Unfortunately, the notion of museums in Ukraine calls up sad associations: dry routine, boredom, lack of funds, and the resultant absence of ideas. There are exceptions, of course, as in the case with the Museum of the History of Kyiv, which has remained not only a living structure but demonstrates its openness to trends in contemporary art.
The stable and generous state subsidies for Soviet museums were not totally disinterested, of course. The Soviet government realized that the museums were an important link in the ideological chain meant to “culturally educate” society. Modern Ukrainian officials seem unaware of this, and local philanthropists like the Rothschilds or closer to home Khanenko are still to make their presence known. In the 1990s, Roman Zviniatskovsky, a prominent Ukrainian critic currently living in Los Angeles, stated with a sad irony that most Kyiv museums could be grouped into a single museum of museums. All museum and exhibition business seemed to have come to a halt; the only option was guided tours through offices: “Look, children, this is the manager’s office, and this one is the storeroom.”
Yet everything depends on people; whether they want just to survive, doing nothing else, or live an active life saturated with creativity. The Museum of the History of Kyiv is a rare example of that other energetic approach and, contrary to philistine cynicism, returns the original noble meaning of the word enthusiasm. Its research fellows are now welcome expert participants in Telemania and other popular educational television projects. The standing exposition at the museum’s Klovsky Palace is regularly updated, being enriched with new exhibits and progressive aesthetic-ideological approaches. The museum boasts Ihor Dychenko’s unique collection of innovative twentieth century art. Museum branches are a must on all Kyiv tourist itineraries (like the Mikhail Bulgakov Museum), and its Exhibition Hall on Andriyivsky Uzviz, made famous in the 1980s, is the pioneer and trendsetter on the Ukrainian antique art market.
Small wonder, then, that prestigious foreign cultural institutions should want to cooperate with the Museum of the History of Kyiv. At one time, the Exhibition Hall accommodated a collection of works by twentieth century classic British sculptor Henry Moore. The Klovsky Palace often hosts Japanese art, and it was there the BBC staged a large-scale exhibit commemorating the opening of its Ukrainian office in Kyiv. The Russian Embassy patronizes another museum child, the Aleksandr Pushkin Museum. Another branch, the Cultural Heritage Museum, will soon host a gala exhibit dedicated to Oleksandr Roitburd, a classic of Ukrainian conceptual art, sponsored by the US Embassy.
Even now the Cultural Heritage Museum is in the epicenter of the capital’s cultural life. The current exposition, Women’s Business, illustrates approaches unprecedented in our cultural situation. For the first time the museum initiated in Kyiv an exhibit of not only experimental, but also postmodern art. Women’s Business four artists are Ukrainian emigre women whose creative heritage is markedly individual and quite daring for the times.
The eldest, Liudmyla Morozova (passed away in the US in 1997), is recognized as a twentieth century classic and her name figures in Ukrainian cultural encyclopedic dictionaries, but her art is still to be explored in depth. This is a complex task for contemporary critics, because in the artistic context of the first half of the twentieth century, when Morozova appeared on the creative horizon as a mature artist, her works were not merely revolutionary, but absolutely incredible. Her Self-Portrait and Golgotha are so very modern, they could be referred to contemporary art, except that it would be an historical absurdity. The so-called South Russian art school or Ukrainian wave of postmodernism articulated by Soviet critics in the late 1980s, after the Ukrainian conceptualists caused a sensation at the Manige, could very well describe Morozova as their precursor, although this was also hardly conceivable, as they were separated by decades, ocean, and the woman artist’s total aloofness. However, works by Eva Hershuni, one of the last representatives of Ukrainian postmodernism (currently living in Canada), displayed at the same hall, are strikingly concordant with Morozova’s, albeit more ironical and not as imposing.
Emma Andiyevska’s is a totally separate world. The author, also a poetess and public figure in Germany, makes her works markedly decorative, extravagant, and with a touch of humor.
Iryna Demenchuk (Canada) is the youngest of the four and her creative quest is also a unique phenomenon. Her works are a soft poeticized reflection of the Ukrainian mentality. They belong to an entirely different art school. The line and color are almost pragmatic and the resultant image is filled with childish naїvet О . In this sense her works are close to the Greek Catholic genius of Andy Warhol. Of course, Demenchuk’s works are not as strong and perfect, nor do they claim such strength and perfection, yet they are akin to the pop art superstar’s masterpieces with their unmistakable charm generally absent in North American art.
The exposition leaves one with colorful and memorable impressions, revealing the versatility and asserting the adequacy of Ukrainian art to world trends; it is a reminder that talent is a phenomenon stronger than social upheavals or the sex to which one belongs. The museum also deserves all possible credit for the meticulous arrangements, restoring works, and borrowing them from private collections. Several works appeared on display courtesy of Kyiv’s Tadzio Gallery. The owner, art critic Olena Yahodovska, spoke at the opening ceremony, comparing the exhibit to a jazz virtuoso’s improvisation. Modern art curator Natalia Filonenko happily declared, “For the first time in Ukraine, modern art does not have to ask a museum to allocate premises and pay the rent, but a museum itself initiates a modern art exhibit. Let us hope that this event will mark the beginning of a new civilized tradition.”
