by Jan Plamper
Were the portraits eventually published? All we know is that Stalin’s secretariat in this postwar case—at the height of Andrei Zhdanov’s meddling in cultural affairs—devolved its decision-making power to another agency, the Agitprop Department, which first used its internal resources at different ranks of its bureaucratic hierarchy, and when these conflicted, applied to an outside authority—Gerasimov and Manizer—to reach a verdict on the portraits. All of which goes to show that even in 1947, the decision over the publication of a new Stalin (or Lenin) portrait could turn into a contested matter if Stalin had left room for dispute by not voicing his opinion—by this time it was obvious to everyone that Stalin was the ultimate arbiter.
There were more persons and institutions through which Stalin’s secretariat fulfilled the function of final filter. Censorship, represented by the organizations Glavlit (responsible mostly for texts and visual products) and Glavrepertkom (responsible primarily, but not only, for theater, cinema, and concerts), was another vital institutional actor in the approval process of Stalin cult products. In November 1947 Glavrepertkom’s chief M. Dobrynin wrote to Poskryobyshev: “Glavrepertkom is sending you a photograph of a Stalin portrait by I. M. Toidze and requests that you inform us about your opinion as to the possibility of its mass circulation. Glavrepertkom considers the dissemination of this portrait appropriate.”49 The Toidze portrait in question was a famous painting of Stalin with pipe on a Kremlin balcony with the Spassky Tower in the background (Fig. 4.1). As in the case of Neutolimov’s Lenin and Stalin portraits, Stalin’s secretariat here also seems to have contacted the Agitprop Department for an opinion. Agitprop deputy chairman Lebedev then wrote to the Central Committee Special Sector, Stalin’s private chancellery since 1934: “Glavrepertkom (Comrade Dobrynin) is asking for permission to mass produce a portrait of Comrade Stalin executed by artist I. Toidze. We looked at the photograph of the portrait together with the artists A. Gerasimov and P. Sysoev (Committee for Arts Affairs). The portrait conveys Stalin’s outward appearance ably; it shows him against the backdrop of the Kremlin’s Spassky Tower. We consider the portrait acceptable. Glavrepertkom was informed about this decision.”50 Next we read that the publisher Iskusstvo asked whether it could go ahead printing fifty thousand copies of the portrait and learn that “Comrade Poskryobyshev is not against this.”51 But printing was one thing, circulating another, and both demanded approval by Stalin’s secretariat. Poskryobyshev therefore received word from the Agitprop deputy chairman Shepilov that Iskusstvo had printed fifty thousand copies of the portrait. “Please be so kind as to inform us about your decision as to its dissemination,” wrote Shepilov. Poskryobyshev noted across Shepilov’s letter: “No objections.”52 Furthermore, portraits that were already considered canonical had to be approved a second time by Stalin’s secretariat, as a 1948 letter by the publisher Iskusstvo to Poskryobyshev goes to show. It requested that Iskusstvo be allowed to republish eight drawings of Stalin on the occasion of the thirtieth anniversary of the armed forces.53
Figure 4.1. Censorship agencies discussed the dissemination of this Stalin portrait by Irakly Toidze, here reproduced from Pravda, 1 May 1946, 1.
Some pieces of Stalin cult artwork were rejected outright,54 and some appraisals of concrete artwork were quite searching, as indicated by an August 1947 document, a link taken from the middle of a longer chain of correspondence whose other links are still missing. “The publishing house Iskusstvo (Comrade Kukharkov) asks for permission to publish a portrait of J. V. Stalin by the artist A. Stolygvo,” wrote the chairman of the Agitprop Department, Georgy Aleksandrov, and his specialist for literature, Aleksandr Yegolin, to Andrei Zhdanov.
The artist Stolygvo is a graduate of the All-Russian Academy of Fine Arts and has been working on the image (obraz) of the leader of the Soviet people, J. V. Stalin, for a long time. The work in question is a creative success of Comrade Stolygvo. A good command of form and chiaroscuro has allowed the artist to achieve an almost sculpture-like expressiveness of the portrait. The artist was especially successful in capturing the expression of the eyes, which are full of inspired thought (glaz, polnykh vdokhnovennoi mysli). The portraitist managed to convey the image (oblik) of the leader with great humanity and warmth. We also welcome the publisher’s plan to produce the portrait of J. V. Stalin in small format, intended for wide introduction into the everyday life of workers as a table or wall portrait and as an art postcard. The Propaganda Department considers it possible to allow the publication of artist A. Stolygvo’s work by the publishing house Iskusstvo.55
Publishers, then, sent a cult product at various stages of the reproduction process to the center of power; Stalin’s secretary would reject the product, recommend changes, or approve it. In a sample period, between April 1947 and March 1949, Stalin’s secretariat refused to approve five out of twenty-two proposed portraits.56 Interestingly, Stalin left no signature or any other evidence of his direct influence in the approval process. (From the late 1930s onward, this was also the case with other high Party members from Beria to Molotov, who were sent artwork for sanctioning that focused on their own cults; the publishing institutions uniformly referred to “the secretariat of Molotov,” never to “Molotov” personally.)57 It is very likely that some cult products indeed moved from Poskryobyshev’s desk to Stalin’s, but that Stalin took care not to show any of his influence in order to uphold the image of a modest leader who merely tolerated the cult that surrounded him.58 Clearly, because of the sheer volume of cult products that were sent to the Kremlin, it is impossible that Stalin personally approved all of them. In fact, given the tide of cult products sent for approval, it is questionable if Stalin’s secretary was able to deal with this work single-handedly. The method of approval was certainly streamlined as time progressed: a 29 November 1952 letter to Poskryobyshev lists the titles of eight pictures; Poskryobyshev then returns the letter with red “plus” or “minus” marks beside each title.59 Most certainly there was special staff at Stalin’s secretariat, trained to uphold the canon and to do the day-to-day work of vetting cult products. During the late 1940s, the letters granting permission to reproduce cult art often bear the signatures of several people other than Stalin’s secretary. Thus consider a list (in tabular form) of nine pictures, listing, for instance, “F. Reshetnikov” under “Author,” “portrait of J. V. Stalin” under “Name of work,” and “Comrade Koziiatko” under “Approved by.”60 When bureaucrats lower in the power hierarchy were involved in the approval process, it seems to have been particularly important that they sign their permission. Obviously, if Stalin approved a work of art, an off-hand (oral) comment would have been enough. But at the lower levels it was imperative to establish and fix on paper a clear chain of responsibility so that if an approved cult product later met with disapproval at higher levels, the person lower down the hierarchy could be taken to task.
As far as printed cult products went, Stalin’s own, direct influence is much more tangible than with visual ones. Stalin meticulously watched over the republication of his own writings, in effect demanding control over his texts, over their canonization and meaning. He left behind a paper trail of, among other things, letters and orders, usually hastily written in his own hand on a writing pad and then wired as ciphered telegrams from Sochi and other southern spas, where he vacationed habitually and, it seems, lacked a safe, scrambled telephone connection to Moscow until 1936.61 Thus during a 1935 summer vacation in Sochi, Stalin protested against Beria’s publication of his writings from the period 1905–1910 because “they are published carelessly, the quotes from Ilyich are misinterpreted and no one besides myself can correct these mistakes; I always declined Beria’s request to republish this without my control, and yet the Transcaucasians unceremoniously ignore my protests, which is why a categorical Central Committee ban on republication without my approval is the only solution.”62 Apart from that, Stalin of course filtered the texts of TASS news agency releases and quite often simply forbade the publication of panegy
ric articles in newspapers.63 Across an article by a certain Razumov about Stalin’s exile in Kureika and Turukhansk, Stalin wrote: “Nonsense St.”64 Stalin also controlled the translation of texts by or about himself into other languages; for instance, in 1940 he prohibited the publication of the Russian translation of a book by Konstantin Gamsakhurdia, The Leader’s Childhood, published in Georgian for his sixtieth birthday.65 Finally and almost needless to say, the making of Henri Barbusse’s Stalin biography was closely overseen by Stalin’s secretariat; thus in 1932 it was decided that Stalin’s then right hand, “Comrade Tovstukha take care of the preliminary examination of H. Barbusse’s work.” The German communist publishing mogul, Willi Münzenberg, who seems to have been enlisted as intermediary between the biographer and the secretariat, was supposed to “directly get in touch with Comrade Tovstukha. The latter should select the materials that can be given to H. Barbusse. Comrade Münzenberg must be made to enable the preliminary examination and editing of the complete work by Comrade Tovstukha. A meeting between H. Barbusse and Comrade Tovstukha would be welcome.”66 Later Stalin himself edited different versions of his biography.67
Stalin’s personal comments regarding movie screenplays have also survived.68 In the screenplay of Vsevolod Vishnevsky’s First Cavalry Stalin corrected the wording of his own quotes.69 He provided concrete suggestions for changes on Kapler’s Lenin in 1918, such as: “reshoot the scenes in the kitchen with Sverdlov’s participation” or “change the ending after the Lenin-Stalin conversation by direct line with an eye for more precision and clarity” or, more generally, “rewrite the music.” On the last page of the script he left the note: “This is a witty film.” His final verdict for the film was, “Turned out ok, it seems (comments in the text) (Vyshlo budto-by ne plokho [Zamechania v tekste]).”70
And all the while Stalin jealously followed the cult-building of those fellow Bolsheviks who were still alive. His aim must have been to let no one come within reach of his top place in the cult pyramid. He was, for example, extremely displeased with the glorification of Ordzhonikidze on the occasion of the latter’s birthday in 1936. In the margins of a eulogistic book on Ordzhonikidze Stalin commented on what the author had depicted as Ordzhonikidze’s heroic behavior during the July Days of 1917: “What about the Central Committee? The Party? Where’s the Central Committee?”71 Thus the extent to which cults besides his own were allowed was always defined by Stalin himself. He might apply the idea that collective leadership must take precedence over individual leadership to other high Bolsheviks as well.
There are well-known instances in which Party functionaries were purged because of the cults they built (or allowed to be built) around themselves.72 The most astute vozhdi below Stalin in the hierarchy limited any cult-building around their persons, and even left behind paper trails highly analogous to Stalin’s “immodest modesty” in fond 558. For instance, as early as 1932 Kaganovich wrote to Khrushchev, chairman of the Moscow Party Committee: “I found out that rumors about the renaming of Sokolniki district as Kaganovich district have become so widespread that even the factory newspaper Krasnyi Bogatyr’ writes about them. I urgently ask you to call in these district people, to scold them severely, and to tell them to stop this thing immediately. This entire affair is absolutely unnecessary, if not harmful.”73
Thus the pattern of immodest modesty belonged to the Stalin cult—and subsequently also to other Bolshevik leader cults—from its foundation moment, as evidenced in Demian Bedny’s 21 December 1929 poem. The immodest modesty pattern, with Bedny’s poem constituting one of the first insertions into the public script of the cult itself, in fact reconnected to a culturally virulent pattern that encompassed the entire intelligentsia, including intellectuals opposed to Stalin. This was a pattern of affecting either modest selflessness or the modesty that goes along with the guileless simple-mindedness of the jolly Russian fellow of peasant stock, rubakha-paren, while in truth being supremely conscious and controlling of one’s image, if not cult. This latent cultural pattern can be seen in Anna Akhmatova’s “self-serving selflessness,” as Alexander Zholkovsky called it, or in Maxim Gorky’s “affected simple-mindedness,” as Irene Masing-Delic wrote. The pattern is evident in the behavior of our painter Aleksandr Gerasimov, who habitually played the “simplistic country bumpkin,” slept in his Sokol villa in peasant fashion on the studio floor, and enjoyed dressing up in sheepskins when the Party bosses arrived. Akhmatova’s “self-serving selflessness,” Gorky’s “affected simple-mindedness,” and Gerasimov’s clownish antics were all intricately linked with Stalin’s immodest modesty.74 Finally and very importantly, the overriding causes for the immodest modesty pattern were Bolshevik Party culture and the internal logic of Marxist ideology. Modesty was one of the key virtues of a Bolshevik. And no matter how much more complex, a personality cult was irreconcilable with a polity that claimed to be Marxist and collec-tivist. The immodest modesty pattern was a sensible way out of this paradox.
STALIN’S MANY ROLES IN STALIN ART PRODUCTION
Stalin’s, his secretariat’s, his cronies’, and others’ role as Archimedean point of cult products, as nodal center and final filter, is only part of the story. There were more ways in which Stalin impacted the production process of his cult. In the sphere of visual cult products, one kind of informal leverage consisted of visits by Stalin or, more commonly, one of his cronies to the studios where Stalin art was in the making. At least once, in 1928, Stalin himself visited the Kremlin studio of Pavel Radimov and Evgeny Katsman, two co-founders of the Association of Artists of Revolutionary Russia (Assotsiatsiia Khudozhnikov Revoliutsionnoi Rossii [AKhRR], founded in 1922, renamed Assotsiatsiia Khudozhnikov Revoliutsii [AKhR] in 1928 to signify its widened pan-Soviet aspirations; this book uses “AKhR” to designate both).75 Radimov, a veteran of the prerevolutionary realist painters, the Peredvizhniki (Wanderers), seems to have obtained this studio through a relative of Vladimir Stasov, a critic.76 Katsman joined Radimov in this studio and stayed from 1923 to 1938.77 Moreover, Voroshilov, the influential patron of the visual arts, regularly made the rounds of Moscow art studios and commented on artwork depicting himself and presumably also Stalin.
The informal influence of Stalin and his subordinates on the cult also involved handing out privileges of special access to the Kremlin environment in which Stalin worked. The director of the film The Battle of Stalingrad, V. M. Petrov, related how Stalin’s secretary, Aleksandr Poskryobyshev, enabled him to enter Stalin’s sanctum, his office: “He summoned me to the Kremlin, when Comrade Stalin was not there. I was in Comrade Stalin’s office and saw the entire setting of his life and work. These were very moving minutes, I had to memorize everything in this room, all the details. I could not observe for a long time or bother with questions. But I strained my whole memory to preserve all separate details.”78
Figure 4.2. Photograph of Stalin’s visit to the 1928 “Ten Years of the Red Army” exhibition at the Central Telegraph Office on Gorky Street, Moscow. Stalin is on the right in a fur hat, Katsman in the back to his left, and Voroshilov on the far left. The cut-out face in the center is likely Bukharin’s, who was purged in 1938. Stalin wrote in the comment book: “I was here on 26 February 1928. Overall, I think, the exhibit is good.” © Family Estate Tatiana Khvostenko.
Another form of informal leverage were the statements Stalin allegedly made about certain works of art in different settings—at exhibitions, in privacy to another leader, or to a painter in a studio. This kind of influence belongs to oral culture, circulated between artists and critics in the form of rumors, and was recorded on paper only in rare cases. For example, if one artist wanted to raise his own symbolic capital and was sure enough of a statement Stalin had made about his own artwork, he could risk entering this statement into public discourse. Katsman, for instance, in 1949 wrote about a 1929 drawing of Stalin, published in Izvestia for Stalin’s fiftieth birthday: “I gave the original to Kliment Yefremovich [Voroshilov], who once told me: ‘Joseph Vissarionov
ich saw this sketch and praised it.’”79 Furthermore, Katsman minutely recorded Stalin’s reactions to various pieces of artwork at the 1933 exhibition “Fifteen Years of the Red Army,” one of two exhibitions Stalin is supposed to have visited during the thirty-six years between the end of the Revolution and his death (Fig. 4.2).80
In the Lenin room, I was told, Stalin said about Brodsky’s pictures: “Living people (zhivye liudi).” Next to Nikonov’s picture, Stalin said, when looking at Kolchak with a revolver in his hand: “he wants to shoot himself.” . . . When we got to Avilov, Stalin saw himself painted, laughed and immediately turned his eyes to other works. Then back to Avilov, and he examined himself longer. They all laughed over the paintings of the Kukryniksy. We showed them two Interrogations of Communists, one interrogation by Deineka, another by Ioganson. They all unanimously approved only of Ioganson. Stalin stopped next to Tikhy’s painting Red Army Soldiers Bathing: “a good painting,” said Stalin and turning to Voroshilov continued, “good because there is a living sky, living people, living water, that’s how pictures ought to be done.” Stalin carefully and silently examined his portrait by A. Gerasimov. Next to Aleshin’s sculpture there was a dialogue between Stalin and Voroshilov. Voroshilov said: “The Komsomol member is sitting on the Pioneer and crushing him,” but Stalin did not agree. “Of course the Pioneers are propping up the Komsomol members, so there is healthy support.” They praised Terpsikhorov and Kostianytsyn. Stalin said about Voroshilov on the horse: “A living man, and the horse is real.”81