At the Military Academy

On first impression, this photograph appears to be of a military figure. The epauletted tunic, the shuttered blinds... perhaps a pre-1914 army planner, taking a break from planning his country's defence from a foreign force?

The photograph was indeed taken before the First World War, and it does show an official at a Military Academy - the Imperial Military Academy in St Petersburg, to be precise. But the figure shown is not one of the Czar's officers, pondering threats to the nation, but one of the most influential scientists of the 20th century - physiologist I.P. Pavlov.

Given how famous Pavlov's work on the conditioned reflex is, it's perhaps odd not choosing a photograph to mark the anniversary of his death that shows him in a laboratory (or at the very least, with some salivating dogs). However, given that Pavlov died 75 years ago today in 1936, this photograph is suggestive of how well Pavlov was regarded by the changing rulers of his homeland.

Awarded the 1904 Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine, Pavlov was obviously an internationally recognised scientist by the time of the Russian Revolution of October 1917. However, a 1921 decree - signed by Lenin - noted Pavlov's achievements "to the enormous significance to the working classes of the whole world" and for the rest of his life, Pavlov and his team were given an enormous amount of freedom for their research. For indication of that, take a look at Conditioned reflexes and behavior, a film shot in 1930 and which was digitised as part of our Wellcome Film project.

Embroidery Design by Natalia Davydova

Illustration: Natalia Davydova. Embroidery design, c1899.

Across much of Europe the last twenty years of the nineteenth century and the first two decades of the twentieth saw major efforts to restructure and reenergise traditional crafts and those who worked with those traditions. The industrialisation of Europe had replaced many of the hand skills that had lasted centuries, with cheap and mass produced merchandise, that although satisfying a general public who were clamouring for ever more products at increasingly cheaper prices, it did little for any form of skills base.

Many attempts were made to both rival or even limit the industrial sector, but most had little if any effect. However, some initiatives were perhaps more pragmatic in their approach towards the craft market and therefore were more effective due to those practical concerns. One such was the Kustar movement in Russia which has been likened to the Arts & Crafts movements in other parts of Europe, but has to be tempered by a number of fundamentally ideological differences between Kustar and the traditional Arts & Crafts movements.

The Kustar movement in pre-Revolutionary Russia did have the traditional craft system at its centre. Individuals in the movement wanted to both save as many aspects of the craft system as possible before major areas of work disappeared altogether, while at the same time creating an environment whereby traditional crafts could be set on a course of commercial success. It was hoped that this financially based success would help to maintain traditional crafts in a contemporary world that was on a course of ever continued industrialisation of human skills.

This attitude of commercial success which often seemed to be placed before the traditional craft itself was an uncomfortable stand for many. Those interested in the ideology of the European based Arts & Crafts movements particularly that of Britain with its twin foundations of Morris and Ruskin were particularly alarmed at the nakedness of the commercial enterprise. To some, no amount of commercial fostering of traditional craft skills could replace the joy of the craft itself, even if that meant that hand craft was doomed to oblivion.

Illustration: Natalia Davydova. Embroidery design, c1899.

Among those involved in the Kustar scheme was Natalia Davydova. She was particularly interested in textile based craft skills, which by its definition also meant that she was concerned with the traditional skills base of women. Many women had lost creative ground due to mass production as their skills were replaced by machinery. Davydova specialised concern, though by no means the only one, was with Russian embroidery. She was involved with the embroidery workshop set up at Solomenko village in 1891. Solomenko was one of a number of Arts & Crafts inspired initiatives across Russia, the most famous of which are probably Talashkino and Ambratsevo.

Davydova produced a new range of design work to both add to and bolster the traditional design work of Russian embroidery. It was believed by many involved in the Kustar movement that only through commercially viable and contemporary work could traditional hand skills hope to compete in the modern world. With this in mind Davydova produced a range of design work that was aimed at attracting customers to Russian embroidery. The three illustrations shown in this article are Davydova embroidery pattern work from about 1899.

Kustar work sold well initially outside of Russia and was particularly well received in Europe where it was quickly identified with the romantic peasant world of a mythical Slavic Russia. However, inside Russia itself the commercialisation of traditional Russian hand skills was criticised as being too focused on the market and financial gain, than that of the integrity of the history of the decorative work. Some even questioned the output of individuals such as Davydova, likening her work to a patchwork of cultures, many of whom were well outside the traditions of Russia.

It is sometimes hard to reconcile the purity of traditional hand craft and that of commercial pressure. Many craft disciplines have had to bend and manipulate their own craft history in order to maintain a meaningful presence in the market place. It is difficult to say whether this is a truly positive or negative effect as, although the craft may well survive, in what state does it truly survive.

Illustration: Natalia Davydova. Embroidery design, c1899.

Eventually Kustar work became popular in Russia itself and although the export market to Europe was still important, the home market expanded rapidly in the years leading up to the Revolution of 1917. This general rediscovery of Slavic roots by the domestic population was not always as focused on the true aspects of the culture as perhaps it should have been. Therefore, many pseudo-styled Slavic interpretations were generated, including design work that had been specifically styled and produced for the Kustar market by such artists and designers as Davydova.

However, it should also be remembered that Europe leading up to the First World War was an extreme example of nationalistic rival states. Most nations had stylised and largely fictitious interpretations of both their history and culture, so the Russian interpretation of itself that sold so well in the market place, should be seen as only one European example among many.

Much of the commercial Kustar market was swept away after the Bolshevik Revolution, being seen as part of a reactionary process, particularly when considering the Soviet fascination with the progression of humanity and its unfailing belief in the promise of rich rewards from industrialisation, most of which never materialised.

The craft traditions of Russia are long, rich and diverse as are its peoples and regional cultures. In order for those hand crafts to maintain a presence many individuals took it upon themselves to reinvigorate and in some cases reinvent a style. That these reinventions were to eventually be incorporated into the craft was expected and in many cases was. To purists this was certainly a disaster, but to many a living and working craft was infinitely preferable to a dead but purist craft that could only be identified through museum collections.

Individuals such as Davydova wanted to both help sustain a domestic hand craft market that would employ and prolong the skills base of hand crafters, along with extending and indeed expanding the repertoire of those traditions. The Kustar movement might not have been as ideologically sound as some would have preferred. However, there was a general feeling of integrity and a level of far-sightedness behind the movement, which was perhaps a little more pragmatically based than those movements in other parts of Europe and in that respect somewhat more successful for that practical approach.

Reference links:
Russian Folk Arts and Crafts
The Art of the Russian Matryoshka
Russian Decorative Painting: Techniques & Projects Made Easy
Rostov Enamels (Maststerpieces of Russian Folk Art)
Russian Peasant Design Motifs for Needleworkers and Craftsmen (Dover Pictorial Archive Series)
Russian Punchneedle Embroidery
Russian and Other Slavic Embroidery Designs
Early Russian Embroidery in the Zagorsk Museum Collection
Russian Embroidery 17th-Early 20th Centuries
Early Russian Embroidery in the Zagorsk Museum Collection
Russian embroidery patterns
Russian Embroidery and Lace
Antique Russian Embroidery
RUSSIAN EMBROIDERY: TRADITIONAL MOTIFS

The Plight of Russian Lace Makers

Illustration: Russian lace makers 1911

Little was known in the rest of Europe and the world at large, about Russian lace making until the publication in 1870 of a book dealing with lace, but more specifically that of Russian lace makers. The book was written by Sophie Davydorf and was a rich and detailed history dealing with many different forms of lace making across the Russian Empire. However, probably the most important benefit of Davydorf's book was her highlighting of the plight of thousands of peasant women who were working slave hours and wages in the production of fine lace for wealthy Russians. Many of these wealthy Russians were either unaware, or chose to be unaware, of the conditions that had to be tolerated in order for their precious lace to be produced.

When serfdom, which was state slavery in all but name, was abolished across most of the Russian Empire in 1861, it was thought that the plight of many of Russia's poor would be for the better and that advances in both education and wages would solve many of the problems that had afflicted the serf class. However, there was little incentive to change the situation that had remained as a status quo for generations and life continued much as before.

Illustration: Lace work produced by the School of Princess Tenischeff 1911

One of the particular problems that craft women faced was that of middle-men, those who stood between craftswoman and the wealthy consumer. They kept the wages of the maker extremely low and the prices charged for the consumer, extremely high, thus making the lion's share of profit. Within the Russian craft industry, lace makers were treated particularly badly with a combination of inadequate wages and hard and long hours. Eyesight tended to fail quickly, but there were always new girls and young women to replace those who could not work as well anymore, and these were then cast aside with no payoff or hope for future employment.

Davydorf's book helped to highlight at least some of the more acute problems facing lace makers. With the wide success of her book liberal Russians and those with an interest in helping to relieve the plight of former serfs, galvanised themselves into producing practical help. These usually took the form of training schools, which were used to teach girls at least to a certain level of competence so that, in theory at least, they would be able to benefit from higher wages because of their increased skills base.

Illustration: Lace work produced by the School of Princess Tenischeff 1911

In 1873, the first exhibition of Russian lace was seen outside Russia. It was held in South Kensington, which at a future date was to become the Victoria and Albert Museum, in London. The exhibition was a great success and did much to publicise the skills of Russian lace makers across Europe. The exhibition also galvanised the Russian government and wealthy private individuals into sponsoring further national and international exhibitions dealing with many aspects of Russian crafts and was by no means limited to that of lace makers. The government also helped to spread the idea of schools across Russia that would teach and train future craft makers.

Schools were funded at all levels and were situated in both urban and rural locations, with some schools focusing on lace making, while others expanded into weaving and embroidery. As far as rural schools were concerned, there was the ulterior motive of trying to stem, or at least delay the movement of the rural working population to urban centres and factory work. It was considered by many that skilled craftwork would give the individual pride and a means of supporting themselves, as opposed to that of unskilled factory work.

Illustration: Russian lace tablecloth 1911

However, even with a great deal of enthusiasm the plight of many lace makers did not change dramatically and even though there was a lot of support both inside and outside the Russian Empire for the highly skilled work produced by lace makers, many were still at the mercy of ruthless middle men who preyed on countless craftswomen across Russia. Lace makers still had to deal with woefully inadequate wages and overly long hours.

The Revolution eventually put paid to lace making as a craft industry. With no aristocracy, there was little or no market for expensive and time-consuming work and the lace industry died. Through a combination of changing markets, fashion and the heightened ambitions of women after the Revolution, lace making seemed an unattractive prospect to many a Russian girl and was firmly placed in a past context with little to endear it to the modern world of the twentieth century.

Illustration: Russian lace coat of arms tea cloth 1911

Further reading links:
Lace of Russia: Vologda Lace (Masterpieces of Russian Folk Art)
Russian Lace Patterns
Russkoe pletenoe kruzhevo/Russian Pillow Lace
Russian Bobbin Lace 
Russian Lace Making
Russian Embroidery and Lace
Step by Step Russian Tape Lace
Gossamer Webs: The History and Techniques of Orenburg Lace Shawls
Angels in Russian Tape-Lace
RUSSIAN PILLOW LACE

The Slavic use of Red Thread in Embroidery

Illustration: Russian cross stitch design.

Most human cultures across the planet, including that of the Slavic, tend to use red for the same basic and original intention. Red is the same colour of blood and therefore since the beginning of human culture it has come to be associated literally with the lifeblood and through association, with that of the lifeforce.

In the broad geographical and cultural area that made up the homeland of the Slavs, red was very much used in the tradition of protection, particularly against various human diseases and ailments. Clothing very often contained borders at collar, sleeve and ankle areas which were often heavily embroidered, with red being the predominant colour. This was originally believed to stop, or at least give partial protection, against evil spirits in the shape of some of the most rampant and vociferous diseases that regularly swept through Europe. The borders were meant to stop these malevolent spirit diseases from entering the body at what were considered particularly vulnerable points, mainly at the extremities of the body.

Illustration: Satellite map of Belarus in winter.

Many of the embroidered patterns that make up the borders of clothing originally contained a number of talismans and charms that were sewn onto, or even into, the embroidery pattern, rather like simplified Shamen costumes. Eventually these talismans were left out of the embroidery work, with the talismans becoming part of the actual sewn decorative pattern. These talisman marks and motifs became integral parts of a number of classic design pieces and many of them, though having lost much if not all, of their original protective meaning and separate identity, are still very much part of traditional embroidery across the Slavic region.

Illustration: Example of Ukrainian embroidery.

One of the interesting added uses of red in Western Slavic culture as opposed to that of Russian Slavs, while still following the general idea of protection against illness and misfortune, dealt with some of the more specific details of protection against individual witches and witchcraft in general. The belief would have originated within Pagan Eastern Europe, but would have inevitably crossed over into the Christian era and therefore religious symbols would have been added to and incorporated into the older symbols, adding to the vocabulary dealing with protection for the individual, whether child, pregnant mother, or household. Many of these symbols whether Christian, Pagan or a combination of both would still have been outlined or even predominantly coloured in red.

Illutration: Example of Ukrainian embroidery.

Red was also used domestically and could be seen in both elaborate red embroidery pattern work, whether all over or within a border. Often the presence of red would be within a much simpler context, as in a red line passing through tea towels, tablecloths etc. However, whether simple line or elaborate embroidery pattern, the inference was still the same, protection of the individual or household against the many unexplained and disturbing illnesses that were so much a part of life before twentieth century medicine.

Illustration: Ukrainian woman's embroidered apron.

It is interesting to note how much of the purpose and traditional ideas behind red embroidery are now long lost and forgotten. However, the idea of using red within traditional clothing is still that of a living tradition within national costume. The use of red, even as a line in a contemporary tea towel within a modern domestic interior, continues within cultures and people that have no idea of the original significance and importance that many people grew to rely on. The hopes and fears of generations of individuals accepted and relied on the power of that red line.

Further reading links:
Embroidered Textiles: A World Guide to Traditional Patterns
Embroidery: Traditional Designs, Techniques, and Patterns from All over the World
Russian and Other Slavic Embroidery Designs
Russian Punchneedle Embroidery
Russian Embroidery and Lace
La Broderie Russe Ancienne (Ancient Russian Embroidery)
Early Russian Embroidery in the Zagorsk Museum Collection
Russian Embroidery Book
Russian Embroidery 17th-Early 20th Centuries
RUSSIAN EMBROIDERY: TRADITIONAL MOTIFS
Ancient Russian Ecclesiastical Embroideries
Antique Russian Embroidery  
Ukrainian embroidery
Ukrainian Drawn Thread Embroidery: Merezhka Poltavaska
Ukrainian Embroidery Techniques
Ukrainian embroideries from collection and designs of Maria Kutsenko
Ukrainian Embroidery Designs and Stitches
Ukrainian Bukovinian Cross-Stitch Embroidery
Ukrainian Folk Embroidery: Techniques, Methodology, Methods