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TITLE: Exhibition at the Imperial Academy of Arts. October 1855 (1)
AUTHOR: V. P. Botkin
THIS VERSION: Copyright © 2001 Carol Adlam; all rights reserved. Notes by Carol Adlam and Robert Russell.
Redistribution, or republication of this text in any medium requires the consent of the translator.
Introduction to the text Thus the gratifying aspect of the present exhibition and of the entire Russian school consists in the absence of any theatricalism and of that romantic idealism with which, for example, the latest French painting is so contaminated. It is true that the present exhibition does not show a particular wealth of imagination, but, that aside, here imagination has stuck firmly to reality and nature, and has not tried to embellish them with false phrasing or theatricalism, nor to compensate for its paucity with the false coin of pretension, which in art is usually expressed by an exaggerated representation of reality. In a word, in art as in life the Russian man is a fundamental enemy of high-flown words and of theatricalism. The present exhibition contains 323 exhibits, of which almost all are paintings: there are very few sculptural works. We could of course wish that each of these 323 exhibits was a remarkable work, but, unfortunately, since this is not the case - just as excellent works always comprise the minority in all exhibitions in the world - we shall in our short review indicate only those works which have some sort of positive qualities. And we shall dwell on only the best of these works, because there are really very few mediocre works, and it is a rare work of those exhibited which does not reveal some sort of giftedness to a greater or lesser degree. The present exhibition is particularly poor in works by our famous artists: of them only the talented and industrious Mr Aivazovskii (2) has exhibited six pictures. His talent is so well known to lovers of painting that we consider it unnecessary to start to examine the higher qualities of his brush. As before, he possesses the mystery of capturing the oscillating, volatile forms of sky and sea; as before he conveys them in the poetic reflection which comprises the higher, essential aspect of painting, and without which it would be merely a poor substitute for nature. Yes, never could the most clear, most slavish imitation of nature replace this poetic reflection of it; before him, no technique could achieve this, because its root lies not in the eyes but in the artist's soul. We have called this a mystery because we do not know the pathway to reach it; because it is not susceptible to any sort of analysis; because it is indefinable by any sort of aesthetics; because it manifests itself as beauty, and grace, and is not acquired; because it is the highest enchantment for which mankind holds art so dear. In a word, it is that mystery which people are used to calling poetry: that living, elusive thread which connects all the arts together and makes of them blood sisters; it is that same mystery which makes the stone mass of an architectural edifice airy and musical; which turns colours into sounds; which suddenly, instantaneously, reveals an unfathomable vista of emotion in a word. Of the paintings exhibited by Aivazovskii we particularly like two: Fregat pri zakate solntsa [Frigate at sunset] (No. 107), and Chumaki v malorossiiskoi stepi [Ox-cart drivers in the Little Russian steppe] (No. 305). In both pictures a sunset is represented: it spills across the light undulations of the choppy sea, glittering in the hollows of the waves, and turns this dull, cheerless mass into seething, molten metal which shines with all the possible tints of precious stones. We will not even speak of the extent to which Mr Aivazovskii's waves are transparent, how animated they are, how ruffled they are. No less excellent is his painting of the Little Russian steppe: its beauty, however, lies not in the reflection of the sunset, but in the sunset itself. The task was unusually difficult - imagine, painting a setting sun! It is true that Claude Lorrain, (3) who was possessed of great poetic strength in landscape, often loved to paint the setting sun, but now, unfortunately, we can appreciate the delight of his sunsets only in the general tone which infuses his pictures of the ideal and true: their colours have faded and many of his tones are barely perceptible. With Aivazovskii the sunset burns before us in all its freshness of colour. The sun descends behind the endless horizon of the steppe in a fiery sphere; it is before your eyes; the remote, distant zone between you and the sun consists of crimson, dense, ambient steam, full of a myriad of glistening atoms ... . This is the very minute when, looking at such a sunset in an open field, you fear to take your eyes off it in order not to lose a single second of this marvellous sight: it is this sort of sunset that Aivazovskii has tried to capture with his brush. And we shall boldly say that he has fulfilled his great task superbly. These meagre colours are surprisingly reminiscent of the majestic beauty of that sunset which Schiller compared with the spectacle, so worthy of admiration, of a dying hero: So stirbt ein Held: anbetungsvoll! (4) The crimsoning reflection of the sunset plays on the long procession of ox-cart drivers: and everything, the sky and earth, is filled with a quiet, calm majesty. It is a shame that several parts of the painting, particularly the colour of the grass, do not correspond with the airy harmony of the whole. Although this in no way reduces the essential quality of the painting it nevertheless deprives it of an overall harmony of tones. Some may object to us that grass in such a light has specifically such a colour; that may very well be, but we nevertheless stand by our opinion. Why is it, after all, that the eye is never astonished by the sharpness of any one colour in nature? Why is it, after all, that even in its most daring effects nature always preserves a general harmony of tones? As for Mr Aivazovskii's two large pictures - Buria 2-ogo noiabria 1854 g. [Storm of 2 November 1854] and Buria pod Evpatorieiu [Storm near Evpatoriia] - since these natural phenomena are essentially exceptional phenomena, then we shall not take it upon ourselves to judge to what extent the artist has captured their truth. There is much dramatism in them, and without any doubt the artist has brought his usual mastery to them, but, we must admit that they produced far less of an impression on us than those two pictures which were so simple in content and so filled with poetic feeling; far less, too, than his Tumannoe letnee utro [Misty summer morning], which is so suited to these two lines by Fet: (5) Morning, like a newlywed's dream Is full of both shame and fire. Very few paintings have been sent from Italy by the Academy pensioners. The most remarkable of these belong to Mr Lagorio (6) and Prince Maksutov. (7) Lagorio has exhibited two views of the outskirts of Rome: Vecher v gorakh [Evening in the mountains] depicts the light when the sunset is flooded with the dense, purple-gold vapour of the mountain heights; below, here and there, the sun suddenly bursts forth between the fissures and slopes of the cliffs which are already shrouded by evening twilight, and everything in the meadows burns and flames as if transformed. The other picture is also of the mountainous outskirts of Rome, but with stormy, dull illumination. Both paintings have many qualities in their distinct, masterful working of details, particularly Vecher v gorakh. But we cannot fail to regret the fact that a talented artist has chosen such decorative subjects for his paintings. The beauty of landscape consists not in the representation of the showy, vast forms of nature, but in the revelation of nature's beauty, present even in the most meagre plot of land with a puddle, and which you would pass by without paying it the slightest attention. Remember the great landscapists of Holland: Only the bee knows the mystery sweetness in a flower, Only the artist senses the trace of beauty in everything. (8) Of course, the choice of the showy locations of nature in the South has more effect in the eye of the unsophisticated, and particularly Northern, viewer, and presents fewer difficulties in execution for the artist himself. But then, Mr Lagorio's paintings should sooner be called studies of Italian mountain scenery than paintings. The composition of a painting needs a gradually evolving content, in which Mr Lagorio's mountain views would comprise a superlative episode or its most striking part. Taken separately, on their own, without the eye and feeling being gradually prepared for it, the effect never produces the impression it should. Besides this, an excess of striking effect never strengthens the impression, but, on the contrary, weakens it. This is equally true in literature as in all the arts. Moreover, the mountains have a particular beauty to the eye only because they lie in valleys; without valleys and hollows they would appear to the eye in all their unbroken mass. In Mr Lagorio's paintings it is the peaks of these unbroken mountains which almost alone are visible, lit up by the sunset. If someone thought to depict a forest and painted only the tops of the trees in evening light, we doubt that the poetry of the forest would be felt in such a painting. Mr Lagorio's paintings are done unusually assiduously and distinctly, and they reveal a most attentive and observant view of nature. But in spite of this, some sort of aridity can be sensed in them and this greatly damages their overall impression. Prince Maksutov sent, unfortunately, only one small painting: Nishchie iz Rima [Beggars from Rome]. We say 'unfortunately' since this small painting reveals a great talent in this artist. A blind beggar sits at the pedestal of a column, and beside him there stands a girl of about seven or eight, perhaps his daughter. The girl is very plain, with big black eyes, puffed-up face, and a protruding stomach. Her grown-up Roman women's clothing lend a comic and sad air to the dull-witted expression on her face. The face of the blind man is full of character and unusually rogueish. What miserable content, you may say, but in this small scene life in all its nature and truth is captured. This scene has without the slightest doubt been drawn from nature: everyone draws from nature, but the majority only represent it externally, which without fail produces a painting that is mechanical and dead in some way. We need only cite as an example Mr Timashevskii's (9) Rimlianki u fontana [Roman women by a fountain], which was also probably drawn from nature, although it came out dry and lifeless. Alas! It is not always possible to capture life and reality in their fleeting manifestations, and not everyone sees them with equal profundity. And here we encounter again that same mystery of which we spoke earlier, only under a different exterior: here we can call it the secret of capturing life in its manifestations. The secret is open to everyone, and accessible to few - accessible for the most part only, unconsciously, via that same poetic feeling. Without poetic feeling the artist will remain forever with the external forms of life alone; even if he works the tiniest details of these external forms with the greatest of assiduousness, his paintings will turn out to be honourable, respected, but dead. And yet they were drawn from life? Truly, behind this exterior, technical surface there is something that is not perceptible to every eye, and happy is the artist who possesses this second, higher vision. In essence it comprises what in art is called, simply, talent. From this point of view, of all the views exhibited by Mr Frikke, (10) of which we will not begin to speak, we will boldly give preference to his two small studies depicting Pargolovskie devushki [Pargolovo girls] (No. 272). These are small, poor female figures, but in them there is life and truth, which makes them large and rich. Amongst the landscapes a few are painted with remarkable giftedness. We place Mr Goravskii's (11) landscapes among these. It is true that a lack of force and colouring is to be felt in them: their greyish tone is very damaging to them; but nevertheless there is something harmonious and gentle in them, even tender, and if you look hard at them then you will see that the artist is able to feel nature and the harmony of its tones. Mr Goravskii's nature is in some respects a melancholy reflection, not devoid, however, of grace and a certain thoughtfulness. There is strength and fidelity in the tones - and how clear and light that sky! how light and airy the clouds, what truth there is in the tints of light and shade, and finally, what softness in all the shapes touched by the wind! A harmony of effects - this is landscape's great task. Unfortunately, not everyone and not even every great talent happily resolves this task. More often it happens that the landscapist is able to reproduce one or several effects of nature, and because of this, the painting is frequently deprived, for all its excellent qualities, of the overall harmony which is essential for a fullness of impression. In nature everything is effect and everything is harmony; the matter lies in how to grasp and how to display this endless variety of effects in a painting. For example, the weakest aspect of almost all the landscapes exhibited, not excluding Mr Goravskii's landscapes, consists in the sky and clouds. If the eye of the conscientious viewer is crudely struck by something in your painting, do not rely on the fact that this is how it sometimes is in nature; no, nature is a great reconciler of the most acute effects. A black thundercloud skims through the sky, you draw it, and then point towards nature with certainty. That is so, but have you taken into account the setting of the cloud, the setting which consists in a fathomless, endless firmament of the sky, the depth of which softens the entire, lonely sharpness of the black cloud? Appearing in the couple of feet or so (12) of the picture's space it merely grates on every eye with its black colour. In general one must take much into consideration when reproducing the effects of nature. The present exhibition is very rich in portraits and in general this section of Russian painting is to be found in a flourishing state. The portraits of Messrs. Tetriumov, Toropov, Keler, Iakovlev, and many others (not to mention the portraits of Mr Zarianko, who has acquired such fame) show that a good portrait has become a commonplace matter in Russia. But amongst the portraitists of the present exhibition the first place, in our opinion, is occupied by Mr A. Goravskii (No. 236). In the refinement of his brushwork, and in his style, which is reminiscent of the finest works of the Flemish School in its broad and austere manner, in its colour, and finally in the living spirit which runs across the face in his portrait, we consider this to be a remarkable work in the highest degree. Of paintings with religious content the best belong to Messrs. Maikov and Duzi. (13) But Mr Duzi's works, which are far inferior to Mr Maikov's in palette and brilliance of colours, far exceed them in facial expression: in this respect Mr Duzi's Polozhenie v grob Spasitelia [The entombment of the Saviour] may even be called a remarkable work, specifically because of the Saviour's facial expression. The depiction by the same artist of Sv. Sergii [St Sergius] is also very good. As for other works in this genre, their general characteristic consists in an absolute absence of the ideal. Nothing is so harmful to works whose content is derived from the elevated spheres of the human soul than falling into routine. If, in fact, a deep appreciation of nature is needed to produce a good landscape, then how much more elevated a feeling is needed to depict divine or divinely-inspired forms? Surely the divinity of a depicted image should consist not only in its conditional representation? Given such an outlook this genre of painting is the easiest. The present exhibition is notable for several masterful copies. Mr Mikhailov has exhibited his copies of several paintings from the Madrid Museum. Of them the copy of Crespi's Deposition from the Cross (14) deserves particular attention for its consummateness. In all respects this is a masterful copy which does honour to Mr Mikhailov's talent. It is true that his copy of Murillo's Mother of God (no. 111) (15) is not without quality, but alas! Murillo has taken the secret of his airy, iridescent, translucent and burning tones with him!... Of works by foreign artists the most remarkable of all is Mr Tsukkoli's painting Pervye khristiane mucheniki [The first Christian-martyrs]. There is much strength in it, much expression in the women's faces, much light and colour. The group of women who are preparing to die could even be called superlative. But the theatricalism which predominates in the male figures unfortunately destroys the overall impression of the painting. Of the small pictures by the same artist the cook (no. 75) is very good in the naturalness of his expression, as he ponders dinner in deep thought over the provisions lying before him. Of those paintings which have been awarded a gold medal by the Academy the most remarkable belongs to Mr Strashinskii: Vallenshtein v Bogemii [Wallenstein in Bohemia] . (16) Naturalness, variety, a considered character in the majority of the persons, and in general the painting's entire composition and its finish reveal a strength of imagination and a dramatic feeling in the artist. The figure of Wallenstein, who sits in deep thought amongst looting and violence, could even be called masterful. Unfortunately, a fairly ill-defined overlap in the lighting does not let the viewer's impression concentrate on any one episode; it is all located as if in the foreground, and the impression dissipates and drowns in the diversity of faces and scenes. The ubiquitous dramatism of the picture so to speak splinters the effect into pieces, and when the viewer draws away from the picture he carries away with him some sort of undefined, vague impression. In painting, as in literary works, one must deal very cautiously with the dramatic. An immoderate use of it can damage a work just as its absence can. It is true that the excessive piquancy of Mr Strashinskii's painting shows only the richness of the artist's imagination, and an excess of immoderately squandered dramatic strength - and this makes us believe in his future talent all the more. Of the sculptural works, Mr Pimenov's (17) plaster casts Preobrazhenie [Transfiguration] and Voskresenie Gospodne [The Resurrection of the Lord] are unusually good. Their highly energetic style, their thoughtfulness of composition, and finally, their ideal character make them in all respects truly splendid works. Mr Shtrom's plaster bas-relief is also entirely remarkable in its naturalness, nobility and firmness of style. Mr Sverchkov's (18) painting Dorozhnye [Travellers] drew much attention, particularly amongst horse specialists. The horses are truly excellently done, to the point where one may guess at the character of each. In general the painting as a whole is remarkable in both its composition and in its execution. We shall here finish our fleeting report on the exhibition - which has nevertheless turned out longer than we wished. We have barely talked of much that is good, we have merely hinted at much, and have not even managed to touch upon much that is remarkable. We know from experience how dull all these accounts of exhibition paintings are. The public barely reads these reviews, and it is utterly correct in its lack of attention to them. For those who have seen the paintings themselves, our wordy accounts of them and our opinions about them are entirely superfluous; while our dead words are utterly powerless to convey to those who have not seen them the brilliance of the colours, the indefinable charm of the tonal range, and the vital entirety of impression, which a picture usually emits like an elegant, ineffable chord. Perhaps artists alone will read us out of curiosity, although they will most probably condemn us for the fact that we have dared to pass judgement on their works without being a specialist in painting. In our defence we will say that although we are entirely and without any doubt capable of error in our judgement, we love art no less than they, and no less do we hold dear this, the superlative blossom and best adornment of human life. |