3 January 2003

Ewa Rubinstein, the eldest daughter of Arthur Rubinstein, remembers her father.

He was an interesting and fascinating man. He would take us to many interesting events. We went to the opera, theater and museums on daily basis. Our house hosted extremely interesting people, such as Thomas Mann, Igor Stravinsky and Moise Kisling. Thanks to the stories my father used to tell us, we were becoming familiar with the great world of art.

Still, my father was not a saint, which many publications have already shown. It would be strange, then, if I made no mention of his faults now. Sometimes people, especially those who love my father as the virtuoso he was, want to hear only good things about him. But you can hardly consider life with him a normal one. In outbursts of anger, he asked us: “Why am I worshipped by all and my family only criticizes me?” In my thoughts, I replied that unlike us, the audiences did not live with him under one roof.

Possessive

When I was a child, we frequently had to endure long periods of separation from our parents. Father toured the world on concerts and mother, although she felt enormously sorry to leave us, went on road together with him. My father was considered a bon vivant, and so she was reluctant to let him go alone too often. My brother Paweł was the one whom it made suffer the most. When he was barely three weeks old, our parents went on tour. It was a traumatic experience for me as well. I could not eat and lost a lot of weight. They were away for six months and when they finally came back in time for my second birthday, I was so shocked that I could not believe their return. I believe my siblings experienced separation from mother in a similar way.

My father had very little patience for us. We were always afraid to speak what we were thinking, as we did not know how he would react to it. In fact, he was not too keen a listener at all. He would get irritated when someone was of a different opinion to his. Once he scolded me because I liked the film Andrei Rublov by Tarkovsky, which to him was boring. When I tried to simply talk with him about the movie, he slammed the door and called me an idiot.

All four of us kids learned music. Neither me nor Paweł had any talent, but we did our best, as our father could not believe that his children could not read music. Alina, my younger sister, is a magnificent musician. Today, she specializes in chamber music, but she performs only for the family and friends. When she became a doctor, a psychiatrist to make matters worse, our father found it hard to accept, as it was a different world in which he felt a complete stranger. John, the youngest brother, is an actor, but he also writes music for movies.

My father loved his daughters a lot, but in his own way: somewhere deep inside he was convinced that they should belong only to him and be with him all the time. He liked to give presents his wife and children... He used to say he liked to decorate “his women.” Somehow he must have hoped that we daughters would always stay close to him.
My father had most conflicts with Paweł, who was the most “American” of us all. He liked hamburgers and jazz. He hated classical music and did not attend father’s concerts, or any other classical music concerts for that matter. He wanted to have an ordinary dad who would take him to baseball games. He became a stockbroker. In time, the distance between them got so large that they did not see each other for the last 22 years of our father’s life.

Johnny, our little brother, was born when father was 60. He treasured father’s music a lot and went to his concerts. Still, like we all, he had his own record of family dramas.

Bigos in Hollywood

What I cannot get over the most is that father dumped mom, who had devoted her entire life to being a good wife in the first place. And he, at the age of 90, went to a woman who was 58 years younger than him. He lived with her in Geneva, in an apartment that my mother had decorated herself and loved so dearly. My father did not play concerts anymore, and so he was not in the center of attention like in the old days. He wanted to show that he could do everything his own way, paying no attention to our feelings whatsoever.

After he left, mother acted with dignity. She did not grant him a divorce, even though that was what he wanted. She never complained about the affair in public. She still loved him, although she never forgave the betrayal for the rest of her life. It was tragic that father wasted those final years of their lives.

Mother was a remarkable woman. She ran a wonderful home, which was always open to friends. When we lived in Hollywood, she was extremely popular with movie stars. She was a modest yet beautiful, elegant and charming Lithuanian who could feel at home everywhere. She knew exactly how to run a household, everyone loved her outstanding cooking. Once, a close friend of ours, the famous actor Basil Rathbone, asked mom to cook bigos, which he wanted to serve at a big party. Several cadillacs drove up to our house and the drivers carried huge pots for the specialty. I have to say something in my father’s favor: he was never picky when it came to food. He mostly enjoyed light meals, such as meatballs or chicken with cream and dill. For the 20th anniversary of my parents’ marriage, mother prepared dinner and a ball for 120 people.

Wonderful music

I frequently felt that my father knew more about Chopin than he did about me. But of course, he could be a wonderful person when he liked to. He was fascinated with painting and literature. In 1947, we went to Europe for the first time after the war. For three months, he took us to the most glorious museums and art galleries. He made a great tour guide. I was 14 then and I drank in his every word.

He was friends with Karol Szymanowski, whom I remember from my childhood, as when I was three years old, he was my “official fiancé.” He always kept my photograph with him and I used to call him: “Szymanowsku!”

Pablo Picasso was another close friend. Father and he lived in the same neighborhood in Montmartre when they were young. Picasso painted a portrait of my father then, which was lost during World War II. In 1958, my parents went to visit him in southern France and Picasso drew 26 portraits of my father in different styles. He then gave him four of them, one for each child. But father left them in his will to the woman with whom he left. We and mother struggled to get the drawings back, but we got only two.

Photography like music

Most of all, I liked when he played. Then I thought it was wonderful to have a father like that. I went to all his concerts. My sister and I believe that he performed works by Brahms in the most moving way. All of our father is in this music.

I have my face and hair after my father, but when it comes to the character, I would much prefer to resemble my mother. Father certainly had an influence on a lot of my life decisions. I married a man who was able to have a different opinion to my father’s. My husband was the first man I knew who could stand-up to him. Still, after years of marriage I realized that my husband was very much like my father: he also had very little time for his family. We parted after 12 years of marriage. Unfortunately, divorces are a frequent occurrence in our family, for example, Paweł has divorced three times, John twice, I once, even my younger son is a divorcee.

I started taking photos after parting with my husband. I wanted to leave something behind. Photography is a little similar to playing music, as you can do it everywhere and for everybody. Without any costumes, without translators, screenplay and director. Father saw my exhibitions and books a couple of times. I believe he appreciated what I was doing. Still, I was always much closer to mother. She was so perceptive that having seen 200 of my photos, she could remember every single one of them in detail. Sadly, she passed away last year and it has been very painful to me. I miss her terribly, as now I have no one to talk and joke in all languages at the same time... I am the last one who can still speak Polish...
transcribed by Danuta Gibas-Krzak

Ewa Rubinstein, daughter of Artur Rubinstein, took part in the celebrations of the 20th anniversary of the death of her father, which took place December in Warsaw.

The series of concerts held in memory of the virtuoso, Hommáge ∫ Arthur Rubinstein, has been organized by the National Philharmonic in Warsaw. The Philharmonic also hosts an exhibition of Ewa Rubinstein’s photos of her parents.

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