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TITLE: To the Antagonists of the Academy of Arts (1)
AUTHOR: Fedor Bruni
THIS VERSION: Copyright © 2001 Carol Adlam and Alexey Makhrov; 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 Since the authors of these articles express themselves in this way, and without evidence, we might assume that they do not attach any underlying significance to their accusations, and are merely accustomed to speaking bluntly about everything, whether it is old, new, comprehensible, or incomprehensible. But in the minds of those who confuse sense with significance, a refusal of the demands of the age is one and the same thing as backsliding. Consequently, this is too important an accusation to leave unanswered before the public. It is in the light of the importance of this that we shall attempt here to expose the authors of the most stern rebukes - those self-appointed, under-prepared gentlemen critics, who, even in the better parts of their articles, try to get away with merely naming subjects in art works, rather than producing a critical analysis of their merits and shortcomings. It is beyond them to discover an overlooked beauty or a cunningly disguised flaw! If these so-called critics think that by behaving in this way they have sufficiently disguised their inability to discuss works of art, then they are pleasantly deceived, for their motivations and means are very clearly perceptible. If no one were to respond to them and interrupt their blathering, they would continue until they had overstepped the bounds of all possible propriety. [...] (2) Let us begin by reviewing each charge in turn. The newspaper The Voice (3) employs particularly ferocious staff who are prepared to write bitingly on any subject to order, not caring a straw for whether they know anything about the topic of discussion itself. To repeat, in no. 287 (17 [29] October), this paper makes a particularly hearty attack on the Academy of Arts, charging it alone with the inadequacy of the present exhibition. (4) In attacking this blameless exhibition the anonymous author of this pamphlet cares not whom his stones might hit - the falsely accused, the unnecessarily defended, or himself - and deploys the full arsenal of his erudition in order to expose the reasons for what is, in his opinion, a dreadful decline in our art. But calm yourself, Mr Prophet of Horrors, come down from your Pythian Tripod, (5) and just cast a glance at an article in the columns of The St Petersburg Gazette, No. 290, written by V.S. (6) Here, a critic who is notable for his merciless persecution of established social views and opinions, and who is therefore (excuse my frankness) infinitely more progressive than you, rebuts your verdict, writing that 'there are a dozen or so notable works at the present exhibition, and some are even talented.' What more could one want? Given that we have so limited a number of people working in art amongst us, is this really so few? Of course, we have not ten, but a hundred times more writers amongst us, and yet it seems to me that Russian literature should consider itself fortunate if it could tot up as many genuinely talented works each year as the annual art exhibition can. [...] (7) Believe me, Mr Critic of The Voice, nobody will be fooled by your bitter laments about resistance to change, thanks to which, you say, the Academy sets its students competition subjects from antiquity (or, more accurately, from the world of mythology and even from the Bible), at the expense of present-day requirements. It is apropos of this, Mr Pamphleteer, that you ask, disingenuously, whether 'the historical genre (our own history, for example) is not art?' But who does not know this?! Do you yourself not finish with the Academy by recommending that it put religious painting on its programme in future?! Do you not at the same time unwittingly set forth the facts which, better than any explanation, show why it is, as a rule, impossible to set subjects from the historical genre under present conditions?! After all, these are your words: 'Are there many students in the Academy of Arts who have completed even four years of high school? One can guarantee that nine-tenths of them cannot transcribe notes of ten lines without error - can there be many who are even acquainted with high-school level Russian history? And as for a detailed study of history...'. You know and say all this, so why then do you try to force the Academy to set such people the task of interpreting the historical genre? Would it really be within their capabilities?! After all, more than textbook history is required in order to interpret the historical genre: instead what is needed is a complete knowledge of domestic life at any given time. But where is such a treatise to be found, on even the eighteenth century - the century closest to us - let alone on the seventeenth century and earlier? Upon what should the young artist base his work? Here, again, the fault lies not with art, but with literature and scholarship. [...] (8) Th[is] impatience first and foremost makes itself felt in the concerted attacks upon that very part of the Academy's organisation which is least of all subject to the judgement of non-specialists: namely, the teaching of art in the classroom, which cannot in any way be separated from the students' work on set subjects (which should be viewed as exercises and nothing more). This last point, however, is highly contested by newspaper writers, among whom, unfortunately, one occasionally finds some who are to a certain degree acquainted with their subject, such as Mr. V.S. (cf. The St Petersburg Gazette, No. 290), for instance, whose judgements of the Academy's system of teaching show far more understanding than do those of the other advocates of innovation. Nevertheless, in order to prove his point he turns the essence of the matter on its head when he starts to speak about student competitions. He says: 'For as long as artists work in its classes, the Academy demands paintings which are exclusively on subjects that they find boring, intolerable, and unsuitable in every respect'. He himself describes those subjects he praises as 'those which no single Academy would set.' So why ask our Academy for that which is not tolerated anywhere else? After all, all today's best, most celebrated European artists studied in Academies; now that they teach others themselves they find that set exercises (one subject for all) are essential for their students, since identical conditions ensure fairness of competition. Why, then, is there so much fuss in praise of those who choose not to follow a path of development which is open to all? (9) What is required of the impartial critic is an elucidation of these young people's errors of thinking, rather than praise for their stubbornness. A fully-developed talent is a different matter altogether: the aspersions cast upon the Academy and used as evidence that it persecutes those who are truly talented, are in themselves too preposterous to be believed. The Academy is secure in the knowledge that it has never held back anyone's progress and has always rejoiced in the successes of those who have set forth on an original path. It has never greeted any impulse towards reasonable innovation (even the least discernible) with anything other than complete sympathy.[...] (10) We turn once more to the questions of set competitions and the teaching of art in the classroom. Were Mr V.S.'s theory to apply to the evaluation of and demands placed upon mature artists alone, no one would object: he would then be making new demands for a new order. But at the same time as discussing set tasks for practical exercises, he wants to introduce idealistic views into classroom teaching, of which it turns out that he lacks sufficient knowledge, if we are to judge by his harsh invectives. Thus, for example, this specialist writer in aesthetic criticism claims that the use in class of both living and plaster models clouds the perception. To draw from both plaster casts and nature, Mr Preacher of Ignorance, does not cloud the eye of the student, but teaches him to observe objects faithfully and to note the beauty of mutual correlation between forms. There is no disputing the fact that a certain skill must be present in order to achieve this, but this skill is a matter not just of training the hand, as in handwriting, but of the novice artist's rational learning, his natural means, and his attainment of clarity through the medium of taste. taste, however, may only be developed through the constant observation of that which in nature is both truly beautiful, and rarely encountered. There is no option but to turn to novices, with their elevated, idealised creations of the classics. These are works which, for Mr V.S., fall into the general category of 'intolerable idealization', in contrast with his worldview, which the talented artist may of course attain through the manufacture of statuettes and such interpretations of subjects as those chosen by Mr Antokol'skii (who did, incidentally, receive the Academy's approval, or as much as he was due). (11) But this path cannot lead to anything more elevated. After all, the Academy has been entrusted by the government with the important duty of developing and directing young talents soundly, preparing them for greater aims, and leading them onto a broader path [...]. (12) The reason that Mr V.S. finds for the quantitative poverty of the exhibition is closer to the truth, and lies in the public's indifference to art. To reiterate his words: 'the demand for works of art in our country is utterly minimal.' There have been exhibitions which were rich in quantity, perhaps, but it is when there are buyers for works of art that skilful artists do not sit around twiddling their thumbs, wasting their resources, talent, and time in inactivity. And now is just such a period, when artists have no choice but to sit around idly, receiving no commissions from anywhere - not even to paint icons. In a burst of eloquence our expositor of the exhibition includes this as a reproach in his piece in The Voice, advising the Academy replace its current programmes for students with the task of painting icons for profit. This solicitude turns out to be inopportune, and not only because of the fact that paintings for competition medals are produced for totally different reasons, and not to sell them to the public. The public has been offered works of art by talented, fully mature artists, but even these giant stars of St Petersburg's artistic firmament cannot find any buyers. The dazzling success of Professor Flavitskii's Princess Tarakanova at last year's exhibition is the most irrefutable example of this. There was no end to praise for it in print, but no buyer for the work has come forward. Without counting the inspiration, talent, and actual labour expended on this work, the artist has very likely spent on it a sum that he has no means of recouping. This painting is said to be expensive, but even cheap photographs of it (which cannot be described as prohibitive in cost) are not bought! What else do you wish to see here other than the public's indifference to art? We cannot point to the fiscal here: various ways of supporting the matter would be found by our German, Dutch or French neighbours. There, any town association would purchase a painting produced by a celebrated artist and, taking pride in the discovery of such a talented artist among their compatriots, would display the work in a special hall to which all the people in town would flock. And us? We have nothing but clubs and associations, but not a peep from them! And what is more, the sum for which the artist would sell his painting is probably gambled away in each of these clubs every evening. Is this not the sort of public response to art which the feuilletonist of The Voice has in mind when, seeking to shift the blame, he speaks in a stereotyped phrase of 'the younger generation's enthusiastic reaction against routine'? Why do you think, Mr Critic , that scores of Young Women Gathered By a Window and so forth are painted? It is simply because the artist can offer these sketches for twenty or thirty roubles, and find buyers at such a price. The thrifty public will not, however, purchase a work which has cost the artist dearly, although it will praise it to the skies. In our country there is neither love for art nor artistic instinct. Herein lies the whole problem. For its part the Academy unceasingly goes about its business as an establishment for training talented people to become technically-accomplished artists. Leave it to go about its business, and let others go about their own. Believe me, it is not in the Academy that backsliding is to be found, but rather in these hackneyed attacks on an endlessly vexatious theme which are conducted with no real knowledge of how things are done. After all, it comes easily enough to those who are dab hands at the feuilleton to construct a diatribe out of everyday phrases, and to avoid those issues where it is essential to display specialist knowledge. All they have to do is to raise the cry that there's nothing at the exhibition and that it's all daubs, to abuse the Academy in passing, and to finish with an appeal to 'young, fresh forces, the new generation of talents', and there you are, the review is ready. [...] (13) We have spoken of teaching and touched upon the conditions of Academic competitions earlier: let us turn our attention once again to paintings by students. It cannot be denied that these are not brilliant, but this is not because the subject 'The Death of Ananias' did not give the artists' imagination scope, but because of the particular talents of the artists who executed the task. The Biblical subjects set by the Academy are not viewed rationally by the critics, who try to find in them something other than mere exercises in painting from nature and in the rendering of drapery. The Major Gold Medal competitions are a different matter. There, experienced combatants compete, those who have tested their strength more than once, and have produced work for more than one exhibition, while the competitions for the minor medals are made up of inexperienced students who are taking but their first hesitant steps. Only one reproach might possibly be made about this situation: why let the public view these exercises? But the objection will justly arise to this that only at an exhibition can an artist see his mistakes, and that without this he would fail to grasp them fully, and would not benefit from having done so. Those who are well informed in this confirm the justice of our observation. And if such is the aim of exhibiting works by young artists, then the harsh sentences that have been passed on their works are unfair and overstep the bounds of useful criticism. If a work is weak, then it is proper to ignore it: as the saying goes, one should never hit a man when he's down. And if there is more to it than hopeless weakness, then the requirement of impartiality demands of the critic that he point out its strong aspects. [...] (14) The greatest misfortune of our exhibition lies not in the fact that it has been organised in the most unhappy of circumstances - viz. lack of money and indifference to artistic interests - but in the fact that certain of its interpreters, those people who, perhaps, have some understanding of the matter, are biased in favour of their own views and preconceived theories, while others are capable of labelling as 'student work' a piece which, were it to have appeared at the 1867 Paris World Exhibition, would have been recognised by enlightened Europe as worthy of an experienced master. The fact that the Academy is more farsighted when it comes to art than its detractors (who are either short-sighted, or capable of seeing only one side of things) has led them to label its clear view of its obligations with such epithets as 'backsliding', 'routine', 'obsolescence', and so on and so forth. They believe that they are competent judges merely because those amongst us who do know our business do not join in the discussion, since we are not in the habit of expressing ourselves in extreme arguments, and instead think to ourselves, d...l take them... 'they'll yap a bit and then fall back'. Notes 1. This article was sent to us by the honorable Rector-Academician of the Imperial Academy of Arts Fedor Andreevich Bruni. It is with great pleasure that we have found room for it in our newspaper, particularly given the fact that genuine evaluations of artistic works are inaccessible to the majority of the public, and that Fedor Andreevich - who is as renowned for his forty-year career in art as he is in his capacity as mentor to young talents - occupies one of the first places amongst those specialists who may pass definitive judgements on such works. |