"Rehearsal" / action

Following the "December" exhibition, our Dnipropetrovsk group bifurcated. I began working in a tandem with A. Varvarov, while V. Padun, E. Potapenkov, and L. Razdobudko-Padun formed the "Cold VEL" group. This schism acted as a catalyst for a surge in creative activity. Our studios were situated adjacent to one another (on Olegovskaya St., between houses 37 and 39), and we engaged in a form of artistic rivalry, attempting to prove who was superior.

My first exhibition with Anatoly originated from a kitchen conversation between Natasha Varvarova and a friend. While examining a book on the Pushkin Museum, they inadvertently viewed an illustration of a Dutch still life upside down. As dancers, their perception was attuned to movement; consequently, they discerned a dancing bird, a hare, and other forms within the reproduction. Natasha recounted this to Tolik, and he, in turn, to me.

At that time, we were listening to the folk-neoclassical group Dead Can Dance. Given the acute deficit of visual information in that era, music served as a primary source of inspiration. Thus, the concept of a genre inversion emerged: transmuting the nature morte (dead nature) into a nature dance (dancing nature).

We inverted the still life compositionally—turning it head-to-toe—and rendered it in negative color, effectively exposing the reverse side of "dead nature." The metaphysical space of these inverted paintings was intended to converge with the physical space where the ballerina (Natasha Varvarova) was rehearsing.

We were deeply engaged in experimentation, devising every detail. For instance, to eliminate the subjective "authorial brushstroke," we invented a specific tool: a tampon made of a strip of coarse fabric with fringe, rolled into a cylinder. Upon application of the paint layer, it left a multitude of stippled points.

Our objective was to achieve the effect of a painterly manuscript, a work of collective authorship. The chromatic solution was derived methodologically: during the printing process, we translated positive film into a negative photograph, utilizing this image as the preparatory sketch for the canvas.

The societal state in 1994 resembled a "dead world" to us: empty shelves, a lack of income, and the obscurity of the future. As young artists, we craved vitality, at least within our immediate sphere—and so we acted. The "Rehearsal" project was an experimental trial in embedding art into an alien, production-oriented locus. For the exposition, we selected the rehearsal hall of the Karpenko-Kary Theatre Institute. There was a secondary title for the action—"Cultural Interference," or as it would be termed in contemporary discourse, a "Cultural Intervention."

I recall the audience reception: everyone was in a state of mild shock, as no one could definitively distinguish whether it was a rehearsal or an exhibition-action. The project existed for merely a few hours. As visitors began to smoke and consume alcohol directly in the hall, we were requested to vacate the premises.

Curtain. To be continued... >>>

Konovalov I.