Exhibitions
The Unknown Modigliani: Drawings from Alexei Solokov: Paintings 1929-1993 (Rebecca Hossack gallery, till 12 February)
Lessons of history
Giles Auty
Anid the great welter of correspon- dence and articles triggered off by the recent attempt by a group of art-world insiders to muzzle the art critic Brian Sewell, an important point remains to be made. Effective censorship and curbing of dissent takes place already, so far as lec-
turers are concerned, in art and art history courses in our art schools and universities, in virtually all jobs above a certain level in modern art administration and also in the field of broadcast art programmes. The withholding or withdrawal of professional opportunity is not just a powerful sanction but the principal means, so far as the living arts are concerned, by which modernist orthodoxy has imposed itself on the coun- try at large. Indeed, art journalism has become more or less the only field which is not subject to this debilitating form of cen- sorship, a fact which clearly does not suit many of those who signed the letter calling for Sewell's dismissal. On the other hand, if what takes place in living art were deter- mined by such laudable means as intelli- gent argument and open debate, our dominant modernist regime would have folded long ago. Its heavy reliance on ques- tionable tactics is not so hard to under- stand, after all.
In the meantime, it may be thought iron- ic that the art gallery whose management signed the letter calling for Sewell's removal from the Evening Standard and wrote another one just before Christmas demanding my replacement at this paper in favour of a more 'serious' writer is current- ly hosting an installation where the walls of the gallery are coated in chocolate. As even more scraping of a bottomless barrel of artistic silliness takes place, we may reflect that visual art is in greater need of the
occasional broadside from our more intran- sigent art critics than of any muzzling or censorship.
I am glad that at least two of the exhibi- tions I have seen this week are more an occasion for pleasant surprise than for reaching for the shotgun. This said, the show at the Royal Academy of drawings by Modigliani is something of an oddity. The works are part of a large ache collected by the artist's friend and patron, Dr Paul Alexandre, between 1906-14 but which were shown in public last year for the first time since Alexandre acquired them. It had been the intention of the doctor, who died in 1968, to write a book about the artist which would help dispel romantic myth in favour of deeper understanding. Now the task has fallen to Dr Alexandre's art histo- rian son. Some of the drawings ante-date Paul Alexandre's first meeting with the artist. They are of particular value as point- ers to artistic development; we see increas- ing stylisation but note its basis in sound observation and good drawing. The distor- tions and simplifications of figure and face in Modigliani's later paintings, drawings and sculpture did not destroy likeness alto- gether. The artist was interested in essence as much as elegance; happily the undoubt- ed pathos of his life did not swamp his art which is tougher than many casual viewers believe. The strength and economy of Modigliani's best drawing help banish the spectre of sentimentality which attaches to his name. Unlike umpteen others which have been passed off over the years as being by Modigliani's hand, the drawings on view have proper provenance. This is something of an exhibition for specialists but enjoyable all the same.
I am also glad I called at Rebecca Hos- sack (35 Windmill Street, W1) to see a show of small paintings made by Alexei Sokolov between 1929-93. The artist was previously unknown in Britain but is highly regarded now in his native Russia. He was born in 1912 and was the sole member of his family to survive the brutal programme of collectivisation in rural Russia. It is salu- tary to recall how grim life was for artists — and just about everyone else — during the reign of Stalin, if for no other reason than to inspire us to resist all attempts at artistic prescription somewhat closer to home.
For much of his career, Sokolov was watched closely by the Soviet secret police. Indeed, some of the more moving paintings in the present show date from a time when he was forced to try to rehabilitate himself officially by painting peasants living in tents while digging up virgin lands in Southern Russia. The aim was to grow wheat on these lands but the crops did not care over- much for the conditions on offer — a fact which any experienced farmer could have foretold. Sokolov's art records this extraor- dinary event in 20th-century history and other fascinating subjects. In spite of ever- present hardships and danger, Sokolov's art celebrates the basic fact of being alive — a privilege denied to very large numbers of his fellows. For Lenin, Stalin and subse- quent Soviet leaders it was an article of faith, an absolute right, that the Party should exercise total control over the intel- lectual and cultural life of the people they ruled. But tyrannies can also creep up on us more quietly.
`Sunflowers' by Alexei Solokov
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