Lobsters in Art: Natalia Goncharova and Neopromitivism
- Marie Greindl
- Mar 12
- 5 min read
Updated: Apr 14
Dear Crustaceans,
It is with great enthusiasm that I introduce a new addition to our exploration of lesser-known lobster iconography. This article marks the second stage of our journey, spanning Moscow to Paris, as we examine Nature morte au homard (Натюрморт с лобстером), painted by Natalia Goncharova circa 1910 and now housed in the Musée National d’Art Moderne at the Centre Pompidou. This still life, at once sumptuous and restrained, invites both a contemplation of the Russian avant-garde’s position in the early twentieth century and the simple pleasures of an opulent seafood dinner.
A deep red tabletop dominates the lower three-quarters of the composition. At its centre, a plate of shellfish lies beside a lemon and a resplendent cooked lobster. Though it is unmistakably a Homarus gammarus—the European (Breton) lobster, the most emblematic representative of its kind—the precise identity of the accompanying shellfish remains ambiguous: they might be clams, scallops, or some other variety. Two bottles of wine and a filled white glass frame the composition, suggesting convivial indulgence. Above, a small window hints at a world beyond the immediate scene, revealing only a partial glimpse of a plant against a dark green background.
By the time Goncharova painted this still life, she was in her late twenties and had already left the Moscow School of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, having been denied the right to graduate on account of her gender. This, however, did little to deter her artistic ambitions (perhaps unsurprising, given that she was the great-granddaughter of Alexander Pushkin). She pursued her training in various studios, studying sculpture under Paolo Troubetzkoy—the so-called “Russian Rodin”—and painting under the Russian Impressionist Konstantin Korovin. The latter expelled Goncharova and her circle, citing their work as excessively influenced by European avant-garde movements. In response, Goncharova and her lifelong partner, the painter Mikhail Larionov, co-founded The Knave of Diamonds group in 1909, a collective that sought to establish a distinctly Russian modernist idiom.
In Nature morte au homard, red serves as the chromatic and conceptual fulcrum of the painting—though in a markedly different manner from, for instance, Delacroix’s own still life of a lobster. If in Delacroix’s work red is imbued with sensuality and drama, in Goncharova’s, it functions as an assertion of modernist intensity, situating the composition within the broader context of Russian avant-garde painting. The dominant palette—vivid, non-naturalistic, and structured by bold contrasts—reveals the influence of the Fauves, most strikingly Matisse and Bonnard. Such works were particularly well represented in the collections of the Moscow patrons Sergei Shchukin and the Morozov brothers, whose holdings exposed young Russian artists to the evolution of European painting. The presence of Gauguin, another pivotal figure in these collections, is likewise perceptible in Goncharova’s use of flattened planes and saturated colours. It is hardly surprising that the most intense red in the painting—the compositional linchpin—is reserved for the lobster itself.
One notes, too, the strong black outlines that define the various elements of the composition. This characteristic suggests a possible engagement with Cézanne, whose late-period work (1900–1906) employed similar contouring. Goncharova would have had the opportunity to see Cézanne’s work in 1908, when Larionov organised the Golden Fleece exhibition in Moscow. This landmark event showcased not only Matisse but also the nascent Cubists—Derain, Braque, and, crucially, Cézanne, their shared point of departure. Following this exhibition, the members of The Knave of Diamonds largely aligned themselves with what they termed “geometric Cézannism,” a position that stood in stark contrast to the prevailing trends of Russian Symbolism. The Blue Rose group, for instance, prioritised colour and rhythm over line, whereas Goncharova’s deployment of black outlines insists on the structural importance of the latter, demonstrating that form and colour need not exist in opposition.
Crucially, Goncharova did not merely assimilate Western influences but developed a highly distinctive approach informed by Russian artistic traditions. Born in the Tula region, she was deeply attuned to the iconography of peasant life, Orthodox religious imagery, and folk art. The influence of lubki—popular woodcut prints depicting Russian folklore and legends—is evident in the painting’s simplified forms and strong chromatic contrasts. This engagement with primitivistaesthetics was not an act of imitation but a deliberate assertion of national identity, reinforcing the view that Russian artists were not merely following French precedents but actively redefining modernism on their own terms. The luboktradition extended beyond the realm of print, encompassing merchant signs and rural decorative motifs, both of which informed the stylistic vocabulary of Goncharova and her circle.
The influence of Orthodox icon painting is particularly striking in Nature morte au homard. The scene is rendered with a pronounced flatness, eschewing perspectival depth in favour of a unified pictorial plane. The background, composed of large areas of pure colour, recalls the abstracted spatial treatment characteristic of religious icons. This formal decision not only strengthens the painting’s compositional coherence but also underscores its position at the intersection of tradition and avant-garde experimentation.
In this sense, Nature morte au homard stands as both a synthesis and a statement. Painted at the inception of The Knave of Diamonds, it exemplifies the stylistic concerns of Russian modernist artists around 1909. Goncharova’s trajectory would soon lead her beyond Cézannist geometry: in the following years, she engaged with Analytical Cubism and Futurism, ultimately co-founding the Donkey’s Tail group in 1912 alongside Larionov. It was within this new collective that Russian Cubo-Futurism—a fusion of British Vorticism, Italian Futurism, and French Cubism—took shape. Unlike The Knave of Diamonds, which had remained tethered to French models, Donkey’s Tail sought to develop a more distinctly Russian visual language, one that actively rejected the primacy of Western influence in favour of local artistic sources.
The legacy of Cubo-Futurism is visible in two key paintings: Malevich’s Knife Grinder (1912) and Goncharova’s own Cyclist (1913). This movement, in turn, laid the groundwork for Constructivism, and, through it, aspects of Russian abstraction. Goncharova played a significant role in this transition, particularly in her involvement with Rayonism—a movement concerned with the dissolution of form into pure radiating energy. In 1912, she also exhibited with Der Blaue Reiter, the Munich-based Expressionist group led by Vasily Kandinsky. It is possible that Nature morte au homardchanged hands during this period: Kandinsky himself is thought to have acquired the painting, retaining it until his death. It was later bequeathed to the Musée National d’Art Moderne in Paris by his widow, Nina Kandinsky, where it remains today.
More than a striking still life, Nature morte au homard provides a compelling insight into the formative period of Russian modernism. It reveals Goncharova’s synthesis of disparate influences—Fauvism, Cézannism, folk art, and icon painting—while anticipating the radical directions she would later pursue. The painting stands as a testament to the interplay between Russian and Western avant-gardes. It captures a moment of transition in which national and international currents converged.
The lobster, it seems, has a way of multiplying my words. With the Centre Pompidou soon to close for renovations, I urge you, dear reader, to see this work while you still can—the wait for its return will not be brief.
