Portrait of the poetess Maria Petrovykh 1946

Curator: Let's delve into Martiros Sarian’s "Portrait of the poetess Maria Petrovykh," created in 1946. An oil painting currently held in a private collection. My initial sense? Editor: Pensive. There’s a stillness in her gaze, almost melancholic, like she’s gazing out at a future she already knows is going to be tough. The brushstrokes give her such palpable presence! Curator: Absolutely, there’s a weighty serenity to it. Thinking of the time, 1946, right after the war. Petrovykh lived a rather precarious existence – blacklisted, struggling to publish her poems for decades. It’s interesting to view Sarian's artistic rendering of Maria through the lens of her position in soviet society, particularly its reception to her role as a woman poet during that period. Editor: And it’s reflected in the very fabric of the paint! That deep red of her blouse, almost brick-like in its texture, hints at resilience, but also restriction. It’s like a visual metaphor for her suppressed voice trying to break through. The way the brushwork is loose and expressive too feels fitting, conveying her interior state. Curator: Her muted palette does point to the socio-political realities governing artistic expression at the time. While this isn't socialist realism directly, Sarian, being an Armenian artist, also faced the expectations and impositions on non-Russian art. I always look for hints of defiance or accommodation to constraints through his use of pigment and line. Editor: Maybe that is why she’s facing out from it…like that is her defiant act..that slightly distant gaze? Though it might not have been easily "publishable" back then. Curator: Perhaps we’re both picking up on a visual encoding of these social complexities and the making thereof through a poetic subject's portrait... Sarian managed to encapsulate her essence and experience on the surface itself, layer by layer, mixing oil pigment in 1946... fascinating. Editor: Truly. You know, reflecting on Sarian’s creation alongside its time, the woman he painted…it certainly allows a greater appreciation for a quiet form of persistence to exist—like Maria’s gaze just out past those cloudy brushstrokes…I love her for that.