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He has lived among and known Tonitza, Pallady, Baba, Han, Sirato. Now 77, he lives among their works in his art gallery on Strada Blanari. For Marcel Zambaccian, nephew of the Armenian art collector, Krikor Zambaccian - who donated his collections to the Romanian state - the memories of the great painters are very much alive. Interview and pictures by Cristina Tanase.
Marcel Zambaccian: ''Objects make the connection between people.''
What was it like to be an art collector during the communist period?
When the communist regime came into force all the roads were closed. Nothing was allowed any more.
Our cultural policy was conducted by Elena Ceausescu, the conducator's wife. She had no cultural background at all, and no idea about the arts. An example of some of the ill-advised decisions she made: when the great sculptor Brancusi was dying he wanted to bequeath his entire estate to the nation, but because he had emigrated to France , Elena Ceausescu didn't allow it. He wasn't even a dissident, or interested in politics in the slightest. He was a bohemian. He didn't make a fortune; he had nothing but his two hands, his brain and his talent.
Then, there were the foreign buyers, who would come to buy art objects from the state. Whenever Ceausescu needed hard currency he would permit objects to be sold outside the borders. In the end, we lost some priceless objects that were highly valued elsewhere, but not here.
The Zambaccian Museum was closed in 1977. What was the regime's reason for that?
My family had wanted deeply to build a museum and indeed, the Zambaccian Museum came into being in 1947. My brother became the curator and the family's representative, according to the Donation Act. I continued working for the state in the Consignment and the museum became my second priority. Those were fine times. We organised celebrations, at least one a month, at which all the celebrities of the day would come, including Florin Piersic, Carandino, Plesu and Caramitru. We were all very young then.
The building remained completely intact after the 1977 earthquake, as if it was a fortress. Then Elena Ceausescu ordered that all the museums and memorial houses be closed and their exhibits sent to the Museum of the Collections. Yet we had Zambaccian's Donation Act, which stipulated that the paintings would remain inside this building, be it natural disaster, war, earthquake, flood, and the building's only destination would be as a museum, until the death of the last descendent.
At that time, we contested Elena Ceausescu's order. I was with my brother and my lawyer and the judge asked the lawyer, ''What do the heirs want?'' ''They only want that the Donation Act be respected,'' he answered. Time passed: one week, then two, three, one month. Our file disappeared. Elena Ceausescu had heard about it and pressured the judge. We were powerless.
After the Revolution, with a lot of support from the media, the then prime minister Vacaroiu enacted a governmental ordinance in 1992 to bring the collection back to the museum.
You have an instantly recognisable name. Has this been helpful to you?
It has, mostly. My great-grandfather was from Constanta . He settled there when Dobrogea was under Ottoman rule. In 1877, after Romania gained independence from Turkey , all citizens who lived there automatically became Romanian citizens.
The family house was on Sormona Street, where I was born. When my father and uncle died, the house was nationalised. After the Revolution, we made a restoration request to the Constanta City Hall and we went to Mr Midoglu, a 78-year-old Macedonian who kept the documents of the town and had been working there since he was 20. When I told him about Zambaccian, he said, ''Yes, we know he had a house.'' I came back one week later and he handed me the title deeds, which proved that the house was ours. Then we went to the court. ''What's your name?'' I was asked by the judge. ''Zambaccian,'' I said and the judge recognised me straight away. ''You are well known in Constanta,'' she said. There is a very long street in Constanta called Krikor Zambaccian Street .
Is there a place for tradition today?
Modernism destroys tradition. Old things must be kept and valued. Today you cannot find what was once in Bucharest. Things that are being made now might be beautiful, but they are trifles; they have no value. Unfortunately, this is the future.
How would you describe Romanian art today, compared to the more classical periods in history?
Romanian art of today exits in a tunnel, so to say; the last great painters were Baba and Ciucurencu. These modernist paintings will never rise to their genius. It's as if they were in a balance. Time will pass, and their image will not be remembered. If Grigorescu or Andreescu or Luchian came back to life now and saw Tonitza, Petrascu, and Pallady, they would be proud of them. If Petrascu, Pallady, Tonitza saw the painters of today, well Ö (he laughs).
One more thing. The real art collectors have disappeared. There is no Zambaccian any more, no Oprescu, no Dr Dona. These people were very attentive to the painters' needs. Unlike them, the new tycoons nowadays don't invest in paintings. They invest in hard currency and cars.
Among art experts, which painters works are most in demand?
Of the first group of Romanian painters, the most wanted are Grigorescu, Luchian and Andreescu, but people who have them don't generally sell them. To sell a good Luchian or Grigorescu is like being torn away from your family. There is a five per cent chance that you will find paintings by them on the market. Of the second group of Romanian painters, Petrascu, Pallady, Tonitza and Iser are popular.
You were quite friendly with a number of Romanian painters.
Thanks to my uncle, I knew many famous painters. At the same time, I had the chance to also meet sculptors such as Barasi, and Oscar Han. In 1943, when I was a student, my father posed for Oscar Han. I used to go with him to Han's home and watch him working in clay or in plaster.
I met Baba and Ciucurencu when I went with my uncle to pose for his big portrait that can now be seen at the Museum of Arts and at the Zambaccian Museum. I had the chance to meet and talk to them. I was close friends with Iser, Lucian Grigorescu and Tonitza. We would go out for a beer or have a walk in the town.
These were the artists. If they had 100,000 lei in their pocket, they would spend it in two or three days. They used to order caviar, champagne and then die of hunger. They were bohemians, dreamers.
Have you noticed a rising interest in art among Romanians since 1989?
There is a category of people who make sacrifices to buy and a second that buys art more out of snobbishness. Generally, the buyers are intellectuals: lawyers, doctors, public office workers, professors. But there is also a segment comprising newly enriched people, who have made a lot of money since the Revolution. They are not connoiseurs, they buy more out of snobbery.
For example, if you know your paintings, you need not scrutinise a signature to know that it is a Grigorescu or Pallady. If you bought an art object that you cherish and somebody offers you five times as much as its real value, you wouldn't sell it. You wouldn't sell it for one hundred times its value, for that matter.
I wouldn't sell my Palladys if someone offered me five times over the real value. Lots of people tell me, ''Why don't you sell some of these paintings so that you can earn some money and go on a nice trip somewhere?'' But I don't want to. Money comes and goes, whereas once you sell a painting it is lost forever. It's as if I wouldn't see my mother again.
The gallery in Bucharest's Strada Blanari where Marcel Zambaccian spends most of his days.