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"Grichka Bogdanoff, an exquisite being, of a prodigious intelligence and a vast culture"


FIGAROVOX / TRIBUTE - Grichka Bogdanoff died on Tuesday, December 28 at the age of 72 as a result of Covid. According to friend, the philosopher Daniel Salvatore Schiffer, pays homage to the one who was, for him, a soul brother.

Daniel Salvatore Schiffer is a philosopher, writer.

He is notably the author of

"Divin Vinci - Leonardo da Vinci, the Incarnate Angel"


"Gratia Mundi - Raphaël, la Grace de l'Art"

(foreword by Igor and Grichka Bogdanoff),

"La constellation Dante - Le chant du Sublime ”

(enriched with illustrations by Gustave Doré), all three published by Editions Erick Bonnier (Paris).

He loved the stars. He was himself a star. The light still shone, radiant, precious as a gem, in his eyes which were always open, far from all banality as from all mediocrity, on the ineffable but powerful, inexhaustible but fruitful imagination of childhood: an innocence in search of dreams , beyond, infinity, absolute, immensity and beauty, other dimensions, including metaphysics. He always told me, moreover, this prince of another time, this lord of another space, this incomparable enchanter of reality, that it is there, in the illuminated depth of this backworld, on the surface of these distant planets, which was outlined, under his amazed gaze, what he called the

"face of God"


An inexhaustible thirst for knowledge was, in fact, his imperious existential viaticum!

Read also1979:

Temps X

, the number of the Bogdanoff brothers

I find it hard to believe that I will never again hear her harmonious voice, always kind, benevolent and warm. It is difficult for me to think, in my indescribable sorrow, that he will never reward me again, as when we were discussing in long but fascinating philosophical reflections, of his friendly and generous presence. The last time I saw him, not so long ago, at his home, in the modest but charming mansion, in the center of Paris, of his brother Igor, it was still to talk, moreover, one of our favorite figures in art, history, humanism and civilization: the painter Raphaël, one of the three great geniuses (alongside Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo) of the Renaissance, to which I dedicated last year, in 2020,to commemorate with dignity the 500 years of his death, a book, "

Gratia Mundi - Raphaël, la Grâce de l'Art

 ”(Editions Erick Bonnier), but which, above all, Grichka himself, assisted in this by Igor, his inseparable twin brother, enriches for free, without ever asking to be remunerated for this. important work, of a magnificent, subtle and moving foreword, a sort of spiritual testament before the letter, since he was extremely kind, again, to accept that the authentic and sumptuous tapestry, inestimable work of this same Raphael, which he owned, as an inheritance from his lord of the castle, serves to illustrate the cover of my book precisely. We also had, in this regard, the project of writing together with Igor a book on a double but major thematic: what he called


and what I qualify, as for me, in the wake of one of my previous essays, of



Yes: my soul brother, Grichka Bogdanoff, age 72 (but was he really old, he who, fervent lover of the two infinite Pascalians, transcended all spatio-temporal limits) went away to join forever, swept away by illness on this fatal day of December 28, 2021, blessed by the extreme unction of a priest who came to the scene of his last sigh, this immaterial sky of eternal stars which so pleased his heart in love with Platonic idealism .

Grichka, driven by an indefatigable quest for knowledge was, beyond even his affable simplicity, a rare nobility of soul.

Daniel Salvatore Schiffer

This is to say if my pain, today, in this sad dawn in which I am writing these lines, is immense, infinite like this infinity, precisely, which he loved so much, in his distraught hours, to contemplate. Words fail me to express my sorrow! I loved Grichka, deeply. I had an affection for him, coupled with tenderness, very particular: that which one feels coming from the bottom of his heart as from the depths of his soul for a brother, even more than a friend!

Grichka, besides his natural refinement, both in the gestures of his attitude and in the richness of his person, was, in fact, an exquisite being, of a prodigious intelligence and vast culture: his inner elegance, a quality that only rare minds really possess, was much better, in its true human substance and for those who had the privilege of knowing it in depth, beyond deceptive appearances or derisory pretenses, than what certain media, which I would not name here so much by Christian charity that out of respect for his memory, have been able to give too often and futilely to see.

Because, yes, Grichka, animated by an indefatigable quest for knowledge was, beyond even his affable simplicity, of a rare nobility of soul, infallibly adorned with an admirable intellectual honesty and moral integrity at the same time: a true aristocrat, more by his spirit than by his birth, of Russian princely descent (by his father) and Austro-Hungarian (by his mother).

Today, I cry to you as I have rarely cried, and my tears have the sweet and yet cruel flavor of a farewell - which I would not however want definitive - fraternal!

Daniel Salvatore Schiffer

But basically what else can we say to do it justice and thus restore it to its authentic greatness? The awakening is hard on this morning when around 7 am his imminent death was to me, to me who watched over him in thought and prayer throughout this tragic night, announced! Peace to your soul, my dear, my very dear Grichka! Today, I cry to you as I have rarely cried, and my tears have the sweet and yet cruel flavor of a farewell - which I would not however want definitive - fraternal!

To you therefore, my beautiful and illustrious soul brother, I dedicate these words certainly painful but nevertheless sublime, particularly of circumstance, of Alfred de Musset, romantic among the Romantics, extracts from his poetic

Night of December

… this same month of December when you left, intact in your intangible mystery, towards other skies, other universes and other galaxies (similar, perhaps, to those of this mythical "

Time X

 " which once made so much dream and travel during your memorable television shows in cosmonaut costume of entire generations of teenagers and even less young), thus leaving me, disarmed, to my mourning as much as to my silent loneliness:


I was a schoolboy,

I stayed one evening to watch

In our lonely room.

In front of my table came and sat down

A poor child dressed in black,

Who looked like me like a brother.


Her face was sad and beautiful:

By the light of my torch,

In my open book he came to read.

He leaned his forehead on his hand,

And stayed until the next day,

Thoughtful, with a gentle smile.


I remembered it so well,

That I have always recognized him


all times of my life.

It's a strange sight,

And yet, angel or devil,

I saw this friendly shadow everywhere.


Everywhere I wanted to sleep,

Everywhere I wanted to die,

Everywhere I touched the earth

On my road came to sit

An unfortunate man dressed in black,

Who looked like me like a brother.


This evening I saw you appear to me again.

It was a sad night.

The wing of the winds flapped at my window;

I was alone, hunched over on my bed.

I looked at a dear place there,

Still lukewarm with a hot kiss;

And I thought how the woman forgets

And I felt a shred of my life

Who was slowly tearing apart.


Who are you, specter of my youth,

Pilgrim whom nothing has wearied?

Tell me why I keep finding you

Sitting in the shadows where I passed.

Who are you, solitary visitor,

Assiduous host of my pains?

What have you done to follow me on earth?

Who are you, who are you, my brother,

Who does not appear until the day of tears?


Farewell then, dear, very dear Grichka, my soul brother: may you rest, in the firmament of this eternal sky which you have sought so much, in the sparkling peace of your divine star!

I loved you, of that

"sidereal brotherhood" of

which our immortal Nietzsche spoke so well and of which Goethe himself made, in his glorious though humble wisdom, the highest and immemorial degree of his

"elective affinities"


Source: lefigaro

All news articles on 2021-12-28

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