Russian Artist Natalya Nesterova Gains Overdue Acclaim With New York Exhibition

Dozens of spectators convey varying degrees of interest in the circus as three performers bow while two horses and a dog stand on their hind legs and two smaller dogs circle the ring. The elaborate scene showcases an array of moods, as five other performers vie for spectator attention along the stairs. Blues and ochres, an unusual palette for such an occasion, dominate the 15 canvases combined to create a monumental polyptych that overtakes a wall and welcomes visitors.

Circus (2010), an oil on canvas spanning 13⅓-feet wide and 10-feet tall overall, is the highlight of Natalya Nesterova: Counterpoint, a solo exhibition of works by the Russia-born figurative artist on view through June 28 at Hal Bromm Gallery. It’s a posthumous homecoming and a long-overdue celebration of her prolific and diverse oeuvre at the Tribeca gallery that hosted her first exhibition in the United States in 1988, followed by a major career retrospective at the Montreal Musee des Beaux Arts.

On public view for the first time, Circus can be interpreted as a critique of the former Soviet Union and Putin’s reign of terror, creating an opportunity to imbue the faces with satire and perhaps hinting at the expression “the circus is gone, but the clowns remain,” or more literally translated as “the circus left, the clowns stayed” from the Russian “Цирк уехал, клоуны остались”.

It’s also an exploration of Russian and Soviet history. In Kievan Rus, the first East Slavic state, village fairs featured traveling performers, and Russia later established a circus culture to entertain aristocrats. By the 20th century, Soviet trapeze artists, clowns, and acrobats won global acclaim, many training at Moscow’s State College for Circus and Variety Arts instituted in 1929. Painting such a scene honors the Soviet cultural phenomenon, and serves as a clever disguise for socio-political critique.

Born in Moscow in 1944, Nesterova, who was better known by her first name diminutive Natasha, rose to prominence in the early 1970s with her unique interpretation of Soviet realism that rattled the establishment. She was the rare towering woman figure in an art scene dominated by men such as Grisha Brushkin, Alexander Kosolapov, Leonid Lamm, Vasily Komar, and Alexander Melamid, Ilya Kabakov, and Leonid Sokov.

“She said, ‘my work is about what you see,’ and I thought that was the most perfect answer,” Bromm told me at the April 20 opening. Of Circus, he said: “It’s magical. Look at the dog at the bottom and the clown figures popping up in the audience here. It’s an incredibly fun picture.”

Aleksandra Shatskikh, an art historian and a world authority on the Russian avant-garde, declared Nesterova “the most talented artist of her generation.” Shatskikh, who told me at the opening that she was the last person to speak with Nesterova before she died last August in New York, closely observed the artist’s life and studio routine, both in Moscow and the U.S.

“I slept behind her paintings. I cleaned up her paint. I watched every moment,” said David Nesterov-Rappoport, Nesterova’s grandson, who as a teenager traveled to the U.S. frequently.

Nesterova painted the 15 panels out of necessity, as there was no other way to assemble such a large piece in her New York studio, Shatskikh said, praising the artist’s ability to envision the large-scale work in 15 parts.

“I think the scale of the work is intimately connected with its theme. I think the perspective plays a big role, and you do feel like you are on this stage,” Nesterov-Rappoport told me at the opening.

It was challenging to capture a full gaze at Circus during the crowded opening in the small, windowless space on the second floor of the Gerken Building, formerly the NY National Exchange Bank, but the renewed appreciation for Nesterova was joyful and affirming. As the U.S. wrongly casts blame on people of Russian descent for Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, it’s important to recognize how artists suffer and to amplify the work of those who bravely expose the political horrors, even in the most subtle ways.

Nesterova’s work straddles many forms of expression, from still lifes of her favorite food oysters (Shatskikh said Nesterova would take home the shells from restaurants) to absurd figures with fruit bowls or playing cards for faces. She flexes the boundaries of Soviet realism with distortion and humor.

Even with their faces obscured by oversized fruit bowls in the diptych Conversation (1) and Conversation (2), we sense the energy and animation between two men in black suits and white shirts enjoying white wine and apples while seated at what seems to be an outdoor cafe in a lush forest with birds flying dangerously close to their heads.

Last Oysters (2022) signals Nesterova’s mortality while conveying earthly pleasure with one hand holding a shucked oyster and the other raising what appears to be a glass of white wine.

“She was very successful and very very very, very energetic,” said Shatskikh.