There are different ways artists can survive in a censorship state.
One is the model of Soviet composer Gavriil Popov, the brilliant early modernist we met a few months ago who abandoned his own voice and acquiesced to the Communist Party’s stultifying artistic dictates. As Popov’s artistic identity foundered, he turned increasingly to alcohol.
Another is that of his contemporary Dmitri Shostakovich, who perpetually courted danger by trying to satisfy both his own artistic conscience and the Party. All while keeping a secret musical journal of his hatred for his artistic overlords, of course.
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