In Memory of Yakov Zargaryan: ‘We Were Lucky, Too’

His tiny two-room apartment was one of the showplaces of Yerevan. It was more than a gallery or a museum. I have entered it so many times and yet each time I found something new. (The same thing, by the way, happens every time when I enter the “house” of another multi-talented creative Armenian, Sergey Paradjanov). There, the ingenious and creative homeowner cleverly used every inch to open the door to surprises in almost every corner of the apartment. Before entering the apartment, the owner’s creativity can already be felt from the wooden sign on the door. The colorful “curtain” hanging in front of the door was made by the host from used ordinary and felt-tip pens. The exhibition of works of art starts from the walls of the corridor. The piano in the living room has lived its century as a musical instrument and now serves as a desk and secretaire. The collection, perched on every corner of the house, amazes with its variety, from the pottery of ancient times and the statue of Buddha to the works of the best representatives of modern painting and sculpture. But Yakov Zargaryan is best known for his collection of painted wooden, clay, glass and metal eggs (placed on shelves with special glass shutters, on wheels), which was “launched” by the patriarch of Armenian painting, Martiros Saryan, and the geography of artists from year to year covered the whole world.

The friendship between the Zargaryans and our family began one evening in the cold winter of 1992 without electricity, when Yakov Sergeyevich, or as I have called him all my life, dyadya (uncle in Russian) Yasha, came to our flat, saying that he wants to read his newly written article for us. We knew that our fourth floor neighbor was a pianist by profession, a professor at Yerevan State Conservatory, a distinguished pedagogue in Armenia, but we did not know that he was also writing. In the past, we slightly knew each other, but from that moment, when we invited him to sit by the oil stove, our relationship, friendship and cooperation began. Our long evenings in the darkness began to be marked by the long conversations of our artist and teacher neighbor, who had a remarkable way of life. And he had an inexhaustible energy to talk, a brilliant memory, a skill to present everything in detail. He spoke about everything. Being born in Yerevan, he vividly represented the city during his school years, the 1930s, when he was studying at the Spendiaryan Music School. He recounted his life in Russia, the years of World War II, and especially fondly remembered his student life (he graduated from prestigious Gorky Conservatory). He spoke proudly of his students at the Tchaikovsky Music School in Yerevan (one of them, Marine Abrahamyan, a laureate of international competitions, later told us how strict a teacher Yakov Sergeyich had been). He recalled his performances as pianist (he performed as a soloist in various cities of the Soviet Union and Italy). His expression and voice changed as he began to speak about his grandchildren (two at that time).

However, his greatest passion was reserved for Armenian painting, especially the constellation of the 1960s, with many of whom he was close friends: Saryan, Kochar, Galents, Bazhbeuk-Melikyan, Jotto, Karalov, Podpomogov, Elibekyans, Rudolf Khachatryan and especially Minas.

Yakov Zargaryan played a key role in popularizing of Minas Avetisyan’s work: Minas affectionately called him Hakob (Yakov is the Russian version of that name). In 1969 Minas wrote in the catalog of his exhibition to his friend: “For Hakob, to my dear, dear friend, who has done so much for my success.” Minas even created some portraits of him, also painted the door glass of Zargaryan’s apartment and the organic glass on the walls of the bathroom. Unfortunately, the difficult times pushed Zargaryan to sell these and other expensive samples of his collection.