Pushkin House

Pushkin's House the centre for Russian Culture in London. A town house with a grand entrance.

My posts may be a little erratic over the next week as I am travelling and finding internet connection a bit of a problem.

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

Russian Orthodox Church

Not far from the Gunnersbury tube on the District line I stumbled upon the Russian Orthodox Church.
Building began in 1997, with the first service held in 1999. An interesting history can be found here..

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

Northern Russian Embroidery

The embroidery work of northern Russia, although considered part of the general overall embroidery design and decorative style that can be recognised as Russian, does have a distinctive style of its own as do many other areas of European Russia. So much so that when the Soviet Union displayed embroidery work from across the Union at the 1925 International Exhibition of Modern Decorative and Industrial Arts in Paris, northern Russian embroidery was displayed separately from central Russian embroidery, marking the distinction as a definite.

In fact there is much to support this distinction as northern Russia has for long held links both culturally and artistically with Scandinavia, through the early initial involvement of traders and explorers from the Baltic area, to Rurik the Swedish ruler of Novgorod who was to become overall ruler of early Russia. This does not imply that northern Russia is a cultural dependent or even a colony of Scandinavian culture, but it does imply that there are some shared cultural and craft roots, some of which can be seen in traditional decorative work such as embroidery.

Much of the earlier style of northern Russian embroidery is both figurative and geometrically patterned. There is still the reliance, shared with the rest of European Russia, on red stitches used on a white or natural background. Northern Russia tended to use wool for embroidery, as did much of Scandinavia, rather than the silk thread used by much of central Russia. However, it is through the representational decorative work, much of it showing horses, some with riders some without, that the links with Scandinavian decorative work can be drawn. There are elements that show analogies with both early Viking representational pattern work, but also that of the Sami who have always been indigenous to the extreme north of the area of northern European Russia, as well as across large swathes of northern Scandinavia.

It is unknown for certain at least, how old some of the decorative work of these examples are. Indeed some believe that there are elements, particularly within some of the motifs and figurative work, that could be derived from both pre-Christian Slav and Viking cultures and there is a certain amount of evidence to suggest that there is some truth in the matter. However, much of the decorative work is so layered with so many different generations of cultural ideas and identities that it is sometimes difficult to unpick the origins of styles and decorative effects from one individual decorative piece and be certain of their origin. It may be true that much of northern Russian decorative work can be traced back to links with Scandinavia or at least  a percentage of it. However, at the same time these decorative pieces also have elements that show that they are still part of the Russian homeland as the double headed Romanoff eagle shows in at least one of these pieces.

As with embroidery around the globe, much of the work of northern Russian embroiderers was produced domestically on an amateur basis for both home and costume and to a large extent was produced by both women and girls. It is true to say however, that a certain percentage of embroidery work was of such a high standard that it could well have been considered to have been produced on a professional level, though probably still actually produced by amateurs. This was work that was usually specifically produced and then set aside for weddings in particular, some was even used as part of a dowry. A number of these pieces were so highly prized that they were lucky enough to have been passed down from generation to generation.

 

So many examples of traditional embroidery from around the world have either been lost or discarded, with skills being left dormant or forgotten entirely as generations leave those traditional skills behind them, that we are lucky to have examples like the ones shown here. All of these images come from one of the catalogues promoting the traditional craft skills of the Soviet Union at the 1925 Paris exhibition. Embroidery has been much maligned, particularly throughout the twentieth century, as a reactionary amateur craft. It was very often seen as part of the nineteenth century overly decorative style that bore no relation to a world that was to be dominated by the minimal woven efficiency of schools and movements like the Bauhaus. This short sightedness has meant the loss of large sections of European embroidery work in particular, much of which can never be recovered.

Further reading links:
Russian Punchneedle Embroidery
Russian and Other Slavic Embroidery Designs
Early Russian Embroidery in the Zagorsk Museum Collection
Russian Embroidery and Lace
RUSSIAN EMBROIDERY: TRADITIONAL MOTIFS
La Broderie Russe Ancienne (Ancient Russian Embroidery)
Russian Embroidery 17th-Early 20th Centuries
Russian Embroidery Book
Ancient Russian Ecclesiastical Embroideries
Antique Russian Embroidery
Russian embroidery patterns
Pearl embroidery in Russia. Avenue / Zhemchuzhnoe shite na Rusi. Prospekt