Larissa Babij
The exhibition “Pohlyady (Views)” curated by HudRada (Artistic Council) at the Center for Contemporary Art in Kyiv, celebrates politically active art. The exhibition was created by committee, renouncing the authority of one curator to make the final decisions. This is already a political statement, as explained further by a text on the wall: “Among the basic principles of HudRada is introducing direct democratic methods into the organization of the artistic process, thus resisting the authoritarian situation which has infected the Ukrainian artistic scene.”
The gallery space is riddled with posters of bold black fragments of the correspondence among members of the council as they planned the exhibition. Although one claims that HudRada, in contrast to the Soviet organizations of the same name, is not promoting any particular ideology, these viewpoints which frame the exhibition space, the “artists’ statements” next to each work, and the accompanying discussions throughout the week reflect a dominant view which not only praises political activism, but specifically left-wing ideals.
According to the exhibition press release: “The project ‘Pohlyady’ brings the figure of the artist who politicizes his/her art on the level of both content and form out onto the Ukrainian art stage. The artist who cooperates with local social movements. The artist who articulates public attitudes of protest. The artist who analyzes the symptoms of social change, the artist-citizen.” The promotion of politically active art does not explicitly deny artworks generated from other sources of motivation, but through its lack of attention to other voices and points of view, it has a similar effect. Coming from a group such as HudRada, which comprises so many of those who are active in Ukrainian contemporary art today, the statement has a domineering resonance.
A lot of politically motivated art that is good activism is not necessarily good art. This exhibition has the potential to showcase the diversity of ways in which art acts in the socio-political sphere. Artists can put their talents in creative thinking and imagining of new worlds toward exploring new forms of political and social relations through their work. Yet few of the exhibited projects – some designed for the gallery, others realized in public space and represented here through documentation – are thought-provoking, and the discourse of activists and intellectuals on the gallery walls is a bit overbearing for the visitor who wants to form his/her own opinion.
“REMAKE” by Kseniya Gnilitska and Anton Smirnov (website, advertising campaign, object) is a project that positions itself simultaneously as art and social activism; the latter helped them attain a significant grant from the East Europe Foundation for its realization. The artists adopt PR techniques usually used in commercial advertising to promote their method of reusing plastic packaging to make new durable containers. In the gallery, the example of their remade trash object is displayed in a pristine glass case like a work of art. But ultimately, the object, the ecological message, and the PR campaign are neither unique nor provocative, so they don’t succeed in drawing attention to their ecological cause or opening up new insights.
Volodymyr Kuznetsov’s artistic intervention is a pair of plastic bags, a form that is ubiquitous in Ukrainian public space. People of all ages and classes, from schoolchildren to businessmen, and especially pensioners on their way home from the bazaar, carry their belonging in plastic bags emblazoned with all kinds of messages. Ukrainian politicians have long used this form of free advertising to disseminate their campaign logos and slogans. Kuznetsov’s project employs this same form, but turns it on its side: his “slogans” do not advertise anything; instead they describe the realities of Ukrainian life, like a friend who got drunk and fell off his balcony into the dumpster. Or they offer advice – but not like state-sponsored social advertising about family values or AIDS – about how to treat your friends and fellow citizens with respect and generosity. This project could use the support of an institutional grant to print thousands of bags; they belong out on the streets, jostling with the political bags for the attention of all citizens, not just the select public that goes to the Center for Contemporary Art.
Nikita Kadan’s “Flag” raises the question of how art displayed in a gallery can be politically effective. According to the artist, the large flag-shaped mirror allows the viewer to try on the role of a politicized subject. And because this requires stepping out of one’s comfort zone, the mirror is intentionally installed at a height that requires viewers to stand on their tiptoes or jump in order to glimpse their reflection. Yet how could the object literally reflect the body politic? Of course, it would be nearly impossible to hold it up at a rally or demonstration. Such a precious object can only be displayed in this “safe” gallery space. Interestingly, the mirror reflects the sign “exit” and the door into the next room, as if this were the entrance to another dimension through the looking glass – a potential site for a new politics.
This is what HudRada is trying to do with their alternative curatorial strategy – explore and develop a new politics for Ukraine’s emerging contemporary art scene. But they are doing it by recycling an old Soviet institution. And a Soviet view that art should work for the social good. Many of the artworks in the “Pohlyady” exhibition act as subtle or overt propaganda of a particular ideology which may not dominate the current Ukrainian political situation, but remains an ideology nonetheless.
Contemporary art often takes on the role of criticizing the status quo, and being an artist today involves defending an ethical position. Here, in Ukraine, where there is next to no institutional support for artists, it is a struggle to stay committed and focused on genuinely making one’s own artwork. In that way, just being an artist is a political statement.
Kyiv 2009