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Yuri growth personal life. Yuri Rost: personal life (wife, children)

An exhibition of works by Yuri Rost "Living Classics" has opened in the "Dom Nashchokin" gallery. The unique author's project brought together the photo stories of the lives of six famous contemporaries: directors Otar Ioseliani and Georgy Danelia, animator Yuri Norshtein, poet Andrei Bitov, artists Ilya Kabakov and Natalia Nesterova.

The exhibition features 300 portraits: 50 for each character. Historically valuable material is the best way to understand the inner essence of each of these great people.

According to Yury Rost himself, "tough, heavy" documentary photographs tell everything about the life, creative path and personality of the exhibition's heroes.

Yuri Rost is a well-known journalist, publicist, writer, actor, photographer. It was he who created the genre of newspaper stories and parables with a bright philosophical sound.

Yuri Rost worked as a special correspondent for the Komsomolskaya Pravda newspaper, photojournalist and columnist for the Literaturnaya Gazeta weekly, collaborated with Moskovskiye Novosti and Obshchaya Gazeta. His program "Yuri Rost's Stable" was very popular.

Currently, Yuri is a columnist and photojournalist for Novaya Gazeta.

The exhibition will run until the end of February at the Nashchokin's House gallery (Mayakovskaya metro station, Vorotnikovsky pereulok, 12).

Yuri Rost "On foot with Ilya Kabakov on Chistye Prudy".

Moscow House of Photography Institute of Contemporary Art Sretensky Boulevard, 6/1, entrance 1 "A", attic
Walking with Ilya Kabakov along Chistye Prudy. Photo by Yuri Rost

It happened in the mid-80s on a warm June day. Ilya Kabakov, together with Yuri Rost, went from Rost's house on Chistye Prudy to Kabakov's workshop on Sretensky Boulevard. Along the way, Kabakov told Rost the history of the buildings they passed. “The journey was filled with sadness,” says Kabakov. The history of Chistoprudny Boulevard, the history of Telegraph Lane consists of events and plots from the life of Kabakov's friends and colleagues, instructive facts about the emergence, flourishing, fading and decline of numerous Soviet institutions that the protagonists of this story met along the way. The Tea shop, the building of VKHUTEMAS - everything becomes for Kabakov an occasion for a lengthy narrative.

But, of course, this was not a simple walk, it was not at all an ordinary, nostalgic journey through memorable places. Everything that Kabakov touches, everything he does, his every gesture, his every statement is an artistic project. He always sees himself as a spectator of his own works. And even a short trip around Moscow is a work of art, the completion of another "communal space", another total installation. And in a walk, “these stops, these minutes, where attention is focused on the contemplation of the whole, are the most valuable, better to say, priceless.”

The moment at which Kabakov and Rost walked along the Boulevard Ring was, as is now clear, the end of the "Soviet" period in Kabakov's biography. In a few months he will leave for the West and become the most famous Russian artist of the second half of the 20th century.
I. Backstein

Yuri Rost - Russian photographer, journalist

Art historians and just historians will study his work with incomprehension and magnificent admiration. More precisely, from his works they will study this time and all times; the timid and great thought of a small man and a huge master, who is getting out (as if) from the cloaca of Soviet images, of which he himself consists, which he uses and laughs at.
And I am also grateful to him for the honesty in his work, for the fact that he explained a lot to me in my photographs and texts, and for the sentimental journey through Chistye Prudy from my balcony to his studio, during which I photographed Ilyusha Kabakov and recorded his comment on a tape recorder.
I invite you to see, read and listen to the materials of this fermentation with conversations at a small exhibition - in the workshop of Ilya Kabakov.
Y. Rost

Kabakov - always himself. Inside him lies a life into which everyone and everything is admitted, but the inner, carefully calibrated sieve leaves only what is necessary for his creative work.
Having risen to the top of world fame, he, I am sure, remained exactly the same as he was: a poor man, benevolent and indifferent to fame.

My father was an actor before World War II. A good actor, they say. In the Kiev Children's Theater, which was on one of the most beautiful streets - Nikolaevskaya. There was also the Krutikov circus, in which he worked before the theater. Mom was taken to the maternity hospital from the make-up room, where my parents temporarily huddled, and I was already brought to a room in a communal apartment on Tarasovskaya, where we lived for two years. Then came the war.

My father had a reservation, and he could help his homeland by serving in front-line brigades, which was also necessary for the front, but on June 27 he volunteered to go to war. He joined the party before the battle and, since he was a literate man, he soon became the political instructor of the company. Near Kyiv, he shouted: "Forward!", dragging the soldiers and brandishing a pistol, as in the picture of Alpert. Political officers, infantrymen and anti-tank "forty-five" crews did not live long, but he was lucky: he was wounded, he rested in the hospital and returned to the front line. Now she was on the outskirts of Moscow. In the Rzhev area, he was lucky again - his father was seriously wounded, and with shrapnel in his throat, lung and with a destroyed hip joint, they managed to evacuate him before the moment when our troops near Rzhev fell into a deadly cauldron.

He was in plaster for a year. And for the first time I saw him in the Ufa hospital, when the doctors allowed my father to get up. I remember that I cried. Mom pushed me to an unfamiliar thin man on crutches, and I resisted and cried.

He became an invalid, first of the first, and then of the second group, and never returned to the front. He did not like to remember the war, but he was proud of his orders and was once humiliated and insulted when thieves, having entered our room and not finding anything of value, stole his front-line awards.

Why did my father fight? He loved his mother, me, Kyiv, Russian and Ukrainian languages... That is, he loved his homeland. That's why I went to war

In February 1944, my father, mother and cousin and I returned to the ruined Kyiv. For the first time after the Victory, he was a popular person in the city. Theaters began to operate. Friends-actors would stop their father limping along the street and say: “We are proud of you, Misha,” and go to rehearsals or a performance.

With their comrades - volunteer veteran Viktor Nekrasov and director Boris Barnet - they went to the Petushok (Pivnik) pavilion to the right of the main entrance to the Dynamo stadium and drank there. Strongly. I listened to their conversations about war and peace, not understanding anything and only worrying about my father getting home on crutches. He was getting.

At home, my mother was waiting for us, who, having taken me to the evacuation, worked in the Urals, in logging, and was a beauty at the same time. One of the famous pre-war Kyiv beauties. She waited for her father, left him and was happy that he was alive. By this time she was only 33 years old.

Why did my father go to war? Well, not so that I, his son, could go out into the yard and without embarrassment look into the eyes of those whose fathers did not return. (A severely disabled person was counted as an asset.) He loved his mother, me, Kyiv, work in the theater, Russian and Ukrainian languages, which he spoke equally well ... That is, he loved his homeland. Therefore, I went.

Behind the wheel of a lorry - dad

I don’t know with what words he, who did not own anything before the war, except for the stage craft, raised illiterate lads to the attack. He knew as much about modern history as a Soviet actor should have known.

Grandfather perished in 1937, enemies all around, enemies inside, native land must be defended. He went.

What is left in the family from a past, peaceful life? Memories and a few photographs taken in a hurry. It seemed that they were leaving Kyiv for a short time. On one of the surviving cards of my young mother, taken against the backdrop of the colonnade of the Dynamo stadium, half was torn off. Who was there dangerous enough for the family to be excluded from life? Maybe an early mother's boyfriend? .. I wondered until my cousin Misha gave me the same, but the whole photo.

There was no one there who would compromise my mother, there was evidence that compromised the authorities.

Above the columns was the inscription: “Stadium “Dynamo” them. N.I. Yezhov! The evil dwarf, who killed thousands of innocent souls, was erased from history not only in textbooks, but also in families. Meanwhile, fear did not let people go. But the contemporaries of the old fear knew its destructive power. And they no longer loved their fear. They were afraid of him. They were vaccinated against attachment to him - the torment and death of loved ones of innocent people.

From left to right: grandmother Tanya, mother's sister Katya and mother

Today's population, greedy for myths about someone else's, and therefore their own life, glorifies Stalin, the State Emergency Committee and the current president. It is committed to his name as a legend of their unlived fate.

Why did my father go to war? Why did other Soviet men and women go to war? And those who were called, and those who volunteered themselves?

I wrote about a Russian ordinary soldier of the war, who received four medals in four years, about Alexei Bogdanov, who at the age of forty-one was called from Arkhangelsk to the front to liberate his homeland and lost eleven children killed and died during this time. And about the ten Lysenko brothers from the Ukrainian village of Brovakhi, who regularly fought and returned alive from the war. And about the front-line intelligence officer Tsyganov, who at the age of seventeen went to the front line near Moscow and ended the war with his signature on the Reichstag. And about the baker of besieged Leningrad Gorokhova, and about the grain growers of the war - sixteen-year-old Penza girls who fed the country and the army. I wrote about the living and the dead - because it was my time too - a child of war who did not know that there was a different state of the world. I wrote in the hope that in my country children will always grow up for whom the natural state is peace.

And I knew what they were fighting for then. Many of the fallen might have lived. If not for the incompetent command, if not for the total lie, if not for one of the most inhuman executioner systems created against their people and defeated them.

They could live their only, God-given life. But millions of each of these lives are buried in Russia, in Ukraine, in Belarus ... And they are also buried in Europe.

- (b. February 2, 1939, Kyiv), Russian photographer, journalist, laureate of the State Prize of Russia (2001, for a series of artistic photographs "Group Portrait Against the Background of the Century"). Graduated from the Kyiv Institute of Physical Education (1961), Faculty of Journalism ... ... encyclopedic Dictionary

ROST Yuri Mikhailovich- (b. February 2, 1939, Kyiv), Russian photographer, journalist, writer, laureate of the State Prize of Russia (2001, for a series of artistic photographs "Group Portrait Against the Background of the Century"). Graduated from the Kyiv Institute of Physical Education (1961), faculty ... ... Cinema Encyclopedia

Growth, Yuri Mikhailovich- Photographer, journalist, writer; was born in 1939 in Kyiv; graduated from the Kyiv Institute of Physical Education, Leningrad State University; 1967 1979 special correspondent for the Komsomolskaya Pravda newspaper; since 1979 columnist and ... ... Big biographical encyclopedia

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Books

Ragtime (2016 edition) Buy for 1980 UAH (Ukraine only)
Ragtime, Yury Mikhailovich Rost. Yuri Rost - a famous photographer, journalist, writer - with amazing, truly unique skill, captured in his stories, memoirs, essays an entire era - from the 60s of the past ... Buy for 1844 rubles
Sakharov. "Kefir needs to be heated": A love story told by Elena Bonner to Yuri Rost, Rost Yuri Mikhailovich. The book about the life and love of two outstanding people was formed from the conversations of Elena Bonner and Yuri Rost. For a month, day after day, Elena Georgievna, with the utmost frankness and without cuts, recalls ...

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Yuri Mikhailovich Rost

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Biography

Graduated from the Kyiv Institute of Physical Education, Faculty of Journalism of the Leningrad State University.

B is a special correspondent for the Komsomolskaya Pravda newspaper.
C - columnist and photojournalist for the weekly Literaturnaya Gazeta.
C - author and host of the program "Yuri Rost's Stable" (until 1997 on the NTV channel, then on the REN TV channel).
C - member of the Council of Guarantors of the weekly "Obshchaya Gazeta".
C - columnist and photojournalist for the Moscow News newspaper

Awards

- The program "Stable of Yuri Rost", along with the program "The Other Day", was recognized by television critics - participants in the television rating of the newspaper "Izvestia", was recognized as the best program of the year.
1999 - Laureate of the Tsarskoye Selo Art Prize
- State Prize of the Russian Federation in the field of literature and art for the series of photographs "Group portrait against the background of the century"
2000, "Order of Honor" of the Georgian Republic,
- Prize "Triumph" for the highest achievements in literature and art.
- Prize of the Government of the Russian Federation in the field of print media.
- The photo album "Group Portrait Against the Background of the Century" was named the "Book of the Year" at the XXI Moscow International Book Exhibition.

Bibliography

The growth of Yu. Ragtime. - M .: Boslen, 2016. - 944 p. - 3000 copies. - ISBN 978-5-91187-278-6.
The growth of Yu. Group portrait against the backdrop of the world. - M .: Alpina Publisher, 2014. - 608 p. - 3000 copies. - ISBN 978-5-9614-4566-4.
The growth of Yu. Group portrait against the background of the century. - M .: AST, 2007. - 544 p. - ISBN 978-5-17-040758-3.- a photo album of 250 black and white photographs taken by Rost over 40 years of work
The growth of Yu. Everest-82. - M .: Physical culture and sport, 1984. - 368 p.

Filmography

1993 - Nastya / television man
1995 - Eagle and tails / Doctor
1997 - Waltz-Boston / Cameo
2000 - Fortune / Boris Mityukov

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An excerpt characterizing Growth, Yuri Mikhailovich

– Oh, please, Sever, tell us more about Magdalena!.. And tell us how Radomir died? – Enthusiastically asked Anna. And then, recollecting herself, she turned to me: - You don’t mind, mom? ..
Of course, I didn't mind!.. On the contrary, I was ready to do anything to distract her from thoughts about our near future.
– Please, tell us, Sever! It will help us cope and give us strength. Tell me what you know my friend...
The North nodded, and we again found ourselves in someone else's, unfamiliar life... In something lived long ago and abandoned in the past.
A quiet spring evening was fragrant with southern scents before us. Somewhere in the distance, the last glare of the fading sunset was still blazing, although the sun, tired of the day, had long since set to have time to rest until tomorrow, when it would again return to its daily circular journey. In the rapidly darkening, velvet sky, unusually huge stars flared up brighter and brighter. The surrounding world was sedately preparing itself for sleep... Only sometimes somewhere the offended cry of a lonely bird could be heard, which could not find peace in any way. Or from time to time a sleepy bark disturbed the silence by the call of local dogs, thus showing their vigilant vigil. But the rest of the night seemed frozen, gentle and calm ...
And only two people were still sitting in the garden, enclosed by a high clay wall. They were Jesus Radomir and his wife Mary Magdalene...
They saw off their last night... before the crucifixion.
Clinging to her husband, laying her tired head on his chest, Maria was silent. She wanted to tell him so much more!.. To say so many important things while there was still time! But I couldn't find the words. All the words have already been said. And they all seemed pointless. Not worth those last precious moments... No matter how hard she tried to persuade Radomir to leave a foreign land, he did not agree. And it was so inhumanly painful!.. The world remained as calm and protected, but she knew that it would not be the same when Radomir left... Without him, everything would be empty and frozen...
She asked him to think... She asked him to return to his distant Northern country, or at least to the Valley of Magicians, in order to start all over again.
She knew that wonderful people were waiting for them in the Valley of Magicians. All of them were gifted. There they could build a new and bright world, as Magus John assured her. But Radomir didn't want to... He didn't agree. He wanted to sacrifice himself so that the blind could see... This was exactly the task that the Father had placed on his strong shoulders. The White Magus... And Radomir did not want to back down... He wanted to gain understanding... from the Jews. Even at the cost of his own life.
None of the nine friends, loyal knights of his Spiritual Temple, supported him. No one wanted to give him into the hands of the executioners. They didn't want to lose him. They loved him too much...
But then the day came when, obeying the iron will of Radomir, his friends and his wife (against their will) vowed not to get involved in what was happening ... Not to try to save him, no matter what happened. Radomir fervently hoped that, seeing the obvious possibility of his death, people would finally understand, see clearly and want to save him themselves, despite the differences in their faith, despite the lack of understanding.
But Magdalene knew that this would not happen. She knew this evening would be their last.
My heart was torn to pieces, hearing his even breathing, feeling the warmth of his hands, seeing his concentrated face, not clouded by the slightest doubt. He was sure he was right. And she could not help it, no matter how much she loved him, no matter how fiercely she tried to convince him that those for whom he went to certain death were unworthy of him.
“Promise me, my fair one, if they still destroy me, you will go Home,” Radomir suddenly demanded very insistently. “You will be safe there. There you can teach. The Knights of the Temple will come with you, they swore to me. You will take Vesta with you, you will be together. And I will come to you, you know it. Do you know?