PERSPECTIVES: The Ukrainian avant-garde, 1910-1935 (04/21/02)

PERSPECTIVES

by Andrew Fedynsky

The Ukrainian avant-garde, 1910-1935

Early in April, my family and I saw the "Phenomenon of the Ukrainian Avant-Garde 1910-1935" exhibit at the Art Gallery in Hamilton, Ontario. It was the final day and the three exhibit rooms were crowded and very quiet, reverential.

About a hundred paintings, woodcuts, prints and sculptures were displayed. Created in the style of various "isms" - cubism, constructivism, futurism, etc. - most of them had been part of the "Spetsfond," a collection of 2,000 works of art that the Soviet government seized in the 1930s because it considered them ideologically unacceptable for exhibit. A ledger titled, "Book of the Spetsfond of the State Ukrainian Museum of People's Art" listed each artist whose work was removed and the reason: "bourgeois nationalist," "arrested," "formalist," "enemy of the people."

The mere existence of these works is a miracle. The Bolsheviks had intended to destroy them, just as they had burned and smashed countless other works of art they didn't like. A handful of courageous curators delayed their destruction and ultimately the "Spetsfond" slipped through the cracks. In 1941, during their occupation of Kyiv, the Nazis discovered the works and shipped them to Germany. After the war, only 300 of the original 2,000 were recovered. The others vanished without a trace.

Tragically, that was also the fate of a number of the artists in the show. As one of the exhibit labels explained, "enemy of the people" meant the artist had been executed. Typically, that came from a pistol shot at close range to the back of the head. Today, excavations at Bolshevik era gravesites all over the former Soviet bloc are yielding myriad skulls, all with that characteristic bullet hole.

One of those skulls once cradled the creative brain of painter Mykhailo Boichuk (1882-1939?). In 1910-1911 he studied in Paris, where he witnessed the birth of modern art. Returning to Ukraine, Mr. Boichuk developed a style that blended modern art with traditional forms. In 1925 a sizable group of artists, styling themselves as "Boichukists," organized the Association of Revolutionary Art of Ukraine and mutually supported each other's work and their right to create in any number of bold, modernist styles. It was largely their works that we saw in Hamilton.

As the exhibit demonstrated, the influence of the avant-garde spilled over into other art forms, including publishing and theater. Vadym Meller (1884-1962), for example, worked as stage designer in the 1920s for the Berezil Theater in Kharkiv, where he synthesized architecture, painting and sculpture to serve the vision of its director, Les Kurbas (1887-1942?). Several of Meller's costume designs were on display. Rendered in constructivist style, the bright colorful figures stand in profile, reminiscent of ancient Egyptian art, but with a breath of cubism. Meller's designs were singled out at the 1925 International Exposition of Decorative Arts in Paris and a year later were shown at the International Theater Exposition in New York.

Sadly, there was only one painting by Mr. Boichuk at the Hamilton Exhibit. The communists destroyed nearly all the rest, including frescoed murals he executed in public buildings in Kharkiv, Kyiv and Odesa. They also shot his wife, Sophia Nalepinska, an artist like her husband. They had met at the art school in Paris in 1910. We saw one of her prints: "Famine."

In light of the tragic fate of the artists featured in the avant-garde exhibit, it's understandable that people walked quietly as if at a wake. They were mourning the physical death of a number of the artists and the spiritual death of all of them.

As soon as the arrests and interrogations began, all the boldness and artistic experimentation stopped. Cubism, constructivism, futurism and every other "ism" became subversive. Convening in 1937, a Commission from the Cultural Department of the Central Committee of the Communist Party (Bolshevik) of Ukraine examined the works in the "Spetsfond" and concluded that "they are harmful because their counter-revolutionary, Boichukist formalist methods deform our socialist reality, give a false picture of the Soviet people, have no artistic or museum value, and, as works of enemies of the people, ought to be destroyed." To punctuate the point, the secret police shot a number of artists and the others fell into line. For the rest of their lives, they painted according to formula: smiling milkmaids and tractor drivers in heroic poses and lots of Lenin, Stalin and red flags. No rational person dared to try anything foolish like cubism or abstract expressionism.

All that history served as a sad backdrop to the exhibit, and the people attending were clearly aware of it. Except for our 7-year-old daughter. She ran around the galleries appreciating the paintings for what they are - works of art - not political statements.

Grabbing my hand, she insisted on tearing me away from whatever work I was contemplating to show me her "favorite." First, a doll with the cross motif that Kyiv artist, Kazimier Malevich (1878-1935) made famous in the 1920s. Then she showed me another "favorite": a bright, pastel canvas by Viktor Palmov (1888-1929). It was a cobalt blue, dreamlike scene where white, stick-figure animals hovered ghostlike above a peasant hut. There was nothing political in his canvasses when Mr. Palmov painted them and nothing political as far as my daughter was concerned. She responded to them the way the artist had intended: with innocence and delight.

The exhibit was sponsored by AIM Funds Management Inc. of Toronto, the Department of Canadian Heritage, the Ukrainian-Canadian Fund of Taras Shevchenko, Dr. Taras Y. and Emelia Snihurowycz, and in Hamilton by Northland Power. It was organized and circulated by the Winnipeg Art Gallery with assistance from the National Art Museum of Ukraine and the Ukrainian State Museum of Theater, Music and Film Arts. Thank you.

I'm no art critic, but for me "The Phenomenon of the Ukrainian Avant-Garde 1910-1935" was impressive and moving. The prints and canvasses were worth seeing for their artistic merit alone, but it's the political context - something the artists themselves did not intend - that makes this exhibit important, indeed historic. It's the kind of event that helps Ukraine heal spiritually and facilitates the difficult transition from the Soviet era into something more normal. Certainly, this exhibit deserves far greater exposure. My only disappointment was the fact that the magnificent catalogue to the exhibit had sold out before we got there. May I suggest the sponsors print additional copies? I'd be happy to take mine to the curators at the Cleveland Museum of Art and ask them to consider bringing the show to my hometown. It's that good. It's that important.

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