Igor Konovalov about Igor Konovalov (Ukraine)
After graduating from HADI (Kharkov Road Institute, Ukraine), my parents were given a job in the city of New Bug, where I was born. As my father built roads, we moved from city to city. In 1971 we moved to Dnepropetrovsk, where we stayed for a long time, until I left in 1987 to study at NAOMA in Kiev, Ukraine.
My mother is a born designer, she loves everything beautiful and she always had a thirst for innovation and decoration of everyday life. My father was not very strict, but he was overly responsible in his work, he said that roads are “blue arteries of life”, he even wrote poetry.
I would divide the Dnepropetrovsk period into two parts: the yard and study at the State Pedagogical University (Dnepropetrovsk State Art College named after E.V. Vuchetich, Ukraine).
I remember when we moved to Dnepropetrovsk on Kalinovaya Street, our new nine-story house stood in the middle of pits and Kuchugur, a new district was being built on the outskirts of the left bank of the city. Therefore, it was easy to hide from parents in kuchugury, and there was complete freedom, which I always liked, although sometimes I had to pay for it with injuries, shoes, full of sand and abuse of my parents. In these pits, Soviet and German rusty helmets, machine guns, cartridges, shells, etc., could be found from World War II. Since I loved to draw and draw from cartoons, chewing gum labels, etc. from childhood.
My Mom in the third grade took me to art school. My first teacher, Yuri Mikhailovich Klochko, was there, though not for long. At first I drew a still life from plaster forms, and then, when they put a “dead stuffed animal” - a crow, I felt unpleasant, and I ran away and did not return before entering the school.
He escaped to the place where the foundation pits were more interesting there, there were “casters”, home-made guns, smoking found bulls, playing war games and especially bird catcher. Catching birds was my passion more than pragmatically fishing.
Once I caught a red-headed eagle, but on the balcony in a small cage it was impossible to keep him, he was screaming like a wild cat, and I released him. In general, he loved to drag any animals home.
I had two loggias and there in the summer I kept lizards, snakes, a crow and a rooster, which crowed in the mornings and woke up all the neighbors. Even at that time, I liked to collect badges, brands, and especially labels of chewing gums, this was probably the first experience of international perception, especially the designs of packaging for chewing gums and liners were especially attractive. I remember that due to the lack of chewing on the foreign chewing gum we shared, even passing them to each other, we chewed the construction resin from the construction site.
I also played sports, went to volleyball, karate and barbell. I want to note that because of its military industry, Dnepropetrovsk was a closed city until 1985, so there was a peculiar fashion culture there. At that time, it was cool to wear Japanese Bologna jackets, lush mohair scarves, smoke through a long mouthpiece, and most importantly - wear pockmarked cap "fagot", they are also "fly agaric" - purely Dnepropetrovsk attribute. Well, if you had a leather coat, then you were a clear kid.
Once, in the eighth grade, I found in an excavation pit an anti-aircraft shell, which unsuccessfully exploded in my left hand, I ended up in intensive care and my left hand was amputated. I remember when Christ came to me in a dream in a hospital and whispered something in my ear, it looked like in the picture of I. Kramskoy “Christ in the Desert”.
It’s even unpleasant to recall all this childhood in places, and I don’t want to talk about it in detail, so I summarized the more key moments of my life, bypassing the fact that I did not become an addict, like my friends in the yard who were no longer alive - God had mercy on me .
Since then, I began a completely different period, a period of awareness, because I have physically limited my choice of profession. I used to think after eighth grade to go to some technical school, but now I had to finish ten classes in order to enter the institute, but I did not yet know which one. And after the tenth grade, my father arranged me at VRZ (Car Repair Plant) in BUK (Quality Management Bureau). There were fifteen workshops at the factory, and my task was to go around them every day and take the report of each workshop.
I’m generally a curious person, and I’m wondering how everything works: when you bought some device, for example, a reel tape recorder. I quietly dismantled it and watched what was inside, and then a whole car repair plant! It was very interesting and adult. Three thirty-year-old women worked in my bureau, then they looked like they were now fifty-year-olds, and sometimes they made fun of me. For example, one says to me: “Let's go to the disco tonight, I’ll wear jeans.” And it was awkward for me to hear that from my aunt. And so the boss sent me to the artists in the workshop, who delayed the drawn graphic on the tablet. Artists immediately sent me to buy wine, we drank together and I really liked the workshop. From that day I began to visit them in my free time and even helped draw posters. Here I learned about the existence of an art school in our city - the choice was made. It only remains for a month to prepare for the entrance exams, and I returned to the studio to that first teacher Yuri Mikhailovich years later.
I was very serious about drawing and painting. Since many graduated from an art studio before college, I had to quickly master the technique. I remember that copying from samples helped a lot, you quickly understand what color to interfere with and how the stroke in the drawing fits. The basics of composition were given to me by Viktor Ivanovich Matyash - my favorite teacher, was like a father to me. I transferred to his group, which he led. We found a common language so much that we spoke heart to heart in his workshop. He was the main key figure in becoming me on the path of the art world. Victor Ivanovich taught me how to think, explained very good-naturedly and intelligibly, especially with his trademark smile.
And in 1983, the first time I entered the Dnepropetrovsk art school in the design department. It was a different world, and this world became mine for life. In the first year, my courtyard manners were gradually weathered (sometimes I could drop into the jaw if I didn’t like it). For example, when I was drawing the set still life, some fellow practitioner decided to rearrange the objects, and everything is already planned for me, I tell him: “Put it in place”, and he gives zero attention, then I drove him so that his legs stuck up behind the chairs.
I remember that Viktor Ivanovich even provided me with a separate office for writing a picture - a thesis, it was incredibly grateful, they didn’t do such indulgence to anyone. I have never met such teachers even at the academy. We still communicate, and I’m always wondering where he got so much positive from, it’s not without reason that the girls are talking about him - a sun man. And then Viktor Ivanovich tells me that we need to go further - to go to college. And when such authority advises, it adds confidence and strength. At that time it was the summit - to enter the KGHI (Kiev State Art Institute), where there was a competition for the department of painting seven people in place, given that half of the applicants were “thieves.” In our school on the ground floor there was a stand on which hung photographs of those who entered this institute, we looked at them as happy people.
Many did not do it the first time, and then worked for a whole year somewhere to do it again. I really didn’t want to waste time, and I decided to make a “horse move”, enter the restoration department, and then transfer to painting. Admission was an incredible holiday, like a bright flash. Kiev for me was an amazingly large, beautiful and poetic city, which I immediately fell in love with. So much freshness, innovation, seriousness, responsibility, and most importantly - independence, and the whole past is behind us. This was the biggest milestone in my life, because completely different stage in everything began from Kiev.
But another key figure also appeared in the school. Once I go to classes in the morning and from behind I hear a voice: “Why aren’t you saying hello?” I turn, look - there is a fourth-year student, hands to the elbow in paints and a crazy smile - it was Oleg Golosiy, so we met him. I met Oleg again at the end of my first year of study at the academy. In 1988, at a bus stop, I heard a familiar voice behind me: “Why aren't you saying hello?” I turn, look - there is an unfamiliar figure in a black leather shabby cloak with a “white-tongued” mouth. It was Oleg Golosiy. He suggested that I go to drink coffee in the "Lviv Gate", he had just come from the army (then they were sent to the institute after the first year). When we drank coffee, it seemed strange to me, so people from the Dnieper do not behave. He asked some strange questions, for example, “you see a red light on the traffic light, and who said that it is red and not green” or “what artists you like,” I answered - realists. He thoughtfully looked at me and said: "So, it will be easy for you at the institute."
Then we went to the hostel on 69/71 Lukyanovskaya Street, he says: “We’re going to the ninth floor, I will introduce you to Vasya Tsagolov.” I ask: “And who is this?” He replies: "This is my teacher." Then he looked at the ceiling and thoughtfully said: “Well ... as a teacher” ... I went to my room, Oleg went right in and gave me a book about Van Gogh E. Murina: “Read it. This is a "cool artist." Then he suggested that he plump in the evening, I refused, since he seemed intrusive to me. Oleg left, I looked through the pictures of Van Gogh and put it on the shelf, because it was necessary to prepare for the next day at the institute, it was very strict there, and they could easily deduct or deny scholarships for poor progress.
The first course was difficult for me, there more attention was paid to studying the history of the CPSU than painting and drawing, I remember that I did not understand anything, but I had to go, despite the perestroika, which reached Kiev slowly. I also changed three places of residence for the first year to get into the hostel from the institute. But here I was lucky, the hostel was the commandant Oleg Yasenev, who studied at my school, and as a fellow countryman, he allocated me a triple room on the seventh floor.
And then naturally it all happened. First, Edik Potapenkov came and asked to live with him, then eventually the children began to come from the Dnieper and settled on the seventh floor, and so we formed the Dnepropetrovsk commune from the school: Sergey Kornievsky, Anatoly Varvarov, Vladimir Zaichenko, Ruslan Kutnyak, Vladimir Padun . Subsequently, this commune flowed onto Olegovskaya Street.
In my second year, I transferred to the faculty of painting, and Oleg Golosiy rented a hall under the workshop in front of my room, and I periodically visited for coffee.
Oleg, then there was a “black and white” period, he used paints from chemical goods, because of which in the morning the paints could crack and crumble from the canvas. I asked Oleg: “Why don't you write with color?”, And instead of an explanation he takes a vinyl record “Lambada”, then puts Bach and says: “Do you hear the difference?” Oleg generally liked to be explained by images. And if you ask what art is, he took a teapot and poured water into a mug. And when it overflowed and spilled onto the table, he said: "This is what art is."
Or says. "Read these books." And he gave a list that still had to run to look in the libraries. This was existential literature: F. Kafka, A. Camus, L. H. Borges, H. Cortazar, F. Nietzsche, A. Schopenhauer. And he also advised me to watch films of neoclassicists who began to show little by little in movie theaters. At first I thought he was fooling around, but he really got into the image of a believer in art so much that I was worried about his obsession.
Once, at seven in the morning Oleg knocks on the door, I open and watch how he pulls out two packs of twenty-five rubles each from his pocket. This is five thousand — at that time a large sum with its eternal poverty. He has the same crazy smile on his face, and says: "Money is good, you can throw left and right."
He then sold the work in the Mars Gallery in Moscow. Since then, he began to travel to Moscow more often and left me a workshop, and I became infected with experiments. Oleg’s studio had various books and catalogs of artists. I liked the manner of Giorgio Morandi. Many artists were inspired by this artist in the hostel, and even at that time they presented me a large book about Easter Island, and I was inspired by the elongated forms of idols.
1989 was a contrast for me. In the spring I married Ola, with whom I still live, and four days later my father died absurdly. He was fifty-one years old. God sent me a woman who understood me in everything and gave me freedom. In general, I think that in many respects the artist depends on the woman. For example, if a woman at the beginning of her career begins to demand a fur coat, a car, a house, etc., then how can one not become a craftsman? So Olya and I began to live together, and in 1992 we had a daughter, which I also decided to name - Olga.
Edik Potapenkov left to shoot the basement on the legendary Olegovskaya 37, where later we all who came from the Dnieper were attracted to rent workshops. There was an atmosphere of freedom and independence.
If in the first year you could be expelled from the institute for what you drank with someone in the room, then from the second year this taboo was lifted. We went to discos and noisy evenings until the morning, it was no longer necessary to go to the institute, the main thing was to put on the performances that were written and drawn from the photograph three days before viewing. I then chose the workshop of Viktor Vasilievich Shatalin, which was “more like” to the discipline of attendance, so that you could pay more attention to creativity. Shatalin was already elderly and did not come to the institute every day, but it did happen, and the lock hangs on the door of the workshop, he curses into the air, like "Japanese god", "what a mess!", And went offended.
Yes, the country then had a real mess, empty shelves, the initial stage of wild capitalism and democracy without a legal framework. But it was precisely in a state of chaos and youth that creativity was created, sometimes unconscious, but very lively. It is enough to see some catalog or hear cool music and night is already provided with painting experiments.
At a time when there was no mobile phone and the Internet, the main exchange of events or rumors was word of mouth. This was special information in narrow artistic circles. For example, someone conveyed a rumor that writing in a "salon" is bad, that is, then you are not a real "artist in law", it’s better to work as a janitor, but just don’t do hack work.
Now it’s clear that the origin of the Parisian “salon of the outcasts” belonged to the second half of the 19th century, which did not strive for commercial success and public taste, but we did not know much about it then. Another thing is that almost everything quietly sinned with this, but in such a way that they did not notice the invisible word of mouth, which had no explanation why it was cool to do it, but not. Or you won’t find the word “fuze” in the textbooks, and what it means, but the word of mouth says that these are the remains of paints in a can with turpentine, where unwashed brushes were placed, it turned out to be a gray slurry with some shade. And we were also rumored to know which exhibitions and where, went to Moscow, books, catalogs and magazines on the latest art appeared there. Then it was interesting to understand what postmodernism, deconstruction, simulacra, citation, irony, etc. are.
In the early 90s, someone moved to Olegovskaya Street to live, and someone just rented a workshop, so the movement began. For a minuscule fee, it was possible to rent several rooms and not think about utilities, all this was free, because it was not controlled by anyone.
Wooden houses, which for about a hundred years were in disrepair, so there were fires and street inconveniences with rats, cats, dogs, local boys, with whom there were sometimes conflicts. It didn’t scare us, because we were young and romantic, and that’s all in the center of the city. Of the artists were: Anatoly. Varvarov, Volodya Zaichenko, Igor Konovalov, Konstantin. Militinsky, Vladimir Padun, Lyudmila Rozdobudko-Padun, Eduard Potapenkov, R. Uslan Kutnyak, Vladimir Yershihin, Konstantin Maslov, Vyacheslav Mashnitsky, Mustafa Khalil. Future art historians: Olga Konovalova, Oksana Militinskaya, Okasana Barshinova, Igor Khoborov, Konstantin Doroshenko. There were musicians and future director of photography Valentin Vasyanovich.
Somewhere at the same time, the “Paris Commune” appeared and we liked what they were doing. I remember Oleg Golosiy came in and offered to join them, but we had already settled down, especially since I was still living with my family in a dormitory and it was possible to get to the workshop in five minutes.
At that time, we did not even know what squat, institution, curator, etc. It was just interesting for us to get together to discuss and work, only to exhibit was problematic. Once in January 1993, Oleg Golosiy came to my hostel, and we went with him to my workshop on Olegovskaya Street and sat in the basement until morning. Oleg was just as laconic and thoughtful when asked: like art in the West, he answered with a smile: “Art is artificial there.” Three days later, we learned that Oleg died under mysterious circumstances.
In the same 1993, I graduated from the institute, where I went through all the stages of “traditional education”, deprived of scholarships for the defeat of summer practice and “formalism”, as the Arts Council put it, and one teacher said that I was “a thief of Ukrainian mystery”. Some put on the diploma deuces, but in the end, according to general estimates, he defended himself. Hurrah! At the end of the defense of the diploma, Vasily Ivanovich Gurin approached me and offered to join the Union of Artists without any problems, I refused. Even now I do not want to be a member of anything.
The story with the video "Golden Fish" began corny with the advent of an innovation at that time - video cameras on Olegovka. Then no one knew that after editing the film there will be the opening of the “Fiction Gallery Expedition”, where this video will be shown for the first time. In the meantime, Vova Zaichenko borrowed from someone for a week and shot everything, wondering at the speed of playback on a regular TV.
The selection of the shooting naturally narrowed and at some point he settled on the posthumous mask of A.S. Pushkin, which hung on my wall in the workshop. I got the idea to do my own facial fingerprinting. This process was filmed with the music of “The Residents” - a concert by Eskimo. Immediately looking at the monitor, we saw the sacred action of the process between life and death, a living body and a frozen cast of the identity of the mold. The cast mask looked like a vessel into which water can be poured, but with a certain tilt of the chamber, the inverse illusion of the convexity of the impression arose. So the idea of the plot "Golden Fish" arose, it consisted in the fact that a living organism can live in a vessel, if there is an environment for existence. So art can exist until a plaster cast is frozen. Art is always in the process itself, like a visit to magic that you can never fix permanently. Fixation is just a frozen artificial cast, as evidence of the creation process in time, which can be destroyed or saved for a while.
I want to note that in the state where the establishment of the institution of the newest art and introduction into the world context was planned for the first time, there was simply no budget and funds. Therefore, on a volunteer basis, the first squats, private galleries, magazines, contract exhibitions, meetings, etc. began to appear. In our case, during the default, the only means were what they carried with them and what lay at hand. The way out of this situation was the formation of a fictional, conceptual shell called “Fiction Gallery Expedition”. Naturally, in the conceptual dimension of freedom not only our squat, but also the globe and even the cosmos can be designated, we liked it.
Ideas come through trial, error, experience and, of course, the “magic case”, as always, when you do not wait, this is all of a sudden. Once again, passing from the hostel of the art institute to the workshop on the street. Olegovskaya, we paid attention to the sea boat, which was located almost at the intersection of two streets: Lukyanovskaya and Olegovskaya. By that time, the assembly point was ripe and one puzzle was missing, namely, the place where the "Departure" would take place.
And so, on Mount Schekavitsa (there is a variant of the name of the mountain from the ancient Slavic word Schek - the nightingale), in the blessed, May, turning in summer weather, we all gathered together to go on a journey in an unknown direction. Each of the participants put his duplicate body (avatar) in the boat, where he would like to sit down himself. A TV with a VCR was placed in the center of the boat, and power was taken from the electric pole that was nearby.
The video was shown in the genre of documentary chronicles of the mystery of the birth of “avatars”. That "birth" was the leitmotif of everything that happens. The "birth" of an essentially anthropological gallery-work is different from a work-artifact, because instead of a certain fixed form, it has a duration in time and space similar to human life. Therefore, the "sailing" of the boat should not be considered as a separate form (or stock), but as the beginning of the FGE path for the realization of itself.
A default began in the country and, in material terms, it became impossible to live in Kiev. My family and I returned to the Dnieper, where I mastered graphic programs and got a job as a designer. And only in 2000, while I was without a family, I moved again to Kiev.
He returned to his basement on Olegovskaya Street, where only a third of the canvases remained, the rest was torn down, because there was a passage yard. On the first floor lived Vova Zaichenko (Hare). We lived almost together - through the door, and came up with different things, most often just into the air, since there was nothing to materialize.
One evening, we remembered that we went on an expedition (FGE) in the last century and a millennium and thought, why not make a “Stop” - symbolically and materially, right in the courtyard, such a natural brick with a bench. Then they realized that to build a “Stop” only for themselves in the yard, it would be, rather, a domestic building. And we decided to take it out not far from the workshops on Mount Schekavitsa, in the open space “for everyone”.
The wall itself was built of two colors of brick, so that it could be seen on the inscription in large red letters FGE. On the contrary, the “Stop” was located two cemeteries: the Old Believers and Muslim, so that at our stop you could think about the eternal. But we didn’t have to think about the eternal for a long time, the police came running, and we were taken to a strong point. They drew up a protocol and called our work “A bench with a supporting wall”.But, to settle the conflict with the authorities, we had enough money to buy vodka, cucumbers, green peas, and these gifts helped us to be left alone. But in complete peace we, or rather the “Stop”, were left after four days - smashed into bricks.
If we discard all personal tales, then “Stop” was on the verge of the Millennium, as a point of “emergence” of actions free from responsibility, possibly parallel to institutional thinking. This was the first landing after a long voyage. The “stop” had no purpose except to resume the FGE route.
In 2000, Vova Zaichenko and I decided to do something more durable and vandal resistant. We built a mirror cube on Mount Zamkovaya. It was a physical "Station - 1", there was not even a path there. And in the virtual space I created the site “Station - 2” for storing photo-video fixations. Naturally, in the uncontrolled zone, the mirror reflection of the cube began to annoy visitors, and less than a week later the cultural balance was determined. The cube in a disfigured state, strewn with fragments of mirrors, withstood the first battle with the crowd.
This kind of experimental activity in a duet with Vladimir Zaichenko gave food for thought and designing his own self-sufficient concept of FGE. For art purity, unlike legal galleries with physical addresses, the need for a market strategy and the intervention of intermediaries working within institutions has disappeared. The intersecting creative impulses turned out to be important for us, and not the competition of like-minded people, with the goal of getting onto the pages of glossy magazines. From this followed conclusions and actions for further communication with the urban environment.
Even with Vova Zaichenko, we did the “Birds” campaign, and then I started building myself, hiring workers. In truth, it was always scary to engage in partisan antics; these gifts to the city were self-building.
To be honest, I myself do not fully understand my creative potentials, but each time it was exciting to get another experience. At the same time, I spent considerable personal resources on the calculation: the concept of form, parameters, dates, and very importantly, the place. Naturally, materials and hired work were carried out at their own expense.
Based on the previous practice, I began to notice among the visitors of my objects two kinds of people who are divided into: friends-strangers, minority-majority, unusual-simple, educated-zero, etc. My desire was to unite them with a third party - landscape and sky, which happened.
When a person is institutionally educated in art, when he looks at a work, he begins to look for similarities with what he already has in mind, but such people most often go to exhibition halls, listen to lectures, read books, etc. And for this environment I needed to name what I have been doing for many years, except that it is a self-organization “Fictitious Gallery Expedition”. The wandering definition between the evolutionarily blurred boundaries of the terms of Western models: "land art", "public art", "environmental" - all this is similar, but not because of the specific location of the exhibit. Then I went further: if the objects were built exclusively on the hills, and the panorama of the environment plays an important role, then why not name it - HILL-ART, all the more this emphasizes the ancient city of Kiev.
But on the other hand, the majority of those “zero” viewers who visit these objects do not care about the author’s significance, they have their own interpretations and names.
For example, the Trinity is a three-wheeled self-propelled gun. And since a person is often endowed with the properties of fantasy and belief in something miraculous, there is a “sticking” of either finished practices in the form of religions, teachings, or their own beliefs. Surprisingly, there were those who tried for several years to unravel the system of "quests", connecting with my previous objects. They climbed all the nearby hills, talking on the forums, and not realizing the relationship to contemporary art, came to scientific conclusions, and in this sense they formed their own value system from scratch. But when they found out that this was the work of artists, they were often disappointed.
So in 2006 I finished the ten-year project “Fiction Gallery Expedition” and returned to painting again. Once I met the young art critic Dana Pinchevskaya on the Internet and invited her to the workshop, she looked at my old works and said that they were museum works. Then Dana brought the gallery owner Andrey Trilsky, and we decided to make my first personal exhibition “Ctrl - Z” in the Gallery of RA. It was a great surprise for me when I received 8,000 bucks from two sold works after an exhibition, it was time before the 2008 crisis. Later, I called all my friends on the squat, and we did several group projects in the Gallery of Armenia.
Then there was the first large-scale exhibition “Squat on Olegovskaya” in M - 17, but the emphasis of the format was not a museum retrospective, but more a popular commercial one, although no one sold anything. We hope that one day they will hold a cultural section of the 90s, all the squats and not only individual Kiev, but also the whole Ukraine, would be very interesting, because it is a huge layer of history that preceded the formation of the institution of modern art.
When we published the book Squat on Olegovskaya, we were interested in the Ukrainian Art Gallery Association, the Soviart Center for Contemporary Art. Victor Khamatov held a number of our exhibitions in Ukrainian cities and, as a result, planned a large retrospective exhibition “Squat on Olegovskaya” at the National Art Museum. When the time came, repairs began in the museum, and we were pushed back indefinitely.
Now I am engaged in the observation and manifestation of society. I came up with an image marker of informational, atomic particles in the form of "bunnies" - fast in reproduction and fast in their distribution. Their moving images filled the entire space of life of modern man. These particles transmit an endless and unique in its speed digital data stream that has conquered the whole world. Humanity has never before possessed such an instantaneous transmission of information.
Bunnies-infatons (information particles), in essence, are transforming the human consciousness today. Inorganic, inanimate, intangible, they form the information sphere and affect our values, foundations, behavior and morality, in other words, control the brain.
My introduced term “infodelica” (info - information from the ancient Greek word delos - clear), appeared after realizing what reality we live in.
Remembering the beginning of the 90s, when computers and cell phones only appeared, then modern culture was permeated with various manifestations of psychedelics. It is not without reason that I mention the term psychedelic as a general state of transition from Soviet to market capitalist, subsequently with an instant quantum leap into the era of high technology. Typically, from the beginning of the millennium, we quietly moved from a "psychedelic" culture to an "infodelic" one.
Much has been written and lost about psychedelics in various forms of art, music, literature, cinema, etc. If earlier, for example, in the 80s you took out a Pink Floyd vinyl record or a Castaneda book, you could provide an ecstatic state for at least a month or a year. This experience of a deficient form gave rise to the idea of a western or otherworldly paradise. Nowadays, any information is available instantly. The lack of deficit and time due to the increasing flow of information gives rise to an infodelic state. A state where you have to wonder again and again in the world of special effects. State reading endlessly peeling pictures. Thus, the world of “infodelica” displaces primarily subjective sublime experiences that are not commensurate with high technology or make them simply superficial in numerous series.
Changing the psychedelic paradise to the infodelic one leaves nostalgia for experiencing the uplift of the human spirit, that past without mobile phones and computers, which is often relayed in glamorous shells. All ideas about something more are already depreciating by high-speed modeling and media propagation of electronic particles. Infodelica has nullified all meanings of the big and the new, as previous generations knew, and is replacing natural sources with the beat of microchips in the unified nature of digital miracles. The mechanism consists in the continuous holding of the subject, flickering a short perception without leaving a gap of absorption of the semantic load and emotional mood. According to Heidegger, the moment of truth is hidden even more by the fact that it shows itself faster and more often, that the question itself is practically not asked. An uninterrupted impulse of artificial truth is created, where sponsorship is advertising. We often eat Old than its contents. Temptation, promises and a special effect - this is the info-paradise paradise of consumer thinking. Moreover, we are in a situation where the user very often does not understand what his happiness is.
Thus, we are talking about the dominant state of informational expansion of consciousness, where there are pros and cons. Where physical, mental disabilities or good news can be posted on social networks, but moving away from natural communications can lead to a rethinking of new spiritual old-forgotten values. Everything changes except life itself.
Igor Konovalov