A Lover To The Seas: Aivazovsky

200th anniversary of one of Russia’s greatest known painters, Aivazovsky. The curators want us to know that he painted more than just the sea, that there were philosophical discourses hidden behind his work, and the that theres is no one to argue against his legacy. As the curators said, “We tried to do our best to decode his messages, to force people to open their eyes and look at Aivazovsky without any preconceptions.”1

And so I begin my journey through the Tretyakov’s halls, drawing a blank canvas and wandering into beauty.

There is an installation outside the entrance. An installation I am supposed to view first, before I enter upon the spectacle of an artist’s obsessive passion for ephemeral beauty and refuge in the unexplored horizons. This is a contemporary video installation by a Russian art collective Blue Soup. Their name strikes me as comical, and rather insulting to the magnificence and history that i expect to see enclosed behind the wall. But I approach the white cube work anyway. Projected onto the wall is the slow movement of the water, a light storm seems to be approaching based on the grey tones, but it’s peaceful, and quite entrancing.

However, I see the water in motion, literally moving as a video typically does. I feel it somewhat undermines what was created over a century ago. I guess there’s a curatorial justification for presenting the contemporary counterpart of Aivazovsky’s work. But, if I were to suggest that this helps me appreciate Aivazovsky, as the philosopher that the curators desperately want to showcase behind the artistic mastery, that would be foolishness.

This outsider work provides me with the context of Aivazovsky in the contemporary world, the legacy of his subject matter which lingers in the eyes of the next artistic generation. But I question whether I would have preferred to see this installation prior to the product of inspiration, as it had been, or only after encountering the riveting paintings of the 1800s.

I carry on into the main hall.

From the collections of visitors dispersed over the floor I can easily tell where the main establishments hang. They cluster around the large ocean storm, watching it turn over them, and they stand in front the serene horizon lines as the sun leaves glitters on the clouds and o the water. The curators scatter partitions creating more surface area for the immensity of paintings. The exhibition is reminiscent of the sea: visitors follow zigzagging tracks to move around sections representing different dimensions of Aivazovsky’s art. Like waves pushing against the water, I drift from one work to another, meditating over the sunlight and moonlight and rhythm of the ocean.

I beg the viewer to look out onto the ocean. Do you see it going on further beyond the ends of the earth? Do you see the waves follow the rhythms of the atmosphere? Can you feel the water pull you into its escape,

diving deeper into a foreign environment, encapsulated by it’s rhythmic sensations. The waves follow the moonlight and the moonlight leaves it’s traces on their surface, illuminating in the dark and shimmering in light. I can almost hear the artist say “The sea is my refuge.” The sea, in its mystery and temperamental nature stills seems to be the constant in this whirlwind of a world, especially in the chaos that we’re living in today. The way he paints, I know the ocean will always sway to the hours of the day, the ocean will always feel immensely larger than any moment of distress.

Aivazovsky memorised the sea, as a man memorises the freckles on his lovers face. He painted the reflections on the water as if time had stopped and the moon stayed silent to watch him work so calmly and obsessively over every molecule. The storm paused, in a portrait of upheaval, to set the still life for the gentle touches of the brush. Only those who can immerse within their subject, can depict their subject with such delicate delight.

And yet, it is not just the mastery of highlight and shadow that leaves me breathless as the wave is dominating over me. It is the immensity of the dimensions that feels like a portal into the fervent winds and overpowering waters that—no matter how dangerous—still pull at my clothes. It is as though I can feel the water droplets on my skin, and still feel like it is the only existence that brings me to peace. Even as he looked at the raw canvas, the sea would always prevail over his whole being. And once the last stroke is imbedded, the ocean prevails over all beings in the the surface texture and immortality of the paint.

But I wander through the Symphonies Of Seas, searching for what the curators have promised. An attempt was made at the back of the exhibition hall, like afterthought in their curation, to show the great marine painter’s moments of religious epiphany. I face a painting, granted it was just a large as the paintings of the sea, of Christ emerging from the skies as an illuminated figure in the night. Faintly in the foreground, the seamen humbly bow to him, seemingly begging for forgiveness.

But, forgive me, for I am now faced with a lack of context. I follow along the back wall, there are a few more of these religious devotions. Jesus Walks on Water attempts show me the depths of Aivazovsky’s mind, and yet I cannot find them here. I am lost in this space, and I much rather be lost amongst teh previous ocean landscapes. I much rather have seen the limitless framings of the sea, than be prompted by few subjects of such nature. The curators wanted to “present [Aivazovsky] not only as a painter of sincere feelings and romantic emotions, but also of profound ideas and symbolic abstractions.”2

If this exhibition needed to show me the other subjects of Aivazovsky’s legacy, then I am gravely disappointed by the sum of the entire floor to be dedicated to his ocean scenes. But I question the necessity of anything else when i am faced with the extraordinary beauty that he left this life.

I beg the question: Why must we disillusion ourselves with alternative realities, when the truth of beauty and, most importantly, depth remains in what was already discovered?

Why must we attempt to redefine legacy? This exposition has showed me that any attempts to do so, will be crippled by the already insistent beauty.

1 Tass. "Tretyakov Gallery Celebrates Aivazovsky's 200th Birthday with Exhibition." Russia Beyond The Headlines. N.p., 29 July 2016. Web. 13 Mar. 2017. <http://rbth.com/news/2016/07/29/tretyakov-gallery- celebrates-aivazovskys-200th-birthday-with-exhibition_616413>. 2 "Tretyakov Gallery Opens Exhibition to Mark Ivan Aivazovsky’s 200th Birthday." Mos.ru. N.p., 29 July 2016. Web. 13 Mar. 2017. <https://www.mos.ru/en/news/item/14074073>.