JOST A MON

The idle ramblings of a Jack of some trades, Master of none

It's good to know Farsi and travel around Central Asia. People in a large belt of countries extending all the way to Afghanistan speak variants of the language, and if one can't get by with Farsi, why, Russian always helps. Our man Daniel Metcalfe is a traveller with a purpose and with the requisite skills, and it's no wonder that his book Out of Steppe has the makings of an excellent account of little-known people.

Little-known to the West, of course. The people in these lands are all quite aware of each other, having traded and intermarried amongst themselves for centuries. They share not only language but also culture. But the six nations that Metcalfe wants to seek out are islands of separateness even in this world. All of them find life a struggle in every way.

Metcalfe meets the Karakalpaks who live near the decimated Aral Sea. Once famous fishermen, they have been reduced to diseased subsistence by the utter environmental disaster that has befallen their land. They see no future for themselves. The Germans of Kazakhstan, forcibly settled there by Stalin, are the remnants of a proud people who had settled in Russia under the favour of Catherine the Great. They now find themselves isolated amongst the drug and alcohol-riven communities that surround them, neither fish nor fowl, neither true Germans nor yet Russians. Bukharan Jews are next on Metcalfe's agenda. Here another sort of disaster is going on - as the local Jews die out, the diaspora comes in touristily, and find that all the gems of Jewish architecture are slowly rotting away, and the Uzbeks who own the properties now are more interested in presenting a Disneyfied concoction to the visitors, thereby exacerbating the cultural vandalism. The few Jews that dwell in Bukhara are insular, and it's only by pretending to be Jewish himself that he manages to insinuate himself into their lives.

The remaining three cultures are somewhat of an afterthought, I felt. The Sogdians of Turkmenistan and the Hazaras of Bamiyan are dealt with in pedestrian fashion, and the Kalashas of the Hindu Kush are probably treated better in other books (such as Alice Albinia's Empires of the Indus: The Story of a River). Metcalfe can be commended for his zeal here, but the early parts of the book are much better.

Overall, an uneven tome with both high and low points.

Mar 21, 2010

Turkic Avant-Garde

Recently, my favourite art historian and all-round bonhomous man Andrew Graham-Dixon has been appearing recently on quite a few television series. I saw him on Oliver Peyton's Eating Art (mentioned here). Besides this, he presented an interesting bio of Johnny Rotten, the lead of the Sex Pistols, and two series on art: Early Christian and Russian. I was reminded of Graham-Dixon's glee on encountering some of the avant-garde art of the early Soviet period when I came across Mark Grigorian's post on an exhibition of the Turkestan Avant-Garde at the State Museum of Oriental Art in Moscow. In other words, I was equally gleeful.

The exhibition will end on April 15 this year, and if you are in Moscow, it should be high on your list of things to see. Unfortunately, I won’t be there and shall not see it.

As Mark points out, a remarkable event occurred in early 20th century Russia. Artists trained in the avant-garde in Moscow go to the Ferghana Valley and develop for themselves a new style that blends a Russian sensibility with the exotic and unusual Turkic one.

Nikolai Karahan There’s not only paintings at the exhibitions – there are cartoons and etching and even ceramic work. Much of it is inspired by Soviet ideology (‘Tractor’ or ‘Physical Education’), but melding nicely with, among other things, Christian symbolism.

Byashim Nurali: Picking Grapes (1929) The exhibition draws on contributions, among others, from the Russian State Archive of Cinema and Photography (in Krasnogorsk). More than 150 exponents of the Turkic avant-garde illustrate an exceptional artistic phenomenon of the 20th century. In the main part of the exhibition are works by the masters of the movement, people such as Alexander Volkov, N. Karahan, Ufimtsev, Karavai, Kashin, Tateossian, Shegolev, Gaidukevich, Kurzin, Eremyan, and others. Painters from all corners of Russia had descended upon Turkestan in search of vivid impressions and a new descriptive form. They blazed a new path in Central Asia, building upon the traditional easel-based arts and local culture. The unfamiliar lifestyles and customs served as fertile ground for creative experimentation for these artists of the European school.

Ural Tansykbayev: In Their Native Village (1933) They didn’t just selfishly absorb the Oriental exoticism; they also contributed to the region, restoring architectural monuments and establishing art schools. They became the teachers that trained the first generation of national painters and sculptors and graphic artists in Central Asia.

Nikolai Karahan. The Road to Kishlak (1931). By the time the avant-garde began to decay in Russia, hitherto recognised as a leader of the genre, in Central Asia there continued a thriving culture of bright innovation, original products impregnated by local colour, filled with fresh compositional decisions, and untainted by Socialist realism.

(The last three pictures are from the State Museum of Oriental Art.)

Last summer, an unlikely star appeared on the Internet - a poorly dressed Tajik gastarbeiter who brilliantly performed the song 'Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Aaja' from the Hindi film 'Disco Dancer' with such verve that he was a hit on YouTube. Soon his fame spread into the world at large, and Roman Gruzov located him in Kolomna, a little town in the Moscow region. Roman found out that the Tajik was not a Tajik, and, wholly unexpectedly, ended up helping the singer along his career in show-business.

Roman Gruzov
wrote up the story in the online journal Big Town (Bolshoi Gorod), and I have very loosely translated his tale here. In case you're wondering, this is the story of the man who appeared in that video I posted a few days ago. [Via Neeka]