»She wanted to breathe life in at full scale, no matter the circumstances.«
Interview with Dr. Xenia Vytuleva-Herz on Anna Andreeva
Anna Andreeva, 1954
A few years ago, Annette and Rainer Stadler discovered the extraordinary work of Russian textile designer Anna Andreeva (1917–2008) through the gallery Emanuel Layr. They were instantly captivated by the striking optical patterns of her designs. Yet, it was the remarkable story behind the artist that left a lasting impression. As a leading designer at the Red Rose Silk Factory in Moscow, Anna Andreeva brought her visionary creations to life, navigating the challenges and restrictions imposed by Soviet cultural policies.
For the Stadler Collection, Sophie Azzilonna spoke with Dr. Xenia Vytuleva-Herz, architectural historian, curator, and granddaughter of Anna Andreeva. In the interview, she shares insights into the “discovery” of her grandmother’s legacy and its relevance and significance for our time.
In 2018, you decided to open your grandmother's archive. What led to this decision?
In 2018, I was living in New York and teaching Theory of Architecture at Columbia University. I was incredibly preoccupied with my professional career at that time. When a curator from MoMA approached me, saying they were considering the acquisition of my grandmother's works, it was, of course, very flattering. It was a spontaneous, absolutely unplanned event in my life.
While most of the archive remained in Berlin after 1991, many of my grandmother’s works were stored at her dacha, a country house located two hours north of Moscow. She loved that place and used it as a studio after her retirement from the Red Rose Silk Factory. In 2018, I didn’t have time to go there. Instead, I opened the folders under my bed and showed the curator everything stored there. The museum ultimately acquired about 20 works – everything I had shown the curator. The acquisition happened rapidly. The Board of Trustees met shortly after, and we got their unanimous approval. A few weeks later, an article appeared in The Art Newspaper, listing MoMA’s acquisition of my grandmother’s works among the top five acquisitions of the year. This article brought incredible attention from other museums and curators worldwide.
Surprisingly, interest was first triggered externally, not from within the family. We knew Anna Andreeva was a prominent figure in the USSR and internationally, with her designs showcased at Expos in Montreal and Osaka in the 1970s. Professionals were always aware of the historic significance of her commemorative designs that acted as diplomats, particularly during the Cold War.
Today, we are working on properly organizing and cataloging the archive. In 2021, we began collaborating with Galerie Emanuel Layr, which has significantly helped. This collaboration started serendipitously: I was overwhelmed by museum loan requests and struggling to manage the estate alongside my academic work. A curator friend introduced me to Emanuel, and since then, the archive has been mainly located at the gallery in Vienna.
Anna Andreeva, Exercise with Northern Embroideries, 1979
Seit der Öffnung des Archivs gab es eine Reihe von Ausstellungen von Anna Andreevas Arbeiten weltweit. Was bedeutet es Ihnen, dass ihr Werk nun so große internationale Anerkennung erfährt?
Die Aufmerksamkeit gilt nicht nur der außergewöhnlichen Qualität des künstlerischen Erbes von Anna Andreeva, sondern auch der einzigartigen Ideengeschichte, die ihre Werke repräsentieren. Jedes Stück offenbart mehrere Erzählebenen. Eine wichtige Ebene ist politisch: Ihre Werke, die unter immensem Druck entstanden sind, dienten während des Kalten Krieges als Werkzeuge kultureller Diplomatie. Ihre wunderschönen Designs, die sie zu speziellen Gedenkanlässen gestaltete, wurden auf Staatsbesuchen als Geschenke an westliche politische Führer überreicht, wenn die verbale Diplomatie versagt hatte. Diese Designs wurden zu Kommunikationsbrücken, zu Symbolen des Dialogs.
Das Vermächtnis von Anna Andreeva findet heute, in einer Welt anhaltender Spannungen und Konflikte, großen Widerhall. Sie war eine Botschafterin des freien Denkens, die unter repressiven Umständen außergewöhnliche künstlerische Leistungen vollbrachte. Ich denke, das ist eine Botschaft, die Museen heute vermitteln wollen: Ihr Werk ist ein Beweis für die Fähigkeit der Kunst, Dialoge zu fördern und Unterdrückung zu überwinden.
Ihre Großmutter bezeichnete die Textilkunst als ihr „Territorium der Freiheit“. Was meinte sie damit, und wie spiegelt sich das in ihren Designs wider?
Meine Großmutter beschrieb ihr Leben oft als „eine Geschichte des Trotzdem“. Ursprünglich wollte sie Architektin werden und wurde auch am Architekturinstitut zugelassen, doch ihre Bewerbung wurde letztendlich abgelehnt – aufgrund des wohlhabenden Hintergrunds ihrer Familie, was in den 1930er-Jahren in der Sowjetunion als Verbrechen galt. Ihr blieb nichts anderes übrig, als an das Textilinstitut zu wechseln, das ihr aufgrund seiner progressiven Geschichte ironischerweise mehr Freiheiten bot. Das Textilinstitut in Moskau ging aus dem VKhUTEMAS hervor, dem sowjetischen Pendant zum Bauhaus. Viele Professoren pendelten zwischen den beiden Schulen. Anna Andreeva wird heute als Bindeglied zwischen der sowjetischen Avantgarde und der zweiten Welle der Bewegung gesehen.
Von diesem Moment an begann ihre „Geschichte des Trotzdem“. Trotz ihrer Versetzung zum Textildesign fand sie ihre künstlerische Stimme. Nur im Bereich der angewandten Kunst konnte sie während der Sowjetzeit ihre avantgardistischen optischen Muster kreieren, während jede traditionelle Malerei dagegen leicht als Manifest abgestempelt werden konnte.
Wie gelang es ihr, ihre rein abstrakten oder optischen Designs in diesem restriktiven System zu verwirklichen?
Jedes Muster für die Seidenproduktion musste von einem speziellen Komitee genehmigt werden, dem auch KGB-Agenten angehörten. Meine Großmutter umschiffte die vorgegebenen Einschränkungen geschickt, indem sie Geschichten zu ihren Entwürfen erzählte. Zum Beispiel wurde ihre berühmte Serie „Radio Waves“ zunächst unter dem Titel „Der Regen“ abgelehnt, da das Komitee sie als rein abstrakt betrachtete. Nach einem Gespräch mit meinem Großvater, dem Wissenschaftler Boris Andreev, benannte sie die Serie in „Radio Waves“ um und schuf so einen Bezug zu sowjetischen wissenschaftlichen Errungenschaften. Dieser neue Titel gab ihr ideologisch grünes Licht, und das Muster wurde genehmigt. Ein weiteres Beispiel ist ihre Serie „Electrification“, die sich auf Lenins berühmte Aussage stützte: „Kommunismus ist Sozialismus plus die Elektrifizierung des ganzen Landes.“ Unter diesem Titel wurden mehrere abstrakte Designs in Produktion genommen.
Wenn selbst solche Taktiken scheiterten, hatte sie einen Notfallplan. Sie brachte zu den Komiteesitzungen eine kleine Tasche mit ausgeschnittenen Blumen mit. Falls das Komitee ihre Designs als zu abstrakt oder zu stark vom Kapitalismus beeinflusst ablehnte, entschuldigte sie sich, fügte dem geometrischen Muster eine Blume hinzu und präsentierte es als figurative Kunst. Mit einer kleinen Blume obendrauf wurden die geometrischen Muster akzeptiert.
Innerhalb der Textilproduktion gab es eine Unterkategorie, die noch mehr Freiheit bot. Das waren die Muster für Kinderdesigns. Diese waren fast völlig unzensiert. Ein Beispiel dafür sind ihre berühmten „Little Cubes“, die für Kinderschlafanzüge entworfen wurden und heute Teil der Sammlung des MoMA sind.
Mit anderen Worten: Die Öffnung von Anna Andreevas Archiv ermöglicht eine neue Perspektive auf das Geschichtenerzählen durch Kunst.
Anna Andreeva, Little Cubes (Alphabet), 1965 / Electrification, 1976 / Electrification Sketch, 1969
Despite her success, Anna Andreeva always kept her distance from the Communist Party. At the same time, she became a "visual ambassador" of the USSR, and her designs were used for cultural diplomacy, such as during state visits. How did she feel about living in this tension?
Indeed, my grandmother often said she was not a member of the Communist Party but a member of the party of artists of the USSR. This raises a paradox, which many scholars are now addressing. How was it possible for a woman, married to a former political prisoner of the Gulag, with a wealthy background, and not a member of the Communist Party, to thrive as the leading artist at the Red Rose Silk Factory and gain international recognition?
One explanation is that the Communist system, though rigid, had moments of flexibility. Even within the KGB, some agents understood that modernist patterns could serve as a cultural bridge to the Western world. My grandmother’s work was part of that bridge. Her modernist designs, which carried a universal artistic language, became a kind of convertible currency that could transcend political and cultural boundaries. As an example, Raisa Gorbacheva, the wife of Mikhail Gorbachev, often wore my grandmother’s optical patterns as part of her diplomatic mission, which gave the work additional legitimacy.
My grandmother was known for her avant-garde and free-spirited vision. In her words, she was also incredibly lucky. But it’s undeniable that her ability to communicate through a modernist visual language helped establish a dialogue with the West, even under the restrictions of the Iron Curtain. Her works, speaking the universal language, may have been what allowed them to succeed in such a constrained environment.
Some of her most famous designs – such as "Radio Waves," "Little Cubes," and "Lunar Studies" – were widespread in the 1960s and 70s. Do you know if these patterns are still being picked up by designers today?
We don’t know about their direct influence. It is true, however, that today there is a massive interest from the textile industry.
Can you imagine collaborating with the industry?
That decision lies with the family. However, I think a capsule collection paired with storytelling could be an incredible opportunity to revisit her patterns and ideas, emphasizing the message of free thinking under challenging circumstances – a message that is more relevant than ever today.
Anna Andreeva was part of a generation of female artists whose legacies have often been overlooked. What contribution can her rediscovery make to art history?
Anna Andreeva is often compared to Anni Albers, as both were trained within the avant-garde tradition and both worked with geometric patterns in textiles. However, there is a significant difference. Anni Albers worked individually in her studio, weaving her designs, while my grandmother’s work was deeply connected to the collective and the industrial processes.
She worked at the factory alongside the machines, where her designs were printed on silk, and she was very familiar with the technical aspects of silk production. For example, I vividly remember how our fridge at home was once filled with silkworms and silk cocoons that she brought from her business trips to Uzbekistan. As a child, I found it terrifying; now, I understand it was part of her work. Her art was closely tied to industry, and this connection shaped her mindset.
How is the organization and preservation of the estate progressing? Are there particular challenges?
There are challenges. First and foremost, the archive stored at the Red Rose Silk Factory disappeared when the factory was destroyed during the Perestroika years, and the family is searching for them all over the world. As a result, we have only a fraction of Anna Andreeva’s heritage. Some have turned up at auctions, while others have been found with relatives or scattered in the Eastern Block. A substantial amount of her work was stored in East Berlin during Perestroika, when the borders began opening.
Another major challenge is the fragility of the medium itself. Textiles, silk in particular, is inherently more vulnerable than other materials, which also requires specialized conservation. Most of her surviving artworks are on paper. Even though she worked with the highest quality materials available at the time, these pieces still need careful treatment by experts.
One interesting story about Anna Andreeva is that she was often experimenting with unconventional pigments, such as bitumen (the beloved material in the early avant-garde) or iodine and potassium permanganate, taken from medicine rather than artistic stores. We just learned about this during the preparation of the Museum Show at MOMus in Thessaloniki.
What are your hopes for the future of her legacy? Are there any projects or exhibitions you have planned?
We’ve been experiencing a massive wave of requests from museums and curators; one can say that it’s almost unnecessary to push or plan anything. For example, last year, the Shanghai Biennale opened with a large section of my grandmother’s works dedicated to space and the cosmos. This exhibition became one of the most “Instagrammable” rooms of the Biennale and caused a huge wave of attention worldwide.
Museums and curators are drawn to how her patterns engage the viewer’s perception and create vibrant dialogues across different contexts. At the MAK Museum, for instance, her works were displayed alongside those of Rosemarie Trockel, another female artist known for her fixation on pattern repetition. This juxtaposition highlighted how Andreeva’s optical explorations resonate universally, transcending their historical and political origins.
Our desire is also to foster a dialogue about her unique experience as an artist navigating the challenges of censorship and life behind the Iron Curtain. Indeed, Anna Andreeva’s legacy demonstrates how creative ideas transcend political and cultural boundaries. Her story serves as a reminder of art’s enduring power and its ability to thrive, even under restrictive environments. It is this universal message of resilience and creativity that continues to make her work so relevant today.
Exhibition view with works by Gerold Miller, "In erster Linie" Neues Museum Nuremberg, 2022, Foto: Matthias Kolb
Are there any particular memories or stories about your grandmother that are especially close to your heart and that you would like to share with us to conclude?
There are a lot of stories. I was raised by my grandmother, and I remember her so vividly. It was a truly exciting life living with her, never boring. She had an incredibly strong personality – charismatic, gorgeous, and magnetic. Whenever she entered a room, she became the center of attention.
One story that stands out involves her incredible intuition and talent. When I was about seven or eight years old, we had a kitten that accidentally jumped into an open jar of ink and then walked across one of her finished designs. My brother and I were terrified—we thought we’d be thrown out along with the cat for ruining her work. But the next morning, she came into the room, looked at her altered artwork, and said, “Something has changed, and I like it. I’ve been searching for this irregular rhythm.” She incorporated the kitten’s footprints into the final design. This story shows her openness to serendipity, her ability to embrace the unexpected and turn it into something beautiful.
Another vivid memory relates to her love for urban life and its rhythms. We lived in the center of Moscow, near a central avenue. Despite all the noise and pollution, she would open the windows wide to enjoy the sound of the city, especially during fireworks. She even created a series of works inspired by urban life, such as her “Fireworks” designs. These moments give us an idea of how much she loved life in general – she wanted to breathe it in at full scale, no matter the circumstances.
Aktuelle Ausstellung:
COLLECTIVE THREADS: ANNA ANDREEVA AT THE RED ROSE SILK FACTORY
Museum of Modern Art-Costakis Collection, Thessaloniki (GR)
08.12.2024 – 27.04.2025
Ein umfassender Katalog mit historischen und theoretischen Essays von Wissenschaftlern, Kuratoren und Kritikern erscheint anlässlich der Retrospektive.
