Self-archiving of the avant-garde: genealogy vs history

Author: Evgenii Barabanov

Evgenii Barabanov — is an art historian, historian of philosophy and literature, theologian, specialist in the history and theory of art of the 20th century, honorary Doctor in Theology at the University of Tübingen. Since 1991 he has been a Visiting Research Fellow at the Institute for Russian and Soviet Culture at the Ruhr-University Bochum. In 1997, he was the scientific director of the Institute of European Cultures in Moscow. From 2003 to 2010 he was the head of the Department of educational programs at the National Center for Contemporary Arts (NCCA). Author of publications on Russian culture, philosophy and contemporary art.

The article was first published in French in 2010 in the Rue Descartes journal (Barabanov Evgény, «L'auto-archivage de l'avant-garde: généalogie et histoire», Rue Descartes, 2010/3 (n°69), p. 49—57).


For avant-garde artists, the present is always contradictory: it only lives by the inertia of an inherited past, consciously or unconsciously following its orders, while being open to a future, and to projects that it owes in part to its creative innovations.


Both basic avant-garde art strategies aim to overcome a fundamental duality: they can ruthlessly denunciate the union of the present and the past and — at the same time — revolutionize the present by imposing the future on it here and now.


This latter strategy is often considered utopian, when it is not the avant-garde itself which — and quite unjustly — is seen as such.


However, the avant-garde has its own topos: the reality of the new, where the future manifests itself in the present. This reality is primarily artistic, it transforms the contradictory present into a "new culture of modernity" [1] (K. Malevich) or — which is the same thing — into "modernity”. 


Avant-garde modernity is self-sufficient. It needs nothing if not its own. For artists and theorists, it testifies for itself — we will use their own words — with new laws and new forms, new rhythms, a new relationship to color, a new face of painting, new seeds of art, new thinking, new ways, new culture. It is a new reality of a new era, a new day of a tomorrow that has already come.


However, this self-sufficiency is not without limits: avant-garde rhetoric of the new as well as the diverse practices of establishing the new in the status of modern reality — are inseparable from recurrent reassessments of inherited values. The jealous truth of the new is unable to forget its past, it requires the trial of its legacy, a complete, demonstrative break from it. And every time it is more than just a controversy over the possible claims of yesterday to have its share in the future.


The war with the past is the same "constant" of the artistic avant-garde as radical left criticism of the bourgeois order, bourgeois tastes, bourgeois vulgarity. In this regard, research on “historical avant-garde", aimed at clarifying the transformational processes in the art of the twentieth century, must certainly take into account the contradictions of the present, but also the strategies for overcoming them, and — what is especially important — the specifics of the relationships between the two.


The Russian avant-garde of the first quarter of the twentieth century is reflected in two very significant experimental museum projects: the Museum of Artistic Culture (Petrograd) and the Museum of Painterly Culture (Moscow). Produced in the very early twenties on the initiative of "left" artists, they provide an understanding of the role of the museum in transforming the present into revolutionary modernity. Although the possibilities of new art as a tool for transformation existed long before the appearance of the museum, it is the museum that helps to understand the ways of creating its "transhistorical" stability.


An institution alien to innovation, the museum has been viewed extremely negatively by the artistic avant-garde. In Russia, the manifestos of the Italian futurists were well-known, as well as Marinetti's calls to clear Italy from "the innumerable museums which turn [Italy] into innumerable cemeteries''. Similar rhetoric also accompanied the Russian budetliane (people of the future). For Malevich, museums are "tombs of old, obsolete forms of the past" [2]; the cemetery world, awaiting the crematorium furnaces: "the great and wise Art, which depicts episodes and the faces of the wisest, now lies buried by modernity [...] We can make concessions to the conservatives, let them burn all eras as a dead" [3].


However, the opportunity, which opened immediately after the revolution, to create a new type of museum — capable not only of purchasing and presenting the works of modern artists within its walls, but also of legitimizing the life of modern art in full accordance with its ambitions and logic — aroused in the Russian avant-garde artists an enthusiasm that this type of institution had never inspired until then. 


In the spring and summer of 1918, a plan was implemented to create a “network of modern art museums with the main All-Russian museum in Moscow” [4]. “And we will get up, set up a museum, organize Moscow, divide the treasures by cities and arrange museums there”, Malevich promised in the Anarkhiia [Anarchy] newspaper [5]. In 1919, the original concept was corrected with the most active participation of artists: the Department of Visual Arts of the People's Commissariat for Education [Narkompros] proposed the creation of the State Museum Fund and the Museum of Painterly Culture. The function of the former was to acquire and store works of modern art, while the latter was a model for experimental representations of innovative trends. Meanwhile, it did not only concern Moscow and St. Petersburg. According to the Museum Bureau’s statistics, thirty museums were organized, during 1919—1920, among which 1211 works were distributed [6].

Of course, everything was not so triumphant. For the most part, Provincial Museums of Painterly Culture existed only on paper. And the lifespan of the capital museums turned out to be quite short: the Moscow Museum, first headed by W. Kandinsky, then by A. Rodchenko, extended its intermittent existence until 1929; the Petersburg Museum ceased its activities in 1926.


Nevertheless, the ideology, theory and practice of the first museums of modern art remain crucial for clarifying the understanding that the Russian avant-garde had of itself. Leaving aside the peculiarities of the struggle to maintain the new museum in the conditions of civil war and military communism, also ignoring the different "leftism" of the left, and internal confrontations, intrigues and feuds due to "conflicts of interest", finally disregarding the decisive refusal of the state to support the new art, the positions and projects themselves, proposed by the artists as an effective alternative to the “unexplored past” appear to be extremely important and quite interesting.

Lack of space does not allow us to present here even a brief overview of the history of ideas, discussions and the general course of affairs that accompanied the birth of museums, their evolution, and their mortal suffocation. Leaving aside the general amount of factual material, let us dwell only on a few key points of discussion among "left" artists and theorists.


Museum objectives


The general attitude, shared by all supporters of the new museum, regardless of their aesthetic orientations and political positions, focused on the undeniable thesis at that time: the Museum should be created either by scholarly art historians, or by museum scholars/archaeologists who have long taken possession of museums, but also by the artists themselves. In expanded form, the same thesis was presented in the Declaration of the Department of Visual Art and Art Industry of the People's Commissariat for Education on the Principles of Museology dated February 7, 1919. The Declaration insisted on a deep antagonism between the museum scholar and the modern artist, wholly leaning towards the latter. 


“The professional specialty of a museum scholar is to preserve what has been created, while an artist aims to create something new in place of or on top of the old. Since the artist is a creative force in the field of art, the artist’s aim is to be the leader of the country's artistic education. Museum workers, no matter how close they are to the artistic circles, cannot, by virtue of their professional qualities, be sufficiently competent in matters of artistic creativity and artistic education.


A long-standing anachronism — the replenishment of museums with works of modern art by the choice of the museum worker should be abolished. Buying works of modern art is the exclusive competence of artists.


As professionals whose conception of the world is the basis of global artistic culture, they must have access to the works of art of the past — in order to choose from the whole mass of artistic monuments what artistic culture is, and, consequently create for themselves, as professionals, and for the growth of the country's artistic life, the museum of creative painterly culture.


Artists! Free the art of the past from dead historical pedantry.


Artists! Unite in the struggle for your professional culture of the future against the fetishism that the past places on art” [7].


The fight against "fetishism of the past" has been accompanied by a debate about the relationship between the new and the legacy of the past.


Some suggested occupational reformism and its slogan: “bring a completely new life into the dead crypts of museums”, by turning the art of the past into “historical material”.


Others, such as the art historian Nikolay Punin, called for the rejection of compromises: “Museums should not be renovated, they should be killed to the end, in other words, they should be made only repositories of visual aids in the scientific study of art history, while devoid of all grounds for direct impact on modern artistic creativity" [8]; "You can't build a common museum [...] We need to create a museum to teach us to think the way we want, and not create the same old type of museum again" [9].


Still others — Malevich among them — argued in favor of updating modernity, which would limit the impact of the past itself: “A new culture of modernity must arise, with no room for the old one [...] The establishment of a Modern Museum is a collection of modern projects, and only those projects which can be adapted to the framework of life, or which will lead to the framework of new forms, can be preserved for a time. [...] Life has torn modernity and what they were not conserving from the hands of the museum scholars. We can collect it as a living form and link it directly to life, without letting it be conserved" [10].


From this perspective, the vision of the new museum as a laboratory for the new has proved to be more productive. If the museum of the past, according to Malevich, is not a school, but the place where "traces of the artist's path, in which he concluded his time are collected", then a modern museum is, first of all, a laboratory and a factory of modernity. Therefore: "Instead of collecting any old stuff, it is necessary to form laboratories of the world creative building apparatus, and artists of living forms will emerge from its axes, and not from dead images of objectivity" [11].


The idea of ​​merging the museum with research programs of modern artistic practices, with the development in the theory of new art — suggested a completely innovative concept of topical museology. And it was not only an idea, not just a project. Both the Petrograd and Moscow museums remained important centers of research and pedagogical work.

Forerunners and heirs


In the debate about museums, Nikolay Punin suggested distinguishing between three types of museums by the nature of their collective activity:


“The first type is rather warehouses, shops, picture depositories, where works of modern art come directly from exhibitions; here these works are kept for a certain period, after which, at the request of special museum councils, they are sent to state art and historical art museums. This first type museums are review museums.


The second type is state museums of artistic culture, which should be understood as the culture of technology, forms, colors, invention of methods, etc. Museums of this type are intended exclusively for artistic purposes: to provide an opportunity to get acquainted with the development and methods of artistic creation.


Finally, the third type is state art museums of a historical nature, i.e. museums, the purpose of which is to provide as strictly scientifically as possible, or at least systematically developed material, as a visual aid for the study of art history. Museums of this kind are run exclusively by scientists and cannot claim artistic influence" [12].


Significant for modern culture, "artistic" area is thereby assigned to museums of the new. Such a museum actualizes art in a self-lawful cultural field, which is developed between exhibition funds (“selection museums”) and historical museums. However, distancing from the "historical past" did not mean rootlessness at all. On the contrary, the genealogy of new art — the visibility of its own family tree: its ancestors, forerunners, direct predecessors — constituted the most important part of the modernity demonstrated by the museum.

Malevich interpreted this artistic modernity as a museum of “the culture of color and the culture of light”: “All the works in the museum must meet the requirements of a painterly culture. What is painterly culture? A painterly culture appears where everything, even real forms, helps cultivate color, not light. This painterly center can include the icons, then the classics. Impressionists, plein air painters and also itinerants are not included here at all. Cubism, futurism, with reservation, where color unfolds, and non-objective painting of pure color relations and works, united under the name Jack of Diamonds" [13].


According to Alexander Rodchenko, the museum should have sections that combine non-traditional art (icons, signboards, lubok), artistic movements (impressionism, futurism, cubism, orphism, suprematism, non-objective art) and exhibition groups (World of Art, Donkey's Tail, Target, primitivism, color-dynamics, expressionism, Jack of Diamonds) [14].


However, the inclusion of "archaic", non-traditional art, classics, and impressionists did not mean a return to the model of an art history museum. The selective museumification of the past in the context of modern art archiving is more reminiscent of the "archives" in Michel Foucault's Archaeology of Knowledge. In other words, the avant-garde museum does not accumulate the dust of statements that have become inert, but defines the type of relevance: the law of what can be said, the system that conditions the appearance of utterances as single events, and finally, what distinguishes every discourse in its plurality and distinguishes them in their own duration. In such "archives" it is not even the ancient icons that are no longer objects of religious cult, but a manifestation of modern problematic of form, design, color, intrinsic value of decorative jewelry, which got lost in the past ... The museum of modern art aims to introduce the viewer to these problems.


The result is a new type of relationship with the viewer. The viewer is now an accomplice in updating the new. Osip Brik, for instance, argues that the new museum cannot be organized on the basis of the selection of the “unique”: “For me, there is no doubt that the so-called unique is nothing but a bourgeois, individualistic ideology. It is necessary to destroy the deification of individual works of art. Museums should be organized so that paintings can be used like books in a public library" [15]. We find a similar formulation in Nikolay Punin:


"Art museum collections are an archive that can be used by everyone" [16].


In the practices of museums of artistic and painterly culture, this belief was modified through direct communication with institutions of education (Vkhutemas) and analytical, research work (Inkhuk).

Exposition practices


Understanding the museum in relation to a unique task of archiving the new has also stimulated innovative practices of hanging picture, first of all, in terms of their dynamism. According to Punin, “Let the hanging and re-hanging follow one another uninterrupted; ideally, the museum should all be fully hinged; striving for all kinds of motionless iconostasis must be radically suppressed” [17].


Malevich imagined the walls of the new museum as a conceptual artistic construction: “Taking into account that the museum will consist of a wide variety of forms of expression, the issue of hanging will be extremely important because it plays an important role in the construction and its concept, and, to reveal its real face, it is necessary to change the old principle of distributing works by schools, trends, time and events.


Therefore, I believe that the walls of the museum are planes on which works should be placed in the same order as the composition of forms is placed on the painterly plane, i.e. if rows of monotonous forms appear on the painterly plane, then the work itself weakens in tension, and vice versa.


If we hang a number of monotonous works on a plane, then we get an ornamental line, which annuls the force that could reveal itself among a variety of comparisons.


Therefore, the most profitable way is hanging the pictures in the following order: icon, cubism, suprematism, classics, futurism — painterly perception" [18].


Some ideas about experiments in the field of exhibition are given not only by old photographs, but also by the testimonies of contemporaries. Here is one of them — a diary note (dated June 2, 1920) of the "amazon of avant-garde" Varvara Stepanova, A. Rodchenko’s wife:


“They are finally hanging the Museum of Painterly Culture. Falk and Kandinsky hung up one room without any system, according to their feelings; it turned out to be like a composition of pictures, where a separate work and a separate author are not identified and do not play a role. Good, just too emotional; in such a room one cannot talk about art from the point of view of ideology, only generally talk about something emotional, not abstract, but sensual.


Anti [A. Rodchenko], of course, hangs up the pictures according to a different system; he outlined at first a common general line for a room — texture, decorative effect or emptiness, of strong color. And according to his thoughts, they hung up the rest of the rooms. He hung up the textured room himself, and, as Franchetti put it, it is ‘sharp’, I have not seen it yet.


Authors are hung in the Museum interchangeably. This means a lot, as Anti says because in this way each period value of every author remains, since, if the works of different periods by one author are hung together, then they will lose the works of the early periods and later ones will interrupt them with their quality.


Anti appreciates the movement in the author. [...] The spirit of the revolutionary speaks in Anti, he cannot stand static and immobility" [19].


The arguments of avant-garde artists about the status of modern art in the new social environment, which accompanied attempts to form a united "left front of culture", do not only testify to the diversity of aesthetic preferences. To a large extent, the public expression of various positions resulted from a change of paradigms: a transition from a historical vision of the past to a genealogical one. The historical vision inscribed art in a cumulative community of specific manifestations and equally specific relationships. The genealogical vision built lines of elective affinities, and conscious, volitional acts of succession. Any attempts to reconcile the effects of historical and genealogical visions, any calls for "objectivity" looked like opportunism. The spirit of confrontation, fueled by the idea of ​​revolutionary novelty, not only problematized the past, but demanded a severe critical reassessment.


The success of such a reassessment directly depended on a reduction from the historical to the ideological — on simplification, schematization, on the bloodlessness of the images of the past. That is why the fabric of the historical heritage looks to the avant-gardists as an orphan "raw material", an indistinguishable heap of rubbish, a senseless accumulation of "carrion" against which a person of culture is reduced to the position of "connoisseur of antiques".


For the artists who answered the call and challenge of the revolutionary situation, for those that this situation had propelled forward, at the forefront of a new culture, the logic of the path was predetermined by the initial imperatives: "Any collection of old things brings harm"; “We need to tear off the mask of carrion with a living, powerful hand, pull out the splinters of the past”; “And be just as ruthless as time and life itself” (K. Malevich). The past and with it the historical vision were pushed aside by the projectivist vision. The project was ideologically motivated. And like any ideology, it combined a critical reassessment of the past with creating its own pedigree.


To a large extent, the ideology of the Russian avant-garde echoed the Manichean dualism of the victorious revolution, which mercilessly divided the world into “old” and “new”, “reactionary” and “progressive”. However, in the ideology of the avant-garde its own motives are also clearly distinguishable, woven into the general model of the “revolution in art”: there are not only “left” ideas and artistic innovation in the field of form, but also less noticeable, although extremely important motives of messianic theology and, of course, Nietzsche's "revaluation of all values" with which his "genealogy of morality" is associated.


Of course, artists have been more interested in the genealogy of art than morality. But the attitude as well as the train of thought remain in tune with Nietzsche’s: on the one hand, criticism of values, the value of which was taken for granted, for a fact or for something unshakable, inviolable, on the other — a demonstration of alternatives which can be convincingly stated on the basis of museum exhibitions and laboratory analytical studies.


In this sense, the museum of new art is both a product and a producer of a genealogical attitude and binary typology. For A. Rodchenko, for example, the dominant opposition is that between dynamic and static developments: "New museum construction is based on the principle of a museum of stages in the development of an art form, and not in the creation of a museum of a historical nature, which resulted in its definite static forms under the capitalist system" [20]. For Kandinsky, the generalization of the opposition between the “old” and the “new” is a universal system-forming principle of museum work:


“The usual, universally established (i.e., both in Russia and abroad) approach to the organization of art museums is a historical one. The museum marks the condition of art period after period, century after century, regardless of whether one period has any connection with another other than a historical sequence. Thus, the usual type of museum resembles a chronicle, stringing phenomenon after phenomenon, without delving into their inner meaning. Such art history museums have their definite value as a repository of art phenomena that can serve as raw material for a variety of research and conclusions. The common disadvantage of such museums is, obviously, the lack of a guiding principle and system".

The new museum — the Museum of Painterly Culture — according to Kandinsky, arose from "a new path in museum construction". The foreground is "a certain principle and system in accordance with a single common goal":


“This single and common goal is the desire to show the development of art not in a chaotic historical sequence, but in the sequence and strict continuity of the development of art from two sides:


1. From the side of new contributions in the purely artistic field, that is, so to speak, from the side of the invention of new artistic techniques, and

2. From the side of the development of purely artistic forms, regardless of their content, that is, so to speak, from the side of craft in art" [21].

Demonstrating continuity was not based only on similarities. The genealogical attitude constituted the differences and was corrected by the same differences. Therefore, along with dividing the art of the past into relatively homogeneous units (trends, styles, schools), museum practices are accompanied by oblivion, erasure, and bracketing of everything that reminds of historical approaches.


In this context, the ambiguity in regard to the national cultural heritage is noteworthy. On the one hand, the genealogy pointed to the Western, primarily French, roots of the Russian artistic avant-garde and on the other hand, the explicit demonstration of an identity rooted in its tradition, clean and kept independent. Correcting the genealogy, which referred to the archaic (icon, lubok) and purging the tradition (excommunication of the Itinerants) were not enough.


Demonstrating exclusively national heritage in the halls of new museums was thought to be a clear proof of the elective relationship. Stating the separation of "friends" from "foes", Alexander Rodchenko undoubtedly expressed a conviction shared by many:


“You cannot mix French painterly culture with Russian, since Russian painting goes its own way, only we stubbornly do not want to see it, do not value it and pray to the Westernizers. Combining paintings by Russian painters with the Shchukin and Morozov museums means subscribing to our own failure, to close our past, which is as rich as the French, and every art in general. First of all, it is necessary to distinguish that Russian painting has no continuity from the West, and if the West is reflected in it, then this is only a minus for the essence of Russian painting.


We go our own way, and our painting differs so much from the West that it is both mediocre and sinful to lump it together. [...] The tasks pursued in the Western and the Eastern art are completely different, and it cannot be compared with each other. […] Our admirers of Western easel painting make a deep mistake, closing their eyes and suppressing their own, which is peculiar to us. This, by the way, is generally a characteristic of Russians — not to see their beauty and to worship the West, which has already fallen apart and has become obsolete" [22].


There were no objections from the Russian avant-garde artists. Until the final closure, museums of art and painterly culture preserved "their own beauty".


The attitude of the Soviet government towards contemporary art museums appears to be a special topic that requires a detailed narrative.


It is well known that Lenin, Krupskaya, Stalin, and the party functionaries around them disliked "left" art. The People's Commissar A. V. Lunacharsky, who at first patronized avant-garde artists, ended up soon joining the "general line" of the ruling party. However, during the formation of the “artists’ museum”, Lunacharsky was complacent:


“Of course, such a museum is needed for the people. Such a museum will show the evolution of labor in the field of art. But where, in this case, will we put the art which reflects human culture, the autobiography of the human race? Such museums are of the same importance as museums of painterly culture. When organizing museums, one should not forget either one or the other.


The artist understands the artistic past, but is always fanatical and biased. The artist searches the past only for his ancestors; therefore, he does not see organic growth. In museum studies, however, the broadest view is needed; here objectivity is required. For a museum, all human achievements are equal. The museum should be a garden in which all flowers should grow. If we adhere exclusively to the point of view of painterly culture, then such museums would have to be rebuilt every five years because each group of artists looks at this culture differently" [23].


Indeed, the point of view of another group of artists, who were treated kindly by the authorities and became the founders of socialist realism, viewed art and culture differently. Museums for which “all human achievements are equal” and where “all flowers should grow” were no longer mentioned. The Manichean dualism of party ideology abolished the very territory of artistic experiment. A different genealogy was established for the avant-garde, which referred to the “accursed past”: to petty-bourgeois individualism, anarchism and decadence.


The subsequent demonization of the artistic avant-garde, the removal of its traces from museum expositions, the fierce struggle against “formalism” and “degenerate art” looks like a parody of the avant-garde own logic. Once upon a time, regarding the first approaches to the project of the museum of contemporary art, Nikolay Punin had announced: “You cannot build a common museum. It is a stillborn enterprise. You need to take only what you need”.


A few years later, in the late twenties, the legacy of the avant-garde turned out to be "unnecessary". For many decades, it was swallowed up in historical oblivion.


Translated by Tatiana Mironova

1. Here and throughout we will use the translations “modern artists”, “modern museum” and “modernity” with the permission of the author. Evgenii Barabanov: “The word 'modern' did not have strictly terminological meaning and did not indicate the common oppositions such as modern/avant-garde, modern/postmodern, avant-garde/neo-avant-garde. So, modern was understood as the new, left, and revolutionary which confronted the old, academic, bourgeois”.


2. Malevich K. Collected Writings in 5 Volumes. Vol. 1. Articles, manifestos, theoretical essays and other works. 1913 — 1929. M.: Gileya, 1995. P. 98 (in Russian).


3. Ibid. P. 133.


4. Vlasova T. V. From the history of the artistic life of revolutionary Moscow: the activities of the All-Russian Central Exhibition Bureau (1918 — 1921) // Soviet art history. 1988. Issue. 23. P. 317 (in Russian).


5. Malevich K. A Little Dead Stick // Anarkhiia. 1918, No. 33, April 1. P. 4 (in Russian).


6. Rodchenko A. Experiments for the Future. Diaries, articles, letters, notes. М.: Grant, 1996. P. 101—102 (in Russian).


7. The Declaration is given in extracts; full text: the Art of the Commune newspaper (1919, No. 11, February 16) and the book Museum in Museum. Russian avant-garde from the collection of the Museum of Painterly Culture in the collection of the State Russian Museum. SPb.: Palace Editions, 1998. P. 352—353 (in Russian).


8. In the Collegium on the Arts and Arts Industry // Art of the Commune, 1919, № 8, January 19. P. 4; for the commentary see: Krusanov A. V. Russian avant-garde 1907—1932 (Historical review). In three volumes. Vol. 2. The Futuristic Revolution (1917—1921). Book 1. M.: NLO, 2003. P. 691 (in Russian).


9. Protocol of the commission for the organization of the Museum of Painterly Culture // Museum in Museum. P. 351.


10. Malevich K. Collected Writings in 5 Volumes. Vol. 1. P. 132, 134.


11. Ibid. P. 99, 135.


12. In the Collegium on the Arts and Arts Industry // Art of the Commune, 1919, № 8, January 19. P. 4.


13. Protocol of the commission for the organization of the Museum of Painterly Culture. P. 351.


14. Stepanova V. A man cannot live without a miracle. Letters. Poetical works. The artist's diary. М.: Sfera, 1994. P. 86 (in Russian).


15. In the Collegium on the Arts and Arts Industry. P. 4.


16. Ibid.


17. Ibid.


18. Malevich K. Collected Writings in 5 Volumes. Vol. 1. P. 140—141.


19. Stepanova V. A man cannot live without a miracle. P. 119—120.


20. Rodchenko A. Experiments for the Future. Diaries, articles, letters, notes. М.: Grant, 1996. P. 99.


21. Kandinsky W. Selected works on the theory of art. Vol. 2. 1918—1938. М.: Gileya, 2001. P. 21 (in Russian).


22. Stepanova V. A man cannot live without a miracle. P. 84—85.


23. Cit. by Krusanov A. V. Russian avant-garde 1907—1932. Vol. 2. Book 1. P. 228—229.