WHERE ALL THESE THINGS CAME FROM

by Tatyana Jakovskaya

Those who want to understand the thinking behind Eduard Bersudsky's mechanical sculptures might want to read two articles printed 100 and 200 years ago: an article by Heinrich von Kleist in 1802 called, "Puppet Theatre " or an essay "The Actor and the Über-marionette" written by Gordon Craig in 1908. However, this could lead to you putting more into the sculptures than the artist ever imagined!

But our intrepid researcher can avoid the dust of old library shelves and is likely to find much more satisfaction in reading (or rereading) Michael Bulgakov's book "Master and Margarita". Those who have read it will remember that Woland, the master of black magic, or the devil, moves into flat number 50 "the haunted flat", according to the text, with his suite of accomplices and holds a ball in honour of the Spring equinox. Various strange happenings take place in this flat: for example the just retribution of the bureaucrats, the farewell of Pontius Pilate to the condemned man from Galilee, the resurrection of the burnt manuscript ("manuscripts don't burn", as Woland explains) and also the outburst of unrestrained choral singing by the employees of a serious state department. The heroine, who has just finished being Queen of the Ball, at the request of Woland, asks how thousands of guests and musicians can fit into a normal Moscow flat and is told with unexplained finality "because of the fifth dimension" (In 2000 Eduard made his version of this story - see Master and Margarita)

All this came to my mind when I entered flat number 50 on Moscovskiy Prospect in Leningrad in 1987 for the first time. There was a definite smell of sulphur and the fifth dimension The whole universe - or a theatre, or possibly both at once - were there in that room of approximately 18 square metres. They were everywhere, along the walls, on the shelves, in the corner behind the door, they filled the whole area but there was still not enough room for them The master glanced at us, pushed some secret button and disappeared. And then they started to move - towers with clanging bolts, clocks with bells, the wheel of life from birth to death, a continuous round of clowns, a diabolical orchestra, a ship of fools, and to crown it all - an enormous wooden organ grinder. When he lurched forward with the grace of a fata-morgana it became apparent - I would have to leave everything  I was doing and devote myself to this unique theatre.

Luckily perestroika was in full swing, - and hermetically sealed doors with rusty hinges were being made to give way, chinks were being forced wider and years of Soviet power was pouring away in torrents. You could organise a theatre, you could rent premises, you could even buy wire, knock down unwanted walls.

An even luckier coincidence was that at the time I was working with an amateur theatre, called "Four little windows", which was a refuge for various members of society who had been rejected by "victorious" socialism, like Bersudsky himself. They immediately recognised him as the Master and set to work. They soldered together a control panel, stuck together a gramophone, performed miracles and, with a little help from their friends, acquired premises for us in an old kindergarten and devised a spectacle around the moving sculptures. The necessary people - and materials - appeared, as if from nowhere.

There was the technician with the golden fingers, Vladimir Zinkevitch, who took one look at the workings of the sculptures and, without a word, set to replace most of it and make it work properly.

There was the amazing composer, Alexander Knaifel, who came from the same underground generation as Bersudsky. At the time he was a dissident suspected of formalism, now he is famous and considered a classic. He gave us a pile of tapes of enchanting music and told us to do what we wanted with it. Olga Tsekhnovitser and Leonid Levin pieced these together, added some music of old barrel organs from archives of St.Petersburg Theatre Museum, and this became the soundtrack for the performance.

The American slavist, Prof. Jerry Yanichek became our first sponsor with a donation of $100. This was a lot of money in Russia at that time. Then the politics changed, the communists lost the elections and the old communists put on new clothes and dressed up as democrats. They gave us some money to tidy the place up, said that "Intourist" would bring in the foreign tourist, which they did. When that money dried up, they advised us to find  the tourists in their own land, which we did.

The big organ grinder and his colleagues have continued their sorcery, somehow bringing in new friends and getting us out of the desperate situations. And they continue to do it to this day - that's the only way I can explain why this theatre still exists and its troupe of wooden and metal actors continues to grow. There is no exaggeration when Bersudsky says that it is not he who makes the sculptures, but they make themselves and he just helps them. He starts without any preliminary drawings, with no calculations - and he has no idea how the sculpture will. turn out. The first stimulus might be any idea or detail which either arose or was given to him - a piece of scrap, a night dream, a drawing by Leonardo - then each detail lead to another, first slowly and haltingly, until at a certain point the process becomes increasingly confident as if prompted by an outside force. And  from that point all is to hand when needed.

Towards the end of the building process Eduard calls in others - listens, asks questions, takes on suggestions. And then my part of the work begins - the lighting and the music. Nowadays it is just as much Sergey Jakovsky's work, as mine (he was about six years old when saw these kinetic sculptures for the first time, and at twelve has already controlled light and sound of the show). Together we make suggestions and the master makes a final choice. Or maybe  it is a  kinemat itself who knows exactly what it wants, and  how exactly it wants it.

Of course there is a great deal of hard work - the dead ends, moments of despair and physical exhaustion, as well as  a continual learning process in the galleries and museums of Europe, in its old cathedrals, in books, on Scottish hills with friends and animals and in front of a fire in the hearth.

And of course there is the fifth dimension too...