We made it over to The Museum of Russian Art (TMORA) over the weekend, and found that they’d taken their permanent Soviet oil paintings exhibition down, making the entire museum new for us, along with all the temporary exhibits, or, as a friend who visited when that happened, “they gutted it!”
In place of the old permanent collection is now a collection of etchings, serigraphs, and lithographs by three artists who are not Russian themselves, but associated through their country of origin, which were members of the Soviet Union.
First, and the best known of the three, were works by Marc Chagall. This set of works revolved around Biblical subjects and themes, such as this one to the right (I apologize for my inability to take a straight picture). I understand this specimen is unusual in that Chagall actually depicts Jehovah.
The second of the trio is Ben-Zion, a mostly self-taught artist who “adored” the prophets of the Torah. Typical of his work are figures with overly large feet and hands, as can be seen on the right. This picture is not of a prophet, however, but from Ben-Zion’s portfolio The 36 Unknown, and, yes, the other 35 were present as well. This particular picture is entitled The Petitioner, and I thought it somewhat more charming than other members of his portfolio.
The third of the artists is Ben Shahn, who was entranced by the shapes of letters, particularly those of the Torah. According to the information available, he believed, or at least suspected, that the very shape of each letter had a certain mystical power. While I failed to find his work striking, and therefore took no pictures, I will present this one from the TMORA website.
On the main floor of TMORA were two more exhibitions. The first was a large collection of Soviet Union propaganda posters, both contemporary and reproductions. These were highly graphic, accompanied by full translations to English. Below is a somewhat atypical example lamenting the environmental damage brought on by the capitalist system, as I recall.
Here are the three segments in greater detail:
I forget the top creature, but those following are a swan and a crayfish, a bit the worse for wear.
This exhibition also featured a movie made 11 years after the Revolution, which would place it roughly in 1928. We found this to be quite the puzzle, as there was no sound and the images were sometimes obtuse. A kind lady sat down with us to discuss the farm which appeared, which was very kind of her. While she clarified matters slightly, I fear the propaganda thrust of the film bypassed us.
Also on the main floor was a small but moving exhibition of the Chernobyl disaster. These are pictures of the damage done to the reactor that exploded during routine testing, the protective gear worn by those who conducted cleanup, and the memorials to those who died in the incident.
Finally, the basement contained an exhibition of Christmas decorations, covering both the Imperial and Soviet eras, although the latter only briefly.
The Imperial era featured ornaments from both peasants and the Imperial family, as well as the gifts given by the members of the monarchy and their hangers-on. Peasants rarely, if ever, gave gifts, instead dedicating their time to communal celebrations.
Needless to say, as the Imperial family had access to the finest artists of Russia, their gifts are exquisite. This Russian Double Eagle box on the left is a cigarette box, as I recall, and I found it to be exquisite without being overly busy.
But, even as I admired my favorite piece, this jewelry box dominated by a dachshund with attitude, a feeling of gloom came over me. This is no surprise; after all, the Imperial family and nearly all of their supporting establishment was becoming increasingly entangled in exercises of pomp, futility, incompetence and superstition. Eventually, this was to end in a sad meeting with destiny in the Ural Mountains.
There’s something to be said for an exhibition which says little to nothing about the imminent doom of the humans associated with the objects, and yet leaves one enveloped in that sadness for this fragment of lost humanity. Their beautiful, bright trinkets, charming and impressive in their sophistication, did nothing to help them when the hammer finally struck the anvil. The short movie, playing against the back wall, came through as a collection of ghosts of another time, people who didn’t understand how to lead a nation into the future, and paid for it.
All in all, a good way to spend an afternoon!
