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EESTI ELU reedel, 19. märtsil 2021 — Friday, March 19, 2021
Nr. 11
On the Wall: The Märt Laarman 125th Anniversary Show Vincent Teetsov
English-language supplement to the Estonian weekly “EESTI ELU” Tartu College Publications Founding Chairman: Elmar Tampõld Editor: Laas Leivat 3 Madison Avenue, Toronto, ON M5R 2S2 T: 416-733-4550 • F: 416-733-0944 • E-mail: editor@eestielu.ca Digital: www.eestielu.ca
Soviet nostalgia and Stalin’s lingering presence (II) The Day of Remembrance of the Victims of Political Repressions was formally established as a public holi day in 1991, just before the collapse of the Soviet Union. On October 30th, somber memorial services memo rialize those 800,000 who were executed between 1921 and 1953, the year Stalin died. Compiled by Russian re searchers, this total is grossly low and represents only those that can be officially docu mented. At least one million perished in the Gulag. The deaths are attributed to Stalin’s rule and Western esti mates place both totals much higher. The commemorations are supported by the Russian Orthodox Church which suf fered severe repressions under Stalin. While Putin’s govern ment enjoys a mutually bene ficial relationship with the Church, the Kremlin is still criticized for being too lenient about Soviet crimes. This is the dichotomy between the increas ing acceptance of Stalin with the rejection of his murderous record. The denunciation of Stalin began with Nikita Khrushchev, with most of Stalin’s statues removed across the Soviet Union, when streets were re named while statues and city squares dedicated to Lenin re mained intact everywhere. In spite of the historic WWII battle of Stalingrad, even this city was renamed to Volgograd. In spite of the city thereafter re viving the Stalingrad name two times for anniversaries, it was still rejected for Volgograd. That has been the open public record. It can be legitimately argued that the glorification of Stalin has been a purposeful, yet subtle policy during the Putin years. The celebrations sur rounding May 9th, the anniver sary of the ‘Great Patriotic War’ have become increasingly gran diose in scale – the intrusion of the pandemic notwithstanding. During the warm-up days, the old films and other programs for the public and also for schools do not portray Stalin unfavorably. Finding redeeming aspects of
Stalin and his period is also associated with Russia’s de teriorating relations with the West. It’s been suggested that the enormous sacrifice of Russians in the war is being now presented not only as a victory (implied here is Stalin’s victory) over Nazi Germany but also a battle against the West. The historically crucial contri bution of war supplies and the military prowess of the Western allies has been deliberately minimized. Polls indicate that Stalin still remains as an integral part of Russians’ historical memory. A 2019 survey showed that fully 70% of respondents said Stalin’s rule had been good for the country and 46% said the mass killings, political persecution and repression of Stalin’s era were “in some way” or “defi nitely” justified by the results achieved. The 70% is a major change from a 2016 poll which indicated that 54% felt the same way. Observers point out that a “creeping re-Stalinization” is evident in different aspects of Russian society. Souvenirs, new monuments, pro-Stalin rallies certainly are obvious signs of a surge in interest. Very few films about the dictator mention the brutal purges of society during his reign. A catalog of Stalin films lists only a handful that cover the victims of Stalin’s massacres while the rest depict him as a saviour of the people, victorious not only in war but also in defeating all evil. Some Russian academics see this steady aggrandizement of Stalin as the lack of credible scholarly research of the period in history and weak content in education. After decades of avoiding the uncomfortable truth, myths about Stalin have found fertile places to blossom. It’s interesting to note that Russian authors are currently prodigiously writing volumes on both Stalin and Vladimir Putin. This is seen as taking advantage of the wide fascina tion for both rulers which in turn provides a lucrative market for publishers. But does this dual fascination translate into perceived parallels between the two? It would be wrong to find
February 22nd, 2021 marked 125 years since Estonian printmaker Märt Laarman was born. A 125 year show has been put on in his honour by his granddaughter Eeva Laarman, assisted by Henn Sarv. And with the show run ning until the 31st of March, Eeva wrote to EKKT (The Society of Estonian Artists in Toronto) to invite those who are interested to see what his art was all about. Märt Laarman was born in Viljandi County in 1896. From age 16 to 20, he studied art in Rakvere, and then at the studio school of Ants Laikmaa. Tartu’s E-Kunstisalong gallery has described how he filled quite a few different roles in his life time: as a graphic artist for books, as a teacher of the Estonian language, and an art reviewer. He was a member of Eesti Kunstnikkude Rühma (The Estonian Artists’ Group) start ing in 1924, and Eesti Kunstnike Liit (The Estonian Artists’ Association) from 1945. Elva Palo, President of EKKT, notes that his works “are in many books and at KUMU Art Museum in Tallinn.” Now, there is the opportunity to virtually see the trajectory of Laarman’s art. There are a few different styles of work in the show. Some of it, like his loose guašš (gouache) portraits and geo metric abstract paintings, fall outside of printmaking. However, the materials that Laarman frequently created with were wood and linoleum, which he would cut his designs into. Ink would be applied to
equivalency between Putin’s inequities and Stalin’s crimes. Yes, both men are seen as simi larly standing up to the West, but Putin’s suppression of his political opponents does not approach in sheer enormity the scale of Stalin’s atrocities. There are, however, a few similarities: Both Stalin and Putin promised to bring stabili ty after a period of war (Stalin) and social chaos (Putin). Both advocated the same solution – a tough grip on ruling the govern ment to repel foreign aggression and suppress internal turmoil. They were both able to control the political playground that eliminated any opposition or threat to their supremacy. Both felt the international political landscape as confrontational and menacing, while the West viewed Russia as ominous, especially for its neighbours. However, Putin is steadily sanitizing Stalin’s record, moulding him as a mighty lead er who vanquished fascism. This is seen as Putin’s program in boosting his image as a pow erful leader of the people.
Märt Laarman’s woodcut print “Õhtu.”
the surface before it was pressed to make a print. What’s most appealing about print making is its basis in the act of reduction. You have to take something away strategically from a surface to make it appear, rather than making a mark onto a surface. It’s two dimensional sculpture in that sense. Of this exhibition, the high lights are his cubist prints. From the Kuu (“Moon”) col lection in this virtual show, there is the woodcut print “Õhtu” (“Evening”) from 1947 to 1948. In this image, we see a
Wide differences between the two men are also glaringly apparent: The sovereignty of Putin’s Russia is not faced with the threats that confronted Stalin’s Soviet Union. Stalin was paranoid about losing his chokehold on power and this re sulted in millions dead or cast in the Gulag. While Putin also uses re morseless violence, he wields it in a calculated and methodical way. We remember that the sec ond attack on the Chechens in 1999 resulted in some 25,000 civilian deaths. The war ended not with the enemy totally van quished, but in a clever prag matic compromise, with one of the competing Chechen clans in power as puppets for Putin. A very basic difference be tween the two leaders is drawn by their distinct economic ideologies. While Stalin pur sued the defeat of capitalism globally, Putin, together with his wealthy cronies, are eager to be accepted as members of the world elite of the filthy rich. (to be continued)
ladder to the moon. It’s sus pended upward effortlessly through a bank of clouds that is opening up. On the edge of a wall in the middle ground, there is a figure holding their hand up and gazing sky high, embody ing the awe humans have about the moon. It invites viewers up, with the first step of the ladder illuminated in moonlight. Then there is “Oleviste ja Niguliste”, a woodcut from 1927 of St. Olaf’s and St. Nicholas’ churches in Tallinn. This one is interesting as it shows these two peaks in the skyline of Estonia’s capital before damage was inflicted by bombing during the Second World War. Their profiles are sliced and crested with shadows and lines that really make the spires look like they’re stretch ing upwards. In addition to prints, there is also a gouache painting that fits together with the cubist work. “Kompositsioon” (“Composi tion”), from 1974, is arranged like an elusive maze of geomet ric shapes. Walls and corners prevent the whole scene from being visible. At the bottom, we can see a staircase leading into an underground space. What were cubists like Laarman trying to say with their art? The Tate Modern presents this as an explanation of cubist aims, at least in their early 20th century heyday: “By breaking objects and figures down into distinct areas – or planes – the artists aimed to show different viewpoints at the same time and within the same space and so suggest their three dimensional form... They wanted to show things as they really are – not just to show what they look like.”
LAAS LEIVAT
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