VDNH from Soviet times to the Russia exhibition: what has changed

VDNKh celebrates its 85th anniversary next year. This place was designed as an exhibition of the achievements of the future and throughout its existence showed visitors images of future prosperity, as they were imagined in different eras, either in the form of friendship between peoples, or in the form of barbecue. Ivan Davydov I walked around VDNKh from the beginning of the 80s to the present day, from Soviet happiness to post-Soviet devastation and back, and looked at how these images lost pathos and found it again.

It is difficult to describe what pathos is. Dictionary definitions do not help, although the phrase “pretentious dude” is understandable to everyone. Or, let’s say, a “pretentious tavern.” The pretentiousness of the tavern, by the way, can be easily determined by assessing the number of pretentious dudes sitting in it with their corresponding companions.

But for some reason I’m sure: if a modern Muscovite had been at the All-Union Agricultural Exhibition of Stalin’s times, even he would have realized that this place was pretentious. But modern Muscovites are not the smartest people in the world, I know from myself and I say this responsibly.

Of course, like Moscow, it was not built right away; it was gradually overgrown with cast-iron ears of corn and other signs of abundance, blooming among the pavilions, making one recall a textbook on the history of the Ancient World. A reference – made, of course, unconsciously, against the will of the creators – to the greatness of the slave-owning empires of the past. Not without vulgarity, but pathos does not exist without vulgarity, a purist should accept this.

And, in general, it’s clear what the pathos is. It’s clear what all these blown metal cobs, bunches of stone grapes and statues of stud bulls are for. This is a promise. Not everything can be said out loud, but buildings and monuments also sometimes turn into words. Soviet people will one day forget what hunger is—that’s pathos. This is what the pig farmer and the shepherd were really singing about. However, the Stalinist regime could not keep this promise.

I haven’t seen all this myself, I, of course, have already seen VDNKh. For more than forty years I have been looking at this exhibition from time to time. I grew up, she grew old and even, as it seemed, died. Now it’s the other way around.

The first glance is the delighted look of a child. I was about six years old. All around is the ideal Soviet Union in miniature. Unstoppable friendship of peoples and endless achievements of the national economy. And a live Pencil at the Green Theater. I found it. Going to his performance cost me a pony ride. “I want to ride!” – this is how the demand was formulated, but mother remained adamant. She still believes that she was right then. We managed to see the pencil, the legend. This is probably really cool: a little man was running around the stage, followed by a small black dog. People in the stands laughed. I didn’t understand anything and was sad. I wanted it on horseback.

And huge pigs, like mountains, like other planets, in the “Pig Breeding” pavilion. And the Space pavilion, which promised that soon traveling to other planets would become as easy as a Sunday trip to VDNKh from our town near Moscow. I believed. I had no doubt.

It’s interesting, but did the Soviet people of the 30s, contemplating the iron ears of corn, believe that one day they would forget the word “hunger”? It doesn’t matter, a happy Soviet child from the early 80s, of course, could not think about anything like that. The word “pathos” was not yet in his vocabulary, but there was no doubt about the pathos of the exhibition. We live in the best country in the world. Ahead lies a continuous series of successes, not particularly understandable, but inevitable and desired communism (perhaps ice cream will be given free of charge and there will be no need to crowd in line for it, is that bad?). And if the enemy dares to test our strength…

The struggle for peace was in full swing all around, but the boys and I knew for sure that a grandiose war was ahead, during which the enemy would initially be successful. But we will take up arms and, having accomplished a lot of feats, we will reach Washington itself. Dying along the way, but that doesn’t matter. We’ll go to the parade later anyway. How? I don’t know how, but how else? It simply cannot be any other way.

Then something happened. With me it’s clear, I’ve grown up. With the country – something less clear. By the end of the 80s, only one thing was clear: things were not going particularly well with the achievements of the national economy. And it’s better not to stutter about the friendship of peoples. The pathos ended, the exhibition lost its meaning, stone fruits fell from the sad palaces, and inside the unnecessary pavilions, gradually squeezing out the previous exhibitions, traders of all sorts of rubbish began to nest.

I visited there often and observed the decline up close: I don’t know why, but in the stalls that grew up along the alleys they sold books in abundance, a book tsunami was covering the country, it was believed that our job was to read everything that had not been published here before. Let’s read it and arrange something normal. The fathers couldn’t cope, and the grandfathers couldn’t cope, but we will succeed. Books attracted people, and VDNKh was one of the places where books were found.

Later, in the 2000s, order began to emerge from chaos. Spontaneous markets gave way to shopping centers, the word “pathos” began to be filled with a new meaning, and pretentious dudes and their companions settled in pretentious establishments. But VDNKh (it was renamed the All-Russian Exhibition Center, but the new nickname did not catch on, I never heard anyone say: “Let’s go to the All-Russian Exhibition Center”) remained a reserve of the 90s. The devastation worsened; in the pavilions there was still a brisk trade in all kinds of goods needed by the peasants. The model of the empire split with the empire together, it was impossible to collect the fragments, and no one really tried.

A (cute) sign of Luzhkov’s times: on almost every pavilion there is a “Honey” sign. “VDNKh seems to have been occupied by bees,” a friend once told me, with whom we were wandering senselessly among the imperial devastation. Or not completely pointless. Another specialty of the exhibition from those happy years is kebab shops with inviting menus, which include negligible prices. When you pay, you find out that the price is for one hundred grams, and the bill ends up being impressive. We knew the meaning of the game, but we went anyway: firstly, it’s interesting, this is a lottery, you’ll never guess how much you actually got; secondly, the kebabs were delicious.

Luzhkov was sometimes overcome by the restoration fervor; he tried to restore something, but exactly in the way he knew how, in the Luzhkov way: he could, for example, cover elegant but peeling columns with ugly plastic blotches. Chaos intensified, devastation was winning, the splashes of approaching oil splendor did not reach VDNKh.

Sobyanin approached the matter differently: traders were expelled from the temples of Stalinist abundance, the pavilions began to be restored in accordance with the surviving drawings, the former splendor returned, but the meaning did not. Even urbanists were sent there, but even these sages could not answer the question of why the new country needed a huge model of the old country. A large park with beautiful houses – yes. Understandable life in individual points of this space – yes. The Space pavilion is now a museum, which is better than the Soviet one. In the “Kazakhstan” pavilion you can find out how the Republic of Kazakhstan is thriving. In the “Armenia” pavilion you can try Armenian wines and cognacs with Armenian snacks (by the way, this is a fashionable place for people who understand; it’s not crowded on weekends). In the Belarus pavilion you can buy Belarusian sausage or something flaxseed, ugly, but good quality. In the “Ukraine” pavilion… Oh, no, sorry, the “Ukraine” pavilion no longer exists. There is the “Word” pavilion, dedicated to the history of the Russian language. They say that excellent philologists were preparing the exposition, but for some reason I still haven’t gone inside.

A restoration project was boiling around, as many stated, some with horror, and others with delight, but the model of the empire remained a monument at the grave of the empire. The monument can be restored, but this will not add life to it.

And so it was – literally – until the last days. Before the opening of the exhibition “Russia”. Temporary pavilions have obscured the Stalinist stone splendor, and in them the future has already arrived. “The future has already arrived” is the inscription on the wall in one of the temporary pavilions, which talks about the successes of state corporations. A little further in the same room there is another inscription: “By decision of the president.” If you combine them, you will find lost pathos.

There is no Union, but Russia can be read as a Union. I am again (almost like in childhood) inside a model of an ideal empire, where everyone is happy – the old, the young, and the athletes. Where science, culture and cooking bloom. Where every region – including new ones – is a paradise for tourists and a paradise for local residents too. There are no problems with the achievements of the national economy. With the friendship of peoples – even more so.

And there is still no that same, main event that determines the present. Even Vladimir Solovyov speaks from a huge media panel about the achievements of import substitution, and not about what he talks about every day from TV. And everything is logical – this is the future.

Magnificence is there. There are more than enough emotions. There is some vulgarity too. In general, pathos has returned.

True, he returned to temporary pavilions, which will be dismantled in April next year, after the presidential elections. Once again opening the Stalinist pavilions to the observer, the remains of a crumbled mosaic. They are forever.

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