by David Zenian
There is a bit of a rebel in every artist and no one knows this better than those who had to balance their art with the demands of a communist system where fame often started with party affiliation and the financial rewards that went with it.
Big Brother, as some artists call the central committee of the Soviet Communist Party, kept a closer eye on writers and made sure they did not get in the way of the state propaganda machine. As for painters, actors and sculptors, the trend was to ignore those who put their art above the praise of the communist system.
Rudolph Khatchadrian, who is by far the best-known Armenian painter in Russia, describes himself as a "lone wolf" who has refused to compromise his art for the sake of state recognition.
"I have been living in Moscow for 32 years, and my journey to fame has not been an easy one. At no time did the state support me. I was not on their payroll," he said in an interview in his Moscow studio.
"I never joined the communist party, and at no time during my long career did I paint anything with a communist theme. As a lone wolf, and a rebel, I might have ended in jail if my artistic expression was through writing," he said.
Khatchadrian, 65, was born in Armenia. He dropped out of school at the age of 15 and began work as an apprentice to famous Armenian painter Yervand Kochar.
"I never understood my parents. You can say I did not even get along with them. I guess now that kind of behavior is called generation gap," Khatchadrian said.
"Kochar was like a father to me. I remember the day when, at the age of 14, I was painting in the park near the Yerevan Opera Square when I felt someone looking over my shoulder. It was Kochar.
"To tell you the truth, I did not know what I was painting, I had no art education, and all I was doing was expressing my feelings. Kochar took me under his wing—he was the old man and I was the teenage-beginner," Khatchadrian said.
As much as Kochar had a major influence on Khatchadrian's art, his faith in God shaped him as a human being.
No interview with Khatchadrian is complete without his detailed explanation of how he "saw God."
"Some people laugh when I say that, but deep in my heart, I believe and I am sure of what I saw. I did see God. I was a young boy then, and I remember one night, lying in bed when I saw a light and the outline of a face. I was terrified and began to cry. When I opened my eyes, the face was still there. There is no doubt in my mind that what I saw that night was God himself," Khatchadrian said.
That experience has stayed with him throughout his life and, in his own words, "made me who I am and what I am today."
"How could I have accepted communism. How could I have sacrificed my art for such an ideology," he asked.
His first works were portraits, which he still paints, but his art has gone through one transformation to another and continues to change. His works, which fetch top dollars—a recent work was sold for 50,000 dollars—and are on permanent display at a number of Russian and international museums of art.
But how did Khatchadrian survive without the financial support of the Soviet state?
"When I came to Moscow in 1970, I was already an established portrait artist, and Moscow did not lack the so-called rich elite—including some Armenians—who wanted their portraits painted.
"For many years that's all I did, and with the money I started making, I had the liberty to move forward and begin experimenting with new ideas. In the Soviet days, anyone who did not follow the party line was destined to fend for himself.
"It is strange. For a system, which took pride in an ideology based on equality, there was no such thing. I was not persecuted, but because I was not one of them, I had to make do with what I had," Khatchadrian said.
With the collapse of the Soviet Union, Khatchadrian's fame has skyrocketed, but Khatchadrian is still not satisfied.
"I am not after money. I am more than ready to give all my artwork to Armenia tomorrow if I am assured of a place, a museum to collect and keep. I am also ready to move back to Armenia and teach young artists. I could not have been what I am today without Kochar and I want to share my talent with young Armenians in Armenia," Khatchadrian said.
But for now, Khatchadrian continues to live in Moscow and deals with his "moral obligation towards Armenia" with monthly financial support to many needy Armenian families.
"Our culture and church has kept us alive for centuries, and I am confident that it will for as long as we have faith in God. I truly believe in that," Khatchadrian said.
As much as Khatchadrian has been an "ambassador" for Armenia through his art, actor Armen Jigarkhanyan has also used his fame and popularity to enhance the image of his countrymen.
Born in Yerevan in 1935, Jigarkhanyan has lived in Russia for 35 years, making a name for himself in the theater and cinema.
Given his busy schedule, arranging an interview was not easy, but when it finally got underway at the coffee shop of a Moscow hotel, continuing was just as hard.
Moments into the interview, the "interruptions" began. A waiter approached for Jigarkhanyan's autograph and moments later, a half dozen others, including coffee shop patrons, were waiting in line.
Like Khatchadrian, Jigarkhanyan, who has more than 200 films—including 50 in Armenian—in his portfolio, also never joined the communist party. He started his career in Yerevan, and his face soon became a permanent fixture in roles that included comedy and tragedy.
His popularity soared in Moscow when he took on the leading role in the Tennessee Williams' play "A Streetcar Named Desire."
"I played the same role for 25 years—from 1970 to 1995. We performed for 750 times, and each night I had to rethink and bring something new to my role. Those were the best years of my career," Jigarkhanyan said.
His popularity has brought him close to top Soviet officials, including Mikhail Gorbachev who invited him to a meeting with Armenian and Azerbaijani officials to find a solution to the Nagorno Karabakh conflict.
"The conflict had just started and Gorbachev wanted to get the opinion of all sides. I don't know why I was invited, but there I was," Jigarkhanyan said.
His opinion then, and now, is still the same.
"Violence cannot resolve conflicts. Nothing is worth a single teardrop from the eyes of a child or a mother. I am a great believer in dialogue, negotiations and respect," he said.
The old Soviet movie industry has all but vanished, but Jigarkhanyan remains as popular as ever. He now concentrates on the theater and travels across Russia with a production group of his own.
"Communism has gone and people are supposed to be free, but I don't believe real freedom is here yet. We lived in fear all our lives and it's not easy to change people's character overnight.
"But whatever happens, I still don't miss the old days. Things are so much better now," he said.
And what about his native Armenia?
Jigarkhanyan, the comic, suddenly turns pensive.
"One has to be a realist. I can't do everything for Armenia, except being a good and proud Armenian. My fans all over Russia and the former Soviet Union know that I am an Armenian, and as long as I have a good image in their minds, I can say I am happy.
"How much more can an actor do?" he asked.
Sculptor Frid Sogoyan, 65, built his reputation as a Soviet artist, and the reason was pure economics.
Born in the Armenian city of Gyumri (formerly Leninakan), Sogoyan often skipped class as a teenager to go out and see how intricate ornaments and designs were being carved on stone for private and government buildings.
"I had this love for stone carving, and I pursued my interests and graduated from art school in 1961," he said in an interview at his Moscow workshop.
In 1970 Sogoyan moved to Moscow, where he began work for the Soviet department that was involved in the construction of national monuments. "The Soviets are famous for building monuments—from war heroes, to major battles and almost every major historical event involving the birth and development of communism," Sogoyan said.
As if reflecting the grandeur of the Soviet Union, Sogoyan's works are massive structures, which often took years to complete. At least seven of his works can be seen across Moscow and more than 50 others are permanently displayed in the major cities of Central Asia, Ukraine and many of the capital cities of the member states of the former Soviet Union.
But are they works of art?
"My works were too big to be displayed in museums, and could not be collected by people. Look at the statues in Italy or elsewhere in Europe, they are the artwork of ancient times. What I did is maybe Soviet art, because of the subject matters involved, but they are still works of art. You might be able to debate their aesthetic value, but you have to agree that not all art is pleasant to the eye, and not all art is beautiful for everyone," he said.
When the Soviet Union collapsed a decade ago, Sogoyan lost his state sponsors. Times were changing fast, and Sogoyan had to adapt.
Thanks to the reputation he had built during his career as a Soviet artist, Sogoyan soon found himself shifting from the old monuments he once built to smaller works—from decorative tombstones to the statues of rich businessmen.
Among his "fans" is former Soviet leader Gorbachev who commissioned him to build a marble monument for the family burial spot where his wife Raisa was laid to rest a few years ago.
"Gorbachev came here to my workshop several times and helped with the design and planning. I still have close relations with him," Sogoyan said.
"Do I miss the old days under communism? Yes I do, " Sogoyan asks and replies without much hesitation. "But do I want the return of those days? No."
"I make a good living and for the first time in my long career, I can afford to follow my heart and do things which are a true expression of my art," he said.
His first opportunity came in late 1990 when he was invited to visit the United States as a guest of two Americans who had been impressed by his works on display in Kiev.
"I am from Gyumri and I did lose 32 close friends in the 1988 earthquake. During my visit to Washington, I realized how important U.S. aid was to the earthquake victims. I had to do something in appreciation for what the American people had done for Armenia," he said.
Soon after his return to Moscow, Sogoyan began work on a large statue depicting a mother with a child in her arms. Through his new American friends and the help of the U.S. Embassy in Moscow Sogoyan contacted former Senator Bob Dole and the American Red Cross and arrangements were made to transfer the life-size structure.
Today the statue remains on permanent display outside the headquarters of the American Red Cross in downtown Washington DC.
In the last few years, Sogoyan has also built similar statues in appreciation of Russian-Armenian friendship and is currently involved in the construction of a monument honoring Russian sailors who lost their lives in World War II.
For Khatchadrian, Jigarkhanyan and Sogoyan, their artistic journeys began under communism.
Haig Martirossian and Ruben Apressian, on the other hand, are among the new generation of Armenian artists who have made a name for themselves in post-communist Russia where survival has become an art form in itself.
Martirossian, 30, is a graduate from Yerevan State University and holds a degree in Chemistry but has chosen the opera as a career.
"I did not even know that my voice was good enough," Martirossian said during a break from his busy rehearsal schedule preparing for a new singing role with the Bolshoi Theater.
With persistent encouragement from his mother, Martirossian, like many young children in his native Armenia, had started taking piano lessons at the age of seven.
As he grew up, music moved away from center stage until one day his hidden talents were "discovered" by the famous Armenian opera singer Pavel Lisitsian.
"We were gathered for a social evening at a friend's house when, like all Armenian family gatherings, someone sat at the piano and we all started singing.
"Lisitsian pointed his finger at me, ordered the others to stop for a minute, and asked me to continue singing on my own. I look back at that day and how it changed my life and career," Martirossian said.
Soon he was in Moscow taking voice lessons, and his degree in Chemistry was folded and "stored in a safe place."
In the span of a little over six years, Martirossian has become one of the sought after bass singers with opera houses around the world. He has performed not only in Moscow, but with the Vienna State Opera and other major opera houses in Germany, Italy, Spain, Canada and most recently last year in the Arshak II production by the San Francisco Opera where he played the role of the Catholicos.
He joined the Bolshoi in 1997 and still performs there when he is not busy travelling around the world.
Famous he has become, but international fame has not distracted him from his love for his native Armenia.
Despite the fact that he has been living in Russia for the past almost 12 years and is a Russian citizen, Martirossian still chose to participate in world voice competitions under the Armenian flag.
In the past few years, Martirossian has had 10 solo appearances in Yerevan and donated the proceedings to the Armenian State Opera. Part of the revenue also helped purchase a new piano for an orphanage in Armenia.
"I am a native of Yerevan and for as long as I can, I will do whatever is in my power to help my country. The people back home are poor, but it's not their fault.
"Let's not expect too much of our little country, Armenia. Let's not forget that its only 10 years since independence. I can only speak for myself, but I have high hopes," Martirossian said.
Ruben Apressian, 38, is another Armenian talent who has gained recognition in Russia as one of the country's better known abstract painters.
A second generation Armenian native of Moscow, Apressian grew up in a family of artists. His mother is a music teacher and his father a sculptor.
Apressian began painting at the early age of six, and was encouraged to pursue his art by his father when he heard young Ruben was "spending most of his time in math class painting."
Soon he was out of school and sent to study painting with a Russian teacher. He never considered a university education.
At the age of 21, Apressian's works were already appreciated enough to be given a chance to join an exhibition along with other young Russian artists. That was in 1982, and since then his paintings have found their way into permanent collections of the State Museum of Eastern Art in Moscow, the Modern Art Museum in St. Petersburg and private collections in Russia, Austria, Germany, Armenia, the Netherlands, France, the United States, Italy, Sweden and Great Britain.
But real recognition came this year when Moscow's world-famous Tretyekov Gallery opened a special exhibition devoted to Apressian's work.
Apressian spreads his time between Moscow and Vienna, where some of his recent abstract works have fetched over 10,000 dollars.
A soft-spoken man, Apressian shuns publicity.
"My objective in life is to set a good example. Some reach out and help their nation through money, others through science. I don't want to become a great painter. The world is full of great painters. I want to become a good Armenian painter, and through my work and hopefully reputation make my nation feel proud," he said.
