Vasily Polenov wrote: "I love all the arts, they all are very dear to me; architecture was my occupation, poetry and sculpture were my delight, and painting and music are my life."
The first chance Vasily received to try out his architectural talent was his design for the Church of the Savior of the Holy Mandylion (not made by human hands) for the artist's colony at Abramstevo (1881-1882). It is said he approached the design project with great enthusiasm, designing even the pillars, floor design, icon lamps, the iconostasis (icon screen between the nave and sanctuary). But he was also a remarkably collaborative person — inviting friends to participate in the creation of interior design elements—stylized flower and butterfly tile motifs, landscape wall paintings and icons for the iconostasis.
Collaboration — there's an idea for healing a wounded/weakened nation. Imagine, all across the country, inviting people to share ideas, knowledge, talent and skill for the creation of parks, preserves, interfaith chapels, schools, playgrounds, community gardens, recreation and local arts centers. Imagine a movement which has as its sole purpose the greening of America's cities with the planting and care of trees (millions are lost every year).
Here are my thoughts as I stand before Polenov's wonderfully conceived church at Abramtsevo.
I love there's no parking lot around this pearl, simply trees.
I love the whiteness of its walls — no gloom — just Vasily's joy.
I love the display of light and shadow,
the paused hush and forest-scent before stepping through the open door.
I love the modest buttresses,
the icon over the door with its weather-protector hood,
its two-belled exchange.
I love the great drum under the main cupola, the tiled band,
the turret windows.
I love the pint-sized companion cupolas, swirls of green and gray.
I love the second miniature church — perhaps a baptistry attached —
its ornamental flamed arches.
I love the earth-path leading,
creating quiet step,
but then the forest depth — God's first temple.
I love the small cemetery,
its fence suggestive of community even in death.
Are these the graves of Vasily's collaborators?
I love the enfolding verdure; its cool invitation,
where nesting birds would be protected,
the imagined sound of summer breeze through high branches.
I love the white, cloud-touched sky opening,
the overflow of blue seen through wildwood,
the anticipated phasing moon next the bright star.
I love the people who would come here,
pray they are of good heart,
no asking for affiliation,
but only,
"Welcome, pleased to see you."
I love that people love to make wishes —
throw a coin into the fountain,
birthday candle, ladybug, rainbow wishes,
found a penny, wishing on a star,
blow-the-seeds-off a puff dandelion wishes —
Some people say, "Make a wish" when you enter a church for the first time.
Stepping over the threshold here, one wish on my mind —
the wish to learn a new depth of, "Thank you!"
