Holiday in the countryside 1907

Boris Kustodiev gave us this holiday in the countryside using, I’m guessing, oils on canvas. The color palette, a muted mix of greens, browns, reds and whites, gives a feeling of something half remembered, like a dream. Looking at the painting, you see the buildings and the party almost as a smear of details. The paint is thin and transparent. Nothing is concealed. You can almost see each brushstroke. It’s like he wants you to feel how it was made. I find myself drawn to the small figures in the foreground, their faces mere daubs of paint. The textures, colors, and surfaces of their clothing, though, are so emotionally evocative. It’s like looking into a lost world, maybe one imagined from folk stories. Kustodiev, like Chagall, transforms everyday life into something mythical and deeply personal. It doesn’t quite matter whether this reflects a real place, because it reflects his relationship to a cultural history. Art is always a conversation, a game of telephone across time.