» are only 154 of them,
y have made their small
known around the world.
whose unique style,
mbines old traditions
methods, has lifted folk
highest level.
is just an overnight
ney from Moscow. In
inturies its peasant art-
fe all icon-painters. They
fields in summer and
'during the long, cold
months. Painting brought
mn a little extra money,
held scant respect
r craft and had a say-
e icon comes out nice
t for praying; if not, use
= ud.”
end is that Palekh and
villages in the area were
' by Russians who fled
bscow at the time of the
fvasion six centuries ago.
aks and peasants burned
gs in the forest to make
or tilling—hence the name
, Which means “to burn.”
aft of icon-making deve-
mn the 17th century, but
§ 19th century capitalist
@ took it over, sub-
| the work into various
tions and turned the artist
men into something like
| workers.
| October Revolution
t freedom, but the art of
ig had declined. People
eo Gorky and Alexei
helped revive Palekh art
Nv form.
Olikov, a talented self-
st, was the founder of
gern school of Palekh art.
the revolution he had
icon-painter, but was
ven the opportunity to
tes. After 1917 the road
aS Open to him and he
d rapidly. He was the
9 use egg distempera in
On papier-mache; he
book illustrations and
Settings for stage pro-
mS and designs on china.
ke the chains of formal
ainting and gave new and
meaning to the art of Pa-
‘artist should portray the
ary whirlwind which
ay the old,” said Goli-
painted many battle
Other favorite themes
its, dances and troikas:
' Works are riots of color,
and fantasy. In 1924 he
ed two famous paintings
Razin, leader of the
revolt in Russia;

By BERT WHYTE
MOSCOW
Some years ago a Scottish
journalist named Archie John-
stone came to Moscow to edit
a British Foreign Office publica-
tion called British Ally. After
two years he resigned because
he disagreed with its Cold War
stand. Later he wrote a book
called Ivan the Not-so-Terrible.
It was about ordinary Soviet peo-
ple, how they lived from day
to day, their work and their
pleasures,
Ivan means John, of course—
one of the most common names
in Russia and also in the West.

NIQUE ART
ROM PALEKH

in later works he turned to Civil
War themes.

Said Maxim Gorky: “Who
could imagine that through the
way of icons, the most conser-
vative of trades, the artists of
Palekh would come to modern
fine art which inspires admira-
tion even in those people who
have been spoiled by obliging
painters.”

Ivan Golikov died in 1937. I
visited his modest home, now
turned into a tiny museum.
Everything remains as it was—
the kereosene lamp, his box of
paints and the egg cups in which
he mixed colors, the single bed
with its three pillows and on
one wall a framed photo of Max-
im Gorky and Romain Rolland
with six Palekh artists.

Incidentally, Golikov’s son is
today a leading Palekh artist. He
is a modest man, and when some
journalists expressed great ad-
miration for the work produced,
he said: “Don’t think that all our
efforts come out perfect. But we
always strive for high quality.”

There is a five-year school in
Palekh, founded in 1935, where
aspiring painters get their start.
It has about 80 students and
every year 15 or 20 are gradua-
ted. Some join the Palekh group
and others continue their stu-
dies elsewhere.

The best-known Palekh art is
the lacqured boxes, which are
exported to many countries of
Europe, Asia, North and South
America. They were a big hit
at Expo '67 in Montreal.

I watched the artists at work.
First the lacquered papier-mache
box is rubbed with pumice. An
outline drawing is either traced
or done directly on the box. Then
a flat white is applied to areas
which are to be brightest. Basic
colors are filled in, then half-
tones, ornaments, inner lines.
After that comes several coats
of lacquer, more rubbing with
a fox’s tooth, and finally the gold
and aluminum are applied. The
gold paint is made of gold leaf
rubbed into gum arabic. Alumi-
num is used instead of silver
because it does not turn black.

Although Palekh boxes are the
most widely known, the artists
also paint jewelry cases, desk
sets, tea caddies and other
things. And they do more than
miniature work — in some rooms
we saw painters working on walls
and palaces. Themes include
panels for children’s theatres
Little Red Riding Hood, Cinde-
rella and other fairy tales.

And Archie wrote that if the
people in the West could be per-
suaded to think of Ivan simply
as Ivan the Not-so-Terrible, the
Cold War wouldn't have a leg
to stand on. He put his idea into
doggerel: ‘
“Ivan is not so terrible;
The views he airs are air-able
And often even share-able;
Just look at them and see!
He’s not a bear, he’s bearable,
That doesn’t mean he’s scare-
able,
So (isn’t it infer-able?)
He’s just like you and me.”
After resigning from British
Ally he married a Russian girl,

settled down in Moscow—a city
he loved—and lived here for the
remainder of his life.

Archie was in Moscow during
the grim post-war reconstruction
years, when food was often
scarce and clothing in short sup-
ply. As times got better and
more consumer goods appeared
in the shops, he was delighted
to see Muscovites eating more
and dressing better. “Galloping
consumption of consumer
goods,” he called it. But he was
embarrassed when he visited
Russian friends in poorer finan-
cial circumstances than himself
and they insisted on putting on

Russia's ‘Manchester’

The textile city of Ivanovo,
just a few hours’ train journey
northeast of Moscow, is some-
times referred to as “Russia's
Manchester.” It is famous, too,
as an early revolutionary cen-
tre, birthplace of the first Soviet
in 1905.

Ivanova has a population ex-
ceeding 400,000. For many years
the textile’ mills were the only
industry and this created a prob-
lem. As everyone knows, wo-
men make excellent weavers. Be-
fore the war women formed 70
percent of the city’s population
and men only 30 percent. If the
men found this situation some-
thing like paradise, the women
did not. So every spring there
would be a migration of young
women textile workers to other
regions, in search of husbands.
Those who failed in their quest
would usually return to Ivanovo
and the textile mills in the au-
tumn.

The “city fathers” decided to
remedy the situation and built
a machine-tools plant employ-
ing mainly men. Other industries
developed and today ‘the popula-
tion is almost equal according
to sex — 54 percent women and
46 percent men.

One happy result is that the
local Wedding Fane is now

kept busy. Marriages take place
on three days of the week and
another day is set aside for reg-
istration of babies.

While in Ivanovo I visited a
combed-wool fabric plant which
produces cloth (mainly for men’s
Suits) made of 60 percent wool
and 40 percent synthetic fibres.
Last year the mill turned out 22
million yards of cloth.

Albert Paramonov, the young
and energetic director, took our
group of foreign journalists
around the giant plant, whose
main building is over a mile
long. About 70 percent of the
7,500 workers are women and
their average age is 24. The plant
is air-conditioned and kept spot-
lessly clean. Aside from the con-
stant noise of machinery, work-
ing conditions are ideal. Most
of the plant’s products are mar-
keted in the Soviet Union though
some are sold to other socialist
countries. The modern plant
equipment is largely Soviet-made
but in the final stages of pro-
duction I noticed machines of
British and Japanese manufac-
ture, stamped Sellers of Hudders-
field and Kyoto of Japan.

Altogether there are 50,000
textile workers in Ivanovo and
weaving is still the key indus-

try.

Ivan the Not-so-Terrible

a lavish spread of food. “This
excessive hospitality,” he com-
mented wryly, “is perhaps the
most serious complaint I have
against the Russians I have met.
But I can’t see that it is anything
to go to war about.”

I've said so much about Archie
Johnstone because I've just been
re-reading his book, published
12 years ago in London by the
British Soviet Friendship Socie-
ty, and I've been thinking that if
Archie was with us today he
would rejoice at the tremendous
advances made by the Soviet
Union in the past few years.

Of course some things haven't
changed. Not knowing Russian,
I find it just as difficult as Archie
did to understand why young
Ivan can be called VANyushka
on one occasion, VanYUSHka
on another, and also Vanya, Van-
chik, Vanyunchik, Vanyushinka,
Vanyok or even Vanischcha. I
also find it hard to pronounce
“disemvowelled” words like
Msta and Tsna.

Archie Johnstone was an out-
standing journalist, and many
of his so-called “frivolous”
newspaper pieces stand the test
of time better than the weightier
and duller articles of his con-
temporaries. For he tried to pre-
sent Soviet people as they are,
omitting neither their faults nor
their virtues. In doing so he pre-
sented an accurate picture of the
socialist system on the march;
for you can’t separate a socialist
society from the people who, in
the final analysis, run it.

During the relatively short
time I have been in the U.S.S.R.
I have made most of the custom-
ary pilgrimages — to the ballet,
opera, museums, art galleries,
the Kremlin — but the most in-
teresting experience is making
friends with Soviet people, get-
ting to know their hearts and
minds. Perhaps this sounds a bit
presumptuous. Although no man
is “an island unto himself” every-
one is, to a certain extent, im-
prisoned in his own skin. No
matter how well we think we
know another human being, he
is always capable of surprising
us, of doing something totally
at variance with his character
as understood by us. And no
doubt we sometimes do things
that equally startle and disturb
our friends.

All I am trying to say is that
I have made some friends in
Moscow with whom I can share
thoughts, find much common
ground, and at times engage in
heated argument within the
context of friendship and under-
standing.

Someone once wrote that the
reality of humanity is always
more beautiful than myths.
Many friends. of the Soviet
Union abroad have created
myths about this vast country
—made it a kind of Promised
Land, a Heaven on Earth, sans
faults. Such people are some-
times upset when they visit the
U.S.S.R. and come face to face
with the reality. They shouldn’t
be. Socialism is a society a step
ahead of capitalism, just as ca-
pitalism is a step ahead of
feudalism. Mankind advances
step by step. And in a socialist
society the steps become giant
strides, for it is the most, ad-
vanced society the world has

yet seen.

; eo - -_—-—— ee,
PACIFIC TRIBUNE—MARCH 14, 1969—Page9? |