Uwe Schrammschramms.deThe German graphic artist, illustrator, and designer Uwe Schramm was born in 1955 in the town of Trossingen. In 1987 he graduated from the Berlin University of the Arts, where he mastered the intricacies of graphic design. But two years before finishing his studies he produced a series of illustrations for The Master and Margarita. In my opinion, it turned out very well.
“Excuse me, please, that I, not being acquainted, allow myself... But the subject of your scholarly conversation is so interesting...”
“Looking for the turnstile, citizen? This way, if you please! Straight ahead and you’ll come out where you need to. For the directions you’d owe a quarter‑liter... to help recover... to a former choirmaster!”
“While the secretary was convening the meeting, the procurator in a room shaded from the sun by dark curtains had an interview with some man whose face was half covered by a hood.”
“At half past ten that evening when Berlioz perished at Patriarch’s Ponds, in Griboedov only one room upstairs was lit, and in it twelve literary men languished, gathered for a meeting and awaiting Mikhail Alexandrovich.”
“You are not in a madhouse, but in a clinic where no one will detain you if there is no need.”
“Ivan was quietly weeping, sitting on the bed and gazing at the turbid river seething with bubbles. At each peal of thunder he gave a plaintive cry and covered his face with his hands. The sheets filled by Ivan lay scattered on the floor.”
“The entrance of the magician with his tall assistant and the cat, which came onto the stage on its hind legs, greatly pleased the public.”
“Ivan lowered his feet from the bed and peered. From the balcony there cautiously peered into the room a clean‑shaven dark‑haired man of about thirty‑eight with a sharp nose, anxious eyes, and a lock of hair hanging over his forehead.”
“Repent, Ivanych! You’ll get an indulgency!”
“And so, the next number of our program—Nikanor Ivanovich Bosoy, chairman of the house committee and manager of the dietetic cafeteria.”
“At a huge table with a huge inkwell there sat an empty suit, and with a dry pen not dipped in ink it moved over the paper.”
Hm... Who could that be, and what is the life preserver doing here?
“His nerves, as they say, gave way, and Rimsky did not wait for the drawing up of the report to finish and ran to his office. He sat at the table and with inflamed eyes gazed at the magic ten‑ruble bills lying before him.”
“The finance director’s mind went beyond reason. <...> And here it seemed to him that from under the door of the office there came a rotten dampness. A shiver ran along the finance director’s spine.”
(fragment of the previous picture)
“And then, besides, the clock suddenly struck and began to strike midnight.”
(fragment of the previous picture)
“I do not know you,” Margarita said dryly. “How indeed could you know me! And meanwhile I am sent to you on business.”
“As the companions, carrying under their arms the brush and the rapier, were passing the gateway, Margarita noticed in it a man in a cap and high boots languishing there. A second man, astonishingly like the first, was met at the sixth entrance. A third, the exact copy of the second and thus of the first, was on duty on the landing of the third floor.”
“The situation is serious, but by no means hopeless,” responded Behemoth. “More than that: I am entirely certain of the ultimate victory. It is only necessary to analyze the situation thoroughly.” He began to undertake this analysis in a rather strange way, namely he started making all sorts of faces and winking at his king.
The great ball at Satan’s.
(fragment of the previous picture)
(fragment of the previous picture)
“The cat instantly sprang from the chair, and all saw that he had been sitting on a thick packet of manuscripts.”
“At once the pre‑storm light began to die out in the Master’s eyes, his breath was cut off, he felt the end approaching. He still saw how the deathly pale Margarita, helplessly stretching out her hands to him, let her head drop onto the table and then slid to the floor.”
And as a bonus—a few of the artist’s rough sketches
Koroviev-Fagott, the melancholy knight
Berlioz’s uncle Poplavsky tumbles head over heels down the stairs after visiting the naughty apartment
A black magic séance
The emcee Georges Bengalsky
The Master after the arrest
Don’t ask, I don’t know myself
