VIII

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VIII

Dear old Sebastian:

Jane says you may be coming out here. I wish to God you would. IтАЩm sorry I havenтАЩt written for six monthsтБатАФI never was one of the worldтАЩs ready letter writers.

Have you seen anything of Joe? IтАЩm glad Jane and I looked her up passing through Paris. JoeтАЩs staunch, sheтАЩll never split on us, and IтАЩm glad she at any rate knows. We never write to each other, she and I, we never have. But I wondered if youтАЩd heard anything. I didnтАЩt think she looked awfully fit. Poor old Joe! SheтАЩs made a mess of things.

Have you heard anything of TatlinтАЩs scheme for a monument to the Third Internationale? To consist of a union of three great glass chambers connected by a system of vertical axes and spirals. By means of special machinery they were to be kept in perpetual motion but at different rates of speed.

And inside, I suppose, theyтАЩd sing hymns to a Holy Acetylene Blowpipe!

Do you remember, one night, we were motoring back to town, and we took the wrong turning somewhere amongst the tramlines of Lewisham, and instead of making for the haunts of civilization we turned up somewhere among the Surrey docks and through an opening in the frowsy houses we saw a queer kind of cubist picture of cranes and cloudy steam and iron girders. And immediately your artistic soul bagged it for a drop sceneтБатАФor whatever the technical term is.

My God, Sebastian! What a magnificent spectacle of machinery you could build upтБатАФsheer effects and lightingтБатАФand masses of humans with inhuman facesтБатАФmassтБатАФnot individuals. YouтАЩve something of the kind in mind, havenтАЩt you?

The architect, Tatlin, said something that I think good and yet a lot of nonsense.

тАЬOnly the rhythm of the metropolis, of factories and machines together with the organization of the masses, can give the impulse to the new artтБатАФтАЭ

And he goes on to speak of the тАЬmonument of the machine,тАЭ the only adequate expression of the present.

You know, of course, all about the modern Russian Theatre. ThatтАЩs your job. I suppose Mayerhold is as marvellous as they say he is. But can one mix up drama and propaganda?

All the same, itтАЩs exciting to arrive at a theatre and be compelled at once to join a marching crowdтБатАФup and down, in strict step, till the performance beginsтБатАФand the scenery, composed of rocking chairs and cannons and revolving bays and God knows what! ItтАЩs babyishтБатАФabsurdтБатАФand yet one feels that baby has got hold of a dangerous and rather interesting toy that in other handsтБатАКтБатАж

Your hands, SebastianтБатАФyouтАЩre a Russian. But thank heaven and geography, no propagandistтБатАФjust a showman pure and simpleтБатАКтБатАж

The Rhythm of the metropolisтБатАФmade pictorial.

My God!тБатАФif I could give you the music. ItтАЩs the music thatтАЩs needed.

LordтБатАФtheir тАЬnoise orchestrasтАЭтБатАФtheir symphonies of factory sirens! There was a show at Baku in 1922тБатАФbatteries of artillery, machine-guns, choirs, naval fog horns. Ridiculous! Yes, but if they had a composerтБатАКтБатАж

No woman ever longed for a child like I long to produce music.

And IтАЩm barrenтБатАФsterile.