Our Teachers

Story from “My Road to Myself”

Who was your very first Teacher?

We often remember only those who taught us at school or university. But over the years, I have realized that there are many more real Teachers in life. And not all of them are standing at the blackboard.

My first drawing teacher was Gertruda Saveliyevna. She has a bright memory.

I was in fourth grade at the time. She was the first to see my talent for drawing and even advised my parents to send me to study with artists they knew in Moscow.

Fortunately, my parents didn't let me go anywhere.

I say “fortunately” because today I understand: every person has their own time.

Gertrude Saveliyevna taught us for only one year and then went on a well-deserved rest.

And for many years I was left with only the knowledge that I could draw well, and with a small, very timid dream of one day learning to draw for real.

Many years have passed.

Many Teachers have appeared on my path. Some I knew personally. Some only through their paintings. And the names of others I still don't know.

Why?

Because our Teachers don't always come in their usual guise. Sometimes they touch our lives so quietly that we don't even notice it right away.

At one time, I became fascinated with Chinese painting by Wu-Hsing.

I was fascinated by its fluidity, harmony, and philosophy. I could paint for hours, as if meditating with the brush.

There was only one thing I really missed - real Chinese brushes.

But I hardly thought about it. It seemed like it was simply impossible to get them back then.

One night after drawing like this, I had a strange dream.

A Chinese Master was sitting nearby. He silently showed me various techniques, as if he were giving a real lesson.

And then suddenly he smiled and asked:

— How do you even paint with such brushes?

I even woke up from the surprise.

Well, what could be the answer here?..

And after a while, a small miracle happened.

A friend gave me a set of real calligraphy brushes. Her daughter was studying in Japan and brought them back from there.

I still smile when I remember that dream.

Sometimes it seems to me that true Teachers come into our lives not just to teach.

They also quietly care about their students.

They just do it very differently.

Through words.

Through dreams.

Through people.

And sometimes - because of an unexpected gift.

Thank you to each of my Teachers.

Even those whose names I never learned.