allowed to bring one or two of her students with her. In 1971, Vera Georgievna chose to take L. Muster-Snegiryova and me. We were the first to perform the duo, Polka, by Balakirev-Shostakovich. Vera Georgievna told us the story of the piece thus:
She and Shostakovich had been friends for a long time. In the 1920’s, the two of them along with a few other young musicians were sent to school in Berlin. (Max Saal had been Vera Georgievna’s teacher there, and she always spoke of him with great love and respect). At the inception of World War II, Vera Georgievna and Shostakovich found themselves together again when they were both evacuated to Kuybyshev. Shostakovich was awaiting the premiere of his Seventh Symphony and was quite nervous. The thing that made him feel most at peace was writing music, and since he was unable to work on anything serious, he said to Vera Georgievna, «Let me do something for you, at least let me transcribe some music». Vera Georgievna had long since wanted to transcribe Polka for two harps, and so she asked him to do that for her. Later she lamented, «Why didn’t I ask him to write an original piece for the harp? Afterwards he was always so busy that I never dared to ask him». In 1971, when we were in Holland, we played Polka from Shostakovich’s handwritten score, since it hadn’t yet been published.
Of course, none of us would have gotten to the Holland Harpweeks without her because the government would let very few people travel abroad. But for Vera Georgievna, the doors were always open. We would even receive financing for our trips. A few times she would bring students with her to harp festivals in Gargilesse (France) that were conducted by another «international friend» Pierre Jamet.
L. Muster-Snegiryova (who is now the Principal Harpist with the Hamburg Radio-Symphony) and I were lucky enough to be able to go to both Holland and France.
Our trips were much like a fairy tale or some kind of wonderful «film» in which we suddenly found ourselves present. Everything around us seemed completely surreal and was nothing like our life in Russia. Unfortunately, the «film» was in a language we couldn’t understand. The Russian educational system did not emphasize foreign languages at all, and we spoke none. (Vera Georgievna, on the other hand, spoke German, French and some English. But in spite of that, being Vera Georgievna’s students assured us incredible grace, warmth and hospitality from everyone around us. We enjoyed ourselves immensely and made friends with our foreign peers, young harpists such as L. Wood-Rollo, A. Bonnet, C. Mathieu, C. Michel, B. Rietveld and others who later became famous.
To comprehend the breadth of Vera Georgievna’s pedagogical influence one needs only to look at the vast majority of the harpists who toured, played in major Russian orchestras or taught in the past century in Russia. They were all her students. Among them are many top prize winners of international competitions as well as others who live abroad and perform in prestigious orchestras worldwide.
The last time I saw Vera Georgievna was in 1987, when I went to say good-bye to her before emigrating to the United States. She was the first one of all my closest friends whom I told about our decision to leave Russia in 1980. I told her before we had even applied for official permission to emigrate. I was afraid of her reaction, because at that time, people who tried to leave were forever branded as «enemies of the state.» Their citizenship was taken away, and anyone who associated with them could have gotten into trouble with the state. Many people whom we considered close friends wouldn’t even say hello to us anymore, and if they accidentally saw us approaching on the street, would cross to the other side. People were afraid to call because our telephone line was tapped, and so forth. We kept reapplying and getting refused until the moment when M. Gorbachev came into power, and then we were finally granted permission to leave. Through all this, Vera Georgievna kept up the same warm relationship she always had with us.
When the political situation drastically changed in Russia, my mother was able to go back and visit Moscow. Of course, she paid a visit to Vera Georgievna. She received my mother in a very touching manner; she even cooked for her, although her knowledge of cooking was very limited. My mother had worked as an editor at a publishing house that had published Vera Georgievna’s book, The Art of Harp Playing. They reminisced about the book’s release and Vera Georgievna remembered with pride how quickly it had been sold out. She asked many questions about us and talked about her plans, which despite her age were abundant.
The last years of Vera Georgievna’s life were not easy, and this woman who had been healthy her entire life found herself overcome by illnesses. Her students visited her constantly. Anya Levina, who besides being a brilliant harpist is also an outstanding chef, regularly brought her homemade delicacies.
When I spoke with Anya after Vera Georgievna’s death, she told me that from the moment when she entered the hospital on the 31st of December, until the 5th of January, the day of her death, she was not alone for a second, day or night.
Vera Georgievna’s death is an irretrievable loss for the Russian harp. Her departure formed a void. The center, around which the Russian harp world rotated for most of the 20th century, is gone. Many people, not only her students and friends around the world, but also those who heard her play and valued her talents feel an immense loss.
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[Ольга Ортенберг была студенткой Веры Дуловой в Московской