Soviet Ceramics

The Russian Revolution of 1917 caused profound disruption to traditional craft in Russia and Ukraine. There were many negative effects, but here I want to briefly discuss the nationalization of the ceramic factories, the collective artisanal centers, and the other means of governmentally approved craft production that politically compromised the global reputation of these businesses.

In the years following the collapse of the Soviet Union, some of these centuries old factories have regained their independence, survived, and even flourished. Lomonosov, the imperial Russian Porcelain Factory, has reclaimed some of its stature (the golden age of household figurines, judging by 2018's fashions, remains somewhere back in the 20th century). But lesser known factories, Polonne, Gorodniska, and Korostan, were not able to reconfigure themselves as viable craft enterprises. The political compromises that had resulted in the production of Olympic Misha Bears and propaganda figurines permanently scarred these factories' reputations as creative or even artistic makers.

But this new age of ceramic independence has also meant that "Soviet" ceramics are undergoing a re-assessment as the decades pass, and the connections to these factories' pre-Soviet past is better appreciated.  

Maybe it's just a case of... if things get old enough, somebody starts collecting them. Jordon Peterson, for example, is well know for his collection of Soviet Realist paintings, "routinely proffered as evidence of his profound ethical commitment to understanding the forces of evil in the world."

My own interest is, frankly, a sentimental one. As a five year old, I knew I wasn't supposed to touch the one or two figures that my grandmother owned, high on a treasure shelf.  The "Forbidden Fruit Effect" left its impression.  The figures in themselves are fascinating to me, and the little known history of their creators has, subsequently, also proved of interest.