Right on schedule: Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts demonstrates a variety of prints

Woodcuts and monotypes; color and black-and-white; foreign and domestic; authorship of well-known geniuses and talents, whose names are familiar only to experts. The Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts demonstrates the diversity of print art and, together with the Russian State Library, recalls its common predecessor: the Rumyantsev Museum. The exhibition "Treasury of graphics. The engraving cabinet in the first quarter of the 20th century" launches a whole series of exhibitions aimed primarily at connoisseurs, but also having a clear educational charge. Izvestia rated the project among the first.

From Rumyantsev to Romanov

The idea of regularly exhibiting graphics is not new, some time ago something similar was done at the Tretyakov Gallery and the Hermitage. But there is never a lot of good art, and the opportunity to see works on paper, despite all efforts, was and remains rare. It is worth recalling here that, unlike painting, works on paper cannot be shown for more than three months, after which they must "rest" for at least six months (or better, more). Therefore, there are no sheets in permanent exhibitions, but mostly works by the most famous artists are taken to exhibitions. As a result, tens of thousands of engravings, drawings, and watercolors are stored in the vaults of the largest museums, which the public has not seen at all or has seen for a long time.

Pushkin's Ars Graphica project is designed to demonstrate what is usually hidden from the eyes of visitors, and at the same time to remind about the history of the formation of the collection of the State Museum of Fine Arts. Everyone knows that it was originally a house of casts of classical sculptures. An equally common fact is that things from the Museum of New Western Art got into it (where the Impressionist and modernist masterpieces from Sergei Shchukin and Ivan Morozov, nationalized after the revolution, went). But there was another, perhaps no less important source of income: the Rumyantsev Museum.

Founded in 1828 on the basis of the collection of Nikolai Rumyantsev, the state chancellor of the Alexander times (he was the head of Russian diplomacy during the Napoleonic Wars), the institution first worked in St. Petersburg, but then was moved to Moscow. Many valuable books and works of art were available to the townspeople. In 1924, the museum was disbanded, making the Lenin Library on its basis. The paintings and graphics were given to the State Museum of Fine Arts. The last head of the Fine Arts Department of the Rumyantsev Museum was Nikolai Ilyich Romanov. He continued to work on the meeting already in the status of director of the State Museum of Fine Arts.

First and second names

The new exhibition illustrates this story with archival materials — catalogs and reports from the engraving cabinet of the Rumyantsev Museum, correspondence between Romanov and artists. But the main thing is the works of printed graphics, which were exhibited back in pre—revolutionary times. These are the "Apollo Belvedere" by Hendrik Goltzius (attentive viewers will surely appreciate the image's overlap with Michelangelo's David, located very close to Hall 31), the surreal "Dream of Raphael" by Giorgio Ghisi, the finest etching "Abraham and Three Angels" by Rembrandt, and finally, the mysterious "Dream of the Doctor" by Durer. The latter thing is usually interpreted as an allegory of laziness, but looking at the naked female figure in the foreground and the apple (symbol of the fall), you think that the devil is whispering to the sleeping protagonist not about rest at all, but about other sins and pleasures.

For the public, of course, the listed names are the main attraction. But all these works are well known and have been exhibited more than once, especially considering their circulation nature. Therefore, it is not this "showcase" section of the exhibition that seems to be more valuable (literally and figuratively, the sheets of the XVI—XVII centuries are stored in showcases), but the things on the walls: mostly these are prints from the beginning of the XX century, among which there are many monotypes, that is, images that exist in single copies.

Here, for example, are the urban views of Elizaveta Kruglikova. From 1895 to 1914, she lived in Paris — and was an important figure for the emigrant creative environment. A "Russian art circle" gathered in her studio in Montparnasse, Kruglikova herself was considered one of the best print specialists. In the presented monotypes, this is clearly visible: capturing the dancing audience, horse racing spectators, park ensembles, Kruglikova combines the expressiveness of the image with impressionistic lightness, flight, understatement.

Waiting for the explosion

A special sound to these things of 1914 is given by the historical context, which is indicated by the title of the cycle: "Paris on the eve of the war." The crowns of trees in the landscape turn into thunderclouds, and carefree amusements seem like mass insanity.

The sheets of Vadim Falileev and Anna Ostroumova-Lebedeva belong to the same period. Both artists are excellent craftsmen, participants in the exhibitions of the "World of Art", although they found themselves in the background compared to some of their other colleagues. Both of them avoided topical issues. But how can you not see the calm before the storm in the deserted, seemingly frozen panoramas of St. Petersburg on Ostroumova-Lebedeva's color woodcuts? And, conversely, how can you not hear the echoes of the social explosion in Falileyev's expressive linocuts?

His "Ripe Rye" depicts two travelers crossing a field. But in the center of the composition is the sun, whose rays pierce the entire space, burn it out. The image is solemn and frightening, especially considering the year of creation: 1917. The Dawn (1910) is no less expressive. It seems to be an idyll in front of us: two sailing schooners, followed by the morning glow. But in this cascade of orange, red, and even burgundy tones, there is a threat, a premonition of future upheavals.

With all the emotional "volume" of the mentioned works, the exhibition of the State Museum of Fine Arts is, of course, quiet, intimate, aimed not at an external effect, but at thoughtful consideration. They usually say about such projects: "they are for connoisseurs, for gourmets." But the general public should also look here, and not because of specific names and subjects, but for the sake of the metamorphoses of the engraving technique itself. At least, it will be a surprise to many that it can be colored. Yes, there are no really experimental samples, abstractions, or the like. But within the framework of figurative art, the stylistic range shown is the widest.

Peacocks from Albion

Portraits and landscapes, religious and everyday subjects, even animalism — everything found a place in a very compact, semi-dark hall (bright light graphics are contraindicated). Images of animals and birds, by the way, are also endowed with hidden meaning. Allen William Seaby's feathered birds have clearly human characters, but William Giles' design of two peacocks — one with a magnificent tail, the other without — has a symbolic signature in Latin: Sic transit gloria mundi ("This is how worldly glory passes").

Let's add that the works of British artists reflect an important episode in the history of the engraving cabinet. Thanks to Romanov's friendship with colleagues from England, an exchange of printed graphics took place between Moscow and London in 1925. We gave them 218 sheets, and they gave us about 600. The public can now see some of those acquisitions.

The fact of the exchange, by the way, is eloquent in itself: relations between the USSR and Great Britain in the 1920s were extremely shaky, sometimes on the verge of war, which did not prevent two major museums (the British Museum and the Museum of Fine Arts) from making such an act of friendship. Conservators and art historians have preserved cultural bridges between states even in the most turbulent times. Today, exactly one hundred years later, it is worth remembering.