From May 20 to August 17, 2026, the State Historical Museum’s exhibition complex on Revolution Square in Moscow plays host to a remarkably discriminating and compact exhibition entitled Vera Mukhina: Against the Wind. This timely showcase marks the centenary of the inaugural display by the Society of Russian Sculptors—a seminal event likewise accommodated within these very walls, to which Mukhina originally contributed a brace of works.
To the wider public, Vera Mukhina—herself a pupil of a pupil of the incomparable Auguste Rodin, having honed her craft in Paris under the aegis of his disciple Antoine Bourdelle—needs scarce introduction.
Or, at the very least, her reputation precedes her through a single ubiquitous masterpiece: the soaring, stainless-steel colossus that is Worker and Kolkhoz Woman.
A goodly number of connoisseurs will likewise call to mind her celebrated portrait by Mikhail Nesterov, which graces the permanent collection of the Tretyakov Gallery.
Local folklore persistently weds her name to the invention of the classic faceted drinking glass, whilst old-school Petersburgers out of sheer habit still affectionate the Stieglitz Academy near the Summer Garden as “Mukhinka”—in honor of the institution bearing her eponym from 1953 to 1994. Yet, truth be told, what more do we actually fathom of Mukhina’s broader aesthetic universe?
As it transpires, precious little—a circumstance that prompted our pilgrimage to the exhibition rooms. And we were far from disappointed. Mukhina unfurled before us through an array of utterly unexpected facets. These fascinating dimensions shall be charted across four consecutive essays, mirroring the quartet of gallery spaces, so do stay tuned. We commence our traversal with the opening hall, designated Kinematics by the curators. Devoted entirely to the plastic grammar of movement—a mastery Mukhina possessed in abundance—this space juxtaposes her scintillating early graphic works of the 1910s and 1920s with a wooden sculpture exhibited on these very premises precisely a century ago.
Amidst the cataclysmic convulsions of WWI, the twin revolutions, and the ensuing Civil War, the physical execution of monumental sculpture proved virtually unattainable. Consequently, theatrical set and costume design emerged as Mukhina’s vital creative outlet—an intoxicating sanctuary for artistic expression pursued with wholehearted devotion, utterly untroubled by whether these ephemeral visions would ever materialise upon a stage.
Throughout the ensuing NEP epoch, Mukhina widened her applied repertoire, crafting avant-garde textile patterns imbued with a striking graphic verve. One of her finest textile motifs may be observed just above the title of this post: a dynamic, constructivist-inflected composition that marries active geometric tension with structural equilibrium.
The undisputed anchor of this inaugural gallery, however, remains the carved wooden sculpture Yulia (1925). Within this remarkable piece, Mukhina distils the latent kinetic energy of the human frame through the tightly wound, spiral torsion of the wooden mass. The figure serves as a compelling testament to the intrepid formal experiments of early Soviet modernism, heralding an entirely fresh authorial vantage point upon physical grace and volumetric form.
Reflecting upon the sculptural imperatives of her generation, Mukhina once wrote with characteristic eloquence:
We must once again release Man back into the arts. Simply a naked human being. For there is nothing more beautiful and expressive in the visual arts than the naked human body… We must restore to it that lofty purity and expressiveness it possessed in classical art…
Our introductory foray into Mukhina’s kinematics concludes here, though our journey is far from over. Ahead lie the dramatic chambers of heroism, lyricism, and towering allegory. Stay tuned!
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