On November 9, Erik Bulatov, one of Russia’s best-known contemporary artists, died at the age of 92. In a memorial essay, art historian Sorin Brut argues that Bulatov’s importance extends far beyond the usual reading of his work as commentary on Soviet propaganda, and that his legacy may be even more necessary today than before.
The artist’s career developed slowly and under pressure: for nearly 30 years he worked largely unseen, earning a living through children’s book illustration together with Oleg Vasilyev. His artistic language emerged during the Khrushchev thaw, but serious interest in his paintings appeared only in the late 1970s, mainly from foreign collectors. Abroad, the works were safer; in the USSR, he faced the risk of persecution, losing his studio, or seeing the paintings themselves disappear.
Bulatov’s first major exhibition opened in Switzerland in 1988, followed by an international career with shows in major institutions in the United States, Britain, France, and Germany. In August 2025, The Art Newspaper ranked him first among the most expensive living Russian artists.
Brut stresses that it is misleading to treat Bulatov only as a political painter because of famous works such as “Glory to the CPSU”. The artist himself said that a fixation on politics would have destroyed him as a painter. His art relates not only to Sots Art or conceptualism, but also to abstraction, classical and religious traditions, and a broader metaphysical search.
In Brut’s reading, Bulatov was above all concerned with the clash between flatness and depth, illusion and freedom. In his paintings, ideology, fear, and habit simplify the world, turning reality into simulation and trapping the viewer on the surface. The political dimension is therefore important, but not decisive: the work is about both totalitarian power and the human desire to hide from the complexity of existence inside protective illusions.
In later works, this view shifted toward the present day: consumer society and the rapid flow of information, Brut writes, create cells for the individual that are no less sophisticated. That is why Bulatov’s art keeps asking the same question: can a person break through toward depth, air, and freedom, rather than remain confined within imposed images?