Vasily Maksimovich Maksimov (1844–1911) was a Russian artist and member of the Peredvizhniki movement, whose life was like a rollercoaster. After reaching some success, he ended his days in complete poverty, struggling with alcohol. In this article, we'll discuss the difficult fate of this undeservedly forgotten Russian Peredvizhnik.
Forest guard
Vasily Maksimov came from a peasant family. However, his father was the only literate person in the entire village and tried to pass that on to his children. Sadly, he passed away when little Vasya was just six. Four years later, Vasya's mother died too—she was unloading firewood while standing in icy water after a sled carrying it fell through the ice. Her body couldn’t handle the strain. Vasya became a novice at a local monastery and later wrote that he was deeply grateful to the abbot, who introduced him not only to church books and the lives of saints, but also to Gogol’s stories and Pushkin’s poetry.
At the fence of the hermitage
When Vasily grew up, he went to St Petersburg to get a job in an icon-painting workshop. But the attitude of some of the masters was not very good: one beat him, another did not allow him to read secular literature and burned the books Vasily brought with him. To earn money, Maksimov painted portraits of well-known merchants and innkeepers, for which he was paid pennies. But then he was able to do his favourite painting, to which he was determined to devote his whole life.
Following the example of elders
After five years of wandering around icon-painting workshops, Maksimov became a non-matriculated student at the Academy of Arts, and everyone noted that he was one of the best and showed great promise. A year later, Maksimov was already awarded a gold medal for his painting "Sick Child". He took the plot from life: his 10-year-old niece was dying, and in the painting he depicted his older brother and his wife, who stood in front of their dying daughter, but could not help her in any way.
Sick child. Only the etching survives.
Maksimov was offered a paid internship in Italy, but he turned it down. He was much more interested in Russian reality, particularly the lives of the peasants, which he knew so well. Maksimov always felt like a 'man of the plow' who, by circumstance, happened to be painting in the big city. He proudly wrote that he never painted 'those fancy uniformed men or perfumed ladies in silk dresses, who were foreign to me.
Family section
So he went to his village, set up a studio and painted scenes from peasant life. All the local landowners wanted to meet him: a young, talented artist from St Petersburg seemed like an interesting guest and conversation partner. Maksimov paid visits, and one of them turned out to be very successful: he fell in love with General Izmailova's pretty daughter. They soon married, and Maksimov liked to paint portraits of his wife Lydia, considering her his muse.
Dreams of the Future
Life seemed to be on the up: his paintings, including 'The Magician at a Village Wedding' and 'Everything in the Past', were well received by both critics and viewers; many of the artist's works were readily bought by Tretyakov himself, which in itself was an indicator of quality.
A sorcerer at a village wedding
But one day, while in his home village, Maksimov fell through the ice and spent a long time in the freezing water, which led to a severe chill. The consequences came quickly: on top of his rheumatism, he also developed impotence. It’s no surprise that Maksimov became deeply depressed after this and started drinking, gradually sinking lower and lower.
Everything is in the past
His work seemed hopelessly outdated, and he did not recognize newfangled trends in painting and could not give up his favorite genre scenes from peasant life.
Who's there?
Maksimov was buried in his home village. It was November, and the river was already covered in ice, making it impossible to cross with horses. The peasants carried the artist's coffin by hand to the cemetery, mourning the city painter who, in his heart, remained a true 'man of the plow' all his life.
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