Back in September, I went to the Portrait Gallery in Bishkek with my parents to take a look at a fantastic collection of art from across the history of Kyrgyzstan.  One of the things that is most frequently forgotten about the former Soviet Union is that there was a spectacular range of art that was supported and elevated by the state, meaning that artists had support from the state for a lot of their work.  Wandering through the museum’s amazing collection of carpets, felt work, and paintings in styles never seen in the museums of London and Paris, I found myself in a dimly lit room.  Centered on one wall was the painting.

“Daughter of Soviet Kirghizia” is the most well-known work of Kyrgyzstani artist Semyon Chuikov.  Born in Bishkek (then known as Pishpek, and later Frunze), Chuikov was the son of Russian immigrants who used to sneak off with his Kyrgyz friends into the mountains, according to a profile on Limon.kg (available in English at ArtInRussia).

While the painting appeared to be an original, it turns out that the original is actually at a museum in Moscow.  That didn’t stop the reproduction from drawing my attention.

On first glance, the painting is a study of a young Kyrgyz girl in front of a landscape that resembles the rolling hills of Chui, carrying books and likely on her way to class. Her clothing is typical of what Soviet peasants were depicted as wearing at the time, and her red scarf is reminiscent of the red kerchief worn by the Young Pioneers organization.

Chuikov is said to have based the painting on an actual girl named Aijamal Ogobaeva, from a village called Orto-Sai on the southern fringes of Bishkek, who he remained in touch with until his death according to several sources.

Having learned a bit more of the history of Kyrgyzstan and of the painting, it also contains a great deal of symbolism and meaning.  The painting is actually part of a series of studies of the kolkhoz, or collective farms that were the backbone of the communism in the USSR.  Kolkhoz is actually apparently a somewhat derogatory term for these collective farms, but the series of paintings served to poeticize and romanticize the rural life in Kyrgyzstan, much as is being done today with art promoting the traditional nomadic culture of the Kyrgyz people.

If we ponder the painting’s historical context from 1948, another layer can be seen. The painting was completed a mere ten years after the forced settlement of the Kyrgyz nomads, and shows an entirely different character of the youth of Kyrgyzstan, looking upwards towards the future as Soviets.  To a modern person seeking to preserve the culture and history of the Kyrgyz people, this might seem upsetting, but in the context of 1948, the young girl’s dynamism served as a symbol of the progress and modernization of all of Central Asia, and to that end the painting appeared on postage stamps and in propaganda across the USSR, and won a Gold Medal at the 1958 World’s Fair in Brussels, Belgium.

The painting is mesmerizing, and as Kyrgyzstan looks forward into its second 25 years of independence, I find myself thinking about it and what it means often.  Some people I’ve talked to see the painting as reminding them of things that were good during the Soviet era that have been lost.  Some see it as a relic of Soviet propaganda.  But another group of people still recognize the forward-looking optimism out of which the painting was originally born.

A few of them worked together to create a reimagining of the painting for the modern age, taking the image of the girl, but putting modern Bishkek behind her and giving her an iPad and a pair of white earbuds.  The artists, Dmitriy Petrovskiy, Sergei Keller, and Evgeniy Makshakov, worked together with American graffiti artist Gabriel Spectrum to build the concept and ultimately apply it to the side of School Gymnasium No. 12 in Bishkek, one of the most high-profile murals in the city given its location on the central Chui street.

I come back to the painting every so often and think about what it means.  While we can choose to look at the painting as symbolizing what once was or what has been lost, I still see the boundless optimism behind the face of the girl in the painting.  To me, it reminds me why I and so many of my local friends are working to improve the lives of people here in Kyrgyzstan.

I’ve taken some time to see some of Chuikov’s other paintings, and I’m also enamored to their style as well.  He traveled to India and Europe in addition to travel within the USSR, and his work spans far beyond just Kyrgyzstan.  Take a look at some of his portraits here, and here are a few others below.