Roman and Marhit Selsky’s exhibit, marking the artists’ creative centennial, was held in an atmosphere of “quiet and profound respect.”
Few attended the opening ceremony, there were no brochures available nor books dedicated to the occasion — considering that we see books published dealing with any topics, except true artists, people that could really glorify Ukraine. Actually, the event might well have passed unnoticed by the public, represented by a lamentably narrow circle, but for the Western neighbors’ active involvement. Early next year, Poland plans a large-scale exposition commemorating Roman Selsky, complete with a booklet and an album with numerous reproductions (some mention 400 and others 700 photos such photos). However, there is one aspect Ukraine might well do without; Poland obviously intends to portray Selsky in the Polish national cultural context — unless Ukraine takes any steps in the right direction — so that Selsky will end up ranking with such lost names as Lev Hetz, Oleksandr Vinnytsky, Konstantin Malevich, and Oleksandr Arkhipenko...
Roman Selsky was born into a lawyer’s family on May 21, 1903, in Sokal, a small town in what is now Lviv oblast. He took to drawing and painting at an early age. When 15, he was enrolled in what was known as the Free Arts Academy (founded by Lviv’s noted architect Pidhoretsky). Here admittance was granted at a reasonable tuition, meaning that practically everybody with an artistic talent could apply and be enroll. Later, he found himself at a studio run by Oleksa Novakivsky, a prominent Ukrainian professor at the time. Still later, Roman entered the decorative arts department of the so-called artistic-industrial school. He was then under the able guidance of Lviv’s artist Kazimir Sikhulsky. It was there that Roman created his first carpet design, eventually to be displayed at an international applied art exhibit in Paris and be highly praised by experts. After that he spent years studying at the Academy of Art in Krakow, where he was strongly influenced by Jozef Pankiewicz, an excellent colorist and impressionist. The French constructivist Fernand Leger, however, made the strongest impact on Roman as he attended his lectures in Paris and learned Leger’s main emphasis on intensive contrast. While in Paris, Roman Selsky communicated with other interesting artists, among them Ozenfant, Corot, Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasso... Interestingly, he also met his future wife Marhit Reikh in Paris. She was also an art student, and she also came from Lviv. They were destined to live a long and eventful life together. Although differing in style, each would prove a fine complement to the other as definite creative personalities, remaining in the descendants’ memories as a brilliant, highly erudite, and talented married couple.
They returned to Lviv and in 1929, in collaboration with other young painters and architects, set up the Artes Creative Association. Roman Selsky headed an art movement whose motto was creating contemporary art with expressive means. Critics would later debate what they saw as the content and meaning of that period for the art school of Lviv, finally agreeing that Selsky was its most significant figure.
Says Liubov Voloshyn, art critic ad director of the Oleksa Novakivsky Museum: “By and large he served to shape the character of the entire Lviv art school; he was among the first to combine in his creations the poetic Ukrainian world view, national mentality, as well as European culture and the Western Weltanschauung.
“He was more than a gifted Ukrainian artist; he was an outstanding teacher incorporating the best European traditions of the first third of the twentieth century and sharing with his pupils his creative principles as a system of artistic vision. His system is different from all previous intuitivist stands (those of Trush or Novakivsky, for example). He went further and urged young artists to follow in his footsteps.
“Roman Selsky reached a high cultural level in the color organization of his images, compositions, and conventional generalized pictures. He once told me, “I would one of these days be considered the greatest realist, although now they brand me a formalist. I paint nothing from my imaginings, I just bring a multitude of natural correlations into conformity with my own colorful range of plasticity.”
“I am perplexed to look through current works originating from Fine Art Academy graduates and see the loss of that culture of color; I think that they should rethink the lessons given them by that great artist.”
Liubov Voloshyn mentions the Lviv Art Academy because it was there Roman Selsky spent 27 years as a professor and head of the fine arts chair. Some of those considering themselves his pupils are still there. They remember him with reverence and utmost gratitude; he recognized and respected individuality in his students, doing his best to uphold it; he had never exerted any pressure; he had always been a refined intellectual and with a keen sense of humor, always eager to help young artists reach their own level of communication. True, his pupils did not always understand his intentions. Imagine a group of young men from Carpathian towns or villages, however talented, joining their celebrated professor in a plain air session in the Carpathian mountains and being encouraged to experiment with shape and color, while sharing with them his ready classical patterns, telling them, among other things, about his numerous travels, visiting the studios of world-renowned painters. They all got up at six in the morning and climbed the high valleys to be in the lap of that inimitable nature, to take a closer look at the environs, to make sketch after sketch — it was in such a friendly atmosphere that Roman Selsky displayed his singular pedagogic method.
At present, works by his pupils are displayed in museums all over the world, although it is anyone’s guess whether any of these authors would make their names unless taught by that great master who would always remain so very natural, sociable, a trait inherent in a true and gifted intellectual. While living in Lviv, he was accorded just two one-man shows. He knew several foreign languages and traveled far and wide. As a young man, and even later, he could live and work in any European city, yet Lviv seemed to have a grip on him. Once he and Marhit, already during the war, bought train tickets but were late for the train (for reasons best known to themselves). Both considered being late as an omen and would never try to leave the city. They stayed in Lviv and the fact remains of the greatest importance for this city — and not only for its creative community. After all, it is impossible to reduce Selsky’s impact to that of a teacher. Roman and Marhit owned a home which they kept open for a great many local intellectuals. Lesia Krypiakevych recalls: “Against the paranoid social background, the Selskys were a family serving as an oasis in which we could feel European. The regime was ruining the individual, yet we had that little salon in downtown Lviv where everyone’s dignity was respected, where we could feel free, breathing in the happy atmosphere...”
Their home was frequented by Mykola Kolessa, Semen Stefanyk, Omelian Lishchynsky, and Vitolt Monastyrsky. Sergei Paradzhanov visited them on several occasions. Roman’s students, eventually to become his colleagues and friends, included Karlo Zvirynsky, Danylo Dovbushynsky, and Roman Turyn. Their younger counterparts — among them Oleh Minko, Mykola Andrushchenko, Bohdan Soroka, Andriy Bokotei, Zenoviy Flinta, and Bohdan Soika — would turn into personalities without whose names today’s creative Lviv is unthinkable. Still, the building where the Selskys lived lacks a memorial plaque — and it is also sad but true that Lviv does not have a Selsky museum to commemorate Roman and Marhit’s creative attainments. The least the mayor’s office could do would be to allocate an auditorium within the Art Academy and name it for Selsky. Nothing of the kind has ever been attempted, not even a extensive study of their creative legacy. True, a local woman art critic named Stasia Shemchuk is known to be preparing her book for publication, yet one can only try to guess what the arrangements and red tape will cost her. Money is the biggest obstacle, of course. It is true that Roman Selsky never insisted on being rewarded when contributing his works to museums, saying, “You will pay me if and when you can.” Indeed, he would be paid, now and then.
This probably explains the subdued attitude toward Selsky in Lviv. He was not rebellious by nature. His name has never been associated with any squabbles, scandals, or avant-garde slogans. He was like that old fortified wine, kept down in the cellar to reach maturity and prove its worth. He was always calm and considerate, the result of good upbringing and education (some say he ordered a KGB man out of his house after being asked to cooperate). His wife Marhit was always cordial and well-mannered (although unshakable in her creative stand). In a word, the couple were by their very existence in a silent opposition to the Soviet regime’s dominance of the creative realm; their very lifestyle begot a refined intellectual environment, determined not by the purity of blood but by the purity of spirit.
Polish art critics say that we [in Ukraine] fail to realize what kind of artist Roman Selsky became. Hopefully we do, although we apparently fail to give his memory its due — as with so many of our other gifted individuals.
