Nicholas Roerich: The Artist Who Would Be King
By John McCannon
Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2022. 616 pp., hardcover, $50.
To his admirers, Nicholas Roerich was, as John McCannon writes in his excellent biography, a “benign sage . . . imbued with the compassion and social conscience of an Albert Schweitzer or a Gandhi.” To his detractors, McCannon writes, Roerich was “a spy, a huckster, or a lunatic.”
In the United States, Roerich was accused of a Rasputin-like relationship with Henry A. Wallace, secretary of agriculture in the 1930s and vice president of the United States in Franklin D. Roosevelt’s third term, from 1941 to 1945. This would cause a scandal that played a role in thwarting Wallace’s renomination for vice president in 1944—a turn of events that led to Harry Truman, not Wallace, to assume the presidency on the death of Roosevelt the following year.
In his native Russia, Roerich is appreciated for his paintings recalling the nation’s past. Roerich was the most significant artist working with the themes of Russian Symbolism, a movement that looked to Russia’s imperial past and its rich spiritual heritage. He was an influential chronicler of the nation’s architecture, twice traveling the width of the Russian Empire to paint fortresses, monasteries, and monuments for publication, and worked closely with his occasional adversary Sergei Diaghilev on set designs for the groundbreaking Ballets Russes.
Arguably even more significant than Roerich’s artistic work was his dedication to protecting the art and culture of the larger world. Perhaps moved by those two voyages, Roerich would devote himself to the preservation of art and architecture during wartime. His campaign for a “Banner of Peace”—a red circle surrounding three spheres on a field of white, to be prominently displayed on sites of cultural significance to warn off aerial bombings, akin to the symbol of the International Red Cross—won the backing of approximately two dozen nations, including the United States.
Roerich was also an accomplished mystic. Guided by his equally impressive wife, Helena, he studied Hindu scriptures and was attracted to Theosophy. He wrote a series of poems called the Flowers of Morya cycle during the tumultuous years after the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917, a cataclysm that drove the Roerichs out of Russia and onto a lengthy spiritual quest across India and Tibet.
Roerich came to believe that the Mahatmas were communicating with him through Helena and had directed him to unify the peoples of Asia in preparation for the coming of the Buddha Maitreya and the emergence of a sacred nation led by the hidden king of Shambhala.
Such a life could make for a series of fascinating biographies, but McCannon does an admirable job of introducing this compelling figure in this one volume. It is an extraordinary voyage into the life of a multifaceted individual, whose existence resonates across the realms of artistry, mysticism, and geopolitics. McCannon unveils a figure whose ambitions transcended the traditional boundaries of artistic expression, delving into the profound depths of mysticism while concurrently striving for global influence.
Roerich’s story, as told by McCannon, ventures far beyond the confines of conventional artistic endeavors. It traverses the intricate landscapes of geopolitics and mysticism, a terrain that McCannon navigates with ease. He delves into the intricacies and controversies surrounding Roerich’s geopolitical ambitions, prompting profound reflections on the parallels with our contemporary global landscape. This biography also skillfully contextualizes Roerich’s actions within broader historical and geopolitical frameworks, fostering a nuanced comprehension of Roerich’s impact.
The first seven of the book’s sixteen chapters deal with Roerich’s years in Russia. If anything, McCannon gives short shrift to Roerich’s artistic output, noting that “there is an excellent literature dealing with his art” that he does not want to repeat.
McCannon is more interested in the Roerichs’ travels after fleeing Russia and the emergence of their joint spiritual philosophy. He wonders if husband and wife developed a “shared psychotic disorder” through their nomadic years that culminated in the “messianic” quest of Nicholas Roerich—who at one point declared himself the reincarnation of the Fifth Dalai Lama—to rule a Himalayan state as a philosopher-king.
The author sets himself the task of showing “good judgment about Roerich without being judgmental.” In this, he largely succeeds, despite his skepticism about Roerich’s political ambitions. Ultimately, Nicholas Roerich: The Artist Who Would Be King stands as a testament to a multifaceted individual whose life journey continues to intrigue, inspire, and confound.
Peter Orvetti
Peter Orvetti, a writer and former divinity student residing in Washington, D.C., is marketing communications coordinator for the TSA.