Eduard Steinberg 2

Eduard Steinberg’s friend, the writer, director, critic and Orthodox philosopher Evgeny Schiffers who is barely known in the West, had in 1970 noted the deeply religious character of Steinberg’s art: this is not iconography, but art, close to the ‘catacomb art of the early Christians’. It was no accident that Schiffers equated Steinberg’s works with catacomb art, which used Biblical symbols (the lamb, the ark, the grapevine, fish, and so on). The great historian of icons and theologian Leonid Uspensky had written of the domestic and psychological content of early Christian art, which, he claimed, was not divorced from life, and spoke not only the language of the artist’s era but also linked itself to the modern. The same could be said of Steinberg.

Diptych: 'Spring Summer Autumn Winter' and 'Undertaker Vasya'. (1990). (© Tretyakov Gallery)

Diptych: ‘Spring Summer Autumn Winter’ and ‘Undertaker Vasya’. (1990). (© Tretyakov Gallery)

Composition.  (2006). (© Pushkin Museum).

Composition. (2006). (© Pushkin Museum).

Composition. (2009). (© State Hermitage Museum).

Composition. (2009). (© State Hermitage Museum).

From ‘Memoirs of Eduard Steinberg‘ on Colta.ru.

Eduard Steinberg 1

Steinberg. (© Barbara Klemm)

Steinberg. (© Barbara Klemm)

Eduard Steinberg (Эдуард Штейнберг), or Edik as he was known to his friends, left this life on March 28, 2012; he was 75 years old. For the previous twenty years, he had lived in Paris or Tarusa, the town of his childhood, where he used to arrive in spring and summer.

Edik was one of the most significant non-conformist artists. He was often called the successor of Malevich, but his art, in which there are especially strong spiritual and religious themes, situates itself quite distantly from suprematism. Today, two years after his death, it is already clear that the usual epithet of ‘Russian’ or the designation ‘artist of the 21st century’ are far too fine for Steinberg. He is an artist of world importance. And, as demanded by an artist of such importance, his oeuvre stands timeless.

In his primitivist works, borrowing geometric patterns from suprematism, one finds all the vastness of Russia. He, like a surveyor, marks out the contours of what is essentially boundless. His work is aesthetically pleasing because it is metaphysical. It is profound. He expresses beauty through symbols. The heavenly and the earthly worlds combine in it.

In 1992, the Tretyakov gallery organised a major exhibition of Steinberg’s works, the first one dedicated entirely to the artist. Since then, several other exhibitions have taken place in Russian and European museums.

In 2015, for the first time since the death of the master, a series of personal exhibitions will be held in museums across Russia, as well as the Wiesbaden Museum in Germany.

2008. (© Tretyakov gallery)

2008. (© Tretyakov gallery)

Composition. (2009).

Composition. (2009).

The Zaitsevs(?) (1986). (© Wiesbaden museum).

The Zaitsevs(?) (1986). (© Wiesbaden museum).

Gouache. (2000).

Gouache. (2000).

Tarusa. (1962).

Tarusa. (1962).

The first time I was in Edik’s studio was in 2006. I was writing a monograph on a French artist famous for his ‘white on white’ period. I was well familiar with and fond of the lyric abstractions of the 1950s, but, upon acquaintance with the works of Steinberg, I fell in love forever with geometric abstraction. I was deeply impressed with his oeuvre. And with Edik himself. I loved his eccentric appearance, his voice, I liked him and his wife Galya, and I liked the way they lived. They’d married in the 60s and had never been apart. We became friends fairly quickly, largely thanks to Galya Manevich. Once they invited me to stay with them in Tarusa. There I began to film Edik. He barely knew two words in French; I didn’t speak Russian. Still, we understood each other but insufficiently well to conduct an interview. From mutual sympathy and a willingness to open up some correspondence with each other was born the format for my video. We exchanged a few phrases, I would direct the camera at him, and he, the artist, would lead me where he would. We made a series of photomontages in which Edik talked about himself and his life. We often filmed in his studio, and I became a witness to his process of creativity, to the secrets of his art; I observed his techniques and his mastery of the genre. In these artless frames appears the whole of Edik, his open heart and eccentric manner, his outlook on life, and the rhythms of his own existence and perception of the world.

This is a rich and fascinating biographical material. Fragments of these recordings will be included in future exhibitions of Steinberg’s works. Similarly, they will be included in the documentary film and monograph (authors: Galina Manevich and Gilles Bastianelli) that will be published in 2015. The introduction and the main text of the monograph is written by Jean-Claude Marcade, the famous French art historian, expert on the Russian avant-garde and scholar of Steinberg. And Galina Manevich is preparing a biography in Russian which will include the works of scholars, essays and correspondence of Steinberg, his interviews and remembrances by his friends.

On the second anniversary of his death, it seems important to me to note one remarkable fact: his language, which we – his admirers – consider wonderful but wholly abstract, has become concrete for our children, the teenagers of the 21st century, who cannot imagine life without the Internet. They don’t care about symbolism, primitivism, suprematism and other -isms. In their fresh, uncomplicated view, the works of Edik Steinberg appear in a completely new interpretation: they see in them elements of their own avatars. All these triangles, squares, crosses and circles already take upon a meaning as though they had been painted in the context of their young lives. Welcome to the virtual world of our children. Soon they will take us with them to the museum to look at Steinberg, to study him, to learn the secret of his spiritual world so that they will grow up and understand themselves better.

[Translated loosely from 'Two Memories of Eduard Steinberg', on colta.ru.]

Art Roundup – April 2014

Visvaldis Ziediņš

Daylight savings time kicked a while ago and I’m groggily looking up examples of art exhibition for this April roundup. There won’t be too many, as you can imagine…

  1. There is an exhibition of art depicting Tatar and Bashkir mythological heroes at Beloretsk’s picture gallery. The exhibition, titled Shurale, runs till May 10. Where is Beloretsk? It’s in Bashkortostan. Do visit.
  2. A few days after his nineteenth birthday, the Latvian artist Visvaldis Ziediņš (1942-2007) wrote in his diary: ‘I’ll never show anyone my pictures, and or ever take part in an exhibition‘, a resolution he stuck to throughout his life. Hardly anyone saw his paintings while he lived, and the first exhibition of his works only appeared after his death. Now the Estonian Museum of Art (KUMU) in Tallinn is where you need to go to see Ziediņš’ pictures: Rewriting Latvian Art History. The exhibition runs till June 15, 2014.
  3. The Vilnius Picture Gallery holds a continuing exhibition of the country’s national art from the 16th to the 19th centuries.
  4. The Istanbul gallery Güneş in Sisli holds an exhibition of Circassian art. This year is the 150th anniversary of the Russian expansionist wars in the Caucasus and the great dispersion of the Circassian peoples into the Ottoman empire. The exhibition runs till April 10, 2014. Hurry!

Kliment Red’ko

Uprising. (1924-25). (© Pavel Otdel’nov on Flickr)

On March 14, 1935, Kliment Red’ko (1897-1956) – who at the time had been living for several years in France and was getting ready to return home – wrote in his diary: “Wrote a draft statement for the consul. Decided to get out of Paris in three months. I have given eight years to France. All these years have gone by, and yet it seems that the ninth spring of 1935 is no different from the first spring of 1927. To Moscow now! To my own! To the motherland!” In the land of the Soviets, the reality was considerably different from when the avant-gardist had headed out to the main foundry of the art of the time. And though his most famous work remained the controversial ‘Uprising’, and he thought of himself as an artist of the new system, he could in no way be considered a political artist. Who was he?

He began in the icon painting workshops of the Kiev Monastery of the Caves (although at first he had to learn to decorate porcelain) and he culminated in an art studio on the Timiryazevka, and it can be said that his life executed a full circle. Lunacharsky helped him go to Paris (perhaps to save his life), and when he returned home, he was accused of formalism, for which he was expelled from the Moscow Union of Artists in 1948, although he had only joined them three years earlier.

In the middle of his life, a year after the death of Lenin, Red’ko completed his masterwork, ‘Uprising’. Not that he was a one-hit wonder, but it is this work that consistently epitomises him. Red’ko first thought to call it ‘RCP’, then changed its name to ‘Revolution’, and finally ended up with ‘Uprising’.

Before it arrived at the Tretyakov Gallery, the painting was in the collection of George Costakis, who (according to Irina Lebedeva, the director of the Gallery) had written in 1977: ‘The picture of the century, the greatest work of revolutionary Russia. George Costakis, Moscow, April 14, 1977.’ Lebedeva said that today’s audience apparently saw the picture for the first time in 1987′s exhibition ‘Art and Revolution’, since when the work has never been removed from the permanent displays.

Like many of the avant-garde, Red’ko embraced the revolution. Like many others, he too believed that the new era expected from artists new creations in art, modelling, and explanations of life, all incorporating technological innovations. In fact, his ‘Uprising’, despite Lenin’s admiration, is thought by some to be a picture of tragedy; the painting hearkens to old iconography despite the rebellion having subjugated the old systems; there is the leader within the great red diamond, reminiscent of the icon of the Saviour in Majesty; except that on the sides we have Trotsky (who, in 1926, would call the new leader the ‘gravedigger of the revolution’), Krupskaya, Lunacharsky; Stalin is not in the front rank, but only appears in the second row. Red’ko risked much, and who knows what would have happened to him had he not moved in 1927 to Paris.

It is possible to ignore church iconography in ‘Uprising’, even allowing for the fact it was painted not as an icon; still, as an emblem of revolution, constructed to the rhythm of a march, with the geometry of perpendiculars and diagonals, with dynamic rays and vectors that cut through the red-black city, the houses that resemble prisons. Red’ko interested himself in questions of energy, and its  implementation as light, design as an expression of form, and consciously or not ‘Uprising’ came out full of contradictions. Welcoming the revolution, it reveals its dark side.

Red’ko’s art is a strange admixture, resulting from the icon studies in the Monastery of the Caves, and training under Arkady Rylov and Nicholas Roerich in the Society for the Encouragement of Art, and the studies under Alexandra Exter, and Vasily Kandinsky, between Kiev, Kharkov, St. Petersburg and Moscow. Red’ko started and eventually returned to fairly traditional realist works – pastoral landscapes of the 1910s and 1940s, or the completely pedestrian later portraits such as ‘Girl with gas mask’ in 1941 (granted, however, that her sad reverie didn’t quite satisfy the requirements of Socialist Realism) – these bracket his artistic career. His French works – Auvergne peasants as filled with languid lyricism as his melancholy landscapes. In these, his palette becomes softer, but experiments with form that occupied hi in the 1920s and remained his main preoccupation, came to naught. No wonder the artist wrote that his first French spring was like the last one.

Morning on the farm. (1933).

Morning on the farm. (1933).

It turns out that Red’ko’s most active period was the first half of the 1920s. Although the avant-garde, under the innovations of Malevich and Kandinsky, had produced its advances earlier in the century, in the 1910s, the heated pulse of revolution had propelled it into the next decade. Red’ko, of course, didn’t completely ignore Malevich, pondering whether Suprematism would fit into his own style; yet, he created one work in that vein, the Circle of 1921-1922.

Light and shadow in symmetry. (1922).

Light and shadow in symmetry. (1922).

A circle intersected by a square and above them, two wedges bumping into each other as a static sign. Perhaps this lacked the assertiveness of Malevich’s circle and square, and their motive power of their geometry; the wedges, perhaps, were not quite like the red ones that had beaten the white in Lissitzky’s work. Red’ko himself seemed to be more interested in the spatial appearance of the image. In his Suprematist efforts, even if there were dynamic diagonal elements, they didn’t strive to fly apart as in Malevich; rather, they behave as a collective, an emblem which would later become the ‘Uprising’.

In 1921, along with Solomon Nikritin, Alexander Labas and Alexander Tyshler, he formed a group known as Electro-organism (based on a theory declared by Red’ko in 1922); in 1924, they renamed themselves as ‘Method’. Electro-organism – in keeping with the spirit of the times and not without the influence of his teacher, Kandinsky – on the one hand explores the sensitivity of art to scientific discovery, and on the other, investigates the psychological impact that the painter translates across the painting. Red’ko called energy the ‘future culture of life’: ‘the artist’, he said, ‘needs to reinforce the new concepts of realism through artistically explored facts. The first graphic element of design is the line. The second is colour, and then, gravity and image.’ He added that ‘light was the highest representation of matter.’ And to replace Electro-organism, he came up with Luminism, which again is a response to the 1910s and the Rayonism of Mikhail Larionov.

Midnight sun (Northern lights). (1925).

Midnight sun (Northern lights). (1925).

The colour of light and the brightness of colour – the artist captured the energy of both in ‘Uprising’, combining geometric construction with realistic figures. Meanwhile, he explored light in his northern landscapes, where the aurora reminded him of electric flashes (‘Northern Lights’, 1925). Alternatively, he used the same expression of energy in works such as ‘Dynamite’, in which he came close to abstraction. (Funnily enough, Natalia Goncharova pondering the concept of energy in the spirit of the times had already spoken of the language of abstraction in 1913. However, it is unclear if her ‘Void’ depicts a force of destruction or construction that transformed the uneven puddle of colour into something novel.)

Void, by Natalia Goncharova. (1913).

Void, by Natalia Goncharova. (1913).

Red’ko was dissatisfied with the discoveries of the Futurists; in ‘Factory’ (1922), the vertical pipe mixed with diagonal rails, the distant blended with the nearby. The same year, he painted ‘Husband and wife’ as though through the same geometric filter. His 1924 ‘Composition 1′ could be said to connect to the second Russian avant-garde and Vladimir Yankilevsky, in which biomorphic forms ironically inform a mechanistic interpretation. (What the devil does all this mean?!)

Kliment Red’ko’s investigations continued between the early 1920s and his departure for Paris (under the aegis of the People’s Commissariat for Enlightenment, who included him in their list of the most serious and talented young artists). In Paris, he was able to communicate with Pablo Picasso, but it’s quite clear that the discussion had little influence on his own art. Rather, France and the Italian cities he had been through didn’t provide a new impulse to his art, but appeared to create a sort of implicit antidote to the impending Socialist Realism.

Parisienne. (1931).

Parisienne. (1931).

Motherhood. (1937).

Motherhood. (1937).

Red’ko painted realistic motifs but not in a socialist manner. For example, his strange ‘Motherhood’ of 1937 depicts a statue of a Red Army soldier on the windowsill behind a feeding mother, and is not really following the norms of the regime. However, he did a portrait of Stalin in 1938-1940 for the All-Union Agricultural Exhibition; though we should point out that Pavel Filonov, who can hardly be accused of flirting with the regime, also had painted a similar portrait, and in both cases, it is a distanced image of head of the leader appearing without any motivation.

Portrait of Stalin. (1940).

Portrait of Stalin. (1940).

[This is a really vague translation of Daria Kurdyukova's article on Kliment Red'ko in Colta.ru, March 13, 2014.]

Domestic Architecture of Pre-Revolutionary Moscow 5

This series of posts comprises a few loosely translated extracts from Bolshoi Gorod, a fine Russian magazine of art and culture. In April last year, they did a small series on pre-Revolutionary private dwellings in Moscow, and these seemed of artistic interest in this blog. The tragedy is that it’s impossible for the average man-on-the-street to enter these residences, which are closed to the public even on the two days of the year (April 18, May 18) that are named Days of Culture, and it took nearly half a year of attrition and persuasion for Bolshoi Gorod to obtain access.

Polytechnic Society Building

Polytechnic Society Building

Grand staircase. The institute has preserved the wooden decorations, floor tiles and the old door.

Grand staircase. The institute has preserved the wooden decorations, floor tiles and the old door.

poly6

Assembly hall.

Assembly hall.

poly4 poly3

Director's office.

Director’s office.

Moscow Polytechnic Society Building

M. Haritonyensky pereulok, 4.

This building was constructed between 1904-1906 by the architect Alexander Kuznetsov, and is one of the pre-eminent examples of neo-Gothic architecture in Moscow. For over a hundred years it has fulfilled one function – it accommodates technical and scientific organisations. Today the building is occupied by the Blagonravov Institute of Engineering. The interior decor is functional in spirit. At the level of the third storey are carved two dates – 1878 (the year of the founding of the Moscow Polytechnic Society) and 1905 (the year of completion of the main parts of the building). On the middle balcony appears a cartouche with the name of the organisation (interlacing the letters P and O). In the journal ‘Architect’, Kuznetsov wrote: ‘In the design of the facade, the architectural motifs of England were taken into account – the country that gave us the steam engine, steam train, steamship and powered loom.’ The facade is decorated with images of the electric motor, the suspension bridge, the weaving machine, the blast furnace, and its own architectural portrait. Besides the Anglican church in the Voznesensky pereulok, the Polytechnic Society’s building is probably the most English building in Moscow.

In 1918, the Russian Communist Youth League met in the building; Lenin himself appeared at its meetings several times. The upper storeys of the mansion were let out. For instance, in 1920, an apartment was rented by the Estonian George Vaino, a member of the Council of National Minorities (he was later shot). Ilya Mashkov, the artist, occupied a room in the tower of the building, which he used as his residence, studio and workshop. Mashkov’s wife Maria Danilova lived there till her death in the 1990s; she refused to leave the flat despite its lack of hot water and other utilities. The members of the Polytechnic spoke of how it was impossible to take Danilova’s piano out of the apartment after her death; in the end, it was thrown out of a sixth floor window.

There are no admissions to the building, except for the occasional visit by groups of employees of the Academy of Sciences.

Domestic Architecture of Pre-Revolutionary Moscow 4

This series of posts comprises a few loosely translated extracts from Bolshoi Gorod, a fine Russian magazine of art and culture. In April last year, they did a small series on pre-Revolutionary private dwellings in Moscow, and these seemed of artistic interest in this blog. The tragedy is that it’s impossible for the average man-on-the-street to enter these residences, which are closed to the public even on the two days of the year (April 18, May 18) that are named Days of Culture, and it took nearly half a year of attrition and persuasion for Bolshoi Gorod to obtain access.

Nikolai Kazakov's house

Nikolai Kazakov’s house

Nikolai Kazakov’s House 

Embassy of Canada, Starokonyushenny pereulok, 23.

This house was constructed between 1898 and 1901 by the architect Karl Hippius, the designer of the Tea House in the Chinese style on the Myasnitsa. The tea-merchant Nikolai Kazakov commissioned the building: a two-storeyed semi-detached mansion with two front entrances. Much of the decor in a Franco-Belgian art nouveau remains. The Kazakov family occupied part of the ground floor, while the remaining rooms were rented out. The mansion had heated water, electric lighting, municipal water supply and sewerage.

In the years 1900-1907, the apartment on the first floor (now the residence of the Canadian ambassador) was occupied by Elizaveta Morozova, wife and daughter of merchants and furriers. The ground floor apartment (these days the Canadian embassy) was the rented by the banker, Nikolai Vtorov, who at the time was building his own mansion on the Spasopeskovsky site. The Medvednikovsky gymnasium (today’s School №59, named after Gogol) was situated opposite the Kazakov house; its sporting hall was funded by Vtorov.

In 1917, Kazakov’s wife Nadezhda sold the house to a Dutchwoman, Emilia Peltzer, wife of the physician Friedrich Peltzer. In 1924, the Danish mission occupied the house; by the 1950s, the Canadian embassy had taken over the building. Glenn Gould visited Moscow in 1957; the piano he played on still stands in the ambassador’s residence. Diplomatic receptions continue to be held in the residence, in which the old interiors are preserved: eclectic mouldings, parquet floor and the original doors. The ground floor decor is in the Art Nouveau style.

Dining hall in the Canadian ambassador's residence.

Dining hall in the Canadian ambassador’s residence.

kaz3

Living room in the Canadian Ambassador's residence.

Living room in the Canadian Ambassador’s residence.

The piano on which Glenn Gould played in 1957.

The piano on which Glenn Gould played in 1957.

Embassy conference room.

Embassy conference room.

The thistle appears in the art nouveau decor of the embassy. The thistle, of course, is the paramount art nouveau flower!

The thistle appears in the art nouveau decor of the embassy. The thistle, of course, is the paramount art nouveau flower!

Art nouveau interior

Art nouveau interior

Art Roundup – March 2014

Spring is almost upon us, and the time for art is now!

  1. The Zimmerli Art Museum of Rutgers in New Brunswick, New Jersey is holding an exhibition “Tales of War: A Selection of Works on Paper” on war from the perspective of Russian artists. It runs till April 23. The centrepiece of the exhibition is a set of photomontages by Alexander Zhitomirsky (1907-1993).
  2. The Monterey Museum of Art (in California) holds an exhibition of the photographs of the Armenian-Canadian master Yousuf Karsh (1908-2002). (He’s not properly of the erstwhile Russian empire, because he grew up in Ottoman Turkey and emigrated to Canada after the tribulations of the Armenian pogroms of 1915.)
  3. We seem to be having a US-tilted roundup this month. The Marlborough Gallery in New York City holds an exhibition of the works of Grisha Bruskin (1945- ). The Wall Street Journal has a fine review. It runs till March 15.

Lebedev’s Lithographs

Vladimir Lebedev published Russian Placards 1917-1922 in 1923. He had started his career as a graphic designer when he was fourteen years old, creating postcards in St. Petersburg. By the time of the publication of this book, he had already spent several years illustrating and designing magazines and children’s books.

Lebedev’s career continued till the 1960s, and he followed several trends and styles throughout his life.

The images below are from the Dartmouth College library.

leb32

Nationalised enterprise

leb21

Sweeping the criminal element out of the Republic

leb33

Raising productivity through the union of small craft and trade industry

leb5

Casting spoon

leb9

Agitation to close the markets

leb01

Struggle against sale in the streets

leb3

Entente – a puppet.

leb22

The new bourgeoisie threat.

leb64

Red Army and Navy defend the borders

leb6

Communism triumphing over Europe

leb10

Use the bourgeoisie for proletarian purpose.

leb4

Lamentation of the entente

(Via BibliOdyssey, by the excellent peacay.)

Reference:

Nicoletta Misler (1987), ‘A Public Art: Caricatures and Posters of Vladimir Lebedev’, The Journal of Decorative and Propaganda Arts, Vol. 5, Russian/Soviet Theme Issue, pp. 60-75.

Alexander Kharitonov

The gallery ‘Our Artists’ performed an important task, having organised a large exhibition of fine and graphic art of Alexander Kharitonov gathered from various private collections. Kharitonov is an interesting, albeit not so well-known artist of the second half of the 20th century.

How would one classify such an artist? Clearly with the Nonconformists – after all, he exhibited with them in the Malaya Gruzinskaya. His relations with the ‘official’ artists weren’t particularly cordial on either side.

On the other hand, he neither participated in artists’ unions nor did he write manifestoes. He had little interest in politics, nor did he concern himself with emigration.

The bulk of the works probably have not been seen previously. Nearly a hundred works come from family and private collections, and these cover virtually all periods of his career, starting from the earliest works of the 1950s.

Most importantly, this exhibition traces the evolution of his creativity, not just in technique but also in theme. From a slight influence by the Impressionists in his early works, Kharitonov moves to a completely independent technique of pointillism, including references to the World of Art movement and the Blue Rose, as well as a distinctive naiveté in art.

Here you see his technique – delicate and with the application of tens of layers of paint, creating an unusual surface relief.

Probably very few people in the 1970s showed as much of a consistency in their adherence to religious themes (although, to be honest, few even in clerical circles would have considered his works strictly canonical). You can see the theme in early landscapes where churches often appear in the composition.

Trinity, in honour of Andrei Sakharov. (1990).

Kharitonov’s graphical works are equally interesting – detailed and driven to the miniature.

And here’s ‘Landscape with Gogol’, although you need to look to locate Gogol.

Evangelists

Self-portrait.

And this is his final work, completed two days before his death.

And here is a curious series of seemingly simple abstractions: it started with Kharitonov working on figurative painting, going by the original colour composition. He then applied multiple layers of paint, and the works survived as such at the request of his family.

[Loosely translated from Tatyana Pelipeiko, АЛЕКСАНДР ХАРИТОНОВ - НИ НА КОГО НЕ ПОХОЖИЙ ХУДОЖНИК (March 17, 2012)]

Krasnov’s Crimea

Nikolai Petrovich Krasnov (Nov 23, 1864 – Dec 8, 1939) was an architect, academic, and painter of architectural scenes.

Between 1887-1899, he was chief architect of Yalta, for which he was paid 900 roubles per annum, and a contract for twenty four years, of which he fulfilled twelve.  He also held a private practice until 1911.

At the young architect lay full responsibility for solving a wide range of issues associated with the rapid development of Yalta as the all-Russian resort city. Architect Nikolai Krasnov started with an expansion of the promenade, which in 1913 became the main street of Yalta. In 1889 he began to develop a new plan for the city. Under his guidance, urban sewerage and new streets were constructed, and old streets were renamed. He limited the width of the streets and the height of buildings, eliminated chaotic construction in the city; built a school and a children’s hospital; constructed the Pushkin Boulevard, strengthened the embankment of the river Wuchang-Su retaining the original wall and stone parapet, while across the river he setup two concrete bridges of reinforced concrete. In 1913, he compiled an album of illustrations for over 60 of his works, and he presented it to the St Petersburg Academy of Arts.

Perspective plan of the front yard of Count Yusupov’s hunting lodge in Kokkozy village.

Count Yusupov’s hunting lodge in Kokkozy village.

Yusupov’s hunting lodge.

Gate in Yusupov’s park, Kokkozy.

 

The Grand Duke Georgy Mikhailovich’s church of St Nina.

Western facade of Grand Duke Pyotr Nikolayevich’s palace “Dyulber”.

 

Park and facade of the Dyulber palace.

View of the Dyulber palace.

 

“Harax” palace of the Grand Duke Georgy Mikhailovich.

Harax palace.

 

Entry gate into the Italian courtyard of the Livady palace.

Livady palace park.

 

Arcade of the Italian yard of the Livady palace.

 

Eastern facade of the Livady palace.

 

Arcade of the Italian courtyard of the Livady palace.

Park in Livady palace grounds.

 

Livady palace park.

Rose arch in Livady palace park.

 

Eastern facade of Livady palace.

 

Frontispiece of Krasnov’s book “Fiftieth Anniversary of Yalta”.