Dos phenomenon. Dos today In the former Soviet Union known as Ukrainian Postmodernism or “Heat-Wave” with:. originated at the end of the 80s in Kiev. Unlike Moscow, Ukrainian art at that time was the real fruit of Perestroika “Art of Perestroika” — the common headline of numerous articles that blossomed in the western mass media at the beginning of Gorbachev’s rule. more fitting to Ukrainian art than to Russian.
Haskau art had only in the eyes of foreign viewers a new quality, which primarily had to do with the fact that foreigners were finally given the opportunity to visit the basements of unofficial artists with the beginning of the reform period in the USSR. In reality, the so-called “Art of Perestroika” was nothing other than the legalization of an artistic underground that had arisen in the Brezhnev
years. The early days of Glasnost were not only a great inspiration for the art scene of the aesthetic capital but also the beginning of a broad international promotion campaign, which was initiated in many places by “Gorbimania”. In the late eighties, the trends of unofficial Moscow art included a local version of conceptualism as well as “Sots-Art”. Russia has a long tradition in underground art. It emerged as a sociological and cultural phenomenon between the 50s and 60s.
The first generation of unofficial artists fought (with few exceptions) for the right to create “art for art’s sake”.
They turned against official Socialist Realism and produced an outdated modernism or “formalist salon”. It seems that the main argument of the watchdogs of Socialist Realism against the artistic underground of that time was correct. This art was an “escape from reality”. But the generation of unofficial artists of the 70s and 80s was very different from their ideological predecessors of the 60s. Both Russian conceptualism and “Sots-Art” have two main sources:
– the spirit of political opposition (participation in the dissident movement or at least sympathy was considered good form in intellectual circles in Moscow in the 70s)
– the rich culture of political wit and linguistic research. Particularly known was the Tartu school of semiotics, the only humanities field not influenced by Soviet ideology. Radical Moscow art mixed “Sots-Art” (which can be defined as a local version of pop art) with conceptualism. The result: a playful handling of Soviet “signs” such as the hammer and sickle, red star, meaningless political slogans, or the familiar frozen official portraits of political leaders — typical features of the official art of the 30s and 50s. The left wing without an official artists’ association, in the role of “opposition to His Royal Highness”, was occupied with melancholic images and “carnivalization of life” (a false version of the expression from Mikhail Bakhtin’s writings). Against this background, the works of Ilya Kabakov or Eric Bulatov had a dual quality. One can compare the role of Moscow underground art with that of the group of “Wanderers” (the so-called critical realists) in the second half of the 19th century.
“Sots-Art” and conceptualism became the “critical realism” of the Brezhnev era. Only art told of miserable life and useful lies in Soviet Russia. This strong mimetic element and the traditionally Russian passion for the literary (for example, the characters of Kabakov, whom he portrayed both in his early paintings and in installations like “The Communal Apartment”) became the basis of the popularity of Moscow art abroad. The mutual influence of underground artists was interesting to the Western audience not only because of their artistic value but also as evidence of foreign and unknown life in the distant “Evil Empire”. The ethnological aspect played an important role in the uniqueness of the so-called “Art of Perestroika”. But although this passion for the archaeology of everyday life in the late 70s was taken seriously, it later became a fashion dictated by the Western art market. Even at the Sotheby’s auction in 1989, foreign art buyers wanted authentic, recognizable Soviet art. Due to the collapse of the socialist system, “Sots-Art” involuntarily became the last Soviet art of the USSR. From 1989 to 1991, some elements of “Sots-Art” could be found in newspaper illustrations, animated cartoons, TV shows, and even fashion. The young generation of Moscow conceptualists, who grew up in the shadow of Kabakov — e.g., the group “Istukhomori” — did not have the fundamental quality of their predecessors. The subtle irony, which in the best works of Kabakov and Bulatov recalls the poetic short stories of Chekhov, became a flat joke, wordplay, a hallmark of the time, often no more than illustrations of literary jokes and idioms. One could exaggerate and say there were many paintings that in the famous studios in Furmanovskaya in 1989 were ready to get on the train and go to Moscow. The tradition of underground art was correspondingly weak. What existed at the beginning of the eighties were some artists who produced partly old-fashioned abstract paintings, partly a sweet realism with a strong nationalist aftertaste. Almost all were isolated. Not to mention any influence on the young generation.
The other important difference to Moscow was the education in Kiev: the academy was a kind of zoological garden. An anachronistic relic that rather reminded one of the Bologna academy of the 17th century than a contemporary art school. It was led by dogmatists of socialist realism who even in the beginning of Perestroika painted large-format and multi-figure works unwaveringly. After the disaster of the “Arrival of Lenin at the Pinsk Station”, the academy taught students skills that were no longer taught at the more liberal art schools of Moscow. Surprisingly, a new art movement emerged in this land of ideological winter. In 1987, Arsen Savadov and Georgi Gentschenko, who had just graduated from the Kiev academy, exhibited a large-format painting in Moscow titled “The Duration of Cleopatra”. This work fundamentally differed from what was being done in Moscow at the time. The lack of any comparison possibilities caused a search for definitions in the West. Critical buzzwords like “Postmodernism” and “Transavantgarde” appeared in the Moscow art press. If the painting was a sensation for Moscow, it founded a revolution in Kiev and was the trigger for the emergence of the local version of Transavantgarde called “Heat-Wave” (in contrast to the “cool” conceptualism that prevailed in Moscow). There is no doubt that this new movement was inspired by Western models. But in this case, it is a complex influence. Italian Transavantgarde,
German Neo-Expressionism, some French and American artists of the time gave impulses to the young Ukrainians. The “mainstream” of the West was absorbed by them through Western art magazines. One can say the “Heat-Wave” movement is a rediscovery of Western Transavantgarde. The young artists had very limited access to information. The impossibility to read original texts led them to develop their own theory and find philosophical content for their aesthetics in oriental esoteric writings. Such texts formed in the 70s and 80s the basis for a contemporary philosophy as they were the only non-Marxist philosophical works that were widely translated and published. But the most important reason was the formal
aspect of the new European and American art: the young Kiev artists were trained as painters and the Transavantgarde trend allowed them to use their skills. Playing with art history was another attraction from the West.
In 1989/1990, artists like Alexander Gnilitsky, Oleg Tistol, and Alexander Floitburd were inspired by Ukrainian Baroque. A kind of provincial transformation of the Grand Style, which — as the Czech Milan Kundera noted in one of his essays — is a monument of Central European civilization. Large-format paintings were typical for the young painters from Kiev and Odessa. However, this gigantomania was not the result of commercialization but quite the opposite, a proof of the non-commercial character of “Heat-Wave”. While the Western love for large-format works was criticized by some critics — e.g., Arthur Danto — Ukrainian artists at the end of the 80s had no buyers at all. Apparently, this production of pseudo-paintings was related to their professional training. One of the liberal Moscow critics compared “The Mourning of Cleopatra” with the famous masterpiece of Ukrainian Socialist Realism “Comrade Stalin on the Cruiser Kirov”.
At the same time, the first private art galleries in Moscow emerged. This local art market was triggered by the success of the Sotheby’s auction of contemporary Russian art. All the newly born galleries wanted to export. Quite different, however, were Kiev and Odessa: there was practically no art market infrastructure. The only buyers were the few potential emigrants who believed they could convert rubles into dollars by selling paintings in the West. The old official structures like the artists’ union and museums were hostile to the new movement.
In contrast to Moscow, where since the beginning of Perestroika the necessity of establishing a museum for contemporary art was a public topic of discussion, in Ukraine no one spoke about such an idea at all. After the emergence of Perestroika art, Moscow, which according to Western understanding was the only cultural center of the USSR and a synonym for Russia, the gateway to the West for many artists from various regions of the country, the young Ukrainians tried intensively to gain a place for their works in the art market of the Soviet capital. With little success.
They were indeed noticed by Moscow critics, articles about “Heat-Wave” appeared in major art magazines. But their art was so different from the Moscow “mainstream” that they seemed like strangers against the background of the capital’s art scene. Today it is clear that Ukrainian art in 1989/1990 was the only strong alternative to Sots-Art and conceptual tradition. But the Ukrainian wave was not picked up by Western art dealers. It did not correspond to the stereotypes of Soviet art from 1988 to 1990. The signs of the fallen empire were popular. The “Soviet” of Moscow art was in demand.
In contrast, the Ukrainians tried to be more European. And there was not the slightest connection to the underground tradition. Moscow artists at that time cultivated an artificial opposition to the official structures. Artificial because these structures had already completely lost their repressive character in 1988. Since they were used to the underground movement of the 70s and early 80s, Moscow conceptualists remained a close circle of friends who developed their own airtight culture. The quality of their art was not important, but the history of participation in political activities before Perestroika. In the mid-80s — at the end of repression — they stuck to their behavioral patterns. They were like a monastic order and apparently lived by the rule “who is not with us is against us”. Of course, they needed fresh blood, but the rules were so strict that the young artists, the chicks in the nest, who were allowed to join the group, produced works that were often no more than bloodless variations or unintended parodies of the works of the older ones. Thus, an underground version of salon art was born, an artificially stimulated growth of conceptual mannerisms. This elite of Moscow conceptualists naturally did not need newcomers like the representatives of “Heat-Wave”. Moreover, Ukrainians had to be seen as potential competitors. Although some representatives of art from Kiev and Odessa also became known in Moscow, they were never admitted to the elite of radical art.
In 1990, a crisis began in the Kiev school. The first heroic phase of new Ukrainian art was over. The passion for Baroque and semi-classical subjects turned into eclecticism, which can be defined as neo-classicism with some ironic elements. Visits to Moscow and contacts with artists like members of the “Hermeneutics” group (conceptualists who cultivated a narrow intellectualism typical for provincial fringes and representatives of the “lumpen-intelligentsia” of the late 70s and early 80s) produced unexpected results. Comic gods and baroque images were replaced by kittens, small dogs, and funny elephants. It was the beginning of a period called “childish chatter” by the Kiev artists — the change in images was accompanied by a revolt against their own style. The idols of “Heat-Wave” (which was no longer called that) began to play with simulations. This was also typical for Moscow art of that time. But the Russian variant was more honest. The art of Kiev painters of that time can be compared to “cutism”, which was popular in the USA in 1991. In Ukrainian art, this infantilism was, of course, combined with the best of classical image structure. During the time of “childish chatter”, many young artists from Kiev freed their style and moved towards neo-Expressionism. At the same time, the first successes in the art market in Moscow awaited the Kiev artists. Some salonists began to buy works of Ukrainian painters. Unfortunately, these were precisely those who were newcomers in the Moscow art market themselves and did not enjoy any special reputation. Although these contacts gave the artists financial support, they did not change their status — Ukrainians remained second-class painters for the Moscow elite. For example, the most influential Moscow gallery, the “Wirst Gallery”, never held an exhibition with Ukrainian artists. In 1991, the situation changed decisively.
In many respects, this was related to the crisis of Moscow conceptualism. Savadov and Gentschenko, who had behaved quietly for several years, participated in the exhibition “Exercices esthetiques”, organized by the well-known Moscow art critic Viktor Misiano. The aim of this exhibition was to announce the end of the conceptual monopoly in Russian art life. In the same year, the first solo exhibition of Oleg Holosi took place in the most famous exhibition space in Moscow. In spring 1992, Savadov and Gentschenko showed a gigantic installation in the same exhibition space, which was later partially shown in New York. Artists like Savadov and Gentschenko began a visual language enslaved during their education and cannot escape it even today. Now the more pluralistic art market of Moscow is also open to Ukrainians. Painting is no longer a crime in the capital of Russia. Some young Moscow painters who became known in recent years are very close to the Ukrainian tradition. Some galleries and collections of companies emerged in Kiev. Nevertheless, the Ukrainian art market is still meager compared to Moscow. However, it now offers artists at least a financial livelihood.
In this comparatively idyllic time, critics who supported Ukrainians in the stormy days of the struggle for recognition became pessimistic and began to talk about the commercialization of Ukrainian art. Perhaps this pessimism has reasons. The era of postmodernism is over and self-repetition is no longer interesting today. Ukrainian art is on the verge of great changes and only the future will show what the result will be.
The exhibition ) Dialogue with Kiev i in the Villa Stuck Munich from 16 to 27 September 1992Comment type: Published comment
Author: Konstantin Akinsha
Bibliography:
Introductory article by Konstantin Akinsha // Postanaesthesia : Dialogue with Kiev, eight Ukrainian artists in Munich. An album. / Christoph Wiedemann; Konstantin Akinsha / Munich : Spielmotor Munich, 1993. 6 p. : ill. ; 28 cm.
Sources: Postanaesthesia : Dialogue with Kiev, eight Ukrainian artists in Munich. An album. / Christoph Wiedemann; Konstantin Akinsha / Munich : Spielmotor Munich, 1993. 6 p. : ill. ; 28 cm.
