100 Years On: Revisiting the First Russian Art Exhibition of 1922 [1 ed.] 9783412525668, 9783412525644

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100 Years On Revisiting the First Russian Art Exhibition of 1922 Edited by Isabel Wünsche and Miriam Leimer





100 Years On Revisiting the First Russian Art Exhibition of 1922 Edited by Isabel Wünsche and Miriam Leimer

Böhlau Verlag Wien Köln



This publication is the outcome of the international conference “100 Years of German-Russian Cultural Exchange: The First Russian Art Exhibition,” held at the Staatsbibliothek Berlin in October 2021. It was generously funded by the Kroll Family Trust, Switzerland; the Kuhn & Bülow Insurance Broker Group, Berlin; and the Society of Historians of East European, Eurasian, and Russian Art and Architecture (SHERA) and supported by the Russian Art & Culture Group at Jacobs University Bremen.

Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek: The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data available online: https://dnb.de. © 2022 by Böhlau, an imprint of the Brill-Group (Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands; Brill USA Inc., Boston MA, USA; Brill Asia Pte Ltd, Singapore; Brill Deutschland GmbH, Paderborn, Germany; Brill Österreich GmbH, Vienna, Austria). Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Hotei, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink, Brill mentis, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Böhlau, V&R unipress. Cover image: El Lissitzky, cover for the catalogue of the First Russian Art Exhibition, Berlin 1922 (detail), Berlinische Galerie © Berlinische Galerie / Nina & Graham Williams, Repro: Anja Elisabeth Witte Cover design: Guido Klütsch, Köln

Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht Verlage | www.vandenhoeck-ruprecht-verlage.com ISBN 978-3-412-52566-8



Table of Contents The History and Politics of the Exhibition Kasper Braskén Preface

9

Acknowledgements

13

Kasper Braskén

Myroslava Mudrak 1 Prologue: Berlin 1922 and Ukraine 2022

5 International Communism and Transnational Solidarity in the Context of the First Russian Art Exhibition 45

15

6 Willi Münzenberg and the Workers’ International Relief

54

Ewa Bérard

The Multiethnic Dimension of Russian Art and Culture in the Early Twentieth Century

7 The Double Track of the Berlin Exhibition

57



Isabel Wünsche

Ulrich Schmid 2 What did “Russian” mean in the Early Twentieth Century?

8 Anatoly Lunacharsky and the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment

Éva Forgács

Monica Rüthers 3 On Jewish Cultural Identities within the Russian Empire and Soviet Russia

9 The Diplomats: Viktor Kopp and Konstantin Umansky

67

25

Kristina Kratz-Kessemeier

Isabel Wünsche 4 Beyond Kandinsky: The Promotion and Reception of Russian Art in Germany, 1890s to 1922

64

21

10 Weimar Republic State Art Policy and the Russian Exhibition of 1922 33

70

isabel Wünsche 11 Keeper of Art: Reichskunstwart Edwin Redslob

79

5

Miriam Leimer 12 Showcasing Bolshevik Russia in a Private Art Gallery in Berlin

Linda Boersma 81

Ludmila Piters-Hofmann 13 The Curators: David Shterenberg and Natan Altman

90

20 Theo van Doesburg: Reporting on Revolutionary Russian Art

130

Merse Pál Szeredi 94

Willem Jan Renders 15 El Lissitzky: The Designs for the Catalogue Cover

121

Linda Boersma

Christina Lodder 14 Naum Gabo: The Sculptor as Curator

19 Dutch Responses to the Exhibition in Amsterdam

21 Lajos Kassák’s Interaction with Russian Constructivism in Vienna, 1920–24

133

Merse Pál Szeredi 98

22 Lajos Kassák and Picture Architecture

142

Isabel Wünsche The Reception of the Exhibition and its Afterlife

23 Katherine S. Dreier and the Promotion of Russian Art in the United States

145



Isabel Wünsche

Éva Forgács 16 Responses to the First Russian Art Exhibition

24 Louis Lozowick: Russian Constructivism and American Machine Art

Omuka Toshiharu

Sebastian Borkhardt 17 Wassily Kandinsky and the Soviet Avant-garde

25 The Impact of Russian Art in Early 1920s Japan

6



157

113

Omuka Toshiharu

Miriam Leimer 18 Erich Buchholz: Reflections on Russian Non-objective Art

154

105

26 Murayama Tomoyoshi and the Mavo Group 117

166

The Whereabouts of the Art Works

Appendix

Liubov Pchelkina, Irina Kochergina 27 Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Collection of the Moscow Museum of Painterly Culture

173

Irina Karasik 28 Protests about the Selection of Works from the Petrograd Museum of Artistic Culture 183

Natalia Avtonomova 29 Archival Research on the Paintings and Graphic Works Shown in Berlin in 1922

Documentation

229

List of Abbreviations and Acronyms

255

List of Archives

256

Selected Bibliography

257

Contributors

264

Image Credits

268

Index

270

186

Iryna Makedon 30 Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Ukrainian State Museums

196

Dilyara Sadykova 31 Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Krasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko

204

Naila Rahimova 32 Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Azerbaijan National Museum of Art, Baku

212

Ilia Doronchenkov 33 Epilogue: The International of Art as a Utopian Concept 217

7



Preface

T

he First Russian Art Exhibition, which opened its doors to the public one hundred years ago, on October 15, 1922, was an important step in familiarizing a broad western audience with the latest achievements in Russian art and in re-establishing cultural relations between Russia and the West ­after the First World War and the October Revolution. The scope of the exhibition––237 paintings, more than 500 graphic works, sculptures, stage designs, architectur­ al models, and works of porcelain––was remarkably broad, ranging from traditional paintings in a figurative manner by artists such as Abram Arkhipov, Konstantin Korovin, and Boris Kustodiev to the latest avant-garde works, ­including cubo-futurist paintings by Nadezhda Udaltsova and Aleksandra Ekster, suprematist paintings by Kazimir Malevich and El Lissitzky, and the constructions of Vladimir Tatlin, Naum Gabo, A ­ leksandr Rodchenko, and Konstantin Medunetsky. The press ­ coverage and numerous reviews sparked great interest and the exhibition attracted more than 15,000 visitors. Apart from its artistic relevance, the First Russian Art Exhibition was, perhaps even more, a historically significant event. Organized in the year of the Rapallo treaty, it was an early step towards bilateral relations between the two young, still internationally isolated republics, Weimar and Soviet Russia. Political actors such as the German communist Willi Münzenberg; Anatoly Lunacharsky, the People’s Commissar of ­Enlightenment; the Russian diplomats Viktor Kopp and Konstantin Umansky; and even Lenin himself were involved in its planning and realization. On the German side, the exhibition project fit well with the newly established liberal state art policy in Weimar Germany and was promoted as such by the Republic’s “art steward” Edwin Redslob as well as by Johannes Sievers in the Foreign Office. Thus, the show was not only a notable artistic event in the heart of the German capital in 1922 but served as an important tool of ­cultural diplomacy. With this publication, we wish to commemorate this remarkable exhibition in the year of its 100th ­anniversary. The work presented here is the outcome of an international conference held in Berlin in October 2021; it reflects the latest research on the historical

Preface

9

aspects of the exhibition, exploring the circumstances of its conception, organization, and reception. This includes not only a comprehensive overview of its scope, but also an analysis of the agendas of the various ­organizations and promoters, details of the exhibition’s realization, and the fate of the works after its closure. Further contributions explore the reception of the historic show and the impact it had on contemporary artists in Germany, the Netherlands, Hungary, the United States, and Japan. This broad historical perspective differentiates this volume from previous works, which have, above all, emphasized the exhibition’s status as a “Station der Moderne.” The volume consists of four sections, framed by a prologue and an epilogue. The prologue and first part explore the multiethnic dimension of what was perceived as “Russian” in the early 1920s. In her prologue, Myroslava Mudrak focuses on the tendency toward a general “Russification” in Soviet art and culture at home and abroad that obscures or even repurposes the contributions of ethnic non-Russians in cultural modernism, a tendency that is still prevalent (not only) in art historical narratives today. Ulrich Schmid provides a historic overview, emphasizing that identification as “Russian” was not perceived in either ethnic or cul­ tural terms but rather with a view to the territory of the fallen Russian Empire. The primary organizers of the First Russian Art Exhibition, Anatoly Lunacharsky, David Shterenberg, and Natan Altman were Jews from Ukraine and part of an internationally and culturally active elite; Monica Rüthers discusses the role of Jewish artists and the impact the Jewish Renaissance had on early Soviet art and culture. Looking beyond Wassily Kandinsky’s role in German art history, Isabel Wünsche considers the encounters the German public would have had with the new Russian art prior to the 1922 exhibition. The second part of the book is devoted to the ­history and politics of the exhibition. Reviewing its role in the creation of new forms of transnational ­solidarity between the West and Soviet Russia, Kasper Braskén reveals how International Workers’ Relief illuminated the exhibition from the perspective of ­ communist internationalism. Ewa Bérard reveals the various agendas connected with the exhibition project by highlighting the players involved in its organization.

10

 Preface

This is complemented by Kristina Kratz-Kessemeier’s analysis of the German responses to the Russian agenda and the efforts of the cultural representatives of the Weimar Republic to use the event for their efforts to ­establish a liberal art policy. Miriam Leimer discusses in her contribution the organization, venue, and scope of the a­ ctual show as staged at the Galerie van Diemen in Berlin in 1922. These essays are supplemented by short summaries on the main players and organizations involved in the exhibition project, as well as the artists who were instrumental in assembling and installing the works in Berlin. The third part of the volume deals with the reception of the exhibition and its afterlife. Éva Forgács highlights responses to the Berlin exhibition by artists and art critics, revealing the high expectations and also the disappointment of some of the artists. The exhi­ bition had a second venue in Amsterdam in 1923; Linda Boersma discusses the responses of the Dutch De Stijl artists. The Hungarian interest in the new Russian art is examined by Merse Pál Szeredi in his contribution on Lajos Kassák’s interaction with Russian Constructivism in Vienna. A selection of Russian avant-garde works from the Berlin exhibition was acquired by Katherine S. Dreier and subsequently taken to the United States; Isabel Wünsche covers Dreier’s efforts to introduce the American public to modern Russian art. Omuka Toshiharu discusses in his essay the encounters of Japanese artists with Russian avant-garde art and its impact in early 1920s Japan. The discussion of the exhibition in these contexts is further extended by short essays on contemporary artists, including their reactions to the exhibition and the inspiration they drew from the new Russian art. The fourth part of the book presents the latest research on the historic museum collections in Moscow and Petrograd from which many of the works were drawn for the show in Berlin. Liubov Pchelkina and Irina Kochergina discuss their research findings with respect to works from the Collection of the Moscow Museum of Painterly Culture (MZhK) that they have been able to identify as having been shown in Berlin. Irina Karasik addresses the disagreements between the exhibition organizers and Petrograd artists regarding the appropriation of their work from the collection of the Petrograd Museum of Artistic Culture (MKhK).

Natalia Avtonomova, who has been researching the provenance and disposition of works in the Berlin exhibition for decades, has contributed an essay on selected paintings and graphic works that were shown in Berlin in 1922. Iryna Makedon, despite her current exile from her native Kyiv, was able to provide extensive documentation on the works from the exhibition that were subsequently dispatched to Ukrainian state museums. Dilyara Sadykova reports on one of the largest collections of avant-garde works from the 1922 Berlin exhibition, which was sent to the K ­ rasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko in the late 1920s. Another important lot is now in the Azerbaijan National ­Museum of Art in Baku and has been summarized for this volume by Naila Rahimova. Finally, in the epilogue, Ilia Doronchenkov discusses the avantgarde’s utopian concept of The International of Art, highlighting the artists’ striving for a transition from the national to an international outlook in the early post-war period. The book’s essays are complemented by an appendix, consisting of a selection of original documents, a list of abbreviations and acronyms, a list of archives, a selected bibliography, a contributors’ list, image credits, and an index of names. The documentation includes important correspondence related to the organization of the exhibition, comprehensive lists of works included in the show, and the introduction from the original exhibition catalogue. The selected bibliography provides an essential overview for further reading on the subject of the First Russian Art Exhibition. In this volume, we have followed American spelling and punctuation and the Chicago Manual of Style. Titles of art works, books, catalogues, journals, and newspapers are italicized; titles of articles, manuscripts, and conferences appear in quotation marks; names of societies and institutions are not specifically rendered. For the most part, the transliteration of Russian names of people and places, titles of works of art, publications, exhibitions, and other terms, follows a modified version of the US Library of Congress system. For the names of people, however, we tend to use the form most commonly known to English speakers, e.g., Alexander Archipenko, David Burliuk, Natalia Goncharova, Liubov Popova, or the form commonly used by authors of a particular nationality. In cases

where the name of an artist or intellectual has its own long-established spelling, it has been kept, for example, Alexandre Benois, not Aleksandr Benua; Wassily Kandinsky, not Vasily Kandinsky; Marc Chagall, not Mark Shagal. Names are provided in full (first name, surname) at first mention; subsequent references to an individual within the same essay generally carry only the surname. In the case of Japanese names, we follow the convention of family name followed by first name. Names of organizations, institutions, and the like are spelled out in full on first appearance; subsequent use is with the acronym. The list of abbreviations only includes abbreviations and acronyms that appear in more than one essay. For the Russian titles of publications and other references in the footnotes and the bibliography, we follow the approved transliteration scheme of the Library of Congress. In cases, in which the author’s name is only given by initials, the publication is listed under the first initial in the bibliography. The index of names includes all persons appearing in the main text of the book, but not those of artists who only appear in customs documents, shipping lists, or similar lists of original documents. Unless otherwise indicated, translations from Russian or other languages into English are by the respective author.

Preface

11



Acknowledgements

T

his book is the result of intense discussions and lively exchanges between colleagues at the international conference “100 Years of German-Russian Cultural Exchange,” held at the ­ Staatsbibliothek in Berlin in October 2021. The event would not have been possible without the generous support of numerous individuals and institutions. We wish to particularly thank the conference speakers for providing the inspiration and basis for our discussions. Special thanks goes to the leadership and event management of the Staatsbibliothek Berlin, Gudrun Nelson-Busch and Alexander Schwarz, for hosting and supporting our event as well as to Ludmila Piters-Hofmann, Oskar Manhart, and Karl Wünsche for their assistance in organizing the conference. We are grateful to the Russian Art & Culture Group and Jacobs University Bremen for their institutional support. We would also like to thank the curators of the Berlin State Museums, Irina Hiebert Grun and ­Kyllikki Zacharias, for presenting to the conference participants the re-installation of the permanent collection of the Neue Nationalgalerie. After the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, we felt it necessary to carefully evaluate our research and publication project. We are grateful to M ­ yroslava Mudrak, Monica Rüthers, and Ulrich Schmid, who have helped us to broaden the perspective on “Russian art” and contributed essays on previously unconsidered aspects of the scholarly discourse. The conference as well as the publication of the ­papers would not have been possible without the generous funding of the Kroll Family Trust, Switzerland; Kuhn & Bülow Insurance Broker Group; and the German Science Foundation (DFG). We wish to particularly thank Daniel Kroll and Michael Kuhn for their interest in the subject matter and generous support of the conference and book publication. We are pleased to now be able to make our research findings accessible to the greater scholarly community and interested public in an English-language publication in print and as an eBook. Research for the book was conducted at various museums, archives, and libraries in Germany, Russia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan, Hungary, the Netherlands,

Acknowledgements

13

­inland, France, the United Kingdom, the United F States, and Japan. We are grateful to the curators and staff of these institutions for their expertise and for making accessible their collections. For assistance with photographic material, image files, and reproduction permissions, we wish to thank the staff of Staatliche Museen zu Berlin und Staatsbibliothek, Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz; Berlinische Galerie; Brücke Museum, Berlin; Landesarchiv Berlin, Bundesarchiv; the Russian State Archives of Literature and Art, Moscow; the State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow; the State Russian ­ Museum, St. Petersburg; Krasnodar Regional Art M ­ useum F.A. Kovalenko; Ivanovo Regional Art ­Museum; Volsk Museum of Local Lore; Samara Regional Art Museum; Tomsk Regional Art Museum; Azerbaijan National Museum of Art, Baku; City Archive Amsterdam; Rijksbureau voor Kunsthistorische Documentatie, The Hague; Petőfi Literary Museum–Kassák Museum, Budapest; Library of Congress; Yale University Art Gallery, New Haven; Museum of Modern Art, Kamakura and Hayama, Japan, as well as the private collections that have provided support. We are particularly grateful to Graham and Nina Williams, Alexander Lavrentiev, and the Mary Ryan Gallery, New York for copyright permissions. Every attempt has been made to obtain permission to reproduce copyrighted material. If proper acknowledgment has not been made, copyright holders are invited to inform the editors of the oversight. We are grateful to Kevin Pfeiffer for his translations of German-language texts and proofreading of the contributions of colleagues from Germany, Switzerland, Russia, Ukraine, the Netherlands, France, Finland, Hungary, and Japan. We furthermore thank Ludmila Piters-Hofmann for her Russian translations and careful proofreading of the manuscript and Kai-Jen Tsung for her assistance with the index. Last but not least, we wish to thank Kristi Doepner for her interest in the subject matter and shepherding of its publication by Böhlau and Bettina Waringer for her graceful book ­design. Berlin, May 2022 Isabel Wünsche & Miriam Leimer

14

Acknowledgements

MYROSLAVA MUDRAK

1

Prologue: Berlin 1922 and Ukraine 2022

O

n the centenary of the so-called “First Russian Art Exhibition,” it is worth taking a reflective moment not only to celebrate the anniversary of this landmark event, but to let it serve as an instructive paradigm that lays bare the complex, often contradictory strategies that continue to underlie Russia’s desire to shape a narrative about itself for ­western consumption. Indeed, the Berlin exhibition was, in every way, a publicity event. Though couched in the altruistic goal of raising funds for famine relief, the motives of the organizers were far more self-­serving. In fact, little money was actually raised; the artists ­received little, if any, remuneration; and long after the event, many remained separated from the paintings they had contributed. Notwithstanding, the First Russian Art Exhibition was meant also to satisfy the West’s curiosity (or more specifically a left-leaning, German curiosity) about Russia’s contemporary art. Already familiar with the Russian avant-garde and its break with academic conventions before the First World War, the liberal Germans were hoping to see how the ideological underpinnings of Bolshevism were beginning to also shape and influence a new, potentially revolutionary, artistic culture. Indeed, the revolution was bringing significant changes to the art scene in Russia. Mobilized to serve the state, artists of the recent avant-garde were attempting to translate their formalist pursuits into revolutionary tropes by employing experimental functionalism as an aesthetic that would support the new state. The People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (Narkompros) managed the cultural processes by ­ which the public would be systematically initiated into proletarian ideology through “education.” The concept of education in the Soviet context, however, was strongly politicized and nuanced, as intended by the word “prosveshcheniya.” Rather than suggesting an achieved end, the word implies a controlled process of public “enlightening” in accordance with a sole and unique aim: to bring about a communist consciousness in its subjects. Essentially, prosveshcheniya can be treated as a euphemism for what, in harsher, but truer, terms, we would today call propaganda. For that reason, it was Narkompros that took charge of managing cultural messaging of every kind—an important means of regulating and legitimizing Russia’s image, both at

Prologue: Berlin 1922 and Ukraine 2022

15

home and abroad. The staging of Russia’s self-­perception externally, as the Berlin exhibition demonstrated, was intended to mirror the image propagated at home. A century later, we have become witnesses to this very process as Russia pushes forth its stance on Ukraine. With the rising curiosity of western audiences, both then and now, it is easy to overlook the subtle manipulations of historical facts that inflect the image being projected. What is often deliberately omitted and therefore “invisible” in narratives about “Great Russia” in modern times is the blatant appropriation of non-Russian entities to build up the myth while denying recognition of the “other” players. Russia’s ­staging of its self-image leaves us with a distorted sense of what the descriptor “Russian” means. In the context of modernist art, the bolstering of Russia’s image at the ­expense of expunging the contributions of non-­ Russian populations, renders the term suspect. When, in 1920, art afficionado and emissary Konstantin Umansky published on “New Art in Russia,” his book served as a stimulus for organizing the Berlin exhibition in 1922. Under the German title, Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919, the book launched a more widespread interest in contemporary art from Soviet Russia, and, in a sense, codified the progressive “eastern” avant-garde which had been presented sporadically at Herwarth Walden’s Sturm gallery in Berlin since the 1910s. Notwithstanding his own background, Umansky’s “marketing” of Russian art was a significant step toward the western adoption of the umbrella term “Russian avant-garde.” Born in Mykolaiv (Ukraine), the Jewish Umansky was a polyglot who, after joining the Communist Party in 1919, moved to Germany and later worked for the Russian Telegraph Agency (ROSTA) in Vienna. A worldly man and art lover, he was perfectly positioned to tout Russian revolutionary modernism in the West. As he built a career on promoting the Soviet Union, Umansky continued to shape western perceptions about Russia. In May 1939, Stalin appointed him Ambassador of the Soviet Union to the United States, and later, Mexico. Having introduced the mostly German intellectual élite to Russian modernism abroad, Umansky laid the ground for what would amount to a subsequent wave of exposure to the art of a consoli­dated USSR, but now through the prism of an openly politicized era that took no accounting of national origin. Anatoly Lunacharsky, the newly appointed People’s

16

Myroslava Mudrak

Commissar of Enlightenment, served as the official negotiator for the Berlin show. The son of a local government official, Lunacharsky, like Umansky, was born in Ukraine, in Poltava. As a young man he was attuned to the restrictions on freedoms imposed on the population and, at the age of 15, joined an illegal Marxist study circle in Kyiv. He decided thereafter to pursue his studies in Western Europe. Settling in Moscow after the revolution, he was appointed chief spokesman and manager of all cultural affairs on behalf of the Soviet government. Together with the Ukrainian-born artist, David Shterenberg, the two became the main players in setting up the Berlin exhibition. Shterenberg was born into a Jewish family in Zhitomir (Ukraine). He first studied art in Odessa, before basing himself in Paris. Making Moscow his home in 1917, he was appointed head of the Department of Fine Arts (IZO) of Narkompros. Banding together with other Jewish artists, among them others hailing from Ukraine—Natan Altman (from Vinnytsia) and Vladimir Baranov-Rossine (from Kherson)— Shterenberg organized an exhibition of Jewish artists in Moscow. He was also an influential teacher at the Higher Artistic and Technical Studios (VKhUTEMAS) and involved in setting up the Moscow-based Institute of Artistic Culture (INKhUK)—a convenient access point from which to select works for the First Russian Art Exhibition. A substantial part of Europe’s Jewish population lived in Ukraine for several centuries, sharing the lot of the native population, who were condescendingly referred to as “Little Russians.” They endured the same misery of czarist subjugation and frequent unrest (often initiated from without to sow discord among the local populations). Their situation improved with the revolution when Ukraine proclaimed itself an independent state. Under the new republican government, from 1918 to 1920, the short-lived policy granted Jews national and personal autonomy in Ukraine. Jewish ministers were appointed to the Ukrainian government, and Yiddish, Polish, and Ukrainian languages were used on the official currency designed by the head of the first Ukrainian Academy of Art, Heorhii Narbut. Equally significant was the founding of the Jewish cultural organization Kultur-Lige, established in Kyiv in 1918. In their manifesto, published in November 1919, Kultur-Lige members expressed their commitment to creating a Yiddish secular culture and using abstract art to reach the people. With chapters in

Kyiv and Odessa, the Kultur-Lige promoted Jewish art and culture among their people. In the years leading up to the Berlin exhibition, Ukraine would prove to be a spawning ground for a thriving modern artistic culture. Central to this development were the artists Oleksandra Ekster (Aleksandra Ekster) and David Burliuk, both well represented in the 1922 exhibition. The same was true for the founder of S­uprematism, Kyiv-born Kazimir Malevich, active at the Art School in Vitebsk from 1917 to 1922, at the State Institute of Artistic Culture (GINKhUK) and the State Institute of Art History (GIII) in Petrograd/Leningrad from 1923 to 1929, and at the Kyiv Art Institute from 1929 to 1930. Other Ukrainian artists included in the Berlin exhibition had already established themselves in Europe as innovative leaders of modernist expression, for example, native Kyivan Oleksandr Arkhipenko (Alexander Archipenko), who had just moved to Berlin in 1921 and remained there until 1923, before setting out for America. That so many of the key players in what came to be known as the “Russian avant-garde” came from Ukraine, or were associated with modernism’s development there, might not be significant in terms of projecting a homogeneous, united “Russian” artistic front. Discounting these origins, however, has led us to a naïve ignorance of the powerful mechanisms at work here; what gets ignored in the propagation of the Russian myth is the vital role Ukraine played in the development of modernism. From this vantage point, the novelty of the 1922 Berlin exhibition, was that it was, in fact, the “first” instance of a true, full-fledged Soviet Russian propaganda campaign in the West. Subsequent efforts at Soviet cultural one–upmanship in Europe would soon follow. Paradoxically, Russia’s shaping of a new proletarian consciousness took as its foundation the colonizing tactics of the defunct Czarist Empire. Through the prism of entrenched imperial attitudes and the longstanding homogenization of the population through the mechanisms of a single language that plays into the diluting effects of an integrated, hybridized culture, the term “Russian” had come to embrace it all—at home and abroad. As an instrument of influence, the visual arts were employed to support the rhetoric about brotherly “oneness” churned out in official Soviet bombast. Given the long perspective of history and the current obfuscating tactics regarding the war on Ukraine in

2022, the relevance and significance of the First Russian Art Exhibition for historic modernism takes on heightened importance. Complex historical omissions and contradictory arguments espoused in Vladimir Putin’s own rewriting of history before launching the war on Ukraine, serve only to feed the Russian propaganda machine. His infamous text, “On the Historical Unity of Russians and Ukrainians,” released on July 12, 2021, presents a peculiar pseudo-historical account that endorses the ­ kind of mythical history of Russia that most of the world had been willing to accept for a long time. Using an unexamined and unquestioned narrative, Putin utilizes tired conventions that insist on popular notions rather than historical accountability. His contrived narrative is echoed in Russo-centric versions of art history. Russia’s war in Ukraine calls for a complete overhaul of museum classification systems as it relates to Russian art. And what about the famine? Once again, we are led to believe that the Berlin exhibition, as indicated by the inscription in the exhibition catalogue, was planned to assist in famine relief that was ravaging southern Russia, particularly the Volga region. In fact, the bloodiest instances of the Civil War, which led to famine, were taking place in Ukraine. Had not the Bolsheviks commanded the export of grain and other foodstuffs from Ukraine to the Volga area, Ukrainians would have been able to survive this human-made tragedy. Keeping in mind the Holodomor of 1930 to 1932, a “genocide by starvation” caused by the ruthless politics of Stalin, history seems to repeat itself on a global scale. Today, as Russia devastates the longstanding agricultural potential of Ukraine, the blockade on the transport of grain out of Ukrainian ports cannot bode well for a global community dependent on the countries’ grain exports either. It only leaves us wondering whether the noble goals of the 1922 First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin have left us with any legacy at all. Political cultures, like cultures in general, take time to change, and they change radically only when they experience a serious trauma, such as the current Russian invasion of Ukraine. Now is not the time for complacency in watching these processes unfold, or complicity in the perpetuation of half-truths, stereotypes, or misguided perceptions. Perhaps that, indeed, is the lesson to be learned from the First Russian Art Exhi­ bition in the West a hundred years ago.

Prologue: Berlin 1922 and Ukraine 2022

17

Political Map of Europe 1922

The Multiethnic Dimension of Russian Art and Culture in the Early Twentieth Century

ULRICH SCHMID

2

What did “Russian” mean in the Early Twentieth Century?

T

he tragedy of the Russian people consists in the fact that they never had a nation-state project of their own. The state was either bigger or smaller than the nation. In the Middle Ages, the Russian principalities such as Novgorod or Yaroslavl were city states without national aspirations. Eventually, the Grand Duchy of Moscow came to dominate the other principalities, with Ivan III assuming the title of “Czar of all Rus.” In 1547, Ivan IV proclaimed the “Czardom of Russia,” which, under Peter the Great was elevated to the level of Empire. In the eighteenth century, the aristocratic culture in Russia bore a strong French imprint. It was only after the Napoleonic wars that the French cultural role model turned into a political and military enemy. The Russian establishment reacted to the Napoleonic aggression with the construction of a fully-fledged national culture. A History of the Russian State was commissioned, Russian operas were composed and staged, the myth of a national poet emerged. In the first half of the nineteenth century, Russia became the leading political power in Europe. In an impressive demonstration of geopolitical selfassertion, the Russian army paraded the streets of Paris in 1814 and acted as the “gendarme of Europe” until the bitter defeat in the Crimean War in 1855. One of the leading concepts in the establishment of a Russian culture was “nationality” (narodnost’). This neologism had been coined by Pyotr Vyazemsky in 1819 and quickly became a political slogan. In 1832, Sergei Uvarov formulated the doctrine of “official nationality” which built upon autocracy, orthodoxy, and nationality. These three pillars allegedly formed the fundament of the Russian state. Uvarov’s doctrine was so successful that it would earn him the post of the minister of education. Soon, the writer Nikolai Nadezhdin heralded a new national literature that by virtue of its distinct Russianness would be autocratic and orthodox at the same time. The official understanding of the terms “narodnost’” and “narod” oscillated between the two French concepts of “nation” and “peuple.” However, this ambiguity proved to be productive for the Russian ideologists: The Russian nation was based on the autocratic rule of the orthodox people (“peuple”).1

What did “Russian” mean in the Early Twentieth Century?

21

At the beginning of the twentieth century, the unity of the Russian nation was questioned more and more. In 1910, the former prime minister Sergei Witte lamented in his diary: “The mistake we have been making for many decades is that we have still not admitted to ourselves that since the time of Peter the Great and Catherine the Great there has been no such thing as Russia: there has been only the Russian Empire.”2 Witte went on to note that one third of the population were ethnic minorities and that the Russians themselves were divided into Great Russians, Little Russians, and Belorussians. The czarist government ignored “this historical fact of capital importance” and thus made an effective politics impossible.3 The ideology of “official nationality” dominated the late imperial period as an anachronistic and frail source of power. Nicholas II firmly believed in the combination of autocracy, orthodoxy, and nationality. Until his abdication, he hedged the illusion that he could rule Russia as an absolutist monarch in the twentieth century. An anecdote from 1917 aptly illustrates his illusion: At a reception, Nicholas II replied to the British ambassador who had pointed to his growing unpopularity: “You tell me, my dear Ambassador, that I ought to earn my people’s trust. But isn’t it rather my people who ought to earn my trust?”4 After the October Revolution, the czarist doctrine of “official nationality” survived in the White movement, which aptly chose the slogan “For a great, united and indivisible Russia.” Interestingly, the notion “great” has a double meaning in this context: On the one hand, it refers to the greatness of the nation and has no ethnic implications. On the other hand, it points to the ethnic term of “Great Russia” which the Whites imagined to be “united and indivisible.” In fact, such a “Great Russia” would not accept the political existence of a “Little Russia” or “White Russia.” Even before the revolution, Lenin had devised the future socialist state as the complete opposite of the Czarist Empire. He aimed to abolish the class society that was dominated by the Russian aristocracy and assimilated noblemen of German, Armenian, Georgian, or Ukrainian descent. Lenin wanted to tear down the “prison of peoples” and free the “oppressed nations.” In his programmatic article “On the national pride of the Great Russians,” which appeared in 1914 in an

22

Ulrich Schmid

émigré journal in Geneva, the leader of the Bolsheviks put forward his idea of a future “democratic” Russian state. Lenin called this new state “Great Russia” as opposed to “Little Russia” (Ukraine) or “White Russia” (Belarus). He acknowledged Ukraine’s right to exist as an autonomous state on the basis of its status as a historical victim of Russian oppression. Lenin dreamt about a “proletarian brotherhood of all the nations of Russia” that would eventually bring about socialism.5 Lenin was himself a Great Russian patriot and based this sentiment on the tradition of liberation in Great Russian culture. His heroes were Aleksandr Radishchev, the Decembrists, the freedom fighters of the 1870s, and the revolutionaries from 1905. This leftist and radically anti-czarist tradition within Great Russian history was the only acceptable national commitment for Lenin. At the same time, he was fully conscious of the prospect that national revolutions would mobilize a greater part of the population in the Czarist Empire than a socialist revolution. He went so far as to correct Marx, proposing an alteration to the famous ending of the communist manifesto: “Proletarians of all countries and oppressed peoples, unite!”6 Lenin decided to play the national card to win over the smaller nations in the Russian Empire for the ­socialist cause. This trick seemed to work in Ukraine: Volodymyr Vynnychenko, the first prime minister of the Ukrainian People’s Republic, was convinced that only a leftist government could guarantee the n ­ atio­nal interests of Ukraine. Even after the demise of the Ukrainian People’s Republic, Vynnychenko traveled to Moscow and Kharkiv to negotiate his participation in a Ukrainian Red Government. He even talked to Leon Trotsky personally; however, nothing came of this, and Vynnychenko preferred then to emigrate for good in 1920.7 The official pragmatic approach towards the smaller Slavic nations went so far that the Bolsheviks allowed the first president of an independent Ukraine, Mykhailo Hrushevsky, to enter the Soviet Union in 1924. Of course, Hrushevsky had to focus on his h ­ istorical work and was eventually marginalized and repressed. Stalin contradicted Lenin’s national policies. A ­ lready before the revolution, Stalin feared the national dismemberment of the socialist movement and condescendingly spoke about “social nationalism.” In 1920, he

advanced the idea that all future Soviet republics be integrated into the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR). In 1922, he revived this plan and suggested that Ukraine, Belarus, Armenia, and other republics become part of RSFSR.8 Lenin’s conception, however, prevailed: On December 30, 1922, the Soviet Union was founded. It soon became clear that Soviet Russia was the leading republic within the Union, dominating the other republics.9 Before the Ukrainian and the Belarusian Soviet ­Republics were established, representatives from these territories could be subsumed under the notion of “All-Russian.” A case in point is the All-Russian Central Executive Committee that was founded immediately after the October Revolution. Until the foundation of the Soviet Union, it also included Ukrainian and Belarusian delegates. The Bolshevik leadership considered a national focus as a temporary solution anyway. In 1920, an All-Russian Proletkult Convention was organized. There were, however, strong disagreements as to the role of the proletarian culture in the new Russian state. The proletarian artists wanted to engage immediately in the creation of a modernist and revolutionary culture whereas Lenin insisted on the continuity and development of the existing forms of art. “All-Russian” in 1920 meant the territory of the RSFSR. Interestingly enough, after 1922 the activities of the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment were not extended to the territory of the Soviet Union but remained confined to the RSFSR. A ministry of culture for the entire Soviet Union was established only after Stalin’s death in 1953.10 Both from a Russian and a Western European perspective, there was nothing conspicuous about the word “Russian” in the title of the First Russian Art ­Exhibition in Berlin in 1922. It did not matter that not only Russians but also artists from Ukraine, Poland, Georgia, Armenia, Latvia, or even Mongolia, were represented. “Russian” was perceived not in ethnic or cultural terms but as referring to the territory of the fallen Russian Empire. The blurring of national allegiances was not only typical for the exposition as such, but also for some of the participating artists. Kazimir Malevich was born in Kyiv to Polish parents and wrote in Russian. He alternately identified himself as Ukrainian or Polish; towards the end of his life, he denied any national allegiance.11 Marc Chagall grew up in Belarus,

received a Jewish education, and was perceived in Paris as a Russian artist. He called himself “half French” and significantly refrained from determining the other half. His relation to Russia was very ambiguous: he confessed to “love Russia,” but at the same time felt like a “fifth wheel” in Russia. His native Vitebsk was for him by no means a Belarussian, but rather a Jewish Russian town.12 Ukraine and Belarus were at best marginally present as independent nations in the mindset of interwar Berlin. In 1920, Joseph Roth, a Germanophone Austrian native from Brody, poked fun at “Berlin’s newest fashion,” which he called “Ukrainomania.”13 Like many writers in Germany, Roth went on talking about “Russia” when he described the new Soviet state. Even among German sympathizers with the Bolsheviks, ­denominations like “the new Russia” prevailed.14 Sometimes, the term “Soviet Russia” would appear in the title of a German publication in the 1920s, but more often the country was simply called “Russia.”15 Even in the official language, “Russian” could refer either to Soviet Russia or even the Soviet Union. The treaties of Rapallo (1922) and Berlin (1926) were presented within the Weimar administration as “German-Russian” conventions. After the October Revolution, the word “Russian” served a catch-all strategy both in Soviet Russia and in Germany. It could denominate the ethnic Russianness, or the mixed identities that emerged from entangled family biographies. It could refer to the RSFSR, or the territory of the vanished Czarist Empire. Most of the time, all of these connotations were evoked. When the First Russian Art Exhibition opened its doors in Berlin, Germans entered a complex semantic space ripe with cultural and political exoticism.

What did “Russian” mean in the Early Twentieth Century?

23

Notes 1

Ulrich Schmid, “Von der literarischen Konstruktion einer na-

9

Historiographische Darstellungen und historische Romane”

10

Künsten” [Policy toward the visual arts], in Kulturpolitik der

erarization of history: Historiographical representations and

Sowjetunion, ed. Oskar Anweiler and Karl-Heinz Ruffmann (Stuttgart: Kröner, 1973), 267–77, 273.

Veränderungen des “literarischen Feldes” in Russland z­ wischen

11 Myroslav Shkandrij, “Reinterpreting Malevich: Biography,

1825 und 1842, ed. ––– and Jochen-Ulrich Peters (Bern: Peter

Autobiography, Art,” Canadian-American Slavic Studies 36 (2002): 405–20.

Lang, 2007), 278–83. Geoffrey Hosking, Russia: People and Empire 1552–1917 (Cam-

12

Jackie Wullschlager, Chagall: A Biography (New York: Knopf,

13

Joseph Roth, Reisen in die Ukraine und nach Russland (Munich:

2008), 144.

bridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997), 497. 3

Roman Szporluk, “Lenin, ‘Great Russia,’ and Ukraine,” Har-

C.H. Beck, 2015), 5.

vard Ukrainian Studies 28 (2006): 612. 4

Victor Alexandrov, The End of the Romanovs (Boston, Toronto:

14 Jürgen Lehmann, Russische Literatur in Deutschland (Stuttgart: Metzler, 2015), 140.

Little, Brown and Company, 1966), 121. 5

6 7

Vladimir Lenin, “On the National Pride of the Great Russians,”

24

15

See, e.g., Arthur Holitscher, Drei Monate in Sowjet-Russland

in eadem, Collected Works XXI (Moscow: Progress Publishers

(Berlin: S. Fischer, 1921); René Fülöp-Miller, Geist und Gesicht

1974), 102–06.

des Bolschewismus: Darstellung und Kritik des kulturellen Le-

Martin Aust, Die russische Revolution: Vom Zarenreich zur

bens in Sowjet-Russland (Zurich: Amalthea 1926); Franz Jung:

Sowjetunion (Munich: C.H. Beck, 2017), 222.

Reise in Russland (Berlin: Verlag der KAPD, 1921); Heinrich

Ulrich Schmid, “Volodymyr Vynnyčenko as Diarist, Historian

Vogeler: Reise durch Russland (Dresden: Carl Reissner, 1925);

and Writer: Literary narratives of the Ukrainian Revolution,”

Ludwig Renn: Russlandfahrten (Berlin: Lasso, 1932).

Studi Slavistici 15 (2018): 111–24. 8

Hans-Jürgen Drengenberg, “Politik gegenüber den bildenden

[From the literary construction of a national past to the lithistorical novels], in Das “Ende der Kunstperiode:” Kulturelle

2

Alfred Dennis, “Soviet Russia and Federated Russia,” Political Science Quarterly 38 (1923): 543.

tionalen Vergangenheit zur Literarisierung der Geschichte:

Szporluk, “Lenin,” 619.

Ulrich Schmid

MONICA RÜTHERS

3

On Jewish Cultural Identities within the Russian Empire and Soviet Russia

T

he First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin was intended to provide an overview of the artistic culture of the young Soviet Russian ­Federation. In doing so, it united artists of different generations and backgrounds. The prominent role of Jewish artists, especially as organizers, is striking. But what did it mean to be “Jewish” or of Jewish origin in Russia around 1922? Jewish identity has been experienced and practiced in very different ways: it has been shaped and influenced by the evolution of the Halakha ­( Jewish religious law) and various historical calamities and revolutions; by changing self-perceptions, external attributions, and imposed legal conditions; by intra-­ Jewish religious and spiritual movements; and by ­political ideologies. Origin, family, education, and mobility all play a role and, in the course of life, individuals have positioned themselves differently in different situations. This corresponds to a differentiating perspective on identity as proposed by Rogers Brubaker and Frederick Cooper, with two categories of conceptual pairs that are oriented, on the one hand, to the internal perspective of the subjects (identification, self-understanding, social location) and, on the other, to their social relations (commonalities, connectedness, sense of groupness).1 A “group” should not be understood as a closed entity, but as a social process: group formations and self-definitions are subject to relational, processual, dynamic, and cognitive influences.2 Compared to the seemingly static concept of identity, the concept of identification refers more strongly to the processual nature of the positioning of subject and agency. Revolutionary Russia and Ukraine were societies in upheaval; group affiliations, self-understandings, and loyalties were accordingly in limbo—a liminal state in which Jewish individuals and groups were able to reinvent themselves time and again. The Jewish Renaissance was on everyone’s lips. The year 1922 was a turning point for Jewish cultural activists and artists: at issue were the “post-revolutionary” dilemmas about whether to stay in the young Soviet Union or go abroad. Should they pursue personal goals and careers, participate in the development of national political currents in Jewry, or help build a Soviet Russia? Their decision was made under the influence of their initial

On Jewish Cultural Identities within the Russian Empire and Soviet Russia

25

Jews lived among populations that differed in language, religion, and culture; many were just beginning their struggle for independence in the nineteenth century. In the process of the Enlightenment and increasing secularization, Jewish families generally oriented themselves not to peasant but to urban and more influential national cultures. The first secular language acquired by the early Enlightenment generations was German. The later generations were Polish or Russian socialized. The choice of language was not only an expression of aspirations, but also of political alliances. Where Jews lived in the midst of competing nationalities, they were often caught between fronts. There were differences in lifestyle between villages, shtetls, and larger cities, as well as between social ­classes. Jewish market traders and peddlers rarely left the ­immediate surroundings, while younger people sought their fortunes in the larger cities, and urban merchants were part of interregional and often international networks.

experiences with Soviet power, but also of the bloody pogroms during the Civil War in Ukraine (fig. 1).

Multilayered Identities, Hybrid Lifestyles In the course of the division of the Kingdom of Poland-Lithuania between Prussia, Habsburg, and ­ Russia in the eighteenth century, the lion’s share of the Lithuanian, Belarusian, and Ukrainian provinces fell to Russia. Here Catherine the Great established the Pale of Settlement in 1791. With few exceptions, Jews were allowed to live only in their previous settlement areas. In the nineteenth century, the Jewish settlement area in Eastern Europe comprised three large c­ ultural and linguistic regions: the Northeastern (Lithuania and ­Belarus), the Mideastern (Poland), and the Southeastern (Ukraine, including Volhynian, Podolian, and Bessarabian-Romanian varieties), each with its own distinct variants of Yiddish, special recipes for gefilte fish, with regional customs and fashions. In the southwestern provinces of the Czarist Empire, centered in Odessa, immigrants from all three met.3

Fig. 1: Soviet Yiddish propaganda poster “Smoldering ashes and blood of Jewish workers cover the path of the Polish szclachta,” 1920, Blavatnik Archive – Collection Judaica Posters 26

Monica Rüthers

Reforms and Change In the Czarist Empire, Jewish Enlightenment ideas were framed by far-reaching political, economic, and social developments in the wake of the “Great R ­ eforms” of the 1860s. For the Jewish population, these facilitated access to secondary schools and universities and, for certain occupational groups, relaxations in freedom of movement. Economic change favored Jewish entre­ preneurs in Russia in the banking, railroad, and industrial sectors; at the same time, a Jewish proletariat was emerging.4 The new horizons challenged the established regio­ nal, social, and religious Jewish self-conceptions. ­Mobility increased the perception of regional differences, which became the subject of many anecdotes.5 But with the ongoing secularization, “new” differences gradually­overplayed the regional stereotypes. The emerging ­Jewish press disseminated Enlightenment ideas in Hebrew, Yiddish, and Russian.6 The path through enlightenment and secularization toward acculturation or assimilation led to the formation of a diverse post-­traditional Jewish culture in Eastern Europe. This meant that many Jews no longer defined themselves

primarily in religious terms and opened themselves up to other cultural influences. However, the process of rapprochement with Russian culture and society, especially among the younger Jewish population, was hampered by the increasing anti-Jewish atmosphere that culminated in a violent wave of p­ ogroms following the assassination of reform czar Alexander II in 1881. Combined with increasing economic pressure on an ever-growing Jewish proletarian class, the ground was set for new political movements to captivate the minds and hearts of young Jews, namely Zionism and Socialism. Most Jews doubted the prospect of successful assimilation under the existing conditions.7 Towards the end of the century, a new generation of young Jews was growing up socialized in Russian culture; in religious families, conflicts arose. Such conflicts between “fathers and sons” (and daughters) when escaping the confines of the shtetl were an experience that Jewish youth shared with their Russian peers.8 The young people studied and dressed according to the customs of the group they wished to belong to, switching languages and often their names as well; they fostered multiple registers and mostly discarded religious practices. And yet, interestingly, the landscape of their childhood is often described as a place of longing in the autobiographical texts of the Maskilim, Zionists, and Socialists who had followed a long and often ­conflict-ridden and painful path.9

Jewish Land- and Cityscapes It was the cities, however, that were more firmly anchored in the collective Jewish consciousness. Thousands of young Jews flocked to cities such as Kyiv, Odessa, or Warsaw in the wake of the reforms. Others chose medium-sized cities or later the metropolises of the West.10 The pattern of migration was influenced by a shifting topography of “Jewish” towns and cities. Vilna with its long history of talmudic erudition was known as the “Jerusalem of Lithuania,” a center of Haskalah and Jewish publishing houses. In 1897, the Jewish Labor Bund was founded there.11 Warsaw, meanwhile, grew to become the largest Jewish city in Europe.12 The local Jewish elite tended to assimilate into the local Polish bourgeoisie. As industries developed, cities

such as Białystok, Lodz, and Kyiv gained ­importance.13 In the south, in Podolia, Volhynia, Galicia, and Bukovina, the geography of Hasidic courts, for example in Belz, Vizhnitz, Sadagora, and Sanz, determined the Jewish mental maps. The Haskalah found its followers in the larger cities, Brody, Lviv, and Tarnopol. A unique position was held by the port city of O ­ dessa. Founded in 1794, Odessa attracted Jews from all over the Pale, mostly proponents of the Haskalah. The city was a place without tradition, part of the Levant, a city made rich by the European hunger for Ukrainian wheat. It offered immigrants of different origins the opportunity to reinvent themselves as “­Odessites.”14 In the 1860s, Odessa became a center of Yiddish publishing and modern Jewish literature. While Russia’s major cities were still more or less closed to Jews before the First World War, Vilna, Warsaw, and Odessa developed into hotspots of post-traditional Jewish culture. Compared to Warsaw and Vilna, Kyiv was a provincial backwater in Yiddish culture. During the war, its Jewish share of population grew to over 20 percent.15 Paris was the place where most of the artists of the Russian avant-garde briefly or not so briefly stayed before 1917, most of them in the artists’ colony La Ruche, founded in 1911.16 Among those who spent long periods outside imperial Russia were Marc Chagall from Vitebsk, Naum Gabo from Bryansk, El Lissitzky from Pochinok near Smolensk, and David Shterenberg from Zhitomir. Some, like Osip Zadkin from Smolensk and Chaim Soutine from Minsk, remained in Paris, others returned to Russia to play a role in Soviet art.17 In Paris, Shterenberg met Natan Altman from Vinnytsia and became acquainted with Anatoly Lunacharsky, the future head of the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (Narkompros).

Yiddish Literature, Jewish Folklore, and Avant-garde Art The reforms of the 1860s and the revolutions of 1917 formed the basis for the emergence of a post-­traditional and heterogeneous Jewish-Russian public elite that was also involved in the international cultural scene. The first Jewish visual artists were able to study at state ­institutes in Vienna, Munich, and St. Petersburg on

On Jewish Cultural Identities within the Russian Empire and Soviet Russia

27

28

the strength of their talent. While Jewish authors of the late nineteenth century were mostly addressing a distinctly Jewish audience, supplying them with political, educational, as well as entertaining content, visual art was much more “universal” in its appeal. The painter Isaak Levitan from Kibartai, Lithuania, became one of the most prominent representatives of the Peredvizhniki (Wanderers), along with the portraitist Leonid Pasternak from Odessa. Levitan’s landscapes were considered the epitome of “Russian” painting. Mark Antokolsky from Vilna was one of the most famous sculptors of his time.18 In the following generation, it was Leon Bakst (Lev Rosenberg) from Grodno who, as part of the artists’ group Mir iskusstva (World of Art), helped the ­ Ballets Russes achieve international fame through his stage designs.19 These artists and designers all saw themselves as Russian and not as representatives of a Jewish art. Nevertheless,

in the view of many, the ­appearance of Jewish artists was a proof of the Jewish people’s crea­tive abilities and therefore carried a Jewish message as well.20 The artists who were successful in the Russian sphere took care of the promotion of young Jewish talent. Artists such as Yehuda Pen in Vitebsk founded educational institutions, and in genre painting Jewish themes such as poverty, pogroms, old age, and social conflict were also dealt with, albeit within the European idiom of Christian iconography. In view of the difficult s­ocial and political situation of the Jews in the Russian ­Empire, the rapid inner-Jewish changes and the strong political, socio-reformist, and national movements, intellectual thinkers in search of the “Jewish” essence soon appeared on the scene.21 Since the 1880s, there have been debates about what makes art “Jewish”—the motifs, the person of the artist, a certain consciousness?—or what constitutes a

Fig. 2: Kultur-Lige poster for the exhibition of works by Natan Altman, Marc Chagall, David Shterenberg, Moscow 1922

Fig. 3: Iosif Chaikov, cover of the book 1919 by Leyb Kvitko (Berlin: Idisher literarisher farlag, 1923)

Monica Rüthers

“Jewish artist” or “Jewish art.” Contemporary critics identified eclecticism, abstraction, folklore, the Orient, and a melancholic mood as characteristics of Jewish art.22 Romantic and realist currents in Russian art of the late nineteenth century stylized the peasant as the epitome of folk culture, and artists of the Russian avantgarde set out to collect everyday objects in ethnographic expeditions.23 In search of a Jewish equivalent, 1915–16, El Lissitzky and Issachar Ber Ryback participated in an expedition organized by the Jewish Historical and Ethnographic Society to collect, study, and record Jewish folk motifs.24 The most important representative of Jewish ethnography was S. An-sky (Shloyme-­Zanvl Rappoport) from Tshashnik, Belorussia. Initially an author of Russian short stories, he switched to ­Yiddish in 1908 and, between 1912–14, led expeditions to the Hasidic shtetls of Podolia and Volhynia. With the ­objects, photographs, music, stories, and folklore that he had gathered, An-sky sought to renew Jewish art and literature.25 Accordingly, in 1918 the critic Abram Ėfros predicted a Renaissance for Jewish culture based on his discoveries.26 In their essay, “The Paths of Jewish Painting” in the Kyiv Yiddishist anthology Oyfgang published in 1919, Boris Aronson and Ber Ryback “subtly demoted Jewish folk culture from an identifiable tradition to a vaguely posited repertoire of distinctive shapes and colors.”27 Others linked the notion of Jewishness in art to their self-consciousness as Jewish subjects. This attitude led still others to rely on abstraction instead of Jewish folk imagery.

Shifting Jewish Cultural Geographies after 1917 February 1917 was a wakeup-call for the creation of a new, secular Jewish national culture. European Russia and Ukraine became the sites of ambitious Jewish cultural programs, in a time of increasing anti-Jewish violence. New centers sprang up in Moscow and Kyiv, continuing the pre-war activities in Warsaw, Vilna, and Odessa. Russian Zionism and the Bund were especially present in urban centers like Kyiv and Odessa.28 With support from private patrons, mass organizations, and

even public authorities, intellectuals organized Hebrew and Yiddish literary journals, avant-garde anthologies, theatre projects, and literary translations.29 The most ambitious Jewish cultural organizations of the time, the Hebrew publishing house Tarbut (founded in Moscow in 1917) and the Kultur-Lige (founded in Kyiv in 1918), saw as their main task the mass dissemination of the new Hebrew and Yiddish secular-national culture (fig. 2+3), hoping it would replace traditional religiosity, cultural assimilation, and the new Jewish shund culture, Boulevard theatre and pulp novels.30 However, beginning in the spring of 1918, the Bolsheviks began to channel Jewish activity. They acknowledged the Jews as a national group (natsional’nost’) and established a Commissariat for Jewish National Affairs (Evkom). During March and April there was an ­expansion of the party organs for Jewish affairs and the Evsektsiya (Jewish Section of the Communist Party) was founded. In some places, such as Petrograd, these bodies almost immediately stifled Jewish ­political and civic life.31 In mid-1918, Hebraists moved to ­Kyiv.32 Here the new Ukrainian government, the Rada, cre­ ated a Ministry of Jewish Affairs in order to gain support of the Jews.33 The Kultur-Lige was the central element of Yiddish cultural life in Kyiv, which ended only with the takeover by the Evsektsiya.34 With its experimental theatre and art sections, founded by Ryback, Lissitzky, and Altman, among others, it attracted many young Jewish talents. But during the Civil War, Kyiv with its experimental theatre studios in Yiddish, in Ukrainian, and in Polish was also a place of sociability and intense cul­ tural exchange.35 The city became a space for liberated minorities to organize politically. It was a place of competing identities—Ukrainian, Jewish, and Russian—in a time of multiple public spheres. The “Jewish Renaissance” was made possible by the revolutionary vacuum of power, but above all by the networks of Jewish welfare institutions that had emerged during the war to help ­refugees.36 They were transformed into organs of Jewish self-government in 1917. The years 1917–19 were contemporaneous with the end of the war, military demobilization, and the creation of the Ukrainian People’s Republic, in the summer of 1917.37 The pogroms that accompanied the hostilities

On Jewish Cultural Identities within the Russian Empire and Soviet Russia

29

between 1917 and 1922 gained new intensity in 1919. After the surrender of Germany and Austria-Hungary in October–November 1918, the most intense phase of the Civil War began, lasting until November 1920, when the last troops of the “Whites” were expelled from southern Russia. The Ukrainian government (the Directorate) gave the Jews autonomous minority status. At the same time, in the chaotic warfare, anti-­ Jewish violence increased.38 All parties—the Ukrainian National Army, the Russian Volunteer Army, the Bolsheviks, and guerrilla militant groups—performed acts of anti-Jewish violence. With every withdrawal of troops and every new occupation of a place there was a pogrom, between 1918 and 1920 more than 1,500 in 1,300 Ukrainian cities, villages, and towns, with somewhere between 50,000 and 200,000 Jews killed.39 Origi­nally, most Jews supported the Ukrainian national government and opposed the Bolsheviks. ­ However, the participation of Ukrainian troops in the pogroms led to a change in thinking. The move to side with the Bolsheviks was confirmed when first the White Army under Anton Denikin and then the Polish Army captured the city.40 Between 1917 and 1920, Kyiv changed hands fourteen times and was the scene of considerable anti-­ Jewish violence. In 1919, the Central Jewish Pogrom

Fig. 4: El Lissitzky, cover of the book Four Teyashim (Four Billygoats) by Ben Zion Raskin (Warsaw: Tairbut, 1919)

30

Monica Rüthers

Victims Aid Committee as well as the Editorial Board for the Collection and Publication of Materials on the Pogroms in Ukraine were established in Kyiv.41 The Editorial Board systematically collected documents in Jewish communities and interviewed witnesses and survivors, including the ten to fifteen thousand ­refugees who flooded Kyiv.42

To Stay or to Leave? Chagall, Lissitzky, Altman In conclusion, three artist-personalities offer illustrative examples of how the multilayered, hybrid Russian-Soviet-Jewish identities took shape (or were shaped) in the context of revolutionary and post-­ revolutionary Russia. In 1918, Marc Chagall had his “Bolshevik moment” when he was appointed “Plenipotentiary on Matters of Art in the Vitebsk ­Province” by Lunacharsky, the new People’s Commissar of Enlight­ enment. In Vitebsk, he successfully established an art school, but came into conflict with the Suprematists’ collective and left in 1920 to work with the M ­ oscow Chamber Theatre. Chagall was born Moyshe Shagal (officially Movsha Shagalov).43 Coming from a poor worker’s family, he had studied painting in Vitebsk with Pen, moved to St. Petersburg in 1907, and in 1911 to Paris. In 1922, he was in Berlin with his wife, ­Bascia (Berta as a student, later Bella) Rozenfeld and their daughter, before they left for Paris. Moyshe became Moisei, then Marc (apparently after the sculptor Mark Antokolsky), and the surname Shagal was changed to Chagall.44 Chagall quite consciously tried to combine both worlds, modernism and shtetl, Paris and Vitebsk. El Lissitzky (Lazar Markovich [Mordukhovich] Lisitsky) chose his name in imitation of El Greco and to affirm his new artistic identity. In the course of his artistic career, he moved from Jewish artist to Suprematist to Stalinist propagandist.45 Having grown up in provincial Belorussia, he studied architectural engineering in Germany. Back in Russia, he briefly participated in the Jewish Art Renaissance of the late 1910s (fig. 4), but soon moved on to experiment with the principles of Constructivism, and in Berlin in the early 1920s he promoted the abstract pictorial vocabulary of Suprematism. It seems that he had completely discarded his Jewish identity.46

Natan Altman, who had begun his artistic career by developing a distinctive painting style based on Jewish folk art and created an iconic portrait of Anna Akhmatova in 1914, was co-founder of the Jewish Society for

Notes 1

4 Bartal, Jews of Eastern Europe, 112. 5

Rogers Brubaker and Frederick Cooper, “Beyond ‘Identity’,” Theory and Society 29, no. 1 (February 2000): 1–47. I wish to thank Nathalie Keigel and Ilay Halpern for their helpful suggestions.

2

Rogers Brubaker, “Ethnicity as Cognition,” in ---, Ethnicity Without Groups (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2004), 64–87.

3

the Encouragement of the Arts in 1916, and also the chief rival of Chagall in the Jewish art renaissance.47 Altman went on to design much of the Leninist icono­ graphy (fig. 5), including festival designs, Lenin’s Plan for Monumental Propaganda, the first Soviet flag, various official seals and postage stamps.48 In the 1920s, he designed constructivist sets for Yiddish theatre and film productions and remained abroad from 1928 to 1935. When he returned, he conformed to the doctrine of Socialist Realism. Each of these three artists was socialized as Russian and understood his Jewish heritage as a resource. Their common moment of Jewish identification was the “Jewish Renaissance,” especially the Kultur-Lige. In contrast to Jewish identification, political affiliation with the Bolsheviks tended to be exclusive. Some artists, like Lissitzky, abandoned Jewish identification in favor of new affiliations; some, like Chagall and Altman, drew situationally upon the various registers of their cultural repertoire. Most changed their names. The year 1922 was their turning point, the moment when Russian and Jewish artists had to decide whether to remain abroad or to commit themselves to the demands of the Bolshevik art system.

For more information on Jewish history and culture in Eastern Europe see Heiko Haumann, A History of East European

nir. Mémoriaux Juifs de Pologne (Paris: Gallimard, 1983), 154. 6 Bartal, Jews of Eastern Europe, 107. 7

Ibid., 112.

8

Iurii Slezkine, The Jewish Century (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2011), 141–42.

9

(Oxford: The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2010–12);

65. 11

Lang, 2004). 12 Stefan Kiniewicz, “Assimilated Jews in Nineteenth-century Warsaw,” in The Jews in Warsaw: A History, ed. Wladyslaw T. Bartoszewski and Antony Polonsky (Oxford: Blackwell, 1991),

phia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005); Monica Rüthers, Stereotypen und ihre Hintergründe” [Regions in portrait: ­Inner-East Jewish stereotypes and their backgrounds], in Luftmenschen und rebellische Töchter: Zum Wandel ostjüdischer Lebenswelten im 19. Jahrhundert, ed. Heiko Haumann (Cologne: Böhlau, 2003), 11–70.

Susanne Marten-Finnis, Vilna as a Centre of the Modern Jewish Press, 1840–1928: Aspirations, Challenges, and Progress (Bern:

Israel Bartal, The Jews of Eastern Europe, 1772–1881 (PhiladelDesanka Schwara, “Regionen im Porträt: Innerost­ jüdische

Rüthers and Schwara, “Regionen im Porträt,” 21, 40, 53, 64–

10 Bartal, Jews of Eastern Europe, 113.

Jews (Budapest, New York: Central European University Press, 2002); Antony Polonsky, The Jews in Poland and Russia, 3 vol.

Annette Wieviorka and Itzhok Niborski, eds., Livres du souve­

171. 13 Bartal, Jews of Eastern Europe, 114. 14

Patricia Herlihy, Odessa Recollected: The Port and the People (Boston, MA: Academic Studies Press, 2018), 84.

15

Seth Wolitz, “The Kiev-Grupe (1918–1920) Debate: The Function of Literature,” Studies in American Jewish Literature 4, no. 2 (Winter 1978): 97–98.

Fig. 5: Natan Altman, drawing from Lenin Portfolio (Petrograd: Izo-Narkompros, 1921), courtesy of Van Abbemuseum, Eindhoven. © VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2022

On Jewish Cultural Identities within the Russian Empire and Soviet Russia

31

16

Yiddish theatres of Soviet Ukraine,” Jewish Culture and History

John E. Bowlt, “Art in Exile: The Russian Avant-Garde and the

18, no. 2 (2017): 152.

Emigration,” Art Journal 41, no. 3 (Autumn 1981): 216. 17

Igor Golomstok, “Jews in Soviet Art: The Early Years,” Soviet

36 Larysa Bilous, “Re-thinking the Revolution in Ukraine: The Jewish Experience, 1917–1921,” Slavic Review 78, no. 4 (Winter

Jewish Affairs 13, no. 2 (1983): 8.

2019): 953.

18 Golomstok, “Jews in Soviet Art,” 4–5; Slezkine, The Jewish Century, 126.

37 Ibid.

19

Golomstok, “Jews in Soviet Art,” 6.

38

20

On women artists see Hillel Kazovsky, “Artists: Russia and the

39 Oleg Budnitskii, Russian Jews between the Reds and the

Soviet Union,” in: The Shalvi/Hyman Encyclopedia of Jewish

Whites, 1917–1920 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania

Women, n.d. [after 2017], https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/ artists-russia-and-soviet-union [accessed 14.06.2022]. 21

Press, 2012). 40 For a detailed account, see Victoria Khiterer, The Jewish Po-

Alina Orlov, “First There Was the Word: Early Russian Texts

groms in Kiev during the Russian Civil War, 1918–1920 (Lewis-

on Modern Jewish Art,” Oxford Art Journal 31, no. 3 (2008): 383–402.

ton, NY: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2015). 41

Efim Melamed, “‘Immortalizing the Crime in History …:’ The Activ-

22

Ibid., 387.

ities of the Ostjüdisches Historisches Archiv (Kiev—Berlin—Paris,

23

Verena Krieger, Von der Ikone zur Utopie. Kunstkonzepte der

1920–1940),” in The Russian Jewish Diaspora, ed. Jörg Schulte,

russischen Avantgarde (Cologne: Böhlau, 1998), 72–85. 24

Peter Wagstaff and Olga Tabachnikova (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 373.

Christina Lodder, “Ideology and Identity: El Lissitzky in Berlin,”

42

Melamed, “Immortalizing the Crime,” 374.

in The Russian Jewish Diaspora and European Culture, 1917–

43

Benjamin Harshav, “Chagall, Marc,” YIVO Encyclopedia of Jews in

1937, ed. by Jörg Schulte, Peter Wagstaff, and Olga Tabachni-

Eastern Europe, 15 December 2010, https://yivoencyclopedia.org/

kowa (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 349. 25

article.aspx/Chagall_Marc [accessed May 31, 2022].

Harriet Murav, Music from a Speeding Train: Jewish Literature

44 Ibid.

in Post-Revolution Russia (Stanford: Stanford University Press,

45

2011), 7.

Lissitzky_El [accessed May 31, 2022]. See also Slezkine, The Jewish

Revolution (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009), 131.

Century, 179. 46

27 Moss, The Jewish Renaissance, 129. Ibid., 2.

30

Ibid., 146.

31

Ibid., 223–24.

32

Ibid., 32.

33

Wolitz, “The Kiev-Grupe (1918–1920) Debate,” 97–98.

34 Ibid. 35

Mayhill C. Fowler, “Jews, Ukrainians, Soviets? Backstage in the

Monica Rüthers

Lodder, “Ideology and Identity,” 339. On Lissitzky’s multipe identities, see also Nancy Perloff, Brian Reed, eds., Situating El Lissitzky:

28 Moss, The Jewish Renaissance, 24–25. 29

Seth L. Wolitz, “Lissitzky, El,” YIVO Encyclopedia of Jews in Eastern Europe, 25 August 2010, https://yivoencyclopedia.org/article.aspx/

26 Ibid.; Kenneth B. Moss, Jewish Renaissance in the Russian

32

Antony Polonsky, The Jews in Poland and Russia 3, 32–33.

Vitebsk, Berlin, Moscow (Los Angeles, CA: Getty, 2003). 47

Seth L. Wolitz, “Al’tman, Natan Isaevich,” YIVO Encyclopedia of Jews in Eastern Europe, 13 July 2010, https://yivoencyclopedia.org/ article.aspx/Altman_Natan_Isaevich [accessed May 31, 2022].

48 Slezkine, The Jewish Century, 178.

ISABEL WÜNSCHE

4

Beyond Kandinsky: The Promotion and Reception of Russian Art in Germany, 1890s to 1922

B

efore the First World War, modern Russian art in Germany was largely the purview of ­Wassily­Kandinsky and Der Blaue Reiter (The Blue Rider) in Munich and Herwarth Walden and his magazine and gallery Der Sturm (The Storm) in Berlin. It was through their exhibitions and publications and their many personal contacts that the German public was first introduced to contemporary art developments in Russia. Following the 1917 October Revolution in Russia and the 1918 November Revolution in Germany, Berlin became home to a large Russian émigré community and a lively center of avant-garde cultural exchange. The November Revolution in Germany ­attracted Soviet interest, and German artists and intellectuals likewise took an interest in the newly founded Soviet Russia; this mutual interest found its expression in numerous publications and lectures as well as the presentations of the Novembergruppe (November Group) and the Internationale Vereinigung der Expressionisten, Futuristen, Kubisten und Konstruktivisten (International Association of Expressionists, Futurists, Cubists, and Constructivists) at the Große Berliner Kunstausstellungen (Great Berlin Art Exhibitions), which featured the Russian avant-garde along with fellow artists from Poland, Hungary, the Netherlands, Scandinavia, etc. This chapter examines German-­ Russian artistic relations and the encounters the German public would have had with the new Russian art prior to the 1922 exhibition.

Der Blaue Reiter and Der Sturm German Expressionism, particularly in its more spiritual form, was fundamentally shaped by the Russian-­born Wassily Kandinsky, who was active in Munich between 1896 and 1914.1 Kandinsky was instrumental in establishing the Neue Künstlervereinigung München (New Artists’ Association Munich) and the Blaue Reiter group, which included fellow Russian artists Alexei Jawlensky and Marianne Werefkin. The first Blaue Reiter exhibition, held at the Galerie Thannhauser ­ from December 1911 to January 1912, included works by German, French, and Russian and U ­ krainian artists,

Beyond Kandinsky: The Promotion and Reception of

33

34

including David and Vladimir Burliuk.2 The second Blaue Reiter exhibition, at the Galerie Neue Kunst– Hans Goltz, in February 1912, served as a critical meeting point between the German Expressionists, including Erich Heckel, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, A ­ ugust Macke, Franz Marc, Emil Nolde, and Max Pechstein; the French Fauvists and Cubists; and Russian avantgarde artists such as the Burliuk brothers, Natalia Goncharova, Wassily Kandinsky, Mikhail Larionov, and Kazimir Malevich.3 The almanac Der Blaue Reiter (fig. 1), published in May 1912, included not only essays by Kandinsky and Marc but also contributions by artists such as David Burliuk on Russian Primitivism and Nikolai Kulbin on free music. Herwarth Walden, Berlin gallery owner and founder of the expressionist magazine Der Sturm, played a crucial role in the dissemination of avant-garde art throughout Europe before the First World War.4 His Sturm gallery, the focus of Berlin’s modern art scene for more than a decade, played host to exhibitions of the Fauves and the Blaue Reiter, followed by the introduction of the Italian Futurists, French Cubists, and Orphists. Walden discovered his special love for Russian art and culture in

1913 when he was introduced by Guillaume Apollinaire to the work of Marc Chagall. Chagall spent the years 1910–14 in Paris, where he studied at the Académie de La Palette, lived in the Montparnasse artists’ residence La Ruche, and befriended the poets Blaise Cendrars and Apollinaire and the painters Sonia Delaunay-Terk and Robert Delaunay, thus witnessing the emergence of the Parisian avant-garde firsthand.5 Walden invited Chagall to exhibit his works at the Erster Deutscher Herbstsalon (First German Fall Salon) in Berlin in 1913, featured his paintings along with works by Alfred Kubin in a Sturm exhibition in spring 1914, and organized Chagall’s first comprehensive one-person show in Germany in fall 1914. The exhi­bition was a success and firmly established Chagall’s reputation in Germany.6 Chagall was also the first artist to be featured in Walden’s Sturm Bilderbücher (Sturm Picture Books, fig. 2), his nationality clearly noted as “Russian.”7 From the very beginning, Walden regularly exhibited works by Russian artists, among them not only Chagall, but also Kandinsky and the Ukrainian sculptor Alexander Archipenko, and this continued after the war.8 In November 1918, he showed, under the title

Fig. 1: Wassily Kandinsky, cover of Der Blaue Reiter: Almanach (Munich: Piper, 1912)

Fig. 2: Sturm Bilderbücher I: Marc Chagall (Berlin: Verlag Der Sturm, 1917), courtesy of Kunstbibliothek, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin

Isabel Wünsche

“Russian Expressionists,” works by Goncharova and Larionov and, in January and February 1921, he featured works by Ivan Puni and Ksenia Boguslavskaya. His comprehensive overview on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the Sturm gallery in August–September 1921 included works by Archipenko, Boguslavskaya, Chagall, Goncharova, Jawlensky, Kandinsky, Larionov, Puni, and Werefkin.

Arbeitsrat, Novembergruppe, and Die Abstrakten With the outbreak of the First World War in 1914, Russian artists in Western Europe, including among ­others Boguslavskaya, Puni, Chagall, Kandinsky, and El Lissitzky, were forced to return to Russia. Artistic life in the West was disrupted and fundamentally changed by the war and its aftermath, but after the October Revolution of 1917, the suddenly re-united Russian avant-garde experienced a period of reinvigoration and intense experimentation. This development, however, occurred largely in isolation; relations with Western Europe were not reestablished until the early 1920s. The 1918 November Revolution in Germany a­ ttracted Soviet sympathies, and German artists and intellectuals likewise took an interest in the newly founded Soviet Russia.9 In response to David Shterenberg’s “Aufruf der russischen fortschrittlichen bildenden Künstler an die deutschen Kollegen” (Call of the Russian Progressive Fine Artists to the German Colleagues) of November 30, 1918, which was published in a number of German newspapers and art magazines,10 German artists began to produce propaganda posters in support of Soviet Russia, among them Raoul Hausmann’s Es lebe Sowjetrußland! (Long Live Soviet Russia!) and Conrad Felixmüller’s Es lebe die Weltrevolution! (Long Live the World Revolution!). These activities intensified during the Russian famine of 1921–22; organizations such as the Auslandskomitee zur Organisierung der Arbeiterhilfe für die Hungernden in Russland (International Workers’ Relief Committee for the Starving Russians) and later the Gesellschaft der Freunde des neuen Russland in Deutschland (Society of Friends of the New Russia in Germany) were set up to actively support the people of Russia through a wide range of cultural activities.11 ­Soliciting support for the

Russian people, Käthe ­Kollwitz created the poster Helft Russland! (Help Russia, fig. 3). Otto Nagel, deputy secretary of the artists’ r­ elief wing of the International Workers’ Relief and an active member of the Society of Friends of the New Russia, played a leading role in the German-Russian cultural dialogue. German leftist artists and writers came together to hold exhibitions and publish manifestos, pamphlets, and print portfolios to benefit International Workers’ R ­ elief.12 After the November Revolution, a number of new artists’ groups were founded in Germany, among them the Arbeitsrat für Kunst (Work Council for Art), the November Group, and the International Association of Expressionists, Futurists, Cubists, and Constructivists. These new organizations viewed themselves as artistically active, progressive forces that would take into their own hands the design of a new society by artistic means. The Work Council for Art was an association of architects, painters, sculptors, and art writers under the leadership of Bruno Taut; it was established as a response to the formation of workers’ and soldiers’ councils in Germany in 1918 and existed until 1921.13 During a time

Fig. 3: Käthe Kollwitz, Helft Russland!, 1921, poster for the International Workers’ Relief, lithograph, 66.7 x 47.7 cm, Käthe Kollwitz Museum, Cologne, Kreissparkasse Cologne

Russian Art in Germany, 1890s to 1922

35

Fig. 4: Ivan Puni, Synthetic Musician, 1921, oil on canvas, 145 x 89 cm, Berlinische Galerie. © VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 1922

36

Isabel Wünsche

when it was almost impossible for architects and artists to receive commissions for buildings or art works, members of the Council began work on a blueprint for a new society to be erected in Germany. The Council strove to gain direct influence over cultural politics and the reorganization of the artistic and cultural institutions in Germany following the First World War and the Revolution; it closely collaborated with the Deutscher Werkbund (German Work Federation) and the November Group. The November Group was founded in December 1918 as “an association of radical fine artists—painters, sculptors, and architects.”14 In a circular dated ­December 13, 1918, Max Pechstein, César Klein, Georg ­Tappert, Heinrich Richter-Berlin, and Moriz Melzer— all likewise members of the Work Council for Art— called on their fellow artists to take action in order to realize “a broadly conceived program, to be carried out by trusted associates in the various centers of art” that would bring “the greatest possible blend of the people and art” and help to renew “contact with like-minded people of all countries.”15 In contrast to the efforts of previous artists’ initiatives such as the Secession groups, their focus was not on serving as a meeting place or exhibition society for artists sharing a particular aesthetic, but to politically and creatively unite the forward-looking forces in the arts and in architecture in order to gain influence in shaping contemporary political and cultural life and reconstructing German society after the war. They sought “influence upon and participation in architectural commissions, the restructuring of art schools and museums, the distribution of exhibition spaces, and the legislative process concerning the arts.”16 The November Group was characterized by mutual collaboration between its members and an openness to a wide range of artistic ideas and stylistic methods of expression—an acceptance that was rather unusual for the majority of artists’ groups at the time.17 In their founding manifesto, they explicitly addressed the Expressionists, Cubists, and Futurists, but the group also included Dadaists, Constructivists, and later, representatives of the New Objectivity. While the early years of the group’s existence were dominated by expressionist viewpoints, Constructivism became the dominant artistic movement in the 1920s. In addition to a pronounced pluralism of styles, the active

collaboration of painters, sculptors, and architects was part of the group’s program from the very beginning. With the addition of sections for literature and music in 1921, the November Group soon became one of the most important forums for new music and experimental film.18 The group held only a few exhibitions, but of great importance to its presence in Berlin and beyond was its regular participation, between 1919 and 1932, in the Great Berlin Art Exhibition, in the exhibition building at Lehrter Bahnhof. Although the Free Secession still dominated the 1919 and 1921 exhibitions, recognition of the November Group as a platform for the international avant-garde gradually increased in the early 1920s. Puni presented his Synthetic Musician in 1922 (fig. 4) and Lissitzky his ground-breaking Proun Room in 1923. The group’s 1923 presentation also included works by Theo van Doesburg and the Hungarian Constructivists László Moholy-Nagy and László Peri, as well as paintings by the Romanian artist H. M. Maxy. Although Herwarth Walden had been one of the most successful promoters of the European avant-garde before 1914, his position as leading spokesman of the avant-garde weakened after the war as Expressionism, Cubism, and Futurism were replaced by new trends; thus, he was forced to find new measures to revive his Sturm enterprise. Between 1919 and 1926, he closely collaborated with the International Association of Expressionists, Futurists, Cubists, and Constructivists. This alliance provided him with the opportunity to open his gallery to new artistic currents and to tie it into international avant-garde networks.19 The International Association (later simply Die Abstrakten—The Abstractionists) was founded in June 1919 and held its first general assembly in the Sturm gallery on October 27, 1919. Among the founding members were Rudolf Blümner, Georg Muche, Hans Sittig, Herwarth and Nell Walden, Jacoba van Heemskerck, and William Wauer. The group became an officially registered association in December 1919, establishing its office at the headquarters of Der Sturm, Berlin W9, Potsdamer Strasse 134a. By the time of its second general assembly, in May 1922, the group had become a de facto branch of the Sturm. This close connection between the International Association and Der Sturm was also visible in the election of its foreign

Russian Art in Germany, 1890s to 1922

37

representatives, which included László Péri (Hungary), János Máttis-Teutsch (Romania), van Heemskerck (the Netherlands), and Boguslavskaya (Russia).20 In 1922, leading members of the association, including Erich Buchholz, Moholy-Nagy, Péri, and Puni, decided to present their works regularly in joint exhibitions in ­order to show “the commonality of their work” and to strengthen the constructivist faction of Der Sturm.21 In 1925, membership in the International Association was combined with a subscription to the Sturm magazine and Herwarth Walden urged members to actively support his Sturm evenings. The group organized a spectacular special exhibition at the Great Berlin Art Exhibition of 1926, providing an overview of the artistic endeavors of the international avant-garde.22 It included works by more than 60 artists, among them the French Cubists, the Bauhaus masters Kandinsky, Muche, and Moholy-Nagy, and artists such as Archipenko, Chagall, the Delaunays, Max Ernst, Emil Filla, Piet Mondrian, Enrico Prampolini, and Kurt Schwitters. This presentation marked the gradual transition from the Expressionism, Cubism, and Futurism of pre-war modernism to Dadaism, Constructivism, and pure abstraction in the interwar period.

Konstantin Umansky and the New Russian Art in Germany In October 1919, the young art historian, journalist, and diplomat Konstantin Umansky arrived in ­Munich, where he began writing articles and a book manuscript about the new artistic developments in Russia. Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919 (New Art in Russia 1914–1919, fig. 5), published in 1920, was an important step in familiarizing the German public with the latest achievements in Russian art.23 Umansky acknowledged that only a few contemporary Russian artists were known in the West, among them Archipenko, Burliuk, Chagall, Jawlensky, and Kandinsky,24 and set out to market Russian art to a German readership. In the first part of the book, he discusses the latest developments in Russian painting, following Realism and Impressionism. His extensive survey ranges from the Art Nouveau artists of Mir iskusstva (World of

38

Isabel Wünsche

Art) and the Russian followers of Paul Cézanne to the Cubo-­ futurists and Suprematists.25 He identifies the roots of Russian modernism in Russian folk art and the culmination of this modernism in the works of the members of Bubnovyi valet (Knave of D ­ iamonds), among them Burliuk, Goncharova, and Larionov. Their work, he suggests, was influenced by Pablo ­Picasso, Robert ­Delaunay, and Sonia Delaunay-Terk.26 Umansky also highlights the creative work and painterly perfection of Pavel Filonov and briefly summarizes Vladimir ­Tatlin’s new artistic language of the counter relief and the emergence of his “Maschinenkunst” (Machine Art).27 He then moved on to discuss the triumph of “the spiritual in art” that expresses itself in an “Absolute E ­ xpressionism.”28 Regarding abstract painting, Umansky distinguished two directions: that of a spiritually enlightened form of abstraction as put forth by Kandinsky and his ­adherents, and that of geometric abstraction as practiced by Malevich and his followers.29 Referring to ­Oswald Herzog’s 1919 Der Sturm article “Abstract Expressionism,”30 Umansky marketed to a German audience abstract painting from Russia in expressionist terms, characterizing it as a matter of “consummate expressionism […] the purity of the creation.”31 Nevertheless, he saw indications that the movement had begun to exhaust its possibilities and would be followed by a return to representational art, which would nonetheless rely on expressionist principles and the achievements of the expressionist movement to lead the way to a newly eternal and classical art.32 Thereafter Umansky discusses contemporary achievements in the graphic arts, sculpture, and the applied arts, highlighting particularly decorations for mass celebrations and stage designs.33 He explains the reorganization of artistic life and its institutions after the October Revo­ lution, acknowledging the engagement of leftist artists in the IZO Narkompros and other ­organizations; the emergence of Proletkult; the reforms of the art schools, the art press, and the exhibition system; and the efforts to protect art works and historic monuments.34 The book concludes with an inventory of the most prominent (leftist) artists, art critics, writers, and musicians; the most important art associations, art unions, museums, and art schools; recent exhibitions, monuments, and theatre performances; art administrative bodies, and a bibliography.35 With his novel treatise,

Other Venues for Russian Art in Germany in the Early 1920s

Umansky succeeded in providing a German readership with comprehensive information on the contemporary art scene in Soviet Russia, an important step toward the re-establishment of cultural relations and artistic ­exchange. An ardent advocate of Russian modernism, Umansky also lectured widely on the subject, including two lectures at the Sturm gallery, in February 1921.36 These were supplemented by other presentations, among them Ilya Ehrenburg’s talk on “Konstruktivnoe iskusstvo” (Constructive Art) for the Association of Russian Students and his lecture on new Russian art at the Dom iskusstv (House of Arts), a well-known cultural club and meeting place of Russian artists and writers that opened its doors at Kurfürstenstrasse 75 in Berlin in November 1921.37 In connection with the First Russian Art Exhi­ bition, Puni, likewise at the House of Arts, spoke about “modern art and the Russian exhibition in Berlin” on November 3, 1921. This was followed by a lively discussion; among the participants were Natan Altman, Archipenko, Andrei Bely, Gabo, Lissitzky, Ehrenburg, and Shterenberg.38

In the early 1920s, Russian art was not only on view in Berlin, but also in various galleries and museums throughout Germany. Although Russian artists such as Jawlensky and Kandinsky had been forced to leave Germany immediately after the outbreak of the First World War and did not return until the early 1920s, Jawlensky’s works were frequently shown in exhi­bitions organized by his agent Emmy “Galka” Scheyer. In June of 1920, Scheyer opened an extensive Jawlensky exhi­ bition at the gallery of Fritz Gurlitt in Berlin; it was then also shown at Hans Goltz’s gallery in ­Munich, the ­Kestner Gesellschaft in Hannover, and the gallery of Ludwig Schames in Frankfurt am Main.39 Her Jawlensky exhibitions traveled all over Germany, including Wiesbaden, Barmen, Düsseldorf, and Mannheim in 1921; Essen, Hagen, Jena, Weimar, Stettin, and Dresden in 1922; and Berlin, Chemnitz, Stuttgart, and Dresden in 1923.40 Scheyer also published an essay on Jawlensky’s art in Paul Westheim’s Kunstblatt in June 1920.41 The Galerie von Garvens in Hannover showed, in March–April 1921, a comprehensive exhibition of Russian art that ranged from icon painting and Russian folk art all the way to the new post-revolutionary art of the avant-garde. In addition to works by Archipenko, Chagall, Jawlensky and his son Andrei, Kandinsky, Puni, and Werefkin, the show also featured 27 Russian icons as well as household and pocket altars in brass and enamel, folk art, textiles and embroidery, along with illustrated books by Delaunay-Terk, Goncharova, and Larionov, Russian literature, and Soviet posters.42 The efforts to introduce a German audience to the artistic achievements of the “new Russia” culminated in the First Russian Art Exhibition, which opened at the Galerie van Diemen in Berlin on October 15, 1922, and will be discussed in more detail in the following chapters.

Fig. 5: Konstantin Umanskij, Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919 (Potsdam: Gustav Kiepenheuer; Munich: Hans Goltz, 1920), courtesy of Kunstbibliothek, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin

Russian Art in Germany, 1890s to 1922

39

Notes

1

For more information, see Isabel Wünsche, “Expressionist

14 “Satzungen der Novembergruppe” [Statues of the Novem-

Networks in the Russian Empire, Soviet Russia, and the Soviet

ber Group] (1918), cited after Helga Kliemann, Die November-

Union,” in The Routledge Companion to Expressionism in a Transnational Context, ed. --- (New York, London: Routledge, 2

gruppe (Berlin: Gebrüder Mann, 1969), 57. 15

Novembergruppe, “Rundschreiben vom 13. Dezember 1918”

2019), 113–33.

[Circular of December 13, 1918], cited after Kliemann, Die

Donald E. Gordon, Modern Art Exhibitions 1900–1916: Selected

­Novembergruppe, 55.

Catalogue Documentation 2 (Munich: Prestel, 1974), 547–48.

16

“Richtlinien der Novembergruppe” [Guiding principles of the

3

Ibid., 548–50.

November Group], in Will Grohmann, Zehn Jahre November-

4

Georg Brühl, Herwarth Walden und “Der Sturm” (Cologne: Du-

gruppe (Berlin: J.J. Ottens, 1928), 11–12. For a full account, see

Mont, 1983).

Thomas Köhler, Ralf Burmeister, and Janina Nentwig (eds.),

Jonathan Wilson, Marc Chagall (New York: Schocken Books,

Freedom: The Art of the November Group 1918–1935 (Munich,

5

2007), 33–53; Benjamin Harshav, Marc Chagall on Art and Culture (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2003), 10.

London, New York: Prestel, 2018). 17

6 Wilson, Marc Chagall, 52–53; Harshav, Marc Chagall on Art and 7 8

Styles: The November Group and the International Avant-

Culture, 11.

Garde in Berlin during the Interwar Period,” in Art/Histories

“Marc Chagall ist Russe.” Sturm Bilderbücher I: Marc Chagall

in Transcultural Dynamics, 20th and 21st Centuries, ed. Pauline

(Berlin: Verlag Der Sturm, 1923), 19.

Bachmann, Melanie Klein, Tomoko Mamine, and Georg Vasold

Karla Bilang, Herwarth Walden und die russische, weiß­russische und ukrainische Avantgarde: Künstler und Schriftsteller 1910–

(Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 2017), 291–307. 18

1938 (Berlin: Trafo, 2020), 23–121, 175–90. 9

11

75. 19

Weimar Republic,” Central European History 37, no. 1 (2004):

and Dialogues: The Reception of Russian Art abroad, ed. Silvia

49–90; Isabel Wünsche, “Der Sturm und Die Abstrakten –

Burini (Salerno: E.C.I. Edizioni culturali internazionali, 2019),

Internationale Vereinigung der Expressionisten, Futuristen,

139–51.

Kubisten und Konstruktivisten e.V.” [Der Sturm and Die Ab-

See, e.g., Menschen: Zeitschrift für Neue Kunst 2, no. 5, March

strakten – International Association of the Expressionists,

1, 1919, 1, or Die Pleite, no. 1, 1919, 4. A reference to the call

Futurists, Cubists, and Constructivists], in Der Sturm – Lite­

appeared in Das Kunstblatt 3, no. 4, April 1919, 126.

ratur, Musik, Graphik und die Vernetzung in der Zeit des Expres-

Gudrun Calov, “Deutsche Beiträge zur bildenden Kunst und

sionismus, ed. Henriette Herwig and Andrea von Hülsen-Esch

Architektur Rußlands und der Sowjetunion von 1914–1941”

(Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015), 356–75; Bilang, Herwarth Walden

[German contributions to the visual arts and architecture in

und die russische, weißrussische und ukrainische Avantgarde,

und in der Sowjetunion 1914–1941, ed. Alfred Eisfeld, Victor

203–85. 20 Correspondence between the International Association and

Herdt, and Boris Meissner (Berlin: LIT, 2007), 42.

the District Court Berlin-Mitte, letter of May 10, 1922, Berlin,

Dennis Crockett, German Post-Expressionism: The Art of the Great Disorder 1918–1924 (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania

13

Vernon L. Lidtke, “Abstract Art and Left-Wing Politics in the

of the 1920s,” in Collana di Europa Orientalis 31: Translations

Russia and the Soviet Union 1914–1941], in Deutsche in Rußland

12

Isabel Wünsche, “The November Group Writes Absolute Film History,” in Köhler, Burmeister, and Nentwig, Freedom, 168–

For more information, see Isabel Wünsche, “Revolutionary Alliances: The Russian Avant-garde and the Berlin Art Scene

10

Isabel Wünsche, “Transgressing National Borders and Ar­tistic

LAB B Rep. 042, Nr. 8986. 21 Heidrun Schröder-Kehler, “Vom abstrakten zum politischen

State University Press, 1999), 60–61.

Konstruktivismus: Oskar Nerlinger und die Berliner Gruppe ‘Die

Schlösser, Manfred, ed., Arbeitsrat für Kunst, Berlin 1918–21:

Abstrakten’ (1919–1933),” PhD thesis, Heidelberg University,

Ausstellung und Dokumentation (West-Berlin: Akademie der Künste, 1980); Eberhard Steneberg, Arbeitsrat für Kunst, Berlin 1918–21 (Düsseldorf: Edition Marzona, 1987).

1985, 25. 22

Führer durch die Ausstellung der Abstrakten: Große Berliner Kunstausstellung 1926, exh. cat. (Berlin: Kunstarchiv Berlin, 1926).

40

Isabel Wünsche

23

Konstantin Umanskij, Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919 (Pots-

35

dam: Gustav Kiepenheuer; Munich: Hans Goltz, 1920).

36 Karl Schlögel et al., eds., Chronik russischen Lebens in Deutsch-

Ibid., 57–68.

24

Ibid., 19.

land 1918–1941 (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1999), http://www2.

25

Ibid., 15.

oei.fu-berlin.de/geschichte/chronik-russisches-lebens/ [accessed

26

Ibid., 16–18.

27

Ibid., 18–20.

28

Ibid., 20.

29

Ibid., 16–20.

30 Oswald Herzog, “Der abstrakte Expressionismus,” Der Sturm 10, no. 2, May 1919, 29.

March 22, 2022]. 37

Ibid. See also Survivor from a Dead Age: The Memoirs of Louis Lozowick, ed. Virginia Hagelstein Marquardt (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian, 1997), 207–08.

38 Ibid. 39 Isabel Wünsche, Galka E. Scheyer and The Blue Four, Corre­

31 Umanskij, Neue Kunst in Russland, 23.

spondence 1924–1945 (Bern: Benteli, 2006), 5–7.

32 Ibid., 24–26.

40 Ibid.

33

Ibid., 26–42.

41

34

Ibid., 43–56.

E. [Emmy] Scheyer, “Alexej von Jawlensky,” Das Kunstblatt 4, no. 6, 1920, 161–71.

42

Sechste Ausstellung März–April 1921: Russische Kunst: Ikone/ Volkskunst/Neue Gemälde (Hannover: Galerie von Garvens, 1921).

Russian Art in Germany, 1890s to 1922

41

The organizers of the First Russian Art Exhibition, Berlin, 1922, photograph by Willy Römer From left: David Shterenberg, head of IZO Narkompros; David Maryanov, representative of the Russian secret services; Natan Altman; Naum Gabo; and Friedrich Lutz of the Galerie van Diemen. © bpk. Reprofoto: Kai-Annett Becker/Berlinische Galerie

The History and Politics of the Exhibition

KASPER BRASKÉN

5

International Communism and Transnational Solidarity in the Context of the First Russian Art Exhibition

W

hen the First Russian Art Exhibition opened its doors at the Galerie van ­Diemen in Berlin on October 15, 1922, the exhibition catalogue informed visitors that it was jointly co-organized by the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (Narkompros) and an international organization called the Auslandskomittee zur Organisierung der Arbeiterhilfe für die Hungernden in Russland (International Workers’ Relief Committee for the Starving Russians), an international body created by the Communist International in August 1921 that was led by the German communist Wilhelm “Willi” Münzenberg.1 While previous contributions on the exhibition have focused on the Soviet cultural diplomacy or the activity of individual Russian artists, the role of the Workers’ Relief organization has remained less explored.2 This essay will analyze how Workers’ Relief made the exhibition intelligible from the perspective of communist internationalism and review its role in the creation of new forms of transnational solidarity between the West and Soviet Russia. Like many of the Russian artists involved in organizing the exhibition, among them David Shterenberg, Natan Altman, and Naum Gabo, Workers’ Relief represents another manifestation of transcultural agency that further linked Weimar Germany with the new Russia.3

Farewell to the Revolution in the West The exhibition in Berlin was organized in the midst of a dramatic transformation process within the international communist movement. After years of revolutionary upsurge, western capitalism was eventually showing signs of stabilization, thus dampening revolutionary optimism in Europe, and leaving the outlook uncertain. The Third International, an international organization advocating world communism and most often referred to as the Communist International (Comintern), had been created in March 1919 to spearhead the global revolution.4 Its predecessor, the Second International, imploded with the beginning of the First World War after the constituent social democratic parties chose not to stand up in united opposition to the

International Communism and Transnational Solidarity

45

conflict, but instead supported their own respective governments’ war efforts. The war paved the way for a completely redrawn political map in Central and Eastern Europe that was accompanied by the collapse of the Ottoman, Habsburg, and Romanov dynasties. The most dramatic event was the successful realization of the October Revolution in November 1917, which catapulted Lenin and a vanguard of Bolshevik revolutionaries to power in Russia. Moreover, after a series of revolutionary events, the German Empire collapsed in November 1918, resulting in the founding of the Weimar Republic. Imperial Germany was dismantled, and a new democratic Germany emerged with Berlin as the primary European center for radical cultural ini­ tiatives and politics—a global point of convergence for the revolutionary networks and intense connections to Soviet Russia. As a consequence of the war, the German socialists finally split up, with the revolutionary Spartacus League (Spartakusbund), in December 1918 renamed the German Communist Party (Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands, KPD), assuming the vanguard of the revolutionary movement. The reformist ­Social Democratic Party (Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands, SPD) advocated a democratic transition to socialism and looked aghast at the violent, revolutionary turmoil taking place in Russia. The KPD became one of the strongest communist parties beyond Russia and one of the most important early actors beyond Soviet Russia that presented the Russian Revolution in a supportive and emphatic light. The German communists did not lack their own revolutionary credentials, but their leading members, including Karl Liebknecht, Rosa Luxemburg, Leo Jogiches, and Franz Mehring, all perished in early 1919. The KPD continued to carry the revolutionary torch up until the so-called March Action in 1921, when they, along with the other far-left organizations, called for open insurrection in central Germany. It quickly became apparent that the party had pushed forward without the support of the German working class and the revolt was rapidly crushed. Although the traditional periodization of the KPD and Comintern’s history describes the period from 1919 to October 1923 as the revolutionary postwar period in Germany, the March Action of 1921 represented in several respects a transformative

46

Kasper Braskén

event.5 Given the slow abatement of postwar social and political instability in Central and Eastern Europe, the Comintern was forced to reconsider its goal of striving for immediate revolutionary developments in Europe and especially Germany. The ultimate consequence of this bitter realization was Soviet Russia’s active search for trade agreements with the capitalist countries and the establishment of a peaceful coexistence that would provide time for Soviet development.6 In 1923, as a consequence of the dramatic Ruhr occupation and the hyperinflation crisis in Germany, revolution was suddenly, but only temporarily, brought back to the table by the KPD and Moscow. It culminated in a failed attempt to stage a “German October,” whereafter revolutionary pessimism became dominant again.7 Although during these early years the Comintern’s international activities and Soviet Russia’s foreign policy were highly intertwined, the main focus here will remain on the Comintern, especially the oftenoverlooked transnational solidarity work promoted by Workers’ Relief. A major caesura for international communism took place when members of the Comintern gathered for the Third World Congress in Moscow from June 22 to July 12, 1921. For the first time, the Comintern found it necessary to take a step back from its “tactic of assault” and focus on the masses instead. The new task of the Comintern and all national communist parties was to gain more influence in working class circles and win the upper hand from the social democratic parties and reformist trade unions through a united front. In Germany, the KPD needed, in other words, to maintain a radical pose, but refrain from premature action and focus on winning over larger sections of the working class.8

Winning the Masses through Solidarity At the same time, as external developments abroad were causing havoc with the revolutionary course of history, a horrific societal crisis was developing within Soviet borders. Amidst the activities of the Third World Congress, rumors were circulating that a devastating famine was unfolding in the Volga region. Official details were finally made public the day after the congress ended, on July 13, when Maxim Gorky was permitted

to dispatch an international appeal for famine relief “To All Honest People.”9 In July, Gorky functioned as an intermediary between Lenin and the Russian intelligentsia and managed even to secure Lenin’s consent for the establishment of the All-Russian ­Public Committee to Aid the Hungry. News of its establishment caused excitement among liberals and anti-­Bolsheviks in the West as it included world-renowned Russian intellectuals who finally were permitted to re-emerge from the shadows. Ekaterina Kuskova, one of the leading voices on the public committee, noted that in such a devastating moment of crisis, it was their moral duty as Russian intellectuals to make an appeal for foreign aid. There was a sense that the humanitarians of the world would more willingly respond if the appeal came from public figures not associated with the Soviet regime. Herbert Hoover’s American Relief Administration (ARA), however, was not interested in collaborating with the ­public committee and insisted on arranging the US relief effort through an official Soviet agency. It was therefore the All-Russian Central Executive Committee’s ­Central Commission to Aid the Starving, established on July 21, that assumed responsibility on the Soviet side. When the ARA signed a relief agreement with the Soviet government on August 20, the Bolshevik tolerance for the public committee was finished; its fate was sealed when wild rumors in the West insinuated that the public committee would form the basis of a post-Bolshevik proto-government. At its next meeting on August 27, most of the intellectuals were arrested, exiled, and expelled. However, the ­ public committee had from its founding included several leading Bolsheviks, including Lev Kamenev, Aleksei Rykov, ­ and Anatoly Lunacharsky, who continued their famine ­relief work within the framework of the state’s Central Commission to Aid the Starving that coordinated the relief arriving from abroad.10 Gorky was appalled by the treatment of the Russian intellectuals and left for Germany where he continued to liaison with intellectuals and artists.11 To counterbalance the aid from the capitalist countries, Lenin initiated an international workers’ famine relief that was based on the belief that the workers of the world would, unlike the capitalist countries, provide practical aid to Soviet Russia without any strings attached. The initiative was launched through the

Comintern and Willi Münzenberg was selected to coordinate the workers’ relief from Berlin. Münzenberg had ample experience with international work as he had been the secretary of the Communist Youth International. During his years in the international youth movement, he became personally acquainted with ­Lenin and many other leading Bolshevik exiles in Switzerland, which provided him with access to the leadership of both the Comintern and Soviet Russia. In mid-August 1921, Münzenberg founded the provisional Workers’ Relief organization in Berlin. Its main ­mission was to coordinate and centralize aid collected via the workers’ movement beyond Soviet Russia, irrespective of whether it originated from syndicalists, anarchists, communists, social democratic parties, or reformist trade unions. However, instead of unifying the relief efforts of the workers’ movement, the powerful social democratic parties and unions abstained from collaborating with Workers’ Relief and organized their own separate fundraising efforts. Although Workers’ Relief failed to unite all working-class organizations in the famine relief, Münzenberg still proudly called it “the first practical attempt to implement the united front.”12 In this process, Workers’ Relief established itself as a significant new transnational actor in Berlin whose influence reached well beyond communist and immediate working-class circles. Through ­Münzenberg’s initiative and with the full support of the Comintern apparatus, it connected with the communist parties of the world to establish local famine relief committees. The funds available to the workers of the world may have been limited, but it was pivotal for the mobilization of moral support.13 Significantly, Workers’ Relief did not initially present a glorious image of Soviet Russia but articulated a message of desperation and despair that even speculated on the imminent collapse of Soviet Russia. The relief effort was thus not only about famine relief, but equally about saving Soviet Russia and the world revolution. As the Workers’ Relief press slogan on August 18, 1921, declared: “The collapse of Soviet Russia would be the collapse of your revolution, too: Help Soviet Russia and you help yourself!”14 The campaign transmitted an urgent distress call for solidarity, urging workers to take action before it was too late. According to Münzenberg, workers instinctively understood

International Communism and Transnational Solidarity

47

that there was much more at stake than simply aiding famine victims: namely the preservation and development of “the first workers’ and peasants’ state in world history.”15 This made Workers’ Relief efforts distinct from charity and philanthropy, as it stressed the importance of a worker solidarity that bound the fate of the international working class together with that of Soviet Russia. Although Workers’ Relief was intended to coordi­ nate aid and support from the working class, it embraced from the beginning artists and intellectuals sympathetic to Soviet Russia. On August 19, only a few days after the organization’s establishment, a parallel relief effort by German artists, the Deutsche Künstlerhilfe für die Hungernden in Russland (German Artists’ Relief for the Starving in Russia), was founded in Berlin. The initiative was started by Käthe Kollwitz, Arthur Holitscher, George Grosz, Wieland Herzfelde, and Max Barthel;16 by January 15, 1922, Maxim Gorky was included in the honorary presidium.17 Both Grosz and Kollwitz contributed original art works to the campaign, and Kollwitz designed the first campaign ­poster for Workers’ Relief, which depicted a falling man (Russia) surrounded by helping hands (the workers of the world) reaching out toward him.18 The print run in Germany, however, seems to have been limited, which was partly explained by Münzenberg, who warned the Comintern in Moscow that they needed to be mindful about operational costs: the workers were attentive to the need that the collected funds were not to be spent on posters, but given to the hungry.19

Toward a Large Cultural-Political Campaign for Soviet Russia Workers’ Relief needed visual ways to depict Soviet Russia and the famine crisis, and Münzenberg espe­cially was convinced of the importance of using i­mages in the formation of transnational solidarity, be it through art, photographs, or film.20 For this purpose, Workers’ Relief initiated a monthly workers’ magazine called Sowjet-Russland im Bild (Soviet Russia in ­Pictures). The first issue was published on November 7, 1921, and the profits from its sale were to be used only for famine relief.21 One year later the name was changed to Sichel

Fig. 1: Sowjet-Russland im Bild, no. 3, December 20, 1921 Fig. 2: Sowjet-Russland im Bild, no. 4, January 20, 1922

48

Kasper Braskén

und Hammer (Sickle and Hammer) before it became the Arbeiter-Illustrierte-Zeitung in 1925.22 The main goal of the famine relief campaign’s first phase was to collect as much money and foodstuffs as possible. However, as hardship prevailed in most other parts of Europe, too, the results of the fundraising were necessarily going to be limited; Münzenberg estimated that the political gains would, in the end, outweigh the material side of the campaign.23 In a similar tone, Münzenberg reported to the Comintern on November 21, 1921, that “The greatest gain is not a few wagons of grain, but moral success.”24 Significantly for the First Russian Art Exhibition, in 1922 Workers’ Relief altered its original purpose to reflect a new kind of aid, intuitively called “productive economic assistance,” that set its focus on reconstructing the Soviet economy in the famine-stricken areas, thereby also collectively working to “build socialism” in Soviet Russia.25 Münzenberg informed Lenin on December 22, 1921, that Workers’ Relief was “beginning to turn the campaign into a large-scale political campaign in support of Soviet Russia, i.e., the recognition of the Soviet government and the unrestricted provision of long-term commercial loans, etc.”26 Moreover, the Comintern needed a stronger response to the cultural events being realized by non-Bolshevik Russian émigrés in Berlin, which included variety and cabaret shows, plays at the Russian theatre, and the organization of Russian art evenings and song recitals. Münzenberg suggested to Lenin that a well-organized Russian art exhibition could function as an effective counterweight.27 In his letter to the Comintern, he indicated that the organization of a large art exhibition had already been discussed with him when he was in Moscow in November 1921. In January 1922, Münzenberg reassured Moscow that the largest possible exhibition of works would be arranged so as to attract interest well beyond working-class circles.28 The idea fit well with Workers’ Relief ’s turn toward a solidarity movement intent on building the future socialist society. With this transition, which effectively transformed a movement based on desperation into a much more positive narrative, the priority became the desire to demonstrate to German workers and other sympathizers what the “new Russia” entailed and what the international form of Soviet society could look like. In the communist newspaper Internationale Presse-

Korrespondenz (Inprekorr; International Press Correspondence), Münzenberg maintained in early January 1922 that all enlightened comrades had understood from the very beginning that if the West European working class “really wanted to help,” aid could not be limited to simple famine relief, but needed to support economic reconstruction.29 Although the catastrophic weather conditions in the Volga basin had been the work of nature, Soviet Russia’s capability to respond had been severely hampered by the collapse of the Russian economy after years of “war, blockade, and sabotage by the counterrevolution.”30 European workers, themselves living under severe hardship, could of course not save the Russian economy, but they had the power to pressure western governments to resume full trade with Russia.31 Here the interests of the Comintern, the international communist movement, and Soviet Russia converged in significant ways which also gave a new momentum to the campaign. The political importance of this campaign was ­clearly defined and emphasized by Münzenberg in ­order to convince an initially skeptical Comintern leadership in Moscow. At the Executive Committee’s meeting on March 1, 1922, Münzenberg stressed that the objec­ tive of the new campaign was to achieve a maximum amount of support from the international working class, apply pressure on western governments, create a united workers’ front, and to mobilize the full power of the workers to assist Soviet Russia during its financial crisis. At the same time, Münzenberg explained that the forthcoming exhibition of Soviet art also had two further distinct objectives: to achieve moral support for Soviet Russia, and to attract further financial support for the Workers’ Relief effort.32 German Artists’ Relief circles seem to have been crucial in connecting Workers’ Relief with revolutionary artists in Berlin. The creator of proletarian theatre, ­Erwin Piscator, was elected the secretary of Artists’ Relief. Piscator was well connected, having joined the Dada group in late 1918 and forging fruitful connections with Grosz, John Heartfield, the poet and song-writer Walter Mehring, and the writer Franz Jung, who in 1922 was to become responsible for the coordination of Workers’ Relief in Moscow. Holitscher had been one of the founders of the League of Proletarian Culture in 1919 and enjoyed a vast network within

International Communism and Transnational Solidarity

49

political and cultural circles.33 According to Piscator, the aim of Artists’ Relief had from the very beginning been “propagandistic” in the sense that it strove to mobilize the bourgeoisie to help with famine relief. Their task was to use art to establish a link with the German middle class as well as with other German artists, scholars, and writers.34 This function became of central relevance when the First Russian Art Exhibition became a part of the broader cultural mission of Workers’ Relief.

Imagining the Land of Revolution The organization’s illustrated magazine, Sowjet-­Russland im Bild, played a crucial part in popularizing the relief campaign and then subsequently in the turn toward more universal support of the socialist cause in the form of so-called “productive assistance.” As ­Münzenberg repeatedly emphasized to Moscow, while the communist press in Germany was mostly read by party members, the Workers’ Relief illustrated magazine was reaching a much broader segment of the German working class. By September 1922, Münzenberg reported to the Comintern that Sowjet-Russland im Bild had achieved a print run of 70,000 copies and rising.35 The subsequent covers of Sowjet-Russland im Bild signaled the radically changing wind: The December 20, 1921, issue showed ill-fated famine refugees in Samara, but the next issue, one month later, boldly depicted an electric plough intended to become a valuable aid in future Soviet agriculture.36 (figs. 1+2) The magazine continued to include images of the famine in subsequent issues, but its sights were increasingly set on ways to secure the forthcoming harvest. In this spirit, a “fundraising for tools” (Werkzeugsammelwoche) effort was organized in the first week of May 1922, with a plea that: “Every hammer you give will help to forge the structure of the socialist economy.”37 As a part of the productive assistance effort, Workers’ Relief organized a major conference in Berlin, from July 5 to 11, 1922, that gathered over 100 guests from 15 countries, including Soviet Russia’s ambassador to Germany, Nikolai Krestinsky.38 A further cultural and political event was coupled to the conference with the opening, on July 7, on the old premises of the Russian consulate at Unter den Linden 11, of a Workers’

50

Kasper Braskén

Relief exhibition titled Hungersnot und Hungerhilfe in Sowjet-Russland (Famine and Famine Relief in Soviet Russia). It included statistical charts about the famine, posters, photos, samples of “hunger bread” from the famine region, craftwork, magazines, brochures, and photo albums.39 Although the exhibition was much more modest than Münzenberg had originally planned, he was very pleased with the outcome and especially with the location. He estimated that about 60 percent of the visitors had been from working class circles, but the rest had been tourists and passersby on the promi­ nent Berlin boulevard. This had been a very successful way to reach the bourgeois public sphere, Münzenberg realized,40 as the majority of communist cultural activities took place in the working-class districts outside the city center and hence were easily ignored by the bourgeoisie.41 Although the organization’s efforts initially focused solely on ways to overcome the economic blockade of Soviet Russia, Holitscher argued in October 1922 for the relevance of the “cultural propaganda” that accompanied the productive assistance. In Holitscher’s words, the preceding years had not only represented an economic blockade of Russia, but likewise an intellectual blockade. It was therefore the mission of Workers’ Relief to facilitate the cultural exchange between Russia and the West. One such crucial opportunity was the display in Berlin of the most recent developments in Russian art, created during years of hardship, including revolution and civil war, works achieved despite difficult times and the effects of the blockade.42 There were many delays and setbacks in the planning of the First Russian Art Exhibition. Münzenberg insisted in his communication with both Lenin and Krestinsky that failure was not an option. After all the resources and time invested in its planning, cancellation would have been a devastating misfortune for Workers’ Relief and for Soviet Russia itself.43 When the exhibition finally opened, it was proudly introduced to readers of Sichel und Hammer by Holitscher and Shteren­berg. Holitscher framed the exhibition as a program of “revolutionary art and the art of revolution” and lauded the promises of new art created by and for the revolution.44 Shterenberg explained that the exhibition had two goals. First, it needed to contradict the foreign and Russian émigré press that claimed that

Fig. 3: “Erste Russische Kunstausstellung in Berlin,” Sichel und Hammer, no. 1, October 1922

International Communism and Transnational Solidarity

51

the revolution had eradicated Russian culture, that art did not exist anymore. Shterenberg begged to differ, exclaiming that nowhere in the West were artists treated as well as in Soviet Russia, where they were provided with the opportunity to work and where the artistic youth had grown close with the revolution and were “being nurtured by its juices.” The second goal of the exhibition was simply to “bring the western comrades closer.”45 Many exiled Russian artists and intellectuals would certainly have disagreed with Shterenberg’s optimistic portrayal of the artists’ situation in Soviet Russia, but he was correct in his belief that in both the West and the East, comrades were debating revolutionary art and how to maintain art’s relevance. The exhibition thus offered a way to further facilitate this exchange of ideas between artists in Germany, Russia, and beyond. The articles in Sichel und Hammer were

accompanied by illustrations showing art works by Altman, Gabo, Shterenberg, and Stanislav Zhukovsky (Joukowski) (fig. 3). Despite enthusiastic reports, it had not been possible to realize the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin as grandly as originally conceived. Münzenberg himself regretted in a letter to Lenin that it had been limited to “a pure arts exhibition,” leaving unstated what the alternative vision had been. On a positive note, according to Münzenberg, the exhibition had found a “warm and friendly” reception in the Berlin press, which by extension implied that it indeed had provided Workers’ Relief and the Comintern with the moral victory they had aimed to achieve.46

Notes and the Making of the Soviet Public Sphere (New Haven, Conn.: 1

Kasper Braskén, The International Workers’ Relief, Commu­ nism, and Transnational Solidarity: Willi Münzenberg in Weimar

Yale University Press, 2007), 19–39. 11

Germany (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015). 2

3

4

Friendship of Maxim Gorky and V.I. Lenin (London: Pall Mall

Ewa Bérard, “The ‘First Exhibition of Russian Art’ in Berlin: The

Press, 1967), 107–16; 136–40.

Transnational Origins of Bolshevik Cultural Diplomacy, 1921–

12 “es war der erste praktische Versuch, die Einheitsfront

1922,” Contemporary European History 30, no. 2 (2021): 164–80.

durchzuführen.” Erweiterte Exekutiv-Sitzung. III Internatio-

Susanne Marten-Finnis, “Art as Refuge: Jewish Publishers as

nale, 14. Sitzung, 1. März 1922 (Abendsitzung), Münzenberg:

Cultural Brokers in Early 1920s Russian Berlin,” Transcultural

Bericht über die Hungerhilfe, [Extended Executive Meeting.

Studies, no. 1 (2016): 9–42.

Third International, 14th Session, March 1, 1922 (evening ses-

Brigitte Studer, Reisende der Weltrevolution: Eine Globalgeschichte der Kommunistischen Internationale

sion), Münzenberg: Report on famine relief]; Moscow, RGASPI

(Berlin:

Suhrkamp, 2020). 5

495/159/35, 4. 13

The Transnational Networks of the International Workers’

und KPD: Eine historische Einführung” [On the relationship be-

Relief, 1921–1935,” in International Communism and Trans­

tween the Comintern, the Soviet State, and the KPD: A historical

national Solidarity: Radical Networks, Mass Movements and

introduction], in Deutschland-Russland-Komintern: I. Überblicke,

Global Politics, 1919–1939, ed. Holger Weiss (Leiden: Brill, 2017),

der KPD und die Deutsch-Russischen Beziehungen (1918–1943),

7

130–67. 14 “Wenn Sowjetrussland zusammenbricht, bricht auch deine

ed. Hermann Weber et al. (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2014), 17–48.

Revolution zusammen: Hilf Sowjetrussland und Du hilfst dir

Lionel Kochan, “The Russian Road to Rapallo,” Soviet Studies

selber! ” [If Soviet Russia collapses, your revolution collapses:

2, no. 2 (1950): 109–22.

Help Soviet Russia and you help yourself!], Bulletin des Aus-

Bernhard H. Bayerlein et al., eds., Deutscher Oktober 1923:

landskomitees zur Organisierung der Arbeiterhilfe für die Hun-

Ein Revolutionsplan und sein Scheitern (Berlin: Aufbau-Verlag, 2003). See also Braskén, International Workers’ Relief, 77–97. 8

9

gernden in Russland (Bulletin), no. 2, August 18, 1921, 6. 15

ersten Arbeiter- und Bauernstaates in der Weltgeschichte

Documents I, 1919–1922 (London: Oxford University Press,

geht.” Willi Münzenberg, “Der internationale Kampf der Prole-

1956), 224–25.

tarier gegen den Hunger in Russland” [The international fight

A transcript of the appeal is reprinted in Orlando Figes, A

of proletarians against famine in Russia], Bulletin 3, August 19,

Pimclio, 1997), 778–79.

52

“[…], daß es um den Bestand und die Weiterentwicklung des

Jane Degras, ed., The Communist International 1919–1943:

People’s Tragedy: The Russian Revolution 1891–1924 (London: 10

Kasper Braskén, “In Pursuit of Global International Solidarity?

Hermann Weber, “Zum Verhälnis von Komintern, Sowjetstaat

Analysen, Diskussionen. Neue Perspektiven auf die Geschichte

6

Bertram D. Wolfe, The Bridge and the Abyss: The Troubled

Stuart Finkel, On the Ideological Front: The Russian Intelligentsia

Kasper Braskén

1921, 2. 16

“Deutsche Künstlerhilfe” [German artists’ aid], Bulletin 4, August 22, 1921, 4.

17

“Komitee Künstlerhilfe: Ehrenpräsidium” [Committee artists’

32 Erweiterte Exekutiv-Sitzung: III Internationale, 14. Sitzung,

aid: Honorary presidium], Bulletin 36, January 15, 1922, 8.

1. März 1922 (Abendsitzung), Münzenberg: Bericht über die

18 Käthe Kollwitz, Die Tagebücher, ed. Jutta Bohnke-Kollwitz

Hungerhilfe [Extended Executive Meeting. Third International, 14th Session, March 1, 1922 (evening session), Münzenberg:

(Berlin: Siedler, 1989), 508.

Report on famine relief]; Moscow, RGASPI 495/159/35, 10. See

19 Münzenberg’s report about the famine relief in “Protokoll

also Braskén, International Workers’ Relief, 74–75.

der Sitzung der Kom. Internationale vom 21. November 1921” [Minutes of the Comintern Executvive Committee’s meeting, 20

33 Arthur Holitscher, Mein Leben in dieser Zeit: Der “Lebens-

November 21, 1921]; Moscow, RGASPI 495/1/44, 68.

geschichte eines Rebellen” zweiter Band (1907–1925) (Pots-

Willi Münzenberg, “Die Propaganda für die Hungerhilfe durch

dam: Gustav Kiepenheuer, 1928), 183–89; John Willett, The

das Bild” [The use of pictures in the propaganda for the starv-

Theatre of Erwin Piscator: Half a Century of Politics in the Theatre (London: Methuen, 1986), 42–46.

ing], Inprekorr 10, 1922, 84–85. 21

On the cover of Sowjet-Russland im Bild 1 (November 7, 1921) it

34 Erwin Piscator, “Bericht der deutschen ‘Künstlerhilfe für die

was stated that the net proceeds are set aside for the starving

Hungernden in Russland’” [Report of the “Artists’ aid for the starving in Russia”], Der Rote Aufbau 2, October 15, 1922, 28–31.

in Russia. 22

Riccardo Bavaj, “‘Revolutionierung der Augen’: Politische Mas-

35 Letter from Münzenberg to Zinoviev, September 28, 1922; Moscow, RGASPI 538/2/9, 68.

senmobilisierung in der Weimarer Republik und der Münzenberg-Konzern” [“Revolutionizing the Eyes:” Political mass mo-

36 See cover images of Sowjet-Russland im Bild 3 (December 20, 1921) and 4 (January 20, 1922).

bilization in the Weimar Republic and the Münzenberg Group], in Politische Kultur und Medienwirklichkeiten in den 1920er

23

37

Jahren ed. Ute Daniel et al. (Munich: R. Oldenbourg, 2010),

tischen Wirtschaft.” “Internationale Werkzeugsammelwoche”

81–100.

[International Tool Collection Week], Sowjet-Russland im Bild 6, March 1922.

Untitled and undated [late July 1921] document on the orga­ nization of the Comintern’s famine relief campaign. Moscow,

38 Braskén, International Workers’ Relief, 64.

RGASPI 495/60/1, 10–11.

39 Bericht über die Ausstellung “Hungersnot, Hungerhilfe in Sowjet-Russland” [Report on the Exhibition Famine, Famine

24 “Der grösste Gewinn ist nicht die paar Waggons Getreide,

Relief in Soviet Russia], Moscow, GARF 1065/3/44, 85–87.

sondern der moralische Erfolg.” Protokoll der Sitzung der

25

Kom. Internationale vom 21. November 1921 [Minutes of the

40 Ibid.

Comintern Executive Committee’s Meeting, November 21,

41

A short report and picture from the exhibition were also pub-

1921]; Moscow, RGASPI 495/1/44, 42–72, here 71.

lished with the title: “Die Ausstellung der produktiven Wirt­

The first official mention of the turn to productive assistance

schaftshilfe” [The exhibition of the productive economic aid], Sowjet-Russland im Bild 11, August 1922, 15.

was made in January 1922. See Willi Münzenberg, “Hungerhilfe = Wirtschaftshilfe” [Famine relief = economic aid], Bulletin 36,

42

national Workers’ Relief], Inprekorr 200 (October 16, 1922):

26 “Mehr und mehr beginnen wir die Aktion in eine grosse

1349–50.

­politische Aktion zu Gunsten Sowjetrusslands, d.h. der Anerkennung der Sowjetregierung und uneingeschränkten Han-

Arthur Holitscher, “Von der Kultur-Propaganda der Internationalen Arbeiterhilfe” [On the cultural propaganda of the Inter-

January 15, 1922, 9.

43

See, e.g., letter from Münzenberg to Lenin, March 9, 1922, pub-

delsgewährung langfristiger Kredite usw. ausmünden zu las-

lished in Ruth Stoljarowa and Peter Schmalfuß, eds., “Aus den

sen.” Letter from Münzenberg to Lenin, Berlin, December 22,

Briefwechsel deutscher Genossen mit W.I. Lenin” [From the

1921; Moscow, RGASPI 5/3/202, 1.

correspondence of German comrades with V.I. Lenin], Beiträge zur Geschichte der Arbeiterbewegung 29 (1987): 51–57.

27 Münzenberg to Lenin, Berlin, December 22, 1921; Moscow, RGASPI 5/3/202, 1. See also Braskén, International Workers’ Re-

44

Hammer 1, October 1922, 10.

Letter from Münzenberg to the Comintern’s Secretariat, January 12, 1922; Moscow, RGASPI 538/2/9, 19.

Arthur Holitscher, “Revolutionäre Kunst und Kunst der Revolution” [Revolutionary art and art of the revolution], Sichel und

lief, 58–76. 28

“Jeder Hammer, den du gibst, schmiedet am Baue der sozialis-

45 “die künstlerische Jugend ist eng mit der Revolution ver-

29 “daß sich die Aktion nicht auf eine unmittelbar begrenzte

wachsen und nährt sich von ihren Säften. […] Das zweite Ziel

Lebensmittelhilfe beschränken dürfte, sondern daß west-

dieser Ausstellung ist, uns den westlichen Kameraden näher­

europäische Proletariat darüber hinaus, wenn es wirklich

zubringen.” D[avid] Sternberg [sic], “Erste Russische Kunst­

helfen will, Anstrengungen einer weitgehenden Unter-

ausstellung in Berlin” [First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin], Sichel und Hammer 1, October 1922, 10.

stützung bei dem Wiederaufbau des russischen Wirtschaftslebens machen muß.” Wilhelm Münzenberg, “Hungerhilfe –

“Die Ausstellung ist auf eine reine Kunstausstellung beschränkt

Wirtschaftshilfe” [Famine relief—economic aid], Inprekorr 4,

[…] Die Ausstellung hat aber eine sehr warme und freundli-

January 1922, 31.

che Aufnahme in der Berliner Presse gefunden.” Letter from

30 “infolge der jahrelangen Kriege, Blockade, Sabotage der Konterrevolution usw.” Ibid., 31–32. 31

46

­Münzenberg to “Lieber Genosse” [Dear Comrade; presumably Lenin], October 25, 1922; Moscow, GARF 130/5/1096, 193.

Ibid., 32.

International Communism and Transnational Solidarity

53

KASPER BRASKÉN

6

Willi Münzenberg and the Workers’ International Relief

W

ilhelm “Willi” Münzenberg (1889–1940, fig. 1) is mainly remembered as an impeccable organizer of a red media empire in Weimar Germany. During the interwar period, he was one of the most articulate defenders of international communism and the Soviet Union but, in the end, he publicly denounced Stalin as a traitor. To emphasize the extent of his influence, Münzenberg has been characterized as both a communist version of the conservative German media tycoon Alfred Hugenberg and as the main organizer of the opposition to Joseph G ­ oebbel’s Nazi propaganda operations during the 1930s.1 Münzenberg was born in Erfurt, Germany, and entered the socialist youth movement in 1906. He re­ sided in Switzerland from 1910 to 1918, where he joined the Zimmerwald-Left and formed crucial connections to leading Russian Bolsheviks in exile in Zurich. In 1915, he became Secretary of the Socialist Youth International, but was expelled from Switzerland in 1918. He joined the newly founded German Communist Party (KPD) and carried on, in Berlin, as secretary of the Youth International until 1921.2 Münzenberg then took on a new mission as the principal organizer of Comintern’s international workers’ relief initiative in Berlin. Between 1921 and 1923, this international body was known as the Auslandskomittee zur Organisierung der Arbeiterhilfe für die H ­ ungernden

Fig. 1: Willi Münzenberg, 1931–32, photograph, Willi Münzenberg Forum, Berlin

54

Kasper Braskén

in Russland (International Workers’ Relief Committee for the Starving Russians, fig. 2). The support of the international solidarity movement for the starving in Soviet Russia led, in the fall of 1923, to the establishment of the Internationale Arbeiterhilfe (International Workers’ Relief ) which became his main platform for transnational solidarity initiatives, workers’ culture, and pro-Soviet propaganda, such as the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin in the fall of 1922. After 1923, ­Münzenberg turned Workers’ Relief into a general international solidarity organization that rallied ­support for workers’ struggles around the world.3 From 1924 to 1933, Münzenberg was also a member of the German Reichstag for the KPD. In the course of his work for Workers’ Relief, Münzenberg organized a major “Hands off China” movement in 1925. It became the starting point for the international anti-­colonial congress in Brussels in 1927 that led to the establishment of the League against Imperialism, in which Münzenberg served as secretary. The year 1927 also marked the tenth anniversary of the October Revolution and Münzenberg was selected by the Comintern to plan and head the international organization’s external commemorations. During these years, Münzenberg developed an extraordinary international network of contacts to influential left intellectuals, authors, artists, and other prominent sympathizers. A major culmination of his international work was the organization of the Amsterdam Anti-War Congress in 1932.4 Münzenberg controlled several newspapers and journals, illustrated magazines, a workers’ book club, film companies, and through Workers’ Relief was involved in developing agitprop theatre, a workers’ photography

movement, and the organization of mass movements and major international congresses that expanded his influence far beyond strictly communist circles. Münzenberg’s print media ventures were published by Workers’ Relief ’s own Berlin-based publishing house Neuer Deutscher Verlag and the organization also produced and distributed Soviet and proletarian films through Meshrabpom, Prometheus, and Weltfilm. The organization also published the popular illustrated workers’ magazine, the Arbeiter-Illustrierte-Zeitung.5 Shortly after Hitler’s seizure of power in 1933, Münzenberg established a new center for Workers’ ­ Relief and the Comintern’s international activities in Paris. When the Third Reich started depriving “domestic enemies” of their German citizenship in August 1933, Münzenberg was on the very first list together with 33 other names that included, among others, Lion Feuchtwanger, Heinrich Mann, Ernst Toller, and Kurt Tucholsky.6 In Paris, Münzenberg was elemental in the formation of the anti-Nazi German Volksfront initiative, but when the Comintern dismantled the Workers’ Relief organization in 1935, a deeper rift began to develop between Münzenberg and Moscow. During Münzenberg’s painful break up with the communist movement, he attempted to form a last anti-Hitler coa­lition in Paris through a new weekly called Die Zukunft (The Future). When news of the Molotov–Ribbentrop Non-Aggression Pact was announced in 1939, Münzenberg dramatically disavowed Moscow, declaring that “the traitor, Stalin, is you.”7 Münzenberg perished in 1940, under unclear circumstances, while escaping the German troops advancing towards southern France.8

Fig. 2: Letterhead of the Auslandskomittee zur Organisierung der Arbeiterhilfe für die Hungernden in Russland, letter from Münzenberg to the Office of the Comintern, March 30, 1922, Moscow, RGASPI, 538/2/9, 33

Willi Münzenberg and the Workers’ International Relief

55

Notes 1

Babette Gross, Willi Münzenberg: Eine politische Biographie

5

fabrik: Meschrabpom-Film und Prometheus 1921–1936 (Berlin:

Münzenberg: Fighter against Fascism and Stalinism (London:

Bertz + Fischer, 2012); Braskén, International Workers’ Relief, 162–83.

Routledge, 2020). 2

For Münzenberg’s own account, see Willi Münzenberg, Die

6

angehöriger 1933–45 nach den im Reichsanzeiger veröffentlich-

Jugendbewegung (Berlin: Neuer Deutscher Verlag, 1930). See

ten Listen = Expatriation lists as published in the “Reichsan-

Kasper Braskén, The International Workers’ Relief, Commun-

zeiger” 1933–45, ed. Michael Hepp (Munich: Saur, 1985). 7

Germany (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015).

56

Willi Münzenberg, “Der russische Dolchstoß,” Die Zukunft, no. 38, September 22, 1939, cover.

ism, and Transnational Solidarity: Willi Münzenberg in Weimar 4

For the official lists, see Die Ausbürgerung deutscher Staats­

Dritte Front: Auszeichnungen aus 15 Jahren Proletarischer also Gross, Willi Münzenberg, 19–86. 3

Günter Agde and Alexander Schwarz, eds., Die Rote Traum-

(Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1967); John Green, Willi

8

Bernhard H. Bayerlein, “Kein Antifaschismus ohne Anti­

Fredrik Petersson, “We are Neither Visionaries Nor Utopian

stalinismus: Willi Münzenberg, die Zukunft und die Anti-

Dreamers”: Willi Münzenberg, the League against Imperialism

stalinistische Wende in der deutschsprachigen Emigration

and the Comintern, 1925–1933 (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press,

1933–1940” [No anti-fascism without anti-stalinism: Willi

2014); Kasper Braskén, “Celebrating October: The Trans-

­Münzenberg, the future and the anti-stalinist turn in German-

national Commemorations of the Tenth Anniversary of the

language emigration 1933–1940], in Globale Räume für radika-

Soviet Union in Weimar Germany,” in Echoes of October: Inter-

le transnationale Solidarität: Beiträge zum ersten internatio-

national Commemorations of the Bolshevik Revolution 1918–

nalen Willi-Münzenberg-Kongress 2015 in Berlin, ed. Bernhard

1990, eds. Jean-François Fayet, Valérie Gorin, and ­Stefanie

H. Bayerlein, ­Kasper Braskén, and Uwe Sonnenberg (Berlin:

­Prezioso (London: Lawrence and Wishart, 2017), 76–105.

International Willi Münzenberg Forum, 2018), 218–70.

Kasper Braskén

EWA BÉRARD

7

The Double Track of the Berlin Exhibition

U

pon conclusion of the First Russian Art ­Exhibition in Berlin, the renowned Russian critic Yakov Tugendkhold, staff member of the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (Narkom­ pros), was quick to proclaim its historical significance: The exhibition was “this battering ram that has broken through the spiritual blockade with which the West has surrounded Soviet Russia.”1 The blockade, as we know, was not only a spiritual one. Given the mea­ sures being taken to economically and politically isolate Russia, when famine struck the Volga region in spring 1921, the Bolsheviks, conceding some infringements of their plans for world revolution, turned for help to “all honest people” of the world and bourgeois public opinion. An exhibition of Russian and Soviet art in Germany soon became a part of this scheme. The project was launched in spring 1921, but communist uprisings in several German cities led to misgivings, postponement, and reassessment. When the exhibition finally opened, in October 1922, it was a staggering success. However, a closer look at Narkompros commissar Anatoly ­Lunacharsky’s confused reaction raises some crucial questions with respect to the project and its organizers. Natan Altman’s poster design for the First Russian Art Exhibition epitomized the aspect that the orga­ nizers most wished to emphasize, namely its avantgarde focus. The poster specified two organizers: the Russian People’s Commissariat for Science and Art (the name given to the Narkompros) and the Auslandskomittee für die Hungernden in Russland (International Workers’ Relief Committee for the Starving Russians). This committee had been set up by the Communist International (Comintern) in the summer of 1921 and, through its Berlin office, was entrusted to German communist Willi Münzenberg.2 The main bulk of contemporary art works presented in Berlin had been selected by Lunacharsky and David Shterenberg, head of the Department of Fine Arts (IZO) at Narkompros.3 Lunacharsky, however, did not attend the vernissage on October 15, nor had he chosen to ­submit an introductory text for the catalogue. Instead, he published in the Soviet newspaper Izvestiya (News), on December 2, 1922, an article hailing the exhibition as an exceptional diplomatic success for Soviet Russia and

The Double Track of the Berlin Exhibition

57

for his commissariat in particular.4 The Workers’ Relief Committee was not mentioned at all. This strange manifestation of international comradeship was followed by an even stranger anti-modernist attack on the “leftist miasma” and the “left-bourgeois art of the Parisian bohemia,” which was so pervasive that the German p­ ublic could only wonder whether “realistic forms of art” had survived in the Soviet country.5 Republished twice in Lunacharsky’s Collected Works, his claim of being the sole organizer of the Berlin event was repeated over and over by art historians in the last decades of the twentieth century, when a renewed interest in the Soviet avantgarde came to the fore all over the world. The historiography of the Berlin exhibition tradi­ tionally refers to the note of November 26, 1921, which Münzenberg left for Lenin during his trip to Moscow: I take the liberty of bringing once more to your attention the great political and moral value—quite independent from the material benefit for our relief action—that the exhibition, in the framework I have proposed to you, shall bring about to the West […]6 The following question, however, has never been raised: what was so specific about the “framework” Münzenberg presented to Lenin, and to Lenin alone? Was it similar to that of Lunacharsky? Was the commissar indeed the main spiritus movens of the event or was it the German communist Münzenberg? The available research offered no plausible answers to these questions and therefore I turned to archival documents.7

Who Were the Organizers of the Berlin Exhibition? In the State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), documents related to the exhibition are classified under the file “Sovnarkom”—Soviet Council of People’s Commissars. The file, which is not organized chronologically, consists of notes and telegrams addressed by or to the secretary of the Sovnarkom, Nikolai G ­ orbunov (who also served as Lenin’s personal secretary), including an official telegram issued by the Sovnarkom and addressed to Münzenberg in Berlin on March 31, 1922:

58

Ewa Bérard

Taking into account the extremely difficult economic and financial situation […], the government of the RSFSR [Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic] is unfortunately obliged to abandon for the moment the idea of organizing a Russian exhibition in Berlin.8 Münzenberg’s answer came the same day, “I strongly request that the paintings be sent off with Shterenberg.”9 We know that the exhibition eventually took place, so what happened? While the Sovnarkom o­ rder to stop the project was dictated, as we shall see, by internal conflicts regarding its content, its message, and its organizer, the decision to resume the enterprise was undoubtedly linked to the signing of the Rapallo treaty on April 16, 1922. Mutual diplomatic recognition of their statehood by the Weimar Republic and Soviet Russia put an end, even if partially, to their isolation among the international community imposed by the Versailles treaty. The Weimar Republic’s policy with respect to Bolshevik Russia was ambivalent.10 The idea of rapprochement between Berlin and Moscow, which ran counter to the Versailles treaty letter and threatened relationships with the Entente countries, was not widely supported in the new government. Adolf Georg Otto (Ago) von Maltzan, head of the Russian section (Russisches Referat) at the Foreign Ministry, was its fervent advocate. Johannes Sievers, however, who was the head of the art section (Kunstreferent) of the 9th Department of Culture (Kulturabteilung) in the same Ministry, was quite concerned about the dangers of communist subversive propaganda. The story begins on November 9, 1921, when German delegates, in Moscow for the anniversary celebration of the Bolshevik revolution, were presented by Lunacharsky with the idea of a Russian “art and craft exhibition” in Germany. Such a proposition had already been made in the spring of 1921, but this time, Sievers, noting that it was “impossible to refuse any longer,” approved the project—with two restrictions: the exhibition could not involve any political propaganda and the Russian material was to undergo evaluation by a German jury.11 On November 23, von Maltzan approved Sievers’ decision for “foreign policy” reasons and appended two more conditions, namely that all exhibition cities be indicated in advance, and that:

the exhibition should not be linked in any way to political propaganda. This enterprise should not be an official representation of the Soviet Republic. However, if needed, there should not be any opposition in case the art section of the local Soviet representation should step forward as the organizer.12 Such a “local Soviet art section” was ready and willing, namely the Berlin office of the Workers’ Relief Committee. The German archives indicate that Münzenberg was to be the unique go-between linking the Bolshevik officials and the German Foreign Office.

Art Exhibition or Parade of Soviet Achievements? The November–December 1921 German Foreign ­Office documents indicate that von Maltzan was determined to finalize the project, if necessary, by overlooking Münzenberg’s propaganda activity on behalf of the Comintern. On December 6, 1921, Münzenberg confirmed the character of the forthcoming enterprise: “[…] an exhibition of Russian art: paintings, sculptures, drawings, and some small photographs illustrating the social and school life in Soviet Russia.”13 A “commission of Russian artists” had selected the appropriate material, which was already loaded on a train waiting in Riga.14 Reassured by this information, von Maltzan gave the green light to Münzenberg’s new request: “We ask you kindly to give permission— which certainly is in your department’s power—to let the exhibition items reach Berlin quickly and without obstacle.”15 Münzenberg addressed a similar request to the Reichskommisar for Public Order Supervision asking him for all the customs formalities for the rail shipments coming from Riga to be transported from the border to the terminal railroad station in Berlin. His demand was agreed to.16 Turning now to Russian archives, we learn that after Münzenberg’s November 26 note to Lenin, the ­Sovnarkom mapped out the following details: Proposals to be presented to Münzenberg: 1. organizing the exhibition “Russia” in Berlin (posters, paintings, films, schemes, diagrams related to industry, agriculture, labor, children’s aid, etc., models, illustrations,

newspapers). He should gather all of this by the 12th of December.17 By December 1921, preparations by both sides were underway. Lunacharsky’s name appears in neither the German nor the Soviet archives, but the latter reveal that several other commissariats were eager to get involved. The Deputy Commissar of Foreign ­ Affairs, ­ Yakov Ganetsky, informed the presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the National Economy (VSNKh), manager of the Permanent Didactic Industrial Exhibition, about the forthcoming “Soviet Russian” exhi­bition. “Given its extraordinary international importance,” Ganetsky asked him to carefully select the items so that they positively reflect “the economic development of Soviet Russia.”18 A certain David Maryanov (“no longer a member of the Communist party”) was appointed by Gorbunov to collect in Moscow the items and works to be sent.19 Empowered by other commissariats as well, he eventually succeeded in assembling the materials he considered appropriate for the Berlin exhibition. With his luggage loaded on the train leaving Moscow for Berlin via Riga, he wrote to Gorbunov: The exhibition items I chose are neither represen­ tational nor industrial objects but materials illustrating the organizational aspects of economic and political issues. Assuming that the German capitalist exhibition would not be looking further than the tip of its nose, I thought that the Russian pavilion “Soviet Russia” should be a battle slogan illustrating struggle and labor on absolutely new terms. My task was to give it a propagandistic turn.20 According to Maryanov’s scenario, the pavilion “Soviet Russia” should illustrate the activities and achievements of the Central Cooperative Union (Tsentrosoyuz) at the core of the New Economic Policy.21 The exhibition should open with the portraits of Lenin, Marx, and Engels, and a presentation of the eco­ nomic and ideological principles of the cooperative movement “in the form of scrolls.”22 This was to be followed by showcases with the Sovnarkom decrees, and Lev Kamenev’s and Leonid Krasin’s discourses “in the form of opened books.”23 There should then be other

The Double Track of the Berlin Exhibition

59

showcases devoted to the various commissariats, with posters, diagrams, and maps. The section on nutrition and hunger, for instance, would include a “nice poster: ‘Help the Starving People!’” and several diagrams such as: “Wheat Production,” “Geography of Famine in a Historical Approach,” and so on. Clearly, the exhi­ bition Maryanov was preparing for was not the one that Münzenberg had reported on.

The Veto of the Soviet Envoy In the spirit of the era, the Soviet scheme was eventually unveiled in more or less Brechtian style in Berlin. On February 3, 1922, Sievers reported: On 2 February 1922, three young men showed up in my office introducing themselves as representatives of the Workers’ Relief for the Starving in Russia and waving in the air my own letter in which I had asked about the border station and the possible day the train with the so-called art items from Moscow should arrive. On my objection that I had not yet received an answer, the young men demanded to be immediately given a ­permit to unload, the wagons having been waiting indeed at the Berlin railroad station.24 Helped by the German Red Cross, Münzenberg succeeded in defusing Sievers’ wrath, but he could not use the same stratagem with the Soviet envoy to B ­ erlin, Nikolai Krestinsky.25 The disclosure of Maryanov’s shipment stirred up a tempest at the Soviet legation office. At an emergency meeting it was decided that the materials shipped to Berlin could not be shown. But Maryanov then informed the stunned envoy that two more wagons were waiting in Moscow loaded with art works selected by Lunacharsky and Shterenberg,26 Krestinsky now realized that there were two exhibition projects, neither of which he had been consulted about. Furious, he turned not to his immediate superior, the Commissar of Foreign Affairs, but directly to Lenin. It would seem, he wrote, that the exhibition project had gained Lenin’s approval through a mix-up: I have gathered from Gorbunov’s words that you were talking about the construction of a Russian pavilion

60

Ewa Bérard

at the Berlin exhibition. In fact, there is no such exhibition in Berlin and none is to be expected; we can only talk about organizing an independent one.27 Given that Münzenberg had been authorized by ­German authorities “to organize a Russian artistic-­ industrial exhibition and not an exhibition devoted to the successful growth of the various branches of the Soviet country,” the propaganda brought by Maryanov was not allowed to be unloaded.28 But what about the carriages with the works of Russian artists still in Moscow? On the art issue Krestinsky had his Bolshevik opinion: I do not know anything about painting, but I know that Shterenberg is a representative of one of the new trends in painting, [and] I know that Lunacharsky is particularly fond of the new schools. I also know that you and the majority of the members of the government and the Central Committee had an extremely negative view toward comrade Lunacharsky’s preferences. Therefore, I assume that the nature of the planned art exhibition is unknown and unacceptable to you.29 The avant-garde experiment that the Berlin exhibition would eventually be so famous for was unacceptable to the envoy. So, would the idea of the exhibition itself be maintained? Krestinsky continues: My personal attitude toward the organization of the exhibition in Berlin is negative. I believe that we have neither the capacity nor extra funds for this; such an exhibition will not have any particular propaganda impact, nor will it generate any profits in favor of the starving.30 If the exhibition project in Berlin was to go forward, Krestinsky insisted, it should be entrusted to a Soviet, not a foreign specialist. In other words, Münzenberg was to be discarded. Consulted by Gorbunov, Grigory Zinoviev, head of the Comintern, and other highlevel Bolshevik officials all agreed with K ­ restinky’s opinion. And so, it seemed, the exhibition was to be abandoned, this time due to a decision of the Bolsheviks. Münzenberg, however, was not ready to give up. ­Cancelling the exhibition would be a disaster, he wrote

to Lenin, “not only for our relief campaign, but for ­Russia in general.”31 The archival document of this note bears a handwritten comment: “Has not been shown to ­Vladimir Ilyich.”32

so that these events could, on the one hand, generate revenues for the hunger relief and, on the other hand, increase interest in Russia and contribute to our propaganda, which is of utmost importance for the donations that come from the various countries in Europe and America.35

A Common Front to Save the Exhibition With the Berlin project threatened, a “common front” began to emerge uniting Münzenberg, Lunacharsky, and Fridtjof Nansen, high commissioner for refugees at the League of Nations (which had become involved in Russian civil society initiatives in July 1921 and was instrumental in spreading the appeal for hunger relief to the United States). Unlike the leading Bolsheviks, all three were aware of the crucial role western public opinion would play in the ongoing process of diplomatic recognition of the Soviet regime. It must be noted that the IZO at Narkompros under the direction of Shterenberg became a scene of fratricidal struggle as the Communo-futurists, the Constructivists, the Productivists, and, last but not least, the Proletkult—all claimed to be the genuine ally of the proletariat, although none had been blessed with Lenin’s approval.33 The IZO would eventually be disbanded in 1922, and the Proletkult group was placed under Nadezhda Krupskaya’s supervision. With the avantgarde’s political claims under control, Lunacharsky had free rein to join the international team. On March 9, 1922, the same day that Münzenberg wrote to Lenin, Lunacharsky sent out two letters: the first to the Sovnarkom, in which he took “a personal responsibility for the artistic value of the selected works of art” and swore that they would “never, in any situation, taint the good name of the Soviet Republic.”34 The second letter was addressed to the People’s Commissariat of Foreign Affairs and to the People’s Commissariat of Foreign Trade. It relayed the proposition coming from “the representatives of the Red Cross and Nansen’s organization” to bring together the People’s Commissariats of Foreign Affairs, of Foreign Trade, and of Enlightenment in order to set up a special body, dependent on the Central Committee of Hunger Relief that would be charged with organizing exhibitions and artistic travel abroad:

This new body would be presided over by Lunacharsky, and Shterenberg would be a member on behalf of ­Narkompros. As a part of the Hunger Relief Committee, it would be entrusted with completing the Berlin exhibition ... supervised by comrade Münzenberg. On March 28, the creation of the Committee for the Organization of Exhibitions and Travel Abroad was approved, the government resolution stressing that “the initiative for this affair belongs to foreign aid organi­ zations.”36 In other words, it was not a Soviet initiative. The European Economic Conference in Genoa, to which both “rogue” countries were invited, was to open on April 15, 1922. Georgy Chicherin, People’s Commissar of Foreign Affairs, was in Berlin to discuss the common strategy Germany and Soviet Russia were to maintain to the Entente countries. This was certainly not the moment to sabotage the Berlin exhibition. It was, however, indeed the moment to exhibit the abundance and revolutionary audacity of Russian artists to the European public and, even more importantly, to demonstrate the open-mindedness of Bolshevik power. The last two documents of the file dated March 31, 1922, consist of the Sovnarkom letter to Münzenberg announcing that the project was being cancelled and Münzenberg’s laconic plea in response: “I strongly request that the paintings be sent off with Shterenberg.”37

The Avant-garde Shock The Russian and German archives throw a bright light onto the astounding stratagem that led to the opening of the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin in October 1922. The main driving force behind the enterprise seems to have been Münzenberg, a German communist and Comintern agent, the sole player with personal connections to the Weimar Republic Foreign Office, to the Soviet plenipotentiary mission in Berlin, and to the Kremlin. Aware of the impact that the

The Double Track of the Berlin Exhibition

61

Russian avant-garde and Soviet art in general would have on the German public, he was no less conscious of the Bolshevik leaders’ dogmatic mistrust of artists and their cult of diagrams, statistics, brochures, and other indicators of technological and economic progress. The specific “framework” of the project he presented to Lenin consisted of a twofold approach, one for internal Soviet use (a “Russian pavilion” illustrating “struggle and labor”) and another for the German authorities (an art exhi­ bition). As for Lunacharsky, assisted by Shterenberg, he certainly approved of the idea of an art exhibition—if only because of the difficult financial situation of artists inside Russia—as he probably shared the idea of the “avant-garde” big

bang, notwithstanding his own aesthetic preference for Proletkult art. However, he disposed of no personal connections to Germany and—as confirmed by the letter of Soviet envoy K ­ restinsky to Lenin—his political potential was not sufficient to see such an extravagantly “left-bourgeois” art project through. Krestinsky’s arguments, the fact that his indictment of Münzenberg’s avant-garde line had got approval of the Communist Party and Comintern comrades and, last but not least, Lunacharsky’s D ­ ecember 1922 article in Izvestiya, confirm that the avant-garde shock of the Berlin exhibition was far from being a B ­ olshevik choice.

Notes 1

2

Yakov Tugendkhol’d, “Voprosy khudozhestvennogo dnya”

dom, Pravitel’stvo RSFSR, k sozhaleniyu, dolzhno otkazat’sya

[Today’s art questions], Izvestiya, no. 292, December 24, 1922,

ot mysli organizatsii v Berline v nastoyashchee vremya russkoi

6.

vystavki.” Moscow, GARF, F. 3, Op. 5, D. 1096 Mezhrabpomgol (Vystavka v Berline), R. 1–2, L. 95.

Kasper Braskén, The International Workers’ Relief, Communism, and Transnational Solidarity: Willi Münzenberg in Weimar

9

3

Anatolii Lunacharskii, “Russkaya vystavka v Berline” [Russian

10 Renata Bournazel, Rapallo: Naissance d’un mythe – La poli-

Exhibition in Berlin] (1922), in ---, Iskusstvo i revolyutsiya

tique de la peur dans la France du Bloc national (Paris: Fonda-

(Moscow: Novaya Moskva, 1924), 176–83. See also Vladimir

tion Nationale des Sciences Politiques, 1974), 20–24. See also

­Lapshin, “Pervaya vystavka russkogo iskusstva. Berlin. 1922 god:

Horst G. Linke, Deutsch-sowjetische Beziehungen bis Rapallo (Cologne: Verlag Wissenschaft und Politik, 1970).

Materialy k istorii sovetsko-germanskikh khudozhestvennykh ­svyazei” [The first exhibition of Russian art. Berlin. 1922:

11

Sovetskoe iskusstvoznanie, no. 1 (1983): 326–62.

12

“[…] dass mit der Ausstellung in keiner Weise politische Propaganda verbunden ist […] dass die Ausstellung nicht eine

Lunacharskii, “Russkaya vystavka v Berline,” 176–83.

5 Ibid.

amtliche Veranstaltung der Soviet-Republik vorstellen wird

6

Ruth Stoljarowa and Peter Schmalfuß, eds.: “Aus den Brief-

[…] Dagegen sind äussersten Falles, keine Bedenken zu erhe-

wechsel deutscher Genossen mit W.I. Lenin” [From the cor­

ben, falls die Kunstabteilung der hiesigen Sowjet-Vertretung als Organisator figurieren sollte.” Berlin, PA AA, R 94534.

respondence of German comrades with V.I. Lenin], Beiträge zur Geschichte der Arbeiterbewegung 29 (1987): 51–57. See 7

13

Skulpturen und Zeichnungen, dem eine kleinere Ausstellung

Some of the archival documents considered in this text were

photographischer Aufnahmen aus dem socialen und Schul­

published in: Ewa Bérard, “The ‘First Exhibition of Russian Art’

leben Sowjetrussland eingegliedert ist, zu veranstalten.” ­Berlin, PA AA, R 94534.

plomacy, 1921–1922,” Contemporary European History 30, no. 2

14 Ibid.

(2021): 164–80, and Eva Berar, “Eksponaty iz plombirovannogo

15

“Wir bitten Sie höflichst zu veranlassen, was ja zweifellos in

vagona: Pervaya vystavka russkogo iskusstva 1922 v Berline:

Ihr Ressort gehört, dass die Ausstellungsgegenstände schnell

Dokumental’naya istoriya” [Exhibits from a sealed wagon: The

und ohne irgendwelche Hindernisse nach Berlin weiter rollen

First Exhibition of Russian Art 1922 in Berlin: A documentary 8

“Wir planen […] eine Ausstellung der russischen Kunst: Bilder,

documentation in this volume.

in Berlin: The Transnational Origins of Bolshevik Cultural Di­

62

Note by Sievers, November 18, 1921; Berlin, PA AA, R 94534, Ausstellungswesen im Allgemeinen, B.1. 04.1921–01.1933.

Materials for the history of Soviet-German artistic relations], 4

“Nastoyatel’no proshu otsylki kartin s Shterenbergom Myun­ tsenberg.” Moscow, GARF, F. 3, Op. 5, D. 1096, R. 1–2, L. 96.

Germany (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 40–41.

können.” Ibid.

history], Novoe literaturnoe obozrenie, no. 4 (2021): 103–28.

16 Ibid.

“Vvidu kraine tyazhelogo khozyaistvennogo i finansovogo

17 “Predlozheniya Myuntsenbergu 1) v Berline organizovat’

polozheniya Respubliki v svyazi s postigshim Rossiyu golo-

vystavku “Rossiya” (plakaty, kartiny, foto-kino, tablitsy,

Ewa Bérard

diagrammy ob industrii, s-khoz. rab., Kinderfürsorge u.s.w.

sei, als sie darum baten, ihnen sofort eine Genehmigung zu

[ukhod za det’mi, i t.d. E.B.], modeli, illyustr. gazety. Vse dol-

erteilen, die bereits in Berlin eingetroffenen Waggons auszu-

zhen imet’ k 12 dekabrya,” November 28, 1921. Moscow, GARF,

laden. Sie forderten energisch, dass dies geschehen müsse, da

F. 3, Op. 5, D. 1096, R. 5, L. 186.

die Kommission am Sonnabend bereits wieder abführe.” Berlin,

18 “[Vystavka] budet imet’ nesomnenno ogromnoe mezhdu­

PA AA, R 94534.

narodnoe znachenie […] dolzhna s ischerpyvayushchei

25

polnotoi otrazit’ khozyaistvennoe stroitel’stvo Sovetskoi ­

26 Letter from Krestinsky to Lenin, February 19, 1922; Moscow,

Rossii […],” December 2, 1921. Moscow, GARF, F. 3, Op. 5, D.

GARF, F. 3, Op. 5, D. 1096, R. 3–1, L. 105–08. See documentation

1096, R. 4–2, L. 181. 19

20

Notes from February 3 and 10, 1922; Berlin, PA AA, R 94534.

in this volume.

According to Naum Gabo’s testimony Maryanov worked for

27 Ibid.

the Cheka secret police; see Christina Lodder, “Naum Gabo as

28 Ibid.

a Soviet Émigré in Berlin,” Tate Papers, no. 14 (2010), https://

29 Ibid.

www.tate.org.uk/research/tate-papers/14/naum-gabo-as-a-

30 Ibid.

soviet-emigre-in-berlin [accessed March 23, 2022]. I am grate-

31

Letter from Münzenberg to Lenin, March 9, 1922, published in

ful to Prof. Leonid Heller for this reference.

Stoljarowa and Schmalfuß, “Aus den Briefwechsel deutscher

“Dlya Berlinskoy zhe vystavki, […] ya bral materialy prover-

Genossen mit W.I. Lenin,” 51–57. See documentation in this

ennye otvetstvennymi litsami kazhdogo Komissariata – ne

volume.

predmetnye i proizvodstvennye, a politiko-ekonomicheskie,

32 Yu. L’vunin and I. Polyansky, eds, “Pis’ma V.I. Leninu o deya-

organizatsionnogo tipa. Mne kazalos’, chto v obshche-

tel’nosti Mezhrabpoma (1921–1922 gg.)” [Letters to V.I. ­Lenin

germanskoi kapitalisticheskoi vystavke ne vidyashchei dal’she

on the activities of the Mezhrabpom (1921–1922)], Istoriya

svoego lotka – russkii pavil’on ‘Sovetskaya Rossiya’ budet

SSSR, no. 6 (1973): 100. For the manuscript note see Moscow,

predstavlen, kak boevoi lozung bor’by i truda, na sovershenno novykh osnovakh. Agitatsionno pokazat’ eto, bylo by moei

GARF, F. 3, Op. 5, D. 1096, R. 1–2, L. 100. 33 Jean-Claude Marcadé, L’Avant-garde russe 1907–1927 (Paris:

zadachei,” December 30, 1921. Moscow, GARF, F. 3, Op. 5, D.

Flammarion, 1995), 200–12.

1096, R. 3–2, L. 144.

34

Moscow, GARF, F. 3, Op. 5, D. 1096, R. 1–2, L. 97.

21

Moscow, GARF, F. 3, Op. 5, D. 1096, R. 4–1, L. 169–175.

35

“[…] chtoby s odnoi storony dokhody ot etikh predpriyatii shli

22

“V tsentre – portrety Lenina, Marksa i Engel’sa s izrecheniyami

v pol’zu golodyayushchikh, a s drugoi storony, chtoby pod­

o znachenii novoi ekonomicheskoi politiki, o meste i o roli

nyat’ takim obrazom interes k Rossii i sposobstvovat’ propa-

kooperatsii v proletarskom gosudarstve (v vide svitkov).”

gande, kotoraya ochen’ vazhna v otnoshenii pozhertvovanii,

Ibid., L. 169.

kotorye idut ot raznykh stran Evropy i Ameriki.” Moscow, AVP RF, F. 04 (Sekretariat Chicherina), Op. 58, P. 369, D. 39, L. 15.

23 “Nizhe – vyderzhka iz dokladov Kameneva i Krasina na 2-om Soveshchanii upolnomochennykh Ts-za o gosudarstvennykh zadaniyakh kooperatsii i o roli Ts-sa (v vide razvernutykh knig).” Ibid.

36

“[…] pochin v etom dele prinadlezhit inostrannym orga­ nizatsiyam pomoshchi;” Moscow, AVP RF, F. 04 (Sekretariat Chicherina), Op. 58, P. 369, D. 39, L. 16.

24 “Am 2. Februar 1922 erschienen bei Abt-VI C drei junge Män-

37 “Nastoyatel’no proshu otsylki kartin s Shterenbergom

ner, die sich als Vertreter der Arbeiterhilfe für die Hungernden

­Myuntsenberg.” Moscow, GARF, F. 3, Op. 5, D. 1096, R. 1–2,

in Russland ausgaben und das von mir unterzeichnete letzte

L. 96. Notwithstanding my own efforts and the assistance of

Schreiben an das Komitee vorlegten, in dem ich um Angabe der

Russian archive specialists, I was not able to locate the file of

Grenzstation und den voraussichtlichen Termin ersuchte, an

the Special Committee and/or a file corresponding to the new

dem die Waggons mit den angeblichen Kunstgegenständen aus

exhibition organization.

Moskau dort eintreffen sollten. Ich liess die Herren darauf aufmerksam machen, dass diese Antwort noch nicht eingegangen

The Double Track of the Berlin Exhibition

63

ISABEL WÜNSCHE

8

Anatoly Lunacharsky and the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment

T

he Bolsheviks recognized that the arts and culture would play an important role in shaping the new Soviet socialist society and consequently placed a strong emphasis on education, p­ ublic ­appeals, and propagandistic campaigns. Recognizing the importance of the visual arts for the education of the proletariat, the new government entrusted the Marxist writer and editor Anatoly Vasilevich ­Lunacharsky (1875–1933) with the task of directing Soviet policy with respect to the arts and education.1 In November 1917, Lenin appointed him head of the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (Narkompros). Lunacharsky, who was born in Poltava, Ukraine, became interested in Marxism and involved in political activities at an early age.2 In 1895, he enrolled at the University of Zurich, where he studied the natural sciences and philosophy and was greatly influenced by ­Richard Avenarius and his general theory of knowledge, Empiriocriticism.3 Lunacharsky returned to Russia in 1898, but was soon arrested and exiled because of his revolu-

Fig. 1: Lenin and Anatoly Lunacharsky inspect the guard of honor on the way to the unveiling of the Liberated Labor Monument, May 1, 1920, photograph by Alexei Savelev

64

Isabel Wünsche

tionary activities.4 When the Bolsheviks split in 1908, Lunacharsky sided with those supporting ­Aleksandr Bogdanov. The following year, he joined Maxim Gorky on Capri, where, together with Bogdanov, they set up an advanced school for Russian socialist workers. A charismatic figure and gifted orator, Lunacharsky disseminated social democratic propaganda and organized lectures for Russian students and political refugees in foreign countries. In 1911, Lunacharsky moved to Paris, where he came into contact with radical émigré artists and writers and the bohemia of La Ruche (fig. 1), a Montparnasse artists’ community that included Marc Chagall, David Shterenberg, and Natan Altman, whom he described to his Kyiv readership as the “young Russia in Paris.”5 This formative environment served Lunacharsky as a model for a future proletarian culture in which educated workers and radical artists would strive together to transform bourgeois society.6 After the February Revolution, Lunacharsky returned to Russia, where, along with Leon Trotsky, he rejoined the Bolsheviks in August 1917. As a stir­ ringly effective speaker, Lunacharsky played a critical role in persuading the industrial workers of Petrograd to support the October Revolution.7 He was not the first choice for leading the Narkompros,8 but his background and open-mindedness made him an excellent candidate. Lenin is reported to have said about him: “You know, I am fond of him, he is an excellent comrade! He has a sort of French brilliance. His lightmindedness is also French: it comes from his aesthetic incli­ nations.”9 In turn, Lunacharsky described himself as “an intellectual among Bolsheviks and a Bolshevik among intellectuals.”10 His views on art were much more liberal than those of either the party establishment or Lenin, who if asked about his opinion on a work of art would usually reply, “ask Lunacharsky.”11 (fig. 2) At the Narkompros, Lunacharsky was involved in reforming the Russian education system and also responsible for the Soviet government’s campaign against adult illiteracy.12 Another initiative was the establishment of adult education and vocational training facilities for workers that provided the working classes and the peasantry with intensive, accelerated courses of technical and administrative training. Reflecting the revolutionary enthusiasm of 1918–19, the initial ­approach to

education was broad and open-minded, the main focus being on making it accessible to everyone. In the early Soviet days, Lunacharsky was a crucial link between the new government and leftist artists and intellectuals. The Bolsheviks, reflecting Lenin’s conservative taste in matters of art, would have preferred to work with academy artists, but most had either left Russia, were refusing to cooperate with the new government, or were otherwise preoccupied with their own work.13 In contrast, leftist artists were among the first to join the Narkompros in its efforts to create a new art for a new Soviet society. Lunacharsky embraced their enthusiasm and maintained that even if one could not

Fig. 2: La Ruche, Paris, around 1910, photograph

Anatoly Lunacharsky and the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment

65

yet speak of avant-garde art as the art of the proletariat, one could refer to individual futurists—the collective term for the avant-garde at the time—as artists whose sentiments were closely aligned with those of the proletariat, and that this “young art” would rapidly find its place in the proletarian artistic ideology.14 Thus, during the Civil War, the avant-garde was tolerated by the regime and dominated all areas of artistic activity.15

As People’s Commissar of Enlightenment from 1917 to 1929, Lunacharsky significantly contributed to the development of socialist culture, particularly in the areas of education, theatre, cinema, and literature. He left the Narkompros when Stalin came to power and was appointed Soviet ambassador to Spain in 1933 but died of coronary failure before he could take up his post.

Notes 1

Natalia Murray, Art for the Workers: Proletarian Art and Fes-

6 Williams, Artists in Revolution, 53.

tive Decorations of Petrograd, 1917–1920 (Leiden, Boston: Brill,

7 O’Connor, The Politics of Soviet Culture, 17–18.

2018), 95. See also Sheila Fitzpatrick, The Commissariat of En-

8

2

under Lunacharsky October 1917–1921 (London: Cambridge

9 Fitzpatrick, The Commissariat of Enlightenment, 2.

University Press, 1970).

10

Timothy Edward O’Connor, The Politics of Soviet Culture:

11 Murray, Art for the Workers, 104.

­Anatolii Lunacharskii (Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press,

12

Theory of Knowledge, Empiriocriticism,” Mind (new series) 6

13 Murray, Art for the Workers, 103.

(1897): 449–75. See also Robert C. Williams, Artists in Revolu-

14

Ibid., 105.

tion: Portraits of the Russian Avant-garde, 1905–1925 (Bloom-

15

Christina Lodder and Martin Hammer, Constructing ­Modernity:

4 O’Connor, The Politics of Soviet Culture, 2–13. 5 Anatolii Lunacharskii, “Mark Shagal,” Kievskaya Mysl’, no. 73, March 14, 1914, 3. http://lunacharsky.newgod.su/lib/ russkoe-sovetskoe-iskusstvo/molodaa-rossia-v-parize/

66

In 1917 over 65 per cent of the adult population were illiterate zero.

Friedrich Carstanjen, “Richard Avenarius and His General

ington: Indiana University Press, 1977), 28, 36–37.



Ibid., 1–2. See also Williams, Artists in Revolution, 24.

but by the time Lunacharsky left office in 1929, it was virtually

1983), 1–21. 3

Alexandre Benois and Sergei Diaghilev were offered the ­position first; see ibid.

lightenment: Soviet Organization of Education and the Arts

[accessed April 12, 2022].

Isabel Wünsche

The Art and Career of Naum Gabo (New Haven, London: Yale University Press, 2000), 57.

ÉVA FORGÁCS

9

The Diplomats: Viktor Kopp and Konstantin Umansky

I

n March 1921, Soviet Russia cautiously initiated the idea for an exhibition of Russian art in Germany in the person of the Soviet diplomat Viktor Kopp,1 who, being careful not to deviate from the liberal conceptual approach insisted upon by Germany, proposed that such an event would “give the German public an exhaustive insight into the artistic work of Russia” from 1914 onward and, more importantly, 1918 and thereafter.2 Kopp expressly linked his proposal with the “hope that this initiative by the People’s Commissariat will be viewed in the interest of German cultural life as a step towards the resumption of intellectual relations between Germany and Soviet Russia.”3 It was then left up to the young, eloquent Russian art historian and diplomat Konstantin Umansky to present Kopp’s proposal to the relevant cultural authorities in Berlin.4 Viktor Leontevich Kopp (1880–1930) is recognized as a key figure in establishing a German-Russian military and political alliance after the First Word War and in the effort to expand westward what was hoped would become a “world revolution.”5 He was eager to promote Soviet-German cooperation in every field, including culture, which is why he hastened to champion the cause of the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin. Kopp, who was born into a middle-class family in Yalta, joined radical revolutionary circles as a student and became a professional revolutionary after being expelled from the Kharkiv Technological Institute in 1900. As a member of the Menshevik party, he joined, in 1908, the group around Leon Trotsky that launched the so-called Viennese Pravda, the journal which was the predecessor to the later official communist newspaper of the same title. Drafted into the Russian Imperial Army early on in the war with Germany, he was captured in 1915 and held as prisoner of war in Germany until 1918.6 Kopp is said to have traveled to Germany again illegally in 1919 in an improvised German uniform and first worked as a counselor to the Bolsheviks in Berlin.7 He became Soviet plenipotentiary for prisoner-of-war affairs and was thus a part of the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs (Narkomindel). As a diplomat, Kopp led the Soviet repatriation commission of ­former prisoners of war in Berlin, helping a great

Fig. 1: Viktor Kopp, Russian Ambassador to Japan, n.d., photograph, Washington, D.C., Library of Congress, LCCN2014718524

The Diplomats: Viktor Kopp and Konstantin Umansky

67

number of Red Army fighters who had been captured and interned on German soil in the 1920 Soviet-Polish War to return home.8 He regularly reported to Georgy Chicherin, head of the Narkomindel, offering analyses of the status of the German-Russian relations. He also closely followed and reported on the positioning and development of the German Communist Party and the communist movement in Germany—efforts that he was well-informed about thanks to his contact with the Marxist activist Karl Radek.9 After the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR) became the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) on December 30, 1922, Kopp served as head of the Office of the Commissioner of the N ­ arkomindel.10 In 1923, he was appointed director of the Narkomindel in the Baltic States and Poland, followed by a mission in Sweden, and then a brief return to Berlin in 1924.11 In April 1925, he became the first Soviet representative in Tokyo, but was recalled in 1926 (fig. 1). Following this mission, Kopp was the Soviet representative in Sweden from 1927 until his death in 1930, in Berlin.12 Konstantin Aleksandrovich Umansky (1902– 45) published the very first German-language account of contemporary Russian art in the West. At a time when largely myths and legends were being circu­lated about post-revolutionary developments in Russian

Fig. 2: Ambassador Konstantin Umansky with his wife and daughter, 1939, photograph by Harries & Ewing, Washington, D.C., Library of Congress, LCCN2016875631

68

Éva Forgács

art, Soviet Russia having been cut off from the rest of the world by a civil war, his 1920 book Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919 (New Art in Russia: 1914–1919) was an eagerly read treasure trove—despite being neither comprehensive nor truly adequate.13 How Umansky, an 18-year-old student, put together such a narrative about the new art in Russia, and how he managed to have the book published in Germany in 1920 are still unanswered questions. Umansky was born in Mykolaiv, Ukraine, and spent his early childhood in Baku, where his father worked as an oil engineer. After the First World War, his mother emigrated to Munich and then moved to Vienna. Umansky studied art history at the University of ­Moscow and joined the Bolsheviks in 1919. He travelled to Germany in October 1919 and lived briefly in Munich, where he published his book and an article on Vladimir Tatlin’s so-called “Machine Art” in the journal Der Ararat.14 In February 1920, he moved from Munich to Vienna, where he began working for the Russian Telegraph Agency ROSTA. Speaking a number of languages, Umansky was also briefly employed by the Narkomindel. In early 1921, Umansky gave two lectures on the new art in Soviet Russia at the Sturm gallery in B ­ erlin as well as a slide-illustrated talk in Vienna to the exile group of the Hungarian avant-garde journal Ma (Today). Communist painter Béla Uitz published a detailed account of “comrade Umansky” and his Vienna talk,15 in which Umansky celebrated Russian artists such as Robert Falk and Natan Altman, who drew their inspiration from classical art, but he more strongly emphasized innovative artists such as Natalia Goncharova, Kazimir Malevich, Aleksandr Rodchenko, and ­Vladimir Tatlin. Given Raoul Hausmann’s celebration of Tatlin in his 1920 collage Tatlin at Home and the First International Dada Fair’s mythologization of Tatlin as the representative of “machine art,” Umansky seems to bear respon­ sibility for this rather misleading perspective. Later reviewers were critical of the term “machine art” that Umansky had applied to Tatlin.16 From 1922 to 1931, Umansky worked for the Telegraph Agency of the Soviet Union (TASS), reporting from cities including Geneva, Paris, and Rome. Between 1931 and 1936, he was deputy director and then the head of the Press and Information Department of

the Soviet Narkomindel. His journalistic career was rumored to be linked to the Russian secret service, but he never acknowledged such a connection. In 1936, he became advisor to the Soviet Embassy in Washington, D.C. and, in 1939, Stalin appointed him ambassador of the USSR to the United States (fig. 2). In 1943, he was appointed ambassador of the Soviet Union to Mexico, followed by a concurrent appointment to Costa Rica, which he never began, as he died in an airplane crash on January 25, 1945.

Although Umansky, busy pursuing a successful career as journalist and diplomat, never returned to his early interest in the new Russian art, his 1920 book remains a unique record of the Soviet cultural policy’s effort to construct a continuous narrative of Russian art from post-Impressionism to Suprematism, including some of the early Soviet monumental propaganda art as well, an intention that was also reflected in the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin.

Notes 1

On Kopp’s role, see Vasilij K. Černoperov, “Viktor Kopp und die

­diplomatic departments of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, https://

sowjetisch-deutschen Beziehungen 1919 bis 1921” [Viktor Kopp

browmasters.ru/en/books/narkom-inostrannyh-del-1918-nar-

and the Soviet-German relations 1919 to 1921], Vierteljahrshefte

odnyi-komissar-inostrannyh-del-sssr-operativnye/

für Zeitgeschichte, 60, no. 4 (October 2012): 539–546, 554.

January 6, 2022].

[accessed

11

“Kopp, Viktor L.”, https://www.bundesarchiv.de/aktenreichs-

3 Ibid.



[accessed January 6, 2022].

4

Peter Nisbet, “Some Facts on the Organizational History of the

12 Ibid.

Van Diemen Exhibition,” in The 1st Russian Show: A Commem-

13 Konstantin Umanskij, Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919

2

Copy of Kopp’s note to the Foreign Office, March 31, 1921;

kanzlei/1919-1933/0000/adr/adrhl/kap1_4/para2_213.html

­Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

­(Potsdam: Gustav Kiepenheuer; Munich: Hans Goltz, 1920). 

oration of the Van Diemen Exhibition Berlin 1922, ed. A ­ ndrei Nakov et al. (London: Annely Juda Fine Art, 1983), 69. See

14

Tatlinismus oder die Maschinenkunst” [New artistic directions

208/94534, 2–3.

in Russia: I. Tatlinism or machine art], Der Ararat 1, January

5

Černoperov, “Viktor Kopp,” 539.

6

“Kopp, Viktor L.”, Edition “Akten der Reichskanzlei. Weimarer

1920, 12–14. 15

kanzlei/1919-1933/0000/adr/adrhl/kap1_4/para2_213.html

Béla Uitz, “Jegyzetek a Ma orosz estélyéhez” [Notes on the Russian evening of Ma], Ma 6, no. 4, February 15, 1921, 52.

Republik” online, https://www.bundesarchiv.de/aktenreichs-

7

Konstantin Umanski, “Neue Kunstrichtungen in Rußland: I. Der

also notes by Johannes Sievers, April 5, 1921; Berlin, PA AA, RZ

16

Wulf Herzogenrath noted the inadequacy of the term see Wulf

­[accessed January 6, 2022].

Herzogenrath, “Die holländische und russische Avantgarde

Černoperov, “Viktor Kopp,” 532.

in Deutschland” [The Dutch and the Russian avant-garde in

8 Ibid.

Germany], in Malewitsch, Mondrian und ihre Kreise, aus der

9 Ibid.

Sammlung Wilhelm Hack, ed. Christoph Brockhaus (Cologne:

10

Kölnischer Kunstverein, 1976), 42.

People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs 191--8. People’s ­Commissar for Foreign Affairs of the USSR. Operational

The Diplomats: Viktor Kopp and Konstantin Umansky

69

KRISTINA KRATZ-KESSEMEIER

10

Weimar Republic State Art Policy and the Russian Exhibition of 1922

W

hen the First Russian Art Exhibition opened on October 15, 1922, in the heart of the German capital, it was an important step not only for the presence of modern Russian art in the West and Soviet cultural propaganda, but also for a liberal Weimar Republic state art policy that had been in vigorous development since the November Revolution of 1918. Edwin Redslob, a leading Weimar government figure in the areas of arts and culture, opened the exhibition, to which he also contributed a foreword for its catalogue, thus highlighting the exhibition’s rele­ vance for a new German cultural policy that, in the wake of war and emperor, was determinedly focused on modernism and innovation.1 It was by no means certain that such an exhibition could take place in Berlin in the fall of 1922. Germany’s relationship with Soviet Russia, even after the Treaty of Rapallo, in April 1922, remained difficult. Rapprochement was still a controversial topic in the Weimar Republic. The ideologization under Lenin was viewed with skepticism by the liberal German democracy, especially as communist unrest continued to flare up in the new state. This chapter will explore the interests and means by which Weimar cultural policy-makers ultimately prevailed and were not only able to assist in the realization of a show launched in Moscow, but also integrate it into their own ambitions for education, cultural identity, and transnational exchange. Thus, the First Russian Art Exhibition can be understood as an active stage in the gradual crystallization of the cultural politics of the young Weimar Republic.

Weimar’s Liberal State Art Policy The origins of a German acceptance of new Russian art can be traced back to the political upheavals of 1918 and the launch, under the credo of artistic freedom and in cooperation with the revolutionary artists of the Sturm and November Group, of a liberal state cultural art policy in Berlin—a policy that openly embraced German modernism and with it the international ­ avant-garde. Under the aegis of the Prussian Ministry of Culture, led by social democrat Konrad Haenisch, the

70

Kristina Kratz-Kessemeier

new approach promised a free, pluralistic state promotion of the arts in all its various forms and movements.2 Spectacular new exhibition venues for modernism were established in Berlin in 1919 by Haenisch’s ministry: In July, the Große Berliner Kunstausstellung (Great Berlin Art Exhibition) in the Glass Palace at Lehrter Bahnhof, previously reserved for imperial art, opened for the Secession, the Free Secession, and the November Group. In August, the first state museum for contemporary art was installed in the former Kronprinzenpalais, Unter den Linden, as a branch of the Nationalgalerie, headed by Ludwig Justi.3 International artists were involved from the start: French Impressionists in the Kronprinzenpalais and recent Russian modernists in the Glass Palace.4 Marc Chagall kicked things off with his painting Hommage à Apollinaire (1913, Van Abbemuseum Eindhoven) that was titled in the catalogue as “Apollinaire, Walden, Cendras [sic], Canudo”—a reflection of the pre-war international avant-garde networks and pointing the way towards Russia’s future inclusion.5

Promotion of the latest art soon acquired a special political relevance for the Republic; as of spring 1919, it was integrated into a formal concept for a new Weimar cultural identity, which, after the lost war and the abdication of Wilhelm II, was focused on the nationally integrative effect of a diverse and contemporary art. Haenisch was an important driving force in this concept, which had been shaped and refined by debates on art and aesthetic reform since the turn of the century. Encouraged by Versailles, he further developed the concept for the National Assembly together with Carl Heinrich Becker, a cosmopolitan, unaffiliated liberal, who had been appointed undersecretary of state in the Ministry of Culture in March 1919.6 Desiring to catch up with developments in Russia and France, Becker called for a straightforward German cultural policy “for internal solidarity and external engagement with other people and cultures.”7 By the end of 1919, the ministry had established an art policy vision based on the vitality of a free approach to modernity on three levels: individually, as a contribution to a nuanced, democratic education; nationally, in the conveyance of a common,

Fig. 1: Johannes Sievers, 1917, photograph, Landesarchiv Berlin, E Rep. 300-10, no. 3

Fig. 2: Edwin Redslob, 1920, photograph, Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Deutsches Kunstarchiv, NL Redslob, Edwin, IB-306a-0001

Weimar Republic State Art Policy and the Russian Exhibition of 1922

71

modern cultural identity; and internationally, in the form of an open-minded society through new cultural contacts with artists from abroad.8 Thus, as early as 1919, the Weimar Republic had signaled its strong cultural and foreign policy interests, which subsequently became the impetus and basis for the active German commitment to the Russian art exhibition in 1922. The desire to overcome Germany’s post-war cultural isolation was certainly a concern, as was strengthening German modernism through international exchange and, not least, broadening the cultural horizons of the country’s own populace. Beginning in early 1920, there was an effort to professionalize the management and implementation of cultural policy; art historians receptive to avant-garde art and innovative formalist art history were given newly established government assignments. Joining Haenisch’s Ministry of Culture, which for the first time had an office for the fine arts, was Wilhelm Waetzoldt, an art historian from Halle and expert in contemporary art.9 Redslob (fig. 1), until then the youngest German museum director in Erfurt, took up the newly created post of “national keeper of the arts” (Reichskunstwart) in the Reich Ministry of the Interior.10 In the Foreign Office, Johannes Sievers, having come from the Prussian Ministry of Culture, headed a separate art division (fig. 2).11 Thus was made clear: Weimar art policy would be non-partisan, scholarly based, and solely reliant on aesthetic and artistic standards. Redslob emphasized, in late 1920, that with “partisan glasses one sees left and right equally unfairly; the primary focus should therefore be exclusively on quality.”12 Sievers likewise noted that “the basic condition for the success of all cultural-political work” was “the elimination of any propagandistic intention.”13

German versus Russian Cultural Policies It was precisely at this point that Weimar’s open-­minded interest in Russian art nevertheless collided with Soviet cultural policy. In November 1920, Waetzoldt wrote of “troublesome reports on arts administration in Soviet Russia”—“young artists especially” dreamed there “of a future in which art would be a means of stateorganized revolutionary propaganda and every artist

72

Kristina Kratz-Kessemeier

would be a salaried civil servant who […] entrusts the state in return with the creative work of his hands.”14 In liberal Germany, Waetzoldt emphasized, the government sought simply to ensure that artists were provided “with air, light, and freedom […]. State arts management is most effective when it affords crea­ tive forces opportunities to develop and grow.”15 He argued: “What seems to be happening in Soviet Russia today is dictation of the arts, as it was usual under the ‘accursed old regime,’ only under a red banner.”16 Thus became evident—official cultural relations with Soviet Russia would be an intricate match between art and propaganda, a conceptual clash between two contrary approaches to state art policy, each with its own keen social aims and a­ mbitions. Weimar policymakers accordingly tried to advance the discourse first and foremost with respect to Russian artistic impulses. Waetzoldt, in the context of his own ambitions for training artists along the line of the Bauhaus and Werkbund, looked directly to Russia.17 Since 1918, Anatoly Lunacharsky and the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (Narkompros), together with the painter David Shterenberg as head of its Department of Fine Arts (IZO), had been working on the implementation of an art school reform with structural affinities relevant to the German debate. One source of inspiration obviously was SVOMAS, the Free State Art Studios, and from the summer of 1920 onwards, VKhUTEMAS, the Higher Artistic and Technical Studios, in Moscow. The latest Russian art also attracted Waetzoldt’s attention. This is strikingly illustrated by the brief bibliography in his art school reform proposal from late 1920, which, along with Lunacharsky, includes as its only other foreign title Konstantin Umansky’s New Art in Russia.18 Umansky’s 1920 book, which positioned Russian art since 1914 squarely within Berlin modernity, could be understood as an invitation to strengthen German-Russian artist relations.19 The presence of the November Group in the Glass Palace in 1920 continued to underscore the Republic’s interest in Russia’s avant-garde. With Alexei Jawlensky and Wassily Kandinsky, big names were once again being presented, as well as Vladimir Bekhteev and the Dada artist Yefim (Yuhym) Golyshev.20 Kandinsky in particular, who played a key role in shaping Soviet art policy in 1920–21, now sought to build bridges from

the avant-garde of the pre-war period to the new Russia and the Weimar Republic.21 At the same time, the official Weimar transna­tional state art policy moved a decisive step forward with the first large exhibitions in the Kronprinzenpalais presenting contemporary art of other European countries: in 1920–21 it started with the show Young Dutch Art of the liberal Netherlands, initiated by Redslob, including works by Bart van der Leck, Theo van Doesburg, and Piet Mondrian.22 The Ministry of Culture and Foreign Office were involved. This was followed, in April 1921, by the artists’ group Valori Plastici, with Giorgio de Chirico or Carlo Carrà, which continued things by offering insight into post-futurist Italian art.23

Diplomatic Skirmish Thus, Weimar cultural policy, from the beginning, established a clear framework, including an acceptable path for the Russian project. Indeed, in spring 1921, as its economic situation worsened, Russia initiated a cautious first approach to the issue of a Russian art exhibition in accordance with the German policy.24 Addressing the Foreign Office on March 31, 1921, Soviet diplomat Viktor Kopp advanced the idea, on behalf of Anatoly Lunacharsky, of an exhibition “to give the German public an exhaustive insight into the artistic work of Russia” from 1914 and especially 1918.25 The exhibition, to be staged in various German cities, including Berlin, would consist of “250 works of all art movements existing in Russia.” Kopp expressly linked his offer with the “hope that this initiative by the People’s Commissariat will be viewed in the interest of German cultural life as a step towards the resumption of intellectual relations between Germany and Soviet Russia.”26 It was the young Russian art historian Umansky, now officially a “plenipotentiary” of the People’s Commissariat, who personally presented Kopp’s proposal to the relevant cultural authorities. He had approached Justi at the Nationalgalerie already in March 1921, apparently following a previous initiative by Kandinsky via Walter Gropius,27 with a plan for “an official exhibition” in the Kronprinzenpalais, that was to take place “some months after the end of the Italian [Valori

­ lastici] exhibition now being prepared.”28 Justi, howP ever, could only refer him to the higher authorities. As late as 1924, Justi complained about the lack of freedom to promote the modern art more aggressively in the Kronprinzenpalais, including specifically the French Cubists and Russia: “Section d’or, also a collection gathered by Russian government, were not shown at one political authority’s request.”29 And in fact, when Umansky visited the Foreign Office, on April 5, 1921, Sievers reacted cautiously. Coming on the heels of the March battles of the Communist Party in central ­Germany such a cooperation did not seem opportune. Although Sievers assured Umansky of a “lively interest in Russian art among German circles,” he emphasized that a Russian exhibition “must be regarded as fully premature at the moment.”30 He was sure though that “the Soviet government [would], under all circumstances, seek ways and means to push this exhibition through in some form.”31 Intent on avoiding the slightest risk of politicization right from the outset, it was Sievers who diverted the proposed project from the Kronprinzenpalais to a more neutral ground. In line with his

Fig. 3: Alexander Archipenko, Gondolier, 1914, reproduced in the catalogue of the Große Berliner Kunstausstellung 1921, plate 38. © VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 1922

Weimar Republic State Art Policy and the Russian Exhibition of 1922

73

own pluralistic thinking, he argued that it did not seem “essential for the desired end goal of educating people about their cultural goods, that the art should be distributed in an official form.”32 Thus, as early as April 1921, the Foreign Office began to sketch out its own vision of the Russian project at a less official location. Thereafter, from May 1921, the Weimar Republic sharpened its purely aesthetic focus when Kandinsky, Chagall, and Alexander Archipenko were presented in the Glass Palace, and the catalogue of the official art show was illustrated with works of the latter two (fig. 3).33 Archipenko along with the November Group, now concurred with the state approach that “the aesthetic was ‘la chose principale’.”34 On the Russian side, there still seemed to be a willingness to accept the proposed conditions. Hence ­Lunacharsky himself, on November 7, 1921, at a dinner in Moscow on the anniversary of the October Revolution, proposed the idea once more, to the representative of the German government Kurt Wiedenfeld, of “organizing an exhibition of Russian art and Russian decorative arts in Germany and Scandinavia”—and when asked “whether it was to be purely art and not some sort of political statement,” promptly replied that “any sort of political connotation was to be strictly avoided.”35 The Foreign Office in Berlin finally conceded on November 18, 1921, “that a further dismissal of Russian proposals for an art exhibition can hardly be justified.”36 But less there be any doubt, the official statement specifically included the two conditions that “no political propaganda whatsoever is to be associated with the exhibition and […] the works sent must be submitted to a German jury.”37 Soon there were further terms: The venue was to be established in advance and “the exhibition may not be presented as an official event of the Soviet Republic.”38 In late November 1921, Sievers instructed Wiedenfeld to commence negotiations in Moscow.39 Weimar clearly was still trying to keep a close hand on the reins. What followed, however, was a bizarre tug-of-war, in which Moscow, with a project launched by the German communist Willi Münzenberg on behalf of the International Workers’ Relief Committee for the Starving Russians, sought to move things back in a more political direction. Münzenberg’s proposal to the Foreign Office, in early December 1921, called for an

74

Kristina Kratz-Kessemeier

exhibition of Russian art in a number of large cities in Western Europe—“paintings, sculptures, and prints, together with a smaller exhibition of photographs of social and school life in Soviet Russia.”40 The project quickly gained speed and import requests followed, but just as quickly, it became clear to Sievers that this was all about a Russian counterproposal that by no means corresponded to the idea of a pure fine art exhibition.41 Things finally came to a head, in February 1922, as the first freight car—filled with propaganda materials—­ arrived at Lehrter Bahnhof in Berlin, directly next door to the Glass Palace.42 This was a head-on collision of German and Russian policy. Münzenberg’s promise that further shipments with the art would follow failed to help.43 Sievers withdrew.44 By the end of March 1922, Moscow had officially put the project to rest in light of the economic crisis and famine.45

The Weimar Approach It was only after this stalemate that the Russian authorities finally conceded to the Weimar concept.46 The German-Russian rapprochement in Rapallo in April 1922 offered a new basis for developments. The ­Prussian Ministry of Culture, now under Otto Boelitz, had become even bolder about expressing its openness to international contacts in the modern art scene. Leaving aside the Foreign Office, which was still hesitating, the ministry backed the First International Art Exhibition in Düsseldorf, in 1922, organized by Junges Rheinland (Young Rhineland) and the November Group.47 Simultaneously, the first Prouns by El Lissitzky and works by Ivan Puni and his wife Ksenia Boguslavskaya were on view in the Glass Palace, as well as works by ­Golyshev and Elena Liessner.48 Weimar thus increasingly was relying on an aesthetics-based exhibition model, which in the inflationary period in the West was far more successful than the Soviet model. In July 1922, yet another propaganda show by the Worker’s Relief Committee—most likely with materials from the first rail shipment in early 1922—opened in the Russian Embassy in ­Berlin; not attracting a large audience, it was prematurely cancelled.49 Directly thereafter, the First Russian Art Exhibition began to assume its final shape. On the German side,

it was Redslob—a key player in international modernist policy since the Dutch show in the Kronprinzen­ palais—who was most actively involved in prepa­ rations.50 He soon found common ground with Shterenberg, who was organizing the show on behalf of Narkompros. We know of an initial meeting of the two in Redslob’s office in early August 1922.51 Redslob had been instructed by the Foreign Office “to ensure that we here in Germany become acquainted not only with the international, but also the specifically domestic art of Russia, and come to cultural exchanges in this area.”52 So he actively supported the exhibition.53 Likewise in August, subsequent to Sievers’ decision a year earlier, the contact with the Galerie van Diemen was presumably also established by Weimar art poli­ ticians.54 Director of van Diemen since 1919 was the art historian Eduard Plietzsch (fig. 4), who was a student friend of Sievers and had worked with him beginning in 1912 at the Berlin State Museums. Even after his move to the commercial art trade, Plietzsch remained closely connected to Berlin’s official art scene.55 His gallery, which specialized in old masters, obviously was open to a changeover to contemporary Russian art— particularly as Plietzsch had strong personal ties to the avant-garde: to the Sturm, Max Pechstein, Rudolf Belling, and George Grosz, but also to Vladimir Tatlin, Naum Gabo, and Antoine Pevsner—all of whom he had visited in Russia.56 Haenisch’s Ministry considered Plietzsch a “Russia specialist,” as he was “one of those few people with first-hand experience of the new Soviet Russia.”57 Both conceptually and in terms of its location, the First Russian Art Exhibition was carefully situated, with Redslob, the Foreign Office, the Ministry of Culture and the Kronprinzenpalais all in close proximity, the Russian Embassy nearby.58 Shterenberg designed the show, together with Friedrich Lutz from the ­Galerie van Diemen. He eagerly involved Redslob, asking him to write a foreword that would be placed on equal footing with one from Lunacharsky.59 Redslob appreciated that the show was to be “a first step towards resuming the cultural working relationship between Russia and Germany” and was “of general public interest.”60 The exhibition thus had moved a step closer to being an official project of the Weimar Republic, and on September 1, 1922, it was announced in the press as an event by

Lunacharsky’s Commissariat and Workers’ Relief “with the support of the German government.”61

Toward a Liberal European Art Networking The pinnacle of German appropriation came with Redslob’s opening speech and his foreword in the catalogue. Referencing the aspirations of 1919, he openly connected the van Diemen exhibition with the ­Weimar vision of a new European culture, founded on the cultural strengths of its individual countries. As with Belling or Paul Klee for Germany, Pablo Picasso for France, or Bart van der Leck for the Netherlands, the many Russian artists could now add their own contribution—the “spiritual expanse of the east”—to a common European culture.62 Russia would encourage the cultural interests of Europe and in turn its own

Fig. 4: Max Pechstein, Portrait of Dr. Eduard Plietzsch, 1917, oil on canvas, 80 x 70 cm, unknown private collection. © Pechstein Hamburg/Berlin

Weimar Republic State Art Policy and the Russian Exhibition of 1922

75

desire for German art could take things even further. “Because exchange, mutual insight into the specifics and joyful recognition of the other: these are the foundations of the Europe of the spirits towards which we strive.”63 The show was now fully integrated into the Weimar cultural program. At van Diemen’s, new insights into Russian art could be found in the work of artists recently shown in Düsseldorf and, since 1919, at the Glass Palace: Archipenko, Boguslavskaya, Chagall, Kandinsky, ­ Lissitzky, Puni, but also the lesser-known modernism of Shterenberg, Altman, Gabo, or Kazimir Malevich—all accompanied by more traditional art and works from the art schools. In the end, it was purely an art exhibition—as the ­German press liked to emphasize, with “obvious tolerance” for “all [stylistic] directions,” very much in accordance with Weimar cultural policy.64 Even as communist street fighting was raging in Berlin on October 15, 1922,65 its opening Sunday, the First Russian Art Exhibition stood forth as an integrative, liberal countermodel of the Weimar Coalition: the idealistic and ambitious prospect of strengthening the Republic and spanning ideological divides by means of the newest art. That same day, the press also headlined the verdict against the Rathenau murderers.66 Here, too, the Russian art exhibition seemed like a statement from the coalition: a response to its enemies on the right, and, just as initiated by Walther Rathenau at Rapallo, a stamp of approval for a new openness, even towards Russia. Following on the Dutch and Italian exhibitions in the Kronprinzenpalais, the van Diemen show was an important further step in European art networking of the Weimar Republic, beginning with those countries that in addition to Germany were leading the

way ­toward modernity: Russia, Italy, and the Nether­ lands.67 The fact that the Russian Art Exhibition was reproduced in 1923 in the Stedelijk Museum in Amster­ dam can be viewed directly in the context of this growing Weimar art network. In mid-1922, the Ministry of Culture expanded the official art contacts to the Netherlands.68 Only days before the Berlin exhibition, Waetzoldt opened a first German art exhibition at the Stedelijk.69 The Russian exhibition followed it. Via the Netherlands and Russia, Weimar art policy, like the Bauhaus, ultimately moved into an international exchange of modern art, after 1925 reaching the United States and France.70 In this respect, the First Russian Art ­Exhibition in Berlin was one of the early door openers, especially as it demonstrated that rapprochement through art was possible despite political distance. Germany continued in these liberal directions with its international aesthetic approach until 1932, even as Stalin’s Soviet Union was soon setting ever stricter limits with respect to modern art. Ultimately, the First Russian Art Exhibition of 1922 thereby remained a brief moment of engagement with modern art between ­German and Soviet Russia in accordance with rules set by the Weimar cultural policymakers. But from a western perspective, it was far more: the struggle with Russia in particular reflected a pioneering effort to more sharply define the contours of a new model for a modern, democratic policy toward (and by) the arts, one openly receptive to international art and cultural exchange—a concept still fundamental to democrati­ zation today.

Notes 1

Edwin Redslob, “Vorwort II” [Foreword II], in Erste Russische

“Paving the Way for Free Modernism: The Novembergruppe’s

Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922 (Berlin: Verlag Internationale

Role in Shaping Art Policy During the Weimar Republic,” in

Arbeiterhilfe, 1922), 5–6; Max Osborn, “Russische Kunstaus-

Freedom: The Art of the Novembergruppe 1918–1935, ed.

stellung” [Russian art exhibition], Vossische Zeitung, no. 490,

Thomas Köhler, Ralf Burmeister, and Janina Nentwig (Munich, London, New York: Prestel, 2018), 30–39.

October 16, 1922, 2–3. 2

76

See Kristina Kratz-Kessemeier, Kunst für die Republik: Die

3

See Jana Baumann, Museum als Avantgarde: Museen moder­

Kunstpolitik des preußischen Kultusministeriums 1918 bis 1932

ner Kunst in Deutschland 1918–1933 (Berlin, Munich: Deutscher

(Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 2008); Kristina Kratz-Kessemeier,

Kunstverlag, 2016), 23–85.

Kristina Kratz-Kessemeier

4

Kunstausstellung Berlin 1919, exh. cat. (Berlin: 1919), 59, 67–68,

25

5

Letter from Kopp to the Foreign Office, March 31, 1921; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

73. Ibid., 67, no. 1121. See also Janina Nentwig, “‘Liberating Ener-

26 Ibid.

gies of the New Art:’ The Early Novembergruppe Years from

27

Peter Nisbet, “Some Facts on the Organizational History of the

1918 to 1920,” in Köhler, Burmeister, and ---, Freedom, 48.

Van Diemen Exhibition,” in The 1st Russian Show: A Commem-

6 Kratz-Kessemeier, Kunst für die Republik, 5–7, 11–12, 164–93,

oration of the Van Diemen Exhibition Berlin 1922, ed. Andrei Nakov et al. (London: Annely Juda Fine Art, 1983), 69.

219–29. 7

Carl Heinrich Becker, Kulturpolitische Aufgaben des Reiches

28 Record by Sievers, April 5, 1921, 2–3; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

(Leipzig: Quelle & Meyer, 1919), 2. 8

Report by Carl Heinrich Becker, December 5, 1919; see

29 “Fünf Jahre ‘Kronprinzen-Palais:’ Eine Rundfrage” [Five years of Kronprinzenpalais: A survey], Kunstblatt 8, 1924, 241.

Sitzungsberichte der verfassunggebenden Preußischen Landes-

9

versammlung 6 (Berlin: Preußische Verlagsanstalt, 1921), 7330–

30

Record by Sievers, April 5, 1921, 1; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

32.

31

Ibid., 2.

Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Deutsche Malerei seit 1870 (Leipzig: Quelle

32 Ibid.

& Meyer, 1919).

33

der Weimarer Republik? Zum Verhältnis von preußischem Kul-

34

Richard Herre to Redslob, April 28, 1921; Berlin, BArch, R 32/69, 134r; Kratz-Kessemeier, “Paving the Way for Free Modernism,”

tusministerium und Reichskunstwart” [Who shaped the art

33.

policy of the Weimar Republic? On the relationship between the Prussian Ministry of Culture and the Reichskunstwart], in

Große Berliner Kunstausstellung 1921, exh. cat. (Berlin: 1921), 61–62, 65, fig. 38, 50.

10 Kristina Kratz-Kessemeier, “Wer gestaltete die Kunstpolitik

35 Record by Wiedenfeld, November 9, 1921; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

Der Reichskunstwart: Kulturpolitik und Staatsinszenierung in 36

Note from the Foreign Office, Dept. IV (Russia) to Sievers, No­

11 Johannes Sievers, Aus meinem Leben, typescript (Berlin:

37

Ibid., 1–2.

1966); Berlin, LAB, E Rep. 300–10, no. 1–4; Mary-Ann Mid-

38

Internal note by the Foreign Office from Dept. IV (Russia) to

der Weimarer Republik 1918–1933, ed. Christian Welzbacher

vember 18, 1921; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

(Weimar: wtv campus, 2010), 232–52.

Dept. IX C, November 23, 1921, 1–2; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

delkoop, “Art and Foreign Cultural Policy in Weimar Germany,

39 Note from Sievers to Wiedenfeld, November 29, 1921; Berlin,

1917–1933,” PhD thesis, University of Cambridge, 2020. 12

40 Note from Münzenberg to Adolf von Maltzan, December 6,

Berlin, BArch, R 32/69, 180. 13

1921; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

Report by Sievers, December 1, 1919, 10; Berlin, LAB, E Rep. 41

300–10, no. 2. 14

PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

“Eröffnung der Juryfreien Kunstschau,” [November 15, 1920];

Record by Sievers, December 13 and 29, 1921; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

Wilhelm Waetzoldt, Gedanken zur Kunstschulreform (Leipzig:

42 Record by Sievers, February 4, 1922; Berlin, PA AA, RZ

Quelle & Meyer, 1921), 3–4.

208/94534.

15

Ibid., 5.

16

Ibid., 5.

17

Ibid., 11, 20.

18

Ibid., 49.

44 Note by Sievers, February 4, 1922; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

Konstantin Umanskij, Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919 (Pots-

45

19

43 Letter from Münzenberg to Sievers, February 2, 1922; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

20

Jahrbuch für Kunstsammler 2 (1922), 140; Sturm Postcard to

46 See Nisbet, “Some Facts,” 71.

Redslob; Berlin, BArch, R 32/69, 154.

47 Berlin, BArch, R 1501/8982, 243, 247r; Erste Internationale Kunst­ausstellung Düsseldorf 1922, exh. cat. (Düsseldorf: 1922),

Kunstausstellung Berlin 1920, exh. cat. (Berlin: 1920), 69, 72,

Russia, nos. 642–717.

74–75. 21 See Umanskij, Neue Kunst in Russland, 64; “Personalien,”

48 Große Berliner Kunstausstellung 1922, exh. cat. (Berlin: 1922), 59, 61–64, 66, fig. 53, 55.

Kunst­chronik 57, April 28, 1922, 501. 22 Berlin, SMB-ZA, I/NG 602: 37–54, 65, 89; Fritz Stahl, “Junge

49 Report by the Police President Berlin to the Commissioner of Public Order, August 5, 1922; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

holländische Maler” [Young Dutch painters], Berliner Tage23

blatt, no. 564, December 9, 1920, 2.

50

See report; Berlin, BArch, R 32/480, 4r, mentioning the show.

Berlin, SMB-ZA, I/NG 602: 99, 107–09.; Adolph Donath, “Aus-

51

Letter from Redslob to the Reich Ministry of Economy, August

ländische Kunst in Berlin” [Foreign art in Berlin], Kunstwander-

7, 1922; Berlin, BArch, R 32/116, 56. See documentation in this volume.

er 3, 1921, 390–91. 24

Letter from Nikolai Gorbunov to Münzenberg, March 30, 1922; Berlin, PA AA, RZ 208/94534.

dam: Gustav Kiepenheuer; Munich: Hans Goltz, 1920) 55–56;

Vasilij K. Černoperov, “Viktor Kopp und die sowjetisch-deut-

52 Ibid.

schen Beziehungen 1919 bis 1921” [Viktor Kopp and Soviet-­

53 Ibid.

German relations 1919 to 1921], Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitge-

54 See Berliner Tageblatt, 51, no. 391, September 1, 1922, 3.

schichte 60, no. 4 (October 2012): 529–54.

Weimar Republic State Art Policy and the Russian Exhibition of 1922

77

55 Sievers, Aus meinem Leben, 101, 117, 125, 441–42; Eduard ­Plietzsch, “…heiter ist die Kunst:” Erlebnisse mit Künstlern und Kennern (Gütersloh: C. Bertelsmann, 1955), 158–62, 165. 56 Plietzsch, Erlebnisse mit Künstlern und Kennern, 15–31, 60–66, 79, 86–90, 101–103; Laura Meier-Ewert, “Eduard Plietzsch: Dem Zeitgeist stets zu Diensten” [Eduard Plietzsch: At the service of the Zeitgeist], in Gute Geschäfte: Kunsthandel in Berlin 1933–1945, ed. Christine Fischer-Defoy and Kaspar Nürnberg (Berlin: Schulz & Schulz, 2011), 87–92. 57 Plietzsch, Erlebnisse mit Künstlern und Kennern, 164. 58 The Ministry of Culture was located at Unter den Linden 4, Redslob’s office was at Königsplatz 6, and Sievers’ at ­Wilhelmstraße 61a. 59 Letter from Shterenberg and Lutz to Redslob, September 20, 1922; Berlin, BArch, R 32/69, 83. See documentation in this volume. 60 Draft by Redslob, October 10, 1922; Berlin, BArch, R 32/69, 84.

78

61

Berliner Tageblatt 51, no. 39, September, 1, 1922, 3.

62

Redslob, “Vorwort II,” 5.

63

Ibid., 6.

Is

64 Curt Bauer, “Berliner Ausstellungen” [Berlin exhibitions], ­Cicerone 14, 1922, 869. 65

“Straßenkämpfe im Zentrum Berlins” [Street fighting in central Berlin], Vossische Zeitung, no. 490, October 16, 1922 1–2. See also photographs of the street fights, reproduced in Zeitbilder, no. 42, October 22, 1922, 1.

66 See, e.g., Der Welt-Spiegel, no. 42, October 15, 1922, 1. 67 Dmitri Sarabjanow, “An der Spitze der internationalen Avantgarde: Russische und deutsche Kunst von 1910 bis in die zwanziger Jahre” [At the forefront of the international avant-garde: Russian and German art from 1910 to the 1920s], in ­Berlin–Moskau 1900–1950, ed. Irina Antonowa and Jörn ­Merkert (Munich: Prestel, 1995), 97–103. 68 Kratz-Kessemeier, Kunst für die Republik, 556–60. 69 “Die deutsche Kunstausstellung in Amsterdam,” October 12, 1922; Berlin, BArch, R 1501/8983, 89. 70 Kratz-Kessemeier, Kunst für die Republik, 550–85.

ISABEL WÜNSCHE

11

Keeper of Art: Reichskunstwart Edwin Redslob

T

he position of Reichskunstwart or “national keeper of art” was established in 1919 as an office within the Ministry of the Interior by the Weimar government in cooperation with the Deut­ scher Werkbund, an association of artists, designers, and architects.1 One of the office’s primary responsibilities was to develop and maintain a unified style for a dignified visual representation of the idea of the Reich (fig. 1). This included the redesign of the national symbols of sovereignty such as the coats of arms, the eagle, and the flags; official signs and emblems; seals, stamps, medals, and coins; and the supervision of state celebrations and preservation of buildings and state monuments.2 The Reichskunstwart was furthermore seen as a representative and advocate of German artists; he was expected to understand their sensibilities and ways of working and act as a mediator when necessary in disputes about artistic direction and viewpoint.3 The Reichskunstwart was responsible for balancing positions on conservation and innovation in accordance with the constitution of the Weimar Republic. Edwin Redslob (1884–1973), an art historian, was appointed to fill the position, which he held from January 1920 until the seizure of power by the National Socialists in 1933,4 after which Redslob, an exponent of the liberal forces of the Weimar Republic and advocate for modern art, was put into paid retirement and the office was abolished. Redslob grew up in the city of Weimar, where, at an early age, he came into contact with progressive modernist artists and intellectuals such as Henry van de Velde and Harry Graf Kessler. He studied art history under Henry Thode in Heidelberg, receiving his doctoral degree with a dissertation on fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Franconian epitaphs in 1906.5 After an internship at the Germanische Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg, he took up a curatorial position at the Suermondt Museum in Aachen in 1909. After a stint as vice-director at the Arts and Crafts Museum in Bremen in 1911, he was appointed director of the city museum in Erfurt in 1912, becoming the youngest museum di­ rector in Germany.6 In the following years, he made a name for himself by assembling a remarkable collection of contemporary art, working closely with expressio­n­ ist artists such as Ernst Ludwig Kirchner (fig. 2), Karl

Fig. 1: Edwin Redslob, Die künstlerische Form­ gebung des Reichs (Berlin: Werkkunst-Verlag, 1926)

Keeper of Art: Reichskunstwart Edwin Redslob

79

expert committees, which were convened as necessary for individual decisions and projects.9 In collaboration with modernist artists, he developed a symbolic formal language for the new republic. ­Redslob cultivated a wide network of contacts with intellectuals, reform-minded citizens, and even the nobility, and standardized public relations and press communications. He gave speeches to various committees, in the Reichstag, and on the radio, invoking the Weimar spirit as the ideal basis for the republican order.10 Between 1933 and 1945, Redslob was active as a scholar, writer, and translator; he researched the cul­ tural­history of Berlin and wrote about the life of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.11 After the Second ­ World War, he went on to co-found the Berlin newspaper Der ­Tagesspiegel, researched lost art works, and was a founding member of Freie Universität Berlin, in 1948, where he held a professorship of art history and served as its rector from 1949 to 1950.12

Notes 1

Edwin Redslob, Die künstlerische Formgebung des Reichs (Berlin: Werkkunst-Verlag, 1926), 3. See also Christian ­ Welzbacher, ed., Der Reichskunstwart: Kulturpolitik und Staatsinszenierung in der Weimarer Republik 1918–1933 (Weimar: wtv-campus, 2010), 11–18; Manuela Achilles, “Anchoring the Nation in the Democratic Form: Weimar Symbolic Politics beyond the Failure Paradigm,” in German Modernities from Wilhelm to Weimar: A Contest of Futures, ed. Geoff Eley, Jennifer L. Jenkins, and Tracie Matysik (London: Bloomsbury, 2016), 268–76.

Schmidt-Rottluff, and Christian Rohlfs. In 1919–20, Redslob briefly served as director of the Staatsgalerie Stuttgart before his appointment as Reichskunstwart in 1920. As “state protector of art,” Redslob was responsible for all state art and cultural issues in the Reich. His office oversaw the design of the state symbols and national emblems7 as well as the organization of exhibitions and state celebrations, including, for example, designs for the annual celebration of Constitution Day, the official funeral service for Foreign Minister Walther Rathenau, who was assassinated in 1922, and the 1923 celebration in the Reichstag in memory of the Revolution of 1848.8 Redslob tended to rely on the advice of Werkräte,

Fig. 2: Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Portrait of Edwin Redslob, 1924, oil on canvas, 121 x 75.5 cm, Brücke-Museum, on permanent loan from Pressestiftung TAGESSPIEGEL gGmbH, Berlin. Photograph by Nick Ash 80

Isabel Wünsche

2 Ibid. 3 Redslob, Die künstlerische Formgebung des Reichs, 3. 4 Welzbacher, Der Reichskunstwart, 11–18, 21–26. 5

Christian Welzbacher, Edwin Redslob: Biografie eines unverbesserlichen Idealisten (Berlin: Matthes & Seitz, 2009), 40–60.

6 Ibid. 7

Achilles, “Anchoring the Nation in the Democratic Form,” 268; Welzbacher, Edwin Redslob, 148–67; Welzbacher, Reichskunstwart, 13–18.

8 Redslob, Die künstlerische Formgebung des Reichs, 5–30; Achilles, “Anchoring the Nation in the Democratic Form,” 268, 274–76; Welzbacher, Reichskunstwart, 26–37. 9 Welzbacher, Edwin Redslob, 125–26. 10

Ibid., 205–29.

11

Ibid., 255–317.

12

Ibid., 319–404.

MIRIAM LEIMER

12

Showcasing Bolshevik Russia in a Private Art Gallery in Berlin

O

n October 15, 1922, an illustrious crowd gathered at 21 Unter den Linden, the address of van Diemen’s newest art gallery in Berlin. The occasion was the opening of an exhibition that a few months earlier had seemed highly unlikely: The Erste Russische Kunstausstellung (First Russian Art Exhibition)—a sales show of art from Russia organized by the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment ­(Narkompros) with the declared goal of contributing to famine relief in Russia. Artists, journalists, high-­ranking officials from both the Weimar Republic and Soviet Russia, and even Berlin’s Russian émigrés joined the event. Reichs­kunstwart Edwin Redslob gave a speech; as did the chief curator, David Shterenberg; Zakhar Grinberg, the Berlin representative of Narkompros; and the German communist Willi Münzenberg.1 Given what had preceded the opening, it seems quite remarkable that Münzenberg chose to be present. Among the numerous attempts to organize an exhibition of modern Russian art in Berlin, including the efforts of Ludwig Baehr, Konstantin Umansky, and Viktor Kopp, Münzenberg’s initiative had been by far the most concrete. And yet, only six months earlier, on March 30, 1922, his stubbornly pursued plan had been called off by none other than Lenin himself.2 Surprisingly, eleven days later, on April 10, 1922, the Soviet newspaper Vechernie izvestiya (Evening News) published an announcement that in the very near future there would be an exhibition of Russian art in Berlin— to be organized by comrade Shterenberg.3 Thus, even before the signing of the Treaty of Rapallo on April 16, 1922, which was intended to ease political relations between Germany and Soviet Russia, the organizers felt confident enough to advertise their project: An exhibition that at this moment in time was little more than a press release and still faced many obstacles.

A Narkompros Initiative Shterenberg’s involvement traces back to early 1921. On February 26, 1921, Anatoly Lunacharsky, head of Narkompros, had appointed Shterenberg to develop a program for promoting Russian culture abroad, i­ncluding

Showcasing Bolshevik Russia in a Private Art Gallery in Berlin

81

traveling exhibitions.4 The actual commission to orga­ nize a show of paintings by Russian artists in Berlin followed one year later, on February 16, 1922.5 It seems that at this moment, there was still the idea to link the plan of Lunacharsky and Shterenberg with the intentions of Münzenberg. In a letter to the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs (Narkomindel) dated March 1, 1922, Lunacharsky explored the idea of setting up a committee for organizing exhibitions and other cultural activities abroad. He referred to Münzenberg’s initiative in Berlin, where, according to Lunacharsky, the prepa­ rations for an exhibition were already “more or less settled.”6 The remainder of the exhibition material, he continued, could be transferred by S­ hterenberg.7 But, almost as if he had known that Münzenberg’s plan had lost the support of the Bol­shevik officials, ­Lunacharsky did not include Münzenberg in the committee founded on March 28, 1922.8 Instead, representatives of the Red Cross and the famine relief organization of the polar explorer Fridtjof Nansen were appointed to the All-­Russian Committee for the Organization of Exhi­ bitions and Artists’ Tours Abroad. Letters from March and April 1922 suggest that it was probably not until this moment that Shterenberg began gathering works for the exhibition. Ivan Kliun, for example, wrote to Shterenberg that he would offer three paintings and one sculpture for the planned exhibition, which Shterenberg could sell for $100 each.9 Although some works were submitted by the artists themselves, most came from the Museum of Artistic Culture (MKhK) in Petrograd, the Museum of Painterly Culture (MZhK) in Moscow, the Museum ­Bureau (MB), and the State Museum Fund (GMF). The fund, like most of Narkompros, was dominated by avantgarde artists—“left-wing artists” as Lunacharsky called them.10 Although the leftist avant-garde generally was supportive of this opportunity to address a western audience, there were also exceptions. In a letter to ­Lunacharsky of April 1922, Shterenberg reported on resistance to the exhibition that he and his assistant Natan Altman were facing—resistance that was coming from leftist artists in Petrograd, where artists were reluctant to surrender their works for exhibition abroad.11 While Shterenberg and Altman were assembling the collection of works in Russia, the third orga­nizer of the show, Naum Gabo, travelled to Berlin.12 As early

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as 1922, he had tried to leave Soviet Russia. In a later interview, he talked about his effort to convince Lunacharsky, who finally provided him with one of the rare travel passports. Shterenberg, Gabo remembered, handed him 500 rubles, and said: ‘You go. I am organizing a big exhibition of the whole Russian art world from the beginning of the war to the present. Since 1914 nobody in Europe has known what we are doing, and I have money for the show. Go to Berlin now and organize your constructive art for the show.’ 13

A Private Gallery in Berlin On June 18, 1922, the Russian émigré newspaper Nakanune (On the Eve) announced that the paintings for the exhibition in Berlin were “already collected and packaged up.”14 The choice of venue, however, was still uncertain, but at more or less this moment, the Galerie van Diemen & Co. entered the stage. Little is known about the specific arrangements, which included hosting the exhibition at “extremely favorable conditions,” as Lunacharsky later recalled.15 Most certainly Eduard Plietzsch, head of the gallery, was involved in the negotiations. In his autobiography, he remembered his many travels to Soviet Russia, especially in 1922.16 Plietzsch was obviously interested in Russian contemporary art and met with artists such as Gabo’s brother Antoine Pevsner and Vladimir Tatlin. The Galerie van Diemen, however, was specialized in Old Masters’ paintings, in particular Dutch art. It is difficult to say what motivated Plietzsch and his associates to host a show of contemporary Russian art organized by a Soviet People’s Commissariat, but it seems likely that their involvement was linked to the gallery’s interest in trade with confiscated art from Soviet Russia.17 By the end of July 1922, negotiations with the van Diemen Gallery had progressed so far that the Russian organizers were ready to ship the exhibition works. Thirty-two crates were transported by train to Berlin, where they were first checked by customs at Anhalter Bahnhof. A seven-page-long Zollliste, a list for customs clearance, included further information on their respective contents.18

In a letter dated August 7, 1922,19 Redslob reported to the Reich Ministry of Economy, about a meeting he had had some days earlier with Shterenberg, the ­author Arthur Holitscher,20 and David Maryanov, who had visited his office to ask for assistance regarding the exhibits still being held by German customs. Redslob approved Shterenberg’s request: I fully endorse the wish of Dr. Shterenberg, noting that the Foreign Office has already suggested to me to ensure that we here in Germany become acquainted not only with the international, but also the specifically domestic art of Russia, and come to cultural exchanges in this area.21 In August 1922, the Galerie van Diemen continued with its preparations for the upcoming show, which included the founding of a new department for the occasion: the Gemälde Neuer Meister (Department of New Masters), which was housed in one of Berlin’s most magnificent residential buildings (fig. 1). The eighteenth-century town palace at 21 Unter den Linden had been the home of many prominent ­ figures,22 among them the Polish diplomat and patron Atanazy Raczyński, who remodeled the residence in the 1830s in order to set up a gallery for the public presentation of his art collection.23 At the turn of the century, the ground floor of the building was used for commercial purposes and, in 1912, the building became the head office of Margraf & Co., the art trading group to which the Galerie van Diemen belonged.24 The original business, a silverware house, was located in the east wing (fig. 2). By the end of August 1922, the Department of New Masters was set up in the west wing, which had previously been used as an artist’s studio and storage.25 Friedrich Lutz was appointed head of the new department.26 Everything was settled at the beginning of September 1922, when various German newspapers announced that the Galerie van Diemen, at its new address, would present an exhibition of Russian art.27 The involvement of Plietzsch, Lutz, and their assistant Leopold Reidemeister,28 in the design of the exhibition was minimal, and the gallery’s overall commitment to showcasing modern Russian art did not last long. By the end of 1922, it had been rebranded

Fig. 1: Unter den Linden 22–20, 1886/92, photograph by Albert F. Schwartz, Sammlung Fotografie – Kunstbibliothek, Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin

as Galerie Lutz & Co., which continued to stage exhibitions until 1924 (fig. 3).29 Nevertheless, a letter to Redslob dated September 20, 1922, from Shterenberg and Lutz, who now referred to themselves as the “Ausstellungsleitung” (exhibition management), bears the letterhead of the new department Neue Meister. In the letter, Lutz and Shterenberg reported on the ongoing preparations for the exhibition, now (for the first time) called the Erste Russische Kunstausstellung (First Russian Art Exhibition). Most of the paintings, they noted, were already being hung, and the catalogue

Fig. 2: Fassade Margraf & Co., Unter den Linden 21, c. 1915, photograph by Emil Leitner (?), private collection

Showcasing Bolshevik Russia in a Private Art Gallery in Berlin

83

Another artist, Filipp Malyavin, who is not even listed in the catalogue, also provided works for the exhibition. He had managed to leave Soviet Russia with a selection of his works in the fall of 1922, having obtained permission to organize a charity sales show abroad. Malyavin’s stay in Berlin was a stopover before he emigrated to France. It remains unclear why he even participated in the van Diemen show as, just days after the opening, he gave a spiteful interview to the Russian émigré newspaper Rul’ (Rudder), in which he not only openly criticized conditions in Soviet Russia, where the people were “dead tired, impoverished, wild, and exhausted with horror,” but also attacked the contemporary art scene: “Russian art, like the soul of Russia, is in a state of fatal exhaustion. In this state of exhaustion, there is deep despair.” Malyavin further accused the organizers of the exhibition—Lunacharsky and his “helpers” Shterenberg and Altman—of having killed Russian painting, just as the Soviet regime had killed the schools and the theatres.34 Nevertheless his paintings were displayed near the entrance to the exhibition and thus “first met the eye” of visitors, as art critic Flora Turkel stated in her article for the American Art News.35 was about to be finalized.30 The foreword by Redslob, which Lutz and Shterenberg inquired about in their letter, must have been one of the last additions; an announced preface by Lunacharsky was, in the end, not included in the catalogue.

The Malyavin Case By the end of September 1922, the gallery installation was almost completed.31 Most of the works had been shipped directly from Russia and were thus accounted for on the customs list. Other works were appar­ently already in Berlin and delivered directly to the gallery. As Georgy Lukomsky reported in the Russian art magazine Argonavty (The Argonauts), just days before the opening, the organizers were still accepting works from Russian artists living abroad,32 including sculptures by Alexander Archipenko and paintings by Ivan Puni. El Lissitzky also submitted additional works, because, as Gabo recalled, “he thought that what had been brought was not enough.”33

Fig. 3: Cover of an exhibition catalogue from the Galerie Lutz & Co (formerly Galerie van Diemen & Co.), Unter den Linden 21, Berlin 1923

84

Miriam Leimer

Reconstructing the Presentation The First Russian Art Exhibition must have been a gigantic show, consisting of paintings, sculptures, ­ graphic works, examples of applied art such as porcelains, children’s toys, and even fashion designs. Roughly 1,000 exhibits from more than 160 artists were arranged on the two floors of the gallery.36 The ground floor featured more traditional, figurative art, including some more or less typical, late works by the Peredvizhniki (Wanderers). Among them was a painting by ­ Viktor Vasnetsov depicting the fight between the monk A ­ leksandr Peresvet and a Tatar knight that reminded a critic from the émigré newspaper Vremya (Time) of the fight between the Red and the White army in the Russian Civil War.37 Igor Grabar, Aleksandr Gaush, Konstantin Yuon, Konstantin Korovin, and Stanislav Zhukovsky all belonged to the well-represented section of Russian Impressionists. The art movement Mir iskusstva (World of Art), on the other hand, was poorly represented, the only exception being Boris Kustodiev, who exhibited two major works:

Merchant’s Wife at Tea (no. 105, Frau am Samowar (1918, State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg) (fig. 4) and The Bride (no. 106, Braut) (fig. 5). The pre-revolutionary avant-garde movements were also displayed on the ground floor, most prominently featured was the artists’ association Knave of Diamonds (Bubnovyi Valet): Aleksandr Kuprin (see fig. p. 206), Pyotr Konchalovsky, and Ilya Mashkov, with mostly still lifes. Moving up the steps from the ground floor to the first floor, visitors were confronted with political posters as well as ROSTA windows by Vladimir Mayakovsky displayed on the staircase landing. Thus primed, the visitor reached the upper floor, where the gallery space was filled with abstract and non-objective works. This was what Shterenberg referred to in his foreword to the catalogue as the art of the “association of left-wing groups (Cubists, Suprematists, and Constructivists)”— even though Cubism and Suprematism predated the October Revolution.38

Fig. 4: Boris Kustodiev, Merchant’s Wife at Tea (1918), reproduced on the cover of Zhar-Ptitsa, no. 9, 1922

Fig. 5: Boris Kustodiev, The Bride (before 1922), reproduced in Zhar-Ptitsa, no. 9, 1922, 17

Showcasing Bolshevik Russia in a Private Art Gallery in Berlin

85

Cubist paintings such as Nadezhda Udaltsova’s At the Piano (fig. 6) (no. 235, Am Piano), were shown along with suprematist paintings by Kazimir Malevich (see fig. p. 204), Prouns (Project for the Affirmation of the New) by Lissitzky (see fig. p. 212), as well as spatial constructions of the OBMOKhU group (­Society of

Young Artists). The first floor also included some sideway approaches to Russian modernism such as Shterenberg’s series of faktura-contrasts (see fig. p. 91) and Altman’s Russia: Labor (see fig. p. 92)—a work that combined geometrical forms with political claims. Progressive theatre decorations, fantastic architectural designs, and

Fig. 6: Nadezhda Udaltsova, At the Piano, 1915, oil on canvas, 106.7 x 89 cm, Yale University Art Gallery. Gift of Collection Société Anonyme, 1941.725

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Miriam Leimer

student works from the art schools ­further testified to the renewed artistic production in Soviet Russia. The First Russian Art Exhibition was not a curated show in the sense that we are familiar with today, i.e., a though-out, planned exhibition based on an inter­ nally consistent concept. Alone the mere fact that most of the works had been pulled together in only a few weeks’ time and with a minimum of financial resources would not have allowed for much more. Yakov Tugendkhold, in his article for Russkoe iskusstvo (­ Russian Art), emphasized that Shterenberg had put together the exhibition “with hardly a penny and almost at random.”39 Lunacharsky, although admitting that there were shortcomings, later stated that “if we had waited for the time and opportunity to arrange [the exhibition] properly, we would never have done it.”40 Cost-effective solutions and practical considerations thus presented limi­ tations from the outset. Shterenberg openly explained in the socialist newspaper Sichel und Hammer (Sickle and Hammer) that there were few sculptural works— “only those are present here, which could be brought over without transport difficulties.”41 Despite these restrictions, there were certainly opportunities for the organizers to inscribe their narrative in the selection and to set recognizable accents. The most significant and also most astonishing decision by Shterenberg and his colleagues remains the synopsis of older, figurative paintings along with the latest artistic experiments. Even then, this was recognized as an unusual choice. V. Tatarinov, for example, noted in Rul’ that one could rarely see Mikhail Nesterov and Vladimir Tatlin under one roof.42 Adolf Donath praised the “harmony in which all directions from the pure Academia to Impressionism, from Impressionism to Expressionism, from so-called abstract painting to Constructivism run peacefully side by side here.”43 But this seeming harmony of intent was undermined by the layout of the exhibition. The division into two floors dictated a certain interpretation: Visitors would rise metaphorically from the late Czarist Empire to the achievements of the post-revolutionary era, passing up a staircase decorated with political posters. Furthermore, it was noted by many critics that the rooms on the ground floor were rather dark and seemingly less fitted to be used as gallery spaces. Boris Poplavsky, for example, complained that “all the more or less ‘rightist’

painters are assigned to almost completely dark rooms (or some sort of corridor or hallway).”44 Thus it would seem to have been a strategic decision by the organizers to display the “left-wing groups” on the upper floor in the more suitable gallery spaces. And presumably it was no coincidence that Altman, Shterenberg, and Gabo chose the most prominent position, the central hall with the skylight, to promote their own art (see fig. p. 42).

An Ambiguous Event By the end of 1922, the First Russian Art Exhibition was over. According to Shterenberg, 15,000 visitors had attended the show in the two-and-a-half months of its existence.45 The legacy of the exhibition remains ambiguous. The inclusion of the older, more tra­ ditional works demonstrated that the “Soviet reign does not necessarily mean trampling and experimentation,” as Max Osborn explained in the Vossische Zeitung, and thus it might even have made its own small contribution to building trust in the unfamiliar Bolshevik state.46 The ground floor of the exhibition clicked with the viewing habits of a western audience, but also led to odd occurrences such as the case of Malyavin, who in the end prematurely withdrew his works from the exhibition.47 The emphasis on the non-objective art movements served to demonstrate political and social progress in the art production of the post-revolutionary period. But it neglected the fact that these tendencies were already being threatened by declining interest in Soviet Russia. Even Lunacharsky noted that the G ­ erman public did “not receive a completely correct impression of Russian art […] It seems to them that the ‘leftist’ direction domi­ nates in our country, and the forms of art close to realism only barely exist.”48 While it is impossible to summarize the political implications and artistic intentions of the exhibition in a single statement, the show was certainly something other than a mere fundraising event in support of famine victims in Russia. The catalogue included no prices, and only at one point in the front matter was reference made to the original purpose of the exhibition.49 Of the works themselves, only a plate by

Showcasing Bolshevik Russia in a Private Art Gallery in Berlin

87

Sergei Chekhonin, the so-called famine plate, referred directly to the humanitarian crisis (fig. 7). As the Hungarian art critic Ernő Kállai complained, in the “luxurious bourgeois environment of the ­boulevard Unter den Linden” it was easy for visitors to ­forget that the works had come from a country still going through “the painful struggle of attaining Communism.”50 In the end, only 20% of the meager earnings, consisting of ticket sales and a few sold works, were handed over to the relief committee, as Shterenberg freely admitted.51 Thus not only was the singular goal of the grand exhibition not achieved—it had never truly been the driving force behind this unlikely undertaking.

Notes 1

2 3

G. [Gertrud] Alexander, “Die Erste Russische Kunstausstel-

12

lung” [The First Russian Art Exhibition], Die Rote Fahne,

Gabo highlighted that Shterenberg arrived in Berlin six months

no. 462, October 17, 1922, n. p.

after him. Since Shterenberg was already in Berlin in August

See copy of a letter from Nikolai Gorbunov to Willi Münzen-

1922, it would be possible that Gabo had already arrived in Ber-

berg, March 30, 1922; Berlin, PA AA, Z 208/94534.

lin in February 1922. S. Frederick Starr and Kenneth Frampton,

“V blizhaishem budushchem, v Berline predpolagaetsya

“Russian Art in Revolution and Emigration: An Interview with

ustroistvo khudozhestvennoi vystavki s kakovoi tsel’yu tuda

Naum Gabo,” 1969, transcript, New Haven, Conn., Yale Collec-

vyezzhaet zav. otd. khudozh. obrazovaniya Glavprofobra

tion of American Literature, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, Naum Gabo Papers YCAL MSS 541, 15.

t. Shterenberg.” Announcement by an unknown author, 4

Vechernie izvestiya, no. 8, April 19, 1922, 3.

13

Wladimir Lapschin, “Die erste russische Kunstausstellung, Ber-

14

Starr and Frampton, “Russian Art,” 15. Announcement by an unknown author, Nakanune (literature supplement no. 8), June 18, 1922, 12.

lin 1922: Materialien zur Geschichte der deutsch-sowjetischen Kunst­beziehung” [The first exhibition of Russian art. Berlin. 1922:

15

Lunacharskii, “Russkaya vystavka v Berline,” 177.

Materials for the history of Soviet-German artistic relations],

16

Eduard Plietzsch does not mention the First Russian Art Exhibition, but he remembers his eleven trips to Russia and his

Kunst und Literatur: Sowjetwissenschaften 33, no. 4 (1985): 554. 5 Ibid.

extended stay in St. Petersburg in 1922. Eduard Plietzsch, “…

6

Letter from Lunacharsky to Narkomindel, March 1, 1922, cited

heiter ist die Kunst:” Erlebnisse mit Künstlern und Kennern

after Sovetsko-amerikanskie otnosheniya: Gody nepriznaniya

(Gütersloh: C. Bertelsmann, 1955). Helen Adkins points out that

1918–1926. Dokumenty (Moscow: Maternik, 2002), 425.

Plietzsch had close ties to the Bauhaus in Weimar and there-

7 Ibid.

fore may have heard about a planned exhibition of Russian

8

Mikhail Lazarev, David Shterenberg: Khudozhnik i vremya. Put’

art through Walter Gropius. Helen Adkins, “Erste Russische

khudozhnika (Moscow: Galaktika, 1992), 171.

Kunstausstellung, Berlin 1922” [First Russian Art Exhibition],

See letter from Ivan Kliun to Shterenberg, March/April 1922,

in ­Stationen der Moderne: Die bedeutendsten Kunstausstel-

cited after Lazarev, Shterenberg, 171.

lungen des 20. Jahrhunderts in Deutschland, ed. Michal Bollé

9 10

11

(Berlin: Nicolaische Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1988), 186.

Anatolii Lunacharskii, “Russkaya vystavka v Berline” [­ Russian exhibition in Berlin] (1922), in ---, Iskusstvo i revolyutsiya

17

For a study on the nationalization of private art property in

­(Moscow: Novaya Moskva, 1924), 176.

post-revolutionary Russia, see Waltraud Bayer, “Der legi­

A copy of the letter is kept in the estate of Nikolai Punin. A brief,

timierte Raub: Der Umgang mit Kunstschätzen in der Sowjet­

typewritten note below Shterenberg’s report is dated May 1,

union, 1917–1938” [Legitimized looting: The handling of art

1922. The University of Texas at Austin, Harry Ransom Center,

treasures in the Soviet Union, 1917–1938], Osteuropa 56,

N.N. Punin Diaries and Correspondence 1910–1939, F. 1.13–14.

nos. 1–2 (January/February 2006): 55–70.

Fig. 7: Sergei Chekhonin, Plate “Famine”, 1921

88

In a later interview with Frederick Starr and Kenneth Frampton,

Miriam Leimer

18

Crate 22 and crate 23 are missing in the Zollliste (List for cus-

31

September 26, 1922, 5.

tation in this volume. 19

Letter from Edwin Redslob to the Reich Ministry of Economy,

32 Georgii Lukomskii, “Russkaya vystavka v Berline (Pis’mo iz

August 7, 1922; Berlin, BArch, R32/116, 56 (64). See documenta-

Berlina)” [Russian exhibition in Berlin (Letter from Berlin)], Argonavty no. 1, 1923, 68.

tion in this volume. 20

Arthur Holitscher was introduced as the representative of the

33

German committee of the Workers’ International Relief, which

34 N., “U khudozhnika Malyavina” [With the artists Malyavin],

tion of the exhibition remains to be resolved.

35 F. T. [Flora Turkel], “Berlin sees Bizarre Russian Art Show,” American Art News 21, no. 4, November 4, 1923, 1.

Letter from Redslob to the Reich Ministry of Economy, August 7, 1922; Berlin, BArch, R32/116, 56 (64). See documentation in

36 The catalogue from 1922 lists a total of 594 positions, but the actual number of exhibits is likely to have been well over 1,000,

this volume.

as many portfolios and series are listed under one number,

22 The palace was built in 1786–89 and destroyed during the

­especially in the graphic section.

Second World War. Today, the historic site would be located at the address Unter den Linden 39. See Ein Haus unter den Lin-

37 Causeur [sic], “Vystavka kartin” [Exhibition of paintings], ­Vremya 4, no. 225, November 6, 1922, 2.

den: Festgabe zum fünfjährigen Bestehen des Werberates der deutschen Wirtschaft, ed. Werberat der deutschen Wirtschaft

38

David Sterenberg, “Vorwort I” [Foreword I], in Erste ­Russische Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922 (Berlin: Verlag Internationale

(Berlin: Wiking-Verlag, 1938). 23

Starr and Frampton, “Russian Art,” 15. Rul’, no. 587, November 2, 1922, 5.

he helped organize since winter 1921. His role in the organiza21

See Georgii Lukomskii, “Listki khudozhnika: Russkaya vystavka” [Artist’s sheets: Russian exhibition], Nakanune, no. 143,

toms clearance); Berlin, BArch, R32/116, 57–63. See documen-

Arbeiterhilfe, 1922), 4.

On Atanazy Raczyński’s life and the remodelling of the house, see Uta Kaiser, Sammler, Kenner, Kunstschriftsteller: Studien

39 Yakov Tugendkhol’d, “Russkaya khudozheststvennaya vystav-

zur “Geschichte der neueren deutschen Kunst” (1836–1841) des

ka v Berline” [Russian art exhibition in Berlin], Russkoe iskusstvo, no. 1, 1923, 100.

Athanasius Graf Raczyński (Hildesheim: Georg-Olms-Verlag, 2017). Raczyński had been in contact with the architect Karl

40 Lunacharskii “Russkaya vystavka v Berline,” 176.

Friedrich Schinkel regarding the remodelling. Kaiser states

41 David Sternberg [sic], “Erste russische Kunstausstellung in

that Schinkel built a “spacious gallery room” for the building at

­Berlin” [First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin], Sichel und Hammer, no. 1, October 1922, 10.

Unter den Linden no. 21; see Kaiser, Athanasius Graf Raczyński, 89. The sources used by Kaiser, including the Schinkel com-

42 V. Tatarinov, “Russkaya khudozhestvennaya vystavka v

plete edition, at least indicate that Schinkel was aware of the

­Berline” [Russian art exhibition in Berlin], Rul’, no. 589, No­ vember 4, 1922, 3.

remodelling and approved it. See “Haus des Grafen Raczynski,” in Karl Friedrich Schinkel: Lebenswerk. 3.1: Bauten für die

43

ber 1922, 95–96.

(Berlin: Kunstverlag, 1981), 237–38. It is most likely that this gallery space was the prominent sky light hall, were Willy Römer

44 Simon Karlinsky and Jean Claude Marcadé, “Boris Poplavsky: Unpubished Notes,” in Art International: The Lugano Review

took the iconic photo of the organizers of the show.

18, no. 5 (May 1974): 63.

24 See Tafel, Kunsthandel, 215, and Angelika Enderlein, Der Berliner Kunsthandel in der Weimarer Republik und im NS-Staat: Zum Schick-

Adolf Donath, “Die Russische Kunstausstellung in Berlin” [The Russian art exhibition in Berlin], Der Kunstwanderer, Novem-

Kunst, Kirchen, Denkmalpflege, ed. Akademie des Bauwesens

45 “Otchet D.P. Shterenberga o khudozhestvennoy vystavke” (1923), partially reprinted in Lazarev, Shterenberg, 172–73.

sal der Sammlung Graezt (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 2006), 34.

46 Max Osborn, “Russische Kunstausstellung” [Russian art

25

See Adkins, Erste Russische Kunstausstellung, 187.

26

Friedrich Adolf Lutz is mentioned for the first time as the direc-

exhibition], Vossische Zeitung, no. 490, October 16, 1922

tor in the advertisements of September/October issue of 1922.

(evening edition), 2–3.

27

See, e.g., Berliner Museen 43, no. 9/10, September/October 1922.

47

See, e.g., Anon., “Russische Kunstausstellung in Berlin” [Russian

48 Lunacharskii, “Russkaya vystavka v Berline,” 177.

Starr and Frampton, “Russian Art,” 16.

art exhibition in Berlin], Berliner Tageblatt, September 1, 1922, 3.

49 “Der Reinertrag ist für die Hungernden in Rußland bestimmt!”

28 Adkins interviewed Reidemeister for her publications on the

[Net proceeds are set aside for the starving in Russia], Erste

subject; see Adkins, Erste Russische Kunstausstellung, 87.

Russische Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922 (Berlin: Verlag Internationale Arbeiterhilfe, 1922).

29 The history of the Galerie Lutz & Co. has not yet been conclusively researched. Some information can be found

50

Ernő Kállai, “The Russian Exhibition in Berlin,” in Between

in an unpublished entry on the gallery for the planned

Worlds: A Sourcebook of Central-European Avant-Gardes, 1910–

publication “Lexikon des Kunsthandels der Moderne im

1930, ed. Timothy O. Benson and Éva Forgács (Cambridge, MA:

deutsch­sprachigen Raum 1905–1937” by Werner J. Schweiger.

MIT Press, 2002), 411.

Berlinische Galerie, Kunstarchiv Werner J. Schweiger,­ 51

“Otchet D.P. Shterenberga,” cited after Lazarev, Shterenberg,

BG-WJS-M-1,42, Zu­stiftung Christa M. Schweiger, Vienna.

172–73.

30 Letter from Lutz and Shterenberg to Redslob, Berlin, September 20, 1922; Berlin, BArch R32, 83. See documentation in this volume.

Showcasing Bolshevik Russia in a Private Art Gallery in Berlin

89

LUDMILA PITERS-HOFMANN

13

The Curators: David Shterenberg and Natan Altman

Fig. 1: David Shterenberg at the First Russian Art Exhibition, 1922, photograph

90

Ludmila Piters-Hofmann

The selection of the art works for the First Russian Art Exhibition was predominantly in the hands of David Shterenberg, head of the Department of Fine Arts (IZO) at the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (Narkompros), and Natan Altman, a founding member of IZO Narkompros in Petrograd. Having signed the 1918 “Call of the Russian Progressive Fine Artists to the German Colleagues,” the Russian-Jewish painter David Petrovich Shterenberg (1881–1948, fig. 1) was already known to artists in Germany.1 In 1919, he published “The Art Program of the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment in Russia” in Paul Westheim’s art magazine Das Kunstblatt.2 Born into a Jewish family in Zhitomir, Ukraine, Shterenberg began to study art in Odessa in 1905. He was a member of the General Jewish Labor Bund and, after the Odessa pogrom, he emigrated to Vienna in 1906. From 1907 to 1917, he was based in Paris, where he and his wife Nadezhda lived in a studio at La Ruche, the artists’ residence in Montparnasse.3 There Shteren-

Fig. 2: Natan Altman in front of his paintings in the First Russian Art Exhibition, 1922, photograph

berg met numerous artists and intellectuals, among them also Anatoly Lunacharsky, and participated in various exhibitions. After the 1917 October Revolution, Shterenberg returned to Russia via London. Supported by ­Lunacharsky, he served as head of IZO Narkompros from 1918 to 1920. He was also involved in the organization of the Free State Art Studios (SVOMAS), the International Bureau, and the State Art Exhibitions in 1918 and 1919. In 1920, Shterenberg was appointed to the faculty of the Moscow Higher Artistic and Technical Studios (VKhUTEMAS), where he taught painting. After the reorganization of Narkompros in 1921, he briefly directed theoretical studies at the newly founded Academic Center and, in the same year, became head of the Fine Arts Department at the Chief Administration for Professional-Technical Education (Glavprofobr).4 As an artist, Shterenberg concentrated on landscape, portrait, and still life painting, developing his own style during his stay in Paris. Praising his taste and the richness of forms, Lunacharsky characterized him not

only as a painter but also a poet.5 As can be seen in the photograph of the main organizers of the First Russian Art Exhibition (see fig. p. 42), Shterenberg seized the opportunity to centrally display his own works. On the wall behind Altman and Naum Gabo one can see, among other works by Shterenberg, his 1919 Still Life with Sweets (fig. 2). The painting depicts a red chocolate bar and two sweets wrapped in decorative Soviet candy paper placed on a table-like circular-shaped middle ground. The background consists of three ­ differently textured areas in grey-greenish and beige tones, demonstrating his painterly theory that he called ­“faktura-contrast.” This composition with a few objects seemingly floating in space is characteristic for Shteren­ berg’s still lifes, which are dominated by contrasts of structures and forms that emphasize their flatness. Following the Berlin show, Shterenberg continued to be involved in the organization of major exhibitions, among them the 1924 Erste Allgemeine Deutsche Kunst­ ausstellung (First General German Art Exhibition) in Moscow and the Soviet Pavilion at the 1925 Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes in Paris. Promoting the return to a more figurative way of painting, he was also a founding member of the Society of Easel Painters (OST) in 1925. With the establishment of Socialist Realism in the ­early 1930s, Shterenberg began to focus on book illustrations, particularly for children, a field in which he was active until his death in 1948. Shterenberg’s co-organizer, the Russian-Jewish artist Natan Isaevich Altman (1889–1970, fig. 3) was born in Vinnytsia, Ukraine, and likewise studied art in Odessa before moving on to Paris, where he, too, stayed in La Ruche. If not already in Odessa, the two artists certainly met in Paris, where they became involved with the international avant-garde. After the October Revolution, Altman was a founding member of IZO Narkompros in Petrograd and temporarily served as director of the Museum of Artistic Culture (MKhK) and was also Shterenberg’s successor as head of the art department of the Academic Center.6 He furthermore worked for the Jewish Theatre and participated in an exhibition of the Kultur-Lige (Culture League) before leaving for Berlin in the summer of 1922.7 Altman stayed in Berlin for about a year before returning to Moscow. He not only curated the ­Russian

Fig. 3: David Shterenberg, Still Life with Sweets, 1919, oil on canvas, 53 x 71 cm, private collection

The Curators: David Shterenberg and Natan Altman

91

show together with Shterenberg, but also designed the poster for the exhibition and presented a number of works.8 The aspiring Russian émigré poet Boris Poplavsky, whom Altman showed around in the ­ exhibition, concluded in his unpublished review that “the unfairness of the artist-organizers is everywhere glaringly present” and explained how the choice of art works and their hanging in dark rooms were a disadvantage for the “‘rightist’ painters,” meaning those not belonging to the avant-garde.9 A versatile painter, sculptor, stage designer, and illustrator Altman was able to exhibit several aspects of his work in Berlin: polychromatic paintings, sculptures, drawings, stage and porcelain designs. The customs list includes three paintings (nos. 179, 195 and 198), three drawings (nos. 252–54) and two models for theatre decorations (nos. 328–29).10 The exhibition catalogue lists one sculpture, three paintings, and 14 drawings, prints, and sketches, including four designs for the stage and for porcelain.11 Four of his works were illustrated in the catalogue, among them the painting Russia: Labor (fig. 4), a dynamic composition of geometric shapes and letters made of various ma­terials such as enamel, charcoal, and graphite powder. In this major work, Altman expressed complex contents such as the heroization of labor in revolutionary Russia with a reduced visual language. His artistic approach is summarized in catalogue’s introduction as follows: “His work aims not only to influence the eye, but to shape the human consciousness.”12 During his stay in Berlin, Altman became a part of the vibrant cultural scene. As a Jewish artist, his works were featured along with those by Marc Chagall and El Lissitzky in the journal MILGROIM: A Yiddish Magazine of Art and Letters.13 Through Lissitzky and Hans Richter, Altman established contacts with the typographers’ scene, and his short article “Elementare Gesichtspunkte” (Elemental Viewpoints) was published in 1924, in the journal G: Zeitschrift für ­elementare Gestaltung (G: Journal for Elementary Construction), including his design for the decoration of Uritsky Square in Petrograd for the first anniversary of the October Revolution.14

Fig. 4: Natan Altman, Russia. Labor, 1921, wood, enamel, oil, metal, charcoal, and graphite powder on wood, 98.5 x 49 cm, State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow. © VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 1922

92

Ludmila Piters-Hofmann

Back in Soviet Russia, Altman mainly focused on book illustrations and stage design for Jewish theatre companies. In 1928, he toured Western Europe with the Moscow State Jewish Theatre and remained in Paris for another seven years. After his final return to

the Soviet Union in 1936, he settled in Leningrad and continued to work on book illustrations and in stage design until his death in December 1970.

Notes 1

The call was dated November 30, 1918. See, e.g., “Aufruf der

8

schen Kollegen,” Die Pleite, no. 1, 1919, 4. 2

3

9

Unpublished Notes,” in Art International: The Lugano Review

aufklärung in Rußland,” Das Kunstblatt, no. 3 (1919): 91–93;

18, no. 5 (1974): 63. [Based on Poplavsky’s notes from the

“Notizen,” Die Pleite, no. 4, 1919, 126.

Poplavsky archive, preserved by Nikolai and Stepan ­Tatishchev, Paris.]

Mikhail Lazarev, David Shterenberg: Khudozhnik i vremya: Put’ 10

11 Exhibition catalogue of the First Russian Art Exhibition: nos. 1–3, 238–51, 537, 585.

­October 1917–1921 (London: Cambridge University Press, 1970), 188, 237.

6

7

Zollliste (List for customs clearance), Berlin, BArch, R32/116, 57–63. See documentation in this volume.

Sheila Fitzpatrick, The Commissariat of Enlightenment: Soviet Organization of Education and the Arts under Lunacharsky,

5

Simon Karlinsky and Jean-Claude Marcadé, “Boris Poplavsky:

“Das Kunstprogramm des Volkskommissariats für Volks­

khudozhnika (Moscow: Galaktika, 1992). 4

The poster and the cover of the catalogue are not identical. Unfortunately, the whereabouts of the poster are unknown.

russischen fortschrittlichen bildenden Künstler an die deut­

12

“Seine Werke wollen nicht nur das Auge beeinflussen, son­dern

Anatolii Lunacharskii, “Molodaya Rossiia v Parizhe. David

auch das Bewußtsein organisieren.” Anon. [David Shteren­

Shterenberg” [Young Russia in Paris: David Shterenberg],

berg?], “Zur Einführung” [Introduction], in Erste Russische

Kievskaya mysl’, February 6, 1914.

Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922 (Berlin: Verlag Internationale

Mark Etkind, Natan Al’tman (Moscow: Sov. Khudozhnik,

Arbeiterhilfe, 1922), 13. See documentation in this volume.

[1971]); ---, Nathan Altman. Mit Beiträgen von Nathan Altman

13 Henryk Berlewi, “Jewish Artists in Russia: With reproduc-

und seinen Zeitgenossen (Dresden: VEB Verlag der Kunst

tions of works of Chagall, Altman, Sterenberg and Lissitzki,”

­Dresden, 1984).

­Milgroim: A Yiddish Magazine of Art and Letters, no. 3, 1923,

Kul’tur-Liga: Vystavka rabot Natana Al’tmana, Marka Shagala,

14–32.

Davida Shterenberga. Zhivopis. Grafika [Culture League:

14 Natan Altmann: “Elementare Gesichtspunkte,” G: Zeitschrift

Exhi­bition of works by Natan Altman, Marc Chagall, David

für elementare Gestaltung, no. 3, June 1924, 25–26. The same

Shterenberg. Painting. Graphic.], (Mosow, March–April 1922);

text was re-published a year later in typographische mit-

Nikolai Tarabukin, “Po khudozhestvennym vystavkam: I.

teilungen. sonderheft elementare typographie, no. 10. October

Al’tman, ­Shagal, Shterenberg” [About the art exhibitions: I.

1925, 210–11.

Altman, Chagall, Shterenberg], Vestnik iskusstv, no. 5, 1922, 27–28.

The Curators: David Shterenberg and Natan Altman

93

CHRISTINA LODDER

14

Naum Gabo: The Sculptor as Curator 1

94

Christina Lodder

I

n October 1922, Naum Gabo was photographed alongside David Shterenberg, Natan Altman, David Maryanov, and Friedrich Lutz in a room at the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin (see fig. p. 42). Almost fifty years later, Gabo published this image and stressed that it depicted the only people involved in the “arrangement of the exhibition.”2 Yet Gabo’s name does not appear in any official document, nor in the catalogue, except as an artist and exhibitor.3 That Gabo was involved in the practical organization of the show in Berlin is supported by the architect Berthold Lubetkin, who was unpacking the exhibits and recalled that Gabo was at the gallery every day working on the display.4 Lubetkin also recalled how angry Gabo had been with him for allowing a dog to use the crate containing Torso as a urinal—an incident for which Gabo never forgave him, even when they were both living in London in the 1930s. In Berlin, Gabo’s curatorial activities seem to have involved selecting his own works, assisting with the hang, and helping to compile the catalogue. The latter would act as a permanent record of the show, and so Gabo would have been concerned with the text, the list of exhibits, and the illustrations. As a curator, Gabo focused on promoting Russian modernism, especially the innovative qualities of constructed sculpture and abstract art. As an individual, his agenda was to establish himself as a progressive artist, while making contacts within the German art world. When Gabo arrived in Berlin in April 1922, he was at the beginning of his artistic career and still relatively unknown. He had only started making “cubist” constructions in 1915 in Norway, and in 1920 had exhibited these for the first time in Moscow.5 There is also no mention of him before the exhibition in western publications like Veshch’/ Gegenstand/ Objet (Object) or Buch neuer Künstler (Book of New Artists),6 but the Hungarian journal Egység (Unity) published his ­Realistic Manifesto, and reproduced a relief.7 Although Gabo spoke German, he did not attend the Congress of International Progressive Artists in Düsseldorf in May nor the Congress of Constructivists and Dadaists in Weimar in September 1922. Instead, he seems to have obeyed Shterenberg’s injunction to “organize your

c­ onstructivist art for the show” and to have concentrated on producing more abstract works.8 The photograph of the Berlin display reveals that Gabo secured a prominent position for Constructed Torso in the center of the room, allowing visitors to walk around it and appreciate its volumetric com­ plexity. The works shown behind are not abstract, but Hans Richter recalled that “A huge nude faun in sheet metal stood in the center of the first room and a similarly constructed head looked down on the nude.”9 This suggests that there was a corner (in front of Torso and not visible in the photograph) which was devoted to the display of constructed sculpture and abstract art, with Torso at its apex. Richter’s description corresponds very closely to the arrangement in Amsterdam, where Gabo’s Torso was shown in the foreground, with Constructed Head No. 3 (Head in a Corner Niche) and Constructed Head No. 2 behind, alongside works by Vladimir Tatlin, Ivan Puni, and El Lissitzky, and two hanging constructions by Aleksandr Rodchenko (fig. 1).10 Gabo was present in Amsterdam, but illness prevented him being di­ rectly involved in the hang.11 Allowing for changes in the show’s contents as well as Torso being positioned too close to the wall and Head No. 3 hung too low, the Stedelijk installation roughly reflects how Gabo would have wanted to present (and probably did present) his constructions and the other abstract works in Berlin. Gabo’s nine exhibits (eight constructions and one drawing) dominated the sculpture section in Berlin, illustrating his own creative development and acting as a visual manifesto for the potential of constructed sculpture. Eight of the 32 sculptures listed in the catalogue were his—three figurative and five abstract. Head No. 2 (fig. 2),12 Head No. 3, and Torso (nos. 543–545) demonstrated Gabo’s “stereometric method” for revealing the interior volume of a solid.13 The de­ materialization of mass and the materializing of space were developed further in the abstract works. Spatial ­Construction C: Model for a Glass Sculpture (no. 548) was illustrated in the catalogue, but it is uncertain whether the title Construction en creux (no. 549) in the catalogue listing refers to the work usually known by that title or to an earlier version. The titles Spatial Construction A and B (nos. 546–47) may refer to Construction en creux, Square Relief, or Construction in

Relief. Kinetic ­Construction (Time as a New Element in the Art of Sculpture) (no. 550) was one of the first kinetic sculptures ever produced. Ernst (Ernő) Kállai stressed its importance, explaining, “the sculpture does not simply convey movement but is also the result of movement.”14 Complementing these, was Gabo’s drawing “Architectural Design for an Electricity Station (for the Electrification of Russia)” (no. 309), which was later reproduced as “Project for a Radio Station” and was on display in 1922 to indicate how these sculptural principles could be applied to architecture and design (fig. 3).15

Fig. 1: Installation photograph of the exhibition at the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam, 1923 Gabo’s Constructed Torso is in the foreground with his Constructed Head No. 3 (Head in a Corner Niche) behind. The shoulder of his Constructed Head No. 2 can just be seen at the right. To the left of Torso is a constructed relief by Vladimir Tatlin and on the wall are various works by Ivan Puni and El Lissitzky, while two spatial constructions by Aleksandr Rodchenko hang from the ceiling.

Naum Gabo: The Sculptor as Curator

95

Gabo also took pains to ensure that his work and ideas were effectively communicated in the exhibition catalogue. Two of the fifty photographs in the catalogue were his, illustrating the early Head No. 2 and the recent Spatial Construction C.16 The information about Gabo in the introduction—almost certainly dictated or written by himself—was detailed and lengthy, especially when compared to the descriptions of other movements and individuals: In parallel to the Constructivists stands the sculptor Gabo, whose works have revolutionized sculpture as such by no longer being “sculpture as mass” but rather construction. Gabo’s sculpture relies on the diagonal intersections of the planes of a basic form, creating a construction in space. The space is regarded as depth. It is significant that Gabo’s constructions are realized not

Fig. 2: Naum Gabo, Constructed Head No. 2, c. 1916, galvanized iron, 45 cm high, private collection, unknown photographer, reproduced in Het Leven 17, no. 4, 1922. © Graham and Nina Williams  96

Christina Lodder

only statically but also dynamically, thus incorporating “time” as a new element in art.17 Gabo’s strategies as regards the number of his exhibits and their display, as well as their listing and reproduction in the catalogue, together with the catalogue statement about his work, were successful in establishing his status as an important avant-garde sculptor. He sold a work and made contact with progressive German artists like Richter and the architect Peter Behrens.18 Reviews were mixed,19 but his works and Russian abstraction generally were praised. Gabo had triumphed, both as a curator and as an artist.

Fig. 3: Naum Gabo, “Architectural Design for an Electricity Station (for the Electrification of Russia),” 1920, pen and ink, lost. © Graham and Nina Williams

Notes 1

This article is based on Martin Hammer and Christina Lodder,

Ostrovskaya, “Aspects of Organizational History: The First

Constructing Modernity: The Art and Career of Naum Gabo

Russian Art Exhibition in Amsterdam,” Poes 32: The Many Lives

(New Haven, London: Yale University Press, 2000), which pro-

of the Russian Avant-garde: Nikolai Khardzhiev’s Legacy: New Contexts (2019): 305–18.

vides a full discussion of Gabo’s arrival and subsequent activities in Berlin. 2

12 This image, recently discovered by Linda Boersma, con-

Naum Gabo, “The 1922 Soviet Exhibition,” Studio International

veys how the work originally looked, with the metal planes

182, no. 938 (November 1971): 171; reprinted in Martin Hammer

covered in the shiny ochre enamel paint that Gabo re-

and Christina Lodder, eds., Gabo on Gabo: Texts and Interviews

moved c. 1962–63. For more details, see Hammer and ­Lodder, ­Constructing Modernity, 34–36.

(Forest Row, East Sussex, UK: Artists Bookworks, 2000), 273– 75. 3

13

that all three were made of metal. The Head No. 3 shown there

Gabo’s recollections of how he became involved are varied.

was subsequently lost.

In one version, he recounted how Shterenberg, head of the Department of Fine Arts at Narkompros had told him to go

14

in Berlin], Akasztott ember 1, no. 2 (February 15, 1923). German

Frederick Starr and Kenneth Frampton, “Russian Art in Revo-

transl. in Ernst Kállai, Vision und Formgesetz: Aufsätze über

lution and Emigration: An Interview with Naum Gabo,” 1969,

Kunst und Künstler von 1921 bis 1933 (Leipzig and Weimar:

Literature, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale

­Gustav Kiepenheuer, 1986), 29. 15

­Engravings (London: Lund Humphries, 1957), fig. 14.

4 Berthold Lubetkin, interview with Martin Hammer and ­Christina Lodder, September 1990.

16

8

9

berg, Altman, and Ekster. Gabo was one of four artists ­(Vladimir

5–6, 1920, 19. Gabo showed what Sidorov called “cubist” con-

Tatlin, Marc Chagall, and Abram Arkhipov) represented by two

structions alongside work by his brother Antoine Pevsner and

photographs. Even prominent artists like Kazimir ­Malevich and

Gustav Klutsis.

Wassily Kandinsky were only accorded a single reproduction

László Moholy-Nagy and Lajos Kassák, eds., Buch neuer Künst-

of a painting, although a cup and saucer painted by Kandinsky

“Realista Kiáltvány,” Egység 2, June 1922, 5–6, and photograph

was also reproduced in the catalogue.

11

17

Anon. [David Shterenberg?], “Zur Einführung” [Introduction],

on p. 8.

in Erste Russische Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922 (Berlin: Verlag

Starr and Frampton, “Russian Art,” 15. Gabo’s move from fig-

Internationale Arbeiterhilfe, 1922), 13–14. See documentation

uration had begun in Moscow, but in Germany, materials were

in this volume. Shterenberg and Altman also ensured that the

more plentiful.

introduction contained significantly more information about

Hans Richter, Köpfe und Hinterköpfe (Zurich: Verlag der Arche, 1967), 97.

10

Only three artists were represented by three images – Shteren­

A[leksei] Sidorov, “V vystavke” [At the exhibition], Tvorchestvo,

ler (Vienna: Buch-und Steindruckerei “Elbemühl” IX, 1922). 7

Reproduced as “Project for a Radio Station, 1919–20,” in Naum Gabo,  Gabo: Constructions, Sculpture, Paintings, Drawings,

University, Naum Gabo Papers YCAL MSS 541, 15.

6

Ernő Kállai, “A berlini orosz kiállítás” [The Russian exhibition

to Berlin, organize his work, and be ready to help him. See S.

transcript, New Haven, Conn., Yale Collection of American

5

The similarity in tones in the Amsterdam photograph indicate

Helen Adkins has suggested that the box relief visible behind

them than about most of the other artists. 18 Richter, Köpfe und Hinterköpfe, 97–98; Starr and Frampton, “Russian Art,” 16.

Torso in the Amsterdam installation photograph may be an

19 For a comprehensive discussion of the reviews, see Helen

unknown, lost Gabo construction. See Adkins, “Naum Gabo

Adkins, “Erste Russische Kunstausstellung, Berlin 1922” [First

und die ‘Erste russische Kunstausstellung’, Berlin 1922” [Naum

Russian Art Exhibition], in Stationen der Moderne: Die bedeu-

Gabo and the “First Russian Art Exhibition,” Berlin 1922], in

tenden Kunstausstellungen des 20. Jahrhunderts in Deutsch-

Naum Gabo: Ein russischer Konstruktivist in Berlin 1922–1932,

land, ed. Michal Bollé (Berlin: Nicolaische Verlagsbuchhand-

ed. Jörn Merkert (Berlin: Berlinische Galerie, 1989), 27.

lung, 1988), 184–214.

I am very grateful to Anna Ostrovskaya for this information. For the Amsterdam venue of the exhibition, see also Anna

Naum Gabo: The Sculptor as Curator

97

WILLEM JAN RENDERS

15

El Lissitzky: The Designs for the Catalogue Cover

I

n 1922, the Russian artist El Lissitzky (1890–1941) was living in Berlin, having taken on an official assignment to establish connections between artists from the Soviet Union and Germany.1 Judging by his activities, Lissitzky took the job seriously and his various projects brought him into contact with many of his colleagues. Looking at his undertakings and correspondence, one can trace Lissitzky’s stay in Germany and the Netherlands in 1922 and 1923 step by step, and

Fig. 1: El Lissitzky, first design for the cover of the catalogue of the First Russian Art Exhibition, 1922, State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. ПК-1850/2

98

Willem Jan Renders

yet even so, his exact involvement in the First Russian Art Exhibition remains unclear. The motivation was clearly there—it was perhaps the reason for his move to Berlin. We know this from a letter to his teacher and former colleague Kazimir Malevich, written from Moscow on January 22, 1921. Lissitzky writes about a conversation with David ­ Shteren­berg, who had just formed a commission to organize a Russian exhibition abroad. Lissitzky proposed to help him, but Shterenberg, not eager to accept his offer, made all kinds of objections. Lissitzky was nonetheless determined to go abroad. He writes: “If it is

not p ­ ossible through [the exhibition committee], I will ­enter into direct contact with the West myself.”2 And at the end of the letter, he leaves no doubt about the goal of this endeavor: “I said to [Shterenberg]: ‘We are taking not art but Communism to the West.’”3 Although Lissitzky was keen to participate in such an exhibition abroad at this early stage and also saw the possibility of going there himself, we have no record of his preparations for going to Germany and there is no further mention in his correspondence. We do know that in December 1921 Lissitzky travelled to Berlin via Warsaw.4 His later wife, Sophie Lissitzky-Küppers,

Fig. 2: El Lissitzky, final design for the cover of the catalogue of the First Russian Art Exhibition, 1922, State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. ПК-1850/3

El Lissitzky: The Designs for the Catalogue Cover

99

i­ nsisted that assisting in preparations for the exhibition was a part of Lissitzky’s official mission and that he even accompanied the transport of the works from Berlin to Amsterdam.5 Others have suggested that Lissitzky’s reasons for going to Germany were more personal—better working conditions, or the superior printing tech­ nology.6 Naum Gabo denied any involvement of his former colleague in the organization of the exhibition.7 So what was Lissitzky’s contribution? The exhibition catalogue confirms that Lissitzky participated in the First Russian Art Exhibition as an exhibiting artist.8 But his involvement in its prepa­ rations seems to have been limited to the design of the catalogue cover. Although Gabo stated that it was Natan Altman who designed the cover,9 there is plenty of evidence to indicate that it was Lissitzky. In the State Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow today, there are two extant designs for the catalogue cover with a provenance clearly indicating that they are both by Lissitzky.10 The first design (fig. 1) is in red, black, and white, starting at the top with the number 1 and a dot, both in black. Lissitzky combines the top point of the slanting star with the legs of the capital letter R in black. The shoulder of the R is in red, while its first leg extends behind the star and forms the stem of the letter K. The rest of the word KUNST (ART) is in the star itself, partly in black and partly in white. The word AUSSTELLUNG (EXHIBITION) is written both in the star and outside it, its letters again in a combination of black and white. The word BERLIN, the year 1922, and the name and address of Galerie van Diemen are grouped together as segment of a circle under the star. The bottom point of the star touches a large black dot. There are no horizontal or vertical lines, numbers, words, or figures in this design, and this adds to its overall dynamic impression.

100

Willem Jan Renders

The final design (fig. 2) is much more static due to its horizontal and vertical structure. The numbers and letters are heavier and have more curves. The colors are a greyish blue, black, and white. At the top, in black, we again see the number 1 with a dot. The left leg of the letter R is partly black and partly in greyish blue, while the other letters of the word RUSSISCHE ­(RUSSIAN) are written in white in the shoulder of the R. Below this we see the word KUNST with a capital K and the rest in small capitals in greyish blue, black, and white. The T extends downwards over a grey-blue circle containing, from top to bottom, the word AUSSTELLUNG and the word BERLIN horizontally, both in black on white while sharing the letter E. The stretched T covers the 9 of the year 1922, the last 2 is outside the circle. “Galerie van Diemen” appears to have been cut directly out of the company’s letterhead. If we compare these two totally different designs, we immediately ask ourselves why the second one was chosen. In all its heaviness, this design clearly must have been a compromise. Lissitzky would certainly have preferred his dynamic composition in red, white, and black with the central Soviet star. It is the v­ isual expression of his conviction stated in his letter to ­Malevich: “We are taking not art but Communism to the West.” Such a blunt and straightforward message—propaganda, if you will—was clearly not acceptable to those commissioning the design. Art should remain art.

Notes 1

2

Sophie Lissitzky-Küppers, El Lissitzky, Life, Letters, Texts

1999), 9; Peter Nisbet, El Lissitzky, 1890–1941: Catalogue for

(­London: Thames and Hudson, 1980), 16. According to the

an Exhibition of Selected Works from North American Col-

author, this was an official assignment from IZO Narkompros.

lections, the Sprengel Museum Hanover, and the Staatliche

Unfortunately, it has not been possible to locate the actual

Galerie Moritzburg Halle (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University

document.

Art Museums/Busch-Reisinger Museum, 1987), 25; Tat’iana

Letters from El Lissitzky to Kazimir Malevich, 1919–24;

Goryacheva, ed., El Lisitskii (Moscow: State Tretyakov Gallery,

­Moscow, RGALI, F. 729 (Khardzhiev Archive). English transl.

Jewish Museum and Tolerance Center, and Artguide Editions, 2017), 328.

in In Malevich’s Circle: Confederates, Students, Followers in Russia, 1920s–1950s, ed. Irina Karasik (St. Petersburg: Palace

7

3 Ibid. 4

8

Lissitzky showed three of his Proun paintings, ten lithographs of his Proun portfolio of 1921, one unidentified colored draw-

Sophie Lissitzky-Küppers, El Lissitzky, 22, 23.

ing, ten colored drawings for Figurinnenmappe, and two book

5 Ibid., 21. A postcard from Lissitzky to the Dutch architect

illustrations.

­Jacobus Johannes Pieter Oud of April 28, 1923, in the collec-

6

Naum Gabo, “The 1922 Soviet Exhibition,” Studio International 182, no. 938 (November 1971): 171.

Editions, 2000), 55.

tion of the Van Abbemuseum in Eindhoven reveals, however,

9

Gabo, “The 1922 Soviet Exhibition,” 171.

that Lissitzky was still in Berlin one day before the exhibition

10

Sophie Lissitzky-Küppers, El Lissitzky, ill. 64 and 65. These two

opening in Amsterdam on April 29, 1923.

designs were owned by Lissitzky-Küppers. Since 1959 they are

Margarita Tupitsyn, Matthew Drutt, and Ulrich Pohlmann, El

in the collection of the State Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow. Un-

Lissitzky: Beyond the Abstract Cabinet: Photography, Design,

fortunately, we do not know how exactly the assignment for

Collaboration (New Haven, London: Yale University Press,

the design of the catalogue cover came about.

El Lissitzky: The Designs for the Catalogue Cover

101

F. T. [Flora Turkel]. “Berlin sees Bizarre Russian Art Show.” American Art News 21, no. 4, November 4, 1923, 1 (detail)

The Reception of the Exhibition and its Afterlife

ÉVA FORGÁCS

16

Responses to the First Russian Art Exhibition

D

espite its complicated prehistory, the fundamental purpose of the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin, in October 1922, was to raise funds for those suffering from a famine in Russia that had begun in 1921. At the same time, the exhibition was a response to the intense interest of the international left in Germany. Observers, both in Germany and abroad, were surprised at the manifest Russian effort to construct a continuity between early modern Russian art and the new Russian avant-garde. This concept dominated the exhibition, and it was the focus of the foreword to the catalogue by David Shterenberg, head of the Department of Fine Arts (IZO) at the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment ­(Narkompros). The effort to create an image of such an unlikely continuity had multiple roots in the Soviet politics of culture. The construction of a unified and continuous Russian art history from the mid-nineteenth century to the time of the exhibition may have originated from a general dismay and lack of understanding of the avantgarde. Another reason may have been the judgment by Anatoly Lunacharsky, People’s Commissar of Enlightenment, and the greater Russian leadership of the politics of culture, that audiences for art in Germany were leaning to more traditional, figurative art rather than the avant-garde, thus supposing that art works of earlier times would sell better. This assessment happens to square well with the image that the German satirical painter George Grosz depicts in his autobiography according to which modernity was a very thin veneer on the surface of the German art world of the early 1920s, covering a deep general discord and hostility to avantgarde culture and to the Weimar Republic in general.1 A further financial reason, as Peter Nisbet suggests, for selecting impressionist, post-impressionist, and realist art works was that Narkompros had “decided to draw heavily on works already owned by the state” in order that the expected income would not have to be divided between the state and the artists.2 It must be remembered that by October 1922 efforts to restore the dominant status of realism—if only one of many iterations—in the visual arts were palpable both in Germany and Russia. Various forms

Responses to the First Russian Art Exhibition

105

of anti-­expressionist “verism,” that Gustav Hartlaub would later organize into the Neue Sachlichkeit (New Objectivity) in Germany as well as the founding of the state-supported anti-avant-garde Association of Artists of Revolutionary Russia (AKhRR) in Moscow clearly catered to a public that had little tolerance for abstract and highly stylized, subjective visual works with deliber­ ately distorted figures. These emerging movements were indelible parts of the larger context of the First Russian Art Exhibition and the relative disappointment it caused among the avant-gardeleaning public and avant-garde artists west of Russia.

Politics or Culture? The idea of an exhibition, originally aimed at improving Russian-German relations, soon turned into an ­effort to offer art works for sale in order to ease the severe famine in Russia, a crisis several years after the October Revolution and in the wake of the Civil War, aggravated by drought and an insufficiently working railway system in Russia. On the German side, however, the interest in such an exhibition was purely political and cultural. Among the left-wing crowd in postwar Berlin, which included many émigrés from a diversity of countries, there was a tremendous curiosity about communist Russia. Nothing less than the beginning of the world revolution was anticipated in Berlin, as Lenin famously predicted—not only that communism would spread worldwide, but also that the next country to succumb to it would be Germany, the “weakest link in the capitalist chain.” Against this background, Comintern, an organization founded in 1919, was working on bringing together and coordinating international communist parties under Russian leadership. Many activists and artists living in Germany were recruited to attend its congresses and promote its purpose. Because of the blockade, actual news from Soviet Russia was scarce until late 1921. The few individuals who had travelled to Russia had either been invited to a Comintern congress or illegally crossed the border. Their accounts were diverse and not necessarily affirmative of the superiority of the Russian experiment with Communism. For example, on September 12, 1919, Graf Harry Kessler, an Anglo-German count,

106

Éva Forgács

mentions in his diary a German businessman who had returned from Russia “convinced of the impossibility of putting Communism into practice.”3 Few new Russian art works were to be seen in Germany before the fall of 1922, apart from a few exhi­ bitions in the Sturm gallery and the Grosse Berliner Kunstausstellung (Great Berlin Art Exhibition) such as the exhibitions of Ivan Puni and Wassily Kandinsky. The First Russian Art Exhibition’s origins (most of which Peter Nisbet painstakingly traced and put together)4 predate the 1921 famine. They go back to 1918 when the Art Collegiums of Petrograd and ­Moscow sent an “appeal” to various societies of progressive artists in Germany—most probably drafted by Kandinsky. His friend, German artist and diplomat Ludwig Baehr, stationed in Moscow, started to prepare a Russian-German conference. Adolf Behne and Walter Gropius, however, who were also friendly with Baehr, suggested an exchange of exhibitions instead, on behalf of the Arbeitsrat für Kunst (Work Council for Art). Baehr, however, was arrested in Lithuania in 1919 while escorting 13 crates of art works that were all confiscated. Relations between Germany and Russia cooled down throughout 1920, but after the civil war, with serious economic problems and the devastating famine, the two countries signed a trade agreement in May 1921. The famine led to the Internationale Arbeiterhilfe (International Workers’ Relief ) stepping in to organize the exhibition. In March 1921, Kandinsky proposed a Russian art exhibition of new works in Berlin that was so enthusiastically received that the director of the National­galerie in Berlin, Ludwig Justi, offered the Kronprinzenpalais, the gallery’s fashionable venue for modern art, for housing the show. This suggestion was coordinated with the Soviet Foreign Ministry, which officially supported the project.5 Personal negotiations followed between ­Johannes Sievers of the German Foreign O ­ ffice and Konstantin Umansky, former student of art history, author of the earliest articles and a book on the new Russian art,6 and now an empowered Russian emissary. However, because of a general strike and armed riots that broke out in Germany that spring, a Soviet exhibition that would have been inevitably politi­cally charged, was seen as not altogether desirable, and the plan was put off once again until November, when

Lunacharsky, on a visit to Berlin, personally raised the issue. This time, it was accepted on the condition that “the show contain no propaganda, not be officially organized by the Bolshevik government, and subject to a German jury.”7 It was expected to tour several cities in Germany and Europe, as well as New York. In fact, beyond Berlin, it travelled only to Amsterdam. The exhibition was the result of the Treaty of R ­ apallo, which dealt with the new, post-World War Europe, and was signed by foreign ministers Georgy Chicherin and Walter Rathenau in 1922 at the Genoa Conference. The two-sided agreement, as Graf Kessler later related, infuriated the other participants of the conference.8 Having a green light, Narkompros hastily gathered art works in Moscow and Petrograd, dis­regarding the permission of the artists. Significantly for the intended apolitical appearance of the exhibition, the Soviet authorities requested that the original catalogue d ­ esign by El Lissitzky, featuring a five-pointed red star, be replaced with something more neutral, as per the agreement with the Germans. Lissitzky redesigned the catalogue cover removing even the color red from it. Notwithstanding the rhetoric, however, the exhibition was a political event on behalf of both countries, with the catalogue featuring contributions from prominent political figures such as David Shterenberg, head of IZO at Narkompros, and Dr. Edwin Redslob, Reichskunstwart, national keeper of art, in Germany.

The Catalogue Initially there was some disappointment with the exhibition precisely because of its conceptual thesis: the cultural continuity of realist, impressionist, post-­ impressionist, symbolist, and avant-garde Russian art.9 Lunacharsky himself saw left-wing abstract artists as being insufficient representatives of new ideas for the greater public both at home and abroad, and supported figurative art, even though this view had not been officially adopted as of 1922.10 Despite the haste with which materials for the First Russian Art Exhibition had been selected and several conflicting considerations, visitors to the exhibition in Berlin necessarily could only take it at face value. On display were current works of Russian art, or what

was presented as such, straight from Russia, long-­ anticipated and greeted with much curiosity. Shterenberg’s foreword in the catalogue promised this: “Our goal […] is to offer to Western Europe every proper information concerning the creative achievements of Russian art during the years of the war and the revolution.”11 This implied historic continuity between “the years of the war” 1914–18, and “the revolution” of 1917 and the following years, is itself problematic. The majority of traditional art works in the exhibition was thus a direct message (from Soviet officialdom to German and international viewers) bearing a contrived historic vision. Shterenberg’s foreword was confusing in several ways. Regardless of the traditional art works in the exhibition (fig. 1), he wrote that “only works by those various art tendencies are exhibited that stepped ­actively forward in the most recent times. The works of the left-wing groups demonstrate the laboratory work that has been going ahead in the course of the artistic renewal.”12 “Left-wing” as used in this statement, referred to both loyal communists such as the AKhRR, and the revolutionary avant-gardes—but how would the German visitor sort this out? The foreword by ­Redslob and an entry by left-wing German journalist Arthur Holitscher, as well as an unsigned introduction are, if possible, even more confusing.13 Suprematism is vaguely explained, and the list of its representatives is bewildering as it includes Kazimir Malevich, Ivan Kliun, Olga Rozanova, Aleksandra Ekster (fig. 2), El Lissitzky, Aleksandr Drevin, Pavel Mansurov, and “in some works,” Aleksandr Rodchenko. Moreover, according to this text “Kandinsky also professes the same artistic world view, but he takes a different path to non-objective painting.”—certainly a stretch by any measure.14 Tatlin is mentioned as the constructivist who invented the counter relief. Shterenberg calls ­Tatlin’s “Tower” a “transition” piece to Tatlin’s own brand of productivism.15 He further explains that a group of leftist artists “gave up the canvas for production art,” creating non-utilitarian constructions. Among them is Rodchenko, who, in the exhibition, is “represented by strongly suprematist and constructivist works” although he has begun to create “utilitarian architectonic constructions”16.

Responses to the First Russian Art Exhibition

107

No wonder then that even the better-informed ­ erlin art critics were unable to sort out these new B trends in Russian art and their representatives’ respective orientations and loyalties. Knowledgeable viewers could also see for themselves that the exhibition’s treatment of contemporary art did not square with either Lissitzky’s account of the new art in Russia as presented in the ­Berlin-based journal Veshch’ in the spring of 1922 or with Umansky’s earlier account. The confusing presentation of the young revolutionary art as a brief coda to the steady growth and development of traditional forms sowed much confusion that was reflected not only in the show’s many reviews, but also in later western interpretations of the Russian avant-garde.

Reviews of the Exhibition Paul Westheim, the editor of one of the most important journals of the progressive Berlin art scene, Das Kunst­blatt, personally reviewed the First Russian Art Exhibition in the wake of its opening. His first sentence

Fig. 1: Konstantin Kustodiev, Merchant’s Wife at Tea, 1918, oil on canvas, 120 x 120 cm, State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg, Inv. Ж-1868. Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 105 Frau am Samowar 108

Éva Forgács

is: “This exhibition is a disappointment,” but, he added: “at the same time it is one of the most interesting a­ rtistic surveys that we have had for years.”17 He voiced the dissatisfaction of many who expected the triumphant display of the new, revolutionary Russia, and its groundbreaking new art, which, he observed, “instills into creative work a freedom and audacity unknown in Europe for centuries past.”18 With the danger, he also wrote, of falling back into dogmatism or even scholasticism, the Russian artists “have more to say than to show [...] their theories and options, manifestoes and programs, arguments and theses, have more to teach us than an exhibition like this one. […] The composition White on White [by Malevich] means nothing as an ‘image’, and yet, […] there is much to be learned from an intellectual situation that leads logically to this.”19 Fully aware that he was expressing a specifically ­German point of view, Westheim invited Shterenberg to contribute to the same issue and offer a Russian standpoint. Shterenberg’s article, “The Artistic Situation in Russia,”20 is defensive as well as offensive, arguing that “official art” is to be found throughout western venues too, including

Fig. 2: Aleksandra Ekster, Venice, 1915, oil on canvas, 123 x 97 cm, Moderna Museet, Stockholm, Inv. MOM 173. Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 33 Venedig

German ones; and that while western artists respect post-impressionist tradition, Russians draw on their own tradition of icons. He judged reductive geometry, in particular the motif of the square, as “negation of the past” and expressed the politically motivated and diplomatically formulated hope that the Suprematists would realize that negativity and destruction are not leading to positive results, because, along with Tatlin’s metallic and mixed-material works, they will eventually be downgraded to “purely ornamental art,”21 the worst appellation that any art work claiming to be progressive could be given at the time. The left-wing art and architecture critic Adolf ­Behne, who reviewed the exhibition for the November issue of the progressive journal Die Weltbühne, seems to have seen a different exhibition than Westheim.22 He raises a fundamental issue: “The question is no longer whether the suprematist image is a better or more beautiful image than the impressionist image; rather the question is whether the image as such can continue to supply us with an accepted, fruitful area of work.”23 He underlines the most progressive feature of the ­Russian avant-garde, as he understands it—the rejection of aesthetics for actual production, “production art.” Ignoring large parts of the show, he focuses on “the most audacious and richest artistic work that Berlin has seen in a long time” because, he says, German artists are at least ten years behind the Russians.24 Ernő Kállai, who emigrated to Berlin from Hungary in 1920 and became an important progressive voice in art criticism, published a review in Hungarian in a Vienna-based Dadaist journal.25 He is closer to Westheim’s critique: “The most serious among the several shortcomings of the Russian exhibition in Berlin was the fact that it refused to take any stand whatsoever and settled for providing a neutral survey of the most diverse visual objects, much to the delight of bourgeois democrats and aesthetes.”26 Moreover, he decried the lack of an original and credible working-class art: “If there is a Russian proletarian art, then it was an unpardonable omission not to devote at least as much attention to it as to the lip-smacking still lifes, sensuous nudes, and melting moods of painting by ­Kustodiev and others.”27 Mourning the lack of proletarian art rather than celebrating the avant-garde—praising, however, the texture of constructivist works, but c­ alling them,

with a term borrowed from Alfréd Kemény “technical naturalists”—was Kállai’s unique observation and critique of the exhibition. The staunch communist Berlin-based Hungarian critic and theoretician Kemény wrote one of the most interesting articles about the exhibition. His review stands out from all the others inasmuch as he wanted to see even newer, more progressive works that would transcend the entire art scene displayed in the ­Galerie van Diemen: “The Russian exhibition in ­Berlin could have been extraordinarily important if […] it had chosen to illustrate the conflicts of contemporary art and life. […] It failed to represent the ­constructive aims of today’s Russian art that transcend general ­aesthetics.”28 Among all the reviewers, Kemény knew best the new Russian art. He was, most likely, the only art critic who had visited Moscow, had been invited to give a talk at the Institute of Artistic ­Culture ­(INKhUK) in December 1920 (it was there that he called the constructivists “technical naturalists”), and had personally known several Russian artists. Having seen more progressive art works in Moscow than what the Berlin exhibition featured, his anticipation of the possible future directions in Russian art was based on personal experience. The earliest reviews of the exhibition were published in the daily press. The Vossische Zeitung brought out Max Osborn’s review the day after the opening, on October 16, 1922, announcing the supposedly non-­political event as organized by the “Commissariat for Science and Art [sic] in Moscow.”29 Osborn examines the exhibition in the context of the Russian emigration already known in Berlin: some previously shown art from the czar’s era and the art of those who had emigrated from Russia, to which the exhibition now adds “an account of those who had stayed at home […] where the creative spiritual powers have not been slumbering.”30 Osborn mentions Tatlin, Gabo, and the Supre­matists as artists whose work he cannot understand, much like “our Merz artist, whom I do not know what to make of,” but he grants that the new art works appear to be based on profound ideas and experiences.31 The Berliner Börsen-Zeitung was also quick to publish a review of the First Russian Art Exhibition by Paul Landau on October 23, 1922.32 Surveying the history of Russia and Germany, in particular their ­recent

Responses to the First Russian Art Exhibition

109

­ ostilities, Landau, like Behne, observes that the sigh nificance of the exhibition is the display of works of the latest art in Russia; but, contrary to Behne, he states that “this world of today’s Russia is strange to us, too remote […].”33 Constructivist works appear to Landau as “primitive imitations of machinery.”34 Like Osborn, Landau also mentions Schwitters, whose Merz works came to mind when contemplating the Russian constructivists, both of which he finds chaotic. The author shares other critics’ attempts to make sense of various Russian art tendencies by comparing or inserting them into the more familiar western narrative of recent art, and while he is able to place some of the Russian artists in the familiar narrative, he categorizes P ­ avel Filonov

as a “chaotic visionary,” comparing him to the apocalyptic atmosphere he encountered in Fyodor Dostoevsky’s novels (fig. 3). As for Tatlin, he says that his building projects might better represent him than the counter-reliefs on display. One of the few artists he praises for his convincing approach is a Natan Altman, who moved from non-objective painting to a new kind of Symbolism.35 Representatives of the international avant-garde such as the Hungarian Lajos Kassák and the Serbian Branko Ve Poljanski made the pilgrimage to Berlin specifically to personally witness this exhibition. Their respective reviews reflect their judgments as much as their personal standing in the international avant-garde

Fig. 3: Pavel Filonov, Composition: Ships, 1913–15, oil on canvas, 117 x 154.5 cm, State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 11965

110

Éva Forgács

as of late 1922: Kassák reports very favorably on Supre­ matism and Constructivism and provides adequate information on the show, while Poljanski is poetic and excessively enthusiastic, mixing his account with gossip he had heard about Malevich, Mayakovsky, ­Rodchenko, and others, celebrating the exhibition and the new Russian art in highly subjective terms.36 An important and very curious visitor was the Dutch avant-garde artist Theo van Doesburg. After having seen the exhibition that he had eagerly anticipated, van Doesburg writes in a letter to a friend on a disillusioned note: “In Russia, via state capitalism, a private capitalism of the worst kind is being formed! A bolshevist Russia only existed as a fantasy. The truth of the matter is that everything is being rebuilt on the old foundations!”37

This remark was certainly more radical than the o­bservations of the other critics who surveyed the show, as van Doesburg came to a conclusion regarding the situation in Russia that went well beyond the works on exhibit. At the sight of the pre-revolutionary art works put on display by a supposedly revolutionary country’s cultural bureaucrats, the image that arose was of a new Russia, he noted, rather than its art, and what he saw in it was the overwhelming presence of the “old,” masquerading as the “new”—this despite being in the presence of truly new works.

Notes 1

­(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 150. 2

in Berlin 1918–1923 (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag für Kunstwissen­

George Grosz, An Autobiography, transl. Nora Hodges Peter Nisbet, “Some Facts on the Organizational History of the

schaft, 1980), 142. 10

nal Iskusstvo kommuny (Art of the community), launched in

Van Diemen Exhibition,” in The 1st Russian Show: A Commemoration of the Van Diemen Exhibition Berlin 1922, ed. Andrei Nakov et al. (London: Annely Juda Fine Art, 1983), 71. 3

1918. 11

Nisbet, “Some Facts,” 67–72.

5 Ibid.

Arbeiterhilfe, 1922), 3. 12

Ibid., 4.

13

Gabo identified the author of the latter as Shterenberg, who probably did not want to sign two contributions in the same

6 Konstantin Umanskij: Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919

catalogue. See Anon. [David Shterenberg?], “Zur Einführung”

­(Potsdam: Gustav Kiepenheuer; Munich: Hans Goltz, 1920). 7

[Introduction], in Erste Russische Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922

A parallel initiative came from Willi Münzenberg, head of the

(Berlin: Verlag Internationale Arbeiterhilfe, 1922), 10–14. See

International Workers’ Relief, who proposed a propaganda exhibition in Berlin to counter the presence of the Russian émigré community in Berlin. Münzenberg turned directly to Lenin, who secured 70 million rubles for this project, while Lunacharsky calculated about 5 million marks from sales at the show. Münzenberg arranged several wagons to be load-

documentation in this volume. 14

Ibid., 12.

15

Ibid., 13.

16 Ibid. 17

1930, ed. Timothy O. Benson and Éva Forgács, Cambridge, MA:

them in February 1922 in Berlin, that they were propaganda gether as of March 1922. 8 Kessler, Diaries of Count Harry Kessler, 167. 9

Winfried Nerdinger noted that “a phase shift” was in place:

MIT Press, 2002, 405. 18 Ibid. 19 Ibid. 20 David Sterenberg, “Die künstlerische Situation in Russland” [The artistic situation in Russia], Das Kunstblatt 6, no. 11, 1922,

the avant-garde, increasingly popular in the West as the art of the future, officially already faced disapproval in Russia. Winfried Nerdinger, Rudolf Belling und die Kunstströmungen

Paul Westheim, “The Exhibition of Russian Artists,” in Between Worlds: A Sourcebook of Central-European Avant-Gardes, 1910–

ed with art works, only for it to be revealed, when unloading materials, not works of art, so the show was cancelled alto-

David Sterenberg,“Vorwort I [Foreword I],” in Erste Russi­ sche Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922 (Berlin: Verlag Internationale

Charles Kessler, ed., Berlin in Lights: The Diaries of Count Harry Kessler 1918–1937 (New York: Grove Press, 1999), 10–11.

4

In 1919 Lunacharsky banned the Petrograd-based futurist jour-

485–92. 21

Ibid., 487.

Responses to the First Russian Art Exhibition

111

22 Adolf Behne, “On the Russian Exhibition,” in Benson and Forgács, Between Worlds, 408.

Paul Landau, “Die neue Russische Kunst” [New Russian art], Berliner Börsen-Zeitung (Abendausgabe), October 23, 1922, 2.

23 Ibid.

33 Ibid.

24 Ibid.

34 Ibid.

25

Ernő Kállai, “The Russian exhibition in Berlin,” in Benson and

35 Ibid.

Forgács, Between Worlds, 410–12.

36 Lajos Kassák, “The Russian Exhibit in Berlin,” in Benson and

26 Ibid. 27 Ibid. 28 Alfréd Kemény, “Notes to the Russian Artists’ Exhibition in

Forgács, Between Worlds, 409–10; Branko Ve Poljanski, “Through the Russian exhibition in Berlin,” in ibid., 414–16. 37 Letter from Theo van Doesburg to Antony Kok, November

Berlin,” in Benson and Forgács, Between Worlds, 413–14.

20, 1922, cited after Evert van Straaten, Theo van Doesburg:

29 Max Osborn, “Russische Kunstausstellung” [Russian art exhi­

Constructor of the New Life (Otterlo: Kröller-Müller Museum,

bition], Vossische Zeitung, October 16, 1922 (evening edition), 2–3. 30 Ibid. 31

112

32

“Merz artist” refers to Kurt Schwitters; ibid.

Éva Forgács

1994), 15.

SEBASTIAN BORKHARDT

17

Wassily Kandinsky and the Soviet Avant-garde

T

he First Russian Art Exhibition was the first large-scale exhibition in Germany to show Kandinsky’s work together with the Soviet avant-garde.1 This novel context diminished, at least to some extent, his German contemporaries’ assessment of him as the central protagonist of modern Russian art. Over the course of the many years he had spent in Munich and Murnau—with his breakthrough to abstraction as well as the publication of his treatise Über das Geistige in der Kunst (On the Spiritual in Art, 1911/12) and the almanac Der Blaue Reiter (The Blue Rider, 1912) (see fig. p. 34)—Kandinsky had become a dominant figure in Germany, and he remained so even after the outbreak of the war forced him to leave his adopted home in 1914 and until his return in 1921. ­Kandinsky’s name had become synonymous with ­abstraction and German authors viewed him as the epitome of the Russian artist.2 Naturally, other exponents of Russian modernism had also gained some prominence in Germany before 1922, particularly Marc Chagall and Alexander Archipenko. Unlike them, most of the artists featured in the First Russian Art Exhibition were not well known in Germany. It stands to reason that the few established artists among the many participants attracted special attention: the critic Max Osborn saw in Chagall the “strongest individuality” and in Archipenko and Kandinsky the “best talents.”3 The review in the ­Berlin newspaper B. Z. am Mittag also rated Archipenko, Chagall, and Kandinsky among the “strongest characters.”4 Which of Kandinsky’s works were on display at the Galerie van Diemen? The exhibition catalogue lists three paintings (nos. 79–81) as well as two pen drawings and an ink drawing (nos. 322–24)—each simply registered as “composition.” One painting is reproduced in the catalogue: Pointed Hovering from 1920, whose current location is unknown (fig. 1). Together with The Green Border (1920), another now lost painting from the exhibition, it was among the largest from Kandinsky’s “Russian years” (1915–21). The third painting is Naїve (1916), today at the Krasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko (fig. 2).5 The ink drawing

Wassily Kandinsky and the Soviet Avant-garde

113

Fig. 1: Wassily Kandinsky, Pointed Hovering, 1920, oil on canvas, 136 x 179 cm, location unknown, reproduced in Will Grohmann, Wassily Kandinsky (Leipzig: Klinkhardt & Biermann, 1924), n. p.

114

Sebastian Borkhardt

Fig. 2: Wassily Kandinsky, Naїve, 1916, oil on canvas, 50 x 66 cm, Krasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko

is an untitled sheet from 1916 that today is housed in the State Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow.6 The exhibition catalogue also illustrates wares from the State Porcelain Factory in Petrograd, including a cup and a saucer after designs by Kandinsky (fig. 3). This encounter with Kandinsky’s more recent works did not significantly change the assessment of his art. One critic remarked that the pictures by Kandinsky represent “only that which is already known.”7 On the whole, the reviews do not mention any stylistic shift in Kandinsky’s work. However, there is very much a noticeable change of perception regarding his status within the Russian avant-garde. Adolf Behne writes: In no sense is Kandinsky’s abstract canvas the last word in Russian painting. The leading role has not been played by Kandinsky, still less by Chagall […], but by the constructivists, the splendidly represented ­Malevich, Rodchenko, Lissitzky, and Tatlin, Altman, and Gabo.8 Behne realized that the questions raised by the “Constructivists” (among whom he includes Kazimir ­Malevich) extended far beyond Kandinsky’s concept of the image: […] the question is whether the image as such can continue to supply us with an accepted, fruitful area of work. The image itself is in crisis—not because a

couple of painters thought this up but because the ­­mo­d­­­­ ern individual has experienced changes in intellectual structure that alienate one from the image. The image is an aesthetic matter whereas what the radical artists of all nations want is to lend immediate form to reality itself (the Russians call it production art). S­ oviet ­Russia was the first to recognize the possibilities inherent in this great new goal and give it free rein […].9 Alongside this “crisis” of the image that manifested itself in the suprematist and constructivist works, the exhibition also introduced approaches for overcoming such a crisis—by finding a “way back to the image”10 instead of overcoming it. The still lifes by David Shterenberg, for instance, represented an attempt to reconcile the achievements of abstract art with the figurative. Although some visitors to the First Russian Art Exhibition felt that Kandinsky had been outpaced by his fellow Russian artists, he continued to receive far more public attention in Germany in the years that followed than either Malevich, Vladimir Tatlin, Aleksandr Rodchenko, or Shterenberg. The reasons can only be touched upon here. As mentioned above, Kandinsky had already made his mark in Germany before the war and his name was inextricably linked with artistic developments there. In late 1921, Kandinsky returned to Germany; a few months later he was hired by the Bauhaus, the most progressive art school of the Weimar

Fig. 3: Cup and Saucer, State Porcelain Factory in Petrograd, design by Wassily Kandinsky, c. 1920, reproduced in Das Kunstblatt, no. 11 (1922): 496

Wassily Kandinsky and the Soviet Avant-garde

115

Republic, where he continued to shape the artistic life of Germany and remained a prominent figure. By contrast, the reception of the avant-garde artists who stayed in Russia was rather modest in 1920s Germany. Soviet art policy represents one major reason

for this; it was not least the developments taking place there—a turning away from the avant-garde and towards realism—that prevented a closer acquaintance in the West with such key figures as Tatlin or Rodchenko.

Notes 1

2

This text draws on my dissertation “Der Russe Kandinsky:” Zur

drawings listed in the catalogue (no. 322). She furthermore

Bedeutung der russischen Herkunft Vasilij Kandinskijs für seine

suggests that a watercolor by Kandinsky from the collection

Rezeption in Deutschland, 1912–1945 (Cologne: Böhlau, 2021),

of the Krasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko might

especially 101–05, 125–54.

have been shown at the First Russian Art Exhibition. I kindly

See also Sebastian Borkhardt, “‘Russian Messiah:’ On the

thank Natalia Avtonomova for sharing this information with

Spiritual in the Reception of Vasily Kandinsky’s Art in Germany,

me (email of March 2, 2022). For details on the two works see

c. 1910–1937,” in Modernism and the Spiritual in Russian Art:

Barnett, Kandinsky: Werkverzeichnis der Zeichnungen 1: 231

New Perspectives, ed. Louise Hardiman and Nicola Kozicharow

(no. 456), and ---, Kandinsky: Werkverzeichnis der Aquarelle 1: 1900–1921 (Munich: Beck, 1992), 424 (no. 483).

(Cambridge, UK: Open Book Publishers, 2017), 149–64, https:// doi.org/10.11647/OBP.0115.07 [accessed March 28, 2022]. 3

7

tion), n. p.

­exhibition], Vossische Zeitung, no. 490, October 16, 1922 (evening edition), 2–3. 4

5

6

8

Adolf Behne, “Der Staatsanwalt schützt das Bild” [The pros-

L. B., “Die russische Kunstausstellung: In der Galerie van Die-

ecutor protects the image] (1922), cited after The Weimar

men” [The Russian art exhibition: At the Galerie van Diemen],

­Republic Sourcebook, ed. Anton Kaes, Martin Jay, and Edward

B. Z. am Mittag, no. 289, October 20, 1922, supplement.

Dimendberg (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994),

See Natal’ya Avtonomova, “‘Pervaya khudozhestvennaya

489.

vystavka russkogo iskusstva’ Berlin. 1922 god” [“First Russian

9 Ibid.

Art Exhibition” Berlin 1922], Iskusstvoznanie, no. 2 (2003): 639.

10

[Curt] Glaser, “Erste russische Kunstausstellung: Eröffnung

See Vivian Endicott Barnett, Kandinsky: Werkverzeichnis der

des neuen Hauses van Diemen” [First Russian art exhibition:

Zeichnungen 1: Einzelblätter (Munich: Beck, 2006), 18, 217

Opening of the new van Diemen venue], Berliner Börsen-­

(no. 428). Based on archival material, Natalia Avtonomova

Courier, no. 487, October 17, 1922, supplement.

has identified another ink drawing by Kandinsky, now at the Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, as one of the

116

W[ilhelm] Spael, “Russische Kunstausstellung” [Russian art exhibition], Germania, no. 555, October 18, 1922 (evening edi-

Max Osborn, “Russische Kunstausstellung” [Russian art

Sebastian Borkhardt

MIRIAM LEIMER

18

Erich Buchholz: Reflections on Russian Non-objective Art

T

he First Russian Art Exhibition was not solely a display of Russian modernism. The event became an intersection, a platform for dialog and exchange between Russian artists and their western colleagues in Berlin. Many modernist artists such as Kurt Schwitters and Hans Richter visited the exhi­ bition and were astonished by the suprematist and constructivist works that they saw on the first floor.1 The encounter gave rise to much artistic reflection, but it also triggered a discourse on the specific intentions and stylistic nuances of non-objectivism, not to mention the political implications associated with non-objective art from the land of the Soviets. Among the western artists who encountered Russian non-objective art in the van Diemen gallery was Erich Buchholz (1891–1972). In the early 1920s, Buchholz was a key figure in the various milieus of Berlin’s newly thriving international art scene. He was acquainted with the Dadaists, the Hungarian avant-garde, and

Fig. 1: Erich Buchholz, Reconstruction of his studio at Herkulesufer 15, Berlin, 1922/1968

Erich Buchholz: Reflections on Russian Non-objective Art

117

the Dutch De Stijl movement.2 Although not a member of the November Group or the Work Council for Art, he was in close contact with these associations and their members, among them Adolf Behne. In December 1921, shortly after presentations by Alexander Archipenko and Ivan Puni, Buchholz had his first solo exhibition at Herwarth Walden’s Sturm gallery.3 After an artistic beginning that initially drew on expressionist influences, Buchholz begun to formulate his own geometric abstractions around 1920. His search for an artistic language, which he called “absolute abstraction,” soon entered a third dimension: In 1922, he radically remodeled his studio, at Herkulesufer 15, transforming the room into an accessible non-objective art installation combining a purist color concept with cubist panels, haptic wall textures, and geometric reliefs (fig. 1). His studio became a meeting point of Berlin’s art scene: among the frequent visitors were Viking Eggeling, Raoul Hausmann, Hannah Höch, Richard Huelsenbeck, Ernő Kállai, Alfréd Kemény, El Lissitzky, László Moholy-Nagy, Lászlo Péri, and Kurt Schwitters. Lissitzky and Buchholz both participated in the First International Art Exhibition in Düsseldorf in May 1922 but did not actually meet until the R ­ ussian exhibition in Berlin. Although he also met with Naum Gabo, Archipenko, and Aleksandr Rodchenko, it was Lissitzky with whom Buchholz engaged in intense discussions about similarities and differences between Russian and

Western non-objective art.4 Buchholz carefully studied the various tendencies in Russian non-­objective art at the exhibition; indeed, many of the aspects presented echoed Buchholz’ own concerns: the geometric form language, the artistic quality of the surface, the use of technical materials, and the overcoming of boundaries between architecture and sculpture. Though he generally remained critical of the ideology of R ­ ussian Constructi­ vism, his encounter with the supre­ matist works of ­Kazimir ­Malevich in the van Diemen show had a long­ issitzky, he learned lasting e­ffect on Buchholz.5 From L a great deal about the suprematist attitude, which in part agreed with his own search for a uni­versal artistic language.6 Hence, he later claimed that the goals and characteristic traits of Suprematism, as well as De Stijl’s Neo-Plasticism, and Buchholz’ own “absolute abstraction” were “basically the same”, while “the routes taken [were] distinctively different.”7 After having turned towards architecture and typographic design from 1923 onwards (fig. 3, see also figs. 2, 4), Buchholz left Berlin in 1925 and gradually lost his close connections to the international avantgarde.8 But his appreciation for the Russian art that he had seen in Berlin in 1922 lasted for decades. In his recollections from the 1950s and 1960s, he still referred fondly to Russia’s contribution to a new era of international modernism and the “sensation” of the First Russian Art Exhibition.

Fig. 2: El Lissitzky, cover of the magazine Veshch’/ Objet/ Gegenstand, Berlin 1922 Fig. 3: Erich Buchholz, RIAN, 1923 Fig. 4: El Lissitzky, cover of the catalogue of the First Russian Art Exhibition, Berlin 1922

118

Miriam Leimer

1922 stellten bei van Diemen Unter den Linden in ­ Berlin die russischen Suprematisten aus. Die Äußerung des Leiters dieser Ausstellenden, El Lissitzky: „Wir glaubten, etwas ganz Neues zu bringen, und müssen feststellen, daß man hier genau dasselbe arbei­ tet!” Man verstand die Systematik des Ausgestellten, das anschauliches Schulmaterial sein sollte. Schnell entstanden heftigste Diskussionen.

In 1922 the Russian Suprematists exhibited at the Van Diemen Gallery on Unter den Linden in Berlin. The statement of the leader of the participating artists, El Lissitzky, read: “We thought that we would be bringing something completely new, but we had to discover that artists were working on precisely the same things here!” The systematics employed by the exhibiting artists, intended as graphic school material, was understood. Hefty debates soon ensued.

Es wurde Gemeinsames zwischen der deutschen und russischen abstrakten Kunst festgestellt, anderer­ seits das Unterschiedliche betont. Über Kandinsky äußerten sich die Russen, er sei kein Russe, er sei ein deutscher Romantiker. [...]

Commonalities between German and Russian abstract art were discerned, but it was the differences that were emphasized. The Russian said about Kandinsky that he was not Russian but a German Romantic instead. [...]

Die Sensation dieser Ausstellung war viel größer noch als die Eröffnung des Kronprinzen-Palais 1919. Nun wuchs der Zustrom von Ausländern an. Aus dem Westen kam die Stijlgruppe, der Neoplastizismus Mondrians. [...]

The sensation caused by this exhibition was even greater than at the 1919 opening at the Kronprinzenpalais. The inrush of foreigners grew. From the West came the De Stijl group, Mondrian’s Neoplasticism. [...]

Die Bewegung zwischen Suprematismus, der Stijlgruppe und den Bemühungen in Berlin war fruchtbar und von fundamentaler Bedeutung. Überraschend war vor allem die Tatsache, daß um 1920 von verschiedenen Punkten aus völlig unabhängig voneinander gleichzeitig etwas vollständig Neues geschaffen wurde.

Erich Buchholz on Berlin in the 1920s (1957), in El Lissitzky und Sophie ­Lissitzky-Küppers: Von Hannover nach Moskau, ed. by Ulrich Krempel (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2015), 56–57.

The exchange between Suprematism, the De Stijl group and the endeavors being carried out in Berlin were fruitful and of fundamental significance. The surprising thing was the fact that around 1920 something completely new emerged at the same time and at different places completely independent from each other.

Lissitzky sprach gut deutsch, hatte er doch in Darmstadt an der Technischen Universtität studiert. Das erleichterte unsere Diskussionen. [...]

Lissitzky spoke German well as he had in fact studied in Darmstadt at the Polytechnic University. This made it easier to converse with him. [...]

Wir waren uns auf der Ausstellung der Suprematisten und Konstruktivisten bei v. Diemen im Oktober 1922 begegnet. Dort erlebte ich auch zum ersten Male Malewitsch in seinen Arbeiten. Lissitzky bekannte sich zu Malewitsch als seinem Lehrer. [...]

We met each other at the exhibition of the Suprematists and Constructivists at the van Diemen gallery in October 1922. I saw the works of Malevich there for the first time. Lissitzky acknowledged Malevich as his teacher. [...]

Ich diskutierte gern mit Lissitzky. [...] Unter den Russen in Berlin (Naum Gabo, Archipenko, ­Rodschenko) war er der lebendigste. Er war oft in meinem Atelier am Herkulesufer. [...]

I liked conversing with Lissitzky. [...] He was the liveliest of the Russians in Berlin (Naum Gabo, Archipenko, Rodchenko). He often came to my ­ ­studio on Herkulesufer. [...]

Lissitzky war politisch sehr stark engagiert, aber wir respektierten uns gegenseitig. Natürlich interessierten mich die Verhältnisse in Rußland.

Lissitzky was very active politically, but we had a mutual respect for each other. I was naturally interested in the conditions in Russia.

Erich Buchholz: Reflections on Russian Non-objective Art

Erich Buchholz on El Lissitzky (1965), in El Lissitzky und Sophie Lissitzky-Küppers: Von Hannover nach Moskau, ed. by Ulrich Krempel (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2015), 52–53. .

119

Notes 1

2

See Miriam Häßler, “Moscow Merz and Russian Rhythm:

5

architectural designs of Malevich and Buchholz; see Ingrid

Berlin, 1922,” Experiment: A Journal for Russian Culture 23

Wiesenmayer, Erich Buchholz 1891–1972: Architekturentwürfe,

(2017): 117–26.

Innenraumgestaltung und Typographie eines Universalkün-

Buchholz visited lectures on architecture at the Baugewerk-

stlers der frühen zwanziger Jahre (Tübingen, Berlin: Ernst ­Wasmuth, 1996), 38–39.

schule Kurfürstenstraße in Berlin together with Lászlo Péri. 3

Der Sturm: 103. Ausstellung: Erich Buchholz: Gemälde,

6

(1922), published by the author in 1953. English translation in

the same time the Sturm gallery presented a sales show with

erich buchholz, ed. Mo Buchholz and Eberhard Roters (Berlin: Ars Nicolai, 1993), 65–76.

Lissitzky, who had studied architecture at the Technische

7

See Buchholz, Die große Zäsur, 69.

Hochschule Darmstadt before the First World War, was speak-

8

Buchholz moved to Germendorf (Oranienburg), where he

ing German.

120

See, e.g., Erich Buchholz, Die große Zäsur [The Great Division]

Aquarelle, Holzbilder, exh. cat. (Berlin, December 1921). At works by Paul Klee, Johannes Itten, and others. 4

Wiesenmayer also points out the similarities between the later

Tracking Vestiges of the Erste Russische Kunstausstellung,

Miriam Leimer

earned his living as a farmer and license holder of a gravel pit.

LINDA BOERSMA

19

Dutch Responses to the Exhibition in Amsterdam

T

he First Russian Art Exhibition opened at the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam on Saturday April 28, 1923 (fig. 1). This must have been a triumphant day for the Dutch painter Peter Alma, as the exhibition’s transfer from Berlin to Amsterdam was largely due to his efforts and those of Willem Steenhoff, the politically committed deputy director of the nearby Rijksmuseum, who had a special interest in modern art. Among progressive artists in the Netherlands, curiosity about artistic developments in revolutionary Russia was great. As early as November 1919, a number of artists and architects associated with the De Stijl movement had attempted in vain to contact their colleagues in Soviet Russia. Their manifesto had been returned undelivered. Now at last, the moment had come that they could see with their own eyes what the revolution had wrought culturally in Russia. “Comrade” Alma delivered the opening address, which was reprinted in full on May 2 in the communist newspaper De Tribune, to which he maintained close ties, contributing illustrations and regularly writing about the role of artists in society.1 Alma promised that the exhibition would reveal something remarkable. Russian artists had written to him during the years of blockade that they hungered

Fig. 1: Invitation card to the opening of the First Russian Art Exhibition at the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, 1923, Inventory Collection City Archive Amsterdam

Dutch Responses to the Exhibition in Amsterdam

121

Fig. 2: Het Leven, no. 49, 1922, 1560, Nationaal Archief/Collectie Spaarnestadt, The Hague

122

Linda Boersma

for artistic exchange with the West. Now was our opportunity, he declared, to learn from them: “No hyper-refinement as with many of the modernists in the West, but elementary vitality and courage.”2 Steenhoff, in a foreword that was tipped into the catalogue for the Dutch audience, likewise emphasized that “art is not politics,” concluding that “young Russia’s” isolation had shortchanged the rest of the art world. In the coarse bolsters of Russian peasant and folk art, he wrote, there is a healthy vitality that will perhaps become a “pacesetter for the future developments of a world spirit.”3

News from Berlin Gertrud Alexander, correspondent to the Dutch ­Tribune, had been present at the Berlin premiere, the year before. There was a mood of excitement among the assembled group of international communists and bourgeois that Alexander herself shared in. Everything was different now, she wrote. In Russia, the people had suffered endlessly, and Russians were still suffering, but now, at least, they were no longer “under the whip.” Art, she noted, was a barometer of social conditions, and instead of martyrdom we now saw heroism. Like Alma, Alexander found the work of the students— demonstrating the development of art and art education amongst the proletariat—to be particularly valuable. In room after room, a new world became visible: a “radiantly colorful world: the world of the Bolsheviks.”4 “Russian Bolshevik Art,” was the headline of a second, very early introduction to the exhibition, published in the Dutch magazine Het Leven (Life, fig. 2). “Quite possibly this will all come to the Netherlands and therefore we offer this preview,” reads the introduction. According to the captions, the illustrations show the work of David Shterenberg, H. Guckhoff [sic], Naum Gabo, and a “synthetic painting” by Natan A ­ ltman “of which we unfortunately do not know whether we have reproduced it upright, or upside down, or on its side.”5 And indeed, Altman’s famous painting Petrov Commune from 1919–1921 is rotated a quarter turn. In 1923, the majority of art critics in the Netherlands had little knowledge of artistic developments in Russia. They would have had to make do with the confusing

information in the German-language introduction to the catalogue. Perhaps some of them had attended the lecture with slides by Alma, which was reported in the Oprechte Haarlemsche Courant of May 9. Five days before the opening in Amsterdam, an extensive article by Shterenberg appeared in the conservative and populist daily De Telegraaf. Although the editors prefaced the article with the remark that Shterenberg’s point of view did not necessarily reflect that of the newspaper, he was given every opportunity to explain the artistic situation in Russia. The revolution, he wrote, has liberated Russian artists from the dead-end path of western art. Shterenberg was pointing here to the Constructivists of the OBMOKhU group, to the Cézannists, Suprematists and “Gegenstandlosen” (nonobjectives) in the exhibition,6 but he did not elaborate to any extent on the content of the works exhibited. El Lissitzky would later do so, but that was in Rotterdam, for the architects of De Opbouw (The Construction).7

The Amsterdam Venue of the Exhibition and its Reception It is not easy to get a clear picture of the exhibition in Amsterdam. Photographs are a rarity in the reviews and, unfortunately, it was not until 1935 that the Stedelijk Museum began to document its exhibitions. Only three photographs are known: two of a room with an installation of Shterenberg’s paintings (fig. 3), and the famous photo with the non-objective art works of Gabo, Lissitzky, Aleksandr Rodchenko, and Vladimir Tatlin. We also know that the art works in the Amsterdam venue were not entirely identical to those in Berlin. On the inserts that complemented the (German-language) catalogue for the Dutch public, two lists were included.8 The first contains a number of art works (nos. 595 to 623) that were present in the exhibition but are not mentioned in the catalogue. These works had been added to the Amsterdam exhibition and were sent directly from Russia in 1923. In contrast, the second list contains works that are mentioned in the catalogue but were not on display in Amsterdam. These are (at least in part) works that were sold in Berlin. Thanks to newspaper reports, we know that the exhibition in Amsterdam was packed into

Dutch Responses to the Exhibition in Amsterdam

123

four large rooms that included freestanding showcases with porcelain, ceramics, and glass in between. The porcelain was one of the successes of the exhibition, even being described as one of the most important parts of the entire collection.9 De Telegraaf devoted a special article to it. Yet the reviews were not necessarily positive. Not everyone was convinced of the quality of the pottery and porcelain; its design (described as ugly, average, conventional) was said to be incompatible with its innovative decor.10 However, that did not stop the Dutch public from buying it on a large scale.11 The showcases in Amsterdam soon were empty; the newly imported stock of Soviet porcelain, intended

Fig. 3: David Shterenberg, Willem Steenhoff, and Peter Almain the First Russian Art Exhibition at the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, 1923, photograph

124

Linda Boersma

to replenish the stock already largely sold in Berlin, eventually brought in more than 52,600 guilders.12 As in Berlin, the opening of the First Russian Art Exhibition in Amsterdam was a big event. In the crowded halls one could hear the discussions of both admirers and critics.13 The quantity of newspaper articles is striking; however, a large number of the reviews consisted mainly of descriptions of individual art works that were loosely placed within a specific movement. Art critics were in turn surprised, (moderately) enthusiastic, reserved, nuanced or critical—or, and this is the most remarkable: “not impressed.” All of the work exhibited, even the most extreme, “had already been” in Germany and in France, but also in the Netherlands, with De Onafhankelijken (the Independents), was the (only somewhat truthful) assessment of the art editor of the Catholic newspaper De Tijd.14 Opinions about the exhibition were, not unexpectedly, often related to the political color of the organ in which they appeared. The Catholic Maasbode (Maas Messenger) from Rotterdam, for example, was extremely negative. The exhibition represented “a negation of everything that is good and beautiful and lovely.” In the “deadly silent halls, […] spiritual degeneration and confusion” predominated.15 The Roman Catholic student newspaper Roomsch Studentenblad is approvingly quoted as saying that the Russian authorities, in fact, did the West a great service by showing the spiritual aberration to which the negation of the higher leads.16 The socialist daily Het Volk (The People), the communist Tribune, and the radical-left weekly De Arbeid (Labor), on the other hand, emphatically called on all their members and readers to visit the exhibition, noting special discounts for workers and guided tours by comrade Alma. The division of opinion, however, was not always so straightforward and consistent. Not infrequently, the opinions expressed crossed political or confessional boundaries. In the same conservative Catholic Maasbode, in which the exhibition was characterized as an “aberration” and “spiritual degeneration,” there also appeared a very receptive report on the aforementioned lecture that Lissitzky gave to the architects’ group De Opbouw.17 The socialist newspaper Het Volk, daily newspaper for the labor party, repeatedly encouraged its readers to attend the exhi­bition, but its own art critic, A.M.

de Jong, offered a very fundamental criticism of the exhibition, writing: How little original, how WESTERN this all seems. French Cubism, German Expressionism; a bit harsh here, a little romantic there [...] ending up in a silly posturing in which nobody believes anymore. Art ends here in iron, tin and cardboard constructions, resembling smoke-stacks and blacksmith’s remains. And as to what must follow, these eccentric revolutionaries don’t care in the least.18 For the communist revolution and its impact on the spirit of humanity, this exhibition is anything but hopeful, De Jong concludes with regret.19

Encounters with Russian Non-objective Art In the Netherlands, much attention was necessarily paid to the work of Altman, Gabo, and Shterenberg, which was broadly represented in the exhibition, but also to the still fairly unknown movement of Constructivism. Suprematism and other non-objective forms of painting were criticized to a remarkable degree. The non-objective paintings in the Russian exhibition were, according to the reviewer of De Telegraaf, nothing but a Russian version of French Cubism, much like Piet Mondrian’s Neo-Plasticism representing the Dutch variation. Malevich, however, proved that it is possible to go even further in simplification than Mondrian. In his painting White on White (no. 126), he even suppressed color. Having thus pushed Cubism “to the point of absurdity, Malevich was at least consistent enough to stop painting altogether […] an example worth following.” Some of Malevich’s followers (among whom he included Tatlin), De Telegraaf critic continued, had therefore turned to “production art.”20 De Hofstad, too, concluded that non-objective painting was a dead end, with Suprematism languishing in dry theorization.21 By 1923, non-objective Russian art was not unknown in the Netherlands. As early as December 1920, the radical left-wing weekly De Nieuwe Amsterdammer (The New Amsterdammer) was offering ­Konstantin Umansky’s Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919 at a

substantial discount.22 An extensive article in De Stijl magazine of September 1922 provided a second well-­ informed description of the latest developments in Russian non-objective art. Theo van Doesburg, the author, editor-in-chief, and founder of De Stijl, himself wrote enthusiastically about a “like-minded striving” in Russia, although he never discussed the First Russian Art Exhibition in De Stijl or any other publication. He did, however, visit the exhibition in 1922, while living in Berlin. The artist and art critic of Het Vaderland (The Fatherland), Just Havelaar, perhaps best expressed the general mood in the Netherlands when he noted that, despite all the speeches and introductions, anyone who expected to actually see something of a new culture at this exhibition would be disappointed. All of the international modernist movements were represented in this far too large exhibition, but only a few works could be considered “typically Russian.”23 The well-known art critic “K. N.” [Kaspar Niehaus] characterized Russia as an art province of France.24 Cornelis Veth, art critic of De Socialistische Gids (The Socialist Guide), also lamented that no essential new art had been born in Russia since the revolution. But he saw something else as well: to that which already existed, the Russian spirit did indeed add something unique, something passionate, something especially suggestive. Veth saw the Russian spirit in the simple wooden toys, in the naive wooden sculptures, in which “the medieval spirit” still prevailed, and in the monumental painting by Aleksandr Gerasimov. In the “amazing modernist hall at the left of the entrance,” with “stovepipe-ism in all its manifestations,” there was little that Veth could appreciate or enjoy. But he had to admit, even in these iron constructions there was something “compelling,” both in composition and color that left western Cubism and Expressionism anemic and pale.25 In his search for authentic, “Russian” works of art, even art critic Havelaar found something that intrigued him: the paintings of Sergei Gerasimov and Boris Kustodiev, and the abstract reliefs and sculptures constructed from wood, iron, glass, and wooden rods and slats. Moreover, the importance of the entire exhibition might lie in these last works. They could be the germ of a revolutionary art that has found its application in life itself: in the decorations of streets and grandstands. It

Dutch Responses to the Exhibition in Amsterdam

125

is the style of the machine, the atmosphere of engines, and “perhaps the style of communism.” He finally concludes: “This is all interesting, but such art in itself cannot satisfy any mortal in the long run. This is a mathematical art, an art of the intellect. But a new art is elementary, is psychic, is human, and is sustained by an idealism, a different idealism than that of a machine in its whirling, impersonal fatality.”26

The Reception of Russian Constructivism In the search for the “authentic,” the “Russian,” and the revolutionary, the real eye-opener of the exhibition was Constructivism, a movement that was not en­ tirely unknown in the Netherlands. People had possibly read about it, photographs had been circulated, and Alma had talked about it in his lecture, complete with slides, but hardly anyone had actually seen a constructivist work firsthand.27 In an intriguing analysis of non-objective art in the Oprechte Haarlemsche C ­ ourant, Constructivism was viewed as the latest phase of a development that had started with Suprematism: the desire to break free from the flat surface. As a second step, concrete materials such as glass, iron, and plaster were applied onto the canvas. Thus, however strange the “wonderful art of the constructivists” may seem, Constructivism is a continuation, “an entirely logical development” of “our” mechanized age—one to which we should not close our eyes or heart, wrote the critic, Otto van Tussenbroek. It was probably among the more progressive Dutch architects that the future possibilities of Constructivism were most fully acknowledged—though not necessarily in glowing terms. The architect Jacobus Johannes ­Pieter Oud was a member of the General Committee for Economic Reconstruction of Russia and as such one of those responsible for bringing the Russian exhibition to Amsterdam. In a letter to Jozef Peeters, editor of the Antwerp magazine Het Overzicht (The Overview) and one of the first abstract painters in Belgium, Oud is deadly honest in his opinion of the outcome: “One speaks of ‘bringing salvation to the West.’ Except for a few ‘Constructivists’ nothing but 10th-ranked imitations of Cubism.”28 The architect and editor Albert Boeken had a bit more to say and on

May 19, 1923, an intriguing article appeared under his byline in the weekly architectural magazine Bouwkundig weekblad (fig. 4).29 At the time, Boeken was working at the Public Works Department in Amsterdam, where public building design was in the style of the Amsterdam School—“wasted years,” he would say later. In 1926, Boeken established himself as an independent architect and quickly developed into a functionalist who felt a deep affinity with the Bauhaus. His article, one of the few on the exhibition that was accompanied by an illustration, is worth quoting in length. It begins with a reservation: “The impracticable architectural scribbles at the exhibition prove that the new Russia does not yet have a new architecture—other than a paper one.” But there is hope, he offers, embodied in

Fig. 4: Aleksandr Rodchenko, Non-Objective Sculpture, reproduced in Bouwkundig Weekblad: Orgaan van de Maatschappij tot Bevordering der Bouwkunst Bond van Nederlandsche Architecten 44, no. 19, May 12, 1923, 214 126

Linda Boersma

a large group of artistically ultra-left artists, painters, and sculptors, who in their constructivist works try to approach architecture […]. One laughs a little about these eccentric, helpless tinkerings of wood, tin, wire, mirror glass, and copper rods. But, even if these constructions have no lasting significance in themselves, […] they are of extraordinary importance for the development of the arts and art appreciation […] precisely because of the return of the so-called free arts to the material reality that is bound to and binding in everything. In their spatial constructions and two-dimensional designs, Boeken notes, the creators consciously seek the same elements that architects, utility builders, and craftsmen unconsciously use: the effect of space, planes, lines, and space limitations; the expression of materials through material contrasts, and the contrast of balance and tension.

are covered with the white primer and the third with black paint. One sculpture was newly made and painted in white. They were all completed in three nights.32 Which construction exactly did Boeken see? Was it Non-Objective Sculpture no.6 from the Museum of Painterly Culture in Moscow, or was it another (the black?) version? Were both in Amsterdam?33 The ­Berlin catalogue is not conclusive; the brief information in the “Sculptures” section reads: “Rodschenko. 559. Konstruktion.”34 And the list of the approximately fifty objects added to the exhibition in Amsterdam gives no other information than: “617. RODSCHENKO, 4 Konstrukties.” Regardless of which version Boeken saw, in his experience it was

But there is no meaning and purpose to be found. Boeken therefore wonders: Is this the extreme stage of an old, self-sustaining misunderstanding? Or are these the very first, principled but still helpless attempts of a new art, or better yet, of a new way of expression?30 The article includes a photograph of a constructivist sculpture by Rodchenko. In the famous photograph of the room in the Stedelijk Museum with non-objective art works by Tatlin, Gabo, and Lissitzky, a fragment of this sculpture can just be seen on the far left (see fig. p. 95). It is (or is clearly related to) the well-known Non-Objective Sculpture no. 6, from the series of freestanding spatial constructions from 1918 (fig. 5). Spatial Construction no. 6 would indeed have been on display in the First Russian Art Exhibition.31 It was made by Rodchenko in December 1918 after a smaller, cardboard original from the same year. But there were four of these (re)constructions. In her Diaries 1918–1921, Varvara Stepanova, writing on March 6, 1919, recalls: At the end of December, he [Rodchenko] made three sculptures from plywood after old models that were on display at the exhibition Non-Objective Art. Two

Fig. 5: Aleksandr Rodchenko, Non-Objective Sculpture no. 6, 1918 from the series Spatial Constructions “Assembled and Disassembled”, cardboard, 70 x 50 x 13,5 cm

Dutch Responses to the Exhibition in Amsterdam

127

an indescribable thing […] strong and graceful both in composition and silhouette. Its construction and shape as expressive as the work of a modern engineer or an Indonesian wayang puppet... How our mind always seeks comparison and these constructions cannot be compared to anything existing without denying their true being!35 The First Russian Art Exhibition in Amsterdam closed promptly on Sunday, May 27, at 5:00 p.m. The reception in the Dutch press had ranged from less than positive comparisons with well-known art movements from France, Germany, and the Netherlands to a moderate openness and occasionally enthusiasm for individual artists or trends. People were less enthusiastic about the exhibition as a whole; it was too much, a lack of selectivity, “reminiscent of a curiosity shop.”36 But the biggest disappointment was the similarity to Western European art. Cubism and Expressionism, it seemed, had become “world languages,” in which “only the vernacular nuance still interests us,” as the newspaper Algemeen Handelsblad (General Trade Journal) wrote.37 In this observation, in my opinion, lies the explanation of the mostly lukewarm reception in the Netherlands. People searched in vain for what they considered to be

authentic and typically Russian; they sought a confirmation of the romantic cliché that had arisen in the nineteenth century of the pure, unspoilt Russian soul. In De Socialistische Gids, Veth sketched out the familiar literary details: full of contradictions; both innocent and refined, barbaric and magnanimous, but neither elementary or intellectual.38 These clichés can also be found in Alma’s speech and in the foreword by Steenhoff: primitive Russia as a counterpart to ex­hausted and decadent Western Europe. This eagerly sought Russian folk character could be seen in the theatre designs and Kustodiev’s Merchant’s Wife at Tea (1918, State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg) (see fig. p. 108), but especially in the simple peasant wood carvings, which not coincidentally were remarkably well received. “At last, something that is entirely of the country itself,” van Tussenbroek sighed.39 But apart from the woodcarvings, the ceramics, and the children’s toys, it was the constructivists who were recognized as being “entirely of the country itself ” and, for Dutch eyes, the most controversial and innovative aspect of the First Russian Art Exhibition in Amsterdam.

Notes 1

De Tribune is also the only document from the Netherlands of

archive contains a hitherto unknown and razor-sharp photo-

which we can say with certainty that Malevich got hold of it

graph of Gabo’s Constructed Head no. 2 (see fig. p. 96) taken

in April 1921, when Alma visited him in Nemchinovka. In Irina

by an unknown photographer in the 1922 Berlin exhibition, but

Vakar and Tatiana Mikhienko, ed., Kazimir Malevich: Letters,

there are, unfortunately, no photographs of the Amsterdam venue.

Documents, Memoirs, Criticism 1 (London: Tate Publishing, 2015), 147, is assumed that the main part of the materials

6

­Malevich received from Alma was related to De Stijl. Since

objective works of Aleksandr Drevin, Ivan Kliun, Antoine ­Pevsner,

Alma and van Doesburg had cut off their contact by 1921, this assumption is in my opinion questionable. 2

Liubov Popova, Nadezhda Udaltsova, and Alksandr Vesnin. 7

Peter Alma quoted in Anon., “De ‘Eerste Russische Kunstten-

4

‘Opbouw’ in Rotterdam], De Maasbode, May 18, 1923, 2.

May 2, 1923, 4.

8

See documentation in this volume.

Willem Jan Steenhoff, “Hollands voorwoord” [Dutch Fore-

9

H. v. M. [Herluf van Merlet, pseudonym of Herluf Christiaan

word], Amsterdam 1923, loose-leaf annex to the Berlin cata-

Joseph Aloysius Baron van Lamsweerde], “Russische tentoon-

logue of 1922.

stelling” [Russian exhibition], De Tijd, May 1, 1923, n. p. Articles

G. [Gertrud] Alexander, “De Eerste Russische Kunsttentoon-

and reviews without page numbers are from the newspaper

stelling” [The First Russian Art Exhibition], De Tribune, January 6, 1923, page no. invisible. 5

128

According to [Peter Alphonsius Maria] Siebers, “El Lissitzky: Lezing voor ‘Opbouw’ te Rotterdam” [El Lissitzky: Lecture for

toonstelling’” [The First Russian Art Exhibition], De Tribune, 3

With “Gegenstandslose,” Shterenberg referred to the non-­

clippings archive of the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam. 10

B. N., “De Russische tentoonstelling: Porselein en andere nij-

“Russische Bolsjewiki-kunst” [Russian Bolshevik art], Het

verheidskunst, Stedelijk Museum” [The Russian exhibition:

Leven 17, no. 49, 1922, 1560. The magazine’s extensive photo

Porcelain and other crafts, Stedelijk Museum], De Telegraaf,

Linda Boersma

“Het Overzicht” 1921–1925, ed. Sjoerd van Faassen and August

May 9, 1923, 3; P. [A. Pijpers?], “Kunst te Amsterdam: Russi­

Hans den Boef (Antwerpen: Garant 2008), 113.

sche Tentoonstelling II” [Art in Amsterdam. Russian Exhibition

29 A. Boeken, “Iets over de constructivisten op de Eerste Russi­

II], De Hofstad June 9, 1923, n. p. 11

M. V. [Maria Viola] “Russische Tentoonstelling II” [Russian

sche Kunsttentoonstelling” [Some thoughts about the con-

Exhibition II], Algemeen Handelsblad, May 10, 1923, 10. Viola’s

structivists in the First Russian Art Exhibition], Bouwkundig weekblad 44, no. 19, May 12, 1923, 213–14.

first article appeared on May 5. 12

13

Sjeng Scheijen, “Een schitterend experiment!” [A brilliant ex-

30

Boeken, “Iets over de constructivisten,” 214.

periment!], in Russische avant-garde: Een revolutie in de kunst,

31

According to the e-mail correspondence of Miriam Leimer with

ed. --- et. al. (Zwolle: Wbooks, 2022), 45.

Aleksandr Lavrentiev, grandson of Rodchenko and ­Stepanova,

Anon., “De ‘Eerste Russische Kunsttentoonstelling’” [The First

dated April 3, 2017. I wish to thank Miriam Leimer for providing me this information.

Russian Art Exhibition], De Tribune, May 2, 1923, 4. 14

H. v. M. [Herluf van Merlet], “De Russische Tentoonstelling”

32 Selim O. Khan-Magomedow and Aleksandr Lavrentiev, ­Alexander Rodchenko: Spatial Constructions: Catalogue

[Russian Exhibition], De Tijd, May 9, 1923, n. p. 15 Anon.,

“De

Russische

Tentonstelling”

[The

­Raisonné of Sculptures (Ostfildern: Hatje Cantz, 2002), 66.

Russian

According to this publication, remains of this sculpture were

exhibition], De Maasbode, June 6, 1923, n. p. 16

kept flat in an envelope which was recovered in 1973.

F. A. Bijvoet, “De Russische tentoonstelling” [The Russian Exhibition], Roomsch Studentenblad, June 2, 1923, 224.

33 Although the picture in the Bouwkundig Weekblad is of very

17

Siebers, “El Lissitzky,” 2.

poor quality and the photo taken in the Stedelijk Museum

18

A. M. [Adrianus Michiel] de Jong, “Russische tentoonstelling”

does not show details either, this work seems to differ slight-

[Russian exhibition], Het Volk, May 14, 1923, n. p.

ly from Spatial Construction no. 6. The dynamic, sloping pro-

19 Ibid.

trusion of Spatial Construction no.6 ends with a light-colored

20 K. N. [Kaspar Niehaus], “Russische tentoonstelling: Stedelijk

round shape protruding outwards. The one in Amsterdam points inwards.

Museum” [Russian exhibition: Stedelijk Museum], De Telegraaf, May 10, 1923, 9.

34

Erste Russische Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922 (Berlin: Verlag

21

P., “Kunst te Amsterdam,” n. p.

Internationale Arbeiterhilfe, 1922), 30. From the series of the

22

De Nieuwe Amsterdammer 310, December 11, 1920, 4. Instead

hanging spatial constructions by Rodchenko, No. 10 (Hexagon

of 12,00 guilders, subscribers paid 10,00.

in Hexagon) and No. 12 (Oval in Oval) were exhibited in both

Just Havelaar, “Eerste Russische Kunsttentoonstelling” [First

Berlin and Amsterdam; as for the standing Spatial Construc-

Russian Art Exhibition], Het Vaderland, May 22, 1923, 2.

tion no. 6 it is unknown whether it was exhibited in Berlin as

23 24

well, or only in Amsterdam.

K. N., “Russische tentoonstelling,” 3.

25 Cornelis Veth, “De Eerste Russische tentoonstelling” [The

35

First Russian Exhibition], De Socialistische Gids 8, no. 6, June

36

Boeken, “Iets over de constructivisten,” 214. H. v. M., “De Russische Tentoonstelling,” n. p.

1923, 583–85.

37

M. V. [Maria Viola] “Russische Tentoonstelling I” [Russian Exhibition I], Algemeen Handelsblad May 5, 1923, n. p.

26

Havelaar, “Eerste Russische Kunsttentoonstelling,” 2.

27

According to Otto van Tussenbroek, “Russische kunst” [Rus-

38

sian art], Oprechte Haarlemsche Courant, May 9, 1923, n. p.

39 Van Tussenbroek refers to “work by farmer boys under the

28 Letter from J.J.P. Oud to Jozef Peeters, May 14, 1923, cited

Veth, “De Eerste Russische tentoonstelling,” 583. guidance of Schkolnik.” Tussenbroek, “Russische kunst,” n. p.

after Het pseudo moderne nevens het ware: De briefwisseling van de architect J.J.P. Oud met Jozef Peeters en Michel ­Seuphor, redacteuren van het constructivistische tijdschrift

Dutch Responses to the Exhibition in Amsterdam

129

LINDA BOERSMA

20

130

Theo van Doesburg: Reporting on Revolutionary Russian Art

Linda Boersma

T

he First Russian Art Exhibition had been open for about two weeks when Theo van ­Doesburg (1883–1931), the Dutch founder and chief editor of De Stijl, left Weimar for Berlin. On November 1, 1922, he and his wife Nelly van Doesburgvan ­Moorsel moved into an ice-cold studio apartment at Wittelbacherstrasse 25. One reason for the move to Berlin was probably to be in direct contact with the cofounders of the Konstruktivistische Internationale (Constructivist International), but the opportunity to visit the First Russian Art Exhibition may also have played a role, as van Doesburg was very interested in the art of revolutionary Russia.1 An earlier attempt, in 1919, to make contact and pass along the first manifesto of De Stijl had failed. Little was known at the time about the art of the young Soviet Russia. Suprematism, for example, was completely unknown to him. By the end of 1922, the situation was different. In April of that year, van Doesburg met El Lissitzky, and produced an essay, “Balans van het Nieuwe: Beeldend Rusland,” (Assessment of the New: Plastic Russia) for De Stijl no. 9, in which he calls Kazimir Malevich, Lissitzky, Aleksandr Rodchenko, Liubov Popova, and Ivan Puni “truly revolutionary artists” and analyzes Suprematism and the emergence of the Prouns.2 The September issue of De Stijl did, in fact, not appear before the end of No­ vember 1922. This is evident from a letter to his friend Anthony Kok in Tilburg (NL). Van Doesburg begins this letter in Weimar, on October 28, but only takes it up again on November 20, after the move to Berlin. He is extremely busy, he writes. De Stijl nos. 7, 8 and 9, are all in print (probably still in Weimar), as is the double issue 10/11—“with that children’s picture book by El Lissitzky.”3 In October, Lissitzky had stayed with him in Weimar; van Doesburg translated About Two Squares into Dutch while Lissitzky adapted the original format to that of De Stijl.4 Lissitzky undoubtedly spoke about the Russian exhibition at the time, and after his move to Berlin, van Doesburg must have seen it, too. In any case, his letter to Kok ends with an invitation. “There is a very special exhibition of ­Russians in Berlin. 16 rooms packed with work. Revolutionary work as well. Why don’t you come over?”5 At the time of writing, van Doesburg was still in Weimar and had probably not yet

seen the exhibition with his own eyes. His information must have been second-hand and came from Lissitzky. What van Doesburg really thought when he actually saw the exhibition is not known. As far as we know, he never wrote about it. Not even in his letter to Kok, that he continued from Berlin, on November 20. A remarkable silence for van Doesburg, who was generally quite outspoken in his opinions. But why nothing on the exhibition? As for Berlin, it may have been too late, De Stijl 9 and 10/11 (both dedicated to Russian art) were probably already in print. But the exhibition, with such a broad focus, must have been a disappointment, too. In early December 1922, van Doesburg returned

Fig. 1: Congress of the Constructivists and Dadaists, Weimar, September 25, 1922 Left to right, upper row: Max and Lotte Burchartz, Peter Röhl, Hans Vogel, Lucia and László Moholy-Nagy, Alfréd Kemény. Middle row: Alexa Röhl, El Lissitzky (with black-white cap), Nelly van Moorsel and Theo van Doesburg, Bernhard Sturtzkopf. Lower row: Werner Graeff, Nini Smit, Harry Scheibe, Cornelis van Eesteren, Hans Richter, Tristan Tzara, Hans Arp Photograph: Rijksbureau voor Kunsthistorische Documentatie, The Hague

Theo van Doesburg: Reporting on Revolutionary Russian Art

131

to the Netherlands. When the First Russian Art Exhi­ bition opened at the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam on April 28, 1923, van Doesburg (now living in the Hague) was preparing to move to Paris, where, assisted by the architect Cornelis van Eesteren, he would work on his own exhibition at the Galerie L’Effort M ­ oderne. It is therefore unlikely (though not impossible) that

he (re)­visited the exhibition in the Amsterdam venue. But apart from disappointment with the nature of the exhibition, perhaps reasons of a more personal nature also played a role. In 1923, van Doesburg was not on speaking terms with Peter Alma, the Dutch artist who had played a decisive role in bringing the First Russian Art Exhibition to Amsterdam. Disagreements about the relationship between art and politics had even culmi­nated in a personal attack on Alma in De Stijl in 1920.6 Last but not least, over the course of time in 1922, van Doesburg’s enthusiasm for Russia had faded. In February 1922, he had written to Kok that he wanted to go to Russia, “as I now have a nice connection with M ­ oscow through Elie Ehrebourg [sic] (a Russian).”7 Nine months later he wrote bitterly that Bolshevik Russia had been only a dream.8 In his later articles for the Dutch weekly Het Bouwbedrijf (The Building Industry), van Doesburg went on to write extremely negatively—one could almost say vindictively—about the modern architecture in Russia and the artists he characterized in 1922 as “truly revolutionary:” Malevich, Vladimir Tatlin, and his by then former friend, Lissitzky.9

Notes 1

here” in the Nieuwe Amsterdammer from March 6, 1920], De

Alied Ottevanger, ed., “De Stijl overal absolute leiding:”

Stijl 3, no.11, September 1920, 89.

De briefwisseling tussen Theo van Doesburg en Antony Kok ­(Bussum: Uitgeverij Thoth/The Hague: RKD, 2008), 408, note 4. 2

Doesburg was referring to Ilya Ehrenburg. Letter no. 132 (February 9, 1922), in Ottevanger, Briefwisseling, 277, note 37.

Theo van Doesburg, “Balans van het Nieuwe: Beeldend ­Rusland” [Assessment of the New: Visual Russia], De Stijl 5,

8

Letter no.147, in Ottevanger, Briefwisseling, 413. On van Does-

no. 9, September 1922, 130–35.

burg’s complicated relation with Russia, see also Nicholas

Letter no. 147 (November 20, 1922), in Ottevanger, Briefwissel-

Bueno de Mesquita, “Theo van Doesburg and Russia: Uto-

ing, 411.

pia Thwarted,” in Utopian Reality: Reconstructing Culture in

4

Ibid., note 6.

Revolutionary Russia and Beyond, ed. Christina Lodder, Maria

5

Ibid., 412.

6

Theo van Doesburg, “Het Picasso’sche kubisme en de stijlbe-

3

weging: Naar aanleiding van P. Alma’s artikel: ‘De schilder-

­Kokkori, and Maria Mileeva (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 57–78. 9

See, e.g., Theo van Doesburg, “Kunst en architectuurvernieuwingen in Sovjet-Rusland 1” [Art and architectural innovations

kunst in Frankrijk en Hier’ in de Nieuwe Amsterdammer van

in Soviet-Russia 1], Het Bouwbedrijf 5, no. 20, September 28,

6 Maart 1920” [The Picasso-like Cubism and the De Stijl move-

1928, 395–400.

ment: In response to P. Alma’s article “Painting in France and

Fig. 2: Lena Milius, Theo van Doesburg, Nelly van Moorsel, and Antony Kok on the terrace of Count Keyserlingk’s guesthouse, Weimar, Am Horn 53, July 1921. Photograph: Rijksbureau voor Kunsthistorische Documentatie, The Hague 132

7

Linda Boersma

MERSE PÁL SZEREDI

21

Lajos Kassák’s Interaction with Russian Constructivism in Vienna, 1920–24

B

esides the well-known influence of the First Russian Art Exhibition on European avant­ garde art, there were several lesser-known instances of interaction between Russian and Western avant-garde groups during the first half of the 1920s. My research focuses on Lajos Kassák and the artists’ group around the magazine Ma (Today), working in exile in Vienna after the fall of the 1919 Hungarian Soviet Republic. Kassák and his fellow artists, including the painters Béla Uitz and László Moholy-Nagy, were aware of recent developments in Russian avant-garde art even before the Berlin exhibition in the G ­ alerie van Diemen; their attitudes toward Constructivism, however, were determined or influenced by several artistic and political factors. In the following, I discuss four case studies that could be read as a microhistory of Russian Constructivism in Vienna. The first deals with Konstantin Umansky’s presentation on modern Russian art in Vienna in 1920; the second addresses the fate of the collection of Russian avant-garde photographs and publications transferred to Vienna by Uitz from the 1921 Moscow congress of the Comintern; the third focuses on Kassák’s review and reactions to the 1922 Berlin exhibition of Russian art; and the last case study looks at the interference with Kassák’s first constructivist exhibition and the Vienna installation of the Russian exhibition in 1924.

Konstantin Umansky in Vienna Fleeing retribution after the fall of the Hungarian Soviet Republic, Kassák restarted his Hungarian-­ language art journal Ma in Vienna in 1920. He soon came into contact with various international avantgarde artists’ groups, the most influential being the Dada movement, led by Tristan Tzara. The 1921 issues of Ma were nearly exclusively devoted to Dada, with reproductions of art works by Schwitters, Hans Arp, Hans Richter, and George Grosz, and translations of poems and manifestoes by several Dada artists. Kassák and his fellow artists adapted the new visual and literary style and created their own interpretation of Dada.

Lajos Kassák’s Interaction with Russian Constructivism in Vienna, 1920–24

133

134

Kassák and his fellow exiles in Vienna learned about recent developments in Russian avant-garde art through a German-language slideshow and lecture given by Umansky, art critic and agent of the ­Vienna office of the Russian Telegraph Agency (ROSTA).1 Umansky had earlier published an influential article on Tatlinism in the Munich-based art magazine Der Ararat as well as a book on new Russian art. His Vienna presentation took place in mid-November 1920 in the gallery of the Freie Bewegung (Free Movement), a progressive artists’ collective organized by Adolf Loos,2 which at the time was hosting an exhibition of revolutionary expressionist paintings by Ma co-editor Uitz.3 According to Uitz’s account of the lecture, published in the January 1921 issue of Ma, Umansky spoke on the progress of Russian artists since the Impressionists, culminating in the work of the Suprematists—Kazimir Malevich, Aleksandr Rodchenko, and the Counter-­ Reliefs of Vladimir Tatlin.4 We do not know whether Umansky’s slides included images of the most recent work of the ­Russian avantgarde—neither his article nor his book included any.

However, this early encounter with the most recent Russian developments, especially for the socially and politically committed Hungarian avant-garde artists, must have been highly influential. Kassák and his colleague Sándor Bortnyik soon started their own visual experiments in geometric abstraction and titled their art works Bildarchitektur (Picture Architecture).5 Kassák’s earliest art works were largely based on S­chwitters’s Merz technique, but he clearly knew about and may possibly have likewise been influenced by the abstract works of the Russian avant-garde.

Fig. 1: Aleksandr Rodchenko, Spatial Construction No. 5, 1918, vintage photograph, 16.7 x 11.4 cm, Petőfi Literary Museum– Kassák Museum, Budapest, Inv. KM-F-81.819. © Petőfi Literary Museum / HUNGART

Fig. 2: Naum Gabo, Construction en creux, c. 1920, vintage photograph, 14.1 x 10.2 cm, Petőfi Literary Museum–Kassák Museum, Budapest, Inv. KM-F-86.387. © Graham and Nina Williams

Merse Pál Szeredi

Béla Uitz and the Russian Photographs and Publications from Moscow Kassák’s next encounter with Russian avant-garde art, including Constructivism, was through Uitz, his brother-in-law, who travelled to Moscow in the Spring of 1921 with the delegation of the Party of Commu­ nists in Hungary to attend the Third Congress of the Communist International.6 Russian artists published

Fig. 3a: Reproductions of works by Naum Gabo and Nikolai Prusakov, Egység 1, no. 2, June 30, 1922, 8, Petőfi Literary Museum–Kassák Museum, Budapest, Inv. KM-2524

Fig. 3b: Installation view of the OBMOKhU exhibition in ­Moscow, Egység 1, no. 2, June 30, 1922, 9, Petőfi Literary ­Museum–Kassák Museum, Budapest, Inv. KM-2524

Lajos Kassák’s Interaction with Russian Constructivism in Vienna, 1920–24

135

several manifestoes for the event, and an exhibition of the Society of Young Artists (OBMOKhU) opened in Moscow in May.7 Uitz collected publications, design albums, manifestos, and photo reproductions, some of which he sent via post to Kassák. These must have arrived in Vienna already by June 1921. In the next issue of Ma, Kassák advertised a proposed volume on new Russian art in his newly-established series of albums entitled Horizont (Horizon), and in the August issue he listed the items received from Moscow on the back cover of Ma.8 Through Uitz’s intercession, Kassák was probably among the first artists in Europe to learn about the Russian Constructivists, thus offering him the perfect opportunity for his journal to become the European mouthpiece of Russian Constructivism, yet he chose not to publish or write about these works. He turned his attention instead to Western European art, featuring mainly the German and French Dadaists on the pages of Ma. It was only in the May 1922 jubilee issue that he first published reproductions of works by the Russian artists. In this case, however, his aim was not merely to introduce Russian art, but to present a representative cross-section of contemporary Constructivism. This is why Raoul Hausmann, Oskar Schlemmer, Francis Picabia, Tatlin, El Lissitzky, and Man Ray were all featured together in this issue of Ma.9 Among the items sent to Kassák by Uitz were some definitive publications of Russian Suprematism and Constructivism, including books by Malevich and Nikolai Punin, Lissitzky’s Proun album,10 as well as reproductions of works by Wassily Kandinsky, Malevich, Rodchenko, Olga Rozanova, and Tatlin, among others (figs. 1–2).11 From our perspective today, it may seem that Kassák failed to recognize the importance of these photographs and manifestos and thus missed an important opportunity by not immediately publishing them in his journal. It is clear, however, that Kassák truly cherished this collection of Russian prints and photographs; most likely the only obstacle to their publication was the high cost of producing the printing clichés from the photo reproductions, as Kassák’s sources of income were extremely limited (or non-­ existent) during this period. We know that Kassák privately showed his collection of Russian prints—for example, to Sophie Taeuber-­

136

Merse Pál Szeredi

Arp. As mentioned in Taeuber-Arp’s correspondence, she met Kassák in a café in Vienna in November 1921. They discussed issues regarding the editorial work with Ma, and Kassák later invited her to his apartment.12 Thus, we have a firsthand account that Kassák was already in possession of photographs and other materials but had not yet published them. The fact that Kassák privately showed these photographs underlines his awareness of their importance, but he initially chose to show them only to selected members of the avantgarde community. After Uitz’s return from Moscow, there was a quarrel with Kassák that resulted in Uitz and several other artists leaving Ma in late 1921 and starting their own art journal, Egység (Unity). Their disagreement was based on differing political attitudes towards Constructivism. Uitz, influenced by the standpoint of the Comintern, argued for a political art, one in line with the newly-­ established guidelines of the Proletkult.13 Kassák, disillusioned with direct political action, preferred to distance himself and Ma from party politics, arguing instead for a revolution through culture and use of the geometric abstract language of Constructivism to create a utopian world.14 In the second and third issues of Egység, June and September 1922 respectively, Uitz finally chose to publish selections of the materials from Russia, including a Hungarian translation of the Program of the First Working Group of Constructivists (1920/1921), the R ­ ealistic Manifesto by Naum Gabo and Antoine Pevsner (August 5, 1920), along with an essay on Suprematism by Malevich. These manifestoes were accompanied by photographs of the OBMOKhU exhibition, works by Gabo, Vladimir Stenberg, and Uitz’s own linoleum cuts after Malevich’s paintings (fig. 3a+b).15

Kassák at the van Diemen Exhibition in Berlin In November 1922, Kassák visited Berlin for the first time, invited by Herwarth Walden, editor of Der Sturm (The Storm). Together with his life partner, Jolán Simon, he held a literary soirée for Hungarian emigrants in the Sturm Gallery, where they recited poems by Kassák and contemporary Dadaist artists.16 While in Berlin, he visited the First Russian Art Exhibition

and, thanks to his vast network of Ma correspondents, which included the artist László Moholy-Nagy and the art critic Ernő (Ernst) Kállai, was able to meet some of the leading figures of the Berlin avant-garde.17 Returning to Vienna, Kassák published a critical, but enthusiastic review of the Russian exhibition in the next issue of Ma, printed in December 1922. Reminiscing about the influence of turn-of-the-century R ­ ussian literature on his own literary beginnings, Kassák insists that “the great period of Russian literature […] has come to a close with the present line of literature”— in post-revolutionary Russia, visual art has taken over the former definitive role of literature.18 He is critical of the Russian Futurists, Cubists, and Expressionists, who have not contributed anything to western art­istic styles. Suprematism, he notes, was the first original Russian avant-garde invention; it combined “Asian power” with “European forces as a truly absolute value” and “opened the gates towards progress” in revolutionary Russian art, producing the current movements of Constructivism and Objectivism.19 Kassák concludes by noting that Malevich’s art was a creative source that made it possible for young Russian artists to search for ways to reach their goal, i.e, “a constructive way of life.”20 Although praising contemporary Russian painting, Kassák was critical of the avant-garde sculptures, constructions, and stage designs shown in the exhibition, deeming them too “experimental” and “superfluous” and lacking any sort of truly utilitarian goal.21 As an accompaniment to his review, Kassák included nearly all of the avant-garde reproductions from the van Diemen catalogue (fig. 4a+b).22 He also included a photograph from the materials that Uitz had sent him from Moscow—of a painting by Rozanova (fig. 5a+b). The original photograph is still extant in Kassák’s archives; on its back we find Kassák’s handwritten note: “those who know Rozanova’s work say that this image is bad, as she was also making more original works.”23 Despite the comment, this same photograph had been used a few months earlier, in September 1922, in the joint project of Kassák and Moholy-Nagy, their Buch neuer Künstler (Book of New Artists).24 This anthology of photo reproductions documented the progress of avant-garde art from Futurism to Constructivism and compared the growth of modern art to technological and industrial developments.25

Fig. 4a : Reproductions of works by El Lissitzky and Olga Rozanova, Ma 8, nos. 2–3, December 15, 1922, 6, Petőfi Literary Museum–Kassák Museum, Budapest, Inv. KM-1680

Fig. 4b: Reproductions of works by David Shterenberg, Ma 8, nos. 2–3, December 15, 1922, 7, Petőfi Literary Museum–Kassák Museum, Budapest, Inv. KM-1680

Lajos Kassák’s Interaction with Russian Constructivism in Vienna, 1920–24

137

The visual language of Russian and Western European Constructivism had reached a firm basis for Kassák by autumn 1922. After the break-up with Uitz, he changed the layout of Ma to a square format and published a new manifesto of Picture Architecture (October 1922), along with a translation of Lissitzky’s manifesto Proun (1920).26 In Ma, Kassák now took up the cause of Constructivism and the concept of the artist as an engineer, gradually leading him in the coming years to focus on architecture and the developments of the Weimar Bauhaus.27

Kassák’s First Exhibition and the Russian Show in Vienna Kassák originally envisioned his geometric abstract “picture architectures” being published in Ma—thus a Gesamtkunstwerk of text and image, but through the efforts of some of the younger members of his group, he was offered a solo exhibition at the prestigious Galerie Würthle in Vienna in February 1924.28 Kassák’s collages, paintings, and drawings were shown for the first time in public. The director of the gallery, Lea Bondi, had known the Berlin art dealers Walden, Alfred Flechtheim, and Ernst Cassirer and been presenting modern art in Vienna since 1923.29 Even though Kassák’s debut as a visual artist came at a later stage, when constructivist art works were already being shown throughout Europe, the Vienna art scene was still relatively conservative and preferred the expressionist painters. Only Uitz had managed to exhibit constructivist art works in Vienna, during his 1923 show at the Museum für Kunst und Industrie, organized by art historian Hans Tietze. Uitz presented a series of paintings and prints that he called Icon Analyses, a mixture of constructivist technique and orthodox religious imagery.30 Almost at the same time as Kassák’s exhibition, in February and March 1924, Tietze’s Gesellschaft zur Förderung moderner Kunst in Wien (Society for the Promotion of Modern Art in Vienna) organized a show of avant-garde Russian art at the Neue Galerie, led by Otto Kallir-Nierenstein, as a part of the Russian Cul­ tural Festival in the city of Vienna. This festival was partly organized as a celebration of Austria’s official diplomatic recognition of the Soviet Union.31 Although

Fig. 5 a+b: Olga Rozanova, Non-objective Composition, 1916, vintage photograph of front and reverse, 11.1 x 11.7 cm, Petőfi Literary Museum–Kassák Museum, Budapest, Inv. KM-F-86.383 138

Merse Pál Szeredi

there was no printed catalogue, the press reviews reveal that the show consisted of a selection of avant-garde art works,32 including watercolors by Elisabeth Epstein and Kandinsky, drawings by Alexander Archipenko, and prints such as, for example, Lissitzky’s 1923 stage designs for Sieg über die Sonne (Victory over the Sun), and Marc Chagall’s etchings from the series Mein Leben (My Life). According to Alexandra Caruso, one of the main orga­ nizers of the exhibition was the Russian-born Viennese art historian, Fannina W. Halle, who, besides being an active member of Tietze’s Gesellschaft, was in contact with Russian émigré artists, including K ­ andinsky.33 This show was clearly influenced by the 1922 Berlin exhibition; however, it was realized on a much smaller scale and included works that were available through the personal and institutional contacts of the organizers.34 The simultaneous presentation of Russian Constructivism and Kassák’s picture architectures in Vienna resulted in mixed reviews by the local art press. A close reading of Kassák’s reports on his visual art experiments suggests that he had started creating these works during late 1920s, i.e., before he knew about Russian Constructivism.35 Several art critics, however, denounced him as a mere epigone of his Russian peers. One of the most interesting of these observations came from Kassák’s colleague, the socialist writer Josef Kalmer (and nominally the publisher of Ma throughout the Vienna years). Kalmer wrote in his joint review of both exhibitions that Kassák’s “second-hand” constructivist images were utterly lacking in interest compared to those of Uitz and the Russian artists.36 Reviews of Kassák’s work also compared it to the applied arts and design, a common denunciation of geometric abstract art in the Vienna art scene.37

Altogether, Kassák’s exhibition in Vienna was overshadowed by the presentation of the Russian avantgarde artists. He moved his collection to Berlin, where the same set of paintings and collages was shown at the Sturm gallery in May 1924 without any significant critical response.38 Kassák was clearly not satisfied with the outcome of these first exhibitions and, even though he continued creating visual art during the coming decades of his career, most of these early paintings and collages are now lost or were destroyed. This concludes the brief contextual reading of Kassák’s interactions with Russian Constructivism during his Vienna exile years. The journal Ma was an important and internationally renowned forum for geometric abstract art and progressive literature during the first half of the 1920s. During the Vienna years, Kassák’s focus was on building international networks and publishing a representative overview of the currents of modern art. Various sources brought Kassák into indirect contact with the Russian Constructivists, and he played an important role in disseminating their art and ideas in the Vienna art scene. Through research in the Kassák archives, it was possible to reconstruct these interactions and Kassák’s editorial choices in Ma in a more comprehensive way. Research for his essay was supported by the Dénes Deák Fellowship. The essay was prepared as a part of the research project of the Petőfi Literary Museum – Kassák Museum K-120779 titled “Lajos Kassák’s AvantGarde Journals from an Interdisciplinary Perspective (1915–1928),” supported by the Hungarian National Research, Development and Innovation Office.

Notes 1

Sándor Radó, Dóra jelenti (Budapest: Kossuth, 2006), 40–52.

was published in Ma. [Lajos Kassák], “Alkotó művészek

2

Ewald Schneider, Die Künstlergruppe “Freie Bewegung”, 1918–

provizórikus, moszkvai internacionális irodájának kérdései a

1922 (unpublished manuscript, Vienna, 1999).

magyarországi aktivista művészekhez (1920)” [The Provision-

Lajos Kassák, “Uitz Béla” [Béla Uitz], Ma 6, nos. 1–2, November

al International Moscow Bureau of Creative Artists, questions

1, 1920, 10–12.

to the Hungarian activists, and the Hungarian activists’ reply

Béla Uitz, “Jegyzetek a Ma orosz estélyéhez” [Notes on the

(1920)], in ­Between Worlds: A Sourcebook of Central-­European

Russian evening of Ma], Ma 6, no. 4, February 15, 1921, 52.

Avant-Gardes, 1910–1930, ed. Timothy O. Benson and Éva

3 4

Forgács (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2002), 420–24.

Umansky requested a questionnaire from Kassák on their activities during the First World War and the Hungarian Soviet

5

of Creative Artists.” Kassák’s Hungarian draft for his answer

Lajos Kassák, “Bildarchitektur” [Picture Architecture] (1921), in ibid., 427–32.

Republic, for the “Provisional International Moscow Bureau 6

See Éva Bajkay, Uitz Béla: Szemtől szemben (Budapest: Gondo-

survived in his estate (Budapest, Kassák Museum, Inv. K ­ M-an.

lat, 1974); Éva Bajkay, Uitz Béla (Budapest: Képzőművészeti,

337 [“Answer to Humanszkij [sic]”]) and the final ­version

1987); Éva Bajkay, ed., Béla Uitz: Arbeiten auf Papier aus den

Lajos Kassák’s Interaction with Russian Constructivism in Vienna, 1920–24

139

Jahren 1913–1925 (Budapest: Új Művészet, 1991); Éva Bajkay,

14

“Hol a kontextus?” [Where is the context?], Artmagazin 14,

15 See Egység 1, no. 2, June 30, 1922, 5–10, and Egység 1, no. 3,

no. 3 (2016): 58–64.

September 16, 1922, 5–13. The “Program of the First Working

7 Christina Lodder, Russian Constructivism (New Haven,

Group of Constructivists” was not published before 1922, but

­London: Yale University Press, 1983), 55–72.

manuscript copies were circulating. Uitz was also given one of

8 See Ma 6, no. 7, June 1, 1921, 100, and Ma 6, no. 8, August 1, 9

these copies. The Hungarian translation is nearly identical with

1921, 116.

the published Russian version in Ermitazh no. 13, August 8,

Ma 7, nos. 5–6, May 1, 1922. For more details, see Merse Pál

1922, 3–4. See Christina Lodder’s commentary in Art in Theory

Szeredi, “Kassákism – Ma in Vienna (1920–1925),” in Art in

1900–1990: An Anthology of Changing Ideas, ed. Charles Harri-

Action: Lajos Kassák’s Avant-Garde Journals from A Tett to

son and Paul Wood (Oxford, Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1992),

Dokumentum (1915–1927), ed. Eszter Balázs, Edit Sasvári, and

317–18.

--- (Budapest: Petőfi Literary Museum, Kassák Museum, 2017), 10

16

1909: Kassák, Szittya, Long Poems, Short Revolutions, ed. Edit

Nikolai Punin, Pamyatnik III internatsionala. Proekt k­ hudozh.

Sasvári and ---. (Budapest: Petőfi Literary Museum, Kassák

N.K.P, 1920), Budapest, Kassák Museum, Inv. KM-1806. Nikolai

Foundation, 2022), 91. 17

nungen: Ausländische Künstler in Berlin 1918–1933: Auslän-

sakh dlya uchitelei risovaniya: Sovremennoe iskusstvo (Petro-

dische Künstler in Berlin 1918 bis 1933: Aufsätze, Bilder, Doku-

grad: Izdanie otdela izobrasitel’nykh iskusstv N.K.P, 1920), not

mente, ed. Klaus Kändler, Helga Karolewski, and Ilse Siebert

One sheet for the album survived in Kassák’s estate and is

(Berlin: Dietz, 1987), 234–38. 18

now in the Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest, Inv. MNB.L.2017.3

Forgács, Between Worlds, 409. 19 Ibid.

The surviving photographs in Kassák’s estate: 1. Aleksandr

20

Rodchenko, Design for a Kiosk (Proekt kioska), 1919, Budapest,

21 Ibid.

Kassák Museum, Inv. KM-F-81.818 (the original drawing is now in

22

Rodchenko, Spatial Construction No. 5, 1918, Budapest, Kassák

Ibid., 410. Kassák used his copy of the catalogue to make printing clichés. Budapest, Kassák Museum, Inv. KM-1801.

23

“Rosanova; erről azt mondják, akik ösmerik, hogy rossz, mert

Museum, Inv. KM-F-81.819 (the original cardboard construction

R. eredetibb dolgokat is csinált!” The photograph also carries

is destroyed). 3. Kazimir Malevich, Reservist of the First Division,

the stamp of a Russian reproduction office on the back (see note 11).

1914, Budapest, Kassák Museum, Inv. KM-F-86.303 (the original painting is now in the Museum of Modern Art, New York). 4.

24

Lajos Kassák and László Moholy-Nagy, eds., Buch neuer Künstler (Vienna: Buch-und Steindruckerei “Elbemühl” IX, 1922).

Kazimir Malevich, Suprematist Composition, c. 1920, Budapest, Kassák Museum, Inv. KM-F-86.304 (original unknown). 5. Olga

25

Szeredi, “Kassákism,” 119–22.

Rozanova, Non-objective Composition, 1916, Budapest, Kassák

26

Lajos Kassák, “Bildarchitektur,” 6; El Lissitzky, “Proun,” Ma 8,

Museum, Inv. KM-F-86.383 (the original painting is now in the

no. 1, October 15, 1922, 8. Mácza’s translation was based on

State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow). 6. Naum Gabo, Construction

the Russian version published in the 1920 Proun album (see note 10).

en creux, c. 1920, Budapest, Kassák Museum, Inv. KM-F-86.387 (original unknown). 7. David Shterenberg, Still life, 1919, Buda-

27

Szeredi, “Kassákism,” 130–40.

pest, Kassák Museum, Inv. KM-F-86.388 (the original painting

28

Merse Pál Szeredi, “Kassák Lajos első kiállítása (1924)” [Lajos Kassák’s first exhibition (1924)], Ars Hungarica 41, no. 2 (2017):

is now in the Tula Regional Art Museum). 8. Kazimir Malevich,

189–214.

Supremus 58, 1916, Budapest, Kassák Museum, from the collection of Ferenc Kiss (the original painting is now in the State

29 Werner J. Schweiger, “Verbindungen mit dem deutschen Kunst­handel,” in Galerie Würthle, ed. Susanna Bichler (Vienna:

Russian Museum, St. Petersburg).

Galerie Würthle, 1995), 24–27.

See letter from Sophie Taeuber-Arp to Hans Arp (Zurich, Zentralbibliothek, Ms. Z II 3067.100) and her sister, Erica Schlegel

30

(Zurich, Zentralbibliothek, Ms. Z II 3068.86). I was able to

31 Alexandra Caruso, “Leben in der Kunst – Eine moderne

consult Taeuber-Arp’s correspondence at the Arp Foundation

Inszenierung: Hans Tietzes ‘Gesellschaft zur Förderung m ­ oderner

in Berlin in September 2019, thanks to an Archive and Library Fellowship of the Arp Foundation.

140

Lajos Kassák, “The Russian Exhibit in Berlin,” in Benson and

(Proun 6B).

the Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow). 2. Aleksandr

13

Ferenc Csaplár, “Lajos Kassák in Berlin,” in Berliner Begeg-

Punin, Pervyi tsikl lektsii, chitannykh na k­ ratkosrochnykh kur-

in Kassák’s estate. El Lissitzky, Proun-Album (Vitebsk, 1920).

12

Merse Pál Szeredi, “The Biography of a Poem,” in On the Road

107–42. V.E. Tatlina (Petrograd: Izdanie otdela izobrazitel’nykh iskusstv

11

Szeredi, “Kassákism,” 127–29.

See Bajkay, Uitz Béla; Bajkay, Béla Uitz.

Kunst in Wien’,” PhD Thesis, Vienna University, 2008, 30. 32 The exhibition was open between February 17 and March

Oliver Botar, “From Avant-Garde to ‘Proletkult’ in Hungarian Émi-

8, 1924. Anon., “Neue russische Kunst” [New Russian art],

gré Politico-Cultural Journals 1922–1924,” in Art and Journals on

Arbeiter-Zeitung, February 17, 1924, 12; Max Ermers, “Eine

the Political Front, 1910–1940, ed. Virginia Hagelstein M ­ arquardt

neurussische Kunstwoche in Wien” [A Neo-Russian art week

(Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1997), 100–41.

in Vienna], Der Tag, February 18, 1924, 8; Ernst H. Buschbeck,

Merse Pál Szeredi

“Russische Kunst” [Russin art], Neues Wiener Abendblatt,

35

February 28, 1924, 5; Max Ermers, “Jungrussische Kunstaus­

36 “Nach dem, was man von Lissitzky und Uitz gesehen hat, sind

stellung” [Young Russian art exhibition], Der Tag, March 4,

diese aus zweiter Hand kommenden Hirnprodukte uninteres-

1924, 4–5; Josef Kalmer, “Russen, Juden, Ukrainer” [Russians,

sant.” Josef Kalmer, “Von der Sezession zur Kunsthandlung

Jews, Ukrainians], Die Wage 5, no. 5, 1924, 151–53; Max Ermers,

Würthle” [From the Secession to the art gallery Würthle], Die Waage 5, no. 4, 1924, 120.

“Rußland und wir” [Russia and us], Die Waage 5, no. 7, 1924, 37

207–10.

Szeredi, “Kassák Lajos első kiállítása,” 202–04; see also Gerald Blast, ed., Wiener Kinetismus: Eine bewegte Moderne (Vienna:

33 Caruso, Leben in der Kunst, 29–35. Halle published an article

Belvedere, 2011).

about Russian avant-garde artists in Tietze’s art journal already in 1921: Fannina W. Halle, “Kandinsky, Archipenko, Chagall,”

Szeredi, “Kassák Lajos első kiállítása,” 202–04.

38

Der Sturm: 131. Ausstellung: Ludwig Kassák und Nikolaus Braun, exh. cat. (Berlin, [May] 1924).

Die bildenden Künste 4, no. 1–2, 1921, 177–87. 34 E.g., Archipenko’s bronze sculpture Female nude (1921) was lent by the Österreichische Galerie, today Österreichische Galerie Belvedere, Vienna, Inv. 2438. See Caruso, Leben in der Kunst, 33.

Lajos Kassák’s Interaction with Russian Constructivism in Vienna, 1920–24

141

MERSE PÁL SZEREDI

22

Lajos Kassák and Picture Architecture

Fig. 1: Lajos Kassák, Untitled Composition, cover of Ma 6, no. 3, January 1, 1921, Petőfi Literary Museum–Kassák Museum, Budapest, Inv. KM-1680 © Petőfi Literary Museum / HUNGART

142

Merse Pál Szeredi

A

rtistic developments in international avantgarde circles in the 1920s inspired Lajos Kassák to begin pursuing his own experiments in the visual arts, leading, in his words, to the creation of a new world based on the flat picture surface.1 He drew inspiration for his new works, which he described as Bildarchitektur (Picture Architecture), from Kurt Schwitters’s Dadaist works, the abstract art published in Der Sturm, and Russian art shown by Konstantin Umansky in Vienna. The most important influence on Kassák, both vi­ sually and literarily, was Schwitters and his Merz art.2 As some of his fellow artists remembered, Kassák experimented with Merz in 1920–21. Sándor Ék recalls Kassák lying in bed ill but painting abstract pictures in the Wiedner Hospital in Vienna.3 “Kassák once brought along a folder,” Sándor Bortnyik recounted, “and said, ‘Now I’m going to show you something!’ […] He took out some colored pieces of paper from the folder and dropped them on the floor; they were cut out in different shapes, and he put them together in a composition. He said, ‘this is it, this is what must be followed.’”4 Pál Demény dates Kassák’s first encounter with Merz to 1920: “I went to visit the Kassáks. Jolán [Simon, Kassák’s partner] opened the door and signaled I should be quiet: ‘Kashi is painting.’ He stood there, dressed only in a shirt, before a large-sized board on which he was daubing colorful geometrical shapes. I already knew the Cubists but was surprised by the toothbrush glued onto the board and the lid from a tin of shoe polish. I asked him what sort of picture it was. He just replied: ‘Merz,’ and carried on painting.”5 Kassák’s first abstract works formally resemble the 1916 Painterly Architectonics (Zhivopisnaya Arkhi­ tektonika) of Liubov Popova.6 Although Kassák and ­Popova used nearly the same title for their abstract works, Kassák never acknowledged any explicit Russian influence but positioned his theory of Picture Architecture as an alternative to Cubism and Dada. With his Picture Architecture, Kassák may also have been alluding to Paul Scheerbart’s Glasarchitektur (Glass Architecture). In a manifesto published in 1914, Scheerbart outlined his vision of a “glass culture” whose

transparency could completely transform society.7 ­After the First World War, Scheerbart’s ideas were taken up by the Berlin architecture theoretician Adolf Behne in his book Die Wiederkehr der Kunst (The Return of Art), from which Bortnyik translated the chapter on glass architecture for Kassák’s magazine during early

1921.8 At this time, transparency had also become one of the main artistic problems for László Moholy-Nagy, who published his own interpretation of Picture Architecture on the title page of the May 1922 issue of Ma ­(Today) with the title Glass Architecture. Kassák laid down the specifics of his theory in a

Fig. 2: Lajos Kassák, Picture Architecture, 1922, oil on cardboard, 27.5 x 24.4 cm, private collection, courtesy of Galerie Le Minotaure, Paris © Petőfi Literary Museum / HUNGART

Fig. 3: Lajos Kassák, “Bildarchitektur,” Ma 8, no. 1, October 15, 1922, 6–7, Petőfi Literary Museum–Kassák Museum, Budapest, Inv. KM-1680 © Petőfi Literary Museum / HUNGART

Lajos Kassák and Picture Architecture

143

Dadaist-toned manifesto in September 1921. This new platform was significantly different from his revolutionary and propagandistic toned writings on the role of the visual arts during the 1919 Hungarian Soviet Republic. Kassák now favored geometric abstract art—the “subject-free form,” a “force demonstrating itself […] the beginnings of a new world.”9 He explained: “We must erase the rules from our heads […] because [Picture Architecture] is not painting in

the academic sense of the word.”10 The artist […] needs neither technical knowledge nor indeed a subject for his creation to be at once “an American-calibre city, a look-out t­ower, a resort for lung patients, or mass entertainment.”11 Kassák did not conceive his visual experiments as stand­alone art works, but published them primarily in connection with his theoretical writings and poems in Ma, expressing his vision of a “new world” with pictorial and textual elements that complemented one another.

Notes 1

der Kunst, 2003), 102–03. See also Dmitri Sarabianov and

For more details on Kassák’s Picture Architecture, see Esther

Natalia Adaskina, Popova (New York: Abrams, 1990), 109.

Levinger, “The Theory of Hungarian Constructivism,” The Art Bulletin 69, no. 3 (1987): 455–66; Oliver Botar, “Constructed

7

Paul Scheerbart, Glasarchitektur (Berlin: Der Sturm, 1914).

Reliefs in the Art of the Hungarian Avant-Garde: Kassák,

8

Adolf Behne, Die Wiederkehr der Kunst (Leipzig: Kurt Wolff, 1919); Adolf Behne, “Művészet és forradalom” [Art and Revo-

­Bortnyik, Uitz and Moholy-Nagy 1921–1926,” The Structurist,

lution], Ma 6, no. 4, February 15, 1921, 43–49.

no. 25–26 (1985–86): 87–98. 2 3

John Elderfield, Kurt Schwitters (London, New York: Thames &

9

Sourcebook of Central-European Avant-Gardes, 1910–1930,

Sándor Ék, Mába érő tegnapok (Budapest: Szépirodalmi,

ed. Timothy O. Benson and Éva Forgács (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2002), 427–32.

1968), 152. 4

István Hajdu, “Beszélgetés Bortnyik Sándorral” [Interview

10 Lajos Kassák, “Bortnyik Sándor,” in Sándor Bortnyik, Képarchitektúra album (Vienna: Ma, 1921), 1.

with Sándor Bortnyik], Kritika 5, no. 8 (August 1976): 19. 5

Pál Demény, “Máglyák énekelnek: Kassák emlékére” [Bonfires sing: In memory of Kassák], Kritika 16, no. 3 (March 1987): 8.

6

The first to note this was Krisztina Passuth in Treffpunkte der Avantgarden: Ostmitteleuropa 1907–1930 (Dresden: V ­erlag

144

Lajos Kassák, “Picture-Architecture,” in Between Worlds: A

Hudson, 1985), 94–117.

Merse Pál Szeredi

11

Kassák, “Picture-Architecture,” 432.

ISABEL WÜNSCHE

23

Katherine S. Dreier and the Promotion of Russian Art in the United States

O

ne of the early promoters of the R ­ ussian avant-garde in the United States was ­Katherine Sophie Dreier, an artist, activist, art educator, and curator who devoted herself to the cause of modernism, specifically abstract art. In 1920, she cofounded, together with Marcel Duchamp and Man Ray, the Société Anonyme, Inc., which became one of the most important institutions for the dissemination of European avant-garde art in the United States before the opening of the Museum of Modern Art in 1929. In this chapter, I discuss Dreier’s specific interest in modern Russian art and its inclusion in the exhibitions and publications of the Société Anonyme.

Dreier and the Founding of the Société Anonyme Dreier, the youngest daughter of a progressive German immigrant family from Bremen, grew up in Brooklyn. She soon became an advocate of women’s empowerment, organized an all-women’s art cooperative, and campaigned for suffrage, but in contrast to the activities of her older sisters Margaret and Mary, who held leadership positions in the Women’s Trade Union League, her social and political commitments were shaped by her strong interest in the arts.1 Between 1895 and 1908, Dreier studied art at the Brooklyn Art School and at the Pratt Institute and took private lessons with Walter Shirlaw. Before the outbreak of the First World War, she spent extended periods of time in Europe, working as an artist in Paris, London, and Munich, studying the Old Masters in Italy, and painting in Holland. In 1905, she received her first commission, a mural for the altar in the chapel of St. Paul’s School, Garden City, Long Island.2 It was in Germany that Dreier received her introduction to modern art. In 1912, she saw the Sonderbund Exhibition in Cologne, which showcased the works of the Post-Impressionists, the Fauves, and the German Expressionists, and also included paintings by Edvard Munch and Pablo Picasso.3 This experience was reinforced by the Armory Show in New York in 1913, which included works by the Impressionists and Post-Impressionists, the Fauves, Cubists, and Orphists,

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and also Alexander Archipenko, Wassily Kandinsky, and Munch. She also exhibited two of her own works in the Armory Show.4 Following the end of the First World War, Dreier resumed her travels to Europe, spending extended ­periods of time in Germany. In the fall of 1919, she stayed with relatives in Bremen, but also visited Herwarth ­Walden and his Sturm gallery in Berlin, met Max Ernst in Cologne, saw Archipenko and Constantin Brancusi in Paris, and spent time with the Duchamp family in Rouen.5 In the summer of 1920, she was back in ­Europe, spending most of her time in Germany, ­acquiring works by Rudolf Bauer, Jacoba van Heemskerck, and Kandinsky at the Sturm gallery in Berlin. There she also encountered for the first time works by Paul Klee, Franz Marc, and Kurt Schwitters.6 The founding of the Société Anonyme in New York in 1920 was modeled on Walden’s Sturm enterprise, “that energetic modern gallery in Berlin […] its magazine, as well as its intelligently run bookshop” which “has

Fig. 1: Katherine S. Dreier, Western Art and the New Era: ­ An Introduction to Modern Art (New York: Brentano’s, 1923)

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helped to open the eyes of the public more and more to the modern expression of all the arts.”7 The Société Anonyme was conceived as both an inde­ pendent association of artists and an experimental museum dedicated to the advancement of modern art. Its goal was to trace the development of post-impressionist art into the immediate present in order to promote a better understanding of modern art in New York and the rest of the country.8 The association, which opened its doors on April 30, 1920, began its activities with a series of six-week changing exhibitions that were ­accompanied by a lecture series and discussions. A small reference library was made available to those seeking further information.9 Through its exhibitions, accompanying lecture series, and other events, the Société Anonyme introduced an American public to more than seventy European artists. The majority of the Société Anonyme’s projects in the 1920s and 1930s were carried out by Dreier, whose activities included the preparation of exhibitions, the publication of catalogues, the organization of lectures and symposia, and the lending of works to schools, universities, clubs, and other public institutions. Her educational reform efforts were influenced above all by the writings of the American philosopher John Dewey and the activities of the director of the N ­ ewark 10 Museum, John Cotton Dana. Both emphasized the importance of education to society and supported the concept of “learning by doing.” Dreier was one of the very first museum curators to initiate what is today the familiar “outreach” program—organized events for groups other than regular museum goers. Among these were exhibitions and lectures given in schools, workers’ clubs, women’s organizations, and community centers on the relationship between art and life—for example, her lecture “Rebels in Art,” which she gave in cooperation with the People’s School of Philosophy, in 1921, in the auditorium of the Manhattan Trade School for Girls, and also her 1923 book Western Art and the New Era: An Introduction to Modern Art (fig. 1).11

Dreier’s Introduction to Russian Art Dreier never travelled to Russia but acquired her knowledge about modern Russian art and the Russian avant-

garde in Germany, particularly through the activities of Walden and the Sturm gallery, which frequently featured artists such as Archipenko, Chagall, and ­Kandinsky. The artist to whom Dreier was most indebted was Kandinsky. She spent time in Munich in early 1912 when the Blaue Reiter was emerging. Kandinsky’s treatise Über das Geistige in der Kunst (On the Spiritual in Art) was one of her most formative inspirations, fundamentally shaping her interest in abstract art, which was not so much an aesthetic preference as a fundamental belief in the spiritual dimension of art and its life-­giving force, a force she felt was capable of social change. With Kandinsky, Dreier shared the conviction that art should reflect the spirit of the age and thus played an important role in the human search for spiritual knowledge.12 Dreier, who bought and exhibited works by ­Kandinsky at the Société Anonyme as early as 1920, finally met the artist in person at the Bauhaus in ­Weimar in 1922 and began to engage in an intensive cor­ respondence with him afterwards.13 In 1923, she arranged his first solo exhibition in the United States. On this occasion, she confessed that his writings had “helped to clarify many vague thoughts, which had formulated themselves” in her mind during her time in Munich in 1911–12.14 Dreier’s indebtedness to ­Kandinsky is also evident in the fact that she made him, in 1922, honorary vice-president of the Société Anonyme, a position he held until his death in 1944, and she dedicated the 1926 volume Modern Art to him (on the occasion of his 60th birthday). She also worked on an English translation of Kandinsky’s 1926 Bauhaus book Punkt und Linie zur Fläche (Point and Line to Plane), but it was never completed.15 Dreier met Archipenko—“the Kandinsky of sculpture and more”16—through Duchamp in Paris in late 1919. In 1920, the two asked Archipenko to send some of his works to New York, where they organized a solo exhibition of his works at the Société Anonyme in 1921. The show was accompanied by the symposium “Psychology of Modern Art and Archipenko,” with lectures by Marsden Hartley, Ray, Phyllis Ackerman, and Christian Brinton.17 Archipenko, who had moved from Paris to Berlin in 1921, used Dreier as a reference when he emigrated to the United States in 1923.18 She

arranged for another exhibition of the sculptor’s works at the Kingore Gallery, New York, in 1924, from which she bought a sculpture and two painted reliefs. In 1931, Dreier arranged for Archipenko to demonstrate his Archipentura before a packed audience at the New School for Social Research, as part of her final lecture in a series on modern art.19 Through Walden in Berlin, Dreier also became acquainted with Ivan Puni and his wife Ksenia Boguslavskaya, who lived in the German capital between 1920 and 1924. Puni held a spectacular exhibition at the Sturm gallery in February 192120 and also exhibited his works with the November Group in the Great Berlin Art Exhibition of 1922 and 1923 as well as in the First International Exhibition in Düsseldorf and the First Russian Art Exhibition, both in 1922. Dreier might have heard his lecture on “The New Russian Painting” at the House of Arts in Berlin on November 3, 1922. Along with other art works, she had the Sturm gallery ship four of his drawings to New York—one for herself, the other three for the Société Anonyme—and exhibited them in 1923.21 Another source of information on modern Russian art for Dreier would have been Konstantin Umansky’s 1920 book Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919 (New Art in Russia 1914–1919).22 There is no evidence that she owned a copy of the book, but it is highly unlikely that she would not have come across it in Berlin in the fall of 1922, particularly since Umansky discussed in length the abstract art of Kandinsky and his adherents (to whom she belonged herself ) and the new, geo­ metric abstractions of Kazimir Malevich and his followers. The book might have triggered Dreier’s interest in the work of the latter which she was going to see and ­acquire in the First Russian Art Exhibition. After an extended trip to China in 1921–22, Dreier spent the fall of 1922 in Germany.23 She visited the Bauhaus in Weimar and then went on to Berlin to see the First Russian Art Exhibition, where she seized the opportunity to buy some of the most advanced works of the Russian avant-garde, among them cubo-futurist paintings such as Malevich’s remarkable Knife Grinder (1912–13, fig. 2) and Nadezhda Udaltsova’s At the Piano (1915, see fig. p. 86), abstract paintings, including ­Aleksandr Drevin’s Suprematism (1921), El Lissitzky’s Proun 19D (1922), and two versions of Liubov Popova’s

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Painterly Architectonic (1918, fig. 4), as well as spatial constructions by Naum Gabo and Konstantin Medunetsky (fig. 3).24 Her selection of works is revealing. Dreier never met Malevich but would follow the development of the artist’s art and theory from ­Cubo-futurism to Suprematism. Udaltsova and ­Popova, were both strong female artists. Though Dreier never made their acquaintance, she was generally eager to encourage and support female artists.25 The exhibition spurned Dreier’s interest in Constructivism and the work of Lissitzky, Gabo, and Antoine Pevsner. She greatly appreciated Lissitzky’s geometrical compositions and bought another of his Prouns in 1927.26

She even envisioned a joint exhibition (unrealized) of his and Schwitters work at the Société Anonyme.27 Dreier finally met Pevsner in Paris in April 1926 and the same year was introduced to Gabo, and she highlighted their Realistic Manifesto in the catalogue of the 1926 International Exhibition.28 Shipping her purchases from the First Russian Art Exhibition to New York in late 1922, Dreier was the first to introduce ­Russian Constructivism to the United States.

Fig. 2: Kazimir Malevich, The Knifegrinder or Principle of Glittering, 1912–13, oil on canvas, 79.5 x 79.5 cm, Yale University Art Gallery. Gift of Collection Société Anonyme, 1941.553

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Dreier’s Russian Connections in the United States Her interest in Russian art and culture continued after her return to the United States in late 1922. She became involved with Russian émigré artist circles in New York, and during the 1923 Exhibition of Russian Painting and Sculpture, organized by the entrepreneur Christian Brinton in the Brooklyn Museum, Dreier was introduced to David Burliuk, who had emigrated from ­ Russia to the United States via Siberia and Japan in 1922.29 Along with Mikhail Larionov, ­Burliuk had been one of the main organizers of the

pre-­revolutionary avant-garde in Moscow, promoting Russian Primitivism, publishing a number of manifestos and artists’ books, and establishing Russian Cubo-­futurism, earning himself the moniker “father of Russian Cubo-futurism.”30 Burliuk had also been associated with the Blaue Reiter group in Munich; the Blaue Reiter almanac (1912) (see fig. p. 34) included his essay “Die ‘Wilden’ Russlands” (The “Savages” of Russia).31 Dreier was quite taken by Burliuk and saw in him “a great personality,” one with “the power of the dynamic creation.”32 She organized a solo exhibition of his works in space rented by the Société Anonyme

Fig. 3: Konstantin Medunetsky, Spatial Construction ­(Construction no. 557), 1919, tin, brass, painted iron, and steel, 46 x 17.8 x 17.8 cm, Yale University Art Gallery. Gift of ­Collection Société Anonyme, 1941.562

Fig. 4: Liubov Popova, Painterly Architectonic, 1918, gouache and watercolor with touches of varnish, 33.5 x 24.9 cm, Yale University Art Gallery. Gift of the Estate of Katherine S. Dreier, 1953.6.91

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in 1924, purchased some of his paintings, and even published a book on him in 1944.33 Burliuk became a main supporter of Dreier’s efforts, giving lectures at the Société Anonyme’s exhibitions and writing short articles for the organization’s catalogues. Another important Russian connection for Dreier in New York was Louis Lozowick, who had emi­grated to the United States in 1906, but lived in Paris and Berlin between 1920 and 1924 and, in the summer of 1922, even travelled to Moscow, meeting with leading avantgarde artists and intensively studying their works and theoretical writings.34 Dreier and Lozowick met after his return to the United States in 1924, and she quickly recognized the significance of his substantial first-hand knowledge of Russian avant-garde art and collaborated with him to present at the Heckscher Building the Société Anonyme’s 1924 exhibition Modern Russian Artists— the first American exhibition of the Russian avantgarde. The show was built on the abstract paintings of Drevin, Lissitzky, and Malevich, and three-dimensional constructions by Gabo and Medunetzky from Dreier’s personal collection, and supplemented with works by

Lozowick himself as well as works by the Hungarian Constructivists László Péri and Sándor Bortnyik, and the French Cubists Georges Braque, Albert Gleizes, Jean Metzinger, and Picasso.35 The exhibition thus presented the Russian avant-garde as part of an international movement of abstraction and Constructivism. Lozowick lectured widely and wrote a number of articles on Russian avant-garde art, which led to the publication of his book Modern Russian Art by the Société Anonyme in 1925 (fig. 5).36 In his survey, he discussed in detail the artistic approaches of the R ­ ussian followers of Paul Cézanne, the formative role of Russian Primitivism, the expressionist strain, the reception of Cubism, and the emergence of Suprematism and Constructivism. He also addressed the importance of art-theoretical discussions in relation to the avantgarde’s active participation in the social and aesthetic revolution in Soviet Russia. Unlike Umansky, he did not view the abstract works of Kandinsky and ­Malevich as the most advanced form of modernism, but favored instead Constructivism with its two possibilities “to pass from art into production” or to create

Fig. 5: Cover of the book Modern Russian Art (New York: Société Anonyme, 1925), Katherine S. Dreier Papers/Société Anonyme Archive, Yale Collection of American Literature, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library

Fig. 6: Cover of the catalogue International Exhibition of Modern Art (New York: Brooklyn Museum, 1926)

Isabel Wünsche

a new art “using actual materials.”37 He was the first to portend the coming crisis in Russia—a conservative turn toward greater figuration in the wake of the New Economic Policy (NEP) that gradually deprived the avant-garde of its state support and forced some artists into exile.38

The 1926 International Exhibition of Modern Art Dreier’s efforts to promote Russian avant-garde art as an integral part of international modernism culminated in the Société Anonyme’s 1926 International Exhibition of Modern Art, which was held at the Brooklyn Museum from November 19, 1926, to January 9, 1927.39 In cooperation with Duchamp, Fernand Léger, and Piet Mondrian in Paris; Heinrich Campendonk, K ­ andinsky, and Helma and Kurt Schwitters in Germany; and Giulio Bragaglia and Ivo Pannaggi in Italy, Dreier succeeded in presenting 300 works of art by 106 artists from 23 countries,40 bringing to an American audience the entire spectrum of aesthetic and stylistically diverse forms of modernism, from Expressionism, Cubism, and Futurism to Bauhaus, De Stijl, and international Constructivism, Dadaism, Surrealism, and modern American art. Furthermore, the exhibition included exemplary home living spaces, particularly directed towards the female audience and intended to demonstrate how modern art could be integrated into the everyday life and living quarters of the middle class. With the simultaneous release of the book publication Modern Art (fig. 6), which Dreier dedicated to Kandinsky on the occasion of his 60th birthday, she offered a compendium of contemporary art, recording the scope and breadth of the movement worldwide in the hope that it would benefit the “universal brotherhood of artists ... [by] bringing together modern artists and making them known to each other throughout the world.” Modern art was thus “bigger than any one nationality ... it carries the follower into a large cosmic movement which unites him in thought and feeling with groups throughout the world.”41 Dreier presented 14 lectures (out of a total of 18) to audiences attending the exhibition as well as to the National Association of Women Painters and Sculptors, the School Art League, the Public School Teachers organization, and a series of

women’s clubs, and she never tired of emphasizing the range and international character of modern art.42 After the German section, the Russian one was the second largest in the Brooklyn exhibition and in the book; it featured, in this order, the artists Kandinsky, Burliuk, Constantine Aladialov (who had executed the book cover and design), Pevsner, Gabo, Lissitzky, Archipenko, Nicolai Vasiliev, and Nicolai Cikovsky. Kandinsky, to whom the publication was dedicated, was clearly “the most important,” but she also highlighted Pevsner and Gabo “who stand out with tremendous force and vitality and who have introduced a new medium into the world of sculpture […] the creation of sculptural three-dimensional pieces built out of celluloid.”43 She further featured the Suprematists and the Constructivists. The former, under the leadership of Malevich, who built their paintings on simple principles that “allow for numberless combinations of the greatest variety in the rhythm of related planes, in the balance of distributed color masses, in the proportion between full and empty spaces”44 while the closely related Constructivists “aim for the same precision, order and organization as science.”45 In the book, Dreier specifically highlighted the achievements of these artists in terms of artistic novelty and the worldwide impact of the Russian avant-garde: The service which Soviet Russia rendered to the rest of the world has been chiefly that it has scattered most of its creative and living spirits over the whole world like the sower sowing his seed, so that all might benefit by that great spiritual contribution which Russia has to give. Before the revolution Russia was such a closed book to the average person that few knew of the spir­ itual, intellectual and artistic richness its people possessed to such a highly developed degree. But now we find them in all countries, these creative forces, showing us beauty along lines which we never visualized.46 Dreier’s commitment to modern art, specifically the Russian avant-garde, was closely associated with her social and educational activism. She viewed modern art as a vital medium “to free the spirit of man and to invigorate and enlarge his vision [because] its real purpose is to stimulate our energies and increase our vision of Life.”47 Her goal was not simply to make modern

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art accessible to a broad spectrum of the population, but to further art appreciation for both genders and all ages and social classes, so that people would consider it to be an important aspect of their life and want to

surround themselves with modern art. In the course of her manyfold activities, she assembled a pre-eminent collection of classic modern art, which can be found today in the Yale University Art Gallery.

Notes 1

On Dreier’s formative years, see Ruth L. Bohan, The Société

Folder 143, Katherine S. Dreier Papers/Société Anonyme Ar-

Anonyme’s Brooklyn Exhibition: Katherine Dreier and Modern-

chive, Yale Collection of American Literature, Beinecke Rare

ism in America (Ann Arbor: UMI, 1982), 1–13; Susan Greenberg,

Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, New Haven, Conn.

“Art as Experience: Katherine S. Dreier and the Educational Mission of the Société Anonyme,” in: The Société Anonyme:

17

Dreier Bequest at Yale University, 43.

Modernism in America, ed. Jennifer R. Gross (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Art Gallery/Yale University Press, 2006),

18 Ibid.

98–101.

19

4

The Société Anonyme, 50.

Ibid. Dreier bought a painting by Vincent van Gogh in the exhibition and would lend it to the Armory Show a year later.

20 21

22

“Chronology,” in The Société Anonyme and the Dreier Be-

23 Schlögel et al., eds., Chronik russischen Lebens in Deutsch-

quest at Yale University: A Catalogue Raisonné, ed. Robert L.

land 1918–1941 (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1999), 752–53, http://

­Herbert, Eleanor S. Apter, and Elise K. Kenney (New Haven,

www2.oei.fu-berlin.de/geschichte/chronik-russisches-lebens/ [accessed March 22, 2022].

Conn.: Yale University Art Gallery, 1984), 750–51. 6

Ibid. See also Jenny Anger, “Der Sturm, the Société Anony-

24

“‘A Big Cosmic Force’,” 52–53.

Avantgarde 2, ed. Andrea von Hülsen-Esch and Gerhard Finckh (Wuppertal: von der Heydt Museum, 2012), 543–70.

8

25

painting as for Malevich’s Knifegrinder and mistook her for

tion to Modern Art (New York: Brentano’s, 1923), 107–9.

Malevich’s wife. See Herbert, Apter, and Kenney, The Société

“First Annual Report of the Société Anonyme, Inc. 1920–1921,”

Anonyme and the Dreier Bequest at Yale University, 665.

7–8, in Selected Publications. Société Anonyme (The First Mu-

26 She bought Proun 19D at the First Russian Art Exhibition in

Arno Press, 1972), n. p. 9

1922 and Proun 99 (c. 1923–25) in 1927. 27 Herbert, Apter, and Kenney, The Société Anonyme and the Dreier Bequest at Yale University, 415.

“Société Anonyme, Report 1920–1921,” in ibid., n. p. See

also Bohan, The Société Anonyme’s Brooklyn Exhibition, 27–

28

Ibid., 281–82, 516–17. See also Dreier, Modern Art, 70.

38; “Introduction,” in Herbert, Apter, and Kenney, The Société

29

Tashjian, “‘A Big Cosmic Force’,” 53–59.

Anonyme and the Dreier Bequest at Yale University, 1–32.

30 Vladimir Markov, Russian Futurism: A History (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1968), 32–60.

Greenberg, “Art as Experience,” 97–98.

11 Dreier, Western Art and the New Era.

31

David Burliuk, “Die ‘Wilden’ Russlands,” in Der Blaue Reiter,

12 Bohan, The Société Anonyme’s Brooklyn Exhibition, 20–22.

ed. Wassily Kandinsky and Franz Marc (Munich: Piper, 1912),

13

13–19; English transl. David Burliuk, “The ‘Savages’ of Russia”

14

Herbert, Apter, Kenney, The Société Anonyme and the Dreier Bequest at Yale University, 355.

(1912) in The Blaue Reiter Almanac, ed. Wassily Kandinsky and

Katherine S. Dreier, Kandinsky (New York: Société Anonyme,

Franz Marc (London: Thames and Hudson, 1974), 72–80.

Inc., 1923), n. p. 15

32 Katherine S. Dreier, Burliuk (New York: Société Anonyme, ­Color and Rhyme, 1944), 2.

Herbert, Apter, Kenney, The Société Anonyme and the Dreier Bequest at Yale University, 355.

16 Christian Brinton, letter to Dreier, October 26, 1923, Box 5,

152

Dreier actually paid more than twice as much for Udaltsova’s

Katherine S. Dreier, Western Art and the New Era: An Introduc-

seum of Modern Art: 1920–1944) 1: Documents (New York:

10

Erste Russische Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922 (Berlin: Verlag Internationale Arbeiterhilfe, 1922), 17–21, 30. See also Tashjian,

me, and Modern Art in America,” in Der Sturm: Zentrum der

7

Konstantin Umanskij, Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919

(Potsdam: Gustav Kiepenheuer; Munich: Hans Goltz, 1920).

armory-show-1913-complete-list/ [accessed February 4, 2022]. 5

Herbert, Apter, and Kenney, The Société Anonyme and the Dreier Bequest at Yale University, 542.

­Walter Vincent Smith Art Museum, Springfield, MA), see Armory Show 1913 Complete List https://armory.nyhistory.org/

Der Sturm: 94. Ausstellung: Iwan Puni, Petersburg, Gemälde, Aquarelle, Zeichnungen, exh. cat. (Berlin, [February] 1924).

She showed the two oil paintings Blue Bowl (now at Yale University Art Gallery) and The Avenue, Holland (now George

Ibid. See also Dickran Tashjian, “‘A Big Cosmic Force’: Katherine S. Dreier and the Russian/Soviet Avant-Garde,” in Gross,

2 Bohan, The Société Anonyme’s Brooklyn Exhibition, 4–6. 3

Herbert, Apter, and Kenney, The Société Anonyme and the

Isabel Wünsche

33 Ibid. 34

Virginia Hagelstein Marquardt, ed., Survivor from a Dead Age:

The Memoirs of Louis Lozowick (Washington, D.C.: Smithson-

40 Katherine S. Dreier, “Foreword,” in Modern Art (New York: Société Anonyme, 1926), n. p. See also Bohan, The Société

ian, 1997), 221–49. 35

Anonyme’s Brooklyn Exhibition, 39–50.

Flyer for Modern Russian Artists, Box 87, Folder 2249, K ­ atherine S. Dreier Papers/Société Anonyme Archive, Yale Collection of

41 Dreier, “Foreword,” n. p. See also Bohan, The Société ­Anonyme’s Brooklyn Exhibition, 67–82.

American Literature, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. See also Tashjian, “‘A

42 Bohan, The Société Anonyme’s Brooklyn Exhibition, 83–96.

Big Cosmic Force’,” 61.

43 Dreier, Modern Art, 70.

36 Louis Lozowick, Modern Russian Art (New York: Société

44 Ibid., 71.

Anonyme, 1925).

45 Ibid.

37

Ibid., 35–36.

46 Ibid., 69.

38

Ibid., 60.

47

39 Bohan, Société Anonyme’s Brooklyn Exhibition, 39–113; ­Kristina Wilson, “‘One Big Painting:’ A New View of Modern

Katherine S. Dreier, “‘Intrinsic Significance’ in Modern Art,” in ---, James Johnson Sweeney, and Naum Gabo, Three Lectures on Modern Art (New York: Philosophical Library, 1949), 12–13.

Art at the Brooklyn Museum,” in Gross, The Société Anonyme: ­Modernism in America, 75–95.

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ISABEL WÜNSCHE

24

Louis Lozowick: Russian Constructivism and American Machine Art

O

ne of the first Americans to directly encounter the art and theory of the Russian avantgarde was the Ukrainian-born artist Louis Lozowick (1892–1973). Originally from Ludvinovka, he grew up in Kyiv and briefly attended art school there. At the age of fourteen, he emigrated to the United States, where he continued his art education at the National Academy of Design in New York and at Ohio State University. In the fall of 1920, ­Lozowick returned to Europe, living in Paris until early 1922. The following one and a half years, he spent in Berlin, where he immersed himself in the émigré art scene, meeting many avant-garde artists, among them Alexander Archipenko, Naum Gabo, El Lissitzky, Ivan Puni, and the organizers of the First Russian Art Exhibition, Natan Altman and David Shterenberg.1 To gain first-hand experience of the artistic production in Soviet Russia, Lozowick travelled to Moscow in the summer of 1922. He managed to meet the most important representatives of the Russian avantgarde, among them Kazimir Malevich, Liubov Popova, ­Aleksandr Rodchenko, and Vladimir Tatlin, as well as Osip Brik, Vladimir Mayakovsky, and Vsevolod Meyerhold.2 He also visited the VKhUTEMAS (Higher Artistic and Technical Studios) and attended constructivist theatrical productions, including Meyerhold’s The Magnanimous Cuckold with stage designs by Popova (1922). Lozowick was fascinated by the new Russian art and intensively studied the theoretical writings of the avantgarde, including Malevich’s 1920 treatise From Cézanne to Suprematism, Aleksandr Gan’s 1923 book on Constructivism, the catalogue of the 1921 exhibition 5x5=25, Nikolai Punin’s 1920 discussion of Tatlin’s Monument to the Third International, Antoine ­Pevsner and Gabo’s 1920 Realistic Manifesto, and Lissitzky’s Proun concept.3 He excitedly reported to Harold A. Loeb, editor of the American art magazine Broom, that “nothing more stimulating is to be found anywhere in Europe.”4 In Berlin and Moscow, Lozowick encountered the lively interest of modernist artists in American technological progress. Artists such as Ivan Goll, Lissitzky, and Mayakovsky celebrated American technology and industrial architecture and greeted with enthusiasm the

Fig. 1: Louis Lozowick, City Shapes, 1922–23, oil on composition board with canvas textured surface, 46 x 38 cm, Yale University Art Gallery. Gift of the artist to the Collection Société Anonyme 1950.8. © Louis Lozowick; courtesy of the estate of the artist and Mary Ryan Gallery, New York

154

Isabel Wünsche

art of the machine age.5 In turn, Lozowick was greatly inspired by the Constructivists’ abstract geometric constructions, their use of industrial materials, and their efforts to integrate art into everyday life.6 Merging his interest in Constructivism and his fascination with industrial America, Lozowick turned to the theme of industrialization and machine imagery (figs. 1+2). He created his first city compositions as well as semi-­ abstract ink drawings he would later call “machine ornaments” in Berlin and exhibited these with the November Group at the Great Berlin Art Exhibition, at the International Exhibition in Düsseldorf, and in his solo exhibitions in Berlin at Twardy’s bookshop in 1922 and the gallery Alfred Heller in 1923.7 Lozowick further developed his machine-­ related aesthetics and continued his paintings of the city and machine ornament drawings after his return to New York in 1924. His efforts culminated in the 1927 ­Machine-Age Exposition organized by Jane Heap of Little Review. The catalogue includes his article on “The Americanization of Art,” in which he states: The dominant trend in America today, beneath all the apparent chaos and confusion is towards order and organization which find their outward sign and symbol in the rigid geometry of the American city: in the verticals of its smokestacks, in the parallels of its car tracks, in squares of its streets, the cubes of its factories, the arc of its bridges, the cylinders of its gas tanks.8 Back in New York, Katherine S. Dreier, co-founder of the Société Anonyme, who quickly recognized ­Lozowick’s substantial first-hand knowledge of Russian modernism, teamed up with him and, in 1924, they presented to the public the exhibition Modern Russian Artists, the first American show of the Russian avantgarde. Lozowick lectured on the subject and wrote a number of articles,9 which led to the 1925 book Modern Russian Art (see fig. p. 150).10 Lozowick served as an important link between the European and the American avant-garde; he wrote for the magazines Broom and The Little Review, and also became, in 1925, a contributing editor to New Masses, a magazine that encouraged experimental art and particularly favored constructivist-related work as well as material dealing with the American art scene.11

­ ozowick made a second trip to Moscow in 1928, L where he gave a lecture on modern American art at the Moscow Museum of Modern European Art, renewed contacts with Lissitzky, Meyerhold, and Tatlin, and met with Sergei Eisenstein, Aleksandra Ekster, and Aleksandr Tairov.12 He also became acquainted with the newly formed Society of Easel Painters (OST), whose concern with realism and social content he shared. He described their work as “a mixture of the concrete and abstract,” representing “some of the most original things in the past decade.”13 He was similarly impressed by the synthesis of formal innovation, realism, and political messages in the films of Eisenstein and the

Fig. 2: Louis Lozowick, Machine Ornament: Abstraction, c. 1925–26, pen and ink, 47.2 x 30.5 cm, Yale University Art Gallery. Gift of the Collection Société Anonyme 1941.550. © Louis Lozowick; courtesy of the estate of the artist and Mary Ryan Gallery, New York

Louis Lozowick: Russian Constructivism and American Machine Art

155

theatrical productions of Meyerhold and, upon his return from Russia, he began advocating a synthesis of realism and abstraction.14 His third trip to the Soviet Union took place in 1931, when he was invited by the International Union of Revolutionary Writers (IURW) to tour Soviet Central Asia.15 During the years of the Great Depression, ­Lozowick worked for the Federal Art Project of the Works ­Progress Administration (WPA), holding various artis­ tic offices and creating prints and murals, including a commission for the New York City General Post Office. He was an active member of the John Reed

Club and served as secretary to the American Artists’ Congress.16 Moving away from uninhabited industrial landscapes in a constructivist-inspired geometric style, he began to increasingly incorporate figures of laborers into his compositions—focusing less on the utopian promise of the machine and more on its social impact on the worker.17 He continued to explore the human condition in painting and printmaking after his move to New Jersey in 1943.

Notes 1

2

Virginia Hagelstein Marquardt ed., Survivor from a Dead Age:

“Tatlin’s Monument to the Third International,” Broom 3, October 1922, 232–34; “A Note on Modern Russian Art,” ­ Broom 4, February 1923, 200–04.

Ibid., 221–49.

10 Louis Lozowick, Modern Russian Art (New York: Société Anonyme, 1925).

Lozowick to Loeb, September 12, 1922, 4–5, Loeb Papers, cited in Virginia Hagelstein Marquardt, “Louis Lozowick: An ­American’s

11

Assimilation of Russian Avant-garde Art of the 1920s,” in The

12 Ibid.

Avant-Garde Frontier: Russia Meets the West, 1910–1930 (Gaines-

13 Louis Lozowick, “A Decade of Soviet Art,” The Menorah

Marquardt, “Louis Lozowick,” 259.

­Journal 16, January 1929, 247, cited in Marquardt, “Louis

ville, FL: University of Florida Press, 1992), 243.

­Lozowick,” 260.

5

Marquardt, “Louis Lozowick,” 244–45.

6

Ibid., 243.

14

7

Louis Lozowick—New York: Ausstellung, K. E. Twardy, June

15 Marquardt, Survivor from a Dead Age, 268.

8

Ibid., 262.

1922; Galerie Alfred Heller, August–September 1923. See also

16

Ibid., 269–73.

Marquardt, Survivor from a Dead Age, 204, fig. 8.

17

Emma Acker, “Louis Lozowick: Style and Politics,” Art & Archi-

Louis Lozowick, “The Americanization of Art,” 1927, https://

tecture (July 13, 2018), https://blog.yalebooks.com/2018/07/13/

monoskop.org/images/3/30/Machine-Age_Exposition_cata-

louis-lozowick-style-and-politics/ [accessed March 15, 2022].

logue.pdf [accessed February 4, 2022].

156

Among them “Russian Berlin,” Broom 3, August 1922, 78–79;

ian, 1997), 189–219. 3 Ibid. 4

9

The Memoirs of Louis Lozowick (Washington, D.C.: Smithson-

Isabel Wünsche

OMUKA TOSHIHARU

25

The Impact of Russian Art in Early 1920s Japan

A

fter the First World War, many Japanese artists were eager to make their way to Paris. Japanese art journals often published the letters of these enthusiastic pilgrims, sent from the ships and ports along the way and then from the “city of art” itself. The official reports on Japanese residents registered abroad indicate 426 for Paris on December 1, 1922, of which 91 are identified as fine artists (painters).1 In contrast, amongst Berlin’s 405 Japanese residents at about the same time, only four fell into the category of “photo­ graphers and artists.”2 Despite the dearth of attention given Berlin, there were a few exceptional artists of Japanese origin whose signatures can be found in the guest book of ­Herwarth Walden’s Sturm gallery, among them Tsuchida ­Bakusen (birthname Tsuchida Kinji), a painter in the Japanese style seeking a new way of expression. We can catch a glimpse of Tsuchida’s travels in Germany from the letters he regularly sent to his wife. He arrived in Berlin on October 13, 1922, together with the painter Nakamura Yoshio, the art journalist Sakazaki Shizuka, and the composer Komatsu Kōsuke. Sakazaki­was only interested in eighteenth-century French art,3 but Tsuchida and Nakamura both visited the Sturm gallery and signed the guest book, sometime between October 16 and 20.4 Unfortunately, Tsuchida did not note anything of this in the letters to his wife, but mainly referred to museum collections. On October 20, the three men visited Munich, where they stayed for two nights, and then Dresden. They were obliged to return to Berlin because of incorrect visa information. Finally, on October 31, Sakazaki hurried on to Paris while Tsuchida and Nakamura departed for Amsterdam.5 Against this background it is somewhat remarkable that two Japanese visitors stepped into the van Diemen gallery to see the First Russian Art Exhibition. One was the modernist architect Ishimoto Kikuji6 and the other Nakada Sadanosuke; the two had become friends on the ship from Japan and both had settled in Berlin, though Ishimoto often traveled around for research on European architecture. While seeking direction in his own career, Nakada was a frequent visitor to the Sturm gallery and the small nearby gallery and bookshop of

The Impact of Russian Art in Early 1920s Japan

157

Käte and Emma Twardy, located in the same street, diagonally opposite from the Sturm enterprise.7 On October 26, 1922, Nakada and Ishimoto met Alexander Archipenko for the first time; the sculptor’s friendly personality left a lasting impression on Nakada. Following this visit, the two went to see the First Russian Art Exhibition. In his diary entry for the day, Nakada put down the names of only three artists of interest: Wassily Kandinsky, Marc Chagall, and Alexander Archipenko. Four days later, Nakada visited Archipenko again, bringing with him a wealthy Japanese couple who bought three bronzes. Nakada decided to write up his interviews with Archipenko; his essay “Ākipenko o tonau” (Visit to Archipenko), without any reference to the Russian art exhibition, appeared in a Tokyo weekly in late January 1923.8 Although Japanese art journals largely neglected the Russian exhibition in Berlin, in March 1923 a short column in the Tokyo newspaper Jiji Shinpō (Current Events) mentioned it, calling attention to a new artistic concept of “construction,” and briefly discussing recent developments in Russian art such as Suprematism and Constructivism, unfortunately without much detail or any photographs.9 Strangely, the article ignored the two Russian participants in the show most closely re­lated to the contemporary Japanese art scene, David Burliuk and Varvara Bubnova, who both made a crucial contribution to Japanese modernism. The catalogue of the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin indicates that Burliuk was represented by five paintings and Bubnova with three linocuts.10

Two Russian Modernists Burliuk travelled from Vladivostok to Tsuruga on October 1, 1920 and continued on the same day to Tokyo with hundreds of works by Russian artists of the Far East and his fellow Futurists.11 Bubnova settled in Tokyo in June 1922 (her younger sister Anna had married a Japanese scientist there). Both artists propagated the new Russian art, each in their own way: Burliuk as a Futurist and Bubnova as a Constructivist. Burliuk had arrived in Japan at an opportune moment—artists there were thirsty for the new developments, and they soon launched a group called Miraiha

Bijutsu Kyōkai (the Japanese Futurist Association). Burliuk was an authentic and energetic master of the new art. He organized the First Exhibition of Russian Painting in Japan (Nihon ni okeru saisho no Rokokuga tenrankai), with 473 works by 27 artists, that was held at a gallery of the Hoshi Medical Company in a building near Tokyo Station from October 14 to 30, 1920. A colorful figure, wearing his Russian frock coat with a big flower in a buttonhole wherever he went, Burliuk’s influence grew with his participation in the Futurist Association and their exhibitions.12 Bubnova was also active upon arriving in Tokyo in June 1922, publishing two important articles in a few months—one a longer essay on contemporary Russian art and the other a purely theoretical text on the utilitarian production of “the object” (veshch’) versus the traditional aestheticism of painting.13 Both were translated by her two brothers-in-law, Ono Shun’ichi,

Fig. 1: Entries of Wadachi Tomoo, Nagano Yoshimitsu, and Murayama Tomoyoshi into the guest book of the Sturm ­gallery, March 18, 1922, Handschriftenabteilung, Staats­ bibliothek, Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Berlin 158

Omuka Toshiharu

a ­scientist and the husband of her younger sister Anna, and Ono Eisuke. Unlike Burliuk, Bubnova did not get along particu­ larly well with members of the Futurist Association. She complained in a letter to Varvara Stepanova dated May 10, 1923, that her proposal of the name “Constructivists” for their new group made many of the artists (probably those forming Mavo) frantic and she deplored their lack of understanding of the concept.14 Despite these difficulties, Bubnova’s contribution to the propagation of the social ideals and views of ­Russian Construc­tivism was certainly remarkable. Her first essay in Japan was “Gendai ni okeru roshiya kaiga no kisū ni tsuite” (On recent development of painting in ­Russia), with its particular emphasis on the fundamental transition from painting to product design and also on analytic discussions on composition and construction at the Moscow Institute of Artistic Culture ­(INKhUK) in early 1921, which Bubnova herself actively participated in as a member of the Objective Analysis Working Group.15 Bubnova took advantage of friend-

ships with her colleagues in Moscow—­ Stepanova, Aleksandr Rodchenko, and Liubov Popova—reproducing photographs of their recent works she had ­received from them.16 The article thus paved the way for Murayama Tomoyoshi’s propagation of Russian Constructivism and his own interpretation.

Murayama Tomoyoshi in Berlin in 1922 Murayama arrived in Berlin in February 1922 with the intention of studying the early Christian fathers; however, he soon gave up these studies and began to paint. Wadachi Tomoo, his friend and high school classmate, who had arrived earlier in the German capital, took him to the Sturm gallery where Murayama met ­Walden and Ruggero Vasari, an Italian Futurist from Messina (fig. 1). In March, Murayama readily participated, together with Nagano Yoshimitsu, another Japanese expat artist, in a Futurist tour at J. B. Neumann’s ­gallery in Berlin (fig. 2).17

Fig. 2: Murayama Tomoyoshi in front of the painting Four Workers by Nagano Yoshimitsu at Nagano’s studio at Speyerer Strasse in Berlin, March 4, 1922, courtesy of Museum of M ­ odern Art, Kamakura and Hayama

The Impact of Russian Art in Early 1920s Japan

159

his final few months in Berlin, Murayama seems to have lost focus; money was also a problem. At the very last moment, finding his pockets empty, he even was forced to pass up a visit to Weimar, including a promised introduction to Kandinsky and Paul Klee.22 Leaving Germany before Christmas, Murayama arrived in Kobe with the ship S. S. Hakone-maru, probably on February 10, 1923.23

Murayama and Conscious Constructionism

In late May, the two artists appeared in Düsseldorf. Walden had recommended them to the group Das Junge Rheinland (Young Rhineland), which was organizing an international art exhibition and a conference with the goal of forming an international artists’ union. In the First International Exhibition in Düsseldorf, Murayama showed three paintings in an expressionist style. He recalled that he was jealous of Nagano because of a reproduction of his cubist painting of four workers in the exhibition catalogue.18 However, Murayama most assuredly must have known that two of his entries were mentioned in an exhibition review by Hermann von Wedderkop, published in the famous art journal Der Cicerone in July 1922.19 On this occasion in Düsseldorf and another one in Berlin, Murayama met other avant-garde artists, including El Lissitzky, in whose address book we find Murayama’s name in the M section on the same page as Malevich, Piet ­Mondrian, and Filippo Marinetti.20 In late September 1922, Murayama held his first one-person show at the Twardys’ gallery in Berlin—a frequent meeting place for artists, and this helped to make him known as an independent artist.21 During

Fig. 3: Cover page of the catalogue of Murayama’s one-person show, Bumbōdō Gallery, Tokyo, May 1923, courtesy of Museum of Modern Art, Kamakura and Hayama

160

Omuka Toshiharu

Upon his return home, Murayama was most active writing articles, exhibiting paintings and photographs, and creating new works. In April 1923, he published his first theoretical manifesto, Ishikiteki Kōsei Shugi (Conscious Constructionism), followed by a critique of Expressionism. In his critique, which was based ­almost exclusively on Kandinsky’s writings, he points out the various limitations of Expressionism. His solution was “Conscious Constructionism,” which he intended to promote. In May 1923, Murayama held a one-person show titled (in both Japanese and German): Bewusste-­ Konstruktionistische Ausstellung von Tomoyoshi Murayama (Tokio). Niddy Impekoven gewidmet (Conscious Constructionist Exhibition of Tomoyoshi Murayama. Dedicated to Niddy Impekoven) (fig. 3). Among the five reproductions in the exhibition catalogue was a photograph of Murayama dancing a waltz by Johann Hummel. The other titles of the photographs, e.g., Augsburger Strasse (the first landscape in Berlin), suggest that the crates Murayama sent from Berlin had not arrived yet.24 The exhibition of a brandnew style and aggressive self-promotion in his articles on Conscious Constructionism gained Murayama entry to the newly established Mavo group in July. It is noteworthy that the other founding members of Mavo were still under the influence of Burliuk and not entirely ready to embrace constructivist thinking (as Bubnova herself had found out); after Kinoshita Shūichirō, who had led the F ­ uturist Association, left for Fukui as a public health doctor in spring 1922, no one else in the group was able to assume leadership in either theory or practice. In 1924, in an attempt to clarify and refine his theory of Conscious Constructionism, Murayama

published a two-part article, “Kōseiha hihan” (Critique of Constructivism). Still strongly critical of Expressionism, this time his discussion ended up less a negation of Expressionism and more so a positive image of Russian Constructivism. Murayama still made reference to Kandinsky, but only to deny the artist’s insistence on composition. He now relied on a wide variety of sources on new Russian art drawn mainly from non-Russian literature such as Lajos Kassák’s and László Moholy-Nagy’s 1922 Buch neuer Künstler (Book of New Artists). Murayama quoted from Bubnova’s theoretical texts in order to further develop his still immature theory and to also somehow differentiate it from Russian Constructivism. He pointed out three unsettled problems—what he called the dead end of Constructivism:25 • The first, of form: “jun’itsu no shōkei” (desire for purity; quotation from Kassák) yet to be denied • The second, the problem of the relationship between popular art and eccentric vanguard art, i.e., the resolution of decadence • The third, the relationship between revolutionary art and socialist art. In this context, it cannot be overlooked that Murayama was quoting a ­passage on industrial art from a Japanese translation of the 8th chapter of Leon Trotsky’s Literatura i ­revolyutsiya (Literature and Revolution) (1924), “Revolutionary Art and Socialist Art.”26 In none of his writings does Murayama make any ­reference to the First Russian Art Exhibition at the van Diemen gallery. Given his connections in Berlin, including to the Twardys, we can be fairly certain that he must have seen the show. His complete silence in this respect is rather telling. Young and ambitious as he was, Murayama chose to use the term Constructionism, rather than Constructivism in order to emphasize his originality. Perhaps the germ of this idea originated in a review of the Düsseldorf exhibition of May 1922, in which von Wedderkop referred to Konstrukutionalismus, rather than Konstruktivismus.27 Murayama also came across an English translation of Enrico Prampolini’s text “The Aesthetic of the Machine and ­Mechanical Introspection in Art” (1922) in which the word “constructionists” is used for the original Italian construttivisti:

Today we see a new tendency manifesting itself at the recent international Artists Congress of Düsseldorf. This is the movement of the “Constructionists” as exemplified in the works of the Russian, Dutch, German, Scandinavian, and Romanian painters.28 Murayama would have read this with great interest because the same October 1922 issue of the ­American journal Broom included Louis Lozowick’s early introduction “Tatlin’s Monument to the Third International.” Moreover, Lozowick’s one-person show took place at the Twardys’ gallery in June 1922—an exhi­ bition Murayama would certainly not have missed.29 ­Lozowick exhibited, among others, two oil paintings and two graphic works, all titled Konstruktion.30

The Significance of “Conscious” or “Bewusst” In his first critique of Expressionism, Murayama frequently quoted from Kandinsky’s Über das Geistige in der Kunst (On the Spiritual in Art, 1911/12), the most relevant in this context being a passage relating to construction. Murayama picked up two crucial German words, “konstruktiv” und “bewusst.” The first he translated into Japanese as “kōseiteki” (constructional) and the second as “ishikiteki” (conscious). Another phrase from Kandinsky, “die Zeit des zweckmässigen Schaffens” (the age of purposeful creation), he intentionally translated as “the age of conscious creation.”31 This perhaps explains why Murayama clung to the German expression “bewusst” (intentional, conscious, purposeful), which called to mind the next step forward that he was championing and provided a promising direction for the art world in Japan. Furthermore, Murayama seems to have discovered in the catalogue of the First Russian Art Exhibition another interesting dimension related to the term ­“bewusst.” The author of the introduction revealed that Natan Altman had developed a new branch of non-­ objective art, combining visual painterly composition with the material construction of objects to provide a work with “a conscious, even social content.”32 Accordingly, Altman’s work would influence not only the eye but also consciousness.

The Impact of Russian Art in Early 1920s Japan

161

A New Vision of Constructionism In August 1925, Murayama published an essay on Constructivism with new insights into the socio-political situation in Japan.33 Again, he used quotations from various constructivist writings in avant-garde periodicals such as Ma, ABC, Mécano, etc., but now with an acute awareness of the specific background in each country, e.g., Expressionism in Germany and Dada in the Netherlands. He insisted that Dadaism and Constructionism were together shaping a new epoch. It cannot be overlooked that the word Constructionism appears only once in the article. Instead, we find frequent references to “kōseiha” (now connoting Constructivism). In February 1925, the Slavist Nobori Shomu published a fully illustrated book on revolutionary Russia, Shin Roshiya bijutsu taikan (General Survey of New Russian Art; fig. 4), introducing modern trends in pre- and post-revolutionary art ranging from painting and sculpture to graphic works and theatre design. It appealed to many readers and sold well.34

Taking a leftist viewpoint, Murayama observed that Constructivism was communist and socialist art r­ ather than revolutionary art, something destructive and conflictive. He denounced Constructivism in capitalist Japan sarcastically as “a bonbon, a show window of drapery.”35 Constructivism’s time would come, but the present belonged to Neo-Dada, which would pave the way for Constructivism. Thus, Murayama was still promoting Conscious Constructionism in 1925, but in a low-key manner. In his 1926 book Kōseiha kenkyū (Studies on Constructivism), he presents for the first time a thoroughly positive picture of Russian Constructivism (fig. 5), relying heavily on Die Kunstismen 1914–1924 (The Isms of Art 1914–1924) by El Lissitzky and Hans Arp, from 1925, and avoiding any traces of Conscious Constructionism. The book consists of two main parts: “Prior to Constructivism,” in which he explains the various “-isms” from Futurism and Cubism to Neo-Plasticism and Prouns, and ­“Constructivism,” in which he discusses six aspects of the subject: Emergence of Constructivism, Sociality, Americanism, Machine, Mechanization, and Architecture. Murayama highlights

Fig. 4: Pages from Nobori Shomu, Shin Roshiya bijutsu taikan (General Survey of New Russian Art) (Tokyo: Shinchōsha, 1925)

162

Omuka Toshiharu

on twenty of the eighty-one pages the significance of the “Machine,” i.e., a passion for the machine, creating a sharp distinction between bourgeois artists and communist constructivists who were seeking mechanical constructions with practical utility. In conclusion, he quotes a passage on industrialized architecture from Ludwig Mies van der Rohe’s article in the magazine G36 and shares his optimistic view of the world reconstruction: “And when Trotsky’s ideal is realized, we will reinvestigate lands and waters and ­alter defects of nature. Eventually we will reconstruct the Earth.”37 It is easy to dismiss this acrobatic amalgam of Conscious Constructionism and confused Dadaist constructions as the result of an unsuccessful struggle for originality by Murayama, but it was an undeniable (if negative) facet of the reality of 1920s Japanese art and society.

A Russian Art Exhibition in Japan

Fig. 5: Murayama Tomoyoshi, Kōseiha Kenkyū (Studies on Constructivism) (Tokyo: Chuō Bijutsusha, 1926)

Fig. 6: Cover of the exhibition catalogue Shin Roshiyaten [Exhibition of New Russian Art] (Tokyo: Asahi Shinbunsha, 1927)

Finally, we return to Berlin in October 1921. The Japanese painter Yabe Tomoe was there. In 1919, he had left Japan for Paris in order to study with Maurice Denis at the Académie Ranson. He then visited the German capital and acquired a copy of the first issue of Veröffentlichung der Novembergruppe (Publication of the November Group; this copy was in his family archives, but its whereabouts are presently unknown). Returning home in 1922, Yabe participated in the modernist movement, but as a member of the more moderate group Action. After Mavo’s split and the subsequent reorganization of the avant-garde groups, Yabe went to Moscow in 1926 and came back with Nikolai Punin via Siberia to install some four hundred works in Tokyo in April 1927 and then in Osaka in June and in ­Nagoya in July (fig. 6). One of Abram Arkhipov’s typical portraits of a peasant woman was reproduced in color on the cover of the exhibition catalogue and epitomized the general stylistic trend in the exhibition, which was realist. The seventy-three artists participating were

The Impact of Russian Art in Early 1920s Japan

163

s­ elected from groups such as the Association of Artists of Revolutionary Russia (AKhRR), the Society of Easel Painters (OST), and Makovets. Not included were ­Suprematists and Constructivists, who had still participated in the 1924 Venice Biennale.38 However, leaning increasingly to the left, Yabe hailed that the presentation of a “new realism” as opposed to the decadent and

class-oriented “French art” that was often displayed in Tokyo and other cities in the 1920s.39 This work was partially supported by JSPS KAKENHI Grant Number JP19H00519.

Notes 1

Okuyama Kiyoharu, “Pari zairyū hōjin shokugyōbetsu

10

ski), no. 21 Frau mit Spiegel, and no. 22 Lautenspieler; Bub-

eign Affairs, 5 January 1923; Japan Center for Asian Histor-

nova: no. 281 Komposition, Lin., no. 282 Komposition, Lin., and no. 283 Weibliche Figur, Lin.

ical Records (JACAR), Ref. B13080409100, https://www. jacar.archives.go.jp/aj/meta/listPhoto?LANG=default&BID=

2

11

“Rokoku no Miraiha gaka raichō” [Arrival of Russian Futurist

CODE=B13080409100 [accessed September 15, 2021].

Painters], Tokyo Asashi Shinbun, October 2, 1920 (morning edi-

Ono Morie, “Kaigai zairyū hōjin shokugyōbetsu jinkōhyō

tion), n. p. The most comprehensive publication on Burliuk’s

teishutsukata ni kansuru ken,” Official report to the Ministry

stay in Far Eastern Russia and Japan to date is the exhibition

of Foreign Affairs, August 17, 1922; JACAR, Ref. B13080409100,

catalogue Kyokutō Rosia no modanizumu 1918–1928 (Machida:

fault&BID=F2013081317020808187&ID=M20130813170208081

Machida City Museum of Graphic Arts, 2002). 12

Slavonic Studies 20, nos. 1–2 (Spring–Summer 1986): 111–33.

Back in Paris, Sakazaki told Nakada Sadanosuke that he had visited Germany with Tsuchida and that he had no interest in

13

Bubunova 1886–1983: Kakumei Roshia hatsu modanizumu

ber 8, 1922), in Nakada Sadanosuke, ed. Terakado Rintarō et al.

­Nihon (Machida: Machida City Museum of Graphic Arts, 1995). 14 Letter from Bubnova to Stepanova, May 10, 1923, cited

See pages of Waldens guest book, Berlin 1922, reproduced in

after Uroki postizheniya: Khudozhnik Varvara Bubnova:

The 1st Russian Show: A Commemoration of the Van Diemen

Vospominaniya, stat’i, pis’ma, ed. Irina Kozhevnikova ­ ­(Moscow: Istina i Zhizn, 1994): 243–45.

Exhibition Berlin 1922, ed. by Andrei Nakov et al. (London: Annely Juda Fine Art, 1983), 148–51.

6

15 Varvara Bubnova, trans. Ono Shun’ichi and Ono Eisuke,

For details of their tour, see Tanaka Hisao, ed., “Tsuchida

“Gendai ni okeru roshiya kaiga no kisū ni tsuite,” [On recent

Bakusen no yōroppa kara no shokan (zokuhen)” [Tsuchida

development of painting in Russia], Shisō, no. 13, October

Bakusen’s letters from Europe], Seijō Daigaku bigaku bijutsu-

1922, n. p. For Bubnova’s participation in the 1920 INKhUK de-

shi ronshū, no. 7 (November 1988): 116–27.

bate, see Selim O. Khan-Magomedov, “Early C ­ onstructivism:

Ishimoto was a member of the modernist group of architects

From Representation to Construction,” in Art into Life:

Bunriha (Secessionists). For this group, see the catalogue of

­Russian Constructivism 1914–1932, ed. Richard Andrews and Milena K ­ alinovska (New York: Rizzoli, 1990).

the recent retrospective at the Panasonic Shiodome Museum of Art, Tokyo, and the National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto

16 There were ten photographs showing two works by

Bunriha Kenchikukai 100-nen: kenchiku wa geijustu ka? (Tokyo:

­Stepanova, two by Popova, and six by Rodchenko, including two spatial constructions and a design for a kiosk.

Asahi Sinbunsha, 2020). 7

Nakada and Ishimoto left their signature in the Sturm guest book on August 25, 1922. See pages of Walden’s guest book, Berlin 1922, reproduced in Nakov, The 1st Russian Show, 149.

8

Nakada Sadanosuke, “Ākipenko o tonau” [Visit to Archipenko], Shūkan Asahi 3, no. 6, January 28, 1923, 6.

9

Anon., “Pansune” [Pince-nez] Jiji Shinpō, March 31, 1923 (evening edition), n. p.

164

For Bubnova’s activities in Japan, see the exhibition catalogue

new art there. Nakada Sadanosuke, “Nikki” [Diary] (Decem(Tokyo: Yumani Shobō, 2016), 28.

5

For Burliuk’s activities in Japan, see Omuka Toshiharu, “David Burliuk and the Japanese Avant-garde,” Canadian-American

93&REFCODE=B13080409100 [accessed September 15, 2021].

4

Major papers in Japan reported on his arrival, e.g., Anon.,

F2013081317020808187&ID=M2013081317020808193&REF-

https://www.jacar.archives.go.jp/aj/meta/listPhoto?LANG=de-

3

Burliuk: no. 18 Kosack, no. 19 Am Tisch, no. 20 Portrait (Kamien-

jinkōhyō sōfu no ken,” Official report to the Ministry of For-

Omuka Toshiharu

17

For this exhibition, see “Die Grosse Futuristische Ausstellung in Berlin, März 1922: Verzeichnis der ausgestellten Kunstwerke,” Der Futurismus 1, no. 1, May 1922, 3–5.

18 Murayama Tomoyoshi, Engeki teki jijoden 2 (Tokyo: Tōhō Shuppansha, 1971): 80.

19

H. [Hermann] von Wedderkop, “Internationale Kunstausstel-

29 See the catalogue of Lozowick’s show at Twardy, Archives of

lung in Düsseldorf” [International art exhibition in Dusseldorf],

American Art, https://www.aaa.si.edu/collections/louis-lozowick-papers-9174/subseries-6-1/reel-5898-frames-830-1185.

Der Cicerone 14, no. 13, July 6, 1922, 557. 20 See pages in the address-book of Lissitzky, reproduced in El



30 Ibid.

grapher, ed. Jan Debbaut (Eindhoven: Stedelijk Van Abbe-

31

Kunst (Munich: R. Piper, 1912), 125.

There exists a woodcut invitation card by Murayama in the collection of the Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of Contempor-

32 “einen bewußten, bei ihm sozialen Inhalt,” Anon. [David

ary Art. For a reproduction see Murayama Tomoyoshi no uchū:

Shteren­ berg?], “Zur Einführung” [Introduction], in Erste

subete no boku ga futtō suru, ed. Murayama Tomoyoshi Re-

Russische Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922 (Berlin: Verlag Inter-

search Group (Tokyo: Yomiuri Shimbun, 2012), 73. ­Murayama

nationale Arbeiterhilfe, 1922), 13. See documentation in this ­volume.

also pasted a piece of a poster for the two exhibitions in his collage “As You Like it” Danced by Niddy Impekoven, c. 1922–

33

Museum of Art. 22

Tomoyoshi Murayma, Kandinsukii (Tokyo: Atoriesha, 1924), 13.

23

His return ship was unknown for long but I discovered recently the announcement in a journal for Japanese residents in Brit-

34

own copy is the fifth edition of May 1, 1925. 35

Atorie 2 (8), August 1925, 55. rift für elementare Gestaltung, no. 3, June 1924, 8–13. 37 Murayama Tomoyoshi, Kōseiha kenkyū (Tokyo: Chuō Bijutsusha, 1926), 80–81.

cuted in Berlin. Murayama, Engeki teki jijoden 2, 170. Murayama Tomoyoshi, “Kōseiha hihan” [Critique of Construc-

38 For the organizational history of this exhibition, see Omuka Toshiharu, “Shin Roshiyaten’ to Taishōki no shinkō bijutsu”

tivism], Mizue, no. 235, September 1924, 13.

[New Russian art exhibition and modern art in Taishō Period],

26 Transl. Nobori Shomu, in ---, Kakumeiki no engeki to buyō 27 28

“Kōseiha ni kansuru ichi kōsatsu” (A Study of Constructivism),

36 Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, “Industrielles Bauen,” G: Zeitsch-

24 Murayama recalled 23 pieces of the second Conscious Constructionist exhibition held on June 9 to 10, 1923, were all exe-

Nobori Shomu, Shin Roshiya bijutsu taikan (Tokyo: Shinchōsha, 1925). The first printing was dated February 18, 1925, but my

ain: “Ōrai-ran” [Traffic section], Nichiei Shinshi 8, no. 85, January 1923, 9.

Murayama Tomoyoshi, “Kōseiha ni kansuru ichi kōsatsu” [A study on Constructivism], Atorie 2, no. 8, August 1925, n. p.

23, mixed media on wood plane, 45.5 x 36.2 cm, Setagaya

25

Murayama, “Sugiyuku hyōgenha,” 27. Murayama quoted a passage from Wassily Kandinsky, Über das Geistige in der

museum, 1990), 12. 21

[accessed August 20, 2021].

Lissitzky 1890–1941: Architect, painter, photographer, typo­

(Tokyo: Shinchōsha, 1924), 118–45.

Surabu Kenkyū, no. 35 (1988): 79–107. Exceptions were Natan

Wedderkop, “Internationale Kunstausstellung in Düsseldorf,”

Altman, Aleksandr Drevin, Boris Ender, and a few others.

557.

See Vivian Barnett, “The Russian Presence in the 1924 Venice

Enrico Prampolini, “L’estetica della macchina e l’introspezione

­Biennale,” in The Great Utopia: The Russian and Soviet Avant-

meccanica nell’arte” [The aesthetic of the machine and mech-

Garde, 1915–1932, ed. Bettina-Martine Wolter and Bernhart

anical introspection in art] (1922), Broom, no. 3,October 1922,

Schwenk (New York: Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 1992), 466–73.

235. See also Enrico Prampolini, “L’estetica della macchina e l’introspezione meccanica nell’arte,” De Stijl 5, no. 7, July 1922, 239.

39

Yabe Tomoe, “Shin Rosiya kaiga genshō” [New phenomena of Russian painting], Atorie 4, no. 6, July 1927, 93.

The Impact of Russian Art in Early 1920s Japan

165

OMUKA TOSHIHARU

26

Murayama Tomoyoshi and the Mavo Group

Fig. 1: Cover of Mavo, no. 3, September 1924

166

Omuka Toshiharu

T

he Japanese avant-garde emerged from two major movements: the Futurist Art Association (1920–22) and the Mavo (1923–25). Shaped by their founders Kinoshita Shūichirō and Murayama Tomoyoshi and further enhanced by the presence of Russian artists David Burliuk and Varvara Bubnova in Japan, these movements introduced and promoted international avant-garde practices. The Japanese artist Murayama Tomoyoshi (1901–77) was involved in the introduction and discussion of European modernism in Japan and the founding and activities of the Mavo group during the period 1923 to 1925.1 Murayama grew up in Tokyo, where he attended Tokyo Kaisei Junior High School, a prestigious school for the elite. Among his classmates were such impor­ tant figures as Tosaka Jun (philosopher), Uchida Shōzō (biologist and a life-long friend), and Wadachi Tomoo (his guide to Berlin cultural spots). After graduating from junior high in 1918, he entered Daiichi Kōtō Gakkō (First High School). In 1920, Murayama began to write stories and take lessons at a drawing school. Encouraged by the journalist Hani Motoko, he contributed illustrations to the monthly children’s magazine Manabi no tomo (Friend for Study). He briefly studied literature at Tokyo Imperial University from April to December 1921 and then joined the editorial staff of Manabi no tomo. Murayama left Yokohama for Berlin on January 4, 1922; upon his arrival in the German capital, he was greeted by his former classmate Wadachi. In March, Murayama participated in the Futurist Exhibition at the J. B. Neumann gallery together with Nagano Yoshimitsu, a futurist painter who had come from ­ Paris. At the Sturm gallery, the two met Ruggero ­Vasari, a futurist from Sicily who had a futurist gallery and published the journal Der Futurismus (Futurism). In May, Murayama and Nagano went to Düsseldorf to participate in the First International Exhibition and conference organized by the group Das Junge Rheinland (Young Rhineland). In September, both artists had solo shows at Käte and Emma Twardy’s gallery and bookshop in Berlin. After his return to Japan in February 1923, Murayama began to write articles for art journals and

e­ xhibited his paintings in a series of single exhibitions. In June 1923, he helped found Mavo, a group that introduced new western-style trends into Japanese art: European modernism as experienced by Murayama in Berlin and Futurism as it had already been established in Japan through the Miraiha Bijutsu Kyōkai (Futurist Art Association). The magazine Mavo appeared with four issues edited by Murayama in 1924 and another three issues edited by him together with Okada Tatsuo and Hagiwara Kyōjirō in 1925 (figs. 1–3). Murayama was also involved in the organization of the group’s first and second exhibition in Tokyo in July and August 1923. After the Great Earthquake on September 1, 1923, the Mavo group was reorganized around Murayama. Many of the initial founding members withdrew and new, radical young artists began to flock to Murayama, a young, energetic agitator who embarked on practical activities such as the decoration of the shelters set up for earthquake victims. The following year, 1924, truly became the year of Mavo, with many activities: group entries to an architectural exhibition in April, the publication of the first issue of Mavo in July, and the production of a large painted curtain and interior design for the movie theatre Aoi kan in October. This culminated in Murayama’s stage design for the expressionist play Von Morgen bis Mitternacht (From Morning to Midnight), written by the German dramatist Georg Kaiser, produced successfully by the Tsukiji Little Theatre in December. The group also held a series of solo shows, organized individual dance and group performances, and executed the decorations of public spaces such as restaurants, cafés, and barbershops. Due to internal conflicts, the group eventually disbanded in 1925. Although still doing illustrations for various books and magazines and designing posters inspired by ­Russian Constructivism, Murayama eventually stopped participating in art exhibitions and turned to the ­theatre and stage design. At the end of 1925, he joined the Japan Proletarian Literary Alliance and became a leading playwright for the proletarian theatre, working for the company Kokoroza (Mind) and the more politi­ cally oriented Zen’eiza (Avant-garde Theatre). In 1931, he published a Japanese translation of Erwin Piscator’s Das Politische Theater (The Political Theatre).2

In the wake of the growing militarism associated with the invasion of Manchuria in 1931, proletarian cultural organizations in Japan were forced to disband in 1934. Because of his leftist political commitment and his controversial publications, among them ­Byakuya (White Night, May 1934), Murayama was put under close surveillance and imprisoned three times for as long as twenty-two months between 1930 and 1942. Urged by the authorities, he left Tokyo for a ten-month stay in Korea in March 1945. Prohibited from publishing his writings, he could only draw and held two solo exhibitions, in Tokyo in October 1944 and in Seoul in August 1945.

Fig. 2: Page from Mavo, no. 3, September 1924

Murayama Tomoyoshi and the Mavo Group

167

Fig. 3: Cover of Mavo, no. 6, July 1925

168

Omuka Toshiharu

In the postwar period, Murayama was active as a writer and also continued his work for the theatre until shortly before his death. His 1960–62 newspaper series Shinobi no mono on the struggle of a sixteenth-century hero-criminal against the samurai world, gained him some popularity. He developed it into a stage play and also produced it as a film series. Beginning in 1965, he

sought to relate his theatrical experiences from his birth in serial form in the theatre journal Teatro; four volumes were published during his lifetime and dozens of installments not included in the original volumes were then later published. Murayama’s life itself was a great theatre of twentieth-century Japanese intellectuals.

Notes 1

For an English publication on Mavo, see Gennifer Weisenfeld, Mavo: Japanese Artists and the Avant-Garde, 1905–1931 ­(Berkeley: Universtiy of California Press, 2002).

2

Erwin Piscator, Das Politische Theater (1929), Japanese translation in: Sayoku Gekijōo (Tokyo: Chūō Kōronsha, 1931).

Murayama Tomoyoshi and the Mavo Group

169

Label (with the old address) of the Galerie van Diemen & Co. GmbH on the reverse of a painting from the Berlin exhibition 1922, courtesy of Liubov Pchelkina and Irina Kochergina

The Whereabouts of the Art Works

LIUBOV PCHELKINA, IRINA KOCHERGINA

27

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Collection of the Moscow Museum of Painterly Culture

T

he 1922 First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin is today recognized as one of the most impor­ tant cultural events in Europe with respect to the post-revolutionary Russian avant-garde. Chronologically and politically, its history is closely intertwined with that of the bygone Museum of Painterly Culture (MZhK) in Moscow, an institution whose name today means little to either the museum-going public or the majority of professionals, although it was one of the world’s first state museums of contemporary art when it was set up in 1919. For a long time, the only relevant references to the museum were to be found either in newspaper and journal articles dating back to the 1920s and archive documents of the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (Narkompros) or on a few scattered labels on the reverse of certain paintings. It was not until the 1990s that information on the history of this museum began to appear in professional publications, a time when exhibitions of the Russian avant-garde began taking place both locally and globally.1 The museum enjoyed a ten-year lifespan, from 1919 until 1929, closing its doors just as the Museum of Modern Art in New York was preparing to open. Unlike the Tate, in London, which began collecting modern art in 1917 with funds from private backers, the first museum of contemporary art in Russia was funded only by state resources—for the first (and last) time in the history of Russia, the government was the primary purchaser of groundbreaking contemporary art. The concept of the Museum of Painterly Culture was based on a new idea. It was a public space for exhibitions, but even more importantly, it was an educational center for young artists and a museum that had been created and was under the control of the artists themselves, among them Wassily Kandinsky, Kazimir Malevich, Aleksandr Rodchenko, Vladimir Tatlin, Liubov Popova, and others. It was a unique project not only because its artists were given the opportu­nity to organize it, but because they became the public servants, decision-makers, and experts in the selection process. The new “painterly culture” was a “culture of creative invention”—suddenly a practical knowledge of materials and experiments with them began to play an important role for the artists.

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Collection of the Moscow Museum of Painterly Culture

173

Why this choice on the part of the state to favor “rebel” art? The desire to renew art and life coin­cided with the revolutionary atmosphere and charismatic times that proclaimed the dissolution of the old order and the dawn of universal proletarian happiness—the “futurist” as both revolutionary and pioneer. The new regime promised artists absolute freedom, but encouraged them to remember that art was “a mighty tool to promote ideas, feelings, and sentiments.”2 Early on, cultural policy makers were winningly reminded that “neither the public authorities nor the professional union should consider any of [the contemporary art movements] to be nationally representative [and should instead] provide all manner of support to new artistic explorations […] [as the proletariat] has yet to develop its own artistic criteria.”3 It was in this democratic spirit that the museum came to be in Moscow. This new kind of museum was not only to be a platform for displaying modern (predominantly leftist) art, but also to function as a place of enlightenment—a laboratory for research into the innovative methods of progressive artists and educational enlightenment. The members of the museum’s acquisition commission were mostly left-wing artists, among them Aleksandr Drevin, Robert Falk, Pavel Kuznetsov, Aleksei Morgunov, Popova, and Tatlin. The works they purchased perfectly reflected the current state of art in Soviet Russia. The new collection included not only the work of the most famous artists, but also a broad spectrum of young and unknown names. David ­Shterenberg, the right hand of the People’s Commissar of Enlightenment, Anatoly Lunacharsky, served on the Committee for Organizing Foreign Exhibitions. While organizing the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin, and later Amsterdam, he was also involved with acquisitions and was well familiar with the quality of the art that the Museum Bureau (MB) was purchasing for the new museum in Moscow. The MB worked actively with the regional museums from 1920 to 1922. The Museum of Painterly Culture received its first allotment of 131 works in June 1920. When the MB was closed, in 1922, a number of works were still waiting to be transferred to storage in the museum, which was in the process of moving from Volkhonka to Povarskaya Street 52.4 Shterenberg meanwhile was busy selecting art works for the Berlin

174

Liubov Pchelkina, Irina Kochergina

e­ xhibition. The move was just in time for the creation of a new type of exhibition, one more educational in nature, that demonstrated the new methods (and technologies) of modern painting. While Shteren­ berg’s ­Berlin exhibition was an important international event for contemporary Russian artists, it was no less important for them to have their paintings and works included in the museum’s new exhibition. Only a year later, in 1923, as the Berlin exhibition was being transferred to Amsterdam, the Museum of Painterly Culture moved once more, into the same building as VKhUTEMAS, the state art school, where it re-opened in October 1924. There it remained almost until 1929, its final year, when its collection was incorporated into the main repository of the Tretyakov Gallery (GTG), and the Museum of Painterly Culture was permanently closed.

New and Old Authorship In 2019, the Tretyakov Gallery celebrated the 100th anniversary of the former museum with the exhibition Avant-Garde: List № 1. During preparations for the show, we had the opportunity to carefully examine the reverses of the paintings and examine the unique marks of their individual “biographies” (inscriptions, stamps, labels, etc.). Further research into the paintings shown in the Berlin exhibition was a part of this process. For the centenary exhibition, we reconstructed the ­museum’s final exposition,5 and it became obvious that all of the works that were significant for the ex­position had been retained in Moscow. The works that had been shown in Berlin and Amsterdam were returned in ­November 1924; the crates only being opened in December,6 after which some of the works were then rehung. The catalogue of the Berlin and Amsterdam ex­ hibitions includes only brief captions for the listed art works, making it very hard to identify them. The most important evidence for presence in the Berlin ex­ hibition is the Berlin customs stamp, usually placed on the reverse of the stretcher. These, however, could be replaced later, so that the information was not always preserved. In some cases, we found information about the stamp in earlier inscriptions.

Fig. 1: Unidentified artist, Female Portrait, not later than 1922 Fig. 2: Natalia Goncharova,* Leaves, not later than 1922 * Data provided by Volsk Museum of Local Lore. It does not coincide with the documents and the opinion of the Goncharova experts and the authors of this essay. It should be read as a work by an unidentified artist.

Fig. 3: Olga Rozanova,* Model, not later than 1918 * Data provided by Volsk Museum of Local Lore. It does not coincide with the ­documents and the opinion of Rozanova experts and the authors of this essay. It should be read as a work by an unidentified artist.

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Collection of the Moscow Museum of Painterly Culture

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The most useful documents were the “List of the paintings and drawings from the State Museum Bureau transferred to D. Sterenberg for the Foreign Exhibition”7 and Act no. 349, dated December 16 (18?), 1924, on the transfer of art works from Berlin to the State Museum Fond (GMF) compiled by the artist Nikolai Denisovsky.8 We identified the numbers assigned to the works in order to compare and find them in the museum’s documents. One of the more interesting cases were three paintings—anonymous student works according to the MZhK documentation—whose presence in the ­Berlin exhibition was unequivocally confirmed by Act no. 349.9 During preparations for the anniversary exhibition of the Museum of Painterly Culture, we attempted to trace these works and made requests to the provincial museums to which they had been sent after the MZhK’s dissolution in 1929. The goal was to update or confirm certain information on the works’ sizes and the inscriptions on the reverses of what we still considered to be anonymous student works. We were thus surprised to learn that each of these works had in the course of time acquired an attribution to very wellknown avant-garde painters. The first, Female Portrait, is in the collection of the Ivanovo Regional Art Museum (fig. 1). A fragmentary signature had led it to be mistakenly attributed to Yuri Annenkov. In older documents, only two of the three letters were described: Ю А. The last letter, Ф, was missing for unknown reasons. It was suggested at the time that these two letters might possibly be the initials of the artist Yuri Annenkov. This was noted in the inventory book initially with a question mark, but in the course of time, the attribution took hold. Only in 2019 was it removed thanks to the MZhK documents and an expert opinion by Anna Dyakonitsyna, a specialist in Annenkov’s art from the Tretyakov Gallery. The Ivanovo Regional Art Museum agreed that the authorship of Female Portrait must for now be recognized as “unidentified artist with the initials Ю А Ф” (alternatively the initials can be read as Ю А, with the letter Ф as part of a name or surname). The second painting, Leaves, is in the Volsk Museum of Local Lore (fig. 2). It had been attributed to Natalia Goncharova. Our colleagues Irina Vakar and Evgeniya Ilyukhina from the Tretyakov Gallery and Elena B ­ asner,

176

Liubov Pchelkina, Irina Kochergina

who are experts on Goncharova’s art, expressed the firm opinion that this work was not by G ­ oncharova. Unfortunately, the Volsk Museum of ­Local Lore has chosen to disregard the information from the primary MZhK documents and the expert conclusions on the currently attributed authorship. The third work, Model, is also in the Volsk Museum of Local Lore collection (fig. 3).10 The painting had already been mistakenly attributed to Olga Rozanova in 1936, when, in the act of transferring works from Tretyakov Gallery to the Volsk Museum, it was wrongly recorded as a work by Rozanova. We provided the Volsk Museum with the same set of information: the initial MZhK documents indicating the anonymous authorship of the painting, and a negative expert opinion on the possibility of attribution to Rozanova. As in the previous case, however, the museum declined to accept this information and turned down our offer of a chemical analysis. Based on the records in the MZhK documentation and, as we found later, Act no. 349, these three anonymous student works were a part of the Berlin exhibition and are listed in the catalogue in the section SCHÜLERARBEITEN (work by students). The titles in the catalogue closely correspond to the depictions in the works: no. 191, Landschaft (landscape) for the landscape Leaves; no. 193, Mädchen bei der Toilette (girl at the dressing table) for Female Portrait (the woman is sitting at a dressing table with combs, mirror, powder, etc.); no. 194 Akt (nude) for Model. One only needs to place the three paintings side by side to discover intriguing similarities, first in terms of color: the prevailing colors are a cold grey, dark green, and a yellow ochre. We also see similarities in the formal treatment and use of sharp edges, especially in depicting the elbows and the haircut in Female Portrait and Model as well as in depicting the ground in Model and Leaves. Finally, one must consider the signatures: the Ю А Ф on Female Portrait looks pretty much the same as the А Ю on Model. Accordingly, we conclude that all three paintings are by the same artist. The only information we have for now are the initials: Ю А Ф or Ю А. Work on identification is still continuing.

Anonymous Work of the Vitebsk School Thanks to Act no. 349 we can now confirm that one more problematic work from the MZhK collection was shown in the Berlin exhibition: MZhK inventory ­number 333, which we found in both Act no. 349 of 1924 on the transfer of art works from Berlin to the GMF11 and in Act no. 786 from April 13, 1929, on the transfer of art works from GTG to the Middle ­Volga Regional Museum, and also in the inventory book of the ­Samara Regional Art Museum, where it is now kept.12 In the MZhK documents and Act no. 349, the painting is described as an anonymous work of the Vitebsk School, but in the Samara Regional Art M ­ useum it is re­presented as a work by Kazimir ­Malevich, Living in a Big Hotel (fig. 4).13 In Act no. 786 of 1929, the work was listed as Vitebsk School. In Books and Brochures of the City Museum in Samara, the work is described as follows: “Unidentified artist. Vitebsk School.” Above the words “unidentified artist,” is an inscription in red pencil: “Malevich K.S. ?” According to the staff members at the Samara Regional Art Museum, this annotation was probably made in 1937 by Mark Filosofov (1892–1938), a former researcher at the State Hermitage and head of the Art Department of the Kuibyshev Regional Museum of Local Lore, where the work was kept in the 1930s. At some point thereafter, the work was recorded in both the acquisitions book and the inventory book of the Samara Regional Art Museum as a picture by Malevich, and so things remain—this despite various experts, including Irina Vakar and Tatyana Mikhienko of the Tretyakov Gallery, who have called into question the attribution to Malevich due to stylistic discrepancies, not to mention the unlikely scenario that Malevich, who was one of the founders of the Museum of Painterly Culture and took an active part in museum life, would have accepted the representation of his own painting as an anonymous work of the Vitebsk School. Here, too, the Samara Regional Art Museum declined to accept either the information we provided or our offer of a chemical analysis. We assume this work was listed in the Berlin catalogue in the section SCHULE VON VITEBSK as no. 197 or no. 198, Kubismus or no. 196, Komposition. We anticipate that further efforts in the reconstruction of the First Russian Art Exhibition will

surely improve the provenance of numerous art works and broaden the list of artists who were privileged to participate in such a significant cultural event. This research is not finished, but in this publication, we wish to present the list of works that ended up in the MZhK in Moscow that have been identified as being shown in the First Russian Art Exhibition.

Fig. 4: Kazimir Malevich,* Living in a Big Hotel, 1913–14 *Data provided by the Samara Regional Art Museum. It does not coincide with the documents and the opinion of Malevich experts and the authors of this essay. It should be read as a work by an unidentified artist.

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177

List of the paintings from the MZhK Collection that have been identified as exhibits in the First Russian Art Exhibition (1922) The determination is on the basis of the following points of reference: the presence of the works in Act no. 349 from December 18, 1924, on the transfer of works from Berlin to GMF, which contains the MZhK numbers coinciding with the numbers of the paintings; the presence of the works in the “List of the paintings and drawings from the State Museum Bureau transferred to D ­ . Steren­ berg for the Foreign Exhibition;” the presence of a stamp of Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin and/or a label from Galerie van Diemen & Co. on reverse of the works. Natan Altman (1889–1970) Russia: Labor, 1921 Wood, enamel, oil, metal, charcoal, and graphite powder on paper, 98.5 x 49 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. ЖС-696 Provenance: From 1926–27 GMF; before 1929 MZhK Acquisition: 1929 (1934) from MZhK Berlin catalogue 1922: No. 1 Rußland (Polychromischer Gegenstand) (see fig. p. 92)

Vladimir Baranov-Rossine (1888–1944) Composition, 1917–18 Oil on canvas, 71 x 52 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 10949 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 31а/349) Acquisition: 1929 from MZhK Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 9 or no. 10 Form und Farbe

Non-objective, 1918 Oil on canvas, 72 x 52 cm Saratov State Art Museum A.N. Radishchev, Inv. ВЖ-100 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 128/363); 1929 GTG Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 9 or no. 10 Form und Farbe

Valentina Brumberg (1899–1975) Landscape with a House, 1922 Oil on canvas, 63 x 52 cm On the canvas stretcher a stamp of “Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin”

178

Liubov Pchelkina, Irina Kochergina

Krasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko, Inv. Ж-405 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 602/336), 1929 GTG Acquisition: 1929 from GTG not in Berlin catalogue, 1922. Amsterdam catalogue, 1923: Nos. 597–598 Landschap

Aleksandr Drevin (1889–1938) Non-objective Painting (Painterly Composition), 1921 Oil and pencil on canvas, 124 x 95.5 cm On the canvas stretcher a half-effaced stamp of “Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin” State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 11964 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 28/419) Acquisition: 1929 from MZhK Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 28 or no. 29 Komposition

Pavel Filonov (1883–1941) Composition: Ships, 1913–15 Oil on canvas, 117 x 154.5 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 11965 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 436) Acquisition: 1929 from the MZhK Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 44 or no. 45 Komposition (see fig. p. 110)

Andrei Goncharov (1903–79) Three Figures,1922 Oil on canvas, 88 x 104 cm Saratov State Art Museum A.N. Radishchev, Inv. Ж-1091 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 601/405), 1929 GTG Acquisition: 1929 from the GTG not in Berlin catalogue, 1922 Amsterdam catalogue, 1923: No. 602b 2 Komposities

Aleksandr Ivanov (1888–1948) Still Life, 1919 Oil on canvas, 71 x 52.5 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 10948 Provenance: 1919–20 MB; 1920–29 MZhK (No. 2853/60) Acquisition: 1929 from MZhK Supposedly, exhibited at the First Russian Art Exhibition 1922 Berlin. Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 60–63 Stilleben

Landscape, 1920–21

Pregnant Joy, 1920

Oil on canvas, 54.5 x 44.4 cm On the canvas stretcher a label from Galerie van Diemen & Co. Volsk Museum of Local Lore, Inv. Ж 56 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 33a/350); 1929 (1931)–1936 GTG Acquisition: 1936 (?) from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 64 Landschaft

Oil on canvas, 50 x 37.5 cm On the canvas stretcher a half-effaced stamp of “Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin” Volsk Museum of Local Lore, Inv. Ж 59 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 608/308); 1929–36 GTG Acquisition: 1936 (?) from GTG not in Berlin catalogue, 1922 Amsterdam catalogue, 1923: No. 614 5 Komposities

Still Life, 1920 Oil on canvas, 57 x 44 cm Krasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko, Inv. Ж-407 Provenance: After 1924–1929 MZhK (No. 29a/345); 1929 GTG Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 60–63 Stilleben

Konstantin Medunetsky (1899–1936) Color Construction No. 7, 1921 Oil on canvas, 67 x 63 cm On the reverse a stamp of “Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin” Krasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko, Inv. Ж-406 Provenance: From 1921 (?) MB; after 1924–29 MZhK (No. 105/326); 1929 GTG Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 136 Konstruktion or no. 137 Farbige Konstruktion

Viktor Palmov (1888–1929) Morning, 1919–20 Oil and tinfoil on canvas, 50 x 37 cm On the reverse a stamp of “Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin” State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 11963 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 609/310) Acquisition: 1929 from MZhK not in Berlin catalogue, 1922 Amsterdam catalogue, 1923: No. 614 5 Komposities

Composition with a Red Rider, 1920 Oil on canvas, foil, 62.5 x 53.3 cm On the canvas stretcher a half-effaced stamp of “Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin” State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg, Inv. ЖБ-1384 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 611/323); 1929 GTG Acquisition: 1929 from GTG not in Berlin catalogue, 1922 Amsterdam catalogue, 1923: No. 614 5 Komposities

Composition with a Male Figure, 1921 Oil on canvas, foil, 64.5 x 60 cm On the canvas stretcher a half-effaced stamp of “Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin” State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg, Inv. ЖБ-1451 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 18a/322); 1929 GTG Acquisition: 1929 from GTG not in Berlin catalogue, 1922 Amsterdam catalogue, 1923: No. 614 5 Komposities

David Shterenberg (1881–1948) Prostokvasha (Sour Milk), 1919 Oil on canvas, 89 x 71 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 11922 Provenance: From 1920 MB; 1920–29 MZhK (No.1630/53) Acquisition: 1929 from MZhK Supposedly, Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 214 Marmortisch

Pastoral, 1919–20 Oil, gold leaf, and tinfoil on canvas, 52 x 40 cm On the canvas stretcher a half-effaced stamp of “Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin” State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 10979 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 612/309) Acquisition: 1929 from MZhK not in Berlin catalogue, 1922 Amsterdam catalogue, 1923: No. 614 5 Komposities

Writing Desk, 1920* Oil on canvas, 46 x 55 cm State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg, Inv. ЖБ-1642 Provenance: 1920–29 MZhK (No. 695/50); 1929 GTG Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Supposedly, Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 212 Brief * This date was provided by the State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg, but the work was, in fact, acquired by the Museum Bureau already in 1919.

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Collection of the Moscow Museum of Painterly Culture

179

Nadezhda Udaltsova (1885/86–1961) Still Life, 1919

Unidentified artist Decorative Motif: Lad, before 1922

Oil on canvas, 92 x 108 cm On the canvas stretcher a stamp of “Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin” State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg, Inv. ЖБ-1697 Provenance: After 1924–1929 MZhK (No. 629/412); 1929 GTG Acquisition: 1929 from the State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 234 Stilleben Amsterdam catalogue, 1923: No. 620 Kompositie

Oil on veneer, 42 x 32 cm (oval) State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. Apx. Ж-644 Provenance: Before 1922 MB (?); after 1924–29 MZhK (No. 735/518) Acquisition: 1929 (1931) from MZhK Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 588 Arbeiten des dekorativen ­Institutes in Petersburg, 9 hölzerne Teller (fig. 6)

Unidentified artist Decorative Motif: Peasant, before 1922 Oil on veneer, 41.5 x 32 cm (oval) State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. Apx. Ж-643 Provenance: Before 1922 MB (?); after 1924–29 MZhK (No. 734/519) Acquisition: 1929 (1931) from MZhK Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 588 Arbeiten des dekorativen Institutes in Petersburg, 9 hölzerne Teller (fig. 5)

Fig. 5: Unidentified artist, Decorative Motif: Peasant, before 1922

180

Liubov Pchelkina, Irina Kochergina

Unidentified artist Study (Butcher’s Row), before 1922 Oil on veneer, 20 x 30 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. Apx. Ж-646 Provenance: Before 1922 MB (?); after 1924–29 MZhK (No. 15a/398) Acquisition: 1929 (1931) from MZhK not in Berlin catalogue, 1922 (?)

Fig. 6: Unidentified artist, Decorative Motif: Lad, before 1922

Unidentified artist Female Portrait, not later than 1922 Oil and collage on paper mounted on cardboard, 73 x 58 cm Ivanovo Regional Art Museum, Inv. ЖС-769 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 193/388); 1929 GTG Acquisition: 1929 Ivanovo-Voznesensk Provincial Museum; 1930–39 Museum of the Ivanovo Industrial Region Museum; 1939–61 Ivanovo Regional Museum of Local Lore Acquisition: 1961 from Ivanovo Regional Museum of Local Lore Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 193 Schülerarbeiten, Mädchen bei der Toilette (fig. 1)

Natalia Goncharova* (1881–1962) Leaves, not later than 1922 Oil on cardboard, 92.3 x 69.4 cm Volsk Museum of Local Lore, Inv. Ж 55 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 198/382); 1929 (1931)–1936 GTG Acquisition: 1936 (?) from the Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 191 Schülerarbeiten, Landschaft (fig. 2) *Data provided by Volsk Museum of Local Lore. It does not coincide with the documents and the opinion of the Goncharova experts and the authors of this essay. It should be read as a work by an unidentified artist.

Olga Rozanova* (1886–1918) Model, not later than 1918 Oil on cardboard, 48.5 x 53.3 cm On the reverse there were a stamp of “Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin” and a label from Galerie van Diemen & Co Volsk Museum of Local Lore, Inv. Ж 62 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 194/346); 1929 (1931)–1936 GTG Acquisition: 1936 (?) from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 194 Schülerarbeiten, Akt (fig. 3)

Unidentified artist Barques, 1930* Oil on cardboard, 25.5 x 34.5 cm Volsk Museum of Local Lore, Inv. Ж 57 Provenance: Until 1929 MZhK (No. 192/366); 1929 (1931)– 1936 GTG Acquisition: 1936 (?) from GTG not in Berlin catalogue, 1922 * This date was provided by the Volsk Museum of Local Lore, but the work was, in fact, shown in the 1922 Berlin exhibition and received by the MZhK prior to 1929.

*Data provided by Volsk Museum of Local Lore. It does not coincide with the documents and the opinion of Rozanova experts and the authors of this essay. It should be read as a work by an unidentified artist.

Fig. 7: Lev Tsiperson (?) [unidentified artist], Cubism, 1920s

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Collection of the Moscow Museum of Painterly Culture

181

Unidentified artist Vitebsk School – Lev Tsiperson (?) Cubism, 1920s Wood, oil, metal, collage, 36 x 34.2 cm Tomsk Regional Art Museum, Inv. Ж-708 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 39a/315); 1929 GTG; 1929–30 Tomsk District Museum of Local Lore; 1930–44 Tomsk Area Museum; 1944–82 Tomsk Regional Museum of Local Lore Acquisition: 1982 from Tomsk Regional Museum of Local Lore Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 197–98 Schule von Witebsk, Kubismus (fig. 7)

Unidentified artist Vitebsk School Non-objective Painting, 1920s Oil on canvas, 70.3 x 50.3 cm On the reverse a half-effaced stamp of “Zollamt Anhalter BHF Berlin” Voronezh Regional Art Museum (lost during Second World War) Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 51a/367); 1929 GTG; 1929–33 Voronezh State Museum of History and Culture (Local Lore)

Acquisition: 1933 from the Voronezh State Museum of History and Culture (Local Lore) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Schule von Witebsk No. 196 Kompo­ sition or nos. 197–98 Kubismus

Kazimir Malevich* Living in a Big Hotel, 1913–14 Oil on canvas mounted on canvas, 108 x 71 cm Samara Regional Art Museum, Inv. Ж-431 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK (No. 23a/333); 1929 GTG; 1929 Middle Volga Regional Museum; 1929–35 Middle Volga Regional Museum of Local Lore; 1935–36 Kuibyshev Regional Museum of Local Lore; 1936–37 Kuibyshev Regional ­Museum of Local Lore Acquisition: 1937 from Kuibyshev Regional Museum of Local Lore Berlin catalogue, 1922: Schule von Witebsk No. 196 Kompo­ sition or nos. 197–98 Kubismus (fig. 4) *Data provided by the Samara Regional Art Museum. It does not coincide with the documents and the opinion of Malevich experts and the authors of this essay. It should be read as a work by an unidentified artist.

Notes 1

Svetlana Dzhafarova, “The Creation of the Museum of Painter-

5

Istoriya bez kupyur” [The Moscow Museum of Painterly Cul-

garde, 1915–1932, ed. Bettina-Martine Wolter and Bernhart

ture: Uncut history], in Pchelkina and Kochergina, Аvangard Spisok, 8–33.

Schwenk (New York: Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 1992), 474–81. 2

6

686, Op. 1, Ed. khr. 39.

zhivopisnoi kul’tury, ed. --- and Irina Kochergina (Moscow:

7

Moscow, RGALI, F. 665, Op. 1. Ed. khr. 8, L. 145–47.

Gosudarstvennaya Tret’yakovskaya galereya, 2019), 6.

8

Moscow, RGALI, F. 686, Op. 1, Ed. khr. 39, L. 78, 79. See documentation in this volume.

Anatolii Lunacharskii, “Ob osnovakh politiki v oblasti iskusst­ va” [On the fundamentals of policy in the field of art], in

9

Pchelkina and Kochergina, Аvangard Spisok, 100, 210, 263.

Sovetskoe iskusstvo za 15 let: Materialy i dokumentatsiya, ed.

10

Model, (MZhK No. 194/346), oil on cardboard, 48.5 x 53.3 cm,

11

Moscow, RGALI, F. 686, Op. 1, Ed. khr. 39, L. 78. See documen-

Inv. Ж 62; ibid., 210.

Ivan Matsa, L. Reinhardt, and Lazar Rempel’ (Мoscow: Leningrad: Ogiz-Izogiz, 1933), 57–58. 4

tation in this volume.

Due to an acute financial crisis in country, by the end of 1921, financing for the MB’s purchasing activities had almost

12

Pchelkina and Kochergina, Аvangard Spisok, 155.

stopped. Without the functions of asset acquisition or the or-

13

Living in a Big Hotel, oil on canvas mounted on canvas, 108 х 71

ganization of new museums, the MB lost the meaning of its existence.

182

List of accepted items from the Berlin exhibition, compiled by Nikolai Denisovsky, December 18, 1924. Moscow, RGALI, F.

Liubov Pchelkina and Irina Kochergina, “Оt sostavitelei” [From the editors], in Аvangard spisok No 1: K 100-letiyu muzeya

3

Liubov Pchelkina, “Moskovskiy muzei zhivopisnoi kult’ury:

ly Culture,” in The Great Utopia: The Russian and Soviet avant-

Liubov Pchelkina, Irina Kochergina

cm, Inv. Ж-431.

IRINA KARASIK

28

Protests about the Selection of Works from the Petrograd Museum of Artistic Culture

A

mong the many works sent to Berlin for the First Russian Art Exhibition were 59 from the Petrograd Museum of Artistic Culture (MKhK). Judging by the extant documents, the ­selection of these works was made by David Shterenberg himself. In the act dated April 13, 1922, 59 works are listed, among them 10 paintings, some prints, and mostly drawings.1 The nineteen artists included were Alexandre Benois, Osip Braz, Lev Bruni, Marc Chagall, Sergei Chekhonin, Aleksandr ­ ­ Cherkesov, Mstislav ­ Dobuzhinsky, Pavel Filonov, Vladimir ­Kozlinsky, Nikolai Kulbin, Nikolai Lapshin, Vladimir Lebedev, Aleksandr Matveev, Pyotr Miturich, Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin, Ivan Puni, David Shterenberg, Nikolai Sokolov, and Nikolai Tyrsa. These were mostly Petrograd-based, not-so-radical modernist artists and “loners” such as Chagall, Filonov, Petrov-Vodkin, and Shterenberg. Of the artists’ groups represented in the selection, one finds Mir iskusstva (World of Art) and, in particular, the local avant-garde artists who were part of the Union of New Trends. The Union of New Trends was founded in 1921 under the leadership of Vladimir Tatlin with the goal of consolidating the “leftist forces” of Petrograd.2 Its contours were rather vague, its structure fluid; the socalled central group included Bruni, Lapshin, Lebedev, ­Miturich, and Tyrsa. The artists’ group was quite influential within the Petrograd art scene, however—in order to join the Professional Union of Artists (­SORABIS), applicants required certification from them that their work was well known and of a “serious nature.”3 The professional and public legitimation of “leftist” artists in Petrograd was thus largely dependent on the Union of New Trends, and so it was no coincidence that, after their move to Petrograd in fall 1922, Kazimir Malevich and his students began their “conquest” of the new city by attempting to join the organization.4 Shterenberg’s selection and the general decision to appropriate these works from the Museum of ­Artistic Culture were both widely criticized by artists in Petrograd. The museum’s collegium opposed the release of the works; its members viewed Shterenberg’s ­methods of organizing the exhibition unprincipled and the list of works as non-representative.5 At its general

Protests about the Selection of Works from the Petrograd Museum of Artistic Culture

183

meeting on May 2, 1922, the Union of New Trends approved a letter of appeal on behalf of 62 artists. At the time, the desired works had been requested but not yet released by the museum. Shterenberg’s representative, Ivan Kraitor, signed for their delivery only on May 5, thus, hypothetically at least, there was still a chance for appeal. In the letter the artists ordered the works’ “removal from the exhibition and return to the museum” and proposed that Petrograd artists should travel to Moscow “in order to discuss the problem in more depth and allow […] all to reach a fair solution.”6 Despite their protest, they supported the idea of an international exhibition, wished to discuss the organizational requirements, and proposed solutions to the problems they saw. Why were the Petrograd artists so unhappy? Certainly, because both they and their newly founded organization had been disdainfully excluded from the preparations for such an important exhibition. There was also the absence of adequate guarantees regarding the competence of the organizers and the security of the works to be loaned out. Finally, it was the perfunctory manner in which the works were selected, without the participation of neither the museum staff nor the artists. This is what most upset the artists—the indifference to their interests. The only acceptable remedy was clear: the regime of “peremptory orders” had to be replaced by a process of dialogue between the authorities and the artists. The protest initially achieved little; the requested works were shipped in accordance with the provided lists, and no one was summoned to Moscow for discussion. Also stepping in to protect the interests of the museum was the Petrograd Department of Scientific and Scientific-Artistic Institutions (PUNU), to which the Museum of Artistic Culture was subordinate. In a letter addressed to Anatoly Lunacharsky, the special status of the works Shterenberg had requested was noted: “they had been selected exclusively for this museum with a special purpose, […] [and they are essential as] the museum is interested in organizing the drawing department.”7 Most likely the financial aspects of the exhibition were known—that the works were being offered for sale and any proceeds were to be used for famine relief. Thus, the main concern was that the works might never be returned. The letter specifically

184

Irina Karasik

requested “that the specified works should not be sold at the exhibition and that upon completion, all items from the compiled inventory should be returned to Petrograd and given to the Museum of Artistic Culture.”8 It must be noted in retrospect that these fears were not unfounded, as the works mentioned were in fact not returned, despite the matter being raised several times by the museum. Protocol no. 8 from the museum’s collegium, dated January 11, 1924, states: “K.S. Malevich informed us about the business trip of P.A. Mansurov to Moscow. He was instructed to find out what happened to the paintings, both museum and private, given to D.P. Shterenberg for the Berlin e­xhibition. K.S. Malevich read a note from D.P. Shteren­berg, in which the latter notifies P.A. Mansurov that he gave all the works to comrade Grinberg and that he will not return them before spring.”9 Meanwhile the exhibits were still abroad, having been sent back to Berlin and deposited “at the Bureau of the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment” after the exhibition in Amsterdam.10 It was not until November 1924 that the works (those not sold) were returned to Russian soil; the following month, they entered the Central Repository of the State Museum Fund (GMF), and in the period from 1925 to 1928, they were subsequently distributed to 35 regional museums.11 The Petrograd Museum of Artistic Culture, however, was not among them. Only a few of these works can be traced any further.12 In response to criticisms about the organization of the Berlin exhibition, Lunacharsky pointed to the short deadline for organizing the show—roughly six months. Preparations, he argued, were intentionally expedited and “based on our purchases [for the State Museum Fund], which were mainly aimed at helping Russian artists in the most difficult years.”13 He noted that many of the best works had already been distributed to the regional museums and thus were no longer available. In fact, plans for “exporting the exhibition of artistic and artistic-industrial works of the Republic over the revolutionary years,” prepared by Shterenberg, had begun as early as 1921.14 We know this because in his letter dated January 22, 1921, El Lissitzky informed Malevich about preparations for such an exhibition.15 Moreover, not only had the ideological contours of the event been outlined, but practical steps were also being taken. In his letter, Lissitzky further reported that

Varvara Stepanova, apparently already involved at this stage, had asked about delivering the materials from UNOVIS (The Advocates of New Art). On February 16, 1921, Malevich wrote a letter to Shterenberg, in which, referring to the rumors that had reached him about the upcoming exhibition, he stipulated the conditions for his participation.16 In any event, in 1921, no such exhibition abroad took place, either in Berlin or anywhere else. For the 1922 exhibition in Berlin, further prepa­ rations and additional diplomatic efforts and logistics work had to be accomplished, but it was hardly fair or accurate for Lunacharsky to suggest that the show at the Galerie van Diemen was being organized from scratch. In other words, the justification of a tight deadline can hardly explain the accepted model of the exhibition’s make-up and selection of works, which came mainly

from the State Museum Fund. However, it reveals that it was easier to collect works from state collections such as the Petrograd Museum of Artistic Culture instead of the provincial museums. Still, Lunacharsky was forced to come up with excuses; he even finally admitted that “really, strictly speaking, the exhibition was arranged incorrectly,”17 although he immediately added that there was no other way out: “if we had waited for the time and opportunity to arrange [the exhibition] correctly, we would never have done it and would not have had the success that has already been determined.”18 The history recounted here is, of course, only a small part of the larger story of the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin, but such details do help to illuminate the larger picture.

Notes 1

Berlin. 1922: Materials for the history of Soviet-German artistic

St. Petersburg, TsGALI SPb, F. 244, Op.1, D. 8, L. 91–92. In most

relations], Sovetskoe iskusstvoznanie, no. 1 (1983): 350.

cases, the titles are given, but in some instances generic descriptions such as “drawings,” “sketches,” “graphic works”

11

ka russkogo iskusstva’ Berlin. 1922 god” [“First Exhibition of

are used, which make it difficult to identify the catalogue en-

Russian Art” Berlin 1922], Iskusstvoznanie, no. 2 (2003), 636.

tries. 2

3

Natal’ya Avtonomova, “‘Pervaya khudozhestvennaya vystav-

For more details see Olga Shikhireva, “K istorii ‘Obedineniya

12

See, e.g., Chagall’s painting Mania Cutting Bread (1914) repro-

novykh techenii v iskusstve:’ Stat’ya s prilozheniem arkhivnykh

duced in the exhibition catalogue as “Die Hausfrau” (no. 25).

materyalov” [On the history of the “Association of new trends

It was sold to the gallery Tannhauser before it entered the

in art:” Article including archival materials], in Russkii avan-

collection of M. Ganapolsky in Paris around 1950. The Musée

gard: Problemy reprezentatsii i interpretatsii 3, ed. Evgeniya

National Marc Chagall in Nice bought the painting at Christie’s

Petrova (St. Petersburg: Palace Editions, 2001), 34–35, 39.

in 2001. I wish to thank Tamara Karandasheva, member of

Irina Karasik, “Lev Yudin: Perepiska s druz’yami” [Lev Yudin:

the Marc Chagall Committee, for this information. For further

Correspondence with friends], in Arkhiv N.I. Khardzhieva:

works from the Petrograd artists see Avtonomova, “‘Pervaya

­Russkii avangard: Materialy i dokumenty iz sobraniya RGALI 2,

khudozhestvennaya vystavka russkogo iskusstva’,” nos. 6095,

ed. Andrei Sarab’yanov et. al. (Moscow: DEFI, 2018), 178.

6102 (Osip Braz), 6100 (Lev Bruni), 6118, 6119 (Marc Chagall), 6151 (Nikolai Kulbin), 6096 (Nikolai Lapshin).

4 Ibid. 5 See Protokoly zasedaniya Postoyannoi komissii MKhK;

13

Anatolii Lunacharskii, “Russkaya vystavka v Berline” [Russian Exhibition in Berlin], Izvestiya VTSIK, December 2, 1922, n. p.

St. Petersburg, TsGALI SPb, F. 244, Op.1, D. 6, L. 7. 6

Ibid., L. 32.

14

7

St. Petersburg, TsGALI SPb, F. 2555, Op.1, D. 375, L. 34b.

15 Irina Vakar and Tat’yana Mikhienko, ed., Malevich o sebe: Sovremenniki o Maleviche. Pis’ma, dokumenty, vospominaniya,

8 Ibid. 9

Lapshin, “Pervaya vystavka russkogo iskusstva,” 328.

kritika 1 (Moscow: RA, 2004), 136.

St. Petersburg, TsGALI SPb, F. 2555, Op.1, D. 647, L. 90.

10 See Vladimir Lapshin, “Pervaya vystavka russkogo iskusstva

16

Ibid., 136–37.

Berlin. 1922 god: Materialy k istorii sovetsko-germanskikh khu-

17

Lunacharskii, “Russkaya vystavka v Berline”.

dozhestvennykh svyazei” [The first exhibition of Russian art.

18 Ibid.

Protests about the Selection of Works from the Petrograd Museum of Artistic Culture

185

NATALIA AVTONOMOVA

29

Archival Research on the Paintings and Graphic Works Shown in Berlin in 1922

T

he problems associated with the First Russian Art Exhibition at the Galerie van Diemen in Berlin in 1922 have not lost their relevance and continue to arouse interest among specialists and researchers of the Russian avant-garde. To date, the exact composition, number of works exhibited, and identity of all participants have not been determined; most importantly, the fate of many of the works exhibited still remains unknown. The 1922 exhibition catalogue contains only sparse information. For the artists, we have only their surnames; titles of art works are in many cases generic, such as “landscape,” “still life,” “composition,” “Suprematism,” “architectural project,” or “sketch for a theatre costume.” Questions regarding the specific makeup of the exhibition are further complicated by the fact that, in December 1922, David Shterenberg selected additional works to be included, as the Russian organizers were still hoping the exhibition would travel to other desti­ nations in Europe. Therefore, 193 paintings and graphic works, as well as sculptures, theatrical decorations, porcelain, and pieces of glass, mostly from younger artists and students, were added to the exhibition.

Inventory Book No. 2

This essay is an edited and extended translation of Natal’ya Avtonomova, “‘Pervaya khudozhestvennaya vystavka russkogo iskusstva’ Berlin. 1922 god” (“First Art Exhibition of Russian Art,” Berlin 1922) Iskusstvoznanie, no. 2 (2003): 636–46.

Fig. 1: Aristarkh Lentulov, Kremlin [City Landscape], 1919–20

186

Natalia Avtonomova

After Berlin, the exhibition travelled on to Amsterdam, where it was shown at the Stedelijk Museum from April 28 to May 28, 1923.1 Thereafter, with the exception of any works that had been sold, the exhibition inventory was brought back to Berlin and deposited at the International Bureau of the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (Narkompros).2 In accordance with Act no. 349 of the German-Russian Partnership (IZO Deputra),3 Nikolai Denisovsky arranged for the art works to finally be returned to Russia by the end of 1924. In Moscow, 116 paintings and 196 graphic works from the Berlin exhibition were temporarily held at the Central Repository of the State Museum Fund (GMF), located on Sadovo-Chernogryatskaya Street No. 6. Upon their return to the GMF, all works were recorded in Inventory Book No. 2, Division I “Paintings 1923–1927” (Inv. 6091–6229, with interruptions),

and Division II “Graphic Works” (Inv. 8191–8413, with interruptions) with the same inventory numbers they had been assigned at the time of admission to the exhibition. From the Central Repository, the works were then either returned to the artists or else redistributed to any one of several regional museums throughout the Soviet Union. The inventory book and related documents are today stored in the Russian State Archive of Literature and Art, Moscow (RGALI). They confirm that 102 paintings were permanently transferred to 35 largely regional museums between 1925 and 1928. After 1928, five more museums received works that had originally been included in the 1922 Berlin show. The archival data further reveals that 14 works were returned to the artists, as in the case of Kazimir ­Malevich, Ivan Kliun, and Ilya Mashkov. Each work transferred out of the repository was marked with the stamp “vydano” (issued).4 The geographical distribution was widespread: along with the State Tretyakov Gallery (GTG) in Moscow, works were sent to Perm, Kaluga, Saratov, Vyatka, Yaroslavl, Nizhny-Novgorod, and Krasnodar as well as Baku, Kyiv, and Kharkiv. The lists of works for the regional museums were compiled separately. The documents also list the names of the authorized representatives who took possession of the works: for example, for Krasnodar, it was R ­ omuald Voitsik; for the Tretyakov Gallery the scientific secretary Aleksandr Skvortsov; and for Perm, Nikolai S­erebryakov. The additional works that had been added to the exhibition in December 1922 were also returned to the GMF and later to the artists. Unfortunately, the acts authorizing their return do not contain any additional information—only their inventory numbers from the list compiled when the works for the exhibition abroad were being selected in Moscow. According to the extant archival data for the period December 1924 to September 1926, the artists, among them Ivan Kudryashov, Aleksandr Tyshler from the Society of Easel Painters (OST), and Kliment Redko and Aleksandr Labas from the Projectionist group, received back a total of 64 paintings and a large number of graphic works.5 Among the many works selected in the spring of 1922 for the Berlin exhibition by Shterenberg and his assistant, the artist Ivan Kraitor, were also 59 paintings and prints from the Museum of Artistic Culture (MKhK) in Petrograd that were never returned—this

despite a letter of complaint from the Petrograd artists to Anatoly Lunacharsky, head of Narkompros. In the end, most of these works were distributed to other museums in the Soviet Union.6

Ongoing Research The material published below reflects a selection of the most recent disposition list of paintings and graphic works from the First Russian Art Exhibition. The list is compiled alphabetically by artist surname. It is based on data from the inventory book and the various shipping directives (“acts”) regulating the subsequent redistribution of the works, but also other archival ma­ terials, including information from catalogues of museums and private collections and an extensive search of the artist literature. Naturally, a number of inaccuracies are to be found in the various documents concerning, for example, the names, dates, or sizes of paintings. The list of prints sheds new light on the latest research into the disposition of graphic works from the First Russian Art Exhibition. It is a continuation of the work on this topic—an attempt to reconstruct the graphic arts section of the Berlin exhibition, based on archival materials and the literature as well as information published by Russian museums. Unfortunately, there is very little information about print works in the museums, as they were rarely documented or recorded in systematic inventory catalogues. I am grateful to Dilyara Sadykova and her colleagues from the Krasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko, who published detailed information about graphic works in their collection. Naila Rahimova has done a lot to identify the works from the Berlin exhibition transferred to the Azerbaijan National ­Museum of Art in Baku. Special thanks goes to Natalia ­Ryzhikova from the Ivanovo Regional Art Museum as well as to Anna Shakina, the director of the Vyatka Museum of Fine Arts in Kirov, who helped with information from this museum regarding German catalogue numbers on the reverse of the works of Lev Zhegin and G ­ ustav Klutsis, confirming their participation in the Berlin ­exhibition. A large list of paintings and graphic works listed as part of the exhibition, including works sold in

Archival Research on the Paintings and Graphic Works Shown in Berlin in 1922

187

the West, were not listed in archival sources, and are therefore not included in this publication. An expanded list that includes these was included in my presentation at the international conference dedi­ cated to the anniversary of the founding of the Museum of Painterly Culture at the State Tretyakov Gallery in 2019 and at the international conference “100 Years of German-Russian Cultural Exchange: The First Russian Art Exhibition” at the Staatsbibliothek Berlin in October 2021.

Selected list of paintings and graphic works that have been identified as exhibits in the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin (1922)

Nikolai Krymov (1884–1958) Trees by the Water, 1920 Oil on canvas, 44 x 53 cm Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, Inv. Ж-383 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6132) Acquisition:1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 296, January 31) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 97–100 Landschaft

Boris Kustodiev (1878–1927) Merchant’s Wife at Tea, 1918 Oil on canvas, 120 x 120 cm State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg, Inv. Ж-1868 Acquisition: 1925 from the GMF Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 105 Frau am Samowar (see fig. p. 108)

Section I: Paintings Yuri Annenkov (1889–1974) Forrest, 1918 Oil on canvas, 107.5 x 71.5 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 9197 Provenance: May 1919 acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6107) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 804, September 8) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 4 Wald

Mikhail Le-Dantiu (1891–1917) Turning Car, 1913–14 Oil on canvas, 64.2 x 58.5 cm Museum of Fine Arts, Oryol, Inv. Ж-7 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6176) Acquisition: [1927] from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 155 [955]) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 113 Automobilkurve

The Head of a Horse (Study), c. 1912 Aleksei Grishenko (1883–1977) Landscape with a River [1917] Oil on canvas, 88 x 70.5 cm Tambov Regional Art Gallery, Inv. ЖС-104 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6147) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 342, April 17) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 58 Landschaft

Pyotr Konchalovsky (1876–1956) Still Life: Axe, 1918 Oil on canvas, 122 x 124 cm Sukachev Regional Art Museum, Irkutsk, Inv. Ж-184 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6195) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 816, October 18) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 85–86 Stilleben

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Oil on canvas, 76 x 60 cm Tomsk Regional Art Museum, Inv. Ж-690 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6111) Acquisition: [1929] from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 1181) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 114 Pferdekopf

Aristarkh Lentulov (1882–1943) Portrait of the Artist Ivan Malyutin, 1918 Oil on canvas, 123 x 108 cm Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, Inv. Ж-1022 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6200) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 296, January 31) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 115 Portrait

Kremlin [City Landscape], 1919–20 Oil on canvas, 104 x 125 cm Dagestan Fine Arts Museum P.S. Gamzatov, Makhachkala, Inv. Ж-390 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6160) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 379, August 21) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 116 or 119 Landschaft (fig. 1)

Ilya Mashkov (1881–1944) Still Life with Grapes, 1912–13 Oil on canvas, 100 x 126.5 cm Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, Inv. Ж-1030 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6201) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 296, January 31) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 130–32 Stilleben

Begonia, 1909–11 Oil on canvas, 97 x 116 cm History and Art Museum, Serpukhov, Inv. Ж-231 Provenance: Mach 1921 acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6202), Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 365, June 19) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 134 Blumen (fig. 2)

Liubov Popova (1889–1924) Italian Still Life, 1914 Oil on canvas, 62 x 49 cm On the reverse stamp of GMF with the number 6205 State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 9365 Provenance: Febrary1921 acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6205) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 806, September 8) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 153 Violinen

Vasily Rozhdestvensky (1884–1963) Landscape, 1919 Oil on canvas, 125 x 102 cm On the reverse stamp of GMF with the number I 6157 Museum of Fine Arts, Yaroslavl, Inv. Ж-295 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6157) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 587, February 22) to the Yaroslavl Regional Museum Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 171–72 Landschaft

Olga Rozanova (1886–1918) Non-objective Composition, 1917–18 Oil on canvas, 39.5 x 31 cm State Museum of Fine Arts, Nizhny Tagil, Inv. Ж-480 Provenance: May 1919 acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6124) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 716, June 10) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 173–76 Komposition

Portrait, 1916 Oil on canvas, 53.5 x 35.5 cm Fine Art Regional Museum, Irkutsk, Inv. Ж-130 Provenance: March 1921 acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6129) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 816, October 18) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 154 Portrait

Martiros Saryan (1880–1972) Still Life with Fruits, 1915 Tempera on canvas, 40 x 35 cm Museum of Fine Arts, Kaluga, Inv. Ж-0104 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6168) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 349, May 9) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 181–82 Stilleben Fig. 2: Ilya Mashkov, Begonia, 1909–11

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Nadezhda Udaltsova (1885/86–1961) Still Life [Hammer and Mug], 1914–15 Oil on canvas, 49 x 63 cm Dagestan Fine Arts Museum P.S. Gamzatov, Makhachkala, Inv. Ж-125 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6173) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 379, August 21) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No 234 Stilleben (fig. 3)

Georgy Yakulov (1884–1928) Composition: Café, 1911 Oil and tempera on cardboard, 30.5 x 41 cm Museum of Fine Arts, Kaluga, Inv. Ж-0030 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6116) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 349, May 9) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 65 Komposition

(fig. 4) Iosif Shkolnik (1883–1926) Street, before 1922 Oil on canvas, 66 x 71 cm Museum of Fine Arts, Kaluga, Inv. Ж-0029 Provenance: May 1919 acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6109) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 349, May 9) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 188 Straße

Nikolai Sinezubov (1891–1956) At the Hairdresser, 1920 Oil on canvas, 89.5 x 62 cm State Museum of Fine Arts, Nizhny Tagil, Inv. Ж-478 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6185) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 716, June 10) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 203 Friseur

At the Toilet, 1910s Oil on canvas, 56 x 45 cm Fine Arts Museum, Totma, Inv. ИЗО-80 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 6169) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 725, June 21) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 204 Toilette

Fig. 3: Nadezhda Udaltsova, Still Life [Hammer and Mug], 1914–15

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Natalia Avtonomova

Section II: Graphic works Marc Chagall (1887–1985) Wounded Soldier, 1914 Indian ink and charcoal on paper, 19 x 32.2 cm Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, Inv. ВГ-261 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8350) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 593, February 25) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 285 Verwundeter

Vasily Chekrygin (1897–1922) Woman with Children, 1918–20 Pencil on paper, 24 x 17.5 cm Vyatka Museum of Fine Arts, Kirov, Inv. РА-466 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8268); 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF to GTG (Act no. 710, June 4) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 515–17 3 Kompositionen

Female Head, 1918 Pencil on paper, 25.5 x 22.3 cm Vyatka Museum of Fine Arts, Kirov, Inv. РА-467 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8412); 1927 from

the Central Repository of the GMF to GTG, Moscow (Act no. 710, June 4) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 529 Frauenkopf

Mstislav Dobuzhinsky (1875–1957) City: View of St. Petersburg, 1914, Study for the painting “Petersburg” (1914)

Juliet – Costume design for the tragedy Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare, 1921

Indian ink, brush, and graphite pencil on paper, 22.3 x 17.2 cm On the reverse stamp of GMF with the number from the Berlin catalogue: No. 297 State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 9906 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF from the MKhK, Petrograd (No. 170), Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 297 Stadt

Aleksandra Ekster (1882–1949) Juliet – Costume design for the tragedy Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare, 1921 Gouache on cardboard, 55.3 x 34.8 cm

Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, Inv. BГ-3848 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8248) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 296, January 31) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 303 11 Kostümskizzen

Gouache on cardboard, 56.2 x 36.4 cm Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, Inv. BГ-3847 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8247) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF

(Act no. 296, January 31) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 303 11 Kostümskizzen

Wassily Kandinsky (1866–1944) Formalist Drawing (Face), 1918 Indian ink and pencil on paper, 25.5 x 34.5 cm Radishchev Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, Inv. BГ-263 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (GMF Inv. 8274), Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF

Fig. 4: Georgy Yakulov, Composition: Café, 1911

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(Act no. 593, February 25) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 322 Komposition

Untitled [Non-objective], 1916 Indian ink on paper, 54.2 x 35.5 cm On the reverse stamp of GMF with the number II 8267 State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 9921 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8267) Acquired: 1927 from Central Repository of the GMF Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 324 Komposition

Ivan Kliun (Klinkov) (1873–1943) Non-Objective, 1920s Gouache on paper, 34.4 x 24.3 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 15755 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8272) Acquired: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 818, October 22) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 328 Kubistische Komposition

Gustav Klutsis (1895–1938) Construction Project for the Fifth Anniversary of the October Revolution, 1922 Colored and black ink, graphite pencil, lacquer, and water-

color on paper, 67.2 x 42.5 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 13019 Provenance: Acquired in 1922 after Berlin exhibition Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 329 Konstruktion

Graphic Construction: Design, 1922 Indian ink, graphite pencil, watercolor on paper, 27.6 x 24.4 cm Vyatka Museum of Fine Arts, Kirov, Inv. РА-175 On the reverse inscriptions with blue pencil: number from the Berlin catalogue: No. 330 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF; 192[7] GTG (Act no. [710, June 4]) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 330 Konstruktion

Pyotr Konchalovsky (1876–1956) Prince Bova (Sketch of a decorative panel), 1914 Watercolor, ink, brush, varnish on paper on cardboard, 47 x 70.8 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 10233 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8193) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 818, October 22) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 339 Dekoratives Motiv (fig. 5)

Fig. 5: Pyotr Konchalovsky, Prince Bova (Sketch of a decorative panel), 1914

192

Natalia Avtonomova

Liubov Kozintseva (1899–1970) Non-objective, 1922

Non-objective Composition, 1921

Tempera on paper, 38 x 29 cm Vyatka Museum of Fine Arts, Kirov, Inv. РА-177 On the reverse inscriptions with pencil: number from the Berlin catalogue: No. 351 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF; 192[7] GTG (Act no. [710, June 4]) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 351 Komposition

Nikolai Krymov (1884–1958) Landscape, 1913 Indian ink, sepia on paper, 23.8 x 31.5 cm Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, Inv. BГ-855 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8279) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 296, January 31) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 366 Gartenhaus

Ilya Mashkov (1881–1944) Model, late 1910s Colored pencil and charcoal on paper, 44 x 62.2 cm Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, Inv. BГ-3054 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8191) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 593, February 25) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 413–14 Frauen-Akt 

Model, late 1910s Colored pencil and pastel on paper on cardboard, 48.4 x 66 cm State Art Gallery, Perm, Inv. Р-774 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8192) Acquisition: 1926 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 538, November 26) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 413–14 Frauen-Akt 

Liubov Popova (1889–1924) Spatial Force Construction, 1921 Watercolor, blue wax pencil on paper, 35.5 x 26.8 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. АРх. ГР.-1962 On the reverse stamp of GMF with the number II 8328 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8328) Acquisition: 1928 the from Central Repository of the GMF Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 440 or 443 Komposition

Watercolor, gouache, and graphite pencil on paper, 44 x 36 cm State Art Gallery, Perm, Inv. Р-812 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8264) Acquisition: 1926 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 538, November 26) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 440 or 443 Komposition

Spatial Force Construction, 1921 Indian ink and gouache on stained paper, 34.2 x 27.3 cm State Museum of Art, Tashkent, Inv. 540 On the reverse stamp of GMF with the number II 8367 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8367); 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF to GTG (Act no. 818, October 22) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 441 Komposition

Painterly Architectonic, 1918 Black ink, gouache, whitewash on paper, 26.3 x 17.4 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 9927 On the reverse stamp of GMF with the number II 8289 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8289) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 440 or 443 Komposition

Aleksandr Rodchenko (1891–1956) Architectural Fantasy, 1920 Colored ink on paper, 26 x 21 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 9930 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8306) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 818, October 22) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 446 4 Architekturprojekte

Architectural Fantasy: Plan of the Sovdep, 1920 Colored ink on paper, 26 x 21 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 9929 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8411) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 818, October 22) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 446 4 Architekturprojekte

Olga Rozanova (1866–1918) Flower Construction, 1917 Watercolor, pencil, black ink on paper, 51 x 45.7 cm [On the reverse stamp of GMF with the number II 8310]

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Ivanovo Regional Art Museum, Inv. Р-55 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8310); 1927 from the Central Depository of the GMF to GTG (Act No. 818, ­October 22) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG (Act No. 1070, June 14) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 456 5 Stickereientwürfe

Acquisition: 1929 from GTG (Act No. 1070, June 14) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 456 5 Stickereientwürfe (fig. 7)

(fig. 6)

White wash on black paper, 15.5 х 14.5 cm State Art Gallery, Perm, Inv. Р-192 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8380) Acquisition: 1926 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 463, January 20) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 491 2 Figuren

Sketch for a Purse [1916–17] Watercolor on paper, 35 x 23.4 cm State Art Gallery, Perm, Inv. Р-2391 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8362) Acquisition: 1926 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 463, January 20) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 456 5 Stickereientwürfe

Sketch for a Purse [1916–17] Watercolor, gouache, pencil, black ink on paper, 35.2 x 28.5 cm On the reverse stamp of GMF with the number II 8364 and the number from the Berlin catalogue: No. 456 Ivanovo Regional Art Museum, Inv. Р-448 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8364); 1927 from the Central Depository of the GMF to GTG (Act No. 818, October 22)

Fig. 6: Olga Rozanova, Flower Construction, 1917

194

Natalia Avtonomova

Varvara Stepanova (1894–1958) Two Figures, 1921

Composition, 1921 White wash on red paper, 15.6 x 11,2 State Art Gallery, Perm, Inv. P-942 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8303) Acquisition:1926 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 463, January 20) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 492 4 Kompositionen

Fig. 7: Olga Rozanva, Sketch for a Purse [1916–17]

Composition with Figure, 1919–20 Linocut, 28 х 19 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Inv. 13062 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8301) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 818, October 22) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 493 Linoleumschnitte

Composition, 1921 Linocut, 24.5 x 24.3 cm On the reverse stamp of GMF with the number II 8304 Ivanovo Regional Art Museum, Inv. Г-104 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8304); 1927 from the Central Depository of the GMF to GTG, Moscow (Act No. 818, October 22) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG (Act No. 1070, June 14) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 493 12 Linoleumschnitte

David Shterenberg (1881–1948) Still Life, before 1922 Watercolor on paper, 35.5x26 Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, Inv. Г-4614 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8292) Acquisition:1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 593, February 25) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 497 6 Blatt Stilleben

Vladimir Tatlin (1885–1953) Sailor and Chinese, early 1910s Watercolor on paper, 23.5 x 20.2 cm Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts, Saratov, Inv. BГ-262 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8253) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 593, February 25)

Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 506 Matrose (fig. 8)

Lev Zhegin (Shekhtel) (1892–1969) Composition, before 1922 Charcoal on paper on cardboard, 45.5 x 44 cm Vyatka Museum of Fine Arts, Kirov, Inv. РА-148 On the reverse number from the Berlin catalogue: No. 294 Provenance: Acquired by the GMF (Inv. 8263); 192[7] GTG (Act no. [710, June 4]) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 294 Komposition

Notes 1

For a comprehensive study on the organization of the Amster-

3

dam exhibition see Anna Ostrovskaya, “Aspects of Organiza-

mentation in this volume.

tional History: The First Russian Art Exhibition in Amsterdam,”

4

Moscow, RGALI, F. 686, Op. 1, Ed. khr. 77, L. 247–57, 260.

Poes 32: The Many Lives of the Russian Avant-garde: Nikolai

5

Moscow, RGALI, F. 686, Op. 1, Ed. khr. 58/1–4/, 59/1–4/, 60/1–4/,

Khardzhiev’s Legacy: New Contexts (2019): 305–18. 2

Moscow, RGALI, F. 686, Op. 1, Ed. khr. 39, L. 78, 79. See docu-

Vladimir Lapshin, “Pervaya vystavka russkogo iskusstva.

61/1–3/‚ 63/1/, 67/1/. 6

Irina Karasik, ed., Muzei v muzee: Russkii avangard iz kollektsii

Berlin. 1922 god: Materialy k istorii sovetsko-germanskikh ­

Muzeya khudozhestvennoi kul’tury v sobranii Gosudarstven-

­khudozhestvennykh svyazei” [The first exhibition of Russian

nogo russkogo muzeya (St. Petersburg: Palace Edition, 1998),

art. Berlin. 1922: Materials for the history of Soviet-German artis­

especially 359–61.

tic relations], Sovetskoe iskusstvoznanie, no. 1 (1983): 349–50.

Fig. 8: Vladimir Tatlin, Sailor and Chinese, early 1910s

Archival Research on the Paintings and Graphic Works Shown in Berlin in 1922

195

IRYNA MAKEDON

30

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Ukrainian State Museums

T

he collections of the Ukrainian state museums feature a number of art works which were exhibited in the 1922 First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin. Given the comprehensive nature of the exhibition, which was sent on, at least in part, to Amster­dam and then the 14th Venice Biennale, and the subsequent redistribution of these works via the State Museum Fund and the State Tretyakov Gallery (GTG) to the regional state museums, finding detailed answers to the interesting question of what works are pres­ently where has until now largely been beyond the scope of most art historians. Based on unpublished archival documents, this essay briefly outlines the complex research that was necessary to trace the disposition of the various works displayed in the 1922 Berlin exhibition in the period from 1925 to 1928 and also gives their present location. To better understand the overall movement of these works, a visual flow chart is essential (fig. 1). The major archives with documentation pertinent to the 1922 Berlin exhibition include: The Russian State Archive of Literature and Art (RGALI, ­Moscow, specifically Fonds 665, 686) and the Central State ­Archive of Supreme Bodies of Power and Government

Fig. 1: Flow Chart of Distribution of Art Works

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Iryna Makedon

of Ukraine (TsDAVO, Kyiv, specifically Fond P-166). Moreover, archival records in archives housed at the State Tretyakov Gallery (Moscow), the Dnipropetrovsk Art Museum (Dnipro), the National Art Museum of Ukraine (Kyiv), the Kharkiv Art Museum, the Odessa Fine Arts Museum, and the Nikanor Onatsky Regional Art Museum in Sumy were also examined. This effort revealed nine deliveries to five cities (Dnipro, Kyiv, Kharkov, Odessa, Sumy) from the Central Repository of the State Museum Fund (Tsentral’noe Khranilishche Gosudarstvennogo Muzeinogo Fonda, GMF) and the State Tretyakov Gallery, for a total of fifty art works: nineteen paintings and thirty-one graphic works. A detailed analysis of the disposition of the paintings was published in 2021.1 Since then four ­additional e­ xtant oil paintings, located in the National Art M ­ useum of Ukraine (Kyiv), have come to light: ­Aleksandr ­Ivanov, Still life, before 1922, oil on canvas, 71 x 36 cm, ЖС-2518 (Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 60–63 Stilleben) (fig. 2); Vladimir Lebedev, Female Portrait, 1917, oil on canvas, 60 x 44 cm, ЖС-2453 (Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 110 Portrait); Aleksandr Rodchenko, Composition, before 1922, oil on canvas, 71 x 42 cm, ­ЖС-539 ­(Supposedly, Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 167 Komposition); Olga Rozanova, Non-objective Composition, 1916, oil on canvas, 71 x 53 cm, ЖС-2452 ­(Berlin ­catalogue, 1922:

Nos. 177–78 Suprematismus) (fig. 3).2 The collection of the Dnipropetrovsk Art Museum (Dnipro) includes Nikolai Krymov’s painting Spring, 1919, oil on canvas, 60 x 80 cm, ЖС-271 (Berlin c­ atalogue, 1922: Nos.

Fig. 2: Aleksandr Ivanov, Still life, before 1922

Fig. 3: Olga Rozanova, Non-objective Composition, 1916

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Ukrainian State Museums

197

97–100) (fig. 4). The preliminary sketches for two lost non-objective paintings by ­ Wassily Kandinsky that were delivered to Comrade Artem All-National Social Museum (now the Kharkiv Art Museum) in 1925 and the Odessa People’s Art M ­ useum (now the Odessa ­National Museum of Fine Arts) in 1928 can be identified in the Kandinsky Hauskatalog, now in the archive of the Centre Georges P ­ ompidou in Paris, as nos. 228 and 230.3 In 1924, the State Museum Fund received a number of art works from the 1922 Berlin exhibition as enu­ merated in Act no. 349, dated December 16, 1924.4 The list of paintings and drawings was subdivided on the basis of the source of acquisition for the exhibition into three groups: 1. Museum Bureau of the Art Department of the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment in Moscow (MB) and the Moscow Museum of Painterly Culture (MZhK) 2. Museum of Artistic Culture in Petrograd (MKhK) (written as “Leningrad museum”) 3. Proprietary works of the artists themselves The cited version of Act no. 349 notes additional handwritten inscriptions indicating the disposition of each work: for paintings and drawings from groups 1 and 2, in addition to printed inventory numbers of MB,

Fig. 4: Nikolai Krymov, Spring, 1919

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Iryna Makedon

MZhK, and sequential numbers from the 1922 Berlin catalogue, there were handwritten marked GMF inventory numbers. The collection field in delivery acts for the Ukrainian museums for the works from group 1 had “(From) Berlin exhibition,” for group 2 “Leningrad museum.” According to the documentation, the Comrade Artem All-National Social Museum in Kharkiv was the first Ukrainian museum to receive a disbursement— forty art works in all, of which thirty were from the Berlin exhibition: seven paintings and twenty-three graphics, based on Act no. 390, dated August 14, 1925 (fig. 5).5 The whereabouts of these works are presently unknown. Pursuant to Act no. 453, dated December 16, 1925, the Taras Shevchenko All-Ukrainian Historical Museum (presently the National Art Museum of Ukraine, NAMU) in Kyiv received a disbursement of 123 works.6 Of these, four were graphic works from ­Berlin: ­Aleksandra Ekster, Non-objective (GMF 8260); Rodchenko, Construction (GMF 8307); Aleksandr ­Shevchenko, Man’s Portrait (GMF 8314); Krasovsky, Landscape (GMF 8326). The NAMU inventory book offers us a brief description of the last two works, whose whereabouts today are unknown: 1925. XII. 1399. P. 905. Shevchenko Olexandr. Man’s portrait. Bust, three-quarter view to the right, bold, long face, big ear and mustache, low collar with tied tie. In black frame. Signature under frame: ‘­Alexandr Shevchenko 19.’ Paper, Indian ink. 9 x 5½ (frame) 23 x 19 (sheet). Moscow Museum Fond (Berlin exhibition). Without mounting. 1925. XII. 1402. P. 907. Krasovsky K. O. Landscape composition. Above – part of sun’s disc (?), lower – blue, red, green strokes, brown spots, trees. Signature in the bottom: ‘[…] K.O. Krasovsky […]918–17[…]’ Paper, watercolor. 32 x 14. Moscow Museum Fond (Berlin exhibition). Glued to brown cardboard.7 Three additional graphic works by Rodchenko from the 1922 Berlin exhibition,8 became part of the museum collection in 1928, after intense negotiations on the part of Fedir Ernst with Narkompros authorities.9 Along with other works, these compositions by ­Rodchenko were marked “С БеРлинской Выставки”

Fig. 5: Act no. 390, August 14, 1925 Art works that were transferred from the GMF to the Comrade Artem All-National Social Museum, including works from the First Russian Art Exhibition (Source: Moscow, RGALI, F. 686, Op 1, D. 58, L. 40) English translation: Act no. 390 (stamped ‘ISSUED’) On August 14, 1925, the present act is compiled stating that based on the permission signatures of the Head of Museums N[atalia] I[vanovna] Trotskayа, the Head of the Accounting and Protection subdivision A[bram] M[arkovich] Ėfros, and the Head of Museums N[ikolai] G[eorgievich] Mashkovtsev dated August 12, 1925, the following items are given from the Central ­Depository of the State Museum Fund (Sadovaya Chernogryazskaya street, house no. 6) to the Comrade Artem All-Ukrainian Social Museum in Kharkiv to comrade N[aum] F[yodorovich] Sobol according to the permission no. 10484 of the Museum department dated August 8th of this year.

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Ukrainian State Museums

199

(S Berlinskoi Vystavki/From the Berlin Exhibition) and transferred from the Central Repository of the State Museum Fund (GMF) to the State Tretyakov Gallery only one year earlier, on October, 22, 1927 (see fig. 6, Act no. 818). The Dnipropetrovsk Art Museum received one of Ekster’s costume designs for William Shakespeare’s tragedy Romeo and Juliet. It was transferred from the State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, according to a delivery act dated June 29, 1928.10 An inscription and Italian postage stamp on its reverse, along with other supporting delivery acts testify to its presence in the Berlin exhibition and the 14th Venice Biennale, in 1924.11 Here a list of graphic works which are currently in the collections of Ukrainian museums: Aleksandra Ekster (1882–1949) Romeo – Costume design for the tragedy Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare, 1921 Paper on cardboard, gouache, 57 x 32 cm Dnipropetrovsk Art Museum, Dnipro, Inv. G-247 Provenance: 1921–22 MB (No. 2753); 1927 GMF (No. 34631); 1927 GTG Acquisition: 1928 from GTG Supposedly, Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 303 11 Kostüm­ skizzen (Kammertheater, Moskau)

Composition, 1916 Gouache on cardboard, 53 x 33.5 cm Museum of Theatre, Music, and Cinema of Ukraine, Kyiv, Inv. 3837 Provenance: 1920–22 MB (No. 2183); 1924–25 GMF (No. 8250); 1925 Taras Shevchenko All-Ukrainian Historical and Art Museum Acquisition: 1956 from State Museum of Ukrainian Fine Art (Kyiv) Supposedly, Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 304 6 Dekorationsskizzen

Aleksandr Rodchenko (1891–1956) Construction, n.d. Linocut, 15,8 x 10.7 cm National Art Museum of Ukraine, Kyiv, Inv. Grs-9928 Provenance: 1921–22 MB (No. 2362); 1924–25 GMF (No. 8307); 1925 Taras Shevchenko All-Ukrainian Historical and Art Museum

200

Iryna Makedon

Supposedly, Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 447 11 Blatt Gegenstandslos

Construction, 1919 Linocut, 16,6 х 11.6 cm National Museum “Kyiv Art Gallery,” Inv. Rg-3942 Provenance: 1921–22 MB; 1924–27 GMF; 1927–28 GTG; 1928 Taras Shevchenko All-Ukrainian Historical and Art Museum Acquisition: Before Second World War from the Ukrainian State Museum Supposedly, Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 447 11 Blatt Gegenstandslos

Construction, n.d. Linocut, 16.6 х 11.5 cm National Museum “Kyiv Art Gallery,” Inv. Rg-3940

Construction, n. d. Linocut, 16.4 х 11.5 National Museum “Kyiv Art Gallery,” Inv. Rg-3941 Provenance: 1921–22 MB; 1924–27 GMF; 1927–28 GTG; 1928 Taras Shevchenko All-Ukrainian Historical and Art Museum Acquisition: Before Second World War from the Ukrainian State Museum Supposedly, Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 447 11 Blatt Gegenstandslos

This is of necessity a general accounting of the known works to date based on archival shipping and transfer documents. The integration of newly obtained archive data and photographs of surviving works from the ­Berlin exhibition at the Ukrainian institutions offers the basis for a profound shift with respect to engaging research opportunities for scholars and museums.

Акт № 818 (печать – ВЫДАНО)

Act no. 818 (stamped ‘ISSUED’)

22 октября 1927г. составлен настоящий акт в том, что на основании разрешительной надписи Зам[естителя] Зав[ведующего] Отдел[а] по Делам музеев ГНК НКП Л.Я.  ВАЙНЕРА от 30/ VII-[19] 27г. выданы из Центрального Хранилища Гос[ударственного] Музейного Фонда ГОСУДАРСТВЕННОЙ ТРЕТЬЯКОВСКОЙ ГАЛЛЕРЕЕ через Ученого Секретаря означен[ной] Галлереи А.М. СКВОРЦОВА нижеследующие предметы: Отдел ІІ (печать – ВЫДАНО)

On October 22, 1927, the present act is compiled stating that based on the permission signature of Deputy director of the Museum Affairs Department of GNK [Glavnauka] NKP [Narkompros], L[azar] Ya[kovlevich] VAINER, dated July 30, 1927, the following items are released from the Central Repository of the State Museum Fund to the STATE TRETYAKOV ­GALLERY to the Scientific Secretary of the desig­ nated Gallery A.M. SKVORTSOV: Department ІІ (stamped ‘ISSUED’)

The following works from the list of Act no. 818 were marked “БеРлин[ская] Выстав[ка]” (Berlinskaya Vystavka/Berlin Exhibition) or “С БеРлин[ской] Выстав[ки]” (S Berlin[skoi] Vystav[ki]/From the Berlin exhibition): No.

Artists, Title [Date] – Russian Original

1–303

[...]

104

Степанова В.Ф. Конструкция

105 106–107 117

Пестель. Беспредметное […] Якулов. Эскиз к постановке «Брамбиллы»

118 119 120–126 127 128

[…] Кончаловский П.П. Декор[ационное] панно-сказка […] Пестель. Беспредметное Жегин. Группа из нескольких фигур

129 130 131

Клюн. Супрематизм Чекрыгин. Три женщины Чекрыгин. Группа из 3-х лиц

132

Чекрыгин. Эскиз 2-х фигур

133

Комарденков. Эскиз театральн[ых] костюмов

Artists, Title, [Date] – English Translation

GMF Inv.

Stepanova V.F.  Construction Pestel. Non-objective

8302

Yakulov. Sketch for the staging of “Brambilla”

8262 8290

Konchalovsky P.P. Decorative panel: Fairy 8193 tale Pestel. Non-objective Zhegin. Figure Group Kliun. Suprematism Chekrygin. Three Women Chekrygin. Group of 3 People Chekrygin. Sketch of 2 Figures Komardenkov. Sketch of Theatre Costumes

8261 8263 8272 8281 8275 8284 8299

Fig. 6: Act no. 818, October 22, 1927 (Source: Moscow, RGALI, F. 686, Op 1, D. 67, L. 129–30)

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Ukrainian State Museums

201

Лисицкий. Конструкция Степанова В.Ф. Конструкция

134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152–153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161–249 1–3

Lissitzky. Construction 8297 Stepanova V.F. 8301 Construction Степанова В.Ф. Конструкция Stepanova V.F. 8304 Construction Лисицкий. Конструкция Lissitzky. Construction 8305 Родченко. Конструкция1 Rodchenko. Construction1 8306 Розанова А.В. Цвето-конструкция Rozanova A.V. 8310 Color-construction Розанова. Эскиз дамской сумки Rozanova. 8320 Sketch for a Ladies’ Purse Королев. 1920г. Арх[итектурная] фантазия Korolev. 1920. 8324 /фасад/ Architectural Fantasy/Facade Куприянов Н. Вид Кремля Kupriyanov N. 8323 View of the Kremlin Попова Л.С. 21. Безпредмтеное Popova L.S. 21. Non-objective 8330 Розанова. Рисунок дамской сумки Rozanova. Drawing of a Ladies’ Purse 8349 Цетлин. Проект продовольствен[ной] Tsetlin. 8351 карточки Design for a Food Stamp Ермолаева В.М. Эскиз к постановке оперы Ermolaeva V.M. Sketch for the staging of 8353 «Победа над солнцем» the opera “Victory over the Sun” Королев. 1920. Арх[итектурная] фантазия / Korolev. 1920. 8360 план/ Architectural Fantasy/Plan Розанова. Эскиз дамской сумочки Rozanova. 8364 Sketch of a Ladies’ Purse Розанова. Эскиз дамской сумочки Rozanova. 8365 Sketch of a Ladies’ Purse Розанова. Эскиз дамской сумочки Rozanova. 8366 Sketch of a Ladies’ Purse Попова Л. Безпредметное Popova L. 8367 Non-objective […] Кринский. Архитектурная фантазия Krinsky. 8385 Architectural Fantasy Кринский. Архитектурная фантазия Krinsky. 8387 Architectural Fantasy Лисицкий. Конструкция Lissitzky. Composition 8390 Лисицкий. Конструкция Lissitzky. Composition 8392 Родченко. Конструкция2 Rodchenko. Composition2 8401 Родченко. 1919. Конструкция3 Rodchenko. 1919. Composition3 8411 Степанова. Женская фигура Stepanova. 8413 Female Figure […]

Drawings by Rodchenko given to the Taras Shevchenko All-Ukrainian Historical and Art Museum in Kyiv in 1928.



202

Iryna Makedon

Notes 1

­

All-Ukrainian Historical Museum, 1926–1936; Kyiv, AFD NKhMU,

Iryna Makedon, “Popovnennya ukrayins’kykh derzhavnykh

Op. 50, Ed. khr. 1–83, L. 252, 253.

muzeynykh kolektsiy zhyvopysnymy kartynamy z berlins’koyi vystavky (1922) v period 1925–1928 roky” [Replenishment of

8

the Ukrainian State Museum collections with paintings from

All-Ukrainian Historical Museum; Kyiv, AFD NKhMU, F. 8.

the Berlin exhibition in the period 1925–1928], in Sto rokiv isnuvannya Sums’koho okruhovoho khudozhn’o-istorychnoho

2

Op. IV, Ed. khr. 56, L. 18. 9

4

Kyiv, TsDAVO, F. Р-166. Op.  6, D. 3429, L. 22, 23. Ernst Fedir

muzeyu (Sumy: Sums’kyy oblasnyi khudozhniy muzei im.

(1891–1942), historian, art expert, arrested under article 54-I

­Nykanora Onats’koho, 2021), 198–203.

а, 54-10, 58-11, shot on October 28, 1942. See also https://ww-

Yuliya Lytvynets’, ed., Spetsfond 1937–1939 rokiv: Z kolektsiyi

w.s-bilokin.name/Personalia/Ernst.html [accessed March 20,

Nkhmu (Kyiv: Feniks, 2016), 275, 284–85, 313. 3

Delivery act from State Tretyakov Gallery to Taras Shevchenko

2022].

Vassily Kandinsky, Hauskatalog: Carnet II, 1909–1926. Paris,

10 Delivery act from State Tretyakov Gallery to the Dnipro­

Centre national d’art et de culture Georges-Pompidou –

petrovsk Art Museum, June 29, 1928, All-Ukrainian Historical

­Archive, Inv. AM 81-65-682. For more detailed information

Museum; Kyiv, AFD NKhMU, F. 8. Op. IV. Ed. khr. 56, L. 26. A

on the other extant paintings, see Makedon “Popovnennya

year earlier, on October 22, 1927, the sketch had been trans-

ukrains’kykh derzhavnykh muzeynykh kolektsyi.”

ferred from the Central Repository of the State Museum Fund

Moscow, RGALI, F. 686, Op. 1, Ed. khr. 39, L. 78, 79. See docu-

(GMF) to the State Tretyakov Gallery. See fig. 6, Act no.  818

mentation in this volume.

(GMF Inv. 3463).

5

Moscow, RGALI, F. 686, Op. 1, Ed. khr. 58, L. 40.

6

Acceptance acts of exhibits, 1910–1932; Kyiv, AFD NKhMU,

1927, Nos. 2753, 2117 [2107]; Moscow, RGALI, F. 686. Op. 1, D.

Op.1, Ed. khr. 7/131, L. 79, 80.

39, P. 2.

7

11

For the works by Ekster, see also Act no. 544/56, January 10,

Inventory record book of exhibits of Taras Shevchenko

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Ukrainian State Museums

203

DILYARA SADYKOVA

31

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Krasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko

T

he Regional Art Museum in Krasnodar, a city in southern Russia not far from the Black Sea, was founded by Fyodor Kovalenko in 1904. Known during the Soviet era as the Kuban-Black Sea Regional State Art Museum A.V. Lunacharsky, its historical collection ranges from Old Russian icon ­ painting to European art from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century. The museum is particular famous for its collection of Russian avant-garde art, which represents almost all stages of the movements’ development, including Cézannism, Neoprimitivism, early abstraction, Cubo-futurism, Suprematism, and Constructivism. More than twenty works, among them central masterpieces such as Wassily Kandinsky’s

Fig. 1: Kazimir Malevich, Suprematism No. 55, 1915–16

204

Dilyara Sadykova

non-­objective ­painting Naïve (see fig. p. 114), Kazimir ­Malevich’s Suprematism No. 55 (fig. 1), Georgy Yakulov’s Portrait of a Girl (fig. 2), and Konstantin Medunetsky’s Color Construction No. 7 were part of the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin in 1922 before they entered the Krasnodar collection in the 1920s.1

The formation of the avant-garde collection in Krasnodar is exemplary for the history of the regional museums in the first post-revolutionary years in Soviet Russia. Beginning in 1918, the All-Russian Board for Museums and the Protection of Monuments of Art and Antiquities and the Department of Fine Arts at

Fig. 2: Georgy Yakulov, Portrait of a Girl, c. 1922

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Ukrainian State Museums

205

the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (IZO Narkompros) initiated, possibly for the first time anywhere, the establishment of museums solely for the preservation and exhibition of modern, contempo­ rary art. The Museum of Painterly Culture (MZhK) in Moscow, the first of many, was organized in 1919, followed by the Museum of Artistic Culture (MKhK) in Petrograd, in 1919. The works for these newly founded institutions, including many from the Russian avantgarde, came in large part from the State Museum Fund (GMF) and major museum collections in the country. In Krasnodar, the years of widespread redistribution coincided with the tenure of Romuald Voitsik (1888– 1958). Starting as a research associate at the museum in 1924, he served as its director from 1926 to 1931. A good education, broad horizons, and personal connections to metropolitan art critics such as Abram Ėfros served

Fig. 3: Aleksandr Kuprin, Still Life with Scissors, 1917–18

206

Dilyara Sadykova

Voitsik well in selecting masterpieces of Russian and Western European painting from the sixteenth to the early twentieth century. Voitsik’s personal predilection was for the art of the avant-garde in its more radical directions, thus the substantial collection of Russian avant-garde works in the museum today is a result of his efforts. In early 1925, the museum received about thirty items, among them paintings and graphic works from the Berlin exhibition. The new acquisitions were featured that same year in their own exhibition, The Newest Russian Painting, organized by Voitsik. Thereafter they joined the museum’s permanent collection, established in line with the concepts proposed by the theo­ rists of the Moscow MZhK.2 By the end of the 1920s, due to the changing cultural and political climate, the avant-garde paintings were removed from public view

and hidden in an attic, where they remained until the end of the 1960s, when they were placed into proper storage. Based on the existing records, we know that 27 works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin were later transferred to the Krasnodar Art Museum,3 entering the museum in 1925, 1927, and 1929. Many had formerly been with the Museum of Painterly Culture (MZhK) in Moscow, which was closed in 1929. The paintings are all stamped on the reverse: Zollamt Anhalter Bahnhof Berlin (Customs Office, Anhalter Train Station, Berlin), and the graphic works bear the catalog number of the Berlin exhibition. Close study of the works shown in the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin, their significance, the determination of when they were created, the identification of links to other works by the artists and works stylistically close, as well as historical, archival, and bibliographic research has made it possible to expand our knowledge and learn more about the paintings of Kandinsky, Malevich, Lev Yudin, Aleksandr Ivanov, Vasily Krinsky, Ivan Puni, and others. Further research has helped to clarify the number of artists and works shown in the exhibition. Eight works were identified by their numbers in the Berlin catalogue; these were marked on the reverse and could now be put into context: a work each by Aleksandr Vesnin (fig. 4), Lev Bruni, and Aleksandr Drevin, two architectural sketches by Krinsky (fig. 5+6), two ink drawings by Marc Chagall, and a painting by Georgy Stenberg. The artists of the early Russian avant-garde, including Bubnovyi valet members Pyotr Konchalovsky, Aleksandr Kuprin (fig. 3), and Ilya Mashkov, were represented at the First Russian Art Exhibition with works from their Cézannist period, and Aristarkh Lentulov and Vasily Rozhdestvensky with slightly later works. Since the mid-1970s, the paintings of these masters of the Russian avant-garde have been displayed in the permanent exhibition of the museum. In the 2000s, as part of the major project “The Golden Map of Russia” of the State Tretyakov Gallery (GTG), the works were shown in Moscow as well as in further all-Russian and foreign exhibitions. The works exhibited in the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin in 1922 are of epochal cultural value, not only for Russia. They are enshrined in the

artistic development of the modern world; one hundred years later, their relevance is greater than ever and they continue to attract universal interest. The artists who took part in the historic landmark exhibition were the leaders of the country’s artistic life in the first quarter of the twentieth century; today their works are recognized classics of the Russian and world avant-garde.

Fig. 4: Aleksandr Vesnin, Violaine – Costume design for the drama The Annunciation of Marie by Paul Claudel, 1921

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Ukrainian State Museums

207

List of the paintings and graphic works from the collection of the Krasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko that have been identified as exhibits in the First Russian Art Exhibition (1922) Paintings Valentina Brumberg (1899–1975) Landscape with a House, 1922 Oil on canvas, 63 x 52 cm Inv. Ж-405 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK Acquisition: 1929 from GTG not in Berlin catalogue, 1922 Amsterdam catalogue, 1923: Nos. 597–98 Landschap

David Burliuk (1882–1967) The Cossack and the Horse, 1917 Oil on canvas, 32 x 40 cm lost during the occupation of Krasnodar in 1943 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6128) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 693) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 18 Kosack

Aleksandra Ekster (1882–1949) Non-objective, 1917–18 Oil on canvas, 71 x 53 cm Inv. Ж-359 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6121) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 693) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 34 Gegenstandslos

Robert Falk (1886–1958) City, before 1922 Oil on canvas, 72 x 79 cm lost during the occupation of Krasnodar in 1943 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6149) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 289) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 36 Häuser

208

Dilyara Sadykova

Aleksandr Ivanov (1888–1948) Still Life, 1920 From the series “Decorative” (1919–20) Oil on canvas, 57 x 44 cm Inv. Ж-407 Provenance: Before 1929 MZhK Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 60–63 Stilleben

Wassily Kandinsky (1866–1944) Non-Objective (Naïve), 1916 Oil on canvas, 50 x 66 cm Inv. Ж-275 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6204) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 289) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 79–81 Komposition (see fig. p. 114)

Pyotr Konchalovsky (1876–1956) Still Life, 1916 Oil on canvas, 110 x 87 cm Inv. Ж-236 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6196) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 289) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 85–86 Stilleben

Aleksandr Kuprin (1880–1960) Still Life with Scissors, 1917–18 Oil on canvas, 73 x 87 cm Inv. Ж-233 Provenance: March 1921 purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6108) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 289) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 101–02 Stilleben (fig. 3)

Aristarkh Lentulov (1882–1943) Landscape, 1920 Oil on canvas, 89 x 107 cm Inv. Ж-234 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6198) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 289) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 116 or no. 119 Landschaft

Kazimir Malevich (1879–1935) Suprematism No. 55, 1915–16

Georgy Stenberg (1900–33) Horses, 1920

Oil on canvas, 80 x 80 cm Inv. Ж-358 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6094) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 693) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 123–25 Suprematismus (fig. 1)

Oil on cardboard, 23 x 31cm Inv. Ж-335 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8270) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 557) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 494 Pferde

Georgy Yakulov (1884–1928) Portrait of a Girl, c. 1922

Ilya Mashkov (1881–1944) Still Life with Ham, 1915 (?) Oil on canvas, 88 x 108 cm Inv. Ж-279 Provenance: March 1921 purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6194) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 289) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 130–32 Stilleben

Oil on cardboard,108 х 80 cm Inv. Ж-235 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6156) Acquisition: 1925 from Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 289) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 66 Dame im Elevator (fig. 2)

Konstantin Medunetsky (1899–1935) Color Construction No. 7, 1921

Lev Yudin (1903–41) Cubism, before 1922

Oil on canvas, 67 x 63 cm Inv. Ж-406 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (?); after 1924–29 MZhK Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 137 Farbige Konstruktion

Oil on canvas, 42 x 28 Inv. Ж-408 Provenance: After 1924–29 MZhK Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 75 Kubismus

Graphics Works

Ivan Puni (1892–1956) Still Life, before 1922 Oil on canvas, 58 x 46 cm Inv. Ж-238 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6097) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 289) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 155–56 Stilleben

Vasily Rozhdestvensky (1884–1963) Landscape, 1918–19 Oil on canvas, 58 x 72 cm Inv. Ж-237 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6138) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 289) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 171–72 Landschaft

Yuri Annenkov (1889–1974) Reading Man, before 1922 Pen and ink on paper, 23 х 17.2 cm Inv. Ж-226 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8265) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 557) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 252 Lesender Mann

Lev Bruni (1894–1948) Child, 1920 Watercolor on paper, 36.5 x 22 cm Inv. ГР-621 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8374) Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 557) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 274 Kinder-Akt

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Ukrainian State Museums

209

Marc Chagall (1887–1985) War, 1914

Vasily Chekrygin (1897–1922) Three Women, before 1922

India ink on paper, 22 x 18 cm Inv. ГР-597 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8288) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 287) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 290 Alter Mann

Ink on paper, 22 х 18 cm Inv. ГР-619 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8281) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 515–16 Komposition or no. 517 3 Kompositionen

Two Heads, before 1922

Aleksandr Drevin (1889–1938) Female Portrait, 1915–17

India ink on paper, 22 x 18 cm Inv. ГР-769 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (?); 1920s MZhK Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 291 2 Köpfe

Fig. 5: Vasily Krinsky, Architectural Composition, 1919

210

Dilyara Sadykova

Linocut on paper, 26.6 х 22.7 cm Inv. ГР-129 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8277), Acquisition: 1927 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 557) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 300 Frau

Fig. 6: Vasily Krinsky, Architectural Composition, 1919

Aleksandra Ekster (1882–1949) Costume design for the tragedy Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare, 1921 Gouache and bronze paint on cardboard, 53 x 33 cm Inv. Ж-226 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8249) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 287) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 303 11 Kostümskizzen (Kammertheater, Moskau)

Vasily Krinsky (1890–1971) Architectural Composition, 1919 Pencil on paper, 35.3 х 21.9 cm Inv. ГР-624 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8385) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 367 2 Blatt Architekturen (fig. 5)

Architectural Composition, 1919

Varvara Stepanova (1894–1958) Female Figure, 1919 From the series “VARST” Linocut on paper, 18 x 11.1 cm Inv. ГР-626 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8413) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 493 12 Linoleumschnitte

Aleksandr Vesnin (1883–1959) Violaine – Costume design for the drama The Annunciation of Marie by Paul Claudel, 1921 Gouache on paper, 38 x 22 cm Inv. Ж-227 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8285) Acquisition: 1925 from Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 287) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 525 Kostümskizzen f. d. Moskauer Kammertheater (Verkündigung von Claudel) (fig. 4)

Pencil on paper, 34 х 21.5 cm Inv. ГР-625 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8387) Acquisition: 1929 from GTG Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 367 2 Blatt Architekturen (fig. 6)

Notes 1

For further information on the collection of avant-garde

2

See Liubov Pchelkina, “Muzei-laboratoriya: Analiticheskaya

art in Krasnodar and its connection to the First Russian Art

rabota v moskovskom Muzee zhivopisnoi kul’tury” [Museum-

Exhibition see Sergei Gontar, Russkii avangard v Krasnodare:

Laboratory: Analytical work at the Moscow Museum of

Proizvedeniya khudozhnikov russkogo avangarda v sobranii

Painterly Culture], in Аvangard Spisok No 1: K 100-letiyu muzeya

Krasnodarskogo kraevogo khudozhestvennogo muzeya im.

zhivopisnoy kul’tury, ed. --- and Irina Kochergina (Moscow: ­Gosudarstvennaya Tret’yakovskaya galereya, 2019), 34–47.

F.A. Kovalenko (Krasnodar: Sovetskaya Kuban, 2001); Valentin Rodionov, ed., Zolotaya karta Rossii: Krasnodarskii kraevoi

3

It is believed that Ivan Gravis’s Cubism (Violin) (before 1922,

khudozhestvennyi muzei imeni F.A. Kovalenko (Moscow:

Inv. Ж-270), was also shown in the exhibition, but this cannot

Gosudarstvennaya Tret’yakovskaya galereya, 2001); Andrei

be confirmed. The painting has no Berlin customs stamp, nor

Sarab’yanov, “Pervaya russkaya khudozhestvennaya vystavka:

was it listed in the exhibition catalogue.

Utochnenie sostava proizvedenii” [First Russian Art Exhibition: Refinements of the composition of works], in Collana di Europa Orientalis 31: Translations and Dialogues: The Reception of Russian Art abroad, ed. Silvia Burini (Salerno: E.C.I. Edizioni culturali internazionali, 2019), 129–38.

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Ukrainian State Museums

211

NAILA RAHIMOVA

32

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Azerbaijan National Museum of Art, Baku

Fig. 1: El Lissitzky, Proun 1E (City), 1920

212

Naila Rahimova

C

ompared to cultural institutions in Europe and Russia, the museums in Azerbaijan are relatively young. The first, the Azgosmuseum (Azerbaijan State Museum), was established in Baku in the 1920s. Its initial art collection originated with the Soviet People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (Narkompros), which organized deliveries of works by Western European and Russian artists from the State Museum Fund (GMF) of Moscow and Leningrad, and subsequently from the State Hermitage Museum, the State Russian Museum (GRM), the Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, the State Tretyakov Gallery ­ (GTG), and other museums. The first major transfer from the central storage of the GMF was made on June 26, 1925; it included a number of art works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin in 1922. A ­ ccording to the documents, the museum received 10 paintings and 11 graphic works by 16 Russian artists. Among them were works by Vladimir Baranov-­Rossine, Lev Bruni, Aleksandr Drevin, German Fedorov, Gustav Klutsis, El Lissitzky (fig. 1), Aleksandr Osmerkin, Olga Rozanova (fig. 2), Iosif Shkolnik (fig. 4), and ­Vladimir Stenberg. Graphic works by Iosif Chaikov, Fyodor Fedorovsky

Fig. 2: Olga Rozanova, Non-objective Composition, 1917

(fig. 3), Nikolai Kupreyanov (fig. 5), Nikolai Maksimov, Aleksandr Shevchenko (fig. 6), and Varvara Stepanova were transferred to the department of prints and drawings. Almost all were originally purchased from the artists in 1921, the prices ranging from 50 kopecks to 10 rubles. They bear the oval seal of the Moscow State Museum Fund as well as the seals and labels of other museums and institutions where they were previously held. The works by Bruni, ­ Fedorovsky, Lissitzky, and Rozanova even carry the customs stamp from the Berlin exhibition. Unfortunately, these works were initially relegated to the museum’s storage and only first exhibited in 1997. By 1936, the museum’s fine arts collection had grown to about 3,000 works, and the government of Azerbai-

Fig. 3: Fyodor Fedorovsky, Boyar with Red Caftan – costume design for the opera Khovanshchina by Modest Mussorgsky, 1912

jan agreed to establish a separate institution, the Azerbaijan State Museum of Art, which was later designated a national museum. In light of the worldwide recognition of many Russian avant-garde artists at the end of the twentieth century, museums everywhere, including in Azerbaijan, began to organize exhibitions of these works. When the Russian avant-garde collection was first exhibited in Baku, in 1997, it aroused great interest not only among art critics, but also among the public. Few people had known about the existence of such a collection, and even the museum staff had previously had only limited access to these works. In 2010, the Russian art historian, researcher, and specialist of the Russian avant-garde Vasily Rakitin was invited to the museum. He verified the condition of the works and their significance and recommended that they should be included in further avant-garde exhibitions. The museum staff has continued to conduct research on the attribution, dates, techniques, and provenance of the paintings and graphics, working in the archives of the GTG, GMII, and the Russian State Archive for Literature and Art (RGALI). The museum furthermore created a separate exhibition hall for the Russian avant-garde, presenting not only paintings and graphic works, but also examples of the decorative and applied arts, including plates decorated with suprematist drawings by Nikolai Suetin.

Fig. 4: Iosif Shkolnik, Still Life, c. 1919

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Azerbaijan National Museum of Art, Baku

213

Aleksandr Drevin (1889–1938) Portrait of a Woman, 1918 Oil on canvas, 72 x 67.5 cm Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (?) (Inv. 6183), 1920s MKhK Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 27 Portrait

German Fedorov (1886–1976) Landscape with a Pine, 1920 Oil on canvas, 162 x 197 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (?) (Inv. 6193), 1920s MKhK Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 42 Landschaft

Gustav Klutsis (1895–1938) Non-objective, 1920

List of the paintings and graphic works from the collection of the Azerbaijan National Museum of Art, Baku that have been identified as exhibits in the First Russian Art Exhibition (1922)

Paintings Vladimir Baranov-Rossine (1888–1944) Pink, before 1922 Oil on canvas, 71 x 96 cm Provenance: February 1921 purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6139) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 12 Rosa Farbe

Lev Bruni (1894–1948) Head of a Senegalese, 1914 Oil on canvas, 64 x 46 cm Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (?) (Inv. 6100), 1920s MKhK Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 17 Neger [sic]

Fig. 5: Nikolai Kupreyanov, Armored Cars on the Street, 1917

214

Naila Rahimova

Oil on canvas, 67.5 x 49 cm Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6203) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 84 Konstruktion

El Lissitzky (1890–1941) Proun 1E (City), 1920 Oil on plywood, 77 x 63.3 cm Inv. R-20/1175 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6144) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 120 Stadt (fig. 1)

Aleksandr Osmerkin (1892–1953) Landscape, 1920 Oil on canvas, 96 x 77 cm Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6146) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 146 Landschaft

Olga Rozanova (1886–1918) Non-objective composition, 1917 Oil on canvas, 84.5 x 62 cm Inv. R-21/1176 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6143) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 173–76 Komposition (fig. 2)

Iosif Shkolnik (1883–1926) Still Life, c. 1919 Glue paint on canvas, 71.5 x 85 cm Inv. R-22/1177 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6229) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 186–87 Stilleben (fig. 3)

Vladimir Stenberg (1899–1982) Construction: Steel worker, 1920 Oil on canvas, 67 x 53 cm Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6171) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: Nos. 205–08 Farbige Komposition

Graphic works Iosif Chaikov (1888–1979) Biblical Composition, 1919 Watercolor and Indian ink on paper, 19 x 19 cm Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8384) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 511 4 Illustrationen zum Buche Ruth

Fyodor Fedorovsky (1886–1976) Boyar with Blue Caftan – costume design for the opera Khovanshchina by Modest Mussorgsky, 1912 Gouache on paper, 84 x 45 cm Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6188) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 306 2 Kostümstudien (Theater) or no. 307 1 Kostümstudie (Theater)

Boyar with Red Caftan – costume design for the opera Khovanshchina by Modest Mussorgsky, 1912 Gouache on paper, 80 x 46 cm Inv. Q-17/1182 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 6189) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 306 2 Kostümstudien (Theater) or no. 307 1 Kostümstudie (Theater) (fig. 4)

Nikolai Kupreyanov (1894–1933) Armored Cars on the Street, 1917 Woodcut on paper, 21.5 x 27.5 cm Inv. Q-353/1149 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8393) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 377 Automobilkanone (fig. 5)

Fig. 6: Aleksandr Shevchenko, Female Nude, 1910s

Art Works from the First Russian Art Exhibition in the Azerbaijan National Museum of Art, Baku

215

Nikolai Maksimov (1892–1979) At the Table, 1919 Pencil on paper, 36.5 x 38 cm Provenance: Purchased by the GMF Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 420 Komposition

Indian Ink on paper, 19.5 x 15 cm Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8317) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: 468 Landschaft

Aleksandr Shevchenko (1883–1948) Female Nude, 1910s

Varvara Stepanova (1894–1958) Non-objective, 1921

Woodcut on paper, 23.5 x 19 cm Inv. Q-6/1153 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8389) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: 469.a 10 Linoleumschnitte (fig. 6)

Linocut on paper, 16.5 x 13.8 cm Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8382) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 493 12 Linoleumschnitte

Landscape with a Houses, 1910s

Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8383) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: No. 493 12 Linoleumschnitte

Woodcut on paper, 23.5 x 18 cm Inv. Q-4/1151 Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8318) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: 469.a 10 Linoleumschnitte

Female Figure, 1910s Woodcut on paper, 23 x 19 cm Provenance: Purchased by the GMF (Inv. 8319) Acquisition: 1925 from the Central Repository of the GMF (Act no. 373) Berlin catalogue, 1922: 469.a 10 Linoleumschnitte

216

Landscape with a Figure, 1910s

Naila Rahimova

Male and Female Figures, 1921 Linocut on paper, 27.8 x 25

ILIA DORONCHENKOV

33

Epilogue: The International of Art as a Utopian Concept

T

he pre-revolutionary Russian avant-garde was extremely concerned with the issue of the national roots of contemporary art. Its visual language had two major sources—French Post-­ Impressionist and Fauvist painting and various sorts of Russian peasant and urban visual culture—folk prints, icons, painted shop-signs, etc. But as early as the 1880s, a new visual idiom adopted by the younger generation of Russian artists was being presented by the cultural establishment as foreign (more often than not, French), that is, alien and potentially dangerous for national values. The avant-garde artists of the 1910s were stigmatized by their adversaries as “apes of Paris”—provincial followers of the French artistic fashion. That is why the propo­nents of the new art claimed that “Russia is not an artistic province of France” (David Burliuk) and insisted on local—folk and medieval—sources of ­Russian avantgarde art. Simultaneously they stressed the “orien­tal” nature of Russian art. As Natalia Goncharova declared in 1913: “Now I am shaking the dust from my feet and moving away from the West [...] My road leads to the original wellspring of all the arts—the East.”1 Tracing the lineage of contemporary artistic phenomena such as Cubism back to ancient Egypt or China was common for the avant-garde pamphlets of this time. A “theoretical” basis for such claims could be found in Velimir Khlebnikov’s view of the interconnections between historical time and geographical space. His ideas about historical cycles opened the door for the regeneration of such archaic cultural traditions as the Scythian or Sarmatian and the belief in their presence in the contemporary world. By the beginning of the First World War, one could single out several quasi-theoretical attempts to construct an avant-garde identity in opposition to western artistic movements. Mikhail Larionov’s circle developed the concept of “Vsyochestvo” (Everythingism), that is, a unique ability of Russian art to draw from all possible cultural traditions regardless of time and space. Everythingism asserted the pluralism of tradi­tion and rejected notions of consistency and cause and effect: “The Futurist doctrine can only be approached as an extra-temporal movement.”2 “Thus all existing art is at the service of the artist, and everyone aspires to be

Epilogue: The International of Art as a Utopian Concept

217

his predecessor.”3 Larionov gave a shocking example of an arbitrary understanding of historical tradition: “The painter Paul Cézanne lived in the time of R ­ amses II.”4 Perceiving all preceding and contemporary art as current and existing in the same temporal dimension made it possible, first, to concentrate attention on the work as such, and second, to dismiss accusations of dependency on the West as irrelevant. The obvious dependency on Western (or Eastern) prototypes was acknowledged but radically reinterpreted: drawing on the French was not a sin, but a principle of national art. Everythingism could also be seen as a Futurist mockery of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s idea of the “universal responsiveness” of the Russians, which by that time had already become a cliché of Russian modernism. Another concept one may label as “proto-Eurasianism.” Those who subscribed to it not only identified Russia with the East, but also claimed that Russia had a mission to represent the Orient with its integrity of Weltanschauung as a point of opposition to Western materialism and particularism. “We and the West”—a manifesto signed by Georgy Yakulov, Benedikt Livshits, and Arthur Lourié in 1914 and subsequently published in Paris by Guillaume Apollinaire—is the most striking example of this trend: In its creative quests […] Europe is undergoing a crisis manifested externally in a turn to the East. It’s beyond the West’s power to understand the East […] there is and can be no new art in Europe because art is built upon cosmic elements. All art in the West is territorial. The only country that thus far has no territorial art is Russia.5

New Messianism: From National to International Six years of World War and the Civil War changed the situation dramatically. Artistic contacts with Europe were suspended and information about contempo­ rary Western art became fragmented and inadequate. Not surprisingly, it was during these years of isolation that the Russian avant-garde developed its most radical ideas—non-objective three-dimensional structures (the counter-relief was invented by Vladimir Tatlin earlier in 1914), suprematist painting, and the first constructivist projects.

218

Ilia Doronchenkov

Simultaneously, the avant-garde reapproached the issue of national identity in modern art, which had lost its relevance after Cubism became the lingua franca of contemporary European painting. The cubist language excluded visual elements related to local artistic tradi­ tions. As Kazimir Malevich stated: “The new cubist body that has been built up [...] has nothing national, geographic, patriotic, or narrow popular about it.”6 By the end of the 1910s, the borders in art delineated by the avant-garde were generational, not national. The “cubist turn” and the emergence of abstract art led to a new criterion: the notion of belonging not to certain national schools but of sharing a common “painterly” (or “artistic”) culture: “the concept of artistic culture is related […] to the quest of young artistic schools and could be disclosed by them exclusively.”7 In doing so, the avant-garde departed from its early “ethnic” rheto­ ric in favor of the predominantly international one, at least in the field of art. With the end of the war, the restitution of artistic connections with the West became a burning issue for Russia. The leftist artists, who subscribed to the communist agenda, saw it as a field for the expansion of their ideas—internationalist in vocabulary but with a strong air of the pre-war messianic aspirations. The international utopian ideas of the early post-war avant-garde found cover in the Fine Arts Department of the People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment (IZO Narkompros) led by David Shterenberg, a Russian artist who had returned from Paris in 1917. Major tasks of the department included opening new museums of contemporary art, fulfilling Lenin’s Plan of Monumental Propaganda, and ending cultural isolation. The International Bureau of the department was officially established on January 1, 1919, but the first attempt to restore cultural ties with Europe was undertaken in the fall of 1918 when the department sent a collective appeal “to the German artists,” a letter delivered by the German artist Ludwig Baehr—a former prisoner of war returning to his homeland. The International Bureau formulated its mission with the help of two vocabularies—the “communist” and the “futurist”: The social role of art as a factor unifying nations and societies in harmony makes it a powerful weapon in

the struggle for world socialism […] The unification of the leading fighters of the new art for the construction of the new universal artistic culture—is the general purpose of the International Bureau.8 Anatoly Lunacharsky was the nominal head of the Bureau, while Malevich, Tatlin, Aleksei Morgunov, and Pavel Kuznetsov were its members, and Sofia ­Dymshits-Tolstaya served as its secretary. In this ­circle, the idea of an “International of Art” took shape in 1918–21. It is not the name of an institution but rather a benchmark, a slogan, a name for a utopia. It produced almost no artifacts (three sketches for the magazine cover, figs. 1 and 2). It looks extraneous to the avant-garde’s aesthetic in its romantic response to the demands of revolutionary politics. By no means was the “International of Art” an integral project, rather it is precisely its amorphous nature that allows us now to look at it not as a blueprint of a political organization but rather as an ideological or artistic concept that helps to resolve the constant problem of Russian artistic consciousness—its cultural confrontation with the West—through the Hegelian Aufhebung (sublation). Strictly speaking, the International of Art is the title of a magazine assembled in the first half of 1919 by the International Bureau but never published. The manuscripts are preserved in the Russian State Archive of Literature and Arts, Moscow (RGALI), collection 665; some were published much later.9 I propose to apply this name to several projects and texts which were intended to break through the cultural isolation and to pave the way for a universal reunion of contemporary artists. Below I will discuss several manuscripts from the archives as well as published texts that address different ideas—both practical and utopian—about the international integration of the artists. Finally, I will discuss some artistic projects of the revolutionary years, primarily Tatlin’s Tower, in the context of the International of Art.

The International of Art: Mapping the Utopia The name was coined as a title for an already discussed but still nameless magazine of the Bureau in the week after the establishment of the Third International (Comintern) in Moscow: during a meeting on March

14, Malevich suggested “International and Art” and the protocol records the final version—“The International of Art.”10 The Bureau planned several moves on the way towards universal integration of the international art world: “a congress of representatives of German and Russian artists to prepare the World conference of the arts,”11 “creation of the world collective for artistic affairs,”12 “establishment of artistic embassies in [foreign] countries,”13 “a Congress of Representatives of All the Arts of All Countries.”14 Since spring 1919, the Comintern had served as a model for such a union— the Bureau’s archival documents mention several times a proposal for an international conference that was to lay the foundation for the future artistic International. With very few exceptions, almost none of these projects had a practical outcome. Of several envoys sent

Fig. 1: Alexei Morgunov, cover of the magazine The International of Art, April 1919, Moscow, RGALI, F. 665, D. 1, R. 35, L. 1

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219

­ aboratory of the World” with the subtitle “ConnecL tions among Art and Revolution”16 and in Shterenberg’s manifesto “To the Artists of the World”—a later addition.17 One group of articles in the archives should be analyzed in the context of Khlebnikov’s juxta­position of the “inventors” [izobretateli] and the “exploiters” [priobretateli] (see Tatlin’s abstract “An Initiative Unit in Collective Creativity”) and his ideas about time (Khlebnikov’s “Rhythms of Mankind,” “The Wheel of Birth,” “Time in Space”). Another major group deals with speculations on universal principles of creation, the nature of human creativity (with a strong dose of Intuitivist philosophy), and art as a holistic phenome­ non: Pyotr Ouspensky’s (or rather Mikhail Matyushin’s synopsis of his ideas) “Depiction of the World from the Point of View of Highest Dimensions,” Malevich’s “Exact Principalities in Art,” Morgunov’s “Reason in Art,” Dymshits-Tolstaya’s “Intuition as a Basis for ­Living Creation,” Ivan Aksenov’s “Contemporary Art as a Constructive Struggle with Nature,” etc. An impressive contribution was made by the Symbolists Andrei Bely, Vyacheslav Ivanov, Sergei Polyakov, and Aleksei Toporkov, who further developed Romantic ideas such as the Gesamtkunstwerk and collective creation. A peculiar motif of the International of Art material is its utopian universal language. The most striking examples of this can be found in Khlebnikov’s essays for the magazine:

to Europe, however, one somehow managed to accomplish his mission. It was the nineteen-year-old student Konstantin Umansky, who was sent to Germany as an “ambassador of the arts” and who published several groundbreaking reports and a book on Russian art of the revolutionary years.15 His texts became influential among German politically-engaged leftist artists and Dadaists. The archival materials help us to reconstruct the ideology and intentions of the artistic international. Surprisingly, they reveal an almost absolute absence of Marxist political vocabulary—the only tribute to it can be found in Lunacharsky’s essay “Art as a Creative

Fig. 2: Sofia Dymshits-Tolstaya, cover of the magazine The International of Art, 1919, Moscow, RGALI, F. 665, D. 1, R. 36, L. 1

220

Ilia Doronchenkov

[…] the purpose is to create a written language common for all nations of the third satellite of the Sun […] Painting always spoke the language comprehensible to everybody […] The task for you, artists, is to produce signs of exchange between values of sound and values of vision […] a general image of the future language is given. The language will be transrational [zaumnyi].18 The magazine was still lacking a title but on January 5, 1919, the editorial board made a decision about languages and the size of the press run: two thousand in Russian, one thousand each in English and French, German and Spanish, Japanese and Chinese.19 On March 14, the Bureau approved the suggestion of Morgunov to publish articles “written in uncommon, expressive ways (transrational [zaumnyi] and ideographic languages)” with evident unanimity. On the

same day, Nikolai Punin’s essay “The Esperanto Art” was included in the proposed contents of the magazine.20 In this context, the proximity of Bely to the project would have hardly been incidental—by then he had finished a poem called “Glossolalia” with the following last line: “Let it be [a] brotherhood of nations: the language of languages will tear languages, and it will be the Second Coming of the Word.”21 At the same time, the impact of the Comintern on the International of Art could have had a pragmatic meaning for the leftist artists. The alliance of the Futurists and the Bolsheviks was forced; political leaders remained skeptical about the avant-garde, and there was little (or no) support among the general public for the radical visual language. The 1919 revolutions in Eu­ rope—in Hungary and Bavaria—could be interpreted by the Futurists in this context as an opportunity to overrun the limits of conservative national traditions and to find a responsive audience among European proletarians. The poet, journalist, and member of the Society for the Study of Poetic Language (OPOJAZ), Boris Kushner, greeted Soviet Hungary in March 1919 with enthusiasm and simultaneously anticipated support from the West for Russian innovators: Futurism is isolated together with Communism. But it is younger than Communism, weaker, more unstable. It will begin to suffocate sooner. However important each new forward step of revolution in the West is to political Communism squeezed within the borders of Soviet territory, to Russian Futurism each such step is even more vital, more necessary. Our eyes are on the West.22 The anxiety of Russian leftist artists stimulated not only practical moves but also universal utopian expec­ tations. In 1920, Wassily Kandinsky, at that time ­director of the Museum of Painterly Culture (MKhK) in Moscow, published the article “The Great Utopia,” in which the ambitions of the Russian avant-garde were extended to an almost cosmic scale and presented as a manifestation of the universal aspirations of a post-war humanity. His text is heavily charged with messianism: “Russian artists belonging to the Russian nation, bearers of the cosmopolitan idea were the first who addressed themselves to the West […] calling for collaborative effort […].”23

The mixture of romantic Gesamtkunstwerk ideas with the total lack of a clear-cut program characterized the idea of the international convention. Exactly these qualities made Kandinsky’s project one of the most representative of the whole enterprise: It seems to me that this congress should adopt a theme of a real, albeit utopian character. Without a doubt, one of the most forcible questions in art […] concerns the forms, methods, scope, possibilities, and present and future attainments of monumental art […] A theme of the first Congress of All the Arts of All Countries would be the building of an international house of arts and the working out of plans for its structure […] This edifice should become for all nations the house of utopia.24 It is necessary to keep in mind that Kandinsky’s artistic worldview was shaped in Germany, and he remained one of the few artists in Germany of that time who was attracted to universalist ideas before the collapse of the Wilhelmine Empire—albeit without any reference to Marxist internationalism. One could refer to his unfulfilled project of the collection of essays “Towards the Mankind of the Future through Aryan Europe” proposed in cooperation with the Serbian man of letters Dimitrije Mitrinović (1914).25 His 1920 article was in keeping with post-war German utopian projects such as “Exhibition of Unknown Architects” (Berlin, April 1919) or “Alpine Architecture” by Bruno Taut, who proposed symbiosis of architectural forms and mountain structures.26 But it was a Russian artist who created a structure that one could call a “universal house of utopia.” I mean the well-known and well-studied project of Tatlin’s Tower, i.e., the Monument to the Third International. It is not directly related to the International of Art project but must be considered in the context of the messianic internationalist utopia as one of its most powerful manifestations.

Tatlin’s Tower First of all, it should be emphasized that Tatlin’s Tower was an unfulfilled project—the very scale and complexity of the structure would have prevented its construc-

Epilogue: The International of Art as a Utopian Concept

221

there were several huge spaces intended for the world parliament, the world government, and for the media: a cube, a pyramid, a cylinder, and a hemisphere. As Punin wrote: A special type of mechanism would enable them to move at different speeds. The lower structure […] in the form of a cube, moves on its axis at the speed of one revolution a year […] the next structure […], in the form of a pyramid, rotates on its axis at the speed of one full revolution a month […] finally, the upper cylinder […] rotating at a speed of one revolution a day.27

tion. We know of two original sketches of the building published by Punin in 1919; Tatlin and a number of assistants assembled a wooden model of the monument during several months in 1920, that was then exhibited in Petrograd from November 8 through December 1 and thereafter in Moscow during the 8th Congress of the Soviets. No longer extant, it is documented by several photographs (fig. 3). The tower was intended to be a 400-meter (roughly 1300 feet) tall transparent steel structure made of two interweaving spirals with its axis parallel to the inclination of the earth axis. Inside the steel skeleton,

Fig. 3: Vladimir Tatlin, Monument to the Third International, 1920, photograph

222

Ilia Doronchenkov

The tower has much more in common with abstract sculpture in the style of Tatlin’s own counter-reliefs than with an architectural structure; it goes without saying that practical questions of engineering were never seriously considered by Tatlin. Contemporary scholarship has established a number of sources of the project and its iconography.28 Certainly the Eiffel Tower was a major reference point, but its symmetrical and stable steel structure has been tilted and then twisted into a double spiral. Punin emphasized the symbolic importance of this form: “In the same way as the equilibrium of the parts in a triangle makes it the best expression of the Renaissance, so the best expression of our spirit is a spiral… the spiral is the ideal expression of liberation […]”29 But Punin made no reference to the Hegelian idea of dialectical development and in doing so excluded any possible Marxist connotations on the part of the monument. Although the symbolism of the Tower of Babel is obvious and the very idea of an anti-Babylonian tower central to the utopian ideology of Tatlin’s monument, most of the iconographic sources identified by scholars are far less convincing (e.g., Netherlandish Renaissance prints and Russian medieval frescos).30 The Russian tower symbolically negates the separation of humanity. In this context, the International of Art’s preaching in several languages, the notion of the transrational speech, and the ideas of glossolalia and Esperanto art acquire special significance. Two short essays by Punin, published in the Petrograd “communist-futurist” newspaper Iskusstvo ­kommuny (The Art of the Commune) in March 1919,

are especially important for an understanding of Tatlin’s Tower in the context of the International of Art’s utopian, messianic message and meaning. They clearly demonstrate that for Russian Futurists the International was first of all a “dynamic” mobile form whose utopian meaning is constantly changing. Responding to Viktor Shklovsky’s critique of the fellow Futurists who had subscribed to the superficial idea of the political International, Punin wrote: The International is a Futurist form as any other form produced by creativity […] is there any difference between the third International and Tatlin’s [counter-]relief or Khlebnikov’s ‘The Trumpet of Martians?’ There is no difference for me. The first thing, the second and the third are new forms enjoyed […] and applied by mankind.31 The meaning of the enormous counter-relief—Tatlin’s Tower—however, was changing, even though its form remained unchanged: in March 1919, the project was described as a “Monument to the Great Russian Revolution,” in October as a “Monument to the October Revolution” and only later presented as a “Monument to the Third International.” This is exactly the form described by Punin—the form capable of generating various meanings.

From Spiral to Pyramid: The End of Utopia

order to leap over them. I believe leaping is precisely what it will do, for that is what will solve them.32 Before the Revolution, Russian Futurists explored the “proto-Slavic,” the “tribal,” the “oriental”—all notions to which the concept of nationality is not applicable. After 1917, they leapt into a future in which nationalities already would not exist. In doing so, the Soviet champions of the Futurist International projected the universalist tendency of the early Russian avant-garde into a utopian future. The last manifestos of the “Comintern of Arts” were published in the only issue of IZO, a newspaper of the IZO Narkompros, on March 10, 1921. But it was already the time of gradual restoration of international artistic contacts, and the reality of the post-war artistic process denied the utopian expectations of the Russian Futurists. International initiatives of the Left Front of Arts (LEF) were much more pragmatic and politically charged. The Great Break clearly signified the end of the modernizing trend of the Russian revolution.33 But already by the mid-1920s, art demonstrated a turn to a far from revolutionary totalitarian political system. In 1919, Punin wrote about Tatlin’s great spiral structure: “To translate this form into reality means to realize a dynamism of the same unsurpassed greatness as that embodied in the stasis of the pyramid.”34 In August 1924, the Mausoleum—Lenin’s pyramid—was erected on the Red Square, thus putting a symbolic end to the “Futurist” phase of the revolution.

The predominantly utopian nature of the International of Art makes it conceptually different from the political network of the Comintern. As Punin put it: The proletariat is united—science and art should also be united. The International, the Third International—what further schools and currents are need? [...] Communist International will confront nationalism and individualism in science and art, face them in

Epilogue: The International of Art as a Utopian Concept

223

Notes 1

Ilia Dorontchenkov, ed., Russian and Soviet Views of Modern

noi zhizni SSSR: Internatsional’nye svyazi v Oblasti izobrazi-

Western Art, 1890s to Mid-1930s (Berkeley: University of Cali-

tel’nogo iskusstva: 1917–1940 (Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1987), 98– 99.

fornia Press, 2009), 176. 2

“Futuristicheskoe uchenie tol’ko i mozhet byt’ rassmatrivaemo

12

Shterenberg, “Khudozhnikam vsego mira,” 1.

kak vnevremennoe dvizhenie.” Mikhail Larionov, “Predislov-

13

Kazimir Malevich, “Nashi zadachi” [Our tasks], Izobrazitel’noe iskusstvo, no. 1 (1919): 27.

ie” [Foreword], in Vystavka ikonopisnykh podlinnikov i lubkov: Organizovannaya M.F. Larionovym, exh. cat. (Мoscow, 1913),

14 Dorontchenkov, Russian and Soviet Views of Modern Western Art, 200.

7. 3

Il’ya Zdanevich, “Natal’ya Goncharova i vsyochestvo” [Natalia

15

4

Goncharova i M.F. Larionov: Issledovaniya i publikatsii, ed.

16

Moscow, RGALI, F. 665, Op. 1, D. 1, L. 7.

­Elena Basner (Moscow: Nauka, 2001), 174.

17

Moscow, RGALI, F. 665, Op. 1, D. 32, L. 42–43.

Larionov, “Predislovie,” 6.

18 Velimir Khlebnikov, “Khudozhniki Mira!” [Artists of the world!], in ---, Tvoreniya (Moscow: Sovetskii pisatel’, 1986),

5 Dorontchenkov, Russian and Soviet Views of Modern Western

619–20, 623.

Art, 184–85. 19

Moscow, RGALI, F. 665, Op. 1, D. 1, L. 6.

Art, 151.

20

Moscow, RGALI, F. 665, Op. 1, D. 1, L. 7.

David Shterenberg, “Otchet o deyatel’nosti otdela izobrazi-

21 Andrei Bely, Glossolaliya: Poema o zvuke (Berlin: Epokha,

6 Dorontchenkov, Russian and Soviet Views of Modern Western 7

1922).

tel’nykh iskusstv Narkomprosa” [Report on the activities of the IZO Narkompros], Izobrazitel’noe iskusstvo, no. 1, 1919, 73. 8

22 23

Wassily Kandinsky, “O velikoi utopii” [The great utopia] (1920), cited after Kandinsky: Complete Writings on Art 1, ed. Kenneth

Nikolai Khardzhiev, “‘Internatsional’ Iskusstva.’ Iz materialov po istorii sovetskogo iskusstva” [“The International of Art”:

C. Lindsay and Peter Vergo (Boston: G. K. Hall, 1982), 445.

From materials on the history of Soviet art], Russian Literature

24 Dorontchenkov, Russian and Soviet Views of Modern Western Art, 200.

3, no. 1 (1974): 55–57. Aleksandr Lavrov, “Vyacheslav Ivanov v neosushchestvlennom zhurnale ‘Internatsional’ iskusstva’”

25 Shulamith Behr, “Wassily Kandinsky and Dimitrije Mitrinovic:

[Vyacheslav Ivanov in the unrealized magazine “The Inter-

Pan-Christian Universalism and the Yearbook ‘Towards the

national of Art”], in Vyacheslav Ivanov i ego v­ remya: M ­ aterialy

Mankind of Future through Aryan Europe’,” Oxford Art Journal 15, no. 1 (1992): 81–88.

VII mezhdunarodnogo simpoziuma, ed. Sergei A ­verintsev and Rosemarie Ziegler, (Frankfurt am Main et al.: Peter

26 Rose-Carol Washton Long, “Expressionism, Abstraction,

Lang, 2003), 421–36; Aleksandr Parnis, “O vozzvanii Kazimira

and the Search for Utopia in Germany,” in The Spiritual in

­Malevicha v zhurnale ‘Internatsional’ Iskusstva’” [On the ap-

Art: A ­ bstract Painting 1890–1985, ed. Maurice Tuchman (Los

peal of Kazimir Malevich in the journal “The International of

­Angeles: LACMA, 1986), 201–217; Rose-Carol Washton Long,

Art”], in Futurizm: Radikal’naya revolyutsiya Italiya-Rossiya,

“National of International? Berlin Critics and the Question of

ed. Irina Antonova, Kira Iskol’dskaya, and Vladislav Petrov

Expressionism,” in Künstlerischer Austausch: Akten des XXVIII.

(Moscow: Krasnaya ploshchad’, 2008), 188–90; Aleksandr

Internationalen Kongresses für Kunstgeschichte 3, ed. Thomas W. Gaehtgens (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1993), 521–34.

Parnis, “Khlebnikov i neosushchestvlennyi zhurnal ‘Inter­ natsional’ Iskusstv’ (1919): Novye materialy” [Khlebnikov

27

Nikolai Punin, “Pamyatnik III internatsionala” [The Monument

and the unrealized journal ‘The International of Art’ (1919):

to the Third International] (1920), cited after Art and Theory,

New materials], in Na rubezhe dvukh stoletii: Sbornik v chest

1900–1990: An Anthology of Changing Ideas, ed. Charles Harri-

60-letiya Aleksandra Vasil’evicha Lavrova, ed. Vsevolod Bagno,

son and Paul Wood (Oxford, Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1992), 311.

John Malmstad, and Mariya Malikova (Moscow: Novoe Literaturnoe Obozrenie, 2009), 530–52.

224

Boris Kushner, “Na zapad vzory” [Look at the West], Iskusstvo kommuny, March 30, 1919, 1.

David Shterenberg, “Khudozhnikam vsego mira” [To the artists of the world], Iskusstvo, August 2, 1919, 1.

9

Konstantin Umanskij, Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919 (Potsdam: Gustav Kiepenheuer; Munich: Hans Goltz, 1920).

Goncharova and Everythingism] (November 5, 1918), in N.S.

28

Anatolii Strigaliov, “O proekte ‘Pamyatnika III Internatsionala’

10

Moscow, RGALI, F. 665, Op. 1, D. 1, L. 7.

khudozhnika V. Tatlina” [About the Project of the “Monument

11

Liliya Aleshina and Nina Yavorskaya, Iz istorii khudozhestven-

to the III International” by the Artist V. Tatlin], in Voprosy

Ilia Doronchenkov

sovetskogo izobrazitel’nogo iskusstva i arkhitektury (Moscow:

31 Nikolai Punin, “Kommunizm i futurizm” [Communism and Futurism], Iskusstvo kommuny, March 30, 1919): 2–3.

Sovetskii khudozhnik, 1973), 423–25; John Milner, Vladimir Tatlin and the Russian Avant-Garde (New Haven, London: Yale

32 Dorontchenkov, Russian and Soviet Views of Modern Western Art, 197.

University Press, 1983), 151–80. 29

Punin, “The Monument to the Third International,” 313–14.

33 The Great Break (Velikii perelom)—common expression for the events of 1929–31 when Stalin finally took full control over

30 See Coenraet Decker (engraver) after Lieven de Cruyl

the party and the state in the Soviet Union.

(draughtsman), Tower of Babel, illustration in Athanasius Kircher, Turris Babel (Amsterdam, 1679). See also fresco “Con-

34

Punin, “The Monument to the Third International,” 314.

struction of the Tower of Babel,” Cathedral of the Resurrection, Tutaev (Yaroslavl Region), seventeenth century.

Epilogue: The International of Art as a Utopian Concept

225

El Lissitzky, cover of the catalogue of the First Russian Art Exhibition, Berlin 1922

Appendix

Documentation I

Letter from Nikolai Krestinsky to Lenin, February 19, 1922

Уважаемый Владимир Ильич!

Respected Vladimir Il’ich!

Пишу Вам по поводу предложения Мюнцен­берга об организации русской выставки: когда сюда приехал т. Марьянов с вагоном диаграмм, книг и плакатов, то германское пр-во сначала не позволило даже разгружать этот вагон, так как Мюнценбергу было дано разрешение на устройство художественно-промышленной русской выставки, а не на выставку итогов Советского строительства в разных отраслях народной жизни. С большим трудом Мюнценбергу удалось добиться разрешения на разгрузку вагона, и завтра она состоится.

I am writing to you regarding [Willi] Münzenberg’s proposal to organize a Russian exhibition: when comrade [David] Maryanov arrived here with a wagon of diagrams, books and posters, the German government did not even allow unloading this wagon at first, since Münzenberg was given permission to organize a Russian artistic-industrial exhibition and not an exhibition devoted to the successful growth of the various branches of the Soviet country. With great difficulty, Münzenberg managed to get permission to unload the wagon and it [the exhibition] will take place to­morrow.

Мы устроили заседание заграничного председательства ЦК Помгола (т.т. Мюнценберг, Бродовский, Устинов и я) и единогласно пришли к заключению, что, если даже и будет разрешение пр-ва, то выставки из одних диаграмм устраивать нельзя. Во-первых, в виде крайней бедности и непол­ ноты этой выставки, во-вторых, потому что значительная часть экспонатов отражает достижения прежней экономической политик и не соответствует современной картине России. На этом заседании было решено организацию выставки отложить и принять меры к тому, чтобы эта выставка могла дать правильное представление о России, и чтобы не было бы за нее стыдно. Предполагалось просить Совнарком, если он считает нужным организацию такой выставки, создать в Москве орган, который был бы ответствен содержание экспонатов и за все дело выставки.

We organized a meeting of the foreign chairmanship of the Pomgol Central Commission (comrades Münzenberg, Brodovsky, Ustinov and I) and unanimously concluded that even if there is a permit from the [German] government, an exhibition of diagrams alone should not be arranged. First, because of the extreme poverty and incompleteness of this exhibition, and second, because a significant part of the exhibits reflects the achievements of the former economic policy and does not correspond to the modern picture of Russia. At this meeting, it was decided to postpone the organization of the exhibition and take measures to ensure that this exhibition could provide a proper representation of Russia, so that nobody would be embarrassed by it. It was proposed to ask the Sovnarkom [Soviet Council of People’s Commissars] to create a body in M ­ oscow that would be responsible for the contents of the ex­ hibits and for the whole business of the exhibition in case it considers it necessary to organize such an ex­ hibition.

Documentation

Moscow, GARF, F. 3, Op 5, D. 1096, R. 3–1,  L. 105–08. We wish to thank Ewa Bérard for providing us with this document.1

1

© Novoye literaturnoe obozrenie. Zhurnal, https: //www.nlobooks.ru/ magazines/novoe_ literaturnoe_ obozrenie/170_ nlo_4_2021/

230

Уже после этого заседания пришел ко мне еще раз т. Марьянов и сообщил, что в Москве приготовлено для отправки в Германию два вагона картин русских художников и что они ждут только получения визы представителем Нарком­проса т. Штерен­берга. На мой вопрос, кто составил список посылаемых в Германию картин, и кто является ответственным за характер выставки, Марьянов ответил, что этим делом занимались Штеренберг и Луначарский.

After this meeting, comrade Maryanov came to me once more and informed me that two wagons of paintings by Russian artists had been prepared in Moscow for shipment to Germany and that they were only waiting for a visa to be received by the representative of the Narkompros, comrade Shterenberg. Regarding my question, who compiled the list of paintings sent to Germany and who is responsible for the nature of the exhibition, Maryanov replied that Shterenberg and Lunacharsky were involved in this matter.

Я ничего не понимаю в живописи, но я знаю, что Штеренберг является представителем одного из новых течений в живописи, знаю, что и Луначарский особенно покровительственно относится к новым школам. Знаю в то же время, что Вы и большинство членов правительства и Ц.К. к вкусам т. Луначарского относились крайне отрицательно. Поэтому допускаю, что характер намеченной художественной выставки является неизвестным и неприемлемым для Вас.

I do not know anything about painting, but I know that Shterenberg is a representative of one of the new trends in painting, [and] I know that Lunacharsky is particularly fond of the new trends. I also know that you and the majority of the members of the government and the Central Committee had an extremely negative view toward comrade Lunacharsky’s preferences. Therefore, I assume that the nature of the planned art exhibition is unknown and unacceptable to you.

Со слов самого же Марьянова и Н.П. Горбунова знаю, что прибывшие ведомственные экспонаты известны только ему – Марьянову, а отчасти (по названиям) т. Горбунову. От представителей некоторых ведомств (в частности, Наркомпроса) и в Петрограде я слышал, что экспонаты, благо­даря чрезвычайно краткому сроку, были подобраны совершенно случайно и неполно.

From the words of Maryanov himself and N[ikolai] P[etrovich] Gorbunov, I know that the institutional exhibits that had arrived are only known to him – ­Maryanov, and partially (by name) to comrade Gorbunov. From representatives in some departments (in particular, Narkompros) and in Petrograd, I heard that the exhibits, thanks to an extremely short timeframe, were chosen entirely by chance and are incomplete.

Ничьего постановления, ни Совнаркома, ни ЦК об организации этой выставки я не получил. Никаких кредитов на расходы по ее организации также, по-видимому, не отпущено. По крайней мере, сюда они не приходили.

I have not received any resolution, neither by the Sovnarkom, nor the Central Committee, on the organization of this exhibition. Apparently, no funding has been issued for the expenses of its organization. At least they did not arrive here.

Мое личное отношение к организации выставки в Берлине отрицательное. Я считаю, что лишних сил, ни лишних средств мы для этого не имеем, что особого пропагандистского значения она иметь не сможет, а прибыли в пользу голо­ дающих, конечно, не даст.

My personal attitude toward the organization of the exhibition in Berlin is negative. I believe that we have neither the capacity nor extra funds for this; such an exhibition will not have any particular propaganda impact, nor will it generate any earnings for hunger relief.

Я не хочу навязывать своего отношения, но получается так, что выставка устраивается как будто бы

I do not want to impose my attitude, but it turns out that the exhibition is arranged as if by the Berlin or

Appendix

Берлинским или заграничным представительством ЦК Помгола, т.е. учреждениями, за деятельность коих я несу ответственность. А нести ответственность за организацию этой выставки без пря­ мого постановления компетентных органов об ее устройстве я не могу и не хочу. Поэтому, Владимир Ильич, обращаюсь к Вам со следующей просьбой:

foreign representative office of the Pomgol Central Committee, i.e., the institutions for whose activities I am responsible. And I cannot and do not want to bear accountability for the organization of this exhibition without a direct decision of the competent authorities on its arrangement. Therefore, Vladimir Ilyich, I appeal to you with the following request:

Во-первых, задержать отправку в Берлин вагона с картинами и отъезд Штернберга (визу он уже получил). Во-вторых, поставить в Совнаркоме вопрос об устройстве или неустройстве этой выставки. Во-третьих, если вопрос об устройстве будет решен положительно, учредить постановлением Совнаркома специальную комиссию из доста­ точно ответственных людей для проведения в Москве всей подготовительной работы по организации выставки. Во-четвертых, назначить постановлением Совнаркома специальное лицо по организации выставки в Берлине, лицо, которое было бы достаточно в этом деле компетентно и ничем другим занято не было.

First, to delay the departure of the wagon with paintings to Berlin and the departure of Shterenberg (he has already received a visa). Second, to raise the question of organizing or not organizing this exhibition in the Sovnarkom. Third, if the issue of the organization is resolved positively, a special commission of sufficiently responsible people should be established by the Sovnarkom, to carry out all the preparatory work in Moscow for the organization of the exhibition.

Мне кажется, что Ваше положительное отношение к этой выставке было основано на некоторым недоразумении. Из слов Н.П. Горбунова я понял, что Вы говорили об устройстве русского павильона на берлинской выставке. Между тем, никакой выставки в Берлине нет и не предполагается, и речь может идти лишь об организации самостоятельной.

It seems to me that your positive attitude towards this exhibition is based on some misunderstanding. I have gathered from Gorbunov’s words that you were talking about the construction of a Russian pavilion at the ­Berlin exhibition. In fact, there is no such exhibition in Berlin and none is to be expected; we can only talk about organizing an independent one.

С товарищеским приветом

Fourth, to appoint a special person by a decree of the Sovnarkom for organizing the exhibition in Berlin, a person who would be competent enough in this matter and who is not engaged in anything else.

With comradely greetings

Documentation

231

II

German original cited after Ruth Stoljarowa and Peter Schmalfuß, eds., “Aus dem Briefwechsel deutscher Genossen mit W.I. Lenin” [From the correspon­ dence of German comrades with V.I. Lenin], Beiträge zur Geschichte der Arbeiterbewegung 29 (1987): 51–57.

232

Letter from Willi Münzenberg to Lenin, March 9, 1922

Lieber Genosse Lenin.

Dear Comrade Lenin,

Der Brief des Genossen Krestinski muß einen Irrtum enthalten. Am Tage vor meiner Abreise nach Moskau, ungefähr am 8. Februar, fand zwischen ihm und uns eine Sitzung statt, die volle Überein­ stimmung in der Frage der Ausstellung ergab. Wir waren uns einig, daß das jetzt in Berlin vorhandene Ausstellungsmaterial nicht reicht und damit eine Ausstellung nicht zu machen ist. Aber wir waren uns auch darin einig, daß eine Ausstellung unter allen Umständen gemacht werden muß.

Comrade Krestinsky’s letter must contain an error. The day before I left for Moscow, about the 8th of February, a meeting with him took place resulting in complete agreement on the question of the exhibition. We agreed that the exhibition material now available in Berlin was not sufficient and thus an exhibition was not possible. But we also agreed that an exhibition must be realized under all circumstances.

Monatelang hat man das deutsche Auswärtige Amt bestürmt, Künstler von ersten Namen engagiert, die Stadt Berlin stellte für April den Ausstellungspalast zur Verfügung und wies andere Bewerber zurück, wochenlang hat man sich um die Einreiseerlaubnis für mehrere Künstler bemüht und sie endlich erreicht, die in Berlin die Ausstellung aufbauen sollen. Ein Überhaupt-Fallen-Lassen der Ausstellung ist schon aus allen diesen Gründen unmöglich.

For months, the German Foreign Office has been besieged, well-known artists engaged. The city of ­Berlin has made the exhibition palace available for April, turning down other applicants in the process; it has taken weeks to request and finally acquire the entry permits for the various artists who are to assemble the exhibition in Berlin. For these reasons alone, it would be impossible to abandon the exhibition altogether.

Was notwendig ist, ist eine starke Bereicherung der Ausstellung, und die ist durch mehrere Waggons neues Ausstellungsmaterial garantiert, die hier fahrbereit stehen. Ein Nichtstattfinden der Ausstellung wäre von dem schwersten Nachteil nicht nur für unsere Hilfsaktion, sondern überhaupt für Rußland. Ich bitte dringend, unter diesen Gesichtspunkten die Frage zu entscheiden.

What is needed is a substantial enrichment of the exhibition, which is guaranteed by the several wagons of new exhibition material that are ready to go here. The exhibition not taking place would be a serious disadvantage, not only for our relief campaign, but for Russia in general. I urge you to consider these aspects when making your decision.

Ich fahre Donnerstag zurück und hätte bis dahin gern Entscheid.

I am heading back on Thursday and would like to have a decision by then.

Ihr Willi Münzenberg

Yours, Willi Münzenberg

Appendix

III.1

Act no. 63, [Spring 1922] Fig. III-01 ACT no. 63 The act of shipping works of art from the State Art Fund of the N.K.P. [Narkompros] Museum Bureau and from the Museum of ­Artistic Culture to the artist D.P. Shterenberg for a foreign exhibition according to the attached list /26/ twenty-six [numbers of] paintings from the Museum of Artistic Culture and /61 nom./ sixty-one [numbers of] paintings from the Museum Fund and /191 n./ one h ­ undred and ninety-one [numbers of] drawings from the Museum Fund.

Moscow, RGALI, F. 665, Op 1, D. 8, L. 144. We wish to thank Iryna Makedon for providing us with this document.

[handwritten:] arrived.

III.2 List of the paintings and drawings from the State Fund of the Narkompros Museum Bureau transferred to D. Shterenberg for the exhibition abroad: Drawings from the MKhK, [April 2, 1922] Fig. III-02 Comment: The list of drawings from the MKhK is connected to Act no. 63 (III-01). Among the works that that were transferred from the Petrograd collection to Shterenberg in Spring 1922 for the Berlin exhibition were drawings by Chagall, Rozanova, and Tatlin.

Documentation

Moscow, RGALI, F. 665, Op 1, D. 8, L. 150. We wish to thank Iryna Makedon for providing us with this document.

233

IV.1

Berlin, BArch, R32/116, 56 (64) (Estate of Edwin Redslob).

234

Letter from Edwin Redslob to the Reich Ministry of Economy, August 7, 1922

Eilt:

Urgent:

Herr Dr. Sterenberg, der mit der Wahrnehmung der Staat[s]Kunstpflege in Moskau betraut ist, besuchte mich vor einigen Tagen in Begleitung des bekannten deutschen Schriftstellers Arthur Holitscher und seines Mitarbeiters Marianoff [sic] und bat um eine gutachtliche Vermittlung bezüglich der zur Ausstellung hier in Berlin bereit liegenden vom Einfuhrkommissar aber noch nicht frei gegebenen Werke zeitgenössischer Kunst Russlands.

Dr. Shterenberg, who is responsible for state arts management in Moscow, visited me a few days ago, accompanied by the well-known German writer Arthur Holitscher and his colleague Maryanov and asked for an advisory opinion regarding the works of contemporary Russian art that are ready for the exhibition here in Berlin but that have still not been released by the import commissioner.

Ich kann den Wunsch des Herrn Dr. Sterenberg durchaus befürworten und zwar mit dem Hinweis darauf, dass von Seiten des Auswärtigen Amtes an mich bereits die Anregung ergangen ist, dafür Sorge zu tragen, dass wir hier in Deutschland nicht nur die internationale, sondern auch die spezifisch heimat­ liche Kunst Russlands kennen lernen und zum kulturellen Austausch auf diesem Gebiet kommen.

I fully endorse the wish of Dr. Shterenberg, noting that the Foreign Office has already suggested to me to ensure that we here in Germany become acquainted not only with the international, but also the specifically domestic art of Russia, and come to cultural exchanges in this area.

Soweit meine Orientierung über russische Kunst reicht, die ich gerade im letzten Jahr eingehend betrieben habe, dürfte die Ausstellung die Möglichkeit bieten ein umfassendes Bild vom Kunstschaffen Russland zu verbreiten.

With respect to my own familiarity with Russian art, something I have been pursuing in detail since last year, the exhibition should offer the opportunity to disseminate a comprehensive picture of artistic work in Russia.

Ich halte es daher für berechtigt, wenn ihr soweit behördliche Behandlung in Frage kommt, jede Erleichterung zu Teil wird, vor allen Dingen dürf[te] Beschleunigung der Angelegenheit geboten sein, weil die Bilder und Kunstwerke der Beschädigung ausgesetzt sind.

I therefore consider it justified to grant every possible relief to the extent that administrative action is possible; above all, the matter should be expedited, as the pictures and works of art are at risk of damage.

Die Adresse des Herrn Dr. Sterenberg ist Uhlandstr. 4 bei Molinowski (?) (Telefon: Uhland 9766).

The address of Dr. Shterenberg is Uhlandstr. 4 at ­Molinowski (?) (Telephone: Uhland 9766).

Appendix

IV.2 List for customs clearance [Summer 1922]

Comment: The Zollliste, a seven-page list for customs clearance, reflects the content of the 32 (30) boxes sent from Russia to ­Berlin in Summer 1922. The 331 items are attributed a total value of 9,240,000 Reichsmarks. The authorship of the customs list has not been clarified. Also, it remains unclear, if the list is linked to the letter from Edwin Redslob to the Reich Ministry of ­Economy from August 7, 1922, which is positioned directly before the list in the archive (BArch) (IV-01).

Box no. Kiste 1.

Kiste 2.

Kiste 3.

Kiste 4.

No. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41.

Artist’s name Rodtschenko: Faworskaja: Drewin: Lentuloff: Maschkoff: Faworskaja: Roschdeswenski: Falk: Exter: Drewin: Lawinski: Jakuloff Kuprin: Udalsowa: Leblanc: Anienkoff: Fjodoroff: Kontschalowski: Drewin: Tschekmassow: Popowa: Maschkow: Lentuloff: Kontschalowski: Maschkow: Kandinsky: Kustodijeff: Stepanowa: Kontschalowski: Lentuloff: Lentuloff: Morawoff: Rosonowa: Archipoff: Pewsner: Rosonowa: Fjodorow: Burluk [sic]: Fedorowski: Kusnedzow: Popowa:

Title Konstr. Schwarz-Weiss. Nature morte. Konstr. Schwarz-Weiss. Landschaft. Blumen. Nature morte. Landschaft. Landschaft. Venedig. Farbige Fläche. Schema A. Die Dame mit der Untertaille. Nature morte. Am Flügel. Herbst. Wald. Landschaft. Mähen. Konstr. Modell. Architekturgemälde. Nature morte. Zwei Frauen. Nature morte. Nature morte. Komposition. Beim Tee. Zwei Figuren. Porträt. Porträt. Landschaft. Dekabristen. Nature morte. Feuerschaden. Komposition. Komposition. Nature morte. Porträt. Zwei Kostüme. Nature morte. Architekturgemälde.

Berlin, BArch, R32/116, 57–63 (Estate of Edwin Redslob).

Price 30.000.25.000.30.000.30.000.30.000.25.000.30.000.30.000.25.000.25.000.15.000.35.000.25.000.25.000.20.000.30.000.20.000.40.000.25.000.15.000.20.000.20.000.25.000.30.000.25.000.30.000.50.000.20.000.40.000.25.000.20.000.40.000.25.000.40.000.20.000.25.000.15.000.30.000.20.000.30.000.20.000.-

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235

Box no.

Kiste 5.

Kiste 6.

Kiste 7.

236

Appendix

No. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64: 65: 66: 67: 68: 69: 70: 71: 72: 73: 74: 75: 76: 77: 78: 79: 80: 81: 82: 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92.

Artist’s name Sarjan: Rosonowa: Jakuloff: Tatlin: Gerasimoff: Malewitsch: Lawinski: Bar. Rossine: Lawinski: Seizew: Petrowitschew: Sacharow: Morgunoff: Schkolnik: Lawinski: Baranoff Rossine: Stepanoff: Malewitsch: Krymoff: Lissitzki: Ledanti [sic]: Krymoff: Krymoff: Swedloff: Pain: Radimoff: Morgunoff: Schemiakin: Grigorew: Kontschalowski: Juon: Juon: Schemiakin: Gerasimoff: Osmerkin: Stepanowa: Tschernischoff: Rosonowa: Maschkow: Lawinski: Lawinski: Stenberg: Stenberg: Leblanc: Sinesuboff: Exter: Bristtschenko: Rosonowa: Radimoff: Falk:

Title Nature morte. Komposition. Die Dame. Dekoration. Die Alte. Komposition. Schema. Rosa. Schema. Porträt. Städtchen. Nature morte. Konstruktion. Nature morte. Schema 5. Samowar. Rot. Geometrische Figuren. Etude. Stadt. Ein Pferdekopf Landschaft. Wetterwand. Stadt. Die Lampe. Ein Hungriger. Kubismus. Landschaft. Baum. Fries. Landschaft. Die Alte. Landschaft. Landschaft. Landschaft. Zwei Figuren. Nature morte. Komosition. Das Modell. Eine Stunde [sic] aus dem keramischen Atelier Schema. Schema. Eine farbige Konstruktion. Eine farbige Konstruktion. Winter. Friseur. Stadt. Landschaft. Konstruktion. Schornsteinfeger. Nature morte.

Price 25.000.20.000.30.000.30.000.15.000.30.000.15.000.25.000.15.000.15.000.30.000.15.000.20.000.20.000.15.000.30.000.20.000.30.000.30.000.30.000.25.000.25.000.25.000.20.000.25.000.20.000.25.000.20.000.20.000.20.000.30.000.30.000.25.000.20.000.20.000.20.000.25.000.20.000.25.000.15.000.15.000.15.000.20.000.20.000.25.000.25.000.25.000.25.000.25.000.20.000.30.000.-

Box no.

Kiste 8.

Kiste 9.

No. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139. 140 141. 142. 143.

Artist’s name Meduniatzki: Iwanow: Jakuloff: Iwanoff: Bras: Lawinski: Bruni: Krimoff: Tscherbinowski: Popowa: Sinesuboff: Eiges: Stenberg: B. L. Anienkoff: Kandinsky: Kluzis: Sinesuboff: Denisowski: Tscherbinowski: Burliuk: Morgunoff: Rosonowa: Morgunoff: Stenberg: Archipoff: Exter: Schweschnikowa: Seizew: Bras: Ledantiu: Rodschenko: Rodschenko: Stenberg: Roschdesdwenski: Roschdesdwenski: Sterenberg: Klun. Schkolnik. Seizew: Meduniatzki:

Title Blume. Landschaft. Theaterstudie. Nature morte. Nature morte. Schema A. Neger [sic] Landschaft. Landschaft. Geigen. Bei der Toilette. Ufer. Fabrik. Porträt. Beim Lesen. Komposition. Konstruktion. Landschaft. Paris. Landschaft. Am Spiegel. Komposition. Komposition. Leuchter. Farbenkonstruktion. Zeitungslesen. Gegenstandslosigkeit: Landschaft. Nature morte. Nature morte. Porträt. Die schwarze Komposition. Rotgrüne Komposition. Farbenkonstruktion. Nature morte. Nature morte. Die Lampe. Komposition. Strasse. Nature morte. Farbenkonstruktion. Eine Arbeit aus dem keramischen Atelier. Drewin. Porträt. Iwanow: Nature morte. 17 Schülerarbeiten (Gemälde) aus den Ateliers in: Nischninowgorod, Jaroslawl, Twer, Witepsk [sic], Wologda. A. Iwanoff: Karaffe und Flasche. A. Iwanoff A [sic]: Nature morte. Rosonowa: Komposition. Meduniatzki: Farbenkonstruktion. Gausch: England im Sommer. Odalzowa [sic]: Ein Hammer.

Price 20.000.25.000.30.000.30.000.30.000.15.000.20.000.30.000.25.000.25.000.25.000.20.000.15.000.20.000.30.000.40.000.30.000.25.000.25.000.25.000.30.000.25.000.30.000.25.000.20.000.40.000.30.000.20.000.15.000.35.000.25.000.25.000.25.000.15.000.30.000.35.000.30.000.20.000.20.000.15.000.15.000.15.000.30.000.25.000.25.000.25.000.20.000.15.000.30.000.25.000.-

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237

Box no.

No. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 164. 165. 166. 167. 168. Kiste 11: 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. 174. 175. 176: 177: 178: 179: 180: 181: 182: 183: 184: 185: Kiste 12: 186: 187: 188: 189: Kiste 13: 190: 191: 192: 193: Kiste 14: 194: 195:

238

Appendix

Artist’s name Idelson: Chagall: Chagall: Chagall: Popowa: Rodschenko: Rodschenko: Krinski Medwedeff: Burliuk: Radimoff: Sarian: Schefttschenko: Schefttschenko: Kliun: Jakuloff: Ridschenko [sic]: Burliuk: Radimoff: Radimoff: Feschin: Radimoff: Burliuk: Medwedeff: Radimoff: Malewitsch: Malewitsch: Kuprin: Sternberg: Baranoff Rossine: Sternberg: Sternberg: Baranoff Rossine: Sternberg: Sternberg: Altmann: Sternberg: Sternberg: Mahlewitsch [sic]: Sternberg: Sternberg: Schkolnik: Grabar: Archipoff: Maschkoff: Sternberg: Sternberg: Gausch: Kreiter: Kandinsky: Filinoff [sic]: Altmann:

Title Nature morte. Der Fegende. Soldat. Komposition. Architekturgemälde Architekturgemälde Architekturgemälde Architekturgemälde Korndreschen Ein Mahl. Studie. Obst Architektur Architektur. Komposition. Eine Dekorationsstudie. ein Brett. Ein Blindengänger Bauernhaus Eine Tscherimiskin Studie eines Mädchens Hauswart Kosacke Dorf Tartar Kreis. Ein Messerschleifer Nature morte. Ein Bonbon Die Form & die Farbe ein Briefumschlag Eine Zigarette Die Form und die Farbe Sie [sic] blaue Vase Landschaft Oval Komposition Stilleben Gegenstandslos. 1 weisse Vase Stilleben Stilleben Stilleben Markt Stilleben. Landschaft. Komposition. Landschaft Ein Panneau Komposition Komposition Konstruktive Studie

Price 20.000.40.000.40.000.50.000.20.000.15.000.15.000.15.000.15.000.20.000.15.000.25.000.30.000.30.000.25.000.40.000.25.000.25.000.20.000.20.000.20.000.15.000.30.000.20.000.15.000.30.000.30.000.30.000.40.000.30.000.30.000.30.000.30.000.40.000.40.000.40.000.30.000.30.000.35.000.40.000.30.000.25.000.70.000.70.000.30.000.45.000.45.000.40.000.15.000.40.000.60.000.55.000.-

Box no.

No. 196: 197. 198: 199: 200: Kiste 15: 201: 202: 203: 204: 205: Kiste 16: 206: 207: 208: 209: 210: 211: 212: 213: 214: 215: 216: Kiste 17 217: 218: 219: 220: 221: 222: 223: 224: 225: 226: 227: 228: 229: 230: 231: 232: 233: 234: 235: 236: 237. 238. 239. 240. 241. 242. 243. 244. 245. 246. 247.

Artist’s name Kusnizoff: Korowin: Altmann: Korowin: Grabar: Turjanski: Archipoff: Grabar: Maschkoff: Turjanski: Gausch Grabar Grabar Grabar Gausch: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Filonoff: Jukowski: Falk: Falk: Jukowski Jukowski Jukowski Jukowski Tschernischoff: Kustodijeff: Wasnezoff: Sudekin Sudekin Sudekin Sudekin Sudekin Sudekin Sudekin Falk Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin: Korowin:

Title Orientalische Landschaft. Am Kasten. Bretter Stilleben Birnen. Landschaft. Bazar Frühlingsgrün Landschaft. Frühlingslandschaft. Landschaft Aepfel Landschaft. Kopie auf ein [sic] Brett Feuerwerk. Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Komposition Ein Weg im Herbst Mädchen Porträt. Das Vergangene Im Mai Ein altes Gasthaus Mitternacht Landschaft Die Braut Duell Aquarell Aquarell Aquarell Aquarell Aquarell Aquarell Aquarell Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft Landschaft

Price 45.000.50.000.45.000.45.000.60.000.50.000.55.000.45.000.35.000.35.000.35.000.40.000.50.000.20.000.30.000.50.000.50.000.50.000.50.000.50.000.50.000.70.000.60.000.40.000.35.000.50.000.55.000.60.000.60.000.40.000.70.000.70.000.10.000.10.000.10.000.10.000.10.000.10.000.10.000.40.000.-

500.000,-

Documentation

239

Box no.

Kiste 18

Kiste 19

No. 248. 249. 250: 251: 252: 253: 254: 255: 256: 257: 258: 259: 260: 261: 262: 263: 264: 265: 266: 267: 268: 269: 270: 271: 272: 273: 274: 275: 276: 277: 278: 279: 280: 281: 282:

Kiste 20

283: 284: 285: 286: 287: 288: 289: 290: 291: 292: 293:

240

Ilia Doronchenkov

Artist’s name Tschernyschoff Arbeit aus d. Atelier Wasnezoff: Komarenkoff: Altmann: Altmann: Altmann: Rodschenko: Rodschenko: Rodschenko: Rodschenko: Nesteroff: Pyrin [sic]: Kraitor:

Title Landschaft Konstruktion Studie. Fries. Zeichnung Zeichnung Zeichnung Malerei-arbeiten. Malerei-arbeiten Malerei-arbeiten Malerei-arbeiten Drei Greise Im Gasthaus

60.000.20.000.-

4 Arbeiten Malerei

80.000.-

Stepanoff: 14 Gravüren a. d. Album Kuprijanoff: 5 Gravüren a. d. Album Drei Prospekte konstruktiver Kunst Drei Kontruktionszeichnungen v. Medunatzki [sic] Sternberg Konstruktionsskizze Sternberg & Medun16 Photogr. v. Konstruktionen atzki Eine Photographie aus dem Laboratorium eines Künstler-Ateliers in Kasan Joganson 1 Mappe mit 4 Konstr. Zeichng. Cochriakoff: 1 Bleistiftzeichnung Jukowski: 1 Landschaft. Lapschin: 2 Arbeiten Feschin 1 Arbeit Nasareskaja 1 Arbeit. Roschdeswenski: 1 Oelfarbenarbeit Mansuroff: 3 Arbeiten 208 Schülerarbeiten der Hochschule 8 Arbeiten aus einem Atelier d. Hochschule raumhaften Realismus 1 Mappe mit 149 verschiedenen Gemäldearbeiten moderner russ. Künstler (Zeichnungen, Gravüren, Aquarelle u.a.) 71 Schülerarbeiten 167 Arbeiten moderner russ. Künstler (Zeichng. Gravüren, Aquarelle u.a.) aus dem Museumsfonds Lapschin 3 Arbeiten Seizew: 6 Zeichnungen Mansuroff: 7 Arbeiten. Nesteroff 1 Aquarell Repin: 1 Aquarell Korowin: 16 Miniaturen. Kraitor: 5 Miniaturen 17 Arbeiten aus dem Atelier von Kraitor 1 Arbeit aus dem Atelier von Kraitor

Price 40.000.60.000.15.000.60.000.-

120.000,-

15.000.15.000.30.000.10.000.25.000.20.000.50.000.60.000.15.000.15.000.50.000.60.000.80.000.80.000.75.000.20.000.80.000.25.000.25.000.100.000.40.000.70.000.15.000.-

Box no.

Kiste 23

No. 294: 295: 296: 297: 298: 299: 300: 301: 302: 303: 304:

Kiste 24 Kiste 25

305: 306: 307: 308: 309: 310: 311: 312: 313: 314: 315: 316: 317: 318: 319: 320: 321: Kiste 26. 322: 323:

Kiste 27. Kiste 28. Kiste 29. Kiste 30. Kiste 31. Kiste 32. Summe

324: 325: 326: 327: 328: 329: 330: 331:

Artist’s name Title 18 Alben 23 Bücher 16 Tassen mit UnterAlle diese Gegenstände kommen aus der Kunsttassen hochschule 3 Deckel 2 Teller 8 hölzerne Teller 4 Leimteller 1 eiserner Teller 23 Spielzeuge 4 Bücher Künstlerporzellan aus der Kunsthochschule und aus der Staatlichen Porzellanmanufaktur 2 konstruktive Kunstgegenstände aus Metall von Iganson [sic] Sternberg G. konstruktive Gegenstände Sternberg W. konstruktive Gegenstände Sawailoff konstruktive Gegenstände Tartlin [sic]: 1 Relief. Meduniatzki: 2 Konstruktionen (Kunstgegenst.) Joganson: desgl. Rodschenko desgl. Strojeminski Bild 32 Muster f. Stickereien 3 Kleider von Lamonowa 1 Jakett von Lamonowa 13 Zeichnungen 12 Klischees Schülerarbeiten 8 Metallarbeiten 3 Spielzeuge 1 Kästchen Sternberg W 2 konstruktive Gegenstände Sternberg G 2 konstruktive Gegenstände Meduetzki [sic] 2 konstruktive Gegenstände 78 Kunstdrucke Meturitsch: Relief Meturitsch: Relief 2 Modelle f. Theaterdekorationen von Altmann 2 Modelle f. Theaterdekorationen von Altmann 1 Modell f. Theaterdekorationen von Exter 5 Schülerarbeiten (Gemälde)

Price

15.000.-

100.000.40.000.30.000.30.000.30.000.80.000.60.000.60.000.40.000.20.000.10.000.30.000.15.000.-

-

40.000.40.000.40.000.5.000.25.000.35.000.80.000.80.000.50.000.Mk. 9.240.000,-

Documentation

241

V

Letter from Friedrich Lutz and David Shterenberg to Edwin Redslob, September 20, 1922

Berlin, BArch R32, 83 (Estate of Edwin Redslob).

242

Appendix

Berlin W8, the 20th of September 1922 [Reichskunstwart] Dr. Redslob, presently in Munich, Königinstrasse 85 at Erbslöh. Dear Doctor, “The First Russian Art Exhibition 1922” (exhibition of the works by Russian artists created since 1914) will open in the first days of October in the new exhibition rooms of the Galerie van Diemen, Unter den Linden 21. The preparatory work under the direction of Messrs. D. Shterenberg (director of the Russian State Art Schools) and F.A. Lutz (Galerie van Diemen) has progressed to the point that most of the pictures have already been hung. A comprehensive catalogue is in part, in proofs, likewise completed. We very much regret that we cannot show you the accumulated material in the next few days, as we value your judgment very highly. However, in order to provide an overview, we are sending you some stereotype prints of the catalog illustrations, copies of the directories, and a copy of the catalog introduction by Shterenberg. On the Russian side, the catalogue contains a foreword by A.V. Lunacharsky, Commissar for Art and Science; accordingly, the respective figure on the German side should also have his say. It is the desire of everyone involved that this may happen through you and we are assuming that in the interest of the cause you will agree to fulfill this wish. The exhibition management regrets not being able to bring this request to you personally, but believes that your longer absence from Berlin excuses our doing things this way. The exhibition management will take the liberty of continuing to report to you on the progress of the further preparations and would like to thank you, in this form at present, for what they believe to be your most certain support. With the greatest of respect. Yours, D. Shterenberg [handwritten signature of Shterenberg] Enclosures: Stereotype prints of the catalogue illustrations, 1 copy of the catalogue introduction by Shterenberg.

Documentation

243

VI

Anon. [David Shterenberg?], “Zur Einführung” [Introduction], in Erste Russische Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922 (Berlin: Verlag Internationale Arbeiterhilfe, 1922), 10–14.

244

Introduction to the Berlin Catalogue, 1922

ZUR EINFÜHRUNG

INTRODUCTION

Es ist unmöglich, die reichen und mannigfaltigen Formen lebendigen Schaffens in Worten — noch dazu in kurzen Worten — darzustellen. Was wir beabsichtigen, ist, eine Skizze zu geben, die Europa das neue Rußland vorstellen soll. Um dabei den Werdegang und die Entwicklung der russischen Kunst verständlich zu machen, müssen wir sowohl ganze Strömungen charakterisieren, als auch einzelne Künstler hervorheben.

It is impossible to describe in words, let alone in a few words, the rich and varied forms of human creativity. What we have in mind here is an overview that must serve to introduce the new Russia to Europe. To make the history and development of Russian art more comprehensible, it is necessary to differentiate entire currents as well as highlight individual artists.

Wir beginnen mit der Gruppe der „Peredwischniki“, zu welcher der berühmte Wasnetzow gehört, der hier eine seiner typischen Arbeiten zeigt: den Kampf zweier Helden. Zu derselben Gruppe gehört Archipow, der in seinen Werken Szenen aus dem russischen Bauernleben darstellt. Seine beiden Bilder „Markt“ und „Bäuerin“ sind mit breitem scharfem Pinsel aufgetragen. Archipow gehört zu den Malern, die mit dem offiziellen Akademismus gekämpft haben. In seinen letzten Bildern zeigt er das neue Rußland, so im Gemälde „Beim Zeitunglesen“. Mit neugierigem Eifer haben sich alle um den kleinen Knaben versammelt, der schon lesen kann und ihnen aus der Zeitung die wichtigsten politischen Neuigkeiten mitteilt. Ganz aktuell, aus dem letzten Kriege mit Polen, ist auch sein Bild „Brennendes russisches Dorf“ dargestellt. Zu diesen Meistern gehört auch Bras, der durch zartgraue Stilleben vertreten ist, Schemiakin und Tscherbinowski mit Landschaften, die an die Schule Lewitans erinnern, und auch Radimow, Nesterow, Tourjanski und Morawow, welch letzerer [sic] in einem historischen Bild die schwere Arbeit der Dekabristen zeigt.

We start with the Peredvizhniki to which the famous Vasnetsov belongs, who here shows one of his typical works: The Battle of Two Heroes. In the same group is Arkhipov, who depicts scenes from Russian peasant life in his work. His two paintings Market and Peasant Woman were executed with a broad, sharp brush. Arkhipov is one of the painters who has struggled with official academism. In his latest work, he presents the new Russia, e.g., in the painting Reading the Newspaper. With curious zeal, everyone has gathered around the little boy, who can already read and who is sharing with those present the most important political developments from the news­ paper. Also very topical, is his picture Burning Russian ­Village from the recent war with Poland. Among these masters is also Braz, represented by ­de­licate gray still lifes; Shemyakin and Shcherbinovsky, with landscapes reminiscent of the Levitan school; and also Radimov, Nesterov, Turzhansky and Moravov, the latter illustrating in a historical painting the hard work of the Decembrists.

Auf diese Gruppe folgen die Impressionisten, die mehr mit Lewitans Schule als mit dem europäischen Impressionismus verbunden sind. Zu den ältesten unter ihnen gehört Joukowski, der durch eine Reihe Intérieurs und Landschaften vertreten ist, und auch Gausch. Einer der beliebtesten impressionistischen Maler in Rußland ist Korowin mit stimmungsvollen Landschaften und zarten, träumenden, von Licht überfluteten Frauen-

This group is followed by the Impressionists, who are more closely associated with Levitan’s school than with European Impressionism. Among the oldest of them is Zhukovsky, represented by a number of interiors and landscapes, and also Gaush. One of the most popular Impressionist painters in Russia is Korovin, with atmospheric landscapes and sun-drenched, delicate, dreaming female figures. Impressionism never reached

Appendix

gestalten. Der Impressionismus hat bei uns nie eine solche Ausdehnung wie in Mitteleuropa angenommen, und ist wohl mit den Namen von Gausch, Joukowski, Korowin und Juon erschöpft. Juon ist einer von den Meistern, der neben seinem künstlerischen Schaffen noch Zeit gefunden hat, regen Anteil am russischen Kunstleben zu nehmen. Seine zwei in der Ausstellung befindlichen Bilder sind „Landschaft“ und „Alte Frau“.

such an extent here as it did in Central Europe, and is probably already depleted with the names of Gaush, Zhukovsky, Korovin and Yuon. Yuon is one of those masters who, in addition to his artistic work, has found time to take an active part in Russian artistic life. His two paintings in the exhibition are Landscape and Old Woman.

Eine weitere Gruppe ist „Myr Iskusstwa“ (Kunstwelt) [sic]. Ihre Vertreter machen den „Peredwischniki“ den Vorwurf, mehr am Inhalt als am Malen selber festzuhalten, aber man kann nicht behaupten, daß sie selbst andere Wege eingeschlagen hätten. Von ihnen ist ­Kustodiew der typischste. Er zeigt zwei Bilder „Die Frau am Samowar“ und „Die Braut“. Außer ihm sind Benoi [sic] und Dobujinski mit feinen Zeichnungen und Dekorationen zu nennen.

Another group is Mir iskusstva (World of Art). Their representatives accuse the Peredvizhniki of caring more about content than painting, but one cannot say that their own paths have been that much different. Of them Kustodiev is the most typical. He is showing two pictures The Woman at the Samovar and The Bride. Besides him, Benois and Dobuzhinsky, with their fine drawings and decorations, should be mentioned.

Die nächste Gruppe ist „Bubnowy Valet“ (Karobube), die mehr links steht und ihre Bilder auf gute Malerei zu basieren bestrebt ist; so Maschkow, der durch bunte Stillleben vertreten ist, in denen der Farbe große Aufmerksamkeit gewidmet ist, so Kontschalowski, der russische Vertreter der Schule Cézannes, und Lentulow mit Landschaften und Frauenfiguren. Lentulow geht von der Suche nach Form und Licht aus, was so typisch für die Nachfolger Cézannes ist, die in Rußland noch besonders durch ihr berückendes orientalisches Kolorit gekennzeichnet sind. Zwei gute Meister dieser Gruppe, die in der Malerei hartnäckig neue Formen suchen, sind Rojdestwenski und Falk; Falk zeigt zwei fein gemalte, gut kolorierte Mädchenportraits. Beide nähern sich in einer Seite ihres Schaffens dem Kubismus. Zu ihnen gehören noch Kuprin, Tschernischow u. a.

The next group is Bubnovyi valet (Knave of Diamonds), who are more leftist and strive to base their work on good painting; there is Mashkov, for example, who is represented by colorful still lifes in which great attention is paid to color; also Konchalovsky, the Russian representative of the Cézanne school; and ­Lentulov, with landscapes and the female figure. Lentulov proceeds from the search for form and light, which is so typical of Cézanne’s successors, who are still particularly characterized in Russia by their captivating oriental color palette. Rozhdestvensky and Falk are two fine representatives of this group, who are stubbornly seeking new forms in painting; Falk shows two delicately painted girls’ color portraits. Both are approaching Cubism in one aspect of their work. This also includes Kuprin, Chernyshov, and others.

Auf sie folgen die Expressionisten: Burljuk, Chagall, letzterer bekannt in Deutschland, und der im Ausland ganz unbekannte, aber interessante Filonow, der mit seinen Kompositionen einzig in seiner Art dasteht, und Lebediew und Lapschin, die beide verschiedene Werke zeigen. Zur Gruppe gehört auch Sinezubow. Dazwischen müssen genannt werden die Primitivisten: Sarjan, Iwanow, Pain, Sacharow, Schkolnik, Aronsohn [sic] u. a.

They are followed by the Expressionists: Burliuk, ­Chagall, the latter well-known in Germany, and Filonov, who is quite unknown abroad but is interesting and whose compositions are unique in their kind, and ­Lebedev and Lapshin, both of whom are showing ­various works. The group also includes Sinezubov. As well, the Primitivists must be mentioned: Saryan, Ivanov, Pain, Zakharov, Shkolnik, Aronson, and others.

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Dann folgen die Kubisten, die durch Udaltzowa, Pewsner, Morgunow, Puni, Ledantiu vertreten sind ­ und überdies durch eine ganze Reihe junger Maler, die alle auf ihre Art den Kubismus darstellen. Der russische Kubismus hat sich selbständig entwickelt und darin seinen Ausdruck gefunden, daß die Maler nicht bei einem Schema geblieben sind. Als Uebergangsstadium [sic] von der kubistischen zur gegenstandslosen Malerei, die sich von den Erscheinungen der sichtbaren Welt abwendet, sind die Werke von Stepanowa, Baranow-Rossine, einem sehr interessanten Künstler, der sich nur schwer in den Rahmen einer Schule bringen läßt, u. a., die hier vertreten sind, zu bezeichnen.

Then come the Cubists, represented by Udaltsova, Pevsner, Morgunov, Puni, Le-Dantiu, and a whole ­series of young painters, all of whom interpret Cubism in their own way. Russian Cubism developed independently and found its expression in the fact that the painters did not stick to one scheme. The works, for example, of Stepanova, Baranov-­ Rossine, a very interesting artist who is difficult to place in a school, represent here a transitional stage from cubist to non-objective painting, which turns away from the phenomena of the visible world.

Und nun zur gegenstandslosen Malerei, zu der auch der „Suprematismus“ gehört. Er spiegelt sich vor allem in den Bildern von Malewitsch wieder [sic], der durch seine Werke wie durch seine ideologische Propaganda zu den wichtigsten Suprematisten gehört und als Führer des Suprematismus erscheint. Hierher gehören auch Klun, Rosanowa, Popowa, Exter, Lissitzki, Drewin, Mansurow und einige Werke von Rodschenko. Ihre Bilder beruhen auf dem Rhythmus abstrakter Flächen, welche nach der Theorie der Suprematisten genaue Gesetze haben, aus denen sich die große Bewegung der gegenstandslosen Kunst entwickelt hat. Unsere Su­ prematisten zeigen eine ganze Reihe einfacher F ­ ormen: Kreise, Quadrate etc. und das rhythmische Spiel dieser Formen auf der Leinwand. Zur selben künstlerischen Weltauffassung bekennt sich auch Kandinski, der jedoch einen anderen Weg der gegenstandslosen Malerei einschlägt. Seine Bilder und Kunstanschauungen sind in Deutschland bekannt. Hier muß auch der Kon­ struktivist Tatlin erwähnt werden, der in Rußland als Erster das Contrerelief dargestellt hat, das, aus der Fläche entstanden, reale Stoffe im Raume verwirklicht. Auf der Ausstellung ist Tatlin durch gegenstandslose Werke vertreten, die eine Etappe im Uebergang [sic] zur Produktionskunst bedeuten. Als ersten Versuch dieser Richtung kann man sein Denkmal der III. Internationale in Moskau bezeichnen.

And now to non-objective painting, which also includes Suprematism. It is reflected above all in the pictures of Malevich, who, through his works and his ideological propaganda, is one of the most important Suprematists and appears as the leader of Suprematism. Also included here are Kliun, Rozanova, Popova, ­Ekster, Lissitzky, Drevin, Mansurov, and some works by ­Rodchenko. Their paintings are based on the rhythm of abstract planes that, according to Suprematist theory, have precise laws upon which the great movement of nonobjective art is based. Our Suprematists exhibit a whole range of simple forms: circles, squares, etc., and the rhythmic play of these forms on the canvas. K ­ andinsky also professes the same artistic world view, but he takes a different path to non-objective painting. His pictures and views on art are well known in Germany. The Constructivist Tatlin must also be mentioned here, the first in Russia to present the counter-relief, which rises up from the surface, the realization of actual materials in space. In the exhibition, Tatlin is represented by non-objective works that represent a stage in the transition to production art. His monument to the Third International in Moscow can be viewed as a first attempt in this direction.

Die linken Kunstrichtungen verzweigen sich weiter: die Vertreter der einen verzichten vollständig auf die Leinwand, streben der Produktionskunst zu und stellen vorläufig eine ganze Reihe gegenstandsloser Kon­ struktionsformen dar, die keine utilitarischen [sic]

The leftist art movements branch out even further: the representatives of the one have renounced the canvas entirely and strive towards production art, presenting a whole series of non-objective construction forms exhibiting no utilitarian properties. This group includes

Appendix

Eigenschaften aufweisen. Zu dieser Gruppe gehört Rodschenko, der durch stark suprematische und kon­ struktive Werke vertreten ist. Er geht jetzt zu utilita­ rischen [sic] architektonischen Konstruktionen über. In derselben Art, aber sehr individuell, arbeiten Stenberg, Medunetzki, Mituritsch, Klutzis, Joganson, ­Stregeminsky u. a.

Rodchenko, represented by strongly suprematist and constructivist works. He is now moving toward more utilitarian architectonic constructions. Working in much the same vein but yet individually distinct, we have Stenberg, Medunetsky, Miturich, Klutsis, Ioganson, Strzemiński, and others.

Abseits steht Nathan Altmann. Mit ihm beginnt eine neue Verzweigung der gegenstandslosen Kunst. Er nähert die sichtbare Komposition des Bildes der materiellen Konstruktion der Dinge und gibt ihr dadurch einen bewußten, bei ihm sozialen Inhalt. Seine Werke wollen nicht nur das Auge beeinflussen, sondern auch das Bewußtsein organisieren. Grundlage seines Schaffens ist das Material an sich, das er zu bereichern versteht.

The outlier is Natan Altman. He represents a new branch of non-objective art. His approach to the visible composition of the painting is based on the material construction of things, thereby achieving a conscious, even social content. His work aims not only to influence the eye, but to shape the human consciousness. The basis of his work is the material itself, which he then goes on to enrich.

Im Gegensatz zum Suprematismus beweist der Maler Sterenberg mit seinen Werken, daß man ein Bild als solches rein malerisch organisieren kann, ohne dabei gegenstandslos zu werden. Als erster baut er das Bild auf faktur-kontrastische Gesetze auf und gibt die Grundform eines Gegenstandes so wieder, wie diese sich der Vorstellung darbietet und stellt dadurch den konzentrierten malerischen Inhalt dieses Gegenstandes dar.

In contrast to Suprematism, the painter Shterenberg demonstrates with his works that the picture as such can be organized purely in terms of painting without becoming non-objective. He was the first to realize the painting on the basis of the principles of faktura-­ contrast and to reproduce the basic form of an object as it presents itself to the imagination, thereby capturing the painterly essence of this object.

Parallel den Konstruktivisten steht der Bildhauer Gabo, dessen Werke die Skulptur als solche dadurch revolutionieren, daß sie nicht mehr „Plastik als Masse“ sind, sondern Konstruktionen. Das System der Plastik ­Gabos beruht auf den diagonal gekreuzten Flächen einer Grundform als räumlicher Konstruktion. Der Raum wird dabei als Tiefe betrachtet. Bezeichnend ist, daß die Konstruktionen Gabos nicht nur die Statik, sondern auch die Dynamik realisieren, um so auch „die Zeit“ als neues Element in der Kunst zu verwenden.

In parallel to the Constructivists stands the sculptor Gabo, whose works have revolutionized sculpture as such by no longer being “sculpture as mass” but rather constructions. The system behind Gabo’s sculpture ­relies on the diagonal intersections of the planes of a basic form, creating a construction in space. The space is regarded as depth. It is significant that Gabo’s constructions are realized not only statically but also ­dynamically, thus incorporating “time” as a new element in art.

Hier befinden sich auch eine ganze Anzahl Werke von Schülern der Kunstschulen, die interessant sind in Anbetracht neuer Lehrmethoden und neuen Schüler­ materials, das aus Bauern- und Arbeiterkreisen stammt. Die Arbeiten der Staatsporzellan- und Gravierstein­ fabrik sind von großem Interesse, als Versuche einer Produktionsarbeit, die mit Kunst verbunden ist.

There are also quite a number of works by students of art schools that are of interest with respect to the new teaching methods and new student material from peasant and working-class circles. The works of the State Porcelain and Engraving Factory are of great interest as experiments in art-related mass production.

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Die Theaterabteilung zeigt die Arbeiten einiger Maler, so die Skizze von Jakulow für die „Brambilla“ von Hoffmann, die im Moskauer Kammertheater aufgeführt wurde. Jakulow war der Erste, der, mit Tatlin zusammen, Theaterdekorationen konstruktiv behandelte. Die Arbeit N. Altmanns „Uriel Akosta“ [sic] für das jüdische Kammertheater in Moskau ist eine neue kon­ struktive Lösung der Volumina im wirklichen Raume. Exter mit seinem [sic] Entwurf „Romeo und Julia“ (Moskauer Kammertheater) hat die plastische Lösung der Theaterdekorationen gefunden bei großer Farbenintensität. Boguslawskaja ist hier mit Theaterfigurinen vertreten. In der Ausstellung sind auch einige Plakate, die in kleinem Maßstabe die Arbeitsweise russischer Maler im Revolutionsplakat zeigen.

The theatre section shows the work of several painters, e.g., Yakulov’s sketch for Hoffmann’s Brambilla, which was produced by the Moscow Chamber Theatre. Yakulov was the first, along with Tatlin, to treat stage design constructively. N. Altman’s work Uriel Acosta for the Jewish Chamber Theatre in Moscow is a new constructivist solution to handling volume in physical space. Ekster with [her] design for Romeo and Juliet (Moscow Chamber Theatre) has found a sculptural solution for stage scenery in intense color. Boguslavskaya is represented here with theatrical figurines. There are also quite a number of posters in the exhibition that illustrate to some extent the handling of revolutionary posters by the Russian painters.

Selbstverständlich gehören alle diese Künstler nur annähernd zu den genannten Gruppen. Unter einander sind sie enger verbunden, was ihre ausgestellten Werke bezeugen.

Naturally, these artists are only loosely affiliated with the aforementioned groups. That they have formed closer-knit connections among themselves may be seen from the works exhibited.

Appendix

VII

Loose-leaf annex to the catalogue of the First Russian Art Exhibition for the second station at the Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam 1923

OPMERKING Wij moeten tot onzen spijt de Hollandschen bezoeker den catalogus, zooals deze voor Duitschland werd vervaardigd, aanbieden. Enkele wijzigingen vindt men hierbij vermeld, overigens correspondeeren de nummers van dezen catalogus met de nummering op de tentoonstelling te Amsterdam.

NOTE We regret to have to offer the Dutch visitor the catalogue as it was produced for Germany. Some ­changes are mentioned here, otherwise the numbers in this ­catalogue correspond to the numbers in the exhibition in Amsterdam.

De hieronder vermelde nummers zijn op de tentoonstelling aanwezig doch niet in den Catalogus vermeld

The numbers listed below are present in the exhibition but not listed in the catalogue. […]

595 ARANSON, Theaterkostuum. 596 BERWIS, Aquarel. 597 BRUMBERG, Landschap. 598 -“-, -“599 DEMISOWSKY, Portret van D. Sterenberg. 600 FISCHLER, 2 Komposities. 601 GERASIMOW, De Maaltijd. 602a -“-, Boer. 602b GöNTSCHAROW [sic], 2 Komposities. 603a KLUN, 3 Komposities. 603b KUDRIACHOW, Kompositie. 604 LUCHIN, Kompositie. 605 LISITZKY, Konstruktie. 606 LABAS, 3 Komposities. 607 MALEWITSCH, Portret. 608 -“-, Kompositie. 609 MERKULOW, -“-. 610 MELNIKOW, -“-. 611 NIKRITIN, -“-. 612 POPOWA, Theater-konstruktie. 613 -“-, 4 Komposities. 614 PALMOW, 5 -“615 PEWSNER, Kompositie. 616 REDKOW, 3 Komposities. 617 RODSCHENKO, 4 Konstrukties, 618 STERENBERG, 5 Houtsneden. 619 SLAWIN, Boer. 620 UDALZOWA, Kompositie. 621 WASILIEW, Affiche. 622 WILLIAMS, Kompositie. 623 WESSNIN, Kompositie en 5 Teekeningen.

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De volgende nummers zijn niet meer op de Tentoonstelling aanwezig

TSCHERBINOWSKY . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230 GAUSCH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47, 49 EIGES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 GRABAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .52 GRIGORIEW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 WASNEZOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 IWANOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61, 60 NESTEREW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 MEDWEDIEW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139 TSCHEKMAZOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228 TSCHERNISCHOW . . . . . . . . . . . . 232, 233 DREWIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 FAWORSKAYA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .40, 41 JUKOWSKY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72 LEERLINGENWERK . . . . . . . . . . . 190, 194 NASAREWSKAYA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144 SCHEMIAKIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 D. STERENBERG . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 ARCHIPOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 BOTSCHKOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .14 EXTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .33 JUON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 KOROWIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90, 92 MALEWITSCH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 SINESUBOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202 UDALZOWA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 GABS [sic] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 546, 550 DENISOWSKY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26

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The following numbers are no longer in the exhibition. [...]

VIII Act no. 349, December 16, 1924 Moscow, RGALI, F. 686, Op 1, D. 39, L. 78, 79. We wish to thank Iryna Makedon for providing us with this document.

Figs. VIII-01, VIII-02, VIII-03, VII-04 ACT no. 349 This act was compiled on December 16, 1924, stating that, following the instructions of the Department for Museums of the NKP [Narkompros] Glavnauka dated 22/XI this year [November 22, 1924] for No. 13702/n, paintings by Russian artists from the Berlin exhibition were delivered by the authorized comrade Shterenberg and comrade Denisovsky in 8 boarded-up boxes/[including] opening report/ and belonging to the Bureau of the State Fund of IZO [Department of Fine Arts] were accepted into the Central Repository of the State Museum Fund/ on Sadovaya Chernogryazskaya street, house 6.

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Appendix

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Appendix

List of Abbreviations and Acronyms AKhRR

Comintern Glavnauka

GMF GRM GTG

INKhUK IZO KPD MB MKhK MZhK Narkomindel

Narkompros OBMOKhU OST Pomgol

Proletkult

Assotsiatsiya khudozhnikov revolyutsionnoi Rossii – Association of Artists of Revolutionary Russia Communist International Glavnoe upravlenie nauchnymi, nauchnokhudozhestvennymi i muzeinymi uchrezhdeniyami – Chief Directorate of Scientific, Scientific-Artistic and Museum Institutions Gosudarstvennyi muzeinyi fond – State Museum Fund (Moscow) Gosudarstvennyi Rysskii muzei – State Russian Museum (St. Peterburg) Gosudarstvennaya Tret’yakovskaya galereya – State Tretyakov Gallery (Moscow) Institut khudozhestvennoi kul’tury – Institute of Artistic Culture (Moscow) Otdel izobrazitel’nykh iskusstv – Department of Fine Arts Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands – Communist Party of Germany Muzeinoe byuro – Museum Bureau Muzei khudozhestvennoi kul’tury – Museum of Artistic Culture (Petrograd) Muzei zhivopisnyi kul’tury – Museum of Painterly Culture (Moscow) Narodnyi kommissariat inostrannykh del – People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs Narodnyi kommissariat prosveshcheniya – People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment Obshchestvo molodykh khudozhnikov – Society of Young Artists Obshchestvo khudozhnikov-stankovistov – Society of Easel Painters Pomoshch’ golodayushchim: Vserossiiskii komitet pomoshchi golodayushchim – All-Russian Committee for Famine Relief Proletarskie kul’turno-prosvetitel’nye organisatsii – Proletarian Culture Movement

Proun

Proekt utverzhdeniya novogo – Project for the Affirmation of the New ROSTA Rossiiskoe telegrafnoe agentstvo – Russian Telegraph Agency RSFSR Rossiiskaya Sovetskaya Federativnaya Sotsialisticheskaya Respublika – Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic Sovnarkom Sovet narodnykh kommissarov – Soviet Council of People’s Commissars SPD Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands – Social Democratic Party of Germany SVOMAS Svobodnye gosudarstvennye khudozhestvennye masterskie – Free State Art Studios TASS Telegrafnoe agentstvo Sovetskogo Soyuza – Telegraph Agency of the Soviet Union UNOVIS Utverditeli novogo iskusstva – Affirmers of the New Art USSR Union of Soviet Socialist Republics – Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik (SSSR) VKhUTEMAS Vysshie khudozhestvenno-tekhnicheskie masterskie – Higher Artistic and Technical Studios (Moscow)

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List of Archives Berlin, BArch Berlin, LAB Berlin, PA AA

Berlin, SMB-ZA

Kyiv, AFD NKhMU

Bundesarchiv – Federal Archives Landesarchiv – Central State Archive of Berlin Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amtes – Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Zentralarchiv – Berlin State Museums, Central Archive

Arkhiv fondovoi dokumentatsii Natsionalnoho khudozhnoho muzeiu Ukrainy – Archive of the Archival Documentation of the National Art Museum of Ukraine Kyiv, TsDAVO Tsentralnyi derzhavnyi arkhiv vyshchykh orhaniv vlady i upravlinnia Ukrainy – Central State Archive of Supreme Bodies of Power and Government of Ukraine Moscow, AVP RF Arkhiv vneshnei politiki Rossiiskoi Federatsii – Foreign Policy Archive of the Russian Federation Moscow, GARF Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv Rossiiskoi Federatsii – State Archive of the Russian Federation Moscow, RGALI Rossiiskii gosudarsvennyi arkhiv literatury i iskusstva – Russian State Archive of Literature and Arts Moscow, RGASPI Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi arkhiv sotsialno-politicheskoi istorii – Russian State Archive of Socio-Political History St. Petersburg, TsGALI SPb Tsentralnyi gosudarstvennyi arkhiv literatury i iskusstva Sankt-Peterburga – Central State Archive of Literature and Art of St. Petersburg Tokyo, JACAR Aji-reki wa intānetto-jō no shiryōkan – Japan Center for Asian Historical Records

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Appendix

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Avtonomova, Natalia. “Window to the West.” The Tretyakov Gallery Magazine 70, no. 1 (2021), https://www.tretyakovgallerymagazine.com/articles/1-2021-70/window-west [accessed January 7, 2022]. B. N. “De Russische tentoonstelling: Porselein en andere nij­ verheidskunst, Stedelijk Museum” [The Russian ­exhibition: Porcelain and other crafts, Stedelijk Museum]. De Telegraaf, May 9, 1923, 3. Barnett, Vivian. “The Russian Presence in the 1924 Venice Biennale.” In The Great Utopia: The Russian and Soviet Avant-Garde, 1915–1932, edited by Bettina-Martine Wolter and Bernhart Schwenk, 466–73. New York: Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 1992. Bartal, Israel. The Jews of Eastern Europe, 1772–1881. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005. Basner, Elena. “‘My i Zapad:’ Ideya missionerstva v russkom avangarde” [“We and the West:” The idea of missionary work in the Russian avant-garde]. In Russkii avangard 1910–1920-kh godov v evropeiskom kontekste, edited by Georgii Kovalenko, 27–34. Moscow: Nauka, 2000. Bauer, Curt. “Berliner Ausstellungen” [Berlin exhibitions]. Cicerone 14, 1922, 803. Bavaj, Riccardo. “‘Revolutionierung der Augen:’ Politische Massenmobilisierung in der Weimarer Republik und der Münzenberg-Konzern” [“Revolutionizing the Eyes:” Po­ litical mass mobilization in the Weimar Republic and the Münzenberg Group]. In Politische Kultur und Medienwirklichkeiten in den 1920er Jahren, edited by Ute Daniel et al., 81–100. Munich: R. Ouldenbourg, 2010. Bayer, Waltraud. “Der legitimierte Raub: Der Umgang mit Kunstschätzen in der Sowjetunion, 1917–1938” [Legitimized looting: The handling of art treasures in the Soviet Union, 1917–1938]. Osteuropa 56, nos. 1–2 (January/ February 2006): 55–70. Behne, Adolf. “On the Russian Exhibition.” In Between Worlds: A Sourcebook of Central-European Avant-Gardes, 1910–1930, edited by Timothy O. Benson and Éva Forgács, 408. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2002. Benson, Timothy O., and Éva Forgács, eds. Between Worlds: A Sourcebook of Central European Avant-Gardes, 1910– 1930. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2002. Berar, Eva. “Eksponaty iz plombirovannogo vagona: Per­vaya vystavka russkogo iskusstva 1922 v Berline: Dokumental’naia istoriia” [Exhibits from a sealed wagon: The First Exhibition of Russian Art 1922 in Berlin: A documentary history]. Novoe literaturnoe obozrenie, no. 4 (2021): 103–28.

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Bérard, Ewa. “The ‘First Exhibition of Russian Art’ in Berlin: The Transnational Origins of Bolshevik Cultural Diplomacy, 1921–1922.” Contemporary European History 30, no. 2 (2021): 164–80. Bijvoet, F.A. “De Russische Tentoonstelling” [The Russian exhibition]. Roomsch Studentenblad, June 2, 1923, 224. Bilang, Karla. Herwarth Walden und die russische, weiß­ russische und ukrainische Avantgarde: Künstler und Schriftsteller 1910–1938. Berlin: Trafo, 2020. Boeken, A. “Iets over de constructivisten op de Eerste ­Russische Kunsttentoonstelling” [Some thoughts about the Constructivists at the First Russian Art Exhibition]. Bouwkundig weekblad 44, no.19, May 12, 1923, 213–14. Borkhardt, Sebastian. “‘Russian Messiah:’ On the Spiritual in the Reception of Vasily Kandinsky’s Art in Germany, c. 1910–1937.” In Modernism and the Spiritual in Russian Art: New Perspectives, edited by Louise Hardiman and Nicola Kozicharow, 149–64. Cambridge, UK: Open Book Publishers, 2017. Borkhardt, Sebastian. “Der Russe Kandinsky:” Zur Bedeutung der russischen Herkunft Vasilij Kandinskijs für seine Rezeption in Deutschland, 1912–1945. Cologne: Böhlau, 2021. Botar, Oliver. “From Avant-Garde to ‘Proletkult’ in Hungarian Émigré Politico-Cultural Journals 1922–1924.” In Art and Journals on the Political Front, 1910–1940, edited by Virginia Hagelstein Marquardt, 100–41. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1997. Bowlt, John E. “Art in Exile: The Russian Avant-Garde and the Emigration,” Art Journal 41, no. 3 (Autumn 1981): 215–21. Braskén, Kasper. The International Workers’ Relief, Communism, and Transnational Solidarity: Willi Münzenberg in Weimar Germany. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015. Braskén, Kasper. “‘In Pursuit of Global International Solidarity?’ The Transnational Networks of the International Workers’ Relief, 1921–1935.” In International Communism and Transnational Solidarity: Radical Networks, Mass Movements and Global Politics, 1919–1939, edited by Holger Weiss, 130–67. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Braskén, Kasper. “Celebrating October: The Transnational Commemorations of the Tenth Anniversary of the ­Soviet Union in Weimar Germany.” In Echoes of October: International Commemorations of the Bolshevik Revolution 1918–1990, edited by Jean-François Fayet, Valérie Gorin, and Stefanie Prezioso, 76–105. London: Lawrence and Wishart, 2017. Buchholz, Mo, and Eberhard Roters, eds. erich buchholz. Berlin: Ars Nicolai, 1993. Budnitskii, Oleg. Russian Jews between the Reds and the Whites, 1917–1920. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012. Buschbeck, Ernst H. “Russische Kunst” [Russian art]. Neues Wiener Abendblatt, February 28. 1924, 5.

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Causeur [sic]. “Vystavka kartin” [Exhibition of paintings]. Vremya 4, no. 225, November 6, 1922, 2. Černoperov, Vasilij K. “Viktor Kopp und die sowjetischdeutschen Beziehungen 1919 bis 1921” [Viktor Kopp and the Soviet-German relations 1919 to 1921]. Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 60, no. 4 (October 2012): 529–54. Collin, Ernst. “Bolschewistische Kunst: Zur ersten russischen Kunstausstellung in Berlin” [Bolshevik art: On the First Russian Art Exhibition]. Berliner Familien Zeitung, no. 217, October 31, 1922, n. p. De Jong, A. M. [Adrianus Michiel]. “Russische tentoonstelling” [Russian exhibition]. Het Volk, May 14, 1923, n. p. Donath, Adolf. “Die Russische Kunstausstellung in Berlin” [The Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin]. Der Kunst­ wanderer, November 1922, 95–96. Doronchenkov, Ilia, ed. Russian and Soviet Views of Modern Western Art, 1890s to Mid-1930s. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2009. Dzhafarova, Svetlana. “The Creation of the Museum of Painterly Culture.” In The Great Utopia: The Russian and Soviet avant-garde, 1915–1932, edited by Bettina-Martine Wolter and Bernhart Schwenk, 474–81. New York: Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 1992. Ermers, Max. “Eine neurussische Kunstwoche in Wien” [A Neo-Russian art week in Vienna]. Der Tag, February 18, 1924, 8. Ermers, Max. “Jungrussische Kunstausstellung” [Young Russian art exhibition]. Der Tag, March 4, 1924, 4–5. Ermers, Max. “Rußland und wir” [Russia and us]. Die Waage 5, no. 7, 1924, 207–10. F. T. [Flora Turkel]. “Berlin sees Bizarre Russian Art Show.” American Art News 21, no. 4, November 4, 1923, 1. Figes, Orlando. A People’s Tragedy: The Russian Revolution 1891–1924. London: Pimclio, 1997. Finkel, Stuart. On the Ideological Front: The Russian Intelligentsia and the Making of the Soviet Public Sphere. New Haven, London: Yale University Press, 2007. Fitzpatrick, Sheila. The Commissariat of Enlightenment: Soviet Organization of Education and the Arts under Lunacharsky, October 1917–1921. London: Cambridge University Press, 1970. Gabo, Naum. “The 1922 Soviet Exhibition.” Studio International 182, no. 938 (November 1971): 171. Glaser, [Curt]. “Erste russische Kunstausstellung: Eröffnung des neuen Hauses van Diemen” [First Russian Art Exhibition: Opening of the new van Diemen venue]. Berliner Börsen-Courier, October 17, 1922, n. p. Gontar, Sergei. Russkii avangard v Krasnodare: Proizvedeniya khudozhnikov russkogo avangarda v sobranii Krasnodarskogo

kraevogo khudozhestvennogo muzeya im. F.A. Kovalenko. Krasnodar: Sovetskaya Kuban, 2001. Gordon, Donald E. Modern Art Exhibitions 1900–1916: S­ elected Catalogue Documentation 2. Munich: Prestel, 1974. Goryacheva, Tat’iana, ed. El Lisitskiy. Moscow: State Tretyakov Gallery, Jewish Museum and Tolerance Center, and Artguide Editions, 2018. Green, John. Willi Münzenberg: Fighter against Fascism and Stalinism. London: Routledge, 2020. Gross, Babette. Willi Münzenberg: Eine politische Biographie. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1967. Gross, Jennifer R., ed. The Société Anonyme: Modernism in America. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Art Gallery/ Yale University Press, 2006. Gubanova, Galina, ed. Dnipropetrovskii Khudozhnii muzei: Albom. Dnipropetrovsk: Dnipro Kniga, 2001. H. v. M. [Herluf van Merlet]. “Russische tentoonstelling” [Russian exhibition]. De Tijd, May 1, 1923, n. p. H. v. M. [Herluf van Merlet]. “De Russische Tentoonstelling” [Russian Exhibition]. De Tijd, May 9, 1923, n. p. Hajdu, István. “Beszélgetés Bortnyik Sándorral” [Conversation with Sándor Bortnyik]. Kritika 5, no. 8 (August 1976): 16–20. Hammer, Martin, and Christina Lodder. Constructing Modernity: The Art and Career of Naum Gabo. New ­ ­Haven, London: Yale University Press, 2000. Hammer, Martin, and Christina Lodder, eds. Gabo on Gabo: Texts and Interviews. Forest Row, East Sussex, UK: Artists Bookworks, 2000. Harmsen, Ger. “The Stijl and the Russian Revolution.” In De Stijl 1917–1931: Visions of Utopia, edited by Mildred S. Friedman, 45–50. New York: Abbeville Press, 1982. Harshav, Benjamin. Marc Chagall on Art and Culture. ­Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2003. Häßler, Miriam. “Moscow Merz and Russian Rhythm: Tracking Vestiges of the Erste Russische Kunstausstellung, Berlin, 1922.” Experiment: A Journal for Russian Culture 23 (2017): 117–26. Havelaar, Just. “Eerste Russische Kunsttentoonstelling” [First Russian Art Exhibition]. Het Vaderland, May 22, 1923, 2. Herbert, Robert, Eleanor S. Apter, and Elise Kenney, eds. The Société Anonyme and the Dreier Bequest at Yale University: A Catalogue Raisonné. New Haven, Conn.: Yale ­University Art Gallery, 1984. Holitscher, Arthur. “Statement.” In The Tradition of Constructivism, edited by Stephen Bann, 72–74. London: Thames and Hudson, 1974. Holitscher, Arthur. “Revolutionäre Kunst und Kunst der Revolution” [Revolutionary art and art of the revolution]. Sichel und Hammer 1, October 1922, 10. Holitscher, Arthur. “Von der Kultur-Propaganda der Internationalen Arbeiterhilfe” [On the cultural propaganda

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Redslob, Edwin. “Vorwort II” [Foreword II]. In Erste ­Russische Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922, 5–6. Berlin: Verlag Internationale Arbeiterhilfe, 1922. Redslob, Edwin. Die künstlerische Formgebung des Reichs. Berlin: Werkkunst-Verlag, 1926. Richter, Hans. Köpfe und Hinterköpfe. Zurich: Verlag der Arche, 1967. Richter, Horst. “1. Russische Kunstausstellung, Berlin 1922” [First Russian Art Exhibition, Berlin 1922]. In Statio­nen der Moderne: Kataloge epochaler Kunstausstellungen in Deutschland: Kommentarband zu den Nachdrucken der zehn Ausstellungskataloge, edited by Eberhard Roters, 95–130, Cologne: König, 1988. Rodionov, Valentin, ed. Zolotaya karta Rossii: Krasnodarskii kraevoi khudozhestvennyi muzei imeni F.A. Kovalenko. Moscow: Gosudarstvennaya Tret’yakovskaya galereya, 2001. Roman, Gail Harrison, and Virginia Hagelstein Marquardt. The Avant-garde Frontier: Russia Meets the West, 1910–1930. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1992. Roters, Eberhard, ed. Avantgarde Osteuropa 1910–1930. ­Berlin: Hartman, 1967. Rüthers, Monica, and Desanka Schwara. “Regionen im Porträt: Innerostjüdische Stereotypen und ihre Hintergründe” [Regions in portrait: Inner-East Jewish stereotypes and their backgrounds]. In Luftmenschen und rebellische Töchter: Zum Wandel ostjüdischer Lebenswelten im 19. Jahrhundert, edited by Heiko Haumann, 11–70. ­Cologne: Böhlau, 2003. Sarabjanow, Dmitri. “An der Spitze der internationalen Avantgarde: Russische und deutsche Kunst von 1910 bis in die zwanziger Jahre” [At the forefront of the international avant-garde: Russian and German art from 1910 to the 1920s]. In Berlin–Moskau 1900–1950, edited by Irina Antonowa and Jörn Merkert, 97–103. Munich: Prestel, 1995. Sarab’yanov, Andrei. “Pervaya russkaya khudozhestvennaya vystavka: Utochnenie sostava proizvedenii” [First Russian Art Exhibition: Refinements of the composition of works]. In Collana di Europa Orientalis 31: Translations and Dialogues: The Reception of Russian Art abroad, edited by Silvia Burini, 129–38. Salerno: E.C.I. Edizioni culturali internazionali, 2019. Schebera, Jürgen, and Bärbel Schrader. Kunstmetropole ­Berlin, 1918–1933. Berlin: Aufbau-Verlag, 1987. Schlögel, Karl, et al., eds. Chronik russischen Lebens in Deutschland 1918–1941, Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1999, http:// www2.oei.fu-berlin.de/geschichte/chronik-russischeslebens/ [accessed March 22, 2022]. Schlögel, Karl. Das russische Berlin: Ostbahnhof Europas. Munich: Carl Hanser, 2007. Schlösser, Manfred, ed. Arbeitsrat für Kunst, Berlin 1918–21.

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Ausstellung und Dokumentation, West-Berlin: Akademie der Künste, 1980. Shomu Nobori. Shin Roshiya bijutsu taikan. Tokyo: Shinchōsha, 1925. Shterenberg, David. “Foreword.” In The Tradition of Constructivism, edited by Stephen Bann, 70–71. London: Thames and Hudson, 1974. Sidorov, A[leksei]. “V vystavke” [At the exhibition]. ­Tvorchestvo, no. 5–6, 1920, 19. Spael, W[ilhelm], “Russische Kunstausstellung” [Russian art exhibition]. Germania, October 18, 1922 (evening ­edition), n. p. Steenhoff, Willem Jan. “Hollands voorwoord” [Dutch foreword], Amsterdam 1923, loose-leaf annex to the Berlin catalogue of 1922. Steneberg, Eberhard. Russische Kunst: Berlin 1919–1932, Berlin: Gebrüder Mann, 1969. Steneberg, Eberhard. Arbeitsrat für Kunst, Berlin 1918–21. Düsseldorf: Edition Marzona, 1987. Sterenberg, David. “Vorwort I” [Foreword I]. In Erste ­Russische Kunstausstellung Berlin 1922, 3–4. Berlin: Verlag Internationale Arbeiterhilfe, 1922. Sterenberg, David. “Die künstlerische Situation in Russland” [The artistic situtation in Russia]. Das Kunstblatt 6, no. 11, 1922, 485–92. Sternberg [sic], David. “Erste Russische Kunstausstellung in Berlin” [First Russian Art Exhibition in Berlin]. Sichel und Hammer, no. 1, October 1922, 10. Stoljarowa, Ruth, and Peter Schmalfuß, eds. “Aus den Briefwechsel deutscher Genossen mit W.I. Lenin” [From the correspondence of German comrades with V.I. Lenin]. Beiträge zur Geschichte der Arbeiterbewegung 29 (1987): 51–57. Studer, Brigitte. Reisende der Weltrevolution: Eine Globalgeschichte der Kommunistischen Internationale. Berlin: Suhrkamp, 2020. Szeredi, Merse Pál. “Kassákism – Ma in Vienna (1920–1925).” In Art in Action: Lajos Kassák’s Avant-Garde Journals from A Tett to Dokumentum (1915–1927), edited by Eszter Balázs, Edit Sasvári, and ---, 107–42. Budapest: Petőfi Literary Museum – Kassák Foundation, 2017. Szeredi, Merse Pál. “Kassák Lajos első kiállítása (1924)” [The first exhibition of Lajos Kassák]. Ars Hungarica 41, no. 2 (2017): 189–214. Szeredi, Merse Pál. “The Biography of a Poem.” In On the Road 1909: Kassák, Szittya, Long Poems, Short Revolutions, edited by Edit Sasvári and Merse Pál Szeredi, 67–138. Budapest: Petőfi Literary Museum – Kassák Foundation, 2022. Tafel, Verena. “Kunsthandel in Berlin vor 1945” [Art trade in Berlin before 1945]. Kunst Konzentriert (1987): 195–225. Tashjian, Dickran. “‘A Big Cosmic Force:’ Katherine S. D ­ reier

and the Russian/Soviet Avant-Garde.” In The Société Anonyme: Modernism for America, edited by Jennifer R. Gross, 44–73. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Art Gallery/ Yale University Press, 2006. Tatarinov, V. “Russkaya khudozhestvennaya vystavka v Berline” [Russian art exhibition in Berlin]. Rul’, no. 589, ­November 4, 1922, 3. Tolstoi, Andrei. Khudozhniki russkoi emigratsii. Moscow: Iskusstvo-XXI vek, 2017. Tugendkhol’d, Yakov. “Russkaya khudozheststvennaya vystavka v Berline” [Russian art exhibition in Berlin]. Russkoe iskusstvo, no. 1, 1923, 100. Tupitsyn, Margarita, Matthew Drutt, and Ulrich Pohlmann. El Lissitzky: Beyond the Abstract Cabinet: Photography, ­Design, Collaboration. New Haven, London: Yale University Press, 1999. Umanski, Konstantin. “Neue Kunstrichtungen in Rußland I: Der Tatlinismus oder die Machinenkunst” [New artistic directions in Russia: I. Tatlinism or machine art]. Der Ararat 1, no. 4, 1920, 12–14. Umanskij, Konstantin. Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919. Potsdam: Gustav Kiepenheuer; Munich: Hans Goltz, 1920. Vakar, Irina, and Tatiana Mikhienko, eds. Kazimir Malevich: Letters, Documents, Memoirs, Criticism 1. London: Tate Publishing, 2015. Van Doesburg, Theo. “Kunst en architectuurvernieuwingen in Sovjet-Rusland 1” [Art and architectural innovations in Soviet-Russia 1]. Het Bouwbedrijf 5, no. 20, September 28, 1928, 395–400. Van Tussenbroek, Otto. “Russische kunst” [Russian art]. Oprechte Haarlemsche Courant, May 9, 1923, n. p. Vatlin, Alexander. Die Komintern: Gründung, Programmatik, Akteure. Berlin: Karl Dietz, 2009. Veth, Cornelis. “De Eerste Russische tentoonstelling” [The First Russian Exhibition]. De Socialistische Gids 8, no.6, June 1923, 583–85. Washton Long, Rose-Carol. “National of International? Berlin Critics and the Question of Expressionism.” In ­Künstlerischer Austausch: Akten des XXVIII. Internatio­ nalen Kongresses für Kunstgeschichte 3, edited by Thomas Gaehtgens, 521–34. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1993. Weisenfeld, Gennifer. Mavo: Japanese Artists and the Avant-Garde, 1905–1931. Berkeley: Universtiy of California Press, 2002. Weiss, Holger, ed. International Communism and Trans­ national Solidarity: Radical Networks, Mass Movements and Global Politics, 1919–1939. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Welzbacher, Christian. Edwin Redslob: Biografie eines unverbesserlichen Idealisten. Berlin: Matthes & Seitz, 2009. Welzbacher, Christian, ed. Der Reichskunstwart: Kultur-

politik und Staatsinszenierung in der Weimarer Republik 1918–1933. Weimar: wtv-campus, 2010. Werckmeister, Otto Karl. “The ‘International’ of Modern Art: from Moscow to Berlin, 1918–1922.” In Künstlerischer Austausch: Akten des XXVIII. Internationalen Kongresses für Kunstgeschichte, 3, edited by Thomas W. Gaehtgens, 553–74. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1993. Westheim, Paul. “The Exhibition of Russian Artists.” In Between Worlds: A Sourcebook of Central-European Avant-Gardes, 1910–1930, edited by Timothy O. Benson and Éva Forgács, 405–07. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2002. Wiesenmayer, Ingrid. Erich Buchholz 1891–1972: Architekturentwürfe, Innenraumgestaltung und Typographie eines Universalkünstlers der frühen zwanziger Jahre. Tübingen, Berlin: Ernst Wasmuth, 1996. Williams, Robert C. Culture in Exile: Russian Emigrés in Germany, 1881–1941. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1972. Wünsche, Isabel. Galka E. Scheyer and The Blue Four, ­Correspondence 1924–1945. Bern: Benteli, 2006. Wünsche, Isabel. “Der Sturm und Die Abstrakten – Internationale Vereinigung der Expressionisten, Futuristen, Kubisten und Konstruktivisten e.V.” [Der Sturm and Die Abstrakten – International Association of the Expressionists, Futurists, Cubists, and Constructivists]. In Der Sturm – Literatur, Musik, Graphik und die Vernetzung in der Zeit des Expressionismus, edited by Henriette Herwig and Andrea von Hülsen-Esch, 356–75. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015. Wünsche, Isabel. “Transgressing National Borders and Artistic Styles: The November Group and the International AvantGarde in Berlin during the Interwar Period.” In Art/ Histories in Transcultural Dynamics: Narratives, Concepts, and Practices at Work, 20th and 21st Centuries, edited by Pauline Bachmann, Melanie Klein, Tomoko Mamine, and Georg Vasold, 291–307. Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 2017. Wünsche, Isabel. “The November Group Writes Absolute Film History.” In Freedom: The Art of the November Group 1918–1935, edited by Thomas Köhler, Ralf Burmeister, and Janina Nentwig, 168–75. Berlin: Berlinische Galerie, 2018. Wünsche, Isabel. “Revolutionary Alliances: The Russian Avant-garde and the Berlin Art Scene of the 1920s.” Collana di Europa Orientalis 31: Translations and Dialogues: The Reception of Russian Art abroad, edited by Silvia Burini, 139– 51. Salerno: E.C.I. Edizioni culturali internazionali, 2019. Wünsche, Isabel. “Expressionist Networks in the Russian Empire, Soviet Russia, and the Soviet Union.” In The Routledge Companion to Expressionism in a Transnational Context, edited by ---, 113–33. New York, London: Routledge, 2019.

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Contributors Natalia Avtonomova is an art historian, curator, and specialist of modern Russian art. After graduating from Moscow State University in 1970, she worked at the State Tretyakov Gallery until 2000. In 1989, she organized the first exhibition ever in Russia of the artist Wassily Kandinsky, which was followed, in 1994, by a scholarly conference and a book publication with Dmitri Sarabyanov, and a comprehensive two-volume edition of the artist’s theoretical writings in 2003. She has organized major exhibitions on representatives of the Russian avant-garde, including Marc Chagall, Kazimir Malevich, Natalia Goncharova, and Mikhail Larionov, and lectured widely and written extensively on their work. Since 2000, she has led the Department of Private Collections at the Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, regularly showcasing exhibitions from private collections. Ewa Bérard studied sociology and history in Warsaw, Paris, and at Yale. Currently, she is a senior researcher at the N ­ ational Center of Scientific Research (CNRS-ENS) in Paris. Her research has followed two distinctive paths: 1) Russian and Soviet cultural diplomacy and the involvement of intellectuals in foreign policy [La vie tumultueuse d’Ilya Ehrenbourg - russe, juif et soviétique, 1991, Russian and P ­ olish translations], and 2) urban studies, the process of building an open modern society from the vintage point of the transformation of three post-socialist capital cities [Architectures au-delà du mur. Moscou-Varsovie-Berlin, 1989–2009 (2010)] and the deconstruction of the literary myth of Leningrad-Petersburg [Pétersbourg impérial. Nicolas II, les arts et la ville (2012), Russian translation. Prize Antsiferov, 2016]. She also curated the exhibition Saint-Pétersbourg-Léningrad 1900–1935 vu par ses peintres (1997). Linda Boersma is assistant professor of modern and contemporary art at Utrecht University. In 1997, she received her PhD with a thesis on the reception of Malevich’s exhibition at the 1927 Great Berlin Art Exhibition. She has written extensively on both the Russian avant-garde and contempo­ rary art. Her publications include “Malevich, Lissitzky, Van ­Doesburg: Suprematism and De Stijl,” in Rethinking ­Malevich (2007), “Kazimir Malevich, Theo van Doesburg, and Tatlin’s Counter-Reliefs,” in Tatlin, New Art for a New World: International Symposium Museum Tinguely Basel (2013), “Interconnections and Misunderstandings: The Reception of Suprematism in the late 1920s,” in The Many Lives of the Russian Avant-Garde: Nikolai Khardzhiev’s Legacy: New Contexts (2019).

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Sebastian Borkhardt is a research associate at ­Justus-Liebig-­ Universität Giessen and at the documenta archiv in Kassel. Previously, he worked on several exhibition projects at the Staatliche Kunsthalle in Karlsruhe. His interests include ­Russian modernism, reception history, and the representation of nature in art. Together with Isabel Wünsche and Tanja Malycheva, he edited the 2017 issue “In Memoriam: Dmitry Vladimirovich Sarabyanov” of Experiment: A Journal of ­Russian Culture based on a selection of papers from the Third Graduate Workshop of the Russian Art and Culture Group. His dissertation “Der Russe Kandinsky” (“The R ­ ussian Kandinsky”), published by Böhlau in 2021, examines the significance of Wassily Kandinsky’s Russian origins for his ­reception in Germany between 1912 and 1945. Kasper Braskén is a historian specializing in the history of international communism, transnational social movements, and anti-fascism. He is the author of The International ­Workers’ Relief, Communism, and Transnational Solidarity: Willi Münzenberg in Weimar Germany (2015), which traces the creation of the Internationale Arbeiterhilfe and its transformation from famine relief initiative to global international solidarity organization. Braskén has been a visiting researcher at Freie Universität Berlin, Royal Holloway University of London, and the Zentrum für Zeithistorische Forschung (ZZF) in Potsdam. Currently, he is based at Åbo Akademi University in Turku, Finland. Ilia Doronchenkov is the deputy director for research at the Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts in Moscow and professor in the Department of Art History at the European University in St. Petersburg. He has been a visiting professor at Brown University, Providence; Albrecht-Ludwigs-Universität in Freiburg, Germany; and Venice International University, Italy. He was a recipient of the Getty Grant for Central and Eastern Europe in 1993, a Senior Fulbright Fellow in 1997–98, a research fellow at The Clark Art Institute in 2016, and an Ailsa Mellon Bruce Visiting Senior Fellow at ­CASVA in 2019. His research interests are modern Western art in Russia and the Soviet Union in the period from the 1890s to the 1930s; he edited the critical anthology Russian and Soviet Views of Modern Western Art, 1890s to mid-1930s (2009). Éva Forgács teaches at Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, California. She taught at László Moholy-Nagy University and Eötvös Loránd University in her native Budapest and was visiting professor at the University of California, Los Angeles. She curated Monuments of the Future: Designs by

El Lissitzky with Nancy Perloff at the Getty Research ­Institute in 1998 and served as book review editor for C ­ entropa. In 2012–13, she held an EURIAS fellowship at the Institute for Human Sciences, Vienna. Her books include The Bauhaus Idea and Bauhaus Politics (1995), Between Worlds: A Sourcebook of Central European Avant-Gardes (co-edited with Timothy O. Benson, 2002), Hungarian Art: Confrontation and Revival in the Modern Movement (2017), Malevich and Interwar Modernism – Russian Art and the International of the Square (Bloomsbury, 2022). Irina Karasik is an art historian, critic, and head curator of the Department for Contemporary Art at the State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg. She received her diploma in art his­ tory from Leningrad State University in 1974 and her doctoral degree from the State Institute of Art Studies in 2003. She has published extensively on Russian avant-garde and contemporary art, including a book on Lev Yudin’s diaries and letters (2017) and curated over 40 exhibitions, among them The Museum of Artistic Culture (1998), In Malevich’s Circle (2000), The Ludwig Museum in The Russian Museum (1995, 2004, 2015), The Adventures of the Black Square (2007), Apartment No. 5: On the History of the Petrograd Avant-Garde, 1915–1925 (2017), In Search of a Contemporary Style: Leningrad from the mid-1950s to the mid-1960s (2018), and Lev Yudin (2021). Irina Kochergina is an art historian and senior researcher in the Department of Russian Painting of the First Half of the Twentieth Century at the State Tretyakov Gallery. She was assistant curator of the exhibitions Zinaida ­Serebryakova (2017) and  Avant-garde: The List № 1: On the 100th Anniversary of the Museum of Painterly Culture (2019–20). The latter was short-listed as “Exhibition of the Year” for the Art Newspaper Russia Prize, 2019. With Moscow curator Andrei Erofeev, she co-curated the contemporary art exhibitions ­ Vladimir Nemukhin: Faces of Formalism. Lydia Masterkova: ­ Lyrical ­Abstraction (2015), Alexander Yulikov: Post-Suprematism (2017) at the Moscow Museum of Modern Art. Kristina Kratz-Kessemeier works as an independent historian, art historian, and editor in Berlin. Having studied history, art history, and communication science at Westfälische Wilhelms-Universität Münster and Freie Universität Berlin, she received her PhD for her thesis on the Prussian M ­ inistry of Culture’s art policy 1918–1932 (published in 2008). Modern Weimar Republic art policy is her main field of research, particularly with regards to artists’ associations. In cooperation with various universities, public museums, and the Richard-Schöne-Gesellschaft, she has realized n ­umerous conferences and publications on topics and themes such as

museum history sources 1750–1950, museums in the period of National Socialism, the German Museums Association 1917–1970, Ludwig Justi, the art dealer Paul Graupe, ­aesthetic education and museum architecture 1945–1970, and museums in the GDR. Miriam Leimer (née Häßler) studied art history and his­ tory at the universities of Münster and Hamburg. In her MA thesis, she examined the political and aesthetic dimensions of the ROSTA windows. Currently, she is completing her PhD thesis on the First Russian Art Exhibition of 1922. From 2012 to 2014, she was assistant curator at the Bucerius Kunst Forum in Hamburg, where she worked on exhibitions such as Rodchenko: A New Era (2013). As a freelance art historian, she contributed to the catalogue and the educational program of the 2020/21 exhibition Impressionism in Russia: Dawn of the Avant-Garde at the Museum Barberini in Potsdam. She is a founding member of the Russian Art and Culture Group at Jacobs University in Bremen. Christina Lodder is an internationally renowned scholar of Russian art of the early twentieth century. She is president of the Malevich Society and co-editor of Schöningh/Brill’s Russian History and Culture series. Her publications include numerous articles as well as the following books: Russian Constructivism (1983), Constructing Modernity: The Art and Career of Naum Gabo (co-authored with Martin Hammer, 2000), Gabo on Gabo: Texts and Interviews (co-edited with Martin Hammer, 2000), Constructive Strands in Russian Art (2005), Rethinking Malevich: Proceedings of a Conference in Celebration of the 125th Anniversary of Kazimir Malevich’s Birth (co-edited with Charlotte Douglas, 2007), Utopian Reality: Reconstructing Culture in Revolutionary Russia and Beyond (co-edited with Maria Kokkori and Maria Mileeva, 2013), Aleksei Gan’s Constructivism (2013), and Celebrating Suprematism: New Approaches to the Art of Kazimir Malevich (2019). Iryna Makedon is an independent researcher and freelance translator with over twenty years of international experience in the military, commercial, and government spheres. She conducted extensive research and provided Russian/ Ukrainian archive consulting for the projects “Russian avantgarde works in Ukrainian state museums” (2014), “Spetsfond 1937–1939 from the collection of the National Art Museum of Ukraine” (2016), “Kazimir Malevich: the Kiev period 1929– 1930” (2017), and “The art works from the Moscow Museum of Painterly Culture in Ukrainian state museums” (2019). Myroslava Mudrak is emerita professor of art history at Ohio State University and a member of the National A ­ cademy

Contributors

265

of Arts of Ukraine. For her exhibition catalogue, Staging the Ukrainian Avant-Garde of the 1910s and 1920s, she received the 2016 Alfred H. Barr, Jr. Award, and her recent publication on Ukraine’s premier modern graphic designer, The Imaginative World of Heorhii Narbut and the Making of a Ukrainian Brand (2020), has been translated into many languages. Her seminal book, The New Generation and Artistic Modernism in the Ukraine (1980), was republished in the Ukrainian language in 2018. Omuka Toshiharu is specially appointed professor and professor emeritus of the University of Tsukuba and executive ­director of the Independent Administrative Institution ­Museum of Art, Japan. He has written extensively on modern Japanese art; his publications comprise several books and many articles on topics such as Russian artists in Japan, including David Burliuk, Viktor Palmov, and Varvara ­Bubnova; Russian Far-East modernism, Murayama Tomoyoshi and Ruggero Vasari in Berlin, Mavo; and the international avantgarde. He was awarded the Minister of Education Award for Fine Arts for his 2017 book Hijōji no modanizumu (Modernism in a State of Emergency). Liubov Pchelkina received her PhD in art history from the State Institute of Art Studies in Moscow in 2015 and is a ­senior researcher in the Department of Russian Painting of the First Half of the Twentieth Century at the State Tretyakov Gallery since 2008. She specializes in Soviet art of the 1920s with a focus on the State Institute for Art Research, Moscow. She has published numerous articles and curated major exhibitions, including Aleksandr Labas (2011), George ­Costakis: Departure from the USSR is allowed (2014–2015), Avantgarde: The List No. 1: On the 100th Anniversary of the Museum of Painterly Culture (2019–20, short-listed for the Art Newspaper Russia Prize, 2019). Together with independent curator Andrey Smirnov, she organized the exhibition Generation Z: Russia in 1910–1930s (Paris 2008, Moscow 2008 + 2010, St. Petersburg 2010, Budapest 2011, et al.) Ludmila Piters-Hofmann is writing her PhD thesis on folk and fairy tales as subject matter in the work of the Russian painter Viktor Vasnetsov in the context of cultural transfer and Russian nationalism at Jacobs University Bremen. She is a founding member of the Russian Art and Culture Group and has been actively involved in organizing its activities. In 2019, she co-edited the 25th issue of Experiment: A Journal of Russian Culture on “Abramtsevo and Its Legacies: Neo-­National Art, Craft, and Design,” and a special issue of ­Russian History (vol. 46, no. 4) on “Artistic Communities and Educational Approaches in Nineteenth- and Early Twentieth-Century Russia.”

266

Appendix

Naila Rahimova, honored worker of culture of Azerbaijan, is an art historian and a member of ICOM since 2004. She graduated from the History Department of Azerbaijan State University in 1975. From 1977 to 1994, she worked at the Narimanov Memorial Museum, first as a research associate and then as chief curator. From 1994 to 2020, she was chief curator at the Azerbaijan State (now National) Museum of Art. In these positions, she conducted extensive scholarly research on the attribution of art works that came to Baku from Moscow and Leningrad, including the State Hermitage Museum and the State Russian Museum as well as the State Tretyakov Gallery and the Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts. Her findings and attributions of Russian avant-garde works have been included in various publications and were also featured in a special exhibition organized by the museum in 2018. Willem Jan Renders studied art history at the University of Utrecht. After his graduation, he worked in several Dutch museums and, from 1996 to mid-2021, in the Van Abbemuseum in Eindhoven. For the last fifteen years, he served as curator of Russian Art, specializing in El Lissitzky. Together with Charles Esche, he curated the exhibition Lissitzky – ­Kabakov: Utopia and Reality (2012) and, together with Angela Lampe, he curated the exhibition Chagall, Lissitzky, Malevich: The Vitebsk Art School and Unovis 1918–1923 (2018). Currently, Renders works as a freelance researcher, advisor, curator, and writer. Monika Rüthers is professor of East European history at Hamburg University. She holds degrees in history, German literature, and linguistics from the University of Basle. She has published on East European Jewish women in the nineteenth century, on the “festivalization” of Jewish and Gypsy minorities, and on Moscow as an imperial and Soviet city. Further research interests include Soviet photo albums and photo books, consumer culture, Soviet nostalgia, and food politics. Her latest book Unter dem Roten Stern geboren – Sowjetische Kinder im Bild, a visual history on Soviet childhood, appeared in 2021. Her current research project is about experiences of violence and notions of temporality in Jewish history in the context of pogroms in Russia and Germany between 1880 and 1930.

Dilyara Sadykova is an art historian; she worked at the Museum of Fine Arts of the Republic of Tatarstan from 1979 to 1996 and is now head of the Storage and Restoration Department at the Krasnodar Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko. Sadykova is the author of articles and television programs about contemporary Kazan artists. Among her publications are the monograph Grigory Bulgakov: Life in Art (2009), contributions to collection catalogues and to volume 16 of the Consolidated Catalogue of Cultural Values of the Russian Federation Stolen and Lost during the Second World War. She has organized various exhibitions, among them G.A. Bulgakov (2006, 2016, 2021), The Museum during the War Years (2009), and the all-Russian exhibition project Thank you, Perm! (2020).

ples (2015), Marianne Werefkin and the Women Artists in Her ­Circle (co-edited with Tanja Malycheva, 2016), Practices of Abstract Art: Between Anarchism and Appropriation (co-edited with Wiebke Gronemeyer, 2016), The Routledge Companion to Expressionism in a Transnational Context (2018), and Bauhaus Diaspora and Beyond: Transforming Education through Art, Design and Architecture (co-edited with Philip Goad, Ann Stephen, Andrew McNamara, Harriet Edquist, 2019).

Ulrich Schmid is professor of Russian culture and society at the University of St. Gallen where he also serves as prorector. He studied German and Slavic languages and literatures as well as political sciences in Zurich, Heidelberg, and Leningrad. He has held professorships in Bochum, Bern, and Basle and research fellowships in Warsaw, Cracow, Oslo, and at Harvard University. Since 2011, he has coordinated an international research project on regionalism in Ukraine. His most recent publications include Ukraine: Contested Nationhood in a European Context (2019), De profundis: Vom Scheitern der russischen Revolution (2017), and Technologien der Seele: Die Verfertigung von Wahrheit in der russischen Gegenwarts­ kultur  (2015). He regularly writes for the newspaper Neue Zürcher Zeitung.  Merse Pál Szeredi is an art historian, a PhD candidate at Eötvös Loránd University, and director of the Petőfi Literary Museum–Kassák Museum in Budapest. His research focuses on the Hungarian avant-garde during the 1910s and 1920s, especially on Lajos Kassák and his magazine Ma (Today), published in Vienna between 1920 and 1925. He has published essays in Hungarian, English, and German in academic journals, edited volumes, and exhibition catalogues and curated several exhibitions at the Kassák Museum. He also co-edited a volume on Lajos Kassák’s avant-garde journals, titled Art in Action and published by the Kassák Museum in 2018. Isabel Wünsche is professor of art and art history at Jacobs University Bremen. She studied art history and classical and Christian archaeology in Berlin, Moscow, Heidelberg, and Los Angeles and received her PhD from Heidelberg University. Her research interests are European modernism, the avant-garde movements, abstract art, and émigré networks. She has received numerous grants and research fellowships; her most recent book publications include The Organic School of the Russian Avant-Garde: Nature’s Creative Princi-

Contributors

267

Image Credits Amsterdam, City Archive: 19-01 Baku, Azerbaijan National Museum of Art: 32-01, 32-02, 3203, 32-04, 32-05, 32-06 Berlin, Berlinische Galerie: Frontispiz, B-01, 04-04 Berlin, Bundesarchiv: V-01-02 Berlin, Kunstbibliothek, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin: 12-01 Berlin, Landesarchiv: 10-01 Berlin, Pressestiftung TAGESSPIEGEL GmbH/Brücke Museum: 11-02 Berlin, Handschriftenabteilung, Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz: 25-01 Berlin, Willi Münzenberg Forum: 06-01 Budapest, Petőfi Literary Museum–Kassák Museum: 21-01, 21-02, 21-03a+b, 21-04a+b, 21-05a+b, 22-01, 22-03 Cologne, Käthe Kollwitz Museum/Kreissparkasse Cologne: 04-03 Eindhoven, Van Abbemuseum: 03-05 The Hague, Nationaal Archief/Collectie Spaarnestad: 19-02 The Hague, Rijksbureau voor Kunsthistorische Documentatie: 20-01, 20-02 Ivanovo, Regional Art Museum: 27-01, 20-06, 29-07 Kaluga, Museum of Fine Arts: 29-04, 29-06, 29-07 Kamakura, Museum of Modern Art, Kamakura and Hayama: 25-02, 25-03 Krasnodar, Regional Art Museum F.A. Kovalenko: 17-02, 3101, 31-02, 31-03, 31-04, 31-05, 31-06 Makhachkala: Dagestan Museum of Fine Arts: 29-01, 29-03 Moscow, Auktsionnyi dom “Litfond”: 03-02 Moscow, RGALI: 30-05, 30-06, 33-01, 33-02, III-01, III-02, VIII-01-04 Moscow, RGASPI: 06-02 Moscow, State Tretyakov Gallery: 13-04, 15-01, 15-02, 16-03, 27-05, 27-06, 29-05 New Haven, CT: Yale University Art Gallery: 12-06, 23-02, 23-03, 23-04, 24-01, 24-02 New York, Blavatnik Archive: 03-01 Nuremberg, Deutsches Kunstarchiv, Germanisches Nationalmuseum: 10-02 Paris, Galerie Le Minoraure: 22-02 Samara, Regional Art Museum: 27-04 Saratov, Radishchev State Museum of Fine Arts: 29-08 Serpukhov, Historical and Art Museum: 29-02 Tomsk, Regional Art Museum: 27-07 Volsk, Museum of Local Lore: 27-02, 27-03 Washington D.C.: Library of Congress: 09-01, 09-02

268

Appendix

American Art News 21, no. 14, November 4, 1923: C-01 Bouwkundig Weekblad 44, no. 19, May 12, 1923: 19-04 Das Kunstblatt, no. 11, 1922: 17-03 Het Leven 17, no. 4, 1922: 14-02; no. 49, 1922: 19-02 Mavo, no. 3, September 1924: 26-01, 26-02; no. 6, July 1925: 26-03 Sichel und Hammer, October 1922: 05-03 Sowjet-Russland im Bild, no. 3, December 20, 2021: 05-01; no. 4, January 20, 2022: 05-02 Veshch/Objet/Gegenstand, Berlin 1922: 18-02 Zhar-Ptitsa, no. 9, 1922: 12-04; 17: 12-05 Boris Arvatov, Natan Al’tman (Berlin 1924), 3: 13-03 Doede Hardeman, Patrick Elliot (eds.), Van Rodin tot Bourgeois: Sculptuur in de 20ste eeuw (Lichtervelde 2016), 98: 14-01 Katherine S. Dreier, Western Art and the New Era: An Introduction to Modern Art (New York 1923): 23-01 Erste Russische Kunstausstellung, exh. cat. (Berlin 1922): 16-01, 16-02, 18-04 Gabo: Constructions, Sculpture, Paintings, Drawings, En­ gravings (London 1957), fig. 14: 14-03 Galerie Lutz & Co., exh. cat. (Berlin 1923): 12-03 Will Grohmann, Wassily Kandinsky (Leipzig 1924): 17-01 Große Berliner Kunstausstellung, exh. cat. (Berlin 1921), plate 38: 10-03 G. Gubanova, Dnipropetrovskyy Khudozhnyy muzey: Albom (Dnipro 2001): 30-04 International Exhibition of Modern Art (New York 1926): 23-06 Wassily Kandinsky, Franz Marc, Der Blaue Reiter. Almanach (Munich 1912): 04-01 Selim O. Khan-Magomedow, Alexander Lawrentjew, Alexander Rodchenko. Spatial Constructions: Catalogue Raisonné of Sculptures (Ostfildern-Ruit 2002), 67: 19-05 Leyb Kvitko, 1919 (Berlin 1923): 03-03 Lenin: Collection of Photographs and Stills in Two Volumes, vol. 1 (Moscow 1970), 244: 08-01 Mikhail Lazarev, David Shterenberg. Khudozhnik i vremia. Put’ khudozhnika (Moscow 1992), 140: 08-02; 162: 13-01; 57: 13-02; 165: 19-03 Louis Lozowick, Modern Russian Art (New York 1925): 23-05 Mapseeker: A-01 Ingrid Mössinger, Brigitta Milde (eds.), Revolutionär! ­Russische Avantgarde aus der Sammlung Vladimir Tsarenkov (Dresden 2016), 359: 12-07

Edwin Redslob, Die künstlerische Formgebung des Reichs ­(Berlin 1926): 11-01 Shin Roshiyaten, exh. cat. (Tokyo 1927): 25-06 Nobori Shomu, Shin Roshiya bijutsu taikan (Tokyo 1925): ­25-04 Spetsfond 1937-1939 z kolektsii NKhMU: Katalog (Kyiv 2016): 30-02, 30-03 Sturm Bilderbücher I: Marc Chagall (Berlin 1917): 04-02 Murayama Tomoyoshi, Kōseiha Kenkyū (Tokyo 1926): 25-05 Konstantin Umanskij, Neue Kunst in Russland 1914–1919 (Potsdam, Munich 1920): 04-05 Ingrid Wiesenmayer, Erich Buchholz 1891–1972 (Tübingen, Berlin 1996), 26: 18-01; 95 18-03 Ben Zion, Four Teyashim (Warsaw 1919): 03-04

© 2022 Natan Altman: VG Bild-Kunst © 2022 Naum Gabo: Graham and Nina Williams © 2022 Lajos Kassák: Petőfi Literary Museum / HUNGART © 2022 Louis Lozowick: Estate of the artist and Mary Ryan Gallery, New York © 2022 Max Pechstein: Pechstein – Hamburg/Berlin © 2022 Ivan Puni: VG Bild-Kunst

Miriam Leimer: 12-02 Iryna Makedon: 30-01 Liubov Pchelkina and Irina Kochergina: D-01 Andrei Sarabyanov: 33-03

Image Credits

269

Index

Ackerman, Phyllis 147 Akhmatova, Anna 31 Aksenov, Ivan 220 Aladialov, Constantin 151 Alexander II 27 Alexander, Gertrud 88, 123, 128 Alma, Peter 121, 123, 124, 126, 128, 132 Altman, Natan 16, 27–32, 39, 42, 45, 52, 57, 65, 68, 76, 82, 84, 86,87, 90-94, 97, 100, 110, 115, 123, 125, 154, 161, 165, 178, 247, 248 Annenkov, Yuri 176, 188, 209, Antokolsky, Mark 28, 30 Apollinaire, Guillaume 34, 71, 218 Archipenko, Alexander 17, 34, 73, 74, 84, 113, 118, 139, 146, 154, 158, 164 Arkhipov, Abram 97, 163, 244 Aronson, Boris 29, 245 Arp, Hans 131, 133, 140, 162 Avenarius, Richard 64, 66 Baehr, Ludwig 81, 106, 218 Bakst, Leon 28 Baranov-Rossine, Vladimir 16, 178, 212, 214, 246 Barthel, Max 48 Bauer, Rudolf 146 Becker, Carl Heinrich 71, 77 Behne, Adolf 106, 109, 110, 112, 115, 116, 118, 143, 144 Behrens, Peter 96 Bekhteev, Vladimir 72 Belling, Rudolf 75, 111 Bely, Andrei 39, 220, 221, 224 Benois, Alexandre 66, 183, 245 Blümner, Rudolf 37 Boeken, Albert 126, 127, 129 Boelitz, Otto 74 Bogdanov, Aleksandr 65 Boguslavskaya, Ksenia 35, 38, 74, 76, 147, 248 Bondi, Lea 138 Bortnyik, Sándor 134, 142–144, 150 Bragaglia, Guilio 151 Brancusi, Constantin 146 Braque, Georges 150 Braz, Osip 183, 185, 244 Brik, Osip 154 Brinton, Christian 147, 149, 152

270

Index

Brumberg, Valentina 178, 208 Bruni, Lev 183, 185, 207, 209, 212–214 Bubnova, Anna 159 Bubnova, Varvara 158–161, 164, 166 Buchartz, Lotte 131 Buchartz, Max 131 Buchholz, Erich 38, 117–120 Burliuk, David 17, 34, 38, 149, 150–152, 158–160, 164, 166, 208, 217, 245 Burliuk, Vladimir 34 Campendonk, Heinrich 151 Carrà, Carlo 73 Caruso, Alexandra 139–141 Cassirer, Ernst 138 Catherine II (Catherine the Great) 22, 26 Cendrars, Blaise 34, 71 Cézanne, Paul 38, 150, 154, 218, 245 Chagall, Marc 23, 24, 27, 28, 30–32, 34, 35, 38–40, 65, 71, 74, 76, 92, 93, 97, 113, 115, 139, 141, 147, 158, 183, 185, 190, 207, 210, 233, 245 Chaikov, Iosif 28, 212, 215 Chekhonin, Sergei 87, 88 ,183 Chekrygin, Vasily 190, 201, 210 Cherkesov, Aleksandr 183 Chernyshov, Nikolai 245 Chicherin, Georgy 61, 68, 107 Cikovsky, Nicolai 151 Claudel, Paul 207, 211 Dana, John Cotton 146 De Chirico, Giorgio 73 De Jong, Adrianus Michiel 125, 129 Delaunay, Robert 34, 38 Delaunay-Terk, Sonia 34, 38, 39 Demény, Pál 142, 144 Denikin, Anton 30 Denis, Maurice 163 Denisovsky, Nikolai 176, 182, 186 Dewey, John 146 Dobuzhinsky, Mstislav 183, 191, 245 Doesburg see Van Doesburg Donath, Adolf 77, 87, 89 Dostoevsky, Fyodor 110, 218 Dreier, Katherine Sophie 145–153, 155

Dreier, Margaret 145 Dreier, Mary 145 Drevin, Aleksandr 107, 128, 147, 150, 165, 174, 178, 207, 210, 212, 214, 246 Duchamp, Marcel 145–147, 151 Dymshits-Tolstaya, Sofia 219, 220 Eesteren see Van Eesteren Ėfros, Abram 29, 199, 206 Eggeling, Viking 118 Ehrenburg, Ilya 39, 132 Eisenstein, Sergei 155 Ék, Sándor 142, 144 Ekster, Aleksandra 17, 97, 107, 108, 155, 191, 198, 200, 203, 208, 211, 246, 248 Engels, Friedrich 59 Epstein, Elisabeth 139 Ernst, Fedir 198, 203 Ernst, Max 38, 146 Falk, Robert 68, 174, 208, 245 Fedorov, German 212, 214 Fedorovsky, Fyodor 213, 215 Felixmüller, Conrad 35 Feuchtwanger, Lion 55 Filla, Emil 38 Filonov, Pavel 38, 110, 178, 183, 245 Filosofov, Mark 177 Flechtheim, Alfred 138 Gabo, Naum 27, 39, 42, 45, 52, 63, 66, 75, 76, 82, 84, 87, 88, 91, 94-97, 100, 101, 109, 111, 115, 118, 119, 123, 125, 127, 128, 134–136, 140, 148, 150, 151, 153, 154, 247 Gan, Aleksandr 154 Ganetsky, Yakov 59 Gaush, Aleksandr 84, 244, 245 Gerasimov, Aleksandr 125 Gerasimov, Sergei 125 Gleizes, Albert 150 Goebbels, Joseph 54 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 80 Goll, Ivan 154 Golyshev, Yefim (Yuhym) 72, 74 Goncharov, Andrei 178 Goncharova, Natalia 34, 35, 38, 39, 68, 175, 176, 181, 217, 224 Gorbunov, Nikolai 59, 60, 77, 88, 230, 231 Gorky, Maxim 46–48, 52, 65 Grabar, Igor 84 Graeff, Werner 131

Grinberg, Zakhar 81, 184 Grishenko, Aleksei 188 Gropius, Walter 73, 88 ,106 Grosz, George 48, 49, 75, 105, 111, 133 Gurlitt, Fritz 39 Haenisch, Konrad 70–72, 75 Hagiwara Kyōjirō 167 Halle, Fannina W. 139, 141 Hani Motoko 166 Hartlaub, Gustav 106 Hartley, Marsden 147 Hausmann, Raoul 35, 68, 118, 136 Havelaar, Just 125, 129 Heap, Jane 155 Heartfield, John 49 Heckel, Erich 34 Heemskerck see Van Heemskerck Herzfelde, Wieland 48 Herzog, Oswald 38, 41 Hitler, Adolf 55 Höch, Hannah 118 Hoffmann, E.T.A. 248 Holitscher, Arthur 24, 48–50, 53, 83, 89, 107, 234 Hoover, Herbert 47 Hrushevsky, Mikhailo 22 Huelsenbeck, Richard 118 Hugenberg, Alfred 54 Hummel, Johann 160 Ioganson, Boris 247 Impekoven, Niddy 160, 165 Ishimoto Kikuji 157, 158, 164 Ivan III 21 Ivan IV 21 Ivanov, Aleksandr 178, 197, 207, 208 Ivanov, Vyacheslav 220, 224 Jawlensky, Alexei 33, 35, 38, 39, 41, 72 Jawlensky, Andrei 39 Jogiches, Leo 46 Jung, Franz 24, 49 Justi, Ludwig 71, 73, 106 Kaiser, Georg 167 Kállai, Ernő (Ernst) 88, 89, 95, 97, 109, 112, 118, 137 Kallir-Nierenstein, Otto 138 Kalmer, Josef 139, 141 Kamenev, Lev 47, 59 Kandinsky, Wassily 33, 34, 72, 73, 74, 76, 97, 106, 107, 113–115, 116, 119, 136, 139, 141, 146, 147, 150–152,

Index

271

158, 160, 161, 165, 173, 191, 198, 203, 204, 207, 208, 221, 224, 246 Kassák, Lajos 97, 110–112, 133, 134, 136–138, 139, 140–144, 161 Kemény, Alfréd 109, 112, 118, 131 Kessler, Harry Graf 79, 106, 107, 111 Khlebnikov, Velimir 217, 220, 223, 224 Kinoshita Shūichirō 160, 166 Kirchner, Ernst Ludwig 34, 79, 80 Klee, Paul 75, 120, 146, 160 Klein, César 37 Kliun, Ivan 82, 88 ,107, 128, 187, 192, 201, 246 Klutsis, Gustav 97, 187, 192, 212, 214, 247 Kok, Anthony 112, 130–132 Kollwitz, Käthe 35, 48, 53 Konchalovsky, Pyotr 85, 188, 192, 201, 207, 208, 245 Komatsu Kōsuke 157 Kopp, Viktor 67–69, 73, 77, 81 Korovin, Konstantin 84, 244, 245 Kovalenko, Fyodor 204 Kozintseva, Liubov 193 Kozlinsky, Vladimir 183 Kraitor, Ivan 184, 187 Krasin, Leonid 59, 63 Krasovsky, K.O. 198 Krestinsky, Nikolai 50, 60, 62, 63, 229, 232 Krinsky, Vasily 202, 207, 210, 211 Krupskaya, Nadezhda 61 Krymov, Nikolai 188, 193, 197, 198 Kubin, Alfred 34 Kudryashov, Ivan 187 Kulbin, Nikolai 34, 183, 185 Kupreyanov, Nikolai 213–215 Kuprin, Aleksandr 85, 206, 207, 208, 245, Kushner, Boris 221, 224 Kuskova, Ekaterina 47 Kustodiev, Boris 84, 85, 108, 109, 125, 128, 188, 245 Kuznetsov, Pavel 174, 219 Kvitko, Leyb 28 Labas, Aleksandr 187 Landau, Paul 109, 110, 112 Lapshin, Nikolai 62, 183, 185, 195, 245 Larionov, Mikhail 34, 35, 38, 39, 149, 217, 218, 224 Le-Dantiu, Mikhail 188, 246 Lebedev, Vladimir 183, 197, 245 Léger, Fernand 151 Lenin, Vladimir Ilyich 22–24, 31, 46, 47, 49, 50, 52, 53, 58-65, 70, 81, 106, 111, 218, 223, 229, 232 Lentulov, Aristarkh 186, 188, 207, 208, 245 Levitan, Isaac 28, 244

272

Index

Liebknecht, Karl 46 Liessner, Elena 74 Lissitzky, El (Lazar) 27, 29, 30, 31, 35, 37, 39, 74, 76, 84, 86, 92, 95, 98, 99, 100, 101, 107, 108, 115, 118, 119, 120, 123, 124, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 147, 148, 150, 151, 154, 155, 160, 162,165, 184, 202, 212, 213, 214, 226, 246 Lissitzky-Küppers, Sophie 99, 101, 119 Livshits, Benedikt 218 Loeb, Harold A. 154, 156 Loos, Adolf 134 Lourié, Arthur 218 Lozowick, Louis 41, 150, 153–156, 161, 165 Lubetkin, Berthold 94, 97 Lukomsky, Georgy 84, 89, 260 Lunacharsky, Anatoly 16, 27, 30, 47, 57–62, 64–66, 72-75, 81, 82, 84, 87, 88, 89, 91, 93, 105, 107, 111, 174, 182, 184, 185, 187, 219, 220, 230, 243 Lutz, Friedrich Adolf 42, 75, 78, 83, 84, 89, 94, 242, 243 Luxemburg, Rosa 46 Macke, August 34 Maksimov, Nikolai 213, 216 Malevich, Kazimir 17, 23, 24, 34, 38, 68, 76, 86, 97, 99, 101, 107, 108, 111, 115, 118-120, 125, 128, 130, 132, 134, 136, 137, 140, 147, 148, 150-152, 154, 160, 173, 177, 182–184, 185, 187, 204, 205, 207, 209, 218–220, 224, 246 Maltzan, Adolf Georg Otto “Ago” von 58, 59, 77 Malyavin, Filipp 84, 87, 89 Mann, Heinrich 55 Mansurov, Pavel 107, 184, 246 Marc, Franz 34, 146, 152 Marinetti, Filippo 160 Marx, Karl 22, 59 Maryanov, David 42, 59, 60, 63, 83, 94, 229, 230, 234 Mashkov, Ilya 85, 187, 189, 193, 207, 209, 245 Máttis-Teutsch, János 38 Matveev, Aleksandr 183 Matyushin, Mikhail 220 Maxy, H. M. 37 Mayakovsky, Vladimir 85, 111, 154 Medunetsky, Konstantin 148, 149, 179, 205, 209, 247 Mehring, Franz 46 Mehring, Walter 49 Melzer, Moriz 37 Metzinger, Jean 150 Meyerhold, Vsevolod 154–156 Mies van der Rohe, Ludwig 163, 165 Milius, Lena 132 Mitrinović, Dimitrije 221, 224

Miturich, Pyotr 183, 247 Moholy-Nagy, László 37, 38, 97, 118, 131, 133, 137, 140, 143, 144, 161 Moholy-Nagy, Lucia 131 Mondrian, Piet 38, 69, 73, 119, 125, 151, 160 Moorsel see Van Doesburg-van Moorsel 130 Moravov, Aleksandr 244 Morgunov, Aleksei 174, 219, 220, 246 Muche, Georg 37, 38 Munch, Edvard 145, 146 Münzenberg, Wilhelm “Willi” 45, 47–50, 52–63, 74, 77, 81, 82, 88, 111, 229, 232 Murayama Tomoyoshi 158–167, 169 Mussorgsky, Modest 213, 215 Nadezhdin, Nikolai 21 Nagano Yoshimitsu 158–160, 166 Nagel, Otto 35 Nakada Sadanosuke 157, 158, 164 Nakamura Yoshio 157 Nansen, Fridtjof 61, 82 Narbut, Heorhii 16, 266 Nesterov, Mikhail 87, 244 Nicholas II 22 Niehaus, Kaspar 125, 129 Nobori Shomu 162, 165 Nolde, Emil 34 Okada Tatsuo 167 Ono Eisuke 159, 164 Ono Shun’ichi 158, 164 Osborn, Max 76, 87, 89, 109, 110, 112, 113, 116 Osmerkin, Aleksandr 212, 214 Oud, Jacobus Johannes Pieter 101, 126 Ouspensky, Pyotr 220 Pain, Yakov 245 Palmov, Viktor 179 Pannaggi, Ivo 151 Pasternak, Leonid 28 Pechstein, Max 34, 37, 75 Peeters, Jozef 126, 129 Pen, Yehuda 28, 30 Peresvet, Aleksandr 84 Péri, Lászlo 37, 38, 118, 120, 150 Peter I (Peter the Great) 21, 22 Petrov-Vodkin, Kuzma 183 Pevsner, Antoine 75, 82, 97, 128, 136, 148, 151, 154, 246 Picabia, Francis 136 Picasso, Pablo 38, 75, 132, 145, 150 Piscator, Erwin 49, 50, 53, 167, 169

Plietzsch, Eduard 75, 78, 82, 83, 88 Poljanski, Branko Ve 110, 111, 112 Polyakov, Sergei 220 Poplavsky, Boris 87, 89, 92, 93 Popova, Liubov 128, 130, 142, 144, 147–149, 154, 159, 164, 173, 174, 189, 193, 202, 246 Prampolini, Enrico 38, 161, 165 Prusakov, Nikolai 135 Puni, Ivan 35–39, 74, 76, 84, 95, 106, 118, 130, 147, 152, 154, 183, 207, 209, 246 Punin, Nikolai 88, 136, 140, 154, 163, 221–225 Putin, Vladimir 17 Raczyński, Atanazy 83, 89 Radek, Karl 68 Radimov, Pavel 244 Radishchev, Aleksandr 22 Rakitin, Vasily 213 Rappoport, Shloyme Zanvl 29 Raskin, Ben Zion 30 Rathenau, Walther 76, 80, 107 Ray, Man 136, 145, 147 Redko, Kliment 187 Redslob, Edwin 71–73, 75–81, 83, 84, 89, 107, 234, 235, 242, 243 Reidemeister, Leopold 83, 89 Richter, Hans 37, 92, 95–97, 117, 131, 133 Richter-Berlin, Heinrich 37 Rodchenko, Aleksandr 68, 95, 107, 111, 115, 116, 118, 119, 123, 126, 127, 129, 130, 134, 136, 140, 154, 159, 164, 173, 193, 197, 198, 200, 202, 246, 247 Röhl, Alexa 131 Röhl, Peter 131 Rohlfs, Christian 80 Roth, Joseph 23, 24 Rozanova, Olga 107, 136–138, 140, 175, 176, 181, 189, 193, 194, 197, 202, 212, 213, 215, 233, 246 Rozhdestvensky, Vasily 189, 207, 209, 245 Ryback, Issachar Ber 29 Rykov, Aleksei 47 S. An-sky see Rappoport Sakazaki Shizuka 157, 164 Saryan, Matiros 189, 245 Schames, Ludwig 39 Scheerbart, Paul 142–144 Scheibe, Harry 131 Scheyer, Emmy “Galka” 39, 41 Schlemmer, Oskar 136 Schmidt-Rottluff, Karl 80 Schwitters, Helma 151

Index

273

Schwitters, Kurt 38, 110, 112,117, 118, 133, 134, 142, 144, 146, 148, 151 Serebryakov, Nikolai 187 Shakespeare, William 191, 200 , 211 Shcherbinovsky, Dmitriy 244 Shemyakin, Mikhail 244 Shevchenko, Aleksandr 198, 213, 215, 216 Shirlaw, Walter 145 Shklovsky, Viktor 223 Shkolnik, Iosif 190, 212, 213, 215, 245 Shterenberg, David 16, 27, 28, 35, 39, 42, 45, 50, 52, 57, 58, 60–63, 65, 72, 75, 76, 78, 81-94, 97, 99, 105, 107, 108, 111, 115, 123–125, 128, 137, 140, 154, 165, 174, 176, 178, 179, 183–187, 195, 218, 220, 224, 230, 231, 233, 234, 237, 242–244, 247 Shterenberg, Nadezhda 90 Sievers, Johannes 58, 60, 62, 69, 71–75, 77, 78, 106 Simon, Jolán 136, 142 Sinezubov, Nikolai 190, 245 Sittig, Hans 37 Smit, Nini 131 Sokolov, Nikolai 183 Soutine, Chaim 27 Skvortsov, Aleksandr 187, 201 Stalin, Iosif 16, 17, 22, 23, 30, 54–56, 66, 69, 76, 225 Steenhoff, Willem 121-124, 128 Stenberg, Georgy 207, 209, 247 Stenberg, Vladimir 136, 212, 215, 247 Stepanova, Varvara 127, 159, 164, 185, 194, 201, 202, 211, 213, 216, 246 Sturtzkopf, Bernhard 131 Strzemiński, Władysław 247 Suetin, Nikolai 213 Taeuber-Arp, Sophie 136, 140 Tairov, Aleksandr 155 Tappert, Georg 37 Tatarinov, V. 87, 89 Tatlin, Vladimir 38, 68, 69, 75, 82, 87, 95, 97, 107, 109, 110, 115, 116, 123, 125, 127, 132, 134, 136, 140, 154– 156, 161, 173, 174, 183, 195, 218–225, 233, 246, 248 Taut, Bruno 35, 221 Thode, Henry 79 Tietze, Hans 138–141 Toller, Ernst 55 Toporkov, Aleksei 220 Tosaka Jun 166 Trotsky, Leon 22, 65, 67, 161, 163 Tsiperson, Lev 181, 182 Tsuchida Bakusen (Tsuchida Kinji) 157, 164 Tucholsky, Kurt 55

274

Index

Tugendkhold, Yakov 57, 62, 87, 89 Turkel, Flora 84, 89, 102 Turzhansky, Leonid 244 Tussenbroek see Van Tussenbroek Twardy, Emma 155, 156, 158, 160, 161, 165, 166 Twardy, Käte 155, 156, 158, 160, 161, 165, 166 Tyrsa, Nikolai 183 Tyshler, Aleksandr 187 Tzara, Tristan 131, 133 Uchida Shōzō 166 Udaltsova, Nadezhda 86, 128, 147–148, 152, 180, 190, 246 Uitz, Béla 68, 69, 133, 134, 136–141 Umansky, Konstantin 16, 38, 39, 41, 67, 68, 69, 72, 73, 77, 81, 106, 108, 111, 125, 133, 134, 142, 147, 150, 152, 220, 224 Uvarov, Sergei 21 Van de Velde, Henry 79 Van der Leck, Bart 73, 75 Van der Rohe, Mies 163, 165 Van Doesburg, Theo 37, 73, 111, 112, 125, 128, 130–132 Van Doesburg-van Moorsel, Nelly 130-132 Van Eesteren, Cornelis 131, 132 Van Gogh, Vincent 152 Van Heemskerck, Jacoba 37, 38, 146 Van Tussenbroek, Otto 126, 128, 129 Vasari, Ruggero 159, 166 Vasnetsov, Viktor 84, 244 Veth, Cornelis 125, 128, 129 Vesnin, Aleksandr 128, 207, 211 Vogel, Hans 131 Voitsik, Romuald 187, 206 Vyazemsky, Pyotr 21 Vynnychenko, Volodymyr 22, 24 Waetzoldt, Wilhelm 72, 76, 77 Wadachi Tomoo 158, 159, 166 Walden, Herwarth 16, 33, 34, 37, 38, 40, 71, 118, 136, 138, 146, 147, 157, 159, 160, 164 Walden, Nell 37 Wauer, William 37 Wedderkop, Hermann von 160, 161, 165 Werefkin, Marianne 33, 35, 39 Westheim, Paul 39, 90, 108, 109, 111 Wiedenfeld, Kurt 74, 77 Wilhelm II 71 Witte, Sergei 22

Yabe Tomoe 163-165 Yakulov, Georgy 190, 191, 201, 205, 209, 218, 248 Yudin, Lev 185, 207, 209 Yuon, Konstantin 84, 245

Zadkin, Osip 27 Zakharov, Fyodor 245 Zhegin, Lev (Shekhtel) 187, 195, 201 Zhukovsky, Stanislav 52, 84, 244, 245 Zinoviev, Grigory 53, 60

Index

275