site.btaZlatyu Boyadzhiev: Between Official and Unofficial Art

Zlatyu Boyadzhiev (1903-1976) was born on October 22 in the village of Brezovo (Southern Bulgaria). He is now considered one of the greatest Bulgarian artists, although his works are still subject to interpretation and debate. Critics still argue over various details of his life and style, while viewers still stand in awe in front of some of his paintings because he epitomizes the innate ability to present in a unique way objects seen by all.

Boyadzhiev graduated in painting from Sofia's Academy of Fine Arts in 1932 and his career was believed to follow the neoclassical style in composing scenes of rural life and landscapes.

In 1951, the artist had a stroke, lost his speech and could no longer read. His right hand was paralysed. After his partial recovery, however, he mastered left-hand painting – a feat in itself, given the time and efforts needed.

His style changed. Instead of classical painting where one could hardly notice the trace of the brush, he began using the broken line now usually associated with Impressionism. His palette changed too, towards warmer and brighter colours. Weird, twisted images and motifs started to appear in his paintings – very strange-looking to the public and critics faithful to Socialist Realism. Even the modernist Tsanko Lavrenov, the Bulgarian painter and art critic influenced by Symbolism and the Secession, described some of Boyadzhiev's images as "grotesque".

From today's point of view, the perception of Boyadzhiev's art in the communist era might seem uninteresting or irrelevant. But the fact is that he managed to go through the normative aesthetics of Socialist Realism carrying something completely alien to the regime. He was awarded the Hero of Socialist Labour title. He painted a portrait of communist leader Todor Zhivkov (1972). But he also created Apocalypse (1969) – a shocking end-of-the-world scene displayed at the time of the promised, soon-to-come, victory of communism. Instead of seeing working class people struggling to destroy the old world of vice and superstition, the viewer is faced with naked figures dancing wildly, coffins on the street and people throwing themselves from the roofs (amid scenery redolent of the Old Plovdiv), with the Artist walking among them… The Way to the Slaughterhouse (1959) - where a drove of pigs rush down a narrow (Plovdiv) street - could have a staggering effect on the viewer. But a communist critic could face such a scene with nothing less than a "what the hell…". Of course, there were accusations and negation, and a reaction of silent objection from critics.

In the experts' lingo, Zlatyu Boyadzhiev's works challenge the established dichotomy of official/unofficial art, "simplifying both the complexity of the receptive field during communism and the role played by officially endorsed art" (Milena Katsarska, Suman Gupta. The Receptive Field during Socialism through the Case of Zlatyu Boyadzhiev).

Boyadzhiev disturbed totalitarian aesthetics in a way that is both easy and difficult to explain. His art is very close to national tradition, folklore and the working people, with objects and scenes from Plovdiv and rural life around that city. But a kind of second layer of impressions is felt in many of his works. The natural, the familiar, the obvious is on the surface (in well-known shapes and forms), but something else is there, ready to be decoded and revealed to the observer after just a minute or two of watching. For instance, Shepherds Gathered for a Chat features real "working people" – three shepherds. What meets the eye is a conventional theme rendered using a conventional set of images. But the longer you watch, the more unusual details are revealed – a bird of prey and a crow on the shepherds' shoulders, a black goat's head popping from behind, and one of the shepherds' faces coming straight out of Hieronymus Bosch's Christ Carrying the Cross.

It is no surprise that the world of Zlatyu Boyadzhiev has puzzled experts. It combines something close to a child's drawing (in terms of perspective and colours), being at the same time full of "images, coming directly from the artist's subconscious – tense, troubled, nightmarish…". 

Non-experts facing Boyadzhiev's paintings are mostly impressed by the use of colour in a break from convention and tradition. Using warm (red, yellow, orange, brown) colours for winter landscapes is a challenge to every artist, and Zlatyu Boyadzhiev's winter scenes are full of red and brown.

Even non-experts feel something unusual and troubling about the world created by Zlatyu Boyadzhiev. There is some inner tension even in a portrait or a landscape with a seemingly neutral artistic code, free of ideology and action. A load of indescribable pressure on the senses makes one feel uneasy - no matter how peaceful the painting looks. All this could probably explain why so many people see Boyadzhiev as "modern", despite the outdated imagery of Bulgarian rural life, and despite the lost connection with practices, customs and ways of the past.

No matter what critics would say, today's reception of Zlatyu Boyadzhiev's art shows there is something in it that touches and troubles us. It is probably useless to try to name it; it may be much more preferable to look at his creations.