The National Art Museum housed the presentation of an album titled Ukrainian Art of the Twentieth Century.
The 350-page art album features 550 reproductions of works by 500 Ukrainian artists and comments by leading Ukrainian art critics. Created by book designers Yevhen Matveyev and Mykhailo Shevchenko, both Soviet-era winners of the Taras Shevchenko Prize for making the design of Karl Marx’s Capital, and printed in Denmark, the impressive book was to be released by the beginning of the seventh annual board meeting of the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development in Kyiv. Surely, the book’s publishers were motivated not only by lofty patriotic feelings but practical interests as well. The hefty Hr 120 price tag for the coffee table book is hardly meant for an average Ukrainian with a more than modest monthly income. The publishers apparently hoped that a considerable part of the 10,000 press run would find its place in the suitcases of the rich EBRD forum participants who would take home these beautiful books as souvenirs from their Ukrainian partners.
Violating established terms is a barbaric habit, indeed, that we have inherited from our Soviet past. Nevertheless, we have proved to be slow and rather careless in adopting European ways and standards. This sad observation was confirmed by a press conference dedicated to the album presentation ceremony. Disappointed with a necessity to see the familiar faces of the Ukrainian beau monde instead of respectable financial moguls from abroad, the publishers reported on the event at the press conference in typical Komsomol style. The album has been released as part of the Ukrainian Art of the Twentieth Century project that also foresees the organization of art shows in Ukraine. Like diligent pupils at a blackboard, they answered questions about the work done. And everything would have been just fine, if they had shown a little consideration for their audience by providing at least one microphone. Their low voices drowned in the steady drone of the audience, most of whom decided that it was better to engage in a little social talk with one another than to try hard to catch at least some words from the story.
One might think that the absence of a microphone was just a slight organizational problem. Well, maybe so. On the other hand, it is a very indicative sign of a careless and disrespectful way we usually treat our own people at home. Something similar happened at the first shows called “Pages From Ukrainian Cessation” and “Ukrainian Avant-Garde: The Boichuk School,” held under this project. Described by the organizers as unique cultural events, the shows’ expositions presented many pictures from the National Art Museum, as well as works borrowed from other collections. These works bewildered viewers greatly as they bore no tags whatsoever to identify their titles, the names of artists, or owners. To accompany the objects on display with the necessary information is the most basic rule for arranging any art exhibition. The fact that the organizers of the shows forgot about it speaks either of their negligence, scholarly ignorance, or both. Perhaps they think that only rich foreign guests deserve to be provided with European-style service? As for the average people in this country, well, they can tolerate far less civilized treatment. The sad truth is that we are so used to being viewed as barbarians that we have stopped even noticing it.






