Veretyevo Park by Alexander Brodsky: Transforming a Swamp into an Architectural Microcosm

The opening of a park in the Veretyevo Art Manor near Moscow was among the most remarkable Russian architectural events in 2021. The new space near Dubna was designed by architect Alexander Brodsky. Strelka Mag asked Asya Zolnikova to walk along the park boardwalk laid directly above a swamp and share the story of the project.

Swamps occupy a special place in Russian culture, and swamps of all varieties are depicted by Russian painters. They surround the characters of Tarkovsky’s Stalker. Creatures of folklore inhabit them. Characters from Russian classical literature are often placed there. But the one sphere that is never fond of swamps is architecture. Normally, it battles with swamps or tries to stay away from them. Symbiosis is possible, but that’s a tall order that not every architect can manage. The Veretyevo art residence is a rare example in which that has been achieved. The summer of 2021 saw the opening of a park by the same name, designed by architect Alexander Brodsky.

Veretyevo is located in a forest 110 kilometers north of Moscow. It was previously home to a children’s summer camp, and after the collapse of the USSR the houses that had been built for Young Pioneers and camp counselors hosted contemporary art festivals. Numerous installations and art objects serve as a reminder of this time. Since 2014, Veretyevo has been operating as a country resort with a local cuisine restaurant, a farm, and outdoor recreation areas including a banya (Russian steam bath) complex on the banks of the Dubna River.

A Park in the Midst of Primordial Chaos

The idea to create a park in Veretyevo came to life in 2019, when news emerged concerning the impending demolition of the Pavilion for Vodka Ceremonies, built by Alexander Brodsky in a retreat near Moscow for the ArtKlyazma festival. Veretyevo’s owner, Andrey Gnatyuk, was going to move the pavilion to the grounds of his hotel, but Brodsky did not approve. He said that he does not like to repeat himself, but was ready to create a new object. Gnatyuk suggested that he work in a large area where guests usually did not walk, as it was overgrown and pathless.

Thus, the idea of a very specific park was born, a park in the midst of primordial chaos, in a quiet place where windfallen trees intertwine with human-sized nettles while a winding stream with swampy banks flows beneath. To begin, several kilometers of wooden planks were laid. Then the project began to quickly accumulate new pavilions along with new meanings. Within two years, 70,000 square meters of the most commonplace landscape near Moscow were transformed into an independent universe with 38 objects. Half were created by Brodsky, and the rest of the locations and artifacts had appeared long before the park existed. On the borders, a 50-meter mirror wall was installed, fading into the surroundings.

“It was a very beautiful swamp. My mission was to not spoil it,” Brodsky said when the park had its grand opening in June 2021. Since then, the flow of visitors has multiplied. In the first month alone, more than 2,000 people visited the park.

It is difficult to say whether this was driven primarily by an increased interest in local tourism during the coronavirus pandemic or by the beauty of the swamp, which surfaced thanks to Brodsky’s innate ability to see value in the most unsightly things. The author’s iconic persona also played a role. Not only is Alexander Brodsky one of the most famous and respected architects in Russia, but he is also one of the few Russian architects whose name is well known abroad.

Architect Brodsky

Alexander Brodsky won international acclaim long before his first constructed building. As a 22-year-old student at the Moscow Architectural Institute, he took first place in the Parisian Theatre for Future Generations competition. His work was one of paper architecture, a movement that emerged in the late USSR and combined the methods of architectural design, easel graphics, and conceptual art.

Such projects could only exist on paper due to their deliberate unfeasibility, high cost, or non-compliance with the political agenda. Brodsky was one of the founders of this movement. His etchings, made in collaboration with architect Ilya Utkin, are kept in the Tate Britain, the Museum of Modern Art in New York (MoMA), the State Russian Museum, and other collections around the world.

It took about twenty years for Brodsky to switch from graphics to architectural practice. In 2000, he founded the Alexander Brodsky architectural office and implemented his first architectural project, a restaurant on the banks of the Klyazminskoye Reservoir. At first, the author proposed that nothing should be built, so as not to destroy the harmony of nature. Eventually, he agreed to the project but did everything he could to disguise the structure. The restaurant was built from rough logs and tilted at an angle of 95°, in tune with the surrounding forest.

Embracing the untamed wilderness

Brodsky took a similar approach with the Veretyevo landscape, striving to keep intrusion to a minimum and to not embellish anything. When coming through the main entrance, the visitor passes under the Willow Grotto, an arch formed by a willow trunk. A little further is a shed with a V-shaped roof, which has been here since time immemorial. There used to be an art object called “Shooting Range” created by artist Diana Machulina. Now it hosts a pub, serving themed alcohol sets in the summer. After you have a drink (or not), the journey begins, which takes around an hour and a half.

Despite the abundance of architectural objects and walking paths, every corner of the park conveys a sense of the supremacy of nature, showing its untamed wilderness. The only major interference in the Veretyevo dendrological collection involved the planting of giant burdocks in key locations. All other plants, including stinging nettles, remained in their places. You must watch your step. The paths are not fenced. Branches and grass keep whipping you in the face. The road is blocked by fallen trunks every now and then. They are intentionally not removed, making it clear that a human in this swamp is only a guest, though a dear one.

The park honors not only the natural flora, including dead plants, but also artifacts left by people of the past, such as a lamppost with protruding rusty bars, an old woodshed, and a hay storage container made of yellow polycarbonate. One could easily ignore these nondescript objects, but Brodsky marked them on the map, giving them equal rights alongside his neat and deliberate architecture. “There were already beautiful things firmly rooted in this place. Therefore, I decided not to offend them but to combine them with my objects,” the architect explained.

Polycarbonate Library

Some of the wooden paths lead to the park pavilions. Six of them contain book selections compiled by literary critic and journalist Anna Narinskaya. Near the Krapivnik (Nettle) pavilion, which looks like a bus stop, shelves with books about travel are built into the sidewall. In the Toilet on the Hill, one can read old Soviet magazines, and the House of the Hermit offers literature about loneliness and spiritual quests.

Classical prose is kept in the Library, a pavilion in the form of a greenhouse with a V-shaped roof. It is constructed from polycarbonate, just as a real greenhouse would be.

The rest of the buildings are wooden and shelter mostly secondhand books. The planks and pavilions were intentionally built of old timber, and for that purpose, all the surrounding villages were searched for old fences slated for demolition.

Apology of Ruins

Brodsky has a lot of jury-rigged and short-lived objects. Arguably his most famous creation, the Rotunda in Nikola-Lenivets Art Park consists entirely of doors covered in peeling paint. Oddness and deceptive simplicity make his works look like the remnants of some civilization that has miraculously survived. The same is true for the interiors. Loose plaster is carefully fixed, old bricks and wood lathing are on display, and it is beautiful. Admiring Brodsky’s objects, you inevitably admire the ruins.

But if antique ruins are about the universal memory of humanity, then Brodsky’s ruins are always about personal memory. Even the gallery bridge, paying tribute to the Palladian Bridge in Tsarskoye Selo, is similar to a bus stop that can be found in every post-Soviet city.

Veretyevo has its own Pantheon that stands at the crossroads, serving as one of the main semantic bundles of the project. But unlike its ancient Roman counterpart, the Veretyevo Pantheon is quite small, with rooftop straw and grass growing endearingly through its oculus. And it is made of old timber, not of concrete and stone.

Timber and books are equally good at keeping stories that are dear to everyone’s hearts. And the park is one of the best places to indulge in memories and leisurely reading. Reading usually involves no witnesses, and the narrow boardwalks between the pavilions barely let two adults pass by each other. Therefore, the ideal walk in Brodsky’s park is one made privately, alone with yourself and your past.

Photography: the Veretyevo Art Manor / Yuri Palmin / Dmitry Yagovkin