Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Banned Art

Yes, Russia is once again banning art. Here are the five worst offenders.

In October of 2007, Russia's Ministry of Culture pulled seventeen works from an exhibition of politically-tinged art on its way to the Maison Rouge in Paris, calling them “a disgrace.” It's a safe bet to say the West would not normally be riveted by the works, most of which amounted to fairly on-the-nose topical satire, but the ban changed everything: we were now looking at Persecuted Art [tm]. Everyone knows there's no better endorsement for an artist than a bureaucrat's wrath (just ask Chris Ofili, whose elephant dung-enhanced Virgin Mary enraged Rudy Giuliani); everyone, that is, other than the bureaucrats, who never learn. In this particular case, though, the outrage, and thus the art, are fascinating precisely because the works are so mild. This means a kind of success: the artists, working within a highly specific context, have correctly mapped their own society's hot buttons. “There are four completely taboo subjects in Russian art today,” says RUSSIA!'s resident art guru, gallery owner Marat Guelman. “The government, the Orthodox Church, Chechnya, and Putin.” The works below hit all of those, and throw in sex for good measure. RUSSIA! happily brings you five of the most controversial Russian pieces of the millennium so far.

The Blue Noses - Chechen Marilyn, 2005 - C-print - HOT BUTTOM: CHECHNYA
“Burn out SATANISM with a red hot iron!”—one of ten slogans suggested by demonstration organizers in anticipation of “Forbidden Art 2006,” an exhibition in which this work was shown.
Other candidates included “Enemies of Orthodoxy have no place on Earth!” and “Say NO to compromises with the ENEMY!” The exhibition, at the Andrei Sakharov Community Center in Moscow, was a collection of works that other Russian museums had refused to show. In Chechen Marilyn, the offering from Blue Noses co-founder Vyacheslav Mizin, the central figure is recognizable as a “black widow,” a female Chechen suicide bomber from the early 2000s. By mixing this with the iconic image from The Seven-Year Itch, Mizin’s work aims to highlight our culture’s inability to separate one type of celebrity from another. For some bizarre reason, it was the Orthodox Russians—not Chechens or Muslims in general—who found this painting offensive.

Alexander Kosolapov - This Is My Blood, 2002 - Screen print on paper - HOT BUTTON: RELIGION
In 2003, six members of a religious group called “For the Moral Rebirth of the Fatherland” broke into the exhibit where this work was on display and spattered the face of Christ with black paint.
Fortunately for Kosolapov, he’d made 75 prints. Other, less replaceable works of art at the 2003 exhibit “Caution: Religion!” were also damaged by the activists. In the aftermath, however, the state chose to press charges against the organizers of the exhibit for "inciting religious hatred," rather than the vandals. In 2005, This is My Body, the McDonald’s-themed companion to This Is My Blood, was also destroyed. This time the culprit was a bearded, hammer-wielding fanatic who called himself “Leonid, servant of God.” Leonid smashed the glass frame and then ripped the artwork in two, refusing to let go of the pieces throughout his subsequent arrest. Kosolapov, meanwhile, says he means the church no harm; This Is My Blood/Body are intended as a commentary on our worship of consumer culture. But he is thrilled whenever one of his pieces gets mangled. “The aim of my work is to establish contact with the viewer. If the picture is destroyed, then that contact exists,” he says on his web site.

PG - Oil, 2007. - From the series “Glory to Russia!” - Photo collage - HOT BUTTON: GOVERNMENT
“This art disgraces Russia.”—Culture Minister Alexander Sokolov, on the seventeen pieces he removed from “Sots-Art: Political Art in Russia” before the exhibit traveled to Paris.
The text reads “Glory to Russia!” – and the irony is apparent. The other photo collages in PG’s series all bear the same caption and depict some sort of embarrassing national stereotype: an old woman stooping to pick up a beer bottle, a policeman counting his bribes, etc. All were banned from appearing at the Maison Rouge. It’s hard to imagine the Culture Ministry believing that by withholding these cartoonish images, they were protecting the country’s reputation abroad. Who doesn’t know about Russian prostitutes already? The name “PG” coincidentally works out in English, as a play on the group's raunchy material, but in Russian it stands for either “Criminal Group” or “Anti-tank Grenade.”

The Blue Noses - The Era of Mercy, 2005 - Color photograph - HOT BUTTON: GOVERNMENT, GAY
“It is inadmissible to bring all this pornography, kissing policemen and erotic pictures [to Paris].”—Culture Minister Alexander Sokolov
This was the one that started all the fuss. When Sokolov denounced “Sots-Art,” he specifically singled out The Era of Mercy, making it the poster child (or rather, literally, the poster) for the scandalous seventeen. The image appeared everywhere from the Guardian to The New York Times. The curator of the Tretyakov Gallery, where the work was originally on display, got slapped with two lawsuits by the state. The director of the museum then filed a counter-suit. The legal circus, however, was just beginning: the controversy made The Era of Mercy synonymous with Sots-Art, but the genre had existed since the 1980s. This has incensed U.S.-based Sots-Art pioneers Komar and Melamid, and they threatened legal measures to recover their stolen spotlight. Another detail lost in the hubbub is the fact that The Era of Mercy is actually based on another work. Kissing Coppers, a wall stencil by elusive graffiti superstar Banksy, is exactly the same image but with British police (and minus the birch grove and the butt-fondling). Instead of a legal battle, Banksy is reportedly itching for an actual fight. Either way, the Blue Noses may not escape this one without a black eye or two.

PG, Mounting Mobile Agitation, 2007 - Video installation, HOT BUTTON: EVERYTHING ON THE SCREEN
“I would understand if Sokolov had taken issue with relevant, contemporary art, but Sots-Art is part of Russian history. Our culture minister should know it as he would the 19th-century realists.”—Marat Guelman
It should be pretty obvious why this one didn’t make Sokolov’s cut, but here are some fun facts. The Chinese invaders, if you look closely, are distinctly un-Chinese, and seem to be from the Caucasus region. The dog being eaten in the lower right is instantly recognizable to Russians as Connie, Putin’s Labrador. And some say the blonde being raped in the lower left corner is meant to represent Ksenia Sobchak, Russia’s answer to Paris Hilton. What she’s doing in the president’s office, however, is unclear. “Russians have dreaded the rise of China for a long time,” Guelman’s wife Julia says. “This is the realization of that fear taken to an absurd extreme.” If it weren’t so blatantly ridiculous, Mounting Mobile Agitation would be a fairly offensive piece even by the jaded Western standards. Once again, though, it's the Chinese that should probably be the offended party, not Russian politicians.

From: http://www.readrussia.com/magazine/winter-2008/00043/

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