìâîëèçèðóþò Àòðèáóòû Âåëè÷èÿ, ïðåïÿòñòâóþùåãî áëèçîñòè «ðàáà» ñ Ãîñïîäîì, óñòà Àòðèáóò Êðàñîòû, àññîöèèðóÿñü ñ æèâîòâîðíî- ñòüþ, ìèëîñåðäèåì, äîáðîòîé, íå òîëüêî ñ êðàñíîðå÷èåì, íî è ñ ùåäðîñ- òüþ è ìèëîñåðäèåì. Ëîêîí îçíà÷àåò èëëþçîðíóþ ìíîæåñòâåííîñòü òâî- ðåíèÿ, ñêðûâàþùåãî ëèê èñòèííîãî Åäèíñòâà. Ïàëüìû ñ ïàâëèíàìè ïî ñòîðîíàì ÷àñòî ñëóæàò ñèìâîëè÷åñêèì îáîçíà÷åíèåì «Äðåâà æèçíè». Èçîáðàæåíèå äåðåâà ìîãëî áûòü ÿðêèì çíàêîì ñïîêîéñòâèÿ. Îðåë âíà÷à- ëå áûë ÿçû÷åñêèì òîòåìîì, ýòîò ñîêðûòûé ñèìâîëè÷åñêèé ñìûñë ìîã ñîõðàíÿòüñÿ è â áîëåå ïîçäíåå âðåìÿ. Â èñêóññòâå èñëàìà îí, êàê ïðàâè- ëî, îëèöåòâîðÿë ãîðäóþ ìîùü ïîáåäèòåëÿ. Êðîìå òîãî, â èñëàìñêîì èñ- êóññòâå ìû âèäèì ðàçíîîáðàçíûõ æèâîòíûõ ëüâîâ, ëîøàäåé, êîðîâ, 178 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

áàðàíîâ è ò.ä. Íåðåäêî âñòðå÷àþòñÿ èçîáðàæåíèÿ ðàçíûõ ïòèö, ñôèíê- ñîâ. Òåëåíîê ñèìâîëèçèðîâàë ðîæäåíèå, êîðîâà çðåëîñòü è ñîçäàíèå ïîòîìñòâà, ëåâ-áàðñ ãèáåëü. Ñîåäèíåíèå ýòèõ òðåõ èçîáðàæåíèé â îä- íîì ïðåäìåòå áûëî çíàêîì òðåõ ýòàïîâ æèçíè. Èçîáðàæåíèå çàéöà â èðàí- ñêîì ñðåäíåâåêîâîì èñêóññòâå ÷àùå âñåãî ñâÿçûâàåòñÿ ñ ñþæåòàìè ëþ- áîâíîãî õàðàêòåðà, à ïàâëèí îëèöåòâîðÿåò ïîõîòü è ãíåâ, ïî÷åìó íåðåäêî èçîáðàæåíèå Àäàìà è Åâû ñîïðîâîæäàåòñÿ çìååì è ïàâëèíîì. Ïîìèìî ïðèìåíåíèÿ õðèñòèàíñêèõ ìîòèâîâ è ïðåëîìëåíèÿ èõ â íî- âîé ñèñòåìå, ìóñóëüìàíñêîå èñêóññòâî èñïîëüçîâàëî ïðèåìû äîìóñóëü- ìàíñêèõ ñðåäñòâ âûðàçèòåëüíîñòè. È çäåñü òàêæå ïðîèñõîäèëî èõ ïåðå- îñìûñëåíèå. Åñëè â èðàíñêîé äîìóñóëüìàíñêîé òðàäèöèè ïàâëèí ñèì- âîë áîãèíè Àíàõàòû, òî â ìóñóëüìàíñêîé òðàäèöèè îí ïðèâÿçàí ê èñòîðèè ãðåõîïàäåíèÿ Àäàìà è Åâû. Îïÿòü ìû âèäèì ïðîíèêíîâåíèå è âçàèìî- äåéñòâèå äâóõ ñåìèîòè÷åñêèõ ñèñòåì. ×àñòî â ýòèõ èçîáðàæåíèÿõ ïåðå- äàþòñÿ ñòàíäàðòíûå ôîðìóëüíûå ñî÷åòàíèÿ ôèãóð. Ïòèöû ÷àñòî áûëè ñèìâîëàìè íåáåñíîãî ìèðà, ëþäè è æèâîòíûå îëèöåòâîðÿëè çåìíîé ìèð. Êðàñîòà ñàäîâ ñèìâîëèçèðîâàëà áëåñê ðàÿ è ñâåò ïðèáëèæåíèÿ ê Áîãó. Îäíàêî ýòè èçîáðàçèòåëüíûå ýëåìåíòû ÷àùå âñåãî áûëè èñïîëüçîâàíû â ïðåäìåòàõ ðîñêîøè, ïðåäíàçíà÷àâøèõñÿ äëÿ çíàòè. Âàæíûé ýëåìåíò èñ- ëàìñêîãî èñêóññòâà ïðîÿâëåíèå ñîöèàëüíîé ñòðóêòóðû â õóäîæåñòâåí- íûõ ïàìÿòíèêàõ. Âñå ýòè èçîáðàæåíèÿ âñå æå áûëè ïðèìåðàìè ñìûñëî- âîé ìíîãîñëîéíîñòè, îòñûëàÿ îò çíàêîìûõ âîñïðîèçâåäåíèé ïðåäìåòîâ è ÿâëåíèé ðåàëüíîãî ìèðà ê ãëóáèííîìó ïîíèìàíèþ Êîðàíà. Ìàêðîêîñì, êóëüòóðà, à èíîãäà è ìèêðîêîñì ÷åëîâåêà âûðàæàëèñü ñèìâîëàìè, ÷åðåç èçîáðàæåíèå ðàçëè÷íûõ æèâîòíûõ, ïòèö è äàæå, êàê ìû âèäåëè, ÷åëîâå- êà. Â íèõ äàí èíâàðèàíò öåëüíîñòè áûòèÿ, ïðîòèâîñòîÿùåãî ñâîåé êðàñî- òîé áåçîáðàçíûì ïî ñâîåé ñóùíîñòè ðàñïàäó, õàîñó, ñìåðòè. Äåêîðàòèâèçì îñíîâà âñåõ âèäîâ èñêóññòâà. Ñëîæíûé îðíàìåíòàëü- íûé ðèòì è ïîâûøåííàÿ êîëîðèñòè÷åñêàÿ çâó÷íîñòü ïðîíèçûâàþò âñå ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ ìóñóëüìàíñêîé òðàäèöèè. Â àðõèòåêòóðå ýòî ðàçíîãî ðîäà àðêè (ñòðåëü÷àòûå è ïîäêîâîîáðàçíûå), êóïîëà, îïèðàþùèåñÿ íà òðîì- ïû, ìóêàðíû (ñòàëàêòèòû) äåêîðàòèâíîå çàïîëíåíèå ñâîäîâ, íèø, êàð- íèçîâ. Â êóëüòóðå Àðàâèéñêîãî ïîëóîñòðîâà ìû âèäèì ñèíòåç àðàáñêîé äîìóñóëüìàíñêîé òðàäèöèè ñ äîñòèæåíèÿìè àíòè÷íîé è äðåâíåâîñòî÷- íîé êóëüòóð. Íàèáîëåå ðàííèå ïàìÿòíèêè ìóñóëüìàíñêîé àðõèòåêòóðû íàõîäÿòñÿ â Ñèðèè ìå÷åòü Îìåéÿäîâ â Äàìàñêå (705 715 ãã.). Îäíà èç ïåðâûõ ìå÷åòåé ìå÷åòü Ñêàëû (Êóááàò-àñ-Ñàõðà êóïîë Ñêàëû) â ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 179

Èåðóñàëèìå (687 691 ãã.). Â ìèõðàáíûõ íèøàõ, íà ôðèçàõ (ìå÷åòü Èáí- Òóëóíà) ìû âèäèì ýïèãðàôè÷åñêèé îðíàìåíò. Â íèõ, äåéñòâèòåëüíî, àâòîðû ñòðîãî ñëåäóþò êàíîíàì - íèêàêèõ èçîáðàæåíèé â íèõ íåò. Îä- íàêî ïðè ýòîì âñå óðîâíè êóëüòóðû ðåëèãèîçíûé, ôèëîñîôñêèé, ìèñ- òè÷åñêèé, ïîýòè÷åñêèé, èçîáðàçèòåëüíûé îêàçûâàþòñÿ âîçìîæíûìè äëÿ åå ñàìîîïèñàíèÿ. Ýòè ìåäèàòèâíûå ôóíêöèè àðàáñêîé ïèñüìåííîñòè íàèáîëåå ÿðêî ïðîÿâëÿþòñÿ â àðõèòåêòóðå. «Âåðòèêàëüíàÿ ñòðóêòóðà ìóñóëüìàíñêîé ìå÷åòè âêëþ÷àåò â ñåáÿ òðè ñèìâîëè÷åñêèå çîíû: ÷åò- âåðèê ñèìâîë íèæíåãî ìèðà, êóïîë ñèìâîë ìèðà âåðõíåãî è áàðàáàí ñâîåîáðàçíàÿ çîíà ïåðåõîäà îò ìèðà çåìíîãî ê ìèðó íåáåñíîìó. Íàè- áîëåå ñóùåñòâåííûå ñ ðåëèãèîçíîé òî÷êè çðåíèÿ íàäïèñè íàíîñÿòñÿ íà áàðàáàíå, ò.å. îíè ïîÿâëÿþòñÿ ïðåèìóùåñòâåííî â ïåðåõîäíîé çîíå, ìåñòå ðàçúåäèíåíèÿ è èíòåãðàöèè çåìíîãî è íåáåñíîãî, íèæíåãî è âåð- õíåãî ìèðîâ, ïðîôàíè÷åñêîãî è ñàêðàëüíîãî».22 Àíàëîãè÷íî ñòðîèòñÿ è ãîðèçîíòàëüíàÿ ñòðóêòóðà ìå÷åòè. Öåíòðàëüíûé âõîä è ìèõðàá íå- ïðåìåííî è â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü óêðàøàëèñü ãðàôè÷åñêèìè èçîáðàæåíèÿ- ìè. Ïîÿâëåíèå íàäïèñåé íàä âõîäíûìè äâåðÿìè íà íèõ îáúÿñíÿåòñÿ ñèìâîëè÷åñêèì çíà÷åíèåì ïîðîãà, äâåðè â ìóñóëüìàíñêîé êóëüòóðå, òàê êàê äâåðè, íàïðèìåð, ðàçäåëÿþò ïðîôàíè÷åñêîå è ñàêðàëüíîå ïðîñòðàí- ñòâî. Íî â çàãîðîäíûõ ðåçèäåíöèÿõ êîìïëåêñ Ìøàòòà, Êóñåéð-Àìðà (õàëèôàò Îìåéÿäîâ), äâîðöû Áàëüêóâàðà è Äæàóñàêà, Ñàìàððû, çàìîê Êàñð-àëü-Õåéð, äâîðåö Êóñåéð-Àìðà (õàëèôàò Àááàñèäîâ) íàðÿäó ñ áîëüøèì êîëè÷åñòâîì îðíàìåíòàëüíûõ êîìïîçèöèé, èõ îôîðìëåíèå ñîäåðæèò è ïðèìåðû ñâåòñêèõ èçîáðàæåíèé, äåìîíñòðèðóþùèõ îáëèê ÷åëîâåêà è æèâîòíûõ. Ïðîäîëæåíèåì ýòèõ ìóñóëüìàíñêèõ òðàäèöèé ÿâëÿåòñÿ äâîðöîâûé êîìïëåêñ àëü-õàìðà (Àëüãàìáðà) â Ãðàíàäå þã Èñïàíèè, öåíòð Ãðàíàäñêîãî ýìèðàòà. Â Îñìàíñêîé Òóðöèè ìå÷åòè Õîä- æè Ñèíàíà, ïîñòðîèâøåãî â Ñòàìáóëå áîëåå 80 ìå÷åòåé, ñòàëè ñèìâî- ëîì ìóñóëüìàíñêîé àðõèòåêòóðû. Â íèõ èñïîëüçîâàëèñü èçðàçöû, â êî- òîðûõ ïðåîáëàäàë ñèíèé öâåò. Íåðåäêî âî âíóòðåííèõ èíòåðüåðàõ âñòðå- ÷àþòñÿ îãðîìíûå êàëëèãðàôè÷åñêèå íàäïèñè. Â êíèæíîé ìèíèàòþðå, ðàñöâåò êîòîðîé áûë ñâÿçàí ñ òðàäèöèîííûì âíèìàíèåì ê ëèòåðàòóðå, ïðåâàëèðóþò ïëîñêîñòíîñòü, ëàïèäàðíîñòü, äå- êîðàòèâíîñòü. Ïðè Àááàñèäàõ áûëà äàæå îñíîâàíà ïåðåâîä÷åñêàÿ êîëëå- ãèÿ «Äîì ìóäðîñòè», ãäå ïåðåâîäèëèñü äðåâíåãðå÷åñêèå è ýëëèíèñòè÷åñ- êèå êíèãè. Òðóäû àíòè÷íûõ àâòîðîâ ìû çíàåì êàê ðàç ïî àðàáñêèì ïåðåâî- äàì. Â ñâîþ î÷åðåäü àðàáñêèå òðóäû áûëè ïåðåâåäåíû íà ëàòûíü. À àðàáñêàÿ 180 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

ïîýçèÿ îêàçàëà ñèëüíåéøåå âëèÿíèå íà ïîñëåäóþùóþ ëèòåðàòóðó íå òîëü- êî Âîñòîêà, íî è Çàïàäà. Ïèñüìåííîñòü âîçíèêëà â Þæíîé Àðàâèè çà 1000 ëåò äî íàøåé ýðû. Ïîýçèÿ çäåñü èçäàâíà âûñîêî ÷òèëàñü, ïîýò ñ÷èòàëñÿ íåïðèêîñíîâåííûì, æåëàííûì ãîñòåì. «Ïîýçèÿ ïóñòûíè» êàñûäû (âå- ëè÷àëüíûå îäû) è «çàïëà÷êè» áûëè îñíîâîé áëèæíå- è ñðåäíåâîñòî÷íîãî ñòèõîñëîæåíèÿ íà ìíîãèå âåêà. Äëÿ ñðåäíåâåêîâîé àðàáñêîé ëèòåðàòóðû áûëà õàðàêòåðíà äåñêðèïòèâíîñòü èñïîëüçîâàíèå òðàäèöèîííûõ óñòîé- ÷èâûõ ýëåìåíòîâ îïèñàíèÿ íàïðèìåð, ñèÿþùèé äâîðåö, ðîñèñòàÿ ðîçà, æèâîòâîðíûé äîæäü, ñâåòîçàðíûé ëèê è ò.ï. Ýòî âëèÿëî è íà èçîáðàçèòåëü- íîå èñêóññòâî, îñîáåííî íà êíèæíóþ ìèíèàòþðó, äàâàÿ ïðîñòîð äëÿ âîñ- ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ ïîäðîáíîñòåé. Â ìèíèàòþðå ìû âèäèì äèíàìèêó ðàçâèòèÿ îò êàëëèãðàôèè ê îòîáðàæåíèþ Âñåëåííîé, ñíà÷àëà ÷åëîâåêà, ïîòîì ïåé- çàæà, êîãäà ðàñøèðÿëàñü Èêîíîñôåðà è îòñòóïàëà Ëîãîñôåðà ðóêîïèñíîé ñòðàíèöû. Òàêîå ââåäåíèå íîâîãî ìåòàôèçè÷åñêîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà â êîíå÷- íîì èòîãå ïðèâåëî ê ïîÿâëåíèþ èçîáðàæåíèÿ ïåéçàæà, íåçàâèñèìîãî îò ñþæåòíîãî äåéñòâèÿ. Â àðàáî-ìåñîïîòàìñêîé ìèíèàòþðå âûäåëÿþòñÿ òà- êèå ïàìÿòíèêè, êàê «Ìàêàìû» àë-Õàðèðè, èëëþñòðàöèè ê áàñíÿì «Êàëèëà è Äèìíà». Îíè ïðåäñòàâëÿþò ñîáîé íàãëÿäíûé ïðèìåð ïåðåâîäà îäíîé çíàêîâîé ñèñòåìû â äðóãóþ. Â íèõ ïðîèñõîäèò ïåðåàêöåíòèðîâêà è ïåðå- ãðóïïèðîâêà ñìûñëîâûõ äîìèíàíò èçîáðàæåíèÿ, ÷òî ïðèâîäèò ê ïåðåâîäó êîíñòàíòíîãî ñîîáùåíèÿ â àññîöèàòèâíûé êîä. Èíòåðåñíî, ÷òî èëëþñòðè- ðîâàëèñü íå òîëüêî ïîýòè÷åñêèå òåêñòû, íî è íàó÷íûå òðàêòàòû, íåðåäêî îôîðìëåííûå â ñòèõîòâîðíîé ôîðìå, íàñòîëüêî áûëî ðàçâèòî ëèòåðàòóð- íîå òâîð÷åñòâî. Ïîýòîìó èëëþñòðèðîâàíà çíàìåíèòàÿ êíèãà «Ôàðìàêîëî- ãèÿ» (õóäîæíèê Àáäàëëàõ èáí Ôàðëåì), «Àïòåêà», «Òðàêòàò îá àâòîìàòàõ». ßðêèì ïðåäñòàâèòåëåì áàãäàäñêîé øêîëû æèâîïèñè áûë ßõüÿ èáí Ìàõ- ìóä àëü-Âàñåòè â Ìåñîïîòàìèè (1237). Çåìíàÿ ëþáîâü âûñòóïàëà ñóáñòèòóòîì «ëþáâè íåáåñíîé». Òàêîâû áûëè êëàññè÷åñêèå ñþæåòû î Ëåéëè è Ìàäæíóíå, Øèðèí è Ôàðõàäå, Þñóôå è Çóëåéõå. Ñòðîãîñòü è îðãàíè÷íîñòü êîëîðèñòè÷åñêîé ãàììû, îòñóòñòâèå äå- òàëèçàöèè, òèïèçèðîâàííîñòü îáëèêîâ äåéñòâóþùèõ ëèö îñíîâíûå õàðàêòåðèñòèêè ýòîãî èñêóññòâà. Â Ñèðèè è Èðàêå â XIII XIV ââ. êíèæ- íàÿ ìèíèàòþðà äîñòèãëà âåðøèí ìàñòåðñòâà. Îäíîé èç ïðè÷èí áûëî ïðîíèêíîâåíèå èç Êèòàÿ ñïîñîáà ïðîèçâîäñòâà áóìàãè. Êèòàéñêèå âëè- ÿíèÿ ïðîÿâèëèñü âî ìíîãîì â êíèæíîé æèâîïèñè, îñîáåííî â XIV XV âåêàõ ïî÷òè âî âñåõ ðåãèîíàõ ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà. Íà òåððèòî- ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 181

ðèè Èðàíà è Àôãàíèñòàíà àðàáñêèå çàâîåâàíèÿ ñìåíèëèñü ìîíãîëüñ- êèì âëàäû÷åñòâîì, íî õóäîæåñòâåííûå òðàäèöèè ïðîäîëæàëè ðàçâè- âàòüñÿ. Òàìåðëàí (1336 1405) çàâîåâàë ïîëìèðà. Ñòîëèöåé ñâîåé èì- ïåðèè îí ñäåëàë Ñàìàðêàíä. Ñþäà îí ïðèâåç ðåìåñëåííèêîâ è õóäîæ- íèêîâ ñî âñåãî ñâåòà. Äëÿ ýïîõè Òèìóðèäîâ õàðàêòåðíî ðàçâèòèå êíèæíîé ìèíèàòþðû, äîñòèãøåé îñîáûõ âåðøèí. Öåïî÷êà øêîë ãå- ðàòñêàÿ, òåáðèçñêàÿ, èñôàõàíñêàÿ, øèðàçñêàÿ îïðåäåëèëè îñíîâû âûðà- çèòåëüíûõ ñðåäñòâ êíèæíîé ìèíèàòþðû ýòîãî ðåãèîíà. Äëÿ íèõ áûëè õàðàêòåðíû ÿðêîñòü è ïåñòðîòà öâåòà, ìèñòè÷åñêàÿ ìåòàôîðè÷íîñòü, ñèìâîëè÷íîñòü èçîáðàæåíèé è èíòåëëåêòóàëüíàÿ àáñòðàêöèÿ, ñî÷åòàâ- øèõñÿ ñ èíòåðåñîì ê áûòîâûì ñöåíàì. Âûäàþùèìñÿ ìàñòåðîì áûë Êàìàë-àä-äèí-Áåõçàä (1455-1535). Èëëþñòðèðîâàëèñü ðóêîïèñè «Õàì- ñå» (ïÿòü ïîýì «Ñîêðîâèùà òàéí», «Ëåéëà è Ìåäæíóí», «Õîñðîâ è Øèðèí», «Ñåìü ïîðòîâ», «Èñêàíäåð-íàìå») Íèçàìè, «Êàëèëà è Äèì- íà», «Øàõ-íàìå» Ôèðäîóñè, «Äèâàí» Õàôèçà, «Þñóô è Çóëåéõà» Äæà- ìè, «Õàôò Àâðàíã» Àðèôè è ò.ï.. Áåõçàä ïåðååõàë èç Ãåðàòà â Òåáðèç, ãäå ïðîäîëæàëèñü òå æå âûðàçèòåëüíûå ñðåäñòâà, õàðàêòåðíûå äëÿ ãå- ðàòñêîé øêîëû. Ïðîäîëæåíèåì ýòèõ òðàäèöèé ñòàëà èñôàõàíñêàÿ øêî- ëà ñ âûäàþùèìñÿ æèâîïèñöåì Ðåçîé Àááàñè. Ðåçà Àááàñè óñòàíîâèë êàíîí âîïëîùåíèÿ êðàñàâöåâ è êðàñàâèö: ãåðîè èçîáðàæàëèñü ñ ïûø- íûìè óñàìè è ñðîñøèìèñÿ áðîâÿìè, þíîøè è äåâóøêè ñ óçêèìè ëáà- ìè, îêðóãëûì ëèöîì è ëîêîíàìè. Ïåðñèäñêàÿ ìèíèàòþðà ñòàëà îäíèì èç òèïè÷íûõ ïðîÿâëåíèé ìóñóëüìàíñêîé õóäîæåñòâåííîé ñèñòåìû. Õó- äîæíèê òùàòåëüíî ðàññ÷èòûâàë òðàåêòîðèþ äâèæåíèÿ çðèòåëüñêîãî âçãëÿäà ïî ìèíèàòþðå, ÿâëÿÿñü ïðåäìåòîì ÷òåíèÿ äëÿ èíòåëëåêòóàëè- çèðîâàííûõ ýìîöèé. Ïîñòåïåííî ê XVI âåêó ëèöà ïåðñîíàæåé ñòàíî- âÿòñÿ áîëåå èíäèâèäóàëèçèðîâàííûìè, ýëåìåíòû ïîðòðåòíîñòè âîçðà- ñòàþò. Õóäîæíèê ñòàíîâèëñÿ òàêèì èíòåðïðåòàòîðîì òåêñòà, êîãäà ñâÿ- ùåííîå çíàíèå, çíàê, íèñïîñëàííûé çàêàç÷èêó, «óçíàâàëñÿ» è îñìûñëèâàëñÿ â ìèíèàòþðå êàê íèñïîñëàííîå çíàíèå. Òàêèì îáðàçîì, ìèíèàòþðà ïðèîáðåòàëà äâîéíîé ñìûñë, êîãäà ëèòåðàòóðíûé ñþæåò ñòà- íîâèëñÿ ïàðàäèãìàòè÷åñêèì, à ëèòåðàòóðíûé ïåðñîíàæ âûñòóïàë ïðî- òîòèïîì èñòîðè÷åñêîãî, äåìîíñòðèðóÿ ñèñòåìó êîäîâ, ñ ïîìîùüþ êîòî- ðûõ íåîáõîäèìî áûëî ïðî÷èòàòü ëèòåðàòóðíûé òåêñò. Ìèíèàòþðà ñî- äåðæàëà íåñêîëüêî ñìûñëîâûõ óðîâíåé, íåñëà íà ñåáå îòïå÷àòîê êîñìè÷åñêîé ãàðìîíèè, îáëàäàëà òåðàïåâòè÷åñêèì ýôôåêòîì, ïîëèèí- ôîðìàöèîííî îòðàæàÿ ñîâåðøåíñòâî ìèðà, ÿâëÿÿ ñîáîé è ïàíåãèðèê, è 182 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

ôèëîñîôñêèé òðàêòàò, è òðàêòàò ïî òåîëîãèè. Ïðîòîòèïàìè èçîáðàæå- íèÿ ïðàâèòåëåé áûëè Èñêàíäåð (Àëåêñàíäð Ìàêåäîíñêèé) è Õîñðîâ Àíó- øèðâàí, ñîâïàäàÿ ñ èçîáðàæåííûìè ïðàâèòåëÿìè ëèáî çîäèàêàëüíûì çíàêîì ãîäà ðîæäåíèÿ àñòðîëîãè÷åñêèìè îáîñíîâàíèÿìè è ñèòóàöè- îííî-õðîíîëîãè÷åñêèìè ñîîòâåòñòâèÿìè èëè äîáëåñòÿìè è äîñòîèíñòâà- ìè ìóäðîñòüþ, îñíîâàíèåì èìïåðèè, îòâàæíîñòüþ, ìåöåíàòñòâîì è ò.ï. Õóäîæíèê ñòàíîâèëñÿ íåêèì ïîñðåäíèêîì ìåæäó òðàíñöåíäåíòíîé ñóùíîñòüþ è èçîáðàæàåìûì. Ýòî â êàêîé-òî ñòåïåíè ñîâïàäàåò ñ òàêî- ãî ðîäà ÿâëåíèÿìè åâðîïåéñêîãî ñðåäíåâåêîâüÿ. Âñïîìíèì ñëîâà À. ß. Ãóðåâè÷à î òîì, ÷òî « ñ÷èòàëîñü âîçìîæíûì, ïîìèìî áóêâàëüíîãî, ôàêòè÷åñêîãî ïîíèìàíèÿ ëþáîãî ÿâëåíèÿ íàéòè äëÿ íåãî è ñèìâîëè- ÷åñêîå èëè ìèñòè÷åñêîå òîëêîâàíèå, ðàñêðûâàþùåå òàéíû âåðû».23 Êíèæíàÿ ìèíèàòþðà îñìàíñêîé Òóðöèè ñòàëà ïîä÷åðêíóòî ðåàëè- ñòè÷åñêîé. Îíà äàæå ïîçâîëÿëà èëëþñòðèðîâàòü èñòîðèþ Ïðîðîêà. Êî- íå÷íî, ëèöî åãî íå âîñïðîèçâîäèëîñü, âìåñòî íåãî èçîáðàæàëè áåëîå ïîêðûâàëî. Ñ XV âåêà â òóðåöêîé ìèíèàòþðå âèäíû âëèÿíèÿ ãåðàòñêîé øêîëû. Â XVI-XVII âåêàõ âî âñåõ ðåãèîíàõ ïðîèñõîäèò îòðûâ ìèíè- àòþðû, æèâîïèñè îò êíèæíîãî ëèñòà, ðàçâèâàåòñÿ èíäèâèäóàëüíûé ïîð- òðåò. Ïðèìåð òîìó «Õþíàð-íàìå» (êíèãà ïîäâèãîâ). Â ìèíèàòþðå âûðàáàòûâàëàñü ñèñòåìà âûðàæåíèÿ ñêðûòîãî è ÿâëåííîãî, êîãäà, îòðà- æàÿ æèçíü øàõà è øàõñêîãî äâîðà, õóäîæíèê äîëæåí áûë ïåðåäàòü â ñâîèõ ïðîèçâåäåíèÿõ íå ðåàëüíûé ïîâñåäíåâíûé ìèð, íî è ñàìîå ñóù- íîñòíîå åãî îñìûñëåíèå. Íàïðèìåð, â óêàçå øàõà Èñìàèëà î íàçíà÷å- íèè Áåõçàäà ãëàâîé øàõñêîé êèòàá-õàíû ãîâîðèòñÿ î çîëî÷åíîé ñòðàíè- öå Ñîëíöà, ëàçóðíîì íåáîñâîäå ñåðåáðÿíîé ðîññûïè çâåçä, àëîì ïîòîêå çîðü, ò. å. çíàêàõ (Åãî) áëàãîëåïèÿ. Õóäîæíèêó æå ïðåäïèñûâàåòñÿ ñî- âëå÷ü ïîêðîâ çàâåñû ñ ëèêà èñêîìîãî è æåëàåìîãî. Òå æå îñîáåííîñòè õàðàêòåðíû äëÿ äåêîðàòèâíî-ïðèêëàäíîãî èñ- êóññòâà. Èìåííî â ýòîé îáëàñòè ñîçäàâàëèñü ãëàâíûå øåäåâðû ìóñóëü- ìàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà. ßçûê ýòîãî èñêóññòâà áûë ïîíÿòåí áîëüøèíñòâó ëþäåé èñëàìñêîãî ìèðà. Ñëåäóåò óêàçàòü, ÷òî çíàê â ìóñóëüìàíñêîì èñêóññòâå ïðèîáðåòàë îñîáîå çíà÷åíèå. Íåñìîòðÿ íà òî, ÷òî çíàê è âåùü â ñîçíàíèè ñðåäíåâåêîâîãî ÷åëîâåêà íå áûëè ðàâíîçíà÷íûìè, èáî çíàê êîíå÷åí è èñ÷åðïûâàþù, à «âåùü» óñòðåìëåíà â áåñêîíå÷- íîñòü è åå ïîòàåííûé ñìûñë íåèñ÷åðïàåì, â ëþáîì ïðåäìåòå äåêîðà- òèâíî-ïðèêëàäíîãî èñêóññòâà âèäåëè íåñêîëüêî óðîâíåé ñìûñëîâ. Âî- ïåðâûõ, âûñîêîå ìàñòåðñòâî è õóäîæåñòâåííîñòü ïðèòÿãèâàëè ê ýòèì ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 183

ïðîèçâåäåíèÿì. Êàê ïðàâèëî, âñå îíè áûëè ñíàáæåíû íàäïèñÿìè, êî- òîðûå ñïîñîáñòâîâàëè óñâîåíèþ äîïîëíèòåëüíîé ê óòèëèòàðíîé è ýñòåòè÷åñêîé ôóíêöèÿì ýòèõ ïðåäìåòîâ èíôîðìàöèè. Íî äàëåå áûë áîëåå ãëóáîêèé óðîâåíü ïðîíèêíîâåíèÿ â ñóòü ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî ìèðî- âîççðåíèÿ. Ðèòì óçîðîâ, èçîáðàæåíèÿ ñòèìóëèðîâàëè ïðåäñòàâëåíèÿ î íåïîçíàâàåìîì Áîãå. Êàê ïðàâèëî, áûòîâûå ïðåäìåòû âûïîëíÿëè ïîìèìî óòèëèòàðíîé ôóíêöèè ôóíêöèþ òàëèñìàíà-îáåðåãà, çàùèùàâ- øåãî ñâîåãî âëàäåëüöà. Îäíî èç ðàñïðîñòðàíåííûõ èçðå÷åíèé ñðåäíåâåêîâîãî èñëàìñêîãî Âîñòîêà: «×åðíèëà ó÷åíîãî ñòîëü æå äîñòîéíû óâàæåíèÿ, êàê êðîâü ìó÷åíèêà». Ïîíÿòíî, ÷òî ÷åðíèëüíèöå è ÷åðíèëàì îòâîäèëàñü ñèìâî- ëè÷åñêàÿ ðîëü. Âîò ïî÷åìó â èðàíñêîì èñêóññòâå ÷åðíèëüíèöà èíîãäà âûäåëûâàåòñÿ â ôîðìå êóïîëüíûõ àðõèòåêòóðíûõ ñîîðóæåíèé (ìàâçî- ëåÿ, ìå÷åòè) ñ íàäïèñÿìè, â êîòîðûõ îáûãðûâàåòñÿ ñõîäíàÿ ãðàôè÷åñ- êàÿ ôîðìà ñëîâ «÷åðíèëüíèöà» è «ñ÷àñòüå». Íåðåäêî èçäåëèÿ èç êåðàìèêè âêëþ÷àëè íå òîëüêî îðíàìåíòàëü- íûå óêðàøåíèÿ, íî è ôèãóðêè ëþäåé, êîòîðûå ñòàíîâèëèñü ÷àñòüþ îðíàìåíòàëüíîãî ÿçûêà. Ýòî õàðàêòåðíî áûëî, íàïðèìåð, â áîëüøåé ÷àñòè äëÿ ïåðñèäñêîãî è åãèïåòñêîãî ôàòèìèäñêîãî èñêóññòâà. Â èðàí- ñêîé êåðàìèêå íàðÿäó ñ äîìóñóëüìàíñêèìè èçîáðàæåíèÿìè, êîòîðûå ïðèîáðåòàëè çäåñü ñîâåðøåííî íîâûé ñìûñë, îáèëüíî èñïîëüçîâàëàñü ýïèãðàôèêà, êîòîðàÿ ïåðåêîäèðîâàëà çíà÷åíèÿ äîìóñóëüìàíñêèõ èçîá- ðàæåíèé è ñåìàíòè÷åñêè èõ óïîðÿäî÷èâàëà. Ýòî áûëî õàðàêòåðíî äëÿ âñåãî èðàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà, â êîòîðîì «ïðîèñõîäèë ñîçíàòåëüíûé ïðî- öåññ îòáîðà ôîðì è çíà÷åíèé èç ñòàðîãî ìèðà ñ öåëüþ óäîâëåòâîðåíèÿ çàïðîñîâ ìèðà íîâîãî».24 Êåðàìè÷åñêèå èçäåëèÿ ïðè Ôàòèìèäàõ èñ- ïîëüçîâàëè ýìàëåâûå êðàñêè. Èõ ãîëóáîâàòûå ñîñóäû ìèíàè âêëþ÷à- ëè èçîáðàæåíèÿ òîìíûõ äåâóøåê, ìàíåðíûõ þíîøåé, ëàñêàÿ ãëàç âêó- ïå ñ ëèðè÷åñêèìè ñòèõàìè, îáåùàÿ ïðîõëàäó è ïîêîé. Ëþñòðîâàÿ ïî- ñóäà Èñïàíèè âêëþ÷àëà â ñåáÿ ñîåäèíåíèå ìóñóëüìàíñêèõ è õðèñòèàíñêèõ ìîòèâîâ. Îäíè è òå æå ìàñòåðà âûïîëíÿëè ïðåäìåòû äëÿ ðàçíûõ çàêàç÷èêîâ ìóñóëüìàí è õðèñòèàí. Êåðàìèêà îñìàíñêîé Òóðöèè ïîðîäèëà «èçíèêñêèé» ñòèëü ðåàëèñòè÷åñêè èçîáðàæåííûõ ãâîçäèê, ãèàöèíòîâ, òþëüïàíîâ, êîòîðûå âûïîëíÿëèñü êðàñíûìè è ñèíèìè êðàñêàìè. Êîðàí îñóæäàåò ÷ðåçìåðíîå áîãàòñòâî è ðîñêîøü. Íî èçäåëèÿ èç äðàãîöåííûõ ìåòàëëîâ è êàìíåé âñå æå ñóùåñòâîâàëè â ìóñóëüìàíñêîì 184 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

áûòó. Èõ áëåñê îòîæäåñòâëÿëñÿ ñ áëåñêîì ïîòóñòîðîííåãî ìèðà. Ðàç- íîãî ðîäà çîëîòûå ñîñóäû, óêðàøåíèÿ, îðóæèå, èíêðóñòèðîâàííûå äðàãîöåííûìè êàìíÿìè ñâÿçûâàëèñü ïîäñîçíàòåëüíî ñ ðàéñêèìè äðà- ãîöåííîñòÿìè, à èõ ñâåò âîñïðèíèìàëñÿ êàê îòáëåñê áîæåñòâåííîãî ñâåòà. Áîæåñòâåííûé ñâåò îëèöåòâîðÿëñÿ è â õðèñòèàíñêèõ ïàìÿòíè- êàõ, íî ñîâñåì ïî-äðóãîìó. Îá ýòîì ìíîãî ïèñàëîñü. Òàê, íàïðèìåð, ñâåòîâûå îêíà â õðàìàõ, çîëîòî è æåëòûé öâåò â èçîáðàçèòåëüíîì èñ- êóññòâå ÿâëÿëèñü çíàêîì áîæåñòâåííîãî ñâåòà â ïðîèçâåäåíèÿõ õðèñ- òèàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà. Â èñëàìñêîì ìèðîïîíèìàíèè ñâåò âîñïðèíèìàëñÿ êàê îùóùåíèå ïðèñóòñòâèÿ Áîãà, ñèìâîë Àëëàõà. Ïåðâûì, ÷òî ñîçäàë Àëëàõ, ÿâëÿåòñÿ Ñâåò Ìóõàììàäà Íóð Ìóõàììàä, Äóõ. Êàê ñ÷èòàåò áîëüøèíñòâî êîììåíòàòîðîâ, Íóð Ìóõàììàä ïîäîáåí ÷åëîâåêó è íà- äåëåí ïðèñóùèìè åìó ãîëîâîé, ðóêàìè, íîãàìè, òóëîâèùåì, ãëàçàìè, óøàìè è ò.ä. Ëó÷, íà÷àâøèé ñâîé ïóòü èç ñðåäîòî÷èÿ áûòèéíîãî ìðà- êà, áûë ÿâëåííûì áûòèåì, ñîçèäàþùèì ïðåêðàñíûå ôîðìû, îñâåùàÿ èõ è íàïîëíÿÿ ñâåòîì èçíóòðè. Ñâåòîâîé ëó÷, óñòðåìëåííûé èç íåÿâ- ëåííîãî Áûòèÿ â ÿâëåííîå, ðàçóìååòñÿ, îêàçûâàåòñÿ è ëó÷îì áîæåñòâåí- íîãî Òâîðåíèÿ. Èìåííî åìó ïîäðàæàåò â ñâîåì òâîð÷åñòâå ìàñòåð ðåìåñëåííèê, ïîýò, õóäîæíèê. Åñëè Òâîðåö èñõîäèë èç ñóùíîñòè, ÿâ- ëÿÿ åå, òî õóäîæíèê äâèãàëñÿ â îáðàòíîì íàïðàâëåíèè îò ÿâëåíèÿ âåùè ê åå èäåàëüíîé ôîðìå è ãëóáèííîé ñóùíîñòè. Íóð («ñâåò») ïîíÿòèå î áîæåñòâåííîì ñâåòå êàê î ïðîÿâëåíèè áîæåñòâåííîé èñòè- íû, ðåëèãèîçíîãî çíàíèÿ, çàèìñòâîâàí èñëàìîì èç áîëåå äðåâíèõ ðå- ëèãèé. Â Êîðàíå ýòî ìîæåò áûòü è ñàì Àëëàõ, è ñâåò îòêðîâåíèÿ, íèñ- ïîñëàííûé èì ÷åðåç ïðîðîêà Ìóõàììàäà.25 Òàêèì îáðàçîì, ñîñóäû èç ãîðíîãî õðóñòàëÿ ïðè Ôàòèìèäàõ òîëüêî ñâîèì ìàòåðèàëîì íàìåêàþò óæå íà òàèíñòâåííûå ãëóáèíû çíàíèÿ. Ëàìïû è ìíîãî÷èñëåííûå áðîí- çîâûå èçäåëèÿ ïðè Ìàìëþêàõ ñòàëè õóäîæåñòâåííûì çíàêîì ýòîé ýïî- õè. Íà ìíîãî÷èñëåííûõ ìîëèòâåííûõ êîâðèêàõ èçîáðàæàëèñü ìèõðàá- íûå íèøè, â êîòîðûõ âèñåëà ëàìïà, íàïîìèíàâøàÿ î äàëåêîì ïóòå- âîäíîì ñâåòå. Ýòîò ñâåò (â ðåàëüíûõ ìèõðàáàõ ñèìâîëè÷åñêèé ñâåò äîïîëíÿëñÿ ëàìïîé) áûë èëëþñòðàöèåé ê êîðàíè÷åñêèì ñòèõàì, ïðî- ñëàâëÿþùèì ñâåò. Âíèçó îáû÷íî íà ýòèõ êîâðèêàõ èçîáðàæàëèñü öâå- òû, ñèìâîëèçèðîâàâøèå ðàéñêèå ñàäû. Â Èðàíå ñëîæèëèñü îñíîâíûå ïðèåìû êîâðîâîãî óçîðà, ïðåâðàùàâøåãî èõ â ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ æèâîïè- ñè. Îñíîâíûå òèïû êîâðîâ ñàäîâûå, îõîòíè÷üè, ìåäàëüîííûå, öâå- ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 185

òî÷íûå. Âñå êîâðû èñëàìñêîé êóëüòóðû ïåðñèäñêèå, òóðåöêèå, êàâ- êàçñêèå, ìàãðèáèíñêèå è äð. èñïîëüçîâàëè ãåîìåòðè÷åñêèå è ðàñòè- òåëüíûå îðíàìåíòû. Ãåîìåòðè÷åñêèå îðíàìåíòû, êàê ïðàâèëî, âîñõî- äÿò ê äîèñëàìñêîé ñèìâîëèêå. Â èñëàìå îíè ÷àñòî îáðàñòàþò àðàáåñ- êàìè. Ðàñòèòåëüíûå ìîòèâû ÷àñòî ãåîìåòðèçèðóþòñÿ. Íî ÷àñòî â íèõ ïîÿâëÿþòñÿ óçíàâàåìûå ðàñòåíèÿ. Îñîáåííî ýòî õàðàêòåðíî äëÿ ïåð- ñèäñêèõ êîâðîâ. Èíîãäà â íèõ ïîÿâëÿþòñÿ æèâîòíûå è ëþäè, ÿâëÿÿñü ñèìâîëè÷åñêèì çíàêîì «âðàò» ê ïîçíàíèþ Áîãà. Êîâðû, êàê ïðàâèëî, ìîãóò äàòü ïðåäåëüíî ïîëíîå ïðåäñòàâëåíèå îá èñêóññòâå èñëàìà, òàê êàê ñîäåðæàò â ñåáå ïî÷òè âñå õóäîæåñòâåííûå ïðèíöèïû ìóñóëüìàí- ñêîãî èñêóññòâà è ïî÷òè âåñü åãî èçîáðàçèòåëüíûé ðåïåðòóàð. Ñòîëü æå íàñûùåííûìè ñèìâîëàìè áûëè òêàíè, áîëüøèíñòâî èç êîòîðûõ ñèìâîëèçèðîâàëî áîãàòñòâî è âëàñòü. Íà íèõ ÷àñòî èçîáðàæàëèñü ôè- ãóðû ëüâîâ, îðëîâ, ñëîíîâ. Â ïîçäíèé ïåðèîä ñðåäíåâåêîâüÿ â îäåæäû ïîïàäàþò ñþæåòû ñî ñöåíàìè èç «Ëåéëè è Ìåäæíóíà», ïèðîâ, óâåñå- ëåíèé è ò. ä. Îñîáûé òèï òêàíåé òèðàçû (ðàñøèòûå), èç êîòîðûõ ïî- çâîëÿëîñü äåëàòü îäåæäû íàèáîëåå óâàæàåìûì ãðàæäàíàì. Îíè áûëè àòðèáóòîì âëàñòè, îòëè÷èâøèõñÿ âîèíîâ, ó÷åíûõ è ïîýòîâ. Âñå èñêóññòâî èñëàìà áûëî îðèåíòèðîâàíî íà ðàçíûå ñîöèàëüíûå ñëîè. Â íåì áûëè ýëèòàðíûå è ìàññîâûå ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ. Îäíàêî ÿçûê ýòîãî èñêóññòâà áûë áëèçîê è ïîíÿòåí ëþäÿì èñëàìñêîãî ìèðà. Â èñ- êóññòâå èñëàìà ïðèñóòñòâóþò êàòàôàòè÷åñêèå, îñíîâàííûå íà çðèòåëü- íîì ñõîäñòâå, è àïîôàòè÷åñêèå, ïðîòèâîñòîÿùèå íàòóðàëèñòè÷åñêîìó âîñïðîèçâåäåíèþ, ìåòîäû èçîáðàæåíèÿ. Êàê ïðàâèëî, èçîáðàæåíèå ÷å- ëîâåêà àïîôàòè÷íî, â îòëè÷èå îò æèâîòíîãî, âîñïðîèçâîäÿ ÷óâñòâî òðàíñ- öåíäåíòíîãî è èììàíåíòíîãî âîñïðèÿòèÿ äîìèíàíòû ìóñóëüìàíñêî- ãî ñðåäíåâåêîâîãî ñîçíàíèÿ. Òàê, èçîáðàæåíèå Ìóõàììàäà ÷àñòî ñòðî- èòñÿ íà ñî÷åòàíèè îáîèõ ýòèõ ìåòîäîâ. Çàâåñà íà ëèöå èëè åãî ìíîãîëèêîñòü ðåïðåçåíòèðóþò íåçàâåðøåííîñòü åãî îáðàçà, óêàçûâàþ- ùåãî íà ñóùåñòâîâàíèå åãî áîëåå ñîâåðøåííîãî îáëèêà. Òåðìèí Ì. Ýëèàäå «íîñòàëüãèÿ ïî ðàþ» ïðèìåíèì ïî îòíîøåíèþ ê ìóñóëü- ìàíñêîìó èñêóññòâó êàê åãî ìàãèñòðàëüíîìó ìîòèâó. Îäíà èç îñíîâíûõ òåì ìóñóëüìàíñêîãî èñêóññòâà ñàä ÿâëÿåòñÿ ìîòèâîì «íîñòàëüãèè ïî ðàþ». Ñåìàíòè÷åñêîå ïðîòèâîïîñòàâëåíèå ÿâëåííîãî (çàõèð) è ñêðû- òîãî (áàòèí) îäíà èç îñíîâîïîëàãàþùèõ óñòàíîâîê èñêóññòâà èñëàìà íà âñåõ ýòàïàõ åãî ðàçâèòèÿ âî âñåõ ðåãèîíàõ è íà ñàìûõ ðàçíûõ óðîâ- íÿõ åãî ôóíêöèîíèðîâàíèÿ. 186 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

THE SEMIOTICS OF ISLAMIC ART Svetlana MAKHLINA St. Petersburg State Univesity of Culture and Arts, Russia

Islamic culture is of special interests nowadays. The essential features and peculiarities of Islam are reflected in art. As is generally known, Islam absorbed essential elements of Judaism and Christianity. Moslem art contains symbolic forms of expression from Judaism and Christianity, which in turn reveal the earlier assimilation of many pagan ideas into Judaism and Christianity. This makes symbols in art polysemantic. Islam also introduced many new symbolic forms in works of art. In architecture, for example, the innovation is reflected in the vertical structure of the mosque. The architecture of the mosque references three zones: the lower world (the chetveric), the upper world (the dome), and a link between those two realms (the drum). The symbolic form is also evident in the horizontal structure of the mosque, where a door separates the sacred and profane spaces. The illumination of books has two meanings: on one hand, it serves to illustrate the text, and on the other, it represents the idea of perfection of the world and demonstrates the link between the visible and invisible realms. Apart from the synchronous development of symbolical meanings there are diachronic processes of development, and the two processes overlap. In Moslem art it is impossible to identify the form of a sign and the concept it embodies. The polysemantic nature of Islam art is conditioned by the complexity of the texts of the Koran. Ornament is a dominant means of expression in Moslem art. There are three patterns of ornamentation: vegetable, geometric, and calligraphic de- signs. The arabesque expresses eternal movement and the variety of the world. It incarnates the essence of God and personifies the Garden of Eden. Geo- metric ornamentation has a rich ideological program, with symbolic and magic meanings. For example, the circular ornamental composition can represent a Theocentric conception of the Universe and Being. In calligraphic ornamentation, the multi-level structure of meanings increases. In figurative images of animals and people, which are often seen in Muslim art, there is an adop- tion of the Christian schemes. But the meaning is different. In addition to Christian motifs, Islamic art uses pre-Moslem devices. But here again, the meaning is transformed. ÑÅÌÈÎÒÈÊÀ ÈÇÎÁÐÀÇÈÒÅËÜÍÎÃÎ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÀ ÈÑËÀÌÀ 187

The Moslem art is oriented to the society of Islam, which is distinct from Judeo-Christian societies and earlier pagan societies. In Islamic art, there are catechistic and apathetic [apofatic in Russian] modes of representation. According to Mircea Eliade, “Nostalgia on Paradise” is an arterial motif in the art of Islam. ÏÐÈÌÅ×ÀÍÈß 1 Øóêóðîâ Øàðèô Ì. Õóäîæåñòâåííîå òâîð÷åñòâî è ïðîáëåìà òåîäèöåè // Ýñòåòèêà Áûòèÿ è ýñòåòèêà Òåêñòà â êóëüòóðàõ ñðåäíåâåêîâîãî Âîñòîêà. Ì.: Èçäàòåëüñêàÿ ôèðìà «Âîñòî÷íàÿ ëèòåðàòóðà» ÐÀÍ, 1995. Ñ. 63. 2 Îâñÿíèêî-Êóëèêîâñêèé Ä. Èäåÿ áåçêîíå÷íîãî â ïîëîæèòåëüíîé íàóêå è â ðåàëüíîì èñêóññòâå. Âîïðîñû òåîðèè è ïñèõîëîãèè òâîð÷åñòâà. Ò.1. Õàðüêîâ, 1907. Ñ. 223. 3 Èñêóññòâî èñëàìà. Êàòàëîã âûñòàâêè. Ë.: Àâðîðà, 1990. 4 Çåìíîå èñêóññòâî íåáåñíàÿ êðàñîòà. Èñêóññòâî èñëàìà. Êàòàëîã âûñòàâ- êè. ÑÏá.: ÀÎ «Ñëàâèÿ», 2000. 5 Áåðòåëüñ À. Å. Ïÿòü ôèëîñîôñêèõ òðàêòàòîâ íà òåìó «Àôàê âà àíôóñ». Ì., 1970. Ñ. 22-23. 6 Áðàãèíñêèé Â. È. Îá èçîìîðôèçìå ìàêðîêîñìà, ìèêðîêîñìà è ëèòåðàòóðû â ïîýòîëîãè÷åñêèõ ó÷åíèÿõ ñðåäíåâåêîâîãî Âîñòîêà (Ñðàâíèòåëüíûé ýòþä) // Ýñòåòèêà Áûòèÿ è ýñòåòèêà Òåêñòà â êóëüòóðàõ ñðåäíåâåêîâîãî Âîñòîêà. Ì.: Èçäàòåëüñêàÿ ôèðìà «Âîñòî÷íàÿ ëèòåðàòóðà» ÐÀÍ, 1995. Ñ. 17. 7 Ïèîòðîâñêèé Á. Ì. Î ìóñóëüìàíñêîì èñêóññòâå. ÑÏá.: ÀÎ «Ñëàâèÿ», 2001. Ñ. 119. 8 Áðàãèíñêèé Â. È. Îá èçîìîðôèçìå ìàêðîêîñìà, ìèêðîêîñìà è ëèòåðàòóðû â ïîýòîëîãè÷åñêèõ ó÷åíèÿõ ñðåäíåâåêîâîãî Âîñòîêà (Ñðàâíèòåëüíûé ýòþä). Öèò. èçä. Ñ. 16-17. 9 Øóêóðîâ Øàðèô Ì. Õóäîæåñòâåííîå òâîð÷åñòâî è ïðîáëåìà òåîäèöåè. Öèò. èçä. Ñ. 63. 10 Ðîóçåíòàë Ô. Ôóíêöèîíàëüíîå çíà÷åíèå àðàáñêîé ãðàôèêè //Àðàáñêàÿ ñðåäíåâåêîâàÿ êóëüòóðà è ëèòåðàòóðà. Ñá. ñòàòåé çàðóáåæíûõ ó÷åíûõ. Ì.: 1978. Ñ. 135. 11 Ïèîòðîâñêèé Ì. Á. Î ìóñóëüìàíñêîì èñêóññòâå. Öèò. èçä. Ñ. 15. 12 Ìàêñóä Ð. Èñëàì /Ðóêàéÿ Ìàêñóä. ïåð. ñ àíãë. Â. Íîâèêîâà. Ì.: ÔÀÈÐ- ÏÐÅÑÑ, 2002. Ñ. 286. 13 Øóêóðîâ Ø. Èñêóññòâî ñðåäíåâåêîâîãî Èðàíà (Ôîðìèðîâàíèå ïðèíöè- ïîâ èçîáðàçèòåëüíîñòè). Ì.: Ãëàâíàÿ ðåäàêöèÿ âîñòî÷íîé ëèòåðàòóðû. 1989. Ñ. 118. 14 Òàì æå. Ñ. 99. 15 Øóêóðîâ Øàðèô Ì. Õóäîæåñòâåííîå òâîð÷åñòâî è ïðîáëåìà òåîäèöåè. Öèò. èçä. Ñ. 125. 16 Òàì æå. C. 68. 17 Ïèîòðîâñêèé Á. Ì. Î ìóñóëüìàíñêîì èñêóññòâå. Öèò. èçä. Ñ. 49. 18 Òàì æå. Ñ. 145. 188 Ñâåòëàíà ÌÀÕËÈÍÀ

19 Òàì æå. Ñ. 39. 20 Êîðàí. Ïåðåâîä ñìûñëîâ Âàëåðèè Ïîðîõîâîé. Ì.: «Áóê ×åìáýð Èíòåð- íýøíë»; Êèåâ: «Æîâòåíü», 1991. Ñ. 379. Îòìåòèì, ÷òî âñå ïåðåâîäû Êîðàíà ñ àðàáñêîãî ñ÷èòàþòñÿ ëèøü êîììåíòàðèÿìè ê íåìó è íå ïåðåäàþò äî êîíöà åãî ïîäëèííûå ñìûñëû Ñ. Ì. 21 Íóðìàòîâà Â. À. Òâîð÷åñòâî Ìóõàììàäà Íàäèðà Ñàìàðêàíäà // Èç èñòî- ðèè æèâîïèñè Ñðåäíåé Àçèè: Òðàäèöèè è íîâàòîðñòâî. Ñá. ñòàòåé: Èçä-âî ëèò. è èñêóññòâà, 1984. Ñ. 140. 22 Ardaban N., Bakhatiar L. The sense of Unity. The Sufi Tradition in Persian Architecture. 2nd ed. L. 1975. P.45. 23 Ãóðåâè÷ À. ß. Êàòåãîðèè ñðåäíåâåêîâîé êóëüòóðû. Ì.: 1982. Ñ. 72-73. 24 Grabar O. The Visual Arts. CHI. T.4. Cambridge, 1975. P. 362. 25 Èñëàì: Ýíöèêëîïåäè÷åñêèé ñëîâàðü. Ì.: Íàóêà. Ãëàâíàÿ ðåäàêöèÿ âîñ- òî÷íîé ëèòåðàòóðû. 2001. Ñ. 193.

Jean-Godefroy BIDIMA Collège International de Philosophie de Paris

It is quite often the case (and this is still very much perpetuated!) that products of African art (paintings, sculptures cinema has escaped this enu- meration) are not connected to a critique of the political economy. What should one do? Production and creation are understood within and through symbolism and myth. But production and creation, on which several studies have been undertaken, can only have some pertinence when connected to a third element that ensures the work of art a good share of communicability: the reception. The link to symbolisms, to naturality and to all myths allows for the understanding of an object of art from its condition of possibility that is its genesis. But the latter should also come to terms with itself through the gestation of the object of art outside of its place of production. The African object of art thus enters a circuit where categories of accumulation, of expenditure, of value and of profit have freedom of the city. At this level, it is not a question of contemplating aesthetic values nor even the work of art as pleas for dissent against the established order, and less for the ethic or cathartic value that an object of art procures; it is rather a question of a special alchemy that makes a product (the work of art) the producer of an added value and a plus-value. It is this transformation of the aesthetic/cultural value into an economic value that constitutes one of the components of the cultural industry phenomenon described by Adorno and Horkheimer. The latter is linked to merchandise. And yet, it is by returning art to a dual articulation between politics and utopia that African art can express its historicity and its creativity.

Merchandising: consumption of folklore and consummation of art The new merchandise is here called folklore (which, in itself, is, on an ideological level, the levelling of the cultural dynamic into a fixed object suit- able for appropriation), which prolongs the old fantasy of exoticism as a place to let off steam, a farm or a dump for all appetites and a few frustrations.1 190 Jean-Godefroy BIDIMA

It is necessary to indicate the undeniable importance of the market within the horizon of African art. Granted, African objects of art sometimes served as a means of exchange before the colonial era, but there was not a complete desanctification of the frame of reference from which African art understood itself. The introduction of the market, therefore, made African art lose as W. Benjamin would say its aura and its cultural value. The market carries out a desanctification when a traditional object of worship is judged on the same level as a simple object of coquetry. The market in this way frees the African work of art from mythic time, circular and inaugural, to insert it in a secularised temporality with its hesitations.2 If the market has its positive points to be underlined, these must be count- ed along with all that the cultural industry has undertaken against the singular dynamic that African arts could have had in their contact with Western culture. The concept of cultural industry used by Adorno and Horkheimer introduces the economic and all that is related to the media within the artistic variant. What is essential here is to illuminate, through this notion, the ideological relations that are woven between the work of art, productive forces, social relationships, symbolic production and the entire process of legitimisation. The work of art that freed itself from places of worship entered into monetary mechanisms; aesthetic creation and canons are therefore merged and commanded by the meander of Capital. In this way, art enters within a relative heteronomy. The first heteronomy concerns the symbolic burial of the producer. Af- rican objects of art, contrary to what happens with regard to Western objects of art, are often sold without reference to the author.3 Naturally, we would say, here is a Teke, Beti mask, but we cannot determine exactly who the author was. Two ideological occultations are outlined through the erasure of the producers and the indexing of the tribe. a) It is a rampant form of the ideology of unanimity thinking attributed to Africans. The reasoning is as follows: since the African has a collectivist thinking and is incapable of saying I, it is enough to identify from which community a work was produced to know a great deal about it; one could even say that the author (the Subject) is not important, since what counts is that it is the group which determines everything. It is a Western reading, but tribalist: the individual in Africa does not exist, only the group exists, and the sculptor, incapable of thinking, of inspiration and of personal aspiration, speaks and sculpts only in the name of the tribe, which he can never go against. b) Not paying attention to authors in the market of African art by erasing the process of individuation, of engage- ment and of the taking of responsibility that is the signature of a work of art is symptomatic of egoism (which is a sort of infantilism!). The important thing for the holder of an exhibition gallery is the price of entry as well as the sales, and for the buyer, it is the authenticity of the mask. We do not ask ourselves: who sculpted and in what conditions? The question would be rather: is this truly a Dogon statuette? What comes first here is the delectation that will procure the mask. By refusing the social conditions of the production of such a mask or painting so as to consider only the work placed here and now, we evade, first, the fact that the work is above all a martyr, or in other words a witness to a social era with its violence; secondly, we cede to the immediacy in erasing the procedural character of the work of art, and finally, on the political level, we refuse to take the work as an echo which makes reference to a cry. To confine oneself only to the institutional/tribal provenance of a sculpture is to forget that the latter was perhaps a counterpoint or a contradiction within the tribal continuum. The work is first linked to subjectivity, with its history, its sensitivity and its personal position of class or caste within the tribe or the African State. The market of African art creates a new religion obtained at the price of exclusions and of the concentration of capital. The new authority is composed of: a) a group of decision-makers (museum curators, the State sponsor, merchants and critics of African art) within which one sets oneself up and one is co-opted; b) designers and directors of African art exhibitions (the means of organising a private viewing followed by a morning publication of a descriptive commentary gives those who hold African art museums the opportunity to fantasise about themselves as creators). Ultimately, between the creator of African art and the potential and future spectator a screen is erected which is a micro-society of money disguised within the promotion of art: an oligarchy having its heads, its deputy heads, its quarrels, its passwords, its affectedness, its informal network and its network of affinity. These culture societies, at heart very mercantile, produce habits of look with the consumers of African art, both in the West as well as in Africa and, in the end, we find the consensus of an innocent, agreeable, tribal, mythological, original and magical African art. What matters most in the case of these micro-societies of culture is to read, through their activities, the geopolitics of Negro-African art. The work remains to be done! This programme of promoting art through 192 Jean-Godefroy BIDIMA marketing often entails an unknown conservatism. In the market, an African art object is seized through reified classifications and categories because it is cut off from the base that produced this object. What ensues therefore is a thoughtless reverence of African art objects. We exhibit them; we do not critique them, as they are reduced to the rank of variety within the monotony of the products offered. When all is said and done, we have in fact dissociated art and critique in the African art object. Art enters henceforth into the pettiness of the game of competition and the demand for critique is subjected to the economic system. In addition, it is possible that amateurs of African art (are) cornered between a latent racism and an ill-advised condescension, limited (as they are) by their cultural reference points.4 The market of African works of art organises: a) an unjust legal appropriation: the person who decides the value or the non-value is the holder of the purse; b) a false equivalence that erases the aesthetic distance: a dissenting work and a conservative work are equalised by the sale, in other words convertible into money.

Towers of politics: figures of art The politicisation: the visible and the arcana dominationis. Art is an activity of creation that changes into a created work. And yet, to say oeu- vre (work) implies manoeuvre, in the dual sense of a schemed object and an object of scheme. The problematic of image is, in this sense, very political, because, through its paintings and sculptures, we are referred to the problematic of Subject, of language, of creation, of presentation, of representation and of law. A comprehension of African art that does not consider it as a plotting is apolitical and ideological, very simply because all presence (of an art object) is metaphor, simulation, screen and mirror at once, and this game of simulation produces pretences, shams, intensities and thresholds. How does African art participate in the manipulation of tribal or State law? How does the work manoeuvre itself within the institution? How does the work dictate, translate and feint the gambling dens of social legitimisation? What is the relationship between the work of art and institutional foundations? How does the work of art as a mise-en-scene (staging) transform itself into a work as a mise-en-ordre (putting in order)? How does the work express and articulate symbols, the indescribable and unpresentable of institutions? Art has always been linked to political power in Africa. This power, as the foundation of social praxis and as the manifestation and dramatisation of attributes, has made use of art as an adjuvant to legitimisation. Art in itself does not legitimise the practice of power, for which the foundation was most often sacred; it served rather as mediation and a sign of distinction between the visible (the king and his court) and the invisible (the imaginary and the secret that surrounds all foundations of political power). a) Artistic manipulation and the politics of temporality. The evaluation of time is political in Africa: through it, one combines climatic elements (counting the days, either according to the agricultural calendar, or according to the rains, etc.), astronomical elements (full moon, sun, equinox, etc.), natural factors (bird migrations, etc.) or, sometimes, one counts according to classes of age and of generations. And it is at this level that a manipulation of temporality takes place through politics via art. The sovereign can proclaim himself the Sun and fabricate calendars where the ideograms or stylisations of geometric forms exalt he or she who is the closest to the Sun, but also the farthest, in other words the chief.5 b) Manipulation and political establishment of social divides through art. Not all African societies have known centralised kingdoms (the Beti in Southern Cameroon, for example), but the majority have given birth to flourishing empires. Among these, art illustrates and demarcates social stratums in various ways. For the Edo of Benin, social organisation was founded on three classes of age, and for each corresponded a singular mode of self-positioning through hairstyle and artefact symbolisms. Art, in this case, participates in power: through it, one manipulates the affects because it represents the limitation of each class in its reserved space. The norm that art here attempts to symbolise is not aesthetic, but political; it guarantees the limit and the forbidden. c) Political manipulation through art: the place of the secret. All power plays on several registers: it displays itself and it escapes notice, it is transparent to better express its opacity, it is powerful and aggressive to reveal its weakness. At this level, art occults in its demonstration. What is the role of art in the management of the secret of power? In Bamileke country (Came- roon), the society is rigidly hierarchical: In each Bamileke gung kingdom the organisation of the society is founded on mkem mask societies Social stratification is reflected in art and the material culture 6 The fo, or sacred king, organises and inspires art; the glorification of this exceptional being of divine character is the essential theme of Bamileke art. This art is monarchic in the sense that everything is carried out according to the fo It is the role of the latter who influences the form and the style of Bamileke 194 Jean-Godefroy BIDIMA artistic production.7 Notable persons (mkanvu) exhibit their power through masks, including the famous and formidable Batcham, which one can only see from a distance. These masks have, it is said, a secret, and the political function of the secret is to deliver the distant power, terrifying and reassuring. Art at this level is truly performing the politics of the invisible by exposing the visible. d) Traditional art at the service of the authoritarian State. It has been the case in the Ivory Coast that a mask, because of its sacred character, has given both a traditional power and a political power to its holders. The Guere masks8 are divided into pleasure masks and into utilitarian masks. Among these, there are gendarmerie and police masks, others guard the bush and some belong to the chief. When a mask that has a special dignity appears in the village, the chief goes to meet it. Certain families whose influence had been reduced by colonisation maintained the masks. After independence, the political power of the PDCI (the party in power) relied upon the holders of these masks to govern certain regions. There is, at this level, convergence of interests between the mystic and the political to the detriment of art. e) Art and political classification: the relationship between the visible and the bond. All power binds and is dramatised. Through art, certain African kingdoms developed a conqueror visual memory. This strategy existed for the Bamun in Cameroon.9 Tribes defeated by them were despoiled of their objects of art with the regalia of subjugated chiefs (fotie) becoming the property of the Bamun king and being exhibited accordingly in the palace. The chiefs of the defeated lineage received new insignia and ornaments. What is operating here is a strengthening of power through the visible. Exhibiting the insignia of the defeated rekindles the memory of the conquerors and calls to mind the submission of those defeated. The wearing of new insignia by the defeated expresses real and symbolic bonds to power through the visible. The defeated were in this way integrated into the art of the Bamun court and their works had to adopt the Bamun style. This aesthetic bond of the defeated to Bamum art demonstrates the complex relations between art, the visible, the symbolic notion of the bond and the arcana imperii. How does the visible become integrated as an essential dimension of political power?10 What is the connection between the visible and the production of the political memory? How did the constitution of the State in Africa instrumentalise art? From the ethnic group to States: politicisation. The State did not eliminate ethnic groups in Africa; on the contrary, these entered into a new configuration that modified existence, permanence and consistency. Grant- ed, from the ethnic group to States implicates a movement, but within a cumbersome dualism (State-ethnic group). The ethnic group/State distinction is often artificial, it being a question of Africans access to politics. One must point out this very Western statement in its formulation: in Africa, there were societies with a centralised State and societies without States. The latter one would think owe their collective survival to parental bonds11 and access to politics in and of itself was sometimes refused them. But the ter- ritoriality, the preserving of the unit, the obsession for social integration, the competitions and the strategies that these incite, the decision-making functions all emanate from power and are evident both at the contemporary state level and at the tribal level. a) Bureaucratisation of art. Post-colonial States assigned art a place: its enrolment in the circuits of symbolic power, both at the national and international level, and from here, the good conscience to promote and to protect the Arts. Heads of State (above all Senghor) made themselves protectors of the arts. There are Senghor, Mobutu and Bono prizes,12 cultural demon- strations (the famous biennial of Dakar arts), objectives of the Ministries of culture and helping pushes from organisations such as UNESCO. These manufacturing, maintenance, and diffusion dispensaries for official culture often forget the important parameters in all artistic activity: creation and taste. Creation is always transgression, crossing a limit, an excess, negation or dissensus. The creator in the administered culture (by prices, cultural associations, the State and international organisations), who receives a large prize, will certainly be that creator who aligned himself or herself with mediocrity, or in other words with that on which a consensus was reached. And yet, nothing repels true creation as much as consensus and rapid ap- proval. To subsidise or qualify the brilliance of a work, the experts carry out a vote, and one takes the average to classify this so-called best painter. The brilliance, taste and creation responsible for the quality are derived from an arithmetic average (quantity). Some of the greatest well-known African artists are those that that have been consecrated so by these limp consensus. A creation is both incomprehensible and contradiction. A great African artist is not he or she who sells a painting to a public with a questionable artistic 196 Jean-Godefroy BIDIMA competence, or who achieves entries into international galleries, but he or she whose work, in its incomprehensibility, is a call, a horizon and a dissensus. b) Art in liberation movements. In Mozambique, against Portuguese colonisation,13 and in South Africa against the politics of apartheid, art dis- tinguished itself in the denunciation of oppression. However, this art was in the context of painting, sculpture and even cinema a prisoner of the figural, because its concern was to communicate a sense to liberation from colonisation. One question remains unasked by these artists: what happens to art when the latter leaves the prison of the figurative and the communicative to install itself in difference, the non-identifiable and the non-appropriable? How does art manage this je ne sais quoi (in the sense intended by B. Gracian)? c) State control and nationalist prostitution. Art also entered into postcolonial Africa in dissent of the established order. The situation is described in this way: the dominant classes are conscious of maintaining political and economic power In the dominant classes, the intellectual, cultural intermediary of the New regime and the vulgus have an incredible consciousness of the economic crisis, but they live it in two different manners. The first is quartered in the anti-chamber of power awaiting to be called thanks to his or her integrated intellectual productions exorcising himself or herself through a verbal game where the imaginary fills a deficien- cy, while the illiterate expresses the crisis (in the) magico-religious.14 In the face of this situation, the critic Biaya observes that with regard to Zair- ian painting, the latter reads the collective memory in order to disclose not only the complications, but also the self-representation, the dissent and their relations with ethnicity. The Zairian crisis was thus represented through a periodisation established through three types of painting: a) Mami Wata, representation of the siren that one finds everywhere in Africa. Mami Wata represents the golden age of the Zairian regime (1970-1985); b) Moko- mboso and Mwambuyi, paintings that portray a situation of festivity. These paintings, produced in Kisangani and Kananga, symbolise the situation of crisis; and c) Inakale and Wasungila nganyi, represent zoomorphisation and a generalised dereliction with a religious variant. This third series cor- responds to the end of hope and the return towards the religious as a plea for a solution to the problems associated with the economic crisis. Biaya brings to light the relationship between myth and art, memory and painting, social mirror and social classes, between ethnicity, the State and the social dynamic, and above all the representation of hope through the canvas. African art and the utopia: the challenge of modernity Today, African art is held in false conservative excesses15 (eschatologies and Messianisms) that also carry the masks of all that constitutes the categories of a regime of utopia: dissent against the established order, pro- jection towards a beyond and prefiguration of image and future. The intrusion of utopia into African art has therefore for its objective the placement of art before its own critique, interrogating its archetypal regime from which images burst. Utopia, more than any other exercise of the imagination, serves to deliver images, hesitations and the commitments of the community. The alliance between art and utopia in Africa gives the latter the role of a laboratory for the signs and symptoms of the social imagination. It allows, through art, for a revival towards the great anthropological frame of reference that codifies the relationship of Africa to the world. The art and utopia constellation is a detour mechanism that, in the face of the present artistic object, rises to its possibilities, and thus, within African art, utopia becomes an aesthetico-political strategy of analysis. The principle of renewal that determines the advancement of a society cannot do without utopia. Renewal implies introduction, within the known, of an elsewhere; it is the intrusion of a foreign element in the ambient norm. The convergence of these elements establishes an anomic regime that blurs the reigning classifications, and these new arrangements are prefigurations of utopia. The latter plays a significant role in African modernity through art and on several levels. a) Utopia/art: the problem of distance. Art and utopia speak of figures, because in art there is the problem of figuration, and in utopia, history tries it hand through the use of new figures. However, figuration introduces the notion of meta-phore as a plea for representation and a crucible of returns. African art is an activity of transfiguration. It lays itself out as metaphor in two ways: the diaphore (that carries the visible towards the invisible), and the epiphore (that sends the invisible back to the visible). The metaphor always involves a return that indicates the distance between two poles. It is this distance that also permits the utopian dynamic. Utopia is the space between current living and future living. An art that no longer states its own utopia, or in other words this distance, coagulates into an eternal pseudo- figure that imposes stability and Becoming. b) African/utopian art: the sketch-form. African art adopts the notion of sketch-form that real utopia (E. Bloch) exhibits. This concept involves first a reminder: do not forget the production in the product. Next, it stresses 198 Jean-Godefroy BIDIMA the perspective of the imagination that produces realisable forms from the present. Finally, it is a concept that conserves within all finished data the movement and the uncertain moment of the sketch. c) African/utopian art: the aura and the possible. The work of art unites the meaning of a thing (figurine, painted canvas, etc.) with the meaning of a person (author, sculptor, spectator, commentator or purchaser). This cou- pling of meaning constitutes what Walter Benjamin16 calls the aura of a work of art. The aura likes to think itself the nodal point of intersections between the horizon of material possibilities and the horizon of human possibilities that the work of art contains. This nodal point goes beyond the intentional project of the subject or the tribe from where the object of art emerges; it also transcends the structure of the object of art. Neither subjec- tivist (explanation of the object of art by its author or by its receiver), nor sociological (explanation of the object by the tribe), nor structuralist (speaking of the styles or of the materiality of the object of art), the approach of the aura is chiasmatic since it transgresses the limitations for the considerations of a work of art so as to restore its fleeting character. The aura indicates the possible and suggests that the meaning of a work of art is not only behind this work, nor even in front of the work, but also through it. d) African/utopian art: hope and suffering. The trajectory of African art must be situated within a catastrophic background. African art unless one adopts the reading of amateurs who expurgate it from the catastrophe of colonialism and slavery is inseparable from figures of catastrophe. These are expressed through professionals of melancholy who are always crying over Africa and for Africa. The rescue metaphor, following on the catastrophe represented by certain African intellectual currents, often forgets the variant that the alliance between African art and utopia represents: the memory of suffering that founded a docte (learned) hope (docta spes Africa- na).17 In the African memory of suffering, there is no dolour of powerless- ness, but simply a power of pain that exhibits and adds to hope a hunger for social justice. Utopia pushes African art to render its suffering explosive. e) African/utopian art: tendencies and images. Real utopia, in the sense of E. Bloch, has a critical function summarised in the following three moments: analysis, critic and project. Real utopia decomposes a reality (the object of art) from the point of view of its possibilities. This analysis is dynamic the utopia is neither the path, nor the destination, but the procedure and energetic (it mobilises desire). Utopia, contrary to what has always happened, does not go towards the world so as to bring it new principles from elsewhere, but develops new principles from the gestation of existing principles. The critique here anticipates itself, destroys itself, revises itself, and the true utopian project is in the notion of tendency. The important thing is not the object of art, nor the content of the utopia, but the tendency that these imply. The tendency is therefore that receding point that the work of art harbours. The tendency indicates transfers, networks, movements and self-critiques. The modernity of African art can only be effective if we find, through art, the principle of renewal of African societies. For the moment, the notion of tendency is misunderstood. At times, it is reduced to the rank of style: the tendencies of African art signify the styles of African art. Often, it is explained through economics: the tendencies of African art being Stock market quotations. These flat conceptions of tendency fail to recall that each historical situation secretes its latencies and nourishes its tensions that are tendencies. It is this exploring tension of utopia that produces trial-images and wish-images (E. Bloch). For the moment, images of African art are those of consolation (Trostbilder), of melancholy, of African nationalism and of contemplation by bureaucrats, collectors and Western mercantile antique dealers.

(Text translated from the original French version by Janice GRIFFITHS)

NOTES

1 It is necessary historically to remember here Colberts mercantilism, which required the exploit of the colonies in order to guarantee Frances independence; this exploitation was to make use of everything so as to create new openings. Everything, in other words, art as well. The latter was thus, above and beyond a denial of the value of African culture, an instrument of degeneracy for African culture. Tourism, in African countries for example, propagated a tourist art within a general context of the imposition of capitalist models. In addition to pornography in art, tourism developed the commercialisation of social relations. Cf. E. Adamah Desire, Linsaississable africanite, these, Sorbonne, 1981. 2 It is true that this secularisation reproduces, with the fetishism of merchandise, a new divinity that is Capital. A fang mask that is sold in Berlin or in Yaounde enters into a sacred space through the circulation of Capital. The latter, new divinity, has its laws of appropriation, of evaluation, of circulation and of reproduction. These laws govern desire (that of possessing a piece for which its rarity constitutes a quality). The African object of art breaks from its alliance with the divine to consummate that which is made with Capital. 200 Jean-Godefroy BIDIMA

3 Kerchache and Paudrat (op. cit.) also critique this erasure of the author. 4 C. Azais, Le marche de lart africain a Paris, Memoire, Univ. Paris I, 1980, p. 6. 5 At the Musee de lHomme in Paris, we can consult a Fen or Nago (Benin) calendar. There is a visible instrumentalisation of art through the manipulation of temporality by the sovereign in this calendar. 6 P. Notue, Batcham, sculptures du Cameroun, Musee de Marseille, 1994, p. 42. 7 Ibid., p. 43. Francine Ndiaye has worked on the emblematics of power in this same sense, in Emblemes du pouvoir, Ed. Sepia, 1995. 8 Hans Himmelheber, Renforcement du pouvoir des masques Guere (Cote-dIvoire) par une institution politique moderne, Presence africaine, 1er Festival mondial des arts negres, t. 2, Seminar, t. 23, p. 149-151. 9 Ch. M. Geary. Art and political process in the kingdoms of Bali-Nyonga and Bamun (Cameroon Grassfields), in Art et politique en Afrique, Association canadienne des etudes africaines, SAFI, 1989, p. 11-14. 10 Read in this regard F. Douglas, H. Cole, African art and leadership, Madison, Univ. Wisconsin, 1972. 11 The objective of this point of view was to offer the family as a model and foundation of all social order. By the family was meant the legitimisation of the Law of the father, or his elders in matrilineal societies, the elders were women as the voice of children not yet integrated into the Law (of the Father) by initiation was not valid. 12 See the thesis of Abdou Sylla cited subsequently. 13 See the majority of Samora Machels writings on revolutionary art. 14 T.K. Biaya, Limpasse de crise zairoise dans la peinture populaire urbaine 1970- 1985, in Art et politique en Afrique noire, Association canadienne des etudes africaines, SAFI, 1989, p. 96. 15 These false excesses, among African eschatologies and Millenarisms, are: the Aladura movement in Nigeria, celestial Christianity in Benin, Harrism in Liberia and the Ivory Coast, the Deima religion in central Africa, and Ethiopism and Zionism in South Africa. Added to these movements are the new Pentecostals of American origin, which join a defensive Islam and other Western and Asian sects. 16 W. Benjamin, Illuminations, trad. H. Zohn, Fontana, 1973, p. 244 and s. 17 The term docta spes comes from E. Bloch who was inspired by the term docte ignorance of Nicolas de Cues. We have elaborated the concept of Docta spes Africana signalling Bloch as the source in our work Theorie critique et modernite negro- africaine. De lEcole de Francfort a la Docta spes Africana, Paris, Publications de la Sorbonne, serie Philosophie, 1993, p. 344.

JUSTICE, INJUSTICE, AND THE DIFFERENTIATION OF THE MONOTHEISTIC WORLDVIEW: REFLECTIONS ON GENESIS 18, 20, AND 22

Steven SHANKMAN University of Oregon, USA

I Rembrandt’s The Sacrifice of Isaac, Abraham’s Suspended Knife, and the Face of the Other Rembrandt’s painting The Sacrifice of Isaac (1635) hangs in the Her- mitage Museum here in St. Petersburg [figure #1]. Rembrandt painted it when he was twenty-nine years old in the same year that his first son was born and then died in his infancy, a fact that perhaps lends a special poignancy to the subject of the painting. In Genesis 22, God orders Abraham to take his only legitimate son, Isaac, to the top of Mt. Moriah and to offer him there as a sacrifice to God. Abraham obeys and sets out on a three-day journey. When he nears the appointed place, he commands his two young servants to stay behind, and he gathers wood for the sacrifice, taking Isaac with him. Abra- ham builds the altar of sacrifice with the wood he had gathered. He binds Isaac’s hands and feet, places Isaac on top of the pile of wood, and he then raises his arm to execute God’s command. The painting depicts the moment that follows from Genesis 22, specifically verses 10-12: Avraham stretched out his hand, he took the knife to slay his son. But YHWH’s messenger called to him from Heaven and said: Avraham! Avraham! He said: Here I am. He said: Do not stretch out your hand against the lad, do not do anything to him.1 The painting dramatically depicts a moment of interruption epitomized by the knife that hangs suspended in the air – a baroque gesture2 that we do not find in earlier pictorial depictions by Caravaggio in his The Sacrifice of Isaac (1603) [figure #2] or by Rembrandt’s teacher, Pieter Lastman. In both the Caravaggio and in Lastman’s painting The Sacrifice of Isaac (c. 1612) 202 Steven SHANKMAN

[figure #3], which Rembrandt almost certainly knew, the knife remains firm- ly in Abraham’s hand, whereas in the Rembrandt canvas it hangs in mid-air, having been dropped by Abraham, whose right arm the angel has seized, thus interrupting the apparently imminent slaughter. Violence, figured by the suspended knife, is thus dramatically interrupted in Rembrandt’s powerful image, painted in the 1630s, at precisely the moment when Rembrandt was proving himself to be a “virtuoso of interruption.” 3 Rembrandt frequently depicted dramatic interruptions – and particularly interruptions by the divine – in his paintings of the early and mid 1630s. Think of Belshazzar’s Feast [figure #4], also painted in (or around) 1635, which depicts the God of the Hebrew scriptures’ admonitory and disapproving interruption – through a mysteriously appearing inscription – of King Belshazzar’s excessively sumptuous “pagan” drinking party in Babylon; Danaë [figure #5],1636, in which the nymph Danaë, bathed in a rapidly approaching golden light, is about to be interrupted by Zeus’s amorous presence; the naked Susanna in Susanna and the Elders [figure #6], who is surprised by elderly voyeurs; and the 1631 portrait of the scholar in Young Man at his Desk who, in the English translation of the Russian caption describing this painting hanging in the Hermitage [figure #7], appears to have been “unexpectedly interrupted.” Simon Schama, in comment- ing on The Young Man at his Desk and on another portrait of this period of Rembrandt’s career, remarks that the subjects of these paintings “appear to have been interrupted in the midst of their personal routine rather than made to ‘sit’ and assume the social mask required for dignified immortalization.” 4 Rembrandt’s 1635 painting of The Sacrifice of Isaac is true to the biblical text, which tells of how the messenger of God dramatically interrupts the imminent action with that form of the negative imperative (’al [“do not”] plus the imperative) that, in Hebrew, is especially reserved for expressing immediately pressing, specific commands: “do not stretch out (’al-tishlah) your hand”; “ [and] do not do (ve ’al-ta‘as) anything to him.”5 At this stage in his career, Rembrandt was particularly interested in rendering the dramatic, human aspect of biblical stories. His paintings from this period were very faithful to the biblical texts that inspired his visual renderings. In Rembrandt’s painting, Abraham has covered Isaac’s entire face with his left hand, suggesting at least two things. First, the father cannot bear to have the son he loves, his only legitimate son, actually witness his own father raising and lowering the knife that will enter his young and tender flesh and end his life. For Abraham to allow Isaac to witness the killing, despite the JUSTICE, INJUSTICE, AND THE DIFFERENTIATION 203 divine source of the command, no doubt filled Abraham with shame, as well as horror. Second, Abraham apparently cannot kill his son so long as he sees his son’s face. Indeed, in the account of the threatened sacrifice in the Qur’an, Abraham (Ibrahim, in Arabic), in order to fulfill God’s command, lays his son down prostrate on his forehead (liljabeeni 37.103).6 The implication here is that if Abraham were to look directly at his son’s face, he would not be able to kill him. In his commentary on this passage, al-Tabari (839-923) elucidates the significance of Abraham’s placing his son face down. According to al-Tabari, who cites a number of authorities, the son – it is unclear, in the Qur’anic account, whether this son is Ishmael or Isaac7 – remarks to his father: “When you lay me down to sacrifice me, turn me with my face down; do not lay me on my side, for I fear that if you look at my face pity will overcome you and hold you back from carrying out God’s command.”8 The face, in its vulnerability – as Emmanuel Levinas is fond of remark- ing – speaks, and it says, “thou shalt not kill me.”9 For the first time in the narrative, after the two set out together, Isaac speaks to his father, movingly enunciating an otherness, an alterity that makes the apparent imminence of the murder all the more shocking and even unimaginable. Isaac is carrying the wood for the offering, and Abraham the cinders for the fire and the knife. Finally, Isaac breaks the deadly silence and speaks to his father, addressing him with the intimate ’aviy (“my father”). 10 His father returns the intimate form of address: “Here I am, my son” (hineni veniy, 22. 7). Isaac then asks his father a very painful question: “Here is the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the offering?” Abraham replies, “God will provide the lamb for the offering, my son” (beniy, 22. 8), repeating again, for the third time in a very brief space, this intimate form of address, this vocative: not just “son!”, but “my son!” As Levinas remarks, “the Other does not appear in the nomi- native, but in the vocative.”11 This passage, then, is framed by three voca- tives – “my father” [’aviy] / “my son” [beniy] / “my son” [beniy] – that are made even more intimate by possessing (in the Hebrew) suffixes (aviy/beniy) that personalize the address (“my father”/ “my son”/ “my son” ) in a duet of pressing question and immediate response that dramatically enunciates the radical alterity of Isaac and of Abraham’s painfully enduring affection for his apparently doomed son. After such an exchange, it will be very difficult, indeed virtually impossible for Abraham to take Isaac’s life if he must look his son in the face. Hence, in the Rembrandt painting, Isaac’s face is completely enveloped and obscured by Abraham’s left hand. 204 Steven SHANKMAN

Rembrandt’s Abraham, in order to go through with the slaughter, has completely covered Isaac’s face.12 The angel is looking directly at Isaac’s covered – or, as Simon Schama perceptively observes, smothered – face.13 Abra- ham, who has avoided looking at Isaac’s face, now looks directly at the face of the angel, who almost dreamily gazes straight ahead, neither at Abraham nor at Isaac. Who is this angel, this messenger of God who is the subject of Abra- ham’s sudden attention and towards whose gentle face the eyes of the patriarch are abruptly turned? And what is the significance of the interruption? I hope it is not too bold to suggest that the angel or messenger (.mal’akh) of God is the face of the Other – in this case the face of Isaac – suddenly commanding Abra- ham not to kill him.14 As Levinas insists, “the face speaks.”15 God reveals himself only by the trace He leaves behind in the face of the Other.16 Rem- brandt’s painting dramatically depicts this moment of interruption, which is figured not only in the suspended knife, but also in the “anguished face” of Abraham who, as Schama finely remarks, has “the look of a madman unexpectedly paroled from hell.”17 In the Caravaggio painting, in contrast, Abra- ham seems grimly determined to slay his son and annoyed by the angel’s sudden interference. The viewer of the Caravaggio painting is struck more by Isaac’s vivid expression of absolute terror than by any sense of relief evident in the face of Abraham. Rembrandt’s painting – in contrast to Caravaggio’s rather cruel rendering18 – is a dramatic example of the artistic representation of transcendence in the ethical, Levinasian sense. Abraham, encountering the messenger of God who is the face of the Other, experiences a transcendence of his own ego in the direction of ethics, as he responds to and takes responsibility for the Other whose face says “do not kill me.” For many readers, the point of the Abraham and Isaac story is the test- ing of Abraham’s faith in God: so strong was Abraham’s faith that he would even obey the divine command to murder his own son. This was Kierkeg- aard’s understanding of the episode, which is central to the argument of Fear and Trembling. In the Kierkegaardian construction, the religious dimension of experience demands a “leap of faith” that takes one beyond ethics. For Levinas, in contrast to Kierkegaard, it is the second divine command that is the apex of the story. In responding to Kierkegaard’s reading, Levinas remarks, “Perhaps Abraham’s ear for hearing the voice that brought him back to the ethical order was the highest moment in the drama.”19 It is precisely this “highest moment in the drama” that Rembrandt’s dramatic painting of 1635 depicts. JUSTICE, INJUSTICE, AND THE DIFFERENTIATION 205

II From the Sacred to the Holy The tension between the two commands in the biblical account of the sacrifice of Isaac suggests that the story is narrating a transition, in religious experience, from the “sacred,” associated with polytheism, to the “holy” (qadosh, in Hebrew) of monotheism, a differentation of a world view that breaks with the polytheistic past. Hence, this particular passage describing the Aqedah reiterates the movement of the Abraham narrative as a whole, which tells the story of Abraham’s journey from the polytheistic world of Mesopotamia westward to Canaan and what will be the monotheistic world of Israel.20 Levinas associated the “sacred” with the experience of participation in a cosmic whole, in the manner discussed by the ethnologist Lucien Lévy-Bru- hl (1857-1939). In the experience of the “sacred,” the distinction between subject and object is blurred. The emphasis here is upon participation in a totality of which you and I are mere parts. The holy (qadosh), in contrast, requires my recognition of the absolute exteriority of the Other, of the necessary separation of subject and object, self and world, self and other, of a necessary atheism, a breaking with polytheism that can only recover a relationship to the divine through my responsibility for the Other. The emphasis in the holy is upon my unique and inescapable responsibility for a unique and irreplaceable Other. Mt. Moriah, where Abraham builds the altar upon which he had intended to sacrifice his son, at first trembles with the dark mysteries of the sacred, but then – with Abraham’s obedience to the second command – it becomes a site of the holy. Shalom Spiegel, similarly, views the episode as recording a “profound revolution in the history of religion, when the primitive blood sacrifice was abolished,” as suggested in the midrash of Rabbi Benaiah, “one of the last of the Tannaim,”21 those Jewish scholars who lived from the first century B.C.E. to the third century C.E. and whose views are recorded in the Mishnah, or oral law. Spiegel goes on to remark: The biblical account, then, came to enforce and validate a new way of worship; and, too, it came to abolish and discredit the statutes of the ancient world. The Akedah story repels once for all the primitive notion of the sanctity of the human first born and its derivative demand for the literal sacrifice of children. The Akedah story declared war on the remnants of idolatory in Isra- el and undertook to remove root and branch the whole long, terror-laden inheritance from idolatrous generations.22 206 Steven SHANKMAN

Abraham’s faith consists, largely, in his pursuit of justice required by obedience to the one God.23 Note the play on the word “one” – which echoes the oneness of the one (ehad) God – in this passage: God tells Abraham to offer “your only” (yehideka 22.2) [legitimate] son. And when Abraham is reprieved through his obedience to the second command, Isaac as the object of human sacrifice is replaced by “one” (ehad) ram.24 As Spiegel speculates: It may well be that in the narrative of the ram which Abraham sacrificed as a burnt offering in place of his son, there is historical remembrance of the transition to animal sacrifice from human sacrifice – a religious and moral achievement which in the folk memory was associated with Abraham’s name, the father of the new faith and the first of the upright in the Lord’s way. And quite possibly the primary purpose of the Akedah story may have been only this: to attach to a real pillar of the folk and a revered reputation the new norm – abolish human sacrifice, substitute animals instead.25 The Qur’an, like the Hebrew scriptures, sees Abraham’s faith as con- sisting in the obedience to the command to be just, to be responsible for the other person, an obedience that can be seen to accompany the transition from polytheism to monotheism. Abraham’s position as a transitional figure from the world of polytheism or pantheism to monotheism is clearly articulated in Sura 6:75-79 on “Abraham’s Creed”: 75. Thus We showed Abraham the visible and invisible world of the heavens and the earth, that he could be among those who believe. 76. When the night came with her covering of darkness he saw a star, and (Azar, his father), said: “This is my Lord.” But when the star set, (Abraham) said: “I love not those that wane.” 77. When (Azar) saw the moon rise all aglow, he said: “This is my Lord.” But even as the moon set, (Abraham) said: “If my Lord had not shown me the way I would surely have gone astray.” 78. When (Azar) saw the sun rise all resplendent, he said: “My Lord is surely this, and the greatest of them all.” But the sun also set, and (Abraham) said: JUSTICE, INJUSTICE, AND THE DIFFERENTIATION 207

“O my people, I am through with those you associate (with God). 79. I have truly turned my face towards Him who created the heavens and the earth: I have chosen one way and am not an idolator.”26 James L. Kugel sees Genesis 12, which tells of Abraham’s journey from Chaldea, as articulating a transition from the polytheism of Mesopotamia to the monotheism of Israel. Kugel cites many ancient biblical interpreters who comment on the significance of Abraham’s relation to his native city of Ur in Chaldea, which is in Mesopotamia.27 A number of these interpreters, as does the previous passage from the Qur’an, present Abraham as an astronomer or astrologer. Kugel observes that Abraham’s homeland, Chaldea, “was famous for one thing in particular: it was the home of astronomy and astrology. So great was the association between Chaldea and the study of the stars that the very word ‘Chaldean’ came to mean ‘astronomer’ in both Aramaic and Greek. Many interpreters therefore naturally assumed that Abraham the Chaldean must himself have been something of an astronomer.” 28 III Monotheism, Justice, Injustice What we see in Genesis 22, then, is the differentiation of a monotheistic worldview, and its attendant ethics of responsibility for the Other, of its break with the cruelty often associated with the numinous and with the sacred. But as we know all too well from the history of the world since the advent of monotheism, violence has not vanished. On the contrary, it has perhaps increased, as those who believe they have unique access to the One Truth fight against those with competing claims. The differentiation comes at a price. Even the most responsible of monotheists do not always escape the peril of high self regard and a correspondingly low opinion of the ethical stature of those who remain pagans or polytheists, or recipients of historically prior revelations. In Genesis 20, Abraham journeys to Gerar, a Canaanite city state in the Western Negev. In the previous chapter, God had destroyed the city of Sod- om. Now Abraham, well aware of the licentiousness of a number of the people of Sodom, here feels he must present his wife Sarah (as he had earlier, in Genesis12.12-14) to the officials as his sister (she is in fact Abraham’s half sister) so as to save himself. He would put his life in danger, he believes, if 208 Steven SHANKMAN he is viewed as Sarah’s husband, and thus as a sexual rival. Abimelech takes Sarah. God then appears to Abimelech in a dream, telling him that he is about to die because he took another’s – namely, Abraham’s – wife. Abimelech pleads his innocence: “My Lord, will you slay a nation even if innocent? Did he not say to me, ‘She is my sister’? and she, she too said, ‘He is my brother.’ With a pure heart and with clean hands I have done this.” Abimelech’s question to God recalls Abraham’s to God two chapters earlier (18.23). There Abraham proves the worthiness of his election by demon- strating his concern for justice, even if this means that he may, as a result, incur the disfavor of his all-powerful benefactor. Abraham presses God and asks him if he will destroy the city of Sodom if His punishment would result in the slaughter of innocents. He asks God, “Will you really wipe out the righteous [zadik] with the guilty?” In Genesis 20:4, Abimelech asks a similar question of God: “My Lord, will you slay a nation [goy] even though it is righteous [zadik]?” Although Abraham is the first patriarch of what will be the monotheistic religion of Judaism, with which God has a very special relation, the author places the polytheist Abimelech (a leader of a “nation,” [goy] i.e. a non- Jew) and the monotheist Abraham on the same plane of importance by narrating episodes in which each is granted the rare opportunity of engaging in a dialogue with God. Both Abraham and Abimelech merit their visitations by God by proving themselves to be just men. Monotheism, I have been suggesting, differentiates itself historically out of a polytheistic climate that permitted cruelties and injustices such as human sacrifice. But while the historical differentiation of the monotheistic worldview and its attendant ethical imperatives must be acknowledged, it is also true that avowed monotheists continually betray ethics – including that most influential early monotheist, Abraham. Ethics is the acknowledgement of the Other as Other, and the obedience to the command to be responsible for the Other. This sense of the absolutely unassimilable otherness of the other person will be betrayed if the subject makes unwarranted assumptions about the Other, and thus does not view the Other as an occasion for the transcendence of the ego but rather as a stereotype, as a construction – to employ the vocabulary of phe- nomenology – of the intentional consciousness. And this is precisely how Abraham mistakenly views the noble Abimelech. How could a polytheist living in Canaan, Abraham had wrongly assumed, be anything less than a rapacious immoralist? After his conversa- JUSTICE, INJUSTICE, AND THE DIFFERENTIATION 209 tion with God, Abimelech upbraids Abraham twice for placing him in the position of potentially causing an unwitting offence against Abraham and Abraham’s wife, Sarah, – and against God! – by telling the king that she was his sister and not his wife. “What have you done to us, and how have I of- fended you, that you should bring upon me and my kingdom such an of- fense? . . . And what did you see that you did such a thing?” (20.10), Abimelech asks Abraham. Abraham answers, “For I thought, there is surely no fear of God (elohim) in this place and they will kill me because of my wife” (20.11). Ethics (or holiness), Abraham learns, is not unique to self-declared monotheists. Polytheists may also act ethically. Similarly, monotheists betray God and ethics by making unwarranted assumptions about polytheists and by viewing them, unjustly, as less than fully human. Worldviews, such as monotheism, differentiate themselves historically, creating a before and an after, it is true. But if the before and the after are understood as the absolutely false and the absolutely true, the very meaning of the differentiation will be betrayed and lost in the kind of violence to which we have grown accustomed in the twenty-first century.

NOTES 1 Trans. Everett Fox, The Five Books of Moses: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy (New York: Schocken Books, 1983; rpt. 1995), pp. 94-95. Where I do not cite a translator of the Hebrew text, the translation is my own. 2 The “baroque” nature of Rembrandt’s painting consists, in large part, in its debt to what John Rupert Martin refers to as “the naturalistic vision of the Ba- roque” (Baroque [New York: Harper & Row, 1977], p. 13), especially as achieved by Caravaggio. While baroque painters were certainly not averse to allegorical representation, they tended to stress the dramatic nature of scenes from the He- brew scriptures rather than their mere typological significance. For remarks on the indirect influence of Caravaggio via Lastman on Rembrandt’s 1635 painting of The Sacrifice of Isaac, see J. Bruyn, “Rembrandt and the Italian Baroque,” Simiolus 4 (1970), 28-48, esp. pp 39-40. Rembrandt appears to have been inspired by Lastman’s depiction of Abraham’s looking directly at the face of the angel. This dramatic gesture “in turn seems to be based on two famous paintings of Caravaggio which Lastman may have seen in Italy between 1603 and 1606: St. Matthew and the Angel and The Sacrifice of Isaac” (Astrid Tümpel and Peter Schatborn, Pieter Lastman: The Man Who Taught Rembrandt [Amsterdam: Waanders Uitgevers, Zwolle, 1991], p. 65). 3 Simon Schama, Rembrandt’s Eyes (Knopf: New York, 1999), p. 605. 4 Ibid., p. 341. 210 Steven SHANKMAN

5 For “durative, non-specific” commands, the word for “not” that precedes the imperative proper would be lo’- rather than the two instances of ’al- that we find in this passage. See Thomas O. Lambdin, Introduction to Hebrew (Upper Saddle Riv- er, New Jersey: Prenctice Hall, 1971), p. 114. 6 In Caravaggio’s painting (1601-2) of The Sacrifice of Isaac (in the Uffizi Gal- lery, Florence), Abraham has forcibly placed Isaac’s body prone onto the altar of sacrifice and he is trying to hold Isaac’s terrified face down when the angel appears and stays Abraham’s hand. 7 See Khaleel Mohammed, “Probing the Identity of the Sacrificial Son in the Qur’an”, Journal of Religion and Culture, Vol. 13 (1999), pp. 125-132. Professor Mohammed argues that it is thoroughly misleading to assume that “the Islamic view” (p. 125) holds Ishmael to be the intended offering. Indeed, according to Professor Mohammed, al-Tabari (dc. 310/923), “arguably Islam’s most famous exegete, along with several others viewed Isaac as the sacrificial son” (ibid.) 8“Abraham, the Friend of the Merciful,” 305, cited from The History of al-Tabari, Vol. II, Prophets and Patriarchs, translated and annotated by William M. Brinner [Albany: State University of New York Press, 1987], p. 93. 9See e.g. Levinas, “Ethics and Spirit,” Difficult Freedom: Essays on Judaism, trans. Seán Hand (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990), esp. pp. 7-10. 10 As Robert Alter – having rendered Isaac’s “’aviy” as “Father!” – remarks in the sensitive commentary to his fine translation of Genesis, “The Hebrew is literally ‘My Father.’ But that noun with the possessive ending is the form of intimate address in biblical Hebrew, like Abba in postbiblical Hebrew” (Genesis: Translation and Com- mentary [New York and London: W. W. Norton & Company], p. 105. 11 Ibid, p. 7. 12 See the anonymous author of the catalogue of the Walpole collection, cited in the caption describing the painting on display in the Hermitage: “Abraham’s Head, and the naked Body of Isaac, are very fine; the Painter has avoided much of the Horror of the Story, by making Abraham cover the Boy’s Face, to hide the Horror from himself” (London, 1745). 13 Rembrandt’s Eyes, p. 410. 14 See Jeffrey Stolle, «Levinas and the Akedah: An Alternative to Kierkegaard,» Philosophy Today (Summer 2001): 132-43. 15 Emmanuel Levinas, Ethics and Infinity: Conversations with Philippe Nemo, trans. Richard A. Cohen (Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 1998), p. 87. For Jacques Derrida’s reflections on the “Aqedah,” and on Kierkegaard’s and Levinas’s readings of this text, see Donner la mort in L’éthique du don (Paris: Métalié-Tansi- tion, 1992), translated into English by David Wills as The Gift of Death (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995); see especially Chapter Three. For stimulating reflections on Kierkegaard’s, Levinas’s, and Derrida’s reflections on the “Akedah,” see Hent de Vries, Religion and Violence: Philosophical Perspectives from Kant to JUSTICE, INJUSTICE, AND THE DIFFERENTIATION 211

Derrida (Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002), esp. Chapter Two (“Violence and Testimony: Kierkegaardian Meditations”), pp. 123-210. 16 See e.g. Levinas, “The Trace of the Other,” in Deconstruction in Context: Liter- ature and Philosophy, ed. Mark C. Taylor (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1986), p. 31, and “A Man-God?”, Entre Nous: Thinking-of-The-Other, trans. Michael B. Smith and Barbar Harshav (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998), p. 58. 17 Ibid, p. 411. In the Munich version of this painting (also 1635; attributed to Rembrandt and another artist who worked in Rembrandt’s studio), Abraham’s face appears to be even more stunned, and the angel’s intervention less gentle. Here the angel appears to be coming towards the viewer, and his body twists more emphatically, more urgently towards Abraham in order to stay the patriarch’s hand. 18 As Howard Hibbard comments, “Caravaggio may simply have been commis- sioned to paint this familiar subject from Genesis, but his interpretation seems unnece- sarily cruel. Poor Isaac has become little more than an animal sacrifice, although his horror is plainly evident: Caravaggio was fascinated by the idea of a head cut off or a throat cut” (Caravaggio [Nw York: Harper & Row, 183; rpt. 1985), p. 166). 19Proper Names, trans. Michael B. Smith (London and Stanford, CA: The Atha- lone Press and Stanford University Press, 1996), p. 74. 20 According to Rodney Stark, “it is now accepted that the Israelites did not fully embrace true monotheism until many centuries after the Exodus” (One True God: Historical Consequences of Monotheism [Princeton and Oxford: Princeton Univer- sity Press, 2001, p. 32]). Stark argues that the monotheism of the Israelites “seems to have emerged from a pantheon that has been traced to Persian sources, not to Egypt. . . . Just where true monotheism first arose,” Stark argues, “remains unknown” (ibid.). 21 The Last Trial: On the Legends and Lore of the Command to Abraham to Offer Isaac as a Sacrifice: The Akedah, trans. with introduction by Judah Goldin (Wood- stock, Vermont: Jewish Lights Publishing, 1993), p. 61. On monotheism’s rejection of human sacrifice, see also the sixteenth-century Mexican colonial play “The Sacri- fice of Isaac,” trans. Marilyn Ekdahl Ravicz in her book Early Colonial Religious Drama in Mexico: From Tzompantli to Golgotha (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic Press of America, 1970), pp. 83-98. This play was written (in the Nahuatl language) by Spanish missionaries to be performed for the natives, according to Ravicz, in order to discourage them from practicing rituals of human sacrifice: “That God does not desire human sacrifice is also patent from this play. This fact was clearly a point in issue for an audience recently given to ritual human sacrifice on a stupendous scale, for the Aztec gods in the days immediately preceding the conquest had seemed ever to demand the precious blood offerings of the believers” (p. 97). For a discussion of the French Roman Catholic missionaries’ paradoxical betrayal, in the name of God, of the alterity of the unique and irreplaceable Other in colonial West Africa in the twentieth century, see Chapter 5 of this book. 22 The Last Trial, p. 73. 212 Steven SHANKMAN

23 The entrance into an ethical relation with the Other is, for me, the very meaning of the covenant. Abraham merits his election by his concern for justice, as evidenced in his bold questioning of God, on behalf of the innocent in Sodom, in Genesis 18. 24 Rejecting, with Alter (Genesis, p. 106) and most scholars, the reading of the Masoretic text, which gives ahar (“after” or “behind”) for ehad (one). 25 The Last Trial, pp. 63-64. 26 Al-Qur’an, a contemporary translation by Ahmed Ali (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), pp. 121-122. 27 See James L. Kugel, Traditions of the Bible: A Guide to the Bible As It Was at the Start of the Common Era (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998), pp. 244-274, which comments on Abraham’s journey from Chaldea in Genesis 12. 28 Ibid., p. 249.

ÖÂÅÒÎÂÀß ÒÐÀÊÒÎÂÊÀ ÊÈÒÀÉÑÊÎÉ «ÊÍÈÃÈ ÏÅÐÅÌÅÍ» È-ÖÇÈÍ

Âëàäèìèð ÃÐÓÇÄÅÂ

Ïðåäëàãàåìûé âàøåìó âíèìàíèþ ìàòåðèàë ÿâëÿåòñÿ ôðàãìåíòîì ìîåé êíèãè «Çåðêàëî ìèðà», êîòîðàÿ ñóùåñòâóåò â ýëåêòðîííîì âèäå è æäåò ñâîåãî èçäàòåëÿ. Áîëåå ïîäðîáíóþ èíôîðìàöèþ ïî êíèãå ìîæíî íàéòè íà ñàéòå: /www.gruzdev.com/. Îñíîâíàÿ òåìà êíèãè ðàçëè÷íûå àñïåêòû âçàèìîäåéñòâèÿ ÷åëîâåêà è ìèðà êàê åäèíîé ñèñòåìû. ×åëîâåê âîñïðèíèìàåò, íàáëþäàåò, èçó÷àåò, ïîçíàåò ïðîÿâëÿåò ìèð, òåì ñà- ìûì ó÷àñòâóÿ â åãî ñî-òâîðåíèè. Èçëàãàåìàÿ êîíöåïöèÿ ïðåäñòàâëÿåòñÿ ðàçâèòèåì, òàê íàçûâàåìîãî «àíòðîïíîãî ïðèíöèïà», êîòîðûé â êëàññè÷åñêîì îïðåäåëåíèè Ñòè- âåíà Õîêèíãà çâó÷èò òàê: «Ìû âèäèì Âñåëåííóþ òàêîé, êàê îíà åñòü, ïîòîìó ÷òî, áóäü îíà äðóãîé, íàñ áû çäåñü íå áûëî, è ìû íå ìîãëè áû åå íàáëþäàòü». ß áû ïåðåôðàçèðîâàë ýòî òàê: «Ìû âèäèì Âñåëåííóþ òàêîé, êàê îíà åñòü, ïîòîìó ÷òî ìû òàêèå, êàêèå ìû åñòü. Áóäü ìû äðóãèìè, ìû âèäåëè áû äðóãóþ Âñåëåííóþ è æèëè â äðóãîì ìèðå». ß áû íàçâàë ýòî «ñóáúåêòèâíûì àíòðîïíûì ïðèíöèïîì». ×åëîâåê æèâåò â ðåàëüíîì íåïðåðûâíîì ìèðå, ïîëüçóÿñü ïðåä- ñòàâëåíèÿìè î íåì, âçÿòûìè èç èíôîðìàöèîííîé ÌÎÄÅËÈ ìèðà. Ýòà ìîäåëü, ïðåæäå âñåãî, äèñêðåòíà (èíôîðìàöèÿ â äâîè÷íîé ôîðìå äèñ- êðåòíà, âîñïðèÿòèå äèñêðåòíî (àïîðèè Çåíîíà), ìûøëåíèå äèñêðåòíî ÷åðåç ñëîâî). Ìîæíî ñêàçàòü, ÷òî íàó÷íûå çàêîíû ôèçè÷åñêîé ðåàëü- íîñòè ñïðàâåäëèâû äëÿ ÌÎÄÅËÈ è âî ìíîãîì ÿâëÿþòñÿ ïðîåêöèåé ñïîñîáà âîñïðèÿòèÿ. Ìû íå ìîæåì ñóäèòü î ñîîòâåòñòâèè ìîäåëè ìèðà è ôèçè÷åñêîé ðåàëüíîñòè, ïîòîìó ÷òî ëþáîé îïûò, ëþáîå ïîçíàíèå îñóùåñòâëÿåòñÿ â ðàìêàõ ìîäåëè, êîòîðàÿ ïðè ýòîì ðàçâèâàåòñÿ è óñ- ëîæíÿåòñÿ. Îäíàêî ìû ìîæåì âîçäåéñòâîâàòü íà ðåàëüíîñòü, èñïîëü- çóÿ ìîäåëü ìèðà. Ìîæíî ñîñëàòüñÿ íà òåîðåìó Óèëüÿìà Òîìàñà: «Åñëè ëþäè îïðå- äåëÿþò ñèòóàöèè êàê ðåàëüíûå, òî ñèòóàöèè ðåàëüíû ïî ñâîèì ïîñëåä- ñòâèÿì». 214 Âëàäèìèð ÃÐÓÇÄÅÂ

Òàêîé ðåàëüíîé ïî ïîñëåäñòâèÿì ñèòóàöèåé ìîæíî ñ÷èòàòü ïðî- öåññ ïîçíàíèÿ, òàêîé æå ðåàëüíîé ïî ïîñëåäñòâèÿì ñèòóàöèåé ìîæíî ñ÷èòàòü, íàïðèìåð, áûòèå Áîãà. Ïðè òàêîé êîíöåïöèè ïðèíöèïèàëüíî ìåíÿåòñÿ ðîëü ÷åëîâåêà. Îí îïÿòü îêàçûâàåòñÿ â öåíòðå ìèðîçäàíèÿ. Ïðåæäå ÷åì ïåðåéòè ê öâåòîâîìó ðàçëîæåíèþ, ÿ äîëæåí êîðîòêî îñòàíîâèòüñÿ íà ÷åðíî-áåëîé, äâîè÷íîé ìîäåëè ìèðà. Ïðîÿâëåííîñòü ýòî ñâîéñòâî ìèðà áûòü âîñïðèíÿòûì. Ïðîÿâëåí- íîå îáúåêòèâíî ñóùåñòâóåò â äèàïàçîíå ÷åëîâå÷åñêîãî âîñïðèÿòèÿ (â ÷åëîâå÷åñêîé ïîëîñå). Ýòî íå çíà÷èò, ÷òî çà ïðåäåëàìè ÷åëîâå÷åñêîé ïîëîñû ìèð íå ñóùåñòâóåò, íî îí îñòàåòñÿ äëÿ íàñ íåïðîÿâëåííûì. Ïðîÿâëåííûé ìèð óñëîæíÿåòñÿ ðîâíî íàñòîëüêî, íàñêîëüêî ðàñøèðÿ- þòñÿ íàøè âîçìîæíîñòè åãî âîñïðèÿòèÿ. È íà ïëàíå ôèçè÷åñêîé ðåàëüíîñòè, è íà äóõîâíîì ïëàíå ïðîÿâëåí- íîñòü îñóùåñòâëÿåòñÿ ÷åðåç ïàðû ïðîòèâîïîëîæíîñòåé, ÷åðåç äóàëü- íîñòü. Ïðèíÿòî ïðåäïîëàãàòü ñóùåñòâîâàíèå äâóõ ïðîòèâîïîëîæíûõ èäåàëüíûõ êà÷åñòâ: äîáðî çëî, áåëîå ÷åðíîå, ßí Èíü. Âñ¸, ÷òî íàõîäèòñÿ ìåæäó êðàéíèìè êà÷åñòâàìè ýòî èõ ñî÷åòàíèÿ â ðàçëè÷íûõ ïðîïîðöèÿõ. Ýòî ïðèíöèï ëåæèò â îñíîâå êèòàéñêîé êíèãè ïåðåìåí È- Öçèí. Ýòî èíôîðìàöèÿ î ìèðå â äâîè÷íîé ôîðìå. Ïðåäñòàâèì òåïåðü íåéòðàëüíûé ñåðûé öâåò êàê èçíà÷àëüíîå íå- äèôôåðåíöèðîâàííîå ñîñòîÿíèå. Òîãäà ïîÿâëåíèå ëþáîãî îòëè÷èÿ â èñõîäíîì ñåðîì ðàâíîöåííî ïîÿâëåíèþ áèòà èíôîðìàöèè. Áîëåå òåì- íûé òîí ïðèíèìàåì çà óñëîâíî ÷åðíûé, áîëåå ñâåòëûé çà óñëîâíûé áåëûé. Òâîðåíèå, îñíîâàííîå íà ñïîñîáíîñòè ðàçëè÷àòü, ñîñòîÿëîñü. ß íàçûâàþ ýòî «âíóòðåííåå òâîðåíèå». Ñ òî÷êè çðåíèÿ âîñïðèÿòèÿ, òî, ÷òî ïðèíèìàåòñÿ çà ïðîòèâîïîëîæ- íîñòü, åñòü ïîðîã ÷óâñòâèòåëüíîñòè. Ïîðîã ÷óâñòâèòåëüíîñòè ýòî ìè- íèìàëüíî ðàçëè÷èìîå îòëè÷èå, ïîçâîëÿþùåå äèôôåðåíöèðîâàòü äâà ñîñòîÿíèÿ, ÷òî òîæäåñòâåííî ïðîÿâëåííîñòè. Ïîâûøàÿ ÷óâñòâèòåëü- íîñòü, ðàñøèðÿÿ âîñïðèÿòèå, ÷åëîâåê ïðîÿâëÿåò ìèðîçäàíèå, ó÷àñòâóåò â ñî-òâîðåíèè. Âîñïðèÿòèå äèñêðåòíî, ïîñëåäóþùèé êàäð äîëæåí îòëè÷àòüñÿ îò ïðåäûäóùåãî, ÷òîáû íåñòè äîïîëíèòåëüíóþ èíôîðìàöèþ. Âîñïðèÿòèå ïðîèñõîäèò íà ðàçíûõ óðîâíÿõ äèñêðåòíîñòè (÷àñòîòàõ êâàíòîâàíèÿ) ñ èñïîëüçîâàíèåì ðàçëè÷íûõ ìåõàíèçìîâ (èíòåëëåêòóàëüíûé, ðåôëåêñèâ- íûé, ýìîöèîíàëüíûé). Âîñïðèÿòèå íå òîëüêî äèñêðåòíî, íî è ëèíåéíî- ÖÂÅÒÎÂÀß ÒÐÀÊÒÎÂÊÀ ÊÈÒÀÉÑÊÎÉ ÊÍÈÃÈ ÏÅÐÅÌÅÍ È-ÖÇÈÍ 215

ïîñëåäîâàòåëüíî. Èñïîëüçóÿ ÿçûê, ìû àâòîìàòè÷åñêè îòäàåì ïðåäïî÷- òåíèå ïðèíöèïàì ëèíåéíîãî óïîðÿäî÷åíèÿ â ìûøëåíèè. Ïîñêîëüêó âîñïðèÿòèå è ìûøëåíèå äèñêðåòíû, îòêðûâàåìûå íàìè çàêîíû ïîñòðîåíèÿ ôèçè÷åñêîé ðåàëüíîñòè ïîääàþòñÿ ìàòåìàòè÷åñêî- ìó ìîäåëèðîâàíèþ è îêàçûâàþòñÿ òîæäåñòâåííûìè íà âñåõ óðîâíÿõ. Òàêæå âñå ýçîòåðè÷åñêèå, ñèìâîëüíûå è çíàêîâûå ñèñòåìû, ñîäåðæà- ùèå îïèñàíèÿ ýòèõ çàêîíîâ, âçàèìîòðàíñôîðìèðóþòñÿ äðóã â äðóãà. Ìîæíî ñêàçàòü, ÷òî ñîçíàíèå ïðîåöèðóåò ïðèñóùèé åìó ñïîñîá âîñ- ïðèÿòèÿ íà îêðóæàþùèé ìèð. Àëãîðèòì ðàçâèòèÿ âñåõ äèñêðåòíûõ ñèñòåì ïîä÷èíåí åäèíîìó îï- òèìàëüíîìó Ïðèíöèïó, îñíîâàííîìó íà ïðîñòîòå è ðàöèîíàëüíîñòè. Ðàç- âèòèå ïðîèñõîäèò â ñîîòâåòñòâèè ñ ðÿäîì Ôèáîíà÷÷è: íå÷òî ñóùåñòâóþ- ùåå (÷èñëî) íà ïåðâîì ýòàïå ñàìîîòðàæàåòñÿ, ñóììèðóåòñÿ ñ ïóñòîòîé, ïîâòîðÿåòñÿ; âñå ïîñëåäóþùèå øàãè îäèíàêîâû è ñîñòîÿò â ñóììèðîâà- íèè äâóõ ïîñëåäíèõ ñîñòîÿíèé (÷èñåë). Ðàçâèâàþùàÿñÿ òàêèì îáðàçîì ïîñëåäîâàòåëüíîñòü ñòðåìèòñÿ ê ãàðìîíè÷åñêîìó ñîîòíîøåíèþ (çîëîòî- ìó ñå÷åíèþ) ìåæäó ñîñåäíèìè ÷ëåíàìè, ÷òî ñîîòâåòñòâóåò äâèæåíèþ ïî ëîãàðèôìè÷åñêîé ñïèðàëè (ðàêîâèíû óëèòîê è ãàëàêòèêè). Èçâåñòíî, ÷òî îáðàòíàÿ ëîãàðèôìè÷åñêîé ôóíêöèÿ ex îñòàåòñÿ íå- èçìåííîé ïðè äèôôåðåíöèðîâàíèè è èíòåãðèðîâàíèè. Îòñþäà ìîæíî ñäåëàòü ïðåäïîëîæåíèå, ÷òî ðåàëèçàöèÿ íàèáîëåå ðàöèîíàëüíîãî ïðèí- öèïà ðàçâèòèÿ, îïèñûâàåìîãî ðÿäîì Ôèáîíà÷÷è, ïðèâîäèò ê òîìó, ÷òî íà íåêîåì èäåàëüíîì ìàòåìàòè÷åñêîì ïëàíå ìèð îñòàåòñÿ íåèçìåííûì. Ìîæíî âñïîìíèòü áóääèéñêèå ïðåäñòàâëåíèÿ îá èëëþçîðíîñòè ìèðà. Ïåðâûé øàã â ðÿäó Ôèáîíà÷÷è ñàìîîòðàæåíèå ìîæíî ñîîòíåñ- òè ñ ÷åëîâå÷åñêèì ñîçíàíèåì. Îòìåòèì çäåñü ïðèíöèï, çàëîæåííûé â È-Öçèí. ×åòíûå ãåêñàãðàì- ìû ïîëó÷àþòñÿ ïåðåâîðà÷èâàíèåì (çåðêàëüíûì îòðàæåíèåì îòíîñèòåëü- íî îñíîâàíèÿ èëè îòíîñèòåëüíî ëèíèè, ðàçäåëÿþùåé òðèãðàììû) ïðå- äûäóùåé íå÷åòíîé. Èñêëþ÷åíèå ñîñòàâëÿþò ñèòóàöèè, ïðè êîòîðûõ ïåðåâåðíóòàÿ ãåêñàãðàììà òîæäåñòâåííà èñõîäíîé íå÷åòíîé. Â ýòèõ ñëó÷àÿõ (1-2, 27-28, 29-30, 61-62) ÷åòíàÿ ãåêñàãðàììà ïîëó÷àåòñÿ èç èñ- õîäíîé èíâåðñèåé çàìåíîé Èíü çíàêîâ íà ßí è íàîáîðîò. Â È-Öçèí ýëåìåíòû Èíü è ßí ãðóïïèðóþòñÿ â ñî÷åòàíèÿõ ïî òðè, îáðàçóÿ 8 òðèãðàìì. Òðîè÷íàÿ ñèñòåìà ïîëó÷àåòñÿ íå ïóòåì äîáàâëå- íèÿ íîâîãî ýëåìåíòà, à ãðóïïèðîâêîé äâóõ èìåþùèõñÿ â ñî÷åòàíèÿ ïî òðè. Â ìàòåìàòèêå òàêàÿ ñèñòåìà ñ÷èñëåíèÿ íàçûâàåòñÿ äâîè÷íî-âîñüìå- 216 Âëàäèìèð ÃÐÓÇÄÅÂ

ðè÷íîé, îíà ëåæèò â îñíîâå ôóíêöèîíèðîâàíèÿ êîìïüþòåðîâ. Òàêîå ïîñòðîåíèå íàèáîëåå ðàöèîíàëüíî è ýêîíîìíî, ïîñêîëüêó «íå óìíîæà- åò ñóùíîñòåé». Ñî÷åòàíèå òðèãðàìì ïî äâå äàþò 64 ãåêñàãðàììû (÷òî ðàâíî êîëè- ÷åñòâó êîäîíîâ ãåíåòè÷åñêîãî êîäà - ðàçìåùåíèå ÷åòûðåõ îñíîâàíèé ïî òðè). Îò äèñêðåòíîé ñèñòåìû, îñíîâàííîé íà äóàëüíîñòè (Èíü ßí, ÷åð- íîå áåëîå), ìîæíî ïåðåéòè ê ãàðìîíè÷åñêîé öâåòîâîé ìîäåëè, ïîñòðî- åííîé íà âçàèìîïåðåõîäàõ òðåõ îñíîâíûõ è òðåõ äîïîëíèòåëüíûõ öâå- òîâ. Öâåòîâîé ñïåêòð ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé ñòåïåíü äèôôåðåíöèàöèè ñâå- òà. Êàê ñâåò ïðîÿâëÿåòñÿ ÷åðåç òåíü, òàê öâåò ïðîÿâëÿåòñÿ ÷åðåç äîïîëíèòåëüíûé öâåò, ïðîòèâîëåæàùèé îñíîâíîìó íà öâåòîâîì êðóãå. Õî÷ó çàìåòèòü, ÷òî ñ÷èòàþ «ñåìü öâåòîâ ðàäóãè» óñòîé÷èâûì ëîæ- íûì ñòåðåîòèïîì, ââåäåííûì Íüþòîíîì ïîä âëèÿíèåì êàáàëèñòèêè. Âñå, ÷òî ñâÿçàíî ñ öèôðîé 7 èìååò îòíîøåíèå ê ñôåðè÷åñêîé ñèñòåìå («Côåðîäèíàìèêà» Á. Â. Ãëàäêîâ, ÑÏá Ãîñóäàðñòâåííûé Ïîëèòåõíè÷åñ- êèé Óíèâåðñèòåò). Öâåòîâîñïðèÿòèå èíäèâèäóàëüíî, íå èìååò «êàìåðòîíà», çàâèñèò îò íàëè÷èÿ èëè îòñóòñòâèÿ ôîíà. Äîïîëíèòåëüíûå öâåòà ôèçèîëîãè- ÷åñêè ñâÿçàíû ñ îñíîâíûìè ÷åðåç, òàê íàçûâàåìîå, íåãàòèâíîå îñòàòî÷- íîå èçîáðàæåíèå. Îñíîâíûå è äîïîëíèòåëüíûå öâåòà íóæäàþòñÿ äðóã â äðóãå è ñâÿçàíû ÷åðåç ÷åëîâåêà (òåîðèÿ «âíóòðåííåãî òâîðåíèÿ»). Âçàèìîñâÿçè îñíîâíûõ è äîïîëíèòåëüíûõ öâåòîâ àíàëîãè÷íû ñî- îòíîøåíèÿì òðèãðàìì È-Öçèí. Ïîëó÷åííàÿ öâåòîâàÿ èíòåðïðåòàöèÿ ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé èäåàëü- íóþ ñèñòåìó, â êîòîðîé äâà ïðîòèâîïîëîæíûõ íà÷àëà Èíü è ßí (÷åðíîå è áåëîå) âçàèìîïåðåõîäÿò äðóã â äðóãà ÷åðåç öâåòîâîå ðàçëîæåíèå. Ñè- ñòåìà çàìêíóòà è ñàìîäîñòàòî÷íà. Â íå¸ íè÷åãî íåëüçÿ äîáàâèòü èëè îòíÿòü, íå íàðóøàÿ öåëîñòíîñòè. - ïðåäñòàâëÿåòñÿ âîçìîæíûì ïîñòðîåíèå íà îñíîâå öâåòîâîãî ðàç- ëîæåíèÿ ãàðìîíè÷åñêîé ëîãèêè; - ñèñòåìó ìîæíî èñïîëüçîâàòü äëÿ àíàëèçà ëþáûõ êëàññèôèêàöèé, áàçèðóþùèõñÿ íà äâîè÷íî-âîñüìåðè÷íîé ñèñòåìå ñ÷èñëåíèÿ (íàïðèìåð, êëàññèôèêàöèÿ òèïîâ ëè÷íîñòè ïî Þíãó; - È-Öçèí íà÷èíàåòñÿ ñ áåëîãî è ÷åðíîãî öâåòà (1 íåáî, òâîð÷å- ñòâî, 2 çåìëÿ, èñïîëíåíèå), â ïîñëåäíåé ÷åòâåðòè èñõîäíûå áåëûé è ÷åðíûé íå ïîÿâëÿþòñÿ íè ðàçó (ïî Õ. Àðãóýëüåñó ñ ãåêñàãðàììû 49 ÖÂÅÒÎÂÀß ÒÐÀÊÒÎÂÊÀ ÊÈÒÀÉÑÊÎÉ ÊÍÈÃÈ ÏÅÐÅÌÅÍ È-ÖÇÈÍ 217

ïðåîáðàçîâàíèå íà÷èíàåòñÿ ïåðèîä ïîñòèñòîðèè). Àíòàãîíèñòè÷åñ- êèå çàêîíû ïðîÿâëåíèÿ ìèðà ïåðåõîäÿò â ãàðìîíè÷åñêèå. Öâåòîâîå ðàçëîæåíèå ïîçâîëÿåò ïðåäñòàâèòü ñóùåñòâóþùèå çíà- êîâûå è ñèìâîëüíûå ñèñòåìû íå òîëüêî â öâåòå, íî è â òðåõìåðíîé è â äèíàìè÷åñêîé ôîðìå. - ñîïðÿæåííàÿ ïàðà òåòðàýäðîâ ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé ïåðâè÷íûé ïðî- ñòðàíñòâåííûé ìîäóëü; - òî÷êà ñîïðÿæåíèÿ, â êîòîðîé îñíîâíûå öâåòà ïåðåõîäÿò â äîïîë- íèòåëüíûå (íåãàòèâíîå îñòàòî÷íîå èçîáðàæåíèå) ìåñòî ÷åëîâåêà â ñîîòâåòñòâèè ñ òåîðèåé «âíóòðåííåãî òâîðåíèÿ». Ñîïðÿæåííóþ ïàðó òåòðàýäðîâ ìîæíî äîñòðîèòü äîáàâëåíèåì åùå äåâÿòè òàêèõ æå ñîïðÿæåííûõ ïàð ñ îáðàòíîé ïîñëåäîâàòåëüíîñòüþ öâåòîâ (ïðîòèâîïîëîæíûì ñïèíîì). Åäèíñòâåííîå ïðàâèëî ïðè ïîñò- ðîåíèè: ãðàíè ñîïðÿãàþòñÿ ïî ïðèíöèïó îñíîâíîé äîïîëíèòåëüíûé öâåò. Â ðåçóëüòàòå ïîëó÷àåòñÿ ïðàâèëüíûé äâàäöàòèãðàííèê èêîñà- ýäð, âíåøíèå ãðàíè êîòîðîãî îáðàçóþòñÿ áåëûìè è ÷åðíûìè òðåóãîëü- íèêàìè (ñòàðûå Èíü è ßí), à âíóòðåííèå öâåòíûå ãðàíè ñîñòàâëÿþ- ùèõ òåòðàýäðîâ (ìîëîäûå Èíü è ßí) ñîïðÿãàþòñÿ ïî ïðèíöèïó äî- ïîëíèòåëüíûõ öâåòîâ. Ïðè ïîñòðîåíèè 6 âíóòðåííèõ ãðàíåé èç 60 íå áóäóò ñîïðÿãàòüñÿ áåç äîïîëíèòåëüíûõ ïîñòðîåíèé. Ïîòðåáóåòñÿ, ÷òî- áû â îïðåäåëåííûå ðåáðà èêîñàýäðà âõîäèëè ëó÷è îïðåäåëåííîãî öâå- òà, äîïîëíÿþùèå âíóòðåííèå ãðàíè äî ñîïðÿæåíèÿ. Ýòè ñîãëàñóþùèå âíåøíèå ëó÷è ïåðåñåêàþòñÿ â öåíòðå èêîñàýäðà è îáðàçóþò ðàñïîëî- æåííóþ âäîëü âåðòèêàëüíîé îñè ñèñòåìó ñîïðÿæåííûõ òåòðàýäðîâ áîëüøåãî ìàñøòàáà. Èêîñàýäð ñ ñîãëàñóþùèìè âíåøíèìè ëó÷àìè ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé äèíàìè÷åñêóþ, ïðîñòðàíñòâåííóþ ìîäåëü ðàçâèòèÿ. Îñíîâíîé ïðèí- öèï: öèêëè÷åñêèé ïðîöåññ âïèñàí â ïîäîáíûé æå öèêë áîëüøåãî ìàñ- øòàáà, íàïðàâëåííûé âñòðå÷íî (ïðèìåð: çîäèàêàëüíûé êðóã è ïðåöåñ- ñèÿ ðàâíîäåíñòâèÿ). Ó Ïëàòîíà â äèàëîãå «Òèìåé» 5 ïðàâèëüíûõ ìíîãîãðàííèêîâ: òåòðàýäð (îãîíü), îêòàýäð (âîçäóõ), êóá (çåìëÿ), èêîñàýäð (âîäà) è äî- äåêàýäð (quinta essential ïÿòàÿ ñóùíîñòü). Îòñþäà âûâîäèòñÿ âñÿ åâ- ðîïåéñêàÿ ýçîòåðè÷åñêàÿ ñèìâîëèêà. Ìîæíî àíàëèçèðîâàòü êàááàëè- ñòè÷åñêèå, ðîçåíêðåéöåðîâñêèå äèàãðàììû, äåðåâî Ñåôèðîò, öâåòîê æèçíè, ìåðêàáó è ìíîãîå äðóãîå. 218 Âëàäèìèð ÃÐÓÇÄÅÂ

Ïîêàçàíà ñâÿçü âîñòî÷íûõ è çàïàäíûõ çíàêîâûõ è ñèìâîëüíûõ ñèñ- òåì. Âñå îíè â òîé èëè èíîé ìåðå îòðàæàþò ïðîñòðàíñòâåííûé àëãî- ðèòì ðàçâèòèÿ.

THE COLOR LAYOUT OF THE I-CHING, THE CHINESE BOOK OF CHANGES Vladimir GRUZDEV St. Petersburg, Russia

In this paper we examine correlations between Eastern and Western symbolic and numeric systems. All of these systems seem to reflect the dimen- sional algorithm of development described in our approach. The model is based on an interpretation of the binary-octal code exemplified by the color layout of the I-Ching, the Chinese Book of Changes.

ÑÒÐÓÊÒÓÐÀ È ÄÈÍÀÌÈÊÀ ÇÐÈÒÅËÜÑÊÎÉ ÀÓÄÈÒÎÐÈÈ ÃÎÑÓÄÀÐÑÒÂÅÍÍÎÃÎ ÐÓÑÑÊÎÃÎ ÌÓÇÅß (1987 2003)

Âàëåðèé ÊÎÇÈÅÂ

Îôèöèàëüíî «ïåðåñòðîéêà» â ñôåðå èçîáðàçèòåëüíîãî èñêóññòâà íà÷àëàñü â Ãîñóäàðñòâåííîì Ðóññêîì ìóçåå â 1987 ãîäó, êîãäà áûëà êàð- äèíàëüíî èçìåíåíà âûñòàâî÷íàÿ ïîëèòèêà. Âûñòàâêè ñîöèàëèñòè÷åñ- êîãî ðåàëèçìà óñòóïèëè ìåñòî âûñòàâêàì êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàí- ãàðäà, ñîâåòñêîãî «àíäåãðàóíäà», íîâåéøåãî è àêòóàëüíîãî èñêóññòâà. Îäíîâðåìåííî ñ ýòèì áûëî âïåðâûå øèðîêî ïîêàçàíî èñêóññòâî ðóáå- æà ÕIÕ è ÕÕ âåêîâ, à òàêæå ïðîâîäèëèñü ìîíîãðàôè÷åñêèå âûñòàâêè òðàäèöèîííîãî èñêóññòâà ÕVIII è ÕIÕ âåêîâ è ìíîãî÷èñëåííûå òåìàòè- ÷åñêèå âûñòàâêè, âêëþ÷àÿ ðåëèãèîçíîå èñêóññòâî. Ïóáëèêà ÃÐÌ, âîñïèòàííàÿ íà ïðèíöèïàõ êðèòè÷åñêîãî è ñîöèà- ëèñòè÷åñêîãî ðåàëèçìà, ñòîëêíóëàñü ñ íåâåðîÿòíûì ìíîãîîáðàçèåì õó- äîæåñòâåííûõ ñèñòåì èñêóññòâà ÕÕ âåêà. Ïðîáëåìà óñóãóáëÿëàñü òåì, ÷òî ïåðåîöåíêà öåííîñòåé â õóäîæåñòâåííîé ñôåðå (èçîáðàçèòåëüíîå èñêóññòâî, ëèòåðàòóðà, ìóçûêà, òåàòð, êèíî) ïðîèñõîäèëà â êîíòåêñòå êàðäèíàëüíûõ èçìåíåíèé è ïîòðÿñåíèé â ýêîíîìè÷åñêîé, ñîöèàëüíîé è ïîëèòè÷åñêîé æèçíè îáùåñòâà. Î÷åâèäíî, ÷òî íîâàÿ õóäîæåñòâåííàÿ «ïàðàäèãìà» áûëà íàâÿçàíà «ñâåðõó, âïðî÷åì, êàê è «ñîöèàëèñòè÷åñêèé ðåàëèçì» ïðåæäå. Îäíàêî èíòåãðàöèÿ íîâûõ õóäîæåñòâåííûõ öåííîñòåé â îáùåñòâå çàâèñèò íå òîëüêî îò «ïðåäëîæåíèÿ», íî è îò «ñïðîñà». Àêñèîìàòè÷åñêîå «ñïðîñ ðîæäàåò ïðåäëîæåíèå» â íàøåì ñëó÷àå âûãëÿäèò ðîâíî íàîáîðîò «ïðåäëîæåíèå ðîæäàåò è ôîðìèðóåò ñïðîñ». Ïðèíÿëà ëè ïóáëèêà ÃÐÌ ñîâðåìåííîå èñêóññòâî è â êàêîé ñòåïå- íè? Ïðîèçîøëà ëè äèôôåðåíöèàöèÿ àóäèòîðèè ÃÐÌ íà âûñòàâêàõ òðà- äèöèîííîãî è ñîâðåìåííîãî èñêóññòâà? Ïðîèçîøëà ëè òðàíñôîðìàöèÿ õóäîæåñòâåííûõ öåííîñòåé ó ïîñåòèòåëåé ÃÐÌ? Îòäåë ñîöèàëüíî ïñèõîëîãè÷åñêèõ èññëåäîâàíèé ÃÐÌ íà ïðîòÿæå- íèè ïîñëåäíèõ 15 ëåò èçó÷àë ïîñåòèòåëåé ÃÐÌ íà îñíîâíîé ýêñïîçè- öèè è ðàçëè÷íîãî ðîäà âûñòàâêàõ. Îïèðàÿñü íà ðåçóëüòàòû ýòèõ èññëå- äîâàíèé áóäåò ñäåëàíà ïîïûòêà îòâåòèòü íà ïîñòàâëåííûå âîïðîñû. 220 Âàëåðèé ÊÎÇÈÅÂ

ÃÐÌ íà÷àë çíàêîìèòü øèðîêóþ ïóáëèêó ñ èñêóññòâîì ÕÕ âåêà ñ 1987 ãîäà, êîãäà ïðîøëî íåñêîëüêî âûñòàâîê («Ï. Ôèëîíîâ» (1988), «Ê. Ìàëå- âè÷» (1989), «Ñîâåòñêîå èñêóññòâî 20-30-õ ãîäîâ» (1989), «Â. Êàíäèíñ- êèé» (1989), ïðèçâàííûõ ðåàáèëèòèðîâàòü ðóññêèé àâàíãàðä. Äëÿ áîëü- øèíñòâà çðèòåëåé ýòî áûëî àáñîëþòíî íåèçâåñòíîå è íîâîå èñêóññòâî, ê êîòîðîìó ñîâåðøåííî íå ïîäõîäèëè ìåðêè òðàäèöèîííîãî èñêóññòâà. Ñîöèîëîãè÷åñêèå èññëåäîâàíèÿ ïîêàçàëè, ÷òî ñîñòàâ ïîñåòèòå- ëåé ÃÐÌ íà ýòèõ âûñòàâêàõ ïðåòåðïåë ñåðüåçíûå èçìåíåíèÿ ïî ñðàâíå- íèþ ñ âûñòàâêàìè, ïðîâîäèâøèìèñÿ â ìóçåå ðàíåå. Àóäèòîðèÿ ýòèõ âûñòàâîê îêàçàëàñü ñóùåñòâåííî ìîëîæå, ÷åì àóäèòîðèÿ âûñòàâîê òðà- äèöèîííîãî èñêóññòâà. Äàëåå, èçìåíåíèÿ çàòðîíóëè ïðîôåññèîíàëüíûé ñîñòàâ ïîñåòèòåëåé. Âûñòàâêè êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà çíà÷èòåëüíî áîëüøå ïîñå- ùàëè õóäîæíèêè è ñòóäåíòû, è ñóùåñòâåííî ìåíüøå øêîëüíèêè è ïåíñè- îíåðû. Íà âûñòàâêàõ êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà òàêæå îêàçàëîñü áîëüøå íàó÷íûõ ñîòðóäíèêîâ è ïðåïîäàâàòåëåé âóçîâ, òîãäà êàê íà âûñ- òàâêàõ òðàäèöèîííîãî èñêóññòâà ó÷èòåëåé. Àóäèòîðèÿ âûñòàâîê êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà èìååò ñó- ùåñòâåííî áîëåå âûñîêèé óðîâåíü îáðàçîâàíèÿ. Ñëåäóþùåå îòëè÷èå êàñàåòñÿ ñîîòíîøåíèÿ ïîñòîÿííûõ ïîñåòèòå- ëåé è âïåðâûå ïðèøåäøèõ â ìóçåé. Íà âûñòàâêàõ êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóñ- ñêîãî àâàíãàðäà ïîñòîÿííûõ ïîñåòèòåëåé îêàçàëîñü â íåñêîëüêî ðàç áîëüøå, ÷åì âïåðâûå ïðèøåäøèõ â ìóçåé. Òî åñòü àóäèòîðèÿ âûñòàâîê êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà èìåëà áîëüøèé îïûò îáùåíèÿ ñ èñ- êóññòâîì, ÷åì àóäèòîðèÿ òðàäèöèîííûõ âûñòàâîê. Ñòîëü êàðäèíàëüíûå îòëè÷èÿ àóäèòîðèè ïåðâûõ âûñòàâîê êëàññè- ÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà âûñîêàÿ äîëÿ ñðåäè ïîñåòèòåëåé ìîëîäå- æè, ïîâûøåííûé èíòåðåñ ê íèì ñòóäåíòîâ, õóäîæíèêîâ, ïðåïîäàâàòå- ëåé âóçîâ è íàó÷íûõ ñîòðóäíèêîâ, âûñîêèé óðîâåíü îáðàçîâàíèÿ ïîñå- òèòåëåé, ïðåîáëàäàíèå ïîñòîÿííûõ ïîñåòèòåëåé ÃÐÌ ìîæíî áûëî áû îáúÿñíèòü ïîëèòè÷åñêèìè è ñîöèàëüíûìè ïðè÷èíàìè. Èñêóññòâî, êî- òîðîå áîëåå 50-òè ëåò íàõîäèëîñü ïîä çàïðåòîì ïî ïîëèòè÷åñêèì è èäå- îëîãè÷åñêèì ïðè÷èíàì, è íàêîíåö, ðåàáèëèòèðîâàíî, íå ìîæåò íå âûç- âàòü àæèîòàæ. Îäíàêî âûñòàâêó ñêàíäàëüíî ïîïóëÿðíîãî ñîâåòñêîãî õóäîæíèêà È. Ãëàçóíîâà â ýòî æå âðåìÿ â Ìàíåæå (1988 ãîä), âûñòàèâàÿ äëèííóþ î÷åðåäü, ïîñåùàëè ïðåèìóùåñòâåííî èíæåíåðû, øêîëüíèêè è ïåíñèîíåðû, òî åñòü àóäèòîðèÿ ïî ñâîèì ïàðàìåòðàì áëèçêàÿ ê àóäè- ÑÒÐÓÊÒÓÐÀ È ÄÈÍÀÌÈÊÀ ÇÐÈÒÅËÜÑÊÎÉ ÀÓÄÈÒÎÐÈÈ 221

òîðèè âûñòàâîê òðàäèöèîííîãî èñêóññòâà. Ñëåäîâàòåëüíî, âûñòàâêè êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà íå áåç âëèÿíèÿ ïîëèòè÷åñêèõ è ñîöè- àëüíûõ ôàêòîðîâ àêòóàëèçèðîâàëè òó ÷àñòü àóäèòîðèè Ðóññêîãî ìóçåÿ, êîòîðàÿ áûëà ãîòîâà è ìîãëà âîñïðèíÿòü íåòðàäèöèîííîå èñêóññòâî. Ñîáñòâåííî ýòè âûñòàâêè è ôîðìèðîâàëè ýòó àóäèòîðèþ. Äî 1987 ãîä â Ðóññêîì ìóçåå ïðîõîäèëè ëèáî âûñòàâêè òðàäèöèîííîãî èñêóññòâà, ëèáî âûñòàâêè Ñîþçà õóäîæíèêîâ ïðåèìóùåñòâåííî ïðèóðî÷åííûå ê êàêèì ëèáî þáèëåÿì. Â ìóçåå ñëîæèëàñü äîñòàòî÷íî ñòàáèëüíàÿ àóäèòîðèÿ, êîòîðàÿ íåñêîëüêî ìåíÿëàñü îò âûñòàâêè ê âûñòàâêå, íî ýòè èçìåíåíèÿ íå áûëè ñòîëü êàðäèíàëüíûìè. Ñðàçó çà ñåðèåé âûñòàâîê êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà â ÃÐÌ ïðîøëè âûñòàâêè ìîñêîâñêîãî è ëåíèíãðàäñêîãî àíäåãðàóíäà 60 80-õ ãîäîâ: «Òðàíçèò» (1990) õóäîæíèêè Ðîññèè â ýìèãðàöèè, è «Äðóãîå èñ- êóññòâî» (1991) õóäîæíèêè ìîñêîâñêîãî àíäåãðàóíäà 60 70-õ ãîäîâ. Â 1990 ãîäó ÃÐÌ (ñîâìåñòíî ñ Ïàðèæñêèì Âûñøèì èíñòèòóòîì ïëàñòè÷åñêèõ èñêóññòâ) ïðîâåë àêöèþ «Òåððèòîðèÿ èñêóññòâà», êîòî- ðàÿ âêëþ÷àëà âûñòàâêó êëàññè÷åñêîãî àâàíãàðäà ÕÕ âåêà (Â. Êàíäèíñ- êèé, Ì. Äþøàí, Ê. Ìàëåâè÷, Í. Ãàáî, Ðàóøåíáåðã, Òèíãåëè, Îëüäåí- áóðã, Ïîëëàê è äð.) è âûñòàâêó «Àòåëüå», íà êîòîðîé áûëè ïðåäñòàâëå- íû ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ ìîëîäûõ ôðàíöóçñêèõ è ëåíèíãðàäñêèõ õóäîæíèêîâ, âûïîëíåííûõ â òå÷åíèå ìåñÿöà â ìàñòåðñêèõ Ðóññêîãî ìóçåÿ. Ïîæàëóé, òîëüêî âûñòàâêà «Àòåëüå» äåìîíñòðèðîâàëà àêòóàëüíîå èëè íîâåéøåå èñêóññòâî. Íî äëÿ øèðîêîé ïóáëèêè, ïðèâûêøåé ê òðàäèöèîí- íîìó è ñîâåòñêîìó èñêóññòâó, è êëàññè÷åñêèé ðóññêèé àâàíãàðä è èñêóñ- ñòâî çàïàäíûõ õóäîæíèêîâ ÕÕ âåêà, è òâîð÷åñòâî õóäîæíèêîâ ñîâåòñêî- ãî àíäåãðàóíäà áûëî íå èçâåñòíûì è âîñïðèíèìàëîñü êàê íîâîå. Â 1991 ãîäó â Ðóññêîì ìóçåå áûë ñîçäàí Îòäåë íîâåéøèõ òå÷åíèé (çàâåäóþùèé À. Áîðîâñêèé), êîòîðûé â òå÷åíèå 13 ëåò ïîñëåäîâàòåëüíî è öåëåíàïðàâëåííî çíàêîìèë ïóáëèêó ñ àêòóàëüíûì ðóññêèì èñêóññò- âîì â êîíòåêñòå ìèðîâîãî ñîâðåìåííîãî õóäîæåñòâåííîãî ïðîöåññà. Íà ïðîòÿæåíèè 90-õ ãîäîâ â ÃÐÌ ïðîõîäèëî åæåãîäíî îêîëî 40 âûñòàâîê, íå ìåíåå ÷åòâåðòè èç êîòîðûõ áûëè ïîñâÿùåíû íîâåéøåìó è àêòóàëüíîìó èñêóññòâó. Îäíîâðåìåííî ñ ýòèìè âûñòàâêàìè áûëî ïîêàçàíî òâîð÷åñòâî õó- äîæíèêîâ êîíöà XIX íà÷àëà ÕÕ âåêà «Â. Âàñíåöîâ» (1990), «Â. Ñå- ðîâ» (1991), «Íà ðóáåæå âåêîâ» (1991), «À. Îñòðîóìîâà-Ëåáåäåâà» (1996), «Ñèìâîëèçì â ðóññêîì èñêóññòâå»(1996-1997), «Ìèð èñêóññòâà» (1999), 222 Âàëåðèé ÊÎÇÈÅÂ

à òàêæå õóäîæíèêîâ ÕVIII è ÕIÕ âåêîâ «À.È. Êóèíäæè» (1992), «È.Å. Ðåïèí» (1995), «Ï. Ôåäîòîâ» (1991), «Ê. Áðþëëîâ» (1999-2000), «È. Àé- âàçîâñêèé» (20002001) è äðóãèå. Â îêòÿáðå 2000 ôåâðàëå 2001 ãîäà â ÃÐÌ ïðîõîäèëà âûñòàâêà «Èñêóññòâî ïðîòèâ ãåîãðàôèè», ïîñâÿùåííàÿ 10-ëåòèþ Ãàëåðåè Ì. Ãåëüìàíà, íà êîòîðîé äåìîíñòðèðîâàëîñü íîâåéøåå ðóññêîå èñêóñ- ñòâî ïîñëåäíåãî äåñÿòèëåòèÿ. È, íàêîíåö, â äåêàáðå 2001 ìàðòå 2002 ãîäà â ÃÐÌ ïðîøëà âûñòàâêà «Àáñòðàêöèÿ â Ðîññèè. ÕÕ âåê», êîòîðàÿ ïðåäñòàâèëà êëàññè÷åñêèé ðóññêèé àâàíãàðä è åãî ïîñëåäîâàòåëåé âî âòîðîé ïîëîâèíå ÕÕ âåêà. Ðåçóëüòàòû ñîöèîëîãè÷åñêèõ îïðîñîâ íà âñåõ ýòèõ âûñòàâêàõ, à òàê- æå íà îñíîâíîé ýêñïîçèöèè, ïîçâîëèëè ñäåëàòü ñëåäóþùèå âûâîäû. Ïîñåòèòåëè îñíîâíîé ýêñïîçèöèè îòëè÷àþòñÿ îò ïîñåòèòåëåé âðåìåí- íûõ âûñòàâîê ïî ðÿäó ñîöèàëüíî-äåìîãðàôè÷åñêèõ ïîêàçàòåëåé. Óðîâåíü îáðàçîâàíèÿ çðèòåëåé ïîñòîÿííîé ýêñïîçèöèè ñóùåñòâåííî íèæå óðîâíÿ îáðàçîâàíèÿ çðèòåëåé âðåìåííûõ âûñòàâîê. Íà ïîñòîÿííîé ýêñïîçèöèè ïî ñðàâíåíèþ ñ âðåìåííûìè âûñòàâêàìè ìåíüøå ëþäåé, ÷üÿ ïðîôåññèîíàëü- íàÿ äåÿòåëüíîñòü ñâÿçàíà ñ òâîð÷åñêîé ðàáîòîé (íàó÷íûé ñîòðóäíèê, ïðå- ïîäàâàòåëü âóçà, õóäîæíèê, èñêóññòâîâåä), íî áîëüøå ó÷èòåëåé, øêîëüíè- êîâ è ïåíñèîíåðîâ. Íà ïîñòîÿííîé ýêñïîçèöèè çíà÷èòåëüíî ìåíüøå æèòå- ëåé Ïåòåðáóðãà: íà îäíîãî ãîðîæàíèíà ïðèõîäèòñÿ îäèí èíîãîðîäíèé, òîãäà êàê íà âðåìåííûõ âûñòàâêàõ ýòî ñîîòíîøåíèå 3:1. Ñðåäè ïîñåòèòåëåé îñíîâíîé ýêñïîçèöèè çíà÷èòåëüíî íèæå óðîâåíü õóäîæåñòâåííîãî îïûòà, íî áîëüøå ñëó÷àéíûõ çðèòåëåé è âïåðâûå ïðèøåäøèõ â ìóçåé. Ïî ñîñòàâó ïîñåòèòåëåé âðåìåííûå âûñòàâêè ìîæíî ðàçäåëèòü ïî òðàäèöèîííîìó èñòîðèêî-õðîíîëîãè÷åñêîìó ïðèíöèïó: 1. Ðóññêîå èñ- êóññòâî XVIII ïåðâîé ïîëîâèíû XIX âåêà, 2. Èñêóññòâî âòîðîé ïîëî- âèíû XIX âåêà (Ïåðåäâèæíèêè), 3. Èñêóññòâî ðóáåæà âåêîâ (êîíåö XIX íà÷àëî XX âåêà), 4. Êëàññè÷åñêèé ðóññêèé àâàíãàðä (20-å 30-å ãîäû ÕÕ âåêà), 5. Ñîâåòñêèé àíäåãðàóíä (60-å 80-å ãîäû ÕÕ âåêà), 6. Íî- âåéøèå òå÷åíèÿ. Ê ñîæàëåíèþ, â ýòîì ðÿäó îòñóòñòâóåò îôèöèàëüíîå ñîâåòñêîå èñêóññòâî. Åäèíñòâåííàÿ áîëüøàÿ âûñòàâêà ýòîãî èñêóññòâà â ÃÐÌ «Àãèòàöèÿ çà ñ÷àñòüå» (1994) âêëþ÷àëà ïîìèìî îôèöèîçíîé æè- âîïèñè ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ êëàññèêîâ ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà è ïàðàä ïîïóëÿðíî- ñòè íà äàííîé âûñòàâêå âîçãëàâèëè Ôèëîíîâ è Ìàëåâè÷. Ïðè ïåðåõîäå îò âûñòàâîê èçîáðàçèòåëüíîãî èñêóññòâà XVIII ïåð- âîé ïîëîâèíû XIX âåêà ê íîâåéøèì òå÷åíèÿì èçìåíÿåòñÿ âîçðàñòíîé ÑÒÐÓÊÒÓÐÀ È ÄÈÍÀÌÈÊÀ ÇÐÈÒÅËÜÑÊÎÉ ÀÓÄÈÒÎÐÈÈ 223

ñîñòàâ ïîñåòèòåëåé óâåëè÷èâàåòñÿ äîëÿ ìîëîäåæè äî 30 ëåò è óìåíü- øàåòñÿ äîëÿ ïîñåòèòåëåé ñòàðøå 55 ëåò, òî åñòü ÷åì «ñîâðåìåííåå» èñ- êóññòâî ïðåäñòàâëåííîå íà âûñòàâêå, òåì ìîëîæå àóäèòîðèÿ. Íàïðèìåð, ñðåäè ïîñåòèòåëåé âûñòàâîê «Èñêóññòâî ïðîòèâ ãåîãðàôèè» (àêòóàëü- íîå èñêóññòâî ïîñëåäíåãî äåñÿòèëåòèÿ) ìîëîäåæè (äî 30 ëåò) íà 25% áîëüøå, ÷åì íà âûñòàâêàõ èñêóññòâà ïåðâîé ïîëîâèíû ÕIÕ âåêà, íà 15% áîëüøå ÷åì íà âûñòàâêàõ ïåðåäâèæíèêîâ è èñêóññòâà ðóáåæà âåêîâ è íà 7% áîëüøå, ÷åì íà îñíîâíîé ýêñïîçèöèè. ×åì áîëåå «òðàäèöèîííûì» (îòñòîÿùèì îò íàñ ïî âðåìåíè) ÿâëÿ- þòñÿ ïðåäñòàâëåííûå íà âûñòàâêå ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ, òåì íèæå óðîâåíü îá- ðàçîâàíèÿ ïóáëèêè. Íà÷èíàÿ ñ âûñòàâîê èñêóññòâî ðóáåæà âåêîâ (êîíåö XIX íà÷àëî XX âåêà) óðîâåíü îáðàçîâàíèÿ ïóáëèêè äåëàåò ðåçêèé ñêà÷îê ââåðõ è ïðîäîëæàåò ïîäíèìàòüñÿ íà âûñòàâêàõ ÕÕ âåêà. ×åì áîëåå «ñîâðåìåííîé» (áëèæå ê íàì ïî âðåìåíè) ÿâëÿåòñÿ âûñ- òàâêà, òåì áîëüøå íà íåé ïðåïîäàâàòåëåé âóçîâ, íàó÷íûõ ñîòðóäíèêîâ, õóäîæíèêîâ, ñòóäåíòîâ è ìåíüøå øêîëüíèêîâ. ×åì áîëåå «òðàäèöèîííîé» ÿâëÿåòñÿ âûñòàâêà, òåì áîëüøå íà íåé ñëó÷àéíûõ, âïåðâûå ïðèøåäøèõ â ìóçåé ïîñåòèòåëåé è ìåíüøå ïîñòî- ÿííûõ ïîñåòèòåëåé ÃÐÌ, òî åñòü íèæå óðîâåíü õóäîæåñòâåííîãî îïûòà. Òàêèì îáðàçîì, â 90-å ãîäîâ â ÃÐÌ, áëàãîäàðÿ íîâîé âûñòàâî÷íîé ïîëèòèêå, ïðèîáùàâøåé ïóáëèêó ê ðàçëè÷íûì ýòàïàì è íàïðàâëåíèÿì òðàäèöèîííîãî è íåòðàäèöèîííîãî èñêóññòâà, êàæäûé òèï âûñòàâêè îá- ðåë ñâîþ ñîáñòâåííóþ àóäèòîðèþ. Îäíàêî, ñîöèàëüíûå è ýêîíîìè÷åñêèå êàòàêëèçìû â íàøåé ñòðàíå íå îñòàâèëè â ñòîðîíå è ìóçåéíóþ æèçíü. Ñ íà÷àëà ïåðåñòðîéêè çíà÷è- ìîñòü «Õóäîæåñòâåííîé êóëüòóðó» êàê ñôåðû æèçíåäåÿòåëüíîñòè ñî- âåòñêîãî, à çàòåì è ðîññèéñêîãî ÷åëîâåêà íåóêëîííà ïàäàëà. Ýòîò ïðî- öåññ íà÷àëñÿ â 80-å ãîäû, íî îí íîñèë ìåäëåííûé è ïîñòåïåííûé õàðàê- òåð. Â íà÷àëå 90-õ ãîäîâ ïðîèçîøëà ðåçêàÿ äåâàëüâàöèÿ òðàäèöèîííûõ öåííîñòåé è â ïîñòñîâåòñêèé ïåðèîä «õóäîæåñòâåííàÿ êóëüòóðà» â èåðàð- õèè æèçíåííûõ îðèåíòàöèé çàíÿëà ïðî÷íîå ïåðèôåðèéíîå ïîëîæåíèå, ïðè ýòîì èçîáðàçèòåëüíîå èñêóññòâî â ñòðóêòóðå õóäîæåñòâåííûõ èí- òåðåñîâ íûíåøíåãî ÷åëîâåêà ÿâëÿåòñÿ íàèìåíåå ïðåäïî÷èòàåìûì ñðå- äè äðóãèõ âèäîâ èñêóññòâà (ëèòåðàòóðà, ìóçûêà, òåàòð, êèíî), òî åñòü «ïåðèôåðèÿ íà ïåðèôåðèè» æèçíåííûõ îðèåíòàöèèé ñîâðåìåííîãî ÷å- ëîâåêà. Ñîîòâåòñòâåííî, ïðîèçîøëî ðåçêîå ñíèæåíèå «ïîòðåáëåíèÿ» õó- äîæåñòâåííîé êóëüòóðû. 224 Âàëåðèé ÊÎÇÈÅÂ

Íåñîìíåííî, íà ïîâåäåíèå ÷åëîâåêà â ñôåðå õóäîæåñòâåííîé êóëü- òóðû íåïîñðåäñòâåííî âëèÿëè áåñêîíå÷íûå ýêîíîìè÷åñêèå îáâàëû, äå- âàëüâàöèè, äåôîëòû. Íàïðèìåð, â 1991 ãîäó ïîñëå ðåçêîãî ïîâûøå- íèÿ öåí íà æåëåçíîäîðîæíûå áèëåòû â ÃÐÌ â äâà ðàçà ñîêðàòèëîñü êîëè÷åñòâî ýêñêóðñèé, ïîñêîëüêó ïîëîâèíà ýêñêóðñèé â ìóçåå ïðèõî- äèëîñü íà èíîãîðîäíèå òóðèñòè÷åñêèå ãðóïïû. Çà 90-å ãîäû ïîñåùàå- ìîñòü ÃÐÌ ñíèçèëàñü â òðè ðàçà (â 1988 ãîäó ìóçåé ïîñåòèëî 1622800 ÷åë., â 2002 ãîäó 576300 ÷åë.). Ïðè îáùåì ñíèæåíèè ïîñåùàåìîñòè â 90-å ãîäû øëî óâåëè÷åíèå äîëè íàèáîëåå ìîëîäûõ è íàèáîëåå ïîæèëûõ çðèòåëåé çà ñ÷åò óìåíü- øåíèÿ ïîñåòèòåëåé ñðåäíèõ âîçðàñòîâ (ýêîíîìè÷åñêè è ñîöèàëüíî íàè- áîëåå àêòèâíîé è, ñëåäîâàòåëüíî, óÿçâèìîé ÷àñòè îáùåñòâà). Ýòà òåí- äåíöèÿ ïðîÿâèëàñü êàê â îòíîøåíèè îñíîâíîé ýêñïîçèöèè, òàê è â îò- íîøåíèè âñåõ áåç èñêëþ÷åíèÿ òèïîâ âûñòàâîê. Â òå÷åíèå ïîñëåäíåãî äåñÿòèëåòèÿ íåóêëîííî ðîñ óðîâåíü îáðàçîâà- íèÿ ïóáëèêè êàê íà îñíîâíîé ýêñïîçèöèè, òàê è íà ðàçëè÷íîãî ðîäà âûñ- òàâêàõ. Ïî âñåì äðóãèì ïàðàìåòðàì ïðîôåññèîíàëüíûé ñîñòàâ ïóáëè- êè, óðîâåíü õóäîæåñòâåííîãî îïûòà àóäèòîðèè êàðòèíà íå îäíîçíà÷íà. Îäíàêî, íåñìîòðÿ íà ïîñòîÿííîå èçìåíåíèå àóäèòîðèè âûñòàâîê, áàçîâûå îòëè÷èÿ ìåæäó ðàçëè÷íûìè òèïàìè âûñòàâîê è îñíîâíîé ýêñ- ïîçèöèè ñîõðàíÿëèñü. Çà ïðîøåäøèå 15 ëåò ïðîèçîøëè íåêîòîðûå èçìåíåíèÿ ñî ñïèñêîì íàèáîëåå ïîïóëÿðíûõ ðóññêèõ õóäîæíèêîâ ó ïîñåòèòåëåé ÃÐÌ. Íàèáî- ëåå äåìîêðàòè÷åñêàÿ è íàèìåíåå ïîäãîòîâëåííàÿ â õóäîæåñòâåííîì îò- íîøåíèè ïóáëèêà íà îñíîâíîé ýêñïîçèöèè. Ñïèñîê ïåðâûõ ïÿòè íàèáî- ëåå ïîïóëÿðíûõ õóäîæíèêîâ ó çðèòåëåé îñíîâíîé ýêñïîçèöèè: 1993 Àéâàçîâñêèé, Áðþëëîâ, Ðåïèí, Ñåðîâ, Øèøêèí. 1998 Àéâàçîâñêèé, Áðþëëîâ, Ðåïèí, Øèøêèí, Ñåðîâ 2000 Êóèíäæè, Ðåïèí, Áðþëëîâ, Øèøêèí, Âàñíåöîâ. Íè îäèí õóäîæíèê êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà íå íàáðàë íè â îäíîì èç ýòèõ òðåõ îïðîñîâ 1% ïðåäïî÷òåíèé. Êàê ìîæíî âèäåòü, òîëüêî ê 2000 ãîäó ïðîèçîøëà ÷àñòè÷íàÿ ñìåíà ïðèîðèòåòîâ â õóäîæå- ñòâåííûõ ïðåäïî÷òåíèÿõ, íî, òåì íå ìåíåå, â ïÿòåðêó ëèäåðîâ âõîäÿò òîëüêî ïðåäñòàâèòåëè òðàäèöèîííîãî èñêóññòâà ÕIÕ âåêà. Íà âðåìåííûõ âûñòàâêàõ, ãäå ïóáëèêà áîëåå ñïåöèàëüíàÿ è â õóäîæåñòâåííîì îòíîøåíèè áîëåå èñêóøåííàÿ, ïàðàä ïðåäïî÷òå- íèé ñëåäóþùèé. ÑÒÐÓÊÒÓÐÀ È ÄÈÍÀÌÈÊÀ ÇÐÈÒÅËÜÑÊÎÉ ÀÓÄÈÒÎÐÈÈ 225

«Ìèð èñêóññòâà» (1999) Ñåðîâ, Êóèíäæè, Âðóáåëü, Àéâàçîâñêèé, Ëåâèòàí. Õóäîæíèêè êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà íàáðàëè íà ýòîé âûñòàâêå â ñóììå 6,9% îò âñåõ ïðåäïî÷òåíèé. «Èèñóñ Õðèñòîñ â õðèñòèàíñêîì èñêóññòâå è êóëüòóðå ÕIV ÕÕ âåêîâ» (2000 2001) Àéâàçîâñêèé, Áðþëîâ, Ðåïèí, Ìàëåâè÷, Êóèíä- æè, Øèøêèí. Õóäîæíèêè êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà íàáðàëè íà ýòîé âûñòàâêå â ñóììå 6,2% îò âñåõ ïðåäïî÷òåíèé. «È. Àéâàçîâñêèé» (2000 2001) Àéâàçîâñêèé, Áðþëëîâ, Ðåïèí, Øèøêèí, Êóèíäæè. Õóäîæíèêè êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà íà- áðàëè íà ýòîé âûñòàâêå â ñóììå ìåíåå 2% îò âñåõ ïðåäïî÷òåíèé. «Ê.Áðþëëîâ» (2001 2002) Áðþëëîâ, Àéâàçîâñêèé, Êóèíäæè, Ðå- ïèí, Øèøêèí. Õóäîæíèêè êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà íàáðàëè â ñóììå 2,7% îò âñåõ ïðåäïî÷òåíèé. «Èñêóññòâî ïðîòèâ ãåîãðàôèè» (2000 2001). Â îòëè÷èå îò äðóãèõ âûñòàâîê â ÃÐÌ íà äàííîé âûñòàâêå, ãäå áûëî ïðåäñòàâëåíî àêòóàëü- íîå èñêóññòâî 90-õ ãîäîâ ÕÕ âåêà, âìåñòî ÿâíûõ ëèäåðîâ â õóäîæåñòâåí- íûõ ïðåäïî÷òåíèÿõ ìíîãîîáðàçèå. Åäèíñòâåííûé õóäîæíèê, ó êîòî- ðîãî îêàçàëîñü äîñòàòî÷íîå êîëè÷åñòâî ïðåäïî÷òåíèé, ýòî Ê. Ìàëå- âè÷ (5% îïðîøåííûõ íàçâàëè åãî â êà÷åñòâå ëþáèìîãî). Õóäîæíèêè êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà íàáðàëè â ñóììå 10,6% ïðåäïî÷òå- íèé (ïåðâîå ìåñòî), íà âòîðîì ìåñòå â ïàðàäå ïîïóëÿðíîñòè ïåðå- äâèæíèêè (10%), íà òðåòüåì ìåñòå õóäîæíèêè ðóáåæà ÕIÕ è ÕÕ âåêîâ (8,8%), ÷åòâåðòîå ìåñòî ó õóäîæíèêîâ ïåðâîé ïîëîâèíû ÕIÕ âåêà (6,3 %) è, íàêîíåö, ïÿòîå ìåñòî ïðåäñòàâèòåëè íîâåéøåãî è àêòóàëüíîãî èñêóñ- ñòâà (4,7%), òî åñòü òå, êòî ðàáîòàþò â íàñòîÿùåå âðåìÿ. «Ðóññêàÿ àáñòðàêöèÿ. ÕÕ âåê» (2001 2002) Àéâàçîâñêèé, Êóèíä- æè, Ìàëåâè÷, Ðåïèí, Áðþëëîâ. Õóäîæíèêè êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàí- ãàðäà â ñóììå íàáðàëè 11,5% ïðåäïî÷òåíèé (÷åòâåðòîå ìåñòî â ïàðàäå ïîïóëÿðíîñòè), õóäîæíèêè êîíöà ÕIÕ íà÷àëà ÕÕ âåêà 15,9 % (òðåòüå ìåñòî), õóäîæíèêè XVIII ïåðâîé ïîëîâèíû XIX âåêà 16,3% îò âñåõ ïðåäïî÷òåíèé (âòîðîå ìåñòî), ïåðåäâèæíèêè 18,1% (ïåðâîå ìåñòî). Êàê ìîæíî âèäåòü, âêóñû îñíîâíîé ÷àñòè ïîñåòèòåëåé ÃÐÌ íà ïðîòÿ- æåíèè 90-õ ãîäîâ îñòàþòñÿ êîíñåðâàòèâíûìè è îãðàíè÷èâàþòñÿ ïðåèìó- ùåñòâåííî òðàäèöèîííûì èñêóññòâîì ÕIÕ âåêà è ëèøü âî âòîðîé ïîëîâè- íå 90-õ íà âûñòàâêàõ èñêóññòâà ÕÕ âåêà è íà òåìàòè÷åñêèõ âûñòàâêàõ â ïåðå÷åíü íàèáîëåå ïðåäïî÷èòàåìûõ õóäîæíèêîâ ñòàëè ïîïàäàòü ïðåäñòà- âèòåëè êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà, ãäå ñàìûì ïîïóëÿðíûì õóäîæ- 226 Âàëåðèé ÊÎÇÈÅÂ

íèêîì, íåñîìíåííî, ÿâëÿåòñÿ Ê. Ìàëåâè÷. Â ýòîì ñìûñëå àóäèòîðèÿ âûñòà- âîê íîâåéøèõ òå÷åíèé óíèêàëüíà ïîëíîå îòñóòñòâèå â ïðåäïî÷òåíèÿõ åäèíîîáðàçèÿ è øèðîêèé äèàïàçîí íàçâàííûõ õóäîæíèêîâ è ïðîèçâåäå- íèé îò äðåâíåðóññêîé èêîíû äî ïðîèçâåäåíèé, âûïîëíåííûõ â íàñòîÿ- ùåå âðåìÿ. Çíàìåíàòåëüíî òàêæå òî, ÷òî õóäîæíèêè êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà â ýòîé àóäèòîðèè îêàçàëèñü íà âåðøèíå èåðàðõèè ïðåäïî÷òåíèé. Àóäèòîðèÿ ñîâðåìåííîãî èñêóññòâà ýòî, ïðåæäå âñåãî ïîêîëåíèå ìîëîäûõ ëþäåé, ïðåèìóùåñòâåííî ñòóäåíòîâ, à òàêæå ëèöà, ÷üÿ ïðîôåñ- ñèÿ ñâÿçàíà ñ òâîð÷åñòâîì è õóäîæåñòâåííîé êóëüòóðîé. Ó ïîêëîííèêîâ ýòîãî èñêóññòâà âûñîêèé óðîâåíü îáðàçîâàíèÿ è õóäîæåñòâåííîãî îïûòà. Ïðàâäà, íóæíî èìåòü â âèäó, ÷òî àóäèòîðèÿ àêòóàëüíîãî èñêóññòâà ïî ñðàâíåíèþ ñ àóäèòîðèåé òðàäèöèîííîãî èñêóññòâà ñðàâíèòåëüíî óçêàÿ. Ìðàìîðíûé äâîðåö, ãäå ïðîõîäÿò âûñòàâêè àêòóàëüíîãî èñêóññòâà, ïîñå- ùàåò â ãîä ïðèìåðíî 30 000 ÷åëîâåê, ÷òî ñîñòàâëÿåò 5% îò âñåõ ïîñåòèòå- ëåé ìóçåÿ. Íî åñëè ó÷åñòü, ÷òî àóäèòîðèÿ ñîâðåìåííîãî èñêóññòâà ôîð- ìèðóåòñÿ â íàøåé ñòðàíå âñåãî ïîñëåäíèå 15 ëåò, à àêòóàëüíîãî èñêóññò- âà è òîãî ìåíüøå, òî íóæíî ïðèçíàòü ÷òî ðåçóëüòàòû âïå÷àòëÿþùèå. ×åì «òðàäèöèîííåå» èñêóññòâî, ïðåäñòàâëåííîå íà âûñòàâêå, òåì îíî ïîïóëÿðíåå ó øèðîêîãî êðóãà çðèòåëåé è òåì âûøå ïîñåùàåìîñòü âûñòàâêè. ×åì «íîâåå» èñêóññòâî, òåì ñïåöèôè÷íåå è óæå åãî àóäèòî- ðèÿ. Âûñòàâêè òðàäèöèîííîãî èñêóññòâà â ÃÐÌ ïðèâëåêàþò â áîëüøåé ñòåïåíè íîâûõ ïîñåòèòåëåé, òîãäà êàê âûñòàâêè ñîâðåìåííîãî èñêóññò- âà ïîñòîÿííûõ ïîñåòèòåëåé. Âîçâðàùàÿñü ê ïîñòàâëåííûì âûøå âîïðîñàì, ìîæíî ñêàçàòü ñëå- äóþùåå. Çà ïðîøåäøèå 15 ëåò, êàæäàÿ èç âûñòàâîê (1. Ðóññêîå èñêóññò- âî XVIII ïåðâîé ïîëîâèíû XIX âåêà, 2. Èñêóññòâî âòîðîé ïîëîâèíû XIX âåêà (Ïåðåäâèæíèêè), 3. Èñêóññòâî ðóáåæà âåêîâ (êîíåö XIX íà- ÷àëî XX âåêà), 4. Êëàññè÷åñêèé ðóññêèé àâàíãàðä (20-å 30-å ãîäû ÕÕ âåêà), 5. Ñîâåòñêèé àíäåãðàóíä (60-å 80-å ãîäû ÕÕ âåêà), 6. Íîâåéøèå òå÷åíèÿ) îáðåëà ñâîþ àóäèòîðèþ, êîòîðàÿ èìååò ñâîé ñïåöèôè÷åñêèé ñîöèàëüíî-äåìîãðàôè÷åñêèé ïðîôèëü. Ñ îäíîé ñòîðîíû, ïðîèçîøëî ðàñ- ñëîåíèå àóäèòîðèè ÃÐÌ â íà÷àëå ïåðåñòðîéêè, ñ äðóãîé â Ðóññêèé ìóçåé çà ïðîøåäøåå âðåìÿ ïðèøëî íåñêîëüêî ïîêîëåíèé ìîëîäåæè. Ïðèìåðíî òðåòü ïîñåòèòåëåé îñíîâíîé ýêñïîçèöèè âïåðâûå ïðèøåä- øèå â ìóçåé, çíà÷èòåëüíóþ ÷àñòü êîòîðûõ øêîëüíèêè è ñòóäåíòû. Èìåííî îíè ÿâëÿþòñÿ ïîòåíöèàëüíûìè ïîñòîÿííûìè ïîñåòèòåëÿìè ðàç- ëè÷íîãî ðîäà âûñòàâîê è íåïðåðûâíî îáíîâëÿþò àóäèòîðèþ ÃÐÌ. ÑÒÐÓÊÒÓÐÀ È ÄÈÍÀÌÈÊÀ ÇÐÈÒÅËÜÑÊÎÉ ÀÓÄÈÒÎÐÈÈ 227

Îäíàêî âîñïðîèçâîäñòâî àóäèòîðèè ÃÐÌ ðåçêî ñíèçèëîñü â íà- ÷àëå 90-õ ãîäîâ (â òðè ðàçà). Ïðè òîì, ÷òî âûñòàâî÷íàÿ ïðîãðàììà ìóçåÿ â ýòè ãîäû ïîñòîÿííî ðàñøèðÿëàñü îòêðûëèñü òðè äâîðöà (Ñòðîãàíîâñêèé, Ìðàìîðíûé è Èíæåíåðíûé çàìîê) ñ íîâûìè ýêñ- ïîçèöèîííûìè ïðîñòðàíñòâàìè. Ïî-âèäèìîìó, ïðè÷èíû «îáâàëà» ïî- ñåùàåìîñòè ëåæàò âíå ìóçåÿ. Ýòî, ïðåæäå âñåãî ðàçðóøåíèå òðàäè- öèîííîé ñèñòåìû æèçíåííûõ öåííîñòåé ñîâåòñêîãî ÷åëîâåêà è ïî- èñê íîâîé èäåíòè÷íîñòè ïîñòñîâåòñêîãî ÷åëîâåêà, â êîòîðîé õóäîæåñòâåííàÿ êóëüòóðà ïîòåðÿëà áûëóþ çíà÷èìîñòü è ïåðåìåñòè- ëàñü íà ïåðèôåðèþ öåííîñòíûõ îðèåíòàöèé. Åñëè ÃÐÌ çà 15 ëåò êàðäèíàëüíî ïåðåñòðîèë ñâîþ âûñòàâî÷íóþ ïîëèòèêó è ñôîðìèðîâàë àóäèòîðèè äëÿ ðàçëè÷íîãî òèïà âûñòàâîê, òî îá èåðàðõèè õóäîæåñòâåííûõ ïðåäïî÷òåíèé ýòîãî íå ñêàæåøü. Ïîäàâ- ëÿþùåå áîëüøèíñòâî ïîñåòèòåëåé ÃÐÌ ïðèäåðæèâàþòñÿ êîíñåðâàòèâ- íûõ õóäîæåñòâåííûõ öåííîñòåé. Áîëåå ïîëîâèíû âûñòàâîê â ÃÐÌ ïîñâÿùåíû èñêóññòâó ÕÕ âåêà. Ýòè âûñòàâêè èìåþò ñâîèõ ïîñòîÿííûõ ïîñåòèòåëåé. Íî ñàìûìè ëþ- áèìûìè ó íèõ îñòàþòñÿ õóäîæíèêè ÕIÕ âåêà Àéâàçîâñêèé, Áðþë- ëîâ, Ðåïèí, Øèøêèí, Êóèíäæè. È, òîëüêî ó ñàìîé óçêîé è ñàìîé ñïå- öèàëèçèðîâàííîé àóäèòîðèè àêòóàëüíîãî èñêóññòâà èíûå ïðèîðèòå- òû. Ïàðàä ïîïóëÿðíîñòè ó íèõ âîçãëàâèëè õóäîæíèêè êëàññè÷åñêîãî ðóññêîãî àâàíãàðäà. Ïàðàäîêñàëüíî, íî ôàêò. Çà âðåìÿ ïðîøåäøåå ñ íà÷àëà ïåðåñòðîé- êè âñå èçìåíèëîñü. Ìû æèâåì â ñîâåðøåííî äðóãîé ñòðàíå. Ñìåíèëîñü íåñêîëüêî ïîêîëåíèé. Íî íàøè öåííîñòè, âî âñÿêîì ñëó÷àå, õóäîæåñòâåí- íûå, ïðîäîëæàþò îñòàâàòüñÿ ïðåæíèìè.

THE STRUCTURE AND DYNAMICS OF THE AUDIENCE OF THE RUSSIAN STATE MUSEUM: 1987 – 2003 Valery KOZIEV St.-Petersburg

The “perestroika” in the field of fine arts officially started at the Russian State Museum in 1987, when the exposition policy was dramatically changed. Expositions of socialist realism were replaced by expositions of the classic 228 Âàëåðèé ÊÎÇÈÅÂ

Russian vanguard, the Soviet “underground”, and the newest, present-day art. Simultaneously, the art of the 19th and 20th centuries was extensively shown for the first time. Also some monographic exhibits of traditional art of the 18th and 19th centuries were organised, as well as numerous thematic expositions including religious art. The RSM’s audience, which was brought up on the principles of critical and socialist realism, encountered an incredible variety of artistic systems in the art of the 20th century. What are the results of this process? Who visits the RSM’s various expositions and how has the audience changed during these past 15 years? What are the audience’s artistic preferences and how have they been changing? The RSM (I am not sure it should be RSM, but it reads better that way in English.) Department of Social Psychological Studies during past 15 years studied the RSM’s audience at the main exposition and at various exhibits. Proceeding from the data obtained in these studies, an attempt was made to answer the above questions. The audience of the main exposition differs from that of temporary exhibits in a number of social-demographic parameters. The educational level of the main exposition audience is considerably lower than that of temporary exhibits’ audience. The main exposition is visited by a smaller number of people whose professional activity is associated with creative work (researchers, college professors, artists, art critics), and a larger number of school- teachers and schoolchildren. At the main exposition, the audience comprises far fewer residents of St.Petersburg. Among the main exposition visitors, the level of artistic experience is considerably lower, and there are more people who came to the Museum by chance or for the first time. When moving from the fine arts exhibits of the 18th century to the first half of the 19th century, to the latest trends, the age composition of the visitors changes. The number of young people under 30 increases, and the number of visitors over 55 decreases, i.e. the «more modern» the art presented at an exhibit, the younger the audience. The more “traditional” (distanced in time from us) are the works of art presented at an exhibit, the lower is the educational level of the audience. Starting with art exhibits from the turn of the century (the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century), the educational level of the audience sharply rises and continues rising with the 20th century art exhibits. The more “modern” (nearer to us in time) an exhibit, the more college professors, researchers, artists, students visit it and the fewer schoolchildren. ÑÒÐÓÊÒÓÐÀ È ÄÈÍÀÌÈÊÀ ÇÐÈÒÅËÜÑÊÎÉ ÀÓÄÈÒÎÐÈÈ 229

The more “traditional” an exhibit, the more casual people visit it who come to the Museum for the first time, and fewer constant visitors of the RSM attend. Those who attend “traditional” exhibits have a lower level of artistic experience. The more “traditional” is the art presented at an exhibit, the more popular it is among a wide audience and the higher the attendance of the exhibit. The «newer» the art, the more specific and narrower its audience. The modern art audience comprises, first of all, the young generation as well as persons whose profession is associated with creativity and artistic culture. Admirers of this art enjoy a high level of education and artistic experience. Visitors of the newest trend exhibits in the Marble Palace constitute the most specialised and unique audience of the RSM (according to the social- demographic parameters). Coming back to the above questions, one can say this: during the past 15 years, the RSM has dramatically revised its exhibit policy and formed an audience for different kinds of expositions, each and all of them having their own specific social-demographic profiles. Quite another pattern occurs in respect to value orientation in the field of fine arts. Artistic preferences of most of the RSM visitors in 1990s re- mained conservative and limited mainly to the traditional art of the 19th century. In the second half of 1990s, visitors to the 19th century exhibits started preferring representatives of the classic Russian vanguard, K.Malevich being undoubtedly the most popular artist of this genre. More than half of the exhibits at the RSM are dedicated to 20th century art. These exhibits have their own constant visitors who still favour their beloved artists of the 19th century: Aivazovsky, Briullov, Repin, Shishkin, Kuindzhi. Only the narrowest and most highly specialised audience of present- day art has other priorities. For them the popularity parade is lead by the artists of the classic Russian vanguard. Paradoxical as it seems, this is a fact. During the time elapsed since the beginning of the “perestroika”, everything has changed. We live now in an utterly different country. Quite a few generations have replaced each other. But our values, at least artistic those, remain the same.

NEGATIVE THOUGHTS: TIMELY MEDITATIONS ON THE NATURE OF VIOLENCE TOWARDS AN AGONISTIC VIEW OF ARCHITECTURE

Frank WEINER Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, USA

Not without cause did the ancients reserve the pantheon of the compatible to Gods and Ideas, but obliged works of art to enter the agon, each the mortal enemy of each. Theodore Adorno, Minima Moralia

The reason of the stronger is always the best. translation by Michel Serres of Jean de La Fontaine’s fable, The Wolf and the Lamb

Introduction: violence and the agon This essay will attempt to sketch out a beginning point for a better understanding of the idea of violence as it may relate to the culture and institution of architecture. In the background of these issues stands our present global situation that could safely be characterized as tense and violent1 . De- spite the inherent dilemmas involved in taking up the question of violence a moral critique of violence will be avoided. The focus will rather be on violence as an impassioned idea. The analysis will borrow from many fields that have studied violence in their respective domains – philosophy, theology, anthropology, literary criticism, psychology, and aesthetics. Lastly the notion of violence will be investigated in the aesthetic realm where it manifests itself through the idea of the agon2 in which the work of one individual overcomes the existence of the other. This “mimetic rivalry” as Rene Gi- rard3 terms it lies at the founding moment of human culture and the institutions that form and sustain that culture. The ancient Greek word agon is derived from the word ago which means drive or lead. Agon means a fierce contest or battle between deserving ad- versaries or combatants. Its first meaning is a gathering or assembly especially for public games. The agon is the contest for the prize at athletic games. NEGATIVE THOUGHTS 231

It is the word from which our English word agony and antagonist is derived. It is a kind of artful wrestling match that can bring out the best notions of the spirit of authentic competition and rivalry between human beings. The agon like a race is a test of strength and skill. In this sense there is no culture without contest. True agonists compete or struggle against themselves and the history of others who have struggled to bring out the best in themselves, in search of a “betterable better”4 thereby asserting their own personality in and through their work. In more general terms, “Agon emphasizes the conscious application of one’s powers for the achievement of a goal.”5 The agon is not unrelated to a kind of play in which the sportive element is wholly present. Here one should invoke the thought of Hans-Georg Gada- mer and Johan Huizinga who have provided us with historical, ontological and hermeneutical foundations for the idea of play6 . The game or play is constituted by the contest. In a true contest there can be only one winner and one or others that are vanquished. When we consider the idea of ‘good sports- manship’ we may fail to realize that this is an agonistic concept. If culture is understood to have an inherent sportive dimension than the art of sportsman- ship is a key element in the construction of culture. In the ancient Greek world the agon manifests itself in the verbal duels of two orators or exchanges between characters in a play and the chorus. It makes its presence felt as a kind of rhetorical volleying or a kind of logos of play in Gademar’s sense. This feeling of competitive dialog is present in the verbal sparring that takes place between the characters of Sweeny Agonistes and Doris in T.S. Eliot’s play Fragment Of An Agon a piece of which appears below: Doris: That not life, that’s no life Why I just as soon be dead. Sweeney: That’s what life is. Just is Doris: What is? What’s that life is? Sweeny: Life is death. Doris: Oh Mr. Sweeney, please don’t talk, I cut the cards before you came And I drew the coffin7 From the philosophically violent to the literary agonistic: Ricouer and Bloom Paul Ricoeur has written eloquently, from a theological, historical 232 Frank WEINER and philosophical8 perspective, on the idea of our consciousness of vio- lence9 and the evil that is violence particularly as it affects an individuals relation to the State. Here the State is decidedly Machiavellian10 in nature. Ricouer raises the issue of the apparent contradiction between the claims of Christianity and the claims of the State. He poses a critical question in the form of a quandary - If an individual shall not kill then how is it possible for an individual to participate in a act of violence sponsored by the State of which they are a member? The theological prohibition against personal murder stands against the State sponsorship of collective murder that permits the political maintenance of the State at the expense of the individual. Ricoeur lays out the twofold duality of the Christian admonition of turning the other cheek with the necessity of defending the existence of the State. He views these as two interlocking and interdependent paradoxes (Christian love and the notion of punitive violence) or as he terms them “pedagogies of humankind”11 - one of the idea of the Cross the other of the Wrath. On the nature of violence in general Ricoeur has written that: “ One must first gauge the length, width, and depth of violence, its movement throughout the course of history, the sweep of its psychological, social, cultural and spiritual ramifications, its profound enrootment in the very plu- rality of consciousness.”12 Invoking the sense of the rootedness of violence is not a naive plea for the elimination of violence but rather recognition of its permanence and importance relative to our consciousness and the culture that stems from this consciousness. Ricouer writes down the years 1789, 1871, 1914, 1944 and how the terrors of our ‘history and psyche’ are inextricably bound and resonate into the ‘deepest levels of our unconscious’. Today we can add 9/11/01. As to the pervasiveness of violence itself Ricouer writes: “ To see that violence is always and everywhere, one has but to take notice of how empires rise and fall, how personal prestige is established, how religions tear one another to pieces, how the privileges of property and power are perpetuated and interchanged, or even how the authority of intellectuals is consolidated, how the cultural delights of the elite depend upon the massive workings and sufferings of the disinherited.” 13 For Ricoeur violence is the foundation of the institution of the State and not the other way around. Could this be applied by analogy to the making of NEGATIVE THOUGHTS 233 architecture? This suggests that any desire for making institutions as architecture must claim that one of its primary obligations is based on an understanding of how as Ricoeur would state it - violence engenders the institution throughout the span of history. In this light one should consider Louis Kahn as one of the last great architects of the idea of institutions14 . He, better than most architects seemingly had an instinctual grasp into the burden and cost in human terms that creates and sustains institutions over time, whether they be at Dacca or Ex- eter. Kahn wrote that, “Every building that an architect builds is answerable to an institution.”15 He felt that institutions were places that human beings exercised common aspirations: such as a street, a library, or a school. Al- though nowhere in his writings does Kahn explicitly link the idea of institutions to a darker side of human existence one does sense (in the buildings themselves) an awareness of the deeper significance of invoking the idea of institutions in the making of architecture. Subtlety hinting that architects should look further into the idea of institution Kahn wrote that, “ I think the institution is rather a less known thing.”16 Kahn’s meaningful use of primary geometry in many of his projects makes one carefully consider the statement of Michel Serres that, “…geometry begins in violence and the sacred.”17 Perhaps one could speculate that well beneath the outward benevolence of Kahn’s work is the specter of the violent and that this benevolence would not be possible outside of an origin of violence. Harold Bloom in his book called Agon: Towards a Theory of Revision- ism18 places the concept of the agon at the center of what he terms an ‘antithetical’ literary criticism and personal religious belief based on that of a gnostic19 . Bloom is writing from a perspective of Judaism rather than the Christianity of Ricouer. In both cases the ‘violence’ of religious belief is inherently linked to the act of criticism or philosophizing. For Bloom the act of criticism is prior to poetry20 , poetry itself being a form of verse criticism. Bloom’s position about the nature of criticism and the central role it serves in poetry is grounded in American pragmatic21 tradition that flows from Emerson to Rorty. Bloom is seeking a notion of a ‘self-reliant’ criticism that has its founding American moment in the thought of Emerson. He calls this overall project of criticism the ‘American Negative’ in an attempt to distance itself from Hegel’s dialectic. For Bloom the individual is essentially responsible to make a misreading of a poem based on their own definition of self informed by their religious beliefs. He focuses on 234 Frank WEINER the experience of reading poetry rather than that of writing poetry. This reading is fundamentally an act of usurpation of authority and violent by nature. In his terms reading is a pragmatic transaction that comes at a cost and a price. Readers are “… intrepid agonists who never yield up to their own recalcitrance.”22 This recalcitrance is defined by self-deception and lies. Bloom here is being polemical to a fault and further suggests that criticism should be ‘outrageous’. Attempting to locate an early tradition to ground his application of the agon to literary criticism Bloom writes of the ancient Greek agon between the Sophists and Plato. This agon is not philosophic but rather sophistic and rhetorical in character. In a reference to Untersteiner’s The Sophists Bloom sees the founding and still dominant mode of early Greek Lyric poetry in the doctrine of Protagoras as – “two logoi in opposition to each other”23 . In Protagoras’s athleticization of the logos we have two individuals wrestling24 against each other over the truth. The individual logoi is related to the notion of logos.25 This polyvalent term so rich in meaning is absolutely critical to both the history of Western philosophy (inclusive of the sophistic tradition) and in the Bible. As a Pragmatist Bloom asserts that the opposition of reasonings forces a stance on the part of an individual in dialog and often vehement disagreement with another. René Girard: mimetic desire and the murder of violence René Girard’s book Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World26 is a work of immense complexity that studies the structure of the phenomenon of violence (what he terms ‘mimetic rivalry’) across the fields of religion, philosophy, psychology and anthropology. Girard begins with notion of the founding murder(s) that occurs in the Old Testament as the origin of all culture. In his analysis of Old Testament scripture he finds countless examples of what he terms the founding murder beginning with the story of Cain and Abel27 . These often inexplicable acts of cruelty and violence then become the reconciliatory basis for the making of a community that lives in memory of violence and struggles for a peaceful existence by the establishment of laws and prohibi- tions. This then becomes an endlessly repeated cycle that is only halted by the non-sacrificial28 crucifixion of Christ in the New Testament. The death of Christ becomes the death of sacrifice and opens up an unprecedented opportunity for humankind to end the cycle of mythic violence thereby creating the death of all culture, myth, sacrifice and the origin of love. Girard writes that, “Instead NEGATIVE THOUGHTS 235 of reading myths in the light of the Gospels, people have always read the Gos- pels in light of myths.”29 Girard is proposing that the structuralist reading of myth should be grounded by the primary Judeo-Christian texts. In the Old Testament there is a striking account of abuse and murder in Judges Ch. 19:16-30.30 A sojourner arrives in the city of Gibeah seeking the house of the Lord along with his concubine. After some difficulty he is invited to lodge in the house of a local farmer. After sharing a meal, the men of the city come to the door of the house demanding to see the stranger. The stranger then offers his concubine to the men of the city who abuse her all night. The next morning the concubine stumbles back to the door of the house and is brought into the house by the sojourner. Verses 29-30 describe in excruciating detail the account of the murder of the sojourner’s concubine. “And when he was come into his house, he took a knife, and laid hold onto his concubine, and divided her, together with her bones, into twelve pieces, and sent her into all the coasts of Israel. And it was so, that all that saw it said, There was no such deed done nor seen from the day the children of Isreal came up out of the land of Egypt unto this day; consider of it, take advice, and speak your minds.”31 Girard would read the murder of the concubine as, “…an effective sac- ralizing act of transference [such that] the victim should inherit all of the violence from which the community has been exonerated.”32 The concubine becomes a ‘scapegoat’ for the community at large. In coming to terms with an act of inexplicable violence the members of the twelve tribes of Israel are forced to create a system of laws that will discourage such violent acts. The instituting of the laws of Jewish culture, which is a culture based on laws, originates from murder as the origin of that culture. The challenge of Moses was to arbitrate and legislate against murderous violence, that of Jesus was to turn away from murder by love33 . The relationship of the Old and New Testaments is then a question of the relationship between law that stands as a prohibition against violence and love that eliminates the need for violence. Architecture versus Ideas: the agon of Adorno and redemptive negativity Theodore Adorno in his Minima Moralia34 a brilliant series of 153 short aphoristic pieces raises the notion of the redemptive aspect of art through a movement of Hegelian negation. Aphorism 47 titled De gustibus est dispu- tatum35 stands as one of the most remarkable statements of an intellect in search of a dialectic of redemption. The vehicle for this redemption is the 236 Frank WEINER notion of the agon. “ De gustibus est disputatum. – Even someone believing himself convinced of the non-comparability of works of art will find himself repeatedly involved in debates where works of art, and precisely those of the highest and therefore incommensurable rank, are compared and evaluated against one another. The objection that such considerations, which come about is a pecu- liarly compulsive way, have their source in mercenary instincts that would measure everything by the ell, usually signifies no more than that solid citi- zens, for whom art can never be irrational enough, want to keep serious reflection and the claims of truth far from the works. This compulsion to evalu- ate is located, however, in the works of art themselves. So much is true: they refuse to be compared. They want to annihilate one another. Not without cause did the ancients reserve the pantheon of the compatible to Gods and Ideas, but obliged works of art to enter into the agon, each the mortal enemy of each.”36 Adorno further states that:

“The notion of a ‘pantheon of classicity’, as still entertained by Kierkeg- aard, is a fiction of neutralized culture. For if the Idea of Beauty appears only in dispersed form among many works, each one nevertheless aims uncompro- misingly to express the whole of beauty, claims in its singularity and can never admit its dispersal without annulling itself.”37 The lesson of this aphorism is that aesthetic tastes or affinities to this or that work of art must be disputed and that the works themselves push each other to the brink of elimination never co-existing. This aesthetically violent disputation provides the charge to a culture that must avoid at all costs a state of neutrality. The distinction between works of art and Ideas that Adorno raises is of the utmost importance. If architecture as the art of building is not an Idea than what is it? One would think that knowledge depends on the very existence of Ideas or Eternal Forms. Ideas exhibit an internal coherence38 and compatibility that architecture is unable to claim. No Idea is capable of anni- hilating another Idea39 . The existence of a square does not countermand that of a circle. The cube does not obliterate the sphere. Ideas are all sustainable truths capable of perennial and simultaneous existence. Ideas cannot be killed and are impervious to violence. They have and always will co-exist. Ideas in this sense are incapable of being owned by anyone and they have no allegiance but to themselves and no fate excepting their own. Ideas exist forever in a state of eternity, we for only awhile. It is our very temporality that is an NEGATIVE THOUGHTS 237 invitation to violence. It is also our temporality that makes possible beauty and the sacred. Works of architecture like humanity itself suffer a similar condition of fatality and inability to co-exist peacefully. Architecture is not an Idea but rather agonistic criticism of the poetics of construction or a form of tectonic rivalry40 . As Bloom suggests criticism is prior to poetry rather than poetry being prior to criticism. Following upon Bloom it is not the criticism of our architecture that is important but the architecture of our criticism. Carlo Ginsberg has noted the connection of Adorno’s thought about the non-comparability of works of art to the thoughts of Simone Weil and Paul Valéry41 . Simone Weil takes the position that not only works of art that are beautiful but also religions possess the qualities of absolute singularity and non-comparability. She writes in The Notebooks of Simone Weil , that: “When a thing is perfectly beautiful, as soon as we fix our attention upon it, it represents unique and single beauty. Two Greek statues: the one we are looking at is beautiful, the other not. The same is true of the Catholic faith, Platonic thought and Hindu thought, etc. The one we are looking at is beautiful the others are not. Thus those who claim that such and such a faith alone is true and beautiful, although they are wrong, are in a sense more right that those who are right, for they have looked at it with their whole soul.”42 For Weil individual works vie for our attention that can only be totally given over to one. For her the fact that we think a work to be beautiful is a precondition of our attraction to it. We are drawn into a work by its beauty that strikes us as singular and unique. We, in her terms ‘feed’ off this beauty and develop a sense of adherence to it. She sets up a comparison between our adherence to beauty in a work of art with our adherence to a particular faith. In both cases there is an affirmation for one sculpture or one religion and a negation of the other. The agon then works against the ideal of contemplation. Ultimately according to Weil our ability to fix our attention is an act of humility. Ginsberg refers to Paul Valéry’s notion that works of art are ‘frozen creatures’ in a museum that demand the non-existence of all the others. Here the collection in a museum (and the museum itself) become the silent symbol of a frozen agon. The museum as a type is the curatorial home of the agon. History than becomes the record of the agonistic interplay between works. This demand for non-existence personifies the works themselves as if they were human capable of carrying on a conversation not unlike that between two opposing logoi. 238 Frank WEINER

Conclusion: from violence to the human sciences This essay has attempted to argue that we should not underestimate nor overlook the universal aspects of violence and agonistic discourse as it may positively influence the way we conceive of architecture in an age of naïve violence. René Girard has made the observation still relevant today that, “ We are running away from universality.”43 And that ,”Nowadays people dis- claim any certain knowledge and any authority, but with a more assured and authoritarian tone than ever before.”44 Have we yet taken adequate account of how this might effect the making and teaching of architecture?. He adds that ,”People are always on the look-out to catch their neighbors red-handed in believing something or other.”45 Invoking the agon46 in an age of unprecedented violence may at first glance strike one as only adding to and perpetuating a form of thoughtless violence for architecture. Yet the agon as a form of active oppositional dialog also gives us a redemptive opportunity to re-claim a ground of legitimate discourse for architecture. If discourse in architecture today has reached a point of illegiti- macy than the comfort of an all too polite dialog is meaningless. This polite- ness comes at great cost. One is reminded of the title of the influential architectural journal Oppositions and it’s overt program to reinvigorate a polemical discussion about the history, theory and criticism of architecture. Today architecture has been unable to lay out such a confident program for itself. Program here is used in the sense that William James understood the term not so much as “… a solution, then, than as a program for more work, and more particularly as an indication of the ways in which existing realities may be changed.”47 It may not be a simplistic exaggeration to state that Architecture has lost its logos and without this the word of architecture has lost its meaning. It is insufficient for architecture to hold a worldview that is only grounded in the visible we must also gauge the unseen. The reclamation of a meaningful architecture may necessitate a return to understanding architecture as part of the human sciences and religious belief as a basis of culture. The ‘human sciences’48 may offer architecture much needed intellectual and poetic re- sources in a time of great limitations. This paper began with the idea of violence and ends with the idea of the humanism. There may be a tenuous but necessary duality between violence and humanism of which architecture is a part. This duality rests upon the agonistic interplay between the sciences of the sacred and the poetic. NEGATIVE THOUGHTS 239

NOTES 1 As of completing this paper the war in Iraq continues into an uncertain phase, there are uncertainties related to North Koreas nuclear weapons program and problems developing in Africa. These situations are all in the aftermath of the terrorists attacks of “9/11” in the US and the ongoing the conflict occurring in Afghanistan. Domestically in the US the so-called “serial sniper” case gripped the entire country. There are other significant global situations too numerous to list here. 2 For initial thoughts on the notion of the agon I am indebted to John Bush, a former student in the graduate architecture program at Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University. Mr. Bush was the beneficiary of a broad liberal and classical education at St. John’s College before embarking on graduate studies in architecture. 3 René Girard is one of the few contemporary thinkers that has not banished the notion of mimesis from our thinking. Girard’s position is that Plato’s inherent distrust of mimesis did not allow the violent aspect of this idea to come forward and has fundamentally affected our disdain for the concept of mimesis. 4 This is a phrase from Michel Serres, Hermes, p.18. For a full bibliographic reference see note 18. 5 This definition of agon is from, The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology, general editor, Colin Brown, Vol. 1 ( Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan Publishing House, 1979), p.647. 6 For the idea of play see Gadamer’s, Truth and Method and Huizinga’s, Homo Ludens. 7 T.S. Eliot, Collected Poems: 1909-1935 (New York: Harcourt Brace and Compa- ny,1936), pp.79-85. 8 Besides Ricouer one should mention the thought Martin Heidegger relative to the idea of violence. See, Martin Heidegger, An Introduction to Metaphysics , translated by Ralph Manheim, (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987). Here Heideg- ger lays out a ‘poesis of violence’. I am indebted to a colleague of mine Prof. Mark Schneider for this observation. 9 Paul Ricouer, History and Truth, (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1965) trans., Charles A. Kelbley. See Part II, Chap. 5, The Question of Power. Other thinkersthat have detected the significance of the power of violence are Nietzche and Foucault. 10 One wonders if there is any way to ultimately refute Machiavelli’s position as he advocates in The Prince. Any discussion of violence must go through this individual and come to terms with his rather chilling assertions that have an operational quality that makes them inherently applicable. There is a ruthless and irrefutable dimension to Machiavelli’s text that one could describe as the modern invention of political violence. 11 Ricou er, History and Truth, p.238. 12 Ricou er, History and Truth, p.224 240 Frank WEINER

13 Ricou er, History and Truth, p.225. 14 See Richard Saul Wurman, What Will Be Has Always Been: The Words of Louis I. Kahn, (New York: Access Press Limited and Rizzoli,1986. Kahn used the word institution(s) numerous times in his writings. Prof. Micheal O’Brien a colleague of mine at Virginia Tech indicated to me in his unpublished index of Wurmans book that Kahn used the word institution(s) no less that twenty-four times in his collected writings. In the current generation the architect Daniel Libeskind’s work shows great insight into the questions of the nature of institutions and the question of violence. See his Jewish Museum in Berlin and his current project for the rebuilding of World Trade Center in New York. As to the centrality and importance of the idea of institutions I would refer the reader to Giambattista Vico, The New Science of Giambattista Vico, translated by Thomas Goddard Bergin and Max Harold Fisch (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1961). In the introduction (p. xliv) the translators in characterizing the thought of Vico write that, “Humanity is not a presupposition, but a consequence, an effect, a product of institution building.” 15 Wurman, What Will Be Has Always Been, p.11. 16 Wurman, What Will Be Has Always Been, p.49. 17 Michel Serres, Hermes: Literature, Science and Philosophy, edited by Josué V. Harari and David F. Bell, (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1982), p.133. For the general argument of this paper I would also refer the reader to Chapter 1, part 2, “Knowledge in the Classical Age: La Fontaine and Descartes and Chapter 2, part 10, “The Origin of Geometry”. 18 Harold Bloom, Agon: Towards a Theory of Revisionism, (Oxford, London: Oxford University Press, 1983). I would like to acknowledge a colleague Prof. Scott Gartner who pointed out this book to me. See also Bloom’s, Anxiety of Influence. 19 Bloom, Agon, p.12. Here Bloom explains that gnosis is opposed to philosophy since it is religious knowledge. Gnosis rests upon a difficulty often characterized as the ‘unknowability’ of God. The philosophical concept of knowledge comes up against the realm of faith of which it can not penetrate employing the same reason. 20 Bloom, Agon, p.45. 21 As Prof. Gartner reminded me, the Greek word pragma means a thing made. Can this thing made be understood as being instituted? Here the act of making and instituting would be indelibly linked. 22 Bloom, Agon, p.29. 23 Bloom is quoting from Mario Untersteiner, The Sophists, trans. Kathleen Free- man, (Oxford University Press, 1954). 24 The analogy of two individuals locked in verbal combat, as two wrestlers is taken up by Werner Jaeger, Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture, Vol. 1, translated by Gilbert Highet, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1967), p.315. Jaeger writes that, “…In reading the Attic orators…we really feel that the logos is a wrestler stiped NEGATIVE THOUGHTS 241 for the ring.” As a sport wrestling was held in the highest esteem by the ancient Greek culture. One only has to note the many references to wrestling as a symbol that occur in the Platonic dialogues. 25 The term logos is an essential one in both Greek philosophy and in the history of Christian theology. Its’ meaning becomes highly intertwined across these disciplines. Philosophically logos is a reasoned account or utterance. One of many explanations offered in the New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology for its philosophical meaning is that the logos embraces “ the whole empirical breadth of everything which one has ascertained…[by reason]. Insertion in bracket is mine. Theologically logos means the Word of God. John Ch.1:1 reads, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the word was God.” Word in this sense is the quintessential origin and source. For more on the meaning of Logos see the entries on, “Word” in the New International Dictionary of New Testament Theol- ogy, p.1081-1146. See also the entry “logos” in F. E. Peter’s, Greek Philosophical Terms: A Historical Lexicon, (New York: New York University Press, 1967),pp. 110-12. 26 Rene Girard, Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World, Research undertaken with Jean-michel Oughourlain and Guy Lefort, trans. Stephen Bann and Michael Metter,(Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1987). The title is a reference to Matthew Ch.13:35. I would like to acknowledge a colleague of mine Prof. Stephen Thompson who suggested that I look into Girard’s work on violence. 27 Here one should recall the story of Romuls and Remus in terms of the founding of Rome. 28 The non-sacrificial reading of the death of Christ by Girard is based on the Gospels admonition to turn the other cheek and to love one’s enemies. Therefore Christ turned away from violence and his death was an end to violence and the violence that gave rise to culture before his death. 29 Girard, Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World, p.179. 30 I would like to acknowledge a colleague of mine, Prof. Sal Choudhury, for leading me to these important passages. 31 The passages quoted are from the King James version of the Holy Bible. 32 Girard, Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World , p.169. 33 Girard rightly challenges the notion often put forward that Jesus is a second Moses. This simplification marginalizes the efficacy of both Moses and Jesus. 34 Theodore Adorno, Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life, trans. E.F.N. Jephcott, (London: NLB, 1978). First published in 1951. 35 I would like to acknowledge Prof. Mark Schneider, a colleague of mine in the Department of Architecture at Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, for the following translations and observation. The classic Latin phrase (De gustibus non disputatum) translates to “There is no disputing about tastes.” The title of Ador- no’s aphorsim ( De gustibus est disputatum) translates to “Tastes are disputable”. 242 Frank WEINER

Adorno rather ironic twist on the original eliminates the negative. 36 Adorno, Minima Moralia, p. 75. 37 Adorno, Minima Moralia, p. 75. 38 The thought that Ideas have an internal coherence is influenced by a passage about the coherence of intellectual activities that appears in Carlo Ginsberg, Wooden Eyes: Nine Reflections on Distance, (New York: Columbia University Press, 2001),p. 110. 39 I should point out that my agreement with Adorno regarding the nature of Ideas and their compatibility is at odds with many contemporary thinkers such as Jacques Derrida. Deconstruction would say that Ideas are inherently violent and it is this very violence latent in all discourse that we had previously overlooked. See Derri- da’s, Writing and Difference and his, Dissemination. Again I am indebted to Prof. Mark Schneider for this observation. 40 Relationships of rivalry seem to be inherent to architecture and architects. There is a street in Rome that contains two churches that appear to symbolize the necessary agonistic relationship between works of art in the realm of architecture. Standing several meters apart are the churches of S. Carlo alle Quattro Fontane designed by Franceso Borromini (1638-41 and 1665-67) and S.Andrea al Quirinale (1658-70) designed by Gianlornzo Bernini. Here one can feel a palpable tension between the two works that manifests itself as a kind of urbanity of jealousy. Bernini is conservative and Boromini is radical. The buildings like the architects themselves are in competition with each other. One thinks of the overt competition between Ghilberti and Brunelleschi for the Bronze Doors of the Baptistry in Florence or the more subtle (and not so sublte) agonistic interplay between Perret and Corbusier, Sullivan and Wright, Van Eyck and Hertzberger, or between each of the ‘New York Five’. One should not overlook the value of ‘jealousy’ between architectural educators as being a positive influence on a school nor for that matter between students. Without the existence of intelligent rivalry a vital and irreplaceable driving force is absent. 41 Ginsberg, p.136-7. 42 Simone Weil, The Notebooks of Simone Weil, trans. Arthur Wills, Vol. 1(Lon- don: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1956), p. 244-5. 43 Girard, Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World , p.441. 44 Girard, Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World , p.442. 45 Girard, Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World , p.442. 46 The borrowing of the notion of the agon should not be seen as a return to any sort of nihilism, masochism, sadism, or fetishism that would appear to advocate violence for its own sake. 47 This quote of William James is referenced in Bloom, Agon, p.40. 48 Thinkers that came before Girard such as, Whilhelm Dilthey and Whilhelm Windelband in philosophy, Levi-Strauss in anthropology as well as Jean Piaget in psychology have been profound discoverers and advocates of the ‘human sciences’. The link between humanism, the human sciences and structuralism is an important NEGATIVE THOUGHTS 243 one. One should remember that there was a pre-structuralist frame of mind that many trace back to Giambattista Vico. Vico believed that man comes to dwell in one place out of fear of the violent wrath of the sky (Jove), therefore architecture originated in fear. It should be pointed out that the fruitfulness of his line of thought has not been exhausted. I am not advocating a return to structuralism per se but rather a return to the kind of theoretical speculation and scope of cultural inquiry that permeated Vi- co’s thought. Acknowlegement: I would like to especially thank a colleague of mine at Virginia Tech, Prof. Scott Gartner, for his close reading and comments shared with me about the main arguments presented in this paper. His incisive critical comments inevitably rose above any errors or oversights that are of my own doing. Any improvement to the arguments I present are due to his insights.

ÂËÈßÍÈÅ ÄÐÅÂÍÅÉØÈÕ ÒÐÀÄÈÖÈÉ ÍÀ ÀÐÕÈÒÅÊÒÓÐÓ ÀÍÒÈ×ÍÎÃÎ ÕÐÀÌÀ

Äìèòðèé ÌÀÄÓÐÎÂ

Àíòè÷íàÿ êóëüòóðà ÷àñòî ðàññìàòðèâàåòñÿ â íåêîåì îòðûâå îò ìè- ðîâîé êóëüòóðû ïðåäøåñòâóþùèõ ýïîõ. Îò÷àñòè ýòî ðåçóëüòàò íåäî- ñòàòî÷íîé èññëåäîâàííîñòè äàííîãî âîïðîñà. È åñëè â íàóêå óäàëîñü ïðîñëåäèòü ãåíåçèñ ãðå÷åñêîé êåðàìèêè è åå øêîë, òî â îáëàñòè ïëàñòè- êè ýòîò âîïðîñ îñòàåòñÿ äàëåêî íå èçó÷åííûì è «åùå õóæå îáñòîèò äåëî ñ èçó÷åíèåì ãåíåçèñà ãðå÷åñêîé àðõèòåêòóðû» (Âèïïåð, 1972, ñ. 74). Ñëåäóåò îòìåòèòü, ÷òî ñ ìîìåíòà îáîçíà÷åíèÿ Á.Ð. Âèïïåðîì äàííîé ïðîáëåìû íàóêîé íàðàáîòàíî äîñòàòî÷íîå êîëè÷åñòâî ìàòåðèàëîâ, è íà äàííîì ýòàïå, êàê ïðåäñòàâëÿåòñÿ, ìîæíî ñäåëàòü íåêîòîðûå îáîáùàþ- ùèå âûâîäû ïî ýòîìó âîïðîñó. Êàê èçâåñòíî, ãðå÷åñêàÿ ìèôîëîãèÿ è ïàíòåîí âîñõîäÿò ê õóððèòñ- êèì îáðàçöàì (Áàêàåâ, Äóäàðåâ, 1985, ñ. 72-73). Õóððèòû Ìàííåè â ñõî- ëèÿõ ê Ëóêàíó ïðåäñòàâëåíû êàê ïåðâûå ìîðåïëàâàòåëè â Ñðåäèçåìíîì ìîðå. Åñëè ýòî äåéñòâèòåëüíî òàê, òî ñòàíîâèòñÿ ïîíÿòíîé ïðè÷èíà ñòîëü ñèëüíîãî âëèÿíèÿ õóððèòñêîãî ìèðà íà íàðîäû Ñðåäèçåìíîìîðüÿ. Ìàðê Âèòðóâèé Ïîëëèîí â ñâîåì òðàêòàòå I â. «Îá àðõèòåêòóðå» (1936, ñ. 100) ñîîáùàåò ñëåäóþùèå ñâåäåíèÿ: ïåðâûé îðäåð Ãðåöèè äîðè÷åñêèé âîçíèê ñëó÷àéíî ïðè öàðå Àõåè Äîðå, òàê êàê «...ïðèíöèï ñîðàçìåðíîñòè òîãäà åùå íå áûë îòêðûò». Â äðåâíåéøåì ãðå÷åñêîì õðàìå VII â. äî í.ý. èç Òèðèíôà êàïèòåëü äîðè÷åñêîãî îðäåðà èìååò íàèáîëüøåå ñõîäñòâî ñ ìèêåíñêîé (Âèïïåð, 1972, ñ. 82). Ýòîò ôàêò ïðîÿñíÿåò ïðîèñõîæäåíèå êîëîíí äîðè÷åñêîãî îðäåðà îò êîëîíí õóððèòñêèõ õðàìîâ, ñ òàêèì æå ñóæàþùèìñÿ êíèçó ñòâîëîì. Áàçà êîëîíí õóððèòñêèõ õðàìîâ ðàçâèëàñü îò ïîäïÿòî÷íîãî êàìíÿ, èñïîëüçóåìîãî â äðåâíîñòè êàê îñíîâàíèå êîëîííû. Ëåãåíäû î ñîçäàíèè îðäåðíîé ñèñòåìû îäíèì èç âåëèêèõ äåÿòåëåé õàðàêòåðíû íå òîëüêî äëÿ Äðåâíåé Ãðåöèè. Òàê, ïî åãèïåòñêèì ïðåäà- íèÿì, Èìõîòåï, àññîöèèðóþùèéñÿ ñ Ãåðìåñîì Äæåõóòè, áûë ñîçäàòå- ëåì åãèïåòñêèõ àðõèòåêòóðíûõ êàíîíîâ (Êëàðê, 2002, ñ. 22). ÂËÈßÍÈÅ ÄÐÅÂÍÅÉØÈÕ ÒÐÀÄÈÖÈÉ ÍÀ ÀÐÕÈÒÅÊÒÓÐÓ 245

Íàèáîëåå ïîçäíèé îðäåð êîðèíôñêèé áûë ñîçäàí, ïî Âèòðóâèþ, àðõèòåêòîðîì Êàëëèìàõîì Íî è â ýòîì îðäåðå, íàïðèìåð, íà êàïèòåëè õðàìà Àïîëëîíà â Áàññàõ èëè õðàìà â Àé Õàíóì (Ïè÷èêÿí, 1991, ðèñ. 40, 41) ìû âèäèì çàâèòêè «ìèðîâîãî äðåâà». Êîëîííà ñîõðàíÿåò ñâîé ñàêðàëüíûé ñìûñë è åå èçîáðåòåíèå íå ìîæåò áûòü ñâÿçàíî ñ ãåíèåì òîëüêî îäíîãî õóäîæíèêà (Âèïïåð, 1972, ðèñ. 231). Ñêîðåå âñåãî Êàë- ëèìàõ ëèøü ïðèäàë êàïèòåëè ïûøíîñòü è óòîí÷èë ïðîïîðöèè îðäåðà. Åñëè ìû âñïîìíèì ïðåäøåñòâîâàâøèå àíòè÷íîñòè ðàñòèòåëüíûå êàïè- òåëè åãèïòÿí, òî ïîëó÷àåòñÿ, ÷òî Êàëëèìàõ èñïîëüçîâàë óæå èìåþùóþñÿ äî íåãî òðàäèöèþ èçîáðàæåíèÿ êàïèòåëè êîëîííû â âèäå ïûøíîé ðàñ- òèòåëüíîñòè, î÷åâèäíî, ïðèäàâ ýòîìó âèäó êîëîííû ëèøü óïîðÿäî÷åí- íîñòü îðäåð è îïðåäåëåííûé òèï äåêîðèðîâàíèÿ â âèäå ëèñòîâ àêàíòà. Ïîñëå îïóñòîøèòåëüíîãî íàøåñòâèÿ «íàðîäîâ ìîðÿ» íà Àíàòîëèþ, Ìåñîïîòàìèþ è ïîáåðåæüå Åãèïòà, íà ðóáåæå 2 1 òûñ. äî í.ý.: «àôè- íÿíå... îñíîâàëè îäíîâðåìåííî òðèíàäöàòü êîëîíèé, íàçíà÷èëè íàä îò- äåëüíûìè êîëîíèÿìè âîæäåé, à âûñøóþ íàçâàëè ïî èìåíè ñâîåãî âîæ- äÿ Èîíà, Èîíèåé...». «Âïîñëåäñòâèè îíè ïîñòðîèëè â ÷åñòü Äèàíû õðàì íîâîãî îðäåðà» ïóòåì çàèìñòâîâàíèÿ æåíñêèõ ïðîïîðöèé «îíè ïîëî- æèëè âìåñòî ïîäîøâû áàçèñ; íà êàïèòåëè îíè ïðèäåëàëè ñ ïðàâîé è ñ ëåâîé ñòîðîíû çàâèòêè, ñâèñàþùèå, êàê íà ïðè÷åñêå çàâèòûå êóäðè; ëè- öåâóþ ñòîðîíó îíè óêðàñèëè ðàñïîëîæåííûìè íàïîäîáèå âîëîñ âîëíî- îáðàçíûìè ðåçíûìè óêðàøåíèÿìè (êèìàòèåì) è ñâèñàþùèìè ôåñòîíà- ìè, à ïî âñåìó ñòâîëó êîëîííû ñïóñòèëè êàííåëþðû, ñëîâíî ñêëàäêè íà ñòîëàõ (îäåÿíèÿõ), íîñèìûõ æåíùèíàìè. Òàêèì îáðàçîì, îíè èçîá- ðåëè äâà ðàçëè÷íûõ òèïà êîëîííû: îäíó ïî âèäó ïîõîæóþ íà îáíàæåí- íîãî ìóæ÷èíó, äðóãóþ ïî ñâîåìó óêðàøåíèþ è ñîðàçìåðíîñòè íàïîìè- íàþùóþ èçÿùíóþ æåíùèíó» (Ìàðê Âèòðóâèé Ïîëëèîí, 1936, ñ. 100). Ïîïðîáóåì ðàçîáðàòüñÿ, äåéñòâèòåëüíî ëè èîíèéñêàÿ êîëîííà ïðåä- ñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé ïîäîáèå æåíùèíû è ÿâëÿåòñÿ èçîáðåòåíèåì ãðå÷åñêèõ àðõèòåêòîðîâ. Íåêîå ïîäîáèå êàííåëèðîâàííîãî ñòâîëà ìû ìîæåì âèäåòü íà Àíà- òîëèéñêèõ ïå÷àòÿõ è ðåëüåôàõ õåòòîâ (Ãåðíè, 1987, ðèñ. 11; Ãîëîí, 1993, ðèñ. 78). Èì èçíà÷àëüíî ïðèíàäëåæàëà çåìëÿ, êîëîíèçèðîâàííàÿ ãðåêà- ìè â Àçèè. Ïîâåðõ ãîðû-êîëîííû õåòòû èçîáðàæàëè çíàê íåáà. Êàê è çíàê «ìèðîâîãî äðåâà», îí èìååò ñïèðàëüíûå çàâèòêè (Ãåðíè, 1987, ñ. 179, ðèñ. 11). Àíàëîãè÷íûé çíàê íåáà ÷èòàåòñÿ íà êåðàìèêå êóðî-àðàê- öåâ (Êóøíàðåâà, ×óáèíèøâèëè, 1970, ðèñ. 44/54). 246 Äìèòðèé ÌÀÄÓÐÎÂ

Â ïðåäñòàâëåíèè õåòòîâ «ìèðîâîå äðåâî» èìåëî ïÿòü âåòâåé. ×åòû- ðå âåòâè áûëè îáðàùåíû ïî ÷åòûðåì ñòîðîíàì ñâåòà, à ïÿòàÿ ïðîíèçû- âàëà âåðõíèå ìèðû (Àðäçèíáà, 1985, ñ. 154). Ìîæíî ñêàçàòü, ÷òî ýòîò ñèìâîë îò õåòòîâ, ñîçäàâàÿ èîíèéñêóþ êîëîííó, ïåðåíÿëè ãðåêè, (÷åòû- ðå âîëþòû-âåòâè ïî ÷åòûðåì ñòîðîíàì ñâåòà, ïÿòàÿ îñü ñàìîé êîëîí- íû). Ïîäîáíàÿ ñèìâîëèêà áûëà õàðàêòåðíà äëÿ îäèíîêî ñòîÿùåãî êóëü- òîâîãî ñòîëáà, íî â ìàññå êîëîííàäû õðàìà êîëîííà ïðèîáðåòàëà ñèì- âîë ñâÿçêè æåðòâåííûõ ðàñòåíèé ïëîäîâ ïîëåé, ïèòàþùèõ áîæåñòâåí- íóþ æèçíü è ñòðàíñòâóþùèå äóøè ïðè ïðîõîæäåíèè èõ ÷åðåç ìèð òå- íåé (Êëàðê, 2002, ñ. 109). Ñëåäóåò îòìåòèòü íåáîëüøóþ äåòàëü: êîëîííû â îêíå ìàêåòà äîìà èç Ãóçàííû (Äüÿêîíîâ, 1968) èäåíòè÷íû êîëîííàì Êíîññêîãî äâîðöà. È ýòî íå ñëó÷àéíîñòü Êíîññêèå ïðàâèòåëè ïîñòðîèëè ñâîé äâîðåö ïî îáðàçöàì èç Ìèòàííè. À ýòî ãîâîðèò î òîì, ÷òî äðåâíåéøèå ãðå÷åñêèå õðàìû (Âèïïåð, 1972. ñ. 75-77), òàê æå ìîãëè èñïûòûâàòü ïðÿìîå âëèÿ- íèå õóððèòñêîãî ìèðà. Õðàì íà âîçâûøåííîì ïüåäåñòàëå ñ ÷åòûðåõñêàòíîé êðûøåé íàõî- äèëñÿ â Óðàðòñêîì Ìóñàñèðå (Ñòðóâå, 1941, ñ. 307). Ïëàòôîðìà ïîä õðà- ìû èñïîëüçîâàëàñü ïîâñåìåñòíî â Ìåñîïîòàìèè, à â äàëüíåéøåì è â Ãðåöèè. Êàìåííûå îðòîñòàòû, êàê íà õðàìå Àðòåìèäû Îðôèè IX â. äî í.ý. èç Ñïàðòû (Âèïïåð, 1972, ñ. 78), åùå ðàíåå ÿâëÿëèñü õàðàêòåðíûì ïðèçíàêîì õðàìîâûõ ïîñòðîåê ìèòàííèéñêèõ õóððèòîâ. Òîñêàíñêèé îðäåð, ïî Âèòðóâèþ, ýëåìåíò ýòðóññêîé êóëüòóðû. Íî ìû ìîæåì äîáàâèòü, ÷òî è ýîëèéñêèé îðäåð òàêæå àçèàòñêîãî ïðî- èñõîæäåíèÿ, òàê êàê àíàëîãè åìó âñòðå÷àþòñÿ â ýòðóññêèõ ãðîáíèöàõ Áàíäèòà÷÷à (Santangelo, 1960, ñ. 147) è â ×åðâåòåðè (Ëîñåâà, Ñèäîðîâ, 1988). Êàïèòåëü ýòîãî îðäåðà ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé âñå òîò æå ñèìâîë «ìèðîâîãî äðåâà». Ïî ìíåíèþ È.Ì. Äüÿêîíîâà, ýòðóñêè õóððèòîÿçû÷íû, èõ îñíîâó ñî- ñòàâëÿëî ãîðîäñêîå íàñåëåíèå Ëèäèè, ïåðåñåëèâøååñÿ âñëåäñòâèå êàêèõ- òî êàòàêëèçìîâ íà Èòàëèéñêèé ïîëóîñòðîâ â VIII â. äî í.ý. (Äüÿêîíîâ, 1989). Òåïåðü õîòåëîñü áû îáðàòèòü âíèìàíèå íà ìàëåíüêóþ äåòàëü, ñî- ïðîâîæäàþùóþ çíàêè äðåâà ñèðî-ìèòàííèéñêîãî ñòèëÿ è ýòðóññêóþ êîëîííó èç ãðîáíèöû «Ðåëüåôîâ» (Santangelo, 1960, ñ. 147). Ýòî ìàëåíü- êèé òðèëèñòíèê, îòâåòâëÿþùèéñÿ îò çàâèòêà. Ýòîò ëèñòî÷åê ïîâåñòâóåò î ðàñòèòåëüíîì ïðîèñõîæäåíèè ýòîãî çíàêà, è ýòîò æå ïó÷îê ëèñòüåâ ìû âèäèì â êàïèòåëè èîíèéñêîé êîëîííû. ÂËÈßÍÈÅ ÄÐÅÂÍÅÉØÈÕ ÒÐÀÄÈÖÈÉ ÍÀ ÀÐÕÈÒÅÊÒÓÐÓ 247

Òàêèì îáðàçîì, êàïèòåëü èîíèéñêîé êîëîííû ñîâìåñòèëà â ñåáå äâà ñèìâîëà: ñèìâîë íåáà è «ìèðîâîãî äðåâà». ×åòûðå çàâèòêà åå ðàâíî- çíà÷íû ÷åòûðåì âåòâÿì «ìèðîâîãî äðåâà», îáðàùåííûì ïî ÷åòûðåì ñòîðîíàì ñâåòà. Òî åñòü, ìû âèäèì, ÷òî ñèìâîëèêà åå âîñõîäèò ê äðåâ- íåéøèì êàâêàçñêî-ìåñîïîòàìñêèì çíàêàì. Â Ýðåòðèè, âåðîÿòíî, ñóùå- ñòâîâàë è ïðîìåæóòî÷íûé òèï ìåæäó ýîëèéñêîé è èîíèéñêîé êîëîííà- ìè, ÷òî ìîæåò ïîäòâåðæäàòü íàøè âûâîäû î ñîâìåùåíèè äâóõ ñèìâî- ëîâ (Karouzov, 1981, ñ.183, ¹ 1629). Êóëüòîâàÿ êîëîííà áûëà ñèìâîëîì îñè ìèðà ìèðîâîãî äðåâà è ìàòåðè-áîãèíè Èíàííû (Èøòàð, Øàâóøêè, Àñòàðòû). Ýòî ïîñëóæèëî îñíîâîïîëàãàþùèì ñàêðàëüíûì ýëåìåíòîì îðäåðíîé êîëîííû ïðè âîç- âåäåíèè õðàìà Äèàíû. Â ñåâåðî-ñèðèéñêîì ãîðîäå Øóàéðà ðàííåäèíàñòè÷åñêîãî ïåðèî- äà «õðàìû èìåëè îòêðûòûå ïîðòèêè, ïîäîáíûå òåì, êîòîðûå çàñâèäå- òåëüñòâîâàíû â ñëîÿõ ïðîòîïèñüìåííîãî ïåðèîäà Òåïå-Ãàâðà è, â ñâîþ î÷åðåäü, ñîïîñòàâëÿëèñü ñ æèëûìè ìåãàðîíàìè áðîíçîâîãî âåêà Àíà- òîëèè...» (Ëëîéä, 1984, ñ. 126). Òðàäèöèîííûé äîì-õðàì [purl- (õóððèòñê.), pur(u)li (ÏÂÊ) «äîì, õðàì» (Äüÿêîíîâ, Ñòàðîñòèí, 1998); ïyðò (÷óâ.) «äîì»; ñðàâíè ãðå÷åñ- êîå íàîñ «æèëèùå, õðàì»] àíàëîãè÷åí õðàìó ñ àíòàìè ñ ôëàíêèðóþ- ùèìè êîëîííàìè âûñòóïàþùèìè ïèëÿñòðàìè íà ôàñàäå. Äîì äðåâíåé- øèõ çåìëåäåëüöåâ äåéñòâèòåëüíî âûïîëíÿë îäíîâðåìåííî è ôóíêöèè õðà- ìà, ãäå öåíòðîì öåðåìîíèè ñëóæèëè î÷àã è âîçâûøåíèå-ïüåäåñòàë ó çàä- íåé ñòåíû äîìà íàïðîòèâ äâåðè (Êóøíàðåâà, ×óáèíèøâèëè, 1970, ñ. 164). Ïðîñëåäèì åùå îäíó èíòåðåñíóþ ïàðàëëåëü â ïëàíèðîâêàõ äîìîâ è õðàìîâ. Äðåâíåéøèå êàâêàçñêèå è ìåñîïîòàìñêèå äîìà, áûëè îáðà- ùåíû âõîäàìè íà âîñòîê (Êóøíàðåâà,×óáèíèøâèëè, 1970, ñ. 70). Òî æå õàðàêòåðíî äëÿ èõ õðàìîâ è òàêæå õðàìîâ ãðåêîâ (íàïðèìåð, õðàì Ãåðû â Îëèìïèè). Ïî ñâèäåòåëüñòâó À. Ôóêñ, àíàëîãè÷íî îðèåíòèðîâà- ëè ñâîè äîìà ÷óâàøè â XIX â. , ó íèõ, êðîìå òîãî, íà âîñòîê áûëî îáðà- ùåíî ñïåöèàëüíîå îêíî äëÿ ìîëèòâ òeíe (Âûéêèíà è äð., 1993, ñ. 234). Ïðèâðàòíûé õðàì III â. äî í.ý. â Âàíè ñîñòîèò èç òðåõ ñòåí ñ îòêðû- òîé ÷àñòüþ, îáðàùåííîé íà âîñòîê. Ó õåâñóðîâ ñóùåñòâóþò îáðàùåííûå íà âîñòîê òðåõñòåííûå õðàìû ñ æåðòâåííèêàìè â íèõ, íàçûâàåìûå ïî- ãðóçèíñêè ãâèòñ êàðè «âîðîòà áîãà». «Âîðîòà áîãà» óïîìèíàþòñÿ â Óðàðòñêèõ òåêñòàõ (Ëîðäêèïàíèäçå, 1978, ñ. 21). Àíàëîãè÷íûé âèä õðàìà ìû ìîæåì âñòðåòèòü ó äðåâíèõ èíäåéöåâ Ìåêñèêè (Ferdinand, 1986, ñ.58). 248 Äìèòðèé ÌÀÄÓÐÎÂ

Ïî ñâåäåíèþ àâòîðà XVIII âåêà Ê. Ìèëüêåâè÷à, íà ÷óâàøñêîé êèðå- ìåòå íàõîäèëîñü çäàíèå, èìåâøåå òîëüêî òðè ñòåíû: ñ çàïàäíîé, þæ- íîé è ñåâåðíîé ñòîðîíû. Âîñòî÷íàÿ ñòîðîíà îñòàâàëàñü îòêðûòîé. Âíóò- ðè ýòîãî çäàíèÿ ñòîë, ãäå îáû÷íî ðàçäåëûâàëè æåðòâåííûõ æèâîò- íûõ. Ïåðåä ýòèì çäàíèåì áûâàë æåðòâåííèê, ïîäîáíûé ñòîëó, äëèííîé ñòîðîíîé îáðàùåííûé íà âîñòîê, è ê âîñòîêó îò êîòîðîãî íàõîäèëèñü ñâÿùåííûå äåðåâüÿ (Åãîðîâ, 1994, ñ. 210). Çàìå÷ó, ÷òî ñêîðåé âñåãî Ê. Ìèëüêåâè÷åì çàôèêñèðîâàíà ïîñòðîé- êà íå íà êèðåìåòè, ÿâëÿþùåéñÿ ìåñòîì ïîêëîíåíèÿ äóõàì ïðåäêîâ è ñèìâîëîì îñè ìèðà (çäåñü íå óìåñòíû «âîðîòà áîãà»), à íà ìåñòå ïîêëî- íåíèÿ òâîðöó Òóðà è ñîïðîâîæäàþùèì åãî ñèëàì ïðèðîäû è÷óê. Êñòàòè, öåíòðàëüíàÿ ÷àñòü Ñòîóíõåíäæà ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé â ïëàíå ïîäêîâîîáðàçíóþ äóãó, îòêðûòîé ÷àñòüþ îáðàùåííîé íà âîñòîê, à çíà- ÷èò, ýòîò êîìïëåêñ ñåìàíòè÷åñêè ñîâïàäàåò ñ «âîðîòàìè áîãà». Ãðåêè ïðåäñòàâëÿëè õðàì, êàê äîì áîæåñòâà, ïåðåä êîòîðûì óñòà- íàâëèâàëñÿ àëòàðü. Åñëè ñîåäèíèòü «äîì áîãà» è «âîðîòà áîãà», òî ìû ïîëó÷èì îñíîâîïîëàãàþùèé äëÿ ãðå÷åñêîé àðõèòåêòóðû õðàì â àí- òàõ, îáðàùåííûé âõîäîì íà âîñòîê ñ ïðåäñòîÿùèì ïåðåä âõîäîì æåð- òâåííèêîì. ßðêèì ïðèìåðîì òàêîãî ñåìàíòè÷åñêîãî ðàçâèòèÿ ÿâëÿåò- ñÿ ãðåêî-àõåìåíèäñêèé õðàì IV III âåêîâ â Îêñå (Âàõø) (Ïè÷èêÿí, 1991, ñ. 145), ðàñêîïàííûé àðõåîëîãè÷åñêîé ýêñïåäèöèåé ïîä ðóêî- âîäñòâîì Á. À. Ëèòâèíñêîãî. Âîñòî÷íàÿ ÷àñòü õðàìà ÿâëÿëàñü âõîäîì äëÿ áîãîâ, êàê ýòî áûëî â àôèíñêîì Ïàðôåíîíå, çàïàäíàÿ äëÿ ñìåð- òíûõ ëþäåé. Èìåííî ýòó ñèñòåìó ïðèìåíÿëè è â âîñòî÷íûõ õðàìàõ. Ïðèìåð: õðàì Àíãêîð Âàò (Õðàì-ãîðà). Ó ÷óâàøåé ÷åòûðå óãëà çäàíèÿ íàçûâàþòñÿ ñòîëáàìè. ×åòûðå ñòîë- áà äåðæàò êðûøó, ñèìâîëèçèðóþùóþ íåáî. Â õóððèòñêèõ ïðåäàíèÿì, ïî óãëàì Ìèòàííèéñêîé èìïåðèè íàõîäèëèñü ÷åòûðå ñòîëáà, ïîäïèðàâ- øèå íåáî. Ôàñàä õðàìà â àíòàõ èìååò òó æå ñèñòåìó. Ïðÿìîóãîëüíèê ïëàòôîðìû õðàìà çåìíàÿ òâåðäü, ÷åòûðå êîëîííû ôàñàäà ñèìâîëèçè- ðóþò ÷åòûðå ñòîëáà, ïîääåðæèâàþùèå íåáî-ôðîíòîí. Â çàâåðøåíèå âñåãî âûøåñêàçàííîãî, ìîæíî ñäåëàòü âûâîä: ñåìàí- òèêà, îñíîâíûå ïðèíöèïû ñòðîèòåëüñòâà è ïëàíèðîâîê àíòè÷íûõ õðà- ìîâ ãðåêîâ íàõîäÿò ñâîè èñòîêè â äîìàõ-õðàìàõ Êàâêàçà 3 òûñ. äî í.ý., ïîëó÷èâøèõ ïîñòóïàòåëüíîå ðàçâèòèå â ïåðâûõ ìåñîïîòàìñêèõ ãîñó- äàðñòâàõ. Â ñâîþ î÷åðåäü, äðåâíèì ãðåêàì ïðèíàäëåæèò çàñëóãà â óïî- ðÿäî÷èâàíèè ñóùåñòâîâàâøèõ äî íèõ äðåâíèõ ñèñòåì â îðäåð. ÂËÈßÍÈÅ ÄÐÅÂÍÅÉØÈÕ ÒÐÀÄÈÖÈÉ ÍÀ ÀÐÕÈÒÅÊÒÓÐÓ 249

THE INFLUENCE OF ANCIENT TRADITIONS IN THE ARCHITECTURE OF AN ANTIQUE TEMPLE

Dmitri MADUROV Russian Federation Ministry of Culture, Moscow

Many significant artifacts of antique and Greek culture, such as the pantheon of deities, the mythologies, and navigation, descend from Khurrian tradition. The Doritos columns on most Greek temples in Tirinf dating from the 7 century B. C. resemble Miken columns, and these, in turn, obviously imitate columns of Minoan temples, which were erected by the Khurrians. According to Vitruviys data, after the Greeks captured Ionia they constructed a Diana temple giving female proportions to columns and ringlets to capitals. But the Hittites, who possessed Ionia land in an antiquity, represented the sky with marks having spiral curls above mountains, columns with imperial seals. A similar mark representing the sky has been found by archeologists on ceramics from the ancient Transcaucasian culture. In creating the Ionian column, Greeks adopted the «world tree» scheme of the Hittites, with four volutes being branches on four parts of the world, and the fifth being an axis of the column. The typical stand-alone cult column had a similar symbology, but columns in the colonnade mass of a temple had the additional symbol of a sheaf of oblational plants. These symbolize fruits from the fields which sustain divine life and wandering souls as they pass through the world of shadows. The Tuscan order of Vitruviys is an element of Etruscans culture, and, in the opinion of I.M. Djakonova, Etruscans are khurrian-speaking people. However we would like to point out that eolian order is also of Asian origin, as evidenced by analogous in representations in the Etruscans tomb Bandi- taccia and by reliefs in a tomb in Cerveteri. Later corinthian columns near Vitruviys were created by the architect Kallimahys and inspired by the image of a basket. The basket was penetrated by acanthus and symbolized giving a young maiden to the order. In the column capital of this order we see the symbolic curls of a world tree and a sheaf of grasses. This work of Kallimahys was based on ancient tradition. Stone orthostates in an Artemida Orfia temple in Sparta dating from 9 century B. C. replicated a characteristic attribute of Mitanni khurrians tem- 250 Äìèòðèé ÌÀÄÓÐÎÂ ple constructed in an earlier period, and the characteristic platforms under these temples were used in Mesopotamia everywhere. In the early dynastic period, temples in the city of Shuara (in the north part of Syria) had open porticos turned toward the east. These porticoes were like those seen in layers of the protoliterate period of Tepe-Gawra and, in turn, these can be traced back to inhabited megarons of Anatolia bronze age. The Gate Temple (Temple in Vani, 3 century B.C.) consists of three walls with the open side facing the East. In ethnography, such temples are called a gate of the god. It should be noted that the central part of Stonehenge represents a horseshoe-shaped arch, with the open part turned toward the East. This complex construction also semantically coincides with a gate of the god. For Greeks, a temple represented the house of a deity before which an altar was established. Thus, the basic template of Greek temple architecture combined the house of the god with a gate of the god , with an east facing entrance and altars standing before the entrance. The entrance for gods was in the east part of the temple, as in the Athenian Paràfenon, while the entrance for mortal people was on the western side. This system also applied in temples of the East. Accordingly to ethnographic and mythological sources, the facade of a temple antes has the following semantic system. The rectangular temple plat- form is the terrestrial stronghold, while the four columns of the facade symbolize four columns supporting the sky, or a pediment. Semantically speaking, the main principles governing the construction and layout of antique Greeks temples were derived from the houses and temples of the Caucasus in the third millennium B. C., where the forward development of the first Mesopotamian states occurred.

ÁÈÁËÈÎÃÐÀÔÈß Àðäçèíáà Â.Ã. Ðèòóàëû è ìèôû äðåâíåé Àíàòîëèè. Àâòîðåô... äèñ. Òáèëè- ñè, 1985. Áàêàåâ Õ.Ç., Äóäàðåâ Ñ.Ë. Ê âîïðîñó îá èñòîêàõ íàðòñêîãî ýïîñà // Àðóòþ- íÿí Í.Â. Õóððèòû è Óðàðòû. Åðåâàí: ÀÍ Àðìÿíñêîé ÑÑÐ. Âûï. 1. 1985. C. 72-73 Âèïïåð Á.Ð. Èñêóññòâî Äðåâíåé Ãðåöèè. Ì.: Íàóêà, 1972. Âûéêèíà À.Â., Ãðèãîðüåâà Ã.È., Íèêèòèí À.Ï., Òêà÷åíêî Â.Ã. Èñòîðèÿ ðîä- íîãî êðàÿ. Ó÷åáíîå ïîñîáèå, Õðåñòîìàòèÿ. ×åáîêñàðû: ×ÊÈ, 1993. ÂËÈßÍÈÅ ÄÐÅÂÍÅÉØÈÕ ÒÐÀÄÈÖÈÉ ÍÀ ÀÐÕÈÒÅÊÒÓÐÓ 251

Ãåðíè Î.Ð. Õåòòû. Ì.: Íàóêà, 1987. Ãîëàí Àðèýëü. Ìèô è ñèìâîë. Ì.: «Ðóññëèò». 1993. Äüÿêîíîâ È.Ì., Ïðåäûñòîðèÿ Àðìÿíñêîãî íàðîäà. Èñòîðèÿ àðìÿíñêîãî íà- ðîäà ñ 1500 ïî 500 ã. äî í.ý. Õóððèòû, ëóâèéöû, ïðîòîàðìÿíå. Åðåâàí: Èçä. ÀÍ Àðìÿíñêîé ÑÑÐ. 1968. Äüÿêîíîâ È.Ì., Ñòàðîñòèí Ñ.À. Õóððèòî-óðàðòñêèå è âîñòî÷íîêàâêàçñ- êèå ÿçûêè // Äðåâíèé Âîñòîê: ýòíîêóëüòóðíûå ñâÿçè. Ì.: Íàóêà, 1998. LXXX. Ñ. 164-207. Åãîðîâ Í.È. Ïðàçäíèêè è êàëåíäàðíûå îáðÿäû // Êóëüòóðà ÷óâàøñêîãî êðàÿ. ×åáîêñàðû: ×ÊÈ, 1994. ×. 1. Êëàðê Ð. Ñâÿùåííûå òðàäèöèè Äðåâíåãî Åãèïòà. Ì.: ÔÀÈÐ-ÏÐÅÑÑ, 2002. Êóøíàðåâà Ê.Õ., ×óáèíèøâèëè Ò.Í. Äðåâíèå êóëüòóðû Þæíîãî Êàâêàçà. Ë.: Íàóêà, 1970. Ëëîéä Ñåòîí. Àðõåîëîãèÿ Ìåñîïîòàìèè. Ì.: Íàóêà, 1984. Ëîðäêèïàíèäçå Î.Ä. Ãîðîä-õðàì Êîëõèäû. Ì.: Íàóêà, 1978. Ëîñåâà Í.Ì., Ñèäîðîâ Í.À. Èñêóññòâî Ýòðóðèè è äðåâíåé Èòàëèè. Ì.: Èñ- êóññòâî, 1988. Ìàðê Âèòðóâèé Ïîëëèîí. Îá àðõèòåêòóðå. ÎÃÈÇ. Ë.: ÃÑÝÈ. 1936. Íèêîëàåâ Â.Â., Èâàíîâ-Îðêîâ Ã.Í., Èâàíîâ Â.Ï. ×óâàøñêèé êîñòþì îò äðåâ- íîñòè äî ñîâðåìåííîñòè. Ì.,-×åáîêñàðû-Îðåíáóðã: Ôîíä èñòîðèêî-êóëüòóðî- ëîãè÷åñêèõ èññëåäîâàíèé èì. Ê.Â. Èâàíîâà, 2002. Íîâãîðîäîâà Ý.À. Ìèð ïåòðîãëèôîâ Ìîíãîëèè. Ì.: Íàóêà, 1984. Ïàâëîâ Í.Ë. Àëòàðü. Ñòóïà. Õðàì. Àðõàè÷åñêîå ìèðîçäàíèå â àðõèòåêòóðå èíäîåâðîïåéöåâ. Ì.: ÎËÌÀ-ÏÐÅÑÑ, 2001. Ïè÷èêÿí È.Ð. Êóëüòóðà Áàêòðèè. Ì.: Íàóêà, 1991. Ñòðóâå Â.Â. Èñòîðèÿ Äðåâíåãî Âîñòîêà. Ë.: Îãèç-Ãîñïîëèòèçäàò, 1941. Ferdinand Anton. Alt indianische Kunst in Mexiko.: VEB E.A. Seemann Verlag Leipzig, 1986. Karouzon Dr. Semni Nationalmuseum. Athen: Ekpotitike Athenon S.A., 1981. Kuntzsch Ingri., Glanz und Zauber des Schmuccks. Leipzig: Edition, 1978. Lovis Siret M. Les cassiterides et l emrire colonial des phéniciens // Paris: L.Antropologie, 1909. Santangelo Maria. Musei e Monumenti etruschi. Novara.: Istituto geografico de agostini, 1960.

ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÄßÃÈËÅÂ: ÏÀÐÀÄÎÊÑÛ ÐÅÊËÀÌÍÎÃÎ ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÀ

Òàòüÿíà ÁÓÊÈÍÀ

Ñëîæíîñòü ïîëîæåíèÿ ñîâðåìåííîãî êðèòèêà çàêëþ- ÷àåòñÿ â òîì, ÷òî îí ïî ñòàðèíêå ïûòàåòñÿ àíàëèçèðîâàòü «ñòèëü àâòîðà», «òåêñò ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ», â òî âðåìÿ êàê àíà- ëèçèðîâàòü èìååò ñìûñë ñòðàòåãèþ õóäîæíèêà.

Ì. Áåðã

ß ñîâåðøåííî óáåæä¸í, ÷òî è ïðè íàëè÷èè âñåõ ïðåä- ñòàâèòåëåé òâîð÷åñêîãî íà÷àëà íè îäíà èç çàòåé íå ïîëó÷èëà áû ðåàëèçàöèè, åñëè áû Ñ.Äÿãèëåâ íå ïðè- âí¸ñ ñâîþ èçóìèòåëüíóþ òâîð÷åñêóþ ýíåðãèþ òóäà, ãäå õóäîæåñòâåííî-òâîð÷åñêèõ ýëåìåíòîâ áûëî ñêîëüêî óãîäíî, íî ãäå íå äîñòàâàëî ãëàâíîãî îáúåäèíÿþùåé òâîð÷åñêîé âîëè.

À. Áåíóà

Â 1908 ãîäó óñòðîèòåëü Ðóññêèõ ñåçîíîâ â Ïàðèæå Ñ.Ï. Äÿãèëåâ êîððåñïîíäèðîâàë «Ïåòåðáóðãñêîé ãàçåòå» î ñåíñàöèîííîé ïðåìüåðå «Áîðèñà Ãîäóíîâà»: «Â õóäîæåñòâåííîì îòíîøåíèè âïå÷àòëåíèå áûëî òàêîå, ñëîâíî íàõîäèøüñÿ â Áàéðîéòå. Ïóáëèêà áóêâàëüíî íå äûøàëà äî ïîñëåäíåé íîòû. Òàêîãî áëàãîãîâåíèÿ Ïàðèæ åùå íå âèäåë».1 Ñðàâ- íåíèå ñ Áàéðîéòñêèì òåàòðîì ýòàëîíîì îïåðíûõ ïîñòàíîâîê â Åâðîïå êîíöà XIX íà÷àëà XX âåêà íå áûëî ïðåóâåëè÷åíèåì: î÷åâèäöû «Áî- ðèñà» îïèñûâàëè îøåëîìëÿþùèé óñïåõ äåáþòà ðóññêîé îïåðû çà ãðà- íèöåé, ïîëîæèâøèé íà÷àëî òðèóìôàëüíîìó øåñòâèþ ñî÷èíåíèÿ Ìó- ñîðãñêîãî ïî åâðîïåéñêèì ñöåíàì è âñåìèðíîé èçâåñòíîñòè Øàëÿïèíà. Ïðåññà êîíñòàòèðîâàëà âîñòîðæåííûé ïðèåì, îêàçàííûé ñîëèñòàì, õîðó Ìàðèèíñêîãî òåàòðà, ðåæèññåðó À. Ñàíèíó è äåêîðàòîðàì. Ýíòóçèàçì ïàðèæñêîé ïóáëèêè, îäîáðåíèå ìóçûêàëüíûõ àðáèòðîâ Ê. Äåáþññè, Ï. Ëàëî, Ï. Äþêà, Ð. Ðîëëàíà è êîíòðàêò, çàêëþ÷¸ííûé ñ Grand Opera, îòêðûâàëè Äÿãèëåâó áëåñòÿùèå ïåðñïåêòèâû äëÿ äàëüíåéøèõ äåìîí- ñòðàöèé ðóññêîé îïåðû íà Çàïàäå. È äåéñòâèòåëüíî, óæå â ñëåäóþùåì ãîäó ïðîñëàâëåííàÿ äÿãèëåâñêàÿ àíòðåïðèçà âåðíóëàñü â Ïàðèæ, ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÄßÃÈËÅÂ: ÏÀÐÀÄÎÊÑÛ ÐÅÊËÀÌÍÎÃÎ ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÀ 253

ñóùåíñòâåííî ñìåíèâ ðåïåðòóàðíûé êóðñ. Ðóññêàÿ ìóçûêà â ýòîì ñåçîíå áûëà ïðåäñòàâëåíà îáøèðíîé áàëåòíîé ïðîãðàììîé, îïåðíûé æå ðåïåðòóàð ðîññèéñêèé èìïðåñàðèî îãðàíè÷èë «Ïñêîâèòÿíêîé» Í. Ðèìñêîãî-Êîðñàêîâà è ôðàãìåíòàìè «Þäèôè» À. Ñåðîâà è «Ðóñëàíà» Ì. Ãëèíêè, à â ïîñëåäóþùèå ãîäû åùå ðåæå îáðàùàëñÿ ê îïåðíîìó æàíðó. Ïåðåîðèåíòàöèÿ îðãàíèçàòîðà «Ðóññêèõ ñåçîíîâ» êàæåòñÿ åùå áî- ëåå íåîáúÿñíèìîé íà ôîíå íàáëþäàåìîé ïîâñåìåñòíî â Åâðîïå íà÷àëà XX âåêà äèñêðåäèòàöèè àêàäåìè÷åñêèõ áàëåòíûõ òðàäèöèé. Òàê, â îòëè- ÷èå îò îïåðíîé, áàëåòíàÿ òðóïïà Ìàðèèíñêîãî òåàòðà íà ìîìåíò îðãàíè- çàöèè àíòðåïðèçû èñïûòûâàëà äåôèöèò â êâàëèôèöèðîâàííûõ ïîñòàíîâ- ùèêàõ è íîâîì ðåïåðòóàðå, à áóäóùèé õîðåîãðàô «Ðóññêîãî áàëåòà» Ì. Ôîêèí, íàõîäÿñü íà ïîäñòóïàõ ê ñâîåé ðåôîðìå, ñìîã ïðåäëîæèòü Äÿ- ãèëåâó ëèøü äâà ãîòîâûõ ñî÷èíåíèÿ («Øîïåíèàíó» è «Ïàâèëüîí Àðìè- äû»). Âî Ôðàíöèè æå êðàéíÿÿ íåïîïóëÿðíîñòü àêàäåìè÷åñêîãî áàëåòà â ñðàâíåíèè ñ ãîðàçäî áîëåå àêòóàëüíûì îïåðíûì æàíðîì ïîâëåêëà ðàçðûâ êîíòðàêòà Grand Opera ñ Äÿãèëåâûì. Ôóðîð Ðóññêîãî áàëåòíîãî ñåçîíà 1909 ãîäà, ïðåâçîøåäøèé îïåðíûé òðèóìô, âïîëíå îïðàâäàë ðèñê àíò- ðåïðåí¸ðà, îáåñïå÷èâ åãî ïðåäïðèÿòèþ ïîñåùàåìîñòü íà ïðîòÿæåíèè ïîñ- ëåäóþùèõ 20 ëåò, îäíàêî íå ìîòèâèðîâàë, à, ñêîðåå, óñóãóáèë ïàðàäîê- ñàëüíîñòü äÿãèëåâñêîãî âûáîðà è åãî íåîæèäàííîãî ðåçîíàíñà. Íåîäíîêðàòíî ïðèâëåêàâøèé èñêóññòâîâåäîâ ôåíîìåí «êîììóíè- êàáåëüíîñòè» «Ðóññêèõ ñåçîíîâ» èíñïèðèðóåò îñìûñëèòü çàìûñåë èì- ïðåñàðèî â ñîöèîïðàãìàòè÷åñêîì êëþ÷å. Ïîäîáíàÿ ìîäåëü èññëåäîâà- íèÿ, ïðàêòèêóåìàÿ êàê çàðóáåæíîé, òàê è îòå÷åñòâåííîé ñîöèîëîãèåé èñêóññòâà2, èíòåðïðåòèðóåò ïðîôåññèîíàëüíûé ïðîåêò êàê òàêòèêó óñïåõà, íàïðàâëåííóþ íà äîñòèæåíèå âûñîêîãî ñîöèàëüíîãî ðåéòèíãà, à ïîïóëÿðíîñòü, ïðåñòèæ, êîììåð÷åñêóþ óñïåøíîñòü è êîìïåòåíòíîå ïðèçíàíèå ïðîôåññèîíàëîâ â êà÷åñòâå êðèòåðèåâ ñîöèàëüíîé ïåðñ- ïåêòèâíîñòè àâòîðñêîãî äèñêóðñà, îïòèìàëüíîé ðåàëèçàöèè âîçìîæ- íîñòåé, ïðåäîñòàâëåííûõ ñèòóàöèåé. Ïî óòâåðæäåíèþ áðèòàíñêîãî èñòîðèêà Ý. Õîáñáàóìà, ñèìïòîìîì êóëü- òóðíî-èñòîðè÷åñêîé îáñòàíîâêè ðóáåæà XIX XX âåêîâ ñòàëî íà÷àëî íàó÷- íî-òåõíè÷åñêîé ðåâîëþöèè. Ôîðñèðîâàííûé âèòîê ïðîãðåññà îçíàìåíîâàë- ñÿ íîâûìè äîñòèæåíèÿìè íàóêè, êîòîðûå äåìîíñòðèðîâàëèñü íà Âñåìèðíûõ âûñòàâêàõ êàê ïîêàçàòåëü ýêîíîìè÷åñêîãî òðèóìôà åâðîïåéñêèõ ãîñóäàðñòâ. Âîò íåïîëíûé ñïèñîê èçîáðåòåíèé, âíåäð¸ííûõ â ïðîìûøëåííîñòü ñ íà÷à- ëà ÕÕ âåêà äî Ïåðâîé Ìèðîâîé âîéíû: 254 Òàòüÿíà ÁÓÊÈÍÀ

1901 ðàñòâîðèìûé êîôå, áåçîïàñíàÿ áðèòâà, òðîëëåéáóñ, îïåðàöèÿ ïî óäàëåíèþ ìîðùèí, ñëóõîâîé àïïàðàò, äåòñêèé êîíñòðóêòîð; 1902 ýëåêòðè÷åñêèé ïûëåñîñ, òóðèñòè÷åñêèé àâòîìîáèëüíûé ïðèöåï; 1903 ìàãíèòîôîí, ñíîòâîðíîå, óëè÷íàÿ òåëåôîííàÿ áóäêà; 1904 ïàêåòèêè äëÿ áûñòðîé çàâàðêè ÷àÿ, òåðìîñ, ýëåêòðîìèêñåð, ãàì- áóðãåð; 1905 ïèööåðèÿ, íåîíîâàÿ ðåêëàìà; 1906 ñòèðàëüíàÿ ìàøèíà, ìîëîêî â êàðòîííîé óïàêîâêå; 1907 ìîþùåå ñðåäñòâî, ïàðîõîäû-ëàéíåðû ïîâûøåííîãî êîìôîðòà; 1908 ýëåêòðè÷åñêèé óòþã, öåëëîôàí, îäíîðàçîâûå áóìàæíûå ñòàêàí- ÷èêè; 1909 ýñêàëàòîð â ìåòðî, çàæèãàëêà, ýëåêòðîòîñòåð; 1913 äîìàøíèé õîëîäèëüíèê, çàìîê-«ìîëíèÿ»; 1914 ïîñóäîìîå÷íàÿ ìàøèíà. Âîçðîñøàÿ êîíêóðåíöèÿ íà ìèðîâîì ðûíêå çàìåòíî ïîâûñèëà ðåí- òàáåëüíîñòü êîììåð÷åñêèõ íîâøåñòâ è èçîáðåòåíèé è ïðèâåëà ê âîç- íèêíîâåíèþ ìíîæåñòâà «ïèîíåðíûõ» ìîíîïîëèé («Ôîðä», «Ðåíî», «Õàðëåé ìàøèí êîìïàíè», «Æèëåòò», «Ñýëôðèäæ», «Ïåïñè-êîëà» è äð.), ñïåöèàëèçèðîâàâøèõñÿ íà âûïóñêå óíèêàëüíîé ïðîäóêöèè. Íîâûé ñîöèàëüíûé ôåòèø èíäóñòðèàëüíîãî îáùåñòâà: Ïðåäïðèíèìàòåëü- íîâàòîð îöåíèâàëñÿ àìåðèêàíñêèì ñîöèîëîãîì è ýêîíîìèñòîì É. Øóìïåòåðîì êàê ãëàâíûé äâèãàòåëü ïðîãðåññà3 è ñèìâîëèçèðîâàë òàêèå îáùåñòâåííûå öåííîñòè, êàê äîñòèæèòåëüíàÿ îðèåíòàöèÿ, ñêëîííîñòü ê ðèñêó, èíäèâèäóàëèçì, êðåàòèâíûé ñòèëü ìûøëåíèÿ è âîñïðèèì÷èâîñòü ê íîâøåñòâàì. Ýòîò ñîöèîêóëüòóðíûé «èíòåðüåð» îêàçàëñÿ âåñüìà àêòóàëåí äëÿ Äÿãèëåâà, îçàáî÷åííîãî ïîèñêàìè ñòàáèëüíîãî èñòî÷íèêà ôèíàíñèðî- âàíèÿ «Ðóññêèõ ñåçîíîâ». ×ðåçâû÷àéíî âûñîêèå ïîñòàíîâî÷íûå çàòðà- òû àíòðåïðèçû è îòñóòñòâèå ïîñòîÿííûõ ìåöåíàòîâ ïîáóæäàëè èìïðå- ñàðèî èñêàòü ýêñòðåìàëüíûå ïóòè îêóïàåìîñòè âêëàäûâàåìûõ ñðåäñòâ. Íå èìåÿ ïðîôåññèîíàëüíîãî îáðàçîâàíèÿ â èñêóññòâàõ, Äÿãèëåâ, ïðî- çâàííûé æóðíàëèñòàìè «ðîññèéñêèì áàðíóìîì», îêàçàëñÿ íåçàìåíèì äëÿ àíòðåïðèçû áëàãîäàðÿ ñâîåé ëåãåíäàðíîé ïðåäïðèèì÷èâîñòè, îñó- ùåñòâëÿÿ êàê óïðàâëåíèå ôèíàíñîâîé è àäìèíèñòðàòèâíîé ñòîðîíîé ìåðîïðèÿòèÿ, òàê è ðàçðàáîòêó å¸ ðåïåðòóàðíûõ ñòðàòåãèé. Ìåíòàëü- íîñòü æå àíòðåïðåí¸ðà âïîëíå ñîîòâåòñòâîâàëà øóìïåòåðîâñêîìó ýòà- ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÄßÃÈËÅÂ: ÏÀÐÀÄÎÊÑÛ ÐÅÊËÀÌÍÎÃÎ ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÀ 255

ëîíó Ïðåäïðèíèìàòåëÿ. Òàê, ôàíàòè÷íàÿ öåëåóñòðåìë¸ííîñòü, âñåöå- ëàÿ ïîãëîù¸ííîñòü ñâîèìè èäåÿìè ñâèäåòåëüñòâóþò î ïàðàíîèäàëüíîé àêöåíòóàöèè ëè÷íîñòè èìïðåñàðèî (ïî òèïîëîãèè Ê. Ëåîíãàðäà) ñ ïðèñóùèìè ýòîìó òèïó ëèäåðñêèìè êà÷åñòâàìè è ìåíòàëèòåòîì èãðîêà.4 Ôàêòû æèçíè Äÿãèëåâà îáíàðóæèâàþò òàêæå ðÿä ñîâïàäåíèé ñ ðàçðàáîòàííûìè Äæ. Ëàíäðàìîì áèîãðàôè÷åñêèìè ïàðàìåòðàìè êðåà- òèâíûõ èííîâàòîðîâ: áóäóùèé àíòðåïðåí¸ð áûë ïåðâûì ðåá¸íêîì â ñåìüå, â äåòñòâå íå ðàç ïåðååçæàë â äðóãîé ãîðîä, â ñâî¸ì âîñïèòàíèè èñïûòàë èñêëþ÷èòåëüíóþ ðîëü æåíñêîãî âëèÿíèÿ (ìà÷åõè è ò¸òêè), íå- ñìîòðÿ íà ñâîè ñïîñîáíîñòè íå áûë ïåðâûì ó÷åíèêîì â øêîëå, è, íàêî- íåö, âûáðàë ïðîôåññèþ âíå ïîëÿ ïðèëîæåíèÿ ñâîèõ áóäóùèõ èííîâàöèé îêîí÷èë þðèäè÷åñêèé ôàêóëüòåò.5 Êðåàòèâíîñòü «ðîññèéñêîãî áàðíó- ìà» ìîãëà áûòü è ñëåäñòâèåì ïîëó÷åííîãî èì þðèäè÷åñêîãî îáðàçîâà- íèÿ: íåñòåðåîòèïíîñòü ìûøëåíèÿ îäèí èç ãëàâíûõ êîìïîíåíòîâ ïñèõîëîãè÷åñêîé ïðîôåññèîãðàììû þðèñòà. Ñëîæèâøàÿñÿ ðûíî÷íàÿ ñèòóàöèÿ ïðîâîöèðîâàëà Äÿãèëåâà íà âû- áîð ðèñêîâàííîé, íî è íåâåðîÿòíî ïðèáûëüíîé â ñëó÷àå óñïåõà ýêñïëå- ðåíòíîé («ïèîíåðíîé») êîììåð÷åñêîé òàêòèêè, ñâÿçàííîé ñ ïðîäâèæå- íèåì ðàäèêàëüíûõ íîâøåñòâ.6 Ðàçìûøëÿÿ íàä ñâîèì ïðåäïðèíèìàòåëü- ñêèì îïûòîì â ïèñüìå ðåäàêöèè «Times» (1929), èìïðåñàðèî ïðåäñòàâ- ëÿë ñâîè Ñåçîíû â ðÿäó ñåíñàöèîííûõ òåõíè÷åñêèõ èçîáðåòåíèé ïîñ- ëåäíåãî ïîëóâåêà: «Íîâàÿ îöåíêà ìîèõ òåïåðåøíèõ ñïåêòàêëåé ýòî ðÿä âîñêëèöàíèé: ñïåêòàêëü «ñòðàííûé», «ýêñòðàâàãàíòíûé», «îòòàë- êèâàþùèé» Íî ñïåêòàêëü è äîëæåí áûòü ñòðàííûì. ß âîîáðàæàþ óäèâëåíèå ëþäåé, êîãäà îíè óâèäåëè ïåðâóþ ýëåêòðè÷åñêóþ ëàìïî÷êó èëè óñëûøàëè ïåðâûé òåëåôîííûé çâóê. Ìîèì ïåðâûì ýëåêòðè÷åñêèì çâîíêîì äëÿ ëîíäîíñêîé ïóáëèêè áûëè «Ïîëîâåöêèå ïëÿñêè» èç «Êíÿçÿ Èãîðÿ»».7 (Êóðñèâ âåçäå ìîé Ò.Á.) Èäåÿ àäàïòèðîâàòü îïûò ïðåóñïåâàþùèõ ïðîìûøëåííûõ ïðåäïðè- ÿòèé ìîãëà âîçíèêíóòü ó Äÿãèëåâà è âñëåäñòâèå ñïåöèôèêè åãî ëè÷íîãî êðåàòèâíîãî ñòèëÿ. Ñîãëàñíî èññëåäîâàíèÿì òâîð÷åñêîãî ïðîöåññà, ãåíåçèñ èçîáðåòåíèÿ è ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ èñêóññòâà ëåæàò â ïðèíöèïèàëüíî ðàçíûõ ñôåðàõ èíòåëëåêòóàëüíîé äåÿòåëüíîñòè. Òàê, õóäîæåñòâåííîå òâîð÷åñòâî îáÿçàòåëüíî ïðåäïîëàãàåò ãåíåðàöèþ ýâðèñòè÷åñêîé ìîäåëè, èëè, ïî îïðåäåëåíèþ Ì. Àðàíîâñêîãî, «êà÷åñòâåííî íîâîãî ïñèõè÷åñ- êîãî îáðàçîâàíèÿ,.. åäèíñòâåííîãî â ñâî¸ì ðîäå ñîåäèíåíèÿ ýëåìåíòîâ».8 Òåõíè÷åñêèå æå èçîáðåòåíèÿ íîñÿò, êàê ïðàâèëî, êóìóëÿòèâíûé õàðàêòåð 256 Òàòüÿíà ÁÓÊÈÍÀ

è «âîçíèêàþò áëàãîäàðÿ íîâûì ñïîñîáàì êîìáèíàöèè óæå ñóùåñòâóþùèõ ýëåìåíòîâ òåõíèêè è èõ ïîñòåïåííîé ìîäèôèêàöèè».9 Ó÷èòûâàÿ ðÿä áèîãðàôè÷åñêèõ äàííûõ Äÿãèëåâà, ìîæíî ïîëàãàòü, ÷òî îí òÿãîòåë ñêîðåå ê òâîð÷åñòâó èçîáðåòàòåëÿ, ÷åì õóäîæíèêà. Òàê, ïðè÷èíîé ïðåêðàùåíèÿ åãî çàíÿòèé êîìïîçèöèåé â þíîñòè áûëî, âåðî- ÿòíî, íåñîîòâåòñòâèå õàðàêòåðà îäàð¸ííîñòè èìïðåñàðèî òðåáîâàíèÿì, òðàäèöèîííî ïðåäúÿâëÿåìûì ê ïðîôåññèè êîìïîçèòîðà. Ïðèñóòñòâîâàâ- øèå íà èñïîëíåíèè Äÿãèëåâûì â 1894 ãîäó ñîáñòâåííîãî ñî÷èíåíèÿ «Ñöåíû ó ôîíòàíà» èç «Áîðèñà Ãîäóíîâà» À. Ïóøêèíà, óñëûøàëè â ìóçûêå ÿâíîå âëèÿíèå Ìóñîðãñêîãî, ðàçáàâëåííîå «èòàëüÿíùèíîé» è ÷àéêîâèçìàìè. Î÷åâèäíî, äëÿ äåÿòåëüíîñòè êîìïîçèòîðà Äÿãèëåâ íå áûë â äîëæíîé ñòåïåíè íàäåë¸í òâîð÷åñêèì âîîáðàæåíèåì, íåîáõîäèìûì, ïî èññëåäîâàíèþ ïñèõîëîãà Ë. Áî÷êàð¸âà, íà íà÷àëüíîì ýòàïå êîìïîçèöèè ôîðìèðîâàíèè çàìûñëà. Ìîäóñ æå êðåàòèâíîñòè Äÿãèëå- âà, ïðåäïîëîæèòåëüíî, ïðèáëèæàëñÿ ê òâîð÷åñêîìó ìûøëåíèþ, ïðè êîòîðîì ôóíêöèè âîîáðàæåíèÿ çàäåéñòâóþòñÿ äëÿ êîìáèíèðîâàíèÿ è òðàíñôîðìàöèè çàèìñòâîâàííûõ èäåé. Ýòà ìîäåëü äåéñòâèé â ïðîáëåìíîé ñèòóàöèè áûëà ìíîãîêðàòíî ðåàëèçîâàíà Äÿãèëåâûì-ìåöåíàòîì, à â åãî ðàáîòàõ ïîñòóëèðîâàíà êàê äåÿòåëüíîñòü, ïàðèòåòíàÿ õóäîæåñòâåííîìó òâîð÷åñòâó. Òàê, âûïóùåí- íûå ïîä åãî ðóêîâîäñòâîì íîìåðà æóðíàëà «Ìèð èñêóññòâà» (18981904) è ìîíîãðàôèÿ î õóäîæíèêå Ä. Ëåâèöêîì (1902) ñòàëè øåäåâðàìè îôîð- ìèòåëüñêîãî ìàñòåðñòâà. Â îäíîì æå èç êðèòè÷åñêèõ îòçûâîâ Äÿãè- ëåâ ñôîðìóëèðîâàë òðåáîâàíèÿ ê ýòîìó âèäó èñêóññòâà, êîòîðûå êàñà- ëèñü êà÷åñòâà ðåïðîäóêöèé, âûáîðà øðèôòà, îôîðìëåíèÿ òèòóëüíîãî ëèñòà, ðàçìåðà èëëþñòðàöèé, êà÷åñòâà áóìàãè è ïåðåïë¸òà è ò.ï.10 Â îðãàíèçîâàííûõ èì âûñòàâêàõ õóäîæíèêîâ (18971906) èìïðåñàðèî ïðî- äåìîíñòðèðîâàë, à â ñòàòüÿõ äåêëàðèðîâàë íîâîå èñêóññòâî ýêñïîçè- öèè, ïîíèìàÿ âûñòàâêó êàê «íåêîå õóäîæåñòâåííîå ïðîèçâåäåíèå, íå- êóþ ïîýìó, ÿñíóþ, õàðàêòåðíóþ, à ãëàâíîå öåëüíóþ», â êîòîðîé «âñå ÷àñòè äîëæíû áûòü îáúåäèíåíû êàêèì-íèáóäü âíóòðåííèì ñìûñëîì».11 Äÿãèëåâ òàêæå îäíèì èç ïåðâûõ ïðåäëîæèë ïîíèìàíèå êíèæíîé èëëþñòðàöèè êàê ñàìîöåííîãî îïóñà: «Åäèíñòâåííûé ñìûñë èëëþñò- ðàöèè çàêëþ÷àåòñÿ êàê ðàç â å¸ ïîëíîé ñóáúåêòèâíîñòè, â âûðàæåíèè õóäîæíèêîì åãî ñîáñòâåííîãî âçãëÿäà íà äàííóþ ïîýìó, ïîâåñòü, ðîìàí. Èëëþñòðàöèÿ âîâñå íå äîëæíà íè äîïîëíÿòü ëèòåðàòóðíîå ïðîèçâå- äåíèå, íè ñëèâàòüñÿ ñ íèì».12 Àíàëîãè÷íî èëëþñòðàöèè, ñâîþ äåÿ- ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÄßÃÈËÅÂ: ÏÀÐÀÄÎÊÑÛ ÐÅÊËÀÌÍÎÃÎ ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÀ 257

òåëüíîñòü êðèòèêà Äÿãèëåâ ñ÷èòàë èñêóññòâîì, êîíãåíèàëüíûì òâîð- ÷åñòâó õóäîæíèêà, óòâåðæäàÿ, ÷òî «êðèòè÷åñêàÿ ðàáîòà âîâñå íå ðàñ- òîëêîâûâàåò ëèòåðàòóðíîãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ, à ëèøü îñâåùàåò åãî èíäè- âèäóàëüíûì âçãëÿäîì».13 Î÷åâèäíî, ïîäîáíîé àâòîíîìíîñòüþ îò äðàìû àíòðåïðåí¸ð íàäåëÿë è äåêîðàöèîííîå îôîðìëåíèå ñïåêòàêëåé, îäíèì èç ïåðâûõ ïðèâëåêàÿ ê ýòîé çàäà÷å õóäîæíèêîâ-ñòàíêîâèñòîâ. Ïðîåêòèðóÿ ïðîãðàììû Ðóññêèõ ñåçîíîâ, Äÿãèëåâ òàêæå âîïëîùàë ïðèîðèòåòíûé äëÿ íåãî êðåàòèâíûé ñöåíàðèé: ìîäèôèêàöèþ ïðåäëî- æåííîãî çàìûñëà. Âîññòàíîâèòü ýòîò àëãîðèòì ïîçâîëÿþò îïèñàíèÿ ïðî- öåññà êîëëåêòèâíîãî òâîð÷åñòâà êîëëåãàìè èìïðåñàðèî. Òàê, À. Áåíóà âñïîìèíàë î Äÿãèëåâå: «Ñàìûå èíèöèàòèâû åãî âûñòóïëåíèé ïðèíàä- ëåæàëè íå åìó. Îí áûë ñêîðåå áåäåí íà âûäóìêó, íà èäåþ. Çàòî îí ñ æàäíîñòüþ ëîâèë òî, ÷òî âîçíèêàëî â ãîëîâå åãî äðóçåé, â ÷¸ì îí ÷óâ- ñòâîâàë çà÷àòêè æèçíåííîñòè. Ñ óïîåíèåì ïðèíèìàëñÿ îí çà îñóùåñòâ- ëåíèå ýòèõ «íå åãî» èäåé Âçÿâ íàâÿçàííîå äåëî â ðóêè, îí åãî ïðåâðàùàë â ñâî¸, è ÷àñòî ñ ýòîãî ìîìåíòà èíèöèàòîðû, âäîõíîâèòåëè êàê-òî ñòóø¸âûâàëèñü, îíè ñòàíîâèëèñü èñïîëíèòåëÿìè ñîáñòâåííûõ çàòåé, íî óæå ïîíóêàåìûå «âîæä¸ì»».14 (Êóðñèâ âåçäå ìîé Ò.Á.) Çàêîíîìåðíî ïðåäïîëîæèòü, ÷òî, ñîçäàâàÿ ïî ïðèìåðó ïðîöâåòà- þùèõ èíäóñòðèàëüíûõ ìîíîïîëèé ñîáñòâåííîå «èçîáðåòåíèå» Íîâûé áàëåò èìïðåñàðèî äîëæåí áûë ñëåäîâàòü ïðèíÿòîé èì èí- òåðïðåòàöèîííîé ìîäåëè: àêêóìóëèðîâàíèþ è òðàíñôîðìàöèè èçáðàííîãî ïðîòîòèïà. ×òî æå êàñàåòñÿ ïðåöåäåíòîâ ñðåäè òåàòðàëüíûõ «ìîíîïîëèé», òî íà íà÷àëî XX âåêà åäèíñòâåííûì èííîâàöèîííûì ïðåäïðèÿòèåì, ñî- ïîñòàâèìûì ïî ìàñøòàáàì ñ äÿãèëåâñêèì ïðîåêòîì, áûë ìóçûêàëüíûé òåàòð Ðèõàðäà Âàãíåðà â Áàéðîéòå. Óíèêàëüíûå ïîçèöèè «÷èñòîãî ìî- íîïîëèñòà» âàãíåðîâñêîìó «èçîáðåòåíèþ» îáåñïå÷èâàë öåëûé ðÿä êîí- êóðåíòíûõ ïðåèìóùåñòâ: ïðèíöèïèàëüíî íîâûé âèä ïðîäóêöèè ñêîíñòðóèðîâàííûé Âàã- íåðîì ìóçûêàëüíî-òåàòðàëüíûé æàíð Gesamtkunstwerk; ñïåöèàëèçàöèÿ íà îðèãèíàëüíîé òåìàòèêå ãåðìàíî-ñêàíäèíàâ- ñêîé ìèôîëîãèè; âîçâåäåíèå äëÿ ïîñòàíîâêè «ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ èñêóññòâà áóäóùåãî» ñïåöèàëüíîãî çàëà ñ óñîâåðøåíñòâîâàííîé êîíñòðóêöèåé; ñîçäàíèå ñîáñòâåííîé øêîëû «âàãíåðîâñêèõ» ïåâöîâ (äàæå ïîñ- ëå îñâîåíèÿ íàñëåäèÿ êîìïîçèòîðà âåäóùèìè îïåðíûìè ñöåíàìè áàé- 258 Òàòüÿíà ÁÓÊÈÍÀ

ðîéòñêîå èñïîëíåíèå, íàðÿäó ñ ìþíõåíñêèì, ñîõðàíÿëî ðåïóòàöèþ îá- ðàçöîâîãî); ñïåöèôè÷åñêèå ïðàâèëà ïîâåäåíèÿ äëÿ ñëóøàòåëåé (íàïðèìåð, ðàííåå íà÷àëî ñïåêòàêëåé, çàïðåò îïîçäàíèé è íåñâîåâðåìåííûõ àï- ëîäèñìåíòîâ); ðàðèòåòíûé ðåïåðòóàð òðèäöàòèëåòíèé ïàòåíò íà ïîñòàíîâêó «Ïàðñèôàëÿ». Ìàññîâîå ïàëîìíè÷åñòâî â Áàéðîéò è ïîïóëÿðíîñòü ìóçûêè Âàã- íåðà ó ïóáëèêè, ñðàâíèìàÿ ñ ýïèäåìèåé, ñòàëè ëó÷øèìè äîêàçàòåëü- ñòâàìè óñïåõà âàãíåðîâñêîé èííîâàöèîííîé ñòðàòåãèè. Îíè ïðèâåëè ê îòêðûòèþ â êîíöå XIX âåêà «ôèëèàëîâ» âàãíåðîâñêîé ìîíîïîëèè: òðóïïû àíòðåïðåí¸ðà À. Íåéìàíà, ãàñòðîëèðîâàâøåé ñî ñïåêòàêëÿìè «Êîëüöà Íèáåëóíãà», à òàêæå ñïåöèàëüíûõ ôàáðèê â Ãåðìàíèè, ïî- ñòàâëÿâøèõ â òåàòðû ìèðà äåêîðàöèè îïåð êîìïîçèòîðà, èçãîòîâëåí- íûå ïî áàéðîéòñêèì îáðàçöàì. Ïîäîáíûå îïòîâûå ýêñïîðòíûå ïîñòàâ- êè «èñêóññòâà áóäóùåãî» ñïîñîáñòâîâàëè ïðåâðàùåíèþ âàãíåðîâñêèõ èçäåëèé â òîâàð ìàññîâîãî ñïðîñà, ñîõðàíÿâøèé â ñòðàíàõ Åâðîïû è ÑØÀ ñâîé ïðèîðèòåò âîñòðåáîâàííîñòè íà ïðîòÿæåíèè íåñêîëüêèõ äåñÿòèëåòèé. Íàïðèìåð, â Ïàðèæå òîëüêî â ñèìôîíè÷åñêèõ êîíöåðòàõ Êîëîííà â êîíöå XIX íà÷àëå XX âåêà ñî÷èíåíèÿ êîìïîçèòîðà ïðî- çâó÷àëè ïî÷òè 400 ðàç. Â îòíîøåíèè æå îïåð, ñàì Äÿãèëåâ â 1900 ãîäó çàñâèäåòåëüñòâîâàë î÷åðåäíóþ âîëíó èíòåðåñà ê òâîð÷åñòâó Âàãíåðà è ñòàíîâëåíèå íîâîãî èñïîëíèòåëüñêîãî ñòèëÿ.15 Îñâåäîìë¸ííîñòü Äÿãèëåâà â ïîñòàíîâî÷íûõ òðàäèöèÿõ íåìåöêî- ãî êîìïîçèòîðà íåñëó÷àéíà. Ñòàâ âàãíåðîìàíîì ïîñëå ïîñåùåíèÿ «Ëî- ýíãðèíà» â Âåíå â 1890 ãîäó è ôåñòèâàëÿ â Áàéðîéòå 1892 ãîäà, èìðåñà- ðèî âïëîòü äî îðãàíèçàöèè Ðóññêèõ ñåçîíîâ áûë ïîñòîÿííûì «ïîòðå- áèòåëåì» ìóçûêè Âàãíåðà â òåàòðàõ Åâðîïû. Â Ðîññèè æå îí íåîäíîê- ðàòíî âûñòóïàë â ðîëè äîáðîâîëüíîãî «êîììèâîÿæ¸ðà» áàéðîéòñêîé ïðî- äóêöèè, ïóáëèêóÿ â ñâî¸ì æóðíàëå «Ìèð èñêóññòâà» ïåðåâîäû âàãíå- ðîâñêèõ òåîðåòè÷åñêèõ òðóäîâ, ðàáîò î í¸ì Ô. Íèöøå è À. Ëèøòàíáåð- æå è ñîáñòâåííûå ðåöåíçèè íà ñïåêòàêëè «Òðèñòàíà» è «Ãèáåëè áîãîâ» â Ìàðèèíñêîì òåàòðå. Äåÿòåëüíîñòü «àãåíòà» ïî ðàñïðîñòðàíåíèþ âàã- íåðîâñêèõ ñî÷èíåíèé ñïîäâèãëà Äÿãèëåâà (ïåâöà-äèëåòàíòà!) äàæå íà, âåðîÿòíî, ïåðâîå â Ðîññèè èñïîëíåíèå ìîíîëîãà èç «Ïàðñèôàëÿ» íà ñâî- åì ñîëüíîì êîíöåðòå â Ïåòåðáóðãå â 1893 ãîäó. ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÄßÃÈËÅÂ: ÏÀÐÀÄÎÊÑÛ ÐÅÊËÀÌÍÎÃÎ ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÀ 259

Îäíàêî ñîçäàíèå ëè÷íîé òåàòðàëüíîé ìîíîïîëèè ïî îáðàçöó âàã- íåðîâñêîãî òåàòðà àâòîìàòè÷åñêè ïðîâîöèðîâàëî Äÿãèëåâà íà êîíêó- ðåíöèþ ñ ñîáñòâåííûì ïðîòîòèïîì óæå ñóùåñòâóþùèì ìîíîïîëüíûì ïðåäïðèÿòèåì. Ñïåöèôèêó äÿãèëåâñêîãî èçîáðåòåíèÿ, î÷åâèäíî, îïðåäåëèëà íåîáõîäèìîñòü ñîâìåùàòü äâà ñòðàòåãè÷åñêèõ íàïðàâëåíèÿ: ïðèíÿòèå âàãíåðîâñêîé òàêòèêè âíåäðåíèÿ íîâøåñòâ è äèôôåðåíöèàöèþ16, ñòðåìëåíèå ìàêñèìàëüíî äèñòàíöèðîâàòüñÿ îò êîíêóðåíòà ïóò¸ì ìàðêèðîâêè äèàìåòðàëüíî ïðîòèâîïîëîæíûõ õàðàêòåðèñòèê ñâîåé èííîâàöèè. Âîò îñíîâíûå ïóíêòû ñòðàòåãèè óñïåõà ðóññêîãî èìïðåñàðèî. Äÿãèëåâñêîå know how çàêëþ÷àëîñü â ïðåçåíòàöèè íîâîãî âèäà èñêóññòâà: îñâîåíèè è ðåâîëþöèîííûõ ïðåîáðàçîâàíèÿõ æàíðà, êîòî- ðûé â íà÷àëå XX âåêà êîòèðîâàëñÿ êàê íåñîñòîÿòåëüíûé êîíêóðåíò îïå- ðå. Òàêæå êàê è «ïðîèçâåäåíèå èñêóññòâà áóäóùåãî», äÿãèëåâñêèé Ge- samtkunstwerk äåêëàðèðîâàë ðàäèêàëüíîå îáíîâëåíèå âñåõ ñâîèõ êîìïîíåíòîâ, ïðè÷¸ì, íåêîòîðûå èç ýòèõ íîâàöèé, ïðîâîäèìûå õóäîæ- íèêàìè-âàãíåðîìàíàìè, òàêæå áûëè ïðÿìî èëè êîñâåííî èíñïèðèðî- âàíû âàãíåðîâñêèì òâîð÷åñòâîì. Òàê, áàëåòíûé ìèêñò ïî Äÿãèëåâó ïðåä- ïîëàãàë èñïîëíåíèå äåêîðàöèé è êîñòþìîâ õóäîæíèêàìè-ñòàíêîâèñòà- ìè. Ïåðâûì òàêèì îñóùåñòâë¸ííûì îïûòîì áóäóùèõ óñòðîèòåëåé Ñå- çîíîâ áûëî äåêîðàöèîííîå îôîðìëåíèå «Ãèáåëè áîãîâ» Âàãíåðà, âû- ïîëíåííîå À. Áåíóà è Ê. Êîðîâèíûì äëÿ Ìàðèèíñêîãî òåàòðà â 1901 ãîäó.17 Êðîìå òîãî, Ì. Ôîêèí, ÷üÿ íîâàöèîííàÿ õîðåîãðàôèÿ îêàçàëàñü ðåøàþùåé äëÿ ôîðìèðîâàíèÿ ïîñòàíîâî÷íîãî ñòèëÿ ðóññêîé àíòðåï- ðèçû, îòêðûòî ïðèçíàâàë îäíèì èç ïðîòîòèïîâ ñâîåãî «íîâîãî áàëåòà» âàãíåðîâñêóþ îïåðíóþ ðåôîðìó.18 Å¸ òðàíñôîðìàöèè óçíàâàåìû: Óïðàçäíåíèå òèïè÷åñêèõ áàëåòíûõ ôîðì (pas de deux, pas de trois è ò.ä.) ðàâíîñèëüíî âàãíåðîâñêîìó îòêàçó îò àðèé, äóýòîâ è ïðî÷èõ îïåðíûõ íîìåðîâ; Ðàçðàáîòêà íîâîé õîðåîãðàôè÷åñêîé òåõíèêè âçàìåí òðàäèöèîí- íûõ pas àïåëëèðóåò ê ïðîòåñòó Âàãíåðà ïðîòèâ êëèøèðîâàííûõ ýëå- ìåíòîâ bel canto (òðåëåé, ôèîðèòóð); Îáðàùåíèå â êà÷åñòâå àëüòåðíàòèâû «àêðîáàòè÷åñêîé» áàëåòíîé òåõíèêå ê ïàíòîìèìå ñîîòâåòñòâóåò àêòèâíîìó ïðèâëå÷åíèþ äåêëàìà- öèîííîé (à íå àðèîçíîé) ìåëîäèêè â îïåðàõ Âàãíåðà; Íèçëîæåíèå êóëüòà ïðèìû-áàëåðèíû (ïóò¸ì ââåäåíèÿ ñîëüíûõ ìóæñêèõ ïàðòèé è ïîäðîáíîé ðàçðàáîòêè ïàðòèé êîðäåáà- 260 Òàòüÿíà ÁÓÊÈÍÀ

ëåòà) àíàëîãè÷íî âàãíåðîâñêîé äèñêðåäèòàöèè èíñòèòóòà ïðèìà- äîíí è primo uomo; Îòìåíà áàëåòìåéñòåðîì íåèçìåííî îáðàù¸ííîé â çàë ïîçû òàíöî- ðîâ íàïîìèíàåò îòêàç Âàãíåðà îò «êîíöåðòíîé» òðàêòîâêè îïåðíûõ âûñòóïëåíèé.19 Ïîäîáíî ìóçûêàëüíîé äðàìå Âàãíåðà, îòìåíèâøåé ïðàâî äèêòàòà îïåðíîãî ïåâöà êîìïîçèòîðó, â ñïåêòàêëÿõ Ðóññêèõ Ñåçîíîâ ñîñòîÿëàñü ýìàíñèïàöèÿ ìóçûêè, êîòîðàÿ ïðåâðàòèëàñü â ïîëèãîí êîìïîçèòîðñêèõ ýêñïåðèìåíòîâ. Êðîìå òîãî, ïðàêòèêîâàëîñü ñî÷èíåíèå õîðåîãðàôèè íà óæå ãîòîâûé íåòàíöåâàëüíûé ìóçûêàëüíûé òåêñò (â «Êàðíàâàëå» Ð. Øóìàíà, «Çîëîòîì ïåòóøêå» Í. Ðèìñêîãî-Êîðñàêîâà è ò.ä.). Îòêðûòèþ íîâîé îòðàñëè øîó-áèçíåñà, îáúåäèíèâøåé àâàíãàðäíûå õóäîæåñòâåííûå òå÷åíèÿ, ñîîòâåòñòâîâàëî è îñíîâàíèå ïðèâàòíîé òâîð÷åñêîé ëàáîðàòîðèè: åñëè Âàãíåð ïðåäïî÷èòàë ðàáîòàòü ñ íà÷èíàþ- ùèìè ïåâöàìè, íå «èñïîð÷åííûìè» àêàäåìè÷åñêîé øêîëîé, òî «äÿãèëåâñ- êèé êîìèòåò» ïîïîëíÿëñÿ â îñíîâíîì çà ñ÷¸ò ïðèãëàø¸ííûõ àíòðåïðåí¸- ðîì ìîëîäûõ êîìïîçèòîðîâ, æèâîïèñöåâ è òàíöîðîâ (È. Ñòðàâèíñêîãî, Ñ. Ïðîêîôüåâà, Ô. Ïóëåíêà, Æ. Îðèêà, Â. Äóêåëüñêîãî, Í. Ãîí÷àðîâîé, Â. Íèæèíñêîãî, È. Ðóáèíøòåéí, Ò. Êàðñàâèíîé, Ë. Ìÿñèíà, Î. Ñïåñèâöåâîé, Ã. Áàëàí÷èâàäçå, Ñ. Ëèôàðÿ è äð.). Ýòà «áàëåòíàÿ ôàáðèêà» îáåñïå÷èëà ìîíîïîëèþ Äÿãèëåâà ýêñêëþçèâíûì ðåïåðòóàðîì, ñîñòîÿâøèì èç ñïåöèàëüíî çàêàçàííûõ ñî÷èíåíèé (áàëåòû È. Ñòðàâèíñêîãî, Ñ. Ïðîêîôüåâà, Ê. Äåáþññè, Ä. Ìèéî, Ô. Ïóëåíêà è äð.) èëè ïåðåðàáîòàííûõ äëÿ áàëåòà íåòàíöåâàëüíûõ ïðîèçâåäåíèé («Øåõåðàçàäà» Ðèìñêîãî-Êîðñàêîâà, «Ïðèãëàøåíèå ê òàíöó» Ê.-Ì. Âåáåðà), à òàêæå îòðåñòàâðèðîâàííûõ êëàññè÷åñêèõ øåäåâðîâ (íàïðèìåð, «Æèçåëü» À. Àäàíà). Ôèðìåííûì çíàêîì äÿãèëåâñêîãî èçîáðåòåíèÿ ñòàëè ïðèñâîåííûå «Íîâûì áàëåòîì» ìîäíûå «ðóññêèå» àêñåññóàðû. Ñïåêòàêëè àíòðåïðè- çû Äÿãèëåâà ïîðàçèëè åâðîïåéöåâ îòêðûòèåì ðàíåå íåèçâåñòíûõ êóëü- òóðíûõ ïëàñòîâ. Îäíàêî â äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè «Ðóññêèå ñåçîíû» ïðåäëî- æèëè çàïàäíîé ïóáëèêå ëèøü èìèäæ ðîññèéñêîé êóëüòóðû («îáðàç äëÿ äðóãîãî»), ïðåäñòàâèâ îòå÷åñòâåííîå èñêóññòâî íåïðîôèëèðóþùèì äëÿ íåãî æàíðîì è ñïåöèàëüíî çàêàçàííîé ïðîãðàììîé. Òåõíîëîãèÿ èìèä- æåâîãî òâîð÷åñòâà ìîãëà îêàçàòüñÿ ïðèâëåêàòåëüíîé äëÿ Äÿãèëåâà, ïîñêîëüêó èäåàëüíî âîïëîùàëà èçëþáëåííûé èìïðåñàðèî êðåàòèâíûé ñöåíàðèé: èíòåðïðåòàöèþ èçáðàííîãî ïðîòîòèïà. Äåÿòåëüíîñòü èìèä- æåâîãî àãåíòà çàêëþ÷àåòñÿ â ðàçðàáîòêå ñîáñòâåííîé êîíöåïöèè ïðå- ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÄßÃÈËÅÂ: ÏÀÐÀÄÎÊÑÛ ÐÅÊËÀÌÍÎÃÎ ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÀ 261

çåíòèðóåìîé èíôîðìàöèè, îðèåíòèðîâàííîé íà çàïðîñû ïîòåíöèàëüíîãî êëèåíòà. Èíñòðóìåíòàðèé æå, èñïîëüçóåìûé èìèäæìåéêåðîì, êîðåë- ëèðóåò îñíîâíûì ïðè¸ìàì âîîáðàæåíèÿ:

Ìåõàíèçìû èìèäæåëîãèè20 Îïåðàöèè âîîáðàæåíèÿ21 Ìèôîëîãèçàöèÿ «ÿâëÿåòñÿ ïîäñòðîéêîé ïîä óæå ñóùåñòâóþùèé â ìàññîâîì ñîçíàíèè ìèô» (99) Àããëþòèíàöèÿ «ñîåäèíåíèå íåñîåäèíÿåìûõ Ìåòàôîðèçàöèÿ «ëèöà è ñîáûòèÿ ðåàëüíîé â ðåàëüíîñòè êà÷åñòâ, ñâîéñòâ, ÷àñòåé ñèòóàöèè ïåðåêîäèðóþòñÿ â äåéñòâóþùèõ ëèö ïðåäìåòîâ» (64) íîâîé èñòîðèè ñî ñâîåé ñèòóàöèåé» (137) Óòðèðîâêà «íóæíûõ íàì õàðàêòåðèñòèê, ïîëíîñòüþ óõîäÿ îò õàðàêòåðèñòèê, êîòîðûå Ãèïåðáîëèçàöèÿ «óâåëè÷åíèå èëè íå ÿâëÿþòñÿ ñèëüíûìè ñ òî÷êè çðåíèÿ óìåíüøåíèå ïðåäìåòà, èçìåíåíèå êà÷åñòâà åãî ïîòðåáèòåëÿ» (88) ÷àñòåé» (64) Ìàíèïóëèðîâàíèå «ïåðåíîñ âíèìàíèÿ íà äðóãîé îáúåêò», íåîáû÷íîñòü êîòîðîãî «ïîëíîñòüþ çàòìåâàåò àêòóàëüíûé îáúåêò» Çàîñòðåíèå «ïîä÷¸ðêèâàíèå êàêèõ-ëèáî (93) ïðèçíàêîâ» (64) Àêöåíòèðîâàíèå «êàê óòàèâàíèå èíôîðìàöèè, òàê è âûïÿ÷èâàíèå å¸» (130)

Íåïîäðàæàåìîå ìàñòåðñòâî Äÿãèëåâà-èìèäæìåéêåðà ïðèçíàâàëè åù¸ åãî ñîâðåìåííèêè. Íàïðèìåð, â ìåìóàðàõ À. Áåíóà çàôèêñèðîâàí ïðîöåññ ðàáîòû èìïðåñàðèî íàä ñîáñòâåííûì èìèäæåì: «×òîáû èì- ïîíèðîâàòü çàãðàíè÷íûì ëþäÿì, Ñåð¸æà äîâîëüíî óäà÷íî ðàçûãðûâàë Áîëüøîãî áàðèíà, un grand seigneur en voyage (ïóòåøåñòâóþùåãî âåëü- ìîæó). Íå ùàäÿ äåíåã, îí îñòàíàâëèâàëñÿ â ëó÷øèõ îòåëÿõ, ðàçúåçæàë ïî ãîðîäó â çàêðûòîì ýêèïàæå, îäåâàëñÿ ñ áîëüøîé èçûñêàííîñòüþ, âñòàâèë â ãëàç íå íóæíûé åìó ìîíîêëü, íå ðàññòàâàëñÿ ñ ïðåâûñîêèì öèëèíäðîì, à íà ñâîèõ âèçèòíûõ êàðòî÷êàõ ïðîñòàâèë: «Serge de Di- aghileff» Êîå-÷òî â âûðàáîòàííûõ èì «äëÿ îáùåñòâà» ìàíåðàõ (îñîáåííî çà ãðàíèöåé) íàñ øîêèðîâàëî ñâîèì ïðèâêóñîì parvenu (âûñ- êî÷êè), íî äëÿ çàãðàíè÷íûõ ëþäåé îí áûë îêðóæ¸í îðåîëîì êàêîãî-òî çàìîðñêîãî, ÷óòü ëè íå ýêçîòè÷åñêîãî áàðñòâà un vrae boyard russe (íàñòîÿùèé ðóññêèé áàðèí)».22 Ñîçäàâàÿ æå èìèäæ ñâîåìó áèçíåñó, Äÿãèëåâ, î÷åâèäíî, ñûãðàë íà âîçðîñøåì â óñëîâèÿõ êðèçèñà åâðîïîöåíòðèñòñêîé ïàðàäèãìû èíòåðå- ñå åâðîïåéöåâ ê ýêçîòè÷åñêèì è ïðèìèòèâíûì êóëüòóðàì. Ïî çàìå÷àíèþ èññëåäîâàòåëÿ, ««Ðóññêèå ñåçîíû» ñòàëè ïåðâûì âñååâðîïåéñêèì, à çàòåì è ãëîáàëüíûì òðèóìôîì ðåãèîíàëüíîãî èñêóññòâà, ïåðâûì ñèìâîëîì òîãî, ÷òî «ìèðîâàÿ äåðåâíÿ» âëàñòíî ïðåäúÿâëÿåò ïðåòåíçèè íà äîìèíèðóþùèå ïîçèöèè â ìèðîâîé êóëüòóðå».23 Ñôàáðèêîâàííûé 262 Òàòüÿíà ÁÓÊÈÍÀ

Äÿãèëåâûì èìèäæ óòðèðîâàë ýêçîòè÷åñêèå õàðàêòåðèñòèêè îòå÷åñòâåí- íîãî èñêóññòâà, àññèìèëèðîâàâ ïîä ìàðêîé «ðóññêîãî» áàëåòà àòðèáóòû íåçàïàäíûõ êóëüòóð. Òàê, ïðîãðàììà ïåðâûõ äâóõ ñåçîíîâ áûëà ïðåäñòàâëåíà, íàïðèìåð: «Ïîëîâåöêèìè ïëÿñêàìè» À. Áîðîäèíà, «Êëåî- ïàòðîé» íà ìóçûêó À. Àðåíñêîãî, Ñ. Òàíååâà è äð., «Øåõåðàçàäîé» Í. Ðèìñêîãî-Êîðñàêîâà, «Îðèåíòàëèÿìè» èç ìóçûêè ðóññêèõ êîìïîçèòîðîâ è ñêàíäèíàâîâ Ê. Ñèíäèíãà, Ý. Ãðèãà, à òàêæå ñïåêòàêëåì «Ïèð», êóäà âîøëè â òîì ÷èñëå «Ëåçãèíêà» èç «Ðóñëàíà» è «Ìàçóðêà» èç «Ñóñàíèíà» Ì. Ãëèíêè, «Ãîïàê» Ì. Ìóñîðãñêîãî è «×àðäàø» À. Ãëàçóíîâà. Ñàìà æå èäåÿ ïðåçåíòèðîâàòü èçîáðåò¸ííûé áàëåòíûé æàíð â êà÷å- ñòâå èìèäæà ðóññêîãî èñêóññòâà êîððåñïîíäèðóåò ìèôîëîãåìå íåìåöêîé êóëüòóðû Gesamtkunstwerkå Ð. Âàãíåðà, êîòîðûé ïîçèöèîíèðîâàë ñâîþ ìóçûêàëüíóþ äðàìó êàê íàöèîíàëüíûé óñîâåðøåíñòâîâàííûé ýêâèâà- ëåíò îïåðû. Îäíàêî íà êîììóíèêàòèâíîì óðîâíå âàãíåðîâñêèé ïðîåêò, îðèåíòèðîâàííûé ïðåæäå âñåãî íà ñîîòå÷åñòâåííèêà, îïåðèðîâàë ïðå- èìóùåñòâåííî ìåõàíèçìîì íàöèîíàëèñòè÷åñêîé àãèòàöèè. Äÿãèëåâñêèé æå áàëåò èçíà÷àëüíî ïëàíèðîâàëñÿ êàê ðóññêèé «ñóâåíèð» íà ýêñïîðò (íå- ñëó÷àéíî àíòðåïðèçà Äÿãèëåâà òàê íèêîãäà è íå ïîáûâàëà â Ðîññèè), ïîýòîìó åãî äåìîíñòðàöèÿ Åâðîïå íîñèëà ðåêëàìíûé õàðàêòåð. Íà ðóáåæ XIX XX âåêîâ ïðèø¸ëñÿ ïèê ðåêëàìíîé èíäóñòðèè â Åâðîïå è ÑØÀ, íà÷àëî ýêñïåðèìåíòàëüíûõ èññëåäîâàíèé ðåêëàìíîãî âîçäåéñòâèÿ (Ð. Çåéôåðòà, Â. Ìåäå, Å. Ëèçèíñêîãî) è ïîÿâëåíèå ïåðâûõ ðåêëàìíûõ àãåíñòâ òâîð÷åñêèõ ãðóïï, ñîçäàþùèõ ðåêëàìíûå òåêñòû ïî çàêàçó. Â êîììåð÷åñêîé ñòðàòåãèè äÿãèëåâñêîãî áàëåòà ðåêëàìíîé êàìïàíèè âñåãäà óäåëÿëîñü îñîáîå âíèìàíèå: íàïðèìåð, Äÿãèëåâ çàáî- òèëñÿ îá îðãàíèçàöèè ïàáëèñèòè ó÷àñòíèêàì ïðåäñòàâëåíèé â ëó÷øèõ æóðíàëàõ Ïàðèæà, à àôèøè è ïðîãðàììêè ñïåêòàêëåé îôîðìëÿëè âåäó- ùèå õóäîæíèêè àíòðåïðèçû. Îäíàêî àìïëóà ðåïðåçåíòàíòà Ðîññèè íà Çàïàäå («ðåêëàìíîãî àãåíòñòâà» îò ðîññèéñêîé èíäóñòðèè çðåëèù) ïî- áóæäàëî óñòðîèòåëåé Ðóññêèõ ñåçîíîâ ñëåäîâàòü ñïåöèôè÷åñêèì çàêî- íàì ðåêëàìíîãî æàíðà è ïðè ñîçäàíèè áàëåòíûõ ñïåêòàêëåé. ÇÀÊÎÍ I: Ðåêëàìíîå ñîîáùåíèå ðàññ÷èòàíî íà àóäèòîðèþ, ïåðâî- íà÷àëüíî íå çàèíòåðåñîâàííóþ â ïîêóïêå, à, ñëåäîâàòåëüíî, è â âîñïðè- ÿòèè ñàìîé ðåêëàìû. Äëÿ ïðåäåëüíîãî óïðîùåíèÿ ïðîöåññà âîñïðèÿ- òèÿ ðåêëàìíûå òåêñòû îáû÷íî àêöåíòèðóþò íå àóäèàëüíî-âåðáàëüíûå, à âèçóàëüíûå èíôîðìàöèîííûå êàíàëû, ÷òî è ïîçâîëÿåò îñóùåñòâèòü áàëåò â îòëè÷èå îò îïåðû. ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÄßÃÈËÅÂ: ÏÀÐÀÄÎÊÑÛ ÐÅÊËÀÌÍÎÃÎ ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÀ 263

ÇÀÊÎÍ II: Ñîãëàñíî Äæ. Ëóíäó, âîçäåéñòâèå ðåêëàìû íà êëèåíòà ïîñëåäîâàòåëüíî ïðîõîäèò íåñêîëüêî ñòàäèé.24 Îñíîâíûå ýòàïû ýòîãî ïðîöåññà, íåïîñðåäñòâåííî ïðåäøåñòâóþùèå ïîêóïêå (Activity), ìîæíî ïðîñëåäèòü íà ïðèìåðå ñïåêòàêëåé àíòðåïðèçû Äÿãèëåâà: Íåïðîèçâîëüíîå âíèìàíèå ïóáëèêè ïðèâëåêàëè òàêèå õàðàêòåðèñ- òèêè ïðåäñòàâëåíèé, êàê íåîáû÷íîñòü êîñòþìîâ Ë. Áàêñòà è Ï. Ïèêàññî, õîðåîãðàôèè Ì. Ôîêèíà è ïëàñòèêè Â. Íèæèíñêîãî; ñåíñàöèîííîñòü àêðîáàòè÷åñêèõ òðþêîâ òàíöîðà Ë. Ìÿñèíà è âûñòóïëåíèÿ ëîøàäåé â «Æàð-Ïòèöå» È. Ñòðàâèíñêîãî è «Ïàðàäå» Ý. Ñàòè. Íà ñåíñàöèþ, íåñîìíåííî, áûë ðàññ÷èòàí è çàïëàíèðîâàííûé, íî íå îñóùåñòâë¸ííûé çàìûñåë âûñòóïëåíèÿ ëþáèìöà ïàðèæàí Ô. Øà- ëÿïèíà â íîâîì àìïëóà áàëåòíîé ðîëè â «Øåõåðàçàäå»;25 ñêàíäàëüíîñòü èçâåñòíî, ÷òî Äÿãèëåâ îñòàëñÿ âïîëíå óäîâëåò- âîð¸í ñêàíäàëüíûìè ïðåìüåðàìè «Ôàâíà», «Âåñíû Ñâÿùåííîé» è «Ïà- ðàäà» è çà âñþ ñâîþ òåàòðàëüíóþ êàðüåðó íè ðàçó íå ïðèáåãíóë ê óñëóãàì êëàêåðîâ, âñåãäà «ïðåäïî÷èòàÿ ãðîìêèé ñêàíäàë îïëà÷åííûì àïëîäèñìåíòàì».26 Ñîñòîÿíèå óñòîé÷èâîãî âíèìàíèÿ âûçûâàåòñÿ áëàãîäàðÿ ðàçíîîá- ðàçèþ ðåêëàìíûõ ñîîáùåíèé: ðåïåðòóàðíîìó è ñòèëèñòè÷åñêîìó îáíîâëåíèþ ïðîãðàììû êàæäîãî íîâîãî Ñåçîíà. Ïîääåðæèâàòü íåîñëà- áåâàþùèé èíòåðåñ ïóáëèêè ïðèçâàíû è êîìïîçèöèîííûå ïðèíöèïû ðåêëàìíîãî îáðàùåíèÿ: êðàòêîñòü è êîíòðàñòíîñòü. Ïðîãðàììà ïðåä- ñòàâëåíèé äÿãèëåâñêîé àíòðåïðèçû ñòðîèëàñü êàê êîìïèëÿöèÿ íåñêîëü- êèõ êîðîòêèõ ñïåêòàêëåé â îäèí âå÷åð («Ïàâèëüîí Àðìèäû» «Ïîëî- âåöêèå ïëÿñêè» «Ïèð»; èëè: «Âåñíà ñâÿùåííàÿ» «Ñèëüôèäû» «Øå- õåðàçàäà»). Ñîãëàñíî èññëåäîâàíèÿì öâåòîïñèõîëîãèè, ýìîöèþ èíòå- ðåñà ñòèìóëèðóåò òàêæå âîçäåéñòâèå ñèíå-çåë¸íîé öâåòîâîé ãàììû27, âûáðàííîé, íàïðèìåð, äëÿ îôîðìëåíèÿ ïåðâîé êàðòèíû «Øåõåðàçàäû». Âîçíèêíîâåíèå æåëàíèÿ ñâÿçàíî ñ ñóããåñòèâíûì âîçäåéñòâèåì ýëåìåíòîâ ðåêëàìû. Ýòîò ýôôåêò äîñòèãàëñÿ: àâòîðèòåòíîñòüþ ðåêëàìèñòîâ, çàâî¸âàííîé ðóññêèìè êîìïî- çèòîðàìè è õóäîæíèêàìè ïîñëå îðãàíèçàöèè Äÿãèëåâûì â 1906-1907 ãîäàõ âûñòàâîê è êîíöåðòîâ â Ïàðèæå; ñíèæåíèåì ýôôåêòèâíîñòè êîãíèòèâíûõ ïðîöåññîâ ïîêóïàòåëåé â ðåçóëüòàòå ïîâûøåííîé èíòåíñèâíîñòè öâåòîâîãî ðàçäðàæèòåëÿ. 264 Òàòüÿíà ÁÓÊÈÍÀ

Íàïðèìåð, î÷åâèäöåâ ïîðàæàëà ÿðêîñòü äåêîðàöèîííîãî îôîðìëåíèÿ «Çîëîòîãî ïåòóøêà» Í. Ãîí÷àðîâîé, «Ïåòðóøêè» À. Áåíóà, «Ñèíåãî áîãà» Ë. Áàêñòà; âîçäåéñòâèåì íà ýìîöèîíàëüíóþ ñôåðó çðèòåëåé, ÷òî áûëî îñî- áåííî àêòóàëüíûì äëÿ ïóáëèêè èíäóñòðèàëüíûõ ñòðàí, êîòîðóþ Ò. Àäîðíî îòíîñèë ê êàòåãîðèè ýìîöèîíàëüíîãî ñëóøàòåëÿ. Äëÿ òàêîé àóäèòîðèè âîñïðèÿòèå èñêóññòâà ñòàíîâèòñÿ «ñðåäñòâîì âûñâîáîæ- äåíèÿ èíñòèíêòîâ, ïîäàâëÿåìûõ èëè ñäåðæèâàåìûõ íîðìàìè öèâèëèçàöèè».28 Ýìîöèîíàëüíûé ñëóøàòåëü îñîáåííî ïîäâåðæåí äåé- ñòâèþ ïñèõè÷åñêîãî çàðàæåíèÿ. Ïîäîáíûé ýôôåêò ïðîèçâîäèëè çíàìå- íèòûå ñöåíû ìàññîâûõ áåçóìñòâ Ì. Ôîêèíà (â «Ïîëîâåöêèõ ïëÿñêàõ», «Øåõåðàçàäå» è ò.ä.), êîòîðûå, ïî âîñïîìèíàíèÿì ñîòðóäíèêà àíòðåï- ðèçû Ñ. Ãðèãîðüåâà, ïðèâîäèëè ïóáëèêó â ýêñòàç. Ïî èññëåäîâàíèþ êóëüòóðîëîãà Ý. Ôóêñà, â êà÷åñòâå âîçáóæäàþùå- ãî ñðåäñòâà â ðåêëàìíîì æàíðå XIX íà÷àëà XX âåêà òàêæå òðàäèöèîí- íî ïðèìåíÿëèñü ýðîòè÷åñêèå ìîòèâû.29 Ñóäÿ ïî îòçûâàì î÷åâèäöåâ, óñïåõ äÿãèëåâñêîé àíòðåïðèçû âî ìíîãîì îïðåäåëÿë ïðåäëàãàåìûé åþ øèðîêèé àññîðòèìåíò ýðîòè÷åñêèõ çðåëèù íà ëþáîé âêóñ. Íàïðèìåð, À. Áåíóà âñïîìèíàë, ÷òî âî âðåìÿ ñåçîíà 1909 ãîäà ïóáëèêó ïðèâëåêàë íå ñòîëüêî «Èâàí Ãðîçíûé» ñ áëèñòàòåëüíûì Øàëÿïèíûì â ãëàâíîé ðîëè, ñêîëüêî øåäøàÿ â îäèí âå÷åð ñ íèì «Êëåîïàòðà» ñî ñòðèïòèçîì Èäû Ðóáèíøòåéí. Ïîñòàíîâî÷íûì «êîíüêîì» Ì. Ôîêèíà áûëà ðåæèññóðà îðãèé (â «Øåõåðàçàäå», «Êëåîïàòðå» è äð.), âî âðåìÿ êîòîðûõ õîðåîãðàô, ïî çàìå÷àíèþ êðèòèêà À. Ëåâèíñîíà, «ïðåâðàùàë ñöåíó â ãðîìàäíûé àëüêîâ».30 Â «Ôàâíå» Ê. Äåáþññè ðåäàêòîð ïàðèæñêîé ãàçåòû «Le Figa- ro» Ã. Êàëüìåò áûë øîêèðîâàí «íåïðèëè÷íûìè äâèæåíèÿìè» Â.Íèæèíñêîãî.31 Ñþæåò æå ñïåêòàêëÿ «Èãðû» ñ ìóçûêîé Äåáþññè áûë èíòåðïðåòèðîâàí ïóáëèêîé êàê ãîìîñåêñóàëüíûé àâòîáèîãðàôè÷åñêèé ìàíèôåñò Äÿãèëåâà è Íèæèíñêîãî.32 * * * «Íàäî âåðèòü, ÷òî ðóññêèé òåàòðàëüíûé ïðèíöèï, ïîäîáíî Áàéðîéòó è òâîð÷åñòâó Âàãíåðà, íå ìîæåò áûòü ëèøü âðåìåííûì óâëå÷åíèåì», ïèñàë Äÿãèëåâ â 1910 ãîäó.33 Âåðñèÿ î ïðåäïðèíèìàòåëüñêîé èíòåðïðåòà- öèè àíòðåïðåí¸ðîì îïûòà áàéðîéòñêîãî òåàòðà ïîçâîëÿåò ãèïîòåòè÷åñ- êè îïðåäåëèòü åãî ñòðàòåãèþ êàê ïåðåíîñ ïðîðûâíûõ èííîâàöèé.34 Äåéñòâèòåëüíî, ïðîäâèæåíèå îïåðíîãî æàíðà íåèçáåæíî ïîñòàâèëî áû ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÄßÃÈËÅÂ: ÏÀÐÀÄÎÊÑÛ ÐÅÊËÀÌÍÎÃÎ ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÀ 265

äÿãèëåâñêóþ àíòðåïðèçó â ïîëîæåíèå îïïîçèöèîííîãî êîíêóðåíòà òå- àòðó Âàãíåðà. Äÿãèëåâ æå, îáëàäàÿ ôåíîìåíàëüíîé êîììåð÷åñêîé èíòó- èöèåé, âåðîÿòíåå âñåãî, ïðåäâèäåë, ÷òî ðóññêàÿ îïåðà, íå èìåÿ ñòîëü èñêëþ÷èòåëüíîãî ýêñïëåðåíòíîãî ïîòåíöèàëà, íå ñìîæåò âûäåðæèâàòü ýòó êîíêóðåíöèþ íà ïðîòÿæåíèè ìíîãèõ ëåò. Âçÿòûé æå èìïðåñàðèî êóðñ íà òîòàëüíîå îáíîâëåíèå êîíöåïöèè áàëåòíîãî èñêóññòâà ïîçâîëèë Ðóññêèì ñåçîíàì ñòàòü ëèäåðîì åâðîïåéñêîãî øîó-áèçíåñà, ïîáèâøèì ðåêîðä äëèòåëüíîñòè ïðåáûâàíèÿ èíîñòðàííûõ àíòðåïðèç â Ïàðèæå. Áîëåå òîãî, èçáðàííàÿ Äÿãèëåâûì êîììåð÷åñêàÿ òàêòèêà ïîçâîëèëà åãî èçîáðåòåíèþ ðåàëèçîâàòü øóìïåòåðîâñêèé ïðîãíîç è îñóùåñòâèòü ðîä «íàó÷íî-òåõíè÷åñêîé ðåâîëþöèè» â òåàòðå, ðåàáèëèòèðîâàâ ñòàòóñ áà- ëåòà è óðàâíÿâ åãî â ïðàâàõ ñ îïåðîé.

SERGEY DIAGHILEV: PARADOXES OF PUBLICITY CREATION

Tatiana BUKINA The Academy of Music, Petrozavodsk, Russia

The presentation of a ballet program in Paris, under the aegis of The Russian seasons by S. Diaghilev (1909), caused a great sensation and stag- gered Europeans with its discovery of unknown cultural layers. However, The Russian Ballet produced not a symbol, but an image of Russian culture. The genre was not actually representative of modern Russian and West- ern art; the repertoire was designed specifically for that troupe. Diaghilevs choice for the project was evidently motivated by the specific social and cultural situation in Europe between the 19 and the 20 centuries. A scientific and technological revolution in Western Powers had begun to raise the profitability of new industrial inventions and pioneer monopolies were appearing. Practical demands, the need to recoup astronomical expenditure, and his personal creative style, his disposition to invention rather than artistic creation, forced Diaghilev to mirror the experience of successful monopolies by founding his own branch of show business the new ballet. The precedent set by R. Wagners theatre in Bayreuth the unique theatrical monopolist that offered an original conception of opera (Gesa- mtkunstwerk) was probably the model for Diaghilevs innovation. 266 Òàòüÿíà ÁÓÊÈÍÀ

At the same time, the risk of competing with his art prototype made Diaghilev operate with an ambiguous interpretative mechanism, an assimilation of Wagners innovative tactics and the creation of a contrary image of his product. The invention appeared crossed these two strategies the ballet Gesamtkunstwerk and it allowed the impresario to realize a scientific and technological revolution in musical theatre, which rehabilitated the status of ballet. ÏÐÈÌÅ×ÀÍÈß

1 Ñ. Äÿãèëåâ è ðóññêîå èñêóññòâî. Ñòàòüè, îòêðûòûå ïèñüìà, èíòåðâüþ. Ïå- ðåïèñêà. Ñîâðåìåííèêè î Äÿãèëåâå. Ò. I. Ì., 1982. Ñ. 109. 2 Ñì., íàïð.: Áóðäüå Ï. Íà÷àëà. Ì., 1994; Âèàëà À. Ðîæäåíèå ïèñàòåëÿ: ñîöè- îëîãèÿ ëèòåðàòóðû êëàññè÷åñêîãî âåêà. Ôðàãìåíòû èç êíèãè // Íîâîå ëèòåðà- òóðíîå îáîçðåíèå, 1997. ¹ 25; Áåðã Ì. Ëèòåðàòóðîêðàòèÿ. Ïðîáëåìà ïðèñâîå- íèÿ è ïåðåðàñïðåäåëåíèÿ âëàñòè â ëèòåðàòóðå. Ì., 2000; Æèâîâ Â. Ïåðâûå ðóñ- ñêèå ëèòåðàòóðíûå áèîãðàôèè //Íîâîå ëèòåðàòóðíîå îáîçðåíèå, 1997. ¹ 25; Äóáèí Á. Ñþæåò ïîðàæåíèÿ (íåñêîëüêî îáùåñîöèîëîãè÷åñêèõ ïðèìå÷àíèé ê òåìå ëèòåðàòóðíîãî óñïåõà) // Íîâîå ëèòåðàòóðíîå îáîçðåíèå, 1997. ¹ 25. 3 Øóìïåòåð É. Òåîðèÿ ýêîíîìè÷åñêîãî ðàçâèòèÿ. Ì., 1982. 4 Ëåîíãàðä Ê. Àêöåíòóèðîâàííûå ëè÷íîñòè. Êèåâ, 1989. Ñ. 74-88. 5 Ëàíäðàì Äæ. 13 ìóæ÷èí, êîòîðûå èçìåíèëè ìèð. Ðîñòîâ-íà-Äîíó, 1997. Ñ. 8-20. 6 Ïî òåðìèíîëîãèè Ë.Ã. Ðàìåíñêîãî (ïîäðîáíåå îá ýêñïëåðåíòíîé ñòðàòåãèè ñì.: Þäàíîâ À. Êîíêóðåíöèÿ: òåîðèÿ è ïðàêòèêà. Ó÷åáíî-ïðàêòè÷åñêîå ïîñî- áèå. Ì., 1996. Ñ. 155-180). 7 Äÿãèëåâ... Ñ. 257. 8 Àðàíîâñêèé Ì. Îïûò ïîñòðîåíèÿ ìîäåëè òâîð÷åñêîãî ïðîöåññà êîìïîçèòî- ðà // Ìåòîäè÷åñêèå ïðîáëåìû ñîâðåìåííîãî èñêóññòâîçíàíèÿ. Ë., 1975. Ñ. 138. 9 Ùåïàíüñêèé ß. Ýëåìåíòàðíûå ïîíÿòèÿ ñîöèîëîãèè. Ì., 1969. Ñ. 210. 10 Äÿãèëåâ... Ñ. 99. 11 Òàì æå. Ñ. 103-104. 12 Òàì æå. Ñ. 96. 13 Òàì æå. 14 Áåíóà À. Ìîè âîñïîìèíàíèÿ. Â ïÿòè êíèãàõ. T. I. Ì., 1993. Ñ. 644. 15 Äÿãèëåâ... Ñ. 136. 16 Áàçèñíûå ñòðàòåãèè êîíêóðåíöèè ïðèâîä. ïî: Àçîåâ Ã., ×åëåíêîâ À. Êîíêó- ðåíòíûå ïðåèìóùåñòâà ôèðìû. Ì., 2000. Ñ. 116. 17 Äðóãèì ïðîòîòèïîì ýòîãî íîâîââåäåíèÿ áûëà ïðàêòèêà òåàòðà Ñ. Ìàìîíòî- âà (ñì. îá ýòîì: Ïàñòîí Ý. Õóäîæåñòâåííûå ïðèíöèïû ìàìîíòîâñêîãî òåàòðà // Ñ. Äÿãèëåâ è õóäîæåñòâåííàÿ êóëüòóðà XIX-XX âåêîâ. Ìàòåðèàëû Ïåðâûõ äÿ- ãèëåâñêèõ ÷òåíèé. Ïåðìü, 1989). ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÄßÃÈËÅÂ: ÏÀÐÀÄÎÊÑÛ ÐÅÊËÀÌÍÎÃÎ ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÀ 267

18 Ôîêèí Ì. Ïðîòèâ òå÷åíèÿ. Âîñïîìèíàíèÿ áàëåòìåéñòåðà. Ì., 1981. Ñ. 398. 19 Îñíîâíûå ïóíêòû áàëåòíîé ðåôîðìû Ì. Ôîêèíà ïðèâîä. ïî: Ëåâèíñîí À. Ñòàðûé è íîâûé áàëåò. Ïá., 1918. Ñ. 64-101. 20 Ïðèâåäåíû ïî: Ïî÷åïöîâ Ã. Èìèäæåëîãèÿ: òåîðèÿ è ïðàêòèêà. Êèåâ, 1998. 21 Ïðèâåäåíû ïî: Ïñèõîëîãèÿ. Ñëîâàðü / Ðåä. À. Ïåòðîâñêîãî è Ì. ßðîøåâ- ñêîãî. Ì., 1990. 22 Áåíóà... Ñ. 645-646. 23 Ëàñêèí À. Íåèçâåñòíûå Äÿãèëåâû, èëè Êîíåö öèòàòû. ÑÏá., 1994. Ñ. 11. 24 Ñì. îá ýòîì: Âîëêîâà Â. Äèçàéí ðåêëàìû. Ì., 1999. Ñ. 76-77. 25 Ñì.: Äÿãèëåâ... Ñ. 234. 26 Ãàåâñêèé Â. Ñåðãåé Äÿãèëåâ: ÷åðòû ëè÷íîñòè // Ñ. Äÿãèëåâ, 1989. Ñ. 163. 27 Âåêêåð Ë. Ïñèõèêà è ðåàëüíîñòü. Åäèíàÿ òåîðèÿ ïñèõè÷åñêèõ ïðîöåññîâ. Ì., 1998. Ñ. 419-421. 28 Àäîðíî Ò. Èçáðàííîå: Ñîöèîëîãèÿ ìóçûêè. Ì., ÑÏá., 1998. Ñ. 17. 29 Ôóêñ Ý. Erotica. Áóðæóàçíûé âåê. Êîíâåéåð óäîâîëüñòâèÿ. Ì., 2001. Ñ. 749-752. 30 Ëåâèíñîí... Ñ. 46. 31 Ñì.: Íåñòüåâ È. Äÿãèëåâ è ìóçûêàëüíûé òåàòð. Ì., 1994. Ñ. 105. 32 Ñì.: Áîóëò Ä. Ë.Áàêñò è Â.Íèæèíñêèé. «Èãðû» ïîñòàíîâêà 1913 ã. // Ðóññêèé àâàíãàðä 1910-õ 1920-õ ãîäîâ è òåàòð. ÑÏá, 2000.Ñ. 250. 33 Äÿãèëåâ... Ñ. 219. 34 Ïî òèïîëîãèè Ð. Áåðòà, ïðèâåäåííîé â: Þäàíîâ, 1996. Ñ. 275.

ÏÎÈÑÊÈ ÀËÜÒÅÐÍÀÒÈÂÍÎÃÎ ÏÓÒÈ Â ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÅ ÊËÎÄÀ ÄÅÁÞÑÑÈ

Ëþáîâü ÊÓÏÅÖ

Íî îäíà âîçìîæíîñòü îñòàåòñÿ ó íàñ âñåãäà âîç- ìîæíîñòü óëîâèòü ñâÿçè ìåæäó ÿâëåíèÿìè; ñåòêà ýòèõ ñâÿçåé ìîæåò îêàçàòüñÿ ðåäêîé èëè ãóñòîé â çàâèñè- ìîñòè îò íàøåãî ñîñòîÿíèÿ, îò íàøåãî æåëàíèÿ ïî ñîáñòâåííîìó ïðîèçâîëó ðàñïëàñòàòü, óïðîñòèòü ìèð... È êàê áû íè áèëàñü â àãîíèè Õèìåðà, ïîðàæåí- íàÿ çîëîòûìè ñòðåëàìè, êàê áû íè ñî÷èëèñü åå ðàíû êðîâüþ ñàìîî÷åâèäíîãî, îäíîîáðàçíîãî áûòèÿ, íèêà- êèå êîð÷è íå ñïîñîáíû íè èñêðèâèòü, íè óíè÷òîæèòü òîé âåçäåñóùåé Ëèíèè, êîòîðàÿ ñîåäèíÿåò âñÿêóþ òî÷- êó ñ äðóãîé òàêîé æå òî÷êîé, ðàäè òîãî ÷òîáû âîç- íèêëà Èäåÿ, íå âñåãäà ÿâëÿþùàÿñÿ â ÷åëîâå÷åñêîì îá- ëè÷üå è òåì áîëåå òàèíñòâåííàÿ, ÷åì áîëüøå â íåé ÷è- ñòîé Ãàðìîíèè. Ñ. Ìàëëàðìå

Àíòè÷íî-êëàññèöèñòñêàÿ äîìèíàíòà â ñî÷åòàíèè ñ ãîñóäàðñòâåí- íî-êóëüòóðíîé öåíòðàëèçàöèåé ôðàíöóçñêîé õóäîæåñòâåííîé òðàäèöèè è åå âûñîêèì «àññèìèëÿöèîííûì ïîðîãîì» âî ìíîãî îáóñëîâèëè îáî- ñòðåííîå âîñïðèÿòèå ÷óâñòâà «íîâîãî» â ïàðèæñêîé õóäîæåñòâåííîé àò- ìîñôåðå «fin de siecle». Îëèöåòâîðÿÿ ñîáîé çàïàäíîåâðîïåéñêîå èñêóññòâî, Ïàðèæ ÿâëÿëñÿ â òî âðåìÿ óíèâåðñàëüíîé ìåðîé îöåíêè âñåõ ÿâëåíèé ìèðîâîé êóëüòó- ðû, ïîïàâøèõ â åãî «ïîëå çðåíèÿ». Èñòèííîå ïðèçíàíèå ìîæíî áûëî ïîëó÷èòü òîëüêî â Ïàðèæå: áûòü èçâåñòíûì â Ïàðèæå îçíà÷àëî ïîëó- ÷èòü «ñåðòèôèêàò êà÷åñòâà» è ìèðîâóþ ñëàâó. Íåäàðîì, íàïðèìåð, ïðåä- ñòàâèòåëè ìîëîäûõ íàöèîíàëüíûõ êîìïîçèòîðñêèõ øêîë Âîñòî÷íîé è Ñåâåðíîé Åâðîïû (â òîì ÷èñëå è Ðîññèè), âûøåäøèõ íà ìèðîâîé ïîä- èóì ëèøü âî âòîðîé ïîëîâèíå XIX âåêà, ñòðåìèëèñü ê äåìîíñòðàöèè ñâîåãî èñêóññòâà â ñòîëèöå Ôðàíöèè. Ñàìè ôðàíöóçû, êóëüòèâèðóÿ ôå- íîìåí «ïàðèæåöåíòðèçìà», ïîðîé ïîäøó÷èâàëè íàä íèì; êàê åäêî çà- ìåòèë Äåáþññè ïî ïîâîäó ãàñòðîëåé çíàìåíèòîãî íîðâåæöà Ý. Ãðèãà â ÏÎÈÑÊÈ ÀËÜÒÅÐÍÀÒÈÂÍÎÃÎ ÏÓÒÈ 269

Ïàðèæå â 1903 ãîäó (ïåðâûå ãàñòðîëè áûëè ïðåðâàíû èì äåìîíñòðà- òèâíî â ñâÿçè ñ «äåëîì Äðåéôóñà»): «Ôðàíöèè (÷èòàé Ïàðèæó, Ë.Ê.) ïðèøëîñü îáîéòèñü áåç ã-íà Ãðèãà. Íî ã-í Ãðèã íå ìîæåò, ïî-âèäèìîìó, îáîéòèñü áåç Ôðàíöèè, ïîñêîëüêó ñåãîäíÿ îí ðåøèë çàáûòü ïðîèñøåä- øåå è ïåðååõàë ãðàíèöó, ÷òîáû ïðîäèðèæèðîâàòü ôðàíöóçñêèì îðêåñò- ðîì, áûëûì îáúåêòîì åãî ñêàíäèíàâñêîãî ïðåçðåíèÿ...».1 Øèðîòà âïå÷àòëåíèé, ïðåäëàãàåìûõ õóäîæåñòâåííîé êóëüòóðå Ïà- ðèæà ðóáåæà âåêîâ, äèêòîâàëà èíñòðóìåíò îöåíêè òîãî èëè èíîãî ÿâëå- íèÿ êóëüòóðû èëè èñêóññòâà. Áûòü «óâèäåííûì-óñëûøàííûì» â Ïàðè- æå îçíà÷àëî íå ñòîëüêî ïîêàçàòü ìàñòåðñòâî â îâëàäåíèè àðñåíàëîì åâ- ðîïåéñêîé êóëüòóðû, ñêîëüêî «óäèâèòü-ïîðàçèòü» ïàðèæàí, ïðèâëå÷ü èõ âíèìàíèå èñòèííûõ åâðîïåéöåâ ê «íîâîìó» äëÿ íèõ. Òàêàÿ «òî÷êà îòñ÷åòà» ñïîñîáñòâîâàëà îùóùåíèþ åñëè åùå íå ðàâíîçíà÷íîñòè íå- ñîâìåñòèìûõ ðàíåå èìåí è êóëüòóð, òî âî ìíîãîì ïîçâîëÿëà íåéòðàëè- çîâàòü îïïîçèöèþ ìåæäó íèìè, òåì ñàìûì, ñîçäàâàÿ ðàçíîöâåòíóþ «ìî- çàè÷íîñòü», õàðàêòåðíóþ äëÿ õóäîæåñòâåííîãî ìûøëåíèÿ XX âåêà, ñî- åäèíÿþùóþ â åäèíîé êàðòèíå ìèðà íåñîïîñòàâèìûå ðàíåå ýëåìåíòû.2 Âîçìîæíîñòè òàêîãî ñîåäèíåíèÿ íåìíîãî ïîçæå áûëè ïðîäåìîíñòðè- ðîâàíû â íîâîé åñòåñòâåííî-íàó÷íîé êàðòèíå ìèðà. Ñëîæèâøàÿñÿ â íà÷àëå XX âåêà åñòåñòâåííî-íàó÷íàÿ êàðòèíà ìèðà êàðäèíàëüíî èçìåíèëà ïðåäñòàâëåíèÿ ëþäåé î ôóíäàìåíòàëüíûõ îñíî- âàõ ìèðîçäàíèÿ. Îáùàÿ è ñïåöèàëüíàÿ òåîðèÿ îòíîñèòåëüíîñòè Àëüáåð- òà Ýéíøòåéíà è êâàíòîâàÿ òåîðèÿ Íèëüñà Áîðà ñûãðàëè ïåðâîñòåïåííóþ ðîëü â ïåðåîñìûñëåíèè ñòàðûõ íàó÷íûõ è ôèëîñîôñêèõ èñòèí. È õîòÿ, êàê ïèñàë Îðòåãà-è-Ãàññåò î êóëüòóðíîé ñèòóàöèè ðóáåæà âåêîâ, «äóõ åñ- òåñòâåííûõ íàóê âèòàë â àòìîñôåðå îáùåñòâà», òåì íå ìåíåå, ñîçäàòåëè íîâîé íàó÷íîé êàðòèíû ìèðà è Ýéíøòåéí, è Áîð íåîäíîêðàòíî óêà- çûâàëè íà òî, ÷òî íà ôîðìèðîâàíèå èõ íàó÷íîãî ìûøëåíèÿ è ãåíåðàöèþ èäåé îãðîìíîå âëèÿíèå îêàçàëà êóëüòóðà (â øèðîêîì åå ïîíèìàíèè).3 È ñâîè íàó÷íûå îòêðûòèÿ ó÷åíûå îñîçíàâàëè èìåííî êàê ôàêò êóëüòóðû. Ýéíøòåéí, áóäó÷è íå òîëüêî ïðåâîñõîäíûì ôèçèêîì è ìàòåìàòèêîì, íî è ñêðèïà÷îì-ëþáèòåëåì, íàçâàë òåîðèþ Áîðà «íàèâûñøåé ìóçûêàëüíî- ñòüþ â îáëàñòè ìûñëè».4 Ñàì æå Áîð íåçàäîëãî äî ñìåðòè ïðèçíàâàëñÿ, ÷òî ôèëîñîôèÿ â íåêîòîðîì ñìûñëå áûëà åãî æèçíüþ.5 Íàó÷íûå îòêðûòèÿ íà÷àëà XX âåêà, ïðåäëîæèâøèå óíèâåðñàëüíûå ïðèíöèïû îñìûñëåíèÿ ìèðà, âîçíèêëè â óñëîâèÿõ ñíÿòèÿ îïïîçèöèè íàóêè è èñêóññòâà, ðàçóìà è ÷óâñòâà, ñîçíàòåëüíîãî è áåññîçíàòåëüíî- 270 Ëþáîâü ÊÓÏÅÖ

ãî.6 Îãðîìíóþ ðîëü â ôîðìèðîâàíèè ýòèõ óñëîâèé ñûãðàëà ðîìàíòè÷å- ñêàÿ êóëüòóðà XIX âåêà ñ åå ñèíòåçîì èñêóññòâ è ïðèçíàíèåì ïåðâåíñò- âà ìóçûêè â ðÿäó èñêóññòâ. Íå ìåíåå çíà÷èòåëüíûì âêëàäîì â èçó÷åíèå ìèðà è ÷åëîâåêà áûëè èññëåäîâàíèÿ Ç. Ôðåéäà, À. Áåðãñîíà, à òàêæå òåîñîôñêèå ðàáîòû Å. Áëàâàòñêîé, Ð. Øòàéíåðà è äðóãèõ. Ïðèíöèï äîïîëíèòåëüíîñòè, ñîåäèíèâøèé êîðïóñêóëÿðíóþ è âîëíî- âóþ òåîðèè â êâàíòîâîé ôèçèêå, áûë ïðåäëîæåí Áîðîì â êà÷åñòâå óíèâåð- ñàëüíîãî ïðèíöèïà ìûøëåíèÿ XX âåêà: Áîð íàõîäèë ïëîäîòâîðíûì ïðè- ìåíåíèå ïðèíöèïà äîïîëíèòåëüíîñòè è â áèîëîãèè, ïñèõîëîãèè, ñîöèîëî- ãèè, èñêóññòâå7, íàãëÿäíûì æå èçîáðàæåíèåì-ñèìâîëîì òàêîãî ïðèíöèïà âåëèêèé ôèçèê ïîëàãàë äðåâíåêèòàéñêîå ñîåäèíåíèå Èíü è ßí. Ýòîò ïðèí- öèï, ñâÿçàâøèé â åäèíóþ êàðòèíó ìèðà ðàçíûå ïîðîé ïðÿìî ïðîòèâîïî- ëîæíûå âçãëÿäû è ìîäåëè ìèðà, Áîð ñôîðìóëèðîâàë â 1927 ãîäó, à øèðî- êîå ïðèçíàíèå â êà÷åñòâå óíèâåðñàëüíîãî ïðèíöèïà ìûøëåíèÿ XX âåêà ïðèíöèï äîïîëíèòåëüíîñòè ïîëó÷èë ëèøü íà÷èíàÿ ñ 1970-õ ãîäîâ. Åùå ñî âðåìåí Î. Êîíòà áûñòðûé ïðîãðåññ åñòåñòâåííûõ íàóê â ñî- äðóæåñòâå ñ áóðíûì ðîñòîì òåõíè÷åñêèõ íîâøåñòâ èñïîäâîëü ôîðìèðî- âàë â êóëüòóðíîì ñîçíàíèè ëþäåé êîíöà XIX âåêà (è îñîáåííî òâîð÷å- ñêîé ýëèòû, ÷üè õóäîæåñòâåííûå ôàíòàçèè áóäèëè óìû âåëèêèõ ôèçèêîâ ñîâðåìåííîñòè) íîâûå ïðåäñòàâëåíèÿ è ïîíÿòèÿ î ìèðå, ìåñòå ÷åëîâåêà â íåì. È Êëîä Äåáþññè, ÷üÿ ìåíòàëüíîñòü ñôîðìèðîâàëàñü â õóäîæåñò- âåííîé àòìîñôåðå Ïàðèæà «fin de siecle» è ÷üÿ ôèãóðà ñòàëà ñèìâîëîì ýòîé êóëüòóðû, èíòóèòèâíî óëîâèë è ïåðåäàë â çâóêàõ òî, ÷òî Ýéíøòåéí è Áîð âïîñëåäñòâèè çàïå÷àòëåëè â ñòðîãèõ ìàòåìàòè÷åñêèõ ôîðìóëàõ.8 Â èñêóññòâå ïðèíöèï äîïîëíèòåëüíîñòè ÿâñòâåííî ïðîÿâëÿåòñÿ óæå â êîíöå XIX íà÷àëå XX âåêà â òâîð÷åñòâå Êëîäà Äåáþññè ïåðâîãî êîìïîçèòîðà XX âåêà, îò êîòîðîãî âåäóò ñâîþ ãåíåàëîãèþ ïðèçíàííûå ëèäåðû ìóçûêàëüíîãî èñêóññòâà XX âåêà: È. Ñòðàâèíñêèé, Á. Áàðòîê, Î. Ìåññèàí, Ï. Áóëåç, Ý. Âàðåç, Â. Ëþòîñëàâñêèé. Â õóäîæåñòâåííîì ìèðå Äåáþññè (â ìóçûêå è åå âîñïðèÿòèè), ðàâíî êàê è â áûòó, ñîñóùåñòâóþò ñîîáðàçíî ïðèíöèïó äîïîëíèòåëüíîñòè òàêèå íåñîâìåñòèìûå ñ òî÷êè çðåíèÿ ïðåæíèõ ïðåäñòàâëåíèé ÿâëåíèÿ, êàê: ìóçûêà è òåõíîñôåðà, ïðè- ðîäà è óðáàíèñòè÷åñêèé ëàíäøàôò, ñèìâîëàìè êîòîðûõ ñòàëè «åñòå- ñòâåííûé ÷åëîâåê» Æ.-Æ. Ðóññî è Ýéôåëåâà áàøíÿ. Âðåìÿ æèçíè è òâîð÷åñòâà Ê. Äåáþññè êîíåö XIX-íà÷àëî XX âå- êà çíàìåíóåò ñîáîé ïîäúåì è ðàñöâåò íàó÷íî-òåõíè÷åñêîé ìûñëè â Åâðîïå, ýòî íà÷àëî «âåêà ýëåêòðè÷åñòâà» ñ åãî ÷óäåñàìè: ýëåêòðè÷åñêè- ÏÎÈÑÊÈ ÀËÜÒÅÐÍÀÒÈÂÍÎÃÎ ÏÓÒÈ 271

ìè äîðîãàìè è ïîåçäàìè, ìåòðî, àâòîìîáèëåì, ëèôòîì, êèíåìàòîãðà- ôîì, ôîòîãðàôèåé, çâóêîçàïèñüþ è äð. Òåõíèçàöèÿ ñðåäû îáèòàíèÿ ÷å- ëîâåêà ÿâëÿëàñü îäíèì èç íàèáîëåå ÿðêèõ ïðîÿâëåíèé îáùåé òåíäåí- öèè óðáàíèçàöèè ñòðàí Åâðîïû. Â ýòîì ïðîöåññå Ôðàíöèÿ ê íà÷àëó XX âåêà çàíèìàëà âòîðîå ìåñòî (ïîñëå Àíãëèè) ïî êîëè÷åñòâó ãîðîäñêîãî íàñåëåíèÿ è ïî ââåäåíèþ â ïî- âñåäíåâíûé îáèõîä ãîðîæàí òåõíè÷åñêèõ íîâøåñòâ (âåäü óæå ïåðâàÿ æå- ëåçíàÿ äîðîãà ïîÿâèëàñü âî Ôðàíöèè â 1832 ãîäó, âñåãî äâà ãîäà ñïóñòÿ ïîñëå åå îòêðûòèÿ â Àíãëèè). Èìåííî âî Ôðàíöèè ïðîâîäèëèñü ïî÷òè âñå ïåðâûå Âñåìèðíûå âûñòàâêè 1867, 1873, 1889, 1900 ãîäîâ. Òåõíè÷å- ñêèìè äîñòîïðèìå÷àòåëüíîñòÿìè âûñòàâêè 1889 ãîäà, êîòîðàÿ ïðîèçâåëà îãðîìíîå âïå÷àòëåíèå íà Äåáþññè, áûëè äâèæóùèåñÿ òðîòóàðû âî Äâîðöå Èíäóñòðèè è Ýéôåëåâà áàøíÿ (ñèìâîë Ïàðèæà ñåãîäíÿ). À íà Âûñòàâêå 1900 ãîäà, íàçâàííîé «Èòîãè âåêà», øèðîêîé ïîïóëÿðíîñòüþ ïîëüçîâà- ëîñü îãðîìíîå «êîëåñî îáîçðåíèÿ» (93 ìåòðà â äèàìåòðå). Óæå â êîíöå XIX âåêà Ýéôåëåâà áàøíÿ ñòàëà ñèìâîëîì óðáàíèñòè÷å- ñêîé àðõèòåêòóðû Áóäóùåãî. Íî íàèáîëåå ÿðêèå ïðîÿâëåíèÿ óðáàíèçìà â èñêóññòâå íà÷àëà XX âåêà òàêæå àññîöèèðóþòñÿ ñ Ôðàíöèåé: «Ïàñèôèê- 321» À. Îíåããåðà è «Áîëåðî» Ì. Ðàâåëÿ â ìóçûêå, ïðîåêòû è ãîðîäà Ëå Êîðáþçüå â àðõèòåêòóðå, êàðòèíû Ì.Óòðèëëî è Ô. Ëåæå â æèâîïèñè. ßâíàÿ òåíäåíöèÿ Ôðàíöèè ê óðáàíèçìó, âåðîÿòíî, ñâÿçàíà ñ òåì, ÷òî ïî êëàññèôèêàöèè Í. Ãóìèëåâà ôðàíöóçñêàÿ êóëüòóðà îòíîñèòñÿ ê êóëü- òóðàì, ðàñïîëîæåííûì â óðáàíèñòè÷åñêîì ëàíäøàôòå. Óðáàíèçàöèÿ ôðàí- öóçñêîé êóëüòóðû èìååò äàâíþþ èñòîðèþ è ìíîãî÷èñëåííûå ôàêòîðû, ñïîñîáñòâîâàâøèå ýòîé òåíäåíöèè: îñîáîå ðàçâèòèå ñòðóêòóðû ãîðîäîâ ñ èõ îáøèðíûìè ïðåäìåñòüÿìè, êîíöåíòðàöèÿ ïðîèçâîäñòâà è åå âûñî- êèé óðîâåíü, áîëüøîå çíà÷åíèå öåíòðàëèçàöèè ãîñóäàðñòâåííîé âëàñòè (íà÷èíàÿ ñ Ëþäîâèêà XIV) è î÷åíü ñèëüíîå âëèÿíèå ñòîëèöû Ïàðèæà. Ôðàíöóçñêàÿ êóëüòóðà, ïî ñóùåñòâó, ýòî äàæå íå êóëüòóðà ãîðîäîâ, à êóëü- òóðà Ïàðèæà, îëèöåòâîðÿþùåãî ñîáîé èñòèííî ôðàíöóçñêèé äóõ. Ïàðèæñêàÿ êóëüòóðà ýïîõè «fin de siecle» ñ åå àññèìèëÿöèîííîé ïðè- ðîäîé, ñî ñâîéñòâåííûìè åé ýñòåòèçìîì è äóõîì êóëüòóðîêðàòèè ñïî- ñîáñòâîâàëà øèðîêîìó ïîíèìàíèþ óðáàíèñòè÷åñêîãî ïåéçàæà, âïåðâûå ïîÿâèâøåãîñÿ â æèâîïèñè èìïðåññèîíèñòîâ. Â èõ ïåéçàæàõ ñóùåñòâó- åò ïîëèôîíèÿ óðáàíèçìà è ëàíäøàôòà. «Â îòëè÷èå îò Ìèëëå èëè Êóð- áå», êàê óòâåðæäàåò È. Êàëèòèíà, «èìïðåññèîíèñòû áûëè ãîðîæà- íàìè. Äàæå åñëè îíè è ñåëèëèñü â ïðèãîðîäàõ Ïàðèæà èëè äåðåâíÿõ â 272 Ëþáîâü ÊÓÏÅÖ

åãî îêðóãå, òî âî ìíîãîì ñîõðàíÿëè âçãëÿä ãîðîæàíèíà íà ïðèðîäó è ÷åëîâåêà... Æèçíü ãîðîäà êàê öåëîñòíîãî îðãàíèçìà... ïîñòîÿííî âîëíî- âàëè èìïðåññèîíèñòîâ. Îíè îòêðûëè îñîáîå î÷àðîâàíèå ïðèãîðîäíûõ ïåéçàæåé, óâèäåííûõ èìåííî ãëàçàìè, «âûðâàâøåãîñÿ íà âîëþ» ãîðî- æàíèíà».9 Òàêîâû, íàïðèìåð, ðå÷íûå ïåéçàæè (ðàçíîâèäíîñòü ìàðèíû) Ý. Ìàíå è Ê. Ìîíå, óâèäåííûå çðèòåëåì ñëîâíî èç ñêîëüçÿùåé ïî Òåì- çå èëè Ñåíå ëîäêå; èëè çíàìåíèòûé «Áóëüâàð Êàïóöèíîê» Ìîíå, ãäå ñ âûñîòû «ïòè÷üåãî ïîëåòà» ãîðîäñêîé âèä ñòàíîâèòñÿ âäðóã ïîõîæèì íà ïðè÷óäëèâîå ðàñòåíèå èëè ëóæàéêó ñ íåîáû÷íûìè öâåòàìè. Èäåÿ øèðîêî ïîíèìàåìîãî óðáàíèñòè÷åñêîãî ïåéçàæà áûëà ðåàëè- çîâàíà è â «îñìàííîâñêîé» ðåêîíñòðóêöèè Ïàðèæà (1852-1873). Íàðÿäó ñ ïîÿâëåíèåì ïåðåñåêàþùèõ âåñü ãîðîä äëèííûõ, ïðÿìûõ óëèö-êîðè- äîðîâ ðàñøèðèëñÿ è «çåëåíûé ïîÿñ» ñòîëèöû çà ñ÷åò óâåëè÷åíèÿ êîëè- ÷åñòâà áóëüâàðîâ è ñêâåðîâ è ïóòåì âêëþ÷åíèÿ â ãîðîäñêóþ ñðåäó äâóõ êðóïíûõ ëåñîïàðêîâûõ êîìïëåêñîâ: Âåíñåíñêîãî íà âîñòîêå è Áóëîí- ñêîãî íà çàïàäå Ïàðèæà. Äëÿ Äåáþññè îäíîãî èç íàèáîëåå ÿðêèõ ïðåäñòàâèòåëåé õóäîæåñò- âåííîé ýëèòû Ôðàíöèè òîé ýïîõè ïîëèôîíèÿ óðáàíèñòè÷åñêîãî è ïðè- ðîäíîãî íà÷àë ñòàëà îñíîâîé åãî îñîáîãî öåëîñòíîãî âîñïðèÿòèÿ ìèðà. Êëîä Äåáþññè íàçûâàë ñåáÿ «ãîðîäñêèì ÷åëîâåêîì», à åùå 18-òèëåò- íèì þíîøåé ïîáûâàâ â Ðîññèè, îí áûë îõàðàêòåðèçîâàí Í. ôîí Ìåêê â ïèñüìå ê ×àéêîâñêîìó êàê «íàñòîÿùèé ïàðèæñêèé gamin». Äåáþññè íå äåëàë ïèñüìåííûõ ïðèçíàíèé â ëþáâè ê Ïàðèæó, íî, óåçæàÿ, îí âñåãäà ñòðåìèëñÿ âîçâðàòèòüñÿ â «ýòó óæàñíóþ ïàðèæñêóþ ïîãîäó». Òàêàÿ «öåí- òðîñòðåìèòåëüíîñòü» ñòàíîâèòñÿ õàðàêòåðíîé äëÿ êîìïîçèòîðà óæå ñ 1885 ãîäà âðåìåíè ïðåáûâàíèÿ åãî, êàê Ðèìñêîãî ñòèïåíäèàòà, íà Âèë- ëå Ìåäè÷è. Â ïèñüìàõ 1885-86 ãîäîâ ê Ý. Âàíüå þíûé Êëîä æàëóåòñÿ íà äóøåâíóþ äèñãàðìîíèþ, èñïûòûâàåìóþ èì â Èòàëèè, è ñòðåìèòñÿ õîòü íà ìåñÿö ïðèåõàòü â Ïàðèæ. Âåðíóâøèñü æå â êîíöå àïðåëÿ 1886 ãîäà èç òðåõìåñÿ÷íîãî «ïàðèæñêîãî îòïóñêà», Äåáþññè â ñâîåì ïåðâîì ïèñüìå ê òîìó æå àäðåñàòó (îò 5 ìàÿ), ñðàâíèâàë ñâîå ïîñåùåíèå Ñèê- ñòèíñêîé êàïåëëû ñî ñòîíîì ÷åëîâåêà, êîòîðîãî òàùàò íà ýøàôîò, è âíîâü ïîä÷åðêèâàë: «Äà, âñå ýòî, êîíå÷íî, õîðîøî, íî ñîëíöå, äåðåâüÿ âñå ýòî ìîæíî íàéòè è â Ïàðèæå. Ìîæåò áûòü, îíè òàì è íå òàêîãî õîðîøå- ãî êà÷åñòâà, êàê çäåñü, íî ÿ èìè äîâîëåí è äàæå íàõîæó, ÷òî â Ïàðèæå îíè ëó÷øå, ÷åì çäåñü, à ÷òî êàñàåòñÿ øåäåâðîâ, òî, ê íåñ÷àñòüþ, îíè íðàâèëèñü áû ìíå íåñðàâíåííî áîëüøå, åñëè á íàõîäèëèñü òîæå òàì... ÏÎÈÑÊÈ ÀËÜÒÅÐÍÀÒÈÂÍÎÃÎ ÏÓÒÈ 273

òîãäà, íàêîíåö, ÿ ïðèïîëç áû ïîñìîòðåòü èõ äàæå íà êîëåíÿõ».10 È ÷åðåç ïÿòíàäöàòü ëåò ïîñëå ýòîãî «êðèêà äóøè», âîçâðàòèâøèñü èç ñâîåãî òóðíå 1910 ãîäà ïî Àâñòðî-Âåíãðèè, êîìïîçèòîð ïðåäëàãàåò Æ.-Æ. Îáðè (â ïèñüìå îò 8 ÿíâàðÿ 1911 ãîäà) «âñïîìíèòü òàêæå, ÷òî «íèãäå òàê íå õî- ðîøî íàì, êàê â Ïàðèæå».11 Äåáþññè áûë ñâîéñòâåíåí òèïè÷íî óðáàíèñòè÷åñêèé îáðàç æèçíè, êîãäà îñîáîå çíà÷åíèå ïðèîáðåòàåò ôàêòîð îáùåíèÿ ñ åãî ìîáèëüíîñòüþ, êîíöåíòðèðîâàííîñòüþ, èíòåíñèâíîñòüþ è ðàçíîîáðàçèåì. Â êîíöå 1880- õ è íà÷àëå 1890-õ ãîäîâ êîìïîçèòîð áûë çàâñåãäàòàåì àðòèñòè÷åñêèõ êà- ôå è êàáàðå íà Ìîíìàðòðå; îáùåèçâåñòíû åãî îáøèðíûå çíàêîìñòâà ïî «Chat Noir» ñ ïðåäñòàâèòåëÿìè ðàçëè÷íûõ ïðîôåññèé, è íå òîëüêî àðòè- ñòè÷åñêèõ. Àïîôåîçîì ïîðàçèòåëüíî òåðïèìûõ ñóæäåíèé Äåáþññè î ìó- çûêå äóõîâûõ îðêåñòðîâ è êàôå-øàíòàíîâ ìîæíî ðàññìàòðèâàòü âîñòîð- æåííûå îòçûâû êîìïîçèòîðà î òâîð÷åñòâå øàíñîíüå Ïîëÿ Äåëüìå. Îòíîøåíèå Êëîäà Ôðàíöóçñêîãî ê òåõíè÷åñêèì íîâøåñòâàì ñâîåãî âðåìåíè (òàêæå ÿâëÿþùèõñÿ íåîòúåìëåìûì ýëåìåíòîì óðáàíèñòè÷åñêîé ñðåäû) áûëî äîñòàòî÷íî êîððåêòíûì è ñïîêîéíûì. Â ñâîèõ ïèñüìàõ îí ÷àñòî óïîìèíàë ýëåêòðîïîåçäà è ýëåêòðè÷åñêîå îñâåùåíèå, èñêðåííå âîñ- õèùàëñÿ êèíåìàòîãðàôîì, îáîæàë ôîòîãðàôèðîâàòüñÿ.12 Â ýïèñòîëÿðèè êîìïîçèòîðà (ïèñüìàõ, ñòàòüÿõ, ðåöåíçèÿõ) ÷àñòî âñòðå÷àþòñÿ ñðàâíåíèÿ è ñîïîñòàâëåíèÿ ìóçûêàëüíûõ âïå÷àòëåíèé ñ íîâèíêàìè òåõíèêè àâòî- ìîáèëåì, ìåòðî, ëèôòîì. Òàê, íàïðèìåð, ïðåäñòàâëÿÿ ïàðèæàíàì Ýäâàð- äà Ãðèãà, Äåáþññè-êðèòèê äàåò ñëîâåñíûé ïîðòðåò êîìïîçèòîðà, çàìå- ÷àÿ, ÷òî «åñëè ñìîòðåòü íà íåãî ñïåðåäè, òî îí ïîõîæ íà ãåíèàëüíîãî ôîòîãðàôà».13 Îñòðîóìíî îïèñûâàÿ ñâîè âïå÷àòëåíèÿ îò ñèìôîíè÷åñêîé ïîýìû «Æèçíü ãåðîÿ» Ð. Øòðàóñà, Äåáþññè íàçûâàåò ýòî ñî÷èíåíèå «êè- íåìàòîãðàôèåé», ïðèçíàâàÿ, ÷òî «÷åëîâåê... ïîñòðîèâøèé ïîäîáíîå ïðî- èçâåäåíèå, î÷åíü íåäàëåê îò ãåíèàëüíîñòè».14 À äëÿ õàðàêòåðèñòèêè òîé ÷àñòè ôðàíöóçñêîé ìóçûêè, êîòîðàÿ «ñëåäóåò çà Âàãíåðîì», Äåáþññè èñ- ïîëüçîâàë âûðàæåíèå èç ëåêñèêè ìåõàíèêîâ, èñïûòûâàþùèõ ïëîõî ñìîí- òèðîâàííóþ ìàøèíó «ïàõíåò ìàñëîì».15 Â 1913 ãîäó Äåáþññè îòêðûòî ïðèçûâàåò ñîçäàòåëåé íîâîãî èñêóñ- ñòâà «íå îñòàâàòüñÿ ïîçàäè ãåíèàëüíûõ èçîáðåòåíèé ìåõàíèêîâ!», à â êè- íåìàòîãðàôå âèäèò «íèòü Àðèàäíû» äëÿ áóäóùåãî ìóçûêàëüíîãî èñêóñ- ñòâà.16 Â òî æå âðåìÿ êîìïîçèòîð íàñòðîåí âåñüìà ñêåïòè÷åñêè îòíîñè- òåëüíî ïðèìåíåíèÿ òåõíè÷åñêèõ íîâøåñòâ â ñîáñòâåííî ìóçûêàëüíîì òâîð÷åñòâå. Òàê, îí î÷åíü åäêî âûñêàçûâàåòñÿ î «ôóòóðèñòè÷åñêîé ìóçû- 274 Ëþáîâü ÊÓÏÅÖ

êå», êîòîðàÿ, ïî åãî ìíåíèþ, «ïðåòåíäóåò íà òî, ÷òîáû ñîåäèíèòü ðàçëè÷- íûå øóìû ñîâðåìåííîé ñòîëèöû (íà÷èíàÿ ñî ñâèñòêà ïàðîâîçîâ è êîí÷àÿ êîëîêîëü÷èêîì ÷åëîâåêà, ïðåäëàãàþùåãî ñêëåèâàòü ôàðôîð) âî âñåîáú- åìëþùóþ ñèìôîíèþ». È äàëåå èðîíè÷íî çàìå÷àåò: «Ýòî î÷åíü ïðàêòè÷- íî äëÿ êîìïëåêòîâàíèÿ îðêåñòðà, íî äîñòèãíåò ëè ýòî êîãäà-íèáóäü óäîâ- ëåòâîðèòåëüíîé çâó÷íîñòè ìåòàëëóðãè÷åñêîãî çàâîäà â äåéñòâèè?».17 Îñîç- íàâàÿ ñâîå âðåìÿ, «êîãäà ãåíèé ìåõàíèêè äîñòèã íåîæèäàííîãî ñîâåð- øåíñòâà», Äåáþññè îïàñàåòñÿ «çàêàáàëåíèÿ çâóêà, åãî ìàãèè, çàêëþ÷åí- íîé â ïëàñòèíêó, êîòîðóþ êàæäûé ñìîæåò ïðîáóæäàòü ïî ñâîåé ïðèõî- òè».18 Ñëåäóÿ ýòîé ìûñëè, îí ïðåäïîëàãàåò â òàêîì òåõíè÷åñêîì íîâøå- ñòâå âîçìîæíóþ ïðè÷èíó «îñêóäåíèÿ òàèíñòâåííûõ ñèë èñêóññòâà» è ñ ãðóñòüþ ðåçþìèðóåò: «ñòðàííî, ÷òî ôàíòàçèè Ïðîãðåññà ïðèâîäÿò ê òî- ìó, ÷òî âû ñòàíîâèòåñü êîíñåðâàòîðîì». Â òàêîì êîíòåêñòå åñòåñòâåííûì âûãëÿäèò ïðèçûâ Äåáþññè «îñòåðåãàòüñÿ ìåõàíèêè ýòîãî ÷óäîâèùà, êî- òîðîå óæå ïîãëîòèëî ñòîëüêî ïðåêðàñíûõ âåùåé».19 Óðáàíèñòè÷åñêàÿ ïðîáëåìà òåõíèçàöèè èñêóññòâà áûëà íå åäèíñò- âåííîé, âûçûâàâøåé èíòåðåñ ó êîìïîçèòîðà. Îí íåîäíîêðàòíî âûñêàçû- âàë ñâîå ìíåíèå è ïî äðóãèì âîïðîñàì, âîçíèêàâøèì ñ óðáàíèçàöèåé îáùåñòâà: î ïîâûøåííîé êîíöåíòðàöèè íàñåëåíèÿ (ñêó÷åííîñòè ëþäåé â ãîðîäå è ìåñòàõ îòäûõà); î âçàèìîîòíîøåíèÿõ ñòîëèöû è ïðîâèíöèàëü- íûõ ãîðîäîâ; î ïðîáëåìå ïîñðåäñòâåííîñòè, ñîïðèêàñàþùåéñÿ ñ õàðàê- òåðíûì äëÿ óðáàíèçèðîâàííîãî ñîöèóìà íèâåëèðîâàíèåì ëè÷íîñòè20. Ïðîÿâèâ ñåáÿ òîíêèì ïñèõîëîãîì è äàëüíîâèäíûì «ìóçûêàëüíûì ïî- ëèòèêîì», Äåáþññè ïðèâåòñòâîâàë ÿâëåíèå äåöåíòðàëèçàöèè â ìóçûêàëü- íîì èñêóññòâå, ïðîíèöàòåëüíî ïîëàãàÿ, ÷òî ýòà äåöåíòðàëèçàöèÿ âî Ôðàí- öèè ïîçâîëèò äîñòè÷ü íåñêîëüêèõ öåëåé: ëþáèòåëè èñêóññòâà â ïðîâèíöè- àëüíûõ ãîðîäàõ ïîëó÷àò èíòåëëåêòóàëüíîå óäîâëåòâîðåíèå èëè óäîâëåòâî- ðåíèå ñàìîëþáèÿ; óëó÷øåíèå â ïðîâèíöèè âêóñà ê ìóçûêå, óëó÷øåíèå óðîâ- íÿ ïðîâèíöèàëüíûõ ìóçûêàëüíûõ òåàòðîâ áóäåò ñïîñîáñòâîâàòü ñîâåðøåí- ñòâîâàíèþ îïåðíûõ òåàòðîâ Ïàðèæà, êîòîðûå, íåñîìíåííî, âñòóïÿò â ýòî «áëàãîðîäíîå ñîðåâíîâàíèå, ÷òîáû óäåðæàòü ïåðâåíñòâî».21 Ïîñòîÿííî âîçâðàùàÿñü ìûñëüþ ê ïðîáëåìå ïîñðåäñòâåííîñòè, êîì- ïîçèòîð ðàñøèðÿë «îáðàçíîå ïîëå» ýòîãî ïîíÿòèÿ. Òàê, â ïèñüìå ê æåíå Ýììå â 1910 ãîäó, õàðàêòåðèçóÿ ñâîþ êîìíàòó â ãîñòèíèöå Âåíû, Äåáþñ- ñè óïîðíî èñïîëüçóåò ýïèòåò «ïîñðåäñòâåííàÿ».22 Òðåìÿ ãîäàìè ïîçæå â ïèñüìå ê Ãîäý êîìïîçèòîð, ñ ðàçäðàæåíèåì îïèñûâàÿ äóõ, öàðÿùèé â Ïà- ðèæå, ñòîëü íåñîâìåñòèìûé ñ åãî ïîíèìàíèåì èñêóññòâà, íåäâóñìûñëåí- ÏÎÈÑÊÈ ÀËÜÒÅÐÍÀÒÈÂÍÎÃÎ ÏÓÒÈ 275

íî íàçûâàåò âñå ýòî «Ïîñðåäñòâåííîñòüþ», ïðåñëåäóþùåé åãî, è êîòîðîé îí áîèòñÿ.23 Â ýòîì æå ãîäó Äåáþññè íåîäíîêðàòíî ïóáëè÷íî âûðàæàë ñâîå îòíîøåíèå ê ïîñðåäñòâåííîñòè â èñêóññòâå, ñ ãðóñòüþ è íåìíîãî íàðî÷èòûì ôàòàëèçìîì îòìå÷àÿ îñíîâíûå ÷åðòû ïîñðåäñòâåííîñòè: íå- ñìåòíîñòü, áåññìåðòíîñòü è ïîòðåáíîñòü â íåé ëþäåé. Íåîäíîçíà÷íîå îòíîøåíèå Äåáþññè ê òåõíîñôåðå ñäåëàëî âîçìîæ- íûì «êîíòðàïóíêòè÷åñêîå ñîåäèíåíèå» óðáàíèçèðîâàííîé ñðåäû è ïðè- ðîäíîãî ëàíäøàôòà è â æèçíè êîìïîçèòîðà, è â åãî ýñòåòè÷åñêèõ âîç- çðåíèÿõ, è â òâîð÷åñòâå. Æèçíü Âçàèìîäîïîëíèòåëüíîñòü ïðèðîäû è óðáàíèçìà êàê ñóùíîñòíàÿ ÷åð- òà ìûøëåíèÿ îáíàðóæèâàåòñÿ óæå â äåòñòâå Äåáþññè. Â 1907 ãîäó ðå- òðîñïåêòèâíî îïèñûâàÿ ñâîè âïå÷àòëåíèÿ î Êàííàõ, ãäå îí æèë ðåáåí- êîì ó ñâîèõ êðåñòíûõ ðîäèòåëåé, Äåáþññè ñîîáùàåò â ïèñüìå ê Æ. Äþ- ðàíó: «Ìîè âîñïîìèíàíèÿ îá ýòîì ìåñòå âîñõîäÿò êî âðåìåíè, êîãäà ìíå áûëî øåñòü ëåò. ß ïîìíþ ïðîõîäèâøóþ ïåðåä äîìîì æåëåçíóþ äîðîãó è ìîðå âäàëè, íà ãîðèçîíòå, îò÷åãî âðåìåíàìè êàçàëîñü, ÷òî îíà âûõîäèëà èç ìîðÿ èëè òóäà óõîäèëà (ïî âàøåìó óñìîòðåíèþ)».24 Ñòðåìëåíèå ãîðîæàíèíà Äåáþññè óåõàòü èç ìðà÷íîãî ìíîãîýòàæ- íîãî äîìà è ïîñåëèòüñÿ ïîáëèæå ê ïðèðîäå ðåàëèçîâàëîñü â 1905 ãîäó, êîãäà îí îáîñíîâàëñÿ â îñîáíÿêå âáëèçè Áóëîíñêîãî ëåñà è ïðîæèë òàì 13 ëåò, äî êîíöà æèçíè. Íåñìîòðÿ íà òî, ÷òî äîì íàõîäèëñÿ íåäàëåêî îò èïïîäðîìà Ëîøàí è îêðóæíîé æåëåçíîé äîðîãè, ñâåðõâïå÷àòëèòåëü- íûé êîìïîçèòîð áûë ïîñòîÿíåí â íåæíîé ïðèâÿçàííîñòè ê ñâîåìó æè- ëèùó. Â ïèñüìå èç Ëå Ìóëî â 1916 ãîäó ê ñâîåìó èçäàòåëþ Äþðàíó Äåáþññè ñ íàäåæäîé ñîîáùàåò: «Ìíå íå òåðïèòñÿ âåðíóòüñÿ â ìîé ñòà- ðûé äîì, ñî âñåìè åãî íåäîñòàòêàìè, íåïðèÿòíîñòÿìè è òðóáíûìè çâó- êàìè; îí çíàåò ìåíÿ ëó÷øå, ÷åì ýòà ñëó÷àéíàÿ äà÷íàÿ ìåñòíîñòü, ðàçî- ÷àðîâàâøàÿ ìåíÿ è òîëüêî îêàçàâøàÿ ìíå ïëîõóþ óñëóãó».25 À äåâÿòüþ ãîäàìè ðàíåå, â ïèñüìå ê òîìó æå êîððåñïîíäåíòó êîìïîçèòîð ÷óòü èðî- íè÷åñêè ïîâåðÿåò åìó ñâîþ «êðàìîëüíóþ» ìå÷òó «âåðíóòüñÿ ê ñåáå è âíîâü îáðåñòè ñâîþ äîðîãóþ îêðóæíóþ æåëåçíóþ äîðîãó, ÷åé ãðîõîò ìíå áîëåå ñëàäîñòåí, ÷åì ïëåñê âîëí».26 Îäíîé èç ïðè÷èí, óäîâëåòâî- ðÿâøåé âçûñêàòåëüíûé âêóñ Äåáþññè, áûëî, âåðîÿòíî, ñâîåîáðàçíîå ðàñ- ïîëîæåíèå äîìà â òîé «èäåàëüíîé òî÷êå», ãäå «âñòðå÷àþòñÿ», íå ïîäàâ- ëÿÿ äðóã äðóãà, ãîðîäñêàÿ è ïðèðîäíàÿ ñðåäà. 276 Ëþáîâü ÊÓÏÅÖ

Ñàìî ñòðåìëåíèå ê ýòîé «èäåàëüíîé òî÷êå» ïðåäñòàâëÿåòñÿ âåñüìà íàãëÿäíûì, åñëè ñõåìàòè÷åñêè èçîáðàçèòü «êàðòó ïðîæèâàíèÿ» Äåáþñ- ñè â Ïàðèæå. Ðîäèâøèñü â ïðåäìåñòüå Ïàðèæà (òî åñòü, áóäó÷è ïî ïðî- èñõîæäåíèþ èñòèííûì ãàìåíîì) è ïðîæèâ äî 1867 ãîäà â Êëèøè, ñå- ìüÿ Äåáþññè ïåðååçæàåò â Ïàðèæ â ðàéîí Ìîíìàðòðà (Vintinille, 11). Äî îòúåçäà Äåáþññè â Èòàëèþ îíè, ñìåíèâ íåñêîëüêî êâàðòèð, æèâóò îêîëî âîêçàëà Ñåí-Ëàçàð. Ïîñëå âîçâðàùåíèÿ â Ïàðèæ â êîíöå 1886 ãîäà Äåáþññè ñíèìàåò íåäàëåêî îò âîêçàëà êîìíàòó íà rue de Londres, 42, à ëåòîì 1893 ïåðååçæàåò â êâàðòèðó íà óëèöå Gustave Dore, 10 (îêî- ëî Âàíäîìñêîé ïëîùàäè). Ñ 1893 ïî 1902 ãîä Äåáþññè æèâåò íà rue Cardinet, 58 ðÿäîì ñ ïîëóïðèãîðîäíûì òîãäà ðàéîíîì Ïàññè. Ê 1902 ãîäó îòíîñèòñÿ ïîïûòêà êîìïîçèòîðà ñòàòü çåìëåâëàäåëüöåì â Áèøåíå (Áóðãóíäèÿ), îêîí÷èâøàÿñÿ íåóäà÷íî. À ñ 1905 ãîäà, ñìåíèâ Áåëüâþ (áëèç Âåðñàëÿ) íà àâåíþ Áóëîíñêîãî ëåñà, 80, Äåáþññè îáîñíîâàëñÿ ñî ñâîåé æåíîé Ýììîé âáëèçè Áóëîíñêîãî ëåñà, ïåðååõàâ â äâóõýòàæíûé îñîá- íÿê ñ ñàäèêîì Square de Bois de Boulogne, 24 (íûíå àâåíþ Ôîðø). Èç ïðåäìåñòüÿ â ñàìûé öåíòð Ïàðèæà ñ åãî ñèìâîëîì óðáàíèñòè- ÷åñêîãî äâèæåíèÿ âîêçàëîì Ñåí-Ëàçàð è àðòèñòè÷åñêèì äóõîì Ìîí- ìàðòðà, â ñî÷åòàíèè ñ ðåäêèìè ïîïûòêàìè æèòü íà ïðèðîäå (Áèøåí, Áåëüâþ), òàêîâ ïóòü Äåáþññè â ïîèñêàõ ñâîåãî «ìåñòà», êîòîðîå îí äåéñòâèòåëüíî íàõîäèò â îñîáíÿêå áëèç Áóëîíñêîãî ëåñà ñâîé «öåíòð îïîðû, ðàâíîâåñèÿ, ãàðìîíèè è åäèíñòâà». Ïóòü Äåáþññè ê «èäåàëüíîé òî÷êå» â ãîðèçîíòàëüíîì èçìåðåíèè ïðîåöèðóåòñÿ è «ïî âåðòèêàëè»: îò êîìíàòû â ìíîãîêâàðòèðíîì äîìå ê îñîáíÿêó è «ñïóñê» ñ 4-5 ýòàæåé â ñàä ñâîåãî äîìà. Ýòà æå òåíäåíöèÿ êîñâåííî îòðàæàåòñÿ è â èçìåíåíèè îòíîøåíèÿ êîìïîçèòîðà ê Ïàðèæó. Åñëè â ñåðåäèíå 1880-õ ãîäîâ îí ðâåòñÿ èç Èòà- ëèè â Ïàðèæ, òî óæå â 1898 ãîäó ñ ëåãêîé çàâèñòüþ ê Æ. Àðòìàíó, «æè- âóùåìó â ïðåêðàñíîì ñàäó ó ìîðÿ», êîíñòàòèðóåò, ÷òî «áûòü ãîðîæàíè- íîì òÿæåëî», îñîáåííî â ïëîõóþ ïîãîäó, è ñîçíàåòñÿ â ïðèñòðàñòèè ê «óäîáíûì çàãîðîäíûì æèëèùàì».27 À â 1904 ãîäó Äåáþññè âûêàçàë èñ- êðåííåå ñî÷óâñòâèå «áåäíûì ãîðîæàíàì, êîãäà èì ïðèäåòñÿ îáðåñòè âíîâü ýòîò ïðîêëÿòûé Ïàðèæ!».28 Ýñòåòè÷åñêèå âçãëÿäû Ïîëèôîíè÷íîñòü âîñïðèÿòèÿ Äåáþññè óðáàíèçèðîâàííîãî è ïðèðîä- íîãî ëàíäøàôòîâ íàøëà îòðàæåíèå è â îäíîì èç îñíîâíûõ ïîíÿòèé ýñòå- ÏÎÈÑÊÈ ÀËÜÒÅÐÍÀÒÈÂÍÎÃÎ ÏÓÒÈ 277

òèêè ôðàíöóçñêîãî ìóçûêàíòà «èñòèííîé ìóçûêè». Åãî ïîèñêè «èñòèí- íîé ìóçûêè» (òî åñòü ìóçûêè Áóäóùåãî, «íîâîé ìóçûêè») âåëèñü îäíîâðå- ìåííî è ïàðàëëåëüíî â äâóõ, êàçàëîñü áû ïðîòèâîïîëîæíûõ, íàïðàâëåíè- ÿõ: ìóçûêà òåõíîñôåðà, ìóçûêà ïðèðîäà. Ñ îäíîé ñòîðîíû, ïî óáåæäå- íèþ Äåáþññè, «íîâàÿ ìóçûêà» íå äîëæíà óñòóïàòü òåõíè÷åñêîìó óðîâíþ ñîâðåìåííîãî ìèðà, è êèíåìàòîãðàô äîëæåí ïîìî÷ü â ñîçäàíèè ýòîé ìóçû- êè Áóäóùåãî. È êàê îí çàìå÷àåò, ÷óòü øóòëèâî, â ïèñüìå 1909 ãîäà ê Æ.-Æ. Îáðè: «Ëåòî ÿ ïðîâåë â òåíè îêðóæíîé æåëåçíîé äîðîãè, êîòîðàÿ ïðîõîäèò ïî ñîñåäñòâó ñ ìîèì äîìîì, ïðîíèêøèñü ìûñëüþ, ÷òî ðàç óæ íåîáõîäèìî ñëóøàòü ïåíèå ñîëîâüåâ, òî ïàðîâîçíûå ñâèñòêè ãîðàçäî ëó÷øå îòâå÷àþò çàäà÷àì ñîâðåìåííîãî èñêóññòâà».29 À ñ äðóãîé ñòîðîíû, îí äåêëàðèðîâàë èäåþ «ìóçûêè ïîä îòêðûòûì íåáîì» è íàñòîé÷èâî ñîâåòîâàë ìóçûêàíòàì ó÷èòüñÿ ó ïðèðîäû, ÷òî ïðèäàëî áû èõ ìóçûêå åñòåñòâåííîñòü, âðåìåí- íóþ ïîäâèæíîñòü, âèçóàëüíóþ èçìåí÷èâîñòü, êîìïëåêñíîñòü îùóùåíèé ïðè ñîõðàíåíèè â ìóçûêå åå ìàãèè, òàèíñòâà, ýçîòåðè÷íîñòè. Ïðèçûâàÿ ñî- õðàíèòü «ëþáîé öåíîé âîëøåáñòâî, ïðèñóùåå ìóçûêå», Äåáþññè ïðîâîçã- ëàøàë õðàíèòåëåì åå Òàéíû «íàø âêóñ».30 Òâîð÷åñòâî Ñâîåîáðàçíî òðàêòîâàííûé ëàíäøàôò, â êîòîðîì ñïëåòåíû êàê äâà ëàâðà ÷åëîâå÷åñêîå-êóëüòîâîå-ãîðîäñêîå è ïðèðîäíîå, õàðàêòåðåí äëÿ ìóçûêàëüíî-ïîýòè÷åñêîãî òâîð÷åñòâà Äåáþññè. Òàê, íàïðèìåð, âî- êàëüíûé öèêë «Proses Lyriques» («Ëèðè÷åñêèå ïðîçû»), íàïèñàííûé èì íà ñîáñòâåííûå òåêñòû, ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé ÷åòûðå òèïà òàêîãî ëàíä- øàôòà-ïåéçàæà, âåñüìà ðàñïðîñòðàíåííûõ â êàìåðíî-âîêàëüíîì òâîð- ÷åñòâå êîìïîçèòîðà: 1.«O Rêve» («Î ñíå»; äåêîðàöèÿ ñ ãåðîÿìè âàãíåðîâñêèõ îïåð) òèï èñòîðèêî-ìèôîëîãè÷åñêîãî ïåéçàæà; 2.«De Grève» («Î áåðåãå»; àêâàðåëüíàÿ çàðèñîâêà áåðåãà ìîðÿ äî, âî âðåìÿ è ïîñëå øòîðìà ñ ôèãóðêàìè ãóëÿþùèõ äåâî÷åê) òèï ïåéçà- æà «ìàðèíû; 3.«De Fleurs» («Î öâåòàõ»; ðîìàíòè÷åñêèé ïåéçàæ óãîëêà ïàðêà ñ öâåò- íèêîì è ôîíòàíîì) òèï ïåéçàæà «îðàíæåðåè-ñàäà ñ ôîíòàíîì»; 4.«De Soir» («Î âå÷åðå»; îòúåçä ëþäåé íà âîñêðåñíûé îòäûõ çà ãî- ðîä âîêçàëû, ïîåçäà, òîííåëè, äîðîæíûå çíàêè, è ñïàñåíèå îò áåçóìèÿ ãîðîäîâ è ÷åëîâå÷åñêèõ äóø â îáðàùåíèè ê àíãåëàì è Äåâå Ìàðèè) 278 Ëþáîâü ÊÓÏÅÖ

ñîâìåùåíèå «óðáàíèñòè÷åñêîãî ïåéçàæà» ñ «áèáëåéñêèì».31 Â ñâîåì âîêàëüíîì òâîð÷åñòâå óæå â 1890-õ ãîäàõ Äåáþññè äåëàåò íåñêîëüêî ïîïûòîê ñîåäèíåíèÿ ÷åëîâåêà (è ñâÿçàííîé ñ íèì óðáàíèçè- ðîâàííîé ñðåäû) è ëàíäøàôòà. Ýòîò «ñèíòåç» îñóùåñòâëÿåòñÿ ïîñðåä- ñòâîì ìîðÿ, ìîðñêèõ ïåéçàæåé â «Trois Mélodies» «(Òðåõ ìåëîäèÿõ» Ï.Âåðëåíà; 1891), ÷åðåç õðèñòèàíñòâî â «Proses Lyriques» («Ëèðè÷å- ñêèõ ïðîçàõ»; 1894), â äîõðèñòèàíñêîì, àíòè÷íî-ìèôîëîãè÷åñêîì âðå- ìåíè â «Trois Chansons de Bilitis» («Ïåñíÿõ Áèëèòèñ»; 1898). Ïóòåøå- ñòâóÿ âãëóáü âåêîâ ïóòåì áåñêîíå÷íûõ âîñïîìèíàíèé, êîãäà âîîáðàæå- íèå ñîåäèíÿåò íå òîëüêî ýïîõè, íî è ÷åëîâåêà ãîðîäà ñ ïðèðîäíûì ëàí- äøàôòîì, Äåáþññè ñîçäàåò â íà÷àëå XX âåêà «ïîýìû ïàìÿòè», íàïîìè- íàþùèå íîîñôåðó Òåéÿðà äå Øàðäåíà Âåðíàäñêîãî, â êîòîðîé ÷åëî- âåê îñóùåñòâëÿåò ñâîþ ñâÿçü ñ ïðèðîäîé ÷åðåç ÊÎÑÌÎÑ. Èçëþáëåííûå îáðàçû â òâîð÷åñòâå Äåáþññè ëóãà, îáëàêà, ìîðå, äåðåâüÿ, ñîëíöå ïðåäñòàâëÿþò ñîáîé íàáîð îñíîâíûõ ýëåìåíòîâ âîñ- òî÷íîé êîñìîãîíèè. À îñîáûé êîñìîãîíèçì «ëàíäøàôòíîé» ìóçûêè ôðàíöóçñêîãî êîìïîçèòîðà ñ åå öåíòðàëüíûìè ìîòèâàìè ìîðÿ è ðàñ- òåíèé âûçûâàåò àëëþçèè ñ ÿïîíñêèì ñàäîâûì ïåéçàæåì, äëÿ êîòîðîãî õàðàêòåðíû ýëåìåíòû ñèìâîëèêè â ðàñ÷åòå íà âîîáðàæåíèå ÷åëîâåêà, äîìûñëèâàþùåãî òîò èëè èíîé ïåéçàæ. Â êîíòåêñòå «êîñìè÷íîñòè» Äåáþññè îñîçíàâàë èñòèííóþ Ìóçûêó (ìóçûêó Áóäóùåãî), ÷üè ýëåìåíòû «âõîäÿò â ñîñòàâ Áåñêîíå÷íîñòè».32 Åãî îöåíêà òâîð÷åñòâà êîìïîçèòîðîâ òàêæå ïðîõîäèò ñêâîçü ïðèçìó «Áåñêîíå÷íîñòè». Òàê, äëÿ È.Ñ. Áàõà è Ë. Áåòõîâåíà, ïî ìíåíèþ Äå- áþññè, ìóçûêà áûëà «ãîëîñîì Âñåëåííîé», â îòëè÷èå îò íåêîòîðûõ ñî- âðåìåííûõ êîìïîçèòîðîâ, ÷üå òâîð÷åñòâî åãî â öåëîì ïîëîæèòåëüíî ïðè- âëåêàëî (äëÿ Æ. Ìàññíå ìóçûêà ýòî «÷àðóþùàÿ ÷àñòíîñòü», à Ô. Ëèñò çàïðîñòî îáùàåòñÿ ñ ìóçûêîé, ïîðîé ïðîñòî «ñàæàÿ åå ñåáå íà êîëå- íè»).33 Ïîëàãàÿ, ÷òî ìóçûêàíòû íåäîñòàòî÷íî èçó÷àþò «Êíèãó Ïðèðî- äû», Äåáþññè ïðåäëàãàë èì ïðî÷èòàòü åå íîâûìè ãëàçàìè è ïðîíèöà- òåëüíî óòâåðæäàë, ÷òî «èñêóññòâî ìîæåò áûòü ãäå-òî äàëüøå...».34 Îùóùåíèå êîñìè÷íîñòè â «ìóçûêàëüíûõ ëàíäøàôòàõ» Äåáþññè êîð- ðåëèðóåò äâóì îñîáåííîñòÿì åãî ìóçûêàëüíîãî ñòèëÿ: ñïàòèàëèçàöèè è îñîáîìó, ìåäèòàòèâíî ñóáúåêòèâíîìó âîñïðèÿòèþ âðåìåíè. Êîìïîçèòîð ìûñëèë ìóçûêàëüíóþ òêàíü ñâîèõ ñî÷èíåíèé â íîâûõ èçìåðåíèÿõ, îáîãàùàÿ òðàäèöèîííîå äëÿ ìóçûêàëüíîãî èñêóññòâà ãî- ðèçîíòàëüíî-âðåìåííîå ðàçâåðòûâàíèå ïðîñòðàíñòâåííûì. Èñïîëüçóÿ ÏÎÈÑÊÈ ÀËÜÒÅÐÍÀÒÈÂÍÎÃÎ ÏÓÒÈ 279

â ôîðòåïèàííîé ôàêòóðå êðàéíèå ðåãèñòðû è ïðèìåíÿÿ ìíîãîñëîéíûå òåðöîâûå è êâèíòîâûå àêêîðäû ñ èõ ïðîñòðàíñòâåííî-àêóñòè÷åñêèì ýô- ôåêòîì, Äåáþññè ñîçäàâàë îùóùåíèå îáúåìà, ïðèäàâàÿ ìóçûêå ñâîå- îáðàçíóþ «ãëóáèíó-âûñîòó». Òàêîå âîñïðèÿòèå ìóçûêè «ñ âûñîòû ïòè÷ü- åãî ïîëåòà» àññîöèèðóåòñÿ ñ ïîäîáíûì ïðèåìîì â ãîðîäñêèõ ïåéçàæàõ Ê. Ïèññàððî («Áóëüâàð Ìîíìàðòð») è Ï. Ñ¸ðà, êîòîðûé ÷àñòî ïîâòîðÿë, ÷òî ïèøåò, «íà÷èíàÿ ñ âîçäóõà». Â ñâîþ î÷åðåäü, è ìóçûêàëüíûå è æè- âîïèñíûå ïðèåìû òèïîëîãè÷åñêè ñõîäíû ñ íîâûì ïîíèìàíèåì ïðî- ñòðàíñòâà â óðáàíèçèðîâàííîé ñðåäå âçãëÿä ñ âûñîòû ìíîãîýòàæíûõ äîìîâ, êàê îòðàæåíèå òåíäåíöèè ê ðàñøèðåíèþ ïðîñòðàíñòâåííîãî äè- àïàçîíà â ïîâñåäíåâíîé æèçíè ÷åëîâåêà êîíöà XIX âåêà. Çà ñ÷åò ðåäêîé ñìåíû ãàðìîíèè è ÷àñòî ïîâòîðÿþùèõñÿ ãàðìîíè÷åñ- êèõ îáîðîòîâ Äåáþññè ôîðìèðóåò îïðåäåëåííûé òèï äâèæåíèÿ â ìóçû- êå, äëÿ êîòîðîãî ñâîéñòâåííî ïðåáûâàíèå â îäíîì ñîñòîÿíèè ïðè ïîñòî- ÿííîì îáíîâëåíèè ñâîåîáðàçíîå «äëåíèå», àíàëîãè÷íîå áåðãñîíîâñêî- ìó dureé. Ýòîò òèï äâèæåíèÿ âûçûâàåò àññîöèàöèè è ñ îñíîâíûì ïðèí- öèïîì èíäèéñêîãî ìóçûêàëüíîãî ìûøëåíèÿ «ïðîöåññóàëüíîñòüþ», ãäå âàæåí èìåííî ïðîöåññ «ðàçâåðòûâàíèÿ», à íå ÷åòêèå èñõîäíûå ýëåìåí- òû. Ïðèìå÷àòåëüíî, ÷òî êîãäà êîìïîçèòîð ñòðåìèòñÿ ïåðåäàòü ÷èñòî óð- áàíèñòè÷åñêèå ìîòèâû, òî îí ïðèáåãàåò ê èñïîëüçîâàíèþ ïðèíöèïà ïî- âòîðà íà âñåõ óðîâíÿõ ìåòðî-ðèòìè÷åñêîé îðãàíèçàöèè ìóçûêàëüíîé òêà- íè, òåì ñàìûì, ñîçäàâàÿ ýôôåêò ìåõàíèñòè÷íîñòè. Ïîèñêè «àëüòåðíàòèâíîãî ïóòè» Êëîäîì Äåáþññè áûëè ïðîäîëæå- íû â XX âåêå íîâûìè ïîêîëåíèÿìè ôðàíöóçñêèõ êîìïîçèòîðîâ: ïîñëå óðáàíèñòè÷åñêîãî äâèæåíèÿ «Ïàñèôèêà» À. Îíåããåð ïðèõîäèò ê «Ëè- òóðãè÷åñêîé» ñèìôîíèè, à Î. Ìåññèàí òâîðèò ñâîé êîñìîñ, ñîåäèíÿÿ õðèñòèàíñêî-èíäèéñêèå âçãëÿäû è ðèòìû.

THE SEARCH FOR THE ALTERNATIVE WAY IN CLAUDE DEBUSSYS CREATIVE WORK Lyubov KUPETS Petrozavodsk State Conservatory, Russia

This paper investigates the problem of reciprocity between urbanism and the natural landscape in chamber-vocal works of Claude Debussy, in the specific context of French artistic culture in the 19th and the beginning of the 280 Ëþáîâü ÊÓÏÅÖ

20th centuries. It regards the synthesis of urbanism and nature as a characterizing feature of the composers artistic thinking connected with elements of the eastern culture and cosmogony. The author demonstrates this synthesis by focusing on two peculiarities of Debussys musical style: spatiality and the new understanding of time

ÏÐÈÌÅ×ÀÍÈß 1 Äåáþññè Ê. Ñòàòüè, ðåöåíçèè, áåñåäû. Ì.-Ë., 1964. Ñ. 131. 2 Îá îñîçíàíèè «ìîçàè÷íîñòè» ñîâðåìåííîãî ìûøëåíèÿ ïèñàë Â.Â.Ðîçà- íîâ â 1899 ãîäó (Áåëûé À. Ñèìâîëèçì êàê ìèðîïîíèìàíèå. Ì., 1994. Ñ. 341). Ýòà æå ÷åðòà áûëà õàðàêòåðíà è äëÿ òðàäèöèîííîãî èñêóññòâà Âîñòîêà (Ñì.: Ñèíòåç â èñêóññòâå ñòðàí Âîñòîêà. Ì., 1993). 3 Îáùåèçâåñòíî âîñõèùåíèå Ýéíøòåéíà ðîìàíàìè Äîñòîåâñêîãî. Âåëè- êèé ôèçèê áûë áëèçêîì çíàêîì ñ ðÿäîì êðóïíåéøèõ ïñèõîëîãîâ XX âåêà Ç.Ôðåéäîì, Ì. Âåðòãàéìåðîì, Æ. Ïèàæå. Î âëèÿíèè ôèëîñîôñêî-êóëüòóðíîé òðàäèöèè (Õ. Ã¸ôôäèíã, Ñ. Êüåðêåãîð, Â. Äæåìñ) íà Áîðà, ñì.: Íèëüñ Áîð. Æèçíü è òâîð÷åñòâî. Ì., 1967. 4 Ñì. Ïðèíöèï äîïîëíèòåëüíîñòè è ìàòåðèàëèñòè÷åñêàÿ äèàëåêòèêà. Ì., 1976. Ñ. 48 5 Ñì. Àëåêñååâ È. Êîíöåïöèÿ äîïîëíèòåëüíîñòè. Ì., 1978. Ñ. 74. 6 Êîíñòàòèðóÿ òîò ôàêò, ÷òî íà ðóáåæå XIX-XX ââ. è â ïåðâîé ïîëîâèíå XX âåêà èððàöèîíàëüíîå çàíèìàåò íåçàâèñèìûå ïîçèöèè, Í. Àâòîíîìîâà ïèøåò: «Â XX âåêå èððàöèîíàëüíîå, ñòàíîâÿñü íåñàìîñòîÿòåëüíûì óìîíàñòðîåíèåì, òåñíèò ðàöèîíàëüíîå, ñòàíîâèòñÿ ñîèçìåðèìûì ñ ðàöèîíàëüíûì. Èððàöèîíàëü- íîå âïîñëåäñòâèè ýòîãî îêàçûâàåòñÿ óæå íå çàïðåäåëüíûì èëè ïåðèôåðèéíûì ýëåìåíòîì îáùåãî ìûñëèòåëüíîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà, íî ïîä÷àñ åäâà ëè íå ñåðäöå- âèíîé, â êîòîðîé òùåòíî èùåòñÿ ðàöèîíàëüíûé ñìûñë» (Àâòîíîìîâà Í. Ðàññó- äîê. Ðàçóì. Ðàöèîíàëüíîñòü. Ì., 1988. Ñ. 26). 7 Â ñòàòüå «Åäèíñòâî çíàíèé» (1954) Áîð â êà÷åñòâå ïðèìåðà äîïîëíèòåëü- íîñòè èíòóèöèè è ëîãèêè, èñêóññòâà è íàóêè, ìûñëè è äåéñòâèÿ ïðèâîäèò öåí- òðàëüíûé ìîíîëîã Ãàìëåòà 8 Îá âîçìîæíûõ àíàëîãèÿõ è âçàèìîîòíîøåíèÿõ ìåæäó õóäîæåñòâåííûì ìûøëåíèåì Äåáþññè è íîâîå íàó÷íîé êàðòèíîé ìèðà ñì.: Êóïåö Ë.À. Êëîä Äåáþññè è Íèëüñ Áîð: íåîæèäàííûå ïàðàëëåëè // Ñâîå è ÷óæîå â êóëüòóðå íà- ðîäîâ Åâðîïåéñêîãî Ñåâåðà. Ïåòðîçàâîäñê. 1997. Ñ.78-80; Êóïåö Ë.À. Åäèíàÿ òåîðèÿ ìèðà â ìóçûêå Ê. Äåáþññè // Êóëüòóðà: ñîáëàçíû ïîíèìàíèÿ. Ìàòåðèà- ëû íàó÷.-òåîðåòè÷. ñåìèíàðà (24-27 ìàðòà 1999 ã.): Â 2 ÷. ×.1. Ïåòðîçàâîäñê, 1999. Ñ. 101-103. 9 Êàëèòèíà Í. Ôðàíöóçñêîå èçîáðàçèòåëüíîå èñêóññòâî êîíöà XVIII-XX âåêîâ. Ë., 1990. Ñ.130. 10 Äåáþññè Ê. Èçáðàííûå ïèñüìà. Ë., 1986. Ñ. 25. ÏÎÈÑÊÈ ÀËÜÒÅÐÍÀÒÈÂÍÎÃÎ ÏÓÒÈ 281

11 Òàì æå. Ñ. 173. 12 Îá ýòîé ñëàáîñòè êîìïîçèòîðà ñâèäåòåëüñòâóåò îäíî èç åãî ïèñåì (îò 5 èþëÿ 1897 ã.), â êîòîðîì Äåáþññè, ïðèãëàøàÿ ê ñåáå â ãîñòè äðóãà ïîýòà Ï.Ëó- èñà è íàìåðåâàÿñü èñïîëíèòü åìó èõ ñîâìåñòíîå òâîðåíèå âîêàëüíûé öèêë Ïåñíè Áèëèòèñ, ïîëóøóòëèâî ïðîñèò: Åñëè õî÷åøü áûòü ìèëûì, òî çàõâàòè ñ ñîáîé ñâîé Êîäàê (Òàì æå. Ñ. 65). 13 Äåáþññè Ê. Ñòàòüè, ðåöåíçèè, áåñåäû. Ì.-Ë., 1964. Ñ. 131. 14 Òàì æå. Ñ. 118-119. 15 Òàì æå. Ñ. 212. 16 Òàì æå. Ñ. 225. 17 Òàì æå. Ñ. 221. 18 Òàì æå, Ñ. 220-221. 19 òàì æå. Ñ. 222. 20 Ýòîò èíòåðåñîâàâøèé Äåáþññè êðóã âîïðîñîâ ÿâëÿåòñÿ ïðîÿâëåíèåì îñ- íîâíûõ õàðàêòåðèñòèê ñîâðåìåííîé öèâèëèçàöèè, êîòîðûå Ã.Îðëîâ îïðåäåëÿ- åò êàê: «äåöåíòðàëèçàöèÿ, ðàñïàä èåðàðõè÷åñêèõ îòíîøåíèé, ïëþðàëèçì è ãî- ìîãåííîñòü» (Îðëîâ Ã. Äðåâî ìóçûêè. Âàøèíãòîí-ÑÏá., 1992. Ñ. 376). 21 Òàì æå. Ñ. 189-190. 22 Äåáþññè Ê. Èçáðàííûå ïèñüìà. Ë., 1986. Ñ. 164-165. 23 Òàì æå. Ñ. 194. 24 Òàì æå. Ñ. 136. 25 Òàì æå. Ñ. 265. 26 Òàì æå. Ñ. 129. 27 Òàì æå. Ñ. 69. 28 Òàì æå. Ñ. 105. 29 Òàì æå, Ñ. 152. 30 Äåáþññè Ê. Ñòàòüè, ðåöåíçèè, áåñåäû. Ì.-Ë., 1964. Ñ. 214. 31 Åñëè ïðåäëîæåííóþ òèïîëîãèþ ðàññìàòðèâàòü íà ïðèìåðå êàìåðíîé âîêàëüíîé ëèðèêè Äåáþññè, òî ê ïåðâîìó òèïó ìîæíî îòíåñòè ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ ðàçíûõ ëåò, òàêèå êàê: «La Flûte de Pan» & «La Tombeau des Naïades» («Trois Chansons de Bilitis»), «La Grotte» («Le Promenoir de deux Amants»); êî âòîðîìó «La Mer est plus bell» («Trois Mélodies»), «L’Ombre des Arbres» («Ariettes Oubliées»); ê òðåòüåìó «Dans le Jardin», «L’Échelonnement des Haies» («Trois Mélodies»), «Green» («Ariettes Oubliées»), «Les Roses», «Le Jet d’Eau» («Cinq Poèmes de Charles Baudelaire»); ê ÷åòâåðòîìó «Les Angelus», «Les Cloches» («Deux Romances»). 32 Òàì æå. Ñ. 140. 33 Òàì æå. Ñ. 45. 34 Òàì æå. Ñ. 140.

ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÐÀÕÌÀÍÈÍÎÂ: ÐÅËÈÃÈÎÇÍÀß ÑÈÌÂÎËÈÊÀ È ÝÂÎËÞÖÈß ÊÐÈÒÅÐÈß ÖÅÍÍÎÑÒÈ

Ëþäìèëà ÑÊÀÔÒÛÌÎÂÀ

Ðóññêîå ïðàâîñëàâèå èñêîííî áûëî ñâÿçàíî ñ ìóçûêàëüíûì èñêóñ- ñòâîì, ìóçûêà âõîäèëà êàê îáÿçàòåëüíûé êîìïîíåíò â îáðÿä áîãîñëó- æåíèÿ. Îñíîâîé öåðêîâíîãî ïåíèÿ ñòàë òàê íàçûâàåìûé ÇÍÀÌÅÍÍÛÉ ÐÀÑÏÅÂ, ÿâèâøèéñÿ ÿð÷àéøèì íàöèîíàëüíûì ïëàñòîì îòå÷åñòâåííîé ìóçûêàëüíîé êóëüòóðû. Íàèáîëåå øèðîêîå ðàçâèòèå òðàäèöèÿ ðóññêî- ãî ìóçûêàëüíîãî ñðåäíåâåêîâüÿ ïðèîáðåëà íà ðóáåæå XIX-XX ââ. Ïåð- âûé øàã áûë ñäåëàí Ï. ×àéêîâñêèì, çàòåì ê öåðêîâíîé ìóçûêå â Ìîñê- âå îáðàòèëèñü À. Ãðå÷àíèíîâ è Ì. Èïïîëèòîâ-Èâàíîâ, À. Êàñòàëüñêèé è Âèêò. Êàëèííèêîâ, Ï. ×åñíîêîâ, À. Íèêîëüñêèé è äð. Â Ïåòåðáóðãå óæå â 80-å ãîäû â ðàçëè÷íûõ æàíðàõ öåðêîâíîé ìóçûêè ñòàëè ðàáîòàòü Ì. Áàëàêèðåâ, Í. Ðèìñêèé-Êîðñàêîâ, çàòåì À. Àðåíñêèé è À. Ëÿäîâ. Ñðåäè ìíîãî÷èñëåííûõ äóõîâíûõ ïðîèçâåäåíèé ýòîãî âðåìåíè îñî- áîå ìåñòî çàíèìàþò öåðêîâíûå òâîðåíèÿ Ñ. Ðàõìàíèíîâà «Ëèòóðãèÿ ñâ. Èîàííà Çëàòîóñòà» è «Âñåíîùíîå áäåíèå», ïðåäñòàâëÿþùèå ñîáîé àáñîëþòíóþ âåðøèíó äàííîãî æàíðà. Óíèêàëüíîñòü Ðàõìàíèíîâà åùå è â òîì, ÷òî ó íåãî çíàìåííûé ðàñïåâ ÿâëÿëñÿ èíòîíàöèîííîé îñíîâîé íå òîëüêî åãî äóõîâíûõ, íî è ñâåòñêèõ ïðîèçâåäåíèé (I, III ñèìôîíèè, Òðåòèé ôîðòåïèàííûé êîíöåðò, «Ñèìôîíè÷åñêèå òàíöû» è äð.) Ñòèõèÿ çíàìåííîãî ðàñïåâà áîëüøàÿ è ÷ðåçâû÷àéíî âàæíàÿ îá- ëàñòü òåìàòèçìà Ðàõìàíèíîâà, ñâÿçàííàÿ ñ êðóãîì äðåâíåðóññêîãî êóëü- òîâîãî ïåíèÿ. Îïîðà ìåëîäèè êîìïîçèòîðà íà çàêîíîìåðíîñòè ðóññêèõ öåðêîâíûõ íàïåâîâ íåñîìíåííà. Â åãî òåìàòèçìå òðóäíåå âûÿâèòü ñâÿçü ñ ðóññêîé íàðîäíîé ïåñíåé, íåæåëè ñî çíàìåííûìè ìåëîäèÿìè. Òâîð- ÷åñêîå ïðîíèêíîâåíèå â äóõ è õàðàêòåð äðåâíåãî íàöèîíàëüíîãî ïëàñ- òà ðóññêîé ìóçûêè áûë íàñòîëüêî îðãàíè÷íûì è ãëóáîêèì, ÷òî ìíîãèå îðèãèíàëüíûå åãî ìåëîäèè íåîòëè÷èìû îò çíàìåííûõ. Ðàõìàíèíîâ áóêâàëüíî îòêðûë ñòèõèþ çíàìåííîé ìåëîäèêè, êàê ýòî áûëî ñäåëàíî åãî ïðåäøåñòâåííèêàìè è ñòàðøèìè ñîâðåìåííèêàìè â îòíîøåíèè ðóññêîé íàðîäíîé ïåñíè. «ß ëþáëþ öåðêîâíîå ïåíèå», ãî- ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÐÀÕÌÀÍÈÍÎÂ... 283

âîðèë îí, «âåäü îíî, êàê è íàðîäíûå ïåñíè, ñëóæèò ïåðâîèñòî÷íè- êîì, îò êîòîðîãî ïîøëà íàøà ðóññêàÿ ìóçûêà».1 Êîìïîçèòîð îòíîñèëñÿ ê äðåâíèì ðàñïåâàì íàñòîëüêî áåðåæíî è âäóì÷èâî, ÷òî ñàì ÷èòàë êðþêè è ïåðåâîäèë èõ ñ ðóêîïèñè.2 Îí øèðîêî ðàçâèë â ñâîåì òâîð÷åñòâå ýòîò îðèãèíàëüíûé ïëàñò, ñîîáùèâ íîâîå çâó- ÷àíèå è ñàìîé çíàìåííîé ìåëîäèêå, è ÷åðåç íåå ñâîèì èçëþáëåííûì èäåÿì. Ðàõìàíèíîâ îáîáùèë çàêîíîìåðíîñòè çíàìåííûõ ðàñïåâîâ, çíà- ÷èòåëüíî ïåðåèíòîíèðîâàë, ðàñøèðèë èõ îáðàçíî-ñîäåðæàòåëüíûé óðî- âåíü è ôàêòè÷åñêè ñîçäàë ñîáñòâåííóþ ñèñòåìó ñèìâîëîâ íà èõ îñíîâå. Íåïðåìåííûì àòðèáóòîì ïðàâîñëàâíîãî áîãîñëóæåíèÿ ÿâëÿåòñÿ è øèðîêàÿ ñôåðà ÊÎËÎÊÎËÜÍÛÕ ÇÂÎÍÎÂ (êîëîêîëüíîñòü). Êîëîêîëü- íîñòü åùå îäíà òî÷êà ñîïðèêîñíîâåíèÿ Ðàõìàíèíîâà ñ öåðêîâíûì ÷è- íîì. Îíà, ðàçâèâàÿñü è ýâîëþöèîíèðóÿ, ïðîøëà ÷åðåç âñå òâîð÷åñòâî êîìïîçèòîðà îò äî-äèåç ìèíîðíîé Ïðåëþäèè, ÷åðåç êàíòàòó «Êîëîêî- ëà» äî ïîñëåäíåãî îïóñà. Êîëîêîëüíîñòü, ïîëó÷èâøàÿ â åãî ñî÷èíåíèÿõ ëèðèêî-ýïè÷åñêóþ èëè òðàãåäèéíî-ôèëîñîôñêóþ îñíîâó, ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé ãëóáîêî íàöèîíàëüíîå, èñêëþ÷èòåëüíî ñàìîáûòíîå ÿâëåíèå â ðóññêîé ìóçûêå. Îíà òàê æå, êàê è ñôåðà çíàìåííîãî ðàñïåâà, ñòàëà â ãëóáîêî ðóññêîé ñòèëèñòèêå ìóçûêè êîìïîçèòîðà åùå îäíèì íàöèî- íàëüíûì ñèìâîëîì. «Ðàõìàíèíîâ è Ðîññèÿ ýíåðãèÿ ýòèõ èìåí âçàè- ìîîâåùåñòâëåíà â êîëîêîëüíîñòè, êîòîðàÿ îò íà÷àë ñòàíîâèòñÿ îñíî- âîé è öåíòðàëüíûì ñèìâîëîì ôîðìèðóþùåéñÿ â ìóçûêå êîìïîçèòîðà íàöèîíàëüíîé êàðòèíîé ìèðà».3 Íàöèîíàëüíûå ýëåìåíòû, ñâÿçàííûå ñ êîëîêîëüíîñòüþ è çíàìåí- íûì ðàñïåâîì, äîñòàòî÷íî ÷àñòî âñòðå÷àþòñÿ è ó äðóãèõ ðóññêèõ êîì- ïîçèòîðîâ. Îäíàêî, ïðèìåíåíèå èõ ïðåäñòàâèòåëÿìè «Ìîãó÷åé êó÷êè» è ×àéêîâñêèì, ñ îäíîé ñòîðîíû, è Ðàõìàíèíîâûì, ñ äðóãîé, îòíþäü íå îäíîçíà÷íî. Ó ïåðâûõ, ãëàâíûì îáðàçîì, ó êó÷êèñòîâ, ýòè ýëåìåíòû ïðåæäå âñåãî ñâÿçàíû ñ ýïîñîì, èñòîðèåé, áûòîì. Ó Ðàõìàíèíîâà ýòî îñîáàÿ îáøèðíàÿ èíòîíàöèîííî-îáðàçíàÿ ñôåðà, ñóùåñòâåííàÿ ÷àñòü åãî õóäîæåñòâåííîé ýñòåòèêè. Â ìóçûêå êîìïîçèòîðà ÷àñòî ïðèñóòñòâóåò åùå îäèí ñèìâîë, íà ïåð- âûé âçãëÿä, íå ñâÿçàííûé ñ íàöèîíàëüíûìè êîðíÿìè åãî òâîð÷åñòâà. Ýòî Dies irae («Äåíü ãíåâà») íà÷àëüíàÿ ôðàçà îäíîé èç ÷àñòåé êàòîëè- ÷åñêîãî ðåêâèåìà, ñîçäàííîãî ôðàíöèñêàíñêèìè ìîíàõàìè â XIII âåêå. Ýòîò ìîòèâ ìíîãî ðàç èñïîëüçîâàëñÿ íåêîòîðûìè çàïàäíîåâðîïåéñêè- ìè êîìïîçèòîðàìè-ðîìàíòèêàìè, íàïðèìåð, Ã. Áåðëèîçîì, Ô. Ëèñòîì, 284 Ëþäìèëà ÑÊÀÔÒÛÌÎÂÀ

Ê. Ñåí-Ñàíñîì, à òàêæå ðóññêèìè ìóçûêàíòàìè Ï. ×àéêîâñêèì, Ì. Ìóñîðãñêèì, À. Ãëàçóíîâûì è ìíîãèìè äðóãèìè. Èçâåñòíî, ÷òî Ðàõìàíèíîâ èíòåðåñîâàëñÿ íàïåâîì, ÷òî åãî ñòàâøàÿ òðàäèöèîííîé îáðàçíàÿ òðàêòîâêà, óñòàíîâèâøàÿñÿ â ìóçûêå äðóãèõ êîìïîçèòîðîâ, îêàçàëàñü áëèçêà ýñòåòèêî-ôèëîñîôñêèì âçãëÿäàì êîì- ïîçèòîðà, îñîáåííî â ïîçäíèé ïåðèîä òâîð÷åñòâà. Îá ýòîì, â ÷àñòíîñòè, ñâèäåòåëüñòâóþò âîñïîìèíàíèÿ È. ßññåðà: «Ðàõìàíèíîâ ñòàë èçúÿñíÿòü ìíå, ÷òî åãî âåñüìà çàíèìàåò â íàñòîÿùåå âðåìÿ çíàìåíèòûé ñðåäíåâå- êîâûé íàïåâ Dies irae, êîòîðûé îáû÷íî èçâåñòåí ìóçûêàíòàì (â òîì ÷èñëå è åìó ñàìîìó) ëèøü ïî åãî äâóìòðåì íà÷àëüíûì ôðàçàì, ñòîëü ÷àñòî ïðèìåíÿåìûì â ðàçëè÷íûõ ìóçûêàëüíûõ ïðîèçâåäåíèÿõ â êà÷åñòâå «òåìû ñìåðòè», ïèøåò ßññåð.4 Àìåðèêàíñêèé ìóçûêîâåä äàëåå îòìå- ÷àåò, ÷òî «ìåëîäèÿ Dies irae èìåëà äëÿ Ðàõìàíèíîâà ãëóáîêî ñèìâîëè- ÷åñêîå çíà÷åíèå, äàâíî óæå îòâå÷àâøåå êàêèì-òî íåîòâÿç÷èâûì åãî äó- ìàì, îñîáåííî æå â ïîñëåäíèå ãîäû; îí â íåé âíóòðåííå îùóùàë êà- êèå-òî âíåìóçûêàëüíûå ýëåìåíòû».5 Ñóðîâûé êîëîðèò ñðåäíåâåêîâîãî íàïåâà, òåêñòîâîå ñîäåðæàíèå, ïîâåñòâóþùåå î íåèçáåæíîñòè íàñòóïëåíèÿ «äíÿ ãíåâà», àïîêàëèïòè- ÷åñêèå êàðòèíû, ïðåäøåñòâóþùèå ýòîìó äíþ, ñïîñîáñòâîâàëè óòâåð- æäåíèþ íàïåâà â ìóçûêå êàê ñèìâîëà ãðîçíîãî ðîêà, ïðåäâåñòíèêà âñåîáùåé ãèáåëè. Ïîäîáíóþ îáðàçíî-ïñèõîëîãè÷åñêóþ òðàêòîâêó ïðèäàâàë ýòîìó íà- ïåâó è Ðàõìàíèíîâ. Íî åñëè äðóãèå êîìïîçèòîðû ïðèâëåêàëè åãî ñêîðåå êàê ÿðêóþ èëëþñòðàöèþ, ÷àñòî äàëåêóþ ñòèëèñòè÷åñêèì îñîáåííîñòÿì èõ îðèãèíàëüíîãî ÿçûêà, òî Ðàõìàíèíîâ ïîäõîäèë ê öèòèðîâàíèþ Dies irae çíà÷èòåëüíî áîëåå îðãàíè÷íî, èñõîäÿ èç ñâîåîáðàçíî ïðåòâîðåííûõ â åãî ìåëîäèêå íàöèîíàëüíûõ ÷åðò, îêàçûâàâøèõñÿ â êàæäîì äàííîì ñëó- ÷àå ñòðóêòóðíî è îáðàçíî áëèçêèìè ê ñôåðå íàïåâà. Dies irae ïîëó÷àåò ó íåãî øèðîêóþ, ðàçâèòóþ ôèëîñîôñêóþ îñíîâó, èñêëþ÷èòåëüíóþ âûðà- çèòåëüíóþ ñèëó, èíòåíñèâíîå ðàçâèòèå. Â ïîçäíåì «òðàãè÷åñêîì» ïåðèî- äå òâîð÷åñòâà Ðàõìàíèíîâà Dies irae ïîÿâëÿåòñÿ îáû÷íî êàê ôàòàëüíûé âûâîä (Ðàïñîäèÿ íà òåìó Ïàãàíèíè, Òðåòüÿ ñèìôîíèÿ, «Ñèìôîíè÷åñêèå òàíöû»). È ýòî, î÷åâèäíî, íå ñëó÷àéíî, èáî ìèðîâîççðåíèå õóäîæíèêà, îêàçàâøåãîñÿ â ÷óæäîì åìó ìèðå, òÿæåëî ïåðåæèâàâøåãî ðàçëóêó ñ ðî- äèíîé, ñïîñîáñòâîâàëî ñîçäàíèþ òðàãè÷åñêèõ êîíöåïöèé. Èíòåðåñíà çàêîíîìåðíîñòü èñïîëüçîâàíèÿ êîìïîçèòîðîì ëèøü ïåð- âîé, íà÷àëüíîé ôðàçû çàóïîêîéíîãî ïåñíîïåíèÿ. Íà ýòîò ôàêò îáðàòèë ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÐÀÕÌÀÍÈÍÎÂ... 285

âíèìàíèå è È. ßññåð, êîòîðûé ïî ïðîñüáå Ðàõìàíèíîâà ïðåäîñòàâèë åìó âåñü ìóçûêàëüíûé ìàòåðèàë íàïåâà, åãî òåêñò â ðóññêîì ïåðåâîäå è èñòî- ðè÷åñêóþ ñïðàâêó. Ìóçûêîâåä ñîîáùàåò, ÷òî ïîñëå òùàòåëüíîãî èçó÷å- íèÿ ïîëíîãî íàïåâà Ðàõìàíèíîâ «äàëüøå âñåì èçâåñòíîé íà÷àëüíîé ôðà- çû íå ïîøåë» â ïîñëåäóþùèõ ñâîèõ ñî÷èíåíèÿõ. «ß ïîìíþ», ïèøåò äàëåå ßññåð, «èñïûòàë äàæå ñ ýòîé ñòîðîíû íåêîòîðîå ðàçî÷àðîâàíèå, êîãäà âïåðâûå óñëûøàë èñïîëíåíèå ñ Íüþ-Éîðêñêèì ñèìôîíè÷åñêèì îðêåñòðîì ýòî ïðîèçâåäåíèå (Ðàïñîäèþ íà òåìó Ïàãàíèíè Ë.Ñ.)».6 Ìû ñêëîííû âèäåòü, ïî êðàéíåé ìåðå, òðè ïðè÷èíû òîìó ôàêòó, ÷òî Ðàõìàíèíîâ èñïîëüçîâàë ëèøü íà÷àëüíóþ êðàòêóþ ôðàçó íàïåâà èëè èíîãäà äàæå åãî ïåðâûå ÷åòûðå çâóêà. Èìåííî ýòà íà÷àëüíàÿ ÷àñòü íàïåâà îêàçûâàåòñÿ íàèáîëåå áëèçêîé ðàõìàíèíîâñêèì òåìàì, èäóùèì îò êîëîêîëüíîñòè è çíàìåííîñòè (ñòèõèè çíàìåííîãî ðàñïåâà). Ïîìèìî òîãî, êðàòêîñòü, àôîðèñòè÷íîñòü ýòîé ôðàçû, â îñîáåííîñòè åå èñõîä- íîãî ÷åòûðåõçâó÷íîãî ìîòèâà, ñîîòâåòñòâîâàëè íîâîìó òèïó òåìàòèç- ìà, ñôîðìèðîâàâøåìóñÿ ó êîìïîçèòîðà â ñðåäíèé ïåðèîä òâîð÷åñòâà è íàèáîëåå ðàçâèâøåìóñÿ â ïîçäíèé òàê íàçûâàåìîìó ìèêðîòåìàòèçìó. Êðîìå òîãî, èñïîëüçîâàíèå òîëüêî íåñêîëüêèõ ïåðâûõ çâóêîâ íàïåâà ïîçâîëèëè åìó ñîçäàòü åùå îäèí, íàðàâíå ñ êîëîêîëüíûì è çíàìåííûì, àôîðèçìñèìâîë, îëèöåòâîðÿþùèé îáðàç ñìåðòè è ãèáåëè. Èòàê, â òâîð÷åñòâå ðóññêîãî êîìïîçèòîðà ÿâíî îáîçíà÷àþòñÿ òðè ÌÎÒÈÂÀ-ÑÈÌÂÎËÀ, ñâÿçàííûå ñ ðåëèãèåé êîëîêîëüíîñòü, çíàìåí- íîñòü, Dies irae. Îíè ïîèñòèíå îáëàäàþò âñåìè êà÷åñòâàìè, êîòîðûå äàþò ïîëíîå ïðàâî íàçâàòü èõ ÌÎÒÈÂÀÌÈ-ÑÈÌÂÎËÀÌÈ, ñâÿçûâàþùèìè ïðîøëûå êóëüòóðû ñ íàñòîÿùèìè è áóäóùèìè. «Âåðòèêàëüíî ïðîíèçû- âàÿ êóëüòóðíûå ïëàñòû è ñâÿçûâàÿ ïðîøëîå, íàñòîÿùåå è áóäóùåå, ñèì- âîëû íå òîëüêî âûïîëíÿþò ôóíêöèþ ïàìÿòè», ïèøåò À. Ìàãîìåäîâà, «íî è áåðóò íà ñåáÿ ìåõàíèçì åäèíñòâà, ïåðåíîñÿ òåêñòû èç îäíîãî ïëàñ- òà êóëüòóðû â äðóãîé è, îñóùåñòâëÿÿ òåì ñàìûì ïàìÿòü îáùåñòâà î ñåáå, ñèìâîëû íå ïîçâîëÿþò ðàñïàñòüñÿ êóëüòóðå íà èçîëèðîâàííûå õðîíîëî- ãè÷åñêèå ïëàñòû».7 Ïîäîáíîå îïðåäåëåíèå ôóíêöèé ñèìâîëîâ, íà íàø âçãëÿä, îðãàíè÷åñêè ïåðåíîñèòñÿ è íà ðàõìàíèíîâñêîå òâîð÷åñòâî, íà ðîëü åãî ìîòèâîâ-ñèìâîëîâ, ïðåäñòàâëÿþùèõ «ìíîãîå äàííîå êàê îäíî».8 Ìóçûêà Ðàõìàíèíîâà, åå îáðàçíîñòü, îñíîâàííàÿ, êàê óæå ãîâîðè- ëîñü, íà ðåëèãèîçíûõ ñèìâîëàõ, â îáùåé äóõîâíîé ïàðàäèãìå åãî òâîð- ÷åñòâà ïîäêóïàþùå «ïðîâîöèðóþò» âîçìîæíîñòü òðàêòîâàòü òâîð÷åñòâî ýòîãî õóäîæíèêà â ñôåðå ðåëèãèîçíîé ïðîáëåìàòèêè, à ñàìîãî åãî ñ÷è- 286 Ëþäìèëà ÑÊÀÔÒÛÌÎÂÀ

òàòü ÷óòü ëè íå ðåëèãèîçíûì îðòîäîêñîì. Âèäèìî ïîýòîìó â ïîñëåäíåå äåñÿòèëåòèå (çäåñü ðîëü ñûãðàëà, êîíå÷íî, è îòêðûâøàÿñÿ òåïåðü ñâî- áîäà âåðîèñïîâåäîâàíèÿ) äîâîëüíî ÿñíî îáîçíà÷èëàñü òåíäåíöèÿ ðàñ- ñìàòðèâàòü äàæå ñâåòñêèå ñî÷èíåíèÿ Ðàõìàíèíîâà èñêëþ÷èòåëüíî ñêâîçü ïðèçìó ðåëèãèîçíî-ôèëîñîôñêèõ êîíöåïöèé. Ðå÷ü èäåò î íåêîòîðûõ ðàáîòàõ (íàïðèìåð, È. Äåìèíîé, Í. Áåêåòî- âîé, Ã. Êàëîøèíîé)9 , â êîòîðûõ ðåëèãèîçíî-ïðàâîñëàâíàÿ îðèåíòàöèÿ èõ àâòîðîâ ïîçâîëÿåò èì âèäåòü â çíà÷èòåëüíåéøèõ ïðîèçâåäåíèÿõ êîìïî- çèòîðà ëèøü «ñâÿùåííûå ñëåäû è òàèíñòâåííûå óðîêè Âñåâûøíåãî».10 Ýòè ðàáîòû èçîáèëóþò öèòàòàìè, ïîäîáíûìè ïðèâåäåííîé, è ôàêòè÷åñ- êè «óêëàäûâàþò» Ðàõìàíèíîâà è åãî òâîð÷åñòâî â òåñíûé ôóòëÿð ðåëèãè- îçíîñòè. Ã. Êàëîøèíà, íàïðèìåð, ïðÿìî ãîâîðèò îá ýòîì: «Ó Ðàõìàíèíî- âà ñèìôîíè÷åñêèå ïðîöåññû âîññîçäàþò ïðàâîñëàâíîå ïåðåæèâàíèå ñî- áîðíîñòè êàê âîññîåäèíåíèå â Áîãå, Äóõå è èñòèíå».11 Â ðàáîòå Þ. Ïàèñîâà òîðæåñòâóþò îáðàçû «Áîæåñòâåííîé ãàðìîíèè» (òàê îçàãëàâëåí îäèí èç ðàçäåëîâ åãî ñòàòüè), «ñâÿùåííûå ñëåäû è óðîêè Âñåâûøíåãî».12 Àâòîðû óïîìÿíóòûõ ðàáîò, ïîñòîÿííî öèòèðóÿ Í. Áåðäÿåâà, À. Ëî- ñåâà, Å. Òðóáåöêîãî, È. Èëüèíà, ïðîõîäÿò ìèìî, íà íàø âçãëÿä, ñèìïòî- ìàòè÷íîãî äëÿ ïîíèìàíèÿ äàííîé ïðîáëåìû âûñêàçûâàíèÿ ïîñëåäíå- ãî: «Ðóññêîå èñêóññòâî íàìíîãî ëåã÷å ïîíÿòü, åñëè âñå ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ ðóññêîé ïîýçèè, æèâîïèñè è ìóçûêè ïîäâåðãíóòü âîïðîñó, íå ñòðåìèò- ñÿ ëè â íèõ íà âîëþ è, ïî ìåðå íåîáõîäèìîñòè, ê âîïëîùåíèþ êàêàÿ-òî ïîòàåííàÿ, ìîæåò áûòü, áåññëîâåñíàÿ, ìîæåò áûòü, âîâñå íå ñâÿçàííàÿ ñ âåðîé ìîëèòâà».13 Â òî æå âðåìÿ, ïðîáëåìà îñìûñëåíèÿ òâîð÷åñêîé ëè÷íîñòè Ðàõìà- íèíîâà â ñâåòå åãî ðåëèãèîçíîñòè ÿâëÿåòñÿ àêòóàëüíîé íå òîëüêî â ñôå- ðå áèîãðàôè÷åñêîé, ëè÷íîñòíîé. Ðåøàòü ýòè âîïðîñû âîîáùå ñëîæíî ïî ïðè÷èíå áîëåå, ÷åì ñåìèäå- ñÿòèëåòíåãî ìîë÷àíèÿ î íèõ, à â îòíîøåíèè Ðàõìàíèíîâà åùå è ïî ìîòè- âàì ëè÷íîñòíîãî õàðàêòåðà, â ÷àñòíîñòè, ýçîòåðè÷íîñòè åãî íàòóðû. Î ðåëèãèîçíîñòè, îòíîøåíèþ ê âîïðîñàì ðåëèãèè ìîæíî ñóäèòü ëèøü ïî äâóì åãî ðàçãîâîðàì ñ ×. ×àïëèíûì è ãîðàçäî ðàíåå â Ðîññèè ñ Ì. Øàãèíÿí, à òàêæå ïî íåêîòîðûì âîñïîìèíàíèÿì ñîâðåìåííèêîâ. Ïî- êàçàòåëåí â ýòîì îòíîøåíèè ðàññêàç ×àïëèíà î äðóæåñêîì âå÷åðå â äîìå Â. Ãîðîâèöà, êîãäà âåëèêèé àêòåð ïðèçíàëñÿ, ÷òî îí íåâåðóþùèé. «Ðàõ- ìàíèíîâ áûñòðî âìåøàëñÿ: À êàê æå ìîæåò ñóùåñòâîâàòü èñêóññòâî áåç ðåëèãèè? Íà êàêîå-òî ìãíîâåíèå ÿ ñìåøàëñÿ. ß äóìàþ, ÷òî ìû ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÐÀÕÌÀÍÈÍÎÂ... 287

ãîâîðèì î ðàçíûõ âåùàõ, ñêàçàë ÿ. ß ïðåäñòàâëÿþ ñåáå ðåëèãèþ êàê âåðó â íåêóþ äîãìó, à èñêóññòâî, ïî-ìîåìó, îñíîâàíî áîëüøå íà ÷óâñòâå, ÷åì íà âåðå. Òàê æå, êàê è ðåëèãèÿ, îòâåòèë Ðàõìàíèíîâ».14 Ýòîò ðàçãîâîð ïðèâîäèò ê ìûñëè, ÷òî Ðàõìàíèíîâ ïðèíèìàë ðåëèãèþ òîëüêî êàê íåêîå ðåëèãèîçíîå ÷óâñòâî, çàêëþ÷åííîå â ÷åëîâåêå. Â ðàçãîâîðå ñ Ì. Øàãèíÿí êîìïîçèòîð âûðàæàåò ñîìíåíèå â ñóùåñòâîâàíèè Ãîðíåãî ìèðà.15 Ïðîòèâîðå÷èâûå ñâåäåíèÿ î åãî ðåëèãèîçíîñòè ñîäåðæàòñÿ â âîñïî- ìèíàíèÿõ ñîâðåìåííèêîâ, õîðîøî çíàâøèõ êîìïîçèòîðà. Âîò ìíåíèå À. Îññîâñêîãî: «Ðàõìàíèíîâ íèêîãäà íå ïðèíàäëåæàë ê ïðàâîñëàâèþ, è «Ëèòóðãèÿ» áûëà íàïèñàíà èì íå èç ðåëèãèîçíûõ ïîáóæäåíèé. Íå íàäî áûòü âåðóþùèì, íå íàäî çíàòü äîãìàòîâ è ðèòóàëîâ ïðàâîñëàâíîé öåðê- âè, ÷òîáû ïî÷óâñòâîâàòü õóäîæåñòâåííóþ âûðàçèòåëüíîñòü è ïîýçèþ ýòîé ìóçûêè».16 Ïî ìíåíèþ Ì. Áàãðèíîâñêîãî, «îí òÿãîòåë ê ðåëèãèîçíîìó è íàðîäíîìó â ìóçûêå».17 «ß íå çàìå÷àë â Ñåðãåå Âàñèëüåâè÷å ïðîÿâëåíèÿ ðåëèãèîçíîñòè, íå ñëûõàë, ÷òîáû îí õîäèë â öåðêîâü. Îäíàêî, ïðîùàÿñü ñ äåòüìè, îí òðîãàòåëüíî êðåñòèë èõ ñâîåé áîëüøîé êðàñèâîé ðóêîé», ïèøåò À. Ãîëüäåíâåéçåð.18 Ñ. Ñàòèíà, íåïîñðåäñòâåííî è ìíîãî îáùàÿñü ñ êîìïîçèòîðîì â Ðîññèè è çà ðóáåæîì, ñîîáùàåò: «Îí íå ðàç äî æåíèòü- áû ïðîñèë ìåíÿ ñîïðîâîæäàòü åãî â öåðêîâü, êîãäà ãîâåë, è íàñòàèâàë íà òîì, ÷òîáû ÿ äîìà íèêîìó íå ãîâîðèëà, ÷òî îí ãîâååò».19 Êàê âèäíî èç ñêàçàííîãî, ïî ýòîìó âîïðîñó íåò åäèíîãî ìíåíèÿ, è â íàñòîÿùåå âðåìÿ åãî íåëüçÿ îäíîçíà÷íî ðàçðåøèòü. Ïî ïîíÿòíûì ïðè- ÷èíàì òåìà ýòà áûëà àáñîëþòíî çàêðûòà, à â èìåþùèõñÿ èñòî÷íèêàõ âîçìîæíû öåíçóðíûå ïðàâêè. Ó÷èòûâàÿ ìåíòàëèòåò ýïîõè, Ðàõìàíè- íîâ íå ìîã áûòü àòåèñòîì â ïîëíîì çíà÷åíèè ýòîãî ñëîâà, îäíàêî, íåò îïðåäåëåííûõ äàííûõ, ÷òîáû ñ÷èòàòü åãî è ðåëèãèîçíûì îðòîäîêñîì. Äóìàåòñÿ, ÷òî ðåëèãèîçíûå ñèìâîëû, ïðîíèçûâàþùèå âñå òâîð÷å- ñòâî Ðàõìàíèíîâà, ñóùåñòâîâàëè â åãî ÷åëîâå÷åñêîì è òâîð÷åñêîì ñîçíà- íèè êàê íåêèå âå÷íûå íàöèîíàëüíî-ýñòåòè÷åñêèå, êóëüòóðíûå öåííîñòè, ñòàíîâèëèñü ìíîãîçíà÷íûìè ÑÈÌÂÎËÀÌÈ ÐÎÑÑÈÈÐÓÑÈ, êîòîðóþ îí ëþáèë áåççàâåòíî. Çäåñü ìîæíî âñïîìíèòü À. Áëîêà: «Ýòî âåëèêîå, íåîáîçðèìîå, ïðîñòîðíîå, òîñêëèâîå è îáåòîâàííîå, ÷òî ìû ïðèâûêëè íàçûâàòü ïîä ñëîâîì Ðóñü».20 Åìó âòîðèë è È. Áóíèí: «Åñëè áû ÿ ýòó «èêî- íó», ýòó Ðóñü íå ëþáèë, íå âèäàë, èç-çà ÷åãî æå áû ÿ òàê ñõîäèë ñ óìà âñå ýòè ãîäû, èç-çà ÷åãî ñòðàäàë òàê áåñïðåðûâíî, òàê ëþòî».21 Êðèòåðèé öåííîñòè òâîð÷åñòâà Ðàõìàíèíîâà ñêëàäûâàëñÿ íåïðîñòî. Â òå÷åíèå ñåìèäåñÿòè ëåò åãî äóõîâíûå ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ íå èñïîëíÿëèñü è 288 Ëþäìèëà ÑÊÀÔÒÛÌÎÂÀ

íå èçäàâàëèñü, à ðåëèãèîçíûå ñèìâîëû, âî ìíîãîì îïðåäåëÿþùèå åãî òâîð÷åñòâî, òùàòåëüíî çàìàë÷èâàëèñü. Íåâîçìîæåí áûë íàó÷íûé, ïðàâ- äèâûé àíàëèç íå òîëüêî äóõîâíûõ, íî è òåõ ñâåòñêèõ ñî÷èíåíèé êîìïîçè- òîðà«áåëîýìèãðàíòà», îñíîâó êîòîðûõ ñîñòàâëÿëè ñèìâîëû çíàìåí- íûé ðàñïåâ è êîëîêîëüíîñòü. Åñòåñòâåííî, ÷òî â ýòè ãîäû â îòíîøåíèè åãî «Ëèòóðãèè» è «Âñåíîùíîãî áäåíèÿ» êðèòåðèé öåííîñòè ñóùåñòâî- âàë ëèøü ñî çíàêîì ìèíóñ. Â íèõ óñìàòðèâàëîñü ëèøü îòðàæåíèå èäåé- íûõ ïðîòèâîðå÷èé â òâîð÷åñòâå Ðàõìàíèíîâà, «ïåðåæèâàþùåãî ìèñòè- ÷åñêèå íàñòðîåíèÿ». Èñòèííàÿ æå õóäîæåñòâåííàÿ çíà÷èìîñòü, ñìûñë è ñîäåðæàíèå åãî ñâåòñêèõ ñî÷èíåíèé, â öåëîì, èñêàæàëèñü. Â ïîñëåäíåå äåñÿòèëåòèå îáîçíà÷èëàñü îáðàòíàÿ òåíäåíöèÿ. Íàëè- ÷èå ñèìâîëîâ, ñâÿçàííûõ ñ ïðàâîñëàâèåì, â ïðîèçâåäåíèÿõ Ðàõìàíèíîâà ñòàíîâèòñÿ â ðÿäå ìóçûêîâåä÷åñêèõ ðàáîò îñíîâîïîëàãàþùèì êðèòåðè- åì îöåíêè ìóçûêè êîìïîçèòîðà. Ýòà òåíäåíöèÿ òàêæå íå ïðåäñòàâëÿåòñÿ ïåðñïåêòèâíîé. Íåîáõîäèì îñòîðîæíûé, áåðåæíûé ïîäõîä èññëåäîâàòå- ëåé ê ýòîé âàæíîé ïðîáëåìå, èíà÷å ôèãóðà âåëèêîãî ïåâöà Ðîññèè ïðåä- ñòàíåò â íåèçáåæíîì èñêàæåíèè. Äóìàåòñÿ, ÷òî èìåííî òàêèì ïîäõîäîì îòëè÷àåòñÿ ðàáîòà êðóïíåéøåãî çíàòîêà ðóññêîé ìóçûêè À. Êàíäèíñêî- ãî, ãäå äàåòñÿ, íà íàø âçãëÿä, èñ÷åðïûâàþùèé íà äàííîì ýòàïå îòâåò íà âîïðîñ î ðåëèãèîçíîñòè Ðàõìàíèíîâà è îòðàæåíèè åå â åãî òâîð÷åñòâå: «Ðàõìàíèíîâ íå ñòàâèë ïåðåä ñîáîé ïðîáëåìó ðåëèãèè â íàó÷íîì, ôèëî- ñîôñêî-ïîçíàâàòåëüíîì ïëàíå. Íå áûë îí, êàê ãîâîðèòñÿ, è öåðêîâíûì ÷åëîâåêîì. Íî ðåëèãèÿ è öåðêîâü, êàê òðàäèöèîííûé è íåïðåìåííûé ýëå- ìåíò ðóññêîé æèçíè è îáùåñòâåííîãî áûòà, êàê íå÷òî ñîçâó÷íîå ïîíÿ- òèþ î íàöèîíàëüíîì ðóññêîì ÷óâñòâå, íåñîìíåííî áûëî áëèçêî Ðàõìà- íèíîâó â êà÷åñòâå íåêîåé äàííîñòè, îáëàäàâøåé íåïîñðåäñòâåííûì ýìî- öèîíàëüíûì âîçäåéñòâèåì è îãðîìíîé ïîýòè÷åñêîé çíà÷èìîñòüþ».22

S. RACHMANINOV: RELIGIOUS SYMBOLISM AND THE EVOLUTION OF THE CRITERION OF VALUE Liudmila SKAFTYMOVA St. Petersburg Conservatory, Russia

Russian Orthodoxy has always been connected with musical art. Music has always been an obligatory part of divine service. Znamennyj raspev, which was the brightest layer of musical culture in all of Russia, became the ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÐÀÕÌÀÍÈÍÎÂ... 289 basis of church singing. The traditions of the Russian musical Middle Ages were most intensive developed at the cusp between the 19th and 20th centuries. The first step was taken by P. Tchajkovsky, later by A. Grechaninov and I. Ippolitov-Ivanov, A. Kastalsky and V. Kalinnikov, P. Tschesnokov, A. Ni- kolsky and others who paid attention to the church music in Moscow. In St.- Petersburg in the 1880s, M. Balakirev, N. Rimsky-Korsakov, then A. Aren- sky and A. Lyadov began working in different genres of church music. Rachmaninov“s choral compositions, “Liturgy of St John Chrystostom” and “All-Night Vigil”, are at the top of this genre and have a significant place among numerous sacred works of this period. Rachmaninov is original because his znamenny raspev was the intonation basis not only for his sacred works but also for his secular ones (The 1st and 3rd symphonies, The 3rd Piano Concerto, The Symphonic Dances, and others). Perhaps this explains why in recent decades we have begun to understand Rachmaninov from the standpoint of his religiousness and thereligious and philosophical concepts of his compositions. In general, these questions are complicated because they have been ignored for more than 70 years, and they are especially complicated by Rachmaninov’s personality, for example, his reserved nature. We can assess his religiousness and his attitude toward religious questions on the basis of his two talks with Ch. Chaplin, a much earlier conversation in Russia with M. Shaginjan, and also on the basis of reminiscences from his contemporaries (A. Osovsky, M. Bagrinovsky, A. Goldenweiser and others). These sources allow us to make broad comments, but they provide no answer to the questions that we are interested in. Nevertheless, there is a recently developed trend to consider even Rach- maninov’s secular works only in the light of their religious and philosophical meanings and to find only religious symbolism in them. Although some experts explain the composer’s works using the words and concepts of religious philosophers of the Silver Age (N. Berdyaev, I. Iljin and others), their arguments are not very convincing. The question is whether their insights comprise a tribute to the vogue or a new understanding of the greatest Russian composer’s work? The melodic and images in the general spiritual paradigm of Rachman- inov’s works are “provoke” one to interpret them religiously. These features include Znamenny raspev and the tolling of a bell (kolokolnost), and even the Dies Irae which crowns the tragic-apokalyptical concepts of his late works and sacred music. However, in the human and creative mind of the composer 290 Ëþäìèëà ÑÊÀÔÒÛÌÎÂÀ all these elements existed as eternal national-aesthetic values and polysemantic symbols of old and new Russia. The aforementioned authors, while they constantly quote Russian philosophers, do not give proper weight to symptomatic understanding, perhaps best stated in this quote from I. Iljin: Russian art is much easier to understand if all the works of Russian poetry, painting and music are questioned as to whether they contains a certain co- vert and perhaps silent or maybe even non-religious prayer inside them that is aiming for liberty and when necessary toward realisation. The value of Rachmaninov’s works has been established in a complicated manner. During 70 years the sacred works by this “white emigrant” composer were neither performed nor published; even their presence was slurred over. The earnest scientific analysis of the text of his secular works with Raspev had not yet manifested. During this period his works “Liturgy” and “All-Night Vigil” clearly had a negative value. There was only a reflection on the ideological contradictions in the works of Rachmaninov by philosophers who saw in them an “experienced mystical mood” . The artistic value, meaning and substance of Rachmaninov’s secular works was largely distorted. In the last decade a different trend has emerged. The presence of elements directly connected with Russian Orthodoxy (Znamenny raspev, tolling of a bell (kolokolnost)) has become a fundamental criterion for appreci- ating the composer’s music. It seems a reasonable answer to the question about Rachmaninov’s religiousness and its reflection in his works is given by A. Kandisnsky, the leading expert on Russian music: Rachmaninov didn’t pose for himself a problem of religion in the scientific, philosophic or cognitive field… He was not, as they say, a man of the Church. But religion and church as a traditional and sine qua non element of Russian social life, as something consonant to a notion of Russian national sensibilities, were in- dubitably close to Rachmaninov as a certain fact that possessed an immediate emotional influence and enormous poetical importance. ÏÐÈÌÅ×ÀÍÈß 1 Âîñïîìèíàíèÿ î Ðàõìàíèíîâå. Ò. 2. Ì., 1988. Ñ. 222. 2 Áðàæíèêîâ Ì. Ñòàòüè î äðåâíåðóññêîé ìóçûêå. Ë., 1975. Ñ. 77. 3 Áåêåòîâà Í. «Êîëîêîëà» Ñ. Ðàõìàíèíîâà: êîíöåïöèÿ ïðåäîñòåðåæåíèÿ / Ñ.Â. Ðàõìàíèíîâ. Ê 120-ëåòèþ ñî äíÿ ðîæäåíèÿ. Ì., 1995. Ñ. 64. 4 Âîñïîìèíàíèÿ î Ðàõìàíèíîâå. Ò. 2. Ñ. 356. 5 Òàì æå. Ñ.358. 6 Òàì æå. Ñ.359. ÑÅÐÃÅÉ ÐÀÕÌÀÍÈÍÎÂ... 291

7 Ìàãîìåäîâà À. Ñèìâîëû â ìèðå âåðõîâíîé ðåàëüíîñòè / Ñèìâîëû, îáðà- çû, ñòåðåîòèïû ñîâðåìåííîé êóëüòóðû. Ìåæäóíàðîäíûå ÷òåíèÿ ïî òåîðèè, èñ- òîðèè è ôèëîñîôèè êóëüòóðû. ÑÏá., 2000. Ñ. 108. 8 Òàì æå. 9 Ñì. Ñåðãåé Ðàõìàíèíîâ: îò âåêà ìèíóâøåãî ê âåêó íûíåøíåìó. Ðîñòîâ, 1994. 10 Óêàç. ñá. Ñ. 65. 11 Êàëîøèíà Ã. Ðåëèãèîçíî-ôèëîñîôñêàÿ ñèìâîëèêà â ñèìôîíèÿõ Ðàõìàíè- íîâà è åãî ñîâðåìåííèêîâ / Ñåðãåé Ðàõìàíèíîâ: îò âåêà ìèíóâøåãî ê âåêó íû- íåøíåìó. Ðîñòîâ, 1994. Ñ. 107. 12 Ñì. Ïàèñîâ Þ. Æèçíåñòîéêîñòü ðîìàíòè÷åñêîãî ìèðîñîçåðöàíèÿ Ðàõìà- íèíîâà / Ðóññêàÿ ìóçûêà è ÕÕ âåê. Ì., 2000. 13 Èëüèí È. Ñóùíîñòü è ñâîåîáðàçèå ðóññêîé êóëüòóðû / Íàøè çàäà÷è. Ïà- ðèæ-Ì., 1992. Ñ. 247. 14 ×àïëèí ×. Ìîÿ áèîãðàôèÿ. Ì., 1986. Ñ. 392. 15 Ñì. Âîñïîìèíàíèÿ î Ðàõìàíèíîâå. Ò..1. Ñ. 140. 16 Òàì æå. Ñ. 346. 17 Âîñïîìèíàíèÿ î Ðàõìàíèíîâå. Ò. 2. Ñ. 42. 18 Òàì æå. Ñ.23 19 Âîñïîìèíàíèÿ î Ðàõìàíèíîâå. Ò. 1. Ñ. 499. 20 Áëîê À. Ñîáð. ñî÷. Ò.5. Ì., 1957. Ñ. 102. 21 Áóíèí È. Îêàÿííûå äíè. Ì., 1991. Ñ. 53. 22 Êàíäèíñêèé À. Õîðîâûå öèêëû Ðàõìàíèíîâà / Òðàäèöèîííûå æàíðû â ðóññêîé äóõîâíîé ìóçûêå è ñîâðåìåííîñòü. Ì., 1999. Ñ. 66.

«ÏËÀ× ÈÅÐÅÌÈÈ» Â. ÌÀÐÒÛÍÎÂÀ: HOMO ERRANS È ÄÐÅÂÍÅÐÓÑÑÊÎÅ ÏÅÂ×ÅÑÊÎÅ ÈÑÊÓÑÑÒÂÎ

Èðèíà ÁÐÎÂÈÍÀ

Óíèêàëüíîñòü «Ïëà÷à Èåðåìèè» êàê ðàç â òîì, ÷òî îí ñóùåñòâóåò íà ãðàíèöå õóäîæåñòâåííîãî è ñàêðàëüíîãî, ïåðåæèâàåòñÿ îäíîâðåìåííî è êàê ÿâëåíèå èñêóññòâà, è êàê ìîëèòâîñëîâèå. Ï. Ïîñïåëîâ.

«Çåìíóþ æèçíü ïðîæèâ äî ïîëîâèíû, / ß çàáëóäèëñÿ â ñóìðà÷íîì ëåñó » òàê ñêàçàíî â «Áîæåñòâåííîé êîìåäèè» Äàíòå. Ïî ìíåíèþ ìîñêîâñêîãî êîìïîçèòîðà Â. Ìàðòûíîâà, â ñåãîäíÿø- íåì ìèðå, ãäå ñìåñòèëèñü âñå òî÷êè îïîðû è çðåíèÿ, ÷åëîâåê ïðèñóò- ñòâóåò â êà÷åñòâå homo errans «÷åëîâåêà çàáëóäèâøåãîñÿ». Äëÿ òîãî, ÷òîáû íàéòè ñâîé ïóòü â ýòîì «ñóìðà÷íîì ëåñó», åìó, ïîäîáíî ãåðîþ Äàíòå, íóæåí ïðîâîäíèê, «Âåðãèëèé». Ôèãóðà Âåðãèëèÿ â «Áîæåñòâåííîé êîìåäèè» ýòî íå òîëüêî è íå ñòîëüêî ôèãóðà âåëèêîãî ïîýòà, ñêîëüêî ôèãóðà ãóðó. «Äàíòå ñëåäóåò çà Âåðãèëèåì êàê ÷åëîâåê, æàæäóùèé îáðåñòè äóõîâíûå îðèåíòè- ðû, çà ÷åëîâåêîì, îáëàäàþùèì çíàíèåì ýòèõ îðèåíòèðîâ è ÿâëÿþùèì ñâîåþ ëè÷íîñòüþ ñîâîêóïíîñòü çíàêîâ è ñèìâîëîâ äóõîâíîé òðàäè- öèè. Âõîäÿ â êîíòàêò ñ Âåðãèëèåì, Äàíòå ñîïðèêàñàåòñÿ ñî âñåé àíòè÷íîé òðàäèöèåé è ÷åðåç íåå ïîäêëþ÷àåò ñâîå ñîçíàíèå ê äóõîâ- íîìó îïûòó Äðåâíåãî ìèðà, áåñïðåäåëüíî ðàñøèðÿÿ ãîðèçîíòû ñâîåé èñòîðè÷åñêîé ïàìÿòè è îáðåòàÿ ÷óâñòâî äóõîâíîé îðèåíòàöèè âî âñå- ëåííîé », ãîâîðèò Â. Ìàðòûíîâ1. Êàæäûé ìîæåò âñòðåòèòü ñâîåãî Âåðãèëèÿ. Äëÿ Â. Ìàðòûíîâà òà- êèì Âåðãèëèåì îêàçàëîñü äðåâíåðóññêîå ïåâ÷åñêîå èñêóññòâî. Äðåâíå- ðóññêîå öåðêîâíîå ïåíèå ÿâèëîñü äëÿ êîìïîçèòîðà öåëîñòíîé, ñèíêðå- òè÷åñêîé ñèñòåìîé â ïðîòèâîâåñ ñîâðåìåííîìó ñîçíàíèþ ðàçîðâàí- íîìó è ôðàãìåíòàðíîìó. Èìåííî íà ôóíäàìåíòå äðåâíåðóññêîé «ÏËÀ× ÈÅÐÅÌÈÈ» Â. ÌÀÐÒÛÍÎÂÀ... 293

ïåâ÷åñêîé ñèñòåìû êîìïîçèòîð âûñòðîèë çäàíèå ñâîåãî òâîð÷åñòâà, ãäå çàòåì ïîÿâèëèñü «ýòàæè», ïîñòðîåííûå ïî êàíîíàì çàïàäíîåâðîïåéñ- êîé ìóçûêè, â ÷àñòíîñòè, íà îñíîâå ãðèãîðèàíñêîãî õîðàëà è ïîëèôî- íèè Ñðåäíåâåêîâüÿ è Âîçðîæäåíèÿ. Â.È. Ìàðòûíîâ ïðèíàäëåæèò ê òîìó òèïó êîìïîçèòîðîâ, êîòîðûì óäàëîñü íàéòè ñâîé, ãëóáîêî ñâîåîáðàçíûé è íåïîâòîðèìûé ïóòü â ìó- çûêàëüíîì èñêóññòâå. Ó÷åíèê Í.Í. Ñèäåëüíèêîâà, îí â 70-å ãã. ðàçðàáî- òàë ñâîþ îðèãèíàëüíóþ âåðñèþ ñåðèéíîé òåõíèêè, ðàáîòàë â ýêñïåðè- ìåíòàëüíîé ýëåêòðîííîé ñòóäèè Å. Ìóðçèíà, èñïûòàë âëèÿíèå ðîê-ìó- çûêè è ôîëüêëîðà. Ñ ñåðåäèíû 70-õ ãã. òâîð÷åñòâî Â. Ìàðòûíîâà ðàçâèâàåòñÿ â ðóñëå ìèíèìàëèçìà, îäíàêî îí íå ïðèäåðæèâàåòñÿ ñòèëè- ñòèêè êëàññè÷åñêèõ, àìåðèêàíñêèõ îáðàçöîâ ýòîãî íàïðàâëåíèÿ, à íà- õîäèò íîâûå ðåøåíèÿ ïðîáëåì âðåìåíè, âíåñóáúåêòèâíîñòè ìóçûêàëü- íîãî ïðîöåññà è «íîâîé ïðîñòîòû», ïîñòàâëåííûõ «minimal art». Ñ 1978 ïî 1984 ãã. êîìïîçèòîð ïåðåæèë ïåðèîä «òâîð÷åñêîãî ìîë÷à- íèÿ», îäíàêî â òî æå âðåìÿ ýòî áûë ïåðèîä èíòåíñèâíûõ äóõîâíûõ ïîèñ- êîâ, îïðåäåëèâøèé äàëüíåéøóþ òâîð÷åñêóþ ýâîëþöèþ êîìïîçèòîðà. Èìåí- íî â ýòî âðåìÿ Â. Ìàðòûíîâ îáðàùàåòñÿ â ïðàâîñëàâèå è íà÷èíàåò èçó÷àòü äðåâíåðóññêèå ïåâ÷åñêèå ðóêîïèñè, ðåêîíñòðóèðóåò çíàìåííóþ ëèòóðãèþ XVI âåêà è ñòðî÷íóþ (ìíîãîãîëîñíóþ) ëèòóðãèþ XVII âåêà, à òàêæå ñòàíî- âèòñÿ ïðåïîäàâàòåëåì ðåãåíòñêîé øêîëû è Äóõîâíîé àêàäåìèè Òðîèöå- Ñåðãèåâîé ëàâðû. Â ýòîò ïåðèîä «óõîäà îò ìóçûêè» îí, íå ñî÷èíÿÿ êîíöåð- òíûõ ïðîèçâåäåíèé, ïèñàë èñêëþ÷èòåëüíî áîãîñëóæåáíûå ïåñíîïåíèÿ. Èç îïûòà èçó÷åíèÿ òðàäèöèè áîãîñëóæåáíîãî ïåíèÿ è ïðåïîäàâàíèÿ åãî èñòî- ðèè â Äóõîâíîé àêàäåìèè â äàëüíåéøåì âîçíèêëî òðè ìîíîãðàôèè Â. Ìàð- òûíîâà: «Èñòîðèÿ áîãîñëóæåáíîãî ïåíèÿ», «Ïåíèå, èãðà è ìîëèòâà â ðóñ- ñêîé áîãîñëóæåáíî-ïåâ÷åñêîé ñèñòåìå» è «Êóëüòóðà, èêîíîñôåðà è áîãî- ñëóæåáíîå ïåíèå Ìîñêîâñêîé Ðóñè». Ýòè êíèãè ïî ñóòè ñàìîðåôëåêñèÿ â ôîðìå èññëåäîâàíèÿ äðåâ- íåðóññêîãî áîãîñëóæåáíîãî ïåíèÿ, ò.ê. èìåííî â äðåâíåðóññêîé ïåâ- ÷åñêîé òðàäèöèè Â. Ìàðòûíîâ èñêàë îòâåòû íà òå âîïðîñû, êîòîðûå âîëíîâàëè åãî êàê êîìïîçèòîðà. Ïîýòîìó, ïî ñîáñòâåííîìó ïðèçíà- íèþ êîìïîçèòîðà, íàïèñàíèå ýòèõ êíèã áûëî äëÿ íåãî «æèçíåííî âàæíî». Ýòî áûë ïîèñê âûõîäà èç òâîð÷åñêîãî êðèçèñà (íàïèñàíèå òåîðåòè÷åñêèõ òðóäîâ õóäîæíèêàìè è êîìïîçèòîðàìè âî âðåìÿ êðè- çèñîâ è ïåðåëîìíûõ ìîìåíòîâ òâîð÷åñòâà ÿâëåíèå, âñòðå÷àþùååñÿ äîñòàòî÷íî ÷àñòî), è çàäà÷åé Â. Ìàðòûíîâà áûëî «íå ñòîëüêî èññëå- 294 Èðèíà ÁÐÎÂÈÍÀ

äîâàòü áîãîñëóæåáíîå ïåíèå, ñêîëüêî ñëåäîâàòü åìó, ïîäîáíî òîìó, êàê Äàíòå ñëåäîâàë çà Âåðãèëèåì».2 Ìíîãèå âûñêàçûâàíèÿ â ýòèõ êíèãàõ ìîãóò áûòü îòíåñåíû íå òîëüêî ê äðåâíåðóññêîìó ïåâ÷åñêî- ìó èñêóññòâó, íî è ê áîëüøîé ÷àñòè ìóçûêàëüíûõ ñî÷èíåíèé ñàìîãî Â. Ìàðòûíîâà. Ïî ìíåíèþ ìóçûêàíòà, ê íàñòîÿùåìó âðåìåíè êîìïîçèòîðñêîå òâîð- ÷åñòâî èñ÷åðïàëî ñåáÿ, íàñòóïèë «êîíåö âðåìåíè êîìïîçèòîðîâ».3 Â ñâî- åì ðàçâèòèè êîìïîçèòîðñêàÿ ìóçûêà, âîçíèêøàÿ â åâðîïåéñêîé êóëüòó- ðå íà îñíîâå äóõîâíîé ìóçûêè, âñå äàëüøå îòõîäèò îò ñàêðàëüíîãî êà- íîíà. Íîâàöèè èìåþò ñìûñë òîãäà, êîãäà ñîõðàíÿåòñÿ æèâàÿ ñâÿçü ñ êàíîíîì ïóñòü è îòäàëåííàÿ. Îäíàêî öåïü íîâàöèé íå ìîæåò áûòü áåñêîíå÷íîé. Ñîâðåìåííûé êîìïîçèòîð äîëæåí «óìåðåòü êàê êîìïîçè- òîð», ÷òîáû ïåðåä íèì îòêðûëñÿ ìèð íåàâòîðñêîé, êàíîíè÷åñêîé ìóçû- êè äóõîâíîé ìóçûêè è ôîëüêëîðà, ìóçûêè òðàäèöèîííûõ êóëüòóð. Òàêîâî ìàðòûíîâñêîå ïîíèìàíèå «ñìåðòè àâòîðà». Ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ ïåðâûõ êîìïîçèòîðîâ ìàñòåðîâ ïîëèôîíèè Ñðåä- íåâåêîâüÿ è Âîçðîæäåíèÿ, êàê èçâåñòíî, áûëè îñíîâàíû íà ïîëèôîíè- ÷åñêîé ðàçðàáîòêå cantus firmusà, ãðèãîðèàíñêîãî íàïåâà, ïîìåùåííî- ãî â ïàðòèè òåíîðà. Â. Ìàðòûíîâ ñòðåìèòñÿ âîçðîäèòü íå òîëüêî ñàìó êàíòóñíóþ òåõíèêó, íî è cantus firmus â øèðîêîì ñìûñëå ñëîâà. Ìåëî- äè÷åñêèå ýëåìåíòû äðåâíèõ ñèñòåì áîãîñëóæåáíîãî ïåíèÿ, çàëîæåí- íûå â îñíîâó ñîâðåìåííîãî ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ, äàþò ýòîìó ïðîèçâåäåíèþ ñìûñë, äóõîâíîå îáîñíîâàíèå è, òàêèì îáðàçîì, îïðàâäûâàþò ñàìî åãî ñóùåñòâîâàíèå, ïîäîáíî òîìó, êàê êîãäà-òî íàïåâ cantus firmus «îïðàâ- äûâàë» ñóùåñòâîâàíèå ñòàðèííûõ ïîëèôîíè÷åñêèõ ñî÷èíåíèé. Â. Ìàðòûíîâ ñ÷èòàåò ïîäîáíûé ìåòîä ñî÷èíåíèÿ ìóçûêè ôîðìîé êàíîíè÷åñêîãî òâîð÷åñòâà, äëÿ íåãî âàæíåå ïîâòîðåíèå äðåâíèõ ñàêðàëü- íûõ ìåëîäè÷åñêèõ ôîðìóë, íåæåëè ïîèñê íîâûõ çâóêîâûñîòíûõ îòíî- øåíèé. Åãî ñòèëü èíîãäà íàçûâàþò «íåîêàíîíè÷åñêèì». Â ñâîåì òâîð÷å- ñòâå êîìïîçèòîð ñòðåìèòñÿ ê îáúåêòèâíîñòè âûñêàçûâàíèÿ, ñâîéñòâåí- íîé âíåàâòîðñêîé ìóçûêå è ê àðõåòèïè÷åñêîé äåéñòâåííîñòè àðõàèêè. Â ðåçóëüòàòå, äåêëàðèðóÿ îòêàç îò èíäèâèäóàëüíîãî êîìïîçèòîðñêîãî ñòè- ëÿ, îí ñîçäàåò ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ, êîòîðûå íå óêëàäûâàþòñÿ â ðàìêè ïðèâû÷- íûõ ìóçûêàëüíûõ æàíðîâ, ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ, êîòîðûå íåâîçìîæíî ñïóòàòü ñ ñî÷èíåíèÿìè äðóãèõ êîìïîçèòîðîâ. «Åãî ìóçûêà îïðîêèäûâàåò âñå ïðåä- ñòàâëåíèÿ îá àâòîðñêîé ìóçûêå, íå ïåðåñòàâàÿ áûòü àâòîðñêîé, íå óòðà- ÷èâàÿ ñâîåé àáñîëþòíîé íåïîâòîðèìîñòè è óíèêàëüíîñòè».4 «ÏËÀ× ÈÅÐÅÌÈÈ» Â. ÌÀÐÒÛÍÎÂÀ... 295

Â ÷èñëå ñî÷èíåíèé Â. Ìàðòûíîâà, îðèåíòèðîâàííûõ íà ïðèíöèïû äðåâíåãî áîãîñëóæåáíîãî ïåíèÿ, îñîáåííî èíòåðåñåí «Ïëà÷ Èåðåìèè» äëÿ ñìåøàííîãî õîðà a capella (1992 ã.). Æàíð «Ïëà÷à Èåðåìèè», ñî- ãëàñíî ïàðòèòóðå, ýòî «êíèãà, ïîëîæåííàÿ íà ïåíèå». «Ïëà÷» íàïèñàí ñïåöèàëüíî äëÿ àíñàìáëÿ äðåâíåðóññêîé äóõîâíîé ìóçûêè «Ñèðèí». Â ñâîèõ ïîèñêàõ æèâîãî, íåìóçåéíîãî çâó÷àíèÿ äðåâíåðóññêèõ ïåñíîïå- íèé àíñàìáëü îáðàòèëñÿ ê òðàäèöèè ñòàðîîáðÿäöåâ è ê ôîëüêëîðíîé ìàíåðå ïåíèÿ. Â ðåçóëüòàòå âîçíèêëî óäèâèòåëüíî ñîâðåìåííîå ïðî÷òå- íèå äðåâíåðóññêèõ ìóçûêàëüíûõ òåêñòîâ, â òî æå âðåìÿ ñîõðàíèâøåå äóõ ñòàðèíû. Â «Ïëà÷å Èåðåìèè» Â. Ìàðòûíîâà èñïîëüçîâàíû ýëåìåíòû äðåâ- íåðóññêîãî ïåâ÷åñêîãî èñêóññòâà, ãðèãîðèàíñêîãî õîðàëà, âèçàíòèéñêî- ãî è áàëêàíñêîãî áîãîñëóæåáíîãî ïåíèÿ, à òàêæå ïðèíöèïû ôîðìîîá- ðàçîâàíèÿ, õàðàêòåðíûå äëÿ ìèíèìàëèçìà. Òåêñò «Ïëà÷à Èåðåìèè» (íà öåðêîâíî-ñëàâÿíñêîì ÿçûêå) öåëèêîì âçÿò èç êíèãè «Ïëà÷ Èåðåìèè» Âåòõîãî çàâåòà, ãäå ïîâåñòâóåòñÿ î ðàçî- ðåíèè Èåðóñàëèìà âàâèëîíñêèìè âîéñêàìè â 558 ã. äî í.ý. Âåòõîçàâåò- íûå ñîáûòèÿ ïðî÷èòàíû êîìïîçèòîðîì êàê ïðîîáðàç ñîâðåìåííîãî ñî- ñòîÿíèÿ ìèðà è ÷åëîâå÷åñêîé äóøè. Â êîíöåïöèè ñî÷èíåíèÿ öåíòðàëü- íîé ñòàíîâèòñÿ èäåÿ ðàñöåðêîâëåíèÿ ìèðà, óòðàòèâøåãî âåðó; ìèðà, ïîäîáíî Èåðóñàëèìó, ïðåäñòàâëÿþùåãî ñîáîé ðóèíû. Ïîýòîìó ñî÷èíå- íèå Â. Ìàðòûíîâà íå òîëüêî ïëà÷ ïî Èåðóñàëèìó, íî è ïëà÷ ïî ñîâðå- ìåííîé öèâèëèçàöèè. «Ìèð â òîì âèäå, â êîòîðîì îí äîñòàëñÿ íàì, ïðåä- ñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé ðóèíû âî âñåõ ñìûñëàõ è â ýêîëîãè÷åñêîì, è â íðàâ- ñòâåííîì, è â ýñòåòè÷åñêîì, è â òâîð÷åñêîì. Èñòîðè÷åñêèì àíàëîãîì ýòîãî ñîñòîÿíèÿ ÿâëÿåòñÿ ðàçðóøåííûé Èåðóñàëèì, îïëàêèâàåìûé ïðî- ðîêîì Èåðåìèåé [...] Åäèíñòâåííîé ðåàëüíîé è êîíñòðóêòèâíîé àêöèåé â íàøåì ìèðå ìîæåò áûòü òîëüêî ðèòóàëüíîå ïîâòîðåíèå ïðîðî÷åñêîãî ïëà÷à, èáî ëèøü ïîêàÿííî îïëàêàâ ñîáñòâåííîå ïðåäàòåëüñòâî, ìû ìî- æåì íàäåÿòüñÿ íà òî, ÷òî êîãäà-íèáóäü íàì óäàñòñÿ âîññòàíîâèòü è ðàç- ðóøåííûé íàìè ìèð».5 Áèáëåéñêèé òåêñò, ïîëîæåííûé â îñíîâó ñî÷èíåíèÿ, ïðåäñòàâëÿåò ñîáîé àêðîñòèõ. Â êàæäîé ïåñíå (ãëàâå) «Ïëà÷à» ñîäåðæèòñÿ 22 ñòèõà, ïî ÷èñëó áóêâ äðåâíååâðåéñêîãî àëôàâèòà. Â äðåâíèõ ÿçûêàõ ÷èñëà, êàê èçâåñòíî, îáîçíà÷àëèñü ïðè ïîìîùè áóêâ. Ïîýòîìó êàæäûé ñòèõ â àê- ðîñòèõå, íà÷èíàÿñü ñ îäíîé èç áóêâ äðåâíååâðåéñêîãî àëôàâèòà, òåì ñàìûì ïîëó÷àåò è ñâîå ÷èñëîâîå çíà÷åíèå. 296 Èðèíà ÁÐÎÂÈÍÀ

Â êîìïîçèöèîííîì ñòðîåíèè êàæäîé ãëàâû Â. Ìàðòûíîâ ñëåäóåò îñîáåííîñòÿì ñòðîåíèÿ ëèòåðàòóðíîãî ïåðâîèñòî÷íèêà. Íàçâàíèÿ áóêâ äðåâíååâðåéñêîãî àëôàâèòà, îòäåëèâøèñü ïðè ïåðåâîäå êíèãè íà ãðå- ÷åñêèé è öåðêîâíîñëàâÿíñêèé ÿçûêè îò ñîáñòâåííî òåêñòîâîé ìàòåðèè «Ïëà÷à», îáðåëè ñàìîñòîÿòåëüíîå áûòèå. «Áóêâà» ïåðåñòàåò áûòü ïðî- ñòî îáîçíà÷åíèåì, îíà ñòàíîâèòñÿ îòäåëüíûì çâó÷àíèåì, ôîíåìîé. Òåêñò îáðåòàåò äâóõúÿðóñíîñòü. Â. Ìàðòûíîâ øèðîêî èñïîëüçóåò ýòó äâîé- íóþ ñòðóêòóðó òåêñòà, ÿðêî âûÿâëÿÿ åãî «ñêðûòóþ ïîëèôîíèþ». Èìåí- íî âçàèìîäåéñòâèå, ïðîòèâîïîñòàâëåíèå è âçàèìîäîïîëíåíèå ðàñïåâà áóêâû è èíòîíèðîâàíèÿ òåêñòà ñòèõà èãðàåò â ñî÷èíåíèè ñòðóêòóðîîá- ðàçóþùóþ ðîëü. Îïèðàÿñü íà ÷èñëîâûå çíà÷åíèÿ áóêâ è èñïîëüçóÿ ÷èñ- ëîâóþ æå ïðèðîäó çâóêîâûõ îòíîøåíèé è ìóçûêàëüíûõ èíòåðâàëîâ, êîìïîçèòîð âûñòðàèâàåò ñëîæíóþ êîíñòðóêöèþ ñî÷èíåíèÿ, îñíîâàí- íóþ íà õðèñòèàíñêîé ÷èñëîâîé ñèìâîëèêå. Â êàæäîé ãëàâå êîìïîçèòîð îáúåäèíÿåò 22 áóêâû àëôàâèòà â ãðóïïû ïî ôîðìóëå 7õ3+1 èëè 3õ7+1. Êàê èçâåñòíî, ÷èñëî 7 îáîçíà÷àåò â õðèñòèàíñêîé òðàäèöèè ÷èñëî ïîë- íîòû ìèðà, ïîëíîòû òâîðåíèÿ, ÷èñëî 3 ÷èñëî Òðîèöû, à åäèíèöà ÷èñëî Åäèíîãî Áîãà. ×èñëî 8 (ñóììà ÷èñåë 7 è 1) ÷èñëî âîñêðåñåíèÿ, ÷èñëî «áóäóùåãî âåêà». «Ïîëîæèòü êíèãó íà ïåíèå, ïåòü ïî êíèãå çíà÷èò ïîâòîðèòü åå ñàêðàëüíûé ñìûñë ÷åðåç åå ñòðóêòóðó», ñïðàâåäëèâî çàìå÷àåò Ì. Êà- òóíÿí.6 Îäíàêî â ìóçûêàëüíîé òðàêòîâêå Ìàðòûíîâà ñòðóêòóðà òåêñòà êíèãè íå ïðîñòî âîñïðîèçâîäèòñÿ, ïîâòîðÿåòñÿ, íî è ïåðåòîëêîâûâàåò- ñÿ. Ýòî íîâîçàâåòíîå ïðî÷òåíèå âåòõîçàâåòíîãî ïëà÷à. Õðèñòèàíñêàÿ ÷èñëîâàÿ ñèìâîëèêà íàêëàäûâàåòñÿ íà ÷èñëîâóþ ñèìâîëèêó áèáëåéñ- êîãî òåêñòà, íàïîëíÿÿ åå íîâûì ñìûñëîì. Îáðàùåíèå ê âåòõîçàâåòíûì ñîáûòèÿì ñ òî÷êè çðåíèÿ èõ íîâîçà- âåòíîãî è ïðîâèäåíöèàëüíîãî çíà÷åíèÿ, êîãäà âåòõîçàâåòíûå ñîáûòèÿ òðàêòóþòñÿ êàê ïðîîáðàç áóäóùåé èñòîðèè ÷åëîâå÷åñòâà, âîîáùå ïðè- ñóùå õðèñòèàíñêîìó ìèðîñîçåðöàíèþ. Êàæäàÿ ãëàâà «Ïëà÷à» ó Ìàðòûíîâà íà÷èíàåòñÿ Ïðîëîãîì (êðîìå èòîãîâîé, ïÿòîé ãëàâû, èíòîíàöèîííî ðîäñòâåííîé «Ïðîëîãàì»). Òåê- ñòîâîé îñíîâîé ïðîëîãîâ ñòàëî íàäïèñàíèå â öåðêîâíî-ñëàâÿíñêîì ïå- ðåâîäå Áèáëèè, ïðåäâàðÿþùåå òåêñò «Ïëà÷à»: «È áûñòü ïî âíåãäà â ïëåí îòâåäåí áå Èçðàèëü è Èåðóñàëèì îïóñòîøåí áÿøå, ñÿäå Èåðåìèÿ ïðî- ðîê ïëà÷óù è ðûäàþù ðûäàíèåì ñèì íàä Èåðóñàëèìîì è ãëàãîëàøå.» Âñå ïðîëîãè ÿâëÿþòñÿ ïîäîáèÿìè äðóã äðóãà, ïðè÷åì êàæäûé ïîñëåäó- «ÏËÀ× ÈÅÐÅÌÈÈ» Â. ÌÀÐÒÛÍÎÂÀ... 297

þùèé Ïðîëîã ÿâëÿåòñÿ óñëîæíåííûì âàðèàíòîì ïðåäûäóùåãî. Ýòî êàê áû îäèí Ïðîëîã, ïîñòîÿííî ðàçâèâàþùèéñÿ âî âðåìåíè, íî ïðåðûâàå- ìûé ãëàâàìè, Ïðîëîã, óòðàòèâøèé ñâîé ïðåäâàðÿþùèé õàðàêòåð è ïðå- âðàòèâøèéñÿ â çâóêîâóþ êîíñòàíòó ñî÷èíåíèÿ. Åñëè ðèòìè÷åñêàÿ ñòðóêòóðà òåêñòà «Ïëà÷à» è åãî ôîðìà (äåëåíèå íà ñòðîôû è íà ãëàâû) òî÷íî îòðàæàåòñÿ ìóçûêàëüíûì òåêñòîì, òî êîí- êðåòíûå ïñèõîëîãè÷åñêèå îòòåíêè òåêñòà, ìîäóëÿöèè åãî ñìûñëà îñòà- þòñÿ çà ïðåäåëàìè ìóçûêàëüíîãî âîïëîùåíèÿ. Ñìûñë è ýìîöèîíàëü- íûé «çàðÿä» îòäåëüíîãî ñëîâà èëè ôðàçû íå óêðóïíÿþòñÿ ìóçûêàëüíîé èíòîíàöèåé, íå äåëàþòñÿ «âûïóêëûìè», íî îáúåäèíÿþòñÿ ñ îñòàëüíû- ìè ýëåìåíòàìè òåêñòà â åäèíûé çâóêîâîé îáðàç. Âûíåñåíèå çà ñêîáêè ïñèõîëîãè÷åñêè-ñóáúåêòèâíîãî ïëàíà ïðî- äóìàííàÿ ýñòåòè÷åñêàÿ ïîçèöèÿ, îïèðàþùàÿñÿ íà çíàíèå ñòèëèñòèêè çíàìåííûõ ïåñíîïåíèé. Ðå÷ü èäåò íå î ÷åðåäå ðàçíûõ ïåðåæèâàíèé, à î åäèíîì ïîëå ïåðåæèâàíèÿ, î ïîãðóæåíèè â îäíî ñîñòîÿíèå. Ýòî ïðèí- öèï, åäèíûé äëÿ ìèíèìàëèçìà è äðåâíåðóññêîãî ïåâ÷åñêîãî èñêóññòâà. Ïðèâåäåì âûñêàçûâàíèå Ï. Ïîñïåëîâà î ìèíèìàëèçìå: «Ïðîöåññ, ìåä- ëåííî ðàçâåðòûâàþùèéñÿ íà íàøèõ ãëàçàõ, ïðîòåêàåò â ïðåäåëàõ îäíî- ãî îáðàçíîãî êà÷åñòâà. Ìèíèìàëèñòñêàÿ ìóçûêà íå ñòðåìèòüñÿ íè÷åãî ñîîáùèòü, îíà åñòü êàê åñòü âñåëåííàÿ, êîñìîñ, êàê åñòü âðåìÿ».7 Ïî ñóòè äåëà, ýòî ñîñòîÿíèå ïðåáûâàíèÿ, ñâîéñòâåííîå è äóõîâíîé ìóçûêå. Â ñâîåé êíèãå «Ïåíèå, èãðà è ìîëèòâà â ðóññêîé áîãîñëóæåáíî- ïåâ÷åñêîé ñèñòåìå» Â. Ìàðòûíîâ âûäåëÿåò òðè îñíîâîïîëàãàþùèõ ïðèíöèïà, ïðèñóùèõ äðåâíåðóññêîé öåðêîâíî-ïåâ÷åñêîé ñèñòåìå: ýòî ïðèíöèïû ïîâòîðåíèÿ, âàðèàöèîííîñòè è öåíòîííîñòè. Òå æå ñàìûå ïðèíöèïû ñîñòàâëÿþò îñíîâó ìóçûêàëüíîé êîíñòðóêöèè «Ïëà÷à». Ïðèíöèï öåíòîííîñòè (îò ëàò. cento «ëîñêóò») ýòî ïðèíöèï ìî- çàè÷íîãî ñîáèðàíèÿ ïåñíîïåíèÿ çíàìåííîãî ðàñïåâà èç ðàçëè÷íûõ ïî- ïåâîê (êðàòêèõ ìåëîäè÷åñêèõ îáðàçîâàíèé, çàêðåïëåííûõ òðàäèöèåé è êàíîíîì), ñîîòâåòñòâóþùèõ ãëàñó ýòîãî ïåñíîïåíèÿ. Ò.å. ñàì èíòîíà- öèîííûé ìàòåðèàë, èç êîòîðîãî ñîáèðàåòñÿ ìåëîäèÿ ïåñíîïåíèÿ, íå ÿâëÿåòñÿ óíèêàëüíûì, à ñóùåñòâóåò çà ïðåäåëàìè äàííîãî ïåñíîïåíèÿ. Êîìïîçèòîð øèðîêî èñïîëüçóåò â «Ïëà÷å» öåíòîííûé ïðèíöèï ïî- ñòðîåíèÿ ìóçûêàëüíîé ôîðìû. Ñàìî ðàçâèòèå ìóçûêàëüíîé ìûñëè, ñàìà ìåëîäèêà â ñî÷èíåíèè ñòðîÿòñÿ ïî îñîáûì çàêîíàì. Ó Ìàðòûíîâà íåò ìåëîäèè â ïðèâû÷íîì, êëàññè÷åñêîì ïîíèìàíèè ýòîãî ñëîâà. Åñòü ìî- íîäèÿ, óçîð, ñêëàäûâàþùèéñÿ èç ðàçëè÷íûõ ìåëîäè÷åñêèõ ýëåìåíòîâ è 298 Èðèíà ÁÐÎÂÈÍÀ

ÿ÷ååê: ïîïåâîê, ìåëîäè÷åñêèõ îáîðîòîâ, ìåëîäè÷åñêèõ ôèãóð, çâåíüåâ ñåêâåíöèé (ñåêâåíöèÿ ðàçâèòèå ìîòèâà ïóòåì åãî ïîâòîðåíèÿ íà ðàç- íîé âûñîòå, â ðåçóëüòàòå ÷åãî îí ïðèíèìàåò ðàçíóþ ëàäîâóþ îêðàñêó). Êîìïîçèòîð ïðèáåãàåò â «Ïëà÷å» ê òåõíèêå êîìáèíàòîðèêè, êîìáèíè- ðîâàíèÿ ãîòîâûõ èíòîíàöèîííûõ ôîðìóë ýëåìåíòîâ âèçàíòèéñêîãî áîãîñëóæåáíîãî ïåíèÿ, äðåâíåðóññêîãî ïåâ÷åñêîãî èñêóññòâà, áàëêàíñ- êîãî áîãîñëóæåáíîãî ïåíèÿ, ãðèãîðèàíñêîãî õîðàëà. Ïðè ýòîì êîìïîçè- òîð îïèðàåòñÿ íà òàê íàçûâàåìûé ýêñòåíñèâíûé òèï ìåëîäè÷åñêîãî ðàç- âåðòûâàíèÿ,8 ñìûñëîì êîòîðîãî ÿâëÿåòñÿ ïðîäëåíèå îäíîãî ñîñòîÿíèÿ, ñòðåìëåíèå ê êîíòèíóàëüíîñòè òå÷åíèÿ ìóçûêè. Ìåëîäè÷åñêàÿ ëèíèÿ êîíñòðóèðóåòñÿ ïóòåì ñåêâåíòíîãî íàíèçûâàíèÿ ìåëîäè÷åñêèõ ôèãóð è èõ èíâåðñèé, óñå÷åíèÿ îñíîâíûõ ìîòèâîâ è, íàîáîðîò, «âûðàùèâà- íèÿ» áîëåå ïðîòÿæåííûõ ìåëîäè÷åñêèõ îáðàçîâàíèé, øèðîêèõ ñåêâåí- òíûõ çâåíüåâ èõ êðàòêîãî èíòîíàöèîííîãî çåðíà. Âñòðå÷àåòñÿ è îáðàò- íàÿ ñèòóàöèÿ: â âîëíîîáðàçíîé ìåëîäè÷åñêîé ëèíèè ïîñòåïåííî êðèñ- òàëëèçóåòñÿ îò÷åòëèâîå, êðàòêîå çâåíî ñåêâåíöèè. Ïðè êîìáèíèðîâàíèè ìåëîäè÷åñêèõ ôîðìóë â «Ïëà÷å» âàæåí ïðèí- öèï íåïðåäñêàçóåìîñòè. Íàïðèìåð, ïðè èñïîëüçîâàíèè òàêîãî «ïðåä- ñêàçóåìîãî» òèïà ìåëîäè÷åñêîãî ðàçâèòèÿ, êàê ñåêâåíöèÿ, ìåæäó åå çâå- íüÿìè âäðóã âîçíèêàþò «ïîñòîðîííèå» çâóêè, «ëîìàþùèå» èíåðöèþ ìåëîäè÷åñêîãî äâèæåíèÿ. Ïîäîáíûé ìåòîä ñî÷èíåíèÿ áëèçîê ìåòîäó äðåâíåðóññêîãî ðàñïåâ- ùèêà (íå èññëåäîâàíèå, à «ñëåäîâàíèå» äðåâíèì ñèñòåìàì áîãîñëóæåá- íîãî ïåíèÿ). Ñðåäíåâåêîâàÿ öåíòîííàÿ òåõíèêà îæèâàåò â ñîâðåìåííîì ïðîèçâåäåíèè, äðåâíèå ìåëîäè÷åñêèå ôîðìóëû êîíñòèòóèðóþò ìîíî- äè÷åñêóþ òêàíü «Ïëà÷à». Êîìïîçèòîð, ñîñëàâøèñü íà òåðìèí Ê. Ëåâè- Ñòðîñà, íàçûâàåò òàêîé ìåòîä òâîð÷åñòâà «áðèêîëàæåì». Äðóãîé ïðèíöèï, íå ìåíåå âàæíûé äëÿ Â. Ìàðòûíîâà ýòî ïîâòîðå- íèå. Ïîâòîðÿåìîñòü (ðåïåòèòèâíîñòü) âàæíîå, ôóíäàìåíòàëüíîå ñâîé- ñòâî ìèíèìàëèñòñêîé ìóçûêè. Îáðàùàÿñü ê äðåâíåðóññêîé òðàäèöèè, êîìïîçèòîð ãîâîðèò î ïîâòîðåíèè êàê îñíîâå âñÿêîãî áîãîñëóæåíèÿ. « Èèñóñîâà ìîëèòâà êàê áû íåçðèìî ïðèñóòñòâóåò â êàæäîì áîãîñëó- æåáíîì òåêñòå, îáåñïå÷èâàÿ ñìûñëîâîå åäèíñòâî ñèñòåìû òåêñòîâ ×òî- áû îáåñïå÷èòü âðåìåííóþ ïðîòÿæåííîñòü êîíòèíóóìà, ïðåäåëüíî êðàò- êàÿ Èèñóñîâà ìîëèòâà äîëæíà íåïðåñòàííî ïîâòîðÿòüñÿ, è èìåííî ýòî ïîâòîðåíèå, ýòî áåñïðåñòàííîå âîçâðàùåíèå ê íà÷àëó ñòàíîâèòñÿ îñíîâ- íûì ñòðóêòóðíî-àðòèêóëÿöèîííûì ïðèíöèïîì áîãîñëóæåáíîãî òåêñòî- «ÏËÀ× ÈÅÐÅÌÈÈ» Â. ÌÀÐÒÛÍÎÂÀ... 299

âîãî êîíòèíóóìà ïîâòîðÿþùèåñÿ ãðóïïû òåêñòîâ îáðàçóþò êîíöåíò- ðè÷åñêèå êðóãè, ðàñõîäÿùèåñÿ îò Èèñóñîâîé ìîëèòâû è îõâàòûâàþùèå âñå áîëüøèå ïðîìåæóòêè âðåìåíè. Íàèìåíüøèì èç êðóãîâ ÿâëÿåòñÿ ñó- òî÷íûé áîãîñëóæåáíûé êðóã Ñëåäóþùèé ñåäìè÷íûé, èëè íåäåëüíûé áîãîñëóæåáíûé êðóã Íàêîíåö, íàèáîëåå îáøèðíûì èç áîãîñëóæåáíûõ êðóãîâ ÿâëÿåòñÿ ãîäîâîé áîãîñëóæåáíûé êðóã, ñîñòîÿùèé èç ìîëèòâåí- íûõ òåêñòîâ, ïðåäíàçíà÷åííûõ äëÿ ÷òåíèÿ íà ïðîòÿæåíèè ãîäà »9 Ñîåäèíÿÿñü ìåæäó ñîáîé, áîãîñëóæåáíûå êðóãè îáðàçóþò ìíîæå- ñòâî ðàçíîîáðàçíûõ ñî÷åòàíèé, â ÷åì ïðîÿâëÿåòñÿ òðåòèé ïðèíöèï ïðèíöèï âàðèàöèîííîñòè. Âàðèàíòíîñòü ýòî âàæíîå ñâîéñòâî äðåâ- íåðóññêîãî ïåâ÷åñêîãî èñêóññòâà, â êîòîðîì ìíîãîå ïåðåäàâàëîñü óñò- íûì ïóòåì. Ýòî òàêæå îñîáåííîñòü âñÿêîé òðàäèöèîííîé êóëüòóðû, â îñíîâå êîòîðîé ëåæèò êàíîíè÷åñêèé òèï òâîð÷åñòâà. Â «Ïëà÷å Èåðåìèè» âàæåí êàê ïðèíöèï ïîâòîðåíèÿ, âîçâðàùåíèÿ ðèòìî-ìåëîäè÷åñêîé ñèñòåìû ê èñõîäíîìó ñîñòîÿíèþ, êðóãîâîãî, êîí- öåíòðè÷åñêîãî ñòðîåíèÿ ìóçûêàëüíîé ôîðìû, òàê è ïðèíöèï âàðèàöè- îííîãî ðàçâèòèÿ, ïîñòåïåííîãî «ðàñêðûòèÿ», ðàçâåðòûâàíèÿ ìóçûêàëü- íîãî ìàòåðèàëà. Êîìïîçèöèÿ «Ïëà÷à» ýòî ñâîåîáðàçíîå «ðîíäî», ãäå ðîëü ïîâòî- ðÿþùåãîñÿ ðåôðåíà èãðàåò Ïðîëîã. «Ïîâòîðÿþùååñÿ âðåìÿ ýòî âðå- ìÿ Áîãà», ñêàçàë Àâãóñòèí.10 Íåëèíåéíîå, öèêëè÷åñêîå ñòðîåíèå ìó- çûêàëüíîãî ïðîöåññà, îñíîâàííîå íà ïåðèîäè÷åñêîì ïîâòîðåíèè ìå- ëîäè÷åñêîãî ìàòåðèàëà, ïðåâðàùàåò âðåìÿ ïðîèçâåäåíèÿ â ñòàòè÷íûé îáðàç âå÷íîñòè. Ìóçûêà ýòî îçâó÷åííîå âðåìÿ, ñàìîé ìàòåðèåé ìó- çûêè ÿâëÿåòñÿ âðåìÿ. Ïîýòîìó ëèøåíèå âðåìåíè ýòî ëèøåíèå ìóçû- êè åå ìàòåðèàëüíîñòè. Êàæäàÿ ãëàâà «Ïëà÷à» èìååò öèêëè÷åñêîå ñòðîåíèå. Íàïðèìåð, â ïåðâîé ãëàâå ìîæíî óâèäåòü òðè ôàçû ðàçâèòèÿ. Â êàæ- äîé ôàçå ìóçûêàëüíîå ðàçâèòèå íàïðàâëåíî ïî ïóòè ðàñøèðåíèÿ çâóêî- âîãî äèàïàçîíà, êàæäûé íîâûé ñòèõ âêëþ÷àåò â ìóçûêàëüíóþ òêàíü îäèí íîâûé çâóê. Ïîñòåïåííîå ðàñøèðåíèå äèàïàçîíà îò îäíîãî äî ñåìè çâó- êîâ ÿâëÿåòñÿ ïðàêòè÷åñêèì âûðàæåíèåì ÷èñëîâîé ñèìâîëèêè, çàëîæåí- íîé â îñíîâå «Ïëà÷à». Àëãîðèòì, çàêëþ÷åííûé â êàæäîì ðàçäåëå, íå «ïðî- ñ÷èòûâàåòñÿ» ñëóøàòåëåì, îäíàêî îñíîâàííîå íà ýòîì àëãîðèòìå ïîñòå- ïåííîå ðàñêðûòèå, ðàñøèðåíèå ìóçûêàëüíîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà èç îäíîé çâóêîâîé òî÷êè, ðàâíî êàê è íåóêëîííîå íàðàñòàíèå ýìîöèîíàëüíîãî íà- ïðÿæåíèÿ, íåïîñðåäñòâåííî âëèÿþò íà âîñïðèÿòèå ñëóùàòåëÿ. 300 Èðèíà ÁÐÎÂÈÍÀ

Êîãäà ïðåäûäóùàÿ ôàçà äîñòèãàåò ÷èñëà «7», íà÷èíàåòñÿ ñëåäóþ- ùàÿ ôàçà, êîòîðàÿ âíîâü ïðîõîäèò âåñü ïóòü îò åäèíèöû, óíèñîíà, äî ïîëíîãî ñåìèñòóïåííîãî çâóêîðÿäà. Íî ïðè ýòîì êàæäàÿ ôàçà èìååò ñâîè îòëè÷èÿ. Ïåðâàÿ ôàçà ïîêàç äåéñòâóþùèõ ëèö (ìóæñêîé õîð îáîá- ùåííî-àñêåòè÷åñêîå íà÷àëî, àëüò I è àëüò II solo íà÷àëî ëè÷íîñòíîå) è íàèáîëåå ÿñíàÿ ðàáîòà ñ ÷èñëîì. Âòîðàÿ ôàçà îáîñòðåíèå ïåðåæèâà- íèÿ, «íàêëîíåíèå» â ñòîðîíó ýêñïðåññèè, áëèçêîé íàðîäíîìó ïëà÷ó, - ïðîõîäèò ïîä çíàêîì àëüòîâîé ïàðòèè. Â òðåòüåé ôàçå ïðîñòðàíñòâî ðàñøèðÿåòñÿ, ïîÿâëÿåòñÿ çåðêàëüíîñòü (îäíîâðåìåííîå çâó÷àíèå ìåëî- äè÷åñêîé ëèíèè è åå èíâåðñèè), ïîâåñòâîâàíèå ðàññëàèâàåòñÿ, ïðèîá- ðåòàÿ ìèñòè÷åñêîå èçìåðåíèå. Îáðàòèìñÿ òåïåðü ê ïðîñòðàíñòâåííîé ñòîðîíå ñî÷èíåíèÿ Â. Ìàð- òûíîâà. Â çâó÷àíèè ëþáîãî õîðà, êàê è îðêåñòðà, ïðèñóòñòâóåò íåêèé ñòåðåîôîíè÷åñêèé ýôôåêò, ñâÿçàííûé ñ ìåñòîïîëîæåíèåì èñïîëíèòå- ëåé: ïåðåõîä ìóçûêàëüíîãî çâó÷àíèÿ èç òåìáðà â òåìáð, ïåðåìåùåíèå åãî èç ïàðòèè â ïàðòèþ ýòî, ïî ñóòè, åãî ïåðåìåùåíèå â ðåàëüíîì, àêóñòè÷åñêîì ïðîñòðàíñòâå. Ýòîò ýôôåêò óñèëèâàåòñÿ, åñëè èñïîëüçó- åòñÿ íàìåðåííûé êîíòðàñò è ïðîòèâîïîñòàâëåíèå ïàðòèé, ò.å. êîíòðàñò â ïðîñòðàíñòâå çâóêîâîì, ìóçûêàëüíîì, ïîäðàæàþùåì ñòåðåîôîíèè. Èñïîëüçîâàíèå ðàçëè÷íîé õîðîâîé ïëîòíîñòè è äèíàìèêè ïîðîæäàåò ýôôåêò ïðèáëèæåíèÿ-óäàëåíèÿ, ôàêòóðà âëèÿåò íà îùóùåíèå «ñãóùåí- íîñòè», êîíöåíòðèðîâàííîñòè ìóçûêàëüíîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà èëè, íàîáî- ðîò, åãî ðàçðåæåííîñòè, øèðîòû, ïðîçðà÷íîñòè. «Ïëà÷ó Èåðåìèè» ïðèñóùà âíóòðåííÿÿ àíòèôîííîñòü. Èçäàâíî â õðèñòèàíñêîé öåðêâè áûëî ïðèíÿòî èñïîëíåíèå ïåñíîïåíèé àíòèôîí- íî, ïîïåðåìåííî äâóìÿ õîðàìè, ÷òî ñèìâîëèçèðîâàëî ñîâìåñòíîå ïå- íèå õîðà çåìíîãî è õîðà íåáåñíîãî (àíãåëüñêîãî). Â «Ïëà÷å Èåðåìèè» àíòèôîí îäèí èç ñàìûõ îñíîâíûõ ïðèåìîâ òåìáðîâîé äðàìàòóðãèè. Ïî÷òè â êàæäîé ãëàâå ñî÷èíåíèÿ Â. Ìàðòûíîâà èñïîëüçóåòñÿ ïðè- åì ïîñòåïåííîãî íàïîëíåíèÿ ìóçûêàëüíîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà. Ïðèíöèï ïîñòåïåííîãî íàïîëíåíèÿ «âûñâå÷èâàåò» ïîòåíöèàëüíîå ïðîñòðàíñòâî, îçâó÷èâàåò åãî. Ýòî ñâÿçàíî ñ ñåìàíòèêîé ïëà÷à, ïîñòåïåííî çàïîëíÿþ- ùåãî ñîáîé âñå. Ïîìèìî ïðèíöèïà íàïîëíåíèÿ, ïðèñîåäèíåíèÿ ê ìóçûêàëüíîé òêà- íè íîâûõ çâóêîâ è íîâûõ ôàêòóðíûõ ïëàñòîâ, êîìïîçèòîð èñïîëüçóåò ìóçûêàëüíî-ïðîñòðàíñòâåííóþ ìåòàôîðó ëåñòíèöû, èëè, êàê ãîâîðè- «ÏËÀ× ÈÅÐÅÌÈÈ» Â. ÌÀÐÒÛÍÎÂÀ... 301

ëè â Äðåâíåé Ðóñè, ëåñòâèöû. Ëåñòâèöà ñèìâîë äóõîâíîãî âîñõîæ- äåíèÿ. Âî âòîðîé ãëàâå «Ïëà÷à» êàæäûé ïîñëåäóþùèé ñòèõ íà÷èíà- åòñÿ òîíîì âûøå ïðåäûäóùåãî. Âåäü ïîêàÿííûé ïëà÷ ýòî, ïðåæäå âñåãî, óñèëèå âîñõîæäåíèÿ. Îñîáîå çíà÷åíèå â «Ïëà÷å» ïðèîáðåòàþò ïðîñòðàíñòâåííî-àêóñòè- ÷åñêèå ýôôåêòû. Çäåñü âàæíà ïðîçðà÷íîñòü ñî÷åòàíèé ãîëîñîâ, ïðîñâå- ÷èâàíèå èõ äðóã ÷åðåç äðóãà. Êîìïîçèòîð ïðèìåíÿåò ïðèåì «ðàçìûâà- íèÿ» ìåëîäè÷åñêèõ êîíòóðîâ, íå ðàäè íåÿñíîñòè èõ, íî ðàäè îñîáîé ïðîñòðàíñòâåííîñòè çâó÷àíèÿ. Â «Ïëà÷å» íåîäíîêðàòíî âîçíèêàåò ýô- ôåêò ðàññëîåíèÿ ìóçûêàëüíîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà. Ýòîò ïðèíöèï íàèáîëåå ÿâñòâåííî âûñòóïàåò, êîãäà ñëîè ïðîñòðàíñòâà ñìåùàþòñÿ äðóã îòíîñè- òåëüíî äðóãà è âîçíèêàåò ýôôåêò ìíîãîêðàòíîãî ýõà. Äðîæàíèå, êîëå- áàíèå çâóêà ïîäîáíî íåðîâíîìó ìåðöàíèþ äàëåêèõ çâåçä â íî÷íîì íåáå, òî ïîÿâëÿþùèõñÿ, òî èñ÷åçàþùèõ â êîëåáàíèÿõ âîçäóøíîé ñðåäû. «Ïëà÷» ñëîâíî çâó÷èò ñêâîçü ïðåëîìëÿþùóþ ïðèçìó äàëè. Âñïîìèíà- åòñÿ îïòè÷åñêèé ýôôåêò ðàäóãè (êîòîðàÿ, êàê èçâåñòíî, ÿâëÿåòñÿ â Áèá- ëèè ñèìâîëîì çàâåòà ìåæäó Áîãîì è ëþäüìè). Ïðèìåðîì òàêîãî ôîíèçìà ìîæåò ñëóæèòü ïðèåì ñìåùåíèÿ ìåëî- äè÷åñêîé ëèíèè ïî ãîðèçîíòàëè, êîãäà ãîëîñà «îòñòàþò» îäèí îò äðóãî- ãî (âòîðàÿ ãëàâà, ÷åòâåðòàÿ ãëàâà). Âîçíèêàåò ýôôåêò ìíîãî-ãîëîñèÿ, ãîëîøåíèÿ, áóäòî áû äîëåòàþ- ùåãî ñ ðàçíûõ òî÷åê. Ìîíîäè÷åñêàÿ òåìà çâó÷èò «îñòðàíåííî», ìèñòè- ÷åñêè. Ïîäîáíîå ñìåùåíèå çàñòàâëÿåò âñïîìíèòü èêîíîïèñü ñ åå «äå- ôîðìàöèÿìè» ïðîñòðàíñòâà, èçîáðàæàåìîãî îäíîâðåìåííî ñ ðàçíûõ òî- ÷åê çðåíèÿ. Ïîìèìî íàçâàííûõ ïðîñòðàíñòâåííûõ ïðèíöèïîâ, Â. Ìàðòûíîâ î÷åíü øèðîêî ïðèìåíÿåò ïðèíöèï çåðêàëüíîñòè, ñèììåòðèè, ïðîÿâëÿ- þùèé ñåáÿ íà ðàçíûõ óðîâíÿõ ìóçûêàëüíîé êîíñòðóêöèè. Âî ìíîãèõ ìóçûêàëüíûõ ïîñòðîåíèÿõ Ìàðòûíîâà îùóùàåòñÿ, à èíîãäà è çðèìî ïðèñóòñòâóåò íåêèé «ãîðèçîíòàëüíûé ñòåðæåíü». Ýòîò ñòåðæåíü çàñòàâëÿåò âñïîìíèòü è î âèçàíòèéñêîì èñîíå, è î «ñòðîêå» â çíàìåííîì ïåíèè. Ñòðîêà ñðåäíèé óðîâåíü îáèõîäíîãî çâóêîðÿäà. Ó Ìàðòûíîâà «ñòðîêà» ïðåâðàùàåòñÿ òî â îñü ñèììåòðèè, òî â îïîðíûé çâóê, ê êîòîðîìó ïåðèîäè÷åñêè âîçâðàùàåòñÿ íàïåâ, òî â èñîí èëè õîðî- âóþ ïåäàëü. Ìîæíî òàêæå ãîâîðèòü î ïðèíöèïå ïðîíèöàåìîñòè ìóçûêàëüíîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà: íåñìîòðÿ íà ðàçäåëåíèå ìóçûêàëüíîãî ìàòåðèàëà ìåæäó 302 Èðèíà ÁÐÎÂÈÍÀ

ðàçíûìè ïàðòèÿìè, ðàçíûìè ãîëîñàìè, îäíè è òå æå èíòîíàöèè ïðî- íèêàþò â ðàçëè÷íûå ñôåðû ìóçûêàëüíîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà. Ïðîíèöàåìîñòü çâóêîâîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà, ïðîçðà÷íîñòü ôàêòóðû, çåðêàëüíîñòü çâóêîâûõ ñòðóêòóð, ïîäîáèå êàê ïðèíöèï ìóçûêàëüíîãî ðàçâèòèÿ («òî æå âñåãäà èíîå», êàê ãîâîðèë À. ôîí Âåáåðí, è ýòè åãî ñëîâà çàòåì ïîäõâàòèëè è ñäåëàëè ñâîèì äåâèçîì ìèíèìàëèñòû) ýòî ÿâëåíèÿ îäíîãî ýñòåòè÷åñêîãî ïîðÿäêà. Îòðàæåíèå âàæíàÿ êàòåãîðèÿ âîñòî÷íî-õðèñòèàíñêîãî áîãîñëîâèÿ. Ýòî è ìèð êàê îòðàæåíèå è ïîäî- áèå íåáåñíûõ àðõåòèïîâ (Äèîíèñèé Àðåîïàãèò) è çåìíàÿ æèçíü êàê «òóñ- êëîå ñòåêëî» (àï. Ïàâåë), ñêâîçü êîòîðîå ìû íåÿñíî ðàçëè÷àåì î÷åðòà- íèÿ Áûòèÿ. Ñëîâî â ñî÷èíåíèè Ìàðòûíîâà íå òîëüêî ðàñïåâàåòñÿ è äëèò- ñÿ, íî è ìíîæèòñÿ â ýôôåêòàõ ýõà êàê áû ïðîõîäÿ ÷åðåç íåêóþ ñðåäó, ïðåòåðïåâàÿ â íåé ïðåâðàùåíèÿ, êàêèå, ïî ìûñëè Äèîíèñèÿ Àðåîïàãè- òà, ïðåòåðïåâàåò èíôîðìàöèÿ, ñïóñêàþùàÿñÿ ñ âåðõíèõ, íåáåñíûõ óðîâ- íåé èåðàðõèè è äîñòèãàþùàÿ çåìëè â íåÿñíîì âèäå, óòðàòèâ ÷àñòü ñåáÿ. Öåðêîâíîå ïåíèå â Äðåâíåé Ðóñè íàçûâàëè «àíãåëîãëàñíûì», «àí- ãåëîïîäîáíûì». Â. Ìàðòûíîâ ïèøåò â ñâîåì èññëåäîâàíèè: «Ïðèðîäà àíãåëüñêîãî ïåíèÿ ìîæåò áûòü óïîäîáëåíà ïðèðîäå îòðàæåíèÿ, èáî àíãåëû, íàçûâà- åìûå åùå «âòîðûìè ñâåòàìè», íå ïîãëîùàþò ñîáîþ ýãîèñòè÷íî áîæå- ñòâåííûé ñâåò, èñõîäÿùèé îò Ñâåòà Ïåðâîãî, íî ïîäîáíî çåðêàëàì îò- ðàæàþò ýòîò ñâåò âîâíå, ñâåòÿñü ñàìè è îñâåùàÿ äðóãèõ». È äàëåå: « óìåñòíåå ãîâîðèòü ñêîðåå íå ñòîëüêî î ñîîòâåòñòâèè ñòðóêòóð, ñêîëü- êî î ñèììåòðè÷åñêîì çåðêàëüíîì îòðàæåíèè ñòðóêòóðû íåáåñíîãî ïå- íèÿ â ñòðóêòóðå ïåíèÿ çåìíîãî. Çåðêàëüíîñòü ïðîÿâëÿåòñÿ ïðåæäå âñå- ãî â ïðîòèâîïîëîæíîé íàïðàâëåííîñòè äâèæåíèé, èáî åñëè â àíãåëü- ñêîì ïåíèè äâèæåíèå ñâÿçàíî ñ íèñõîæäåíèåì, òî â çåìíîì áîãîñëóæåáíîì ïåíèè äâèæåíèå ñèìâîëèçèðóåò âîñõîæäåíèå».11 Áûòü ìîæåò, â ýòèõ ñëîâàõ êðîåòñÿ ðàçãàäêà ñòîëü ÷àñòîãî èñïîëüçîâàíèÿ «çåð- êàëüíîñòè» â «Ïëà÷å», òåì áîëåå ÷òî, â îñíîâíîì, îíà èñïîëüçóåòñÿ â çîíàõ íàèáîëüøåé ñàêðàëèçàöèè òåêñòà (íàçâàíèÿ áóêâ). Âëàäèìèð Ìàðòûíîâ èçâåñòåí ñâîåé êîíöåïöèåé ñîçäàíèÿ «íîâîãî ñàêðàëüíîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà». Ñàêðàëüíîå ïðîñòðàíñòâî çíàìåííîãî ðàñ- ïåâà, ãðèãîðèàíñêîãî õîðàëà, âèçàíòèéñêîãî áîãîñëóæåáíîãî ïåíèÿ óò- ðàòèëî ñâîþ ïîëíîòó è ñèëó â ñîâðåìåííîì ìèðå. Â. Ìàðòûíîâ çàäàåò- ñÿ öåëüþ ñîçäàíèÿ (èëè õîòÿ áû ïîïûòêè ñîçäàíèÿ) íîâîãî ñàêðàëüíîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà, ïðîñòðàíñòâà âîêðóã áîãîñëóæåíèÿ, ãäå, íà ïåðåêðåñòüå «ÏËÀ× ÈÅÐÅÌÈÈ» Â. ÌÀÐÒÛÍÎÂÀ... 303

ðàçëè÷íûõ òðàäèöèé áîãîñëóæåáíîãî ïåíèÿ, ìóçûêè áàðîêêî è ôîëüê- ëîðà, à òàêæå ñîâðåìåííûõ òåõíèê êîìïîçèòîðñêîãî ïèñüìà, ìîæåò âîç- íèêíóòü íîâûé êóëüòóðíûé ñèíòåç. Ñëîâî «ïðîñòðàíñòâî» ïîíèìàåòñÿ êîìïîçèòîðîì ñèìâîëè÷åñêè, êàê íåêîå «ìåñòî», ãäå ìîæåò âîçíèêíóòü ýòîò ñèíòåç. Â òî æå âðåìÿ, «Íîâîå ñàêðàëüíîå ïðîñòðàíñòâî ýòî â ïåðâóþ î÷åðåäü íîâîå àêóñòè÷åñêîå ïðîñòðàíñòâî». Äëÿ êîìïîçèòîðà ñòàíîâèòñÿ âàæíûì ðàñïîëîæåíèå èñïîëíèòåëåé â ïðîñòðàíñòâå, «êàæ- äàÿ òî÷êà ïðîñòðàíñòâà äîëæíà ñòàòü èñòî÷íèêîì çâóêà».12 Íà íàø âçãëÿä, ïðîñòðàíñòâåííûå ýôôåêòû «Ïëà÷à» òàêæå ñâÿçàíû ñ ïîïûòêîé ñîçäàíèÿ íîâîãî ñàêðàëüíîãî ïðîñòðàíñòâà. Òî, ÷òî â Âåòõîì Çàâåòå áûëî åäèíûì òåêñòîì (àêðîñòèõ) â äàëü- íåéøåì ðàçäåëèëîñü, ñîçäàâ äâà ñòðóêòóðíûõ óðîâíÿ òåêñòà. Ýòè óðîâ- íè â ñî÷èíåíèè Â. Ìàðòûíîâà ïðåäñòàâëÿþò äâà ïëàíà áûòèÿ: ìèð äîëü- íèé è ìèð ãîðíèé. Â äðåâíåðóññêîé òåîðèè ìóçûêè âûðàáîòàëîñü ïîíÿòèå òàéíîçàìê- íåííîñòè. Ïðîñòðàííûå ìåëèçìàòè÷åñêèå ðàñïåâû ôèòíûõ ôîðìóë îò- ìå÷àëè çîíû íàèáîëüøåé ñàêðàëèçàöèè áîãîñëóæåáíîãî òåêñòà. Â «Ïëà- ÷å» Â. Ìàðòûíîâà çîíàìè íàèáîëüøåé ñàêðàëèçàöèè ÿâëÿþòñÿ ðàñïåâû áóêâ äðåâíååâðåéñêîãî àëôàâèòà. Ìåëèçìàòè÷åñêèå ðàñïåâû áóêâ ïðîòè- âîñòîÿò ñèëëàáè÷åñêîìó ðàñïåâó òåêñòà. Êàê è ôèòû, îáîçíà÷åíèÿ áóêâ ýòî âûõîä çà ïðåäåëû òåêñòà, çà ïðåäåëû ñëîâà â ñâåðõ-ñëîâî, ýòî àïîôà- òè÷åñêèå ýëåìåíòû òåêñòà. Êàê è ôèòû, ýòî îñòðîâà âíåâðåìåííîñòè (âñïîìíèì çàìå÷àíèå Ì. Áðàæíèêîâà î ôèòå êàê «ñâîåîáðàçíîì îñòðîâå â çíàìåííîì ðàñïåâå»). Ïðè ãîñïîäñòâå ñòàòèêè, â ñî÷èíåíèè åñòü ãëàâà, ãäå âðåìÿ êàê áû «ñâîðà÷èâàåòñÿ», ñòàíîâÿñü áîëåå ñæàòûì è äèíàìè÷íûì. Ýòî ÷åòâåð- òàÿ ãëàâà. Ìîæíî ñêàçàòü, ÷òî ÷åòâåðòàÿ ãëàâà âûïîëíÿåò ðîëü ïðåäèñëî- âèÿ, ïðîëîãà ê ïÿòîé ãëàâå, ýòî ïðîðûâ, íåêîå îòêðûòèå, çà êîòîðûì ñëå- äóåò àáñîëþòíàÿ ñòàòèêà ôèíàëà. Ãîâîðÿ î ÷åòâåðòîé ãëàâå, ìîæíî ïðî- âåñòè àíàëîãèþ ñ «ìíîãîãëàñèåì», íàáëþäàâøèìñÿ âî ìíîãèõ õðàìàõ äî ðåôîðìû ïàòðèàðõà Íèêîíà. Ìîëèòâû, êîòîðûå äîëæíû áûëè ñëåäîâàòü îäíà çà äðóãîé, â äåéñòâèòåëüíîñòè, «íàêëàäûâàÿñü» äðóã íà äðóãà, ïå- ëèñü è ÷èòàëèñü îäíîâðåìåííî, ðàäè ñîêðàùåíèÿ âðåìåíè ñëóæáû. Òàê è â ÷åòâåðòîé ãëàâå «Ïëà÷à» «ìîëèòâà ÷èòàåìàÿ» (ñòèõè, «÷èòêîì» ïðîèç- íîñèìûå áàñàìè è òåíîðàìè) è «ìîëèòâà ïîåìàÿ» (ðàñïåâû áóêâ) ñî÷åòà- þòñÿ â îäíîâðåìåííîñòè. «×èòîê» íå ïðåêðàùàåòñÿ íè íà ìãíîâåíèå, è ìû óæå íå ìîæåì îòëè÷èòü, ãäå êîí÷àåòñÿ îäèí ñòèõ è íà÷èíàåòñÿ ñëåäó- 304 Èðèíà ÁÐÎÂÈÍÀ

þùèé. Ýòè äâà ôàêòóðíûõ ïëàñòà ñóùåñòâóþò ïî÷òè àâòîíîìíî äðóã îò äðóãà. Â òàêîì ðàññëîåíèè ìóçûêàëüíîé òêàíè íàì âèäèòñÿ óêàçàíèå íà äâå, íå ïåðåñåêàþùèåñÿ, ñôåðû áûòèÿ: ïîâåñòâîâàíèå î çåìíûõ ñîáûòè- ÿõ è ïðîïåâàíèå ñàêðàëüíûõ áóêâ, ïðåâðàùàþùååñÿ â ðîä ìîëèòâû. Ìîæ- íî âñïîìíèòü äðåâíåðóññêóþ èêîíó ñ åå ïðèíöèïîì ñîâìåùåíèÿ â îäíîì èçîáðàæåíèè ðàçíîâðåìåííûõ ñîáûòèé, à òàêæå ðàçëè÷íûõ ñôåð áûòèÿ. Íî, îáúåäèíÿÿ èõ â åäèíîì èçîáðàæåíèè, èêîíîïèñåö âñåãäà ÷åòêî îòãðà- íè÷èâàåò ïîäîáíûå ñôåðû äðóã îò äðóãà. Âàæíû êàê åäèíñòâî è âçàèìî- ïðîíèêíîâåíèå, òàê è ãðàíèöà. Ýòîò ïðèíöèï îáúåäèíåíèÿ, è, îäíîâðåìåííî, ðàçãðàíè÷åíèÿ ïî- ñòîÿííî ïðèñóòñòâóåò â «Ïëà÷å». Â ïÿòîé ãëàâå ïðîèñõîäèò ïîëíîå óíè÷òîæåíèå, «ñíÿòèå» ìóçûêàëü- íîãî âðåìåíè, à ãîðå ïðîðîêà Èåðåìèè ÷óäåñíûì îáðàçîì ïðåîáðàæàåòñÿ â ìîëèòâó. Äàæå ñàìà ãëàâà íîñèò íàçâàíèå «Ìîëèòâû Èåðåìèè ïðîðîêà». Ìóçûêàëüíîå ñòðîåíèå ïÿòîé ãëàâû ïðåäåëüíî ïðîñòî: ïñàëìî- äèÿ íà îäíîì çâóêå âðåìÿ îò âðåìåíè «ðàñöâå÷èâàåòñÿ» êàêîé-ëèáî ìåëîäè÷åñêîé ôèãóðîé èç òåõ, ÷òî óïîòðåáëÿëèñü â ñî÷èíåíèè ðàíåå. Ôèãóðû ïîÿâëÿþòñÿ â îïðåäåëåííîé î÷åðåäíîñòè, îò ñàìîé ýëåìåí- òàðíîé ê áîëåå ñëîæíûì. Âåðîÿòíî, êîìïîçèòîð îñîçíàííî äîáèâàåò- ñÿ ïðîñòîòû è àñêåòè÷íîñòè ìóçûêàëüíîãî îôîðìëåíèÿ òðåõñòèøèé. «Ðèòóàëüíîñòü» è óñåðäíîñòü ìîëåíèé («Ãîñïîäè ïîìèëóé» ñâîåîá- ðàçíàÿ «ñóãóáàÿ åêòåíèÿ») íå äîëæíà çàòìåâàòüñÿ êðàñèâûìè àêóñòè- ÷åñêèìè ýôôåêòàìè. Âñå ñèëû äóøè ñîáèðàþòñÿ íà ïîâòîðåíèè ýòîãî ìîëèòâåííîãî «ðåôðåíà». Ñìûñë îñòàëüíîãî òåêñòà íå òàê âàæåí. Ñåìü òðåõñòèøèé ïî÷òè òî÷íî ïîâòîðÿþò äðóã äðóãà. Òî æå ìîæíî ñêàçàòü è î ïðèïåâàõ «Ãîñïîäè, ïîìèëóé». Ïðèíöèï ïîâòîðà âûõîäèò íà ïåð- âûé ïëàí, êàêîå-ëèáî ìóçûêàëüíîå ðàçâèòèå îòñóòñòâóåò. Êëþ÷ íàé- äåí. È íóæíî ëèøü áåñïðåñòàííî ïîâòîðÿòü ìîëèòâó, êîòîðàÿ è ÿâëÿ- åòñÿ ýòèì êëþ÷îì. Ðèòóàëüíîå ïîâòîðåíèå îäíîãî è òîãî æå ìàòåðèà- ëà âîñïðèíèìàåòñÿ êàê íå÷òî íåïîäâèæíîå, íåèçìåííîå, ïðè âñåé àêòèâíîñòè ðèòìè÷åñêîãî äâèæåíèÿ. Â ôèíàëüíîé ãëàâå «Ïëà÷à», êîòîðàÿ óæå íå ÿâëÿåòñÿ àêðîñòèõîì, «áóêâû» îáðåòàþò ãîëîñ è ÷åòêèé ñìûñë îíè çàìåíÿþòñÿ «ñàìûì êðàò- êèì ïåñíîïåíèåì ïðàâîñëàâíîé Öåðêâè» «Ãîñïîäè, ïîìèëóé». Ìî- ëèòâà, êîòîðàÿ ïðîñèò Ãîñïîäà îáðàòèòü ê Ñåáå ñåðäöà ëþäåé. Ìîëèòâà, â êîòîðîé îáúåäèíÿåòñÿ âîñõîæäåíèå ñ íèñõîæäåíèåì è ñìûñë ñëîâà ñ åãî òàèíñòâåííîé, âíåñëîâåñíîé ñóùíîñòüþ. «ÏËÀ× ÈÅÐÅÌÈÈ» Â. ÌÀÐÒÛÍÎÂÀ... 305

Â. Ìàðòûíîâ ïèøåò î òîì, ÷òî âåñü ÷èí áîãîñëóæåíèÿ âûðîñ èç êðàòêîé Èèñóñîâîé ìîëèòâû, ðàçðàñòàÿñü èç íåå ïîäîáíî âåòâÿùåìóñÿ äåðåâó. Ìîæíî ñêàçàòü, ÷òî «Ïëà÷ Èåðåìèè» âûðîñ èç åùå áîëåå êðàò- êîé ìîëèòâû «Ãîñïîäè, ïîìèëóé». Òåìà «Ïëà÷à» â ñî÷èíåíèè Â. Ìàðòûíîâà îñîçíàíà êàê ãëóáîêî ñî- âðåìåííàÿ è òðàãè÷åñêàÿ. Â îòëè÷èå îò ýìîöèîíàëüíîé ñäåðæàííîñòè çíàìåííîãî ðàñïåâà è ìåäèòàòèâíîé ñîçåðöàòåëüíîñòè ìèíèìàëèñòñ- êèõ ñî÷èíåíèé, «Ïëà÷» áóäîðàæèò ñëóøàòåëÿ ýìîöèîíàëüíûì è äóõîâ- íûì íàïðÿæåíèåì. «Èñêóññòâî ñòàðèííîå èêîíîïèñü, ìîçàèêè ðàâåí- íñêèå, èñêóññòâî I òûñÿ÷åëåòèÿ äî ãîòèêè, òî, ÷òî ìû âèäèì â Àíòèôî- íàðèè èëè â Ãðàäóàëå, â ãðèãîðèàíñêîì êîðïóñå, ýòî èñêóññòâî, óòâåðæäàþùåå Áîãà. À èñêóññòâî ñîâðåìåííîå âçûñêóþùåå Áîãà», ãîâîðèò Â. Ìàðòûíîâ.13 Îñîáóþ âûðàçèòåëüíîñòü è â òî æå âðåìÿ «íàä- ñóáúåêòèâíîñòü», ðèòóàëüíîñòü, â êîíå÷íîì ñ÷åòå ìèñòåðèàëüíîñòü ïðèäàåò çâó÷àíèþ «Ïëà÷à» íàðîäíàÿ ìàíåðà èíòîíèðîâàíèÿ. Íà îñíîâå «Ïëà÷à» Â. Ìàðòûíîâà À. Âàñèëüåâûì áûë ïîñòàâëåí ñïåêòàêëü, â êîòîðîì âûñòóïëåíèå õîðèñòîâ ïðåâðàòèëîñü â íåêîå ñàê- ðàëüíîå äåéñòâî.

“THE CRY OF JEREMIAH” BY VLADIMIR MARTYNOV: HOMO ERRANS AND OLD RUSSIAN ECCLESIATICAL SINGING Irina BROVINA St. Petersburg, Russia

In Dante’s “Divine Comedy” the main character says that after having lived half of his life he lost his way in a gloomy forest. In the opinion of Moscow composer Vladimir Martynov, a human living in the contemporary world, where all the points – the points of view and the points of rest – have shifted, may be defined as human errans – “a man who lost his way”. Like the character in Dante’s poem, the human needs a guide. Vergilius, the guide in Dante’s poem, represented “the totality of the marks and symbols of spiritual tradition”. Everyone can meet his own Vergilius. For Vladimir Martynov, the guide is Old Russian ecclesiastical singing. For Martynov, old-russian ecclesiasti- 306 Èðèíà ÁÐÎÂÈÍÀ cal singing is an integral syncretic system opposite to the torn and fragmen- tary contemporary consciousness. The text of “The Cry of Jeremiah”, a “book put to singing” is taken from the Old Testament book of “Jeremiah” that describes Jerusalem being destroyed by the Babylonians. The events told in the Old Testament are interpreted by the composer as a prototype of the condition of the contemporary world. The idea of the world living without church, which is ruined like Jerusalem, is the centralconcept of the work. Thus, Martynov’s musical piece is a cry not only for Jerusalem but for modern civilization as well. The human can lament the fall, but the cry is also an expression of hope for regaining the lost wholeness. In some mysterious way there is comfort in tears, and there is joy in crying. Cry and prayer are inter-permeable and inter-reversible in Martynov’s work. The cry is heard through prayer, and the prayer is heard through the cry. With this juxtaposition of prayer and cry, we notice the development of the musical image moving from cry to prayer. While the first movement is the cry of despair, the naked cry full of expression, the final movement is pure prayer. It is beyond the time. In “The Cry” the composer uses combinatorial techniques. He combines the set of formulaic intonations that are the elements of Byzantine church singing, Old Russian ecclesiastical singing, Balkan church singing, and Gregorian choral music. This combination of different Christian church singing traditions symbolizes the stones of the destroyed Jerusalem, and it gives hope for the restoration of its wholeness. Martynov’s method of composing is close to the one used by an Old Russian church chorister. The medieval centon technique is revived in this contemporary work. Ancient monodical formulas constitute the melodic structure of “The Cry”. Vladimir Martynov views his method of composing music as a form of canonical work. Repeating the sacral formulas is more important for him than a search for new sound combinations. Nevertheless, “The Cry” is not only repetition; it offers a new, contemporary understanding of both the original text from the Bible and the borrowed melodic elements. The new elements are apparent in the form of the work, in its structure, in the combination of different melodic elements and in the method of com- bining old Christian singing traditions with specific features of musical thinking of the 20th century. The symbolical meaning of numbers, which actually «ÏËÀ× ÈÅÐÅÌÈÈ» Â. ÌÀÐÒÛÍÎÂÀ... 307 constitutes the form of the work, is typical for both the today’s music and for that of the Middle Ages. Over all, the work is composed in the modern techniques of minimalism. In “The Cry” the composer resolves the themes using techniques of minimalism, i.e. the technique of multiple repetitions. Analogies for the constant variation, repeating, the return of melodical structures, and the circular development of intonation can be found in the system of “eight tones” used in the Orthodox Church service. Thus, the theme of the “The Cry” is deeply contemporary and tragic. Unlike the emotional reserve of znamenny raspev and the contemplative meditation of the works of minimalism, “The Cry” excites the audience with its emotional and spiritual intensity. Specifically, the folk music manner of intoning (voicing) (The work was composed especially for the vocal group “Sirin” known for its specific way of singing.) imbues “The Cry” sound with super-subjectivity, rituality, and mystery. As, according to the composer, “The Cry” is a “constructive act” called to restore “the world that we destroyed”. ÏÐÈÌÅ×ÀÍÈß 1 Â. Ìàðòûíîâ. Êóëüòóðà, èêîíîñôåðà è áîãîñëóæåáíîå ïåíèå Ìîñêîâñêîé Ðóñè. Ì., 2000. Ñ. 13-14. 2 Òàì æå. 3 «Êîíåö âðåìåíè êîìïîçèòîðîâ» íàçâàíèå êíèãè Â. Ìàðòûíîâà. 4 Àâòîð Àííà. Ñòðåìëåíèå ê íåáó è ïîèñê êîðíåé. // Èíòåðíåò-ñàéò èçäà- òåëüñêîãî äîìà Ðîäèîíîâà «Ïîëèòáþðî» (www.politburo.ru). 5 Â. Ìàðòûíîâ. Àííîòàöèÿ ê «Ïëà÷ó Èåðåìèè» // Ïëà÷ Èåðåìèåâ. Êíèãà «Ïëà÷ Èåðåìèåâ», ïîëîæåííàÿ íà ïåíèå. Êîìïîçèòîð Â.È. Ìàðòûíîâ. / Ïàðòè- òóðà . Ì., 1995. 6 Ì. Êàòóíÿí. Ïàðàëëåëüíîå âðåìÿ Âëàäèìèðà Ìàðòûíîâà // Ìóçûêà èç áûâøåãî ÑÑÑÐ, âûï 2, Ì., 1996. Ñ.65. 7 Öèò. ïî: «Àëüòåðíàòèâà - 90»: ãðàíè ìèíèìàëèçìà. Ì., 1991. Ñ. 10. 8 Ñì.: Â. Çàäåðàöêèé. Ìóçûêàëüíàÿ ôîðìà. Âûïóñê 1. Ì., 1995. 9 Â. È. Ìàðòûíîâ. Ïåíèå, èãðà è ìîëèòâà â ðóññêîé áîãîñëóæåáíî-ïåâ÷åñ- êîé ñèñòåìå. Ì., 1997. Ñ. 48-49. 10 Öèò. ïî: Í. Ïîñòîëîâà. Îáùàÿ òåððèòîðèÿ // Âàëåíòèí Ëåâèòèí. Æàííà Áðîâèíà. Àëüáîì. Ñåðèÿ . ÑÏá., 2004. Ñ.189. 11 Â. È. Ìàðòûíîâ. Ïåíèå, èãðà è ìîëèòâà â ðóññêîé áîãîñëóæåáíîïåâ÷åñ- êîé ñèñòåìå. Ì., 1997. Ñ.119-120. 12 Â. Ìàðòûíîâ. Àííîòàöèÿ ê «Ëèòàíèÿì Áîãîðîäèöå». Ñì. íà ñàéòå Devotio 308 Èðèíà ÁÐÎÂÈÍÀ moderna. Öåíòð ðàçâèòèÿ è ïîääåðæêè ñîâðåìåííîé ìóçûêè. www.devotiomoderna.ru. 13 Óíèêàëüíûé ýêñïåðèìåíò ñî âðåìåíåì. // Ìóçûêàëüíàÿ Àêàäåìèÿ, 1999, ¹ 3. Ì., 1999. Ñ. 9.

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