A Dancing Russian Bear

Here, I take as a starting point a work of art, "Ukrainian Folk Dancing," by the Kiev-born Israeli artist Zoya Cherkassky. Set in a Soviet cultural center, the work reminds me of my own childhood, evoking ambivalent feelings of nostalgia and anti-nostalgia. Then, I describe the artist's solo exhibition "Pravda" at the Israel Museum, the most prestigious art venue in the country. In a series of large-scale oil paintings, the artist reflects on the Russian aliyah, looking at both Russians and Israelis with love and scorn, exposing both their mutual stereotypes and perceptions of self. With great sophistication, the artist moves freely between allusions to the Old Masters and post-modern pastiche and irony. However, the museum's texts and audio guide contextualize the exhibition only within the most basic information about the mass immigration from the former Soviet Union and the artist's own immigration. There is no engagement with the aesthetic aspects of the art. Cherkassky's works are interpreted only as far as their subject matter; her identity is treated only as far as her origin is concerned. In other words, she is treated like a dancing Russian bear. This pattern is familiar to me from my research on Gesher, a bilingual theater founded in 1990s Israel by Russian theater professionals. I show how the same reductive dynamic that was operational in the reception of Gesher nearly thirty years ago is still evident in the museum's presentation of Cherkassky's exhibition. I conclude with a meditation on the meanings of this dynamic for the broader Israeli culture.