Bursting into Light: An Analysis of Color in Kuzmin’s Wings
Stolen glances, veiled language, and passionate monologues: it may sound as though I am describing a Victorian romance, but, in fact, these items make up a great deal of Mikhail Kuzmin’s complex novel Wings. Kuzmin’s novel about the underground gay community in early twentieth-century Russia, powerfully illustrates self-discovery through the eyes of a young man just beginning to see. Understanding what exactly this young man, Vanya, sees is crucial to understanding the text, for as Vanya’s self-identity becomes more vivid and clear, so, too, does his perception of the world. His world becomes more vibrant, colorful, and alive. Specifically, the colors around Vanya start to change from cool tones to warm and bright tones of light. Kuzmin uses detailed and saturated imagery throughout the text, and specifically at the beginning of each of the novels three parts, to illustrate Vanya’s metamorphosis from the cold, uncertainty of youth to the fiery, first steps into adulthood and, at last, to the bright, shining self-discovery of an adult entering the world.
Vanya’s journey begins in a sea of cool tones. Much of what Vanya sees in the first few pages of part one is gray and dull. He looks through a “misted window” at “sodden roads, milkmaids’ carts at a closed level-crossing barrier, watchmen’s huts, and ladies from dachas out strolling” (5). The whole image is reminiscent of nineteenth-century impressionist rainy cityscapes. The sun “flicker[s] through clouds of locomotive steam,” and what Vanya sees of the city — “cemeteries...dank six story blocks of housing for workers amidst tumbledown wooden shacks” — he sees through a veil of “smoke and soot” (6). In each of these distinct images, Vanya’s view is blocked by gray tones. In other words, it is not that Vanya himself is only able to see gray, rather that something tints his image of the world gray.
So what exactly is tinting his world grey? When Vanya is first introduced to the reader, he has lost his mother and his home. His feeling of loss and confusion could most certainly be a factor in why Vanya’s world is so gray. Yet, Kuzmin spends very little time discussing the death of Vanya’s mother; her death and his relocation are not portrayed as a tragic turn of events, but rather as a catalyst for his journey. In fact, Kuzmin explicitly says Vanya appears to be embarking on a “prolonged voyage” or “expedition” that would be “epoch-making”, taking paragraphs to describe how Vanya looks and a mere sentence to talk about the death of his mother (5). Thus, we must reframe our understanding of the color gray in this first part. Perhaps gray does not just represent loss and confusion, it also represents a blank slate. With this framework we can understand the abundance of gray not as a suppression of color, but an absence of it. Like an artist having only begun to sketch his work, Vanya has not yet discovered the color in his life. He is both passive and quiet in this section, never speaking against others or voicing disagreement. But as the novel progresses, as Vanya meets new characters such as Stroop, Vanya begins to speak up and see in much more vivid color.
Compared with the gray introduction of part one, part two is an explosion of color. The reader is ambushed with tones of gold, pink, and red – all warm tones. Maria Dmitriyevna describes “little golden hairs that grow on [a lover’s] arms”; she illustrates a world of red fire, “a soul getting a burning desire to give itself to another...the flaming spirit of love” (43). And, suddenly, Vanya’s world is colored with these same tones, “stretches of the Volga beg[in] turning a pinky golden yellow” while the sky becomes “crimson” (44). Unlike in the first part, there is nothing blocking Vanya’s view. His own perception colors what he sees, rather than the smog of his first entrance into St. Petersburg. It should be noted, however, that this explosion of color at the start of part two is narrated not by Vanya, but Maria Dmitriyevna. While Vanya is certainly more free to understand the world in his own terms, he is still being influenced by others. Additionally, during this section Vanya starts to speak his mind more, vocalizing his disagreements with the characters such as Arina Dmitriyevna, and even more notably, pushing back against Maria Dmitriyevna when she tries to “press him” to her against his will (70). This violation breaks his passivity and stirs him into action in part three.
The symbolic significance of the color red specifically is vital as well. First and foremost, red is warm. The visual tonal shift, from cool to warm, parallels Vanya’s attitude shift. While in part one Vanya is firmly under the influence of Stroop, in part two Vanya experiences for the first time some independence. He actively rebels against his family’s influence even while living with them. The color red is particularly fitting because it is associated with many traits Vanya begins to explore: boldness, passion, desire. And though Vanya remains relatively subdued, throughout part two he questions his own feelings towards Stroop and what those feelings mean in relation to his sexuality. In this exploration Vanya looks inward rather than seeking answers from others. Red, the culmination of passion and sexuality, is intermingled with less intense colors pink because Vanya has not fully discovered these facets of himself yet. Though Vanya may be more in touch with his sexuality, he does not fully embrace it yet, as evidenced by his rejection of Stroop. This only comes after the aforementioned violation by Maria Dmitriyevna. Slowly but surely, however, these pinks morph into reds, which morph into deep crimsons in part three.
Following those first steps into adulthood, Vanya takes a giant leap, leaving his family to travel with Daniil Ivanovich — and his world explodes into light. The first page of part three is bathed with images of light and life, a “shining, radiant” illustration of “Spring,” “new passion,” “light and sunshine” (75). When the sun isn’t shining, “a star [is] burning”, and “a whitish, gentle mist...spreading” (79). In this final part, light becomes synonymous with not only self-discovery, but also vivacity; Vanya’s life has become fully saturated with color and light. The gentle, white mist provides a stark contrast to clouds of smoke and soot in part one. It is as though the smoke that once clouded Vanya’s vision has been purified into light. Unlike the veil of soot in part one, the light here does not demand an absence of color; on the contrary, it highlights the fullness of color in Vanya’s life. Pinks, reds, and crimsons populate much of the imagery: “the pinkish tablecloth”, “the plates, dark red all over, like pools of blood”, “wild strawberries and...wine”, and “a red carnation” (83). These deep reds represent Vanya becoming more independent and bold. No longer does Vanya follow blindly after other characters, he follows his own desires, exploring art and the city around him. In this final part, Vanya is not only surrounded by color, he embraces it, just as he embraces his own identity and sexuality. For at the end of the novel, Vanya is no longer under the influence of anyone – he has the agency, choosing to go away with Stroop and looking into the street “bathed in bright sunlight” (99).
By imbuing different parts of the novel with different colors, Kuzmin subtly shifts the tone from section to section using visual cues. Not only does he provide the reader with stunning illustrations, Kuzmin also color grades them, giving these images double the meaning. Kuzmin creates images that represent a spectrum of emotion, thus, allowing him to write about Vanya’s experience with sexuality without ever explicitly referring to it. And, perhaps, the subtlety Kuzmin employs is part of what makes the book so complex and beautiful. His imagery ripples like a stone dropped in water, growing in breadth and impact the more time we spend appreciating it.
Bibliography
Kuzmin, M. A. Wings. London: Hesperus, 2007.
