Andrei Tarkovsky on the Purpose of Art

” Для того, чтобы строить концепцию искусства, следует прежде всего ответить на вопрос гораздо более важный и общий: «В чем смысл нашего существования?» По-моему, смысл нашего существования здесь на земле в том, чтобы духовно возвыситься. А значит, и искусство должно этому служить…

Если бы я изобрел какой-то другой принцип, то и концепцию искусства должен был бы рассматривать по-иному. Но так как смысл нашего существования я определяю именно таким образом, то верю, что искусство должно помогать человеку в его духовном развитии. Искусство должно помочь человеку духовно измениться, вырасти…”


Sonya’s final monologue in Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya”

Uncle Vanya

Sonya:  “What can we do? We must live out our lives. [A pause] Yes, we shall live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live all through the endless procession of days ahead of us, and through the long evenings. We shall bear patiently the burdens that fate imposes on us. We shall work without rest for others, both now and when we are old. And when our final hour comes, we shall meet it humbly, and there beyond the grave, we shall say that we have known suffering and tears, that our life was bitter. And God will pity us. Ah, then, dear, dear Uncle, we shall enter on a bright and beautiful life. We shall rejoice and look back upon our grief here. A tender smile — and — we shall rest. I have faith, Uncle, fervent, passionate faith. We shall rest. We shall rest. We shall hear the angels. We shall see heaven shining like a jewel. We shall see evil and all our pain disappear in the great pity that shall enfold the world. Our life will be as peaceful and gentle and sweet as a caress. I have faith; I have faith. [Wiping away her tears] My poor, poor Uncle Vanya, you are crying! [Weeping] You have never known what it is to be happy, but wait, Uncle Vanya, wait! We shall rest. We shall rest. We shall rest.”

Dostoevsky’s “The Adolescent” (excerpt)


Versilov’s speech from Dostoevsky’s novel The Adolescent: 

“I dreamed a dream that was a complete surprise to me, for I had never had any dreams of the sort before. In the gallery at Dresden there is a picture by Claude Lorraine, called in the catalogue ‘Acis and Galatea,’ but I used to call it ‘The Golden Age,’ I don’t know why. I had seen it before, but I had noticed it again in passing three days earlier. I dreamed of this picture, but not as a picture, but, as it were, a reality. I don’t know exactly what I did Continue reading