"The further Moscow, the better!"

If in this small city, in places balancing on the verge of urban-type settlement, some monstrous and mysterious murder and visit him about this Truman Kapote, he would definitely be the first sentences-no matter what he wrote-said that the city of Tobolsk is divided by a natural landscape for two parts: the locals denote them as a mountain and an Okrah. The center of the city and the border between its two parts at the very cliff of the mountain is the Tobolsk Kremlin, which cannot be circumvented by mentioning, speaking of Tobolsk. It is reported that this is the only stone Kremlin in Siberia; It is also reported that it was built in parts for more than a hundred years-from 1683 to 1799. For fifty years since 1770, a special regional architectural school has developed here, designated as Tobolsk Baroque and included in the wider Siberian Baroque direction, which, in turn, reports that it did not avoid the influence of the Ukrainian baroque. And although the Tobolsk Kremlin does not apply to this direction, but the Spasskaya, Crusaders and Christmas Church, as well as the Church of the Resurrection, are in any way. It is not known for certain how much this would be interested in Capote Trumen, but it would hardly have remained indifferent to the form opening to Podgoren Tobolsk from the site behind the southern round tower.

Standing on Remezov Street, facing the Kremlin, on the left hand we have a way of the Nikolsky highlight with one sidewalk, which can go down from one part of the city to another. It must be said that as the Kremlin ensemble is gradually rising on the right, he will gradually rise above the pedestrian, and if this happens in July in the midday sun behind the northern round and eastern square towers, then plentiful soil for various kinds of mystical experiences appears - if, of course, the pedestrian is inclined to such. The descent along the road receives a logical conclusion to the Krasnoye & White store on the left. Two women (plus one son for each) who came out of there, the author of this text noticed. Despite the fact that in black packages the citizens quite definitely stretched glass verticals, one of the boys, forming their own reality, shouted in the affirmatively: “I love watermelon!” “As if they bought him and it was he who has to do it.” I did not expect from myself that I would talk to women, but the inertia of the descent pushed me with them, turning, choosing in which direction to go.

“Would you like your son to become an artist?” - Better to drink vodka!

- Sorry, do you know that you have a school for young artists on a mountain near the museum here?

- Hello! Nope, I don't know.

- Normally, what. Let them draw.

- Are you in no hurry? Can you ask you how you feel about modern art?

- We treat everything normally!

“Would you like your son to become an artist?”

- Better to drink vodka! - the mother checked.

“No, no, no, fine, you,” the second one reproached her.

The children were silent. I thanked the women and moved to Gorky Street.

- Where are you so fashionable from? - one of them shouted in my back.

I had to admit that from Novosibirsk.

The first day

Half an hour after the settlement, I asked how to go to the Chelyuskintsev Street - 2GIS it was clear that it was three minutes on foot, but it was not clear in which direction. A woman who was noticeably tormented by the prescribed instructions to be extremely polite, admitted that she had no idea, and climbed behind a paper card; This did not help her, and I ran away, promising to figure it out on my own. Of course, I got lost, but the misconceptions lead to the discoveries, and ultimately to the building, which houses the #Artlab school-laboratory, I did not come through the ceremonial approach to Oktyabrskaya, namely that the Chelyuskintsev, where private houses rose on both sides. The children of an abandoned look rode to meet me on bicycles, another came out of the gate to one man and shouted: “Well, will it sit down?” (bearing in mind "is").

The two -story building at the Chelyuskintsev, 1 I saw from its back. Once the former blue, now it stood in the thickets of grass, bushes and trees and, as it were, was in the permanent process of liberation from plaster: every second it could be expected that the piece would exfoliate and collapse into the leaves with a quiet rustle. In the iron fence, one was spinning broken, through the hole she led the path to the paved site in front of the building, where the wild -sexed young animal painted benches shot down from wooden pallets. I was told that before in this building there was a kindergarten, then the house of children's creativity, and then nothing, while with the money of Siber, as part of their project with the chemical name “Formula of Good deeds,” here they did not conduct a cosmetic repairs here - though not in all rooms. The facade of the building on the two sides from which it was visible was scorched with a dense white net with conveyed red figures. Inside is a minimalist combination of white walls, a facing wooden lining and white furniture with colored pillows. Above the entrances to the premises of the inscription: “negotiation”, “dreamy”, “coworking” etc. , etc.

The most vulgar point of recognition of Sergei Pakhomov, as we are used to this, is located in the film "Green Elephant"; So, judging by the conversations on the porch, in the corridors and inside the lectureur, even many people who came did not even look at him.

If we fall on the fact that the position of contemporary art in the Russian regions to the present is similar to the position of the capital's Council in Russia of the 1980s, then it is difficult to even imagine an object more metaphorically than “#Artlab”, reflecting this situation. Cut into the Tobolsk city landscape (because of new buildings, terribly eclectic, but in its eclecticism is whole), not linked with it, this house of creativity, converted into the house of contemporary art, personifies the situation with the Council in the regions: some islands of non-impinectional existence, where people are sitting, the craving for active activity is obvious, how obvious the clinical lack of information about the global process. Outstanding people are brought here, who tell important things with complex words, but everyone seems to be no, no, and it covers some feeling of awkwardness. Okay - not all, but the author of this text is for sure. Contemporary art, like art in general, in itself its appearance here and there, as it were, explodes or cuts everyday reality: even in the space of a museum or gallery, it happens that you will find an object that yells in its inappropriateness (in a positive sense). Here, in Tobolsk, a feeling of a certain double perversity develops: this cutting of reality is superimposed on the environment, which, it seems, is not very adapted not only for the appearance of a sovrisk as such, but for the appearance of even intention to it. This is all, however, only sensations.

Despite the exhibition as the end of the block of events related to the visual arts, “#Artlab” is still more educational than creative. A special selection of fifteen young artists with completely different equipment from Tobolsk, Tyumen and other cities of the region was carried out. They were gathered in Tobolsk for a weekly intensive “art grade” , during which outstanding (really outstanding) practices and theorists of the Council told them what Biennale and Happening are, how to earn a piece of bread and how to sell this piece of bread as an art object (the lessons were apparently learned literally, because the exhibition was presented among other things A piece of moldy white bread with a crumb was somehow played out in the title of work). Here are just a few names of the lecturers to somehow describe the overall picture of the event: Gutov, Kibovskaya, Novoselov, Agureeva, Svetlyakov, Pakhomov.

The day, begun by the two -hour lecture by Dmitry Gutov, who, through the story of his own creative biography, seemed to be drawn to the main energy points of the Russian and world sovrisk, promised to end with the lecture of Sergei Pakhomov, in the schedule of “art without borders”. By seven o’clock in the evening, additional chairs began to pull up in the lectureur: a lot of people came. The audience, I must say, was in a large part of its strikingly virgin. The most vulgar point of recognition of Sergei Pakhomov, as we are used to this, is located in the film "Green Elephant"; So, judging by the conversations on the porch, in the corridors and inside the lectureur, even many people who came did not even look at him. “They told me that the wild dude,” well, I decided to come ”; “They say that he starred in some kind of strange, such as very frantic.” In the last row, even three elderly women were located in the center, one of whom at the end asked Pakhom how it turned out that he became famous - referring to the say “the world has gone crazy, since such characters are popular.”

For seven hours, the rendezvous was appointed, at 19:14, somewhere nearby bells rang, a groin appeared a little later, but for now, the employees of#Artlab offered those guests that they had not seen here before, fill out the guest questionnaire. Behind me, a girl with a friend (both of the age of twenty years) collectively filled her.

- They ask what is missing in the city. What is this word called? Somehow in a grind one, right now. A place where you can, well, do something, somehow spend time. Coworking? And how is it written - “ka” or “ko”?

- Through a hyphen like.

- In general, a lot of things are missing. I visit everything - I visit everything that is free. Recently at the concert there was a construction group.

- And how is the “depression” written? I'm stupid. "De", "di"? We, by the way, had a poetic event, too, Dima read poetry there. Only five people came.

“You know, I think: there is not enough drawing school, that's how they are upstairs here.”

At the top of the stairs, the DRAW & GO drawing studio was located: for 300 or 150 (in special hours) rubles, ordinary residents of Tobolsk could come (and came) and, under the guidance of teachers, draw anything.

To applause appeared a groin. It is unclear how he is regulated by the degree of swelling from one event to another, but for the inhabitants of Tobolsk, he turned off the auto -financing and two hours, interspersing the monologues with his own songs from the amplifier, pronounced not even speech performance, but a natural -human lecture. The girl next to me reported to someone in the chat: “He puts songs and talks. It turns out that they have a deep meaning. ” Meanwhile, Pakhomov brought up the ego of young artists: “If you do not think that you are the center of the universe, you have nothing to do in art.” Young artists listened with pleasure. Sergei Igorevich clearly demonstrated that you can be a resonant artist by Fan, forgetting for some reason to mention that this requires daily self-destruction. Young artists remained in ignorance. Cums with songs and moved to questions from the hall. It became sharply ashamed. "What books do you read?" - asked the girl who buried himself in the phone, not even starting to listen to the answer. “So you say that everything does not make sense - so I can commit suicide right now?” - the guy with the concepts of provocation, borrowed, apparently from the TNT channel, was interested. While the moderator appealed to the school: “Guys, artists! Questions!" -Some daredevil did what the majority dreamed about: he approached the Pachoma with a leaf and gently transferred the event from the lecture regime to the end of the meeting with the star and autograph session. Someone nevertheless continued to ask something ashamed, Pakhomov answered the optional, at the same time struggling on the brought pieces of paper. "What to do if religion crushes the artist?" - “Everything that is, that is. Let the crushing. Art will not die. " A girl who looked like they imagined outstanding young artists in a deep province approached him. She laid a leaf on the table and with both hands opened the top of the Olympic, exposing not everything, but the permissible part. Pakhomov did not notice her intentions. The girl had to move away, and then come again.

- So you say that art is to do everything you want. So can I have an autograph on my chest?

Sergey Igorevich readily struck, explaining what he was doing so constantly. The meeting ended, people gradually resolved, some of the young artists brought for a long time smoked near Pahom on the porch, taking turns getting along with him to take a picture.

The second day

With reference to the Committee of Economic Development of the Tobolsk city administration, Wikipedia reports that today the prospects for the development of the city are associated with the "expansion of the presence of the Russian Orthodox Church, the development of tourism and industry." As if not paying attention to all this, on the morning of July 30, artists gathered for the closed master class of the Recycle group, presented, however, only Andrei Blokhin. He demonstrated the photo documentation of the group’s works: plastic bas -reliefs, sculptures from garbage containers, installations from recyclables. Young artists at the table, as it was visible from some of them, dreamed of a large style, oil and giant canvases, thoughtfully painting black sheets with black handles. One girl was completely distracted from the screen, on which it flashed incomprehensible, and looked at her young colleague on the other side of the table. And then everything is completely some kind of coffee cups and metal structures.

After the master class, my colleague and I went for dumplings with lingonberries (about the place where they are given will be said separately below), and also visited the Tobolsk Kremlin ensemble, where a colleague from Moscow bought a gingerbread in the form of a heart as a gift to her friend. With the gingerbread, we moved to the hotel, right opposite which the harsh monument to Fedor Dostoevsky was erected. In the hotel, I had a room more suitable for the President of Turkmenistan than for an unassuming theatrical critic, I felt embarrassed, but Fedor Mikhailovich was located with his back to the hotel and, it seems, did not pay attention. The square around the monument to the writer was beautiful and well -groomed, but mostly homeless people gathered in it, discussing for sure Russian literature.

Further along Oktyabrskaya, one could see a small plane at full size, hoisted on a concrete pillar. Walking from the hotel, you inevitably see this plane, coupled with a swamp covered with greens that precedes the plane, as if just flew out of it; All this is a single picture, as it were, is a metaphor of Russia. After going further, you find that the plane on the pillar is related to the building of the local branch of DOSAAF of Russia, on the other side of which the tank is hoisted on the pedestal - also to the full size. On the facade of DOSAAF - in several rows a variety of inscriptions. Among others: “The School of Patriotism and Mastery”, “We are for high -quality training of drivers”. On the sides on the facade, two vertical flags are hung in the colors of the St. George tape. By the way, a quarter earlier on Semen Remezov Street between two streets of pharmacist (which for some reason go parallel to each other), the Victory Square stretched. It is also well -groomed, it has an architectural ensemble with a stele, a fountain and eternal flame. To the right of the square on the ground floor of a residential building is a trading hall "by the Eternal Flame". The square rests on Sverdlov Street with private houses, along the way to it, gradually overgrowing with grass and broken tiles.

- So you know about contemporary artists? - All the blue do it, I know.

Having walked along Remezov a little further, you come across the square of Robinson Crusoe with an appropriate monument. This is so unexpected that you immediately want to talk to someone. My choice for four in the afternoon was limited to an elderly woman in a pink robe.

- Do you know that a school has opened a school for contemporary artists in your city?

- A? My balloon exploded!

It turned out that we are talking about a small cylinder for hiking gas tiles.

- How do I know why?! Exploded, bitch. I went out to breathe here.

- So you know about contemporary artists?

- All the blue do it, I know.

- Blue - that is, gays? Do you have gays in Tobolsk?

- Do, do it. But what about? They do everywhere.

It turned out that the grandmother saw the blue and they did not bother her. Struck and excited, I moved on. I had to get lost in the Decembrists' cemetery with a colleague of Smorodinova, grab her legs in attempts (unsuccessful) to climb over a brick fence, stand over the grave of Kuchelbecker, look at the building of the local drama theater, amazingly fashionable, etc., etc. The opening of the exhibition was scheduled for the evening.

In the square in front of the “#Artlaba” building, a small scene was built, with which someone said something-nothing was heard, although they said in the microphone. Then they explained that now there will be “live electronic music” on the stage, and in the evening there will be a concert of local rockers. In the meantime, everyone could climb the second floor “#Artlaba”, where in two rooms the exposition of young artists was located, and in the third - an exhibition of works by Studios Draw & Go .

The impression is all the most strange. In the first hall - watercolor and pencil patterns, oil. The vulgar black parody of the mouth, a few more-using the poisonous green. Один реалистический зимний пейзаж в раме (неизвестно, имеющий ли к выставке отношение), работы, похожие на аниме-фан-арт. В другом зале — объекты и «документация перформансов», выглядящая как видеозапись прогулки по городу. Объекты были выставлены на белых тумбах, расставленных по залу. Абсолютно неинтересные сами по себе, целиком они представляют интересную для размышления картину: разные художники в одном пространстве сделали абсолютно одинаковые произведения. Это так или иначе были реди-мейды — или, скорее, found objects : всё примерно одинакового, совсем небольшого, размера, скудно выглядящее, но приправленное ироническими или «странными» названиями работ, ничего внятного не говорящими, а значит — как бы расширяющими поле возможной интерпретации. Единственные несколько сделанных работ были выполнены из оконной замазки, похожей на пластилин, и скорее напоминали, конечно, детсадовскую лепку. Впрочем, кураторы, следящие за художниками всю неделю, отмечали, что прогресс студентов налицо и он радикален. По экспозиции ходили, среди прочих, пожилые и грузные родственники художников: одна женщина строго допрашивала свою дочь (или внучку) у работы, представляющей собой верхнюю половину электрического счетчика советского образца: «Так, и что это такое? Это ты нашла, да? И что это значит?» Было много работников из Средней Азии и их жен в платках; они с готовностью обходили каждый экспонат и на все радостно кивали. Почти никто не фотографировал.

В зале студии Draw&Go висели живописные картинки жителей Тобольска. Вогнав себя в идиотически-умилительную кондицию, мы с коллегами пробыли в этом зале значительно дольше, чем в зале с тобольским совриском: вот вам панда, нарисованная двенадцатилетней девочкой, вот птичка на розовом, нарисованная шестилетней, вот фламинго, выполненный специалистом мирового суда, вот чашки, нарисованные бухгалтером, а вот еще одна птичка за авторством сестры-анестезиолога. Ну не чудо ли?

Погуляв немного после выставки, мы вернулись к «#АртЛабу» около десяти вечера. За полкилометра было слышно, как ревут тобольские байкеры. В этих звуковых волнах уплывал и растворялся последний фимиам современного искусства, образовавшийся тут в ходе случайных связей. Запахло 2002 годом, а может быть — 1980-м, и городская среда вокруг как-то сразу пришла к гармонии.

* * *

В субботу вечером мы со спутницами зашли в ресторан «Ладейный», стоящий напротив кремля и обязывающий к тому, чтобы немедленно загуглить его фотографии и уже после продолжать читать текст. Коллеги сообщали, что в этом месте уже едали именитые столичные критики. Мы поднялись на крыльцо, я открыл тяжелую деревянную дверь, слева от которой висела бумажная табличка «Wi-Fi» . Эту картину я не забуду никогда. Прямо напротив входа, на расстоянии десяти метров, в фиолетовом свете, будто поставленном сельским Робертом Уилсоном, внушительная женщина пела в микрофон что-то из репертуара Ирины Аллегровой. Видимо, архитектура зала устроена так, что от входа нельзя увидеть столы. И вот ты открываешь дверь и видишь эту бухгалтершу, залитую фиолетовым светом, которая поет про любовь, а вокруг — никого. Ты закрываешь этот портал в ад, садишься на террасе, но уже никогда не можешь забыть этот образ вываливающейся на тебя гротескной потусторонней русскости.

После ужина одна из наших спутниц захотела позаимствовать ресторанный плед, чтобы добрести по ночи до гостиницы. С этим возникли трудности, и другая наша спутница у входа иронически выговаривала официантке: «Вот вы отказали, теперь московский критик замерзнет!» На слове «вы» дверь вывалила на нас пьяного тоболяка, который выпучил глаза и заорал:

— Какие, на ***, критики?!

Мы спустились.

— Тут все сибиряки! Тут вичьё не котируется!!

Не понимая слова «вичьё», мы отдалялись от «Ладейного», весело оборачиваясь.

— Чем дальше Москва, тем лучше!!! — бросал мужчина нам в спины.

Мы отошли уже достаточно далеко, но сибиряк продолжал что-то кричать, покачиваясь и возвышаясь на террасе — как и ресторан «Ладейный», как и Тобольский кремль, как и вся эта гора — символом и флагом культурной децентрализации России.