When I returned to NYC several years ago, I met my aunt for breakfast and, over a delightful pastrami omelet, she told me the truth of our lineage. The revelation wasn’t a complete shock, but it was still pretty astounding. I had thought all my life that I had only about an eighth of Russian blood coursing through me since my maternal grandmother was only half Russian. But some documents had come into light in the recent years and it stated emphatically that Grandma was full white Russian.
Well! I’d spent a majority of my life trying to unravel the mystery that is my hair. It is not the lovely pane of smooth black tresses that one usually associates with Asians, but a cloud of spiral curls prone to frizz and reacts poorly to humidity. Over the years I have experimented with a combination of anti-frizz unguents, balm, creams, emollients, lotions, sprays and creams will keep it from appearing as though it is defying gravity, and it was a long and grim process. I also wondered about the general state of my decidedly not-so-Asian countenance from time to time, something a sharp eyed Asian will observe straight away and informed me of my “foreignness” with an occasional air of accusation as though I had a direct hand in procuring.
As there were still doubts about Grandma’s true origin, I sent a DNA kit to my family and they proceeded to test her. What came back boggled the mind. The accompanying map bore the myriad countries of her ancestry. It speckled clear across Eastern and Northern Europe with a few splotches in Australasia, thus determining that she has no Asian in her whatsoever. Yes, of course I’ve seen photos of her when she was younger, but we thought her green eyes and her prominent western nose were possibly results of her dominant Russian genes. The fact that she went through great lengths insisting that she had Japanese ancestry in her had to do with her adoptive parents asking her to do so in order to protect her from being executed by the Bolsheviks, which is another story onto itself.
This discovery justifies my eventual evolution from simple 2-D illustration to something as niche as painting Russian dolls. Maybe deep down in my subconscious I knew. I am truly doing the work of my ancestors…although I have to admit I have never once painted a traditional matryoshka set–identical women in babushkas festooned with flowers.
I thought it was a fun coincidence that shortly after Grandma’s passing I was asked to paint characters from a Russian children’s program called Masha and the Bear, and Masha herself wears a babushka. It’s probably as close to a traditional matryoshka set as I’ll ever paint!
This set features Bear, She-Bear, Masha, the Wolves who live in an old UAZ ambulance car, and Rosie the Pig who is often forced to dress as a baby.
Grandma passed away a few months earlier from a prolonged bout in a twilight state so we are grateful that she has moved on to a better place. Her life was like an epic film filled with war and peace and drama and intrigue and romance and hardship. But she was gentle and kind and extremely sweet with so much determination packed into her tiny frame that was nothing short of impressive. She also passed her gifts onto her children and grandchildren. There are star athletes in our clan, brilliant musicians, dancers, writers, and artists, gardeners, crafters, and chefs. I am grateful that I have managed to receive at least one of these gifts and I consider it a solid tether between Grandma and me.
Rest in peace, Tatjana Vladimira Zolotuhina (1924-2023)