David Carrier
“Victory over the Sun, Russian Avant-Garde and Beyond” at the
Israel Museum, Jerusalem, installation view (all images courtesy the Israel
Museum, Jerusalem)
JERUSALEM — Revolutionary art, it is often said, can sometimes be
suggestively linked to contemporary political revolutions. That is why
Jacques-Louis David’s activism during the French Revolution inspires passionate
discussion. And it is why the political implications of Gustave Courbet’s 1840s
paintings are much analyzed. How, then, should we understand the relationship
between Russian modernist art and the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution?
Victory over the Sun, Russian Avant-Garde and Beyond, an exhibition
at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem, takes its title from the opera Victory Over
the Sun (1913) by composer Mikhail Matyushin. Aleksei Kruchenykh was the author
of the libretto, and Kazimir Malevich designed the costumes and the abstract
scenery. This celebration of the triumph of a new aesthetic inspired Malevich’s
most famous work, “Black Square” (1915). And Malevich, as the excellent
catalogue essay by Lola Kantor-Kazovsky notes, developed “quite a hermetic and
authoritarian [aesthetic] system, demanding the unquestioning following of its
principles […].” He thus was as dogmatic as the Bolsheviks.
The show starts with Mikhail Karasik’s To the Affirmer of the New
Art (2010), a four-minute, 55-second video ironically inserting images of
Malevich and the poet Daniil Kharms into the story of Russian political life of
the 1920s and ’30s, the period when their revolutionary art was suppressed. And
then the exhibition sections off into three parts: modernist revolutionary
images by artistic revolutionaries; works by these artistic revolutionaries
once Stalin came to power; and, finally, art made after Stalin’s death in the
brief thaw created in the 1960s by Nikita Khruschev accompanied by a good
selection of more recent Russian and post-Soviet works which respond to the
revolutionary tradition.
Kazimir Malevich, Russian, “Composition” (1915) oil on canvas, 80 x
80 cm, Ekaterinburg Museum of Fine Arts, Ekaterinburg (photo © Ekaterinburg
Museum of Fine Arts)
We are thereby presented with the opportunity to compare the art of
the revolution with its more recent interpretations by Soviet-era figures as
well as contemporary Russian artists. The exhibition includes various paintings
and costume designs by Malevich, and documentation of the version of Victory
proposed by El Lissitzky in 1920, who was his rival, as well as Lissitzky’s
drawings and lithographs (1918–19) devoted to the Passover song Had Gadya.
There is a roomful of books by various artist-revolutionaries, and
there are 21st-century installations such as Vadim Zakharov’s walk through The
History of Russian Art from the Russian Avant-Garde to the Moscow Conceptual
School (2003) and Ilya and Emilia Kabakov’s Toilet in the Corner (2004), along
with some paintings, including Double Self-Portrait (1972) by Vitaly Komar and
Alexander Melamid and Erik Bulatov’s Glory to the CPSU (2003–5). All of these
more recent artists are skeptical, or even cynical about the value of the
revolutionary tradition; none of them are doing Suprematist paintings. Indeed
many of them have emigrated to the West.
Vitaly Komar and Alexander Melamid, “Double Self-Portrait, from the
‘Sots Art’ series” (1972), oil on canvas laid on board, diameter: 92 cm,
collection of David and Kathryn Birnbaum (© Komar & Melamid, photo by Naomi
van der Lande)
Soviet Suprematism was one of the most important modernist styles,
worthy of being set alongside French Cubism, Italian Futurism and German
Expressionism. The Russian Revolution, now almost everyone will agree, was an
unparalleled disaster, a historical dead-end. But the artistic tradition
presented in this show remains of enormous interest. What’s at stake, as the
brilliant organization of the show signals, is the correct understanding of the
relationship between artistic and political revolution.
The recent Russian artists on show all take a sardonic view of
Suprematism because they know too well, from personal experience, the
conditions of life in Russia, and the fate of the USSR. But how might an outsider
understand their history?
Any claim to identify the political implications of the
artistically revolutionary Cubism of Pablo Picasso or the Abstract
Expressionism of Jackson Pollock has to be highly speculative, for these
artists did not claim to be activists. But the Soviet artists of 1917 really
aspired to be political revolutionaries.
Kazimir Malevich, “‘Bully,’ costume design for the opera ‘Victory
over the Sun’ by M. Matyushin and A. Kruchenykh, 1st Futurist Theater, St.
Petersburg” (1913), graphite and watercolor on paper, 26.7 x 21 cm, St.
Petersburg State Museum of Theatre and Music (photo © The St. Petersburg State
Museum of Theatre and Music)
A revolution, by definition, involves radical change in the way of
doing things. Malevich (and his Russian peers) in 1915 made revolutionary
paintings, unlike any earlier art by anyone; and in 1917 Lenin (and his
comrades) created a radically new system of governing, in a revolutionary break
with Czarism. But what then is the relationship, if any, between these two very
different revolutions — Malevich’s in his studio and Lenin’s in the Kremlin?
What, that is, are the connections between making highly novel visual artifacts
and creating a revolutionary new political order?
If we seek empirically to link Malevich and Lenin, convincing
connections between art and politics are very hard if not impossible to
establish. None of the artists imagined the October revolution in advance,
though they welcomed it when it came; and neither Lenin nor Stalin ever took
any sympathetic interest whatsoever in aesthetically revolutionary abstract
art.
Artistically revolutionary French Cubism circa 1907–14 was not
accompanied by any related political changes; nor did the radically original
American Abstract Expressionist art of the late 1940s bring about any dramatic
political developments. But Russia is a special case, for Malevich’s 1915 art
was followed two years later by a political revolution.
Erik Bulatov, “Red Horizon” (1971–72) oil on canvas, 140 x 180 cm,
Museum of Avant-Garde Mastery (MAGMA), Erik Bulatov( © ADAGP, Paris, 2018,
photo courtesy Museum of Avant-Garde Mastery)
These may seem essentially separate developments. If, however,
following Hegel (and Marx) we assume that any culture has an ultimate unity,
then what we expect (and will find) is that revolutionary art is inevitably
linked to revolutionary politics. The Marxist doesn’t need to seek empirical
connections between art and political developments because he believes that they
are necessarily connected.
As we all know, in the political world such Hegelian-Marxist ways
of thinking no longer appear convincing. But in art history they retain great
prestige. T. J. Clark’s Farewell to an Idea: Episodes from a History of
Modernism (1999) — with its political account of David, Soviet revolutionary
art, and Abstract Expressionism — and the scholars associated with October
continue to develop this way of thinking. And that’s why this magnificent
exhibition, which won’t travel, is of more than specialist interest. There is a
lot to see and understand here. Anyone concerned with understanding aesthetic
modernism, and the complex relationship of art and politics, will find much of
interest. Because many of the artists were Jewish, and, also, because some
Russian avant-garde art ended up in Israel, the Jerusalem museum is a natural
home for this show, which contains numerous loans from France and Russia, and
is accompanied by a full catalogue.
Victory over the Sun, Russian Avant-Garde and Beyond continues at
the Israel Museum (Derech Ruppin 11, Jerusalem) through April 29.
https://hyperallergic.com/486591/victory-over-the-sun-russian-avant-garde-and-beyond-israel-museum/?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Weekend%20030319%20-%20Jack%20Bush&utm_content=Weekend%20030319%20-%20Jack%20Bush+CID_5f79e6e630a73821862ca1bb650e0831&utm_source=HyperallergicNewsletter
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