You know your country’s got problems when it starts producing really good art. Just look at all the psychedelic rock and conceptual art that came out of Vietnam-era America, or the performance art that happened when Thatcher was in charge over here. Shitty governments equal radical art, basically. Sure, sometimes that goes too far, but there’s a middle ground where oppression and expression are perfectly balanced.
Nineteenth century Russia found that sweet spot. Between the music of Tchaikovksy, Mussorgsky and Rimsky-Korsakov and the incomparable novels of Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, the country was a cultural hotbed to rival Paris. The portraits on show here, many borrowed from the State Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow, act as a mini-documentary of this turbulent, vital time in culture.
There are a handful of great paintings among the 26 on display. Vasily Perov’s brooding image of a 28-year-old Dostoyevsky is brilliantly moody, Valentin Serov’s depiction of the actress Maria Yermolova is neatly composed and appropriately dramatic, and Ilya Repin’s portrait of Baroness Varvara Ikskul von Hildebrandt is stylish and striking.
Not all of these portraits are great. A lot of them are unremarkable as works in themselves, but the show tells a fascinating story of a country in turmoil and the artists, authors and musicians who tried to kick back against it. ‘Khorosho!’, as the Russians say.
