Russia, but not yours

Two exhibitions by two masters of Russian camp

Both Andrei Bartenev and Vladislav Mamyshev-Monroe are the favorites of the entire bohemian Moscow, which ignores sanctimonious morality, regulations and norms and orientations imposed by someone. Both artists are Russia's best masters of that cultural movement that Susan Sontag dubbed "camp" in the 1960s: a special kind of aestheticism, a "florid mannerism" that turns the serious into the frivolous for the sake of a new sensitivity. Nevertheless, in their work, Monroe and Bartenev are opponents. And this oppositionality of theirs allows us to follow the art of each with special gusto and interest. Both presented exhibitions for the New Year holidays.

Vladislav Mamyshev-Monroe showed the project “The Russia We Lost” at the XL Gallery. The result was an extravagant homage to the culture of the fin de siecle, understood from the perspective of St. Petersburg neo-academicism. That is, it is also an homage to the aesthetics of Timur Novikov, nurtured by Monroe himself. The high hall of Gallery XL was decorated in memory of the variety shows and music halls of the Silver Age. Arcades of yellow light bulbs along the walls. Wigs, scarves with carnations. Luxurious curtains with gold embroidery. They clearly refer to the tapestries of Timur Novikov - just as impossibly beautiful. The balcony in the center of the gallery has been turned into a scene wrapped in tapestries. In the black opening of the scene there is a screen on which a video is shown: to the songs of Vertinsky, Vladislav Mamyshev-Monroe, changing outfits and makeup, portrays heroes of Russian history. And bearded merchants, and ladies in kokoshniks, and ladies-in-waiting, and ministers, and high school students, and revolutionaries turn into a series of truly touching living pictures. Living paintings are a genre that was fashionable during the Silver Age. And the more ingenuous the surroundings and makeup chosen by Monroe (the wig or collar could be an impressively wrapped rag), the keener the sympathy for this defenseless, absurd little world (the draped balcony is directly associated with an old puppet theater box). Mirok came out as a reflection on the most refined, extravagant, pretentious period of Russian culture. The modern era can very well be considered the beginning of sensitive camp.

If Vlad Monroe is always a lyrical genre of “one-man theater,” then Andrei Bartenev is the creation of a performance that involves a maximum of apologists in a total ecstatic ritual. Its modality is the camp of the psychedelic era, the hallucinogenic happiness of the generation of Richard Hamilton and Andy Warhol. At the same time, it is an intervention in the new world of glamor and technogenic design. In the halls of the Zurab Tsereteli gallery on Prechistenka, half of Moscow, students, designers, and clubs, are enjoying the illustration festival “Institute of Smile” organized by the Russian Academy of Arts, the Agey Tomesh publishing group, the Armand Basi fashion house, and the Red Bull trademark. Hundreds of illustrations demonstrate the great possibilities of creating crazy computer gags. I especially remember the anime where parts of a three-dimensional emoticon (sticks, circles) suddenly start making love. Acid-colored sculptures made from Red Bull cans are also good. All this splendor can be enjoyed during the New Year holidays. But the bonus was right at the opening. Young students and followers of Andrei performed there: singer Sasha Frolova and the group Aquaaerobika, as well as other teams, including even the Minsk “Cassiopeia”. The performers were dressed in stunning latex suits. Bartenev himself stood on stage in a blue and white spacesuit with a meter-long inflatable kokoshnik on his head and conducted the process. And the grandiose flickering, as if dancing in a dream, of giant plush hares, silver Christmas tree decorations, mimes, waffle rolls with ice cream, futuristic singers unexpectedly gave such transcendental delight that Camp sensibility sparkled with tears in the eyes.

Sergei KHACHATUROV