Soviet Art in Conflict: The Artist as an Agent of Social Change

This exhibition is made possible by a grant from the Utah Humanities Council, an affiliate of the National Endowment for the Humanities. 12 September 2007 - 1 February 2008 Official artists of the Soviet Union from 1934 – 1985 faced a unique challenge: produce an uplifting art in a milieu of conflicting artistic demands. These included: conform to dictates and ideology imposed by the Communist State, ignore powerful international stylistic developments, and abstain from personal artistic aspirations. The Socialist Realist artist was obliged to create a purposeful portrayal of Soviet life that would instruct and inspire the proletariat, support the Red Army, accept collectivization and industrialization, the Communist party, and, above all, obedience to Marxist-Leninist principles.   Answering such a call within this frictional environment was not a simple matter. Artists, if they wished to have professional careers, could not revolt against the Soviet art establishment on basis of artistic license as they could do in the avant-garde mentality of Western Europe and America. Nor could they just mechanically turn out factory painting of Stalin portraits in an “official,” uniform style. In fact, there was no precise official style dictated by the Soviet Union. The Communist Central Committee, though in total command of all cultural activities, rarely intervened when it came to the minutia of artistic approach and technique. Even when growing censorship of the 1930s alarmed artists into asking Party leaders what style they should use, the leaders declined to answer, declaring that Soviet artists were entirely free to select whatever technique they preferred, as long as it was “Socialist Realist.” Their only direction given was that artists should be motivated by printsipialnost, the act of according all things to the principles of Marxist-Leninism.            This unusual lack of precise policy allowed artists considerable stylistic freedom, which eventually generated three distinct styles within Socialist Realism: Ceremonial, Working-class Impressionism, and Severe art. And although all three styles were acceptable to the Soviet regime, artists could still be expelled from the union, interrogated, sent to a gulag, or even executed for painting anti-Soviet content. If one chose not to paint in the acceptable Soviet Socialist-Realist style, they were not accepted into the artists’ Union and given other jobs not in the arts.          The conflicting currents experienced by artists encompassed both attraction and repulsion. Most Realist artists whole-heartedly responded to the ideals and philosophies of the revolution, which appealed to artists’ natural visions of Utopia. Attracted to the Communist ideology and claims of building of a future paradise through the labor of the proletariat, artists were excited to be involved with such a prospect. Stalin called them the “engineers of the human soul.” Most artists were honored to fulfill their duty in educating and constructing the “New Soviet Man and Woman.” Within this philosophy, artists thought they could play a significant role in influencing society and in constructing a bright future. Many artists latched on with enthusiasm to the grand ideals of Socialist Realism and eagerly joined the official artists’ union. Conveniently, members of the Union received an extra benefit: they were the only artists recognized by the State, and thus the only ones that received lucrative commissions, studios, and travel.                But as the years rolled, such bright-eyed optimism began to wane in the face of Communist economic and social failures. Even within the officially sanctioned Union, some of the most “reliable” Socialist Realist artists, revered for their excellence in artistic service to the State, revealed disillusionment and subtle outrage in their paintings at times. They hid such indiscretionary works of art from the KGB informants. Artistic expression of personal views contrary to the State’s goals was strictly prohibited and obligatory optimism was required.    Thus, this peculiar paradigm of conflicting tensions regarding State, style, and self shaped the face of Soviet Socialist Realism. It was both a blessing and a burden on the artist. Much was required of them. As a whole they responded brilliantly. But the evil Communist State failed dismally to respond with equal quality.   Russia’s eager anticipation for Communism after the October revolution of 1917 eventually dimmed to skepticism and ultimately stark cynicism. The people of the Soviet Union had come to know of the extermination camps, the gulags, and the liquidation of millions of their fellow citizens. People slowly began seeing Stalin’s, Khrushev’s, and Breshnev’s “Utopia,” for the terror-filled and thread-bare regime it was. For instance, Andre Gide, the French leftist writer, finally admitted “I doubt that in any country of the world, even Hitler’s Germany, is thought less free, more bowed down, more terrorized.”   All of this became apparent in 1986 when the world experienced its worst nuclear disaster in history. The Chernobyl nuclear power plant explosion and the following Soviet cover-up epitomized the long history of Communist policy of stealthy secrets and deadly deception.   Thus, this peculiar paradigm of conflicting tensions regarding “State, style, and self” shaped the face of Soviet Socialist Realism. It was both a blessing and a burden on the artist. Much was required of them. As a whole they responded brilliantly, though the evil U.S.S.R. failed dismally to respond with equal quality. But no matter the stimulus that produced this poignant art during those agitated days, the contribution it made was real and substantial.  (written by Nicole Romney) Wednesday, November 14: Symposium