Heroes of Soviet Labor,
Takaia gadost’; when something is so ugly it takes your breath away, you wish not for a small, modest, tasteful bit of tameness in its place. If it must be bad, make it awful. Make it so hideous, so over-the-top, so continuous, so repetitive that it overwhelms, and you can bathe in the ugliness, be absorbed by it. Why get a drop of cold water on the back when you can do a cannonball in the ice bath? Why settle for a little bit of pretty good, when you can have a whole ocean of bad?
Such was my pleasant discovery not long ago at the Tsereteli Museum.
For those of you in the know, Zurab Tsereteli is the pet architect of the now deposed Moscow mayor, Yuri Luzhkov. He is in his 70s, has workshops all over Moscow, designed the Peter the Great sculpture that arises like a giant Vegas pool monument out of the Moscow river, and he designed the Tear of Sorrow monument that New York re-gifted to Hoboken after September 11. He is also prodigious, and clearly a genius in his own awful way.
My friend Ida introduced me to his museum (which costs several times more than the Tretiakov) and as we went up the first marble staircase two men came down, one a round little man bursting with life and white hair, dressed in a dapper gray suit and a colorful tie and scarf. He nodded to us as if saying, “can you tell how big a deal it is that I’m nodding at you?” Sure enough, as she later reported, that was Zurab, in the flesh. I was truly blessed.
He has hall upon hall upon hall of completed sculptures, never realized plans (thank God) and hundreds of paintings. We learned he paints at least one painting a day (some of them quite nice; very colorful depictions of all sorts of people, including some stereotypic images of “Old Jews.”) Such overwhelming supplies of crap! So much to think about:
You begin to pick apart each work, piece by piece, trying to analyze where it went astray. Is it in the carrying out of the thing? The technical skill? Is it the overall composition, the aggressive literality of the vision? “Russia saving Europe” is a large tilting helix of architectural forms stacked one over the other, with Russian churches supporting the Colosseum, Notre Dame, Big Ben, etc, etc.
There is Shostakovich, surrounded by large, fawning human hands. There is a large than life family “portrait” of statues of Nicholas II and his family before their murder. A Putin statue in judo outfit. Also literally ever significant figure of Russian and global culture, including Mother Theresa.
But my favorite? The huge apple in the massive central courtyard. It’s 30 feet high, solid bronze. And it’s hollow! Inside you walk and see a nude Adam and Eve holding hands staring around them at the curving walls in wonder. There, in bas relief are a baccanalia of sex acts; various positions; various participants; humans, animals. Unfortunately photographs of the interior are strictly forbidden, likely because the museum officials themselves are embarrassed to let word of the thing get out.
Oh dear friends, if you have time for only one Moscow museum, make it this one.
On a somewhat disjointed note:
It’s getting to look a lot like New Years. It’s getting frigid again, and snow is falling steadily, a little each day. Nothing too major, but in a steady way as if winter is reminding us, “dear citizens of the city, I’m coming. Rest now, walk swiftly to your destination, but rest assured, I have more of this snow on the way, any day now, I’m just gonna dump it. Until then….”
I’ve come to realize that snow removal, like the metro, is something Russians do well. Not just well by Russian standards, but world standards, mind you. I’ve attached a clip. It’s amazing to watch the efficiency between the hours of 1am and 4am, when the back streets are plowed, bringing snow to the main streets, where Bobcats (you know, the heavy equipment lifter) lift it onto the backs of truck who drive it straight of town. Sort of how they clean trash at Michigan Stadium, from rows into the stairways. It’s amazing; efficient; cold.
It’s 2/3 of a metaphor for Russia.
Meanwhile, New Years trees are up all over town. Although bearing a strong resemblance to Christmas trees in basic form, they are completely different. First off, every one I’ve seen is fake. They’re all about color, brashness, and flash. Not a whole lot of Christ child and humility and manger scenes and quiet families appreciating one another thinking of the less fortunate and taking out old ornaments that remind them of relatives and yesteryear. This seems to be all about proving electricity consumption. And in that sense they more than hit their mark. They are awesome.
Next update: the Soviet video game museum; roommate’s amazing play; Charles’ reflections on listening to Phish while riding the metro at rush hour.
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