Painting in Bedroom Tones

French has many idioms derived from the world of painting. For example, instead of “hobby” the French often say “violin d’Ingres” (Ingres’ violin) – apparently Domi-nique Ingres loved to play the violin. But then this is not a Survival French column, and we can certainly come up with some colorful idioms from the Russian world of painting.

Those who revere the splendid colors of Ivan Aivazovsky’s canvasses (see Russian Life, July 1997) will understand the idiom – достойно кисти Айва­зовского (worthy of Aivazovsky’s hand). The phrase is widely applied to picturesque scenes or landscapes. But, of late, it has been used to express admiration (or amazement) over almost anything, often in the ironical sense.

At the other end of the spectrum, a poor or mediocre canvas may be called a мазня or пачкотня (daub) – terms used often by socialist realists to denigrate the work of abstract painters.

If you roam the halls of the Tretyakov or the Hermitage long enough, you are bound to overhear plenty of useful expressions to help make you sound like a true lover of the arts: игра свето-тени (the play of light and shadow), Это полотно принадлежит (this canvass was painted by), пастельные тона (pastel tones), портретист (portrait artist), пейзажист (landscape artist), баталист (painter of battle pieces), мaринист (seascape painter), анималист (animal painter). Oh, and don’t forget about натурщица / натурщик– the feminine and masculine for “model.” Because without a carefully chosen натурщица, the world’s art would be short of many a шедевр (masterpiece).

Similarly, acquaint yourself with the useful terms этюд (sketch), натюрморт (still life), панорама, диорама and триптих (panorama, diorama and triptych, respectively). But don’t translate “nude” as голая (naked). The proper translation is обнажённая, or, rarely, нагая. The term передвижники can also trip up the best of translators, who will call this group of 19th century realists “Ambulants” or “Wanderers.” The accepted term is “Itinerants.”

Misinformed and misanthropic museum guides slipping on terms such as these are good grist for the humor mill. Comedian Efim Shifrin (see Russian Life, April 1996) made his comic debut with his now famous stand-up sketch Kающаяся Магдалина (Repen-tant Magdalena). In the sketch, Shifrin mimics a museum guide who points out the contradictory character of Magdalena’s repentance (El Greco painted her nude...) and keeps repeating that the canvas was executed in “bedroom tones” – in Russian pronunciation, пастельные (pastel) and постельные (bedroom) are homonyms.

Returning to more serious notes, there are a number of Russian artists whose styles are so distinctive they have acquired adjectival status. For instance, there is something we have come to call a шишкинский лес (a forest like those in the paintings of Ivan Shishkin), and there is the incomparable beauty of левитановская осень (an autumn landscape in the style of painter Isaac Levitan). But, most notably, there is the cliche кустодиевские женщины (Kusto-diev-like women). This refers to the buxom subjects of Boris Kustodiev, who liked to portray Russian women as creatures of flesh and blood, enjoying all the pleasures of life, be it a gorgeous meal or a steam bath.

Some, however, have criticized Kustodiev and the like of abusing of what we call лубок or лубочность, which derives from the word for “bast,” but which can be approximately translated as “exaggerated, at times kitschy Russian-ness.” Indeed, there are a lot of samovars, bliny, and “typical Russian colors” in Kustodiev’s work. In the end, some like him, some don’t.

Interestingly, Nikita Mikhalkov’s recent film Siberian Barber has been criticized for such лубочность. Indeed, Mikhalkov confessed in TV interviews that he told his cameraman to think of Kustodiev paintings when shooting the film.

Many of the film’s scenes shown in promo trailers are reminiscent of Kusto-diev’s bright paintings. These trailers actually dissuaded me from going to see Mikhalkov’s three-hour-long canvass. Not that I don’t like Boris Kustodiev or that I have anything against Russian лубок. Simply because, as they say in the world of art, копия всегда хуже оригинала – a copy is always worse than the original, or, throwing in the лубок is not enough to create a шедевр.