Читать книгу Malevich - Gerry Souter - Страница 5

Kasimir began his first formal art lessons at the Kiev Drawing School, studying under Mykola Pymonenko. To experience a complete foundation in the manipulation of paint and the effect of light on surfaces, Malevich could not have begun his career with a more capable painter.

In his mid-thirties, Pymonenko was at the prime of his realist skills. His seven hundred renditions of peasant life in the Ukraine were in keeping with the prevailing tastes of the time. He began his studies at the Kiev Drawing School at the age of sixteen, was accepted by the Saint Petersburg Academy of Arts and then came back to teach at both the Kiev Drawing and Art Schools from 1882 to 1906. In 1909 he was elected a member of the Paris International Association of Arts and Literature and his work hangs in the Louvre as well as illustrating many of Taras Shevchenko’s published poems.

An even greater impression on young Kasimir had to be the work of Oleksander Murashko, an Impressionist painter who also both studied and taught at the Kiev Drawing and Art Schools as well as opening is own studio to students. Murashko’s style evolved from the realism of the Peredvizhniki School into a vivid, colourful Impressionism.

“Peredvizhniki” (Wanderers) was a name applied to members of the Russian Society of Itinerant Art Exhibitions. Ivan Kramskoi, Nikolai Ge, and thirteen other artists who had left the Saint Petersburg Academy of Arts in protest against its rigid neo-classical dictates founded the society in 1870. In order to reach the widest audience possible, the society organized regular travelling exhibitions throughout the Russian Empire, including Kiev, Kharkov, and Odessa in their tours. Murashko’s work was more widely exhibited than Pymonenko’s, appearing in Paris, Amsterdam and Munich, and there were one-man shows in Berlin, Cologne and Düsseldorf.[5] He was a co-founder of the Ukrainian State Academy of Arts in 1917 and served there as a professor and rector.

Kasimir’s exposure to these academic realist and Impressionist painters with their genre subject matter set him on a path that, though it would eventually veer away from realism and objectivity, remained true to its peasant roots. He began to learn the intricacies of oil and gouache painting. Gouache is a painting medium usually executed on paper that became popular in the mid-nineteenth century and is similar to watercolour, but heavier and more opaque because a gum substance is added to the mixture of ground pigment and water. Gradually, he set himself the goal of attending a Moscow art school to expand his understanding of artistic expression. Towards that end, with his family settled in Kursk, he took a job as a draughtsman in the same railway office as his father. At about this time, he married Kazimira Zgletta, who would become a doctor.

Peasant Women in Church, end of 1911-beginning of 1912.

Oil on canvas, 75 × 97.5 cm.

Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam.

While he lived with his family and then started one of his own, Kasimir was closest to his mother who encouraged his artwork. Throughout his life. he came to her for encouragement and criticism. His father, on the other hand, was critical of his choice of art for a career. But even as his father pushed Kasimir toward more practical application of his drawing talents, he still found time to sketch with the boy.

When his father died in 1904, Malevich took the train to Moscow with the idea of entering the Moscow College of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture. Because of poor academic grades, he failed to be accepted many times between 1905 and 1907 and finally returned to Kursk to continue painting in a neo-Impressionist style. On top of his striving to become a full-time artist, Kasimir had to cope with the 1905 Revolution.

On 22 January 1905 a priest led a crowd of workers to the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg to petition Czar Nicholas II. To quell the disorder, troops fired on the crowd, killing many and achieving the predictable result of bloody strikes, savage riots, assassinations, naval mutinies and peasants rushing about in blind fury. At about this same time, the Russian Army was being badly beaten by the Japanese, displaying to the world the corruption and disorganization of the Russian Officer Corps. Out of this hellish turmoil came a manifesto from the Czar granting the establishment of the Russian Duma – an elected representative body – civil liberties and the appearance of democracy. Not satisfied with half a loaf, the Duma split into the Octoberist Party, who went along with the Czarist manifesto, and the opposing Constitutional Democratic Party, who formed a workers’ council to compel adoption of reforms. Once again, to prevent disorder, Czarist troops arrested or shot everyone in sight who embraced the workers’ council.

Kasimir, meanwhile, was trying to feed himself, keep a roof over his head and live in a dry place where he could set up his easel. Malevich wrote in his 1918 biography, describing his grim lifestyle:

“The commune was, beyond any doubt, a hungry bohemia. I looked like a true villager with my appetite, but it was unnecessary for me to buy bacon and garlic daily. The commune collected money for broth bones and artist Ivan Bokhan went to buy them. Butchers asked him, ‘For dogs or for people?’ and it embarrassed him very much. The broth was cooked often. Sometimes the commune ate in a canteen at school. The dinner was not expensive, only twelve kopeks for buckwheat porridge with butter or beef fat and borscht with meat.

In such conditions I worked. It was impossible to say that was easy, but nevertheless I worked. I dreamed about holding out till spring and then going to Kursk to earn some money again for autumn, painting sketches all summer long, and eating like a human being.”

Outside the closed world of the school and commune, blood and thunder raged up and down the streets as troops hunted down strikers and other malcontents. The artists found themselves having to take measures to survive the depredations. Malevich described the situation:

“The Revolution of 1905 happened. There were disturbances on the streets. I stood at my easel and continued to paint. The pressure rose. Fedociya (a cook) was our main informer. She informed us of any events from a group of the “Black Hundred”. (Author’s note: According to Lenin, the Black Hundreds championed the preservation and formal restoration of autocracy under the sceptre of their adored monarch. Their determination to defend the present Czar’s government at all costs very often united them with the Octoberists.)[6]

Province, 1911. Gouache on cardboard, 70.5 × 70.5 cm. Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam.

Man Carrying a Bag, 1910–1911.

Gouache on cardboard, 88 × 71 cm.

Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam.

The Gardener, 1911.

Gouache on cardboard, 91 × 70 cm.

Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam.

On the Boulevard, 1911.

Gouache on cardboard, 72 × 71 cm.

Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam.

“A students’ dormitory in an Engineering Technical School was located near our commune. Fedociya had connections with the dormitory (a janitor) and the nearest neighbourhood janitors who informed her secretly about any horrific preparations by the Black Hundred (‘Tonight they will cut students, and could seize the commune too.’). We began some preparations: we dragged all plaster casts, a huge David and all Venuses, all benches and chairs and barricaded doors and windows. Then we moved to the upper floor and blocked a passageway on top. The owner of the house, artist Kurdyumov, showed us the secret passageway through which it was possible to pass, in case of attack, from one house to another and then down to the street (the house of the commune was located in a courtyard).

My behaviour began to irritate one member of the commune, the artist Antonov. A nice guy, he scolded at me that I painted while it was necessary to go out onto the streets. He was thin and really tall (because of his height he had no room to swing when he took an axe). Blaming me, he sat on a floor with his legs tucked under himself, drank vodka and nibbled a broth bone which was all cartilage and tendons. Brandishing this bone, he forced me to go onto the streets.

The pressure rose. One evening we did not turn the lights on. Another student appeared among us and I got acquainted with him. That was Cyril Shutko and he informed us about the course of the revolution. I went to the city on Tver Street. At Leontyevsky Lane I was surrounded by members of the Black Hundred. I was dressed in a hat, a coat with a collar, and a black shirt; I had long hair.

‘Wait, a socialist!’ one of them called out, and some Finnish knifes flashed. I calmly asked, ‘Do you have a cigarette?’

Then I immediately scolded them with a familiar profanity. One gave me a cigarette. I took it and put in my mouth and searching for a match, scolded them more and walked away. (I did not smoke at all).

Then I returned to Lefortovo, to the commune. That was a very disturbing night; we could clearly hear shots. Fights began in the morning. Many members of the commune disappeared. Antonov quarrelled with me, took an axe with which he practised before preparing for a fight and went onto a street. He took a cab and ordered the driver to drive him to the Red Gate (on the barricades). We found out later that the police arrested him in a nearby lane.

I got a “bulldog” (a British Webley, five chamber, break-top revolver, two – inch barrel, 450 calibre) and bullets. This was a true war. I joined a group who had pockets full of bullets and different types of revolvers. Some other “hunters” joined this group. We went to the Red Gate and there was a fight. Then we returned to the Sooharevskaya Tower. We, and some other members of this group, were placed at Sretenskoj Street for observation. Fences cracked and we began to pile up a barricade. The evening came soon. We noticed that soldiers had moved across Sretenka. The soldiers quickly approached. A command was heard and the soldiers presented their guns at the ready. We spread the word along the barricade. In a moment a silent command spread at our side and we fired.

Even though the soldiers were prepared, they did not expect such impudence. We shot at them over and over again. I quickly finished all five bullets in my revolver. It was not necessary to reload it. The soldiers found us out and began to shoot at us from passageways. Despite their firing, the bullets didn’t hurt anybody at our post, only plaster was strewed about. We retreated to the barricades, but the soldiers, drawing up into an extended line, continued to shoot at us. We answered them eagerly; bullets whistled around. After each volley from their side, I, for some reason, wanted to jump up, as though bullets could fly at legs.

The Floor Polishers, 1911.

Gouache on cardboard, 77.7 × 71 cm.

Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam.

The Bather, 1911.

Gouache on cardboard, 105 × 69 cm.

Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam.

The skirmish was short because many of us scattered in different directions. Now, there were some wounded and dead men everywhere. Our group, while firing back, retreated to the courtyard of a house. After that, we closed a gate, took a ladder in the courtyard and started to climb over a fence to the courtyard of a neighbouring house. Our barricade was occupied by soldiers, but our group, almost all of us, passed through another courtyard and made a decision to go to Sretenka and the rear of the solders. In a minute, they entered the courtyard. Those who didn’t have time to climb over the fence rushed away. I entered into the first porch of the house with the idea of getting up onto the roof and then climbing down a drainpipe to the street.

When I reached the third floor, I read a door card with one of my friends’ names on it. But what should I do? Knock on the door or search for the attic? I decided to search for the attic, but it seemed that there was none. I stood on the stairs and listened to hear if somebody was coming. I counted my remaining bullets – there were five or six. Finally, I decided to knock. The door opened.

‘Is that you?’ my friend asked. ‘How did you manage to come through? Do you have a revolver?’

‘Yes, I have,’ I answered.

‘That is really bad, there’ll soon be a search. OK, undress and put the revolver under the rug in the hallway at the threshold. Take off your coat and shirt and put on a vest.’

I obeyed; there was no time to quibble. He took off his jacket too and remained in a vest. Then, he got tobacco and lit it up. It was done on purpose to have plenty of smoke. The impression was made that we had been sitting all day long smoking and drinking. He brought out vodka, sausages, and cucumber.

I drank; it went well, and soon I was “up to heels” – I was hungry and in cases like this vodka always goes “up to heels” and a person becomes drunk quickly. My friend started singing and I joined him.

‘Sing at the top of your voice!’ he shouted.

Then came a knock at the door. He said loudly from his place, ‘Enter!’ A corporal with a revolver in his hand and two soldiers entered.

‘Are any runaways in here?’ the corporal asked.

‘What runaway? Would you like to have a glass of vodka? It’s my birthday today, so my friend and I, you know…’

At once the corporal changed his anger to goodwill, drank and asked for more. My friend had to pour another glass for him. I sat, having stretched on a chair, mumbled a song and gesticulated slightly.

‘You see?’ my friend explained, ‘He got drunk…’

The corporal was not worried at all; everything was all right. He wiped his lips and, leaving, shouted to the soldiers, ‘To the exit!’

So we held this pose all night long, expecting more visitors.

In the morning, I followed a young girl who went to a shop carrying a basket. We left the courtyard without any problems.”

Malevich continually commuted to Moscow but also spent time to studying icons, and in 1906 he joined Fedor Rerberg’s studio, taking lessons in painting through to 1910.

Three Bathers, motif: c. 1910, version: 1928–1929.

Oil on canvas, 59 × 48 cm.

The State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg.

Bather Seen from Behind, 1911.

Gouache on cardboard, 48.4 × 47.8 cm. Private Collection.

He wrote: “Moscow icons turned over all my theories and brought me to my third stage of development. Through icon painting, I began to understand the emotional art of peasants, which I had loved before, but the meaning of which I could not grasp until I studied the icons.” These Moscow years had a double value for Malevich, allowing him to study both the deeper meanings of his beloved icons and learning new painting techniques and principles.

Rerberg was one of those multi-faceted teachers who, though he preferred to work in the Impressionist manner, did not force that style on his students. His primary claim to fame was preparing students to enter the Moscow College. While Malevich failed to take advantage of this preparation, his studies with Rerberg between 1905 and 1910 grounded him in composition and colour. Rerberg was a master technician and wrote books about the chemical content of various brands of oil paint. Together with a deep appreciation of physiology and psychology, he pressured his students to translate technical facility into the expression of their own feelings.

In effect Fedor Rerberg was Malevich’s only real intellectually-based teacher other than the osmosis derived from working alongside and being exposed to the works of beginners like himself and academic masters such as Pymonenko. From Rerberg, however, Kasimir received one unique gift, the chance to exhibit his work. In 1907 he exhibited two sketches at the 14th “Exhibition of the Moscow Community of “. He participated in the 15th and 16th Exhibitions, as well, before moving on.

Personally, this period covering the first ten years of the new century was unsettling for Malevich. With his father’s death he became responsible for his mother and younger siblings. Combining his failure to gain a place in the Moscow College with the insecurity of his teetering self-confidence forced him into direct action to ease the pressure. To maintain connection with the core of the fine art movements, he moved his mother and family to Moscow while he commuted back to Kursk in the summers to work and paint. The strain on his marriage caused him to divorce his first wife and marry Sofia Mikhailovna Rafalovich. She was the daughter of a psychiatrist and wrote children’s stories.

To keep the wolf from the door, Malevich and his new bride lived with other poor artists in a commune where everyone chipped in and shared chores. He took commercial art jobs and one in particular, sketches for publication of a controversial symbolist play, Anathema by Leonid Andreev, launched him among the “shock troops” of the avant-garde Moscow art movement. The Moscow Art Theatre that mounted the production gathered his lithographs into a rather elegant portfolio featuring scenes from the play and portraits of the actors in costume.

Malevich did not take this brief immersion in the maudlin excesses of Russian Symbolist poetry and theatre very seriously, but the vitality of the reaction to their productions must have excited him. An even greater influence on his work at this time was colliding with some of the best of French and other European Impressionism and Post-Impressionism. Because Reberg was one of the founders of the Moscow Artists Society, Malevich was able to exhibit in the twice yearly shows beginning in 1907. Over time he was able to ingratiate himself with a virtual “who’s who” of the emerging Russian avant-garde.

The new stars included Natalia Goncharova, David Burliuk, Alexander Shevechenko, Mikhail Larionov and Alexei Morgunov. Towering over them was the eminence of Vassily Kandinsky. Malevich found himself swept up into the enthusiasm of Goncharova and Larionov and joined them in exploring a post-Impressionist style in 1909.

Goncharova was born in Nagaevo village near Tula, Russia, in 1881. She studied sculpture at the Moscow Academy of Art, but turned to painting in 1904. Like Kasimir, she was deeply inspired by the primitive aspects of Russian folk art and attempted to emulate it in her own work while incorporating elements of Fauvism and Cubism.

Reaper II, 1912.

Oil on canvas, 71 × 69.4 cm.

Art Gallery of Astrakhan, Astrakhan.

Reaper II, motif: c. 1910–1911, version: 1928–1929.

Oil on plywood, 74.2 × 72 cm.

The State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg.

Reapers/Rye Harvest, 1912.

Oil on canvas, 74.2 × 72 cm.

Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam.

The Mower I, end of 1911-beginning of 1912.

Oil on canvas, 113.5 × 66.5 cm. Museum of Fine Arts of Nijni Novgorod, Nijni Novgorod.

From 1902 Larionov’s style was Impressionism. After a visit to Paris in 1906 he moved into post-Impressionism and then a neo-Primitive style which derived partly from Russian sign painting. In 1908 he staged the Golden Fleece exhibition in Moscow, which included paintings by international avant-garde artists such as Matisse, Derain, Braque, Gauguin and Van Gogh. Other group shows promoted by him included Tatlin, Marc Chagall and the emerging Kasimir Malevich.

Larionov helped found two important Russian artistic groups, the Jack of Diamonds (1909–1911) which included Malevich in its exhibitions, and – with Gonchorova – the radical-chic Donkey’s Tail. This latter group was conceived to create a break from European art influence and to establish an independent Russian school of modern art. Though Goncharova had been involved with icon painting and primitive Russian folk-art, Futurism became the focus of her later paintings. She achieved fame in Russia for her work such as the Futurist Cyclist and her later Rayonist works. In 1913 Larionov created Rayonism, which was the first attempt at near-abstract art in Russia. The Donkey’s Tail group led the Moscow Futurists and organized outré lecture evenings in the fashion of their eccentric Italian counterparts.