Life of Artists in Plyos
Settling in Plyos in 1888, Levitan, Stepanov, and Kuvshinnikova began to establish their life in the new place. The town was small, and the choice of housing was limited. The artists quickly found themselves a modest apartment in Zarechye (the settlement on the opposite bank of the small Shokhonka River, which flows into the Volga). Their accommodation was the mezzanine (attic floor) of the house of a local merchant, Solodovnikov. This not-so-wealthy merchant ran a shop on the lower, first floor of his house, lived with his family on the second, and rented out the attic to visitors. The two small rooms of the mezzanine became the temporary home of Levitan and his friends.
The living conditions were more than simple. The artists organized the sparse furnishings themselves, showing ingenuity: they laid hay on the floor, made something like beds by throwing carpets on top; found a couple of tables and a few benches. Thus, the improvised life acquired the features of a real "bivouac" of traveling artists.
The arrival of metropolitan artists in the quiet provincial Plyos was an event for the townspeople. Initially, the locals treated the unusual guests with cautious curiosity—after all, they had never seen people of such a lifestyle here before. On the market square, the main center of news, the newcomers were whispered about: who they were, what they did, what they ate, where they went. Some Plyos residents even followed the artists closely, trying to understand what strange things they were doing in nature with canvases and paints. Similar things had happened in other villages along the way: Kuvshinnikova recalled how in one village on the way to the Volga, the residents had never seen artists with easels and were initially even frightened, thinking the visitors might be up to no good, "copying" their houses and fields. In Plyos, the initial curiosity soon subsided. Nothing bad happened from the quiet artists, and the townspeople gradually got used to them. Moreover, by mid-summer, communication improved—the Plyos residents began to treat Levitan and his friends with goodwill, and some even with pride: after all, they now had their own artists living among them. Levitan, Kuvshinnikova, and Stepanov also "got used" to the local customs, found common ground with the surroundings, and lived peacefully and measuredly.
The everyday life of the Plyos artists was happily arranged. "We lived surprisingly well," Sofia Kuvshinnikova later recalled of this time. From early morning until sunset, Levitan and his companions spent their days in nature, "wandering along the shore and surroundings" in search of beautiful views and motifs. Wherever they went, they took their sketchbooks and drawing supplies with them. The townspeople could see them at work here and there: on the hills, by the water, at the edges of the forests—everywhere appeared the characteristic large umbrellas of white cloth, with which the artists covered themselves and their studies from the scorching sun. These umbrellas, washed with a special blue to soften the too-bright light, were also new to the locals and caused a lot of talk and jokes. Nevertheless, over time, even the strange devices ceased to surprise the Plyos residents: they understood that the guests were seriously passionate about their work—painting.
Among the amusing episodes of that time, a case witnessed by the entire surrounding village is particularly noteworthy. One day, Levitan settled with his study by the road, sitting in the shade of a white umbrella, and was passionately painting a landscape. It was a holiday, and women were returning home from church. Many stopped curiously to watch the artist: they would stand, look, and then move on. But then a very old, almost blind grandmother approached Levitan. She looked at the person sitting under the umbrella with a brush for a long time, then unexpectedly crossed herself, took out a copper penny from her handkerchief, and carefully placed it in Levitan's paint box. After that, the old woman quietly left, continuing to whisper prayers. What she thought remained a mystery: perhaps she decided that the artist was painting some kind of shrine or icon directly from nature, or maybe she took him for a wandering blessed one. Levitan was deeply touched and kept that coin as a curious and heartfelt souvenir. This case is indicative: the peasants were not yet accustomed to painters in the open air, did not know how to react, and sometimes perceived them through the prism of their own beliefs. But importantly, there was no negativity towards the artist—rather a reverent misunderstanding and kindness.