The Uncannily Strange and Brief Life of Amedeo Modigliani (Pushkin Collection) by Colic Velibor

Author:Colic, Velibor [Colic, Velibor]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781906548452
Publisher: Pushkin Press
Published: 2012-08-30T16:00:00+00:00

Montparnasse, Night

“INTO A NEW YEAR. Into a new life!” That is what was written on the postcard that the painter Amedeo Modigliani received from his old childhood friend Oscar M to greet the New Year 1920.

Festive fever.

The whole city was waiting for the little God to be born again in the straw. The streets were already echoing with firecrackers, the laughter of the sated, drunk and contented, the future had already arrived—in the twentieth year of the twentieth century, it seemed that a new golden age was beginning for the whole of humanity.

In the Rue de la Grande Chaumière, in the Modiglianis’ modest flat, the adults were swallowing the holy smoke that comes from strange oriental pipes while the child, Giovanna, her eyes the colour of extinguished ash, was looking out of the window, down the street, suppressing the little frozen dove of her anxiety, simply staring as she waited for the white reindeers and sled of Saint Nicholas the Gift-Giver.

The world is full of scoundrels, the world has always been full of scoundrels, whispered Amedeo Modigliani, as though he were saying a prayer, while the beard on his face changed colour and turned to silver.

The world is full of scoundrels. Jeanne Hébuterne, whose hair reminded him increasingly of the colour of the poppies in Livorno, sprinkled her sorrow through the room like water, it seemed that, with the help of an inner eye, this noble woman could already see two new graves, one beside the other, under the fresh snow, weather when no one leaves the house, in the Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris.

The wise thing is to pluck out one’s heart in good time, he says.

Before sorrow settles in it.

She gets up from the worm-eaten chair, goes up to the man and places her left hand on the seemingly still boyish crown of his head.

Amedeo Modigliani turns his head and sinks his face into warm silk.

The child has fallen asleep on the floor.

The story of Saint Nicholas and the gifts—the first great lie in the life of Giovanna Modigliani.

Although she waited a long, long, long time with big wishes concealed in her small heart—he did not appear.

The Rue de la Grande Chaumière remained empty.

The world is full of scoundrels.

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