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Two peasants and one flower
The Tretyakov Gallery is hosting an exhibition called "Supporters of Red". Malyabin and Arkhipov". The book is dedicated to famous writers of the early 20th century, remembered primarily for their images of peasant women in red dresses. Although this is no reason to love them, reports Alexey Mokrousov.
When two artists come together at an exhibition, three problems immediately arise: how to arrange them so as not to offend anyone, what to emphasize so that it looks coherent, and which contemporaries to choose so as to understand the context.
Filipp Malyavin (1869–1940) and Abram Arkhipov (1862–1930) can please with the first joint solo exhibition, which took place in the Tretyakov Gallery. In the Engineering Building, both works were presented as soulful and representative rare works. In private collections and rarely visited museums of Moscow. Each was given a separate hall, and two red hits were united in another central hall. Of course, they are united by a love for the color red, as well as a biography. Both are of peasant origin, both have ties to the Ryazan region (Arkhipov was born there, Malyavin set up a workshop). Both were welcomed in Diaghilev's "World of Art". Contextually, we have not really liked this at our exhibition for a long time, so here it worked well.
There was a serious scandal in Russia when Malyavin received a gold medal at the World Exhibition in Paris in 1900 for his painting "The Laughing One". Everyone was expecting a prize for the Itinerants or at least for Roerich, but here was a former newcomer from Athos! Two years ago, "The Laughing One" was rejected by the Academy of Arts in St. Petersburg, and only Repin's fight for the student saved him from disgrace.
Arkhipov's life was quieter. Although he was considered a skilled "master", he had no stars in the sky. He was not particularly appreciated for his poetic landscapes, no attention was paid to his artistic forays into politics. The sketches for the paintings "Stage by Stage" were good; the painting itself disappeared, as did Nesterov's precious painting "After the Pogrom". If not for the series of images of women in red, this exhibition would have been small. In general, do the two artists have so much in common: peasant roots in Ryazan and a passion for red and white smiles, teeth so white that this exhibition could be called "Red and White"?
The Mir Iskusstva members were considered to be few in number, and although both exhibited, they preferred Malyavin. Politicians, whose reputation had not faded with time, were also attracted to him. In 1902, the chairman of the exhibition committee sent a direct invitation to the Venice Biennale with the promise to show Smile on the most favorable terms. Laughter was acquired by the local Ca Pesaro museum, and Whirlwind of 1906 became the main hit. But European critics quickly became harsher. Some accused Malyavin of being secondary, while others, such as the metaphysical artist Carlo Carra of the 1920s, wrote about the falsity of the pseudo-Russian style, which was more of a curiosity at the beginning of the century. The self-repetitions of the 1920s and 30s already seemed a monstrous anachronism. This did not prevent Maliavina from achieving financial success in exile, but she rejected tempting offers to paint other cheerful peasant women from the Czech Republic or Provence. In February 1933, the spacious Parisian studios were filled with distinguished guests, and the Parisian press reported that King Alexander visited Maliavin's exhibition in Belgrade. His works were included in the royal collection.
But there is another Malyavin. In portraits, Malyavin is sometimes cruel, sometimes earthy, sometimes superficial, sometimes impressive. The portrait of the Czech Prime Minister Karel Kramar (1929) with a telephone receiver is a memorable statement, complete with a color cover of a weekly magazine and the best proof of Alexander Benois's dissertation. Malyavin is the Hercules of painting, and even Repin's portraits are timid before his portraits. "Babes", but his bright fireworks exude frivolity. Fortunately, Malyavin has more interesting portraits, even if the secularity does not fit with the occupations of the people depicted. Some are dedicated to fellow artists. They are definitely different from the artists. The great graphic artist Ostroumova-Lebedeva is a kind of student. The young Grabar is either a successful financier or a scientific hack. Of course, only the "portrait of the young A.S. Botkina" in red prophetically looks into the future. The charming coquette will become the wife of director Lev Kuleshov, an actor and teacher. A bright "black" portrait by the sculptor Beklemishev, who brought Malyavin to St. Petersburg from Athos, and a salon portrait of the ballerina Alexandra Balashova. Everything is beautiful, except for the face. This sounds like a revealing characteristic of the portrait, especially since, judging by the photo, Balashova had the dramatic facial expressions of an actress, not a ballerina. Malyavin paints cold, lifeless dolls. Perhaps he was driven by the desire to satisfy his clients and highlight his models. But this is boring satisfaction and insincere flattery.
Arkhipov, who sits at home and does not think about emigration, also did not achieve a breakthrough. He survived with difficulty, both ideologically and financially. He joined the Society of Revolutionary Russian Artists and marked the era of great changes with his paintings of happy, smiling girls, who were carried away not so much by the wind of history as by popular fairy-tale films of the future about Russia. In fact, he finally left the Academy of Reconstruction and Rest shortly before his death. At that time, he was seriously ill and, apparently, finally decided not to sin on his soul.
Malyavin was blamed by others. In 1940, he was arrested in Belgium on charges of espionage and later released, but it took him a long time to return home to Nice. He reached the French border, fell ill, and died in hospital. And in this sense, he too became a victim of history, which he successfully ignored in his paintings.