The last few days in Moscow have been exciting, although we have spent metaphorical blood and literal sweat and tears hunting for the pictures we came here to see. After an argument with our hostelier, who wished to put us in a 6-bed room despite our confirmed (and partly paid for) reservation for a 4-bed room, we headed out to explore. Turns out we're staying on Moscow's equivalent of Karl Johan in Oslo: covered with annoying touristy stuff, but therefore also much less intimidating than many of the other places we've been so far. We went to bed early as we knew that Saturday would contain the Tretyakov Gallery, object of many of our imaginings and longings.
So, bright and early, we head down there. We wander through oceans of Russian painting, some of it pretty astonishing: a fabulous picture of Ivan the Terrible after he murdered his only "worthy" heir (by B's new favorite, Ilya Repin), Ivanov's famous Appearance of Christ to the People, which shows Christ quietly appearing in the background as John the Baptist preaches in the foreground, and a greater number of portraits of the Russian nobility than anyone could have imagined had ever been painted (many commissioned by Tretyakov himself). Finally, after delaying as long as we can to spend time with the rest of the art (but with a couple of the best pictures oddly missing), we enter the icon rooms. Here, we will finally see the Trinity by Rublev! We've also been promised a fantastic Transfiguration by someone from the circle of our new favorite, Theophanes the Greek. Not only that, the Virgin of Vladimir, the most important icon for Russian art (although it came from Byzantium), is also here.
And we do see some fantastic icons, especially a delightful Elijah that we both find utterly charming. But none of the icons we've been looking forward to the most seem to be here anywhere! Finally, we show a picture of the Trinity to one of the guards. Now, I have a few gripes about Russia, but this is the biggest one: you make it obvious to someone, 0r explain, that you don't speak any Russian, yet they continue to speak to you in torrential Russian for what seems like ages, explaining things that are clearly very important, but without any indication (gestures or similar) of what in fact they are saying! So, she is telling us where the Trinity is (not here, apparently), but we can't understand a word. Finally, we hear "Kultury Park". This, we know, is the name of the metro station near the New Tretyakov, the gallery that displays 20th century Russian art. Is it possible that the Trinity could have been moved from its ancestral home? We head out to find out.
The New Tretyakov appears to be an enormous white box on the bank of the river, right underneath the enormous (and most hideous ever) statue of Peter the Great steering the ship of Russia that dominates the skyline. After wandering around for a while (signs, in English or Russian, being non-existent) we find a box office and pay for our tickets to enter. But we seem to have ended up in a kind of art market hall instead of a museum. There are pictures everywhere, but as far as we can see, they are for sale, not on display. We find a map and try to head to the gallery rooms, up and down various floors, but find nothing. As we seem to have dead-ended, a friendly museum guard tells us, upon hearing us utter (in tones of utter desperation!), "Tretyakov?!": "Left." Apparently, there is the real entrance on the back of the building.
So in we go. But where are the pictures? Once more, we wander through the huge white box, tears in our eyes after we seemed so close to success. And then, magic: just inside the door of the new exhibit Europe-Russia-Europe, B catches sight of the Trinity and the Transfiguration and all the rest of the paintings we have been so desperately seeking. And the Transfiguration, especially, is STUNNING. We visit it four times.
I'm out of time at this internet cafe. More shortly on the pictures and the desperate hunt the next day for the Virgin of Vladimir!