The Desert of Forbidden Art (2010) - full transcript

(peaceful music)

Savitsky: I found
these paintings

rolled up under the
beds of old widows,

buried in family trash,

in dark corners of
artist's studios,

sometimes even patching
a hole in the roof.

I ended up with a collection
that no one in the

Soviet Union would
dare to exhibit.

These were forbidden
works by artists who

stayed true to their
vision, at a terrible cost.

(peaceful music)



Marinika: Russian
museums can't live

with the idea that such
a wonderful collection

was taken out from
Russia to this provincial

place somewhere in
Uzbekistan, God knows where.

Stephen: It really
wasn't that long ago

when what we now call
Uzbekistan was one of the

most spectacular centers
of world culture.

The silk road ran right
through that region,

but for a period of almost
a century Uzbekistan

had been just distant
province of the Soviet Union.

When the Soviet Union
collapsed I was asked to

cover this region that
nobody in the world really

ever thought about.

So, I decided I'm
going to get in a car



and find out what's out there.

For those people who
consider Uzbekistan to be

hopelessly exotic and remote

how about Karakalpakstan?

It's an independent
republic within Uzbekistan.

In order to go there you
have to cross this enormous

desert where there's
nothing but camels to see

and fly infested truck
stops once in a while

along the road.

(exotic music)

(splashing water)

The principle city in
Karakalpakstan is Nukus.

I had, I guess, assumed
that the Nukus museum

would be to museums in
the world what Nukus

is to the world.

Kind of a dusty,
provincial town.

It didn't take me more than
a few minutes of walking

around this museum
for my jaw to drop.

(dramatic music)

The fact that there's such
a collection in this place

and such a concentration
of art makes it

far more interesting
than if you would see the

same paintings in a series
of galleries in Germany

or in New York.

So, how did this happen?

(solemn music)

Savitsky: I was born
into a life of privilege.

I even had a proper
governess imported

from France.

The little girl with the
bow is me, groomed in

the high fashion of the times.

My father was a wealthy
lawyer, while my mother

spent her days
presiding over tea.

My brother went to
military school and I

was supposed to follow
in his footsteps and

serve the czar.

But then the
revolution broke out.

(gunshots)

Our life turned upside down.

We were no longer
the ruling class.

One by one our friends
and relatives began

to disappear.

We had to hide our
aristocratic roots and

blend in with the proletariat
that were now in power.

I had to prove that I
was ideologically pure.

So, I took a working class
job as an electrician.

But I dreamed of
becoming an artist.

I got my opportunity
when I joined the famous

Khorezm Archeological
Expedition.

It was the greatest dig
in Soviet central Asia,

as important as the discovery of

Tutankhamun's Tomb or
the Treasure of Troy.

(exotic music)

My job was to draw what
could not be photographed.

Here in the desert for the
first time I felt a wonderful

sense of freedom.

There was no one
in sight except for

tarantulas, scorpions
and archeologists.

An ancient civilization
lay buried in the sands

of the desert near Nukus.

We were literally walking
on top of antiquities.

(wind blowing)

Savitsky: While everybody
slept during the

midday heat I painted.

The desert trains the eye
to be especially sensitive

to subtle and intense
variations in color.

(peaceful music)

It is the best school for
the painter who strives

to grasp the full power
of how color sounds.

Savitsky: If an artist's
of Falk's stature tells you

you're no good you know
you'll never be great.

Savitsky: I destroyed all
my works and cut my ties

to the art world.

I decided to return to the
desert and start a new life.

(twangy music)

Marinika: I knew Savitsky
from my childhood.

My grandmother was always
full of irony when she

saw Savitsky saying, "Oh,
again he came to ask for

this old stuff."

Savitsky: I discovered that
the folk artists of this

small nation lost in
the sands had an amazing

sensitivity to
patterns and colors.

Marinika: This is the
classical costume of Karakalpak

fiance', which is exactly
the same denim cloth that is

popular all over the
world now and Karakalpaks

were using this cloth for
more than three centuries.

Stephen: When the
Soviets were in power

they felt that the ethnic
traditions of all these

nationalities in what
was then the Soviet south

should be repressed.

You shouldn't be
Karakalpaks or Uzbeks.

Then if you had traditional
clothing you should hide those.

You should get rid of those.

Savitsky saved a lot of that
stuff that might otherwise

have disappeared.

Marinika: I remember in
those days Savitsky was

called a rubbish man
because he was collecting

all these garbages people
thought, washing it

in garage and he was
telling fairy tale stories

about the beauty of those
old rags or costumes

that were everywhere.

Savitsky: These treasures
would remain forever in

my garage unless I found
a way to get the local

communist party boss to
go against party policy.

Savitsky: I finally
had my museum,

but as an artist I still
longed to see paintings.

Around that time I came
across an art catolog

from the early days
of Soviet Uzbekistan.

Savitsky: I was surprised
that I had never heard

of Volkov.

If a work so haunting had
fallen victim to censorship

what else was out there?

(solemn music)

Savitsky: I traveled all
over Uzbekistan searching

for masterpieces that
the history of our times

had condemned to obscurity.

I found a whole multinational
collective of artists.

Some were Uzbeks, others
came from distant parts

of the Soviet Union.

They came here after
the revolution.

For a brief period of
time in the 20s and 30s

they painted freely,

far away from the
Kremlin's censorship.

Uzbekistan became their
second motherland.

Voiceover: I know about
the classical case

with the great French
artist Paul Gauguin

living like the natives
on the island of Tahiti.

I got the idea of repeating
his experience with myself.

I started learning
the Uzbek language.

Then I got from the
library the Koran.

Three months later,
I told my landlord

that I would like
to convert to Islam.

My landlord was rather puzzled.

He couldn't understand
why would a Russian artist

convert to Islam.

I told him that
I liked the faith

and wanted to live
according to Muslim customs.

Marinika: Upon his conversion
he changed his name

to Usto Mumin which in
Uzbek means faithful master.

He penetrated into this
culture very deeply.

He started oriental philosophy.

He was very keen on Sufism.

His art is synthesis
of Italian Renaissance,

Russian icon painting
and oriental miniature.

(upbeat music)

Savitsky: The artists
strove to find the most

contemporary methods
and forms to depict

the Uzbek people
and their culture.

(dramatic music)

Stephen: So you began
to have a kind of

a cross fertilization
of one of the great

world class schools of art,
the Russian Avant Garde

with this other more
interesting locally based school

and the influences that
created the Russian

avant garde merged and
melded with the influences

that came out of central Asia.

(dramatic music)

Marinika: Mikhail Kurzin
came also to Uzbekistan

in the beginning of 1920s.

If we look at his first
impressions of Uzbekistan

they are full of sarcasm,
irony, grotesque.

He was the master
of these things.

So this was the new,
this is the old.

The old symbolized the
tradition of Islamic country

when man was allowed to
have up to four wives.

We can see two wives
following their master,

and they're wearing
veils paranjas.

Sarcasm of Kurzin is in
the fact that the two

traditional wives are
combined with the new Soviet

kind of wife in the
new clothes, in the

new way of behaving.

Stephen: Part of the
revolution that Soviet rule

brought to central Asia was
the liberation of women.

Stephen: Central Asia had
been stuck in a far distant

past and when the Soviets
arrived it was like a

dawning of a huge new era.

Life changed in every
way for the people

that lived there.

(exotic music)

(triumphant music)

(triumphant music)

(triumphant music)

Stephen: The Soviets
decided that they were going

to turn central Asia into
the region where all the

cotton for the entire
Soviet Union was going

to be produced.

(triumphant music)

Cotton is a very water
intensive project, and so

the Soviets built a huge
network of extremely

inefficient irrigation
channels so that huge amounts

of water was just lost,
and they sucked this water

principally out of the rivers
that fed into the Aral Sea.

This was one of the
world's largest inland seas

and had been since
time in memorial.

It just dried up.

(solemn music)

This Aral Sea disaster
is truly one of the great

environmental catastrophes
of the 20th century.

Savitsky: As I was walking
across the wasteland

of our Soviet dream,

I pitied Volkov
for his idealism.

(solemn music)

Male voiceover: The
artist Volkov, more than

anybody else, has gone astray.

Volkov doesn't see
anything but colors.

(solemn music)

The audience saw
staring at them from

the walls, roughly
sketched monsters,

a deliberate
distortion of reality.

(cheering)

(upbeat music)

(upbeat music)

(opera music)

Stephen: You had these
paintings of hardworking

peasants and factory
workers all of whom would

be very healthy and vibrant.

They were supposed to
convey the satisfaction

and the thrill that people
felt being Soviet citizens.

(upbeat music)

John: If an artist wished
to work outside the system

of Soviet socialist
realism then that artist

would inevitably be
removed from that system

like a microbe from
the healthy body.

(solemn music)

Yevgeny: In my dream
I saw a creature,

his eyes like the
barrels of a gun.

I called the painting
"Fascism is Advancing."

(cheering)

Marinika: It was a kind
of a future vision of

the threat that was coming.

The fact that Lysenko
finished his life

in mental hospital means a lot.

Many artists were forced to
be sent to mental hospitals.

Marinika: Savitsky was
criticized for this very
painting

when it was hung on the
walls of the museum.

The inspection came
and said you must take

away this anti Soviet work.

It's degenerate painting
so there is no place

for it in the museum.

Savitsky: Anti
Soviet? Of course.

Of course.

Degenerate?

(sighs) No way.

The next day after the
commission left I put it on

the wall again.

It was too great a
work of art to hide.

Marinika: Here is
another painting from our

collection done by Komarovsky.

He was studying icon painting.

Unfortunately his life was ended
during Stalin's repressions.

For the only reason
that he believed in God.

(solemn music)

Alexander Nikolaev
was also repressed.

The reason was his
nontraditional sexual
orientation.

John: He was arrested and
imprisoned

for homosexuality,
which was considered

to be a crime in
Stalin's Russia.

Marinika: Two years
ago, a new information

about this painting came to us.

We realized that this was
only part of the painting,

made by Mikhail Kurzin.

And the whole painting
looks like this.

So it was a big
discovery for us.

Very unexpected.

We don't know who
cut the painting.

The photograph came
from the KGB archives,

and now we look at this
painting with new eyes.

In Kurzin's caricature
of western capitalism

the millionaires cradle
their symbols of power

against a background
of exploited workers.

At first glance it's hard
to understand why the

Soviet Secret Police
objected to this criticism

of capitalism, but as
you take a closer look

Kurzin's workers bear
a striking resemblence

to the ones in
Stalin's labor camps.

They are the same slaves.

In Kurzin's vision of
socialism the workers crowd

a tunnel going nowhere.

You see the self portrait
of Kurzin holding a coffin.

So, this is annihilation
of hopes, of the dreams

of an artist in that society.

(dramatic music)

Male voiceover: November
16th, 1936, interrogation

of the defendant Mikhail
Ivanovich Kurzin.

Question: Tell the
investigator about your anti

Soviet speech at the
exhibition of the artist Malt.

Answer: I don't remember
the matter of my

anti Soviet speech
because I was drunk.

Marinika: Mikhail Kurzin
tried to follow the Soviet

path, painting fake,
joyous peasants,

but he couldn't stand it.

He used to say that even
in the capitalist world

the artists are living
better than here.

Voiceover: From the
interrogation of the witness,

Alexander Nikolaevich
Volkov, encouraged to testify

against his fellow
artist and friend Kurzin.

"In conversations with
me Kurzin said that the

USSR doesn't allow freedom
of expression pointing

out that there are greater
opportunities for artists'

creativity in
capitalist countries."

Male voiceover: Witness
Alexander Nicolaevich

Volkov, "I am convinced
that Kurzin is an

anti-Soviet artist and
human being, hostile

to the Soviet rule and the
politics of the party."

Voiceover: From the
testimony of Mikhail

Ivanovich Kurzin, "I
plead guilty that I being

drunk expressed my
anti-Soviet opinion and

said artists throw away
your brushes and palettes,

arm yourselves, attack the
Kremlin and kill Stalin."

Marinika: We are speaking
so much about the

artists who were repressed
in Stalin's time,

all those terrible stories,
how they were sent to

gulags or somewhere
driven mad, but when we

come to our own personal
life I realize that we also

have very many tragic
stories around us.

My father had a
very difficult life.

His father was shot in
1938 as the enemy of people

being the president of
Karakalpakstan and he

just wanted his people
to blossom, to flourish.

(solemn music)

(sawing)

(solemn music)

Marinika: Nadezhda Borovaya
was sent to concentration

camp as the wife of an
admiral who was repressed.

(solemn music)

Even children were sent
to concentration camps.

To women's colonies.

Once in 1983 Savitsky
prepared a big portion

of the works for the
attention of the commission

from the Ministry of Culture.

He was to persuade them
to give money to the

museum so that he
could pay the owners.

One of the artists that
was put on the agenda was

Nadezhda Borovaya.

Savitsky was very tricky.

He said that these were
Nazi concentration camps.

Showing all those people
who had the drawings

with the numbers
on their foreheads

and terrible scenes of
lives of those prisoners.

So the commission was persuaded.

They decided to pay money
to Nadezhda Borovaya

and after the commission
went away Savitsky

came to me and whispered
into my ear with a...

with a smile on his face
that these were Stalin's

concentration camps
and I was so shocked.

(solemn music)

I couldn't understand at
first what he was saying.

Then later I realized the extent
of danger he exposed himself.

Savitsky: Borovaya's
works were unique visual

evidence of the repressions.

I had to make sure
that one day people

could see them.

(solemn music)

Marinika: My father was
invited to work for the

Regional Communist
Party Department and he

advised Savitsky to be careful.

My father was saying,
"Oh, one day you will

get into the jail."

But Savitsky's
obsession was so strong

he couldn't stop.

Savitsky: The Bolsheviks
were destroying our culture.

Nothing was sacred.

Centuries old treasures
were vanishing in front

of our eyes.

Savitsky: When I
discovered Alexei Rybnikov

he was completely
unknown as a painter.

John: Rybnikov was a
very interesting man.

He was very close to the
very major Avant-Gardists.

In fact, in doing exactly
what Kandinsky and Chagall

were doing at the same time.

Therefore, any museum
that has any piece by

Rybnikov is blessed.

Savitksy: Rybnikov led a
secret life as an artist.

He was a follower of
Natalia Goncharova.

She was the most
famous female artist

of the Russian Avant-Garde.

Luckily for her she left Russia.

Marinika: Savitsky
heard about this artist

Ural Tanskybaev who
was recognized by the

regime as the master
of socialist realism.

He was awarded
many state prizes.

Savitsky: At first I didn't
want to go to Tanskybaev.

He was a fat cat, enjoying all

the perks of a people's
artist of the USSR.

In return he painted
what he was told.

But then I discovered
that Tanskybaev had

been one of Volkov's
favorite students.

Savitsky: So, I went
to Tanskybaev's studio.

The works were boring,
but I saw immediately

the hand of someone
who knew how to paint.

He was a bit suspicious
of my motives until

we found that we both
admired Uzbek folk culture.

(peaceful music)

He showed me watercolors
of village life that he'd

done as a young man.

I asked him if these
were all he had.

Marinika: Ural Tanskybaev
took Savitsky into the

attic, opened a big chest
and Savitsky couldn't

believe his eyes.

(exotic music)

Savitsky: I had stumbled
upon a world created

by the mind of a genius.

These works that hadn't
been exhibited for many

years shocked me with
their originality.

Marinika: We can see his real
soul in his early paintings.

Savitsky: He told me
how much he admired

Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Seurat.

But his subjects came
from the oriental culture

around him.

Marinika: Tanskybaev said
you can take everything

what you like and you
can pay when you can.

Savitsky: I quickly took
every single work before

Tanskybaev changed his mind.

Marinika: Nukus was so far
away, far from political

cultural centers maybe
Tanskybaev thought

that who will see
these paintings there.

Marinika: Elena
Korovay was very much

interested by the life
of Jews of Bukhara.

Not the fact that they
were isolated and living

in ghettos, but she saw the
beauty of their occupation.

We can see wonderful
indigo colors of her dyers

or tailors of Bukhara,

carpenters.

We have the whole
series of these works

that were created by
her during her stay

in Uzbekistan.

Marinika: Korovay
lived in poverty.

She had a lot of
troubles and problems.

Savitsky took these
paintings from Elena

Korovay herself
already in Moscow.

Elena: For me Karakalpaks
are invented creatures

with their city Nukus
in a land far away.

And there's Savitsky with
the eyes of a hooligan,

persuading me that I am obliged

to donate to his museum.

He looks at the paintings,
attentively, meticulously.

Examines them again and
again, at a distance

and up close, but
doesn't get tired.

As any fanatic he
is boring, a little,

pretending to be interested
in what I have to say.

But I know the only thing
on his mind is getting

all my works for his museum.

(footsteps)

(laughing)

(upbeat music)

Savitsky: I would leave
Moscow with piles of aging

canvases and boxes of drawings.

I was such a sight that
no taxi would stop for me.

And the porters
grumbled when I appeared

at the train station.

(upbeat music)

Savitsky: I traveled across
mother Russia for three days,

until the train tracks ran out.

Then I'd camp out and wait
for a truck to transport

me and my treasures across
the desert to Nukus.

(solemn music)

(wind blowing)

(solemn music)

John: It seems very
strange that he would have

such enough money to have
bought all the paintings

that he bought, these are
thousands of paintings.

Yes, he had state
subsidies for his museum,

but those state subsidies
were meant to be used for

financing expeditions
into the desert,

not to be buying
silly Russian art.

(solemn music)

Savitsky: One can
find art anywhere.

All you have to do is look.

(solemn music)

Marinika: So, Savitsky
was grabbed by Dr. Efuni's

staff and brought against
his will to Moscow to

Efuni's hospital, and when
they checked his lungs

they understood that
this is the end.

Marinika: The whole
ward was given to this

unusual patient.

They even allowed
him to leave the ward

if he needed.

So we know that Savitsky
managed to collect

two containers of paintings
and graphics while he

was staying in Efuni's hospital.

(solemn music)

Marinika: We use these
trays because the climate

is very dry in summer.

It can be plus 50 in the shadow.

And we need some kind of
humidifiers for the paintings.

This does not help much
we know, but there is

no way out at present.

That's why we are using
this primitive method

of putting vessels
with water everywhere.

When Savitsky came
to me and said,

"I want you to be director,"
I couldn't say no to him

(solemn music)

The Nukus museum has been
my life's work for 25 years.

I am the granddaughter
of the first president

of Karakalpakstan.

Karakalpakstan is a very
poor country and the

only treasure that it
has now is this museum.

When Savitsky was
gathering this art that we

have it was not accepted
by the communist regime.

Nowadays also we live
in a very complicated

community, which
requires from us not only

energy, not only strength
but also some kind

of flexibility, with radical
Islam around us, nationalism.

Some people are more
progressive minded.

Some people look back
to the past and it's

very difficult to survive,
to preserve this collection

for the future.

Stephen: Central Asia is
really not a stable region,

and Uzbekistan is in
a very turbulent area.

Of course it borders
on Afghanistan.

Some of the same
trends that you see in

Afghanistan have also
emerged in Uzbekistan.

Marinika: Remembering
the events in Afghanistan

when those radicals destroyed
Buddha statues in Bamiyan.

This means danger
for our collection.

Stephen: The influence
of Islamic fundamentalism

could grow substantially.

How that would affect a
collection of art that is

abstract, modernistic and
that is run by a woman

could be a little
bit disturbing.

(solemn music)

Marinika: You can
see piles of canvases

that are hanging like this.

They are real masterpieces
but they were never

shown to anyone because
they need to be restored.

They need to be framed.

When we look at these
wonderful paintings

we understand that people
are missing so much.

They can't see all these
treasures, and we have

thousands of works like
this in our storages.

(solemn music)

Stephen: When I found this
museum story I realized

this could be a great piece
for our Sunday Arts page.

The Arts and Leisure section
of the New York Times

has a unique place in
American intellectual life.

When any story is given
huge prominence on

the front page of that
section it's naturally

noticed in the cultural world.

I realized that this was
going to be an exciting story.

There were going to be
a lot of people choking

on their English muffins
over breakfast on

Sunday when they read this one.

(solemn music)

Marinika: The collectors
from the west started

to come in their private
planes, bringing bags

of money, showing this to us.

Of course they had
very good taste.

We understood this immediately.

They wanted the best pieces
and all the foreigners

used to say, "Why don't you
sell one or two paintings?"

It was a tradition for
western museums to sell

something from their
collection in order to

settle their problems.

Remembering the
biographies of the artists,

they were so unhappy during
their life they found

shelter in Nukus and even
to think of selling them

somewhere was very
difficult for us.

Stephen: I visited another
museum in another city

full of artifacts from Uzbek
history, fantastic fabrics

and weavings, suddenly
a guy came over to me

and this was the
museum director.

I pointed to a weaving and
I said this is a spectacular

piece of art.

And he looked at me and he
said, "You want to buy it?"

I said, "What?"

He said, "You want to take it?
How much would you pay for it?"

So essentially what
he was saying is,

"Come loot my museum."

The idea that you'd be
an impoverished director

of an impoverished museum
that had piles of stuff

that it couldn't even
exhibit, but you wouldn't

sell a single piece must
have been unique to Marinika.

Marinika: If we start
selling something some people

would be interested in
selling the rest with official

excuse of buying something
for the country in such

a difficult economic situation.

For example, buying
tractors or some equipment

for the industry of our country.

(solemn music)

Marinika: After Mikhail
Kurzin was released

he was already a
very ill person.

(solemn music)

He had no right for a job.

He had no means for life.

When we look at these
wonderful dumplings

it's interesting that
the paintings were done

by the person who was
suffering from malnutriiton.

He had suffered so much
and food was the only

zone for him where
he could be free.

(solemn music)

(solemn music)

(car engine)

(solemn music)

Savitsky: I like to think
of our museum as a keeper

of the artist's souls.

Their works are the
physical expression of a

collective vision that
could not be destroyed.

(wind blowing)

(solemn music)