Advancement or ‘Grotesquification?’

Mayakovsky’s poems, Zabolotsky’s poems, and the film Magnitogorsk all convey imagery that flips traditional beauty on its head.

In Magnitogorsk, the transformation of the steppe into a heavily polluted, industrialized landscape is most obviously portrayed. As we hear one story after the next of the difficult labour, hazardous working conditions, coercion, death, misery, and environmental destruction associated with the building of, and continued living conditions in Magnitogorsk, it is no challenge to see that exact human history reflected in the scape of grey, pervasive smoke stacks and industrial apartments. Similarly, Zabolotsky and Mayakovsky’s poems depict the deformation of traditionally beautiful concepts of nature, love, and music into a grotesquely human-influenced aberration.

In “Could You?” and “Love,” Mayakovsky shows how humans can belittle grand concepts. The poet speaks of “the ocean’s vicious cheekblades/ in a dish of aspic.” and asks, “could you/ play a nocturne/ on a flute you’ve made from sluicepipes?” Although the ocean is so powerful and “vicious,” “life’s dull self-portrait” only portrays its ocean in a plate of human food. Likewise, a nocturne on a flute may be traditionally meaningful and beautiful, but to play it simply on sluicepipes (water channel pipes) estranges and “bizarre-ifies” them. In “Love,” Mayakovsky also contradicts the reader’s potential expectations from a poem about love. He fills the poem with grotesque images like “swampy muck…something red squirmed on the tracks… kisses like the butts of cigarettes…”

Zabolotsky’s “The Mad Wolf” shows how the wild and natural form (as described by the Bear) are devolved into madness as the wolves and chairman seek human intellect, occupations, and advancement. We see the complexity of how the wolf (“The Mad One”) thinks through his desire to become a (more human)  philosopher/scientist/writer, actually seeks to become a plant (closer to nature). Later, the wolves of different occupations all show their excitement to find happiness through industrialization. All of these images of the wolves and bears (typically majestic animals) seeking out human qualities are very strange. Though on the surface, they may seem to praise science that “sparkes like a water-spout,” the setting of the story allows us as readers to see how ridiculous the concepts of advancement are.

While all these works depict how human influence estranges natural/classical beauty, it’s interesting to note what different points in time they were written. Mayakovsky wrote in 1913, while Zabolotsky wrote in the 1930s, and Magnitogorsk depicts the persistence of hardship through decades and generations.

Betrayal

The role that the environment plays in “I do not look for harmony in nature”, and the tone in which it is described, is very different than what we’ve seen in past readings. I have found that most pieces represent nature as very strong and persistent in the face of all the disruption it faces. In this poem, however, I felt less of this “hope” I felt in the past, feeling more of the hopelessness of nature coming through. Not only has nature become unidentifiable to humans, as Zabolotsky makes clear in explaining that he no longer even bothers searching for harmony in nature, but also that nature can no longer identify itself. Zabolotsky writes that the black water is now “weary of its vigour”, “its bodily movement”, and “its massive labors”, seemingly trying to express that the hopelessness we often see in humans regarding the environment has reached nature itself. A force once so in balance and in harmony can no longer recognize its new form and purpose, an idea that reminds me of Professor Breyfogle’s lecture. The role of water around Lake Baikal was created to maintain itself and the wildlife depending on it. All of a sudden this purpose was shifted to supporting factories and working endlessly to work toward hydroelectric power. If we were to personify the water within Lake Baikal, we might imagine that altering its purpose so drastically could make it unable to identify itself, similar to how nature is depicted in Zabolotsky’s “I do not look for harmony in nature”. I see themes of betrayal in both of these instances, the industrialization of Lake Baikal and the transformation of nature in Zabolotsky’s poem. The waters of Baikal, the wildlife inhabiting it, and even the residents of the area we’re betrayed by the forced industrialization; and, too, the narrator in Zabolotsky’s poem loses a connection with nature, and nature itself almost loses a connection with itself.

Old and New

I thought that the fundamental thing the movie/documentary was trying to show was the different meaning of labor in communist times to the different ethnic groups of Magnitohorsk. As shown by the brief propaganda film, the city was founded for the production of iron ore found in the Ural Mountains. The location of Magnitohorsk is significant for it startles the two continents, Asia and Europe. Consequently, its ethnic diversity is one which is similarly spit. And the thing that brings the two ethnic groups together in Magitohorsk? Labor, work.

However, these two ethnic groups, those from eastern Russian and those relocated from Tartarstan, have very different opinions and outlooks on the labor that is forced upon them. The film follows the two families, the older Tartar couple and the old women who was married to Victor Kalmykov to display these different outlooks as well as the oppression of both groups by the ruling class.

Looking first at the Kalmykovs, they originally embodied Soviet ideals of labor. Viktor lived to work always overproducing, described as, “when he picked up a spade it was like a toy to him.” Labor to Viktor was his life purpose and he graciously did it for the good of the state. And he was rewarded for doing so, given his own room and publicly praised.

Labor for the Tartar couple showed differently. They were content in their home and forcefully removed and transported in cattle cars to Magnitohorsk in a concentration camp like inhabitants. Labor to them was imprisonment.

Both of these groups, however, regardless of their outlook on labor were eventually oppressed by the government. Where Viktor was executed (with only vague reasons given by the film) and his wife forced into interrogation, the Tatar couple remained displaced working in the factory.

The film, importantly, ends on a contemporary note showing two interviews with a mother and a single scientist. These two interviews beg the question of is this sort of forced labor over? Is the oppression that Viktor and the Tartar couple experienced done with?

Yes and no. Although not as blatant, the two interviews show a lack of opportunity for both the mother and the scientist. When asked if she thinks her son will have to work in the factory the mother responds, (paraphrased) “I hope not” with a dark glint in her eye as she ponders this likely eventuality. The scientist women when asked if she wants children responds, (paraphrased) “that is a luxury that I cannot afford” and she remarks that although she can travel freely now (paraphrased), “I cannot afford it.” The similarities of the old and the news tie to their labor and their lack of freedom are astounding.

Industrialization Interrupting the Hum of Life

In the film, Magnitogorsk and the poem, “I Do Not Look for Harmony in Nature,” there is a strong tension between nature and industrialization. In the film, this first presents itself in the creation of the labor-camp type developments at Magnitogorsk mining and smelting ore. In these camps, especially for those of persecuted kulaks, the new environment in the empty steppe is much harsher than they are accustomed to and this causes lots of sickness and death. Later in the film, a female scientist describes the perils of child rearing in this environment, polluted as it is by the ore smelting. In addition to lack of funds, which contributes to poor nutrition, she fears that the air and toxicity of the environment would negatively impact the life of any children she has. Because of this, she voices her decision to not have children at all. Thus, in this film, the environmental damage is interpreted through threats to human health.

In Zabolotsky’s “I Do Not Look for Harmony in Nature,” his description of the surrounding world conveys hopelessness and lifelessness, “It is a world of sleep and unreason / The heart hears no concordant music / in the obstinate chanting of the wind” (Zabolotsky, 177). The environment and nature surrounding the speaker lacks soulfulness and cheer. Readers quickly find the reason: industrialization. Limiting the “wild freedom” of nature, “glittering turbines…electric power, human construction” lays at the base of this lifelessness, even as Russia moves towards a more technologically advanced society. That is, as we heard in Professor Breyfogle’s talk on electric power in the middle of nowhere and the factories and industries that rose around it. Yet Zabolotsky presents industrialization as something antithetical to harmony within nature.

Nature’s Moral Goodness versus its Deception in Valentin Rasputin’s “Baikal”

After close examination of Lake Baikal in Rasputin’s essay, there seems to be great variability between the moral and heavenly descriptions of Lake Baikal, versus mysterious and sometimes deceptive illustrations of what Rasputin and his colleagues observe within the region.

From the beginning of this piece, descriptions of “the sacred sea,” “the sacred lake,” “ the sacred water,” illustrate Lake Baikal as a region closely connected with the divine. It is said to be “considered enlightened” by those who frequent it, and Rasputin states that this part of Russian is “wrought by God” (188). Here, there is a connotation of spiritual goodness paired alongside Lake Baikal. Later, the accounts of the colleague’s miraculous transformation after visiting the region similarly associate a divine and everlasting power with the region. This colleague states that his “spirits have been lifted” by Baikal, and that he now addresses the lake formally as “Father Baikal” (191). Spiritual imagery, specifically the epithet “Father,” implies Lake Baikal becomes a heavenly force for those who witness it. Now with that supernatural, divine connotation comes a sense of morality mention on page 193—Baikal’s heavenly abundance is evidenced by its vast nature, which in itself “is always moral.” Furthermore, Rasputin states that Baikal “has never refused to help human beings,” even despite their constant utilization of its resources. By use of notions like morality and unconditional support of Russian people, Lake Baikal and its heavenly nature suggest moral and spiritual goodness.

With these various (and seemingly harmless) characteristics of Lake Baikal, such as spiritual enlightenment and even its physically bright, blossoming rocks, there is surprisingly also a notion of deception and mystery portrayed through Rasputin’s observations. In the beginning of this piece, it is mentioned that Baikal noticeably “dumbfounds” its visitors due to its otherworldly nature (188). Specifically, “its rocks seem to blossom” and its snowy mountains are accentuated so much so that the human “eye perceives” them “as many times closer than they actually are” (189). Here, there is a deceptive component to the Baikal region, which almost tricks its visitors into imagining scenery different than it really is. Another scene that depicts similar deceptive notions is during winter when “the transparent ice seems so thin” that one is “afraid to step on it” even though it “might be over one meter thick” (191). This second excerpt and its imagery of ice and transparency coincides the moral goodness of the Baikal region; however, the fact that frozen lake is so clear that it deceives its visitor contradicts the region’s divine, moral goodness.

In sum, Lake Baikal in Rasputin’s essay seems to encompass both moral and divine notions yet simultaneously comes across as deceptive and mysterious. Do you think these characteristics should mutually co-exist? Perhaps they enhance one another, and purposely portray the region as complicated: spiritually divine and moral, yet also deceptive, a force to be reckoned with. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Religion and Temptation in The Mermaid

“The Mermaid” portrays the complexity of the relationship between religion (the father) and nature (the mermaid). The mermaid’s physical and emotional transformations over the course of the film parallel the changes in seasons and natural surroundings. (Side note: the mermaid’s intertwined characteristics with nature remind me of Sofya’s parallel to the earth, and Trofim’s parallel to the Neva in “The Flood.”) In the beginning, we see the mermaid reflect winter’s classically beautiful, yet dangerous characteristics; she appears to struggle in the icey river, and the first view of her shows her beautiful, pale face. As spring comes, we see her face become more colored, and her liveliness reflects the vibrance of her surroundings. These very transformations with nature allow her to draw the young man’s attention. While we run the risk of imposing our conception of the siren, I do think that the mermaid’s workings on the man emerge from a place of cunning, rather than love, because she seems to instantly have control over him. Counter to mermaid’s representation of nature and cunning, the young man’s father (who I believe is a priest) seems to stand for religion.

Once the young man has fallen for the mermaid, he goes to his father, but it seems that he does not kiss his hand or accept his father’s blessing. In other words, the mermaid seems to have tempted the man away from faith, blinding him in awe and love (of sorts) for her. If I understood correctly, the mixing and melding of images of the father to the young, naive, man seem to imply that the father had also, long ago, fallen for the mermaid. The key turning point is when, during a flashback, as the father is getting married, he sees the mermaid in church. The mermaid’s presence in the church creates extreme conflict (which is clear when she creates a literal storm outside), because she represents temptation. This flashback shows us why the father tries to keep his son from the tempting and beautiful mermaid.

However, Petrov’s ultimate message is complicated. When the mermaid finally brings about a storm and playfully tips the young man into the water, we see a flash of his cross: the first sign of his own faith. However, the father, as the image of faith, and the mermaid, as the image of cunning, ultimately die, while the young man survives. One one hand, we could interpret, that by having to bury both his father and his love, the young man is punished, and forced to reflect on his sin. Therefore, we see him repairing the church in the last seen, perhaps as a renewed commitment to religion. On the other hand, his survival of the storm seems to imply that his position between his father/religion and the mermaid/temptation, is what prevails over the other two characters’ polarized values.

Is all of nature created (and enjoyed) equally?

Valentin Rasputin does a beautiful job writing Baikal. This piece is written in a very lyrical and intriguing manner, both informing and inspiring the reader. Rasputin depicts Lake Baikal as different from other natural landmarks, and at one point, claims it one of nature’s “favorites”.  For me, this begged the question of whether or not nature creates all natural environments equally, to be enjoyed equally by all, none objectively better than another. Early on in this piece, Rasputin writes, “How and with what can its beauty actually be compared? … each of us regards his own region as beloved and dear…From the time we are born we drink in the air, the salt, and the scenes of our homeland; these influence our character and shape our vital makeup to no small degree” (189). According to this view, maybe all of nature is created equally, but experienced differently, and even biasedly, by love who live in it. For instance, I might find that the beauty of my home environment is objectively better than the environment a couple of towns over. This seems right to me in many ways. However, there are some flaws in this view. I love my hometown and will always think that the ocean surrounding my tiny island is the most beautiful of them all, but I must admit that I believe this because of the personal attachment and emotional bond I have with it. I’ve traveled a great deal and have seen oceans must more beautiful than the Atlantic surrounding my island – the colors of the Indian and Atlantic oceans colliding at the very point of Cape Town, the sky above it, and backdrop behind it, were so obviously more beautiful than the ocean I’m used to here. According to this view posed by Rasputin, I should think there is nothing more beautiful than my island ocean, so why is it that, in some ways, I prefer the ocean in Cape Town? This leads me to Tolstoy’s quote:

“How, in the midst of nature’s charms, can feelings of malice and vengeance or the passion to destroy others like himself possibly remain entrenched in man? It seems that all evil in a person’s heart should vanish when it comes into contact with nature, this spontaneous expression of beauty and goodness” (192).

In my mind, I related this quote to the story of the colleague who becomes silent after witnessing the natural beauties of Lake Baikal. He clearly had a lasting life-altering experience that influenced the way he viewed and approached life thereafter, but can all people experience this, as Tolstoy hopes, or does it take a certain type? Maybe an open-minded person more in touch with nature is most capable of this transformative experience because it is obvious that not everyone experiences nature in the same way this colleague does. Looping back to my point of the island ocean versus the Cape Town ocean, maybe it is that I am more unfamiliar with the latter and thus have a greater appreciation from it; and from this, we might say that nature is created equal, and can be enjoyed equally by all, but that it does take a certain type of person, and maybe even some extent of removal from a place, for us to appreciate the full and true beauty of nature.

Art and the Environment

After reading “Baikal” by Rasputin and looking at the Aivazovsky paintings I was struck by the different portrayals of water in both the literature and the paintings. Though the paintings did not necessarily depict Lake Baikal, they paired well with the descriptions, both positive and negative from the narrator in Rasputin’s text.

There were many descriptions of Baikal as sacred, specifically “for its miraculous, life-giving force and for its spirit, which is a spirit not of olden times, of the past, as with many things today, but of the present, a spirit not subject to time and transformations, a spirit of age-old grandeur and power preserved intact, of irresistible ordeals and inborn will” (Rasputin 189). After introducing Baikal as such an important and powerful lake, he reflects on a time when he brought a colleague on a walk around the lake when its “beauty was in full bloom and at its peak” (190). The man by the lake’s beauty that, by the end of the day, he cannot intake anymore beauty. The Aivazovsky paintings, specifically “The Sea,” “Sailboat near the Crimean Shore,” and “Moonlit Night” struck me as portraying the kind of serenity and beauty that the man saw on his visit that day. The landscape is vast and shocking and the water is call and beautiful.

The other paintings by Aivazovsky parallel the other side of Baikal that Rasputin is careful to mention to his friend. The side that “can rage for no reason” and when “the transparent ice, swept clean by the winds, seems so thin that the water beneath it is alive and stirring” (Rasputin 191). The paintings “Night Storm at Sea,” and “The Ninth Wave” show the other sides of water that aren’t seen when the sea is calm and the sky is blue. Though these conditions are different and sound more daunting than the picture-perfect day initially described, they are all shown in the paintings to be stunning, striking, and rich in color. Rasputin agrees with this intensely beautiful portrayal of a raging sea, regardless of the dangers. He ends “Baikal” with a cry for protection of the lake, which is interesting given the lack of thesis or obvious political motivation. I wonder if art and literature ever collided to advocate for the environment.

Is nature reality or anti-reality?

In Valentin Rasputin’s short essay on Lake Baikal, he describes human’s relationship with nature and how that relationship affects their reality. There is of course a great chasm between modern society and the natural world, but as much as humans have attempted to distance themselves from the natural world, there is still a force pulling them to their most natural state. Rasputin writes about this intense urge to reject aspects of human society: “Oh the spirit of Baikal! This is something special, something living, something that makes you believe in the old legends and ponder with mystical apprehension the extent to which people in some places feel free to do anything they please.”

The theme of being able to do anything that one pleases is explored through the text: “Baikal, it would seem, ought to overwhelm a person with its grandeur and its dimensions—everything in it is big, everything is large-scale, enigmatic, and free—yet on the contrary, it is uplifting.” In this quote, Rasputin argues that nature allows humans to be free and live lives closer to how they were meant to be. This begs the question of whether humans are realest when they are freest. Is the most accurate reality for a human to live in a reality in which they are governed only by their own wants and desires? I think that Rasputin is arguing that freedom brings us closer to our natural state, and thus brings us into a true reality,

Towards the end of the text, Rasputin quotes Tolstoy: “How, in the midst of nature’s charms, can feelings of malice and vengeance or the passion to destroy others like himself possibly remain entrenched in man? It seems that all evil in a person’s heart should vanish when it comes into contact with nature, this spontaneous expression of beauty and goodness.” This quote illustrates perhaps the most important part of Rasputin’s thesis, the description of humans falling from goodness and moving towards the corruption of society. Ever since Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden, human’s have lost the sense of innocence omnipresent in the natural world. They have needlessly complicated a world that has literally evolved over millions of years to work well and rationally, and be filled with spontaneous perfection.

Rocky Seas, Aivazovsky and our false security

Ivan Aivazovsky seascapes are striking for their dual display of natural beauty and ferocity. Aivazosky shows the sea’s turbulence as equally threatening and awe-inspiring forcing the viewer to consider the sea’s and ultimately nature’s superior power. The human figures in the selected paintings are small and seemingly insignificant compared to the grand natural scenery. Specifically, in The Ninth Wave and The Rainbow the human figure is seen being controlled by the natural environment and in dire circumstance: the sea is in control.

Specifically, in The Rainbow the beauty of the seascape is used as a veil to hide the eventual doom of the lifeboat. In the distance a ship is seen moments before capsizing and crashing into the shore, and in the foreground a group of thirteen men man a crammed and crowded lifeboat. The painting is particularly lightly colored, fogged in light blues and purples showing signs of the calm after the storm, indicating a sense of safety rather than distress. The large swells of the ocean, however, indicate different. With the gunwales of the life boat close to the water and large waves close behind, the small boat is most likely doomed to the same fate as the larger boat in the distance. The specific choice of warmer colors and the inclusion of the rainbow disguise the danger of the natural landscape and instead falsely indicate a certain safety and control of the men in the lifeboat over the natural landscape.

The thirteen men within the ship allude to Jesus and the twelve disciples on the Sea of Galilee. In this biblical story, although the disciples are distressed because of the storm, Jesus remains asleep, his faith un-shook by natures forces. The men on the boat in the painting seem unfazed by the storm. A Jesus like figure appears confident standing near the bow of the boat. The close viewer recognizes that this confidence is misplaced for the boat will eventually crash.

 

Perhaps Aivazovsky is using the natural symbolism of the rainbow in the light colors and the allusion to Jesus on the Sea of Galilee to remind the viewer of our false sense of control over the natural environment, specifically the sea. Regardless of faith, the boat will crash, nature will win.