A large-scale exhibition at the New Tretyakov Gallery explores Russian artists of the 1920s–1940s who turned their gaze to the East. Some found a new source of inspiration in Turkestan, while others forever changed the face of local art.
Pavel Kuznetsov. Mirage in the Steppe (1912)
The Soviet state deliberately set out to develop the East, yet many artists found themselves there following the call of the heart. For some, like Pavel Kuznetsov, it became a means of escape from a creative crisis. A mystic and symbolist, and a member of the Blue Rose group, he quickly won the hearts of the audience. But it was Turkestan, which Kuznetsov first visited on the eve of World War I, that brought about a revolution in his consciousness. Scenes glimpsed in Bukhara and Samarkand perfectly matched his piercing blue palette. It’s no surprise that Kuznetsov’s painting Mirage in the Steppe opens the current exhibition. The exhibition also features a work from his mature period — Sorting cotton (1931), painted during the final creative surge of his career.
Alexander Volkov. Pomegranate Chaikhana (1924)
A key figure of the “Turkestan avant-garde,” Alexander Volkov — the son of a military medical service general — was born in what would become Fergana, then a small settlement, and absorbed the spirit of the East for life. In his work, avant-garde innovations intertwine with traditional motifs. Vivid and flamboyant, always clad in his signature cloak, he was a natural leader. Together with young artists — the “Volkov Brigade” — he traveled extensively across Uzbekistan, gathering material for future paintings. His most famous work, Pomegranate Chaikhana (1924), presents Eastern imagery, the motif of a tea gathering, freshly and unconventionally, rendered in the spirit of Cubo-Futurism through a composition of “rhymed” triangles.
Julia Razumovskaya. Bukhara. Evening Motif (1926)
For many artists, the East was a place where they could breathe and create freely. Yet upon returning home, they often felt the burden of everyday life pressing down on them. Something similar happened to Yulia Razumovskaya, a graduate of VKhUTEMAS. In 1925, she visited Bukhara and Samarkand as part of an expedition to restore architectural monuments. Falling in love with this ancient land, she returned to it again and again. A fragment of Eastern life untouched by modernity is captured in her painting Bukhara. Evening Motif. And although Razumovskaya’s later work featured a wide range of subjects — industrial scenes, landscapes of the North Caucasus, and even parts of Europe she was fortunate enough to see firsthand — the ancient East in her paintings retains a unique and captivating charm.
Pavel Benkov. The Girl from Khiva (1931)
Some artists who came to the East transformed the very face of local art. Among them was Pavel Benkov, an artist known for his realistic paintings infused with a touch of Impressionism. Raised in Kazan and a close friend of Nikolay Fechin — both of whom taught at the Kazan Art School — Pavel Benkov first visited Bukhara in 1928, and by 1930, he had permanently relocated to Samarkand. Benkov attracted many followers both in Kazan and across Central Asia. The painting The Girl from Khiva, executed in a traditional manner without avant-garde experimentation, echoes the traditions of the Peredvizhniki. Including in terms of imagery: the artist presents a new woman of the East — working, liberated, and no longer veiled in a paranja.
Sergey Gerasimov. Spring. Trees in Blossom. Samarkand (1942)
The events of the Great Patriotic War significantly impacted the country’s life, including Central Asia. Once again, as in the 1920s, waves of artists poured into the region — this time as evacuees. Among them was Sergey Gerasimov, the “Soviet Impressionist.” A successful painter and one of the quintessential representatives of Socialist Realism, he never forgot the lessons of Konstantin Korovin, under whom he studied at the Moscow School of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture, and painted light and air with particular affection. A delicate lyricism pervades this small scene from Samarkand life, where the central focus is not the female figure, but a lush tree adorned with soft lilac blossoms. Gerasimov loved to paint lilacs — and was he not perhaps thinking of home, of familiar gardens, as he gazed into this blossoming, foreign city?
Robert Falk. Golden Lot. Samarkand (1943)
Another artist evacuated to the East. But while Sergey Gerasimov was a man of the system, albeit with liberal views, Robert Falk was considered an outsider, a white crow. It was only in 1937 that he returned from Paris, and he made no effort to become part of the artistic establishment. His wife, Angelina Shchekin-Krotova, recalled that upon arriving in Samarkand, Falk did not take up painting for a long time: teaching consumed much of his time, and art supplies were scarce. It was only in 1943 that he finally poured his accumulated impressions onto canvas. Golden Lot. Samarkand immerses the viewer in a meditative state: you seem to feel the summer heat, melting under the merciless sun beneath a blue sky, becoming one with the scorched stones, like the tiny figure blending into the earth. Man and nature, past and present — all are filtered through the prism of eternity, and Falk, the former Parisian, sensed and appreciated it with remarkable sensitivity.
Photo: press-office, Vostock Photo
