Question Authority Exhibit Defies Stereotype of Russian Art as Soulless Propaganda by Deryl Davis Thereís a surprising lightness and even joy in many of the paintings in the exhibit titled "In the Russian Tradition: A Historic Collection of 20th Century Russian Paintings," at the Smithsonian Institutionís S. Dillon Ripley Center. The paintings defy the popular stereotype of 20th-century Russian art as entirely propagandistic, soulless and devoid of warmth or humor. Certainly, much Soviet realist art was just that, but this exhibitionóa joint project of the State Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow and the Museum of Russian Art in Minneapolisóoffers persuasive evidence that many Russian artists of the last century did not blindly take orders from the Kremlin. What we see here, through portraits, genre paintings, still lifes and landscapes, is a combination of centuries of inherited traditions with lively and compelling individual expression. It is, in many ways, the triumph of individualism over authoritarianism, of art over politics. Many of the exhibitís 50 paintings have never been publicly displayed in the United States before, and many are by artists long well known in Russia but largely unfamiliar to Western audiences. There are innovative genre portraits by late 19th-century portrait masters Ilya Repin and Valentin Serov, early cubist-inspired works by Aristarkh V. Lentulov and other members of the Moscow-based Jack of Diamonds group, as well as "severe style" Soviet realist paintings of the 1950s and í60s. One of the most interesting aspects of the exhibit is its stylistic breadth: The influences of French post-impressionism, German expressionism, symbolism, neoclassicism, cubism and native Russian icon painting are all vividly apparent. That's clear in the first painting visitors encounter, Kuzma Petrov-Vodkinís "The Bathing of the Red Horse" (1912), a large, apocalyptic picture that dominates the back wall of the exhibition foyer. Petrov-Vodkinís monumental red horse and naked rider seem to emerge out of the painting, hovering above the swirling waters of a turbulent universe below. The influences of classical and renaissance equestrian sculpture are obvious, but "The Red Horse" also reflects Petrov-Vodkinís fascination with the limited color palette of the Russian icon tradition and with religious symbolism. (Petrov-Vodkin came to be known as "the father of Russian church modernism.") Painted near the beginning of the 20th century and only a few years before the Russian Revolution, "The Red Horse" brims with prophecy and expectation, as Petrov-Vodkinís contemporaries acknowledged. Thereís an air of the apocalypse about Filipp Malyavinís "Village Girl" (1903) too, another large canvas that occupies its own wall in the exhibitionís first room. A near contemporary of Petrov-Vodkin and a student of the famed portraitist Ilya Repin, Malyavin made Russian peasantsóand particularly, village women like this girlóacceptable subjects for fine painting. Here, the commonplace subject is given an almost otherworldly significance. The peasant girl, head thrown back, looks down on the viewer from her position in some indeterminate space of reds and browns. Her multicolored patchwork dress sparkles, drawing our eyes upward. A swath of brown partly covers her mouth. Is it an arm? A scarf? Malyavin leaves us with the mystery, his expressionistic technique endowing the girl with an aspect of the supernatural, as if we are witnessing a kind of peasant Assumption. Equal surprises come with the paintings created during the Soviet realist period later in the century. Nikolai Baskakovís "Milkmaids" (1962) defies the stereotype of heavy, no-nonsense Soviet painting. The three youthful maids on a break outside a milking barn are utterly carefree, their heads thrown back in joyous laughter at what must have been a splendid joke. The warmth and vibrant spring colors of the painting evoke a life of simple pleasures tied to the earth. Simple pleasures of another kind may be the subject of Geli Korzhevís "Marusya" (1983-89), a late-Soviet version of the reclining nude. Here, the ideal and the real come together. The full-bodied Marusya stretches before us like a courtesan, but her bright red bandana and work boots point to the fact that she is also a Soviet factory worker from an earlier part of the 20th century. There is a sensuous playfulness in Korzhevís appropriation of the reclining nude convention from earlier, supposedly more hedonistic societies. Perhaps unsurprisingly, many paintings in this exhibit focus on rural, agricultural life or the fruits of labor. Boris Yakovlevís "Soviet Canned Food" (1939) is a quiet homage to Soviet industry and the productivity of the working class. A variation on the traditional still life, the foods celebrated here are tightly packed in glass jars surrounded by straw, with a soft light reflected in the glass. Sliced peaches, presumably from a newly opened jar, entice us in the foreground. Georgi Nisskiís "Moscow Suburbs, February 1957" is a romanticized version of the Soviet industrial landscape, softly extolling the gifts of technologyóa speeding train, a moving car, a line of telephone poles and a road stretching into the crimson-hued horizon. The peacefulness of the winter scene lends a quiet dignity to the blending of man and machine. "In the Russian Tradition" does surprise and very often delights. If the aim of the exhibition is to show an international audience that Russian artists of the 20th century were masters in their own right, with their own vision, then the curators, from all three institutions, have succeeded. "In the Russian Tradition: A Historic Collection of 20th Century Russian Paintings" runs through March 20 at the International Gallery of the S. Dillon Ripley Center, 1100 Jefferson Drive, SW. For more information, please call (202) 633-1000 or visit www.si.edu/ripley/ig. Deryl Davis is a freelance writer in Washington, D.C.