Cool Shostakovich Facts

Daisy - she/her - 20s Your place for all things Dmitri Shostakovich

[shosty-we-understand]

I NEED TO SPEAK MY TRUTH!!!

The piece of music commonly known as Jazz Waltz no. 2 IS NOT FROM Suite for Jazz Orchestra no. 2 and thus was NOT written in 1938, contrary to popular opinion.

IT WAS INCORRECTLY CATALOGUED in 1983 when a volume of Shostakovich’s works were being put together. It’s real title is Waltz II from Suite for Variety Orchestra no. 1 and IM TIRED OF IT BEING MISIDENTIFIED AND MISLABELLED!!!

[shostposting]

being autistic is so weird sometimes, like i swear you can be going through a horrific depressive episode and in constant pain every day from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep and you're like. hmm. i need to research the dead soviet russian classical music guy about this. and it actually helps

[anwemwolf]

Hello everyone. I would like to share these photographs with you from some shostakovich documents.

They are incredible I had never seen them.

[shosty-we-understand]

Air on a G String? So yo pussy just out in the open like that?

[shosty-we-understand]

In honour of this page's first birthday, I would love to share with you another one of my favourite pictures of Dmitri Shostakovich!

This photo, captured by his first wife Nina Varzar, was taken in 1943 while the Shostakovich family (him, Nina, and their two children) were staying at a guest house in Ivanovo. Following the resounding success of his Seventh Symphony, Shostakovich was under great pressure to compose another wartime symphony. At the guest house, he was able to work on his Eighth away from the busy atmosphere of wartime-Moscow.

Shostakovich had a quirk when it came to his compositional style: while many composers sit at a piano and play what comes to mind and then write it down, Shostakovich had the ability to write music as it came into his mind first and then play it on the piano second; a telling trait of a brilliant composer. See the closed-lidded piano on the left. His children would recall, when he was in a real composing-tizzy, watching him run back and forth from his desk to the piano.

Pictured here in the silhouette of the doorway is Dmitri Shostakovich, hard at work composing his Eight Symphony (which was received particularly poorly compared to his Seventh), and in the silhouette of the window is his daughter Galina, who would have been around the age of seven at the time.

[shosty-we-understand]

“Portrait of composer Dmitri Shostakovich (in adolescence)”, once again drawn by Russian artist and stage director Boris Kustodiev in 1923, when Shostakovich would have been around the age of 17.

[shosty-we-understand]

Titled “Portrait of Dmitri Dmitrievich Shostakovich as a Child”, this portrait was created by Russian artist and stage designer Boris Mikhaylovich Kustodiev in 1919, when Shostakovich was around 13 years old.

The back was inscribed To my little friend Mitya (“Mitya” is a nickname for “Dmitri”). In Shostakovich’s hands is a book of music by Chopin, something that likely would have held significance to the budding pianist.

[shosty-we-understand]

Dmitri Shostakovich (left, with the cigarette in his mouth) and his second wife Margarita Kainova (in the back seat) pictured here exiting a taxi while on a trip to Paris, May 1958, during their short-lived marriage.

Shostakovich’s second marriage, which came just a year and a half after the sudden death of his first wife, was a surprise to his family and friends. Tumultuous and unbalanced, Margarita was reportedly not interested in being the wife of such a famous composer and had little respect for the work Shostakovich did. Their marriage ended as suddenly as it had taken place, and they were divorced by 1959.

[shosty-we-understand]

A favourite of mine, this photo shows a rather foreboding Dmitri Shostakovich vacationing on the coast of the Crimean Peninsula, circa. 1937.

[shosty-we-understand]

Pictured here is Dmitri Shostakovich, playing the piano for staff and fellow patients at a hospital in Kurgan, Russia, early 1970, where he was being treated by Dr. Gavriil Ilizarov for a myriad of physiological issues he was experiencing. Desperate to retain the diminishing ability in his hands, he sought out Dr. Ilizarov and underwent many experimental and unorthodox treatments to limited success. Shostakovich was eventually diagnosed with poliomyelitis, and passed away from heart failure in 1975.

[shosty-we-understand]

Here is a rare glimpse of Dmitri Shostakovich without his glasses, circa 1940s.

[shosty-we-understand]

Pictured below is Dmitri Shostakovich giving a toast to a group of unidentified guests, circa 1940s.

One of Shostakovich’s favourite New Years toasts to give was a simple “To things not getting any better!” This was a sarcastic reference (and typical Shostakovich humour) to the hollow promises of Joseph Stalin that things were getting better and better, when in reality life in the Soviet Union was getting worse and worse.

[shosty-we-understand]

Baby Dmitri Shostakovich with his older sister, Maria.

Circa 1907, photo credit DSCH Shostakovich Journal.

[shosty-we-understand]

Though toted as a resounding success by the Soviet Union, Dmitri Shostakovich's trip to a peace conference in New York City in 1949 was, ironically, not as peaceful as the government let on.

Shostakovich was handpicked by Joseph Stalin in March of 1949 to be part of the Soviet delegation at the Cultural and Scientific Conference For World Peace (or the Waldorf Conference, dubbed from the hotel at which it was hosted). Shostakovich himself was quite hesitant to attend, as this was a very tumultuous period in his life due to many personal and professional strains. However a rather coercive phone conversation with Stalin himself managed to convince him to attend. Shostakovich's music was quite well-known in the United States largely owing to his incredibly popular Symphony No. 7, one of the most famous pieces of music to come out of the Second World War. Indeed, Dmitri Shostakovich was a household name.

The amicable relations between the United States and the Soviet Union following the end of the Second World War were short lived, and the two superpowers were almost immediately at odds with each other over their political ideologies and global interests. The Red Scare in North American added to the tension between the two nations. "Communism" became a dogwhistle, and "Communists" were people to either hate or be scared of, or both.

So when one of the world's most famous communists was suddenly headlining the Cultural and Scientific Conference For World Peace, the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel became a lightning rod for anti-communist protesters.

Shostakovich and the Soviet delegate arrived at LaGuardia Airport on March 23rd, 1949 and were greeted on the tarmac by over 70 reporters, photographers, journalists, and more. Inside the airport sat even more reporters, waiting to hold a press conference that the Russians were hastily ushered past and outside to waiting taxis.

Their arrival at the hotel was not much better. Hordes of hundreds of anti-Communist protesters had gathered at the entrance of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, largely consisting of local Catholic activist groups. While originally expecting over 100 000 protesters to show up, they ended up with a measly (by comparison) 1000 picketers. Of those picketing outside the hotel, they included combat veterans and member of the American Legion, immigrants from Soviet and communist countries carrying their country's flags and dressed in traditional clothing, praying priests and kneeling nuns, and many more. They yelled catcalls, boos, prayers, and sang patriotic songs at the Soviets. Many held signs and placards with slogans like "Veterans Love Music But Not From Behind An Iron Curtain", "Ukrainian Insurgents Fight & Die for Democracy & Peace", "Exterminate The Red Rat", or more insensitively, "Shostakovich! Jump Thru The Window", a reference to the Russian schoolteacher Oksana Kasenkina who jumped out of a third floor window in Manhattan in 1948. Some were more understanding, however, with one sign in particular reading "Shostakovich, We Understand", most likely a nod to Shostakovich's being forced to attend against his will.

Aside from the hundreds of protesters, it was estimated that the police had barricaded over 10 000 onlookers and honest-to-goodness fans, there to catch a glimpse of the (current) most famous Russian composer. But Shostakovich wasn't there to sign autographs, and he was rushed into the hotel past the anxious and turbulent crowds. He would go on to call the Waldorf Conference the "most humiliating experience of [his] life", but for other reasons.

Above is a photo from the exterior of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City in March of 1949. Picketers kept vigil outside the hotel, constantly protesting the participation of the Soviet Union.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

anyway did you know that shostakovich’s name was almost going to be jaroslav

[shosty-we-understand]

Fun fact: one of Dmitri Shostakovich’s favourite pastimes was the card game Patience, but you may know it better as Solitaire!

Here he is pictured playing a game of Solitaire with the help of his son, Maxim. Photo courtesy of the DSCH Shostakovich Journal.

[shosty-we-understand]

Above is a portrait of Dmitri Shostakovich painted by a friend of his and famous artist, Nikolai Sokolov.

Sokolov was among the many people Shostakovich knew aboard the infamous “Railcar No. 7”, which evacuated some of the Soviet Union’s greatest composers, musicians, artists, and dancers out of Moscow in October of 1941. For six days, an uncomfortable amount of people were packed into the railway car, which moved painfully slowly eastward across the Russian countryside away from the advancing Wehrmacht. During the night, the men would stand and let the women and children sleep. During the day, they would switch, and let the men sleep. This was life aboard their carriage.

At one point, after they’d left the station in Moscow, Shostakovich realized that two of his family’s bags were missing, including all of his clothing and his children’s clothing. Not only that, but a certain third bundle was also missing: the unfinished manuscript for his seventh symphony. While those around him, including his friend Sokolov, managed to spare some clothing for him and his children, they couldn’t quite as easily replace the manuscript. Forlorn, Shostakovich had no choice but to wait on the carriage until they reached their intended destination of Kuibyshev (now known as Samara).

It’s almost a miracle that the Shostakovich family didn’t depart the train sooner like many of those on board had, because on the fourth day, while taking a trip to the toilet, Shostakovich and his wife Nina discovered a familiar looking blanket in a puddle on the floor. Upon unwrapping it, they discovered the manuscript for Shostakovich’s seventh symphony, almost completely untouched despite the conditions in which it was found (they didn’t keep the blanket). Their suitcases, on the other hand, were never found, and were believed to have been left behind on the platform in Moscow during the chaos of evacuation.

That bundle of music would become the most famous piece of music to be composed during the Second World War, and would launch Dmitri Shostakovich into global fame. How incredibly lucky for Shostakovich that the bundle wasn’t thrown out before he had a chance to recover it, or else the world may have never heard his Symphony No. 7.