Back then, V. A. Serov lived with us. He was sixteen and studying painting under Father’s guidance. We adored him and affectionately called him Anton. He often played with us—grabbing us by the sash with his strong hand, scooping us up and plopping us from a chair onto the floor, the rug, or the sofa, while we flailed in the air like turtles.

I remember him painting studies from the window, reading art history aloud to Father after lunch, and our shared evening meal of buckwheat porridge with milk. When Father and Mother went out to a concert or a visit, Serov would quietly copy the portrait Father had assigned him.

— Memories of Vera Ilyinichna Repina (1872–1948), Repin’s eldest daughter

canvas echoes