Boris and Gleb 1906

Editor: So, here we have Nicholas Roerich’s "Boris and Gleb," a mixed media piece on paper from 1906. The stylized figures on horseback remind me of traditional folk art; it’s pretty captivating. What catches your eye? Curator: Immediately, the haloes. They signify sanctity, certainly. But more profoundly, notice how the entire composition seems almost pressed forward, toward us. It's not just an image; it’s an invocation. Editor: Invocation? Like a prayer? Curator: In a way. Roerich was deeply interested in cultural memory, how images and symbols carry power through generations. Boris and Gleb were among the first saints canonized in Kievan Rus', symbols of brotherly love and sacrifice. They were murdered, choosing not to fight their brother for power. Editor: So, Roerich is using them to represent something bigger than just a historical event? Curator: Precisely. The choice to depict them in this flattened, almost mosaic-like style pulls from Byzantine iconography, connecting them to a deep well of spiritual and cultural meaning. And look at their faces – impassive, serene. There is a timeless quality in their suffering, an echo that resonates through Russian history. Do you feel that resonance? Editor: Definitely. The deliberate flatness gives them such a solemn, almost otherworldly feel. I see the echo now, the way he uses the figures to speak to this ideal of sacrifice, almost like a foundational myth. Curator: Exactly. And those myths shape how a culture understands itself. Editor: I learned how much symbolic language can influence history. Thank you. Curator: My pleasure. Now, consider what stories *we* choose to tell…and how we depict them.