LV   ENG
Without Scrimping on the Details
Laima Slava, Art Historian
A conversation with Jānis Zuzāns
 
The first Purvītis Prize has been awarded, and the experts are starting work on the next nominations. This long-cherished project of the Latvian National Museum of Art was made possible by the considerable support of the com­pany Alfor. Having observed the enthusiastic, yet very discreet participation of its Chairman of the Board, JĀNIS ZUZĀNS in the jury panel for the prize, we wished to find out a little more about the most generous private art sponsor for at least a decade. The cosy interior of the wine bar Vīna studija, an environment which stimulates conversation, seemed to be the most appropriate location for this, so our first task was the choice of wine. Moreover, it turned out this place is a favourite with the Zuzāns family.

"My wife is very fond of wine. Some five or six years ago she decided that she wanted to attend a wine tasting class. I said I did not - but since we are a family, I had to go along anyway. So I com­pleted that wine appreciation course and even got a piece of paper at the end of it. I attended the course without understanding a thing, it all went over my head. But it was a start, something must have stuck, because I started to recognize good wine and bad wine. From that moment on, I've been completely unable to drink anything less than decent - I'd rather have nothing at all. This time I've chosen a classic burgundy. To me, burgundy is the king of wines. Some say claret is more refined, but I think burgundy is the real thing. It is older. Lighter. More aristocratic. Whenever events are held here in Latvia, we often have this problem - on the whole everything gets done, but there is always this scrimping on details, saving money on trifles. But it's the details which can make something sublime."
 
Jānis Zuzāns. Photo: Didzis Grodzs
 
  Laima Slava: Where in your "men's kit" would you place your relations with art? 

Jānis Zuzāns: Close to the top. Art is my hobby, a part of me, it helps me switch my brain hemispheres. My leisure reading includes reference literature on art. Both about artists who have passed away, and about those who are young, existent and currently of importance for me. Knowledge widens one's horizon - the more you know, the more you understand other people, their arguments.

L.S.: What led you to pick up an art dictionary?

J.Z.: When you lay your hands on a picture, you want to find out more about its author, his significance in art life. Not all artists leave their traces in the history of art! And then there are some without whom our classical art scene would not be complete. Whilst preparing for this conversation, I read over the interview with Māra Lāce. I agree with her one hundred per cent regarding collectors and the process of collection: everything really does begin accidentally.

There's a wall, it requires an interior object - up to a certain point in time for me it was like that. And then with one picture I made a conscious choice: I knew that I wanted a painting by Indulis Zariņš. With this piece I de­veloped an interest in a more methodical approach. And so it began. I felt I needed to know something more about Prof. Indulis Zariņš himself - he was already deceased at the time.

L.S.: A live issue at present is the Latvian cul­ture canon. Have you got your own list for it?

J.Z.: Before Purvītis, Valters and Rozentāls, there would be Hūns, Feders, also Belzēns, although he is less well known. Grosvalds, Kazaks, Suta - you could name the whole group of expressionists. The legacy left by those whose lives were short is not large. At the same time, those who lived longer ... not everything they have done is good. For example, Uga Skulme and Oto Skulme. Portrait Composition definitely is an absolute canon... One of my favourites certainly is Jānis Pauļuks. Then - Boriss Bērziņš.               

And I do like Auseklis Baušķenieks! Maybe the classicism is not that evident in his work, but with his ironic approach and healthy humour he is simply superb! A philosopher. I like him. When he was still alive, we talked and drank coffee in his studio on Jaunsaules street, and he told very interesting stories.

L.S: Do you like chatting to artists?

J.Z.: It depends. People tend to be different, with some it's easier, with others - not. It was very easy to talk with Baušķenieks, he was a very friendly person. We dis­cussed radio engineering, he showed me all his various assembly kits - fantastic!

L.S: What's more important to you when choosing a work of art, are you a man of emotions or do you opt for an item of value?

J.Z.: Both. I believe that from the start it's a purely emotional infatuation. You like it. It speaks to you. There is something to it. But at some point in time, the rational is added to the emotional. If you are emotionally so much attracted to it that you cannot go without it, then you should go through with the whole thing. You buy it. Or, if it is too expensive, get satisfaction in some other way. I, however, try to analyse. If the emotions are not that strong I think about the author and his work in a wider historical and cultural context.

It's not that I would like to have a piece by every author, but I have my own little list of works which I would like to have. This and that I've already got. And at every opportunity I am ready to exchange for something better. It is quality that matters to me, not quantity. But with some authors a single painting is not enough for me. Baušķenieks, for instance. I would gladly set up a gallery for him, if I had the chance.

L.S: Why not! Many would be pleased about that.

J.Z.: I saw in Las Vegas - hotels open their own art galleries. Of various kinds. There is art, design. Every major hotel buys art and maintains permanent galleries. Ex­hibi­tions change. Sometimes two or three hotels cooperate and showcase good Monet, Pisarro, Cézanne  art which is by no means very expensive. Also modern art.

L.S: You admit that a work of art is an invest­ment?

J.Z.: At the moment it may not be the best invest­ment, because the market is falling. This is my opinion. To invest in Old Masters at this point in time is definitely not to one's advantage, perhaps if only for a very reason­able price. But from the point of view of building up a collection it is more profitable to invest in the young, because their works have a different price and a greater potential (if we're talking about business): if this artist proves his worth, the returns will be much higher than those from an Old Master.

An Old Master is like gold, which you store in a safe deposit box; in there it "hikes" within a 10 percent limit, and, when need be, you sell. At least you are not going to lose what's yours. That's from the point of view of business, of profit. But I am most satisfied of all with a work by Padegs. I have it on the wall of my study.

L.S: Oh, that's very interesting! Would you de­s­cribe your collection in some detail?

J.Z.: The collection is new. I am not ready to provide any particulars. Some other time.

L.S: Do you keep your collection on the walls or store it in repositories?

J.Z.: Mostly on the walls. I try to find free surfaces... The way you live is indicative of what you are.

L.S: That means all of it is art you are ready to live together with...

J.Z.: Maybe not with some of the new ones, how­ever. On some occasions I have taken a picture off, let's say, a bedroom wall (I have a Pauļuks there, a piece from the 1950's when he painted landscapes en plain air: seaside, forests, sand dunes). I wanted to replace it with something else. Then I was roaming around the house like some kind of hamster, with a painting under my arm - the picture is good, but it doesn't suit the place.

Studija: And what have you got there now?

J.Z.: Another Pauļuks!

L.S: There is something very close to you in Pau­ļuks' energy then? 

J.Z.: Yes, I like him, he is one of my favourites. If I focused on two, they would be Pauļuks and Baušķenieks. But they cannot be compared. Boriss Bērziņš would be the third. Different again. In my opinion, Pauļuks has a kind of extrovert power which radiates from his pictures, from their colour scheme, the brushwork; one gets a certain energy from him. With two strokes of the brush he creates a road, brief swish for a spruce, and it's all there! I am also fond of Boriss's women, the Midsummer girls - so vital, so rubenesque!

L.S: Who are your favourite artists?

J.Z.: Artists of the world - van Gogh and Gauguin, van Gogh with his inimitable style: sunflowers, the land­scapes of Arles. I could list the whole history of art: Tintoretto, Boticelli. From Latvian artists also Purvītis, Ro­zen­tāls, Val­­ters, Grosvalds. Those pictures of the East in particular, the riflemen less so. From Kazaks I like Women at the Seaside. I understand all right that Refugees is a canon...

I am also very fond of Leonīds Mauriņš, his rural land­­scapes, deformed people, dreams on a spring night, variations on Rachmaninov...

L.S: Is the choice of works related to a sense of home?

J.Z.: Art is very important in creating a sense of home! We have moved several times, and always we have taken with us, as the central piece, a picture by Līga Purmale, my wife's favourite work. A misty morning, a haze. These are the mornings of a Latvian childhood, with dew and mist. That's what you have felt, waking up in the countryside at your grandmother's and grandfather's...

L.S: Have you any childhood memories connected to art?

J.Z.: Nothing very vivid. We went to see autumn ex­hibitions from school (the 7th Secondary School). I liked them. But from childhood, I sooner recall smells. When the New Riga Theatre stages The Long Life, and one has to walk along a corridor which smells of musty clothes, memories of a communal flat flash through my mind. A communal flat of the 1960's.

L.S: So you're a real Riga boy then? 

J.Z.: Yes. From a communal flat.

L.S: Which collections of art are you the most keen to visit now? Are there any favourite works to which you like to come back to?

J.Z.: Yes. I like the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam. It's fantastic. Alise Tīfentāle in her Studija article on con­temporary art quotes a phrase, that contemporary art has nothing to give except cheap entertainment and a slight shock. Then I gave it a thought - maybe it's true? Whither goest thou, art? I saw an exhibition of the new Chinese art at the Saatchi Gallery. More often than not, it hinges on the wish to surprise. But the fallen angel addressed me, and the picture with a little boy in the bushes did, too.

However, the men in wheelchairs, that's another story - the life of any tyrant ends up in feebleness, de­pend­ence on care, lack of power! The high and mighties should see this! Three different ways of presenting art: painting, sculpture, installation, and each having its own potent message. But one may reflect upon that phrase. Besides, I visit the Louvre on regular basis. I go to see the little Dutch masters.  

L.S: And not to visit the Mona Lisa?

J.Z.: I pass her by and always enjoy myself. Stepping to one side, you can observe the whole crowd: everybody's taking snapshots, although photos are prohibited! But further down in the same gallery there are very good works by da Vinci, Raphael, Titian, which everybody passes by. In my view, they are much better!

L.S: See, that's what a brand name means!

J.Z.: A very accurate word, because these days there's no way of avoiding this! It is art marketing that shapes a brand. You can see this in the Louvre catalogue - they have calculated that a person is able to take in only some nine works of art in a row, and these have been marked on the catalogue as small pictures, so that you know where to go. A brand name needs to be made, con­temporary art needs it too. When an artist is developed into a brand, he's away!

L.S: Don't you think that the Purvītis Prize could be a brand maker? In its time, the Turner Prize in Great Britain succeeded in doing just that...

J.Z.: That would be a truly valuable contribution. The process involving the prize indicates that the seeds have been spread on fertile soil: people keep coming and want to know - where is this prize, and there's a feeling that the award has already left its trace in people's minds as something permanent and traditional.

L.S: Do you believe that awards mean some­thing for art?

J.Z.: It seems to me that the awards must be there. When speaking about national art, they are like punctu­ation marks. Just like the logo of the Purvītis Prize! A sign that a time cut-off point has been marked, an evaluation made, and a prize has been awarded to someone who has been recognised as the best at this point. The evaluation of course is subjective, a summary of that moment's thoughts and opinions. Every nominee is already good! Those who get left behind the line are just as good.

If the award were to contribute to raising the profile of Latvian art in the world, that would be simply superb. An international jury could also be the way towards that. After the next award we shall see what attitude towards the prize the nominees themselves have. After the first, it seemed to me that they are very much interested. The opinions about the result vary, and that is only good.

L.S: Was it not disappointing for you, who, as far as I can see, is a dedicated lover of painting, that the first Purvītis Prize was awarded to Katrīna Neiburga, an artist who works with a moving image?

J.Z.: I think that Katrīna Neiburga deserved the award, and the decision by the professional, multitalented jury is proof to that. I believe that each of the eight shortlisted candidates was powerful and special, but obviously the fact that the prize went to Katrīna is only natural under present day circumstances - although they are not new forms of art, they are deeply personal experiences and emotions, seemingly accidental, but in fact carefully considered. I fully agree with the jury's opinion.

The experts who made the selection worked very dili­gently and with great responsibility. There isn't any­one who would follow this process as attentively as the artists themselves, and had the experts made any major errors, we would certainly hear about it. I haven't heard anything negative.

L.S: Do you know any other companies like yours which support culture?

J.Z.: Our partners in Austria support the Vienna Opera and cinematic art. The cooperation with the museum developed very logically; it began with the exhibition Candy Bomber, which went off well. Then Ms Lāce pro­posed that we support the museum's long cherished project, the Purvītis Prize. We discussed it with my partner and decided it's a good thing, we can support it. Up till now we have sponsored concerts and are sponsoring the Children's Fund on regular basis - for more than 15 years, with separate programmes for disabled children and children who have suffered from physical violence. And we also support the National Theatre.

L.S: You are prepared to be a sponsor of the Purvītis Prize for ten years. What would give you the greatest satisfaction during this period?

J.Z.: Over these ten years, it is vital to establish a tradition. It is important to hold at least the first five awards, then another five more. For a prize, it is tradition and prestige that counts, and standards - which are so high that they make it desirable. It is essential to provide a certain amount of money, so that for a year an artist is able to create freely. In ten years' time I will be glad to bring to­gether the winners of the prize and to see how rich the scene is.

L.S: In Latvian society today you can observe com­plicated relations with culture. Culture is readily deemed a parasite. How would you comment on that?

J.Z.: I don't think that the relations are complicated with culture as such, but they certainly are with Latvian culture. Too much of the American stuff comes in, the easily digestible. Let's not call it pop culture, but mass culture. Because we speak more of art as something above the average, to which one may connect with all one's senses and with one's mind, too. We lack education, and there is no programme for filling this gap.

I'd rather say this is the work for two ministries - the Ministry of Culture and the Ministry of Education and Science, who should provide more visual arts in the school curricula. Children should be encouraged to per­ceive the beautiful through art, and that should be done in an attractive way: a child should be encouraged to draw, to copy, to imitate - to feel like an artist, to enter into an artist's character, let them try to be like Gauguin! Activity is always more potent than a visual impression. And smells enhance the perception even more, let's say, the smell of paint...

People speak about university education having been neglected - there are the humanities, but few exact sciences. For all that, we don't really have humanities either! We've got lawyers and economists, they are also needed, of course, but not everyone is going to do that as a career! Those who care about the future of their children realize this. If you care about the environment in which to live, the society in which to develop, to grow up in, to make your mark, also to grow old and die, then these things should be of interest to you.

If you live here, in Latvia, not in London, Paris or else­where, then one of the most fundamental things is the awareness of your roots, of your culture. I wouldn't say - of being chosen, but the awareness of your dis­tinctiveness and of things you have in common with the world, with Europe. Culture with its component - art - is fundamental for one's self-awareness. People love ranking values. Blaumanis is a value for us, Rainis, Purvītis is a value, and Pauļuks and Bērziņš. And we will have new values. These values should be taught to our children, they must wish to learn them, and we have to think of new ways of achieving this.

/Translator into English: Sarmīte Lietuviete, Līva Ozola/
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