Those of you who have followed this blog or read my books know that I have a pretty visual style of writing fiction. Part of that is the vividness of the images that appear in my head during writing (I have no control over that). But another part is a life-long immersion in the Russian art of the late 19thcentury. Corresponding with a general rise in Russian patriotism, both the art and literature of that time was fascinated with old Russian folk themes.
I found and translated a nice post in Russian from Arzamas.academy about the history of these painters and the evolution of their fairy-tale themes. You can read the original Russian here.
In the middle of the 19thcentury Russian epic poems became popular both in publishing and academic circles. A largely oral form suddenly became the most popular written literature of the day. The art world reacted to this movement actively, and young artists especially began to examine the heroic legends of Russian supermen, or bogatyrs, together with other folk stories and themes.
Early Russian Impressionism: Ilya Repin
It began in Paris in 1874. Ilya Repin visited the first major exhibition of Impressionists in the studio of the photographer Nadar. The young artist was severely disappointed—he saw a wonderful art form without any significant content. Not long before this, Repin had already begun to think of a painting based on the fairy tale of Sadko, the famous musician of Novgorod.
I’d like to inform you, in strictest confidence, the theme of my new painting. Sadko—the rich guest of the kingdom at the bottom of the sea. The king of the waters is showing him a series of brides. The painting is a most fantastical one, beginning with the architecture, ending with the plants and the entourage of the king.” -Repin from a letter to the art critic Vladimir Stasov, December 23, 1873
Repin invited fellow artist Victor Vasnetsov to visit him in Paris several times. In 1876, he finally came, and Repin used him as a model for Sadko, richly decorating the painting with the flora and fauna of the sea that he had studied in great detail both in Normandy and in the Berlin aquarium. The technique is pure impressionism, but the idea was deeply patriotic.
Sadko preferred the simple Russian girl in the back of the painting to the exotic brides of the sea king. Similarly Repin, the gold medalist of the Russian Academy of Art, sent abroad to study with a full stipend for six years, remained faithful to his country’s culture. That same year, Repin featured “Sadko” in a Paris salon, but without success. However, his Russian audience was thrilled. The future Tsar Alexander III bought it himself, and Repin received formal acceptance into the Academy.
Victor Vasnetsov throws his hat into the ring
During this same time, Vasilii Polenov (an artist of the previous generation of realists) and Vasnetsov were discussing “Sadko” in Paris. Polenov had received a letter from Pavel Chistiakov, Repin’s teacher, who asked Polenov to tell Repin that he had focused too much on the beauty of the underwater kingdom, and had forgotten about the spirit of Russian epic poetry, which should have been the guiding theme for the painting.
During that conversation, Vasnetsov remembered an old sketch he had done. Quickly, using it as inspiration, he painted the first draft of his famous painting “The Three Warriors.” He would however only start serious work on it a few years later, and would only finish in 1898.
At the same time, Vasnetsov had started working on another painting, inspired by his first reading of “Ilya Muromets and Nightingale the Robber.” For several years, his famous “Warrior at a Crossroads” would not make it past sketch stage, where Vasnetsov focused most on the face of the warrior. Only in 1877 did Vasnetsov finish a sketch titled “Warrior in a helm with mail,” where he used his brother Arkady as a model. That helped him finish the first full version of the painting. The next year, it appeared at a public exhibition, but Vasnetsov repainted it the next year. He repainted it a third time in 1882 for a private client.
Ilya Muromets as Byronic Hero
Ilya Muromets in this painting is almost a Byronic hero. You can almost follow Vasnetsov’s mood based on how the warrior faces the viewer. In the original sketches, the warrior shows three quarters of his face to the viewer. With each successive version, he turns away more and more. Finally, all we see is a bit of the nose and beard.
The 1882 version reminds the viewer of the paintings of the German Romantic Caspar David Friedrich:
Continuing in the Romantic vein, the warrior has only one choice at this “crossroads”. In the original story, he willingly ignores the paths to riches and marriage, choosing the path to death. But in this painting, the Russian warrior has no choice. Only the road ahead is etched on the waystone. The other two options are missing. Only forward, toward his battle with death itself. Pure Romanticism. (You can read my own take on this iconic Russian folk scene in book 1 of my Raven Son series).
The Three Warriors
As for Vasnetsov’s “Three Warriors,” Ilya Muromets remains a central figure. However, he retains almost nothing in common with the sorrowful figure at the waystone. Instead, he has instead become an incarnation of physical strength and vitality, clearly more impressive than the gloomy Dobrynia Nikitich on his right, and the cunning Aliosha Popovich on his left. It was no accident that Vasnetsov used a simple peasant from Vladimir, Ivan Petrov, as his model for Ilya.
In 1914, Vasnetsov painted Ilya Muromets yet again, in a completely new way. He’s dynamic, in a pose reminiscent of wartime propaganda. Considering the time, it’s understandable why the image changed so much.
Late Impressionism: Mikhail Vrubel
At the same time, Mikhail Vrubel also tried his hand at painting Ilya Muromets. Vasnetsov’s warriors are extremely realistic compared to the earthy warriors of Vrubel, who look like they’ve been either hacked out of a mountain or molded from clay. His Ilya is a forest creature, completely belonging to the realm of legend. The hyperbolic representation of physical strength is even a bit ridiculous. The critics certainly thought so:
His horse is wider than it is long.” –Ekaterina Ge, art critic
But Vrubel had no intention of laughing at Ilya Muromets:
I’m in Abramtsevo again, and I’m drenched… no, not drenched, but immersed in that intimate, national melody that I so want to capture on canvas and in ornaments. This is the music of a whole man, who is not fragmented by the distractions of the ‘proper,’ differentiated, and pale West.” –Mikhail Vrubel from a letter to his sister
Next week, I’ll look at further developments of Russian artistic representation of the epic poems. That includes the odd and fascinating paintings of the even more odd and fascinating Nikolai Roerich. Here’s a teaser of his versions of the bogatyrs:
As a lover of Russian fairy tales, I’ve done a lot of work reading, researching, and making these tales accessible to readers. Today, I have a special invitation for you — I want to offer you a “A Passport to Russian Fairy Land”!
In this free essay, you’ll learn all about:
- The pre-tale, or introductory line, that sets up Russian fairy tales
- The meanings behind cryptic fairytale phrases (like what to do when you’re faced with a “wolf’s meal”)
- An introduction to the infamous Baba Yaga herself
Just enter your email and I’ll send your passport: