Special exhibition "Traveling School of Painting" at the Tretyakov State Museum of Fine Arts, Russia.
When you walk into the gallery, you are greeted by a huge notice based on Vasiliev's (1850-1873) 1871 oil on canvas painting "Melting Snow". Inside, there are works by the masters of the "traveling exhibition school".
I lingered in front of these paintings for a long time. I don't know how to paint, I don't know the technical level of these paintings, but they hit me in the heart. My soul loves these paintings, it can feel the thoughts and emotions that the painters poured into them, and it is the breath of the gods that meets me across time and space. They are the Russian landscapes that I read about in literature, remote and vast, fruitful and dense .........
The Faraway Forest at Noon by Mikhail Konstantinovich Klodt (1832-), 1878/1902, and the Russian Empire. -1902) 1878 / oil on canvas
Shepherds at the Volga Mikhail Vasilyevich Nesterov (1862-1942) 1922 / oil on canvas
An oil painting is like a wide-angle lens. The vast natural scenery of Russia, deep birch forests, linden forests, golden fields, lakes, country roads, were all photographed and unfolded in front of me like a long scroll. The picture is like a lover's eyes, affectionately showing the beauty, magnificence, colorful, or passionate, or serene, or melancholy of his beloved lover.
The idyllic hymn-like poetry that lies there, the richness and sincerity of the emotions that come to the surface, brought tears to my eyes. Yes, I remembered Yesenin, Russia's "last rural poet".
Sergei Aleksandrovich Esenin (1895-1925) was an outstanding Russian poet, a true heir to the tradition of Pushkin's poetry in the 1920s. "In Esenin's poems one can smell the fragrance of the earth of the Russian fields." (Pasternak).
In his poetry, he sings with intense passion about birch forests, black oily land, golden wheat fields, snow-covered wilderness, pure and simple countryside life, as well as love and life. The countryside always touches his heart, his praise for his hometown, nostalgia, worry for the future of the countryside, in the enthusiasm contained in the melancholy, sadness, deep and delicate, meaningful.
(I) Birches
Yesenin's first publicly published poem was "Birches", in 1914, when he was 19 years old. He began to write poems when he was eight or nine years old, but consciously composed them when he was sixteen or seventeen. Rich in rhyme and rhetorical method, it gives a fresh and ironic feeling. At that time he was also just like the thriving little birch full of hope and vigor.
The Birch
(Translated by Gu Yunpu)
In front of my window
there is a birch,
as if wrapped in silver
covered with snow.
The snow-embroidered lace
adorned the furry branches,
a string of flower spikes,
such as white tassels hanging.
In the hazy silence,
stood the birch,
in the brilliant golden sunshine,
glittering with crystal snowflakes.
Wandering around the birch
is the late sunset.
It is to the snow-covered branches,
another layer of silver light.
In the Park by Ivan Ivanovich Shishkin (1832 - 1898) 1897 / Oil on canvas
The birch is a favorite tree of the Russians, particularly resilient, symbolizing beauty and purity. It appears frequently in Yessenin's poetry.
"On the morning of the Nativity, the hymns of morning prayers, the clear bells ringing through the little birch forest grove",
"In the shadow-covered woods she hangs the little birch with tinkling earrings",
"How I have wished to cling, with my body, to the bare breast of the birch",
"The golden jungle had urged earnestly, with the laughter of the birch"
... ...
(II) Snow
"Early Snow" by Vasily Dmitrievich Polenov (1844 - 1927) 1891 / oil on canvas
The sweeping landscapes of this painting, the snow-covered and still colorful fields
Yessenin also loved the snowy plains, and he depicted the first snowfalls with vivid imagery, plunging people into the beauty of the landscape.
I wandered along the paths of the first snow in 1917
(translated by Lai Hua)
I wandered along the paths of the first snow,
with lily-of-the-valley flowers blooming in my heart,
the stars shining brightly in the blue night sky,
the lamps reflecting the light of my walk.
Can't I tell the light from the shade?
Is it the wind or the rooster that is singing?
Perhaps it is not the winter tramping in the fields,
it is the swans flying to the green meadows.
How beautiful you are, white as a mirror lake!
A slight chill warms the blood around me!
How I wish to press my body against the bared breast of the birch!
Oh, the murkiness of the shade and mist in the depths of the dense forest!
Oh, the joy of the snow-covered acres! ......
How I longed to touch with my hands
the stout thighs of the willows!
(Listening to this joyful, light-hearted rhythm and looking at this enchanting view, I too want to run and shout out my inner joy there. His poetry is so infectious.)
Listen - The Running Sled 1925
(Translated by Lai Hua)
Listen, the running sled, listen, the sled is running.
How wonderful it is to be hidden in the fields with your lover.
The happy breeze is shy and timid,
and along the bare fields bells are ringing.
Hey you, sleigh, sleigh! My pale yellow steed!
The intoxicated maple trees are jumping for joy in the open fields of yonder forest.
What's going on? We approached the maple tree and asked,
We three danced together to the accordion song!
Melting Snow by Fyodor Alexandrovich Vasiliev (1850 - 1873) 1871 / Oil on canvas
The poems about snow above are full of exuberant power, and when I see this one, still vast, the dark, melancholy The darkness and melancholy lingered.
"The wilderness is vast, the moon is bleak" 1925
(Translated by Lai Hua)
The wilderness is vast, the moon is bleak,
There is turmoil everywhere, and there is sadness everywhere ----
That is the tragic scene that I witnessed and cursed in my youthful years
of joyful and active life.
......
Enough of Russia's vast fields
Don't plow the land with wooden plows anymore!
Even the birches and poplars
are distressed at the sight of your poverty.
......
(III) Wilderness, Wheat Fields
"Rye Field" by Alexei Kondratievich Safrasov (1830 - 1897) 1881 / Oil on canvas
Golden wheat fields, blue sky, sacred, magnificent, unchanging, the land that feeds generations of people, the harvested fields full of hope, and the people on the fields, who are favored with a happy life under the dome of the sky, when such an epic picture is presented, is it not right to shed a hot tear for it? "Why are my eyes full of tears, because I love this land y." (Ai Qing)In Ye Sainin's writing, such beautiful scenery is everywhere, and he also expresses his love for this land at any time.
Look at the Fields, Look at the Sky 1916
(Translated by Lai Hua)
Look at the fields, look at the sky,
There is heaven on earth and in heaven.
My countryside, not yet plowed,
is again drowning in a sea of grain.
The woods that have never been grazed,
are crowded again with bustling cattle and sheep,
and a golden stream,
murmurs from the verdant hills.
Ah, I believe ---- perhaps,
To relieve the hopeless farmer's distress,
God is spreading to hard and lovely hands,
with fragrant milk.
The Road in the Wheat Field by Grigorko Gregorievich Mishayedov (1834 - 1911) 1881 / Oil on canvas.
This is how Esenin expressed his love for the land:
"O black, oily corner of the earth, penetrated by sweat,
how can I not cherish you y?"
"No matter how beautiful Shiraz is,
it is no better than the fertile expanse of Ryazan." (Yesenin was born in Ryazan.)
"I will tell you the fields in detail,
the rye feeds my curls to grow."
(IV) This Homeland
"Night" Ivan Ivanovich Hishkin (1832 - 1898) 1871 / Oil on canvas
The golden sunlight floods the land, and the trees, paths, and pedestrians in the poetic mood are edged in gold.
Beautiful, My Dear Ross 1914
(Translated by Lai Hua)
Beautiful, My Dear Ross,
Your farmhouse is like a gold-encrusted icon ......
The turquoise meadows are as far as the eye can see -
so that my eyes look at it too with a vague ache. I'm not going to be able to do that.
As if I were a pilgrim in a foreign land,
I gazed at your fields with devotion.
But by the low fence at the entrance to the village
a few withered poplars rustled.
Smelling of apples and honey,
the church was holding a meek Pontifical.
Dancing shadows and drums,
The meadows were dancing in joyous circles.
Along the soft grassy paths
I ran to the free and open, green-covered place,
A group of innocent maidens met me,
and the laughter of the silver bells was like the first release of the buds.
Suppose someone had called me by the Holy Land:
"Forsake your Ross and live in paradise!"
Then I would answer, "No need for heaven,
give back my dear country - Ross!"
Out of the Church in Pskov
Alexander Ivanovich Morozov (1835 - 1904) 1864 / oil on canvas
This painting reflects a fragment of everyday life in the countryside, people look happy and harmonious, the weather is sunny, perhaps It is a beautiful holiday.
The Morning of Advent 1914
(Translated by Lai Hua)
The morning of Advent, the hymns of the Chen Morning Prayer,
the bright bells ringing through the small birch forest.
The village awakens from its festive dream,
and an intoxicating spring is sown in the breezy chimes.
Carved windows reflect tapestries and bushes,
I go to Mass to grieve for flowers.
Chirp in the dense forest, little birds, I'll sing for you,
Let us bury my youth together.
The hymns of Morning Prayer on the morning of Whitsunday,
The clear bells ring through the little birch grove.
(V) Leaving the Homeland
Yesenin left her homeland as a teenager, returned many times and left again. In that piece of separation wrote "I am back here again, back to my dear home", "I left my native home", "I do not regret, do not call out nor sorrow", "letter to my mother".
As a "great national poet" (in Gorky's words), Yesenin wrote nearly 400 lyric poems, describing the countryside, life, love, with all kinds of delicate experience and strokes, beautiful, rhythmic verses, passionate, tender and detailed, and the fragrance of the idyll flowing slowly.
His famous works include "Song of the Dog", "Letter to my Mother", "I do not regret, I do not call and do not grieve", "The Voice of the Moscow Tavern", "The Love of a Rascal", "The Persian Suite", the poetic drama "Pugachev", the poem "Anasneegina", and so on, which are all worth reading again and again.
Here are a few songs to go with the painting, the poem has a painting, the painting has a poem, just right.
The exhibition at the Shanghai Museum also has a large number of fine paintings, which are well worth seeing.
The heavyweight The Unknown Woman
The Unknown Woman
Ivan Nikolayevich Kramskoy (1837 - 1887) 1883 / oil on canvas
Portrait of Leo Tolstoy
Ilya Yefimovich Levin (1844 - 1948), the first Chinese painter to be shown at the Shanghai Museum. Leben (1844 - 1930) 1887 / oil on canvas
The Last Supper
Nikolai Nikolaevich Gay (1831 - 1894) 1866 / oil on canvas
Children Running Away from the Storm
Konstantin Yegorovich Makovsky (1839 - 1915) 1872 / oil on canvas
When faced with one of these authentic paintings, one only needs to gaze at it in silence, without having to explain the technical skill, the contextual circumstances of the painting, but just to look at it and speak to it with one's own Just look at it and talk to it with your soul, and the emotion and aura that the painter injected into it will slowly emerge and nourish you. This is the power of authenticity!
Thanks to these great artists, poets, painted, said what I thought! Art and literature have no borders! They express the most fundamental part of human nature that passes all over the world.