POSTING #131

Moscow's Izmailovsky Market, and a Mysterious Artist

Addition to Posting #131

Images of two more paintings by the Russian artist Piganov have been added to the end of this posting, through the kindness of the owner of the paintings, Jürgen Brauweiler (nickname, Jules), of Berlin. A description of how this came about is included with the new pictures.

March 13, 2012

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Tourists love flea markets.

Just watch the crowds in London's Petticoat Lane or Portobello Road, or in Paris' Marché aux Puces, or in the Middle East's souks and bazaars.

When we were working in Moscow in 1995-1997, the city was in the midst of creating its own flea market, Izmailovsky Market.

Now, some 16 years later, the Market is on the agenda of every tourist visiting Moscow. The New York Times describes it this way:

"Izmailovsky Market, near the estate where Peter the Great played war games as a boy, is a sprawling open-air market that evolved out of the first Soviet experiments in capitalism: the flea market. One area has been refashioned into a souvenir paradise, with stalls offering nesting dolls, lacquer boxes, art, antiques, carpets and things you cannot imagine. The market, open weekends from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m., is at 73 Izmaylovskoye Shosse, but don't expect to see any sign. Follow the crowds from the Partizanskaya metro station."

One weekend in the autumn of 1995, I decided to visit the Market. I got off the Metro at Partizanskaya station and did what the Times suggested: followed the crowds, which while not as large as they are today, were still substantial.

Inside the Market, everything was a jumble with goods displayed in sheds, or on tables in the open. There was a large section devoted to oriental carpets from the Caucuses, which were lying in piles 10 or 12 deep on the ground or suspended from rough frames.

After wandering through the maze of stalls, I ended up in a section devoted to art: paintings, water colours, collages, carvings, and so on.

Most of the art was clearly designed for quick sale to tourists looking for a Russian souvenir--pretty scenes of onion-domed churches, peasant cottages in Siberia, renderings of Red Square and so on.

In the midst of all this 'commercial' art, was a stand with four or five paintings that were different. They seemed to me to be attempts by the artist to say something that he felt strongly about. They appeared to be painted for him, not for a buyer.

One of them attracted me---of a young woman looking straight ahead with a haunting, questioning look. I stopped and studied it. Then I moved down the row of stalls looking at the other works of art.

Coming back, I stopped again at the painting and tried to understand why I liked it, and what it was saying to me.

A man sitting nearby on a chair watched me.

Although I liked it, I decided that I hadn't come to buy a painting, so I started to wind my way back to the entrance.

Part way there, something told me that I was making a mistake. I turned around and went back to have a third look at the painting.

I asked the man sitting on the chair if he were the artist.

He shook his head and, trying to find English expressions, said, "I sell for my friend. He....funny man." He tapped his forehead, and I thought he meant that the artist was a bit loco, perhaps another Van Gogh.

He seemed to realize that I was getting the wrong impression and he dug into his English vocabulary for some other adjectives.

"Deep, deep, thinks all time...religious."

I asked how much the painting was---rubbing my thumb and forefinger together in that internationally understood gesture.

He took out a scrap of paper and wrote an amount that was more than the 'pretty' paintings were selling for but was not unreasonable.

I had been told that at Izmailovsky Market one was expected to haggle, so I wrote out a lower amount  on the man's paper. As I did this, I realized that I had destroyed any bargaining position I might have had by stopping three times to study the painting.

He shook his head and pointed to the price he had quoted.

I nodded that I would buy the painting at that price and started to pull out my billfold. He shook his head and, taking my arm, pulled me behind a nearby bush. There, out of sight of passersby, we completed the transaction. Moscow was a pretty lawless place at the time, and he wasn't taking any chances on being mugged on his way home.

Back at our apartment, I hung the painting. 

Notice the three apples on the table in the forefront of the painting. We think the artist included apples because of  the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, and he showed three because of the trinity---but who knows.

For me it came to symbolize the turmoil in Russia. On the right of the painting, the woman's hair is covered with barbed wire, while on the left, her hair is threaded with ribbons and pearls. The woman seems to be trying to discern whether the future of Russia would be repression and fear, or prosperity and love.

I liked it very much. When Pat came over for her regular visits, I found that she liked it as well.

In the summer of 1996, our daughter and two sons came over with their spouses for a two-week visit. They also liked the painting.

Talking about our family's visit, may I be permitted a short digression?

Thanks!

As a family, we 'did' all the main tourist attractions in Moscow and St. Petersburg and between the two cities, but looking back on the trip one of the high-points was our trip to Izmailovsky Market. When we got to the Market, each couple went off in a different direction, the agreement being that we would meet in two hours at the carpet section.

Pat and I were waiting at the carpets in two hours but no kids had appeared. Then one couple showed up. Since the others weren't there yet, they said they would just nip off for a few minutes---but be right back. "This is a great market!"

Then another couple arrived. They too would just nip off for a  minute or two---while the others assembled. They would be right back. "Wow, this is really a great market!"

Finally, we had to insist that whoever arrived had to stay put until we were all there.

Loaded down with purchases, we trudged back to the Metro, with many backward glances and some muttering about not having had enough time.

End of digression---thanks for your tolerance!

As my contract with the Russian authorities neared its end---in March 1997---Pat came over to help me shut down the project and pack up our belongings in the apartment.

Looking at the painting one night, we agreed it would be good to meet the artist and see if he had any other works that we might take back to Canada.

Yuri, my office manager (not his real name), located the artist, who said he would be interested in meeting us and showing us his studio.

The artist suggested we meet on a street corner---not an unusual suggestion because house numbering in Moscow can be confusing. Yuri's daughter would act as our guide and interpreter.

When we arrived at the street corner, there were a number of people standing around, some waiting for a bus, others just standing. We tried to identify the artist, someone who looked liked the friend's description of him at Izmailovsky Market: 'funny...deep...religious'.

No one matched that description.

Then a middle-aged man in a traditional Russian fur hat with ear flaps, but wearing a western-looking, bright red jacket, came over and introduced himself.

Our artist.

He didn't look 'artistic'. His dark hair was worn short and neatly trimmed. He had gold-rimmed glasses and a small mustache. He looked like dozens of managers I had met during my time in Russia---it later turned out that his day-job was that of a manager in a hospital.

In his studio, there were a few paintings on easels with others leaning against the walls.

Two of the paintings on easels interested us.

One, obviously in its very early stages, showed a woman in a long white robe, leaning forward with a rope over her shoulder, straining to drag a boat across a desert. The artist explained his symbolism: the woman represented Russian women; the boat represented Russian families; and, the desert stood for the tough economic times the nation was experiencing. The woman represented all the Russian women who were bravely struggling to keep their families together.

The other painting, nearly complete, was more complex than the first picture, containing a rich assortment of religious and other images and symbols. It was intended to convey the artist's view that, in the end, Russia's future depended upon a return to religion.

The artist said he could finish the second picture in a few days, allowing us to take it back with us to Canada. The other would take some weeks to complete.

We agreed quickly on a price and he said he would bring it to my office in a few days.

The picture below shows the artist, Mr. Piganov, with the painting in my Moscow office at the Russian Federal Employment Bureau.

On the coat-tree in the background, one can see Mr. Piganov's Russian hat, and his red, western-style jacket---items he was wearing when we met him on a street corner near his studio.

In preparation for our trip home, we removed the two paintings from their stretchers, rolled the canvases and placed them in cardboard tubes. Back in Ottawa, we found a restorer who worked regularly for the National Gallery repairing their paintings. She commented that the paint in both pictures had been applied very thinly. We wonder whether the artist preferred this approach or whether he was concerned about the high cost of imported oil paints in Russian at that time.

She attached the canvases to stretchers, touched them up a little and placed them under a special kind of Plexiglas to protect the thin paint from damage by ultraviolet rays. 

Here is the second painting, over the fireplace, in our Virgil home.

There is so much symbolism here it would take a separate Posting to begin to do justice to it, but notice the young woman rising out of a gilded cage. This symbolizes the artist's admiration for women and his support for their emancipation. (Because the paintings are under Plexiglas, the photos show some room reflections---sorry about that.)

When the paintings had been framed and hung, we began to think of the other painting that we had liked---the one of a woman dragging a boat through the desert. Yuri  contacted Mr. Piganov only to learn that the painting had been sold---to an American couple.

We kicked ourselves that we hadn't put a deposit on the painting.

While we were still operating a bed and breakfast, we loved sharing the two paintings with guests. People would stand in front of them, discussing---and sometimes arguing---about what Mr. Piganov meant by this or that symbol.

I have used the Izmailovsky Market painting of the woman at several talks about Russia, and it is amazing how effective it is in conveying the turmoil and uncertainty of the 1990s, as Russia was starting to make its transition from a communist to a market economy.

Now, we simply enjoy them as works of art and for the memories they bring back of our time in Russia and, especially, of our visits to Izmailovsky Market.

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Addition to Posting #131

On March 9, 2012 this comment was left at the end of Posting #131.

"Hello, I am Jules from Germany. To search for information about J. Piganov in the Internet. I found your blog. I worked in Moscow between 91 and 93. Izmailovsky Park was a weekend "must" for me. I saw Piganov sitting with 3 pictures near the Metro station. I ...bought one of his works. Arriving at my Hotel I was so happy about it, that I went back to the market and bought the other two. Now 20 years later it's a beautiful and amusing memory of the time in Moscow. If you like, I would send you a photo."

I told Jules that I would love to see photos of his paintings.

Jules sent photos of his three paintings, and has kindly agreed to let me add two of the them to Posting #131. The paintings were done in 1991 and reflect the emotions---fear, anger, love and more---the artist felt as the changes brought about by Glasnost, Perestroika and the demise of the USSR swept across Russia.

Jules and I have agreed that the third painting is a bit too horrific for a family blog. It is a powerful painting reminiscent of Picasso's brutal Guernica, which portrayed the death and destruction caused in the 1930s by the bombing of Spain by the axis forces. I love the picture but feel it would be a mistake to include it here, in a blog with readers of all ages.

Here are the two paintings.

The artist called this painting 'The Icon'

This painting is called 'The Revolution'.

I told Jules that perhaps this will be the start of a fan club for Mr. Piganov, with other purchasers of his pictures stumbling (Googling?) onto my blog.

He liked that idea!

If other readers have paintings by Mr. Piganov, I would be delighted to add them to this Posting.

Once again my deep gratitude to Jules for letting all of us see these paintings. 

March 13, 2012

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See you on December 4th for Posting #132 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting,  or email me at johnpathunter@gmail.com.

Note:

Have you read the latest Posting on The Icewine Guru blog? You can read "Are Canadian Politics Dull?" at http://theicewineguru.blogspot.com/