<i> Glasnost </i> Paints a Brighter Picture for Soviet Artists

Glasnost has freed artist Andrei Kazakov.

A 28-year-old graduate of one of Moscow’s most prestigious art institutes, Kazakov no longer faces the choice that so many nonconformist artists have had to make in the Soviet Union over the years--paint according to Socialist Realism or starve.

President Mikhail S. Gorbachev’s policy of glasnost, or political openness, is allowing Kazakov to prosper in ways unimaginable even four or five years ago.

“What freedom!” the amiably disheveled Kazakov, his curly hair and thin tie both gone awry, exclaimed when asked about his trips to Portugal and Belgium last year. “I was able to relax, to do business, to show my paintings--and to sell.”

Simple freedoms such as these are new in the life of Soviet artists.

Every Thursday evening, Kazakov and other promising young artists, members of a new generation of Soviet artists encouraged under glasnost, gather at the Tovarishchestvo art gallery in central Moscow. Both avant-garde and Russian realistic forms of art hang like splashes of color on the tarp-covered walls as light from candles reflects off the ornately decorated, high, white ceilings.

Often a talented musician or poet performs in the center of the room, outlined by spotlights. But the real excitement begins with discussion afterward, over tea and cakes, about new freedoms for the Soviet art world under glasnost.

In the 1960s and ‘70s, progressive artists were driven underground or forced to emigrate. They were excluded from the official Soviet Union of Artists because of their anti-establishment views and thus unable to sell or exhibit.

The official themes known collectively as Socialist Realism depicted heroic figures in defense, peasants at work in the fields or workers building a socialist society. The needs of the Communist Party dictated what was painted. Today, art of previously underground themes, loosely defined as anything except Socialist Realism, is permitted. In addition to these new freedoms to paint and exhibit, Soviet artists now have permission to sell their works within the Soviet Union and abroad for hard currency.

Hoping to exhibit abroad later this year, 34-year-old artist Alexander Khomski, an interior designer by education, describes his work as “social avant-garde.” Many of his paintings show religious and cultural buildings destroyed by Stalin.

“My buildings are slightly bent to symbolize the destruction,” he said. While Khomski’s art often is intended to show the devastation of the Stalin era, he depicts hope through rays of color connecting buildings, people and other objects with the sky and, he says, with God.

Khomski also uniquely interprets Soviet society as canned food.

Khomski’s tired brown eyes sparkle as he chuckles a bit when explaining his can paintings: “Foreigners seem to get a kick out of these.” The lack of variety in food is one of the major problems in Soviet society today and Khomski illustrates that problem by painting cans that are drab, blandly labeled and most often contain fish or milk.

Abstract, conceptualist and surrealistic art also is being shown in Moscow at long last. It may seem old hat in the West, but “Soviet art is developmentally about 20 years behind Western artistic trends,” explained Khomski.

Some paintings also have religious themes and others show the czars in their daily lives. The key linking these diverse forms is freedom. The government is no longer dictating what can be expressed.

Mikhail Shankov, a member of the young artist group Tovarishchestvo, calls himself a traditionalist and says, thanks to glasnost, he is able to paint “in the style of the old masters.”

Shankov, 27, who will pass on his traditional style to students at a newly opened Russian Academy of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture, draws upon his Russian heritage in his painting.

“Painting traditional Russian subjects gives meaning to being Russian,” he said.

Shankov exhibited his work in Spain and Greece in 1988, sponsored by government cultural groups. There, he tapped into a network of Western art buyers.

“It is important to be always looking to make connections,” Shankov said.

Taking advantage of the ease in restrictions, many Moscow artists are forming organizations to pursue these opportunities.

Tovarishchestvo, which means “comradeship” in Russian, was formed in 1987, by Elena Lunina, a 28-year-old portrait artist. This group paints in a style Lunina describes as, “a new form of the realist school of art.” Their ideas are spread through art education, commercial art, and the exhibit and sale of paintings and sculpture.

Tovarishchestvo rents halls to exhibit the work of its 15 active members. No membership dues are charged, so the organization collects as much as 20% of the profit from the sale of paintings and sculptures and uses the money for rental charges. The rest of the profit goes to the artists. Total sales in 1988 were 300,000 rubles, or $480,000 at the official exchange rate.

The situation with dollar sales is slightly different. The gallery collects 10% of the profit in dollars of sales to foreigners and the rest goes to the state, which returns the money in rubles. Sales to foreigners visiting the Soviet Union last year were $25,000, according to sales director Anastassia Finskaya.

The artists themselves sometimes collect foreign currency through official and unofficial means during sales abroad. U.S. dollars and other foreign currency are sought after even though Soviet citizens are unable to use it in the Soviet Union. Most often, the artists return from abroad with coveted Western video equipment, televisions and cars. The hard currency also enables artists to pay for travel and exhibitions abroad.

Most members of Tovarishchestvo agree that the greatest market for Soviet art is now abroad.

“It is now fashionable for Westerners to buy Russian art,” said a Moscow engineer, who has become an “art manager” to help his friends sell their paintings.

Proof of this is the successful joint-venture auction between Sotheby’s of London and the Soviet Ministry of Culture. At the first government-sponsored international auction of contemporary Soviet art, held in Moscow last July, a contract with the participating artists provided that they would receive 60% of the total $3.4 million in sales, 10% in hard currency and the rest in rubles (issued at a favorable exchange rate). Sotheby’s promptly settled its account with the Soviet Ministry of Culture after the highly publicized auction. (Payments to the artists, however, were delayed by several months. In the meantime, the Soviet government created a new progressive income tax ranging from 30% to 70% and imposed it on the artists’ auction profits. The artists have now been paid, but some reportedly have received as low as 17% of their sales totals.)

This summer, artworks sponsored by Tovarishchestvo, including works of Kazakov and Shankov, will travel to Seoul, South Korea, for a 10-day exhibit. The gallery’s officials will travel with Soviet approval but without direct government sponsorship, an indication of the new independence.

Under an agreement with the Soviet government, Tovarishchestvo members selling in South Korea will keep a high 60% of hard-currency sales, said Finskaya. The other 40% will be used to pay travel and exhibit expenses. This is a true victory for Soviet artists.

And that hard currency can be used for future travel, future exhibits abroad and, the artists hope, other marketing forays to make future sales.

Kazakov was also looking forward to a trip to San Francisco with a Moscow physical fitness group. Asked what he thought San Francisco would be like, Kazakov answered: “San Francisco, New York, Chicago, it is all the same to me. Most important is to go to America--a very rich country with a great interest in Russian art.”