In autumn 2011, a major survey explored a 20 year period in Soviet art and architecture at the Royal Academy of Arts in London.
Karl Marx famously stated in the preface to his 1859 A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy: 鈥淚t is not the consciousness of men that determines their being, but, on the contrary, their social being that determines their consciousness.鈥 The idea that the social constructs and edifices of society necessarily determine the success and development of that society is intrinsic to the formation of the Soviet state after the 1917 Revolution.鈥疶he economic foundations of the new socialist state were centred on the communal relationship of existence between each individual, hence the individual was literally expected to subsume themselves into the collective society 鈥 whether through communal living arrangements (kommunalka) or working environments. The establishment and development of new building types and an avant-garde language of architecture between the years 1915-1935 will be examined in an upcoming exhibition, Building the Revolution: Soviet Art and Architecture 1915-1935, to be staged鈥痑t the Royal Academy of Arts, London.
The exhibition focuses on buildings designed and constructed within that revolutionary period: buildings that have, for the most part, fallen into various states of disrepair and disuse. Richard Pare (b. 1948), a contemporary photographer, has been photographing, documenting, and slowly building a visual archive of these structures over the past 20 years. Nicolai Ouroussoff once called Pare a 鈥渨hite Russian Knight鈥 for his鈥痠mages which have鈥痓rought to the public鈥檚 knowledge鈥痶he run-down, somewhat shabby, urban remains鈥痶hat鈥痓elie the extraordinary innovative skills of the architects who designed them. The exhibition (curated by Mary-Anne Stevens and Dr. Maria Tsantsanoglou) was in many ways a response to Pare鈥檚 images, as much as it was a decision to 鈥減lace this architecture, for the first time, within the context of the innovative art created from 1914/15 which informed its formal language鈥 as well as architecturally contextualise the buildings as they exist now in the urban environment. The juxtaposition of Pare鈥檚 images against images of the buildings as they looked at the time of their construction and their original鈥痙esigns,鈥痺ill visually articulate the disregard that many buildings are afforded as time passes. This exhibition follows on from MoMA鈥檚 2007 exhibition鈥Lost Vanguard: Soviet Modernist Architecture, 1922-32, which also looked at the architecture of the period as photographed by Pare, though the Royal Academy鈥檚 exhibition will be much more extensive and include drawings, periodicals, architectural renderings and models.
Pare straddles a difficult line as he is an artist, yet many of his photographs鈥痟ave in the past been鈥痚xhibited as architectural renderings / documents, rather than as works of art. The process of documenting and archiving these designs and buildings within the art historical lineage of architecture is incredibly important, and thus it is perhaps not pertinent to鈥痓egin a discussion on the qualities that some art historians and critics would use to determine art object versus document with regard to his work. The focus and intent of his images is that of capturing in time the structures as they stand, and鈥痠n doing so there is a romantic aspect to every image that is undeniable 鈥 each building鈥痵pelling out the hopes and desires of the architects who designed them. Unfortunately, these elements鈥痮f design鈥痺ere ultimately quenched by Stalin who regarded the avant-garde and experimental as antithetical to the formal Stalinist Empire Style that he expounded.
The post-Revolutionary development of a new visual language and mode of aesthetic production was an amalgamation of several 鈥渋sms鈥: Russian Futurism; Suprematism, and Constructivism. The dynamics of space, particularly as dictated by the geometry of the line, became of particular interest for many of the artists and architects of the period, as did the idea that need, rather than the aesthetics of beauty, was to dictate the new artistic foundations of the Soviet socialist state. These two strains of thought are elaborated upon at some length by Naum Gabo (1890-1977) and Antoine Pevsner (1886-1962) in their The Realistic Manifesto of 1920, in which they state: 鈥淲e do not measure our works with the yardstick of beauty, we do not weigh them with pounds of tenderness and sentiments. The plumb-line in our hand, eyes as precise as a ruler, in a spirit as taut as a compass 鈥 we construct our work as the universe constructs its own, as the engineer constructs his bridges, as the mathematician his formula of orbits.鈥 For Gabo and Pevsner the growth of a new civilisation and culture had to be tied into constructivist tendencies and rooted in necessity for it to survive and be successful.
The work of Konstantin Melnikov (1890-1974) is perhaps exemplary of this emphasis on geometry and the line. Melnikov, who designed worker鈥檚 clubs, garages, houses, and perhaps most famously the Russian Pavilion at the 1925 International Exhibition in Paris, was both innovative and playful in his work (two qualities which would eventually force the Soviet government to ban him from practising). His design for the Rusakov Worker鈥檚 Club (1929) demanded an architectural typology, which was triumphant, stimulating, and above all functional. The artistic vocabulary of the Soviet authorities demanded that art and architecture produced embodied these three adjectives, with architecture the visualisation of them into concrete form. Melnikov鈥檚 design for the worker鈥檚 club鈥痠ncorporated several rooms of varying size, which could be used together as a large鈥痑uditorium, or as separate spaces. The building was constructed using concrete, brick and glass 鈥 perhaps not a conscious choice of material, but rather one dictated by a lack of materials (a factor which ultimately lent itself to the bare minimalist buildings of the period). There is a masculine energy inherent in Melnikov鈥檚 designs鈥痶hat can be seen in the work of the Vesnin Brothers as well: their buildings occupy space in a way that is incredibly definite without being overtly aggressive. The Vesnin Brothers Palace of Culture for the Shaumian Works (1929) is a statement in white of strong vertical lines with softly curved corners – a mastery of form and minimalism that is seen again in their design for the鈥疞ikhachev Palace of Culture (1930). The Likhachev Palace was constructed as a public building, with a theatre, auditorium, library, and winter gardens, all of which were connected to allow the free movement of visitors within the space. This emphasis on collective movement was integral to many of the designs of the period.
Vladimir Tatlin (1885-1953) was fundamentally in opposition to Gabo and Pevsner, as the brothers propagated functionality as related to needs, whereas Tatlin was more intrigued by the adaptability of his designs than the actual functionality of them. Those buildings and structures not realised can be as important in terms of design and influence as those that were physically completed (in much the same way that haute couture filters down through the fashion world and back onto the high street, so too do the elaborate architectural drawings of famous architects and visual artists influence the practical spaces of living). Tatlin鈥檚 Monument to the Third International (1919) has never been physically realised according to the specifications of Tatlin鈥檚 design 鈥 a design which called for a 400-metre high tower to rotate on its own axis. The tower, consisting of four superimposed geometric volumes (a cube, a hemisphere, a pyramid and a cylinder), was meant to embody the dynamic architectonics of space that Tatlin had been fascinated with in his earlier spatial experiments: the cube was to turn one revolution a year; the pyramid once a month; and the cylinder once daily.
Smaller, less-ambitious models, such as that at the State Tretyakov Museum, Moscow, have been constructed to afford an aesthetic glimpse into the tower鈥檚 form and the various components that comprise its construction, and this exhibition will do the same. Jeremy Dixon Architects, a British based architectural firm, have been commissioned to construct a 10 metre version of Tatlin鈥檚 design. The firm previously built one, in 1971, as part of the Art and Revolution exhibition at the Hayward (albeit a smaller version at four metres) and thus it is fitting that they will once again have the opportunity to build a model of the monument. The tower鈥檚 design was a celebration of technology and progress as well as being a meditation on the idea of monuments鈥痑s propaganda that exist in a constant state of flux 鈥 that is, being dependent on the society and environment that surrounds them. The traditional form鈥痮f the public monument was meant to inspire and be a symbol of pride, patriotism, and morality, but this changed drastically鈥痙uring the 20th century, as artists and politicians alike realised the full propagandistic potential of the monument. The monument as figural statue was in demise and instead a new form of monument entered the pantheon 鈥 that of the architectural edifice, one that alluded to but did not outright鈥痙eclare its meaning.
The changing Soviet鈥痵tate required new buildings, as well as the transformation of pre-existing ones, and a programme of construction was thus implemented. Factories, government offices, power stations and dams, workers鈥 housing and communal housing became popular, especially鈥痭ew residential flats which physically altered鈥痶he living spaces鈥痮f tenants who were forced to interact with one another in a way that had perhaps not been seen to such an extent before. This is exemplified by the Narkomfin Building, a block of flats in Moscow designed by Moises Ginsburg and Ignaty Milinis (1928-32) for the workers at the Commissariat of Finance. The building is now, like so many buildings from the period, in a state of disrepair, but at its apogee it was a streamlined concrete building consisting of a series of flats, each classified according to its varying degree of 鈥渃ollectivised鈥 status (i.e. how communal each living space was). The building offered communal kitchens, a cr猫che, and a laundry, so that save for the actual personal 鈥渓iving鈥 areas, most were forced to share the functionally optimised facilities. Narkomfin still鈥痵tands today, but is in such a state of dis-repair that only about 80% of it is habitable 鈥 if that.
The construction of workers鈥 housing is not in itself revolutionary or novel but rather, as Tsantsanoglou points out, it鈥痺as 鈥渢he imposition of social change through the introduction of communal housing鈥 which was innovative. The Narkomfin building鈥檚 influence can be seen to this day, perhaps most famously in Le Corbusier鈥檚 Unite d鈥橦abitation. Post-war Marseille was similar to the post-revolution Soviet state 鈥 densely inhabited and over-crowded 鈥 and Corbusier鈥檚 design was closely inspired by Ginsburg and Milinis鈥, using communal spaces to counteract the inadequacy of smaller living spaces, in order to house as many individuals in as鈥痳educed a鈥痵pace as possible. The influence of Russian architects upon the 鈥渨estern鈥 world has been only touched upon briefly in art historical texts, and this exhibition, in particular an essay by Jean-Louis Cohen in the exhibition catalogue, will expound upon鈥痶his.
The new socialist society required a novel programme of art and architecture to support its ideas of social change and revolution. The historical buildings of the past were no longer sufficient or adequate and served only to remind the individuals of their past, preventing them from looking forward to the future and aspiring to a new collective society.鈥疶hus the ingenuity of鈥痙esign that appeared during this period is important to document and remember, as it was created and used as an agent for social change. Whether the artists and architects of the period were successful remains to be seen, as they were never given a chance to see the outcome of the utopian future they envisaged through their buildings, as Stalin stepped in and ended this鈥痜ertile period of architectural design. Unfortunately in the current post-Soviet capitalist society, many developers have neither knowledge for understanding of what these buildings represent and many of them have been destroyed already: in a way they stand as the ruins of an ancient society; one which is sadly not that ancient.
Building the Revolution: Soviet Art and Architecture 1915-1935 opened 29 October and continued until 22 January 2012.
Niamh Coghlan
