It so happened that we simultaneously celebrated the day of the city and the opening of Intermuseum – a large annual museum festival. Both events were held online. At the same time, too, and also online, a conference on urban planning took place that was devoted to the development of historical cities.
I shall take that as an excuse to return to a favourite topic of mine – the museum-city.
An important part of the quality of life in a city is its history that one can be proud of and take an interest in. That attracts the inhabitants and investors. The museum-city is a public space made up of different components.
A splendid example in Saint Petersburg, and, I think, in Russia generally, is New Holland. There, not without discussions, not without a change of investors, a public space was born in which the architectural monuments have been preserved and representatives of various creative industries work alongside each other all at once. They all live together, not interfering with one another. That result was what was needed.
An unsuccessful example of a public space is Palace Square. People are constantly trying to use it as an empty expanse. Events that take place on the city’s main square should preserve and bring out its beauty. It is important that such projects have a “curator”. Palace Square should be curated by the Hermitage. Those events that are agreed with the museum accord with the spirit of the city.
Recently there has been extensive discussion of the fate of Kronstadt. There is talk of its uniqueness and historical attractiveness. The “Island of Forts” project has appeared.
Holding rock concerts in forts is nothing new. It has been done around the world. Our forts are special. Kronstadt is a symbol of the interaction between the armed forces and science. Fort Alexander I is known as the “plague fort”. It retains the memory of the laboratories of Russian epidemiologists. There are forts where mines were made. There is an interesting story about the minefields protecting the city connected with the Crimean War. It is customarily held that Russia lost that war. Sebastopol did fall, but on other fronts there were successes. One of those was the minefields by Kronstadt that frightened off the enemy ships so they did not even try to blockade Saint Petersburg. These are all uniquely fascinating topics.
Or take the example of the dam. The dramatic story of its construction. The ecologists’ fight against the dam, its supporters’ against the ecologists, and the result that became evident with time. One can still argue about whether it is saving the city or not. When I am asked my opinion, I say that it is attractive, and its completion put an end to the floods and water filling the Winter Palace basements.
The idea of creating a centre and museum of Islamic art in Saint Petersburg aroused a wave of xenophobia: “We’ll keep non-believers out of Briullov’s house.” That attractive house in the historic centre of the city has stood in need of restoration for many years. It’s not a question of grasping at any opportunity for restoration, though. The future centre is not a gathering place for Muslims, not a mosque, but a museum. In Saint Petersburg we have a museum of Russian art, an Ethnographic Museum, a museum of different religions. A museum of Islamic art is necessary for the city’s prestige.
Saint Petersburg is open to the world, as Peter I willed it to be, but at the same time it is prone to xenophobia.
I have already spoken about the European University. People have differing opinions about that, but it is a superb educational establishment and one of the sights of Saint Petersburg. It is known far beyond the city. Today the European University has been banished from the Novomikhailovsky Palace. People used to walk past and say, “Princess Yuryevskaya once lived here and now it’s the European University.” At the moment the palace is standing empty… We need not only to restore buildings, but also to see to it that their contents bring out the city’s uniqueness.
Petersburg’s architectural monuments can be filled with significant things and its atmosphere with events. One of the latest events was bound up with the spirit of the city. A remarkable piece of performance art marked the 80th anniversary of Brodsky’s birth. The poet’s portrait appeared on the wall of the house opposite his apartment. It was immediately painted over, but that’s not the thing. Brodsky, so they say, wanted to come back for just one day so as to stand across from his own windows. And that’s just what happened. That episode in the spirit of Brodsky enriched our time in quarantine. It was nice, but there are other examples, too.
Roof climbers’ attempts to get onto the Hermitage roofs are continually having to be thwarted. In the evenings and nights there are plenty of drunks on Palace Square. Tipsy young women clamber over the railings around the Alexander Column…
We are discussing how people will come to the Hermitage after the quarantine with so many restrictions. We are thinking of dividing the display up into parts and having set entry times. That needs polishing, though, so that someone will be able to take in the whole history of the Hermitage as an art museum. The Winter Palace is a single space with a variety of very significant components. The urban space, too, should consist of different attractive units.
This is a pressing question for museums in Russia right now. To preserve the unity of the country’s museum sphere, we should constantly keep each other in mind, help and be guided by common principles. At the same time, we should be aware of the value of each museum, remember that every one of them is unique. Small museums belonging to institutions, regions or municipalities must not perish. They cannot be optimized like medicine: cut back and merged. We are writing letters to the regional authorities, insisting that small museums should be receiving compensation and not assistance. They perform an important function, preserving historical memory. That function costs money. It used to be partially covered by ticket sales. Now they do not have any.
This year Intermuseum was devoted to the war and the 75th anniversary of Victory. On the website we published almost 90 presentations about what museums did during the war, how they were evacuated, how they existed on occupied territory, how they remember the war. Many documents have been lost, They need to be sought out and reconstructed. That is necessary for a proper understanding: saving a museum is not equal to saving a factory, even if it produces tanks. The understanding is not always there, but without it after our victory over the coronavirus, a visit to a museum might become a luxury.
Visiting a museum, communing with culture is a luxury – a luxury that should be accessible to all.
This has become the era of Zoom conferences. I don’t know how we are going to live without them when we come out of quarantine. My colleagues and I are discussing how the public and museums will change, what our relations with the authorities, partners and business will be like.
We are preparing to overcome the crisis. To that end the Hermitage is holding what I call a “casting” process – a test of the suitability of staff, visitors and partners. The casting has shown what specialities the museum needs, which ones react responsively to changes and which don’t. That material is interesting for internal use.
When it comes to visitors as well, we have learnt a lot judging by the online dialogue. The public is made up of various categories. The great bulk are in love with the museum, but there are those who look on it as an entertainment or a service. They do not understand that the opportunity to commune with the Hermitage or the Russian Museum is a gift, and not in the sense that you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. The tone of the relationship is important. You might give advice, but boorishness and lecturing are unacceptable. Attitudes to the museum are emerging from one of respect to one of irritation – “priests of a religion I don’t understand”.Partners are behaving in different ways in a difficult time. Some are prepared to help, others aren’t; some distance themselves, other seek new methods of interaction. There are also those who are using the situation to their own ends.
How we will live from here on depends to a large extent on people’s psychological attitude. There are many problems. They are inevitable, but art and culture are one of the medicines tested by time.
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