A massive exhibition recently opened at the Grand Palais. Entitled
"ROUGE: Art et Utopie au Pays des Soviets", it follows the world of art, and the artists who made it, between the October 1917 Russian Revolution up until the death of Stalin in
1953. It took us several hours to try and take it all in (and in the end, we really couldn't!), but here's a brief look at some of the works that laid bare the triumphs, challenges, trials, and betrayals that swept through Russia during those turbulent times.
Amidst the chaos following the Revolution, the Bolsheviks quickly focused on garnering support from the population, "mobilizing the masses". With the literacy rate in the country only hovering around 33%, their message had to be simple and clear. A series of window posters appeared in towns and villages carrying forward the messages of the Revolution. Agitation and Propaganda--agitprop--flourished everywhere. Vladimir Lebedev's poster shows Russian workers stomping on robber barons, fat cats and bankers, as they march forward. No words needed!
Meanwhile, Vladimir Mayakovsky urged his fellow artists to turn the streets into a "feast of art for all", with direct messages supporting the Communist Party. In this window poster, the images speak of hope, the few words calling encouragement down to those below, exhorting them to reject the bourgeoisie, to hail only communism, and to grab and climb up the ladder to happiness.
In 1921, the artist Alexandre Rodchenko exhibited "Pur Rouge" a monochrome work in vibrant red. Art critics called it the "last painting". Easel painting was on its way out. Several constructivist artists publicly renounced painting, moving on to what they called "art of production".
The theatre became a laboratory of the new life, where constructivist artists created play devices, theatre sets, prototypes of practical objects. The artist, El Lissitzky, who believed his entire life that the artist could be the agent of change, designed this theatre model for a play called "Je veux un enfant" ("I want a baby"!).
Lissitzky also designed costumes for the play, which told the story of a young agronomist who wants a baby and chooses the father based on scientific calculations. She decides not to found a family, entrusting the child's education instead to the communist community, believing "a healthy child is a future builder of socialism". The mixture of moral license, eugenics, and social issues proved to be too controversial, and in the end, the play was censored!
At the same time, some traditional artists were finding a way to support the Revolution using the virtues of realism to "record the greatest moment of history in an artistic and documentary manner." Victor Perleman shows a working correspondent at his desk, with the backdrop of an earlier Pravda headline announcing the death of Lenin.
And Kouzma Petrov-Vodkine, portrayed a group of workers in all their might and muscle: proud followers of the Revolution!
The technique of photo montage became another tool to
promote messages of propaganda. One of the earliest artists to use
this style was Gustav Klucis. This poster includes the slogan:
"Proletariats of the world: Unite"!
Concentration of power fell into Stalin's hands by the end of the 1920s, and led to the end of cultural pluralism. Artistic groups were dissolved and gave way to professional unions. Enforced collectivism of the countryside was initiated. Called the "Great Break", it was presented as a cultural revolution aimed at eradicating "class enemies". The Gulag had arrived, and artists were not spared. Among those who fell victim were Klucis and Meyerhold, both of whom were arrested and executed. Mayakovsky's relationship with the state was always complex, confrontational. In 1930, he committed suicide. The artist who painted this picture of Stalin in a rattan chair, Georgi Rublev, worried about his safety, and hid the painting from sight. It was not discovered until after his death in 1975!
Under this new era, a culture of vigor arose. "A healthy mind in a healthy body" was taken up as a mantra. Athletics, fitness, an obsessive quest for mastery became the rage, but the fear of external aggression led to "health and vigor" being molded quickly into images of military might. Alexandre Samokhvalov's huge painting "Komosmol militarisé" illustrates this perfectly -- in the background, young people are doing gymnastics, diving into an unseen river, whilst in the foreground all we see are youth in uniforms with guns.
Social Realism in architecture became an officially adopted program as Stalin went on a huge building spree, reconstructing Moscow and other major cities. Ivan Leonidov, who came from a peasant background, made this design for the new People's Commissariat in Moscow in 1934.
And then there was the famous Moscow Metro, part of the general Moscow reconstruction plan. Leading Russian architects were mobilized to realize this "place for the masses." Leonid Teplitsky reached back to Russian Classicism in his design for the entrance to one of Moscow's famed metro stations, Place de l'Arbat...
...whilst Gustav Klucis offered a more subdued modernism, although all in marble and highly decorated -- a far cry from the L train in Brooklyn!
By 1933, the writer, Maxim Gorky was calling on artists to produce "joyous, contagious paintings, with more smiles". They should reflect optimism and a radiant future to highlight the bright future of communism. Artists responded with monumental, idealized images illustrating the enthusiasm and exemplary traits of the population. Alexandre Deïneka certainly captures that in this big painting "Pleine liberté"...
...whilst Vassily Svarog documents a visit by Stalin and members of the Politburo with young children at Gorky Park in this 1939 painting, that was exhibited at the New York World Fair. In Russia, the painting was positively received as another symbol of the powerful link between the proletariat and those who led them. Hard to believe that at the same time, suppression and the "Great Terror" were affecting so many in all segments of society.
By the late 1930s, formal innovation had been curbed, and artists who pursued formalism and "uninspired naturalism" were condemned. Any depictions of the country's leaders had to show them in an almost mythical format -- Stalin usually appears in military dress, his gestures are limited, his short stature and atrophied left arm are hidden. Aleksandr Gerasimov manages this perfectly in this painting of Stalin at the funeral of the ideologue, Andrei Zhdanov.
Another requirement was that Stalin should be surrounded by his most faithful "seconds". Here, the artist, Anatoli Yar-Kravchenko, shows Maxim Gorky reading from his book "A Girl and Death". Gorky's son stands behind him. Also present are Vyacheslav Molotov who was Stalin's Minister of Foreign Affairs, and Kliment Voroshilov, his Minister of Defence. Stalin famously proclaimed of the book: "This thing is more powerful than Goethe's Faust!". At 53-1/2" high x 58-1/2" wide, the painting met all the "monumental and mythical" requirements of the era. Many of these works were reproduced in millions of copies as postcards and posters.
Some three hours after we entered the exhibition, we reached the end! This final lithograph, by V.I. Gorvokov, is titled "At the Kremlin, Stalin Worries About Each of Us". Well, I'm not so sure that some of the artists who began their revolutionary journey with such zeal, brought such talent and innovative ideas to the movement, but who fell afoul of the ever-increasing totalitarianism of the communist regime (and lost their lives as a result), would agree with that. For us, it was hard not to be swept up and quite moved by the dreams of utopia that they all began with. These images and many others from the show will stay with us for a long time. And I didn't even mention all the film footage the exhibit included, making it all the more real and alive.
And just to cap off this deep Russian immersion, we went out to the Philharmonie last week to hear the Russian National Orchestra perform works by Mussorgsky, Rachmaninov, and Shostakovich.
In spite of its name, the orchestra is privately funded, led by conductor Alain Altinoglu, and on the night we were there, the concertmaster was this young woman, Lina Vartanova. Women made up half the orchestra!
And the soloist for the Rachmaninov Piano Concerto was the original founder of the orchestra, Mikhail Pletnev, whose rather droopy demeanor made us think of a Walter Matthau character playing piano in some seedy bar -- all he needed was a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was, however, an extraordinary pianist, who electrified the audience and received a very well-deserved standing ovation!
As do you, dear readers, for reaching the end of this post!
À bientôt!
