The Mosaics of Mayakovskaya Station: How to Read Deineka’s 34 Panels

The mosaics at Mayakovskaya station comprise 34 panels in the central hall, created from designs by Alexander Deineka. Starting from the original entrance, they form four sections: seven morning scenes, eight daytime scenes, five night scenes and fourteen panels depicting a new morning. This sequence is given in Moscow Heritage magazine. The changing light links scenes of sport, work and flight into the story of a single day.

Architect Alexey Dushkin placed the panels in oval recesses in the vault; Vladimir Frolov's workshop assembled them from smalt using Deineka's designs. Each scene can be viewed individually, while the sequence unfolds as you move along the hall. Some sources also give the figure 35: this was the number of panels in the original cycle. The difference between the original design and the surviving sequence matters when counting the panels in the final section.

Why should you begin reading the sequence at the original entrance?

The diagram published by Moscow Heritage recommends starting at the original entrance: its first seven panels depict the morning. Approaching from the opposite end of the station, you will see the images in reverse order and may mistake the final section for the beginning.

The easiest way to follow the sequence is to stand beneath each ceiling panel in turn: the deep oval recesses make the images difficult to see in an overall view. Deineka himself noted this drawback of their placement, according to the Commission of the Russian Federation for UNESCO. From a distance, the repeating arches are clearly visible; beneath each individual dome, you can make out the scene and its colours.

Why are the mosaics at the new exit excluded from the count of 34?

The figure 34 refers to Deineka's panels in the central hall of Mayakovskaya station. A new exit with its own decorative scheme opened in 2005. The Zvenigorod State Museum-Reserve identifies it as the work of Ivan Lubennikov. This was a separate commission from a different period and by a different artist; the mosaics you pass on the way to the platform should not be added to the ceiling panels in the cycle A Day in the Soviet Sky.

In a 2012 interview, Lubennikov explained that he had chosen the same material for the new exit to create a sense of continuity with the existing space. His composition incorporated lines from Vladimir Mayakovsky's love poetry. The shared material and echoes of similar motifs connect the two decorative schemes visually, while their differences remain: Deineka arranged a sequence of times of day across the vault above the platform, whereas Lubennikov worked on the new exit almost seven decades later. Distinguishing the two artists' briefs helps avoid mistaking mosaics from different periods for a single series.

How did the underground hall come to depict the course of a day?

Deineka developed the theme of a day for the repeating oval ceiling panels at Mayakovskaya station, which was designed by Alexey Dushkin and opened on 11 September 1938. Columns and arches divide the deep underground hall into individual bays, each offering a different image of the sky. According to the Research Archive of the Russian Academy of Arts, the workshop produced 35 elliptical panels for this project.

The Museum of Moscow highlights a structural feature of Mayakovskaya: it was the capital's first deep-level column station, with a framework of aircraft-grade steel giving its slender supports their strength. The framework was manufactured at an airship factory near Moscow. The steel columns opened up views along the central hall, with oval recesses recurring between pairs of arches. The mosaic cycle is therefore linked to the station's architecture through the very arrangement of its panels.

The Research Archive of the Russian Academy of Arts has published an extract from Deineka's 1961 book From My Working Practice. The artist explained that he sought to convey depth through large forms, sharply foreshortened figures and contrasting colours. His account helps explain the presence of leaping and flying figures in the ceiling panels: their movement draws the eye upwards. Yet the artist's later explanation does not remove the need to examine the finished mosaics and the limitations imposed by their position in the vault.

In her study of Deineka, D. O. Antipina notes that the commission had to be completed within six months. The artist developed the images while the station was under construction, and Frolov's workshop translated his designs into smalt mosaics. In the completed hall, the foreshortened figures and broad areas of colour are designed to be viewed by someone standing beneath the high ceiling panels.

How are the cycle's four sections arranged?

The surviving sequence is divided as follows: 7 + 8 + 5 + 14. The morning section marks the start of the day; it is followed by daytime, then a short night section and an extended return to morning. These are not four equal acts. The panel counts are uneven, so you should not expect equally spaced sections along the platform or the same scenes to recur.

Colour reveals the changing time of day before you can make out the figures. Marina Nikitina, a researcher at the Museum of Moscow, draws attention to the changing sky in the background, from early morning to late at night. Images of people, machinery and movement do not disappear with the daylight. This continuity helps unite the separate ovals into a single account of a day.

The Commission of the Russian Federation for UNESCO identifies the image of the Spasskaya Tower as marking the transition to the daytime section: its clock hands point to noon. This is a rare explicit indication of time within the cycle. In the other panels, viewers must look to the lighting and the colours of the clouds. The noon scene is therefore a useful way to check your reading of the sequence, but assigning a precise hour to every image would be speculation.

The Commission of the Russian Federation for UNESCO offers another clue: in the panels Sunset and Dawn, the clouds are similar but lit from different sides. To distinguish these sections of the cycle, it helps to look at both the intensity of the colour and the direction of the light within each oval. This feature complements the published panel count when comparing neighbouring images.

Panels that reveal the logic of the cycle

Sport, flight and work are three groups of motifs that offer a useful way to explore Deineka's cycle. The Research Archive of the Russian Academy of Arts presents images and titles including Pole Vault, Parachutes in the Sky, On the Building Site (Cranes) and Blast Furnaces at Night. The archival selection helps identify the scenes, but does not map their positions from the original entrance. The location of each panel must be checked in the hall itself.

The body in motion

The archival selection includes the sporting scenes Playing Ball, Swimmers Diving, Pole Vault, Skier and Parachutist in Free Fall. These titles describe an action rather than a particular competitor. When reading the ceiling panels, the body's position and the direction of the viewer's gaze matter more: the high vault means that gestures are seen from below.

Antipina distinguishes two moments in sporting movement. In Pole Vault and Skier, the figures are shown just before the push-off, while in Swimmers Diving and Parachutist in Free Fall they are already airborne. The foreshortening changes with the phase of the action: some bodies are still supported by a surface, while others have left it. This comparison encourages a closer look at the gesture within each oval, rather than reducing the sporting scenes to a single shared motif.

Antipina draws attention to the unexpected foreshortening of the figures and the graphic quality of their outlines. In practice, this means that not every anatomical detail carries equal weight. From below, viewers can read the position of the torso, the gesture and the direction of the jump. This analysis examines the artistic choices rather than the sporting result: the panels cannot tell us the height of the pole, the speed of movement or the identity of a particular competitor.

Flight and technology

Another set of titles includes Gliders, Chkalov's Aircraft, Parachutes in the Sky and On the Building Site (Cranes). Aviation imagery occupies the upper area, while a lifting mechanism introduces work on the ground. Together, these images broaden the theme of flight: people are lifted by their own bodies, by machines and by the technology they have built. This is an editorial comparison of motifs, rather than a claim that the archive lists them in the order encountered along the station.

Chkalov's Aircraft is a title in the archival selection, rather than an identification of an aircraft model or a particular flight. Alongside aviation, the cycle features parachuting and construction cranes. This comparison reveals Deineka's interest in different forms of upward movement; the order of the works on the archive page should not be taken as their sequence on the station vault.

Work, city and nature

Female Combine Operator on the Platform, Electrification, On the Building Site (Cranes) and Blast Furnaces at Night reveal the theme of work without an overarching slogan. One brings a figure beside an agricultural machine into the overhead view; another features power lines, a third a lifting mechanism and a fourth industrial production at night. These varied subjects show that Deineka's 'Soviet sky' extends beyond city views and aviation.

The archive also records the panels Pines. Sunset, Seagulls over Water and Mother and Child. Landscape and the human figure prevent the series from becoming an uninterrupted catalogue of machines. It is important to distinguish between evidence and interpretation: the presence of these motifs is documented by their titles, while their role as pauses between more intense scenes is an interpretation best tested against the actual neighbouring ceiling panels, rather than the order on the archive page.

Blast Furnaces at Night and Pines. Sunset explicitly indicate the time of day; for other panels, it is more useful to compare the light and colour in neighbouring ovals. The archive catalogue supplies the titles of the works, while the count 7–8–5–14 provides a guide to following the sequence along the hall.

What unites the scenes apart from the sky?

Beyond the sky, many of Deineka's scenes share the theme of human activity: an athlete jumps, a parachutist descends and a crane rises above a building site. Even the smoke from a chimney and the fruit on apple trees, noted by the author in Moscow Heritage, allude to people's activities. The cycle's changing times of day thus unfold amid the pursuits and objects of the late 1930s, rather than against an empty background.

The theme of this ensemble has two formulations. A Day in the Land of the Soviets is Deineka's wording, quoted by the Commission of the Russian Federation for UNESCO and used by Moscow Heritage magazine; A Day in the Soviet Sky is the title used in materials from the Museum of Moscow and Moscow Transport. The first emphasises people's activities, the second the recurring background of the ceiling panels; both describe the same ensemble at Mayakovskaya.

Describing his concept, Deineka listed construction sites, agricultural work, gardens, aircraft, and young people at work and leisure. In his own explanation, these scenes represented life in the USSR over the course of a day. This was the artist’s vision in 1938, rather than a documentary sample of everyday life across the country. Recognising this distinction allows us to appreciate both his mastery of composition and the ideals he presented to passengers.

Another way to explore the unity of the series is to compare how Deineka introduces different subjects into the upper part of each image. In ‘The Kremlin’s Spasskaya Tower at Night’, the architecture emerges against a dark sky; in ‘Pole Vault’, the figure needs open space; in ‘Seagulls over Water’, the birds create the movement. Against a shared background, the scale and the point at which force is applied change. This keeps the series from becoming thirty-four repetitions of the same blue surface.

D. O. Antipina’s study describes the colour sequence more precisely: the pinkish hues of morning give way to richer daytime colours, followed by deep, warm evening tones. This is a scholarly description of the original cycle, which cannot be applied mechanically to every surviving mosaic. It does, however, explain why viewers can sense an underlying sequence even without knowing the titles of the ceiling panels. The changing palette conveys the time of day without a caption.

The mosaics bring together the sea, fields, the Kremlin, sport and aviation within a single day. An actual view from an underground window could never encompass all these places. Deineka assembled recognisable images of the country into an artistic cycle; his choice of subjects reveals his intentions, but does not encompass the full diversity of life in 1938.

Oval ‘windows’ in Dushkin’s architecture

Alexey Dushkin conceived the illuminated mosaics as a kind of window in a hall deep underground. The Commission of the Russian Federation for UNESCO links this device to the oculus, the opening in the dome of Rome’s Pantheon. At Mayakovskaya, oval ceiling panels depicting skies in smalt glass take the place of openings, allowing the architect to make the vault appear higher.

The Museum of Moscow links this aim to the structure of the Moscow Metro’s first deep-level column station. Instead of a heavy row of pylons, passengers see slender supports and a repeating sequence of bays. The ovals in the vault contain different images of the sky. The mosaics therefore function as part of the architectural rhythm, rather than as pictures hung after construction was complete.

Revisiting its report of 26 August 1937, the newspaper Vechernyaya Moskva describes the installation of 2,500 tonnes of metal structures at the site then known as ‘Ploshchad Mayakovskogo’. Contemporary observers noted that both the columns and the trusses here were metal, while the load-bearing elements at other stations under construction were made of concrete. This structure explains how the architect could alternate relatively slender supports with open bays containing mosaics.

Lighting also became part of the architectural design. According to the National Commission, lights around the edges of the domes point towards the mosaics, with reflected light returning to the hall. The eye travels up the arches, pauses at an oval ceiling panel, then descends to platform level. When looking only at photographs of individual panels, this relationship with the columns, steel and lighting is almost lost.

How did Deineka create a sense of height?

The main technique is foreshortening designed for someone standing beneath the ceiling panel. The Academy of Arts’ Research Archive quotes Deineka’s explanation: he sought depth through bold colour contrasts and upward-directed figures. The researcher D. O. Antipina adds that many compositions have a graphic quality, with clear outlines and few intermediate tones. Together, these features make the scenes legible on a ceiling, where fine detail is easily lost.

In ‘Pole Vault’, viewers mentally extend the movement beyond the oval frame; in the panel featuring a parachutist, the perspective is organised around the descent and the space opening above him. Even when someone stands beneath the mosaic, the compositional axis draws their gaze further upwards. This is not an optical illusion of infinite depth: the smalt remains a solid surface, and the illusion arises from the combination of the dome’s shape, colour and the foreshortening of the figure.

In the proceedings of the conference ‘Actual Problems of Theory and History of Art’, the art historian Igor Volkov suggests comparing Deineka’s compositions with photography of the 1920s and 1930s, particularly the work of Alexander Rodchenko. His text presents a scholarly hypothesis about the visual language of the period, rather than proof that each panel was copied from a particular photograph. The Museum of Moscow also notes the affinity between several compositions and avant-garde photography. This established resemblance is sufficient for this article: it would be wrong to claim that Deineka directly borrowed every individual image.

The viewing angle is apparent even without comparison to a particular photograph: figures and machinery are shown from below, while the oval frame crops part of the space. This angle corresponds to the passenger’s position beneath the ceiling panel. The resemblance to avant-garde photography helps describe the technique, but does not in itself establish which photograph Deineka might have seen.

Dushkin, Deineka, Frolov: who created the ensemble

The architect Alexey Dushkin gave form to the station’s spatial concept; Alexander Deineka created the painted designs for the cycle; and the mosaics were made in Vladimir Frolov’s workshop. This is how the Museum of Moscow assigns the roles. The phrase ‘Deineka’s mosaics at Mayakovskaya’ is convenient, but should not obscure the mosaicist’s work: a drawing and a finished mosaic panel call for different decisions.

Smalt is coloured, opaque glass whose pieces are assembled to form an image. The Museum of Moscow explains how it differs from Florentine mosaic, which uses closely fitted pieces of stone. At Mayakovskaya, what matters is not only the colours of the design, but also how the glass pieces interact with light high in the vault. The technique allows the image to retain its impact at a distance and under artificial lighting.

The Research Archive of the Russian Academy of Arts explains that both the shades of colour and the direction in which the glass pieces, or tesserae, are laid matter in smalt mosaic. It also notes the large areas of flat colour in the Mayakovskaya cycle. Frolov’s craftspeople had to preserve Deineka’s drawing in a different medium and at a scale intended to be viewed from the platform. The design and the finished panel therefore represent distinct stages of the work.

The Academy of Arts’ archive notes the addition of gold and silver to create shimmering highlights in Deineka’s mosaics. Lights around the edges of the domes point towards the panels; the material’s composition and the lighting together determine the visible play of light. Yet the sheen in a modern photograph cannot automatically be attributed to the properties of smalt: it is affected by the lamp, the camera angle and restoration work. Archival evidence about the material and a photograph of the station answer different questions.

The Museum of Moscow traces the professional continuity within this family of mosaicists. Alexander Frolov worked in the Academy of Arts’ mosaic department; his sons Alexander and Vladimir established their own workshop, and Vladimir continued the work in the Soviet era. This helps explain the expertise that made it possible to complete Mayakovskaya’s extensive cycle in a short time. The workshop’s history does not diminish Deineka’s individual artistic contribution, but shows why such a vast commission could not have been the work of a single draughtsman.

The archive page includes not only titles but also image reference codes: for example, ‘Pole Vault’ is listed under reference Its-1722, and ‘Blast Furnaces at Night’ under Its-1716. This matters when checking a disputed detail. A title from a popular account can be compared with a specific archival image, without relying on a passenger’s memory of what they saw from a passing train. The code identifies an archival item, rather than the number of a ceiling panel in the hall.

The Research Archive of the Russian Academy of Arts dates the re-establishment of the mosaic department to 1934 and names Vladimir Frolov as its head. The same page shows the workshop regulations and an extract from his appointment order. The 1938 commission can therefore be viewed in the context of an already functioning mosaic department, rather than as one artist’s work on 35 finished panels. Deineka’s designs and the laying of the smalt were separate stages of production.

Why do some sources list 35 panels and others 34?

35 panels refers to the original cycle, 34 — to the surviving decoration of Mayakovskaya’s central hall. The Research Archive of the Russian Academy of Arts reports that 35 elliptical panels were made in 1938; Moscow Transport lists 34 oval panels in the present hall. The Commission of the Russian Federation for UNESCO also gives Deineka’s original total as 35.

Moscow Heritage divides the visible sequence into 7 morning, 8 daytime, 5 night-time and 14 new-morning panels: 34 in total. The Commission of the Russian Federation for UNESCO lists fifteen images in the final section of the original cycle, bringing the total to 35. The difference between the published schemes lies in the final section, but the arithmetic alone does not reveal which scene disappeared or when.

Sources also differ on the fate of the lost work. In a 2023 article, Vechernyaya Moskva identifies it as ‘The Banner of the USSR’ and links its loss to the installation of an airtight blast door. In a 2019 publication, the Commission of the Russian Federation for UNESCO states that the exact identity of the dismantled panel is unknown. These accounts cannot be combined into a single undisputed version: verification requires documents recording its placement and removal.

The Academy of Arts’ Research Archive publishes titles and images of the panels, but its selection is not an installation plan for the hall. It can only be checked against the claim that ‘The Banner of the USSR’ was lost by consulting a document that assigns the work a place in the original sequence, together with a record of the subsequent alteration. As no such evidence is presented here, the totals of 35 and 34 are firmly established, while any title given for the lost panel should be attributed to the source making that identification.

How should we read the night-time section and the return of morning?

The night-time section is the shortest of the four: the published scheme assigns it five mosaics. It is followed by fourteen panels of a new morning. This ending does not close the day in darkness, but returns viewers to the beginning of the cycle. The structure can be described as cyclical time; any conclusion about its thematic emphasis is a matter of interpretation, rather than the documented intention of each creator.

After the night-time section, the sky brightens again and the clouds are lit differently. The Commission of the Russian Federation for UNESCO compares the sunset and sunrise motifs: two panels with similar designs differ in the direction of the light. This observable feature supports Moscow Heritage’s scheme, with its final morning section; any suggestion of symbolic meaning in the return of morning remains an interpretation.

The night-time section is also filled with activity. The Research Archive lists ‘Blast Furnaces at Night’, ‘The Kremlin’s Spasskaya Tower at Night’, ‘Bombers at Night’ and ‘Parachute Jump at Night’. These images bring together industrial work, a city view, aviation and sport. The five night-time mosaics form a short section of the cycle, but they change the light rather than bring the depiction of human activity to a halt.

There is a tension in this selection that should not be glossed over with general remarks about a joyful life. Military aviation appears alongside scenes of night-time work; the historical context of the late 1930s is audible in the very titles ‘Bombers at Night’ and ‘Parachute Jump at Night’. This is a visual fact of the ensemble and a reason for careful analysis of the period. The images alone cannot establish a specific event, exercise or flight; Deineka was creating an overarching artistic programme, not an eyewitness report.

This is precisely why the new morning following the five night-time panels does not feel like a simple repetition of the first. By this point, the viewer has already seen construction, machinery and sport, and their night-time counterparts. The final return to light changes the meaning of the beginning: the series returns to daylight after a complete cycle, rather than starting a second, independent narrative. This is an editorial interpretation of the documented sequence, not a quotation from a surviving scenario by Deineka.

How did the restoration change the way the panels are perceived?

The lighting conditions in Mayakovskaya’s hall changed following work completed in 2010. The Commission of the Russian Federation for UNESCO reports that the building services and finishes were renewed, the panels restored and illumination levels at the station increased by 30 per cent. The colours in a photograph taken after this work therefore cannot be regarded without qualification as an accurate record of how the ceiling panels looked in September 1938.

In its issue of 24 April 2025, Vechernyaya Moskva, citing the Department of Transport, details the scope of the reconstruction: the southern entrance hall, platform area and side tunnels were renovated in two stages, and the station was protected against residual water ingress. Restorers also worked on the lights illuminating the mosaics and the ventilation grilles in the domes. These details help explain why the lighting conditions of the historic panels in a photograph from one period cannot be assumed, without verification, to apply to another.

Moscow Transport reports that Mayakovskaya has been listed as a monument of history and culture since 2001. When viewing the panels, this status is a reminder of the ensemble’s constituent parts: the mosaic, the dome surround, the lights, the columns and the cladding are experienced together. When analysing a photograph, it is important to consider which of these elements are visible in the frame and when the photograph was taken.

The National Commission’s report lists other changes completed by 2010: part of the marble floor was replaced with granite, and the cladding on the arches and trackside walls was renewed. These do not alter the panel count, but they affect how viewers perceive the light-coloured ceiling panels alongside the stone and steel. To assess the station’s original appearance, modern photographs need to be compared with archival material; to follow the sequence, the surviving series of mosaics is sufficient.

What do viewers miss when they look at the mosaics only in photographs?

A photograph of an individual panel shows its design clearly, but removes the sequence, scale and passenger’s viewpoint. In the hall, the ovals sit high up in recesses between the arches. According to the National Commission, Deineka specifically criticised how deeply they were set: the works are difficult to make out when viewed as part of the overall perspective. This explains Mayakovskaya’s paradox: it is easy to miss the famous cycle if you walk through the station at your usual pace without stopping beneath a ceiling panel.

To appreciate how the artist’s and architect’s work comes together, it helps to alternate between two viewing distances. From afar, you can see the steel arches, the repeated domes and the alignment of the central hall. Standing beneath a ceiling panel, you can make out the subject of an individual mosaic. Then step back again and compare neighbouring images. Shifting your gaze in this way reveals the structure of the series better than any selection of beautiful details.

Mayakovskaya at the 1939 World’s Fair

The World’s Fair in New York displayed more than a photograph of Mayakovskaya. According to the Research Archive of the Russian Academy of Arts, the Soviet pavilion housed a scale model of the station and a full-size section of the underground hall; mirrored walls extended the space beyond its boundaries. The design won the Grand Prix. This presentation confirms that it was the entire spatial concept that was valued — the columns, arches, ceiling panel and their combined effect, as well as the beauty of an individual mosaic.

The exhibition section showed only a fragment of Dushkin’s design, but the mirrors created the illusion of the space continuing beyond it. In the actual hall, the sequence unfolds as you move: the subjects change from oval to oval, while the light in the sky changes from one part of the cycle to the next. The 1939 Grand Prix was awarded to the station’s architectural design as exhibited; to understand the mosaics, it is important to consider both each individual panel and the entire series.

Two pointers are enough to follow the cycle: start at the old entrance and compare neighbouring ovals. The sequence given in Moscow Heritage — 7–8–5–14 — helps you follow the transition from morning to day, night and a new morning. The titles of the works and archival images clarify the subjects, while the hall itself reveals how Deineka adapted them to Dushkin’s arches.

Mayakovskaya station is included in the ‘Underground Palaces’ tour of the Moscow Metro. Beneath its vault, you can compare the sequence described here with the mosaics themselves and see how Deineka’s designs relate to Dushkin’s architecture and the work of Frolov’s workshop.

Sources

1. Moscow Heritage No. 22: A Route Through Metro Stations
2. Moscow Transport: The 34 Mosaic Panels of Mayakovskaya Station
3. Museum of Moscow: Mosaics in the Metro. Part One
4. Commission of the Russian Federation for UNESCO: A Day in the Land of the Soviets in the Mosaics of A. A. Deineka
5. Research Archive of the Russian Academy of Arts: The Academy of Arts Mosaic Workshop
6. D. O. Antipina. Formal and Stylistic Features of A. A. Deineka’s Monumental Works in the Interiors of the Moscow Metro
7. Igor Volkov. The Mosaics of Mayakovskaya Station and Soviet Photography of the 1920s–1930s
8. Zvenigorod State Museum Reserve: Ivan Lubennikov
9. Ivan Lubennikov on the new exit at Mayakovskaya station — an interview with Vechernyaya Moskva
10. "Palace Dungeons" - a tour of the Moscow metro
11. Alexey Khoroshilov. How Mayakovskaya Was Tempered — Vechernyaya Moskva, 2023
12. Vechernyaya Moskva and the Moscow Metro: reconstruction of Mayakovskaya station, 24 April 2025