On July 11, the first personal exhibition of the Moscow artist Evgeny Sakhatsky “Nothing New” will open at the START Center for Young Art WINZAVOD. The heroes of his works are representatives of informal communities and subcultures, residents of the outskirts. The artist paints courtyards in residential areas, garbage cans, and scribbled walls, finding a special aesthetic in everyday savagery. The exhibition features paintings, graphics and objects.

Sergey Saburov is one of those people who moves avant-garde electronic music forward. The promoter, DJ and co-owner of the famous Hyperboloid label told you especially about what the electronic scene is like today. More detailed video interview When did you want to devote yourself to music? How old were you? I was 16 years old, I lived in Tyumen and didn’t know what to do. At home I listened to cassettes, reels and CDs, so the question of choosing a profession did not arise.

Getting up early today to look at the awakening sun and, as it were, to awaken myself after it, I went for a walk through the neighboring fields and meadows, in essence - just along a country road, where on one side there is a field, on the other - a meadow, or on both - meadows, or on both - fields... who cares, in the end.

Why are Russia and the world turning back and persistently trying to discern their future in the past? In an attempt to answer these questions, the Shaninka philosophical lecture hall invited Ilya Budraitskis. Ilya Budraitskis is a teacher of the master’s program “Political Philosophy and Social Theory” at the Moscow School of Economics and Social Sciences, an employee of the Institute of Contemporary Art (IPCA), historian, publicist, member of the editorial board of the “Art Journal”.

We left unloading in the evening. Seryoga stood at the gate of the sawmill and brushed off the dust from his sweatpants with his hand. Then, shaking himself off, he straightened up, coughed relishfully at his feet and said: - The weather is shit. I nodded, finished brushing myself off and stood tiredly staring at the sky, gray and rainy. It was still light. Because of the rain, all my pants were covered in mud, and my sneakers had a second sole made of lumps of clay. I didn't want to talk.