November 4th 2023
Italians are probably celebrating the end of their war, according to their school books the accomplishment of their fight for national unity and independence. That is quite an outstanding event, about which really few are aware. Russia has not been conquered for centuries, but the Russian people, the individuals who all together compose such a colourful world, have seldom experienced any feeling of freedom. The same that I am feeling since I get away from the ideology that I have created by myself. I should not forget to credit Karl Marx as well, but there is a good component of mine in what has later become the Soviet Union and international socialism. Something so far away that I hardly believe that what I am reading in the history books has never taken place. What is als worrying me is to find out the story of Heidi's book. If in all this chaos, I should find a clue, I must at first get back to Moscow and visit the museum dedicated to my character. According to the museum where I am working now, the one in Zurich, the reconstruction of my room, at the time of my death, should be available for a visit somewhere in Russia. Or at least an attempt of a reconstruction, according to the official truth, in a similar way to what the Irregulars of Baker Street accomplished in Meiringen. The scene should be based on some reliable documentation, although Stalin and the police made all the best to play with what is the truth and what is a lie. Anticipating Goebbels and his laughable propaganda by a good decade. However, nobody should have had any interest in covering Heidi's book story, a secret jealousy kept within the innermost circle of Stalin and me. It would have been wiser not to point it out.
The art dealer
The London Original Print Fair will take place in March, but a preview is already available online. I still regret having the wallet without a cent to be spent. Or perhaps I am happy not to be drown in such a vortex of sparing money to bet all together or something whose value should fast double, at least with a pace of once every seven years. That is what art galleries are promising and also what I propose. I am delighted by the offer of Durham Press. As usual they come from the U.S., perhaps the most promising country right now, when it comes to prints and multiples. A series of colourful hearts, reminding me of similar combinations proposed by Tilson around forty years ago, has caught my attention. The artist is Polly Apfelbaum, and it does not come for cheap. The tones remind me of Robert Indiana as well, whose numbers and letters have now become the decoration of some new merchandising of the MOMA shop. Beside Polly’s, I have also discovered a Jacob Hashimoto. The name was totally unknown to me so far, but I see that Mixografia, who usually works with names such as Jonas Wood and Ed Rusha, dedicated some attention to him. His geometries and colours are so gentle, circles crossed by a few lines and filled with clouds and other patterns. “Chance Encounters in the Dream”, is the title of the series and it points out to me how my very same existence, my current profession, can be just an illusion.
Elena, the Princess of Corfu, as the people nicknamed her, had never been told about the book. It must have been a secret signing of allegiance between the Graf von Pazze, who also had a first name, Heinrich, and my grandad. She was however a clever woman and found out the way to discover what the two men tried to conceal. Although she did not know a word of German, she insisted on looking at the pictures inside the volume. It was, still, richly decorated and those images, carefully engraved by a master of the art, accompanied my childhood dreams. Perhaps Elena felt similar emotions, but my grandad stated that she also analysed Lenin's dedication and signature. None of the three ever sympathised for the Red Revolution, perhaps it was the fascination of the name. Elena’s father was also a sort of a local priest, a preacher, or someone who lived by the Church. That is also an open point of my grandad’s story-telling. I cannot figure out how on an island in the middle of the Balkans, there was such a freedom of mind to allow an unmarried religious man to be the father of a splendid woman, almost universally admired. The other open point was how Graf von Pazze managed to get his hands on that book and how he kept with him after having surrendered to the Italian army. I find it more probable that he had received it after the end of the war, but then the question is still “Where did he get that book for?”. I think I need to investigate, starting from Heidi's museum. An alternative path would be to go back to the origin of the story and take a plane to Moscow, to look around the Lenin’s museum.