Aleksandr Deineka (1899-1969) : an avant-garde for the proletariat
Download 4.48 Mb. Pdf ko'rish
|
|
and more complex still is the relationship between people and architecture. A temple is a place of quiet contemplation. A palace, too, is a place to linger: to sit in a room, take it all in, have a long and spirited conversation with the owner. Nothing like that happens in the Metro. At almost any given time, it is full of people constantly on the move in all direc- tions. In such a throng, there is neither time nor op- portunity to contemplate the magnificence of its ar- chitecture. Instead, the individual is swept along by the crowd, and prevented from lingering. Most are tired, stressed, rushed. They just want to get in there and out again. The trains arrive quickly, in rapid suc- cession. And because the Metro is quite far beneath ground level, much time is spent on the escalators— without any opportunity of looking around. These constantly teeming masses of people on the move seem to have no need of the splendor that the Metro off ers them. They are neither willing nor able to enjoy the art, fully appreciate the precious materials or adequately decipher the ideological symbolism. Silent, unseeing and indiff erent, the masses hurry past these countless treasures of art. Indeed, the Metro is no paradise of quiet contem- plation, but an infernal underworld in constant roiling motion. As such, it is the heir to the utopia of the Rus- sian avant-garde, which was also a utopia of cease- less movement. In the Moscow Metro, the dream of Malevich, Khlebnikov and the “Disurbanists” lives on: the dream of a utopia which has no fixed place, no topos
on earth, but is always on the move. But now this dream has a fitting place for its realization: un- derground. Right from the start, the dialectical materialist utopia of Russian communism had never been a clas- sic, contemplative utopia as in earlier, more tranquil days. The dialectical citizen was supposed to keep moving, keep achieving, keep progressing, reaching ever greater heights—not just ideally, but also materi- ally. That is why the underground utopian city of com- munism is a place of perpetual motion, forever arriv- ing and leaving. The images in the Moscow Metro are not intended to be looked at, understood or admired. Instead, it is the images themselves that observe the teeming masses of passers-by. Stalin and the other guardians of this utopian underworld constantly watch over and judge the behavior of the people as they pass. And the people in the Metro constantly sense this watchful, judgmental gaze. Today, all the gods have fallen, but in earlier times—even until fair- ly recently—it was possible to see how Muscovites began behaving completely diff erently the moment they entered the hallowed halls of the Metro. Sud- denly, every conversation was held in hushed tones, there was no more spitting on the ground or drop- ping litter. People “behaved culturally,” as the saying went then. They were, after all, being watched. They were in utopia and could find no place in which to act “naturally” rather than “culturally.” There is yet another aspect that links the Metro directly with the utopia of the avant-garde: daylight replaced by artificial lighting. The struggle against the sun and against the moon for the supremacy of artificial, electric light is perhaps the oldest theme of Russian futurism. It is no coincidence that the iconic work of the Russian avant-garde bears the title Vic- tory over the Sun (an opera by Aleksei Kruchenykh, Kazimir Malevich and Mikhail Matiushin, 1913). Over- coming the sun was seen by the futurists as the ulti- mate defeat of the old order. The light of reason—be it a divine light or a human, natural light—was to be extinguished, because such a light determines the entire topos
of our world. Instead, a new, man-made, utopian light was to shine, creating a whole new world. This grand theme is foreshadowed in Lenin’s fa- mous saying that “communism is socialism plus elec- tricity.” Electrification of the entire country meant “victory over the sun”—and, with that, creating a new utopia unconstrained by the cycle of day and night. The night lit up by electricity is the only possible uto- pian time, the true daytime of utopia (imperfectly portrayed by the “bright nights” of Saint Petersburg). The Moscow Metro is the logical embodiment of this eternal, electrified Moscow night. Today, the utopian communist synthesis of heaven and earth has crumbled. The demonic traits of the Metro have become more visible than the heavenly ones. In earlier times, it was rumored that there was an invisible Metro concealed behind the visible one—a mysterious network of underground connec- tions that even included an underground Kremlin to be used by the Soviet leadership in times of war. The people above ground lived in fear of the under- ground city. They sensed the possibility of sabotage, the power of dark forces. Today, in Russian nationalist circles, it is said that on closer inspection, the layout of the Moscow Metro can be seen to form a six-point- ed Star of David, signifying the dominion of the Jews over the Russian capital. This theory is allegedly sup- ported by the historical fact that the person in charge of planning the Moscow Metro was, as already men- tioned, Lazar Kaganovich, and that it was known in the Stalin era as the “Kaganovich Metro”; Kaganov- ich, however, was the only Jew in the inner circle of the Stalinist leadership. Given the overall symbolism Fundación Juan March
252 of the Metro, it is very fitting indeed that the project was overseen by a Jew—Stalin’s anti-Semitism, after all, was never a secret. And so, on the one hand, his appointment is reminiscent of the role allotted to the Jews in Egypt, while on the other hand, it represents a dialectical, utopian synthesis of expulsion and paradise-building. Above all, however, it refers to the ultimate prototype of all utopian cities: the heavenly Jerusalem that is a city built of stone, rather than a paradise of vegetation. It is also telling that the Metro features neither plants nor animals. Everything that might give any suggestion of the transience of life has been banished from the Metro—only the move- ment of the trains is eternal. Fundamentalist Russian nationalism is focused, as it always has been—both in positive and negative terms—on the utopian dream of the Russian state. But what does the average Muscovite think of the Metro today? It seems it is no longer anything spe- cial. Many decades have passed since Stalin was in power. After his death, everything that stood as a re- minder of his rule was removed, destroyed or funda- mentally altered. The opulent Stalinist architecture was derided as undemocratic, unmodern and “or- namental.” Later metro station designs look simple, unpretentious and purely functional. The dark, meta- phorical character of the Stalin-era Metro was lost. What is more, the new metro lines that run from the city center to the suburbs actually leave the subterra- nean realm and merge with the ordinary overground railway tracks. Such a blend of the utopian and the topical, of place and non-place, would have been un- thinkable in Stalin’s day. It shatters the fundamental contradiction between the real and the imaginary— the utopian Moscow. Decades of post-totalitarian usage have rendered the Metro prosaic, banal and meaningless. Only a handful of Muscovites with an interest in history and its myths still seek the traces of their utopian past in the Metro. Some of them are young Moscow-based Sots-Art artists who like to use the halls of the Metro as a setting for their perfor- mances and, in doing so, refer to its all but forgotten symbolism. This essay was originally published in German as “U-Bahn als U-Topie” in Kursbuch 112 (Berlin, 1993): 1–9, and included with the same title in Boris Groys,
(Munich and Vienna: Carl Hanser Verlag, 1995), 156–66. Reprinted by permission of the author and the publisher. It is impossible to translate into English the German play on words U-Bahn (‘underground’) – U-topie (‘utopia’ and also ‘underground place’) [Trans.]. 1. On August 31, 1914, with Russia’s entry into the war, Saint Petersburg was renamed Petrograd to remove the German cognate “burg” from the name of the city [Ed.]. Fundación Juan March
The Novokuznetskaia Station “Descend into the underground, citizen, and raise your head! You will see a brightly illuminated sky, in mosaic; and if you forget that above the dome lies a stratum of Moscow earth forty meters thick, and you feel bright and easy in that underground palace, as a powerful stream of cool air, cleansed of dust, envelops your face, then the architect and the artist have accomplished their task.” (Aleksandr Deineka) Fundación Juan March 254 III 1936–53 From Dream to Reality Fundación Juan March Fundación Juan March 256 Fundación Juan March 189. Spartakiada URSS, 1928 Book. Letterpress, 30.4 x 23.2 cm Izdatel’stvo Pravda, Moscow Fundación José María Castañé 189b and 189c. Cover and back cover 190.
Nikolai Sidel’nikov Vremia, energiia, volia [Time, Energy, Will], ca. 1930 Collage: gouache, letterpress, ink 33.2 x 25.1 cm Private collection Fundación Juan March 258 191. Aleksandr Deineka Kolkhoznik, bud fizkulturnikom! [Collective Farmer, Be a Physical Culturist!], 1930. Sketch for poster Paper on cardboard, color pencil, watercolor, pastel, 71.5 x 160 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow Inv. RS-5204 192. Aleksandr Deineka Beg (Zhenskii kross) [The Race (Women’s Cross- Country)], 1931 Oil on canvas, 176 x 177.4 cm Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, Rome, Inv. 310 By permission of the Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali
Fundación Juan March Fundación Juan March 260 Fundación Juan March 194. Aleksandr Deineka Igra v miach [Ball Game], 1932 Oil on canvas, 124.5 x 124.5 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow Inv. 22537
Lyzhniki [Skiers], 1931 Oil on canvas, 100 x 124 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow Inv. ZHS-899 Fundación Juan March 262 195. Aleksandr Deineka Utrenniaia zariadka [Morning Exercises], 1932 Oil on canvas, 91 x 116.5 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow Inv. ZHS-881 Fundación Juan March
197. Aleksandr Deineka Rabotat’, stroit’ i ne nyt’! [Work, Build and Don’t Whine!], 1933 Poster. Lithography, 96.5 x 71.1 cm Text: Work, build and don’t whine! The path to the new life has been shown to us. You don’t have to be an athlete, But you must be a physical culturist OGIZ-IZOGIZ, Moscow-Leningrad Print run: 30,000 Collection Merrill C. Berman Fundación Juan March
264 Fundación Juan March 196. Aleksandr Deineka Beg [The Race], 1932–33 Oil on canvas, 229 x 259 cm State Russian Museum Saint Petersburg, Inv. ZH-7741
Swimmer, ca. 1934 Oil on canvas, 66 x 91 cm Private collection Fundación Juan March
266 199. Aleksandr Deineka Vratar’ [The Goalkeeper], 1934 Oil on canvas, 119 x 352 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow Inv. ZHS-915 Fundación Juan March Fundación Juan March 268 200. Radio gym tables of the V. V. Nabokov method, 1937 Cards. Letterpress, 11.5 x 15 cm Archivo España-Rusia
SSSR na stroike [USSR in Construction], no. 7–8, 1934 Magazine. Letterpress, 42 x 30 cm OGIZ-IZOGIZ, Moscow Fundación José María Castañé Fundación Juan March
202. Off icial Soviet sports cups ( Kubok), late 1940 Enameled brass, 35 x 11 x 11 cm Archivo España-Rusia 203. El Lissitzky URSS en construction [USSR in Construction], no. 4–5, April-May 1936 Magazine. Letterpress, 42 x 30 cm OGIZ-IZOGIZ, Moscow French edition of SSSR na stroike Collection MJM, Madrid Fundación Juan March
270 204. Aleksandr Deineka Lyzhniki [Skiers], 1950 Mosaic, 70 x 100 cm Kursk Deineka Picture Gallery Inv. ZH-1295
Postroim moshchnyi sovetskii dirizhabl’ “Klim Voroshilov” [We will Build the Powerful Soviet Dirigible “Klim Voroshilov”], 1930 Poster. Lithography, 109 x 77.3 cm Text: The dirigible is a powerful weapon of defense and cultural construction. We need to overtake and surpass the capitalist countries in the area of dirigible construction. Each worker should take an active part in the realization of this great matter. For the 50th birthday of the leader of the Red Army, the steel- hardened Bolshevik-Leninist K. E. Voroshilov, we will build a powerful soviet dirigible in his name. Contributions to the fund for the construction of the dirigible may be made at all savings banks of the Union. The current account of the dirigible “Klim Voroshilov” is no. 9327 in the Moscow Provincial off ice of the State Bank. IZOGIZ, Moscow-Leningrad Print run: 50,000 Collection Merrill C. Berman Fundación Juan March
Fundación Juan March 272 207. Aleksandr Deineka V vozdukhe [In the Air], 1932 Oil on canvas, 80.5 x 101 cm Kursk Deineka Picture Gallery Inv. ZH-1406
Cover of Krasnaia niva [Red Field], no. 18, 1935 Magazine. Lithography, 30.4 x 22.8 cm Izvestiia, Moscow Text at bottom: Iu. Pimenov, Airplanes Collection Merrill C. Berman Fundación Juan March
Fundación Juan March 274 208. Aleksandr Deineka Pioner [The Pioneer], 1934 Oil on canvas, 90 x 100 cm Kursk Deineka Picture Gallery Inv. ZH-203 Fundación Juan March Fundación Juan March 276 210. Nikolai Troshin URSS en construction [USSR in Construction], no. 1, January 1935 Magazine. Letterpress, 42 x 30 cm OGIZ-IZOGIZ, Moscow French edition of SSSR na stroike Collection MJM, Madrid 206. Elena Semenova URSS en construction [USSR in Construction], no. 6, 1932 Magazine. Letterpress, 42 x 30 cm OGIZ-IZOGIZ, Moscow French edition of SSSR na stroike Fundación José María Castañé Fundación Juan March
214. Nikolai Troshin URSS en construction [USSR in Construction], no. 9, September 1934 Magazine. Letterpress, 42 x 30 cm OGIZ-IZOGIZ, Moscow French edition of SSSR na stroike Collection MJM, Madrid 211. Samolet [Airplane], no. 4, 1938 Magazine. Letterpress, 26.5 x 20.5 cm OSOAVIAKHIM, Moscow Aviation magazine of the Central Council of OSOVIAKhIM [Society for Facilitating Defense, Aviation and Chemical Construction] Archivo España-Rusia Fundación Juan March 278 212. Aleksandr Deineka Na balkone [On the Balcony], 1931 Oil on canvas, 99.5 x 105.5 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow Inv. ZHS-4946
Sel’skii peizazh s korovami [Country Landscape with Cows], 1933 Oil on canvas, 131 x 151 cm Part of the Dry Leaves series State Russian Museum Saint Petersburg, Inv. ZH-8713 Fundación Juan March Fundación Juan March 280 215. El Lissitzky Illustrations for Rabochaia Krestianskaia Krasnaia Armiia [Workers and Peasants Red Army], 1934 Book. Letterpress, 30.7 x 36 cm IZOGIZ, Moscow Fundación José María Castañé Fundación Juan March
216. Sophie Lissitzky-Küppers and El Lissitzky URSS en construction [USSR in Construction], no. 2, February 1934 Magazine. Letterpress, 42 x 30 cm OGIZ-IZOGIZ French edition of SSSR na stroike Collection MJM, Madrid Fundación Juan March 282 218. Dmitrii Moor My byli stranoi sokhi. My stali stranoi traktora i kombaina. (Kaganovich) [We Were a Country of Wooden Ploughs. We Have Become a Country of Tractors and Combines (Kaganovich)], 1934 Poster. Lithography, 87.6 x 60 cm OGIZ-IZOGIZ, Moscow-Leningrad Print run: 40,000. Price: 60 kopeks Collection Merrill C. Berman Fundación Juan March 217. Rezoliutsii po dokladam Molotova i Kuibysheva [Resolutions to the Reports of Molotov and Kuibyshev], 1934 3 volumes. Letterpress, 11.6 x 5.3 cm 216b. Text, inside cover: “Only our party knows how to direct aff airs and is directing them successfully. To what is owed this advantage? That it is the Marxist party, the Leninist party. It is owed to its being led by the teachings of Marx, Engels, and Lenin in its work.” Stalin 216c. Text, inside back cover: “Now all recognize that our successes are great and exceptional. In a comparatively brief time, the country has been switched onto the rails of industrialization and collectivization. The First Five-Year Plan has been successfully realized . . . Before us stands the Second Five-Year Plan, which must also be fulfilled with the same success.” Stalin (Report on the Second Five-Year Plan presented at the 17th Congress of the All-Union Communist Party (VKP[b]) Fundación José María Castañé 219. Budenovka military cap (named after marshal Semen Budennyi) Second model, 1922 Wool, cotton fabric, leather, enameled brass badge, 20 x 31 x 12 cm Archivo España-Rusia 219b. Detail of the hammer and plough inside the red star Fundación Juan March 284 220. Aleksandr Deineka The Highway (Mount Vernon), ca. 1934 Oil on canvas, 55 x 47 cm Private collection 221. Aleksandr Deineka Vashington. Kapitolii [Washington: The Capitol], 1935 Oil on canvas, 50.5 x 76 cm State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow Inv. ZHS-884 222. Aleksandr Deineka Filadelfiia [Philadelphia], 1935 Oil on canvas, 49 x 73 cm State Russian Museum Saint Petersburg, Inv. ZHS-622 Fundación Juan March Fundación Juan March 286 223. Aleksandr Deineka Beseda kolkhoznoi brigady [Conversation of the Collective Farm Brigade], 1934 Oil on canvas, 128 x 176 cm Sketch for panel at Narkomzem (Commissariat of Agriculture) State Russian Museum Saint Petersburg, Inv. ZH-4436 Fundación Juan March |
