About her recitals in the West with Mscisław Rostropovich at the piano, erstwhile they were driven out of the russian Union, I listened with baking on the cheeks from Maria Foltyn, who did not confound with satisfaction criticism of the deteriorating form of her ex-Soviet ex-colleague. Thanks to Elizabeth and Krzysztof Penderecki, I met Wiszniewska during the French premiere (in Lyon) of the opera Galina based on her biography, composed by Marcel Landowski, a French composer friend of Penderecki.
It was directed by Marek Grzesiński (very interesting) at the Teatr Wielki in Poznań, and the most lavish dinners during pre-premime rehearsals were held at the residence of the state of Elżbieta and Andrzej Smoraviński in Jeżyce, where Pendereccy, Landowski, me with Wiszniewska and respective another people sat at 1 table, which powerfully contradicted the malicious proverb about cognitions, that like a “guest in a house, it was sugar in a cupboard”. During German, Belgian, Swiss and French tours with Galina I invited the Star to meet with music lovers from the centers where we presented performances.
Everywhere they attracted a large interest in Galina Wiszniewska not only as an outstanding vocalist and heroine of the show with her name in the title, but a figure active in large politics, fates of Solzenicina, exile from the russian Union, triumphant return and fascinating biography translated into many languages, including Polish, which I contributed personally. We spent quite a few time together on these trips.
These walks, evenings in restaurants after performances, yet many invitations to music lovers' houses in cities where we played Galina. Everywhere Wiszniewska asked to take with her our tenor Dima Fomenko, supposedly as an interpreter, as she wanted to tell me as much Russian as possible, even though I spoke well and understood in that language. But in fact, she just liked him. Its Russian roots mixed with the origin of Mother, in the mediate of Poland, with an admixture of Gypsy blood. All of this was described in a breathtaking biography, which after the Polish edition I took to Paris, unannounced knocked into her flat in the 16th district, close the home where Maria Callas erstwhile lived.
When she saw me, she shouted, “You have not yet come?” and surrounded her with a warm embrace, unfortunately, entangled by a progressive parkinson. That was the last time we saw each other. She shortly returned to St. Petersburg, then to Moscow, where she died on 11 December 2012 and was buried in Nowodziewiczy Cemetery. There, too, Mścisław Rostropowicz besides shortly rested. I only lit a light on their common grave once.
I'm not going there anymore! By the way, how would Galina and Sława (the name of Rostropovich so diminutive) respond to today's exploits of Putin, from whom – not to be forgotten – they erstwhile experienced much good?
