Blood with a Brown Crust

Xenophilia is the name of a new display at the Gelman Gallery in Kyiv — he is listed as the first curator of Oleksandr Roitburd’s project (in collaboration with Oleksandr Soloviov). Roitburd is known as a domestic artist. Solovyov — as an art critic and organizer of certain expositions. In other words, the presence of these two names should corroborate the inherently Kyiv, inner-Ukrainian status of not only the new exhibition, but also of the gallery itself, its autonomy or at least its independence of the parent structure, the Gelman Gallery in Moscow.

Nevertheless, considering the components, Xenophilia is typically Gelman’s, very much like the Moscow projects. Iryna Valdron, AES Group, Eduard Kholodiy are constant figures at the exhibits at the Great Yakimanka. Close to the ideology of the Russian gallery, with its relevant, even sensationalist orientation, is the theme of the action — interethnic relationships and the conflict of civilizations. The theme, without exaggeration, is a slippery and dangerous one, requiring an especially cautious approach.

However, the participants in the project, building their careers using coordinates of conceptualistic, postmodern irony, suggested, as a means of conceiving the problem, their closest neighborhood: an ironic gesture, in practice often turning into an anecdote. Such “estrangement,” many times tested in other contexts, at the Xenophilia was represented in a rather diversified manner. Iryna Valdron and the AES Group chose the least conflicting path, adopting classical literary plots as the basis of their works. Valdron created the tapestry “Pushkin and a Jewess,” weaving a frivolous verse belonging to Aleksandr Sergeyevich’s pen, and a merry picture illustrating it. AES, in their video product “Othello: Asphyxophilia,” that has become a center of sorts of the exhibition, travestied Shakespeare’s tragedy as a teleplay. The sexually appealing Black giant strangles the beautiful blonde using a pearl necklace, and the woman seems to enjoy it.

On the whole, it seems, the call for love contained in the appellation of the display, was taken by the artists at its face value. Vasyl Tsaholov submitted photos of “Oriental Beauties,” showing effectively undressed beaus wearing Oriental veils and carrying submachine guns. Opposite Valdron’s tapestry basks in its beauty Tetiana Kryvenko’s “Intimate Kosher” showing Stars of David consisting of women’s underwear.

Hlib Katchuk, in contrast, presented his rather chaste “Four Stories about Residents of Moldova.” The black-and-white film shows several well-dressed performers acting out the well-known jokes about a jar of pickles, tying shoelaces, milking a cow, and screwing in a light bulb to the accompaniment of Michael Neiman’s solemn music. The overly serious, elevated atmosphere turns the film into a visual progress report supplemented with documentary evidence attesting enigmatic geometric rituals.

Another sample of “literalism” with regard to standard texts is Eduard Kholodiy’s “Pushtu-Russian Dictionary” that has long and repeatedly been displayed in Moscow. Quite innocent phrases like “He won’t mind having the melon” or “I like your book” are illustrated using cheap popular prints with bearded toughs firing their burp guns.

However, Andriy Kazandzhiy and Kyrylo Bacherykov’s interactive video clip “Kabakov SWF” was probably the greatest success. The “Young Conceptualists” conceived and produced cartoons presenting a witty sketch about a vigilant local traffic cop and a man from the Caucasus being involved in a road accident. Interestingly, the material for the acid reflection originates not from contemporary Russian xenophobic fears, but also from the creativeness of Illia Kabakov, one of the pillars of modern art. SWF is a remake of Kabakov’s well-known dialogs (by the way, he is of Ukrainian parentage) under the Soviets: “Questions Answered” (1976), “Whose Fly is This?” (1965). In this manner the forefather of not only Russian but also probably world conceptualism, which has made such an impetus on all the twentieth century arts, himself appears in the role of a classic who is being ridiculed and quoted from. Still, the paradox is that the issue of ethnic terror or xenophobia was not as acute under the Soviets as it now, it was officially regarded as nonexistent. Kabakov’s legacy — and that of other underground artists at the time — is an apology of communal apartment squabbles, a stale loaf of bread of degrading socialism. Bacherykov and Kazandzhiy use borrowed techniques, creating a local war rather than a dialog — something the “old school” wanted to achieve, somehow. Here no one is talking with anyone on equal terms. There is always a scapegoat and someone playing boss, persecuting, prosecuting, and carrying out the sentence. Moreover, the scapegoat and the boss can change places any moment.

And the whole thing is visually presented as a let your hair down interactive show, a funny one, more or less.

This is what blood with a brown crust is all about: meals served free, meant to be accepted by one and all, color and religion notwithstanding.