GoodNewsAtheism
28-04-2007, 21:07
Last night, the last of the titans died.
Mstislav Rostropovich, easily the greatest cellist who ever lived, died in a cancer ward in Moscow at age 80.
Rostropovich is an example for all of us, both of a great artist and as a great human being. His first invitation to play in front of a queen was at the age of 15, and his first sold-out Vienna show was only a few years later.
He stood up to communist Soviet authorities every a Russian man could. When the author Alexander Solzhentsyn was facing persecution by Soviet authorities, Slava hid him in his basement, at the risk of his own career. His resistance to state cultural pogroms cost him lucrative contracts and even more lucrative concert venues, and eventually he was forced to flee to the West. But in 1989, when the Berlin Wall came down, there was Slava, playing his cello amongst the rubble.
"I feel myself to be the happiest man in the world," an 80-year old Rostropovich said at his birthday party in March, adding, "I will be even more happy if this evening will be pleasant for you."
And now this lovable, loving man who gave great big bear hugs to pretty much everyone he ever met, this enemy of the fascist state, this staggeringly successful artist, recipient of the US Presidential Medal of Freedom and knighthood from the British throne, is lost to us.
He is survived by his wife, his two daughters, and his charitable foundation, the Vishnevskaya-Rostropovich Foundation, which works to improve medical care for children in post-Soviet lands.
Mstislav Rostropovich, easily the greatest cellist who ever lived, died in a cancer ward in Moscow at age 80.
Rostropovich is an example for all of us, both of a great artist and as a great human being. His first invitation to play in front of a queen was at the age of 15, and his first sold-out Vienna show was only a few years later.
He stood up to communist Soviet authorities every a Russian man could. When the author Alexander Solzhentsyn was facing persecution by Soviet authorities, Slava hid him in his basement, at the risk of his own career. His resistance to state cultural pogroms cost him lucrative contracts and even more lucrative concert venues, and eventually he was forced to flee to the West. But in 1989, when the Berlin Wall came down, there was Slava, playing his cello amongst the rubble.
"I feel myself to be the happiest man in the world," an 80-year old Rostropovich said at his birthday party in March, adding, "I will be even more happy if this evening will be pleasant for you."
And now this lovable, loving man who gave great big bear hugs to pretty much everyone he ever met, this enemy of the fascist state, this staggeringly successful artist, recipient of the US Presidential Medal of Freedom and knighthood from the British throne, is lost to us.
He is survived by his wife, his two daughters, and his charitable foundation, the Vishnevskaya-Rostropovich Foundation, which works to improve medical care for children in post-Soviet lands.