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To me, you are an exciting phenomenon in Estonian cultural history. Although Estonians
perceive their culture as very nation-centred, you are one of the few immigrants of modern
times who has managed to blend into the inner cultural circle. Your case makes it possible
to re-interpret a certain segment of history and, with a bit of exaggeration, to regard it as an
example of a functioning multi-cultural society.
You belong to the first wave of immigrants arriving in Estonia after WW II.
You say I belong to the first wave of post-war immigration, meaning
immigration from Soviet Russia to Estonia – similarly to Juri Lotman,
Zara Mints, Mikhail Bronstein, and Leonid Stolovich [Lotman and
Mints were semioticians, Bronstein is economist and Stolovich is art
philosopher – Ed], yes? I would like to offer two answers.
No, I do not belong.
Yes, I do.
Both answers are correct.
Everything lies in words: when does the present flowing moment
suddenly become the past? After all, history only deals with
preserving the texts of historians, journalists, politicians, demagogues
and ideologues. In the interest of the Party, ideological
aberrations and mythologisations open up endless possibilities.
What has been said in the texts and how it has been expressed
are the essential questions. Therefore I must – albeit in a few
words – pay attention to the context.
I do not belong to the post-war immigration, as nobody can
immigrate from one place to another within the same country.
The usual description of the recent Estonian past is that Estonia
was occupied by the Soviet Union for over half a century. To me,
this is only a partial description of the situation. Estonia was
indeed conquered with brutal force in 1940 and for a second
time in 1944. This was occupation, followed by cruel repression.
However, after that and due to that, Estonia was integrated into
the Soviet system and, together with other parts of the Soviet
empire, it shared the political system, economic principles and
practices, educational and science system to a certain extent the
cultural institutional structure and content, and what’s most difficult,
even some mundane behavioural stereotypes. Unlike, say,
Alexander’s precarious empire or the powerful Roman empire or
even the British empire, the extension of the Soviet area of influence
was not a primitive, mechanical occupation and subsequent
creation of a conglomerate under a joint ruler. Instead, it was a
conquering and reshaping, followed by total unification, because
it was not classical imperialism but a novel chimera – imperialism
crossed with communist doctrine. The ultimate aim of realising
the practical ideologeme ‘New human association – Soviet
nation’ was total ethno-cultural entropy.
I graduated from the then Leningrad University in 1951,
when state anti-Semitism, deriving from the highest level, was
approaching its zenith. I was naturally not accepted into postgraduate
courses at the university, and was persistently persecuted,
although I was – this is not showing off but to explain
matters – one of the best in our year and scored only the highest
marks. In addition, I was sacked from the institution where I
worked as a student, the city tours office.
I came to Tallinn without any sense of mission, simply hoping
to find a suitable job. The same intentions could have taken me
to Minsk, Yerevan or Ryazan. Tallinn was closer. I got a job at the
Art Institute in Tallinn by pure chance. The person responsible
was the then rector Friedrich Leht, who, as an old Bolshevikinternationalist,
failed to grasp the new ideas of the ruling party
in national politics, and hired a Jew by mistake.
As it turned out, however, I do in a sense belong to internal
migration. This side of my biographical antinomy became clear
slowly and gradually. It, naturally, requires no genius to understand
that I decided to live and work, not just in another part
of the Soviet Union, but in a country with its own language
and culture, which I had to share. My personal experience of
gradual blending into the Estonian cultural context, together
with historical circumstances that allowed the contextual specifics
to emerge are the main factors that help me to understand
and perceive my move and my life in Estonia as a transition to
another civilisation and special ethno-cultural tradition. At the
same time, I never abandoned the Russian culture within which
I grew up. However, participating in Estonian culture and in the
Estonian viewpoint made me much more open, and gave me a
chance to look at Russian culture, not only from the inside but
also from a distance, from the outside. This resembles a kind of
spiritual binocular view where two images do not quite merge,
which makes it more interesting. Participating in the Estonian
mentality naturally helped me to abandon my illusions and affections
dating back to my days in the Young Communist League.
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Your family, nevertheless, did not stay here.
My family left Estonia under special circumstances. My daughter
fled from Estonia together with her husband and three children
on the day of the Moscow coup-d’état, 20 August 1991. This
was an escape, not from Estonia, but from the repetition of the
Soviet system, which, at the time, seemed inevitable. My wife
and I stayed at home, continued working and did not think of
going anywhere. But we were getting on in years and increasingly
missed our daughter and grandchildren, and thus we began
thinking of what, in legalese, is known as ‘reuniting families’.
[Boris Bernstein moved to California shortly afterwards – Ed]
Until the 1970s you mostly wrote art criticism. What made you take an interest in a more theoretical approach to art?
There were many reasons. The most important perhaps was that
the Soviet humanities in the early 1970s favoured an approach
far from the miserable Leninist-Stalinist version of Marxist dogmatics,
which was prevalent until the second half of the 1950s.
What I mean is I got to know the circulating philosophical value
theories, and systematic approaches, the semiotic and structural
methods. Thus equipped, it was possible to set off for more or
less free sailing.
Besides, it was important to me – and to others – that a new
publication appeared in Moscow, ????????? ???????????????. The
first few articles were meant, in true Soviet fashion, to provide
false appearances, but the rest pursued a serious and relatively
independent line in art history. From the first issue in 1974 to
the last ones – under the shorter title ??????????????? – I published
about 15 articles there, all quite serious, in my opinion.
Today I would, of course, change a few things there.
What is the value of theory?
The alternation of conceptual trends during the past few years
in art history (being influenced by the neighbouring fields in
the humanities and topical philosophical ideas), after the last
one hundred years, can provoke a sceptical attitude to any kind
of theorising. However, there is no escape, as every research
project initially requires some kind of strategy.
Speaking of my own theoretical interests,
I have always been fascinated
by the ‘strategic’ side of things. I
frequently tried to analyse methods
and procedures, ie explain “what we
do, if we do something”. My theoretical
research aspires towards the best
in meta-art history, where what our
theories are made of becomes visible.
Both in the humanities and in
philosophy, special theories are simultaneously
cumulative and non-cumulative.
In other words, they are associations
of perception, understanding
and evaluations, acts of self-fulfilled
intellectual creativity. In the area of
alternating and competing theoretical
constructs, the infinitely complicated
truth occasionally decides to momentarily
reveal its face to us. Despite
the truth, we can nevertheless enjoy
the refined games of the mind. This is
quite something, after all.
Thank you.
Boris Bernstein
(1924), art historian and critic, professor of art history at the former
State Art Institute of Estonia, now Estonian Academy of Arts.
Born in Russia, he came to Estonia in 1950ies. Currently lives in
California, USA
Martin Rünk
semiotician, MA student of Art History at the Estonian Academy of
Arts
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