Pride and fears for Uzbekistan’s ‘Louvre of the Steppes’

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More than 50 years after its founding, the Nukus Museum of Art in Uzbekistan's remote Karakalpakstan region still startles and charms visitors in the spirit of its eccentric late founder. (AFP)
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Tourists visit the Karakalpakstan State Museum of Art named after Igor Savitsky - also known as the Nukus Museum, in the city of Nukus, Uzbekistan, on September 16, 2018. (AFP)
Updated 05 November 2018
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Pride and fears for Uzbekistan’s ‘Louvre of the Steppes’

  • Nukus is never likely to see more than a trickle of visitors, despite the state investing up to $20 million in a museum expansion completed in 2017

NUKUS, Uzbekistan: More than 50 years after its founding, the Nukus Museum of Art in Uzbekistan’s remote Karakalpakstan region still startles and charms visitors in the spirit of its eccentric late founder.
But having survived Soviet censorship and predatory foreign art dealers in the 1990s, some fear the world’s second-largest collection of Russian avant-garde art, faces a fresh threat.
The Friends of Nukus Museum, a Dutch-registered charity that has provided thousands of dollars in support to the museum annually since 2001 is expected to disband at the end of this year.
The main reason, its chairman David Pearce told AFP, is an impasse over gifts donated to the museum including books and audio equipment more than three years ago that have disappeared.
“As far as we are concerned they have been confiscated or stolen,” said Pearce, whose charity also serves as an important voice for the museum abroad.
The museum’s new administration refused a request from AFP for an interview about the charity’s claims.

Doubts about the museum’s new leadership have increased concerns for the state-run museum’s remarkable collection.
Its unique trove of Russian avant-garde art from the first half of last century was assembled during the Soviet era at considerable personal risk by the collector Igor Savitsky.
The Savitsky collection captures a flowering movement later crushed by the Bolsheviks.
It may be housed in the remote town of Nukus — population 300,000 — but only the State Russian museum in Saint Petersburg has a larger collection of this kind of art, which was essentially forbidden under communism.
Concern for the collection was first sparked by the sacking in 2015 of the museum’s director, Maranika Babanazarova, who had worked closely with The Friends of Nukus Museum.
Babanazarova was widely regarded as a scrupulous gatekeeper of the approximately 90,000 items at the museum which, as well as the avant-garde works, span Uzbek folk art and millennia-old archaeological artefacts.
The end of her stewardship also severed an important link back to Savitsky, who had begged her to take over his position as director of the museum on his deathbed in 1984.
Today, few museum staff remember the man himself, but there are still some exceptions.
Valentina Sychyova, the museum’s 71-year-old chief curator, first encountered Savitsky roaming the corridors of its original building in 1971.
“He was wearing ripped trousers and a crumpled, clay-specked shirt,” she recalled. “I assumed he was a maintenance worker or a builder.”
Russian-born Sychyova was simply visiting relatives in the then-Soviet republic. But after an enthralling conversation, she ended up working for him, she told AFP.

Savitsky’s collecting habit repeatedly took him to Russia and back.
His efforts would one day see the Nukus museum hailed as a “Louvre of the Steppes” by excited European art critics.
But in an era when state-sponsored socialist realism eclipsed all other forms of art, his was a dangerous undertaking.
Artists featured at the museum include little-known Russian painters such as Lev Galperin. He was among those artists whose work was repressed during the Stalinist terror of the 1930s.
Others, like Ural Tansykbayev, a native of the Karakalpakstan region, became celebrated artists in the socialist realism style. They left their earlier, less propagandistic works to fester in cellars and attics.
Savitsky, usually short of cash, deferred payment to artists and their relatives for many of the works that he rescued. At the turn of the millennium, the museum still owed money for parts of the collection.
Some artists, however, donated their paintings, happy to have found an appreciative audience — and astounded that local authorities in the far-flung region were quietly supporting Savitsky rather than locking him up.
Nukus’ geographical distance from the centers of Soviet power afforded Savitsky and the state-owned museum he founded vital breathing space.
But Pearce and others have wondered aloud whether his legacy would now be better served if at least part of the avant-garde collection was rehoused in Uzbekistan’s capital Tashkent, or even Europe.
Last year the museum whetted art world appetites outside the country when it sent over 200 works as temporary exhibits to the Pushkin Museum in Moscow.

Nukus is never likely to see more than a trickle of visitors, despite the state investing up to $20 million in a museum expansion completed in 2017.
But ex-director Babanazarova is among those who would find it hard to see the precious works ripped away from the town permanently.
It was Savitsky’s love for this adopted region and efforts to support Karakalpak cultural heritage that persuaded the influential local officials he befriended — including her academic father — to indulge his vision.
During the economic chaos of the 1990s, her team fended off shady Western art dealers who arrived cash-in-hand promising untold riches.
Rapacious Uzbek officials also heaped pressure on the collective, but Savitsky’s disciples refused to sell out his legacy, Babanazarova told AFP.
Choosing a favorite from the collection is hard for her.
“People sometimes ask me, ‘If the museum was burning down and you could only save a painting, which one would that be?’” she said.
“I always tell them I would sooner stand in the halls and burn with them.”


Saudi Arabia’s first atelier aims to be a hub for Eastern Province artists

Maysa Alrowaished, founder and art director of ‘Canvash,’ poses with a mural in Alkhobar. (Photo/Supplied)
Updated 29 min 34 sec ago
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Saudi Arabia’s first atelier aims to be a hub for Eastern Province artists

  • Alrowaished added: “The mural embraces the history of Saudi Arabia’s kings before the Kingdom was unified”

DHAHRAN: The art scene in the Kingdom is growing fast. Artists are being adopted by organizations both private and public. One of the private organizations is Canvash, which aims to become a hub for the artists of the Eastern Region.
“Canvish is Dutch for canvas board,” Maysa Alrowaished, the company’s founder and art director, told Arab News. “I won the award for the best entrepreneurial project in the Eastern Province, sponsored by Princess Abeer Al-Saud, for Canvash, and I am thankful that we were given the first atelier license Kingdom-wide after a journey of some serious persuasion attempts.”
Canvash is different from other art businesses. Alrowaished explained: “We try to target the concept of part-time jobbing where the artist can do their nine-to-five daily jobs while at the same time practicing their passion with a paycheck at the end. Now we have around 17 employees between artists and technical supporters.”
Canvash began with their most prominent project; the mural of “Ahal Aloja,” thought to be the longest national mural in the Kingdom, on the Alkhobar Corniche. The mural was named “Ahal Aloja,” which is Arabic for “the people of Aloja,” after the old name of Ad Diriyah, the capital of the first Saudi state.
“The mural embraces the history of Saudi Arabia’s kings before the Kingdom was unified,” Alrowaished added. “It consists of a group of portraits and achievements of the kings, along with their lingering quotes; it then reaches our present time, including Vision 2030, King Salman and Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. The ‘Ahal Aloja’ mural received so much hype that it even became a trend on social media with a number of regional media channels covering it.”
On Canvash’s future plans, Alrowaished said: “Along with other ongoing projects, we aim to participate in international and local contests and exhibitions.
“Success tastes sweeter with challenges,” she said when asked about the challenges she faced as the founder of Canvash. Her biggest challenge was convincing the Ministry of Commerce to issue her an atelier license. “There was no such category as atelier when I requested the license. Canvash went through a lot of discussions and a lot of inducements.
“My dream was to open up an actual atelier and so I went all the way to the office of the Ministry of Commerce in Riyadh to conduct a presentation to the head of the Kingdom’s records. Thankfully my case was convincing, so I received the first atelier license in the Kingdom.
“We encountered a problem with some members of society who cannot understand the importance of art,” she added. “However, we found out that the majority are actually thirsty for art and very excited for all creative projects. Whenever we are working on a project, we always get inquiries from people asking where to find our work.
“You also see people enjoy watching us while we work on individual projects as if these are entertainment events in themselves. This is what rewards us when work becomes hectic and tiring. Society is looking forward to such initiatives.”