Mai Miturich-Khlebnikov, Birches, 1983

Ink on paper
57 x 47 cm (visible), 77 x 65 x 1.5 cm (framed)
Condition: Very good

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Mai Miturich-Khlebnikov (Russian, 1925-2008) was a graphic artist, illustrator and painter, known for his works in illustrating children’s books. He also worked on murals, decorative art, portraits, and landscape paintings.

The scent of turpentine and the quiet hum of artistic creation filled the Moscow studio, a space where the weight of the unraveling Soviet Union seemed to momentarily fade. It was there, amidst the canvases and tools, that I met Mai Miturich-Khlebnikov. He wasn’t a man of grand pronouncements, but his eyes held a quiet intensity, a deep understanding of the artist’s soul struggling amidst the chaos. He knew I was a collector, a silent witness to the artistic spirit’s resilience during those tumultuous times. 

Our initial meeting wasn’t about art, not in the traditional sense. It was a cautious dance, a feeling out of shared ground in a world teetering on the edge of change. But Mai, a man of subtle observation, understood my quiet passion. He invited me back, to a different kind of showing. 

In the corner of his studio, amidst the sketches and works in progress, he unveiled a series of watercolours, delicate washes of colour that seemed to capture the very essence of light and shadow. And then, he showed me the silkscreen print, a testament to the sheer ingenuity required to create such a piece with the antiquated equipment and hand-made techniques that were the norm in Russia then. It was a world away from the slick, mass-produced art of the West. That print, made in 1983, became mine, a small act of defiance against the encroaching darkness. I later acquired some of the watercolours too. And now, decades later, I present this silkscreen print to you, hoping you can see what I saw, feel what I felt, the quiet power of art made in the shadow of a crumbling 23 empire. 

This was the work of Mai Miturich-Khlebnikov, a man born into the very heart of Russia’s artistic avant-garde. His father, Petr Miturich, a painter and theorist, his mother, Vera Khlebnikova, a painter and sister to the wild, visionary poet Velimir Khlebnikov. You could say art was in his blood, a legacy he carried with both pride and a quiet humility. 

He graduated from the Moscow Printing Institute, a place where the traditions of Russian artistry met the burgeoning world of graphic design. He went on to illustrate over a hundred books, breathing life into the words of Kipling and Barrie with his ink-like strokes, blending the old with the new. His work, like “Green Noise” and “Cold Evening,” explored the quiet poetry of nature, the subtle dance of light and silence. 

He was celebrated, even in a time when celebration was a rare commodity. The Gold Medal of the Russian Academy of Arts, Japan’s Order of the Rising Sun – these were testaments to his talent, his ability to bridge cultures and traditions. His work found its way into museums, into the very fabric of Russia’s artistic heritage. 

But for me, this silkscreen print, born of hardship and ingenuity, is more than just a piece of art. It’s a memory, a whisper from a time when art was a lifeline, a beacon in the gathering storm. It’s a reminder of the quiet strength of artists like Mai Miturich-Khlebnikov, who, even in the face of adversity, continued to create, to inspire, to leave behind a legacy of beauty and resilience.