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((RETURN TO BLKNZM ST. PETERSBURG FRONT PAGE))
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Demidovs, demigods and demitasse
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Deep beneath this planet’s oldest mountains, the Urals, lived an imperial branch of demigods. Not quite gods, as they were abandoned to their own devices in the underworld. Of human form but with godlike powers and qualities. Their uniquely common desire was to eventually be granted liberty to lose their human form and become gods, so they would live in Paradeisos for eternity.
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Their lives were neither happy nor unhappy. They had everything they could desire, yet they knew there was something far greater. Their days were filled with a sort of insouciant joy, yet tinged with a needling angst that their existence was limited in this most limiting of forms and thoughts.
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Oligos and Arkhos were the dominant males of the group, who commanded the others and led the way. Their relationship was intimate and as yet unheard of, but there they were, happy together in their symbiotic control, not affecting the others with their relationship and governing things with great justice.
Natasha and Seven were their feminine counterparts, attendants if you will, and subject to their demands. Natasha was a pleasant and beautiful being, quiet, like spring air mixed with the perfumed combination of chamomile flowers and Paulownia Imperialis trees. Seven on the other hand was just that. A combination of all seven vices rolled into one. She was the deification of evil but in a peculiar way that kept the others balanced in their little world beneath the Urals. Nikita was the productive one, continually making things, little objects he would then embed in the earth above him. They would eventually sprout in the mountains above as deposits of pig iron, ore, mica, malachite, diamonds and other precious or semi-precious stones. Ural was a hairy beast, solid like the earth that lay above him. He was temperamental and sometimes was either so angry or delighted that his emotions would get the best of him and cause the earth to tremble with wind and rain that would explode into thunderous lightning. The last of the group was Kalos, a distillation of all that is good and godlike. His companion in most of what happened was of course Natasha. But he too kept to himself. He knew that although he was enchanted by Natasha and her beauty, he would have preferred a relationship like the one that Oligos and Arkhos had. Although he was not sure why, he just knew in his belly that his destiny had yet to unfold. Nonetheless he was contented in their perfect little world, but truly hoped that one day their route to the heavens would be revealed and they would be on their way.
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Unbeknownst to Kalos, toiling far above him in the mountains was an immeasurable quantity of strong determined men. Digging away day after day, night after night, the worked like soldier ants attacking a forgotten loaf of bread at a midsummer picnic. They were unearthing iron, minerals and jewels that would briefly soil their hands and hearts only to enrich and adorn the great family of Demidovs who owned these mines and ultimately the miners. This laborious exploitation was a mechanism set in place ages ago, when Peter the Great had given the royal nod to Nikita Demidov.
Commercial break:
The story of the Demidov family has been embellished by many, just as they the Demidovs enriched themselves. The tale goes something like this: Nikita Demidov was a blacksmith and Peter the Great passed through Tula on a journey, and asked Nikita if he could copy a Halpern. He was so impressed by Nikita’s skill that he encouraged the smith to develop his business, with his help. This was the Royal nod. And it was the beginning the Demidovs’ wealth, which began with a hundred-ruble commission and turned into one of the greatest mining empires in the world.
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Back to our show:
It was on a curious morning that things began to change for our Demigods.
Kalos noticed it first but eventually everyone became aware that in the distance of their underground paradise, a beam of light was shining through, at the far end of the lowest mountain near the source of the Neva River.
Intrigued by this event, they ventured far from their comfortable spots to see what was happening. The miners had been working so hard for so long and at such a pace that they had literally arrived at what seemed to be the center of the earth, the Demigods’ underworld.
This light was a strange thing. Something they had never seen before. It changed the shape of things, it radiated and illuminated and gave a different life to all they knew. Colors changed and objects seemed to glow.
One can imagine the beauty of this realization and the power and magnetism of this light source.
They were immediately entranced and all agreed they would leave the underworld, since this light had to be – they were sure of it – the path to Paradeisos.
No time could be wasted. This was the opportunity they had been waiting for, and no-one hesitated or even doubted the decision to take their chances with this illuminating moment, to leave their comfortable yet uncomfortable resting place.
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Oligos and Arkhos agreed to lead the way, followed by Natasha and Seven, the latter complaining the whole time. Nikita and Ural were close behind. Kalos, who in his infinite wisdom went back for a few necessary provisions, brought up the end of the divine company of travelers.
Up they went, winding, twisting and turning through caverns and shafts, and along the way they were careful to hide from the miners by morphing themselves into rock, stones and earth. Slowly they made their way upwards, and eventually reached the earth’s surface at the most dreadful place.
A mine and its surroundings form a filthy sight, not for the faint of heart. The most brutal, rude image you can imagine. Seven cursed and screamed in hopes that the little entourage would turn around and go back to their safe haven, but the others assured her that this was their destiny and their only chance to reach Paradeisos and become true rulers of the heavens and earth.
As providence would have it, on that day Count Pavel Nikolaevich Demidov, from the third generation of the dynasty, happened to be visiting his mine, as was customary at that time of year. Pavel was rushing about more frantically than usual for two main reasons: first, he wanted to get back to St. Petersburg in time for his son’s gallery opening; second, he had promised his wife he would be there. It was going to be a spectacular event, with the who’s who of St Petersburg in attendance, followed by a lavish reception at the glorious home of the Demidovs: 43, Bolshaya Morskaya Ulitsa. Demidov was a kind soul and wished to disappoint neither his son nor his beautiful wife Aurora, who could be quite a pill at times. His carriage had been waiting in attendance for what seemed like hours, trunks and all.
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From the impossibly unforgiving minescape our little entourage could see a tall white tower in the distance, like a beacon of hope, as encouraging as the light shaft that had led them out of the depths of the underworld. The tower was another point of passage.
The group made its way swiftly and unobserved in the shadows of the trees, and once near the tower they noticed a carriage with white horses. Kalos had an intuition, and convinced the others to hide amongst the trunks, in the hope that the carriage would take them as far away as possible from that desolate mine. After getting settled, they relaxed and took stock of what they had already accomplished. Our weary travelers drifted off to sleep in the lingering warmth of the late spring day.
Demidov had finished his perfunctory visit to the mine and seen to all pressing matters. He hurried out of his office, stepped up into the carriage and set out for the long trip back to St. Petersburg.
With a quiet and undulating start, this odd little group set out on a journey that would ultimately change all of them in one way or another. Like all journeys, it has a beginning and an end, though actually it is the journey itself that reveals to us what we must learn.
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The trip was long and our group had not foreseen such an ordeal. They made good use of the time, though, by coming up with a rather outlandish plan as to how to proceed from this point to reach their ultimate destination, Paradeisos. Kalos took out his pocket guidebook and studied the instructions for “Transformation and Beatification of Demigods to Godlike Status.”
The relevant points were as follows:
- Metamorphosis from Demigod to God explained in layman’s terms:
- One must travel by human means to get to the earth’s surface
- One must break bread with an oligarch, a peasant, an artist, a musician, a curator, a banker, a virgin, a wise man and an orthodox priest. (This is not to be considered “the” miracle)
- One must perform a minor miracle
- One will then shed his/her human form and be released to the heavens
- If one fails to accomplish points a, b or c, one will be turned to stone.
Whilst they were in the carriage they overheard Demidov speaking with one of his associates about the upcoming event. It was then that Kalos came up with a plan. They too would attend the opening and the reception at the home of the Demidovs, and somewhere within that timeline they would work out their escape. It seemed to them that there would be plenty of opportunity to fulfill the requirements laid out in the handbook, all or at least in part. Since the trip to St. Petersburg would take at least 21days, the troop settled in for the duration.
The days passed with relative ease, punctuated by the usual stops along the route, uncomfortable inns (tpaktnp) and the changing of horses. Everything was relatively painless and easy, for such a long trip. Kalos had indeed been prudent and wise to run back for the much needed and welcomed provisions he had packed!
Once they had finally reached the outskirts of St. Petersburg, Oligos and Arkhos became increasingly anxious, as did the others. They did not know exactly how things were going to unfold, but they were aware that this was the moment they were going to be put to the test. Each needed to make sure things happened smoothly, for themselves and for all concerned. Natasha had a calming effect on everyone: sometimes it seemed it was not so much her beauty as simply her demeanor that had this effect. Seven was of course complaining constantly, though as hard as she tried to provoke complaints in others it was to no avail. They all stood on the side of caution, careful not to create any more anguish than was necessary. Ural did his due, and only a few times let loose with a slight storm, but nothing big enough to hold up the travelers.
By the time our friends had reached 43, Bolshaya Morskaya Ulitsa they were completely undone, and needed to rest and gather their wits. The carriage was unloaded as Pavel rushed into the house, accompanied by servants, whilst the Demigods in their usual fashion swept into the house unnoticed. They found a quietly cool and accommodating resting place well beneath the home in the cavernous cellars. This would do just fine until the opening party and reception, which were only a day away.
The Demigods, completely exhausted from their adventure, drifted easily into slumber that would last an entire day. They were awoken by the hustling and bustling from above in preparation for the big event. This was it. This was their moment and they were ready.
Oligos and Arkhos shimmered everyone awake and summoned them to the back stairs where they loaded themselves once again into the back of a carriage. Off they went to the center of St. Petersburg to attend their first social event. A gallery opening for the son of Pavel, who was a curious artist. His name was Pavel Pavlovitch, and unfortunately he was not very talented. He made oil paintings of oversized steel kidney beans and animals made from balloons, and even more ridiculous paintings of cans of borscht and theatrical stars. All quite silly and absurd, but nonetheless his father loved him and put up with his abysmal lack of talent. Why he couldn’t have followed in Pavel’s path, like his father and his father before him, was a mystery to be left unsolved.
The opening was a grand affair. In attendance was the Demidov family’s orthodox priest, Sergei. The artist was present, of course, with his curator who happened to be a woman named Oxana. Pavel’s private banker and dear friend Rudolf was on hand, with various other odds and ends of Russian society. Music was supplied by a group of young women who had just recently done a stint in the big house, but had been released precisely for this event. A quite riotous group but lovely to look at. The only speck on this beautiful gathering was the bum outside the entrance who had been panhandling; his name was Jesus de Nazareth. He might have been a nuisance, but something about his presence triggered the most important thought in Kalos. He kept quiet about his discovery, as he didn’t want to alarm the others.
The evening went well everyone was pleased with the turnout. The entire entourage was then shuffled to 43, Bolshaya Morskaya Ulitsa for the reception, and the Demigods went along amongst the others.
Once they were at the Demidov home, Kalos, in his kind way, noticed that Pavel Pavlovitch was quite sad. He quietly approached and asked him why he was so morose. The artist’s reply was that he was upset because he hadn’t sold a single painting, and that his father would, yet again, be very disappointed.
Kalos, who understood the young man’s predicament, went to work. He gathered up all of his otherworldly powers and cast a spell over the crowd, as only Kalos could do. Immediately people were accosting Pavel Pavlovitch and Oxana, and within minutes all the pieces were sold! It was a miracle of incredible proportions! An amazing amount of really crappy art was sold in an instant! It had never happened before. It was time to celebrate, as the mood had shifted. Drinks and dinner were served, then cakes and coffee poured from samovars, until the wee hours of the morning.
The moment had come. Oligos and Arkhos decided that the Demigods could make a break for it. The crowd was either sound asleep or in a drunken stupor. The mood was elated for the success of Pavel Pavlovitch, and somber with relief. The ballroom was quieting down and the high society of St. Petersburg was pleased with itself. The Demidovs had successfully shared their wealth and it had been gloriously devoured, digested and regurgitated back in accolades for Pavel and his artist son. The societal self-acclaiming circle was now complete, all within the walls at 43 Bolshaya Ulitsa. It was time. The demigods gathered in the front courtyard in preparation for their escape. What they had seen in their brief time away from the underworld made them wary and all the more determined to reach for Paradeisos.
Oligos and Arkhos led the way, with Natasha and Seven close behind Nikita, Ural and Kalos in the rear. As they emerged from the house, under the balcony, something excited Ural so much that he began to heave with boisterous laughter. The ground began to tremble, the house began to quiver. The balcony was swaying one way and the ground another. In an attempt to save themselves Oligos, Arkhos, Natasha, Nikita, Seven and Ural hid under the balcony. Kalos, who remained calm, ventured forward alone. When he looked back a clap of thunder shook the air so violently that he was knocked to the ground. And when he looked up, everything was still and calm, the air was as light as could be, with but the slightest of breezes. His companions had been frozen for eternity underneath the balcony of the Demidov mansion.
Kalos was no longer looking back at his friends, but was slowly looking down upon them as his humanlike form was disintegrating into pomegranate seeds that scattered joyously in the breeze.
Kalos was the only demigod that was freed and granted God status, as he was the only one who had performed all three tasks outlined in the manual which he so wisely returned to retrieve at the onset of this adventure.
Kalos lives for eternity in Paradeisos, blissfully aware that he made the world a better place while passing through. Pavel Pavlovitch gave up on being an artist and became one of the world’s greatest philanthropists, thanks to the never ending guidance from his friend and companion up above: Kalos.
Credits:
Text, sounds and images by Jay C Lohmann
Artist bio:
Jay C Lohmann, artist, born in USA, lives and works in New York and Milan