ARTIFICIAL HELLS

artificial hells
has the effect of rendering them increasingly indistinguishable, to the point
where – like Proletkult theatre – we seem to be dealing with only one play,
performed over and again with minor variations. Participation was more
important than watchability, dramatic impact or technical skill. For
Kerzhentsev, speaking on behalf of the Proletkult, this was also true of
neighbourhood theatre: artistic talent was not in itself considered essential
because ‘in the revolutionary epoch, it is not the centre of our concerns. A
correct theoretical line, precise slogans, and burning enthusiasm are just as
important.’ 82 It was more pressing for a play to express collective consciousness
than to attain the old bourgeois goals of quality and posterity. Here,
then, we see the beginning of a clash of criteria that persists today: an art of
formal innovation that has relevance beyond its immediate historical
moment, capable of speaking to both local and future audiences, versus a
dynamic culture that involves as many workers as possible and in so doing
provides an ethically and politically correct social model. The same
dilemma is posed by the substantial overhaul of music that took place
during the post- revolutionary period, and I will conclude this section with
two striking examples whose forms reiterate this tension between quality
and equality, artistic and social goals.
Despite the popularity of collective theatre and amateur photography
in the 1920s, the attempt to eliminate hierarchy and individualism in
Soviet culture can be seen most vividly in two forms of musical innovation.
The first was the conductorless orchestra movement, which
demonstrated its commitment to collectivism in musical performance by
renouncing the tyranny of a single privileged conductor, but also by
organising rehearsals and performances in a way designed to ensure
maximum participation and equal voice. Musicians bore responsibility
for the correct technical execution of their individual parts, but also for
tempo, nuance and interpretation; the orchestra sat in a circle, facing
each other for maximum eye contact, even if this meant that some of
them had their backs to the audience. 83 The best known of these orchestras,
Persimfans (1922– 32), performed in the main concert halls in
Moscow, but also in factories, working- class neighbourhoods and army
garrisons. Concerts were introduced by short oral presentations on the
social background of the composer, and pieces were often played twice to
help them stay in the mind of the listener. Stites has argued that Persimfans
‘was an example of continued belief in unalienated labour, equality,
anti- authoritarianism . . . a utopia in miniature, a tiny republic and model
workshop for the communist future’. 84 However, the project was also
plagued by technical issues: without a conductor to unify the group, the
orchestra had problems with timing – and since there were no great revolutionary
composers, they were obliged to keep performing the old
bourgeois classics. 85 As with theatre, the principle of collective composition
was ideologically desirable but artistically premature.
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