a'Anti-Soviet' Art Back After 30 Years

"You are a CIA agent and this whole exhibition is a provocation," the KGB officer cried out, pointing at the frosted window. Outside, a long line of correspondents, diplomats and curious people were waiting for a chance to see the first exhibition of work by unofficial Soviet artists open to the public.


That was 30 years ago. Today, Alexander Glezer, who organized that historic exhibition and whom the KGB called "the blind weapon in the hands of the CIA," is attempting to repeat the triumph of that day. Or, at least, to remind the people what unofficial artists had to go through to show their paintings to the public at a time when an official war was declared against all styles that differed from socialist realism, when the word "abstraction" was forbidden. Artists in the Soviet Union who saw the world otherwise seemed doomed to remain unknown. Attempts were made to open up the artistic forum during the so-called Khrushchev thaw in the early 1960s, but after the infamous Manezh Exhibition in 1962, when Khrushchev cried out "This is not art, it's f--ing shit," it became clear that free expression remained out of reach.


Alexander Glezer, a poet and connoisseur of modern art, was the man who made possible the appearance of 12 now-famous artists before the eyes of the public in 1967. Today he has prepared an exhibit dedicated to that event, called "30 Years After," that displays a series of paintings by the participants of the exhibit held 30 years ago. Since then, these artists have become the pride of Russian culture, their paintings hanging in some of the biggest museums of the world, such as New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Pompidou Center in Paris.


But in 1967 they all had to struggle for the right to display their work. Organizing an exhibition was next to impossible, but with the help of Alexander Glezer they arranged a showing at the Druzhba club -- outsmarting the censors and the club's administrators in the process. On the opening day a huge line waited before the doors of the club.


It was a triumph. The small hall of the club was filled with people, among them journalists, diplomats and art critics. "For a minute there I saw the wife of the American ambassador, Mrs. Thompson, trying to make her way through the crowd to take a better look at the paintings," wrote Oscar Rabine, one of the participants in the exhibit, in his book "Three Lives."


Everything was going smoothly until suddenly someone put a hand on Glezer's shoulder and requested him to go to the administrative office. The art collector recounted his story at a press conference held prior to the opening of "30 Years After."


"When I came in, a KGB officer jumped out from the table and cried: 'Look what's going on behind the window!'


'I can't see a thing,' I said. 'It's too dark.'


'Thirty diplomat and correspondent cars are standing out there!' the officer said, close to hysteria. 'This exhibition was organized by the CIA!'


'I organized it,' I replied.


'Then you are a CIA agent,' the KGB officer said."


Half an hour later everything was shut down. But during the two hours the club was open more than 2,000 people saw the paintings of the real Moscow artists, Glezer said. Soon the whole world found out that another exhibit was closed in the Soviet Union; the wall of silence that surrounded the unofficial artists was broken down. It was a start.


"This exhibition was the first swallow that declared the arrival of spring. Of course, the first swallow isn't spring itself, but springtime is unimaginable without it," Oscar Rabine wrote.


"The exhibition at the Druzhba club led to a turn in the mass consciousness, because thousands of people came to see it, to show their solidarity with the artists. In fact, the word 'nonconformists' appeared right after that exhibition," said another participant, Eduard Shteinberg.


Today the works that were declared "anti-Soviet" in the late 1960s are on display again. The anniversary exhibit, dedicated to the day that changed the lives of both the artists and the organizers of the Druzhba exhibit, opened Monday in the State Literature Museum. It features the work of the same participants as 30 years ago -- the only difference being that many of the artists are now dead.


Most of the exhibited works are part of Glezer's own collection, which he is donating to the Tretyakov Gallery. The urban landscapes of Rabine, the sad, horse-like creatures and sinking churches of Valentina Krapivnitskaya, the fatal decks of cards by Vladimir Muchin, the purely graphic works of Nikolai Vechtomov, the strong expression of Anatoly Zverev and the paintings of Lidia Masterkova, Dmitry Plavinsky, Olga Potapova, Eduard Shteinberg, Valentin Vorobiev and the family of Kropivnitsky all have something in common -- a sense of sadness and loneliness combined with inner strength. This kind of strength helped them survive during the years of persecution, to go on creating in the face of opposition.


Now the tables have turned and these artists are known all over the world. Only in Russia, their native country, are their names still unknown by most of the population. With his new exhibit, Glezer hopes to repeat the miracle of 30 years ago -- drawing long-deserved attention to first-class artists and their work.





The exhibit "30 Years After," dedicated to the anniversary of the Druzhba club exhibit, runs through March 30 in the subsidiary of the Literature Museum at 17 Trubniakovsky Pereulok (entrance from the courtyard). Nearest metro stations: Smolenskaya, Arbatskaya.