Free-flowing experimental art shows the importance of freedom of expression.

Up on the 12th floor of the International Affairs Building, I visited the opening reception for the exhibition Tatiana Levitskaia inside the Harriman Institute Atrium. The works, on both paper and canvas, were selected from the Kolodzei Art Foundation, and display Levitskaia’s experimental techniques.

Levitskaia, born in Kyiv, Ukraine in 1944, is part of the nonconformist movement. She attended the Moscow Textile Institute and studied design. There, she met her husband, the artist Borukh (Boris Shteinberg,1938 – 2003). Together they participated in a number of unofficial exhibitions during the 1970s.

What I first noticed about the works in this collection were the colors. Many of the canvases were dominated by red, with some black paint also featured. The prominence of just one color however, didn’t make the experience and images of her works one-dimensional. With varying brush strokes, Levitskaia was able to capture a number of different subjects. The use of dripping, slashing, and dotted paint seemed somewhat chaotic but also portrayed beautiful scenes of nature and religion. 

One piece that stood out to me was Last Supper (2009), which can be seen in this article’s header image. This work, which was created using enamel on cardboard, portrays Jesus and his disciples. Differing from many of the works in the exhibition, this one used a range of colors, and showed more definitive lines in portraying the figures shown, making the piece stand out from others in the room. The bright colors and use of negative space reminded me of the stained glass windows of a church. Last Supper, as well as Church of Saint Trifon (1979) and Crucifixion I (2008), show Levitskaia’s recurring interest in religious imagery.

Two of Levitskaia’s other works, Bulldozer Exhibition (2004), and Subbotnik (2004), were interesting to me because of their connection to Levitskaia’s resistance to suppression of artistic expression. As explained in the exhibition flyer, she said of the Bulldozer exhibition: “Borukh and I carried our paintings only to witness chaos … A fight erupted, with people wrestling paintings from those who trampled and set them ablaze. We quickly decided to return our paintings to the car and assist those whose works were being confiscated and who were being arrested.” Subbotnik’s canvas was dominated by red, showing the violence that persisted in Levitskaia’s memory even decades after the exhibits. Underneath the red ink, cars could be seen facing all directions, another aspect of the chaos the work depicts. I could feel the visceral nature of her experience through the smears of paint.

I thought her participation in Russia’s underground nonconformist spaces seemed relevant in the context of ongoing resistance to the Russian government in Ukraine, where Levitskaia herself was born. Resistance is known to take many forms, and it was interesting to see how her work preserves the memory of a tumultuous period for those in opposition to the Soviet government. Overall, the pieces in this exhibit portrayed Levitskaia’s anger, yet the fact that her art is now displayed is a testament to her perseverance, which made me hopeful both for the future of artistic freedom and resistance to the Russian government.

The Tatiana Levitskaia exhibition is open until October 17, 2024, and is located in the Harriman Institute Atrium (International Affairs Building, 12th Floor).

Image via Author