Hiroshima, Mon Amour
If you think that the mushroom of a nuclear blast is still a symbol of death, suffering, and the ephemeral quality of human like, I am afraid it means that you are hazardously behind the times. Anyway, this is what the authors and organizers of an exhibit with a very romantic title, Kokto, try to emphasize. The exposition is held at the Marat Gelman Gallery. Arsen Savadov, described as Ukraine’s “most radical modern artist,” and other mysterious “virtuous people” are the project’s authors.
Kokto [pronounced like the French Cocteau — Ed.] is not the name of an enigmatic Parisienne or an exotic cocktail. Believe it or not, it denotes a nuclear explosion and belongs to a toy designed by Arsen Savadov, causing much ado among the critics. It is about four meters high, soft to the touch, painted in a manner reminding one of a Spielberg creature. If one forgets about the mycelium part, the mushroom looks even attractive, its genealogical roots reaching deep into one’s innermost recesses. Almost everything tends to be a show these days. “All our life is a game” was once a catch phrase, a priori addressing certain rules and a harmonious system, today the noble meaning of game has been devaluated, reduced to the unprincipled notion of show, being shamelessly used to play the market of primitive desires. Nor have the arts been spared the ordeal, the result being a show with a chain reaction of disintegrated atoms. The gallery owner, Mr. Gelman, says it is “the world’s first exhibit illustrating the beauty of the mushroom of a nuclear blast.”
The exposition features over a dozen poster-size photos, with the profane Kokto in the center. The mushroom’s stem looks rotten, most likely eaten away by the snails of artistic fantasy. Into this dubious niche the author placed his hero, weak-willed face down, limbs in the coordinates of department store mannequins, his unseeing eyes seemingly avoiding the camera lens. The man caught in the epicenter of the catastrophe is, nevertheless, happy in his own way, as happy as one can be, awaiting the set hour of one’s nonexistence. A horrible discord between the living flesh, which is being born, slashing at the walls of antimatter, and the source of destruction, enhanced by random companions — children, a middle-aged couple, a woman lifting her skirt, arresting the viewer’s eye with her pink underwear. Nature is also in unison with the autumnal scarlet, the leaves looking unnaturally bright-colored, the rocks running cracks, painted like sea wave.
The ceremony of opening the display was marked by pyramids of champagne bottles, crackers, beluga caviar, and a thick pushing and kicking crowd of all those eager to partake of modern art at the haute couture level. Politicians were also in attendance. The show reached its peak an hour after the formalities. A little fireworks flared up by the acoustic system while the powerful loudspeaker blasted on, decibels rolling all the way from Independence Square to St. Volodymyr Hill. A disk jockey was packed into the mushroom’s stem and the only thing missing was a leggy US cheerleaders’ team. Actually, there was a worthy replacement: incredibly active figures of indefinite gender jumping around on the ice, like those battery- powered rabbits in the Duracell commercial.
The Day asked Mr. Gelman to share his impressions.
What do you think makes this exhibit special?
“It’s the first exhibit of a Ukrainian artist here. Before that we displayed Moscow artists. Arsen Savadov has international acclaim and I think he is number one in Kyiv. In 1987, his Cleopatra’s Sorrow was the hit of an all- Union youth exhibit. We met there and have worked together ever since... He influences other artists, which is very important.
“This exhibit is about how we see things. We can get used to horrible things; they can bring us pain now, but after numerous repetitions the pain is no longer there. As children we were horrified at the though of death. Nothing has changed except that we have used the notion so many times. The nuclear mushroom is a symbol of death; it has killed hundreds of thousands, but it has also become part of our daily life. We can see it because it is imprinted on our retina. We instantly recognize its specific shape. In fact, this exhibit is about its specific shape. We’re no longer afraid of it, we’ve stopped noticing it. An artist always looks for paradoxes. So we’re used to the nuclear mushroom, but then an artist places it in a peaceful situation and we have an innocent nuclear mushroom, we see it in a totally new light. Another thing which is important for Arsen, I believe, is what he wants to prove; everything is a show, even atomic bombs. All art is getting to be a show these days. So he made a show of that horrible thing.”
Isn’t it profaning a symbol of human suffering somehow?
“It’s no longer a symbol but a stereotype. A cliche. We have other symbols of suffering now. So he is breathing a new life in that clich О . He seems to say, “If everything is a show in this world, the nuclear mushroom is no exception.” That’s why there is music in the street and such a decor.”
Do you plan to cooperate with other Ukrainian artists?
“Of course. The next exhibit will be dedicated to Pavlo Makov of Kharkiv. We signed a contact with the Russian Museum in St. Petersburg the day before yesterday and we’ll stage a large Ukrainian art show there in the fall.”
