Faberge Revealed, at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts
Surely this photograph, taken in 1913, of Nicholas and Alexandra and their children is one of history’s most haunting images:
The name of Faberge, master jeweler, is indelibly linked with those of Tsar Nicholas, Tsarina Alexandra, and their five children, whose fate it was to be the last of the Romanoffs. Currently on display at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts is Faberge Revealed, an exhibit featuring more than five hundred objects designed and created by Peter Karl Faberge and the superb craftsmen who worked under him. Thanks to the generosity of various donors, the VMFA has one of the finest collections of Faberge objets d’art to be found anywhere in the world. On the occasion of this special exhibition, additional works have been loaned to the museum.
Should you go there, here are some of the things you will see: 
Imperial Tsarevich Egg
Napoleonic Egg
Diamond tiara, one of the few made by Faberge
Imperial Lilies of the Valley Basket
The Coronation Egg
The Hen Egg, Tsar Alexander III's Easter gift to his wife in 1885
Imperial snuff box
The eggs, with their tiny miniatures inside, are the most famous products of the House of Faberge. But as this exhibit demonstrates, these master jewelers crafted many other equally beautiful objects. There were brooches and pendants, animals carved from hard stone, snuff boxes – and picture frames. And from these frames, picture after picture of members of the royal household, unsmiling and imperious, gaze out at the world they unthinkingly dominated. 
I could not resist buying the exhibition catalog, a weighty tome with lavish illustrations: 
It wasn’t until I took a good look at this book that I fully took in the name of the guest curator: Geza Von Habsburg. Von Habsburg…? A rather storied name in European history, n’est-ce pas? Indeed so. Born in Bupapest in 1940, Geza Von Habsburg is a direct descendant of the Austro-Hungarian Emperor Franz Josef and his wife Empress Elizabeth. In a bygone era, he would’ve been entitled to style himself an archduke. In the current era he may be called Dr. Von Habsburg: he is the holder of a Ph.D. degree from the University of Fribourg in Switzerland and an acknowledged expert on the history and works of the House of Faberge.
Geza Von Habsburg
When this exhibition opened in early July, Philip Kennicott wrote about it in the Washington Post. The article is illuminating, not least because in the middle of it, Kennicott erupts into a diatribe against the Romanoffs and their privileged ilk. He begins with a fairly innocuous observation regarding the eggs, to wit: “In an age of digital illusionism, these little mechanical marvels give an almost reflexive pleasure, no matter how hard one tries to resist.” But then comes this paragraph:
And there are good reasons to resist everything in this exhibition of more than 500 objects. Faberge’s work is mesmerizing and horrifying at the same time. Although Faberge strove to distinguish his product from the purely ostentatious display of gold and jewels made by other purveyors of useless baubles, his artistry had absolutely no socially redeeming merit. In an age when other artists served broadly humanist causes, when much-needed revolution was in the air, Faberge comforted the comfortable. He may have thought of himself as an artist, but his business lived and died by the whims of a parasitical class of people who either inherited their obscene wealth, built it through raw exploitation, or both.
Still in full bore fulminating mode, Kennicott adds that “It’s enough to send one back to the wisdom of Karl Marx….” Resentment and indignation eventually give way to grudging admiration. Kennicott may hate this aspect of history – the intertwining of beauty with arrogance and wealth – but he cannot deny that this symbiosis has given the world much of its greatest art.
Click here to read the article in full. And be sure to watch the slide show at the top. You’ll have to endure a short commercial first. Just grit your teeth; it’s worth the wait.
The House of Faberge has recently been reborn as an online retail establishment. Here’s the story of how that happened. One of their premier offerings is the Sadko Sea Horse brooch. 
Sadko is the name of a Russian folk legend. It has been made into an opera by Nickolai Rimsky-Korsakov. Here is “The Song of India, from that work:
Here is “Sadko in the Underwater Kingdom” by Ilya Repin, an artist whose gifts were apparently limitless:
The History International Channel’s program on Faberge Eggs is available on YouTube. Start here:
With its appalling history and magnificent achievements in music, dance, and literature, Russia fascinates. (This may be especially true for those of us who trace our ancestry to that troubled region.) I’d like to conclude with music that seems to me quintessentially Russian. It is a selection from Lieutenant Kije by Sergei Prokofiev. (The art work, by Ilya Repin, is entitled “Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks.)
The Met’s new production of Boris Godunov by Modest Mussorgsky, broadcast in HD and playing at a theater near you!
Rene Pape as Boris Godunov
Watching Boris Godunov is akin to seeing the Russian people bare their collective soul. And make no mistake about it: that soul is in torment. And that torment is personified by Boris himself. Tsar and absolute ruler he may be, but he can find no peace in this life. The reason: he is responsible for the death of Dmitri, Tsar Ivan the Terrible’s youngest son and the rightful heir to the throne. Boris’s conscience will not let him forget or forgive this sin.
Thus the coronation scene, one of opera’s great set pieces, with its opulent setting and costumes, its swelling choral singing, the mighty orchestration, the tolling of the Kremlin bells – it’s all for show. Boris sets about playing the role of benevolent despot, but he is doomed from the outset. The only question is, how long will it take to destroy him – and who or what will be the agent of that destruction?
Boris Godunov was an actual historical personage; he seized power in 1598 and ruled Russia until his death in 1605. He was part of the Rurik dynasty. Only a few short years after Boris’s demise, the Romanoffs, supplanted the Ruriks and ascended the throne of Russia. (Click here to see the genealogy of both dynasties.) Boris Godunov began his career at court serving under Ivan the Terrible. Indeed, he was present when Ivan killed his eldest son, the crown prince, also named Ivan. Throughout the opera I kept seeing in my mind’s eye Ilya Repin’s portrayal of that horrifying event:
For his source material for the opera, Mussorgsky used the play written by Alexander Pushkin.
Boris Godunov is a complex, ambitious work of art. The cast is large, the chorus is huge – I believe I heard there were 140 voices! During the intermission, you saw the ranks of costumes that seemed to go on forever. At any rate – I can’t say enough about the Met’s superb production. This opera calls for spectacle on a grand scale, and that’s what we saw. Individual singers were superb – one powerhouse voice after another. As Grigory the Pretender, Alexandr Antonenko was terrific. He may not be a great actor – at least, not yet – but he has an incredibly impressive vocal apparatus. And I’d also like to single out Andrey Popov as the Holy Fool. Popov’s singing was wonderful and his performance, equally so. He was the scary, wild-eyed man of God in the flesh.
Alexandr Antonenko as Grregory the Pretender, with the equally spectacular Ekaterina Semenchuk as Marina
Andrey Popov as the Holy Fool, whose piteous lamentations predict all too accurately Russia's dire future
Finally, there was Rene Pape. Over the years, a number of bass baritones made history with definitive performances of Boris Godunov. Pape (pronounced “poppuh”) will now surely be named be among them. In an interview between acts, Pape acknowledged that as almost the sole non-Russian principal cast member – he hails from Dresden, Germany – he had to work to perfect his “Russianness.” I hope that this production will ultimately become available on DVD, so that all can witness how completely he succeeded in this task! Meanwhile – have a listen:
From the CTPost of Bridgeport, Connecticut:
A big man with a big voice and a big personality, Pape delivers the sort of visceral operatic experience one does not often get these days. But Boris is not just big, he is complex: he must also be a loving father to his children and the reflective, concerned father to his people. Pape gives us a multidimensional character whose musings and troubles linger with us long after the performance has ended. Bravo!
Boris’s death was incredibly moving. Here is that scene, in a different staging, sung by great Finnish bass Martti Talvela:
Here is the music from the coronation scene. The still photographs convey the majesty of the setting. This was a production of the Mariinsky Theatre (formerly the Kirov, but before that, the Mariinsky!) The conductor is the great (and seemingly ubiquitous) Valery Gergiev 
, who also conducts the new Met production:
As with Das Rheingold, the theater was packed on Saturday, giving me hope for my fellow “culture vultures.” And what could be more endearingly wonderful than the fact that Boris Godunov has pride of place in an article entitled, “What’s fun in Des Moines.” (This kind of thing reminds me once again why I love this country so much!)
Modest Mussorgsky: 1839 - 1881, by Ilya Repin
The art of Russia
I’ve written about Russian painting before, but that was before I found these YouTube videos.
First – here are some of Ilya Repin’s greatest paintings; the music is Oriental Rhapsody by Alexander Glazunov. My one reservation about this presentation is that the works fly by too quickly! If you want to revisit them at a slower pace, try Russian Art Gallery, Olga’s Gallery, or the Wikipedia entry for this astounding artist.
Repin seems to have been granted virtually unlimited access to Leo Tolstoy. But the painter retained his sense of awe at the greatness of his subject:
Spellbound by his association with Tolstoy, Repin wrote to his daughter upon his return to Petersburg from Yasnaya Polyana: ‘No matter the self-abasements of this giant, or his choice of perishable rags to cover his mighty body, Zeus always shows in him, and all of Olympus trembles from the play of his eyebrows.’
(Quoted in Russia: The Land, the People: Russian Painting 1850-1910)
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Here is a selection of works by the great landscape painter Isaac Levitan. Levitan’s story is a poignant one: born to educated but impoverished Lithuanian Jews, he suffered from chronic depression and from the inevitable anti-Semitic slights for most of his short life (1860-1900). Yet in his art, he triumphed.
(If you click on “Watch on YouTube,” in the lower right hand corner of the screen, you can read the enlightening and enlightened comments made by the poster. You’ll find information about the gorgeous music by Rachmaninoff as well.)
In Art:A New History, Paul Johnson observes: “Levitan had no reason to love Russia or the Russians, but he did. And he celebrated his love in some magnificent canvases which used the beauty and grandeur of the Russian scene to express spiritual values hovering just beneath its surface.”
Portrait of Isaac Levitan by Valentin Serov (1893)
The Athenaeum has a fine selection of Levitan’s paintings. And here is yet more proof that you can find just about anything on the internet: an article entitled “Lithuanian Jews on Postage Stamps.” Thanks are due to Vitaly Charny for this lively and informative piece. He himself has an exceptionally interesting life story; scroll down to the bottom of the page to find it.
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I love this video. It consists of a haunting baritone aria from Lieutenant Kije, by Sergei Prokofiev. (It haunts me, anyway – I’ve listened to it over and over again.) The visual is Repin’s tour de force, “Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks.”
Evgeny Svetlanov (1928 – 2002)
This is a tribute to one of Russia’s greatest conductors.
Here is Evgeny Svetlanov conducting the final movement of Tchaikovsky’s Second Symphony. Because it features Ukrainian folk tunes, this work bears the sobriquet “Little Russian.” (This is – was? – the Russian nickname for the Ukraine.) The State Symphony Orchestra of Russia, formerly the USSR State Symphony Orchestra, is closely associated with Svetlanov. He was its conductor from 1965 to 2000, a remarkably long and fruitful tenure.
What a joy it is to see the assurance with which Maestro Svetlanov leads this superb ensemble!
Ballet
Here is a 42-second video clip that threw me back in my chair, gasping in amazement:
This is the great Alexander Godunov as Tybalt in Romeo and Juliet (Bolshoi, 1979). First, there is the arrogance, the smug heedlessness, of pure evil; then, the death agony. Watching this – over and over again – I am not only astonished but also downright frightened. Such is the intensity of this performance.
As an artist, Alexander Godunov embodies the idea of the flame that burns too brightly and must, inevitably, consume itself. We can only be grateful for the brilliant legacy he has left to the world of dance. (Additional videos featuring Godunov can be found on YouTube.)
Here is another clip of a performance of Romeo and Juliet by the Bolshoi.
Alexandr Tetrov is wonderful as Tybalt, but Vladimir Derevianko pretty much steals the show as Mercutio. I can’t take my eyes off his legs – he becomes effortlessly airborne, then whirls like a top. Later, he turns around and taunts Tybalt – one is filled with dread, knowing what will happen next. I confess, I have never watched this video through to the end. I can’t bear the thought of losing Mercutio, the mercurial sprite so cunning and so free.
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Sergei Prokofiev is a composer that Ron and I both love. He wrote much great music; for us, Romeo and Juliet is his masterpiece.
Sergei Sergeevich Prokofiev: 1891 - 1953
Russians really connect with the heightened passion that informs Shakespeare’s play. They have taken this timeless, turbulent tale of love in adversity and through the magic of music and dance, made it their own.
[Valery Gergiev conducts the London Symphony in November 2008.]
What do an eighteenth century Russian opera singer and a warlike tribal people of ancient Italy have in common?
In The Pearl, author Douglas Smith tells the story of Nicholas Scheremetev, a Russian aristocrat who finds, in the young Praskovia Kovalyova, a woman of prodigious acting and singing talent. He puts her in starring roles in his home grown opera company. Then, almost inevitably, he falls in love with her. The problem: she is of lowly serf parentage. But this fact does nothing do dampen Scheremetev’s ardor; if anything, his devotion to Praskovia increases as she moves from triumph to artistic triumph.
I found myself turning back repeatedly to this portrait of Praskovia, attributed to German artist Johann Bardou and most likely painted in 1790. She is here depicted in the role of Eliane in an opera entitled “The Marriage of the Samnites” by Andre Gretry:
I admit that at the time, I was so engrossed in the poignant story of Nicholas and Praskovia that I did not stop long to wonder just who the Samnites were. But now that I’ve been reading up on the history of the Italian peninsula, I am encountering them again. Early settlers in central Italy, the Samnites warred repeatedly with the Romans for supremacy in the region. Ultimately they lost out, were dispersed, and gradually disappeared, as the Romans swept all before them.
Somehow, though, I doubt that their womenfolk got themselves up in elaborate costumes like Praskovia’s; animal skins were probably more the order of the day!
Arts and artists of Russia
Here is a link to a performance of the ballet “Lieutenant Kije” featuring the great Vladimir Vasiliev, with music by Prokofiev. Sergei Prokofiev is a composer whose music Ron and I deeply love. His Romeo and Juliet is, for us at least, unsurpassed in the classical ballet repertoire. Click here to see Vasiliev as Romeo and Ekaterina Maximova as Juliet.
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Evgenia Obraztsova as Juliet and Andrian Fadeyev as Romeo
We saw these two several years ago in the Kirov production of Romeo and Juliet at the Kennedy Center. It was – well, there are no adjectives sufficient to describe it. One, possibly: transcendent.
Sergei Sergeyevich Prokofiev 1891-1953
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Here, the Russian Red Army Dance Ensemble (a component of the Alexandrov Ensemble) proves that Russian soldiers just wanna have fun! (Who knew??) Be sure to watch this video all the way through – you’ll see some astounding feats of athleticism:
Russian Painting, again
In this past Sunday’s Washington Post (11/09/08), there appeared a review of an exhibit at the Hillwood Estate entitled “Fragile Persuasion: Russian Porcelain and the Fine Art of Propaganda.” In the first paragraph, author Paul Richard states:
“It’s odd about the Russians. They’re mighty at the Stradivarius, and at the chessboard, and the writing desk, but at art you’re meant to look at, they’ve never been that great….Painting’s not their thing. They’re better at Knickknacks.
Well, this fairly took my breath away!
In his magisterial tome Art: A New History (2003), Paul Johnson includes a chapter entitled “The Belated Arrival and Sombre Glories of Russian Art.” It begins thus:
“There are important parallels between the two great emerging powers of the nineteenth century, the United States and Russia–their infinite vastness, consciousness of immanent strength, and nervousness in confronting omni-triumphant European culture. Both produced great art during this period, but whereas American achievements are at last beginning to be understood, in all their magnitude, the process of exploring Russian painting has scarcely started.
Johnson goes on to do some exploring of his own, highlighting masters such as Vasily Surikov, Isaak Levitan, and Ilya Repin, whose portraits of Tolstoy seem to capture the essence of that great chronicler of the soul of the Russian people.
There is already a post on Russian art elsewhere on this blog.
Meanwhile, here are some timely reminders of the glory of Russian painting:
Portrait of a Peasant Woman in a Russian Costume, 1784, by Ivan Argunov
Cathedral Square, by Dmitri Alexeev
Evening the Golden Plyos, by Isaak Levitan
It's All in the Past, by Vasilii Maximov
The Hermit, by Mikhail Nesterov
Menshilov, by Vasilii Surikov
Modest Mussorgsky, by Ilya Repin
Dostoevsky, by Vasily Perov
in the Wild North, by Ivan Shishkin
There’s much more where these came from; see The Russian Art Gallery . And while you’re there, have a look at the section on Old Russian Icons
Miracle of Florus and Laurus - XV century
Evident Advantages of the Point of Panoramic Viewing, by Valentin Gubarev
Knickknacks indeed!!
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I just found the site of an arts institution new to me: The Museum of Contemporary Russian Art. Now click here to find out where it is; this information will likely bring a smile to your face – it did to mine!
Finally, here is one of the chief treasures of my art book collection:
This book was produced by the Smithsonian Traveling Exhibition Service, in association with the University of Washington Press. The featured art is from the collections of the State Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow and the State Russian Museum in what is now St. Petersburgh. (I say “what is now” because the book was published in 1986, and the location of the State Russian Museum is given on the title page as Leningrad. The museum itself has had several names – viz this Wikipedia entry. I am reminded of Neal Ascherson’s comment in the Preface to his book Stone Voices to the effect that in Russia, “..the past is said to be unpredictable.”)
The luminous cover portrait is of Vera Repina, painted by her father Ilya Repin.
From Serf to Diva to Countess: the stranger-than-fiction life journey of Praskovia Ivanovna Sheremeteva and her lover
The Pearl by Douglas Smith is a most unlikely love story set against the backdrop of late eighteenth and early nineteenth century Russia. The rule of the Romanov tsars was absolute. The higher echelon of the nobility often possessed fabulous wealth and ruled over demesnes on which thousands of serfs labored.
Wikipedia defines serfdom as “…enforced labor of serfs on the fields of landowners, in return for protection and the right to work on their leased fields.” As an institution, it resembles to some degree the relationship of lord of the manor and peasant in medieval Europe – feudalism, in other words. In western Europe, this social order was weakened first, by the scourge of the Black Death in the mid-1300′s, and in subsequent years, by the Renaissance. Russia, however, was bypassed by both of these culturally seismic shifts. As a result, the waning years of the eighteenth century found it lumbering forward with glacial slowness, encumbered with an outmoded system of fiefdom more suited to life in the Middle Ages than to the thrust toward modernity being experienced by nations to the West.
in the late 1700′s, for a variety of complex reasons, certain Russian aristocrats built theaters on their vast estates. They then proceeded to tap into the vast pool of available serf labor in search of individuals who could perform in theatrical productions and operas. An amazing reservoir of talent, even genius, was brought to light in this manner. And in just this way a fabulously wealthy epicure, Count Nicholas Scheremetev, discovered the preternaturally gifted Praskovia Kovalyova – discovered her, and then fell in love with her.
Praskovia as Eliane in the opera "The Marriage of the Samnites"
Ii was by no means unheard of for a nobleman to take a serf woman as a lover or a mistress. What was completely unprecedented was for that same nobleman to take such a woman as his wife. This is precisely what Nicolas Schermetev was determined to do.
The Pearl centers on the extraordinary bond between Micholas and Praskovia. The reader can have no doubt concerning the depth of the Count’s devotion to the beautiful, delicate Praskovia. Douglas Smith sets this relationship in context by describing in detail the Russia of the late 18th century. We’re familiar with L.P. Hartley’s dictum concerning the past – that it is another country, where people do things differently. The Russia evoked in these pages seems more like another planet. It was a society governed by rigid protocol. The contrast between the fabulous – I almost want to say obscene- wealth of the aristocracy and the poverty and wretched living conditions of the serfs is shocking. These conditions were promulgated as being nothing less than God’s will. At the head of this ossified social order was the Tsar, a kind of Godhead himself (or herself, the ruler for much of that era being Catherine the Great).. By the next century, the seeds of revolution were already being sown. The only wonder is that it took so long to happen.
This book dragged in places. Smith goes into great detail concerning the strange phenomenon of serf theater. The lengthy narrative of Nicholas’s efforts to establish some sort of noble lineage for Praskovia became tedious. Finally, while a few passages might be described as lyrical, Smith’s prose rarely rises above what I would call workmanlike. In fairness to this author, this was a complex tale exhaustively researched and no doubt extremely difficult to assemble into a coherent whole.
In point of fact, Smith was able to locate the Count’s descendants, who were only to happy to assist him: “Kyra Cheremeteff, a direct descendant of Nicholas and Praskovia, responded with generosity to my inquiries.”
Despite its occasionally slow pace, The Pearl is a book with a compelling story to tell. I recommend it.
Gotham Diary: the otherworldly beauty of the Kirov Ballet
Thursday night April 10, I took my friend Helene, a balletomane like myself, to New York City Center to see the Kirov work its magic. The program consisted of scenes from four different ballets: Le Corsaire, Diana and Acteon, Don Quixote, and La Bayadere.
How was it? Superlatives fail me. I don’t have the words, but the poets do. I keeping thinking of two passages in particular:: Romeo’s astonished declaration that “I ne’er saw true beauty till this night;” and the final lines of one of my favorite poems, Keats’s “Ode on a Grecian Urn:” “Beauty is truth, truth beauty, — That is all / Ye know on Earth, and all ye need to know.” Here’s the entire poem:
Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter, therefore, ye soft pipes, play on,
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never, canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping song for ever new,
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea-shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.
O Attic shape! fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity. Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty, — that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’***************************************
As a meditation on the age-old desire to stop cruel time in its tracks, this work, for me, has no equal. I wished very powerfully that the performance we saw that night could be frozen in time, like “the marble men and maidens overwrought” on Keats’s vase. But I will cherish the memory. And there are pictures…
The corps de ballet in the exquisite La Bayadere.
Soloists in La Bayadere
Leonid Sarafanov, whose spectacular leaps and light-as-a-feather landings repeatedly thrilled the audience.* 
(Here’s a “head shot” of the astounding Sarafanov taken last year. Doesn’t he look as though he’s all of fourteen years old?!)
This photo of Diana Vishneva, taken by Andrea Mohin, appeared in the New York Times on Sunday April 13:
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The music, by turns robust and delicate, was played beautifully by the Orchestra of the Mariinsky Theatre; most of the choreography was done by the great Marius Petipa. Helene and I gazed at the program in awe – such storied names…
Here is the Mariinsky Theatre’s official site. It is very oriented to the here and now – not much in the way of history, except for the acknowledgement, in tiny print, that this is there 225th season. For some interesting background, and great photos of the theater itself, see the Wikipedia entry.
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For a fascinating cultural hisory of Russia, see Natasha’s Dance by Orlando Figes. (I won’t claim to have read through this massive tome; I’ve been using it primarily as a reference work since I purchased it several years ago.)
*For more terrific portraits of ballet dancers, see Gene Schiavone’s site.
