THE MANY FACES OF IVAN AIVAZOVSKY
A great marine painter who left a vast artistic legacy behind him, Ivan Aivazovsky was himself often portrayed by his contemporaries, while as a talented portraitist himself, the artist also created around 10 self-portraits over the course of his long artistic career. He was painted by a whole host of his fellow artists including friends from the Academy of Arts such as Vasily Sternberg and Mikhail Scotti; older contemporaries such as Academician Alexei Tyranov and the “patriarch” of the Moscow School of Painting, Vasily Tropinin; the chief ideologue of the “Peredvizhnik” (Wanderers) movement, Ivan Kramskoi; and the “apologist” for salon painting, Konstantin Makovsky. Two marble busts of Aivazovsky survive, one by Alexander Belyaev, depicting the artist as a young man, the other by Leopold Bernhard Bernstamm, created in the painter’s old age. After Aivazovsky’s death, a bronze statue was erected in Feodosia, designed by the sculptor Ilya Ginzburg. Despite all this, Aivazovsky’s depiction in art has never been the subject of significant study. How did the great artist perceive himself, and how did he wish to be seen by future generations? How, indeed, was he viewed by his contemporaries?
The Portrait with a Secret
Aivazovsky was first painted in Rome in 1841 by Alexei Tyranov. Now part of the permanent collection of the Tretyakov Gallery, the work shows the painter in a seated pose, his face turned towards the viewer. We see a black-haired Armenian man with a characteristic nose, large expressive eyes and a dark beard. At that time, the 24-year-old artist had finished his studies at the Imperial Academy of Arts and was in Italy to perfect his painting. The young man from St. Petersburg quickly gained a significant reputation. The painter is shown seated against a neutral background, his figure depicted from the waist up. The angle is not a simple one, yet Tyranov executes his task perfectly. Aivazovsky's hand is portrayed in minute detail - the hand of an artist, it is graceful and majestic, with slender, sensitive fingers. In its colour scheme, the painting is reminiscent of Karl Bryullov, with the elegant black-and-white of Aivazovsky's costume and the red of his cravat setting the tone.
We do not know at whose instigation this portrait was created. It is not unlikely that the idea came from Tyranov himself, since he frequently painted his fellow artists. A naturally talented painter from Bezhetsk in the Tver Province, subsequently a pupil of Alexei Venetsianov and Bryullov, in 1839 Tyranov was made an Academician. Thanks to the Cabinet of His Imperial Highness, he was able to continue working on his art in Italy. His address in Rome was “at the Spielman brothers”, Via della Croce. As his contemporaries noted, his lodgings could only be accessed by climbing 125 steps, a feat which obviously did not discourage the young Aivazovsky.
In the summer of 1842, the portrait was still in Tyranov's studio, where it caught the attention of Vasily Grigorovich, Conference Secretary of the St. Petersburg Imperial Academy of Arts. Whilst visiting Tyranov in Rome, Grigorovich especially noted the painter's biblical canvases, as well as the portraits of “Aivazovsky, Nikolai Botkin and the Countess Gagarina”, also “10 women's portraits and three portraits of our friends”. In the autumn, the yearly exhibition opened at the Academy of Arts: in preparation for that event, Aivazovsky selected a number of his paintings to send to St. Petersburg. In his report to the Academy Board, he wrote: “Besides these, I am sending to be shown at the exhibition the portrait of myself by Tyranov.”
Well-pleased with Tyranov's portrait of him, Aivazovsky, it seems, wished to use it in order that the public of St. Petersburg could form an opinion not only of his paintings, but of his person, too. In November 1842, Aivazovsky received an enthusiastic letter from the well-known art collector and philanthropist, Alexei Tomilov. “Wonderful, dear Ivan Konst[antinovich]! I have seen the paintings, together with the portrait of you, and the paintings of the Chernetsovs, and several others: Hurrah, Aivazovsky! Hurrah, dear Ivan Konstantinovich!” Tomilov's account confirms that Tyranov's portrait of Ivan Aivazovsky was indeed shown in the autumn exhibition of 1842 at the St. Petersburg Imperial Academy of Arts.
Combining a sensitive approach with exemplary execution, Tyranov's portrait of Aivazovsky was purchased by Pavel Tretyakov in 1875. Later, the canvas became the best-known likeness of the great marine painter, reproduced in dictionaries, encyclopaedias and academic publications (as well as on stamps). Familiar to all, the image appeared not to possess any unusual details, although the artist did perhaps appear somewhat older than his years.
However, careful study of the canvas in 2002 showed that the portrait had been repeatedly altered. X-rays revealed earlier versions with shaved cheeks and chin, and a different hairstyle: instead of the later thrown-back look, the artist's hair had been carefully smoothed down. To the right of his face, a playful curl revealed Aivazovsky's ear. Looking at the painting through a powerful microscope, researchers noted grey hairs in the painter's thick black beard: the earlier version had shown a younger, more modest-looking man. Other parts of the painting had also been changed: the right shoulder and arm were different, and the signature and inscription had been added at different times. Who could have altered the painting, and at what time?
A somewhat contradictory account is offered by Vera Ziloti, the daughter of Pavel Tretyakov: “I remember him telling us how he bought Aivazovsky's self-portrait with greying sideburns, [the artist dressed] in a coat with ribbons and decorations. Whilst recognizing Aivazovsky's talent, Pavel Mikhailovich did not like his ‘official's' mentality. With that sixth sense so typical of him, Pavel Mikhailovich felt that there was something suspicious about the painting. He began to wash away the layers of paint, gradually uncovering something brown, with some red in the centre. The grey hair gave way to black, and soon a young Aivazovsky was revealed, in a velvet jacket with red cravat. In the corner, the portrait bore the signature ‘Tyranov'. The following morning, our father called us to his study in between our lessons, in order to show us his discovery: ‘Aivazovsky will not thank me for this.' And indeed, he did not thank him. They did not see each other for a long time. Pavel Mikhailovich's efforts at restoration often brought extraordinary surprises, many of which I can no longer even recall.”
Tretyakov is not known to have purchased a self-portrait by Aivazovsky. The story of his buying the canvas by Tyranov, however, is well-known. In December 1875, a solo exhibition of Aivazovsky's work opened at the Academy of Arts. Tyranov's portrait, it seems, was part of this extremely successful event. In anticipation of a visit from Pavel Tretyakov, on December 2 Aivazovsky wrote to the collector: “You will, it seems, be visiting St. Petersburg, so I will give you my portrait when you are here.” The painter was referring to Tyranov's work. Around that time, Tretyakov had decided to create a “national” portrait gallery from part of his collection: the two considerations of which he was mindful in this task were the historical role of the figure portrayed, and the artistic merit of the work.
Tretyakov was proud of the likeness of the famous marine painter in his collection. Writing to Ilya Repin on December 22 1884, he noted: “Tyranov is excellently represented with his portrait of Aivazovsky.” It could be that, when selling the portrait to Tretyakov's gallery 34 years after its creation, Aivazovsky decided to “update” his appearance a little, to take account of his current age and status. He may have added the greying sideburns, coat and awards mentioned by Vera Ziloti - details which, according to her, Tretyakov then proceeded to “wash away”.
“Tomfoolery on Paper”
Alexandre Benois's description of the album “Drawings of the Russian Artists in Rome” (1843, Tretyakov Gallery) is characteristic of the critic, and the piece does indeed merit such an appraisal. Created as a joint effort by the architect Nicholas Benois and the artists Vasily Sternberg and Mikhail Scotti, the album was offered to Pavel Krivtsov, who was in charge of the Russian artists in Rome, on the occasion of his departure for St. Petersburg. The strip-cartoon documented the artists' life in Italy in the 1840s, including a number of key official events such as an audience with Pope Gregory XVI, and the Grand Duchess Maria Nikolayevna's visit to their impromptu exhibition.
The album is filled with everyday scenes of Italian life, drawings of the interiors of the artists' studios and cartoon portraits of the Russian painters themselves. Special comic effect was achieved by exaggerating or otherwise stressing the characteristic features of their fellow artists. Occasionally, unexpected comparisons and parallels were made, to be enjoyed by those familiar with the Italian environment. These were complemented by amateur poetry by the sculptor Nikolai Ramazanov and the architect Alexander Rezanov.
The page entitled “Visit to the Pope” by Mikhail Scotti shows a scene at the Vatican, with five “chosen artists” receiving the Pope's blessing. Who were these fortunate five? The painter Josef Haberzettl, one of the longest-standing members of the Russian artists' community in Rome; the portraitist Jan Ksawery Kaniewski from the “Kingdom of Poland”; the architect Alexander Kudinov; Ivan Chernik from the Black Sea Cossacks; and Ivan Aivazovsky. The marine painter is depicted standing by the Pope's throne and pointing at a canvas with a magnificent carved frame, resting on an easel. “Chaos. Creation of the World” had made Aivazovsky famous, virtually overnight. The Pope had been told of the existence of this unusual work, in which the Russian romantic artist addresses the weighty topic of the creation, and had evinced the desire to see it. The canvas was duly brought to the Vatican, and the Pope expressed great satisfaction, desiring to purchase it for his collection. Aivazovsky refused any payment, prompting the Pontiff to offer the artist a gold medal as a sign of special favour. Congratulating his friend on this momentous occasion, Nikolai Gogol came up with a nice wordplay: “You came to Rome from the shores of the Neva, little man, and immediately brought ‘Chaos' to the Vatican.”
In Scotti's caricature, Aivazovsky's black beard and smooth, neatly parted hair recall the portrait by Tyranov. If in that painting, however, Tyranov had sought to laud the rising Russian star, Scotti's aim was to create a different, distinctly ironic impression. Aivazovsky's bent knee and obsequious expression show him to be a man with “ambitions, sick with desire for fame”. Aivazovsky's productivity and the exceptional speed with which he painted caused many of the artists in the Russian community in Rome to feel jealousy. In their “Notes”, the brothers Chernetsov, for instance, chided Aivazovsky for his haughtiness, self-promotion and pushiness. Following a meeting in Florence, however, they finally “made their peace,” and Aivazovsky was even included in Grigory Chernetsov's group portrait “The Russian Artists at the Roman Forum” (1842, National Art Museum of Belarus). The artist is portrayed as a rather small figure with a bearded profile and dandyish top hat, barely visible in the background amid the classical columns of the ancient site.
Scotti also left a costumed portrait of the marine artist in his graphic album (Tretyakov Gallery): the pencil drawing bears the inscription “Aivazovsky in Venice 1842”.14 Dressed like a sultan with turban, waistcoat and wide trousers and sporting a curly beard and moustache, the artist reclines in a gondola, staring dreamily at the sky. A letter written by the marine painter to Vasily Grigorovich confirms the date of Scotti's drawing: “I have been in Venice for two months,” Aivazovsky wrote on October 8/26 1842. “After four months of travelling, I am currently resting in this quiet city. Also in Venice are Benois, Scotti, Epinger and Els.”
Graphic portraits of the artist by Vasily Sternberg, who was the closest friend of the young Aivazovsky, also survive. An undated drawing shows the painter clean-shaven and in Spanish costume (National Gallery of Armenia), whilst Sternberg's watercolour “Aivazovsky in Toreador Costume” (1843, National Gallery of Armenia) depicts him with sideburns.
These early costumed portraits by the young artist's friends were created before Aivazovsky's fame had arrived. Executed swiftly, they portrayed their subject with a degree of irony, without aspiring to create an integral, complete work of art. An excellent conversationalist, Aivazovsky understood and appreciated humour. In one of his letters to Alexei Tomilov, referring to himself, Aivazovsky wrote: “Please, do not forget this entertaining Crimean.”
“I See Myself as if in a Mirror ”
The first surviving self-portrait of Ivan Aivazovsky can be found in the watercolour “The Presentation of the Russian Expedition” from the album of Grand Duke Konstantin Nikolayevich. This shows a gathering in a magnificent hall in a palace with majestic views of Constantinople, the room filled with the retinues of the Turkish Sultan and of the Grand Duke. The main subject, Grand Duke Konstantin Nikolayevich, is seated to the left, opposite Sultan Abdulmejid. Close to the Grand Duke are Russia's Ambassador Vladimir Titov and Vice-Admiral Fyodor Litke. Aivazovsky can be made out among the Russian delegation thanks to an inscription below, and also due to his recognizable sideburns. In 1844, the marine artist had been made “first painter of the Naval Staff”, giving him the right to wear the uniform of Russia's Ministry of the Navy. In the watercolour, the painter is wearing this uniform with the Order of Saint Anna of the 3rd class.
Academy of Arts student Gaivazovsky had been known in the Romanov household for some time. In the summer of 1836, the painter had accompanied the young Grand Duke Konstantin on his first naval voyage in the Gulf of Finland. In spring 1845, at Konstantin Nikolayevich's insistence, “painter of the Naval Staff Aivazovsky” joined a naval expedition to Turkey, Asia Minor and the Greek islands, headed by Fyodor Litke. During the voyage, Aivazovsky made a great number of pencil drawings, which he then used for years as the basis for his oil paintings: Aivazovsky subsequently always painted in his studio. The album of Konstantin Nikolayevich includes five works in sepia, painted in 1845: two of them are signed “Aivaz Effendi”.
In early 1873, an exhibition of Aivazovsky's work in Florence was received rapturously by the public and by artists alike. Already one of the most admired representatives of the Russian school in the world, Aivazovsky became the second Russian artist after Orest Kiprensky to be deemed worthy of submitting his self-portrait to the Pitti Palace with its collection of famous artists' self-portraits. In a missive to Russia, the artist Mikhail Zheleznov wrote: “The Professors at the Florence Academy told Ivan Konstantinovich that in accordance with the charter of the Academy, he, as a highly talented foreign artist, must provide a self-portrait to be exhibited in the Gallery.” The exact date of the acquisition of Aivazovsky's self-portrait by the Uffizi Gallery is unknown; most probably, it was purchased from the artist shortly after it had been created.
The small, but remarkably expressive self-portrait for the Uffizi shows the artist in half-length format and in contrapposto: gazing dreamily into the distance, Aivazovsky is portrayed against a background of striking storm clouds. It is a passionate, romantic image of a marine artist whose canvases elicit strong emotions with their highly charged atmosphere.
The self-portraits created by Ivan Aivazovsky in his later years are more stately and grander: full-figure likenesses, they do justice to Aivazovsky's fame as an artist. Having received recognition from many European Academies, he was also granted a number of Russian and foreign awards. His later self-portraits are an attempt to convey this glory for the benefit of future generations. In the likeness created in 1892 (Aivazovsky Picture Gallery, Feodosia) the painter is shown in a white Admiralty uniform, honouring the vital connections between his life and art and the Russian navy. In the second self-portrait (1898, Aivazovsky Picture Gallery, Feodosia), he is in civilian uniform. For his outstanding success in art, Ivan Aivazovsky received not only numerous awards, but also the highest civil rank of Active Privy Councillor.
“Aivazovsky among Friends” (1893, Aivazovsky Picture Gallery, Feodosia) is a different type of self-portrait: the artist is shown from behind, seated at a table and surrounded by important local officials. In painting himself from the back, Aivazovsky perhaps wished to stress his modest position with the key “fathers of the town”. We should recall, however, that the decree of Alexander II had pronounced Aivazovsky an Honoured Citizen of Feodosia. Among the figures facing the viewer, clearly recognizable are the merchant Gustav Durante, Aivazovsky's son-in-law Mikhail Lampsi, and the Feodosia Marshal of the Nobility and chairman of the Feodosia Executive Board Alexander Grammatikov. All are listening intently to Aivazovsky. We cannot see the artist's face or hear his words, yet his back is portrayed so expressively that we sense the energy of this man, fortunate to retain his clarity of thought and feeling well into old age.
“Not a Wanderer, but a Seeker...”
Ivan Kramskoi, the main ideologue and organizer of the “Peredvizhnik” movement, is said to have described Aivazovsky in this way. His positive view of the artist took time to form, however. The new generation of Russian painters with their love of critical realism tended to consider Aivazovsky's romantic “fairytales of the sea” unrealistic and contrived. In 1875, Kramskoi wrote in a letter to Tretyakov: “At your request, I visited the exhibition of Aivazovsky's paintings at the Academy. Not one of them did I recommend for purchase... Even in the stalls selling glue, paint and such things, I have never seen such clear, vivid tones as are found in Aivazovsky's paintings.” Following the success of the marine artist's “The Black Sea”, however, Kramskoi began to show more interest in Aivazovsky's life and work. He famously stressed that, “Whatever anyone may say, Aivazovsky is a star of the most splendid magnitude. A star not only in his homeland, but one which shines within the entire history of art.”
Kramskoi's eventual positive view of Aivazovsky's work is clear not only from his words, but also from his paintings: the “Wanderer” artist created three portraits of Aivazovsky. The likeness currently in the Russian Museum is not dated, but evidently belongs to the early 1880s, when Aivazovsky was at the height of his success. Full of energy and vitality, he is shown holding the tools of an artist, a pencil and folder. Dressed like a society aristocrat, the painter is wearing an elegant black suit with a crisp white shirt and cravat. His thick sideburns are well-combed and slicked down with pomade. Kramskoi paid particular attention to the artist's face, bringing out its elegant regular traits, the painter's intelligent gaze and clear dark eyes. The somewhat ironic smile and rather haughty expression show that Aivazovsky had, by that time, attained a high position in Russian society.
It is perhaps no coincidence that Kramskoi chose to portray Aivazovsky at work. Contemporaries often criticized the ease with which the great marine painter produced his masterpieces, claiming it spoke of a frivolous attitude towards the creative process. “One who takes two hours to finish a painting, should keep this unfortunate secret to himself!” the art critic Vladimir Stasov lamented. “One should not go disclosing things like this, especially in front of young students! They should not be taught such carelessness and machine-like habits.” Despite such statements, Stasov was not impervious to the magnetism of Aivazovsky's art. To counter this “weakness”, he would usually claim that Aivazovsky's best work was behind him, whilst the present held nothing but dull repetition or degradation. This notwithstanding, the criticism offered by Stasov and Kramskoi was the criticism of friends who deeply valued Aivazovsky's art, and suffered greatly each time the master experienced creative difficulties.
Kramskoi's “Portrait of the Artist Aivazovsky” (1881, Nesterov Bashkir Museum of Fine Arts, Ufa) is the most expressive and vivid work of all. Far from being grandiose, it fulfils the task of showing the humble side of the great marine painter. A sensitive, profound judge of character, Kramskoi chose in this portrait to avoid any affectation. The subtle play of light and dark creates the impression of a slight, barely noticeable shift of expression in the sitter, reflecting his changing thoughts. Kramskoi the portrait-painter excels at showing the inner evolution of his models.
In 1881, Kramskoi showed a whole range of his works at the Ninth “Peredvizhnik” Exhibition in St. Petersburg. One of these was a half-portrait of Aivazovsky (Aivazovsky Picture Gallery, Feodosia). Against a neutral background, Aivazovsky's face looks thinner than before. The painter has aged, Kramskoi shows: we notice the slight wrinkles and greying sideburns. Sophia Goldstein felt that this portrait “was not a success.” “Whilst remaining an accomplished master in terms of producing a good resemblance, Kramskoi did not succeed here in conveying his sitter's inner world or the idiosyncrasies of his character with the same depth as is evident in his best works,” Goldstein has commented.
Another interesting likeness of the artist is the portrait by Konstantin Makovsky. In the 1880s, Makovsky was a fashionable painter: like Aivazovsky, he became one of the best paid and most highly valued Russian artists of his time. Both painters were often criticized by their more democratic colleagues, who accused them of betraying the ideals of the “Peredvizhniki”. Makovsky's luxurious studio on St. Petersburg's Palace Square was highly popular with the beau monde. His fashionable idealized portraits, tending to flatter the sitter, were in high demand: exquisitely portraying the surrounding decoration, as well as costumes, costly fabrics and furs, Makovsky attempted to present his models in the best possible light. The resemblance would be striking, although the psychological traits of his sitters would not receive particular attention.
One might expect that a “prisoner of beauty” such as Makovsky would create a striking image of the “poet of the sea depths”. Makovsky's portrait of his friend is a moving one: it seems he put his love and sense of respect for Aivazovsky into the
work, in which the painter appears modest and equable. In a plain black coat and dark shirt, with no medals or awards, this is Aivazovsky the hard-worker. His gaze is steady and profound. Makovsky's execution is magnificent; the light, dynamic brushstrokes create a special sensation of space.
This account of artistic depictions of Aivazovsky would be incomplete without mention of a series of unique photographs. In 1887, at a gathering to mark his 70th birthday, the painter presented each one of his 150 guests with a signed photograph of himself: the artist, his hair white, is shown in his studio, sitting at his easel, on which a miniature seascape is displayed. Each miniature was an original oil painting, proving once again the exceptional creative potential of the 70-year-old master. Aivazovsky contrived to make each photograph of himself not only a memento of a historical occasion, but also a type of artistic signature. The creative idea was excellent self-promotion: the autographed “self-assured selfportraits” became collector's items. Several similar photographs can be seen at the Aivazovsky exhibition in the Tretyakov Gallery.
- Vasily Tropinin. Portrait of Ivan Aivazovsky. 1853. Oil on Canvas. 77 x 62.5 cm. Aivazovsky Picture Gallery, Feodosia. Reproduced from Amshinskaya, A.I. “Vasily Andreyevich Tropinin”. Moscow, 1970. P. 208.
- Alexei Tyranov. Portrait of Ivan Aivazovsky. 1841. Bottom-left corner inscription reads: AT in Rome. 1841. Portrait of Ivan Aivazovsky by Tyranov. Oil on Canvas. 72 x 54.2 cm. Tretyakov Gallery.
- Markina, L.A. ‘Aivazovsky in Italy’ // “Tretyakov Readings 2015. Material from the Academic Conference”. Moscow, 2016. Pp. 79-91.
- Pogodina, A.A. ‘Vasily Grigorovich in Rome in 1842. On the History of the Russian Colony of Artists in Rome’ // “Tretyakov Readings 2012. Material from the Academic Conference for Report”. Moscow, 2013. P. 86.
- Ibid, p. 84.
- Russian State Historical Archive, collection 1086, inventory 1, file 117, folios 6-7.
- The catalogue of the collection notes: “The inscription was added at a later date on top of the paint, the sideburns were also painted significantly later. Both were, most probably, done by Ivan Aivazovsky himself.” // “Tretyakov Gallery. Catalogue of the Collection of Paintings of the First Half of the 19th Century”. Vol. 3, Moscow, 2005. P. 305.
- Ziloti, VP. “In the Home of the Tretyakovs”. Moscow, 1998. P. 62.
- “The Correspondence of Ivan Kramskoi”. Moscow, 1953. P. 364. Hereinafter - Kramskoi.
- “Pavel Tretyakov’s Gallery of Portraits of ‘Figures Dear to the Nation’”. Moscow, 2014. Pp. 66-67.
- “Pavel and Sergei Tretyakov. Their Life. The Collection. The Museum”. Moscow, 2006. P. 196.
- Kuzmin, N.N. “Ivan Aivazovsky and His Works”. Published by F.I. Bulgakov, St. Petersburg, 1901. P. 25.
- Goldovsky, G.N. “The Artist Brothers Chernetsov in Italy”. Rome, 2003. P. 7
- First published in Markina, L.A. ‘Aivazovsky. The Years of His Youth’ // “Nashe Naslediye” (Our Heritage), issue 117, 2016. P. 129.
- Department of Manuscripts, National Library of Russia. Collection 124 (Vaksel’s), file 57, folios 3-4.
- Russian State Archive of Literature and Art, collection 1949, inventory 2, file 3.
- IVAN AIVAZOVSKY. Self-portrait. 1874. Signed and dated in the bottom-right corner: Aiwasowskil 1874. Oil on сanvas. 70.5 * 62.5 cm. Uffizi Gallery, Florence // ‘Memories of Italy. Personal Accounts’ // “Almanach”. Issue 57. St. Petersburg, 2003. Pp. 30, 156.
- Kramskoi. Pp. 129-131.
- Ibid, p. 31.
- Ivan Kramskoi. Portrait of the Artist Ivan Aivazovsky. Oil on canvas. 93 * 73 cm. On the right side, centre: Kramskoi 18(..). Russian Museum.
- Stasov, Vladimir. “Selected Works”. Vol. I. Moscow, 1937. P. 227.
- Ivan Kramskoi. Portrait of the Artist Ivan Aivazovsky. 1881. Oil on сanvas. 67 * 64 cm. Signed: Kramskoi 1881. Aivazovsky Picture Gallery, Feodosia (bequeathed by Aivazovsky). Ivan Kramskoi. Portrait of Ivan Aivazovsky. 1880s. Oil on сanvas. 55 * 45 cm. Signed in the top left corner: I. Kramskoi. Nesterov Bashkir Museum of Fine Arts, Ufa.
- Goldstein, S.N. “Ivan Nikolayevich Kramskoi. His Life and Art”. Moscow, 1965. P. 204.
- Konstantin Makovsky. Portrait of Aivazovsky. 1887. Oil on canvas. 63.5 * 54 cm. Dogadin Picture Gallery, Astrakhan
Oil on canvas. 72 × 54.2 cm. Tretyakov Gallery
Watercolour, iron gall ink on paper. 31.5 × 28.4 cm. Tretyakov Gallery
Italian pencil on paper. Tretyakov Gallery
Oil on canvas. 77 × 62.5 cm. Aivazovsky Picture Gallery, Feodosia
Oil on canvas. Aivazovsky Picture Gallery, Feodosia
Graphite pencil, watercolour, whitewash on paper. 19.1 × 30.2 cm. Tretyakov Gallery
Aivazovsky Picture Gallery, Feodosia. Detail
Oil on canvas. National Art Museum of Belarus, Minsk. Detail (Ivan Aivazovsky, to the right)
Watercolour on paper. Russian Museum
Oil on canvas. National Art Museum of Belarus, Minsk
Pencil on paper. Russian Museum
Oil on canvas. 70.5 × 62.5 cm. Uffizi Gallery, Florence
Oil on canvas. Museum of the Russian Academy of Arts, St. Petersburg
Watercolour on paper. National Gallery of Armenia, Yerevan
Oil on canvas. 63.5 × 54 cm. Dogadin Picture Gallery, Astrakhan
Oil on canvas. 93 × 73 cm. Russian Museum
Oil on canvas. Aivazovsky Picture Gallery, Feodosia
Oil on cardboard. 10 × 7 cm. Landscape embedded into the photographic portrait of Ivan Aivazovsky. Department of Manuscripts, Tretyakov Gallery