The exhibit of the museum presents the author’s copy of the portrait of Ivan Bunin by the artist Nikolai Kashchevsky. Many of Bunin’s acquaintances spoke enthusiastically about this painting. The writer Nikolai Teleshov, for example, believed that the portrait was very similar and psychologically correct, and the pupil of Anton Chekhov, Liubov Fedorova, upon seeing the canvas, exclaimed: ‘Yes, this is a real “Vanechka”’ (that is how Bunin was called in the Chekhov family). Aleksandr Tvardovsky, in whose collection there was a portrait, said that he ‘likes it very much, because in it one can feel the creative image of the great poet’.

Nikolai Kashchevsky himself told the story of his acquaintance with Ivan Bunin and the creation of the portrait:

‘In 1924 I studied at the Paris Academy of Arts. One day my friends invited me to a literary evening at the Sorbonne. Among the guests who filled the Great Hall and were talking animatedly to each other, my attention was attracted by a tall man, about fifty, with a handsome expressive face. I was struck by his appearance, his refined manners, proud posture, confident calmness of movements and gestures, in which a person of great culture and inner concentration was seen. It was Bunin.

– Come on, – my friend suggested to me, – I will introduce you to Ivan Alekseevich.

And a minute later, Bunin, holding my hand in his, and carefully examining me, asked:

– How long have you been staying in Paris?.. Where are you studying?.. What department?..

I was so worried that I could not say anything to the writer. While I was gathering my thoughts to keep up the conversation, someone approached Bunin and took him aside…

Four years have passed.

I graduated from the Academy of Arts, and on one of the warm days of early Parisian autumn, I walked along the quiet alleys of the Luxembourg Gardens. Suddenly I noticed a tall and, as it seemed to me, familiar figure in the distance. Bunin?.. Is it possible?.. We were walking towards each other, looking at each other, and when we approached, we stopped.

– Hello, – extending his hand to me, as if feeling the shyness that seized me, the writer said affably, – we may know each other…

– Yes… if you remember, at an evening at the Sorbonne, – I muttered, amazed that Bunin remembered me.

– Well, tell me how you live… I’m travelling almost all the time… I cannot be in one place for a long time, – Ivan Alekseevich said and swept the fallen leaves off the bench with his hand. He sat down and offered me a seat next to him.

The autumn garden was deserted and quiet, the alleys and paths were densely covered with yellow and crimson leaves.

I took out a sketchbook, which I never parted with, and asked Bunin for permission to draw him.
Ivan Alekseevich agreed. He folded his arms on his chest, and in this position it took me an hour to make a quick pencil drawing of him…

He liked the drawing. He said: ‘You flattered me a little, ” that is, he looked younger in the drawing. Since then I haven’t met with him. This portrait was painted by me on the basis of this drawing’.

At the request of the museum in 1962, Kashchevsky restored the portrait of Bunin, which is now at the exhibit.