ARTISTS OF SECOND-CLASS STATUS IN THE U.S.S.R.

Tens of thousands of people have turned up to view the latest springtime show by a group of offbeat, unofficial artists known as the Moscow 20.

Since the 20 are not members of the Graphic Artists’ Trade Union, their work is not allowed in government-run museums and exhibit halls. Their paintings have been jammed into a basement storage area, where spectators jostle one another to view the once-a-year display.

“There’s a wonderful exhibit hall upstairs, but it’s been converted into a room for discussion of culture,” a member of the 20 said, with a touch of sarcasm. “So our work is called basement art.”

The exhibit has attracted almost no attention from the government-run press. The artists have mounted a telephone campaign to advertise their ninth annual show. They expect 100,000 people to pay 30 kopecks apiece (about 43 cents at the official exchange rate) to see the paintings before the exhibit closes April 20.

But none of this money will benefit the Moscow 20. It will go to the state to cover rent, lighting and other costs.

Viewer reaction has been overwhelmingly favorable, though some have found the paintings bizarre. “We think it’s all nightmarish nonsense,” a couple wrote in a book for public comments.

Another said the show was “really exciting.” And a supporter wrote, “Don’t pay any attention to all the shouts behind you.”

Even though the artists get none of the admission proceeds, the exhibit gives them a rare opportunity to attract buyers. Sale prices range from 500 rubles (about $700) to 10 times that figure.

Several of the paintings have surrealistic themes reminiscent of Salvador Dali. Others employ strong religious symbolism, including a panorama that deals with the founding of the Russian Orthodox Church in the year 988. Another includes the portraits of four apostles. One shows two grotesque, froglike creatures apparently performing acrobatics.

All had to pass the scrutiny of the Moscow Trade Union of Cultural Workers before they could be displayed. A painting by Korun Nagapetyan did not make it; it depicted President Reagan and Soviet leader Mikhail S. Gorbachev at the summit conference last November in Geneva.

“The officials explained that Mikhail Serge’ich (Gorbachev) did not want his portrait put on display in public,” Nagapetyan said.

In the past, the life of the unofficial artists was more difficult. For many years, their paintings were displayed at underground showings in private apartments.

In 1974, when a small group of painters tried to mount an outdoor exhibit on the outskirts of Moscow, the police ordered it destroyed with bulldozers. Later, though, official approval was granted for another outdoor show, and an estimated 700,000 people went to a Moscow park to see it.

Igor Snegur, one of the Moscow 20, said the group was formed in 1976 and tried without success for two years to get permission for an exhibit. In 1978 the authorities relented and the first “basement art” was displayed for 20 days. About 60,000 people went to see it.

“In the first four years we had lots of conflict with the authorities over what could be exhibited,” Snegur said. “In the last four years, however, things have been relatively calm, disputes were compromised and the exhibits opened with only minor exclusions.

“This year, for the first time, painters were allowed to be present when officials decided whether their works could be shown.”

Although they attract big crowds, the painters resent the advantages enjoyed by members of the Graphic Artists’ Union.

“They have a monopoly on the sale of art in shops and in government purchases,” Nagapetyan said. “They all get a monthly salary, even a pension, without any correlation to their ability. They say we are not following the official line, socialist realism, but we are still Soviet painters.”

He said the government has not defined socialist realism.

The Moscow 20 also find it difficult to rent studios and buy art materials in bulk, but they are proud of their organization.

“We feel like pioneers who found a new way of dealing with art, as a collective,” Snegur said.

Dmitri Gordeev, another member of the 20, said, “We have to be better than others just to survive.”

A recent visit by two art dealers from New York has given the 20 hope that some of their work may find an audience abroad if not in the closely controlled Soviet art world.

But there is a stumbling block. The Soviet Union, while refusing to recognize the work of unofficial painters like the Moscow 20, imposes substantial customs duties on any of their paintings that are exported.

“How can unrecognized work suddenly become valuable?” one member of the group asked. “A Soviet phenomenon.”