I can not make principles

If on these cursed November days you want to finally spoil your mood-the exhibition of Alexei Belyaev-Gintovt X , which opened a week ago at MMOMA on Petrovka and, obviously, dedicated to the centenary, about which domestic science has not decided-you should celebrate, mourn or simply to stop it from an old habit; Hence the witty name is an unknown variable.

The artist Gintovt, as it were, exists on the periphery of our consciousness; It seems like once long ago, when they are still not tired of being indignant, he received the Kandinsky Prize. Later, hisworks were in the collection of the head of the subject of the Russian Federation, whose name we, too, without unnecessary need, we do not call. And many interested parties stated that the hands of Gintovta or his producers-wobblers from the Triumph gallery will not be filed. But this was a long time ago, in the time of “probing the boundaries of publicity”; Today, these boundaries are overgrown with the past, romanticism has dried up, a love boat crashed about the life of sovereign statehood.

And Gintovt, meanwhile, so young and the country's historical milestone approached prepared. Old ditties about the main fly away from his teeth, his native refrain, it will not be difficult to catch the public: “I am a little girl, I dance and sing, I haven’t seen Stalin, but I love him.”

Gezamtkunstzherk Alexei traditionally praises gigantic work at the front and in the rear of the party, the Central Committee, the State Committee of Defense, headed by the General Secretary of Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin (hereinafter by the IVS). But there are no portraits of the IVS at the exhibition, you say and you will be mistaken. Naive, the art of postmodernism is the game of reflections, Stalin looks in our faces, as in a mirror. The flagship work “Brothers and Sisters”, a monumental canvas created in the technique of manual printing, is nothing more than the leader of the leader of the facsimiles increased to the scale of the sixth part of the land. In our hearts, hidden words, IVS as part of national DNA, in the gintovt macromolecules literally on the palms of our hearts.

A similar story with an extremely explicit installation "Russian Forest". The IVS here is dissolved in the air, like the Holy Spirit, peeps out from behind every birch, plays with the viewer in his favorite game-who did not hide, I am not to blame. There are deaf shots, ax strikes, chop the heads with the right/left biashes, millions of chips fly. A visual metaphor for historical necessity, and the author mutters about the glory of the Russian weapons and the feat of the Soviet people (interchangeable concepts) from the screen - so that we do not destroy ourselves spiritually, do not degrade from spiritual dystrophy, as it happens today, when the slop on the bald head of Lenin and the mustachioed Stalin should be physically exterminated.

Big lies always have impeccable logic. Everything is clear, everything is expressed by the language of myths and colored with epithets, but the lies of the Gintovta are small, on the staff. The stupid sequence of events, some facts are confused by the artist, who has prevailed from this from the children's anthology, edited by a professor of acidic dugrug.

Recruitment of workers, involving imperial nonsense occur according to the dull scenario that has been filled with soreness: a typical Eurasian loser - to put together a clumsy iconostasis from the formidable faces of the past and beat the worships: Genghis Khifs, Politburo, Putin, now the postcrymist update - field commanders of the DPR and LPR. Everything that was poorly lying or glittering is in the furnace, we smoke the smoke of the fatherland and other interspecific despotisms.

It is funny that the manners of forty-thiefs, conceptual sloppiness germinate into aesthetics: visually the work of the Gintovt resembles something that appears in the vocabulary of the multinational man-shovinist under the coden, the unconferential name “Armenian Repairs”, is when there is a lot of gold in the decorum, even in the restroom. This is how the halls of “our” friends and partners look like - Trump's apartments or the former residence of Yanukovych. Anecdotal philistinism, for some reason now called the eccentric and absolutely hostile to any revolutionary, but not to the Gintovt. After all, he was a werewolf with an easel, the “International” sings, and he himself for the restoration of the old regime. We do not distinguish the right and left, we will back, we aim in the sun from the pistol, like Varlah in “repentance” Abuladze. The heroes of the perestroika manifesto dug up the corpses of the executioners to remember, Gintovt - to buy. Sergei Kurekhin liked to say about the same era: a real romantic is always a little fascist. In 2017, apparently, a real fascist is always a Pharisee and a clerk, that is, a SMM specialist.