The only sunshine that Masha Zavialova remembers from her childhood in the Soviet Union was the blazing summer light that warmed the landscape of her grandparents' village in southern Russia. She lived in St. Petersburg, then known as Leningrad, a shabby northern city on the Baltic that had not yet refurbished its pretty pastel palaces nor reclaimed its glamorous pre-revolutionary past as Russia's window to the West.
Under the oppressive Soviet system, even Leningrad's light seemed dull and gray, she said recently.
Now a curator at the Russian Museum of Art in Minneapolis, Zavialova was surrounded by a new show of 56 paintings by Vasili Nechitailo, a Soviet-era superstar whose work she had shunned in her homeland. Zavialova, who has a doctorate in cultural studies from the University of Minnesota, borrowed the landscapes and portraits from nine American collections, including that of the museum's founder, Twin Cities businessman Ray Johnson.
Beautifully installed in spacious galleries, the show at first seems merely to celebrate the work and life of a man largely unknown outside his homeland. A much more compelling story emerges, however, thanks to Zavialova's insightful labels about the hidden tragedies and suppressed conflicts in Russian life during the Soviet era.
Ambivalent history
Many of Nechitailo's paintings glow with the golden light of an idealized mid-20th-century Soviet summer. They feature backlit peasants hoisting bountiful loads of golden grain into the hoppers of sturdy bins next to olive-drab tractors rumbling at the edge of vast fields of ripe wheat.
Such images touting the virtues of Soviet agriculture were on banners and posters all over the St. Petersburg of Zavialova's childhood. Born in 1954, she grew up during the Cold War when the Soviet Union was a closed country locked in an ideological standoff with the West and deeply suspicious of its own citizens. During college, she recalled, the KGB threatened her with five to seven years' imprisonment for reading a banned book critical of the very Soviet system that Nechitailo's work celebrated.
"At that time I wouldn't even have looked at his art," she said. "I took courses and gave tours at the Hermitage and in the Russian Museum and, though we were told to show his work and everything you said to people was rigidly controlled, I would skip it because it was so propagandistic and I hated it."