Dolls That Come Alive

By Edith McClintock

It’s strictly fun creepy, I promise.

I visited the Tbilisi Doll and Children’s Art Museum mostly because its colorful balconies caught my eye every day on my way to work while I lived in Georgia. But I also thought it might be silly and unique—kitschy.

Based on a previous visit to the natural history museum in Borjormi (a much smaller town in the mountains), I didn’t expect much—maybe a damp, slightly creepy space overcrowded with Chucky dolls—white eyes rolling and pink cheeks curved in evil grins. But the doll museum is actually fascinating (and only a little Victorianish creepy), although best experienced if you speak Russian or Georgian. Later visits to Tbilisi museums proved that most are also quite modern and interesting (I especially loved the icon museum).

The doll museum was created in 1937 by a Georgian children’s author and teacher who donated much of the original collection. Over the years, the museum fell into decline, with theft, flooding and financial problems. But in recent years, many of the exhibits have been restored.

The first level of the museum houses a collection of antique puppets and dolls from around the world, several of them reminding me of flamenco dancers and folk dolls my grandmother used to bring us back from her word travels—long since tossed in the trash due to my mom’s overzealous decluttering (my sister and I are still working on forgiveness).

The best toys in this exhibit are the ones that come alive—the mechanical and musical dolls that dance, sing, blow bubbles and play instruments. Today they seem a curiosity, but intricately constructed mechanical toys built in the 18^th and 19^th centuries presaged modern day robotics, and some of the greatest inventors of that era built mechanical toys.

Up the colorfully decorated stairs on the second floor is the Children’s Art Museum with an ongoing exhibit of children’s artwork created in the museum’s own studios. When I visited, there was also an exhibit of student paintings and sculptures around environmental themes.

My favorite exhibit was on the top floor—beautiful modern dolls, puppets and toys created by Georgia artists, most of them for sale. I wanted to buy pretty much everything in the room, and controlled myself only because I was in Georgia on a Peace Corps salary. The other room on the top floor had a collection of Georgian folk dolls from the 1960s and 1970s, with a great space for doll-making parties. But like many Georgian museums, the rooms were closed and we had to ask staff to open them. 

We weren't allowed to take photos of the mechanical dolls on the first floor, but below is a video with some of the best (dolls start at 00:18).

For more, visit my author website and/or personal blog, A Wandering Tale. Even better, order a copy of Monkey Love & Murder on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or the Book Depository (free shipping nearly anywhere in the world).

Matryoshkas And Their Legends

The "Legend of Tsar Saltan" Matryoshka Family

Matryoshka, the nestled Russian doll, is perhaps the most famous Russian toy, a culture symbol and a phenomenon in the folk world art.  

 

The moniker Matryoshka comes from a female name Matryona (Matrëna), rooted in the Slavic word “mother” - mat’ (maть), and is associated with fertility and motherhood. That’s why the traditional Matryoshka dolls use the image of a full-bodied, strong, and cheerful mother on the outside with the likenesses of her numerous children painted on the smaller, inner pieces. Some Matryoshka sets consist of female-only dolls while others feature male figurines as well. Today, the image of a robust peasant matriarch is probably still the favorite, although Matryoshkas are painted in a variety of themes, including folk characters and even former Soviet leaders. 

The Rescued Swan Turns into a Princess

If you follow my collection here, you will see that every doll features a scene from a Russian fable, The Legend of Tsar Saltan. As the fable goes, a tsarina and her son, sealed in a barrel, are thrown into the seas by traitors, but the pair safely reach an island where the young prince builds his own state and finds his true love after rescuing a white swan who turns into a beautiful princess – and eventually reunites with his father. 

The first “official” nesting doll was born in the 1890s, in the Children's Education Workshop in the Abramtsevo estate near Moscow. Founded by a Russian patron of arts, Savva Mamontov, the workshop employed professional artists and talented craftsmen to produce and preserve peasant folk art. The original nested doll set was carved by Vasily Zvyozdochkin and painted by Sergey Malyutin, who also did the original design drawing.  However, it was not the first wooden doll ever produced. Thus, the origin of the Matryoshka doll is still unclear – and has a story of its own.

Supposedly, Abramtsevo Matryoshkas were inspired by a Japanese wooden doll brought to Russia from the island of Honshu in Japan. However, the Japanese claim their dolls were inspired by the work of a Russian monk, who created a wooden figure depicting a good-natured, bald old man thought to represent a Buddhist sage. Other sources say, there were seven Japanese dolls, although non-nestled, representing the Seven Lucky Gods. I must admit, in this particular case, I tend to think the origin of the painted wooden figurines belongs to Russia. Blessed with endless forests, the Slavic craftsman had been carving wooden toys, buckets, shoes, kitchen utensils and children’s toys for centuries. 

  The Adventures of the Tsarina and the Prince

Instead of the theological theme, the Abramtsevo craftsmen saw a folk leitmotif to the figurines. Their first doll was a girl named Matryoshka. She held a rooster and carried seven nestled figurines inside: six more girls, one boy, and a baby. In 1900, Savva Mamontov's wife presented the dolls at the World Exhibition in Paris, and the toy earned a bronze medal. Soon after, Matryoshkas were being made in several places in Russia. Now, the tradition is over a hundred years old. 

The New Palace and the Charmed Swan

The biggest Matryoshka was made in 1970, contained 72 pieces and was 1 meter tall. It cost 3,000 rubles (while a popular Soviet car cost 5,000 rubles in the time) and was sent to an exhibition in Japan. A famous Matryoshka couple, "Russian Lad" and "Russian Beauty," was taken to the International Space Station Spaceship by Russian astronauts and given as gift to its international crew. The word Matryoshka is also used metaphorically, as a design paradigm, known as the "Matryoshka principle."