Vladimir Kandelaki - Seeking Beauty Amidst the Ugly Soviet Oppression
On the Influence of the Political Landscape on Artistic Landscapes
I recently visited the Georgian Museum of Fine Arts in Tbilisi, Georgia. The museum is full of contemporary post-modern "art," which is mostly entirely unworthy of attention. But I stumbled across some works by an unknown painter whose work is almost completely devoid of artistic beauty. But when considering the political situation under which these paintings were created, it not only makes sense that no beauty is involved but is also a necessary result. When one lives under a regime such as that of the Soviet Union, life is colorless. Not only colorless in terms of architecture but everywhere: in the grocery store, you always get the same food (if you are lucky to have food), you work in the same government-appointed job, you drive the same car…
Everything is the same; there's no color.
(Khinkali Pub, Dimitri Erislavi, 1976)
What can a painter in such a world paint? It would be fantastic to expect a painter who lives in such a place to paint beautiful pictures. Such pictures are inconceivable. When life is so bad, there's no room for imagination, let alone a portrayal of an ideal. Perhaps there can be a yearning for improvement, but an ideal? How can you paint an ideal when it’s so far away from where you are? How would such a painting be received? It is, therefore, not surprising that when I walked around the gallery, I could almost only see dark and depressing pictures. These painters were clearly not having the greatest time of their lives.
(Landscape, Nostalgia, Oleg Timchenko, 1984)
A painting or any art piece is the most candid reveal of the artist’s sense of life. If a painter keeps portraying beautiful nudes, and breathtaking landscapes, we can clearly tell that he holds a positive attitude toward life. He has the conviction that there is some good in this world, that there is joy and nice things in life. If a painter focuses on life's banal, tedious aspects, it might imply that he is a cynic. He doesn't have the highest estimation of life, but he still enjoys the creation; he has values and specific subjects that interest him. But not much more than that. When a painter chooses the ugly, the unimportant, the evil, and the sad parts of life, it's clear to assume that he has a specific malevolent view of the world. He looks at the world, and the bad things stick out (I elaborate more on this topic in this essay). But when one lives in a Communist dictatorship, there are almost exclusively bad things. Therefore, if a painter in such a condition paints a sob painting, it doesn't necessarily mean that he holds a malevolent universe premise.
(Movement, Vladimir Kandelaki, 1975)
This transitions us to a unique painter who is virtually unknown outside of Georgia. Firstly, I stumbled across this picture, "Movement." It captured my attention because it was filled with vivid, bright colors. It starkly contrasted with the other works I had previously encountered in the gallery.
There was a clear "futuristic" influence (the 20th-century modern art movement, which was particularly popular in Russia and Italy). It seemed to portray the rapid changes that Georgian society was experiencing during those days. While the painting lacked beauty, I was finally met with color and some vividness. It turned a very depressing visit to a museum into something a bit more exciting and enjoyable.
(City of Childhood-City of Games, Vladimir Kandelaki, 1965)
As I moved down the room, I encountered this massive painting. Those of you who have been to or seen some photos of Tbilisi will know that the city is filled with old, ugly, blocky Soviet buildings. This was especially the case when this painting was created (nowadays, there are many nice modern buildings). But one part of the city remained true to its traditional character: the old town.
Kandelaki depicts a fantasy version of Tbilisi's old city in this painting. This version is filled with happy people enjoying various games, some of which have massive proportions. This is an incredibly optimistic painting. Remember that this was created in the Soviet Union in the mid-60s. Not only the Soviet Union but Georgia, which was one of its poorest parts.
For the first time during that visit, I saw happy people, bright colors, and a vision for the Georgian people—a future where people could play any games they wanted. There were no traces of the Soviet role anywhere to be found.
This was not the case with the following paintings:
(Card Tower-House, Vladimir Kandelaki, 1983)
This incredible work depicts a house of cards so large that it became a tower. We can see massive scaffolding with workers rushing to add more cards, making the tower of cards ever so taller. On the top left, we see a light bulb; inside that light bulb, there's none other than Lenin himself overwatching the construction effort. Over on the right side, we can see the hammer and sickle, the symbol of Communism, accompanied by many red flags. The symbolism is crystal clear.
Technically, it's an incredible painting, showing the profound artistic skill that Kandelaki possessed. Still, much more uniquely, it showed a man unafraid to criticize the evil regime under which he lived. The message is as sharp as possible: Communism is a tower of cards; its fall is inevitable. It's only a matter of time.
(Parade, Vladimir Kandelaki, 1983)
Not only was Kandelaki not afraid to paint the tower of cards, but he made a whole series. In this incredible painting, a massive Communist parade is depicted. A vast swarm of faceless people all heading in the same direction. Notice that they carry giant signs but are all empty; they have no message. It's a massive cluster of zeros.
On the right, we see a lone man planting a tree—there is a future.
Notice that still, we haven't encountered a single painting by Kandelaki that we can call "beautiful." These heavy and sad subjects capture the horrible reality that people such as Kandelaki lived through during Soviet times. These weird green and blue shades capture the uncomfortable atmosphere under which he had to create his art. There's no room for pretty colors here. Despite that, his art served as an essential and prophetic message to the individuals who lived in Georgia.
(Peacock in a Cage, Vladimir Kandelaki, 1987)
Finally, we encounter beauty. It’s a beautiful peacock, ready to spread its feathers. But he is unable to since he is locked in a cage. But there is hope. A hole in the cell appeared. Soon it will be entirely open, and thus, finally, after 70 years of brutal Soviet rule, the beautiful peacock will be free to spread his feathers.
What a beautiful and benevolent message. The collapse of the Soviet Tower of Cards and the destruction of this weak cage are inevitable. Indeed, four years after this painting, Georgia declared its independence and finally broke free from the Soviet cage.
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For extra reading about Kandelaki’s life, I recommend this essay.