Breaking up and making up

When I think of the relationship between Russia and Germany the first thing that comes to mind is Carrie and Mr Big or maybe Ross and Rachel for those of you that never dug into Sex and the City – in which case, shame on you. The on-again, off-again saga of their affairs is almost too much for the common person to handle.

They’re on – they’re politicking together and mutually militaristic; Russia is sharing her energy sources because of her dependence on Germany’s finances. If that’s not a relationship, I don’t know what is! And then Leo von Caprivi had to go and cut Russia out, ruining the three-way alliance with Austria. Certainly, they were on a break!

 


Albrect Dürer, Portrait of a Young Woman, 1505.
Oil on wood, 26 x 35 cm.
Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

 

They’re off – they’re warring against each other in WWI, ending with Germany helping to send in the dogs – rather Vladimir Lenin.

Shortly thereafter, they are back on due to social stigmatisation from the rest of the world, which is quickly ruined with Germany’s anti-Communist, anti-Slav rhetoric and Hitler’s invasion of the Eastern Front – leading to the bloodiest conflict in history. I think we can all agree Germany wasn’t the nicest kid on the block during this time.

 


Max Beckmann, Self-Portrait with a Scarf, 1917.
Oil on canvas, 80 x 60 cm.
Staatsgalerie Stuttgart, Stuttgart.

 

Slowly the two realised they had more in common than not after the fall of the Wall and Socialism. They’ve managed to remain amicable over the past 30 years – not discussing their differences, but revelling in their similarities.

It is in their similarities that we are able to see marks of Russia in Germany’s art, history, and culture, and vice-versa. Positive spurts and splashes of colour and light, sound and beauty, harmony between the two cultures. And isn’t that all the world needs right now? Harmony amongst the masses, a sharing of art and culture?

Go see Russians & Germans. 1000 Years of Art, History and Culture, on at the Neues Museum, now through 13 January 2012, for the nuances of the tumultuous millennium-long love affair between these two fascinating countries. Also, keep an eye out for German Painting by Franz Dülberg for even better insight into their artistic relations.

 

-Le Lorrain Andrews

 

 

The Secret to Being a Great Artist…

Serov has been hailed as the defining Russian artist of the transitional period between the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries, perhaps the best portrait painter in Russian art, whose “early rise to the top is almost unparalleled in the history of art”.

What factors contributed to this artist’s greatness?

Could it be an inherent talent? He was born into a creative family and immersed in an artistic environment from childhood; indeed, both his parents were famous composers.

Or, could it be his drive and his determination to succeed? There’s no doubt that Serov was a hard worker and a competitive artist, who strove to be at the forefront of the new artistic movements of his generation. He worked tirelessly to perfect his drawing skills and painted everything he could lay his eyes on.

What about his passion for the works of the greats? He began, at a formative age, to pay attention to the “‘high craftsmanship’ that characterised the Old Masters” which “led him to understand what an artist should aspire to”, inspiring him to go perfect his technique and create technically excellent pieces of art.

Although these factors surely had an impact on the artist himself, they are representative of many talented and determined artists, so what was it that made Serov stand out?


Valentin Serov, Girl with Peaches. Portrait of Vera Mamontova, 1887.
Oil on canvas, 91 x 85 cm.
The State Trekyakov Gallery, Moscow.

 


Valentin Serov, Sunlit Girl. Portrait of Maria Simonovich, 1888.
Oil on canvas, 89.5 x 71 cm.
The State Trekyakov Gallery, Moscow.

 

Serov was extremely privileged in his upbringing, benefiting from his parents’ hospitality; “The Serovs’ apartment in St Petersburg was a popular meeting place for famous painters and sculptors, including Nikolai Ge, Mark Antokolsky, and Ilya Repin.”

This nepotism served him well, as it was Antokolsky who recognised the youngster’s talent, delivering him “into the hands of Repin”, who taught and befriended his young colleague: “Repin was in France at the time on a postgraduate assignment from the St Petersburg Academy of Arts, and Serov began attending his studio.” Serov assisted Repin in several large compositions he was doing at the time, drawing the barn that can be seen in the background of Repin’s Send-off of Recruit.

After Repin had taught the boy all he needed to know, his connections secured Serov a place in the Russian Academy of the arts, where he was taught by Pavel Chistiakov, “the only man in the Academy capable of teaching a novice the basic principles of art”.

Although some artists have had humble beginnings, many struggle to make ends meet during their lifetimes and, like Van Gogh, their talents remained “undiscovered” until after their death. Would Serov have reached such dizzying heights were it not for the excellent training he received through his family connections?

Wealth and contacts seem to go a long way in the art world. If you’re looking to be a prize-winning artist, maybe take a leaf out of Serov’s book – a bit of light hobnobbing certainly wouldn’t go amiss.

Quoted text from the illustrated art book Serov, by Parkstone International. Order your print copy or e-book to read more about this extremely talented and well-regarded Russian artist.

Ilya Repin: Stalin’s Golden Boy

Ukrainian-born Ilya Repin’s life spanned the turn of the 20^th century, a particularly turbulent period in Russian history. A member of the Itinerants, he is one of the most celebrated social realist painters of all time, painting the lives of poor peasants and revolutionaries in exquisite detail, eschewing the burgeoning contemporary European impressionist movement. His paintings are a satirical commentary on the contemporary society of the Russian Empire, depicting scenes of peasantry (‘Barge Haulers on the Volga’), political and military scenes (‘Demonstration 17 October 1905’) and Cossack life (‘The Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks to Sultan Mahmoud IV’).

Soon after his death in 1930, Repin had developed into a cult figure. Revered by Stalin (supposedly his “favourite artist”*), his realistic portrayals of daily life inspired the ‘Socialist Realism’ of the new, centralised USSR. This genre depicted the suffering working classes as heroic in their struggles, which became heightened as the “elite” of the Stalinist regime were hypocritically bathing in the excesses that the position afforded them.

Stalin and Repin had similar beginnings, in that they were born into poorer families, in non-Russian soviet republics; the former being a Bolshevik revolutionary, whilst the latter was undoubtedly a sympathiser in the fight for social justice. However, somewhere along the way Stalin’s desire to escape the misery of his childhood lead to an abandonment of his roots, a skewing of his principles and a misappropriation of Repin’s work to champion his newly-held ideals.


Ilya Repin, Leo Tolstoy as a Ploughman on a Field, 1887.
Oil on cardboard, 27.8 x 40.3 cm.
The State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow

Why is it that there is so often a discrepancy between the austere measures a regime advocates for its citizens and the lavish lifestyle the officials themselves lead? From examples as tame as the privately educated millionaires that make up the current British government, and the ostentation of the Pope, to the more extreme cases of autocrats living the high-life whilst their citizens starve, this is evident the world over and repeated cyclically.

As power turns heads, it also turns minds. A love of art may become more sterile, as only ‘state-approved’ art get the seal of approval. Hitler approved of the Great Masters, where the spiritual morality and family values depicted could be manipulated to suit his own manifesto, as well as having art made to order by his favourite, compliant artists. Under most dictatorships, artistic intelligentsia are driven underground for fear of being purged, either for vocally dissenting from the regime, or due to the expectation that they would do so.


Ilya Repin, Putting a Propagandist Under Arrest, 1880-1889.
Oil on canvas, 34.8 x 54.6 cm.
The State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow.

Ironically, if Repin had been alive during Stalin’s reign of terror, it is reasonable to believe that he would have been painting scenes to satirise this monstrous hypocrite and his actions that, amongst other things, lead to around 7 million of Repin’s compatriots starving to death during the Ukrainian Famine of 1933. And had he lived on to lampoon, he would almost certainly no longer have been Stalin’s golden boy.

If you happen to be in Tokyo, check out the Bunkamura Museum where they are holding an exhibition (‘ILYA REPIN: Master Works from the State Tretyakov Gallery’, until Monday 8 October) featuring 80 Repin works on loan from the State Tretyakov Gallery. If Japan seems like a long way to go to see Repin’s works, why not try this Ilya Repin ebook instead, featuring many more masterpieces by this excellent realist painter.

* Rappeport, H. (1999). Art and Architecture. In: Joseph Stalin: A Biographical Companion. (p. 7). California: ABC-CLIO, Inc.