Like “The Fish,” “Too Early,” and several other Chekhov stories, “Art” is a tale featuring comically oafish workingmen, but in this case, the main character, a peasant named Seryozkha, has a special talent. Seryozkha is a ragged, mangy mutt of a man, with tufts of wool hanging from his shaggy sheepskin. Not only that, he is lazy, lumbering and ill-tempered.
He is an altogether unpleasant man, but there is no one like him for “making a Jordan,” that is, creating an altar on the river ice, where church service will be held for Epiphany, marking Jesus’s baptism by John the Baptist. Using a block of ice cut from the river, Seryozkha sculpts a detailed lectern replete with a carved cross, bible, dove, and even drapery – all of ice. A wooden cross is dipped over and over in the open water, creating a glittering coating of ice. And over the hole in the ice is placed a huge wooden cover, which Seryozkha paints. Into the wooden cover are fitted special wooden pegs, which at the service will be snatched up as amulets by the faithful.
Seryozkha’s skill is widely admired, and he knows it. He’s a prima donna. He threatens to smash up the whole thing if he can’t get the right paints. He grabs a drink at the tavern and simply walks off without paying, in a lordly fashion.
And in the end, crowds come from miles around to be amazed at the glittering creation. Everything that Seryozkha has boasted of turns out to be true: He is a great artist.
This story is something of a cross between a piece of reportage and a piece of narrative fiction. It has distinct, invented, fictive characters, so it’s not quite reportage. On the other hand, it doesn’t really have a story. Seryozkha builds his Jordan, and then Epiphany is celebrated. So it’s not not quite a narrative work, either.
For a modern reader unfamiliar with the tradition of the Russian Orthodox celebration of Epiphany, this story theoretically could be an interesting glimpse of a foreign custom. The problem, though, is that most of the details are left unexplained. It takes a fair amount of Googling to understand what is going on, or to even get a picture in one’s mind of what “the Jordan” might look like. So as a guidebook or a piece of reportage, this story falls short. And as narrative, I have already mentioned, it also falls short.
But, somehow, it’s satisfying to see the lumbering, bombastic Seryozkha in his moment of triumph, and as in a handful of other Chekhov stories, this tale concludes in an ecstatic religious glow that is quite wonderful to experience.
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What makes “Art” so affecting is the respect that Chekhov has for Seryozkha’s skill as an artist. Chekhov admires a job well done, whether it’s something close to his heart, like doctoring (“Late Blooming Flowers” to name one) or physical labor, like house painting (“My Life”) or art, as in this story. Another tale showing Chekhov’s appreciation for a job well done is “Choristers,” about the frustrations of a small-town choirmaster.
A Chekhov Circus 