From heavily detailed religious icons and onion-domed churches to statues of heroic workers and soaring Stalinist towers, Russian art and architecture has a distinctive style. In the post-Soviet world, architects and artists are pretty much free to do as they please. Visual artists, in particular, have done so with relish, both thumbing their noses at the past and present and embracing and rediscovering traditional Russian crafts and artistic inspiration.
Until Soviet times most Russians lived in homes made of wood. The izba (single-storey log cottage) is still fairly common in the countryside, while some Siberian cities, notably Tomsk, retain fine timber town houses intricately decorated with ‘wooden lace’. Stone and brick were usually the preserves of the Church, royalty and nobility.
Early Russian architecture is best viewed in the country’s most historic churches, in places such as Veliky Novgorod, Smolensk, Pskov and Vladimir-Suzdal. At their simplest, churches consisted of three aisles, each with an eastern apse (semicircular end), a dome or cupola over the central aisle next to the apse, and high vaulted roofs forming a crucifix shape centred on the dome.
Church architects developed the three-aisle pattern in the 11th and 12th centuries. Roofs then grew steeper to prevent the heavy northern snows collecting and crushing them, and windows grew narrower to keep the cold out. Pskov builders invented the little kokoshnik gable, which was semicircular or spade-shaped and usually found in rows supporting a dome or drum.
Where stone replaced brick, as in Vladimir’s Assumption Cathedral, it was often carved into a glorious kaleidoscope of decorative images. Another Vladimir-Suzdal hallmark was the ‘blind arcade’, a wall decoration resembling a row of arches. The early church-citadel complexes required protection, and thus developed sturdy, fortress-style walls replete with fairy-tale towers – Russia’s archetypal kremlins.
In the 16th century, the translation of the northern Russian wooden church features – such as the tent roof and the onion dome on a tall drum – into brick added up to a new, uniquely Russian architecture. St Basil’s Cathedral, the Ivan the Great Bell Tower in the Moscow Kremlin and the Ascension Church at Kolomenskoe are three high points of this era.
In the 17th century builders in Moscow added tiers of kokoshniki, colourful tiles and brick patterning, to create jolly, merchant-financed churches. Mid-century, Patriarch Nikon outlawed such frippery, but elaboration returned later in the century with Western-influenced Moscow baroque, featuring ornate white detailing on redbrick walls.
Mainstream baroque reached Russia as Peter the Great opened up the country to Western influences. As the focus was on his new capital, St Petersburg, he banned new stone construction elsewhere to ensure stone supplies. The great Italian architect Bartolomeo Rastrelli created an inspired series of rococo-style buildings for Empress Elizabeth. Three of the most brilliant were the Winter Palace and Smolny Cathedral, both in St Petersburg, and Catherine Palace at nearby Tsarskoe Selo.
Later in the 18th century, Catherine the Great turned away from rococo ‘excess’ towards Europe’s new wave of classicism. This was an attempt to recreate the ambience of an idealised ancient Rome and Greece, with their mathematical proportions and rows of columns, pediments and domes. Catherine and her successors built waves of grand classical edifices in a bid to make St Petersburg the continent’s most imposing capital. The simple classicism of Catherine’s reign was exemplified by the Great Palace at Pavlovsk.
The grandiose Russian Empire–style was developed under Alexander I, highlighted in buildings such as the Admiralty and Kazan Cathedral in St Petersburg. St Isaac’s Cathedral, built for Nicholas I, was the last big project of this wave of classicism in St Petersburg. Moscow abounds with Russian Empire–style buildings, as much of the city had to be rebuilt after the fire of 1812.
A series of architectural revivals, notably of early Russian styles, began in the late 19th century. The first pseudo-Russian phase produced the state department store GUM, the State History Museum and the Leningradsky vokzal (train station) in Moscow, and the Moskovsky vokzal and the Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood in St Petersburg.
The early-20th-century neo-Russian movement brought a sturdy classical elegance to architecture across the nation, culminating in the extraordinary Kazansky vokzal in Moscow, which imitates no fewer than seven earlier styles. About the same time, Style Moderne, Russia’s take on art nouveau, added wonderful curvaceous flourishes to many buildings right across Russia.
The revolution gave rein to young constructivist architects, who rejected superficial decoration in favour of buildings whose appearance was a direct function of their uses and materials – a new architecture for a new society. They used glass and concrete in uncompromising geometric forms.
Konstantin Melnikov was probably the most famous constructivist and his own house off ul Arbat in Moscow is one of the most interesting examples of the style; the offices of Moscow news agencies Pravda and Izvestia are others. In the 1930s the constructivists were denounced, and a 400m-high design by perpetrators of yet another revival – monumental classicism – was chosen for Stalin’s pet project, a Palace of Soviets in Moscow, which mercifully never got off the ground.
Stalin favoured neoclassical architecture, as it echoed ancient Athens. The dictator also liked architecture on a gigantic scale, underlining the might of the Soviet state. This style reached its apogee in the ‘Seven Sisters’, seven Gothic-style skyscrapers that sprouted around Moscow soon after WWII.
In 1955 Khrushchev condemned the ‘excesses’ of Stalin (who had died two years earlier) and disbanded the Soviet Academy of Architecture. After this, architects favoured a bland international modern style – constructivism without the spark, you might say – for prestigious buildings, while no style at all was evident in the drab blocks of cramped flats that sprouted countrywide.
Following the demise of the Soviet Union, architectural energies and civic funds initially went into the restoration of decayed churches and monasteries, as well as the rebuilding of structures such as Moscow’s Cathedral of Christ the Saviour.
As far as contemporary domestic, commercial and cultural buildings are concerned, post-Soviet architects have not been kind to Russia. Featuring bright metals and mirrored glass, these buildings tend to be plopped down in the midst of otherwise unassuming vintage buildings, particularly in Moscow.
The oil-rich economy is producing some changes for the better and helping to fund interesting projects, especially in Moscow. Examples include the Garage Museum of Contemporary Art in Gorky Park, which was designed by Rem Koolhaas' OMA; the Moscow School of Management, a design by Adjaye Associates; the transformation of the GES2 power station by Renzo Piano into a new contemporary art centre for the V-A-C Foundation; and the gleaming towers of Moscow International Business Centre (Moscow City), which include Federation Towers. At the time of research this was the tallest building in Europe, but it is expected to soon be trumped by the Lakhta Centre in St Petersburg when it tops out at 462m.
Originally painted by monks as a spiritual exercise, icons are images intended to aid the veneration of the holy subjects they depict. Some believe that there are some icons that can grant luck and wishes, or even cause miracles.
The beginning of a distinct Russian icon tradition came when artists in Veliky Novgorod started to be influenced by local folk art in their representation of people, producing sharply outlined figures with softer faces and introducing lighter colours, including pale yellows and greens. The earliest outstanding painter was Theophanes the Greek (Feofan Grek in Russian). He lived between 1340 and 1405, working in Byzantium, Novgorod and Moscow, and bringing a new delicacy and grace to the form. His finest works are in the Annunciation Cathedral of the Moscow Kremlin.
Andrei Rublyov, a monk at Sergiev Posad’s Trinity Monastery of St Sergius and Moscow’s Andronikov Monastery, was 20 years Theophanes’ junior and the greatest Russian icon painter. His most famous work is the dreamy Holy Trinity, on display in Moscow’s Tretyakov Gallery.
The layman Dionysius, the leading late-15th-century icon painter, elongated his figures and refined the use of colour. In the 16th century icons grew smaller and more crowded, their figures more realistic and Russian looking. In 17th-century Moscow, Simon Ushakov moved towards Western religious painting with the use of perspective and architectural backgrounds.
In Russia it’s down to national and local governments to decide what pieces of architecture warrant preservation. St Petersburg in particular spends millions of roubles on maintaining and renovating its stock of historic buildings. However, the pressure group Zhivoi Gorod (Living City; www.save-spb.ru) claims that the city is more interested in destruction, citing the demolition of hundreds of historically important buildings in recent years. However, citizen action in the city did manage to put the dampers on the controversial Okhta Tower, the planned headquarters of Gazprom. That project has now morphed into the Lakhta Tower, 9km from St Petersburg's historic centre.
The Moscow Architecture Preservation Society (MAPS; www.maps-moscow.com), a pressure group founded by architects, historians, heritage managers and journalists of various nationalities, has been fighting for several years to preserve the capital’s architectural heritage. Its research shows more than 400 of the city’s listed buildings have been demolished since 1989. Their efforts appear to be paying off, as previously threatened key 20th-century pieces of architecture including the constructivist apartment block Narkomfin, the Shukhov radio tower and Melnikov House have gained protection and are undergoing renovation.
The major artistic force of the 19th century was the Peredvizhniki (Wanderers), who saw art as a force for national awareness and social change. The movement gained its name from the touring exhibitions with which the artists widened their audience. It was patronised by the industrialists Savva Mamontov – whose Abramtsevo estate near Moscow became an artists colony – and brothers Pavel and Sergei Tretyakov (after whom the Tretyakov Gallery is named). The Peredvizhniki included Vasily Surikov, who painted vivid Russian historical scenes; Nicholas Ghe, with his biblical and historical scenes; the landscape painter Ivan Shishkin; and Ilya Repin, perhaps the best loved of all Russian artists. Repin’s work ranged from social criticism (Barge Haulers on the Volga) through history (Zaporizhsky Cossacks Writing a Letter to the Turkish Sultan) to portraits of the famous.
Isaac Levitan, who revealed the beauty of the Russian landscape, was one of many others associated with the Peredvizhniki. The end-of-century genius Mikhail Vrubel, inspired by sparkling Byzantine and Venetian mosaics, also showed traces of Western influence.
Around the turn of the 20th century, the Mir Iskusstva (World of Art) movement in St Petersburg, led by Alexander Benois and Sergei Diaghilev under the motto ‘art pure and unfettered’, opened Russia to Western innovations such as Impressionism, art nouveau and symbolism. From about 1905, Russian art became a maelstrom of groups, styles and ‘isms’ as it absorbed decades of European change in just a few years, before it gave birth to its own avant-garde futurist movements.
Natalia Goncharova and Mikhail Larionov were at the centre of the Cézanne-influenced Jack of Diamonds group (with which Vasily Kandinsky was also associated) before developing neoprimitivism, based on popular arts and primitive icons.
In 1915 Kasimir Malevich announced the arrival of suprematism, declaring that his utterly abstract geometrical shapes – with the black square representing the ultimate ‘zero form’ – finally freed art from having to depict the material world and made it a doorway to higher realities.
Futurists turned to the needs of the revolution – education, posters, banners – with enthusiasm, relishing the chance to act on their theories of how art shapes society. But at the end of the 1920s, formalist (abstract) art fell out of favour; the Communist Party wanted socialist realism. Images of striving workers, heroic soldiers and inspiring leaders took over. Malevich ended up painting portraits (penetrating ones) and doing designs for Red Square parades.
After Stalin, an avant-garde ‘conceptualist’ underground was allowed to form. Ilya Kabakov painted, or sometimes just arranged, the debris of everyday life to show the gap between the promises and realities of Soviet existence. Erik Bulatov’s ‘Sots art’ pointed to the devaluation of language by ironically reproducing Soviet slogans or depicting words disappearing over the horizon. In 1962 the authorities set up a show of such ‘unofficial’ art at the Moscow Manezh; Khrushchev called it ‘dog shit’ and sent it back underground. In the mid-1970s it resurfaced in the Moscow suburbs, only to be literally bulldozed back down.
In the immediate post-Soviet years, a lot of contemporary painters of note abandoned Russia for the West. Today, with increased economic prosperity, many of the most promising young artists are choosing to stay put. At specialist art galleries in Moscow and St Petersburg, you can find the latest works by Russians in and out of the motherland.
Artists to look out for include Siberian collective and satirists Blue Noses and the artist group AES+F (www.aes-group.org), whose multimedia work, such as The Feast of Trimalchio, reflects the lust for luxury in contemporary Russia. Also gaining international attention are Taus Makhacheva, whose work often involves questions of national identity and who is partly based in Makhachkala, Dagestan; and the site-specific installation artist Irina Korina. Both these artists represented Russia at the 2017 Venice Biennale.
Contemporary art galleries are booming from St Petersburg across to Vladivostok. Prestigious events to mark on your calendar include the Moscow Biennale of Contemporary Art (www.moscowbiennale.ru), Moscow Biennale for Young Russian Art (http://youngart.ru) and the Garage Triennial of Russian Contemporary Art, also held in Moscow.
Say what you like about contemporary artists in Russia, but don't accuse them of shying away from controversial subjects or putting their own safety, not to mention liberty, on the line for their art. More often than not, such art takes the form of performance.
Russia's most famous performance artist is Oleg Kulik, best known for taking on the persona of a dog as he crawled naked down Moscow's streets wearing a collar and lead. Along with Alexander Brener, who was jailed in 1997 for painting a green dollar sign on Malevich's painting Suprematisme, he is a key figure in the local 'actionism' movement.
Radical art collective Voina (War) made their name by filming live sex acts at Timiryazev State Biology Museum in Moscow and painting a 64m-tall penis on a drawbridge in St Petersburg in 2010; for that last stunt Voina won a R400,000 government-sponsored Innovatzia contemporary-art prize the following year. Among Voina's members are Pyotr Verzilov and his wife Nadezhda Tolokonnikova, who would go on to even greater notoriety as part of the feminist punk-rock collective Pussy Riot.
Grabbing recent headlines has been Petr Pavlensky who has stitched up his mouth and stood in front of St Petersburg's Kazan Cathedral; lain naked in front of the entrance to Saint Petersburg's Legislative Assembly wrapped in barbed wire; and, again naked, hammered a 20cm nail through his scrotum into Red Square. In November 2015, he set fire to the doors of Moscow's FSB office in a performance called 'Threat'. Pavlensky and his partner are currently in Paris seeking asylum following accusations of sexual assault in Russia, which they deny.
An amazing spectrum of richly decorated folk art has evolved in Russia. Perhaps most familiar are the intricately painted, enamelled wood boxes called palekh, after the village east of Moscow that’s famous for them; and finift, luminous enamelled metal miniatures from Rostov-Veliky. From Gzhel, also east of Moscow, came glazed earthenware in the 18th century and its trademark blue-and-white porcelain in the 19th century. Gus-Khrustalny, south of Vladimir, maintains a glass-making tradition as old as Russia. Every region also has its own style of embroidery and some specialise in knitted and other fine fabrics.
The most common craft is woodcarving, represented by toys, distaffs (tools for hand-spinning flax) and gingerbread moulds in the museums, and in its most clichéd form by the nested matryoshka dolls. Surely the most familiar symbol of Russia, they actually only date from 1890. You’ll also find the red, black and gold lacquered pine bowls called khokhloma overflowing from souvenir shops. Most uniquely Slavic are the ‘gingerbread’ houses of western and northern Russia and Siberia, with their carved window frames, lintels and trim. The art of carpentry flourished in 17th- and 18th-century houses and churches.
A revived interest in national traditions has recently brought good-quality craftwork into the open, and the process has been boosted by the restoration of churches and mosques and their artwork. There has also been a minor resurgence of woodcarving and bone carving. An even more popular craft is beresta, using birch bark to make containers and decorative objects, with colours varying according to the age and season of peeling. In Tuva, soapstone carving and traditional leather forming are also being rediscovered.