Moscow Times. Thursday, Jul. 3, 1997.
In the popular imagination, most of Russia is north, cold and imponderable.
Yet within this vast territory, there is a region to the northeast of Moscow,
between Yaroslavl and Arkhangelsk, that has a cultural coherence created by
those who settled in its forests and moved along its rivers and lakes during the
middle ages. Even this limited area, sometimes considered a stronghold of "pure"
Russianness, contains ethnic and cultural variety derived from a complex
interaction of history and geography. Inhabited by Finnish tribes before the
arrival of the first Slavic explorers and traders, it served as a place of
retreat and spiritual solace for the avatars of Muscovite monasticism during the
14th and 15th centuries. At the same time the wealth of its forests and lakes,
as well as its position astride trading routes north to the White Sea and west
to the Baltic, led to the creation of towns that would become repositories of
Russian traditions in the arts and crafts.
The cultural and administrative capital of this region is Vologda, which during
the 19th century gained notoriety as a place of exile for political prisoners.
It also gained the attention of ethnographers and of artists such as Vasily
Kandinsky, who traveled through the area as a student in 1889. What he saw of
peasant crafts during this expedition would have a profound effect on his
artistic career -- and on the development of modern art.
With the coming of railroads to the north during the last three decades of the
19th century, Vologda became an important transportation and commercial center.
At the same time the beauty of its architecture attracted a growing number of
artists and critics, who saw in this provincial town something timeless and
unspoiled.
Today this territory is exposed to the same economic and social pressures as the
rest of Russia's provinces but, like the others, Vologda region must face its
own specific problems within the general transformation occurring throughout
Russia. Vologda is not, in fact, the largest city of the region. That honor
belongs to Cherepovets, although both cities have slightly over 300,000
residents. Cherepovets, the leading industrial center of Vologda region, has
survived relatively well on the basis of its heavy industry -- in particular
chemical plants and specialty steel mills.
Vologda, on the other hand, has depended more on its role as a white-collar,
administrative center, and this has been a mixed blessing.
Although the city has little of the pollution associated with heavy industry,
its administrative importance has resulted in certain fundamental, fateful
changes in urban planning. Long-time visitors to Vologda can remember a time, in
the '60s, when it still preserved the charm and sense of proportion that so
impressed artists at the beginning of the century. Of course there had been
depredations during the Soviet era, when 15 of the city's 55 churches were
destroyed. But at least the central districts retained a harmonious scale.
In the '70s and '80s, however, a large area in central Vologda was cleared in
order to accommodate a new regional administrative complex, whose centerpiece is
a massive, multi-storied office building out of scale with its surroundings. In
view of the heavy-handed administrative "culture" of the late Soviet period,
this dominating structure was no doubt deliberately intended as an expression of
power; but it proved to be a miscalculation, and to this day the building is
often referred to with derision. Furthermore, some preservationists claim that
this project established a mind-set whose attitudes continue to undercut
attempts to preserve what is left of historic Vologda and, in particular, its
wooden houses. Passions run high on these issues, and for the past few years
there has been a heated debate on the role of preservation in the development of
the city center.
Whatever the outcome of this clash of opinion, Vologda still has its major
landmarks, whose architecture serves remarkably as a record of history and a
reflection of a venerable cultural heritage. Vologda's dim origins go back to at
least the 12th century, when the area was explored and colonized by traders and
settlers from Novgorod, located some 500 kilometers west of Vologda and one of
the most important economic centers of medieval Russia. By the end of the 14th
century, Moscow had its own agents in the town; and a century later, after a
prolonged, complicated struggle, Vologda and its surrounding territory were
taken into the Moscow principality. By the middle of the 16th century, Vologda
had become the trading and administrative center of northern Russia. It also
served as the primary distribution point for rapidly increasing trade with
England, and subsequently Holland, by way of Arkhangelsk and the Dvina River.
Vologda was built entirely of wood until the reign of Ivan the Terrible, who in
1565 included the town in his private domain, or oprichnina, and initiated
construction of a masonry fortress, apparently to serve as his northern
residence. After 1571 this enterprise was abandoned and the walls were
eventually dismantled; but one important monument remains: the Cathedral of
Saint Sophia. Built in 1568-1579, it is an excellent example of mid-16th century
church architecture based on Aristotle Fioravanti's Dormition Cathedral
(1475-79) in the Moscow Kremlin.
After the Vologda eparchy expanded its territory in 1571, the Sophia Cathedral
was intended to serve as the seat of this bishopric. However, for various
political reasons the cathedral was not consecrated until 1588, after the death
of Ivan the Terrible.
Fortunately, the Vologda Cathedral of St. Sophia has been well-maintained. Yet,
despite obvious concern for its preservation, there have been dubious
modifications to the area surrounding the cathedral. A well-intended but
ill-advised decision led in 1987 to the erection of a monument to poet
Konstantin Batyushkov and his horse on a small plaza between the approaches to
the cathedral and the banks of the Vologda River.
One of the most talented poets of Russia's early 19th-century "Golden Age,"
Batyushkov had a long connection with Vologda, and he is buried at the
Spaso-Prilutsky Monastery to the north of the city. No one would begrudge him a
monument, but placing this oversized sculptural group so close to the cathedral
has a jarring effect that breaks the union between the cathedral and its natural
setting.
The huge space of the cathedral interior was completely painted and includes
major scenes devoted to the life of Christ and Mary, the parables of Christ and,
on the west wall, a particularly vivid "Last Judgment," with elegantly dressed
foreigners descending to hell. Although these frescoes are among the best
examples of 17th century Russian art, and are in a relatively good state of
preservation, the museum entrusted with the interior desperately needs
additional funds, as do almost all Russian museums. Paradoxically, maintenance
of the interior is aided by the fact that services are not regularly held in the
cathedral, which thus escapes the wear of large numbers of worshippers and the
darkening associated with votive candles.
With the exception of the Sophia Cathedral, Vologda through the 16th and early
17th centuries remained a collection of log structures, more than once
devastated by fires. In addition to these natural disasters, the city was sacked
in 1612, during the Time of Troubles. Nonetheless, Vologda's strategically
important position assured its continued existence on a scale that impressed
foreign merchants and emissaries, some of whom left drawings of its expanse of
church towers and log houses. With the recovery of the city in the 1620s and its
increasing wealth, masonry construction appeared more frequently as a partial
antidote to the ever present danger of fire.
Beyond the central ensemble of the Sophia Cathedral and the Archbishop's Court,
Vologda expanded in all directions to accommodate its precincts devoted to
commerce, crafts, and administration. Of the several brick buildings constructed
by foreign merchants and by monasteries during the 17th century, most have
disappeared; but a number of brick churches remain, rising in beautiful design
over the wooden neighborhoods that surround them.
Indeed, some would argue that the real distinction of Vologda is its wooden
houses, many of which still survive, albeit under constant threat of demolition.
A few neoclassical examples from the early 19th century have been preserved.
These houses typically have a portico or a raised central bay and pediment known
as a mezonin. Their plank siding obscures the fact that they are log structures,
occasionally of considerable size. Ironically, the practice of applying siding
has contributed in contemporary Vologda to the loss of structure worthy of
preservation: a prosperous tenant or property owner who no longer wishes to
maintain a solid log building simply demolishes it, rebuilds in brick, and hides
the fact by recreating the wooden siding.
By the end of the nineteenth century, Vologda witnessed the development of
multi-family wooden houses of two or three stories that were often elaborately
decorated to suit the wishes of the owner. At the beginning of this century,
some were designed with carved ornament that reflect the influence of the
Russian equivalent of Art Nouveau. Many log houses remain, with distinctive
features such as protected entrances and second-story loggias. Unfortunately,
the advances of decay and neglect are often evident, and there are too few
resources for renovation. The dilapidated appearance of these solidly built and
crafted structures only serves to reinforce the arguments of those for whom such
buildings are an outmoded, dangerous relic.
While Vologda must find a way to resolve the issues of preservation and
development, smaller settlements in the area face similar problems on a
different scale. The town of Totma (population around 10,000) is an excellent
example. A few years ago you could still take a river boat down the Vologda
River to the Sukhona, which led in a northeasterly direction to Totma. For
centuries, the water network was the main form of communication in this
territory, and prosperous towns presented their best side to the river. Under
current conditions, the state can no longer subsidize river transportation, but
it has decided to expand the road network in this area, with notable progress.
Without good roads, the area's farms and villages will decline still further,
and Totma is a town that depends upon agriculture for its existence.The first
recorded reference to Totma is 1137 -- 10 years earlier than Moscow. During the
16th century it became a major center of salt refining, which brought
considerable wealth to local monasteries and to the Stroganovs, who rapidly
gained control of this lucrative enterprise. Totma's prosperity increased
further not only through its position on the trading route to the White Sea, but
also through trade with Siberia. Some local merchants showed special interest in
exploring distant terrain, and by the end of the 18th century, a number of
expeditions to Alaska were funded from Totma. Indeed, a Totma resident named
Ivan Kuskov founded California's Fort Ross in 1812. His log house in Totma has
been converted into a modest, but attractive museum.
The wealth that flowed into this community during the 18th century supported the
building of a number of brick churches of remarkable design. Narrow, but tall,
with curious baroque decoration and magnificent bell towers, these churches --
and the nearby Spaso-Sumorin Monastery -- would have composed an impressive
scene, rising as they did above the wooden settlements around them. After
decades of neglect, some of these superb buildings are being restored -- in some
cases for use by the Orthodox Church and in others as sites for museums.
However, the restoration proceeds sporadically, and low-level vandalism seems to
undo some of the results. Totma could become an excellent tourist center, but so
much else has to happen before the town will ever acquire the necessary
facilities for tourism.
In the northeastern part of Vologda region is Veliky Ustyug, one of those
provincial Russian towns that seem curiously untouched by time. That is an
illusion, of course, and as the city (population around 36,000) prepares to
celebrate its 850th anniversary this summer, problems of the present day are
very much in evidence: budgetary crises, the cessation of passenger train
service and most river transport, economic stagnation, unpaid wages. Yet over
its long history Veliky Ustyug has learned to cope with adversity and rebound in
a new affirmation of its independent spirit.
In part the resilience is due to its strategic location at the confluence of two
large rivers, the Sukhona and the Yug, which merge to form a third -- the
Northern Dvina. The name Ustyug means the "mouth of the Yug," and the epithet
Veliky, or "great," was added at the end of the 16th century to signify the
city's importance as a commercial center. This network of three navigable rivers
spread throughout northern Russia in a major transportation route that attracted
the earliest Russian settlers there, apparently by the middle of the 12th
century.
For much of the medieval period, Ustyug was far from tranquil. As early as the
beginning of the 13th century there are records of its participation in
campaigns against the Volga Bulgars, and at the end of that century the
inhabitants successfully rose against Mongol tax collectors and established de
facto independence from Mongol authority -- a rare event at so early a date.
Veliky Ustyug also had its peaceful accomplishments. In addition to being a
center of trade, the town had a vigorous Orthodox presence. One of its greatest
spiritual leaders, St. Stephen of Perm, began missionary activity as early as
1379 among non-Russian indigenous tribes eastward to the Ural Mountains. For one
tribe, the Zyrians, he devised their first alphabet in order to translate
religious texts. Stephen subsequently became a bishop, and after his death was
canonized by the Russian Orthodox Church. His memory is still revered in Russia,
especially among residents of Ustyug.
Like most northern towns, Ustyug was built almost entirely of wood, and fire was
a constant menace. As a result there are no surviving churches from before the
middle of the 17th century. But despite periodic fires, the residents always
rebuilt with the same determination that had maintained their independence in
earlier times. During the interregnum known as the Time of Troubles at the
beginning of the 17th century, the town, although damaged, successfully repulsed
one major raid and sent forces for the campaign that led in 1613 to the
enthronement of Michael, first tsar of the Romanov dynasty.
With the return to prosperous trade with western Europe in the 17th century,
Ustyug merchants acquired the wealth that produced some of the town's early
brick churches. Among them is the main cathedral, dedicated to the Dormition of
Mary, which was rebuilt in the 17th and 18th centuries. Despite the hard time,
progress in preserving the architecture of the city is clearly visible. Two
decades ago the Church of St. Nicholas Gostunsky (late 17th and early 18th
centuries), with its beautiful bell tower, was still being used as a saw mill
because of its proximity to the Sukhona River. It has since been restored on the
exterior, and is now used as a gallery to display the work of local painters, of
whom there is a large number. Not only does Ustyug have an active school for the
arts, but one suspects that artists are drawn to the town because of the beauty
of the landscape and the preserved architecture of the historic central
districts.
There will always be pressures to change such historic ensembles, often
motivated by short-sighted economic reasons. Yet there is considerable potential
for the development of tourism in such a picturesque location. That, too, would
bring changes, not all of them positive. But the town must have an economic base
on which to survive. Economic cuts have affected Russian tourism, and the
facilities needed to make Ustyug a significant destination for foreign tourists
are still lacking. At least the expansion of the road network will permit more
convenient access by bus or car.
Local authorities intend for the celebrations of the 850th anniversary of Veliky
Ustyug this summer to bring additional support to the city. Ilya Belozertseva,
head of the cultural section for the city and regional administration, confirmed
at a recent meeting that plans were moving ahead for a series of concerts and
other events in July. Whatever the economic uncertainties of the moment, the
artistic heritage and natural beauty of Ustyug are among the great resources of
the Russian North. Indeed, the Vologda region is rich in the greatest of
treasures, those that come from a region's history and culture. Their
preservation should be a national, as well as local, priority.
William Brumfield, professor of Russian at Tulane University in New Orleans, is
the author and photographer of several books on Russian architecture.