Nikolay Kolyada

It feels utterly impossible to write this, to put into words the enormity of losing Nikolay. He slipped away on March 4th, after a valiant battle with pneumonia, but honestly, he was always fighting – fighting for the stories he believed in, for the actors he championed, and for a theatre that felt truly alive. I met him nearly thirty years ago, a nervous young student stumbling into his directing class, and he immediately took me under his wing. He had this incredible way of seeing potential in everyone, of coaxing out the best version of themselves, and he did it with a warmth and a mischievous twinkle in his eye that was utterly disarming. I remember one time, during a particularly grueling rehearsal, he just stopped, threw back his head and laughed, saying, “Let’s just *feel* the words, my friend! Don’t think so hard!” It was that kind of generosity, that belief in the power of instinct and emotion, that defined him. Nikolay wasn’t just a brilliant artist; he was a deeply loving husband to Irina and the most wonderful father to their children, Dimitri and Anya. He adored them fiercely, and they, in turn, adored him. He’d spend hours building elaborate sets with Dimitri, covered in sawdust and glue, and patiently read Anya countless fairy tales, his voice shifting to embody each character. He always said his family was his greatest masterpiece, and looking at them now, you could see how profoundly true that was. Beyond his family, he poured his heart into his work, of course. He was a playwright, an actor, a director – a true polymath – and he dedicated his life to breathing new life into Russian theatre. He was a pivotal figure, a true innovator, as John Freedman so eloquently put it, a “father” of our time. His passion wasn’t just for the stage, though. He loved old records, particularly Russian folk music, and could spend hours lost in the melodies. He had this incredible ability to find beauty in the simplest things – a perfectly formed leaf, a shared cup of tea, a heartfelt conversation. He had a way of making everyone around him feel seen and valued, and he left an indelible mark on all who had the privilege of knowing him. He wasn’t interested in accolades or recognition; he simply wanted to create, to connect, to share the stories that burned within him. Nikolay’s legacy isn’t just in the plays he wrote or the productions he directed, but in the countless lives he touched with his kindness, his passion, and his unwavering belief in the power of art. He will be deeply, profoundly missed. Rest well, my dear friend.