The Rose

This is the last surviving drawing of my great-grandfather Nikolai Nikulin, the man from whom I believe part of my art talent was genetically passed down; and this is the story of his life…

Nikolai's parents were Russian, but he was born in China and spoke Chinese quite well. When he was 17 years old, he was given a choice- to go study in: America or Soviet Russia.
Being a true patriot he chose Russia.
Time passed and he became a famous railroad engineer. He connected trains together, doubling their power and brought Siberian and Chinese cities together.
He defended Russia when the Chinese attacked the Soviet Railroad and got the OKDVA (Special West Red Soviet army) medal for his heroism- here it is, in his photo: [link]
His drawing skill was so great that he was allowed to draw Lenin’s portrait, and for this he received an incredible photographic album portraying Lenin’s death, which is still held by my grandparents in Novokuznetsk. At the peak of his career, Nikolai was awarded the golden star as “a hero of the Soviet Union” from Stalin, for his achievements in engineering.

The world fell in 1937, when Stalin’s madness created the orders that declared millions of Russians as “enemies of the people” and sentenced them to execution in Soviet labor camps.
When Stalin's “police” was taking everybody from the streets, Nikolai never expected to be taken too. One night he had a strange dream, where he saw his head being half-shaven and on the very next day the police broke down the doors and took him in.
He was sentenced to a death in a Soviet labor camp as “An enemy of the state and a Chinese spy”. His wife appealed for justice and truth, sending Stalin a letter with Nikolai’s medals and drawings, but this letter was intercepted and forever lost.
After Stalin’s death, my great grand mother received a piece of paper that cleared Nikolai of all accusations and a note that his body was “buried in Russia”.

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This upload is dedicated to him and all the others who stood for unity of mankind yet fell against injustice, to carry on their noble spirit, and so that the value of freedom may never again be forgotten, erased or taken from us.