Christmas decorations - history. Three centuries of the Russian Christmas tree “Bear with a soccer ball”

The history of the country can be studied, including through New Year's tree decorations, say collectors, whose collection includes unique New Year's decorations from different eras made of dough, glass, earthenware, stamped in millions and created in a single copy.

“No end, no edge” made of glass and cotton wool. Olga Sinyakina has already come to terms with the fact that she won’t be able to collect all the toys. There are no series, no descriptions, no documents. But there is no year, era, or family whose Christmas tree she cannot recreate.

Olga Sinyakina, collector: “The Christmas tree before the revolution - you want to walk around it slowly, sing different songs, in general - a different mood, in different clothes.”

Before the revolution, gifts were not hidden under a tree, but were locked in palm-sized suitcases and traveling bags. In one of the families in a similar hiding place, every year the daughter was given a pearl - a gift without a surprise. But for the 18th birthday, a necklace was collected. All covered in candles, dough toys, but most importantly - a symbol of Christmas.

No matter what era the tree is, you can always find Christmas symbols on it. The Kremlin star is actually the Star of Bethlehem. The birth of the Savior is announced by everything that glows - garlands, rain and tinsel.

The gifts of the Magi are the second symbol. Fruits - pears, and mainly apples - were transformed into glass balls. And you can take communion with gingerbread. It was the third character that remained truly edible the longest.

The Christmas tree tradition itself was learned from the Germans. In St. Petersburg, Europeans placed pine bouquets on the table. The idea was adopted on a Russian scale.

Elena Dushechkina, Doctor of Philology, Professor of St. Petersburg State University: “Since we had forests, God forbid, the higher the better, no matter what they decorated.”

For several years, toys were no longer needed. In 1929, Christmas, Santa Claus, and Christmas trees were banned. The newsreel footage shows that instead of coniferous trees there are silhouettes of palm trees.

In 1936, the holiday was suddenly returned by one decree. Enterprises urgently repurposed themselves for the New Year. The Dmitrov Faience Plumbing Factory churned out Father Frost instead of sinks and toilets.

Olga Sinyakina, collector: “This product is somehow visible here. The toy is very heavy, a rough hole, black dots.”

A Christmas tree toy is always a symbol of time. In the 70s, factory stamping replaced manual work throughout the country. It is no longer valuable to collectors. But even an unremarkable ball seems to take you back to a time when Christmas trees were big, New Year’s Eve was magical, and Grandfather Frost was real.

Correspondent Yana Podziuban

Muscovite Olga Sinyakina has collected a unique collection of New Year's toys from the 30s to the 60s of the last century.

Ticket to childhood

Olga Sinyakina has a small Christmas tree on her desk at the Novaya Opera Theater. On the branches are glass harps, hares with drums, and even baskets of flowers that are given to artists after the concert. All toys are from the middle of the last century. All of them, one way or another, are connected with theater and music. And this, including the rare cotton Father Frost, is only a small part of the unique collection collected in an apartment in the south-west of Moscow. More than 4 thousand exhibits related to the most beloved children's holiday settled there. The youngest exhibits date back to the mid-sixties of the last century - since then the mass production of Christmas tree decorations began. And everything that was produced before was done mainly by hand. And these toys, which remember the warmth of the hands of our great-grandparents, are unique and inimitable.

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

"Bear with a Soccer Ball"

The first exhibit in the Muscovite’s collection appeared like this. On the Christmas tree of the friends Olga came to visit, there was an amazing bear - with an accordion and in red shorts.

This was an amazing toy - from my childhood. - recalls the Muscovite. During the holidays, I stayed home alone, took a toy from the tree, wrapped it, played with it, and hung it back. And this bear, which I saw at my friends’ place, was from there, from childhood. It was even scratched the same way! I primarily associate this bear with the New Year and the huge Christmas tree that my parents decorated for me. And then, several decades later, I met him! I began to think: “Where is my bear from childhood? I myself have grown-up children, my parents have long been dead, and my parents’ house is no longer there either. Who got all those toys?

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

Airships have been in fashion for a very long time

That same year, a Muscovite attended an exhibition organized by Soviet toy collector Kim Balashak. This American citizen lived in Russia for many years - she became very interested in the history of Soviet toys and collected an amazing collection. From the very first exhibition that Olga Sinyakina visited, the women fell in love with each other and became good friends.

She was a very wealthy lady and collected the collection professionally - she had exhibition glass cabinets, lighting, special stands for postcards,” says the Muscovite. - The richest collection, needless to say! It was replenished by professional agents who purposefully traveled to exhibitions and flea markets, buying toys. But, naturally, Kim did not know our history and fabulous folklore. For example, she once called me to tell me that she had finally managed to buy a “Bear with a Soccer Ball.” She invited me to see what kind of “soccer ball” it was. I arrive - and these are the heroes of the fairy tale “Kolobok”!

So, that visit to the guests at the Christmas tree and friendship with Kim Balashak became the starting point for Olga Sinyakina - these two events prompted her to start collecting her collection.

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

Toys from the fairy tale "Chippolino"

The first to live in the house was the same bear in red shorts - Olga bought him from some nice granny at a flea market. Now the Muscovite has seven such bears - the figures are the same, but since they are all painted by hand, each bear has its own color of underpants, accordion and, of course, its own unique facial expressions.

Over time, Olga collected all the toys from her children's Christmas tree. But it turned out that there are many other interesting toys. So they began to move from stalls at opening days and flea markets to a Moscow apartment in the southwest.

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

Dr. Aibolit

The doll world lives by its own laws, it has its own hierarchy, rules for decorating a tree. - says the collector. – My favorite ones are cotton ones from the 30s. But I also have a lot of glass ones. Each ball contains a glimpse of history. The events of the year were necessarily reflected in the theme of New Year's toys.

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

Cheburashka is one of the symbols of the era

Oil rigs, cotton, corn, satellite, rocket, airships - each milestone was illustrated. During the era of northern exploration, many polar bears were released on skis. I have a collection of female pilots.

Christmas trees of war

Some exhibits in Olga’s collection are toys from military Christmas trees. They are, of course, unpretentious, almost all made by hand and “on the run,” but this makes them the most valuable. The enemy stood several kilometers away near Moscow, but people still decorated their Christmas trees and believed - peacetime, Christmas trees, tangerines will definitely return!

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

I watched a documentary where children dance in a circle in a bomb shelter and it says “Happy New Year 1942.” - says the Muscovite. - The enemy is approaching, Moscow is in disguise, there’s a truck driving down the street carrying a Christmas tree! Many military toys were made from wire - the Moskabel plant, which supplied products to the front, made toys from scraps of wire, mainly snowflakes. There are toys made from officer's stripes. Snowflakes made of metallized foil, from which kefir plugs were made - there are the same owls, butterflies, and parrots. Decorated by hand. Whether they sold them or made them at home themselves, I don’t know.

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

But human destinies are also connected with these toys. One day, at an exhibition, a family approached me. The descendants of Vera Duglova, an artist of the Bolshoi Theater, her husband is also an artist. They were then sent for evacuation. Vera herself, who lived somewhere in the alleys of Arbat, remained. And the daughters and children left, including granddaughter Lena, whose name was Elochka. So they later gave me a diary, where “Mama Vera” talked about the days of the New Year’s war in Moscow, how, surprisingly, restaurants were still open then. How fur collars were exchanged for food and New Year's tables were set.

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

Then times of famine came in Moscow. But in the provinces there were products in the markets. Only the things that were exchanged for food have already run out. And so grandma sends a cardboard chicken in a letter before the New Year and congratulates her on the New Year. The children were surprised by such a gift, shrugged their shoulders and hung it on the tree. And then another letter: “Girls, how did my chicken help you?” And the girls guessed: they opened the cardboard chicken, it was hollow inside - and there was a gold chain! “How we lived on this chicken, what products we were able to exchange!” - the now matured Yolochka later recalled.

The letters were opened and read by military censorship - sending something openly was risky. But no one paid attention to the cardboard chicken, which is hollow inside. So the chicken, which saved the whole family and the little girl Elochka from hunger, first hung on the tree in the family of artists for many years, and then ended up in the collection of Olga Sinyakina.

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

The second life of the repressed Mishka

We also had a former artist named Rusla Grigorievna working in our music library. – the collector tells about another unique exhibit of his. - She was about 80 years old when she came to me with the words “Olechka, I know you have a large collection of New Year’s bears, I have a gift for you. I’m an old man, I’m afraid that after my death my grandchildren will throw it away as unnecessary.” And he holds out the old, old bear. He is wrapped in a rag, dirty, greasy, there is no muzzle - instead there is a black stocking and buttons.

This was given to me for 1932,” explained the elderly artist and told her story.

Her father came under repression during his hard years. Fortunately, the man was not shot - he and his family were exiled to Vorkuta. In 1953, the family was rehabilitated. The simple belongings traveled for a long time in a freight car back to the capital. In Moscow they opened it up and gasped - the rats ate the entire face of the bear on the road. The muzzle kissed by the child turned out to be the most delicious and sweet place for the rodent.

It was the most expensive toy, I cried so much and couldn’t throw it away. – the old woman later recalled. - I darned it as best I could - sewed on a black stocking, buttons instead of eyes.

Olga Sinyakina took the bear to toy restorer Sergei Romanov. He identified the toy - he had the same one in his collection! He carefully tore open the furry one, took the remaining fabric from the legs and under the belly, and sewed a muzzle from these scraps, modeled after the twin from his collection. He put pants on his paws. I made a rag nose and eyes.

Then I came to Ruslana Grigorievna with this updated bear, warned her to sit down and take it out of her bag, says Olga Sinyakina. - Ruslana Grigorievna gasped: “He was like that!” - and cried from feelings.

This bear, no matter how much Olga asked her colleague to take her childhood friend back, still remained with the collector - now in the company of other bears, periodically goes to exhibitions and “lives a good life.” In total, the Muscovite has more than eighty bears in her collection. And this is a New Year's attribute! – after all, according to tradition, for many decades it was not Santa Claus, but a teddy bear, that was placed under the Christmas tree.

Later, at exhibitions, Muscovites, whose childhood was in the thirties, told me that before the war they never put Santa Claus under the Christmas tree, only a bear - this was a pre-revolutionary tradition. – says Sinyakina. - Yes, and Santa Claus in a red fur coat was then associated only with Red Army soldiers. And many had bad associations with this form during the years of repression.

Christmas tree made from a mop

At one time, celebrating the New Year in the USSR was banned. In the mid-20s, there was an active campaign to deny “priestly holidays” - “Komsomol Christmastide” came into fashion, the new government ridiculed New Year and Christmas customs, plus the change of the calendar had an effect. Officially, the New Year was returned to its holiday status only in 1935.

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

Clock - can be hung or attached to a clothespin

But people still continued to celebrate even during the years of the ban. Although you could get a real sentence for decorating a Christmas tree. – says Olga Sinyakina. - At one of the exhibitions, an elderly lady approached me, who lived in the legendary House on the Embankment in the 30s. In the 1930s, residents of this house still rinsed their laundry in the Moscow River the old-fashioned way. And he and the local janitor had an agreement. He brought a Christmas tree from the forest in advance, disassembled it into spruce branches and hid it not far from the shore. And at each entrance there was a sentry at the exit - he checked everyone coming and going. And so, after the prearranged signal, the residents walked with basins and linen to the river. They showed the basin to the sentry at the exit. These hidden branches were found on the shore and hidden under linen. They brought it home. At home they took a mop. My husband drilled holes in it in advance. The branches were inserted into these holes. Over the course of a few “washes,” a quite nice “Christmas tree” was assembled - it was decorated with sweets, tangerines and homemade toys.
But the holiday then had a religious character.

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

Antique tear-off calendar

Pearls and children's tears

Traditional pre-revolutionary New Year's gifts are bonbonnieres. On Christmas and Angel's Day they put a pearl in them. By the time she came of age, the girl collected a necklace.

Then, already under Soviet rule, for twenty years in a row, teddy bears were the classic New Year's gift. The children valued them very much. Sometimes truly fantastic stories happened with such gifts. The hero of this story, a teddy bear, now lives in a collector’s apartment. The toy has an amazing biography.

In 1941, three-year-old Fedya, who lived in Leningrad, was given a bear for the New Year. – says Olga Sinyakina. - The boy loved this toy very much. In the summer of 1941, the boy’s father went to the front. Didn't come back. The blockade began - mother and grandmother died of hunger in front of Fedya’s eyes, and the child, half-dead, looking like a skeleton, with thin arms and legs, was then taken out for evacuation. All this time, the baby held onto the bear with a death grip - it was impossible to take the toy from the boy. But no one, seeing how much the child valued him, insisted. So they, Fedya and Misha, left for Perm. From there the boy was later taken to Moscow by distant relatives in the capital. The child arrived with the same toy. This was the only thing he had left of his family. Already an adult, Fedya kept this bear as his most important treasure. After death, relatives gave the toy as a gift.

Photo: Olga Sinyavskaya

Why billionaire Grigorishin does not sell anything from his collection of paintings
Office of Konstantin Grigorishin. There is a bas-relief on the wall. Photo by Evgeny Dudin for Forbes.
The owner of the Energy Standard group has created a collection worth $300 million, of which he is not ready to sell a single painting
In 2008, businessman Konstantin Grigorishin (No. 70 on the Forbes list of the richest, net worth $1.3 billion) hosted a dinner at his mansion. Three dozen guests are members of the board of trustees of the Guggenheim Museum, with which Grigorishin collaborates, and American collectors who flew to Moscow for this purpose. The museum regularly organizes such private dinners in the homes of collectors from different countries. The billionaire proudly showed the guests paintings from his personal collection. And he really has something to be proud of. Three dozen works hang on the walls of the house, from the time-tested Lucas Cranach the Elder to the fashionable Roy Lichtenstein.
One of the guests recognized the work of Russian constructivist El Lissitzky on the wall: “My friend always had it hanging in Palm Beach!” A little later, he sent Grigorishin an old photograph from a friend’s house to show how Proun looked in the interior. The businessman immediately noticed Fernand Léger on the American mantelpiece and began negotiations on the purchase. “We didn’t agree on the price. But we're keeping this thing on our radar. We need a Leger like him,” says the 46-year-old businessman in an interview with Forbes.

The owner of the Energy Standard group, which includes the largest Ukrainian manufacturers of energy equipment, bought the first painting back in 1993. His Kiev acquaintance Eduard Dymshits, curator of the collection of one of the Ukrainian banks, suggested that the businessman hang a landscape by Mikhail Klodt on the wall instead of a calendar. “It seemed to me that this was the right idea,” recalls Grigorishin. Moreover, the price was not critical - about $20,000. And now his collection includes 238 oil-on-canvas works and about 500 sheets of graphics. The total value of the collection a year ago was estimated by Lloyd’s insurers at $300 million.
Unlike Pyotr Aven, who collects artists from the World of Art and the Jack of Diamonds, or Dasha Zhukova, who collects only contemporary art, Grigorishin has everything. And the old masters, and even Aivazovsky - “big, beautiful.” The only unifying principle is that in all areas the collection contains only top names. “There must be perfectionism in everything. If you buy, then the best,” says the businessman.
His first passion was the avant-garde. Grigorishin, all of whose assets are located in Ukraine, collected, in particular, the most complete collection of the Kyiv cubo-futurist Alexander Bogomazov. One of the theorists of avant-garde art, who painted propaganda trains in the Red Army during the Civil War, was banned in Soviet times, but his widow kept the work. In 1966, in the wake of Khrushchev's thaw, she was able to organize an exhibition in Kyiv, and the next one took place only in 1991. One of its organizers was the same art critic Dymshits. Having become interested in Bogomazov’s work at his suggestion, Grigorishin found out the names of all the collectors who had the artist’s works, and gradually bought what he wanted: not only colorful canvases, but also about fifty sketches for paintings.
“In terms of completeness, our collection can probably only be compared to a museum. I have all the best work, but I never set myself the goal of getting to the bottom of the ore, collecting everything,” says Grigorishin. But he immediately admits that he would really like to also have “Tram” - this work is in the collection of the famous Moscow collector Valery Dudakov, who is not going to part with it. Grigorishin did not communicate with him personally, but this is not the first year he has been casting bait through intermediaries.
Grigorishin bought art from the beginning of the 20th century without thinking at all about whether this was a promising investment - in addition to “Irises” by Natalia Goncharova, for example, he also has in his collection her early works from the pre-avant-garde period. For the first ten years he collected according to the principle of “hanging on the wall,” and the only guideline was “the feeling inside.” In 2003, Grigorishin stopped buying art altogether - several experts, one after another, doubted the authenticity of some works from his collection. “I didn’t feel sorry for the money, it was just unpleasant,” the businessman admits.
Authenticity assessment is a non-trivial task. There are no questions when you buy an archive from relatives - just in 2003, a businessman purchased in Germany about 100 sheets of graphics by avant-garde artist Olga Rozanova, the wife of the poet Kruchenykh, directly from her brother. The work of such artists as Goncharova and Larionov, who, leaving Russia, themselves took all their works to the West, has been well studied and described (which is why Western banks willingly lend to collectors using their works as collateral). With most names the story is more complicated.
Troubles happen even with leading auction houses. Once Grigorishin bought a work by Nikolai Pymonenko at Sotheby’s, and when he began to draw up the documents, it turned out that neither the Tretyakov Gallery nor the Grabar Institute would undertake to confirm the authorship: there were no experts specifically on this artist. The businessman did not sue the auction for several tens of thousands of dollars. All this helped Grigorishin realize that a serious collection requires a professional curator.
Hunting for a painting

For the last eight years, Olga Vashchilina has been working on his collection on an ongoing basis. In the photo on the right at the 250th anniversary of the Hermitage.

In his father’s house with the family and friends of his father, Nikolai Vashchilin. 1986

We met by chance when we flew together to St. Petersburg for the birthday of mutual friends, Igor Rotenberg. The reason for the conversation about art and the authenticity of the works was a gift for the birthday boy - a surreal sculpture. It turned out that Olga herself collects contemporary artists. And since childhood.....

Olga Vashchilina with her father Nikolai Vashchilin in their father's house on Kronverksky Prospekt, 61 in St. Petersburg

She considered the businessman’s proposal for a year and eventually agreed.
The primary task is to check and confirm the authenticity of works already in the collection. “Provenance, experts, technological expertise: x-ray, chemical analysis. We must be 100% sure,” says Vashchilina. Despite the passionate desire to have Kazimir Malevich in the collection, Grigorishin was forced to abandon one of the versions of the “Suprematist Composition” and other works - there was no confidence in authenticity.

Olga Vashchilina with her father Nikolai Vashchilin in his house in St. Petersburg on Kronverksky Prospekt, 61. 1996

Grigorishin keeps all his paintings in Russia and Ukraine (“I live here, not in the West”). Delivery of paintings purchased abroad is expensive: a special box, supervision from the place of purchase to the airport, armed guards, etc. Such a service is provided by auction houses, they will have to pay $40,000–50,000 for transportation from the USA to Moscow. But if contact the contractors directly - this is done by the curator, then delivery will cost at least five times less.
One of the main tasks of a curator is to look for works that are of interest to the collector. Grigorishin, for example, has long been hunting for a nude by Amedeo Modigliani to give to his wife Natalya. It is unknown how long you will have to wait, but the curator is already working hard on it. In total, Modigliani painted 32 nudes. Of these, as we were able to establish from catalogs of various exhibitions and from conversations with collectors and experts, seventeen are in private hands today. And only seven of the potentially available works are of interest to Grigorishin. Olga piece by piece collected information about each owner: who, from what country, with whom they collaborate, whether they are getting divorced, what is going on with their finances, etc. It seemed that luck was close - one of the works was found in the collection of an Arab investment fund, which was ready to part with it . But the owner asked for $70 million for his Modigliani, Grigorishin took a deferment. Meanwhile, the foundation sold the work through an auction.
The collection includes “Portrait of Picasso” - a small work on cardboard. A recent success is a portrait of a woman, which was acquired only because the wealthy New York family that had owned it since 1962 started a divorce, but both spouses loved Modigliani so much that they could not share it.
Museum exhibit

When the collection was systematized, the authenticity of the works was confirmed by reputable experts and they began to be included in catalogs raisonné (complete catalogs of a particular artist - Forbes), the largest museums began to turn to Grigorishin. Now 60% of his collection travels to international exhibitions throughout the year. “This is not to increase the cost - if a good work with good provenance, then it is even more expensive if they write “it has not been exhibited anywhere”, it has not become familiar,” says Grigorishin.
At the meeting held in 2006 at the Pushkin Museum. Pushkin's personal exhibition of graphics by Vasily Chekrygin, more than half of the works were from Grigorishin's collection. Chekrygin in his youth was friends with David Burliuk and Vladimir Mayakovsky (he designed his first book “I”), but is better known for the Makovets group, the main ideologist of which was the priest Pavel Florensky. In 1922, the artist died under the wheels of a train and was almost forgotten. Grigorishin's collection contains more than 200 of his works, including paintings that are atypical for him. All are from the family, purchased from the artist’s daughter and granddaughter.
In 2008, the Russian Museum hosted an exhibition of works by Alexander Bogomazov from the collection of Grigorishin, in 2011 - an exhibition of Vasily Ermilov at the Arsenal exhibition complex in Kiev (one of the works was provided, by the way, from his collection by Victor Pinchuk, with whom Grigorishin communicates more often via business issues or Ukrainian politics). This summer, Ermilov’s personal exhibition was also held in Moscow - at the Multimedia Art Museum.
In September, the most expensive exhibit in Grigorishin’s collection, a work by Joan Miro, returned home from exhibitions in the USA and the Pushkin Museum. “I’m worried, of course,” the businessman admits. His wife worries even more when they ask for works from those donated to her for exhibitions - she always asks in detail for how long, when exactly they will be returned, says Grigorishin.
But the businessman is confident that cooperation with museums, which cannot always afford to buy works like in private collections, is the right thing to do. “Sleeping” by Tamara Lempitskaya from his collection and her “Lady in a Black Dress” from the collection of Alexander Chistyakov, which participated in the recent exhibition “Portraits of Collectors” at the Pushkin Museum, became the first time works of this iconic Art Deco artist were shown in Russia to the general public, this is noted in the museum itself.
“Grigorishin is a rare example of an international type of collector in our country,” says Marina Loshak, art director of Manege and co-founder of the Proun gallery, co-organizer of Ermilov’s exhibitions. “He is open to various educational projects and ideas, and understands that art needs to be supported. And he’s not doing this for his own PR.”
This behavior is not typical of billionaire art collectors. Few people have seen the collection of Georgian billionaire Bidzina Ivanishvili (No. 153 on the Forbes global list) or Roman Abramovich (No. 9 on the Golden Hundred). The collection of Dmitry Rybolovlev (No. 13 in the “Golden Hundred”) became known only from the claim of his wife during the divorce. There are rumors that it contains Van Gogh, Degas, Monet, Picasso. Grigorishin is open to the world.
He communicates with many world gallerists, curators, and collectors. For example, the director of the Pushkin Museum, the legendary Irina Antonova, visited Grigorishin. The billionaire says that he enjoys communicating with people from the art world. “It’s difficult to communicate with business, especially Ukrainian business - conversations about politics, money and business quickly get boring,” the businessman admits.
What to collect

Partly at the suggestion of Olga, who constantly brings him books and catalogs with new names, Grigorishin began buying contemporary art. He communicates with Russian gallery owners, but prefers to buy in the West - the level of work there, in his opinion, is much higher.
Eight years ago I noticed Roy Lichtenstein’s work “Head” in one of the books. The curator found it in the exhibition catalog of American gallery owner Larry Gagosian. I sent a request to see if it is possible to find out the coordinates of the private owner. Surprised by the interest from Russia, Gagosian helped. Now they communicate constantly - Grigorishin bought, for example, Francis Bacon from Gagosian, when he was not as expensive as he is now (the record was set by Roman Abramovich, who paid $86.3 million for his work at Sotheby’s in 2008).
Grigorishin personally bargained for the work of the Colombian Fernando Botero, who paints obese people - he saw it on the cover of one of the books, called the artist himself and even received a discount under the argument “you are not in Russia yet.” “There are a lot of things to like about contemporary art, but the price is often confusing,” says Grigorishin. - Gagosian has good young artists. From the last thing I saw, I liked the abstractions of Cecily Brown, the works of Clyfford Still. But it turned out to be so expensive that I didn’t take the risk.”
Big names of modern stars and auction records have no effect on Grigorishin - he still focuses on his own emotions. “I saw a lot of Damien Hirst - entire collectors showed hangars. Hirst was at Tate Modern again recently. But I don’t feel anything at all when I see him,” prize

Doctor of Philological Sciences E. DUSHECHKINA. The material for publication was prepared by L. BERSENEVA. Illustrations for the article were kindly provided by the Moscow collector O. Sinyakina.

A decorated spruce tree standing in the house on New Year’s Day seems so natural and self-evident to us that, as a rule, it does not raise any questions. The New Year is approaching, and according to the habit learned from childhood, we set it up, decorate it and rejoice in it. Meanwhile, this custom was formed in our country relatively recently, and its origin, its history and its meaning undoubtedly deserve attention. The process of “grafting the Christmas tree” in Russia was long, controversial, and at times even painful. This process most directly reflects the moods and preferences of various strata of Russian society. As the tree gained popularity, it experienced admiration and rejection, complete indifference and hostility. Tracing the history of the Russian Christmas tree, you can see how the attitude towards this tree gradually changes, how its cult arises, grows and is established in disputes about it, how the struggle with it and for it proceeds and how the Christmas tree finally wins a complete victory, turning into a universal a favorite, the anticipation of which becomes one of the happiest and most memorable experiences of a child. Christmas trees from childhood are etched in your memory for life. I remember my first Christmas tree, which my mother threw for me and my older sister. It happened at the end of 1943 during evacuation in the Urals. In difficult times of war, she still found it necessary to bring this joy to her children. Since then, not a single New Year's Eve celebration in our family has taken place without a Christmas tree. Among the decorations that we hang on the Christmas tree, several toys from those long ago have still been preserved. I have a special relationship with them...

THE HISTORY OF THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE FIRE INTO A CHRISTMAS TREE

This happened in Germany, where spruce was especially revered during pagan times and was identified with the world tree. It was here, among the ancient Germans, that it first became a New Year's symbol, and later a Christmas symbol. Among the Germanic peoples, there has long been a custom of going to the forest for the New Year, where the spruce tree chosen for the ritual role was illuminated with candles and decorated with colored rags, after which appropriate rituals were performed near or around it. Over time, spruce trees began to be cut down and brought into the house, where they were placed on the table. Lighted candles were attached to the tree, and apples and sugar products were hung on it. The emergence of the cult of spruce as a symbol of undying nature was facilitated by the evergreen cover, which made it possible to use it during the winter holiday season, which was a transformation of the long-known custom of decorating houses with evergreens.

After the baptism of the Germanic peoples, customs and rituals associated with the veneration of spruce gradually began to acquire a Christian meaning, and they began to “use” it as a Christmas tree, installing it in houses not on New Year’s Day, but on Christmas Eve (Christmas Eve, December 24), which is why it received the name of the Christmas tree - Weihnachtsbaum. Since then, on Christmas Eve (Weihnachtsabend), the festive mood in Germany began to be created not only by Christmas carols, but also by a Christmas tree with candles burning on it.

PETER'S DECREE OF 1699

In Russia, the custom of the New Year tree dates back to the Petrine era. According to the royal decree of December 20, 1699, henceforth it was prescribed that the calendar should be calculated not from the Creation of the world, but from the Nativity of Christ, and the day of the “new year,” which until that time was celebrated in Rus' on September 1, “following the example of all Christian peoples,” should be celebrated on January 1. This decree also provided recommendations for organizing the New Year's holiday. To commemorate it, on New Year’s Day, it was ordered to launch rockets, light fires and decorate the capital (then still Moscow) with pine needles: “On large streets, near elaborate houses, in front of the gates, place some decorations from trees and branches of pine, spruce and cerebellum against the samples , such as those made at Gostiny Dvor.” And “poor people” were asked to “put at least a tree or branch on each of their gates or over their temple... and stand for that decoration of January on the first day.” This little noticeable detail in an era of turbulent events was the beginning in Russia of the three-century history of the custom of erecting a Christmas tree during the winter holidays.

However, Peter’s decree had a very indirect relation to the future Christmas tree: firstly, the city was decorated not only with spruce trees, but also with other coniferous trees; secondly, the decree recommended the use of both whole trees and branches and, finally, thirdly, decorations from pine needles were ordered to be installed not indoors, but outside - on gates, roofs of taverns, streets and roads. Thus, the tree turned into a detail of the New Year's city landscape, and not of the Christmas interior, which it later became.

After Peter's death, his recommendations were completely forgotten. The royal instructions were preserved only in the decoration of drinking establishments, which continued to be decorated with Christmas trees before the New Year. Taverns were identified by these trees (tied to a stake, installed on the roofs, or stuck at the gates). The trees stood there until the next year, on the eve of which the old trees were replaced with new ones. Having arisen as a result of Peter's decree, this custom was maintained throughout the 18th and 19th centuries.

Pushkin in “The History of the Village of Goryukhin” mentions “an ancient public building (that is, a tavern), decorated with a Christmas tree and an image of a double-headed eagle.” This characteristic detail was well known and was reflected from time to time in many works of Russian literature. D. V. Grigorovich, for example, in the 1847 story “Anton the Miserable,” talking about the meeting of his hero on the way to the city with two tailors, notes: “Soon all three travelers reached a high hut, shaded by a fir tree and a birdhouse, standing on the outskirts road when turning onto a country road, and stopped.”

As a result, people began to call taverns “Yelki” or “Ivan’s Elkin’s”: “Let’s go to the Elkin’s and have a drink for the holiday”; “Apparently, Ivan Elkina was visiting, that you are swaying from side to side.” Gradually, the whole complex of “alcoholic” concepts acquired “Christmas tree” doublets: “raise the tree” - get drunk, “go under the tree” or “the tree fell, let’s go pick it up” - go to the tavern, “be under the tree” - be in the tavern, “ elkin” - state of alcoholic intoxication, etc.

In addition to the external decoration of drinking establishments, in the 18th century and throughout the next century, Christmas trees were used on rolling (or, as they also said, pitched) slides. In engravings and popular prints of the 18th and 19th centuries depicting skiing from the mountains during holidays (Christmastide and Maslenitsa) in St. Petersburg, Moscow and other cities, you can see small Christmas trees installed along the edges of the slides.

In St. Petersburg, it was also customary to use fir trees to mark the routes of winter sleigh transportation across the Neva: “Merry shaggy fir trees were stuck into the snow banks,” writes L.V. on skates” transported sleds with riders.

CHRISTMAS TREE IN RUSSIA IN THE FIRST HALF OF THE 19TH CENTURY

In Russia, the Christmas tree appeared at the beginning of the 19th century in the houses of St. Petersburg Germans. In 1818, on the initiative of Grand Duchess Alexandra Feodorovna, a Christmas tree was organized in Moscow, and the next year in the St. Petersburg Anichkov Palace. At Christmas 1828, Alexandra Feodorovna, by that time already an empress, organized the first “children's Christmas tree” celebration in her own palace for her five children and nieces - the daughters of Grand Duke Mikhail Pavlovich. The Christmas tree was installed in the Great Dining Room of the palace.

The children of some courtiers were also invited. On eight tables and on the table set for the emperor, Christmas trees were installed, decorated with sweets, gilded apples and nuts. Gifts were laid out under the trees: toys, dresses, porcelain items, etc. The hostess herself handed out gifts to all the children present. The holiday began at eight o'clock in the evening, and by nine o'clock the guests had already left. From then on, following the example of the royal family, a Christmas tree began to be installed in the houses of the highest St. Petersburg nobility.

However, judging by the numerous descriptions of Christmas festivities in magazines of the 1820s and 1830s, at this time the Christmas tree was not yet erected in most Russian houses. Neither Pushkin, nor Lermontov, nor their contemporaries ever mention it, while Christmastide, Christmastime masquerades and balls are constantly described at this time: Christmastide fortune-telling is given in Zhukovsky’s ballad “Svetlana” (1812), Christmastide in a landowner’s house is depicted by Pushkin in V chapter of “Eugene Onegin” (1825), on Christmas Eve the action of Pushkin’s poem “The House in Kolomna” (1828) takes place, and Lermontov’s drama “Masquerade” (1835) is timed to coincide with Christmastide (winter holidays). None of these works say a word about the Christmas tree.

The newspaper “Northern Bee”, published by F.V. Bulgarin, regularly published reports on past holidays, books for children published for Christmas, gifts for Christmas, etc. The Christmas tree is not mentioned in it until the turn of the 1830s-1840s. The first mention of a Christmas tree in a newspaper appeared on the eve of 1840: it was reported that “charmingly decorated and decorated with lanterns, garlands, wreaths” Christmas trees were being sold. But during the first ten years, St. Petersburg residents still perceived the Christmas tree as a specific “German custom.”

It is not yet possible to establish the exact time when the Christmas tree first appeared in a Russian home. The story by S. Auslander “Christmas in Old Petersburg” (1912) says that the first Christmas tree in Russia was built by Emperor Nicholas I at the very end of the 1830s, after which, following the example of the royal family, it began to be installed in the houses of the St. Petersburg nobility . For the time being, the rest of the population of the capital either treated it indifferently or did not even know about the existence of such a custom. However, little by little the Christmas tree conquered other social strata of St. Petersburg.

At the beginning of January 1842, the wife of A.I. Herzen, in a letter to her friend, describes how a Christmas tree was arranged in their house for her two-year-old son Sasha. This is one of the first stories about setting up a Christmas tree in a Russian house: “All December I was preparing a Christmas tree for Sasha. For him and for me it was the first time: I was more pleased with his expectations.” In memory of this first tree of Sasha Herzen, an unknown artist made a watercolor “Sasha Herzen at the Christmas Tree,” which is kept in the A. I. Herzen Museum (in Moscow).

And suddenly, in the mid-1840s, an explosion occurred - the “German custom” began to spread rapidly. Now St. Petersburg was literally engulfed in the “Christmas tree rush.” The custom became fashionable, and by the end of the 1840s, the Christmas tree became a well-known and familiar item in the Christmas interior in the capital.

The fascination with the “German innovation” - the Christmas tree was reinforced by the fashion for the works of German writers and, above all, Hoffmann, whose “Christmas tree” texts “The Nutcracker” and “The Lord of the Fleas” were well known to the Russian reader.

Commerce played a significant role in the spread and popularization of the Christmas tree in Russia. Since the beginning of the 19th century, the most famous specialists in the confectionery business in St. Petersburg have become immigrants from Switzerland, belonging to a small Alpine nation - the Romans, famous masters of confectionery throughout Europe. Gradually, they took over the confectionery business in the capital and, from the late 1830s, organized the sale of Christmas trees with lanterns hanging on them, toys, gingerbread cookies, cakes, and sweets. Such trees were very expensive (“from 20 rubles in banknotes to 200 rubles”), and therefore only very rich “good mothers” could buy them for their children.

The trade in Christmas trees began in the late 1840s. They were sold at Gostiny Dvor, where peasants brought them from the surrounding forests. But if the poor could not afford to buy even the smallest Christmas tree, then the rich metropolitan nobility began to organize competitions: who had a larger, thicker, more elegant, or richly decorated Christmas tree. Real jewelry and expensive fabrics were often used as Christmas tree decorations in wealthy homes. The first mention of an artificial Christmas tree dates back to the end of the 1840s, which was considered a special chic.

By the middle of the 19th century, the German custom had become firmly established in the life of the Russian capital. The tree itself, previously known in Russia only under the German name “Weihnachtsbaum”, began to be called at first the “Christmas tree” (which is a tracing-paper from German), and later received the name “Christmas tree”, which stuck with it forever. The holiday organized on the occasion of Christmas also began to be called a Christmas tree: “go to the Christmas tree”, “arrange a Christmas tree”, “invite to the Christmas tree”. V.I. Dal remarked on this matter: “Having adopted, through St. Petersburg, from the Germans the custom of preparing a decorated, illuminated Christmas tree for children for Christmas, we sometimes call the very day of the tree Christmas Eve.”

RUSSIAN TREE IN THE SECOND HALF OF THE 19TH CENTURY

The development of the Christmas tree in Russia is striking in its rapidity. Already in the middle of the century, the Christmas tree became quite common for residents of many provincial and district cities.

The reason for the rapid entry of the St. Petersburg innovation into the life of the provincial city is clear: having abandoned the ancient folk custom of celebrating Christmastide, the townspeople felt a certain ritual vacuum. This vacuum was either not filled with anything, causing a feeling of disappointment due to vain holiday expectations, or was compensated by new, purely urban entertainment, including the arrangement of a Christmas tree.

The Christmas tree conquered the landowner's estate with great difficulty. Here, as memoirists testify, Christmastide continued to be celebrated for many years in the old fashioned way, in compliance with folk customs.

And yet, little by little, St. Petersburg fashion began to penetrate into the estate.

If until the middle of the 19th century, the arrangement of a Christmas tree was not mentioned in memoirs dedicated to Christmastide on a landowner’s estate, then after ten years the situation changed. About the Christmas holidays of 1863, Leo Tolstoy’s sister-in-law T. A. Kuzminskaya, who lived for a long time in Yasnaya Polyana and considered it her “second parental home,” recalls: “Every day we had some kind of entertainment: theater, evenings, a Christmas tree and even horseback riding threes.” Two years later, on December 14, 1865, in a letter to Sofya Andreevna Tolstoy, she says: “Here we are preparing a large Christmas tree for the first holiday and drawing different lanterns and remembering how you know how to make these things.” And further: “There was a magnificent Christmas tree with gifts and yard children. On a moonlit night - troika riding.”

The winter holidays in Yasnaya Polyana were a rare example of the organic combination of Russian folk Christmastide with the Western tradition of the Christmas tree: here “the Christmas tree was an annual celebration.” The arrangement of the Christmas trees was supervised by Sofya Andreevna Tolstaya, who, in the opinion of people who knew her, “knew how to do it,” while the initiator of purely Yuletide amusements was the writer himself, judging by his memoirs and literary works, who knew perfectly well the customs of Russian folk Christmastide (let us remember though would be the corresponding fragments of “War and Peace”).

All the children of Leo Tolstoy, when describing the Yasnaya Polyana Christmastide, talk about the coming of peasant children to their Christmas tree. Apparently, the presence of peasant children at estate Christmas trees is becoming commonplace. The coming of village children to the Christmas tree is also mentioned in A. N. Tolstoy’s story “Nikita’s Childhood” and in other texts.

CHRISTMAS TREE CELEBRATION

At first, the presence of the Christmas tree in the house was limited to one evening. On the eve of Christmas, a spruce tree was secretly taken from the children into the best room of the house, into the hall or living room, and placed on a table covered with a white tablecloth. The adults, as A.I. Tsvetaeva recalls, “hid [the Christmas tree] from us with exactly the same passion with which we dreamed of seeing it.”

Candles were attached to the branches of the tree, delicacies and decorations were hung on the tree, gifts were laid out under it, which, like the tree itself, were prepared in strict secrecy. And finally, just before the children were allowed into the hall, candles were lit on the tree.

It was strictly forbidden to enter the room where the Christmas tree was installed until special permission was given. Most often, during this time, the children were taken to some other room. Therefore, they could not see what was happening in the house, but by various signs they tried to guess what was happening: they listened, looked through the keyhole or through the door crack. When all the preparations were finally completed, a pre-arranged signal was given (“the magic bell rang”) or one of the adults or servants came to pick up the children.

The doors to the hall were opened. This moment of opening, throwing open the doors is present in many memoirs, stories and poems about the Christmas tree holiday: for children it was a long-awaited and passionately desired moment of entering the “Christmas tree space”, their connection with the magic tree. The first reaction was numbness, almost stunned.

Presented to the children in all its glory, the Christmas tree decorated “in the most brilliant way” invariably evoked amazement, admiration, and delight. After the first shock passed, screams, gasps, squeals, jumping, and clapping began. At the end of the holiday, the children, brought to an extremely enthusiastic state, received the Christmas tree at their complete disposal: they tore off sweets and toys from it, destroyed, broke and completely destroyed the tree (which gave rise to the expressions “rob the Christmas tree”, “pinch the Christmas tree”, “destroy the Christmas tree”) . This is where the name of the holiday itself comes from: the holiday of “plucking the Christmas tree.” The destruction of the Christmas tree had a psychotherapeutic meaning for them as a release after a long period of stress they had experienced.

At the end of the holiday, the devastated and broken tree was taken out of the hall and thrown into the courtyard.

The custom of setting up a Christmas tree for the Christmas holidays inevitably underwent changes. In those houses where funds allowed and there was enough space, already in the 1840s, instead of the traditionally small Christmas tree, a large tree began to be installed: tall, ceiling-length, Christmas trees, wide and dense, with strong and fresh needles, were especially valued. It is quite natural that tall trees could not be kept on the table, so they began to be attached to the crosspiece (to the “circles” or “legs”) and installed on the floor in the center of the hall or the largest room in the house.

Having moved from the table to the floor, from the corner to the middle, the tree turned into the center of the festive celebration, giving the children the opportunity to have fun around it and dance in circles. Standing in

The tree in the center of the room made it possible to examine it from all sides, to look for both new and old toys, familiar from previous years. You could play under the tree, hide behind it or under it. It is possible that this Christmas tree dance was borrowed from the Trinity Day ritual, the participants of which, holding hands, walked around the birch tree while singing ritual songs. They sang an old German song “O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum!” Wie griim sind deine Blatter (“Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree! How green is your crown”), which for a long time was the main song at Christmas trees in Russian families.

The changes that took place changed the essence of the holiday: gradually it began to turn into a Christmas tree celebration for the children of friends and relatives. On the one hand, this was a consequence of the natural desire of parents to prolong the “unearthly pleasure” brought by the tree to their children, and on the other hand, they wanted to boast to other people’s adults and children about the beauty of their tree, the richness of its decoration, the gifts they had prepared, and the treats. The owners tried their best to “make the tree look great” - it was a matter of honor.

At such holidays, called children's Christmas trees, in addition to the younger generation, adults were always present: parents or elders accompanying the children. Children of governesses, teachers, and servants were also invited.

Over time, Christmas trees began to be held for adults, for which parents went alone, without children.

The first public Christmas tree was organized in 1852 at the St. Petersburg Ekateringofsky station, erected in 1823 in the Ekateringofsky country garden. A huge spruce tree installed in the station hall “on one side... was adjacent to the wall, and the other was decorated with scraps of multi-colored paper.” Following her, public Christmas trees began to be organized in noble, officer and merchant meetings, clubs, theaters and other places. Moscow did not lag behind the Neva capital: from the beginning of the 1850s, Christmas tree celebrations in the hall of the Noble Moscow Assembly also became annual.

Christmas trees for adults were not much different from traditional Christmas parties, balls, and masquerades, which became widespread since the 18th century, and the decorated tree became simply fashionable and, over time, an obligatory part of the festive decoration of the hall. In the novel “Doctor Zhivago” Boris Pasternak writes:

“Since time immemorial, the Sventitsky Christmas trees have been arranged according to this pattern. At ten, when the kids were leaving, they lit a second one for young people and adults and had fun until the morning. Only the elderly played cards all night in the three-walled Pompeii living room, which was a continuation of the hall... At dawn they dined with the whole company... A black a wall of people walking and talking, not dancing. The dancers were spinning wildly inside the circle.”

CONTROVERSY AROUND THE TREE

Despite the growing popularity of the Christmas tree in Russia, the attitude towards it from the very beginning was not completely unanimity. Adherents of Russian antiquity saw the Christmas tree as yet another Western innovation, encroaching on national identity. For others, the tree was aesthetically unacceptable. They sometimes spoke of it with hostility as a “clumsy, German and unwitty invention,” wondering how this prickly, dark and damp tree could turn into an object of veneration and admiration.

In the last decades of the 19th century, voices began to be heard in Russia for the first time in defense of nature and, above all, forests. A.P. Chekhov wrote:

“Russian forests are cracking under the ax, billions of trees are dying, the homes of animals and birds are being devastated, rivers are becoming shallow and drying up, wonderful landscapes are disappearing irrevocably... There are fewer and fewer forests, rivers are drying up, game has dried up, the climate is spoiled, and every day the earth is becoming getting poorer and uglier.”

There was an “anti-Christmas tree campaign” in the press, the initiators of which were up in arms against the beloved custom, considering the cutting down of thousands of trees before Christmas as a real disaster.

The Orthodox Church became a serious opponent of the Christmas tree as a foreign (Western, non-Orthodox) and, moreover, pagan custom in its origin. Until the revolution of 1917, the Holy Synod issued decrees prohibiting the installation of Christmas trees in schools and gymnasiums.

The Christmas tree was not accepted in the peasant hut either. If for the urban poor the Christmas tree was desirable, although often inaccessible, then for the peasants it remained purely “lordly amusement.” Peasants went to the forest only to buy fir trees for their masters or to chop them for sale in the city. Both the “old man,” according to the famous song, who cut down “our Christmas tree to the very root,” and Chekhov’s Vanka, who on Christmas Eve remembers a trip with his grandfather to the forest to get a Christmas tree, brought it not for themselves, but for the master’s children. Therefore, Christmas cards from the beginning of the 20th century, accompanied by the inscription “Grandfather Frost is coming, / He brings you gifts,” and depicting Father Frost entering a peasant hut with a Christmas tree and a bag of gifts on his shoulders, where children look at him in amazement, do not at all reflect reality.

And yet the tree emerged victorious from the fight against its opponents.

Supporters of the Christmas tree - many teachers and writers - defended the “beautiful and highly poetic custom of the Christmas tree,” believing that “in the forest you can always cut down a hundred or two young trees without much harm to the forest, and often even with benefit.” Professor of the St. Petersburg Forestry Institute, author of a book about the Russian forest D. M. Kaigorodov, who regularly published articles about the Christmas tree on the pages of the Christmas issues of the New Time newspaper, confidently stated: “Nothing will happen to the forest, and it’s cruel to deprive children of the pleasure of playing near the Christmas tree.” "

The new custom turned out to be so charming and enchanting that no one managed to abolish it during these years.

(The ending follows.)

The Moscow Museum of Modern Art recently completed the exhibition “Transformation of Consciousness,” dedicated to the abstract artist Eliy Belyutin and his studio “New Reality” in Abramtsevo, which existed from 1958 to 1991. More than three thousand people, as its ideologist himself claimed, came from it - Belutins. They, the artist's students, were largely given over to the museum's exhibition space. Olga Uskova, the initiator of the exhibition, collector, businesswoman (she is the president of Cognitive Technologies) and founder of the Foundation for Russian Abstract Art, calls Belyutin himself a brilliant methodologist, but not a brilliant artist. About her collection of Belyutins, the importance of their heritage for world art, the “Theory of Universal Contact” and her future museum Olga Uskova ARTANDHOUSES.

Is the exhibition at MMSI the first major display of the Belyutin heritage?

No. The pioneer in this matter was the Russian Museum in 2014, which agreed to host the exhibition in three months, in an incredible time frame, and gave us a good platform. Many thanks to them for this!

Was the exhibition initiated by you and your foundation?

Yes, we came to the Russian Museum with this topic, and suddenly they said: “That’s it, go ahead!” This was a completely unexpected reaction for us. Because at the same time, we went to the Tretyakov Gallery with this idea when the previous management was still there. I am happy with the appointment of Zelfira Tregulova, because I will never forget the conversation with the ex-director (Irina Lebedeva - ARTANDHOUSES). For me it was some kind of excursion into the inertia of the art world.

How did the public perceive the work then?

Then it was an experiment for us. We had little idea of ​​the state of society and its readiness to perceive this phenomenon, this art. When we worked at the Russian Museum, we worked blindly. Firstly, this is St. Petersburg, there is less traffic there, even though it is the Russian Museum. Therefore, we organized the exhibition without major investments. But when we discovered a queue to the interactive halls, not in the first days, but in the middle of its work, it was a shock and joy for us! It felt like we were definitely in a state of time, a state of the head.

What was in the interactive rooms?

We held competitions back then. After viewing the exhibition in the last hall, spectators assembled paintings from magnetic elements using Belyutin’s method. The puzzles were cut in accordance with his basic symbols, and there was a task similar to Belyutin's task. A man collected a picture on a magnetic board, photographed himself with it and sent it to the Internet. The expert group selected the most relevant and interesting paintings. The quality of these paintings was amazing! We saved this photo gallery and there were winners. I want to say that the winners that were selected by the art history commission and the paintings that I personally liked were different from each other. But the overall quality was surprising. For me, these paintings are just the emotional result of viewing the exhibition.