Iconographer Svetlana Fatyanova on the Inscrutable Paths of Icons
We continue our series of conversations with contemporary icon painters. Svetlana Fatyanova is an iconographer and restorer from the Stavropol region. We talked to her about how she came to iconography, how her path developed, and how Oleg Kushnirskiy’s collection will help her create and restore icons.
How did you come to iconography? Did you have an academic art education, or did you start with icon painting right away?
Svetlana Fatyanova: As long as I can remember, I have always drawn. As a child, I attended an art school and then studied academic painting at the South Russian State University. At the end of my Classical Painting course, fate gave me an encounter with an icon painter. This was a life-turning meeting for me – before that, I hadn’t even suspected the existence of such a profession. I was recommended the book “The Labor of an Iconographer” by Nun Iulianiya (Sokolova). After reading it, I experienced an extraordinary inspiration and realized that this was my vocation.
However, inspiration alone wasn’t enough. To become an iconographer, one must receive a blessing. I wrote a letter to Father Nikolai Guryanov on the island of Zalit in the Pskov region. While I was waiting for an answer, I entered the icon painting school at the Stavropol Theological Seminary on the recommendation of our cathedral’s rector. I spent three years there, and I received the blessing of the ruling bishop to work upon graduation.
One icon painting school did not seem enough for me, so I also received a degree at the Stavropol State University and started self-education. I took private lessons from restorers, cooperated with antique salons, copied works by Old Masters for over a decade, and studied temple icons. All these activities were directed at bringing the learned theory into practice.
The icon “Assuage My Sorrows” or “What Remains After the War.” 19th century.
Are there any peculiarities of old icons that can be found in the Caucasus?
Most of the old Russian icons found in the Caucasus date back to the 19th century, less often to the 18th or 17th centuries. This is due to the fact that the Caucasus became part of the Russian Empire only in 1864, and, at first, it was mainly home to military garrisons. Together with soldiers, icons from all over Russia were brought to the Caucasus. Parents gave them to their sons when seeing them off to service. At that time, recruits were taken into the army for twenty-five years, and icons were supposed to protect them during many years of service.
Have any inherited relic icons survived in your family?
My family owned two icons—one from Mstera and one from Kholui. Unfortunately, the Mstera one was stolen, but I still have its photo. I requested the Mstera Museum to find out something about it. And I was surprised to know that my surname—Fatyanova—happens to be found among Mstera icon painters. It was a discovery: my ancestors were most likely engaged in icon painting. My desire to master this profession did not arise by chance; most likely, it was the ancestral memory that manifested itself. Talent does not appear out of nowhere—it is the heritage of our ancestors, although we don’t always know our roots.
I restored the stolen icon from memory and the surviving photo and found a suitable frame (oklad) for it. Even my mother didn’t believe that it was a copy when she saw it for the first time.
Tell us, please, what style of icon painting did you choose for yourself and why?
When I graduated from the icon painting school, I wanted to paint only canonical icons. But life has its own way. Today, people often prefer academic painting, which became widespread in the 18th-19th centuries, to the Old Russian style of icon painting. I cannot impose my preferences on my customers, so I have to paint in an academic manner. However, when I am asked to go very far from the canons, I always explain to my customers that an icon must be created in line with specific rules; otherwise, the church will not accept it and may even regard it as heretical. Such arguments are usually convincing.
It happens that people commission an icon of a saint who has never been depicted before. In such cases, I create an image from scratch, using mineas, sacred books, descriptions, and museum artifacts. For example, if there is information about their clothing or appearance, I try to convey resemblance in the portrait, but in a canonical style.
Icon of the Mother of God of the Life-giving Spring.
What materials do you use for your icons?
I’ve set a strict rule for myself: to work only with quality materials. No store-bought paint, no plywood—only a board that has been dried for ten years. I have carpenters who prepare the boards. Such material does not deform over time. In addition, I use special kiots so that the board keeps its shape and does not crack.
I use only mineral pigments to make paints. I used to try to make them myself from clays and stones, but it turned out to be too labor-intensive. Now, I order ready-made powders from geologists: hematite, malachite, spinel, and others. Today, even jewelry stones, such as spinel, are used in paint production to increase the icon’s quality and value and ensure its preservation for centuries.
Kazanskaya Icon of the Mother of God.
How would you characterize Oleg Kushnirskiy’s collection of icons?
In none of the Caucasian churches where I had the chance to restore icons, did I encounter images with border scenes, although, as I mentioned, our region witnessed a wide variety of icons from all over the country. Stavropol has quite a lot of late icon paintings from the Moscow region, the North, the Urals, Mstera, Kholui, and Palekh, but these are usually icons of standard artistic value. That is why Oleg Kushnirskiy’s collection attracted my attention – it is truly unique. Icons with border scenes are very rare today; they are already historical artifacts. Contemporary masters don’t engage in such projects, as border scene painting is a labor-intensive, almost jewelry process that requires great patience, time, skill, and a particular customer audience. However, as they say, it doesn’t hurt to ask.
It is interesting to know your opinion not only about the collection but also about the catalog.
I have studied the catalog of Oleg Kushnirskiy’s collection very carefully and with great interest. I am very grateful to you for acquainting me with it – for me, it’s an extremely valuable source of information. Icons in the collection are in excellent condition; all the elements are easy to read. I often receive icons in terrible condition; sometimes, it is impossible to understand what is depicted in them. Such books are invaluable to me, as they allow me to restore lost details. I will certainly use the catalog in my work.
What else caught your attention in the book?
One of the articles in the book talks about how icons came to the West in the ‘90s, including the USA. It mentions the well-known facts of Soviet times when icons were systematically destroyed. Some of them were saved by ordinary people. Some of them ended up in large museums. But while reading this text, I remembered what was happening in the Caucasus in the 1990s. The revival of Orthodoxy began throughout Russia after the collapse of the Soviet Union. In our region, Archbishop Gedeon (Dokukin) should be credited for restoring and re-opening many churches. People carried the newly found icons to the churches.
Many of the icons were in terrible condition: damp, covered with mold, and dilapidated. Restorers and icon painters were badly needed to repair the damage, but for obvious reasons, they weren’t available at that time. Archbishop Gedeon organized an icon painting school, which began to produce the necessary specialists. They actively took up the cause, supporting the revival of churches. However, the boom ended over time, as everything that could be restored was restored. The demand has reduced.
Is there any difference in the approach to the restoration of icons in Russia and other countries?
The restoration that preserves the signs of antiquity is more popular in Russia. In European workshops, it is the other way around—icons are usually restored in a way that makes them look like newly painted ones.
Now, you can subscribe to any museum in the world, watch virtual tours of their collections, and study the process of restorers’ work from all over the world. It really broadens my horizons and helps me in work.
Are there any exceptionally memorable icons you’ve created or restored throughout many years of work as an icon painter and restorer?
For me, every icon is my brainchild, so it isn’t easy to single out any particular one. Each time, it is a huge spiritual work and a whole stage in my life, which, I hope, helps me get closer to God.