"The cultural consensus" / action

The era of "casting away the stones" of the Soviet past—characterized by destruction and the adoption of Western artistic currents that were new at the time—already harbored the embryonic impulse to gather something "holistic." Naturally, we utilized whatever was accessible: books, magazines, and music, often imported from Moscow. Although Ukraine was already a sovereign, independent state, in terms of communication, everything remained as before. The inertia and centripetal pull toward Moscow were subsiding, yet "station art" [commercial kitsch] persisted—a phenomenon that never touched us.

Anatoly Varvarov and I continued our strategy of "cultural intervention" within our own country. At our previous exhibition, Rehearsal, we met the editors of Terra Incognita magazine: the artist Hleb Vysheslavsky, the critic Katya Stukalova, and the collector-patron Vladimir Kashirsky. Thus began our friendship. There are circumstances when elements converge into a single assembly point: books, music, place, relationships, and the timing of the action. I wish to note that in those times, we preferred to work exclusively at night. The nocturnal, chamber-like aura of the studio, the contemplation of a reproduction of Andrei Rublev’s icon The Trinity, and the reading of N. Fedorov’s The Philosophy of the Common Task helped us escape from the squalor and discomfort of daily life into the cosmic abyss. The desire to concentrate kindred spirits crystallized into the idea for the action Cultural Consensus in G. Vysheslavsky’s studio.

At that time, we enjoyed seeing reproductions of artworks in their "negative" color variations for the first time; they appeared to us as even more mysterious, immaterial images. Back then, in the 90s, we had absolutely no desire to depict anything in realistic colors—we sought out any form of hazy distortion. To create a more imposing impression, we chose the maximum dimensions for the painting—from floor to ceiling—2.85 by 3.66 meters.

Since the semi-basement studios on Olegovskaya Street had low ceilings, we were compelled to divide the overall painting into several fragments. Each was painted separately, but without the chalice, which we materialized (or rented) on a round table near the painting. Wine was poured into this "chalice of unity," and a rite of communion was performed through the interplay of artist–studio host–viewer—to ensure the honesty of communication, while the authors themselves fulfilled only the role of mediators. In essence, everything appeared as though the action was taking place on the reverse side of the Trinity image—non-canonically.

To be continued ... >>>

Igor Konovalov