Chagall: 12-Sided Hallway

by Kara Skye Smith

  Chagall: I’ll pay you for posing today. It’s a good way to make extra money, for your paints and canvases. Can you try a reclining pose now?

  [Chagall brings her a towel and she wraps herself as she steps off the crate platform. He helps her settle into a pose. Arranges her legs, arm and hair. Steps back.

  Fantastic.

  [He returns to his easel. Cendrars begins to snore.

  Marevna: I first met Diego after that exhibit at Salon des Independents, remember? When he exhibited La Vierge Enceinte. I was spellbound by its mysticism. Diego actually asked me why I’m not a courtesan! There’s only one thing about it that I should like - being able to help the artists around me, the girl-mothers and their children.* And you, do you think he would love me more?

  Chagall: Touch a woman who shared her bed with someone else? No, never!*

  [There is a long pause while Chagall prepares his paints.

  Marevna: [Quietly. Yes, that’s how I see it, also. There is an alarm. Bomb raid alert. Cendrars wakes immediately.

  Cendrars: What is it?

  Chagall: Bomb raid…

  Marevna: The alarm!

  Maid: Is there a shelter here?

  Chagall: Yes. Come quickly!

  The four make their way out into the hall. Most doors in La Ruche stand wide-open as the occupants hurry to the shelter in the basement. There are sounds of airplanes, bombs and alarms.

  Modi: [Still partying from the previous night. Takes out a small bottle of vodka and swigs it. I should have stayed upstairs and painted. I mean, if we’re going to die, we’re going to die, right? May as well be doing what I enjoy.

  Kisling: Yeah, think about it. What’s this old structure going to give us as far as shelter if a bomb hits, anyway?

  [The Maid begins to cry. Chagall, sitting next to her, puts his arm around her.

  Cendrars: Structurally, this basement is pretty sound. Most likely level the top two floors, though.

  [There is a crashing sound and all of them cover their heads and lower their heads. The maid begins to sob. Chagall hugs her and holds her in his arms until she quiets down.

  Same Scene Morphs into Another Month of the Same.

  Setting: Interior. Chagall’s Studio.

  Time: A Month Later. Day.

  Chagall wakes to the sound of the maid at the door. He lets her in. She has a stack of sheets in her hand. She motions toward the bed.

  Chagall: Good morning.

  Maid: Bon matin.

  [Near the bed he stops her. Takes the sheets from her hands, sets them on the bed and kisses her. They kiss to the sound of Marevna singing and whistling in the hallway. Cut to Marevna out in the hallway whistling.

  Chagall’s Voice [over this scene: I did not understand the attraction Marevna had for Diego Rivera.

  Besides the fact that he was a brilliant painter, he was sloppy, unkempt and occasionally had an odor, that certain smell peculiar to fat people*… She had her charm, was small and attractive, yet over the months I learned they were quite well suited for each other. Each found in the other the escape they craved.

  Although she only met half his needs, she allowed him an escape from the responsibility he faced as father and husband to a beautiful, but unhappy woman. They held onto each other as they ran toward the chaotic tumble they all three craved. Unfortunately, an innocent life held the mirror, and the day that mirror cracked many cried buckets, and some sobbed for days.

  Act IV, Scene 5:

  Setting: Interior. Picasso’s Studio.

  (Painting Inspiration: Homage to Appollinaire.)

  Time: Evening.

  Marevna is getting dressed. Picasso paints, then sets his brush in a jar of turpentine and linseed oil, wipes the brush clean on a cloth and lays it on the table.

  Marevna: [Pulling on stockings. So, you’ll need me for Thursday also? [View of the painting, then back to Marevna.

  Picasso: Yes. Same time on Thursday. Shall I pay you then, or today and then again on Thursday?

  Marevna: Today, please.

  Picasso: Very well, here you are.

  Marevna: [Sneezes. Oh! [Sneezes again, twice.

  Picasso: Hmmm… sounds like you might be catching something. Here, Marevna, drink this. [Takes a bottle out of the cupboard. Starts to look for a spoon.

  Oh here, just take the bottle. [He approaches Marevna. She is in her bra and skirt, with stockings and shoes on. He grabs her breasts with both hands. She gasps and turns. He laughs.

  Here you are. This will fix you right up. Now, come. Can you sit with me awhile?

  Have a smoke or some tea?

  Marevna: Well, I suppose so.

  Picasso: Good. Would you like to have a bath? Together?

  Marevna: Oh, no. Actually maybe I’d better get going…

  Picasso: Just the tea and a smoke, then. Come on.

  Marevna: Well, I guess those things can’t hurt. Okay.

  [Marevna moves to the outside of his doorway. He is counting out money and puts it in her hand. She has the bottle of medicine in her other hand. She walks quickly away. He shuts the door. Marevna walks up the street. She sees Zobrowski up ahead turn into the doorway of a bar. Steps later, as she gets near the doorway, she sees him pulling Modi out into the daylight. Modi smiles a charmingly ‘in trouble’ smile. Marevna continues walking past.

  Zobrowski: I’m going to drag you back to your studio and lock you inside until you paint, paint, paint.

  Modi: I do paint, paint, paint. Why do you think I’m out drinking? Because you locked me in the studio last week.

  Zobrowski: You partied last week.

  Modi: I also painted. The only artist at La Ruche up until 4 or 5 and starts painting every morning - 9 am. Modi wriggles free of Zobrowski’s hold and hurries up behind

  Marevna: [He taps her opposite shoulder. She turns to look. He laughs and then she turns the other way and smiles at him.

  Setting Change: Interior. Same Day. Inside of Marevna’s Studio.

  Marevna looking very pale and lovely, sits in a chair in her studio, alone. Her eyes are whites only and she lays her head back against a chair. The bottle is ½ empty and a cup of tea sits near her.

  Setting Change. Interior. Same Day. La Ruche Hallway, Top Floor.

  Marevna sings and whistles inside the La Ruche Hallway, outside of Diego and Chagall's top floor studios. The maid passes by. She smiles at Marevna, a shy, closed mouth smile. She knocks and enters Chagall’s studio.

  Act V, Scene 1: The Wild Life Gets Close to Out of Control

  Setting: Interior. La Ruche Hallway and Kisling’s Studio.

  Time: Early Evening.

  Marevna knocks. No answer. She tries the door. It opens.

  Marevna enters the studio. Max Jacob is on the floor with a handsome and very young man, ‘behaving lasciviously’*.

  Marevna: [Gasps. Oh!

  Kisling: [Enters the room. Grabs her arm and walks with her to another area of his studio. He’s cracked, you know.

  [Laughs. He’s turned Catholic too. A Jewish boy with a mystical bent… He’s recently acquired an intense fear of hell… He’s converted, but see how he still plays the swine!*…

  [Motions her to an area for Marevna to get undressed. Starts to arrange the paints and brushes while he talks. [Goes dark while the following scene is lit.

  [In a corner lit with blue lights and a white spotlight, Max Jacob and Picasso are with a Priest in the cathedral, Notre Dame de Sion. Max Jacob is being baptized.

  Priest: And the godfather?

  Picasso: Yes, I am.

  Priest: …and the child to be baptized?…

  Picasso: Cyprian.

  Priest: [Begins to sprinkle the holy water in the form of a cross and utters the words to baptize Max Jacob as Cyprian. [Goes dark.

  [Back to Marevna in a pose and Kisling mixing paints on a palette. Stops what he is doing, and looks at her.

  Kisling: And yet, Marevna, if you asked him for his best coat, he’d give it to
you, for nothing. [Begins to mix again. He takes drugs, you know… but, yes, you know. Hasn’t slowed much with the promiscuity either. [Laughs. Says he saw Christ in his room…*

  Marevna: Yes, he told me about his Christ vision. Says he appeared very handsome and smart.

  Kisling: Sounds likely! If I were Christ, I wouldn’t go into Max’s room, never fear.*

  Marevna: His writing is full of morality, man’s struggle with the entity of God and life without God. [She quotes his writing:

  “I dreamed of recreating earthly life in the atmosphere of heaven…”

  Kisling: Yeah, morality, hell… and opium. I know it’s all the rage, but if you ask me, he’s getting carried away on all three. He’s a good friend, though, a good sort.

  [Sneezes.

  I think I’ll just take some of the remedy… before we get started… so I don’t catch my death, here, in the cold.

  Kisling: Go ahead. We’ll start in twenty minutes then. I’ll add some coal to the heater.

  Setting: That Same Night. La Ruche Hallway and Kisling’s Studio.

  Marevna climbs the stairs and walks through the hallway of La Ruche. Outside the door, Marevna can hear laughing and voices chattering. She smiles. Knocks at the door. The noises cease immediately. The door opens, slowly. Marevna walks into a dimly lit room illuminated by ‘two candelabras, each holding seven candles. In the middle lays a huge, open book. To the left, on a huge sofa and on the carpet at the foot of the sofa are gathered the host, Kisling, and his guests: Max Jacob, Cendrars, Chagall, Modigliani and Lhote. They are singing a Jewish dirge, a mournful funeral song, looking serious and solemn. Marevna looks alarmed. She notices a large, yet not adult sized lump, lying under a sheet between the two candelabras. She looks confused, worried. She stares.

  Kisling: [Solemn and sad voice. Would you please sign your name, in the book.

  [Motions toward the corpse. Out of respect… [Wipes his eyes. .. for … the dead. Poor little girl. The poor little thing is dead.

  Marevna: [Nods and begins to sign. She looks at the cloth covered hump. Lying there…

  Kisling: We are assembled to look over her. She was beautiful, she was amazing, but her curiosity, her gluttony, were too much for her… she loved, she suffered, she died. Peace be upon her.

  Marevna: [Looks at the lump then bursts out uncontrollably:

  Brutes! Bastards! I’ll tell…

  [She begins to run toward the door.

  I’ll tell… I can’t stand it! I’ll tell!.. .

  [She is stopped by Lhote near the door. Marevna struggles. He turns her around to see the death bed. The room is full of laughter. Kisling draws back the sheet to reveal a big, huge, bloated cat - the painter’s striped cat.

  Lhote: Her unwholesome curiosity, Marevna… led to her demise.

  Chagall: She ate up Kisling’s paints.

  Kisling: Unable to digest them, she began to swell

  and swell. By morning… I found her.. dead, and swollen twice her size.*

  [The men laugh and Marevna covers her mouth.

  Marevna: [Trying not to laugh. This isn’t funny.

  Kisling: [Chokes back laughter. No, it really isn’t.

  Act V, Scene 2: Wild Night Life Party - Drinking and Drug Use is Evident

  (Painting Inspirations: The Acrobats and The Circus)

  Setting: Exterior. Outside Beatrice Hastings Apartment. In the Garden.

  Time: Night. 9 pm.

  (Party Guests: Rivera, Max Jacob, Valentine, Segonzac, Lhote, Picasso, Cendrars, Leger, Matisse, Modigliani, Chagall, Delauneys, Apollinaire, Marevna, Valentine, Carmen, Kisling, Renee, Jolie, Sophia, Canudo, Luc-Albert, , Beatrice Hastings (obviously), Madame. S., Jean, Zobrowski, Jean Cocteau, et. al.)

  Marvena, Chagall, and the first seven of the guests wait outside an apartment building, in the garden. Through the window there is heard much shouting of a woman and then a smash, as if she’s thrown something. A man hollers. Zobrowski comes around the corner of the apartment, into the garden, and motions the group to follow around toward the back gate of the garden. Just before exiting, Modigliani appears and acts as if they’ve all just arrived.

  Modigliani: Ah! The guests have arrived! Welcome… [Zobrowski gives him a pat on the back and hugs him with one arm.

  Zobrowski: That’s the way. Shake it off, my friend.

  Modigliani: Come in! Come in!

  Zobrowski: Come in!

  Setting Change: Interior. Beatrice Hastings Apartment.

  Inside the apartment, Beatrice Hastings pats her hair and smiles stiffly as guests enter the apartment. She smoothes her dress. Gives a warm but bashful, greeting to Marevna as she enters.

  Beatrice: Hello.

  Marevna: [Hugs her. Kisses her cheek. Places her last, stray tendril from her fit behind her ear and smiles knowingly. Takes her hand.

  Come with me. Let’s make some drinks. Diego’s bought us some vodka.

  [Holds up the bottle. They walk into the kitchen.

  Your accent, Beatrice, where are you from?

  Beatrice: Born and raised, mostly, in South Africa.

  Marevna: And, Modi, how did you two meet? Are you his muse or model?

  Beatrice: [Scoffs. Model? No. A writer. Met him at the gallerie – Salon Des Independents, during an opening. I was fascinated by his painting, but also his culture, his interest in writing and his knowledge of literature.

  He’s had a very fine upbringing…

  Marevna: Ah, yes, Modi’s aristocratic side… he catches us all with that… and then we see the real Modi… as we saw tonight

  [She raises an eyebrow and looks up from the drinks she’s mixed directly at Beatrice.

  Beatrice: Angelina was there that night… were you? Diego’s painting, ‘La Vierge Enceinte’ caused quite a stir, I remember.

  Marevna: It’s how we met, also, one of the ways… Do you know Diego?

  Beatrice: Where is Angelina tonight?

  Marevna: She’s gone for her laying in. She’s staying at a convent -it’s half the cost of the maternity ward and Diego says the nuns are very kind to her.

  Beatrice: Yes, well, my thoughts and prayers are with Angelina… at this tender and precarious time. Look, I really must see in some of the other guests. It is my party and apartment, after all. If you need olives… anything… help yourself.

  [Stumbles a bit and it is obvious she has been drinking and done more than her share of drugs that night. Turns to walk out.

  And Marevna, Diego obviously loves Angelina, or they wouldn’t be having a baby together… I suggest you wise up.

  Marevna: [Smirks as she exits and continues pouring, then stops as Modi enters. She takes the pipe he hands her and smokes it.

  I’ve been warned by your girlfriend… just now.

  [He takes a drink off the tray.

  Modi: She’s high. And angry at me. Never mind what she says to you tonight.

  [Hands the pipe back. Lifts the tray of drinks.

  Marevna: Wait here for me. I’m taking these around.

  Modi: That’s nice of you, considering the Hostess, I am assuming this, as I know her, but most likely she has already put you in your place and you just walked in the door…

  [He takes the tray. Don’t go, not yet… Stay…. Talk awhile with me.

  Marevna: What can I say, I’m nice like that. And I promised Diego I’d bring him a drink. He bought the vodka, and I want him to see I’ve shared it with all his friends…

  Modi: [Sets the tray on the counter. Starts to put his arms around her waist.

  Such a tiny, little girl. I could lift you up over my head.

  Marevna: [Laughs. No, Modi, I don’t think so. Not tonight, please.

  Modi: Marevna…

  Marevna: How I must love this man to turn down this gorgeous Italian artist destined to be one of the most famous painters I’ll ever know…

  [She ducks a kiss by putting the tray of drinks between them. He knocks into one.

  Modi: [Ob
viously drunk and high.

  I’m sorry! So sorry…

  Marevna: It’s okay. I’ll get this cleaned up. Here, take this to Diego.

  Modi: [He kisses her quickly and smiles. Takes the drink. Okay… okay. Sorry. [He leaves.

  [Marevna pats the spill dry and takes the tray in her hands again. Just as Marevna exits the kitchen and rounds the corner into the front living room she hears shouting.

  Beatrice: …just fuck her then! You bastard!

  Modi: Shut up..

  [Marevna appears in the room and sees Modi and Beatrice start to hit or flail their wasted arms at each other as if attempting to hit each other. Carmen and Mitriani kiss passionately and grope at each other as if no other people are in the room. Max Jacob and Jean Cocteau smoke an opium pipe and watch Carmen and Mitriani intently, talking occasionally. Marevna begins to hum a Russian song and starts to pass out drinks when suddenly Modi picks up

  Beatrice who is yelling “Stop! No!” her arms flailing animatedly over the table where Zobrowski sits chopping cocaine with a blade or filling long, slender black pipes with opium. Modi throws her against the window. Glass shatters

  everywhere and Beatrice’s legs hang over the sill, her body in the garden.

  Zobrowski: Fuck Man! What the hell?!

  [Jumps up, people run out into the garden. Zobrowski stands where he is, fretting over the drugs on the table. Starting to walk out to help, then looking at the table, agitatedly. He does this several times as if his feet are stuck near the drugs but he’d like to go help. He puts both hands on his head and sits down, nearly crying.

  [Marevna opens a door next to the already open door that leads to the garden and sees that Max Jacob has taken cover inside this little room. He is on his knees, rocking back and forth, crossing himself repeatedly. He looks up and begins to cross himself again, his eyes nearly rolling all the way back.

  Max Jacob: … oh god, save us from the accursed one, save us from sin…

  Marevna: At least someone is looking after us.

  [She begins to shut the door.

  Might be more effective if it wasn’t Max Jacob, though…