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àÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊËÚ ÌÓ‚ÂȯËÏ ‡Ú-ÒÚ‡Ú„ËflÏ ‚ ӷ·ÒÚË ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛ˚ êÓÒÒËË. éÌÓ ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ÔËÒÛÚÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ ‚ ËÌÚÂ̇ˆËÓ̇θÌÓÏ ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚÂ, ‚ÒÚÛÔ‡fl ‚ ‰Ë‡ÎÓ„ Ò Á‡Ô‡‰Ì˚ÏË ÙÓχÏË ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl, ÒÓı‡Ìflfl ÛÌË͇θÌÓÒÚ¸ Ë ‚Ò ÓÒÓ·ÂÌÌÓÒÚË Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó Â‚‡ÁËÈÒÍÓ„Ó ÙÂÌÓÏÂ̇. êÓʉÂÌÌ˚È ‚ ÌÂÁ‡‚ËÒËÏÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛ 60-ı „Ó‰Ó‚, ‚ Ó„‡Ì˘ÂÒÍÓÈ ÓÔÔÓÁˈËË Òڇ̉‡Ú‡Ï ÒÓ‚ÂÚÒÍÓ„Ó ËÒÚ‡·Î˯ÏÂÌÚ‡, Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÒÓÁ‰‡ÂÚ Ò‚Ó˛ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ Ô·ÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ ÙËÎÓÒÓÙ˲, Ò·ÎËʇfl ÙÛ̉‡ÏÂÌڇθÌÓÒÚ¸ Ò‚ÓËı ÔÓËÒÍÓ‚ Ò ÌÂÔÓÒ‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸˛ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ‡θÌÓÒÚË. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ÒÓ‰ËÌflÂÚ ‚ Ò‚ÓÂÈ Ú‚Ó˜ÂÒÍÓÈ ÒËÒÚÂÏ ‚ËÁۇθÌ˚ ÓÚÍ˚ÚËfl ‚ÚÓÓÈ ÔÓÎÓ‚ËÌ˚ 20-„Ó ÒÚÓÎÂÚËfl Ë ÔÓÒÚ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰Ì˚ ˉ‡Î˚ ÔÓÒΉÌÂ„Ó ‰ÂÒflÚËÎÂÚËfl, ӷ̇ÛÊË‚‡fl ‚ Í·ÒÒ˘ÂÒÍÓÈ Ú‡‰ËˆËË Â˘Â Ì ‚˚„Ó‚ÓÂÌÌ˚ ÒÏ˚ÒÎ˚ Ë ÌÂ‡ÎËÁÓ‚‡ÌÌ˚ ˝ÌÂ„ËË. àÒÔÓθÁÛfl ÔÓÒÚÏÓ‰ÂÌËÒÚÒÍË ӷ‡Á˚ ËÁ·˚ÚÓ˜ÌÓÒÚË Ë ÌÂÓ·‡Ó˜ÌÛ˛ ÏÌÓ„ÓÏÂÌÓÒÚ¸, Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‡ÒÒχÚË‚‡ÂÚ ÏÓ‰ÂÎË „ÂÌÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÍÓ‰‡, Ëı ‚ÓÁÏÓÊÌÓÒÚË Ú‡ÌÒÙÓχˆËË Ë Ó·ÌÓ‚ÎÂÌËfl ‚ ·ÂÒÍÓ̘ÌÓÈ ‚‡ˇÚË‚ÌÓÒÚË. Ö„Ó ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ ÚÂıÌÓÎÓ„ËË ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘‡˛Ú ‚ ̇¯ ‚ËÚۇθÌ˚È ÏË ÛÌË‚Â҇θÌ˚ ˆÂÌÌÓÒÚË ÍÛθÚÛ˚,  ÊË‚Û˛ ˆÂÎÓÒÚÌÓÒÚ¸ Ë ‰ÂÏÓÍ‡Ú˘ÌÓÒÚ¸, „‰Â ˝ÏÓˆËÓ̇θÌ˚ ÔÂÂÊË‚‡ÌËfl ‚ÒÚ˜‡˛ÚÒfl Ò ÓÒÚÓÈ ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌÓÈ ÂÙÎÂÍÒËÂÈ. é·‡Á˚ Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÓÚÍ˚‚‡˛ÚÒfl ‚ÌÂÁ‡ÔÌÓ Ë ÌÂÓÊˉ‡ÌÌÓ, Í‡Í ÓÁ‡ÂÌËÂ, Í‡Í ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó ‚ÓÒÚÓ˜Ì˚ı ‰ËÌÓ·ÓÒÚ‚ Ë Ï‰ËÚ‡ÚË‚Ì˚ı Ô‡ÍÚËÍ. — ÇàíÄãàâ èÄñûäéÇ


DEDICATED to ELENA and TIGRAN T.


ВОЗВРАЩЕНИЕ К БЕСПРЕДМЕТНОМУ RETURN TO THE ABSTRACT


ВОЗВРАЩЕНИЕ К БЕСПРЕДМЕТНОМУ RETURN TO THE ABSTRACT


THE STATE RUSSIAN MUSEUM MUSEUM LUDWIG IN THE STATE RUSSIAN MUSEUM St PETERSBURG

ГОСУД АРСТВЕННЫЙ РУССКИЙ МУЗЕЙ åìáÖâ ãûÑÇàÉÄ Ç êìëëäéå åìáÖÖ ëÄçäí-èÖíÖêÅìêÉ

PALACE EDITIONS


THE STATE RUSSIAN MUSEUM MUSEUM LUDWIG IN THE STATE RUSSIAN MUSEUM St PETERSBURG

ГОСУД АРСТВЕННЫЙ РУССКИЙ МУЗЕЙ åìáÖâ ãûÑÇàÉÄ Ç êìëëäéå åìáÖÖ ëÄçäí-èÖíÖêÅìêÉ

PALACE EDITIONS


АРХАИСТ - НОВАТОР

12

АЛЕКСАНДР БОРОВСКИЙ

ПОТЕРЯННОЕ И ВОЗВРАЩЁННОЕ ВРЕМЯ АБСТРАКЦИИ

ALEXANDER BOROVSKY

26

ВИТАЛИЙ ПАЦЮКОВ

ИЛЛЮСТРАЦИИ

ВОЗВРАЩЕНИЕ К ПРОШЛОМУ– ОТКРЫТИЕ БУДУЩЕГО ВИТАЛИЙ ПАЦЮКОВ

THE LOST AND FOUND TIME OF ABSTRACTION VITALY PATSUKOV

35

144

ILLUSTRATIONS

RETURN TO THE PAST – DISCOVERY OF THE FUTURE VITALY PATSUKOV INTERVIEW WITH EVGENY CHUBAROV

ИНТЕРВЬЮ С ЕВГЕНИЕМ ЧУБАРОВЫМ

СОДЕРЖАНИЕ:

АRCHAIST- INNOVATOR

CONTENTS:


АРХАИСТ - НОВАТОР

12

АЛЕКСАНДР БОРОВСКИЙ

ПОТЕРЯННОЕ И ВОЗВРАЩЁННОЕ ВРЕМЯ АБСТРАКЦИИ

ALEXANDER BOROVSKY

26

ВИТАЛИЙ ПАЦЮКОВ

ИЛЛЮСТРАЦИИ

ВОЗВРАЩЕНИЕ К ПРОШЛОМУ– ОТКРЫТИЕ БУДУЩЕГО ВИТАЛИЙ ПАЦЮКОВ

THE LOST AND FOUND TIME OF ABSTRACTION VITALY PATSUKOV

35

144

ILLUSTRATIONS

RETURN TO THE PAST – DISCOVERY OF THE FUTURE VITALY PATSUKOV INTERVIEW WITH EVGENY CHUBAROV

ИНТЕРВЬЮ С ЕВГЕНИЕМ ЧУБАРОВЫМ

СОДЕРЖАНИЕ:

АRCHAIST- INNOVATOR

CONTENTS:


ЕВГЕНИЙ ЧУБАРОВ

EVGENY CHUBAROV


ЕВГЕНИЙ ЧУБАРОВ

EVGENY CHUBAROV


АЛЕКСАНДР БОРОВСКИЙ

ALEXANDER BOROVSKY

АРХАИСТ-НОВАТОР

АRCHAIST- INNOVATOR

ÅÓθ¯ËÌÒÚ‚Ó ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÓ‚ Ó‰ÌÓ„Ó Ò óÛ·‡Ó‚˚Ï

Most artists of the same generation and status as Evgeny Chubarov have long assumed the role of patriarchs – they live in the West and they are engaged in preparing and editing their own heritage for museums and galleries. This is understandable enough: in the heroic years of the underground they have done much and now in the new conditions they are careful lest they lose face. Why risk the even flow of their hard-won honorable careers by making any sharp movements? Living in a little town of Mytischi outside Moscow Chubarov made several turnabouts in the course of his artistic career. True, his twists and turns have always happened within the same energy system, so to speak. No matter how dissimilar his works of different periods appear to the onlooker, their electric charge is immediately apparent to the point of a tingling sensation. Although Chubarov may not have attained historical recognition, raising him to the status of a patriarch, his energy level makes him at least an oligarch among artists. In my opinion, very few of the artists from the generation of the 1960’s compare to him in his powerful resources.

ÔÓÍÓÎÂÌËfl Ë ‡Ì„‡ ‰‡‚ÌÓ ÛÊ ‚Ó¯ÎË ‚ Ó·‡Á Í·ÒÒËÍÓ‚, ÊË‚ÛÚ Ì‡ Á‡Ô‡‰Â Ë Á‡ÌËχ˛ÚÒfl ‡‰‡ÔÚ‡ˆËÂÈ Ë ‰‡ÍÚÛÓÈ Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó Ì‡ÒΉËfl ‰Îfl ÏÛÁÂÈÌÓ„Ó Ë „‡ÎÂÂÈÌÓ„Ó ÏË‡. éÌÓ Ë ÔÓÌflÚÌÓ: ‚ „ÂÓ˘ÂÒÍËÈ ÔÂËÓ‰ ‡Ì‰Â„‡Û̉‡ ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ËÚÂθÌÓ Ò‰Â·ÌÓ ÏÌÓ„ÓÂ, ÔÓÚ·ÌÓÒÚ¸ Ì ÛÓÌËÚ¸ Ò·fl ‚ ÌÓ‚˚ı ÛÒÎÓ‚Ëflı ‚ÔÓÎÌ ӷ˙flÒÌËχ, ˉÚË Ì‡ ËÒÍ Í‡ÍËı-ÚÓ ÂÁÍËı ‰‚ËÊÂÌËÈ ‚ Ô·‚ÌÓÏ Ú˜ÂÌËË Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó ÒÚ‡ÚÛÒÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡ ÌÂ‡ÁÛÏÌÓ. Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÊË‚ÂÚ ÔÓ‰ åÓÒÍ‚ÓÈ ‚ å˚Úˢ‡ı Ë ‚ Ú˜ÂÌË ҂ÓÈ Ú‚Ó˜ÂÒÍÓÈ ÊËÁÌË ÌÂÒÍÓθÍÓ ‡Á ÍÛÚÓ ‡Á‚Ó‡˜Ë‚‡Î Ò‚Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó. è‡‚‰‡, ‚Ò ˝ÚË ÔÓ‚ÓÓÚ˚ Ë ÔÂÂÔ‡‰˚ ÔÓıÓ‰ËÎË ‚ ÛÒÎÂ, Ú‡Í Ò͇Á‡Ú¸, ‰ËÌÓÈ ˝ÌÂ„ÓÒËÒÚÂÏ˚: Í‡Í ·˚ ÌË ÓÚ΢‡ÎËÒ¸ Â„Ó ‡·ÓÚ˚ ‡ÁÌ˚ı ÔÂËÓ‰Ó‚, ÓÌË ‚Ò„‰‡ «ÔÓ‰ ̇ÔflÊÂÌËÂÏ», ÁËÚÂθ ÔÓ˜ÚË Ú‡ÍÚËθÌÓ Ó˘Û˘‡ÂÚ ÔÓÚÂ-ÒÍË‚‡ÌË ˝ÎÂÍÚÓ‡Áfl‰Ó‚. í‡Í ˜ÚÓ ÂÒÎË ‚ Ô·Ì ËÒÚÓË-˜ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÔËÁ̇ÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚ ¢ Ì ԇÚˇı, ÚÓ ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ – ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ Ô·Ì ҂ÓÂ„Ó Ó‰‡ ÓÎË„‡ı: ‰Ûχ˛, ÒÂ‰Ë Ï‡ÒÚÂÓ‚ «Ó‰ÓÏ ËÁ ¯ÂÒÚˉÂÒflÚ˚ı» χÎÓ ÍÚÓ Ò‡‚ÌËÏ Ò ÌËÏ ÔÓ ˝ÌÂ„ÓÂÒÛÒ‡Ï. óÛ·‡Ó‚ ̇˜‡Î ˜ÛÚ¸ ÔÓÁÊ ҂ÓËı Ò‚ÂÒÚÌËÍÓ‚ (ÔÓÍÓÎÂÌËfl 䇷‡ÍÓ‚‡ – óÛÈÍÓ‚‡ – ÅÛ·ÚÓ‚‡), ‰‡ Ë Â„Ó ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÎÂÌË ÔÓ¯ÎÓ ‚Ì ÚÓÈ Ò̇˜‡Î‡ ÒÚÛ‰Â̘ÂÒÍÓÈ, ‡ ÔÓÚÓÏ ÔÓÙÂÒÒËÓ̇θÌÓÈ Ò‰˚, ‚ ÍÓÚÓÓÈ ÙÓÏËÓ‚‡ÎËÒ¸ ÓÌË: Ó‰ËÎÒfl ‚ ·‡¯ÍËÒÍÓÏ ÒÂÎÂ, ÔÂ·‡ÎÒfl ‚ á·ÚÓÛÒÚ, Ò·‚Ì˚È ÔÓËÁ‚Ó‰ÒÚ‚ÓÏ ¯ÚÛ˜ÌÓ„Ó ÍÓÎÎÂ͈ËÓÌÌÓ„Ó ıÓÎÓ‰ÌÓ„Ó Ë ÓıÓÚÌ˘¸Â„Ó ÓÛÊËfl. ç‡‰Ó ‰Ûχڸ, Â„Ó Ë „ÓÚÓ‚ËÎË ‚ ÂÏÂÒÎÂÌÌËÍË-ÓÛÊÂÈÌËÍË: Ó·Û˜‡ÎÒfl ÓÌ Ú‡Ï „‡‚ËÓ‚Í ÔÓ ÏÂÚ‡ÎÎÛ. ÇÓÓ·˘Â-ÚÓ – Ò‡ÏÓ͇ۘ,

Chubarov began as an artist a bit later than the others of his generation (that of Kabakov, Chuikov and Bulatov) and he developed outside the students’ and later professional environment enjoyed by his coevals. He was born in a Bashkirian village and later moved to the town of Zlatoust, famous for its production of cold arms and hunting weapons. He was probably trained as an armorer because he was taught engraving on metal. He is basically a self-made man: he started drawing on his own initiative.

Ò‡ÏÓÒÚÓflÚÂθÌÓ ÔÓÚflÌÛ‚¯ËÈÒfl Í ËÒÓ‚‡Ì˲.

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АЛЕКСАНДР БОРОВСКИЙ

ALEXANDER BOROVSKY

АРХАИСТ-НОВАТОР

АRCHAIST- INNOVATOR

ÅÓθ¯ËÌÒÚ‚Ó ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÓ‚ Ó‰ÌÓ„Ó Ò óÛ·‡Ó‚˚Ï

Most artists of the same generation and status as Evgeny Chubarov have long assumed the role of patriarchs – they live in the West and they are engaged in preparing and editing their own heritage for museums and galleries. This is understandable enough: in the heroic years of the underground they have done much and now in the new conditions they are careful lest they lose face. Why risk the even flow of their hard-won honorable careers by making any sharp movements? Living in a little town of Mytischi outside Moscow Chubarov made several turnabouts in the course of his artistic career. True, his twists and turns have always happened within the same energy system, so to speak. No matter how dissimilar his works of different periods appear to the onlooker, their electric charge is immediately apparent to the point of a tingling sensation. Although Chubarov may not have attained historical recognition, raising him to the status of a patriarch, his energy level makes him at least an oligarch among artists. In my opinion, very few of the artists from the generation of the 1960’s compare to him in his powerful resources.

ÔÓÍÓÎÂÌËfl Ë ‡Ì„‡ ‰‡‚ÌÓ ÛÊ ‚Ó¯ÎË ‚ Ó·‡Á Í·ÒÒËÍÓ‚, ÊË‚ÛÚ Ì‡ Á‡Ô‡‰Â Ë Á‡ÌËχ˛ÚÒfl ‡‰‡ÔÚ‡ˆËÂÈ Ë ‰‡ÍÚÛÓÈ Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó Ì‡ÒΉËfl ‰Îfl ÏÛÁÂÈÌÓ„Ó Ë „‡ÎÂÂÈÌÓ„Ó ÏË‡. éÌÓ Ë ÔÓÌflÚÌÓ: ‚ „ÂÓ˘ÂÒÍËÈ ÔÂËÓ‰ ‡Ì‰Â„‡Û̉‡ ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ËÚÂθÌÓ Ò‰Â·ÌÓ ÏÌÓ„ÓÂ, ÔÓÚ·ÌÓÒÚ¸ Ì ÛÓÌËÚ¸ Ò·fl ‚ ÌÓ‚˚ı ÛÒÎÓ‚Ëflı ‚ÔÓÎÌ ӷ˙flÒÌËχ, ˉÚË Ì‡ ËÒÍ Í‡ÍËı-ÚÓ ÂÁÍËı ‰‚ËÊÂÌËÈ ‚ Ô·‚ÌÓÏ Ú˜ÂÌËË Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó ÒÚ‡ÚÛÒÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡ ÌÂ‡ÁÛÏÌÓ. Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÊË‚ÂÚ ÔÓ‰ åÓÒÍ‚ÓÈ ‚ å˚Úˢ‡ı Ë ‚ Ú˜ÂÌË ҂ÓÈ Ú‚Ó˜ÂÒÍÓÈ ÊËÁÌË ÌÂÒÍÓθÍÓ ‡Á ÍÛÚÓ ‡Á‚Ó‡˜Ë‚‡Î Ò‚Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó. è‡‚‰‡, ‚Ò ˝ÚË ÔÓ‚ÓÓÚ˚ Ë ÔÂÂÔ‡‰˚ ÔÓıÓ‰ËÎË ‚ ÛÒÎÂ, Ú‡Í Ò͇Á‡Ú¸, ‰ËÌÓÈ ˝ÌÂ„ÓÒËÒÚÂÏ˚: Í‡Í ·˚ ÌË ÓÚ΢‡ÎËÒ¸ Â„Ó ‡·ÓÚ˚ ‡ÁÌ˚ı ÔÂËÓ‰Ó‚, ÓÌË ‚Ò„‰‡ «ÔÓ‰ ̇ÔflÊÂÌËÂÏ», ÁËÚÂθ ÔÓ˜ÚË Ú‡ÍÚËθÌÓ Ó˘Û˘‡ÂÚ ÔÓÚÂ-ÒÍË‚‡ÌË ˝ÎÂÍÚÓ‡Áfl‰Ó‚. í‡Í ˜ÚÓ ÂÒÎË ‚ Ô·Ì ËÒÚÓË-˜ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÔËÁ̇ÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚ ¢ Ì ԇÚˇı, ÚÓ ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ – ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ Ô·Ì ҂ÓÂ„Ó Ó‰‡ ÓÎË„‡ı: ‰Ûχ˛, ÒÂ‰Ë Ï‡ÒÚÂÓ‚ «Ó‰ÓÏ ËÁ ¯ÂÒÚˉÂÒflÚ˚ı» χÎÓ ÍÚÓ Ò‡‚ÌËÏ Ò ÌËÏ ÔÓ ˝ÌÂ„ÓÂÒÛÒ‡Ï. óÛ·‡Ó‚ ̇˜‡Î ˜ÛÚ¸ ÔÓÁÊ ҂ÓËı Ò‚ÂÒÚÌËÍÓ‚ (ÔÓÍÓÎÂÌËfl 䇷‡ÍÓ‚‡ – óÛÈÍÓ‚‡ – ÅÛ·ÚÓ‚‡), ‰‡ Ë Â„Ó ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÎÂÌË ÔÓ¯ÎÓ ‚Ì ÚÓÈ Ò̇˜‡Î‡ ÒÚÛ‰Â̘ÂÒÍÓÈ, ‡ ÔÓÚÓÏ ÔÓÙÂÒÒËÓ̇θÌÓÈ Ò‰˚, ‚ ÍÓÚÓÓÈ ÙÓÏËÓ‚‡ÎËÒ¸ ÓÌË: Ó‰ËÎÒfl ‚ ·‡¯ÍËÒÍÓÏ ÒÂÎÂ, ÔÂ·‡ÎÒfl ‚ á·ÚÓÛÒÚ, Ò·‚Ì˚È ÔÓËÁ‚Ó‰ÒÚ‚ÓÏ ¯ÚÛ˜ÌÓ„Ó ÍÓÎÎÂ͈ËÓÌÌÓ„Ó ıÓÎÓ‰ÌÓ„Ó Ë ÓıÓÚÌ˘¸Â„Ó ÓÛÊËfl. ç‡‰Ó ‰Ûχڸ, Â„Ó Ë „ÓÚÓ‚ËÎË ‚ ÂÏÂÒÎÂÌÌËÍË-ÓÛÊÂÈÌËÍË: Ó·Û˜‡ÎÒfl ÓÌ Ú‡Ï „‡‚ËÓ‚Í ÔÓ ÏÂÚ‡ÎÎÛ. ÇÓÓ·˘Â-ÚÓ – Ò‡ÏÓ͇ۘ,

Chubarov began as an artist a bit later than the others of his generation (that of Kabakov, Chuikov and Bulatov) and he developed outside the students’ and later professional environment enjoyed by his coevals. He was born in a Bashkirian village and later moved to the town of Zlatoust, famous for its production of cold arms and hunting weapons. He was probably trained as an armorer because he was taught engraving on metal. He is basically a self-made man: he started drawing on his own initiative.

Ò‡ÏÓÒÚÓflÚÂθÌÓ ÔÓÚflÌÛ‚¯ËÈÒfl Í ËÒÓ‚‡Ì˲.

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Ç 1959 ÔÂÂÂÁʇÂÚ ‚ ᇄÓÒÍ – ·ÎËÊÂ Í åÓÒÍ‚Â, Í ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Û, Í ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇Ï. á̇ÍÓÏËÚÒfl Ò ÑÏËÚËÂÏ îËÎËÔÔӂ˘ÂÏ ñ‡ÔÎËÌ˚Ï. ÑÛχ˛, ˝ÚÓ Ó·˘ÂÌË ·˚ÎÓ ‚ ‚˚Ò¯ÂÈ ÒÚÂÔÂÌË ÔÎÓ‰ÓÚ‚ÓÌ˚Ï, Ì ÏÂÌ Á̇˜ËÏ˚Ï, ˜ÂÏ ‰Îfl Â„Ó Ò‚ÂÒÚÌËÍÓ‚, ÒÚÛ‰ÂÌÚÓ‚ ÏÓÒÍÓ‚ÒÍËı ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ı ‚ÛÁÓ‚, ÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌËfl Ò Ç.ÓÒÍËÏ ËÎË ê.î‡Î¸ÍÓÏ. ñ‡ÔÎËÌ ·˚Î ÛÌË͇θÌÓÈ ÙË„ÛÓÈ – ÒÍÛθÔÚÓ ‚˚ÒÓ˜‡È¯Â„Ó Í·ÒÒ‡, Ò ıÓÓ¯ÂÈ «Á‡Ô‡‰ÌÓÈ» ‚˚ÒÚ‡‚Ó˜ÌÓÈ ËÒÚÓËÂÈ, ÓÌ ‚ÂÌÛÎÒfl ‚ ëÓ‚ÂÚÒÍËÈ ëÓ˛Á Ë Ó͇Á‡ÎÒfl Ì‚ÓÒÚ·ӂ‡ÌÌ˚Ï, ̉ÓÓˆÂÌÂÌÌ˚Ï, Á‡‰‚ËÌÛÚ˚Ï Á‡ ¯Ú‡Ú ÓÙˈˇθÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡. ÖÏÛ ·˚ÎÓ ˜ÂÏ ÔÓ‰ÂÎËÚ¸Òfl Ò Ì‡˜Ë̇˛˘ËÏ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÓÏ – Ë Ì‡‚˚͇ÏË ‚ÓÒÔËflÚËfl ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡ (ÍÒÚ‡ÚË, ÓÌ Ò‡Ï ·˚Î ‡‚ÚӉˉ‡ÍÚ Ë ‰Ó ÔÓÌËχÌËfl ÍÛθÚÛ˚ ÙÓÏ˚, Ò‚ÓÈÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÏÛ ÂÏÛ ÛÓ‚Ì˛ ‡Á‚ËÚËfl ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁχ, ‰Ó¯ÂÎ Ò‚ÓËÏ ÛÏÓÏ), Ë Ò‡ÏÓÈ ÒÚ‡Ú„ËÂÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Ôӂ‰ÂÌËfl — ÌÂÁ‡‚ËÒËÏÓÈ, ÍËÚ˘ÌÓÈ ÔÓ ÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌ˲ Í Ô‡‚ËÎ‡Ï ÓÙˈËÓÁ‡. Ç Ô‡ÍÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ Ô·Ì ÓÚ Ì„Ó, fl ‰Ûχ˛, óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÓÒÚ ‚ÒÂ„Ó ‚ÓÒÔËÌflÎ ‰‚‡ ËÏÔÛθ҇. èÂ‚˚È – ÏÓ˘ÌÛ˛ ˝ÌÂ„˲ ‡ı‡ËÁ‡ˆËË, ÍÓÚÓ‡fl ÓÚ΢‡Î‡ ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌË ҇ÏÓ„Ó ñ‡ÔÎË̇. ÇÚÓÓÈ – ÓÚÚÓÊÂÌË ‚ÒÂ„Ó Ò˛ÊÂÚÌÓ„Ó, ÒÍÓθÍÓ-ÌË·Û‰¸ ÎËÚÂ‡ÚÛÌÓ„Ó, ÔË‚ÌÂÒÂÌÌÓ„Ó ‚ ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌË ËÁ‚ÌÂ: ñ‡ÔÎËÌ Ì ÚÂÔÂÎ ‚ÓÔÓÒÓ‚ ÔÓ ÔÓ‚Ó‰Û ÚÓ„Ó, ˜ÚÓ ÍÓÌÍÂÚÌÓ ÓÁ̇˜‡ÂÚ ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËÂ. éÌ Ì ‰Â·Π‡Á΢Ëfl ÏÂÊ‰Û ‡ÌËχÎËÒÚËÍÓÈ, ÔÓÚÂÚÓÏ ËÎË ˜ÂÏ-ÎË·Ó ËÌ˚Ï: ‰Îfl ÌÂ„Ó ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Ó‚‡ÎË ÚÓθÍÓ ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ‡ Ë ÌÂ-ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ‡. è‡‚‰‡, óÛ·‡Ó‚ Í ˝ÚÓÈ Ò‚Ó·Ó‰Â ÓÚ «ÚÂÏ˚» Ô˯ÂÎ Ì Ò‡ÁÛ. óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ‡ÌÓ ÒÚ‡ÎË Ô˄·¯‡Ú¸ ̇ ‚˚ÒÚ‡‚ÍË «‰Û„Ó„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡» (̇Á˚‚‡Ú¸ Â„Ó ÌÂÓÙˈˇθÌ˚Ï Á̇˜ËÚ – ÓÔÂÂʇڸ ÒÓ·˚ÚËfl: 1962-È, ÍÓ„‰‡ ÓÌ ‚˚ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÎÒfl ‚ÏÂÒÚÂ Ò ÏÓÒ͂˘‡ÏË ‚ ÍËÌÓÚ‡Ú‡ı «àÎβÁËÓÌ» Ë «ì‰‡ÌËÍ», ·˚Î „Ó‰ÓÏ Û·ÂÊÌ˚Ï, – ¢ ÒÓı‡ÌflÎËÒ¸ ËÎβÁËË ÔÓ ÔÓ‚Ó‰Û ‰Ó·ÓÈ ‚ÓÎË ‚·ÒÚÂÈ, ÒÔÓÒÓ·Ì˚ı ÓÚÓÈÚË ÓÚ ÚÓÚ‡ÎËÚ‡ËÒÚÒÍÓÈ Ë‰ÂÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓÈ Ó‰ÌÓ-

ÏÂÌÓÒÚË ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó ÔÓˆÂÒÒ‡ ‚ ÒÚÓÓÌÛ ÏËÌÓ„Ó ÒÓÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Ó‚‡ÌËfl ‡ÁÌ˚ı ̇Ô‡‚ÎÂÌËÈ). ÇÔÓ˜ÂÏ, ‰Ûχ˛, óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ˝ÚË ÒÓÓ·‡ÊÂÌËfl Ó·˘Â„Ó ÔÓfl‰Í‡ χÎÓ ‚ÓÎÌÓ‚‡ÎË: ÓÌ fl‚ÌÓ Ì ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊ‡Î Í ÚËÔÛ ‚ÓʉÂÈ ËÎË Ë‰ÂÓÎÓ„Ó‚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó ÔÓˆÂÒÒ‡. LJÊÌÓ ·˚ÎÓ ÔËÓ·˘ËÚ¸Òfl Í ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚Û Í‡Í ÂÏÂÒÎÛ, ÂÒÎË ÔÓ‚ÂÁÂÚ, ÔÓÎÛ˜‡Ú¸ ÍÓÂ-͇ÍË Á‡Í‡Á˚, ÍÓÏËÚ¸Òfl ËÏË. í‡ÍÓÏÛ ‡ÁÛÏ-ÌÓ-ÔËÁÂÏÎÂÌÌÓÏÛ ÚËÔÛ Ôӂ‰ÂÌËfl ϯ‡ÎÓ Ó‰ÌÓ Ó·ÒÚÓflÚÂθÒÚ‚Ó: ‡ÌÓ ÔÓfl‚Ë‚¯‡flÒfl ‚ÒÂÔÓ„ÎÓ˘‡˛˘‡fl ÒÚ‡ÒÚ¸ Í Ò‡ÏÓ‚˚‡ÊÂÌ˲. ëÎÓ‚Ó ˝ÚÓ ÒÚ‡ÓÏÓ‰ÌÓÂ, ËÁ ÓχÌÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÒÎÓ‚‡fl, ‰‡ ‚‰¸ Ë Ó·ÓÁ̇˜‡ÂÚ ÓÌÓ ‡ÚÔ‡ÍÚËÍÛ ÒÚËıËÈÌÓ„Ó, ‰ÓÂÙÎÂÍÒË‚ÌÓ„Ó ÚÓÎ͇: Ó˘Û˘‡ÂÚ ‚ Ò· ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍ ·¸˛˘Û˛ ˜ÂÂÁ Í‡È ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚËÍÛ Ë Ô˚Ú‡ÂÚÒfl ͇Í-ÚÓ Ó„‡ÌËÁÓ‚‡Ú¸ ÂÂ, ‚˚‡ÁËÚ¸ Ò·fl, Ì ӘÂ̸ Á‡·ÓÚflÒ¸ Ó ÒÚ‡Ú„Ëflı Ë ÔÓÁˈËÓÌËÓ‚‡ÌËflı. ÇÔÓ˜ÂÏ, ̇˂ËÒÚÓÏ, ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÓÏ Ò‰¸ÏÓ„Ó ‰Ìfl óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÓÚÌ˛‰¸ Ì ·˚Î (‰‡ Ë Ì ‰ÛχΠÔÓÁˈËÓÌËÓ‚‡Ú¸ Ò·fl ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ Í‡˜ÂÒÚ‚Â, Í‡Í ˝ÚÓ ÎÛ͇‚Ó-ÔÓÒÚÓ‰Û¯ÌÓ ‰Â·Π‚ Ò‚Ó ‚ÂÏfl «ãÂÌfl èÛ˚„ËÌ ËÁ ç‡˚»). 燂ÂÌÓÂ, ÏÌÓ„Ë ÚÓ„‰‡ ÔÓÔ‡‰‡ÎËÒ¸ ̇ Û‰Ó˜ÍÛ ‚̯ÌÂ„Ó ËÒÛÌ͇ Â„Ó ÊËÁÌÂÌÌ˚ı Ó·ÒÚÓflÚÂθÒÚ‚ Ë Ôӂ‰ÂÌËfl: Í‡Í ÊÂ, ÒÚËıËÈÌÓ Ó‰‡ÂÌÌ˚È Ò‡ÏÓÓ‰ÓÍ «ËÁ ̇Ó‰‡», χ„Ë̇Î, Ó‰ËÌӘ͇, «˜ËÒÚ˚È ÎËÒÚ». 燂ÂÌfl͇ ÔÓ·Ó‚‡ÎË Û˜ËÚ¸ ÊËÁÌË Ë ÔË‚Ë‚‡Ú¸ «ÍÛθÚÛÛ». åÂÊ‰Û ÚÂÏ ÓÌ ÛÊÂ Ó˘Û˘‡Î Ò·fl ‚ ÔÓÙÂÒÒËË, Ô˘ÂÏ ÔÓÙÂÒÒËË ËÏÂÌÌÓ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ„Ó ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, – ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ·ÓΠۂÂÂÌÌÓ, ˜ÂÏ ÏÌÓ„ËÂ Â„Ó Ò‚ÂÒÚÌËÍË, ‡Á‰Ë‡ÂÏ˚ ÔÓÚË‚Ó˜ËflÏË ÏÂÊ‰Û Ì‡‚˚͇ÏË ÔÓÎÛ˜ÂÌÌÓÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ¯ÍÓÎ˚, ÌÓχÏË Ë Ì‡‚‡ÏË Ô‡‚ËθÌÓ„Ó, ÓÙˈˇθÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡ Ë ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌËÏ Ó˘Û˘ÂÌËÂÏ Ò‚Ó·Ó‰˚, ÔÓ‰ÔËÚ‡ÌÌ˚Ï ÔËÏÂÓÏ ÌÂÏÌÓ„Ëı ÒÓı‡ÌË‚¯ËıÒfl ÂÎËÍÚÓ‚ ÍÛθÚÛ˚ 20-ı „Ó‰Ó‚. åÂÚ‡ÌËÈ ÔÓ‰Ó·ÌÓ„Ó Ó‰‡ ÓÌ Ì Á̇Î. òÍÓθÌÓ-‡Í‡‰ÂÏ˘ÂÒÍË ̇‚˚ÍË, ‚ ÒËÎÛ ÓÚÒÛÚÒÚ‚Ëfl Ú‡ÍÓ‚˚ı, Ò‚ÂÚ ÂÏÛ Ì Á‡ÒÚËÎË, ‡ ñ‡ÔÎËÌ, ‚ˉËÏÓ, ËÁ·‡‚ËÎ ÓÚ ÍÓÏÔÎÂÍÒ‡ ÌÂÔÓÎÌÓˆÂÌÌÓÒÚË ÔÓ ˝ÚÓÏÛ ÔÓ‚Ó‰Û. ÅÓΠÚÓ„Ó, ÔÓıÓÊÂ, ËÏÂÌÌÓ ÓÌ – Ë ÔËÏÂÓÏ

ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1965 80 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ —————————— From the collection of Norton and Nancy Dodge at the Zimmerli Art Museum, Rutgers University, U.S.

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Ú Û¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1985 45 ÒÏ • 61.5 ÒÏ

In 1959, he moved to the town of Zagorsk to be closer to Moscow, to artists and art. It was at that time that he met Dmitry Tsaplin whose guidance was just as productive for Chubarov as the association with Vladimir Favorsky and Robert Falk was for his fellow-artists, the students of various Moscow art schools. Tsaplin was a unique figure in Russian art. A brilliant sculptor with an impressive record of exhibitions in the West, he returned to the Soviet Union and found himself unemployed, unappreciated and pushed back to the margins of official art. He had much to share with a budding arist, including the skill of art appreciation (incidentally, he was very much a self-taught artist himself and assimilated the art of form-building on par with the level of modern art of his times) and the strategy of artistic behavior, independent and critical towards officialdom. In practical terms, Tsaplin gave Chubarov two main impulses: first, the powerful energy of archaism, typical of Tsaplin’s own form-building; and second, rejection of everything plot-driven and literary imposed on form-building from outside. Tsaplin was intolerant to questions about the concrete meaning of his works. He made no difference among animal painting, portrait or any other – for him only one distinction existed: a sculpture or not a sculpture. However,Chubarov came to this freedom from “the theme” only somewhat later. Chubarov was invited to exhibit at “alternative art” exhibitions rather early in his career. (It was too early at that time to use the term “unofficial art” because 1962, when he exhibited his work together with some Moscow artists at the cinema houses Illusion and Udarnik, was a borderline year when illusions were still alive regarding the good will of the authorities and their willingness to abandon the totalitarian, one-dimensional ideology in favor of peaceful co-existence among different trends in art.) Chubarov was probably unconcerned with these general considerations; he was not the type of artist who wished to be a leader or ideologist of an art movement. It was important for him to learn his trade as best he could, to get some commissions if he was lucky, and try to earn his living by his trade. However there was one factor, which interfered with this reasonable, worldly behavior: an all-consuming passion for self-expression that he developed early in his life. Self-expression is an old-fashioned word, it belongs to the language of romanticism and means spontaneous, pre-rational art practice when a person is aware of some bursting inner energy and tries to organize

it somehow, to express himself with no heed to strategies and positioning. But neither was Chubarov a naªve artist, a so-called artist of the “seventh day of creation” (he wouldn’t even dream of positioning himself in this role like his naªvely cunning contemporary “Lyonya Purygin from Nara”). Many people at that time were beguiled by the outward pattern of his life and behavior: a naturally gifted self-educated artist from an under-privileged family, a marginal loner, a “clean sheet”. Many well-wishers probably tried to teach him life’s wisdom and culture. Meanwhile he already considered himself as a professional in art and moreover, in modern art, and probably felt more assured of himself than many of his contemporaries, who were torn apart between the skills learnt at school, the norms and rules imposed by the official art, and their own inner feeling of freedom sustained by the few extant relics of the culture of the 1920’s. Chubarov knew none of those inner discords. No formal art education stood in his way because he had never had any while Tsaplin probably relieved him of any inferiority complexes on this account. Moreover, it must have been the same Tsaplin with his profound knowledge of contemporary European sculpture and the example of his own life, who infected Chubarov with a purely demiurgic, modernist complex of mistrust of any formalized structures imposed from outside. He also infected him with a faith in the artist’s creative will – the world was shaped here and now irrespective of established norms. Thus Chubarov had chosen the best possible, in his situation, way of self-identification: he articulated only what derived from his “self-autonomy”, to quote Pushkin, what was natural, organic, rooted in the soil. Several decades later, in an interview with Vitaly Patsukov, an indefatigable collector and keeper of the history of Russian underground art, Chubarov spoke at length about his roots: pre-Christian Bashkirian and Russian Old Believers’. I must mention at once that his root-seeking could have led him into a blind alley, which was the case with many others, if it remained at the level of declarative ness and the plot, because what is rooted in the soil often turns into things artificial, ideologically biased and nationalistically crude. This way is only fruitful, in my opinion, when the vector of form – building is directed from within (from one’s heart), no more no less. While the form building itself is interpreted in the context of modern art.

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Ç 1959 ÔÂÂÂÁʇÂÚ ‚ ᇄÓÒÍ – ·ÎËÊÂ Í åÓÒÍ‚Â, Í ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Û, Í ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇Ï. á̇ÍÓÏËÚÒfl Ò ÑÏËÚËÂÏ îËÎËÔÔӂ˘ÂÏ ñ‡ÔÎËÌ˚Ï. ÑÛχ˛, ˝ÚÓ Ó·˘ÂÌË ·˚ÎÓ ‚ ‚˚Ò¯ÂÈ ÒÚÂÔÂÌË ÔÎÓ‰ÓÚ‚ÓÌ˚Ï, Ì ÏÂÌ Á̇˜ËÏ˚Ï, ˜ÂÏ ‰Îfl Â„Ó Ò‚ÂÒÚÌËÍÓ‚, ÒÚÛ‰ÂÌÚÓ‚ ÏÓÒÍÓ‚ÒÍËı ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ı ‚ÛÁÓ‚, ÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌËfl Ò Ç.ÓÒÍËÏ ËÎË ê.î‡Î¸ÍÓÏ. ñ‡ÔÎËÌ ·˚Î ÛÌË͇θÌÓÈ ÙË„ÛÓÈ – ÒÍÛθÔÚÓ ‚˚ÒÓ˜‡È¯Â„Ó Í·ÒÒ‡, Ò ıÓÓ¯ÂÈ «Á‡Ô‡‰ÌÓÈ» ‚˚ÒÚ‡‚Ó˜ÌÓÈ ËÒÚÓËÂÈ, ÓÌ ‚ÂÌÛÎÒfl ‚ ëÓ‚ÂÚÒÍËÈ ëÓ˛Á Ë Ó͇Á‡ÎÒfl Ì‚ÓÒÚ·ӂ‡ÌÌ˚Ï, ̉ÓÓˆÂÌÂÌÌ˚Ï, Á‡‰‚ËÌÛÚ˚Ï Á‡ ¯Ú‡Ú ÓÙˈˇθÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡. ÖÏÛ ·˚ÎÓ ˜ÂÏ ÔÓ‰ÂÎËÚ¸Òfl Ò Ì‡˜Ë̇˛˘ËÏ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÓÏ – Ë Ì‡‚˚͇ÏË ‚ÓÒÔËflÚËfl ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡ (ÍÒÚ‡ÚË, ÓÌ Ò‡Ï ·˚Î ‡‚ÚӉˉ‡ÍÚ Ë ‰Ó ÔÓÌËχÌËfl ÍÛθÚÛ˚ ÙÓÏ˚, Ò‚ÓÈÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÏÛ ÂÏÛ ÛÓ‚Ì˛ ‡Á‚ËÚËfl ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁχ, ‰Ó¯ÂÎ Ò‚ÓËÏ ÛÏÓÏ), Ë Ò‡ÏÓÈ ÒÚ‡Ú„ËÂÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Ôӂ‰ÂÌËfl — ÌÂÁ‡‚ËÒËÏÓÈ, ÍËÚ˘ÌÓÈ ÔÓ ÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌ˲ Í Ô‡‚ËÎ‡Ï ÓÙˈËÓÁ‡. Ç Ô‡ÍÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ Ô·Ì ÓÚ Ì„Ó, fl ‰Ûχ˛, óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÓÒÚ ‚ÒÂ„Ó ‚ÓÒÔËÌflÎ ‰‚‡ ËÏÔÛθ҇. èÂ‚˚È – ÏÓ˘ÌÛ˛ ˝ÌÂ„˲ ‡ı‡ËÁ‡ˆËË, ÍÓÚÓ‡fl ÓÚ΢‡Î‡ ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌË ҇ÏÓ„Ó ñ‡ÔÎË̇. ÇÚÓÓÈ – ÓÚÚÓÊÂÌË ‚ÒÂ„Ó Ò˛ÊÂÚÌÓ„Ó, ÒÍÓθÍÓ-ÌË·Û‰¸ ÎËÚÂ‡ÚÛÌÓ„Ó, ÔË‚ÌÂÒÂÌÌÓ„Ó ‚ ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌË ËÁ‚ÌÂ: ñ‡ÔÎËÌ Ì ÚÂÔÂÎ ‚ÓÔÓÒÓ‚ ÔÓ ÔÓ‚Ó‰Û ÚÓ„Ó, ˜ÚÓ ÍÓÌÍÂÚÌÓ ÓÁ̇˜‡ÂÚ ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËÂ. éÌ Ì ‰Â·Π‡Á΢Ëfl ÏÂÊ‰Û ‡ÌËχÎËÒÚËÍÓÈ, ÔÓÚÂÚÓÏ ËÎË ˜ÂÏ-ÎË·Ó ËÌ˚Ï: ‰Îfl ÌÂ„Ó ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Ó‚‡ÎË ÚÓθÍÓ ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ‡ Ë ÌÂ-ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ‡. è‡‚‰‡, óÛ·‡Ó‚ Í ˝ÚÓÈ Ò‚Ó·Ó‰Â ÓÚ «ÚÂÏ˚» Ô˯ÂÎ Ì Ò‡ÁÛ. óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ‡ÌÓ ÒÚ‡ÎË Ô˄·¯‡Ú¸ ̇ ‚˚ÒÚ‡‚ÍË «‰Û„Ó„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡» (̇Á˚‚‡Ú¸ Â„Ó ÌÂÓÙˈˇθÌ˚Ï Á̇˜ËÚ – ÓÔÂÂʇڸ ÒÓ·˚ÚËfl: 1962-È, ÍÓ„‰‡ ÓÌ ‚˚ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÎÒfl ‚ÏÂÒÚÂ Ò ÏÓÒ͂˘‡ÏË ‚ ÍËÌÓÚ‡Ú‡ı «àÎβÁËÓÌ» Ë «ì‰‡ÌËÍ», ·˚Î „Ó‰ÓÏ Û·ÂÊÌ˚Ï, – ¢ ÒÓı‡ÌflÎËÒ¸ ËÎβÁËË ÔÓ ÔÓ‚Ó‰Û ‰Ó·ÓÈ ‚ÓÎË ‚·ÒÚÂÈ, ÒÔÓÒÓ·Ì˚ı ÓÚÓÈÚË ÓÚ ÚÓÚ‡ÎËÚ‡ËÒÚÒÍÓÈ Ë‰ÂÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓÈ Ó‰ÌÓ-

ÏÂÌÓÒÚË ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó ÔÓˆÂÒÒ‡ ‚ ÒÚÓÓÌÛ ÏËÌÓ„Ó ÒÓÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Ó‚‡ÌËfl ‡ÁÌ˚ı ̇Ô‡‚ÎÂÌËÈ). ÇÔÓ˜ÂÏ, ‰Ûχ˛, óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ˝ÚË ÒÓÓ·‡ÊÂÌËfl Ó·˘Â„Ó ÔÓfl‰Í‡ χÎÓ ‚ÓÎÌÓ‚‡ÎË: ÓÌ fl‚ÌÓ Ì ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊ‡Î Í ÚËÔÛ ‚ÓʉÂÈ ËÎË Ë‰ÂÓÎÓ„Ó‚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó ÔÓˆÂÒÒ‡. LJÊÌÓ ·˚ÎÓ ÔËÓ·˘ËÚ¸Òfl Í ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚Û Í‡Í ÂÏÂÒÎÛ, ÂÒÎË ÔÓ‚ÂÁÂÚ, ÔÓÎÛ˜‡Ú¸ ÍÓÂ-͇ÍË Á‡Í‡Á˚, ÍÓÏËÚ¸Òfl ËÏË. í‡ÍÓÏÛ ‡ÁÛÏ-ÌÓ-ÔËÁÂÏÎÂÌÌÓÏÛ ÚËÔÛ Ôӂ‰ÂÌËfl ϯ‡ÎÓ Ó‰ÌÓ Ó·ÒÚÓflÚÂθÒÚ‚Ó: ‡ÌÓ ÔÓfl‚Ë‚¯‡flÒfl ‚ÒÂÔÓ„ÎÓ˘‡˛˘‡fl ÒÚ‡ÒÚ¸ Í Ò‡ÏÓ‚˚‡ÊÂÌ˲. ëÎÓ‚Ó ˝ÚÓ ÒÚ‡ÓÏÓ‰ÌÓÂ, ËÁ ÓχÌÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÒÎÓ‚‡fl, ‰‡ ‚‰¸ Ë Ó·ÓÁ̇˜‡ÂÚ ÓÌÓ ‡ÚÔ‡ÍÚËÍÛ ÒÚËıËÈÌÓ„Ó, ‰ÓÂÙÎÂÍÒË‚ÌÓ„Ó ÚÓÎ͇: Ó˘Û˘‡ÂÚ ‚ Ò· ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍ ·¸˛˘Û˛ ˜ÂÂÁ Í‡È ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚËÍÛ Ë Ô˚Ú‡ÂÚÒfl ͇Í-ÚÓ Ó„‡ÌËÁÓ‚‡Ú¸ ÂÂ, ‚˚‡ÁËÚ¸ Ò·fl, Ì ӘÂ̸ Á‡·ÓÚflÒ¸ Ó ÒÚ‡Ú„Ëflı Ë ÔÓÁˈËÓÌËÓ‚‡ÌËflı. ÇÔÓ˜ÂÏ, ̇˂ËÒÚÓÏ, ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÓÏ Ò‰¸ÏÓ„Ó ‰Ìfl óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÓÚÌ˛‰¸ Ì ·˚Î (‰‡ Ë Ì ‰ÛχΠÔÓÁˈËÓÌËÓ‚‡Ú¸ Ò·fl ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ Í‡˜ÂÒÚ‚Â, Í‡Í ˝ÚÓ ÎÛ͇‚Ó-ÔÓÒÚÓ‰Û¯ÌÓ ‰Â·Π‚ Ò‚Ó ‚ÂÏfl «ãÂÌfl èÛ˚„ËÌ ËÁ ç‡˚»). 燂ÂÌÓÂ, ÏÌÓ„Ë ÚÓ„‰‡ ÔÓÔ‡‰‡ÎËÒ¸ ̇ Û‰Ó˜ÍÛ ‚̯ÌÂ„Ó ËÒÛÌ͇ Â„Ó ÊËÁÌÂÌÌ˚ı ��·ÒÚÓflÚÂθÒÚ‚ Ë Ôӂ‰ÂÌËfl: Í‡Í ÊÂ, ÒÚËıËÈÌÓ Ó‰‡ÂÌÌ˚È Ò‡ÏÓÓ‰ÓÍ «ËÁ ̇Ó‰‡», χ„Ë̇Î, Ó‰ËÌӘ͇, «˜ËÒÚ˚È ÎËÒÚ». 燂ÂÌfl͇ ÔÓ·Ó‚‡ÎË Û˜ËÚ¸ ÊËÁÌË Ë ÔË‚Ë‚‡Ú¸ «ÍÛθÚÛÛ». åÂÊ‰Û ÚÂÏ ÓÌ ÛÊÂ Ó˘Û˘‡Î Ò·fl ‚ ÔÓÙÂÒÒËË, Ô˘ÂÏ ÔÓÙÂÒÒËË ËÏÂÌÌÓ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ„Ó ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, – ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ·ÓΠۂÂÂÌÌÓ, ˜ÂÏ ÏÌÓ„ËÂ Â„Ó Ò‚ÂÒÚÌËÍË, ‡Á‰Ë‡ÂÏ˚ ÔÓÚË‚Ó˜ËflÏË ÏÂÊ‰Û Ì‡‚˚͇ÏË ÔÓÎÛ˜ÂÌÌÓÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ¯ÍÓÎ˚, ÌÓχÏË Ë Ì‡‚‡ÏË Ô‡‚ËθÌÓ„Ó, ÓÙˈˇθÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡ Ë ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌËÏ Ó˘Û˘ÂÌËÂÏ Ò‚Ó·Ó‰˚, ÔÓ‰ÔËÚ‡ÌÌ˚Ï ÔËÏÂÓÏ ÌÂÏÌÓ„Ëı ÒÓı‡ÌË‚¯ËıÒfl ÂÎËÍÚÓ‚ ÍÛθÚÛ˚ 20-ı „Ó‰Ó‚. åÂÚ‡ÌËÈ ÔÓ‰Ó·ÌÓ„Ó Ó‰‡ ÓÌ Ì Á̇Î. òÍÓθÌÓ-‡Í‡‰ÂÏ˘ÂÒÍË ̇‚˚ÍË, ‚ ÒËÎÛ ÓÚÒÛÚÒÚ‚Ëfl Ú‡ÍÓ‚˚ı, Ò‚ÂÚ ÂÏÛ Ì Á‡ÒÚËÎË, ‡ ñ‡ÔÎËÌ, ‚ˉËÏÓ, ËÁ·‡‚ËÎ ÓÚ ÍÓÏÔÎÂÍÒ‡ ÌÂÔÓÎÌÓˆÂÌÌÓÒÚË ÔÓ ˝ÚÓÏÛ ÔÓ‚Ó‰Û. ÅÓΠÚÓ„Ó, ÔÓıÓÊÂ, ËÏÂÌÌÓ ÓÌ – Ë ÔËÏÂÓÏ

ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1965 80 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ —————————— From the collection of Norton and Nancy Dodge at the Zimmerli Art Museum, Rutgers University, U.S.

14

Ú Û¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1985 45 ÒÏ • 61.5 ÒÏ

In 1959, he moved to the town of Zagorsk to be closer to Moscow, to artists and art. It was at that time that he met Dmitry Tsaplin whose guidance was just as productive for Chubarov as the association with Vladimir Favorsky and Robert Falk was for his fellow-artists, the students of various Moscow art schools. Tsaplin was a unique figure in Russian art. A brilliant sculptor with an impressive record of exhibitions in the West, he returned to the Soviet Union and found himself unemployed, unappreciated and pushed back to the margins of official art. He had much to share with a budding arist, including the skill of art appreciation (incidentally, he was very much a self-taught artist himself and assimilated the art of form-building on par with the level of modern art of his times) and the strategy of artistic behavior, independent and critical towards officialdom. In practical terms, Tsaplin gave Chubarov two main impulses: first, the powerful energy of archaism, typical of Tsaplin’s own form-building; and second, rejection of everything plot-driven and literary imposed on form-building from outside. Tsaplin was intolerant to questions about the concrete meaning of his works. He made no difference among animal painting, portrait or any other – for him only one distinction existed: a sculpture or not a sculpture. However,Chubarov came to this freedom from “the theme” only somewhat later. Chubarov was invited to exhibit at “alternative art” exhibitions rather early in his career. (It was too early at that time to use the term “unofficial art” because 1962, when he exhibited his work together with some Moscow artists at the cinema houses Illusion and Udarnik, was a borderline year when illusions were still alive regarding the good will of the authorities and their willingness to abandon the totalitarian, one-dimensional ideology in favor of peaceful co-existence among different trends in art.) Chubarov was probably unconcerned with these general considerations; he was not the type of artist who wished to be a leader or ideologist of an art movement. It was important for him to learn his trade as best he could, to get some commissions if he was lucky, and try to earn his living by his trade. However there was one factor, which interfered with this reasonable, worldly behavior: an all-consuming passion for self-expression that he developed early in his life. Self-expression is an old-fashioned word, it belongs to the language of romanticism and means spontaneous, pre-rational art practice when a person is aware of some bursting inner energy and tries to organize

it somehow, to express himself with no heed to strategies and positioning. But neither was Chubarov a naªve artist, a so-called artist of the “seventh day of creation” (he wouldn’t even dream of positioning himself in this role like his naªvely cunning contemporary “Lyonya Purygin from Nara”). Many people at that time were beguiled by the outward pattern of his life and behavior: a naturally gifted self-educated artist from an under-privileged family, a marginal loner, a “clean sheet”. Many well-wishers probably tried to teach him life’s wisdom and culture. Meanwhile he already considered himself as a professional in art and moreover, in modern art, and probably felt more assured of himself than many of his contemporaries, who were torn apart between the skills learnt at school, the norms and rules imposed by the official art, and their own inner feeling of freedom sustained by the few extant relics of the culture of the 1920’s. Chubarov knew none of those inner discords. No formal art education stood in his way because he had never had any while Tsaplin probably relieved him of any inferiority complexes on this account. Moreover, it must have been the same Tsaplin with his profound knowledge of contemporary European sculpture and the example of his own life, who infected Chubarov with a purely demiurgic, modernist complex of mistrust of any formalized structures imposed from outside. He also infected him with a faith in the artist’s creative will – the world was shaped here and now irrespective of established norms. Thus Chubarov had chosen the best possible, in his situation, way of self-identification: he articulated only what derived from his “self-autonomy”, to quote Pushkin, what was natural, organic, rooted in the soil. Several decades later, in an interview with Vitaly Patsukov, an indefatigable collector and keeper of the history of Russian underground art, Chubarov spoke at length about his roots: pre-Christian Bashkirian and Russian Old Believers’. I must mention at once that his root-seeking could have led him into a blind alley, which was the case with many others, if it remained at the level of declarative ness and the plot, because what is rooted in the soil often turns into things artificial, ideologically biased and nationalistically crude. This way is only fruitful, in my opinion, when the vector of form – building is directed from within (from one’s heart), no more no less. While the form building itself is interpreted in the context of modern art.

15


ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1967 110 ÒÏ • 140 ÒÏ

Ò‚ÓËÏ, Ë „ÎÛ·ÓÍËÏË Á̇ÌËflÏË ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ Â‚ÓÔÂÈÒÍÓÈ ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ˚, ÍÓÚÓ˚ÏË ‰ÂÎËÎÒfl, – Á‡‡ÁËÎ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ˜ËÒÚÓ ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÒÚÒÍËÏ ‰ÂÏËÛ„˘ÂÒÍËÏ ÍÓÏÔÎÂÍÒÓÏ Ì‰ӂÂËfl Í ÙÓχÎËÁÓ‚‡ÌÌ˚Ï ÒÚÛÍÚÛ‡Ï, ̇‚flÁ‡ÌÌ˚Ï ËÁ‚ÌÂ. à – ‚Â˚ ‚ ÒÓÁˉ‡ÚÂθÌÛ˛ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ ‚Óβ: ÏË ÙÓÏÓ‚‡ÎÒfl, ÎÂÔËÎÒfl Á‰ÂÒ¸ Ë ÒÂȘ‡Ò, ·ÂÁ Ó„Îfl‰ÍË Ì‡ Ó·˘ÂÔËÌflÚ˚ ÌÓÏ˚. í‡ÍËÏ Ó·‡ÁÓÏ, óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÔÓ‰Ó·‡Î Ò· ‰ËÌÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ‚ÂÌ˚È ‚ Â„Ó ÔÓÎÓÊÂÌËË ÔÛÚ¸ Ò‡ÏÓˉÂÌÚËÙË͇ˆËË: ‡ÚËÍÛÎËÓ‚‡ÎÓÒ¸ ÚÓ, ˜ÚÓ èÛ¯ÍËÌ Ì‡Á˚‚‡Î «Ò‡ÏÓÒÚÓfl̸ÂÏ» – ÔËÓ‰ÌÓÂ, Ó„‡Ì˘ÌÓÂ, Ë‰Û˘Â «ÓÚ ÁÂÏÎË». ÑÂÒflÚËÎÂÚËflÏË ÔÓÁ‰ÌÂÂ, ‚ ËÌÚÂ‚¸˛ Ç.臈˛ÍÓ‚Û, ÌÂÛÚÓÏËÏÓÏÛ ı‡ÌËÚÂβ ËÒÚÓËË ÛÒÒÍÓ„Ó ‡Ì‰Â„‡Û̉‡, ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ÏÌÓ„Ó „Ó‚ÓËÎ Ó Ò‚ÓËı Ó‰Ó‚˚ı «ÍÓÌflı» – ÛÒÒÍËı, ÒÚ‡Ó‚Â˜ÂÒÍËı, Ë ·‡¯ÍËÒÍËı, ‰ÓıËÒÚˇÌÒÍËı. ë‡ÁÛ Ò͇ÊÛ, ˝ÚÓÚ ÔÛÚ¸ ÍÓÌÂËÒ͇ÚÂθÒÚ‚‡, ÓÒڇ̸Òfl ÓÌ Ì‡ ÛÓ‚Ì ‰ÂÍ·‡ÚË‚ÌÓ – Ò˛ÊÂÚÌÓÏ, ÏÓ„ Á‡‚ÂÒÚË (Ë Á‡‚Ó‰ËÎ ÏÌÓ„Ëı) ‚ ÌËÍÛ‰‡, ‚‰¸ «ÌÛÚflÌÓ», ÔÓ˜‚ÂÌÌÓÂ Ú‡Í Î„ÍÓ Ó·Ó‡˜Ë‚‡ÂÚÒfl ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ, ‡ÚËÍÛÎËÓ‚‡ÌÌÓÈ Ì‡ ˉÂÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ ÛÓ‚ÌÂ, ÍÓ̉ӂÓÒÚ¸˛. êÂÁÛθڇÚË‚ÂÌ ÓÌ, ‚ˉËÏÓ, ÍÓ„‰‡ «ËÁÌÛÚË» (ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, «ËÁ ÌÛÚ‡») – ̇Ô‡‚ÎÂÌ ‚ÂÍÚÓ ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌËfl, Ì ·ÓÎÂÂ Ë Ì ÏÂÌ ÚÓ„Ó. Ä Ò‡ÏÓ ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌË ÓÒÏ˚ÒÎÂÌÓ ÛÊ ‚ ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÓÔÓÌËχÌËfl. ì‚ÂÂÌ, ÔË ‚ÒÂÈ ÌÂÔÓÒ‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚË ‡ÌÌÂÈ ‡ÚÔ‡ÍÚËÍË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, ÒÚËıËÈÌÓÒÚË ‰‡Ê Ì ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌËfl, ‡ ÙÓÏÓËÁ‚ÂÊÂÌËfl, Ó̇ ‚ ‰ÓÒÚ‡ÚÓ˜ÌÓÈ ÒÚÂÔÂÌË ÓÚÂÙÎÂÍÒËÓ‚‡Ì‡. óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÛÊ ÚÓ„‰‡ Á̇Î, ˜ÚÓ ‰Â·ÂÚ Ë ÍÛ‰‡ ‰‚ËÊÂÚÒfl. ê‡ÌÌË ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ˚ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ – ͇ÏÂÌÌ˚ ·‡·˚ Í‡Í ·˚ ÔÓ‡ÒÚ‡˛Ú ËÁ ÁÂÏÎË Ë ‚‡ÒÚ‡˛Ú ‚ ÁÂÏβ ̇ÔÓ‰Ó·Ë ÒÍËÙÒÍËı. çÂÚ Ë Ì‡ÏÂ͇ ̇ ˝ÚÌÓ„‡ÙËÁÏ ËÎË ÒÚËÎËÁ‡ˆË˛. îÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌË ÛÔÓ‰Ó·ÎÂÌÓ ÔËÓ‰ÌÓÏÛ: ͇ÏÂ̸ ÔÓ‰ÚÓ˜ÂÌ ‚Ó‰ÓÈ, ‚˚ÎÛ˘ÂÌ ‚ÂÚ‡ÏË. à — Ò‡ÏÛ˛ χÎÓÒÚ¸ — ÚÓÌÛÚ ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÓÏ, ÓÒÚ‡‚Ë‚¯ËÏ Ì‡ ÌÂÏ – ÔËÏËÚË‚Ì˚Ï ÓÛ‰ËÂÏ – ͇ÍËÂ-ÚÓ ÒÛ˘ÌÓÒÚÌÓ ‚‡ÊÌ˚ ÒΉ˚. ëÚËÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ÔÓ‚ÚÓfl˛, Ì ·˚ÎÓ – ·˚· ÚÂχÚËÁ‡ˆËfl ‰‚Ûı ÏÓÏÂÌÚÓ‚: ˝ÚÓ„Ó Ò‡ÏÓ„Ó ÔÓ‡ÒÚ‡ÌËfl – ‚‡ÒÚ‡ÌËfl, ÚÓ ÂÒÚ¸ Ó„‡ÌËÍË ‚Á‡ËÏÓÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌËÈ Ò Ï‡ÚÂ¸˛ Ò˚ÓÈ ÁÂÏÎÂÈ, Ë «ÒΉ‡» ÔËÓ‰ÌÓ - ‰‚̘ÂÎӂ˜¸ÂÈ Ó·‡·ÓÚÍË Í‡ÏÌfl. ֢ ‡ÌÂÂ, ˜ÂÏ ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ‡, ÔÓÙÂÒÒËÓ̇θÌÓÈ Ò‰ Òڇ· ËÁ‚ÂÒÚ̇ „‡ÙË͇ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ – ËÒÛÌÍË, ‚˚ÔÓÎÌÂÌÌ˚ ӷ˚˜ÌÓ ÚÛ¯¸˛ ËÎË Í‡ÍËÏ-ÚÓ Í‡ÒËÚÂÎÂÏ ÚËÔ‡ ·ÏÔÓ‚ÓÈ ÍÓÔÓÚË. éÌË ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸ÌÓ ıÓ‰ËÎË ÔÓ ÛÍ‡Ï (ÔÓÏÌËÚÒfl, ͇ÍËÏ-ÚÓ ÔÛÚÂÏ ‰Ó¯ÎË Ë ‰Ó ÏÂÌfl, ÚÓ„‰‡ ÒÚÛ‰ÂÌÚ‡-ËÒÍÛÒÒڂӂ‰‡ ÍÓÌÒÂ‚‡ÚË‚ÌÂȯÂÈ ÎÂÌËÌ„‡‰ÒÍÓÈ Ä͇‰ÂÏËË ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚), ÒÓÔÓ‚Óʉ‡ÂÏ˚ Î„Ẩ‡ÏË Ó «Ï˚ÚˢÂÌÒÍÓÏ ÙÂÌÓÏÂÌ». èÓ ÒÛÚË ‰Â·, ˝ÚÓ ·˚· ÒÍ‚ÓÁ̇fl ÒÂËfl Ò Ó·˘ÂÈ ÔÓ·ÎÂχÚËÍÓÈ ‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó. ÄÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó, ÔÓÌflÚÓ„Ó Í‡Í ÌÂ͇fl ÔÓÒÚÓflÌ̇fl ·Ó¸·‡ – Á‡ ‚ˉӂÓ ‚˚ÊË‚‡ÌËÂ? Á‡ „ÓÒÔÓ‰ÒÚ‚Ó Ì‡ ÁÂÏÎÂ? Á‡ Ò‚Ó·Ó‰Û ÓÚ ÔÓÒfl„‡ÚÂθÒÚ‚ ÌÂÍËı ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËÁËÓ‚‡ÌÌ˚ı, ÔÓfl‚Ë‚¯ËıÒfl ËÁ ÁÂÏÎflÌÓ„Ó ˜‚‡ ÒËÎ – ÚËÚ‡ÌÓ‚, „Ë„‡ÌÚÓ‚? àÍÓÌÓ„‡ÙËfl ÔÓÒÚÓflÌ̇: Ó·‡Á˚, ‚ÓÔÎÓ˘‡˛˘Ë ͂‡ÁË-ÊÂÌÒÍÓÂ

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I am sure that for all the artlessness of Chubarov’s early art with its spontaneous form-explosion, rather than formbuilding, it had been still sufficiently rational. Already at that time Chubarov knew what he was doing and where he was going. Chubarov’s early sculptures (Stone Women) grow up from the earth as it were and are rooted in the earth similar to the Scythian idols. There is not even a hint of any ethnographic intentions or stylization. His form-building occurs like that in nature: the stone is shaped by water, polished by the wind and only slightly touched by the human hand to leave some existentially important marks on it by his primitive tools. There was no attempt at stylization, the artist intended to emphasize two themes: the “outgrowing and in-growing”, that is, organic relationship with Mother Earth and the marks left on the stone by the ancient man and nature. Before he became known for his sculptures, he was known in the professional circles for his graphic works. His drawings were usually made with ink or some other pigment such as oil-lamp soot. They were circulating in the art circles accompanied by legends about this “Mytischi phenomenon” (I remember they reached me as well somehow, then a student of art criticism at the Leningrad Academy of Arts, one of the most conservative of all educational establishments). In essence, it was a continued series united by a general anthropological theme. “Anthropological” should be understood here as a constant struggle for survival of the species (?), for domination on earth (?), for freedom from any claims by certain mythological forces, deriving from the earth’s bowels, such as titans, giants (?). His iconography is constant: the imagery impersonating the quasi-female (proto-Mother) and the quasi-male (conception as sexual act) and also the androgens plus the same titans. These graphic works did not really need any verbalization, to say nothing of detailed explanation or description. They exist in a state as it were prior to plot-building or intrigue. There is no point in rendering concrete anything that belongs to mythology. The main theme of the series is the struggle of the physical for its own survival and its higher form, for the ability of the human to grow out of biological masses.

Chubarov’s graphic works are akin to sculpture. He is obviously concerned with the volume, which he conveys with the powerful strokes of black and white or by means of grapic rings and folds. Much later in the same interview with Patsukov, Chubarov mentioned Moore. Perhaps even then he associated his intentions with the classics of modernism. But he realized the difference between the founding principles. The sculptural quality of Henry Moore’s drawings of the time of the Second World War are due to their volume, resisting any deformation – compression, flattening, direct destruction – by outside forces and outside aggression. The sculptural quality of Chubarov’s graphic works is due to the volume effect, forming within, under the impact of inner energies, the volume that is born right under your very eyes. Its deformations are inflicted by birth traumas. One gets an impression of a procedural continuity from Chubarov’s graphics. Many years later this quality was realized in his abstract works – continuous lava eruption or form-eruption as an analogy to the inexhaustible process of fertilization and the emergence of life in all its forms. In my opinion, the sculptural of Chubarov’s graphics has material existence in the world filling in. In this sense it is not expansively aggressive.

and continuous quality another aspect: their and its tactile-symbolic only expressive but also

In Chubarov’s paintings of the 1970-80’s there are several opposing directions. They all develop a whole range of anthropologically-related themes, which are processed differently with various materials. One theme is realized in a more visually cultured and substantial context, and moreover, assimilated the artistic systems of classical modernism. This theme is presented in one composition in a manner obviously deriving from a wellassimilated and appropriated experience of Synthetic Cubism. Other historical artistic-rhythmic structures are being vigorously assimilated as well. Another direction articulates a different cross-section of the anthropological, which is practically outside the assimilated experience of the established historical art systems. What type of ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1965 200 ÒÏ • 300 ÒÏ

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ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1967 110 ÒÏ • 140 ÒÏ

Ò‚ÓËÏ, Ë „ÎÛ·ÓÍËÏË Á̇ÌËflÏË ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ Â‚ÓÔÂÈÒÍÓÈ ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ˚, ÍÓÚÓ˚ÏË ‰ÂÎËÎÒfl, – Á‡‡ÁËÎ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ˜ËÒÚÓ ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÒÚÒÍËÏ ‰ÂÏËÛ„˘ÂÒÍËÏ ÍÓÏÔÎÂÍÒÓÏ Ì‰ӂÂËfl Í ÙÓχÎËÁÓ‚‡ÌÌ˚Ï ÒÚÛÍÚÛ‡Ï, ̇‚flÁ‡ÌÌ˚Ï ËÁ‚ÌÂ. à – ‚Â˚ ‚ ÒÓÁˉ‡ÚÂθÌÛ˛ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ ‚Óβ: ÏË ÙÓÏÓ‚‡ÎÒfl, ÎÂÔËÎÒfl Á‰ÂÒ¸ Ë ÒÂȘ‡Ò, ·ÂÁ Ó„Îfl‰ÍË Ì‡ Ó·˘ÂÔËÌflÚ˚ ÌÓÏ˚. í‡ÍËÏ Ó·‡ÁÓÏ, óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÔÓ‰Ó·‡Î Ò· ‰ËÌÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ‚ÂÌ˚È ‚ Â„Ó ÔÓÎÓÊÂÌËË ÔÛÚ¸ Ò‡ÏÓˉÂÌÚËÙË͇ˆËË: ‡ÚËÍÛÎËÓ‚‡ÎÓÒ¸ ÚÓ, ˜ÚÓ èÛ¯ÍËÌ Ì‡Á˚‚‡Î «Ò‡ÏÓÒÚÓfl̸ÂÏ» – ÔËÓ‰ÌÓÂ, Ó„‡Ì˘ÌÓÂ, Ë‰Û˘Â «ÓÚ ÁÂÏÎË». ÑÂÒflÚËÎÂÚËflÏË ÔÓÁ‰ÌÂÂ, ‚ ËÌÚÂ‚¸˛ Ç.臈˛ÍÓ‚Û, ÌÂÛÚÓÏËÏÓÏÛ ı‡ÌËÚÂβ ËÒÚÓËË ÛÒÒÍÓ„Ó ‡Ì‰Â„‡Û̉‡, ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ÏÌÓ„Ó „Ó‚ÓËÎ Ó Ò‚ÓËı Ó‰Ó‚˚ı «ÍÓÌflı» – ÛÒÒÍËı, ÒÚ‡Ó‚Â˜ÂÒÍËı, Ë ·‡¯ÍËÒÍËı, ‰ÓıËÒÚˇÌÒÍËı. ë‡ÁÛ Ò͇ÊÛ, ˝ÚÓÚ ÔÛÚ¸ ÍÓÌÂËÒ͇ÚÂθÒÚ‚‡, ÓÒڇ̸Òfl ÓÌ Ì‡ ÛÓ‚Ì ‰ÂÍ·‡ÚË‚ÌÓ – Ò˛ÊÂÚÌÓÏ, ÏÓ„ Á‡‚ÂÒÚË (Ë Á‡‚Ó‰ËÎ ÏÌÓ„Ëı) ‚ ÌËÍÛ‰‡, ‚‰¸ «ÌÛÚflÌÓ», ÔÓ˜‚ÂÌÌÓÂ Ú‡Í Î„ÍÓ Ó·Ó‡˜Ë‚‡ÂÚÒfl ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ, ‡ÚËÍÛÎËÓ‚‡ÌÌÓÈ Ì‡ ˉÂÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ ÛÓ‚ÌÂ, ÍÓ̉ӂÓÒÚ¸˛. êÂÁÛθڇÚË‚ÂÌ ÓÌ, ‚ˉËÏÓ, ÍÓ„‰‡ «ËÁÌÛÚË» (ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, «ËÁ ÌÛÚ‡») – ̇Ô‡‚ÎÂÌ ‚ÂÍÚÓ ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌËfl, Ì ·ÓÎÂÂ Ë Ì ÏÂÌ ÚÓ„Ó. Ä Ò‡ÏÓ ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌË ÓÒÏ˚ÒÎÂÌÓ ÛÊ ‚ ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÓÔÓÌËχÌËfl. ì‚ÂÂÌ, ÔË ‚ÒÂÈ ÌÂÔÓÒ‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚË ‡ÌÌÂÈ ‡ÚÔ‡ÍÚËÍË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, ÒÚËıËÈÌÓÒÚË ‰‡Ê Ì ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌËfl, ‡ ÙÓÏÓËÁ‚ÂÊÂÌËfl, Ó̇ ‚ ‰ÓÒÚ‡ÚÓ˜ÌÓÈ ÒÚÂÔÂÌË ÓÚÂÙÎÂÍÒËÓ‚‡Ì‡. óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÛÊ ÚÓ„‰‡ Á̇Î, ˜ÚÓ ‰Â·ÂÚ Ë ÍÛ‰‡ ‰‚ËÊÂÚÒfl. ê‡ÌÌË ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ˚ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ – ͇ÏÂÌÌ˚ ·‡·˚ Í‡Í ·˚ ÔÓ‡ÒÚ‡˛Ú ËÁ ÁÂÏÎË Ë ‚‡ÒÚ‡˛Ú ‚ ÁÂÏβ ̇ÔÓ‰Ó·Ë ÒÍËÙÒÍËı. çÂÚ Ë Ì‡ÏÂ͇ ̇ ˝ÚÌÓ„‡ÙËÁÏ ËÎË ÒÚËÎËÁ‡ˆË˛. îÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌË ÛÔÓ‰Ó·ÎÂÌÓ ÔËÓ‰ÌÓÏÛ: ͇ÏÂ̸ ÔÓ‰ÚÓ˜ÂÌ ‚Ó‰ÓÈ, ‚˚ÎÛ˘ÂÌ ‚ÂÚ‡ÏË. à — Ò‡ÏÛ˛ χÎÓÒÚ¸ — ÚÓÌÛÚ ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÓÏ, ÓÒÚ‡‚Ë‚¯ËÏ Ì‡ ÌÂÏ – ÔËÏËÚË‚Ì˚Ï ÓÛ‰ËÂÏ – ͇ÍËÂ-ÚÓ ÒÛ˘ÌÓÒÚÌÓ ‚‡ÊÌ˚ ÒΉ˚. ëÚËÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ÔÓ‚ÚÓfl˛, Ì ·˚ÎÓ – ·˚· ÚÂχÚËÁ‡ˆËfl ‰‚Ûı ÏÓÏÂÌÚÓ‚: ˝ÚÓ„Ó Ò‡ÏÓ„Ó ÔÓ‡ÒÚ‡ÌËfl – ‚‡ÒÚ‡ÌËfl, ÚÓ ÂÒÚ¸ Ó„‡ÌËÍË ‚Á‡ËÏÓÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌËÈ Ò Ï‡ÚÂ¸˛ Ò˚ÓÈ ÁÂÏÎÂÈ, Ë «ÒΉ‡» ÔËÓ‰ÌÓ - ‰‚̘ÂÎӂ˜¸ÂÈ Ó·‡·ÓÚÍË Í‡ÏÌfl. ֢ ‡ÌÂÂ, ˜ÂÏ ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ‡, ÔÓÙÂÒÒËÓ̇θÌÓÈ Ò‰ Òڇ· ËÁ‚ÂÒÚ̇ „‡ÙË͇ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ – ËÒÛÌÍË, ‚˚ÔÓÎÌÂÌÌ˚ ӷ˚˜ÌÓ ÚÛ¯¸˛ ËÎË Í‡ÍËÏ-ÚÓ Í‡ÒËÚÂÎÂÏ ÚËÔ‡ ·ÏÔÓ‚ÓÈ ÍÓÔÓÚË. éÌË ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸ÌÓ ıÓ‰ËÎË ÔÓ ÛÍ‡Ï (ÔÓÏÌËÚÒfl, ͇ÍËÏ-ÚÓ ÔÛÚÂÏ ‰Ó¯ÎË Ë ‰Ó ÏÂÌfl, ÚÓ„‰‡ ÒÚÛ‰ÂÌÚ‡-ËÒÍÛÒÒڂӂ‰‡ ÍÓÌÒÂ‚‡ÚË‚ÌÂȯÂÈ ÎÂÌËÌ„‡‰ÒÍÓÈ Ä͇‰ÂÏËË ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚), ÒÓÔÓ‚Óʉ‡ÂÏ˚ Î„Ẩ‡ÏË Ó «Ï˚ÚˢÂÌÒÍÓÏ ÙÂÌÓÏÂÌ». èÓ ÒÛÚË ‰Â·, ˝ÚÓ ·˚· ÒÍ‚ÓÁ̇fl ÒÂËfl Ò Ó·˘ÂÈ ÔÓ·ÎÂχÚËÍÓÈ ‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó. ÄÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó, ÔÓÌflÚÓ„Ó Í‡Í ÌÂ͇fl ÔÓÒÚÓflÌ̇fl ·Ó¸·‡ – Á‡ ‚ˉӂÓ ‚˚ÊË‚‡ÌËÂ? Á‡ „ÓÒÔÓ‰ÒÚ‚Ó Ì‡ ÁÂÏÎÂ? Á‡ Ò‚Ó·Ó‰Û ÓÚ ÔÓÒfl„‡ÚÂθÒÚ‚ ÌÂÍËı ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËÁËÓ‚‡ÌÌ˚ı, ÔÓfl‚Ë‚¯ËıÒfl ËÁ ÁÂÏÎflÌÓ„Ó ˜‚‡ ÒËÎ – ÚËÚ‡ÌÓ‚, „Ë„‡ÌÚÓ‚? àÍÓÌÓ„‡ÙËfl ÔÓÒÚÓflÌ̇: Ó·‡Á˚, ‚ÓÔÎÓ˘‡˛˘Ë ͂‡ÁË-ÊÂÌÒÍÓÂ

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I am sure that for all the artlessness of Chubarov’s early art with its spontaneous form-explosion, rather than formbuilding, it had been still sufficiently rational. Already at that time Chubarov knew what he was doing and where he was going. Chubarov’s early sculptures (Stone Women) grow up from the earth as it were and are rooted in the earth similar to the Scythian idols. There is not even a hint of any ethnographic intentions or stylization. His form-building occurs like that in nature: the stone is shaped by water, polished by the wind and only slightly touched by the human hand to leave some existentially important marks on it by his primitive tools. There was no attempt at stylization, the artist intended to emphasize two themes: the “outgrowing and in-growing”, that is, organic relationship with Mother Earth and the marks left on the stone by the ancient man and nature. Before he became known for his sculptures, he was known in the professional circles for his graphic works. His drawings were usually made with ink or some other pigment such as oil-lamp soot. They were circulating in the art circles accompanied by legends about this “Mytischi phenomenon” (I remember they reached me as well somehow, then a student of art criticism at the Leningrad Academy of Arts, one of the most conservative of all educational establishments). In essence, it was a continued series united by a general anthropological theme. “Anthropological” should be understood here as a constant struggle for survival of the species (?), for domination on earth (?), for freedom from any claims by certain mythological forces, deriving from the earth’s bowels, such as titans, giants (?). His iconography is constant: the imagery impersonating the quasi-female (proto-Mother) and the quasi-male (conception as sexual act) and also the androgens plus the same titans. These graphic works did not really need any verbalization, to say nothing of detailed explanation or description. They exist in a state as it were prior to plot-building or intrigue. There is no point in rendering concrete anything that belongs to mythology. The main theme of the series is the struggle of the physical for its own survival and its higher form, for the ability of the human to grow out of biological masses.

Chubarov’s graphic works are akin to sculpture. He is obviously concerned with the volume, which he conveys with the powerful strokes of black and white or by means of grapic rings and folds. Much later in the same interview with Patsukov, Chubarov mentioned Moore. Perhaps even then he associated his intentions with the classics of modernism. But he realized the difference between the founding principles. The sculptural quality of Henry Moore’s drawings of the time of the Second World War are due to their volume, resisting any deformation – compression, flattening, direct destruction – by outside forces and outside aggression. The sculptural quality of Chubarov’s graphic works is due to the volume effect, forming within, under the impact of inner energies, the volume that is born right under your very eyes. Its deformations are inflicted by birth traumas. One gets an impression of a procedural continuity from Chubarov’s graphics. Many years later this quality was realized in his abstract works – continuous lava eruption or form-eruption as an analogy to the inexhaustible process of fertilization and the emergence of life in all its forms. In my opinion, the sculptural of Chubarov’s graphics has material existence in the world filling in. In this sense it is not expansively aggressive.

and continuous quality another aspect: their and its tactile-symbolic only expressive but also

In Chubarov’s paintings of the 1970-80’s there are several opposing directions. They all develop a whole range of anthropologically-related themes, which are processed differently with various materials. One theme is realized in a more visually cultured and substantial context, and moreover, assimilated the artistic systems of classical modernism. This theme is presented in one composition in a manner obviously deriving from a wellassimilated and appropriated experience of Synthetic Cubism. Other historical artistic-rhythmic structures are being vigorously assimilated as well. Another direction articulates a different cross-section of the anthropological, which is practically outside the assimilated experience of the established historical art systems. What type of ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1965 200 ÒÏ • 300 ÒÏ

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(χڸ Ô‡Ó‰ËÚÂθÌˈ‡) Ë Í‚‡ÁË-ÏÛÊÒÍÓ (Á‡˜Ë̇-ÌË ÊËÁÌË Í‡Í ÒÂÍÒۇθÌ˚È ‡ÍÚ) ̇˜‡Î‡, ‡ Ú‡Í Ê ‡Ì‰Ó„ËÌ˚, ÔÎ˛Ò Ú Ê ÚËÚ‡Ì˚. èÓ ÒÛÚË ‰Â·, ˝Ú‡ „‡ÙË͇ Ì ÌÛʉ‡Î‡Ò¸ ‚ ‚Â·‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËË, Ë ÛÊ ÍÓ̘ÌÓ, – ‚ ÔÓ‰Ó·ÌÓÏ ÔÓ„Ó‚ÓÂ, ‡ÒÒ͇ÁÂ. é̇ – ‰Ó Ò˛ÊÂÚÓÒÎÓÊÂÌËfl, ‰Ó ËÌÚË„Ë. ч Ë ÒÍÓθÍÓ-ÌË·Û‰¸ ÍÓÌÍÂÚËÁËÓ‚‡Ú¸ ÏËÙÓÎӄ˲, ̇‚ÂÌÓÂ, Ì ÒÚÓËÚ. É·‚̇fl ÚÂχ ˝ÚÓÈ ÒÂËË – ·Ó¸·‡ ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚË Á‡ Ò‡ÏÓ Ò·fl, Á‡ ÔÓ‡ÒÚ‡ÌË ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ËÁ ·ËÓχÒÒ˚. É‡ÙË͇ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ̇ – ÓÌ fl‚ÌÓ ÓÁ‡·Ó˜ÂÌ ÔÂ‰‡˜ÂÈ Ó·˙Âχ, ‰‡ÌÌÓ„Ó ÚÓ ÏÓ˘ÌÓÈ ÎÂÔÍÓÈ ˜ÂÌÓ·ÂÎ˚ı χÒÒ, ÚÓ ÌÂÍËÏË „‡Ù˘ÂÒÍËÏË ÍÓθˆ‡ÏËÒÍ·‰Í‡ÏË. åÌÓ„Ó ÔÓÁ‰ÌÂÂ, ‚ ÚÓÏ Ê ËÌÚÂ‚¸˛ 臈˛ÍÓ‚Û, óÛ·‡Ó‚ Ó·ÏÓ΂ËÎÒfl: åÛ. ч, ‚ˉËÏÓ, ÛÊ ÚÓ„‰‡ ÓÌ ÒÓÓÚÌÓÒËÎ Ò‚ÓË ËÌÚÂ̈ËË Ò Í·ÒÒËÍÓÈ ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁχ. çÓ Ë ÔÓÌËχΠ‡Á΢Ëfl ËÒıÓ‰Ì˚ı ÛÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÓÍ. ëÍÛθÔÚÛÌÓÒÚ¸ ËÒÛÌÍÓ‚ É. åÛ‡ ‚ÂÏÂÌ ÇÚÓÓÈ åËÓ‚ÓÈ – ˝ÚÓ Ó·˙ÂÏ, ÍÓÚÓ˚È ÔÓÚË‚ÓÒÚÓËÚ ‰ÂÙÓχˆËË – ÒʇÚ˲, ÒÔβ˘Ë‚‡Ì˲, ÔflÏÓÏÛ ‡ÁÛ¯ÂÌ˲ – ÒÓ ÒÚÓÓÌ˚ ‚̯ÌËı ÒËÎ, ÌÂÍÓÈ ËÁ‚Ì ̇Ô‡‚ÎÂÌÌÓÈ ‡„ÂÒÒËË. ëÍÛθÔÚÛÌÓÒÚ¸ „‡ÙËÍË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ – Ó·˙ÂÏ, ÙÓÏËÛ˛˘ËÈÒfl ËÁÌÛÚË, ÔÓ‰ ‚ÓÁ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ËÂÏ ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌËı ˝ÌÂ„ËÈ, Ó·˙ÂÏ, Óʉ‡˛˘ËÈÒfl ̇ „·Á‡ı. à Â„Ó ‰ÂÙÓχˆËË – ˝ÚÓ Ó‰Ó‚˚ Ú‡‚Ï˚… ÇÓÓ·˘Â Ê ÓÚ „‡ÙËÍË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÓÒÚ‡ÂÚÒfl ‚Ô˜‡ÚÎÂÌË ÌÂÍÓÈ ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚË, ÏÌÓ„Ó ÎÂÚ ÒÔÛÒÚfl ‡ÍÚÛ‡ÎËÁËÓ‚‡ÌÌÓÈ ‚ Â„Ó ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ı ‚¢‡ı, – ÌÂÔÂ˚‚ÌÓÒÚ¸ ·‚ÓËÁ‚ÂÊÂÌËfl, ÙÓÏÓËÁ‚ÂÊÂÌËfl Í‡Í ‡Ì‡ÎÓ„‡ ÌÂËÒÒfl͇ÂÏÓÒÚË ÔÓˆÂÒÒÓ‚ ÓÔÎÓ‰ÓÚ‚ÓÂÌËfl Ë ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÎÂÌËfl ÊËÁÌË ‚Ó ‚Ҡ ÙÓχı. ÑÛχÂÚÒfl, Ë ÒÍÛθÔÚÛÌÓÒÚ¸, Ë ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚ¸ ˝ÚÓÈ „‡ÙËÍË ËÏÂ˛Ú Â˘Â Ó‰ËÌ ‡ÒÔÂÍÚ – ÏÓÏÂÌÚ Ï‡ÚÂˇθÌÓ„Ó ÔËÒÛÚÒÚ‚Ëfl ‚ ÏËÂ, Ú‡ÍÚËθÌÓ-ÒËÏ‚Ó΢ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Á‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌËfl „Ó. Ç ˝ÚÓÏ Ô·Ì Ó̇ Ì ÚÓθÍÓ ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒ˂̇, ÌÓ Ë ˝ÍÒÔ‡ÌÒˇÚ˂̇, ̇ÒÚÛÔ‡ÚÂθ̇. χÒÎflÌÌ˚È Í‡‡Ì‰‡¯, ·Ûχ„‡ / oil stick on paper 1966 42 ÒÏ • 29.5 ÒÏ

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Ç ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ 1970-80-ı „Ó‰Ó‚ ÂÒÚ¸ ÌÂÒÍÓθÍÓ ÎËÌËÈ, ‰ÓÒÚ‡ÚÓ˜ÌÓ ‡ÁÌÓ̇Ô‡‚ÎÂÌÌ˚ı. ÇÒ ÓÌË Ú‡Í ËÎË Ë̇˜Â ‡Á‚Ë‚‡˛Ú ÔÓ·ÎÂχÚËÍÛ ‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó. çÓ ‰Â·˛Ú ˝ÚÓ ÔÓ-‡ÁÌÓÏÛ Ë Ì‡ ‡ÁÌÓÏ Ï‡ÚÂˇÎÂ. é‰Ì‡ ÎËÌËfl ‡ÎËÁÛÂÚÒfl ‚ ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚÂ, fl ·˚ Ò͇Á‡Î, ·ÓΠÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓ-ÓÍÛθÚÛÂÌÌÓÏ Ë ÓÔÓÒ‰ӂ‡ÌÌÓÏ. Ä „·‚ÌÓ – ‡ÔÓÔËËÛÂÚ ËÁÓ·‡ÁËÚÂθÌ˚ ÒËÒÚÂÏ˚ Í·ÒÒ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÔÂËÓ‰‡ ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁχ. í‡Í, ‚ Ó‰ÌÓÈ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË ÚÂχ ‡ÎËÁÛÂÚÒfl ‚ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓÈ Ô·ÒÚËÍÂ, fl‚ÌÓ Ò‚Ë‰ÂÚÂθÒÚ‚Û˛˘ÂÈ Ó· ÛÒ‚ÓÂÌËË Ë ÔËÒ‚ÓÂÌËË ÓÔ˚Ú‡ ÒËÌÚÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÍÛ·ËÁχ. ÄÍÚË‚ÌÓ ÓÒ‚‡Ë‚‡˛ÚÒfl Ë ‰Û„Ë «ËÒÚÓ˘ÂÒÍË» ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓËÚÏ˘ÂÒÍË ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚. ÑÛ„‡fl ÎËÌËfl ‡ÚËÍÛÎËÛÂÚ ÒÓ‚ÒÂÏ ‰Û„ÓÈ ÒÂÁ «‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó», Ô‡ÍÚ˘ÂÒÍË – ‚Ì ÓÔÓÒ‰ӂ‡ÌÌÓÒÚË ÓÔ˚Ú‡ ÓÚÙÓÏÓ‚‡‚¯ËıÒfl, ÒÎÓÊË‚¯ËıÒfl ËÒÚÓ˘ÂÒÍËı ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌ˚ı ÒËÒÚÂÏ. ä‡Í‡fl ÛÊ ÚÛÚ «ÊË‚ÓÔËÒ̇fl ÍÛθÚÛ‡», ÍÓ„‰‡ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ÔÓ͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚ «ÙËÁËÓÎӄ˲ ÒÓ‚ÂÚÒÍÓ„Ó ÔË„ÓÓ‰‡»: ÒÛ·ÍÛθÚÛÛ ‡ÒıËÒÚ‡ÌÌÓÈ, ÌÂÔ˘ÂÒ‡ÌÌÓÈ ÊËÁÌË Ô¸flÌˈ, ·ÓÏÊÂÈ, ıÛÎË„‡ÌÓ‚.

painting culture can you expect when an artist depicts “the physiology of the Soviet suburb”, the sub-culture of the disheveled, shaggy drunkards, the homeless, and hooligans? The physiological man, a transitional creature, (who had fallen into the gap between the urban and village life) reveals his vulgar, lowly qualities and habits. Several artists of those days were attracted by the wild life of the Soviet lumpens, among them the Leningrader A. Arefyev, who is somewhat close to Chubarov although they probably had never met, and the Muscovites V. Kalinin and V. Pyatnitsky. I think Chubarov differs from them in his positioning himself – he does not analyze or, God forbid, criticize this world. Neither does he make use of any readymade genre and stylistic structures, such as fable and grotesque. He is a born artist and an element of self-portrait is often included in the structure of the imagery. It goes without saying that the above directions are not found in a pure form, and they often intertwine. Such intertwining has taken place, as I can see it, in the picture that can be provisionally called “The Woman and the Shadow”. In its visual-spatial structure one can clearly see the reflection of one of the 1920’s trends, one employing primitivism in art, and at the same time the typically Chubarovian sense of physiology that is particularly conspicuous in his series tentatively called “suburban”. Incidentally, this work (that is, in fact, devoted to violence: a woman standing with her back to the viewer recoils from the ominous shadow suddenly blocking her path) reveals some mystical connection between the artist’s surname, the sensation of physiology and crude sexual gesture (so typical for Chubarov’s art of those days that it has become his brand; it was not accidental that I mentioned “typically Chubarovian”), and a certain period in Russian art of the 1920’s. For example, in 1927 some students of Filonov painted a number of panels, under Filonov’s guidance, for the Leningrad Press House. One of them was called “Chubarovism”, depicting the then notorious criminal case: some hooligans raped a young factory woman, a progressive shock-worker. The crime took place in Chubarov Lane and the name stuck as a denomination for the entire phenomenon widespread in those days: sexual aggressiveness, depravity and criminality. The third direction in Chubarov’s art of those years tends to turn back to his earlier graphic works, devoted to the archaic -anthropological: some proto-men emerging from chaos and yet indivisible from the earth. However, this trend is reinforced with the manner of execution typical of his “suburban” series: archaic proto-people, symbolizing the forces of the birth and unity of the world and its syncretism, are presented to the unpretentious crowd of onlookers, eternally hungry for spectacles. Chubarov’s presentations of symbols-images (powerful male and female nudes, symbolizing fertility, reproduction, etc.) appearing before simple people are quite original. As a rule, they are arranged within some color rectangles (to put it in everyday terms, they would usually recline on a piece of fabric, a scarf, a ritual rug, etc.) that is, in a concrete space, having a name and giving a name. The crowd is reaching toward this symbolic ritual space from all sides (they either unceremoniously crawl over these bodies or worship them.) What is impor-

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1985 40 ÒÏ • 61.5 ÒÏ

tant here is what Brecht called “the show of the show”. The artist clashes the different archaic and contemporary layers while feeling and positioning himself as a shaman, who condenses the time flows and recalls the shadows of longforgotten ancestors from their non-being, in other words, he is the one who organizes a ritual. These very powerful works conceal a certain contradiction. The representation of the symbolic with quasi-descriptive means is basically dangerous because it leads directly to narrative ness and literariness. Chubarov did not always manage to escape this danger. He resolved the problem in the following way. In his many-figured, densely populated compositions he puts an emphasis on corporeality and three-dimensionality. This is only natural: the situation of shamanism with its rituals and procedures requires tactile bodily contact. Chubarov literally sculpts this multitude of heads and bodies, articulating the very process of tactile contact. However, the scale of the images recedes, the corporeal layer gets thinner to the point of atomization, like in Filonov. From this it is very close to abstraction. Chubarov has covered a certain preparatory road towards abstract thinking, but the qualitative transition has been made during his stay in Berlin, where the main body of his abstract works has been created, a most unique phenomenon. The second coming of abstract art in Russia is associated with the maturity of Chubarov’s generation and passed through several phases. Almost every artist tried his hand at abstract art but only, very few remained faithful to it. Soviet abstract art of the late 1950’s and early 1960’s was a school of liberation from the current official dogmas and at the same time an ABC’s of modern art. Petrov-Vodkin said about Cubism: “We were all educated by Cubism.” In the same way abstract art taught practically all of Chubarov’s coevals, but not him. He came to abstract art in his later, more mature period. Why and what for? It is easier to explain the presence of a certain common trend for abstraction at that stage, which 20th century art experienced periodically up to the post-conceptual period. We

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(χڸ Ô‡Ó‰ËÚÂθÌˈ‡) Ë Í‚‡ÁË-ÏÛÊÒÍÓ (Á‡˜Ë̇-ÌË ÊËÁÌË Í‡Í ÒÂÍÒۇθÌ˚È ‡ÍÚ) ̇˜‡Î‡, ‡ Ú‡Í Ê ‡Ì‰Ó„ËÌ˚, ÔÎ˛Ò Ú Ê ÚËÚ‡Ì˚. èÓ ÒÛÚË ‰Â·, ˝Ú‡ „‡ÙË͇ Ì ÌÛʉ‡Î‡Ò¸ ‚ ‚Â·‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËË, Ë ÛÊ ÍÓ̘ÌÓ, – ‚ ÔÓ‰Ó·ÌÓÏ ÔÓ„Ó‚ÓÂ, ‡ÒÒ͇ÁÂ. é̇ – ‰Ó Ò˛ÊÂÚÓÒÎÓÊÂÌËfl, ‰Ó ËÌÚË„Ë. ч Ë ÒÍÓθÍÓ-ÌË·Û‰¸ ÍÓÌÍÂÚËÁËÓ‚‡Ú¸ ÏËÙÓÎӄ˲, ̇‚ÂÌÓÂ, Ì ÒÚÓËÚ. É·‚̇fl ÚÂχ ˝ÚÓÈ ÒÂËË – ·Ó¸·‡ ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚË Á‡ Ò‡ÏÓ Ò·fl, Á‡ ÔÓ‡ÒÚ‡ÌË ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ËÁ ·ËÓχÒÒ˚. É‡ÙË͇ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ̇ – ÓÌ fl‚ÌÓ ÓÁ‡·Ó˜ÂÌ ÔÂ‰‡˜ÂÈ Ó·˙Âχ, ‰‡ÌÌÓ„Ó ÚÓ ÏÓ˘ÌÓÈ ÎÂÔÍÓÈ ˜ÂÌÓ·ÂÎ˚ı χÒÒ, ÚÓ ÌÂÍËÏË „‡Ù˘ÂÒÍËÏË ÍÓθˆ‡ÏËÒÍ·‰Í‡ÏË. åÌÓ„Ó ÔÓÁ‰ÌÂÂ, ‚ ÚÓÏ Ê ËÌÚÂ‚¸˛ 臈˛ÍÓ‚Û, óÛ·‡Ó‚ Ó·ÏÓ΂ËÎÒfl: åÛ. ч, ‚ˉËÏÓ, ÛÊ ÚÓ„‰‡ ÓÌ ÒÓÓÚÌÓÒËÎ Ò‚ÓË ËÌÚÂ̈ËË Ò Í·ÒÒËÍÓÈ ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁχ. çÓ Ë ÔÓÌËχΠ‡Á΢Ëfl ËÒıÓ‰Ì˚ı ÛÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÓÍ. ëÍÛθÔÚÛÌÓÒÚ¸ ËÒÛÌÍÓ‚ É. åÛ‡ ‚ÂÏÂÌ ÇÚÓÓÈ åËÓ‚ÓÈ – ˝ÚÓ Ó·˙ÂÏ, ÍÓÚÓ˚È ÔÓÚË‚ÓÒÚÓËÚ ‰ÂÙÓχˆËË – ÒʇÚ˲, ÒÔβ˘Ë‚‡Ì˲, ÔflÏÓÏÛ ‡ÁÛ¯ÂÌ˲ – ÒÓ ÒÚÓÓÌ˚ ‚̯ÌËı ÒËÎ, ÌÂÍÓÈ ËÁ‚Ì ̇Ô‡‚ÎÂÌÌÓÈ ‡„ÂÒÒËË. ëÍÛθÔÚÛÌÓÒÚ¸ „‡ÙËÍË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ – Ó·˙ÂÏ, ÙÓÏËÛ˛˘ËÈÒfl ËÁÌÛÚË, ÔÓ‰ ‚ÓÁ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ËÂÏ ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌËı ˝ÌÂ„ËÈ, Ó·˙ÂÏ, Óʉ‡˛˘ËÈÒfl ̇ „·Á‡ı. à Â„Ó ‰ÂÙÓχˆËË – ˝ÚÓ Ó‰Ó‚˚ Ú‡‚Ï˚… ÇÓÓ·˘Â Ê ÓÚ „‡ÙËÍË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÓÒÚ‡ÂÚÒfl ‚Ô˜‡ÚÎÂÌË ÌÂÍÓÈ ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚË, ÏÌÓ„Ó ÎÂÚ ÒÔÛÒÚfl ‡ÍÚÛ‡ÎËÁËÓ‚‡ÌÌÓÈ ‚ Â„Ó ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ı ‚¢‡ı, – ÌÂÔÂ˚‚ÌÓÒÚ¸ ·‚ÓËÁ‚ÂÊÂÌËfl, ÙÓÏÓËÁ‚ÂÊÂÌËfl Í‡Í ‡Ì‡ÎÓ„‡ ÌÂËÒÒfl͇ÂÏÓÒÚË ÔÓˆÂÒÒÓ‚ ÓÔÎÓ‰ÓÚ‚ÓÂÌËfl Ë ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÎÂÌËfl ÊËÁÌË ‚Ó ‚Ҡ ÙÓχı. ÑÛχÂÚÒfl, Ë ÒÍÛθÔÚÛÌÓÒÚ¸, Ë ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚ¸ ˝ÚÓÈ „‡ÙËÍË ËÏÂ˛Ú Â˘Â Ó‰ËÌ ‡ÒÔÂÍÚ – ÏÓÏÂÌÚ Ï‡ÚÂˇθÌÓ„Ó ÔËÒÛÚÒÚ‚Ëfl ‚ ÏËÂ, Ú‡ÍÚËθÌÓ-ÒËÏ‚Ó΢ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Á‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌËfl „Ó. Ç ˝ÚÓÏ Ô·Ì Ó̇ Ì ÚÓθÍÓ ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒ˂̇, ÌÓ Ë ˝ÍÒÔ‡ÌÒˇÚ˂̇, ̇ÒÚÛÔ‡ÚÂθ̇. χÒÎflÌÌ˚È Í‡‡Ì‰‡¯, ·Ûχ„‡ / oil stick on paper 1966 42 ÒÏ • 29.5 ÒÏ

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Ç ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ 1970-80-ı „Ó‰Ó‚ ÂÒÚ¸ ÌÂÒÍÓθÍÓ ÎËÌËÈ, ‰ÓÒÚ‡ÚÓ˜ÌÓ ‡ÁÌÓ̇Ô‡‚ÎÂÌÌ˚ı. ÇÒ ÓÌË Ú‡Í ËÎË Ë̇˜Â ‡Á‚Ë‚‡˛Ú ÔÓ·ÎÂχÚËÍÛ ‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó. çÓ ‰Â·˛Ú ˝ÚÓ ÔÓ-‡ÁÌÓÏÛ Ë Ì‡ ‡ÁÌÓÏ Ï‡ÚÂˇÎÂ. é‰Ì‡ ÎËÌËfl ‡ÎËÁÛÂÚÒfl ‚ ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚÂ, fl ·˚ Ò͇Á‡Î, ·ÓΠÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓ-ÓÍÛθÚÛÂÌÌÓÏ Ë ÓÔÓÒ‰ӂ‡ÌÌÓÏ. Ä „·‚ÌÓ – ‡ÔÓÔËËÛÂÚ ËÁÓ·‡ÁËÚÂθÌ˚ ÒËÒÚÂÏ˚ Í·ÒÒ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÔÂËÓ‰‡ ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁχ. í‡Í, ‚ Ó‰ÌÓÈ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË ÚÂχ ‡ÎËÁÛÂÚÒfl ‚ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓÈ Ô·ÒÚËÍÂ, fl‚ÌÓ Ò‚Ë‰ÂÚÂθÒÚ‚Û˛˘ÂÈ Ó· ÛÒ‚ÓÂÌËË Ë ÔËÒ‚ÓÂÌËË ÓÔ˚Ú‡ ÒËÌÚÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÍÛ·ËÁχ. ÄÍÚË‚ÌÓ ÓÒ‚‡Ë‚‡˛ÚÒfl Ë ‰Û„Ë «ËÒÚÓ˘ÂÒÍË» ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓËÚÏ˘ÂÒÍË ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚. ÑÛ„‡fl ÎËÌËfl ‡ÚËÍÛÎËÛÂÚ ÒÓ‚ÒÂÏ ‰Û„ÓÈ ÒÂÁ «‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó», Ô‡ÍÚ˘ÂÒÍË – ‚Ì ÓÔÓÒ‰ӂ‡ÌÌÓÒÚË ÓÔ˚Ú‡ ÓÚÙÓÏÓ‚‡‚¯ËıÒfl, ÒÎÓÊË‚¯ËıÒfl ËÒÚÓ˘ÂÒÍËı ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌ˚ı ÒËÒÚÂÏ. ä‡Í‡fl ÛÊ ÚÛÚ «ÊË‚ÓÔËÒ̇fl ÍÛθÚÛ‡», ÍÓ„‰‡ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ÔÓ͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚ «ÙËÁËÓÎӄ˲ ÒÓ‚ÂÚÒÍÓ„Ó ÔË„ÓÓ‰‡»: ÒÛ·ÍÛθÚÛÛ ‡ÒıËÒÚ‡ÌÌÓÈ, ÌÂÔ˘ÂÒ‡ÌÌÓÈ ÊËÁÌË Ô¸flÌˈ, ·ÓÏÊÂÈ, ıÛÎË„‡ÌÓ‚.

painting culture can you expect when an artist depicts “the physiology of the Soviet suburb”, the sub-culture of the disheveled, shaggy drunkards, the homeless, and hooligans? The physiological man, a transitional creature, (who had fallen into the gap between the urban and village life) reveals his vulgar, lowly qualities and habits. Several artists of those days were attracted by the wild life of the Soviet lumpens, among them the Leningrader A. Arefyev, who is somewhat close to Chubarov although they probably had never met, and the Muscovites V. Kalinin and V. Pyatnitsky. I think Chubarov differs from them in his positioning himself – he does not analyze or, God forbid, criticize this world. Neither does he make use of any readymade genre and stylistic structures, such as fable and grotesque. He is a born artist and an element of self-portrait is often included in the structure of the imagery. It goes without saying that the above directions are not found in a pure form, and they often intertwine. Such intertwining has taken place, as I can see it, in the picture that can be provisionally called “The Woman and the Shadow”. In its visual-spatial structure one can clearly see the reflection of one of the 1920’s trends, one employing primitivism in art, and at the same time the typically Chubarovian sense of physiology that is particularly conspicuous in his series tentatively called “suburban”. Incidentally, this work (that is, in fact, devoted to violence: a woman standing with her back to the viewer recoils from the ominous shadow suddenly blocking her path) reveals some mystical connection between the artist’s surname, the sensation of physiology and crude sexual gesture (so typical for Chubarov’s art of those days that it has become his brand; it was not accidental that I mentioned “typically Chubarovian”), and a certain period in Russian art of the 1920’s. For example, in 1927 some students of Filonov painted a number of panels, under Filonov’s guidance, for the Leningrad Press House. One of them was called “Chubarovism”, depicting the then notorious criminal case: some hooligans raped a young factory woman, a progressive shock-worker. The crime took place in Chubarov Lane and the name stuck as a denomination for the entire phenomenon widespread in those days: sexual aggressiveness, depravity and criminality. The third direction in Chubarov’s art of those years tends to turn back to his earlier graphic works, devoted to the archaic -anthropological: some proto-men emerging from chaos and yet indivisible from the earth. However, this trend is reinforced with the manner of execution typical of his “suburban” series: archaic proto-people, symbolizing the forces of the birth and unity of the world and its syncretism, are presented to the unpretentious crowd of onlookers, eternally hungry for spectacles. Chubarov’s presentations of symbols-images (powerful male and female nudes, symbolizing fertility, reproduction, etc.) appearing before simple people are quite original. As a rule, they are arranged within some color rectangles (to put it in everyday terms, they would usually recline on a piece of fabric, a scarf, a ritual rug, etc.) that is, in a concrete space, having a name and giving a name. The crowd is reaching toward this symbolic ritual space from all sides (they either unceremoniously crawl over these bodies or worship them.) What is impor-

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1985 40 ÒÏ • 61.5 ÒÏ

tant here is what Brecht called “the show of the show”. The artist clashes the different archaic and contemporary layers while feeling and positioning himself as a shaman, who condenses the time flows and recalls the shadows of longforgotten ancestors from their non-being, in other words, he is the one who organizes a ritual. These very powerful works conceal a certain contradiction. The representation of the symbolic with quasi-descriptive means is basically dangerous because it leads directly to narrative ness and literariness. Chubarov did not always manage to escape this danger. He resolved the problem in the following way. In his many-figured, densely populated compositions he puts an emphasis on corporeality and three-dimensionality. This is only natural: the situation of shamanism with its rituals and procedures requires tactile bodily contact. Chubarov literally sculpts this multitude of heads and bodies, articulating the very process of tactile contact. However, the scale of the images recedes, the corporeal layer gets thinner to the point of atomization, like in Filonov. From this it is very close to abstraction. Chubarov has covered a certain preparatory road towards abstract thinking, but the qualitative transition has been made during his stay in Berlin, where the main body of his abstract works has been created, a most unique phenomenon. The second coming of abstract art in Russia is associated with the maturity of Chubarov’s generation and passed through several phases. Almost every artist tried his hand at abstract art but only, very few remained faithful to it. Soviet abstract art of the late 1950’s and early 1960’s was a school of liberation from the current official dogmas and at the same time an ABC’s of modern art. Petrov-Vodkin said about Cubism: “We were all educated by Cubism.” In the same way abstract art taught practically all of Chubarov’s coevals, but not him. He came to abstract art in his later, more mature period. Why and what for? It is easier to explain the presence of a certain common trend for abstraction at that stage, which 20th century art experienced periodically up to the post-conceptual period. We

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ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1983 30 ÒÏ • 42.5 ÒÏ

óÂÎÓ‚ÂÍ ÙËÁËÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍËÈ, ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍ ÔÓÏÂÊÛÚÓ˜Ì˚È (ÔÓÔ‡‚¯ËÈ ‚ Á‡ÁÓ ÏÂÊ‰Û „ÓÓ‰ÒÍÓÈ Ë ‰Â‚ÂÌÒÍÓÈ ÊËÁ̸˛) ÔÓfl‚ÎflÂÚÒfl ‚ Ò‡Ï˚ı Ó·˚‰ÂÌÌ˚ı Ë ÌËÁÏÂÌÌ˚ı Ò‚ÓËı ͇˜ÂÒÚ‚‡ı Ë ÔË‚˚˜Í‡ı. Ç ÚÛ ÔÓÛ ÌÂÒÍÓθÍÓ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÓ‚ ÔÓ„ÛÁËÎËÒ¸ ‚ ˝ÚÛ ÒÚËı˲ ÒÓ‚ÂÚÒÍÓÈ Î˛ÏÔÂÌÒÍÓÈ ·˚ÚËÈÌÓÒÚË: ÎÂÌËÌ„‡‰Âˆ Ä.ÄÂٸ‚, ‚ ˜ÂÏ-ÚÓ óÛ·‡Ó‚Û Ó˜Â̸ ·ÎËÁÍËÈ, ÌÓ Â‰‚‡ ÎË ÂÏÛ Á̇ÍÓÏ˚È, ÏÓÒÍ‚Ë˜Ë Ç.ä‡ÎËÌËÌ, Ç.èflÚÌˈÍËÈ. ÑÛχ˛, óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÓÚ΢‡ÂÚÒfl ÓÚ ÌËı ÔÂʉ ‚ÒÂ„Ó ÔÓÁˈËÓÌËÓ‚‡ÌËÂÏ: ‡‚ÚÓ Ì ‡Ì‡ÎËÁËÛÂÚ ˝ÚÓÚ ÏË Ë, ÛÔ‡ÒË ·Ó„, Ì ÍËÚËÍÛÂÚ Â„Ó. ëÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, Ì ËÒÔÓθÁÛÂÚ „ÓÚÓ‚˚ ʇÌÓ‚˚Â Ë ÒÚËÎËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍË ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚: ÔËژ‚ÓÒÚ¸, „ÓÚÂÒÍ. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ÊË‚ÂÚ ‚ ÌÂÏ, Ë ‡‚ÚÓÔÓÚÂÚÌÓÒÚ¸ ˜‡ÒÚÓ ‚Íβ˜Â̇ ‚ ÒÚÛÍÚÛÛ Ó·‡Á‡. ê‡ÁÛÏÂÂÚÒfl, ˝ÚË ÎËÌËË Ì ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Û˛Ú ‚ ˜ËÒÚÓÚÂ Ë ÌÂ‰ÍÓ ÔÂÂÔÎÂÚ‡˛ÚÒfl. èÓ‰Ó·ÌÓ ÔÂÂÔÎÂÚÂÌË ÓÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ËÎÓÒ¸, Í‡Í ÏÌ Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÂÚÒfl, ‚ ‡·ÓÚÂ, ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ ÛÒÎÓ‚ÌÓ ÏÓÊÌÓ Ì‡Á‚‡Ú¸ «ÜÂÌ˘Ë̇ Ë ÚÂ̸». Ç Â ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓ-ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ÒÚÛÍÚÛ flÒÌÓ ˜ËÚ‡˛ÚÒfl ÓÚÁ‚ÛÍË Ó‰ÌÓ„Ó ËÁ ÔËÏËÚË‚ËÁËÛ˛˘Ëı Ú˜ÂÌËÈ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË 1920-ı. à Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ – ÚËÔ˘ÌÓ ˜Û·‡Ó‚ÒÍÓÂ Ó˘Û˘ÂÌË ÙËÁËÓÎӄ˘ÌÓÒÚË, ÛÚ‚Â‰Ë‚¯ÂÂÒfl ‚ ÓÔËÒ‡ÌÌÓÈ ‚˚¯Â «ÔË„ÓÓ‰ÌÓÈ», ÛÒÎÓ‚ÌÓ „Ó‚Ófl, ÒÂËË. äÒÚ‡ÚË, ˝Ú‡ ‡·ÓÚ‡ (‚ ÒÛ˘ÌÓÒÚË, ÔÓÒ‚fl˘ÂÌ̇fl ̇ÒËÎ˲: ÊÂÌ˘Ë̇, ÒÚÓfl˘‡fl ÒÔËÌÓÈ Í ÁËÚÂβ, ÓÚÔflÌÛ· ÓÚ ‚ÓÁÌËͯÂÈ ÔÂ‰ ÌÂÈ ÁÎӂ¢ÂÈ ÚÂÌË) ӷ̇ÛÊË‚‡ÂÚ Í‡ÍÛ˛-ÚÓ ÏËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ Ò‚flÁ¸ ÏÂÊ‰Û Ù‡ÏËÎËÂÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, ‡ÚËÍÛÎËÛÂÏ˚ÏË ‚ Â„Ó ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË ÚÂı ÎÂÚ Ó˘Û˘ÂÌËflÏË ÙËÁËÓÎӄ˘ÌÓÒÚË, ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚË, „Û·ÓÈ ÒÂÍÒۇθÌÓÈ ÊÂÒÚÓÍÓÒÚË (ÒÚ‡‚¯ËÏË Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó Ó‰‡ ·ẨÓÏ, ̉‡ÓÏ fl ̇ÔË҇Π– «ÚËÔ˘ÌÓ ˜Û·‡Ó‚ÒÍÓ») Ë ÏÓÏÂÌÚÓÏ ËÒÚÓËË ÒÓ‚ÂÚÒÍÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡ 20-ı „Ó‰Ó‚. Ä ËÏÂÌÌÓ – ‚ 1927 „Ó‰Û ‰Îfl ÎÂÌËÌ„‡‰ÒÍÓ„Ó ÑÓχ 蘇ÚË Û˜ÂÌËÍË è.îËÎÓÌÓ‚‡ ÔÓ‰ Â„Ó ÛÍÓ‚Ó‰ÒÚ‚ÓÏ Ô˯ÛÚ ÌÂÒÍÓθÍÓ Ô‡ÌÌÓ. é‰ÌÓ ËÁ ÌËı ̇Á˚‚‡ÎÓÒ¸ «óÛ·‡Ó‚˘ËÌÓÈ» Ë ·˚ÎÓ ÔÓÒ‚fl˘ÂÌÓ Ì‡¯ÛÏ‚¯ÂÏÛ ÚÓ„‰‡ Û„ÓÎÓ‚ÌÓÏÛ ‰ÂÎÛ: ÌÂÍË ıÛÎË„‡Ì˚, ¯Ô‡Ì‡, ËÁ̇ÒËÎÓ‚‡Î‡ ÏÓÎÓ‰Û˛ Ù‡·˘ÌÛ˛ ‡·ÓÚÌˈÛ, ÔÂ‰ӂË͇ ÔÓËÁ‚Ó‰ÒÚ‚‡. ÑÂÎÓ ·˚ÎÓ ‚ óÛ·‡Ó‚ÓÏ ÔÂÂÛÎÍÂ. Ö„Ó Ì‡Á‚‡ÌË ÒÚ‡ÎÓ ËÏÂÌÂÏ Ì‡ˈ‡ÚÂθÌ˚Ï: ˜Û·‡Ó‚˘ËÌÓÈ ÒÚ‡ÎË Ì‡Á˚‚‡Ú¸ ˆÂÎÓ fl‚ÎÂÌË ÚÓ„‰‡¯ÌÂÈ ÊËÁÌË – ÒÂÍÒۇθÌÛ˛ ‡„ÂÒÒË‚ÌÓÒÚ¸, ‡ÒÔÛ˘ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸, ‡ÒӈˇθÌÓÒÚ¸.

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íÂÚ¸fl ÎËÌËfl Â„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡ ÚÂı ÎÂÚ ÔÓ‚Ó‡˜Ë‚‡ÂÚ ‚ ÒÚÓÓÌÛ ‡ÌÌÂÈ „‡ÙËÍË ‚ Ô·Ì ӷ‡˘ÂÌËfl Í ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍË-‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓÏÛ: ÔÂ‚Ó˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇Ï, ‚ÓÒÔfl‚¯ËÏ ËÁ ı‡ÓÒ‡ Ë ÌÂÓÚ‰ÂÎËÏ˚Ï ÓÚ ÁÂÏÎË. é‰Ì‡ÍÓ Ó̇ ÛÒËÎÂ̇ Ù‡ÍÚÛÓÈ «ÔË„ÓÓ‰Ì˚ı» ÒÂËÈ: ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍË Ô‡Î˛‰Ë, ÒËÏ‚ÓÎËÁËÛ˛˘Ë ÒËÎ˚ Á‡ÓʉÂÌËfl Ë Â‰ËÌÒÚ‚‡ ÏË‡, Â„Ó ÒËÌÍÂÚËÁχ, fl‚ÎÂÌ˚ ‚Ò ÚÓÈ Ê ÌÂÔËÚflÁ‡ÚÂθÌÓÈ, Í‡Í ‚Ó ‚Ò ‚ÂÏÂ̇, ÓıÓ˜ÂÈ ‰Ó ÁÂÎˢ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ Ï‡ÒÒÓ‚ÍÂ. ã˛·ÓÔ˚ÚÌÓ ÚÓ, Í‡Í fl‚ÎÂÌ˚ ÔÓÒÚÓÏÛ Ì‡Ó‰Û Ó·‡Á˚ÒËÏ‚ÓÎ˚ (ÏÓ˘Ì˚ ӷ̇ÊÂÌÌ˚ ÊÂÌÒÍËÂ Ë ÏÛÊÒÍË Ú·, Ó·ÓÁ̇˜‡˛˘Ë ÒËÎ˚ ÔÎÓ‰ÓÓ‰Ëfl Ë ‚ÓÒÔÓËÁ‚Ó‰ÒÚ‚‡, Ë Ô.). ä‡Í Ô‡‚ËÎÓ, ÓÌË ‡ÒÔÓÎÓÊÂÌ˚ ‚ ÌÂÍÓÏ ˆ‚ÂÚÌÓÏ ÔflÏÓÛ„ÓθÌËÍ (ÂÒÎË ÓÔËÒ˚‚‡Ú¸ ÒËÚÛ‡ˆË˛ ‚ ·˚ÚÓ‚˚ı ÚÂÏË̇ı, ÚÓ — ‚ÓÁÎÂÊ‡Ú Ì‡ ÔÓÎÓÚÌÂ, Ô·ÚÍÂ, ̇ ËÚۇθÌÓÏ ÍÓ‚ËÍÂ, Ë Ô.), ÚÓ ÂÒÚ¸ ‚ ÓÁ̇˜ÂÌÌÓÏ Ë ÓÁ̇˜‡˛˘ÂÏ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â. ä ˝ÚÓÏÛ ÒËÏ‚Ó΢ÂÒÍÓÏÛ, ËÚۇθÌÓÏÛ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Û Ë ÛÒÚÂÏÎflÂÚÒfl ÒÓ ‚ÒÂı ÒÚÓÓÌ ÚÓÎÔ‡ (̇„ÎÓ Ì‡ÔÓÎÁ‡ÂÚ Ì‡ ˝ÚË Ú· ËÎË, ̇ӷÓÓÚ, ıÓ˜ÂÚ Ëı ‚ÓÁÌÂÒÚË). á‰ÂÒ¸ ‚‡ÊÌÓ ÚÓ, ˜ÚÓ Å.ÅÂıÚ Ì‡Á˚‚‡Î «ÔÓ͇ÁÓÏ ÔÓ͇Á‡»: ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ, ÒÚ‡ÎÍË‚‡fl Ô·ÒÚ˚ ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Ë ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ„Ó, Ó˘Û˘‡ÂÚ – Ë ÔÓÁˈËÓÌËÛÂÚ – Ò·fl Í‡Í ÌÂÍÓ„Ó ¯‡Ï‡Ì‡. ìÔÎÓÚÌfl˛˘Â„Ó ‚ÂÏÂÌÌ˚ ÔÓÚÓÍË Ë ‚˚Á˚‚‡˛˘Â„Ó ËÁ Ì·˚ÚËfl «ÚÂÌË Á‡·˚Ú˚ı Ô‰ÍÓ‚», ÒÎÓ‚ÓÏ, Ó„‡ÌËÁÛ˛˘Â„Ó ËÚÛ‡Î. Ç ˝ÚËı, ·ÂÁÛÒÎÓ‚ÌÓ, ÒËθÌ˚ı ‚¢‡ı Ú‡ËÎÓÒ¸ ÌÂÍÓÚÓÓ ÔÓÚË‚Ó˜ËÂ. êÂÔÂÁÂÌÚ‡ˆËfl ÒËÏ‚Ó΢ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Í‚‡ÁË-ËÁÓ·‡ÁËÚÂθÌ˚ÏË Ò‰ÒÚ‚‡ÏË ‚ÓÓ·˘Â-ÚÓ ÓÔ‡Ò̇, Ë·Ó ÔflÏ˚Ï ÔÛÚÂÏ ‚‰ÂÚ Í ‡ÒÒ͇ÁÛ, Í ÎËÚÂ‡ÚÛÌÓÒÚË. à óÛ·‡Ó‚ Ì ‚Ò„‰‡ ˝ÚÓÈ ÓÔ‡ÒÌÓÒÚË ËÁ·Â„‡ÂÚ. ê‡Á¯‡ÂÚ Ê ˝ÚÓ ÔÓÚË‚Ó˜Ë ÓÌ ÒÎÂ‰Û˛˘ËÏ ÔÛÚÂÏ. Ç ˝ÚËı ÏÌÓ„ÓÙË„ÛÌ˚ı „ÛÒÚÓ̇ÒÂÎÂÌÌ˚ı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı ÓÌ ‡ÍˆÂÌÚËÛÂÚ Ó·˙ÂÏÌÓÒÚ¸ Ë ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚ¸. ùÚÓ ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ: ÒËÚÛ‡ˆËfl ËÚۇ·, χÌËÔÛÎflˆËÈ Ë Ôӈ‰Û ¯‡Ï‡ÌÒÍÓ„Ó ÚÓÎ͇ Ú·ÛÂÚ ÚÂÎÂÒÌ˚ı ÒÓÔËÍÓÒÌÓ‚ÂÌËÈ, Ú‡ÍÚËθÌÓÒÚË. à ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ‚ ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸ÌÓÏ ÒÏ˚ÒΠÎÂÔËÚ ˝ÚÓ ÏÌÓÊÂÒÚ‚Ó ÙË„Û Ë „ÓÎÓ‚, ‡ÚËÍÛÎËÛfl Ò‡ÏÛ ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚ¸ ÒÓÔËÍÓÒÌÓ‚ÂÌËfl, ͇҇ÌËfl… é‰Ì‡ÍÓ Ï‡Ò¯Ú‡· ËÁÓ·‡ÊÂÌËÈ Û·˚‚‡ÂÚ, Ò‡Ï Ô·ÒÚ ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓ„Ó ËÒÚÓ̘‡ÂÚÒfl, ÔÓ˜ÚË ÔÓ-ÙËÎÓÌÓ‚ÒÍË ‡ÚÓÏËÁËÛÂÚÒfl. éÚÒ˛‰‡ – ÛÍÓÈ ÔÓ‰‡Ú¸ ‰Ó ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË. óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÔÓ¯ÂÎ ÓÔ‰ÂÎÂÌÌ˚È ÔÓ‰„ÓÚÓ‚ËÚÂθÌ˚È

could, for example, identify the driving forces behind the American Abstract Expressionism: Freudian and Jungian, classical studies, completed approximately at that time, of the primitive-mythological and archaic consciousness in general, John Donne’s universe, the beginning of existentialism,the view of the language as action akin to the theory of speech acts (including a technical device understood as visual language similar to “dripping” in Pollack), and last but not least, Eastern philosophies and Zen in the first place. But what about individual non-stage-wise development towards abstraction? Of course, there should be some sort of individual logic here. Chubarov was sure to have learnt, if somewhat too late, the basic elements of abstract expressionism. Moreover, its earlier archaic-mythological thematic range, which had also affected Pollock, Gottlieb, De Kooning, to name a few, was of immediate interest to him. Special attraction to abstract art? Its energy and means of conveying it have always been of much concern to Chubarov. Kabakov meant something similar as he described his own experiences in abstract art: “I experienced … some sort of a powerful electric discharge emerging as it were from within me. It was impossible to anticipate those movements of the pen and those brush strokes, they appeared of their own accord, but the configuration or pattern that gradually shaped up contained the memory and the feeling of that energy emanating from within.” Finally, there was some anthropological dimension. To quote the philosopher Valery Podoroga: “…a vision through the movement of your hand, laboriously drawing the lines to follow the rhythms of your physical sensations.” I think all these moments played a part: mythological discourse (archaism, roots, sources), the anthropological aspects and translation of energies. From these components “the phenomenon of Chubarov” was shaping up. But the main quality, which assured a special place for Chubarov’s art in the densely populated space of abstract art, probably consisted in something else: he has managed to rise to a higher level of understanding of the ontology and forms of existence of abstract art. He uses the abstraction not as an instrument for overcoming the mimetic representation, or rather not just for that – this is only one of the conditions for creating a work of art. We are not talking about the liberation of artistic representation as such (in broader terms: art as such); or de-realization, but, on the contrary, about quasi-realization, about enhancing the material component of the body of a work at the expense of the objectification, the embodiment of certain events around its creation and perception. These events are associated with the borderline mythological-poetic practices rooted in the artist’s biography. We mean by practices a certain type of physical manifestations, such as thematic rendering of tactile manipulations, contacts, shamans’ incantations, psychedelic acts, esoteric rituals, etc. In the most general terms, Chubarov no longer depicts any myth-bearing processes but realizes them in time and space, employing the instruments of abstract language. In essence, this is a modernist demiurgic practice but with a superimposed conceptual plane. I think it would

have been impossible without the experience of Beuys. Quite distant from Chubarov as far as esthetic realization or the final product are concerned, Beuys is quite close to him in his intention to enhance the art object at the expense of mythological-biographical aspects (what would happen to Beuys’s piece of felt if it had not been appropriated by the mythological-poetic discourse.) Thus Chubarov’s two- or three-meter monumental compositions, for all of their two-dimensionality, are in fact art objects of increased corporeality and extended materiality. These characteristics are perceived by the viewer as quite objective, rather than metaphorical (or not only metaphorical), perhaps potentially so, or intended to become so. According to the theory of speech activity, they encourage reality and stimulate the creation of new reality. Under certain conditions, gesture acts of abstraction are doing basically the same. Chubarov’s picture-objects are created with a single brush stroke, “without seams”. True, it takes him several hours of ceaseless labor between the first and the last breath, during which time the work is being created. This temporal aspect is of much importance to the artist. It is precisely in this sensation of procedural consistency, the regime, the arrangement of the actions within the time space that archaic practices and the modern understanding of art are intertwined. Hence the impossible extension of Warhol’s, “Empire State Building” and the accented monotony of some of Beuys’s actions. It was probably back in the times of his early graphic attempts that Chubarov was acutely aware of the need to cut the flow of form-building into sections or slices, that is, individual works. He was tortured by the finality of the process. Expectedly, the sheer scale and unlimited potential for filling in such works with figurativeness and mimetic ness could powerfully extend the limits of established pr0cedures, but not to the point of infinity. Here we are confronted with yet another aspect characteristic of a new

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1972 29.5 ÒÏ • 32 ÒÏ

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ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1983 30 ÒÏ • 42.5 ÒÏ

óÂÎÓ‚ÂÍ ÙËÁËÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍËÈ, ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍ ÔÓÏÂÊÛÚÓ˜Ì˚È (ÔÓÔ‡‚¯ËÈ ‚ Á‡ÁÓ ÏÂÊ‰Û „ÓÓ‰ÒÍÓÈ Ë ‰Â‚ÂÌÒÍÓÈ ÊËÁ̸˛) ÔÓfl‚ÎflÂÚÒfl ‚ Ò‡Ï˚ı Ó·˚‰ÂÌÌ˚ı Ë ÌËÁÏÂÌÌ˚ı Ò‚ÓËı ͇˜ÂÒÚ‚‡ı Ë ÔË‚˚˜Í‡ı. Ç ÚÛ ÔÓÛ ÌÂÒÍÓθÍÓ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÓ‚ ÔÓ„ÛÁËÎËÒ¸ ‚ ˝ÚÛ ÒÚËı˲ ÒÓ‚ÂÚÒÍÓÈ Î˛ÏÔÂÌÒÍÓÈ ·˚ÚËÈÌÓÒÚË: ÎÂÌËÌ„‡‰Âˆ Ä.ÄÂٸ‚, ‚ ˜ÂÏ-ÚÓ óÛ·‡Ó‚Û Ó˜Â̸ ·ÎËÁÍËÈ, ÌÓ Â‰‚‡ ÎË ÂÏÛ Á̇ÍÓÏ˚È, ÏÓÒÍ‚Ë˜Ë Ç.ä‡ÎËÌËÌ, Ç.èflÚÌˈÍËÈ. ÑÛχ˛, óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÓÚ΢‡ÂÚÒfl ÓÚ ÌËı ÔÂʉ ‚ÒÂ„Ó ÔÓÁˈËÓÌËÓ‚‡ÌËÂÏ: ‡‚ÚÓ Ì ‡Ì‡ÎËÁËÛÂÚ ˝ÚÓÚ ÏË Ë, ÛÔ‡ÒË ·Ó„, Ì ÍËÚËÍÛÂÚ Â„Ó. ëÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, Ì ËÒÔÓθÁÛÂÚ „ÓÚÓ‚˚ ʇÌÓ‚˚Â Ë ÒÚËÎËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍË ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚: ÔËژ‚ÓÒÚ¸, „ÓÚÂÒÍ. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ÊË‚ÂÚ ‚ ÌÂÏ, Ë ‡‚ÚÓÔÓÚÂÚÌÓÒÚ¸ ˜‡ÒÚÓ ‚Íβ˜Â̇ ‚ ÒÚÛÍÚÛÛ Ó·‡Á‡. ê‡ÁÛÏÂÂÚÒfl, ˝ÚË ÎËÌËË Ì ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Û˛Ú ‚ ˜ËÒÚÓÚÂ Ë ÌÂ‰ÍÓ ÔÂÂÔÎÂÚ‡˛ÚÒfl. èÓ‰Ó·ÌÓ ÔÂÂÔÎÂÚÂÌË ÓÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ËÎÓÒ¸, Í‡Í ÏÌ Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÂÚÒfl, ‚ ‡·ÓÚÂ, ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ ÛÒÎÓ‚ÌÓ ÏÓÊÌÓ Ì‡Á‚‡Ú¸ «ÜÂÌ˘Ë̇ Ë ÚÂ̸». Ç Â ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓ-ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ÒÚÛÍÚÛ flÒÌÓ ˜ËÚ‡˛ÚÒfl ÓÚÁ‚ÛÍË Ó‰ÌÓ„Ó ËÁ ÔËÏËÚË‚ËÁËÛ˛˘Ëı Ú˜ÂÌËÈ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË 1920-ı. à Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ – ÚËÔ˘ÌÓ ˜Û·‡Ó‚ÒÍÓÂ Ó˘Û˘ÂÌË ÙËÁËÓÎӄ˘ÌÓÒÚË, ÛÚ‚Â‰Ë‚¯ÂÂÒfl ‚ ÓÔËÒ‡ÌÌÓÈ ‚˚¯Â «ÔË„ÓÓ‰ÌÓÈ», ÛÒÎÓ‚ÌÓ „Ó���Ófl, ÒÂËË. äÒÚ‡ÚË, ˝Ú‡ ‡·ÓÚ‡ (‚ ÒÛ˘ÌÓÒÚË, ÔÓÒ‚fl˘ÂÌ̇fl ̇ÒËÎ˲: ÊÂÌ˘Ë̇, ÒÚÓfl˘‡fl ÒÔËÌÓÈ Í ÁËÚÂβ, ÓÚÔflÌÛ· ÓÚ ‚ÓÁÌËͯÂÈ ÔÂ‰ ÌÂÈ ÁÎӂ¢ÂÈ ÚÂÌË) ӷ̇ÛÊË‚‡ÂÚ Í‡ÍÛ˛-ÚÓ ÏËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ Ò‚flÁ¸ ÏÂÊ‰Û Ù‡ÏËÎËÂÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, ‡ÚËÍÛÎËÛÂÏ˚ÏË ‚ Â„Ó ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË ÚÂı ÎÂÚ Ó˘Û˘ÂÌËflÏË ÙËÁËÓÎӄ˘ÌÓÒÚË, ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚË, „Û·ÓÈ ÒÂÍÒۇθÌÓÈ ÊÂÒÚÓÍÓÒÚË (ÒÚ‡‚¯ËÏË Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó Ó‰‡ ·ẨÓÏ, ̉‡ÓÏ fl ̇ÔË҇Π– «ÚËÔ˘ÌÓ ˜Û·‡Ó‚ÒÍÓ») Ë ÏÓÏÂÌÚÓÏ ËÒÚÓËË ÒÓ‚ÂÚÒÍÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡ 20-ı „Ó‰Ó‚. Ä ËÏÂÌÌÓ – ‚ 1927 „Ó‰Û ‰Îfl ÎÂÌËÌ„‡‰ÒÍÓ„Ó ÑÓχ 蘇ÚË Û˜ÂÌËÍË è.îËÎÓÌÓ‚‡ ÔÓ‰ Â„Ó ÛÍÓ‚Ó‰ÒÚ‚ÓÏ Ô˯ÛÚ ÌÂÒÍÓθÍÓ Ô‡ÌÌÓ. é‰ÌÓ ËÁ ÌËı ̇Á˚‚‡ÎÓÒ¸ «óÛ·‡Ó‚˘ËÌÓÈ» Ë ·˚ÎÓ ÔÓÒ‚fl˘ÂÌÓ Ì‡¯ÛÏ‚¯ÂÏÛ ÚÓ„‰‡ Û„ÓÎÓ‚ÌÓÏÛ ‰ÂÎÛ: ÌÂÍË ıÛÎË„‡Ì˚, ¯Ô‡Ì‡, ËÁ̇ÒËÎÓ‚‡Î‡ ÏÓÎÓ‰Û˛ Ù‡·˘ÌÛ˛ ‡·ÓÚÌˈÛ, ÔÂ‰ӂË͇ ÔÓËÁ‚Ó‰ÒÚ‚‡. ÑÂÎÓ ·˚ÎÓ ‚ óÛ·‡Ó‚ÓÏ ÔÂÂÛÎÍÂ. Ö„Ó Ì‡Á‚‡ÌË ÒÚ‡ÎÓ ËÏÂÌÂÏ Ì‡ˈ‡ÚÂθÌ˚Ï: ˜Û·‡Ó‚˘ËÌÓÈ ÒÚ‡ÎË Ì‡Á˚‚‡Ú¸ ˆÂÎÓ fl‚ÎÂÌË ÚÓ„‰‡¯ÌÂÈ ÊËÁÌË – ÒÂÍÒۇθÌÛ˛ ‡„ÂÒÒË‚ÌÓÒÚ¸, ‡ÒÔÛ˘ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸, ‡ÒӈˇθÌÓÒÚ¸.

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íÂÚ¸fl ÎËÌËfl Â„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡ ÚÂı ÎÂÚ ÔÓ‚Ó‡˜Ë‚‡ÂÚ ‚ ÒÚÓÓÌÛ ‡ÌÌÂÈ „‡ÙËÍË ‚ Ô·Ì ӷ‡˘ÂÌËfl Í ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍË-‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓÏÛ: ÔÂ‚Ó˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇Ï, ‚ÓÒÔfl‚¯ËÏ ËÁ ı‡ÓÒ‡ Ë ÌÂÓÚ‰ÂÎËÏ˚Ï ÓÚ ÁÂÏÎË. é‰Ì‡ÍÓ Ó̇ ÛÒËÎÂ̇ Ù‡ÍÚÛÓÈ «ÔË„ÓÓ‰Ì˚ı» ÒÂËÈ: ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍË Ô‡Î˛‰Ë, ÒËÏ‚ÓÎËÁËÛ˛˘Ë ÒËÎ˚ Á‡ÓʉÂÌËfl Ë Â‰ËÌÒÚ‚‡ ÏË‡, Â„Ó ÒËÌÍÂÚËÁχ, fl‚ÎÂÌ˚ ‚Ò ÚÓÈ Ê ÌÂÔËÚflÁ‡ÚÂθÌÓÈ, Í‡Í ‚Ó ‚Ò ‚ÂÏÂ̇, ÓıÓ˜ÂÈ ‰Ó ÁÂÎˢ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ Ï‡ÒÒÓ‚ÍÂ. ã˛·ÓÔ˚ÚÌÓ ÚÓ, Í‡Í fl‚ÎÂÌ˚ ÔÓÒÚÓÏÛ Ì‡Ó‰Û Ó·‡Á˚ÒËÏ‚ÓÎ˚ (ÏÓ˘Ì˚ ӷ̇ÊÂÌÌ˚ ÊÂÌÒÍËÂ Ë ÏÛÊÒÍË Ú·, Ó·ÓÁ̇˜‡˛˘Ë ÒËÎ˚ ÔÎÓ‰ÓÓ‰Ëfl Ë ‚ÓÒÔÓËÁ‚Ó‰ÒÚ‚‡, Ë Ô.). ä‡Í Ô‡‚ËÎÓ, ÓÌË ‡ÒÔÓÎÓÊÂÌ˚ ‚ ÌÂÍÓÏ ˆ‚ÂÚÌÓÏ ÔflÏÓÛ„ÓθÌËÍ (ÂÒÎË ÓÔËÒ˚‚‡Ú¸ ÒËÚÛ‡ˆË˛ ‚ ·˚ÚÓ‚˚ı ÚÂÏË̇ı, ÚÓ — ‚ÓÁÎÂÊ‡Ú Ì‡ ÔÓÎÓÚÌÂ, Ô·ÚÍÂ, ̇ ËÚۇθÌÓÏ ÍÓ‚ËÍÂ, Ë Ô.), ÚÓ ÂÒÚ¸ ‚ ÓÁ̇˜ÂÌÌÓÏ Ë ÓÁ̇˜‡˛˘ÂÏ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â. ä ˝ÚÓÏÛ ÒËÏ‚Ó΢ÂÒÍÓÏÛ, ËÚۇθÌÓÏÛ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Û Ë ÛÒÚÂÏÎflÂÚÒfl ÒÓ ‚ÒÂı ÒÚÓÓÌ ÚÓÎÔ‡ (̇„ÎÓ Ì‡ÔÓÎÁ‡ÂÚ Ì‡ ˝ÚË Ú· ËÎË, ̇ӷÓÓÚ, ıÓ˜ÂÚ Ëı ‚ÓÁÌÂÒÚË). á‰ÂÒ¸ ‚‡ÊÌÓ ÚÓ, ˜ÚÓ Å.ÅÂıÚ Ì‡Á˚‚‡Î «ÔÓ͇ÁÓÏ ÔÓ͇Á‡»: ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ, ÒÚ‡ÎÍË‚‡fl Ô·ÒÚ˚ ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Ë ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ„Ó, Ó˘Û˘‡ÂÚ – Ë ÔÓÁˈËÓÌËÛÂÚ – Ò·fl Í‡Í ÌÂÍÓ„Ó ¯‡Ï‡Ì‡. ìÔÎÓÚÌfl˛˘Â„Ó ‚ÂÏÂÌÌ˚ ÔÓÚÓÍË Ë ‚˚Á˚‚‡˛˘Â„Ó ËÁ Ì·˚ÚËfl «ÚÂÌË Á‡·˚Ú˚ı Ô‰ÍÓ‚», ÒÎÓ‚ÓÏ, Ó„‡ÌËÁÛ˛˘Â„Ó ËÚÛ‡Î. Ç ˝ÚËı, ·ÂÁÛÒÎÓ‚ÌÓ, ÒËθÌ˚ı ‚¢‡ı Ú‡ËÎÓÒ¸ ÌÂÍÓÚÓÓ ÔÓÚË‚Ó˜ËÂ. êÂÔÂÁÂÌÚ‡ˆËfl ÒËÏ‚Ó΢ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Í‚‡ÁË-ËÁÓ·‡ÁËÚÂθÌ˚ÏË Ò‰ÒÚ‚‡ÏË ‚ÓÓ·˘Â-ÚÓ ÓÔ‡Ò̇, Ë·Ó ÔflÏ˚Ï ÔÛÚÂÏ ‚‰ÂÚ Í ‡ÒÒ͇ÁÛ, Í ÎËÚÂ‡ÚÛÌÓÒÚË. à óÛ·‡Ó‚ Ì ‚Ò„‰‡ ˝ÚÓÈ ÓÔ‡ÒÌÓÒÚË ËÁ·Â„‡ÂÚ. ê‡Á¯‡ÂÚ Ê ˝ÚÓ ÔÓÚË‚Ó˜Ë ÓÌ ÒÎÂ‰Û˛˘ËÏ ÔÛÚÂÏ. Ç ˝ÚËı ÏÌÓ„ÓÙË„ÛÌ˚ı „ÛÒÚÓ̇ÒÂÎÂÌÌ˚ı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı ÓÌ ‡ÍˆÂÌÚËÛÂÚ Ó·˙ÂÏÌÓÒÚ¸ Ë ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚ¸. ùÚÓ ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ: ÒËÚÛ‡ˆËfl ËÚۇ·, χÌËÔÛÎflˆËÈ Ë Ôӈ‰Û ¯‡Ï‡ÌÒÍÓ„Ó ÚÓÎ͇ Ú·ÛÂÚ ÚÂÎÂÒÌ˚ı ÒÓÔËÍÓÒÌÓ‚ÂÌËÈ, Ú‡ÍÚËθÌÓÒÚË. à ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ‚ ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸ÌÓÏ ÒÏ˚ÒΠÎÂÔËÚ ˝ÚÓ ÏÌÓÊÂÒÚ‚Ó ÙË„Û Ë „ÓÎÓ‚, ‡ÚËÍÛÎËÛfl Ò‡ÏÛ ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚ¸ ÒÓÔËÍÓÒÌÓ‚ÂÌËfl, ͇҇ÌËfl… é‰Ì‡ÍÓ Ï‡Ò¯Ú‡· ËÁÓ·‡ÊÂÌËÈ Û·˚‚‡ÂÚ, Ò‡Ï Ô·ÒÚ ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓ„Ó ËÒÚÓ̘‡ÂÚÒfl, ÔÓ˜ÚË ÔÓ-ÙËÎÓÌÓ‚ÒÍË ‡ÚÓÏËÁËÛÂÚÒfl. éÚÒ˛‰‡ – ÛÍÓÈ ÔÓ‰‡Ú¸ ‰Ó ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË. óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÔÓ¯ÂÎ ÓÔ‰ÂÎÂÌÌ˚È ÔÓ‰„ÓÚÓ‚ËÚÂθÌ˚È

could, for example, identify the driving forces behind the American Abstract Expressionism: Freudian and Jungian, classical studies, completed approximately at that time, of the primitive-mythological and archaic consciousness in general, John Donne’s universe, the beginning of existentialism,the view of the language as action akin to the theory of speech acts (including a technical device understood as visual language similar to “dripping” in Pollack), and last but not least, Eastern philosophies and Zen in the first place. But what about individual non-stage-wise development towards abstraction? Of course, there should be some sort of individual logic here. Chubarov was sure to have learnt, if somewhat too late, the basic elements of abstract expressionism. Moreover, its earlier archaic-mythological thematic range, which had also affected Pollock, Gottlieb, De Kooning, to name a few, was of immediate interest to him. Special attraction to abstract art? Its energy and means of conveying it have always been of much concern to Chubarov. Kabakov meant something similar as he described his own experiences in abstract art: “I experienced … some sort of a powerful electric discharge emerging as it were from within me. It was impossible to anticipate those movements of the pen and those brush strokes, they appeared of their own accord, but the configuration or pattern that gradually shaped up contained the memory and the feeling of that energy emanating from within.” Finally, there was some anthropological dimension. To quote the philosopher Valery Podoroga: “…a vision through the movement of your hand, laboriously drawing the lines to follow the rhythms of your physical sensations.” I think all these moments played a part: mythological discourse (archaism, roots, sources), the anthropological aspects and translation of energies. From these components “the phenomenon of Chubarov” was shaping up. But the main quality, which assured a special place for Chubarov’s art in the densely populated space of abstract art, probably consisted in something else: he has managed to rise to a higher level of understanding of the ontology and forms of existence of abstract art. He uses the abstraction not as an instrument for overcoming the mimetic representation, or rather not just for that – this is only one of the conditions for creating a work of art. We are not talking about the liberation of artistic representation as such (in broader terms: art as such); or de-realization, but, on the contrary, about quasi-realization, about enhancing the material component of the body of a work at the expense of the objectification, the embodiment of certain events around its creation and perception. These events are associated with the borderline mythological-poetic practices rooted in the artist’s biography. We mean by practices a certain type of physical manifestations, such as thematic rendering of tactile manipulations, contacts, shamans’ incantations, psychedelic acts, esoteric rituals, etc. In the most general terms, Chubarov no longer depicts any myth-bearing processes but realizes them in time and space, employing the instruments of abstract language. In essence, this is a modernist demiurgic practice but with a superimposed conceptual plane. I think it would

have been impossible without the experience of Beuys. Quite distant from Chubarov as far as esthetic realization or the final product are concerned, Beuys is quite close to him in his intention to enhance the art object at the expense of mythological-biographical aspects (what would happen to Beuys’s piece of felt if it had not been appropriated by the mythological-poetic discourse.) Thus Chubarov’s two- or three-meter monumental compositions, for all of their two-dimensionality, are in fact art objects of increased corporeality and extended materiality. These characteristics are perceived by the viewer as quite objective, rather than metaphorical (or not only metaphorical), perhaps potentially so, or intended to become so. According to the theory of speech activity, they encourage reality and stimulate the creation of new reality. Under certain conditions, gesture acts of abstraction are doing basically the same. Chubarov’s picture-objects are created with a single brush stroke, “without seams”. True, it takes him several hours of ceaseless labor between the first and the last breath, during which time the work is being created. This temporal aspect is of much importance to the artist. It is precisely in this sensation of procedural consistency, the regime, the arrangement of the actions within the time space that archaic practices and the modern understanding of art are intertwined. Hence the impossible extension of Warhol’s, “Empire State Building” and the accented monotony of some of Beuys’s actions. It was probably back in the times of his early graphic attempts that Chubarov was acutely aware of the need to cut the flow of form-building into sections or slices, that is, individual works. He was tortured by the finality of the process. Expectedly, the sheer scale and unlimited potential for filling in such works with figurativeness and mimetic ness could powerfully extend the limits of established pr0cedures, but not to the point of infinity. Here we are confronted with yet another aspect characteristic of a new

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1972 29.5 ÒÏ • 32 ÒÏ

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ÔÓˆÂÒÒ ÔÂÂıÓ‰‡ Í ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓÏÛ Ï˚¯ÎÂÌ˲, ÌÓ Í‡˜ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ÔÂÂıÓ‰ ·˚Î ÒÓ‚Â¯ÂÌ ‚Ó ‚ÂÏfl Ô·˚‚‡ÌËfl ‚ ÅÂÎËÌÂ. á‰ÂÒ¸ ·˚Î ÒÓÁ‰‡Ì ÓÒÌÓ‚ÌÓÈ ÍÓÔÛÒ ÌÓ‚˚ı ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ı ‚¢ÂÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, fl‚ÎÂÌË ‚ Ò‚ÓÂÏ Ӊ ÛÌË͇θÌÓÂ. ÇÚÓÓ Ô˯ÂÒÚ‚Ë ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË ‚ êÓÒÒËË Ô˯ÎÓÒ¸ Í‡Í ‡Á ̇ ÔÂËÓ‰ ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÎÂÌËfl ÔÓÍÓÎÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ Ë ÌÓÒËÎÓ Ù‡ÁËÒÌ˚È ı‡‡ÍÚÂ: ˜ÂÂÁ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚È ÔÂËÓ‰ ÔÓ¯ÎË ÔÓ˜ÚË ‚ÒÂ, ÓÒÚ‡ÎËÒ¸ ‚ ÌÂÏ – Ò˜ËÚ‡ÌÌ˚ ‰ËÌˈ˚. ëÓ‚ÂÚÒ͇fl ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl ÍÓ̈‡ 1950-ı–̇˜‡Î‡ 60-ı „„. ·˚· Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó Ó‰‡ ¯ÍÓÎÓÈ – ¯ÍÓÎÓÈ ÓÒ‚Ó·ÓʉÂÌËfl ÓÚ ‰Ó„Ï ÓÙˈËÓÁ‡ Ë Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ, ‚ ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸ÌÓÏ ÒÏ˚ÒÎÂ, – „‡ÏÓÚ˚ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡. ä.èÂÚÓ‚ÇÓ‰ÍËÌ ÍÓ„‰‡-ÚÓ „Ó‚ÓËÎ Ó ÍÛ·ËÁÏÂ: ‚Ò Ï˚ ̇ ÌÂÏ Ó„‡ÏÓÚËÎËÒ¸; ÚÓ˜ÌÓ Ú‡Í Ê ̇ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË Ó„‡ÏÓÚËÎÓÒ¸ ÔÓ˜ÚË ‚Ò ҂ÂÒÚÌËÍË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡. çÓ – Ì ÓÌ Ò‡Ï; Í ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË ÓÌ ÔËıÓ‰ËÚ ‚ ÔÓÁ‰ÌËÈ, ÁÂÎ˚È ÔÂËÓ‰ Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó ‡Á‚ËÚËfl. èÓ˜ÂÏÛ Ë Á‡˜ÂÏ? ÉÓ‡Á‰Ó ΄˜Â Ó·˙flÒÌËÚ¸ ÌÂÍÛ˛ Ó·˘Û˛ ÒÚ‡‰Ë‡Î¸ÌÛ˛ ÛÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÍÛ «Ì‡ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆË˛», ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ ÔÂËӉ˘ÂÒÍË ÔÂÂÊË‚‡ÂÚ ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó ‰‚‡‰ˆ‡ÚÓ„Ó ‚Â͇ ‚ÔÎÓÚ¸ ‰Ó ÔÓÒÚÍÓ̈ÂÔÚۇθÌÓ„Ó ÔÂËÓ‰‡. ç‡ÔËÏÂ, ‚˚fl‚ËÚ¸ ÔÓ·Û‰ËÚÂθÌ˚ ÏÓÚË‚˚, ‚˚Á‚‡‚¯ËÂ Í ÊËÁÌË ‡ÏÂË͇ÌÒÍËÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚È ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁÏ: ÙÂȉËÁÏ Ë ˛Ì„ˇÌÒÚ‚Ó, Í·ÒÒ˘ÂÒÍËÂ, Á‡‚Â¯‡˛˘ËÂÒfl ÔËÏÂÌÓ ‚ ˝ÚÓ ‚ÂÏfl ËÒÒΉӂ‡ÌËfl ÔÂ‚Ó·˚ÚÌÓ„Ó ÏËÙÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Ë ‚ÓÓ·˘Â ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl, ÒÂËÈÌ˚È ÛÌË‚ÂÒÛÏ ÑÊ.ì. чÌ̇, ̇˜‡Î‡ ˝ÍÁËÒÚÂ̈ˇÎËÁχ, ÔÓÌËχÌË flÁ˚͇ (‚ ÚÓÏ ˜ËÒΠÚÂıÌ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÔËÂχ, ÓÒÏ˚ÒÎÂÌÌÓ„Ó Í‡Í ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌ˚È flÁ˚Í, ‚Ӊ dripping’‡ Û èÓÎÎÓ͇) Í‡Í ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚Ëfl, Ó‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ÚÂÓËË ˜‚˚ı ‡ÍÚÓ‚, ̇ÍÓ̈, ‚ÓÒÚÓ˜Ì˚ ÙËÎÓÒÓÙËË, ÑÁÂÌ ÔÂʉ ‚Ò„Ó. çÓ Ë̉˂ˉۇθÌÓÂ, ‚ÌÂÒÚ‡‰ËÈÌÓ ӷ‡˘ÂÌË Í

ɇÎÂÂfl ɇË í‡ÚË̈fl̇, 縲-âÓÍ / Garri Tatintsian Gallery, Inc., New York

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‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË? äÓ̘ÌÓ, Á‰ÂÒ¸ ‰ÓÎÊ̇ ·˚Ú¸ ÎÓ„Ë͇ Ë̉˂ˉۇθÌÓ„Ó ‡Á‚ËÚËfl. ê‡ÁÛÏÂÂÚÒfl, óÛ·‡Ó‚Û, ÔÛÒÚ¸ Ò ÓÔÓÁ‰‡ÌËÂÏ, ·˚ÎË ËÁ‚ÂÒÚÌ˚ ÓÒÌÓ‚Ì˚ ÏÓÏÂÌÚ˚ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓ„Ó ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁχ, ·ÓΠÚÓ„Ó, Â„Ó ‡ÌÌflfl, ‡ı‡ËÍÓ-ÏËÙÓÎӄ˘ÂÒ͇fl ÔÓ·ÎÂχÚË͇, Á‡ÚÓÌÛ‚¯‡fl èÓÎÎÓ͇, ÉÓÚÚÎË·‡, Ñ äÛÌËÌ„‡ Ë ‰., ·˚· ÂÏÛ ÔÓÔÓÒÚÛ ÍÓ‚ÌÓ ·ÎËÁ͇. ëÔˆËÙ˘ÂÒ͇fl ˝ÌÂ„ËÈÌÓÒÚ¸ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, ‚‰¸ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚË͇ ÒÔÓÒÓ·˚  ÔÂ‰‡˜Ë ‚Ò„‰‡ ‚ÓÎÌÓ‚‡ÎË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡? ç˜ÚÓ ÔÓ‰Ó·ÌÓ ËÏÂÎ ‚ ‚Ë‰Û ä‡·‡ÍÓ‚, ÓÔËÒ˚‚‡fl Ò‚ÓË ˛ÌÓ¯ÂÒÍË ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ ÓÔ˚Ú˚: «èÓËÒıӉ˷ <...> ͇͇fl-ÚÓ ‡Áfl‰Í‡ ÏÓ˘ÌÓÈ ˝ÌÂ„ËË, Í‡Í ·˚ Ë‰Û˘ÂÈ ÓÚÍÛ‰‡-ÚÓ ËÁ „ÎÛ·ËÌ˚ ÏÂÌfl. è‰ÛÒÏÓÚÂÚ¸ ÂÁÛÎ¸Ú‡Ú ˝ÚËı ‰‚ËÊÂÌËÈ ÔÂ‡, ˝ÚËı «Ï‡ı‡ÌËÈ» ·˚ÎÓ Ì‚ÓÁÏÓÊÌÓ, ÓÌ ‚ÓÁÌËÍ‡Î Ò‡Ï ÔÓ Ò·Â, ÌÓ ‚ Â„Ó ÔÓÒÚÂÔÂÌÌÓ ÔÓÎÛ˜‡‚¯ÂÈÒfl ÍÓÌÙË„Û‡ˆËË, ÛÁÓ ‰Îfl ÏÂÌfl Í‡Í ·˚ ÒÓı‡Ìfl·Ҹ Ô‡ÏflÚ¸ Ë ÔÂÂÊË‚‡ÌË��� ˝ÚÓÈ Ë‰Û˘ÂÈ ËÁ „ÎÛ·ËÌ˚ ˝ÌÂ„ËË». ç‡ÍÓ̈, ÌÂÍӠ ‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ ËÁÏÂÂÌËÂ, Í‡Í ÓÔËÒ‡Î Â„Ó ÙËÎÓÒÓÙ Ç.èÓ‰ÓÓ„‡: «‚ˉÂÌË ˜ÂÂÁ ÛÍÛ, ÒÚ‡‡ÚÂθÌÓ ‚˚‚Ó‰fl˘Û˛ ÎËÌËË ‚ ËÚχı ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓ„Ó ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚‡»? ÑÛχ˛, ‚Ò ˝ÚË ÏÓÏÂÌÚ˚ Ò˚„‡ÎË Ò‚Ó˛ Óθ. à ÏËÙÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍËÈ ‰ËÒÍÛÒ (‡ı‡Ë͇, ÍÓÌË, ËÒÚÓÍË). à ‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍË ‡ÒÔÂÍÚ˚. à Ú‡ÌÒÎflˆËfl ˝ÌÂ„ËÈ. ëÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ËÁ ˝ÚËı ÒÓÒÚ‡‚Îfl˛˘Ëı Ë ‡Ì ÒÍ·‰˚‚‡ÎÒfl «ÙÂÌÓÏÂÌ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡». çÓ „·‚Ì˚Ï Í‡˜ÂÒÚ‚ÓÏ, ÔÓÁ‚ÓÎË‚¯ËÏ óÛ·‡Ó‚Û Á‡ÒÚÓηËÚ¸ Ò‚Ó Á‡ÍÓÌÌÓ ÏÂÒÚÓ ‚ „ÛÒÚÓ̇ÒÂÎÂÌÌÓÏ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, ‚ˉËÏÓ, Á‡Íβ˜‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ‰Û„ÓÏ. éÌ ‚˚ıÓ‰ËÚ Ì‡ ÌÓ‚˚È ÛÓ‚Â̸ ÔÓÌËχÌËfl Ò‡ÏÓÈ ÓÌÚÓÎÓ„ËË Ë ÒÔÓÒÓ·‡ ·˚ÚÓ‚‡ÌËfl ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓ„Ó ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl. Ä·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl ËÒÔÓθÁÛÂÚÒfl ËÏ ÌÂ Í‡Í ËÌÒÚÛÏÂÌÚ ÔÂÓ‰ÓÎÂÌËfl ÏËÏÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Ô·̇ ÂÔÂÁÂÌÚ‡ˆËË, ÚÓ ÂÒÚ¸ Ì ÚÓθÍÓ Ú‡Í, ˝ÚÓ ÚÓθÍÓ Ó‰ÌÓ ËÁ ÛÒÎÓ‚ËÈ ÓÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ÎÂÌËfl ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl. çÂ Ó ‚˚Ò‚Ó·ÓʉÂÌËË ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓÒÚË Í‡Í Ú‡ÍÓ‚ÓÈ (¯Ë – ËÁÓ·‡ÁËÚÂθÌÓÒÚË Í‡Í Ú‡ÍÓ‚ÓÈ) ˉÂÚ ˜¸. çÂ Ó ‰Â‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ‡ ̇ÔÓÚË‚, – Ó Í‚‡ÁË‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ̇‡˘Ë‚‡ÌËË Ï‡ÚÂˇθÌÓ„Ó Ô·̇, «Ú·» ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl. ᇠҘÂÚ Ó·˙ÂÍÚË‚ËÁ‡ˆËË, ‚ÓÔÎÓ˘ÂÌËfl (‚ ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸ÌÓÏ ÒÏ˚ÒÎÂ, ‡Ì‡Îӄ˘ÌÓÏ ‡Ì„ÎËÈÒÍÓÏÛ embodying – ˜¸ ˉÂÚ ËÏÂÌÌÓ Ó ÔÎÓÚË, ÚÂÎÂ) ÌÂÍÓÚÓ˚ı ÒÓ·˚ÚËÈ «‚ÓÍÛ„» Â„Ó ÒÓÁ‰‡ÌËfl Ë ‚ÓÒÔËflÚËfl. ùÚË ÒÓ·˚ÚËfl Ò‚flÁ‡Ì˚ Ò ÔÓ„‡Ì˘Ì˚ÏË ÏËÙÓÔÓ˝Ú˘ÂÒÍËÏË Ô‡ÍÚË͇ÏË, ÛÍÓÂÌÂÌÌ˚ÏË ‚ ·ËÓ„‡ÙËË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇. àÏÂÌÌÓ Ô‡ÍÚË͇ÏË, ÂÒÎË ÔÓ‰ ˝ÚË ÚÂÏËÌÓÏ ËÏÂÚ¸ ‚‚Ë‰Û ÌÂÍË ÚÂÎÂÒÌ˚ ÔÓfl‚ÎÂÌËfl, – ÚÓ ÂÒÚ¸ ÚÂχÚËÁ‡ˆËÂÈ Ú‡ÍÚËθÌ˚ı χÌËÔÛÎflˆËÈ, ͇҇ÌËÈ, ¯‡Ï‡ÌÒÍËı ͇Ï·ÌËÈ, ÔÒËıÓ‰Â΢ÂÒÍËı ‡ÍÚÓ‚, ˝ÁÓÚÂ˘ÂÒÍËı ËÚÛ‡ÎÓ‚ Ë Ô. Ç Ò‡ÏÓÏ Ó·˘ÂÏ Ô·Ì óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÛÊ Ì ËÁÓ·‡Ê‡ÂÚ ÌÂÍË ÏËÙÓÔÓ·„‡˛˘Ë ÔÓˆÂÒÒ˚, ‡ ‡ÎËÁÛÂÚ Ëı ‚Ó ‚ÂÏÂÌË Ë ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â, ËÌÒÚÛÏÂÌڇθÌÓ ËÒÔÓθÁÛfl flÁ˚Í ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË. èÓ ÒÛÚË ‰Â·, ˝ÚÓ – ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÒÚÒ͇fl ‰ÂÏËÛ„˘ÂÒ͇fl Ô‡ÍÚË͇. çÓ – ÓÚfl„Ó˘ÂÌ̇fl ÍÓ̈ÂÔÚۇθÌ˚Ï Ô·ÌÓÏ. ÑÛχ˛, Ó̇ Ì ·˚· ·˚ ‚ÓÁÏÓÊ̇ ·ÂÁ ÓÔ˚Ú‡ ÅÓÈÒ‡. Ä·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ‰‡ÎÂÍËÈ Ì‡¯ÂÏÛ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÛ ‚ ÒÏ˚ÒΠ˝ÒÚÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÈ ‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ÍÓ̘ÌÓ„Ó «ÔÓ‰ÛÍÚ‡», ÅÓÈÒ ËÒÍβ˜ËÚÂθÌÓ ·ÎËÁÓÍ ÂÏÛ ÛÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÍÓÈ Ì‡ ÔË‡˘ÂÌË ‡Ú-Ó·˙ÂÍÚ‡ Á‡ Ò˜ÂÚ

understanding of art, which Chubarov arrived at in his Berlin abstract works. He came to understand procedural aspects as a possibility for launching a certain mechanism of inner development and self-realization of the work (moreover, its self-reflection: the work is capable of selfdepiction, suggesting ways of its perception and interpretation.) It was already the classical Russian avant-garde that was dreaming of certainindependence, self-reproduction, and an existence separate from its creator. Malevich spoke about “the painting’s psyche”. Filonov meant practically the same thing when he spoke about “being, pulsing and its sphere, bio-dynamics, intellect, emanation, inclusion, genesis, processes going on in color and form – in short, life as a whole.” The so-called “actual” art gave an even more visual and direct example of such independent life of a work of art. In 1971, R.Raushenberg displayed his “Mud Muse” – a mud bathtub filled with the wastes of our machine civilization in which some independent process were going on, manifesting themselves by bubbles on the surface (Rotting? Absorption? Synthesis? Something else?). Chubarov launches a certain mechanism, an electric “perpetual mobile”. He naturally infuses the canvas (object) with his own energy, similarly to gesture painting. He molds the color fresh with his both hands. This is reminiscent of the techniques of manual therapy or folk healers, aiming at direct communication of energy (and why not – Beuys wanted his shamanic actions to make a therapeutic effect on the viewer). In this quality, too, the object orientation of his artifacts manifests itself. He discovers energy sources within the art works themselves (in his own words, he penetrates through the surface in the manner of Philippine healers). Chubarov articulates the theme of search for and extraction of energy sources and certain “found objects”. However, he employs the energies of various origins and from various sources, be it traditional-utilitarian sources such as heat, electric, mechanic, biologic, etc., or metaphysical sources such as energy impulses of the proto-consciousness that have been preserved but not yet employed. Chubarov captures and visualizes the energy of life and death, decomposition and rotting. The outbursts of his ribbon-shaped forms and patches, signs and aureoles, testify to the same thing. The term “visualization” narrows the real content of his artistic manipulations. Visualization according to Chubarov is at the same time an accumulation and supply of energy, a therapy and an electric discharge. He launches the vital processes of the work itself, upon which things take their own course: interference and spontaneous mutual contact, disruption and re-establishment of contact. This includes the visual contact with the viewer, who senses, on both the intellectual and tactile levels, the dense fields rich with meaning, forming around Chubarov’s objects. Chubarov is an artist who best of all fits the description of “archaist-innovator”, created by Yuri Tynyanov for a certain phenomenon in the culture of his own times. It was precisely a hyphenated definition “archaist-innovator” where the hyphen is the size of a lifetime. ∆

(43) ‰Âڇθ / detail

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ÔÓˆÂÒÒ ÔÂÂıÓ‰‡ Í ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓÏÛ Ï˚¯ÎÂÌ˲, ÌÓ Í‡˜ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ÔÂÂıÓ‰ ·˚Î ÒÓ‚Â¯ÂÌ ‚Ó ‚ÂÏfl Ô·˚‚‡ÌËfl ‚ ÅÂÎËÌÂ. á‰ÂÒ¸ ·˚Î ÒÓÁ‰‡Ì ÓÒÌÓ‚ÌÓÈ ÍÓÔÛÒ ÌÓ‚˚ı ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ı ‚¢ÂÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, fl‚ÎÂÌË ‚ Ò‚ÓÂÏ Ӊ ÛÌË͇θÌÓÂ. ÇÚÓÓ Ô˯ÂÒÚ‚Ë ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË ‚ êÓÒÒËË Ô˯ÎÓÒ¸ Í‡Í ‡Á ̇ ÔÂËÓ‰ ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÎÂÌËfl ÔÓÍÓÎÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ Ë ÌÓÒËÎÓ Ù‡ÁËÒÌ˚È ı‡‡ÍÚÂ: ˜ÂÂÁ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚È ÔÂËÓ‰ ÔÓ¯ÎË ÔÓ˜ÚË ‚ÒÂ, ÓÒÚ‡ÎËÒ¸ ‚ ÌÂÏ – Ò˜ËÚ‡ÌÌ˚ ‰ËÌˈ˚. ëÓ‚ÂÚÒ͇fl ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl ÍÓ̈‡ 1950-ı–̇˜‡Î‡ 60-ı „„. ·˚· Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó Ó‰‡ ¯ÍÓÎÓÈ – ¯ÍÓÎÓÈ ÓÒ‚Ó·ÓʉÂÌËfl ÓÚ ‰Ó„Ï ÓÙˈËÓÁ‡ Ë Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ, ‚ ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸ÌÓÏ ÒÏ˚ÒÎÂ, – „‡ÏÓÚ˚ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡. ä.èÂÚÓ‚ÇÓ‰ÍËÌ ÍÓ„‰‡-ÚÓ „Ó‚ÓËÎ Ó ÍÛ·ËÁÏÂ: ‚Ò Ï˚ ̇ ÌÂÏ Ó„‡ÏÓÚËÎËÒ¸; ÚÓ˜ÌÓ Ú‡Í Ê ̇ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË Ó„‡ÏÓÚËÎÓÒ¸ ÔÓ˜ÚË ‚Ò ҂ÂÒÚÌËÍË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡. çÓ – Ì ÓÌ Ò‡Ï; Í ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË ÓÌ ÔËıÓ‰ËÚ ‚ ÔÓÁ‰ÌËÈ, ÁÂÎ˚È ÔÂËÓ‰ Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó ‡Á‚ËÚËfl. èÓ˜ÂÏÛ Ë Á‡˜ÂÏ? ÉÓ‡Á‰Ó ΄˜Â Ó·˙flÒÌËÚ¸ ÌÂÍÛ˛ Ó·˘Û˛ ÒÚ‡‰Ë‡Î¸ÌÛ˛ ÛÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÍÛ «Ì‡ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆË˛», ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ ÔÂËӉ˘ÂÒÍË ÔÂÂÊË‚‡ÂÚ ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó ‰‚‡‰ˆ‡ÚÓ„Ó ‚Â͇ ‚ÔÎÓÚ¸ ‰Ó ÔÓÒÚÍÓ̈ÂÔÚۇθÌÓ„Ó ÔÂËÓ‰‡. ç‡ÔËÏÂ, ‚˚fl‚ËÚ¸ ÔÓ·Û‰ËÚÂθÌ˚ ÏÓÚË‚˚, ‚˚Á‚‡‚¯ËÂ Í ÊËÁÌË ‡ÏÂË͇ÌÒÍËÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚È ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁÏ: ÙÂȉËÁÏ Ë ˛Ì„ˇÌÒÚ‚Ó, Í·ÒÒ˘ÂÒÍËÂ, Á‡‚Â¯‡˛˘ËÂÒfl ÔËÏÂÌÓ ‚ ˝ÚÓ ‚ÂÏfl ËÒÒΉӂ‡ÌËfl ÔÂ‚Ó·˚ÚÌÓ„Ó ÏËÙÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Ë ‚ÓÓ·˘Â ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl, ÒÂËÈÌ˚È ÛÌË‚ÂÒÛÏ ÑÊ.ì. чÌ̇, ̇˜‡Î‡ ˝ÍÁËÒÚÂ̈ˇÎËÁχ, ÔÓÌËχÌË flÁ˚͇ (‚ ÚÓÏ ˜ËÒΠÚÂıÌ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÔËÂχ, ÓÒÏ˚ÒÎÂÌÌÓ„Ó Í‡Í ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌ˚È flÁ˚Í, ‚Ӊ dripping’‡ Û èÓÎÎÓ͇) Í‡Í ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚Ëfl, Ó‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ÚÂÓËË ˜‚˚ı ‡ÍÚÓ‚, ̇ÍÓ̈, ‚ÓÒÚÓ˜Ì˚ ÙËÎÓÒÓÙËË, ÑÁÂÌ ÔÂʉ ‚Ò„Ó. çÓ Ë̉˂ˉۇθÌÓÂ, ‚ÌÂÒÚ‡‰ËÈÌÓ ӷ‡˘ÂÌË Í

ɇÎÂÂfl ɇË í‡ÚË̈fl̇, 縲-âÓÍ / Garri Tatintsian Gallery, Inc., New York

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‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË? äÓ̘ÌÓ, Á‰ÂÒ¸ ‰ÓÎÊ̇ ·˚Ú¸ ÎÓ„Ë͇ Ë̉˂ˉۇθÌÓ„Ó ‡Á‚ËÚËfl. ê‡ÁÛÏÂÂÚÒfl, óÛ·‡Ó‚Û, ÔÛÒÚ¸ Ò ÓÔÓÁ‰‡ÌËÂÏ, ·˚ÎË ËÁ‚ÂÒÚÌ˚ ÓÒÌÓ‚Ì˚ ÏÓÏÂÌÚ˚ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓ„Ó ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁχ, ·ÓΠÚÓ„Ó, Â„Ó ‡ÌÌflfl, ‡ı‡ËÍÓ-ÏËÙÓÎӄ˘ÂÒ͇fl ÔÓ·ÎÂχÚË͇, Á‡ÚÓÌÛ‚¯‡fl èÓÎÎÓ͇, ÉÓÚÚÎË·‡, Ñ äÛÌËÌ„‡ Ë ‰., ·˚· ÂÏÛ ÔÓÔÓÒÚÛ ÍÓ‚ÌÓ ·ÎËÁ͇. ëÔˆËÙ˘ÂÒ͇fl ˝ÌÂ„ËÈÌÓÒÚ¸ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, ‚‰¸ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚË͇ ÒÔÓÒÓ·˚  ÔÂ‰‡˜Ë ‚Ò„‰‡ ‚ÓÎÌÓ‚‡ÎË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡? ç˜ÚÓ ÔÓ‰Ó·ÌÓ ËÏÂÎ ‚ ‚Ë‰Û ä‡·‡ÍÓ‚, ÓÔËÒ˚‚‡fl Ò‚ÓË ˛ÌÓ¯ÂÒÍË ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ ÓÔ˚Ú˚: «èÓËÒıӉ˷ <...> ͇͇fl-ÚÓ ‡Áfl‰Í‡ ÏÓ˘ÌÓÈ ˝ÌÂ„ËË, Í‡Í ·˚ Ë‰Û˘ÂÈ ÓÚÍÛ‰‡-ÚÓ ËÁ „ÎÛ·ËÌ˚ ÏÂÌfl. è‰ÛÒÏÓÚÂÚ¸ ÂÁÛÎ¸Ú‡Ú ˝ÚËı ‰‚ËÊÂÌËÈ ÔÂ‡, ˝ÚËı «Ï‡ı‡ÌËÈ» ·˚ÎÓ Ì‚ÓÁÏÓÊÌÓ, ÓÌ ‚ÓÁÌËÍ‡Î Ò‡Ï ÔÓ Ò·Â, ÌÓ ‚ Â„Ó ÔÓÒÚÂÔÂÌÌÓ ÔÓÎÛ˜‡‚¯ÂÈÒfl ÍÓÌÙË„Û‡ˆËË, ÛÁÓ ‰Îfl ÏÂÌfl Í‡Í ·˚ ÒÓı‡Ìfl·Ҹ Ô‡ÏflÚ¸ Ë ÔÂÂÊË‚‡ÌËfl ˝ÚÓÈ Ë‰Û˘ÂÈ ËÁ „ÎÛ·ËÌ˚ ˝ÌÂ„ËË». ç‡ÍÓ̈, ÌÂÍӠ ‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÓ ËÁÏÂÂÌËÂ, Í‡Í ÓÔËÒ‡Î Â„Ó ÙËÎÓÒÓÙ Ç.èÓ‰ÓÓ„‡: «‚ˉÂÌË ˜ÂÂÁ ÛÍÛ, ÒÚ‡‡ÚÂθÌÓ ‚˚‚Ó‰fl˘Û˛ ÎËÌËË ‚ ËÚχı ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓ„Ó ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚‡»? ÑÛχ˛, ‚Ò ˝ÚË ÏÓÏÂÌÚ˚ Ò˚„‡ÎË Ò‚Ó˛ Óθ. à ÏËÙÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍËÈ ‰ËÒÍÛÒ (‡ı‡Ë͇, ÍÓÌË, ËÒÚÓÍË). à ‡ÌÚÓÔÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍË ‡ÒÔÂÍÚ˚. à Ú‡ÌÒÎflˆËfl ˝ÌÂ„ËÈ. ëÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ËÁ ˝ÚËı ÒÓÒÚ‡‚Îfl˛˘Ëı Ë ‡Ì ÒÍ·‰˚‚‡ÎÒfl «ÙÂÌÓÏÂÌ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡». çÓ „·‚Ì˚Ï Í‡˜ÂÒÚ‚ÓÏ, ÔÓÁ‚ÓÎË‚¯ËÏ óÛ·‡Ó‚Û Á‡ÒÚÓηËÚ¸ Ò‚Ó Á‡ÍÓÌÌÓ ÏÂÒÚÓ ‚ „ÛÒÚÓ̇ÒÂÎÂÌÌÓÏ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, ‚ˉËÏÓ, Á‡Íβ˜‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ‰Û„ÓÏ. éÌ ‚˚ıÓ‰ËÚ Ì‡ ÌÓ‚˚È ÛÓ‚Â̸ ÔÓÌËχÌËfl Ò‡ÏÓÈ ÓÌÚÓÎÓ„ËË Ë ÒÔÓÒÓ·‡ ·˚ÚÓ‚‡ÌËfl ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓ„Ó ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl. Ä·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl ËÒÔÓθÁÛÂÚÒfl ËÏ ÌÂ Í‡Í ËÌÒÚÛÏÂÌÚ ÔÂÓ‰ÓÎÂÌËfl ÏËÏÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Ô·̇ ÂÔÂÁÂÌÚ‡ˆËË, ÚÓ ÂÒÚ¸ Ì ÚÓθÍÓ Ú‡Í, ˝ÚÓ ÚÓθÍÓ Ó‰ÌÓ ËÁ ÛÒÎÓ‚ËÈ ÓÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ÎÂÌËfl ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl. çÂ Ó ‚˚Ò‚Ó·ÓʉÂÌËË ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓÒÚË Í‡Í Ú‡ÍÓ‚ÓÈ (¯Ë – ËÁÓ·‡ÁËÚÂθÌÓÒÚË Í‡Í Ú‡ÍÓ‚ÓÈ) ˉÂÚ ˜¸. çÂ Ó ‰Â‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ‡ ̇ÔÓÚË‚, – Ó Í‚‡ÁË‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ̇‡˘Ë‚‡ÌËË Ï‡ÚÂˇθÌÓ„Ó Ô·̇, «Ú·» ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl. ᇠҘÂÚ Ó·˙ÂÍÚË‚ËÁ‡ˆËË, ‚ÓÔÎÓ˘ÂÌËfl (‚ ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸ÌÓÏ ÒÏ˚ÒÎÂ, ‡Ì‡Îӄ˘ÌÓÏ ‡Ì„ÎËÈÒÍÓÏÛ embodying – ˜¸ ˉÂÚ ËÏÂÌÌÓ Ó ÔÎÓÚË, ÚÂÎÂ) ÌÂÍÓÚÓ˚ı ÒÓ·˚ÚËÈ «‚ÓÍÛ„» Â„Ó ÒÓÁ‰‡ÌËfl Ë ‚ÓÒÔËflÚËfl. ùÚË ÒÓ·˚ÚËfl Ò‚flÁ‡Ì˚ Ò ÔÓ„‡Ì˘Ì˚ÏË ÏËÙÓÔÓ˝Ú˘ÂÒÍËÏË Ô‡ÍÚË͇ÏË, ÛÍÓÂÌÂÌÌ˚ÏË ‚ ·ËÓ„‡ÙËË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇. àÏÂÌÌÓ Ô‡ÍÚË͇ÏË, ÂÒÎË ÔÓ‰ ˝ÚË ÚÂÏËÌÓÏ ËÏÂÚ¸ ‚‚Ë‰Û ÌÂÍË ÚÂÎÂÒÌ˚ ÔÓfl‚ÎÂÌËfl, – ÚÓ ÂÒÚ¸ ÚÂχÚËÁ‡ˆËÂÈ Ú‡ÍÚËθÌ˚ı χÌËÔÛÎflˆËÈ, ͇҇ÌËÈ, ¯‡Ï‡ÌÒÍËı ͇Ï·ÌËÈ, ÔÒËıÓ‰Â΢ÂÒÍËı ‡ÍÚÓ‚, ˝ÁÓÚÂ˘ÂÒÍËı ËÚÛ‡ÎÓ‚ Ë Ô. Ç Ò‡ÏÓÏ Ó·˘ÂÏ Ô·Ì óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÛÊ Ì ËÁÓ·‡Ê‡ÂÚ ÌÂÍË ÏËÙÓÔÓ·„‡˛˘Ë ÔÓˆÂÒÒ˚, ‡ ‡ÎËÁÛÂÚ Ëı ‚Ó ‚ÂÏÂÌË Ë ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â, ËÌÒÚÛÏÂÌڇθÌÓ ËÒÔÓθÁÛfl flÁ˚Í ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË. èÓ ÒÛÚË ‰Â·, ˝ÚÓ – ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÒÚÒ͇fl ‰ÂÏËÛ„˘ÂÒ͇fl Ô‡ÍÚË͇. çÓ – ÓÚfl„Ó˘ÂÌ̇fl ÍÓ̈ÂÔÚۇθÌ˚Ï Ô·ÌÓÏ. ÑÛχ˛, Ó̇ Ì ·˚· ·˚ ‚ÓÁÏÓÊ̇ ·ÂÁ ÓÔ˚Ú‡ ÅÓÈÒ‡. Ä·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ‰‡ÎÂÍËÈ Ì‡¯ÂÏÛ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÛ ‚ ÒÏ˚ÒΠ˝ÒÚÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÈ ‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ÍÓ̘ÌÓ„Ó «ÔÓ‰ÛÍÚ‡», ÅÓÈÒ ËÒÍβ˜ËÚÂθÌÓ ·ÎËÁÓÍ ÂÏÛ ÛÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÍÓÈ Ì‡ ÔË‡˘ÂÌË ‡Ú-Ó·˙ÂÍÚ‡ Á‡ Ò˜ÂÚ

understanding of art, which Chubarov arrived at in his Berlin abstract works. He came to understand procedural aspects as a possibility for launching a certain mechanism of inner development and self-realization of the work (moreover, its self-reflection: the work is capable of selfdepiction, suggesting ways of its perception and interpretation.) It was already the classical Russian avant-garde that was dreaming of certainindependence, self-reproduction, and an existence separate from its creator. Malevich spoke about “the painting’s psyche”. Filonov meant practically the same thing when he spoke about “being, pulsing and its sphere, bio-dynamics, intellect, emanation, inclusion, genesis, processes going on in color and form – in short, life as a whole.” The so-called “actual” art gave an even more visual and direct example of such independent life of a work of art. In 1971, R.Raushenberg displayed his “Mud Muse” – a mud bathtub filled with the wastes of our machine civilization in which some independent process were going on, manifesting themselves by bubbles on the surface (Rotting? Absorption? Synthesis? Something else?). Chubarov launches a certain mechanism, an electric “perpetual mobile”. He naturally infuses the canvas (object) with his own energy, similarly to gesture painting. He molds the color fresh with his both hands. This is reminiscent of the techniques of manual therapy or folk healers, aiming at direct communication of energy (and why not – Beuys wanted his shamanic actions to make a therapeutic effect on the viewer). In this quality, too, the object orientation of his artifacts manifests itself. He discovers energy sources within the art works themselves (in his own words, he penetrates through the surface in the manner of Philippine healers). Chubarov articulates the theme of search for and extraction of energy sources and certain “found objects”. However, he employs the energies of various origins and from various sources, be it traditional-utilitarian sources such as heat, electric, mechanic, biologic, etc., or metaphysical sources such as energy impulses of the proto-consciousness that have been preserved but not yet employed. Chubarov captures and visualizes the energy of life and death, decomposition and rotting. The outbursts of his ribbon-shaped forms and patches, signs and aureoles, testify to the same thing. The term “visualization” narrows the real content of his artistic manipulations. Visualization according to Chubarov is at the same time an accumulation and supply of energy, a therapy and an electric discharge. He launches the vital processes of the work itself, upon which things take their own course: interference and spontaneous mutual contact, disruption and re-establishment of contact. This includes the visual contact with the viewer, who senses, on both the intellectual and tactile levels, the dense fields rich with meaning, forming around Chubarov’s objects. Chubarov is an artist who best of all fits the description of “archaist-innovator”, created by Yuri Tynyanov for a certain phenomenon in the culture of his own times. It was precisely a hyphenated definition “archaist-innovator” where the hyphen is the size of a lifetime. ∆

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ÏËÙÓ·ËÓ„‡Ù˘ÂÒÍËı ÏÓÏÂÌÚÓ‚ (ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ˜ÂÏ ·˚ ·˚Î ÍÛÒÓÍ ·ÓÈÒÓ‚ÒÍÓ„Ó ‚ÓÈÎÓ͇ ·ÂÁ ‡ÔÓÔˇˆËË Â„Ó ÏËÙÓÔÓ˝Ú˘ÂÒÍËÏ ‰ËÒÍÛÒÓÏ?). í‡ÍËÏ Ó·‡ÁÓÏ, ÏÓÌÛÏÂÌڇθÌ˚ ‰‚Ûı-ÚÂı ÏÂÚÓ‚˚ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, ÔË ‚ÒÂÈ Ëı ÙËÁ˘ÂÒÍÓÈ ‰‚ÛıÏÂÌÓÒÚË, fl‚Îfl˛ÚÒfl ÔÓ ÒÛÚË ‰Â· Ó·˙ÂÍÚ‡ÏË ÔÓ‚˚¯ÂÌÌÓÈ ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚË, ÔÓÚflÊÂÌÌÓÈ Ï‡ÚÂˇθÌÓÒÚË. ùÚË ı‡‡ÍÚÂËÒÚËÍË ‚ÓÒÔËÌËχ˛ÚÒfl ̇ÏË ÌÂ Í‡Í ÏÂÚ‡ÙÓ˘ÂÒÍË (ÔÛÒÚ¸ Ì ÚÓθÍÓ ÏÂÚ‡ÙÓ˘ÂÒÍËÂ), ‡ Ë Í‡Í ‚ÔÓÎÌ ӷ˙ÂÍÚË‚Ì˚Â. åÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ÓÚ˜‡ÒÚË ÔÓÚÂ̈ˇθÌ˚Â. àÎË – ÓÚÎÓÊÂÌÌ˚Â. ëӄ·ÒÌÓ ÚÂÓËË ˜‚˚ı ‡ÍÚÓ‚, ÓÌË ÔÓ‰Ú‡ÎÍË‚‡˛Ú ‡θÌÓÒÚ¸, ÒÚËÏÛÎËÛ˛Ú ÒÓÁ‰‡ÌË ‡θÌÓÒÚË. èË ÓÔ‰ÂÎÂÌÌ˚ı ÛÒÎÓ‚Ëflı ÚÓ Ê ‰Â·˛Ú Ë ÊÂÒÚÓ‚˚ ‡ÍÚ˚ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË. ä‡ÚËÌ˚-Ó·˙ÂÍÚ˚ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ҉·Ì˚ ̇ Ó‰ÌÓÏ ‰˚ı‡ÌËË. «ÅÂÁ ¯‚Ó‚». è‡‚‰‡, ÏÂÊ‰Û «‚‰ÓıÓÏ Ë ‚˚‰ÓıÓÏ» – ‚ÓÒÂϸ-‰Â‚flÚ¸ ˜‡ÒÓ‚ ·ÂÁÓÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚Ó˜ÌÓÈ ‡·ÓÚ˚, ‚ Ú˜ÂÌË ÍÓÚÓ˚ı ‡ÎËÁÛÂÚÒfl ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËÂ. ùÚÓÚ ÏÓÏÂÌÚ ÚÂÏÔÓ‡Î¸ÌÓÒÚË ‰Îfl ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇ ˜ÂÁ‚˚˜‡ÈÌÓ ‚‡ÊÂÌ. ëÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, Á‰ÂÒ¸, ‚ Ó˘Û˘ÂÌËË ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚË, ÂÊËχ, ˆÂÂÏÓÌˇ· ÔÓÚÂ͇ÌËfl ‚ÂÏÂÌË, ÔÂÂÔÎÂÚ‡˛ÚÒfl ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍË Ô‡ÍÚËÍË Ë ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ ÔÓÌËχÌË ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡. éÚÒ˛‰‡ ˉÛÚ ·ÂÁʇÎÓÒÚ̇fl ‡ÒÚflÌÛÚÓÒÚ¸ «Empir State Building» ÇÓıÓη Ë ‡ÍˆÂÌÚËÓ‚‡Ì̇fl ÏÓÌÓÚÓÌÌÓÒÚ¸ ÌÂÍÓÚÓ˚ı ‡ÍˆËÈ ÅÓÈÒ‡. ÇˉËÏÓ, ¢ ‚ ÔÓÛ ‡ÌÌÂÈ „‡ÙËÍË, óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÓÒÚÓ ÔÂÂÊË‚‡Î ÌÂÓ·ıÓ‰ËÏÓÒÚ¸ «Ì‡ÂÁ‡Ú¸» ÔÓÚÓÍ ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌËfl ̇ ÍÛÒÓ˜ÍË, ÎÓÏÚËÍË – ÓÚ‰ÂθÌ˚ ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl. åۘ˷ ÍÓ̘ÌÓÒÚ¸ ÔÓˆÂÒÒ‡. ê‡ÁÛÏÂÂÚÒfl, χүڇ· Ë ÌÂÎËÏËÚËÓ‚‡Ì̇fl ÙË„Û‡ÚË‚ÌÓÒÚ¸˛, ÏËÏÂÚËÁÏÓÏ, Á‡ÔÓÎÌflÂÏÓÒÚ¸ ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl Ú‡ÍÓ„Ó Ó‰‡, ÏÓ˘ÌÓ ‡Á‰‚Ë„‡ÎË „‡Ìˈ˚ ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚË. çÓ ‚Ò Ê – Ì ‰Ó ·ÂÒÍÓ̘ÌÓÒÚË. á‰ÂÒ¸ ‚ÓÁÌË͇ÂÚ Â˘Â Ó‰ËÌ ÏÓÏÂÌÚ, ı‡‡ÍÚÂËÁÛ˛˘ËÈ ÌÓ‚Ó ͇˜ÂÒÚ‚Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó-ÔÓÌËχÌËfl, Í ÍÓÚÓÓÏÛ Ô˯ÂÎ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ Ò‚ÓËı ·ÂÎËÌÒÍËı ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËflı. éÌ ÔÓÌËχÂÚ ÚÂÔÂ¸ ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚ¸ Í‡Í ‚ÓÁÏÓÊÌÓÒÚ¸ ‚Íβ˜ÂÌËfl ÌÂÍÓ„Ó ÏÂı‡ÌËÁχ Ò‡ÏÓ‡Á‚ËÚËfl Ë Ò‡ÏÓ‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËË ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl (·ÓΠÚÓ„Ó – Â„Ó Ò‡ÏÓÂÙÎÂÍÒËË: ‚¢¸ Í‡Í ·˚ Á‡ÌËχÂÚÒfl Ò‡ÏÓÓÔËÒ‡ÌËÂÏ, ÔÓ‰Ò͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚ ÔÛÚË ‚ÓÒÔËflÚËfl Ë ËÌÚÂÔÂÚ‡ˆËË). ëÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ¢ Í·ÒÒ˘ÂÒÍËÈ ÛÒÒÍËÈ ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰ ÏÂ˜Ú‡Î Ó ÌÂÍÓÈ Ò‡ÏÓÒÚÓflÚÂθÌÓÒÚË, Ò‡ÏÓ‚ÓÒÔÓËÁ‚Ó‰ËÏÓÒÚË, «ÓÚ‰ÂθÌÓÈ» ÓÚ Ú‚Óˆ‡ ·˚ÚËÈÌÓÒÚË ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl. å‡Î‚˘ „Ó‚ÓËÎ Ó «ÔÒËıËÍ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË». îËÎÓÌÓ‚, ËÏÂfl ‚ ‚Ë‰Û ÔËÏÂÌÓ ÚÓ ÊÂ, ÛÔÓÏË̇Π«·˚ÚËÂ, ÔÛθ҇ˆË˛ Ë Â ÒÙÂÛ, ·ËÓ‰Ë̇ÏËÍÛ, ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚ, ˝Ï‡Ì‡ˆËË, ‚Íβ˜ÂÌËfl, „ÂÌÂÁËÒ˚, ÔÓˆÂÒÒ˚ ‚ ˆ‚ÂÚÂ Ë ÙÓÏÂ, – ÍÓӘ ÊËÁ̸ ˆÂÎËÍÓÏ». ÄÍÚۇθÌÓ ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó ‰‡ÎÓ Â˘Â ·ÓΠ̇„Îfl‰Ì˚È, ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸Ì˚È ÔËÏÂ ÔÓ‰Ó·ÌÓÈ Ò‡ÏÓÒÚÓflÚÂθÌÓÒÚË: ê. ê‡Û¯ÂÌ·Â„ ‚ 1971 ÔÓ͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚ «Mud Muse» – ÌÂÍÛ˛ „flÁÂ‚Û˛ ‚‡ÌÌÛ, Á‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌÌÛ˛ ÓÚıÓ‰‡ÏË Ï‡¯ËÌÌÓÈ ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ‚ ÍÓÚÓÓÈ Ë‰ÛÚ Ò‚ÓË ÔÓˆÂÒÒ˚ („ÌËÂÌËfl? ‡·ÒÓ·‡ˆËË? ÒËÌÚÂÁ‡? ˜Â„Ó-ÚÓ ‰Û„Ó„Ó?), ‰‡˛˘ËÂ Ó Ò· Á̇ڸ ·Ûθ͇˛˘ËÏË Ì‡ ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚË ÔÛÁ˚flÏË.

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çÂÍËÈ ÏÂı‡ÌËÁÏ, «‚˜Ì˚È ˝ÎÂÍÚÓ‰‚Ë„‡ÚÂθ» Á‡ÔÛÒ͇ÂÚ Ë óÛ·‡Ó‚. ÖÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ÓÌ ÔÂ‰‡ÂÚ ıÓÎÒÚÛ (Ó·˙ÂÍÚÛ) ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ˝ÌÂ„˲ – ÔÓ ÚËÔÛ gesture painting. éÌ ÏÂÒËÚ ˆ‚ÂÚÓ‚Û˛ ÔÎÓÚ¸ ‰‚ÛÏfl Û͇ÏË, ˝Ú‡ ÚÂıÌË͇ χÌۇθÌÓ-ÚÂ‡Ô‚Ú˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó (ÔÓ˜ÂÏÛ ·˚ Ë ÌÂÚ – ÅÓÈÒ ÏÂ˜Ú‡Î Ó ÚÂ‡Ô‚Ú˘ÂÒÍÓÏ ˝ÙÙÂÍÚ ҂ÓËı ¯‡Ï‡ÌÒÍËı ‡ÍˆËÈ) ËÎË Á̇ı‡ÒÍÓ„Ó ÚÓÎ͇ ÔflÏÓ Ì‡Ô‡‚ÎÂ̇ ̇ ÌÂÍÛ˛ ˝ÌÂ„ÓÍÓÏÏÛÌË͇ˆË˛. é‰Ì‡ÍÓ – Ë ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ Â˘Â ‡Á ÔÓfl‚ÎflÂÚÒfl «Ó·˙ÂÍÚÌÓÒÚ¸» Â„Ó ‡ÚÂÙ‡ÍÚÓ‚, ÓÌ ‚˚fl‚ÎflÂÚ ËÒÚÓ˜ÌËÍË ˝ÌÂ„ËÈ ‚ÌÛÚË Ò‡ÏÓ„Ó ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl (ÔÓ Â„Ó ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÏÛ ÓÔ‰ÂÎÂÌ˲ – ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ Í‡Í ÙËÎËÔÔËÌÒÍËÈ ıËÎÂ, ÔÓÌË͇fl «ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸» ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚ¸). ÄÚËÍÛÎËÛÂÚÒfl ÚÂχ ÔÓËÒ͇ Ë ËÁ‚ΘÂÌËfl ËÒÚÓ˜ÌËÍÓ‚ ˝ÌÂ„ËË Í‡Í ÌÂÍËı found object’Ó‚. ì óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Ӊ̇ÍÓ, ˉÛÚ ‚ ‰ÂÎÓ ˝ÌÂ„ËË Î˛·Ó„Ó Ó‰‡ Ë ÔÓËÒıÓʉÂÌËfl : Ë Ú‡‰ËˆËÓÌÌ˚Â, ÛÚËÎËÚ‡Ì˚ – ÚÂÔÎÓ‚˚Â, ˝ÎÂÍÚ˘ÂÒÍËÂ, ÏÂı‡Ì˘ÂÒÍËÂ, ·ËÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍËÂ, ͇ÍËÂ Ú‡Ï Â˘Â, Ë ÏÂÚ‡ÙËÁ˘ÂÒÍË – ÒÓı‡ÌÂÌÌ˚Â Ë Ì‚ÓÒÚ·ӂ‡ÌÌ˚ ÔÓ͇ ˝ÌÂ„ÓËÏÔÛθÒ˚ Ô‡ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ Û·‚ÎË‚‡ÂÚ Ë ‚ËÁÛ‡ÎËÁËÛÂÚ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚËÍÛ ÊËÁÌË Ë ÒÏÂÚË, „ÌËÂÌËfl, ‡ÁÎÓÊÂÌËfl: ‚˚·ÓÒ˚ Â„Ó ÎÂÌÚӂˉÌ˚ı ÙÓÏ, ÔflÚÂÌ, Á̇ÍÓ‚, ÓÂÓÎÓ‚ – Ë Ó· ˝ÚÓÏ ÚÓÊÂ. ÇÔÓ˜ÂÏ, ÚÂÏËÌ ‚ËÁÛÎËÁ‡ˆËfl ÒÛʇÂÚ ÒÏ˚ÒÎ Â„Ó ‡Ú-χÌËÔÛÎflˆËÈ. ÇËÁÛ‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËfl «ÔÓ óÛ·‡Ó‚Û» – Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ Ë ‡ÍÍÛÏÛÎflˆËfl, Ë ˝ÌÂ„ÓÔÓ‰ÔËÚ͇, Ë ÚÂ‡ÔËfl, Ë ‡Áfl‰ – Û‰‡. ëÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ÓÌ Á‡ÔÛÒ͇ÂÚ ÔÓˆÂÒÒ ÊËÁ̉ÂflÚÂθÌÓÒÚË ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl – ‰‡Î¸¯Â ‚Ò ˉÂÚ «Ò‡ÏÓ»: ËÌÚÂÙÂÂ̈ËË Ë ‚Á‡ËÏÓÔÓ‰Íβ˜ÂÌËfl, ‡Á˚‚˚ Ë ‚ÓÒÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÎÂÌËfl ÍÓÌÚ‡ÍÚÓ‚. Ç ÚÓÏ ˜ËÒÎÂ Ë ÒÓ ÁËÚÂÎÂÏ, ÍÓÚÓ˚È Ë Ì‡ ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌÓÏ, Ë Ì‡ Ú‡ÍÚËθÌÓÏ ÛÓ‚ÌÂ Ó˘Û˘‡ÂÚ Ì‡Ò˚˘ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸, ÒÓ‰ÂʇÚÂθÌÓÒÚ¸ ÔÓÎÂÈ, ‚ÓÁÌË͇˛˘Ëı ‚ÓÍÛ„ Ó·˙ÂÍÚÓ‚ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, ÍÓÚÓÓÏÛ Í‡Í ÌËÍÓÏÛ ‰Û„ÓÏÛ ÔÓ‰ıÓ‰ËÚ ÓÔ‰ÂÎÂÌËÂ, ‰‡ÌÌÓ ‚ Ò‚Ó ‚ÂÏfl û.í˚ÌflÌÓ‚˚Ï Ó‰ÌÓÏÛ fl‚ÎÂÌ˲ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ ÂÏÛ ÍÛθÚÛ˚: ‡ı‡ËÒÚ-ÌÓ‚‡ÚÓ. àÏÂÌÌÓ Ú‡Í, ˜ÂÂÁ ‰ÂÙËÒ. Ç ÒÎÛ˜‡Â óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ – ˜ÂÚÓ˜ÍÛ ‰ÎËÌÓ˛ ‚ ÊËÁ̸. ∆

(20) ‰Âڇθ / detail

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ÏËÙÓ·ËÓ„‡Ù˘ÂÒÍËı ÏÓÏÂÌÚÓ‚ (ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ˜ÂÏ ·˚ ·˚Î ÍÛÒÓÍ ·ÓÈÒÓ‚ÒÍÓ„Ó ‚ÓÈÎÓ͇ ·ÂÁ ‡ÔÓÔˇˆËË Â„Ó ÏËÙÓÔÓ˝Ú˘ÂÒÍËÏ ‰ËÒÍÛÒÓÏ?). í‡ÍËÏ Ó·‡ÁÓÏ, ÏÓÌÛÏÂÌڇθÌ˚ ‰‚Ûı-ÚÂı ÏÂÚÓ‚˚ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, ÔË ‚ÒÂÈ Ëı ÙËÁ˘ÂÒÍÓÈ ‰‚ÛıÏÂÌÓÒÚË, fl‚Îfl˛ÚÒfl ÔÓ ÒÛÚË ‰Â· Ó·˙ÂÍÚ‡ÏË ÔÓ‚˚¯ÂÌÌÓÈ ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚË, ÔÓÚflÊÂÌÌÓÈ Ï‡ÚÂˇθÌÓÒÚË. ùÚË ı‡‡ÍÚÂËÒÚËÍË ‚ÓÒÔËÌËχ˛ÚÒfl ̇ÏË ÌÂ Í‡Í ÏÂÚ‡ÙÓ˘ÂÒÍË (ÔÛÒÚ¸ Ì ÚÓθÍÓ ÏÂÚ‡ÙÓ˘ÂÒÍËÂ), ‡ Ë Í‡Í ‚ÔÓÎÌ ӷ˙ÂÍÚË‚Ì˚Â. åÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ÓÚ˜‡ÒÚË ÔÓÚÂ̈ˇθÌ˚Â. àÎË – ÓÚÎÓÊÂÌÌ˚Â. ëӄ·ÒÌÓ ÚÂÓËË ˜‚˚ı ‡ÍÚÓ‚, ÓÌË ÔÓ‰Ú‡ÎÍË‚‡˛Ú ‡θÌÓÒÚ¸, ÒÚËÏÛÎËÛ˛Ú ÒÓÁ‰‡ÌË ‡θÌÓÒÚË. èË ÓÔ‰ÂÎÂÌÌ˚ı ÛÒÎÓ‚Ëflı ÚÓ Ê ‰Â·˛Ú Ë ÊÂÒÚÓ‚˚ ‡ÍÚ˚ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË. ä‡ÚËÌ˚-Ó·˙ÂÍÚ˚ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ҉·Ì˚ ̇ Ó‰ÌÓÏ ‰˚ı‡ÌËË. «ÅÂÁ ¯‚Ó‚». è‡‚‰‡, ÏÂÊ‰Û «‚‰ÓıÓÏ Ë ‚˚‰ÓıÓÏ» – ‚ÓÒÂϸ-‰Â‚flÚ¸ ˜‡ÒÓ‚ ·ÂÁÓÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚Ó˜ÌÓÈ ‡·ÓÚ˚, ‚ Ú˜ÂÌË ÍÓÚÓ˚ı ‡ÎËÁÛÂÚÒfl ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËÂ. ùÚÓÚ ÏÓÏÂÌÚ ÚÂÏÔÓ‡Î¸ÌÓÒÚË ‰Îfl ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇ ˜ÂÁ‚˚˜‡ÈÌÓ ‚‡ÊÂÌ. ëÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, Á‰ÂÒ¸, ‚ Ó˘Û˘ÂÌËË ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚË, ÂÊËχ, ˆÂÂÏÓÌˇ· ÔÓÚÂ͇ÌËfl ‚ÂÏÂÌË, ÔÂÂÔÎÂÚ‡˛ÚÒfl ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍË Ô‡ÍÚËÍË Ë ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ ÔÓÌËχÌË ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡. éÚÒ˛‰‡ ˉÛÚ ·ÂÁʇÎÓÒÚ̇fl ‡ÒÚflÌÛÚÓÒÚ¸ «Empir State Building» ÇÓıÓη Ë ‡ÍˆÂÌÚËÓ‚‡Ì̇fl ÏÓÌÓÚÓÌÌÓÒÚ¸ ÌÂÍÓÚÓ˚ı ‡ÍˆËÈ ÅÓÈÒ‡. ÇˉËÏÓ, ¢ ‚ ÔÓÛ ‡ÌÌÂÈ „‡ÙËÍË, óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÓÒÚÓ ÔÂÂÊË‚‡Î ÌÂÓ·ıÓ‰ËÏÓÒÚ¸ «Ì‡ÂÁ‡Ú¸» ÔÓÚÓÍ ÙÓÏÓÓ·‡ÁÓ‚‡ÌËfl ̇ ÍÛÒÓ˜ÍË, ÎÓÏÚËÍË – ÓÚ‰ÂθÌ˚ ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl. åۘ˷ ÍÓ̘ÌÓÒÚ¸ ÔÓˆÂÒÒ‡. ê‡ÁÛÏÂÂÚÒfl, χүڇ· Ë ÌÂÎËÏËÚËÓ‚‡Ì̇fl ÙË„Û‡ÚË‚ÌÓÒÚ¸˛, ÏËÏÂÚËÁÏÓÏ, Á‡ÔÓÎÌflÂÏÓÒÚ¸ ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl Ú‡ÍÓ„Ó Ó‰‡, ÏÓ˘ÌÓ ‡Á‰‚Ë„‡ÎË „‡Ìˈ˚ ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚË. çÓ ‚Ò Ê – Ì ‰Ó ·ÂÒÍÓ̘ÌÓÒÚË. á‰ÂÒ¸ ‚ÓÁÌË͇ÂÚ Â˘Â Ó‰ËÌ ÏÓÏÂÌÚ, ı‡‡ÍÚÂËÁÛ˛˘ËÈ ÌÓ‚Ó ͇˜ÂÒÚ‚Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó-ÔÓÌËχÌËfl, Í ÍÓÚÓÓÏÛ Ô˯ÂÎ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ Ò‚ÓËı ·ÂÎËÌÒÍËı ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËflı. éÌ ÔÓÌËχÂÚ ÚÂÔÂ¸ ÔÓˆÂÒÒۇθÌÓÒÚ¸ Í‡Í ‚ÓÁÏÓÊÌÓÒÚ¸ ‚Íβ˜ÂÌËfl ÌÂÍÓ„Ó ÏÂı‡ÌËÁχ Ò‡ÏÓ‡Á‚ËÚËfl Ë Ò‡ÏÓ‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËË ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl (·ÓΠÚÓ„Ó – Â„Ó Ò‡ÏÓÂÙÎÂÍÒËË: ‚¢¸ Í‡Í ·˚ Á‡ÌËχÂÚÒfl Ò‡ÏÓÓÔËÒ‡ÌËÂÏ, ÔÓ‰Ò͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚ ÔÛÚË ‚ÓÒÔËflÚËfl Ë ËÌÚÂÔÂÚ‡ˆËË). ëÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ¢ Í·ÒÒ˘ÂÒÍËÈ ÛÒÒÍËÈ ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰ ÏÂ˜Ú‡Î Ó ÌÂÍÓÈ Ò‡ÏÓÒÚÓflÚÂθÌÓÒÚË, Ò‡ÏÓ‚ÓÒÔÓËÁ‚Ó‰ËÏÓÒÚË, «ÓÚ‰ÂθÌÓÈ» ÓÚ Ú‚Óˆ‡ ·˚ÚËÈÌÓÒÚË ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl. å‡Î‚˘ „Ó‚ÓËÎ Ó «ÔÒËıËÍ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË». îËÎÓÌÓ‚, ËÏÂfl ‚ ‚Ë‰Û ÔËÏÂÌÓ ÚÓ ÊÂ, ÛÔÓÏË̇Π«·˚ÚËÂ, ÔÛθ҇ˆË˛ Ë Â ÒÙÂÛ, ·ËÓ‰Ë̇ÏËÍÛ, ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚ, ˝Ï‡Ì‡ˆËË, ‚Íβ˜ÂÌËfl, „ÂÌÂÁËÒ˚, ÔÓˆÂÒÒ˚ ‚ ˆ‚ÂÚÂ Ë ÙÓÏÂ, – ÍÓӘ ÊËÁ̸ ˆÂÎËÍÓÏ». ÄÍÚۇθÌÓ ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó ‰‡ÎÓ Â˘Â ·ÓΠ̇„Îfl‰Ì˚È, ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸Ì˚È ÔËÏÂ ÔÓ‰Ó·ÌÓÈ Ò‡ÏÓÒÚÓflÚÂθÌÓÒÚË: ê. ê‡Û¯ÂÌ·Â„ ‚ 1971 ÔÓ͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚ «Mud Muse» – ÌÂÍÛ˛ „flÁÂ‚Û˛ ‚‡ÌÌÛ, Á‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌÌÛ˛ ÓÚıÓ‰‡ÏË Ï‡¯ËÌÌÓÈ ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ‚ ÍÓÚÓÓÈ Ë‰ÛÚ Ò‚ÓË ÔÓˆÂÒÒ˚ („ÌËÂÌËfl? ‡·ÒÓ·‡ˆËË? ÒËÌÚÂÁ‡? ˜Â„Ó-ÚÓ ‰Û„Ó„Ó?), ‰‡˛˘ËÂ Ó Ò· Á̇ڸ ·Ûθ͇˛˘ËÏË Ì‡ ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚË ÔÛÁ˚flÏË.

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çÂÍËÈ ÏÂı‡ÌËÁÏ, «‚˜Ì˚È ˝ÎÂÍÚÓ‰‚Ë„‡ÚÂθ» Á‡ÔÛÒ͇ÂÚ Ë óÛ·‡Ó‚. ÖÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ÓÌ ÔÂ‰‡ÂÚ ıÓÎÒÚÛ (Ó·˙ÂÍÚÛ) ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ˝ÌÂ„˲ – ÔÓ ÚËÔÛ gesture painting. éÌ ÏÂÒËÚ ˆ‚ÂÚÓ‚Û˛ ÔÎÓÚ¸ ‰‚ÛÏfl Û͇ÏË, ˝Ú‡ ÚÂıÌË͇ χÌۇθÌÓ-ÚÂ‡Ô‚Ú˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó (ÔÓ˜ÂÏÛ ·˚ Ë ÌÂÚ – ÅÓÈÒ ÏÂ˜Ú‡Î Ó ÚÂ‡Ô‚Ú˘ÂÒÍÓÏ ˝ÙÙÂÍÚ ҂ÓËı ¯‡Ï‡ÌÒÍËı ‡ÍˆËÈ) ËÎË Á̇ı‡ÒÍÓ„Ó ÚÓÎ͇ ÔflÏÓ Ì‡Ô‡‚ÎÂ̇ ̇ ÌÂÍÛ˛ ˝ÌÂ„ÓÍÓÏÏÛÌË͇ˆË˛. é‰Ì‡ÍÓ – Ë ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ Â˘Â ‡Á ÔÓfl‚ÎflÂÚÒfl «Ó·˙ÂÍÚÌÓÒÚ¸» Â„Ó ‡ÚÂÙ‡ÍÚÓ‚, ÓÌ ‚˚fl‚ÎflÂÚ ËÒÚÓ˜ÌËÍË ˝ÌÂ„ËÈ ‚ÌÛÚË Ò‡ÏÓ„Ó ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl (ÔÓ Â„Ó ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÏÛ ÓÔ‰ÂÎÂÌ˲ – ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ Í‡Í ÙËÎËÔÔËÌÒÍËÈ ıËÎÂ, ÔÓÌË͇fl «ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸» ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚ¸). ÄÚËÍÛÎËÛÂÚÒfl ÚÂχ ÔÓËÒ͇ Ë ËÁ‚ΘÂÌËfl ËÒÚÓ˜ÌËÍÓ‚ ˝ÌÂ„ËË Í‡Í ÌÂÍËı found object’Ó‚. ì óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Ӊ̇ÍÓ, ˉÛÚ ‚ ‰ÂÎÓ ˝ÌÂ„ËË Î˛·Ó„Ó Ó‰‡ Ë ÔÓËÒıÓʉÂÌËfl : Ë Ú‡‰ËˆËÓÌÌ˚Â, ÛÚËÎËÚ‡Ì˚ – ÚÂÔÎÓ‚˚Â, ˝ÎÂÍÚ˘ÂÒÍËÂ, ÏÂı‡Ì˘ÂÒÍËÂ, ·ËÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍËÂ, ͇ÍËÂ Ú‡Ï Â˘Â, Ë ÏÂÚ‡ÙËÁ˘ÂÒÍË – ÒÓı‡ÌÂÌÌ˚Â Ë Ì‚ÓÒÚ·ӂ‡ÌÌ˚ ÔÓ͇ ˝ÌÂ„ÓËÏÔÛθÒ˚ Ô‡ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ Û·‚ÎË‚‡ÂÚ Ë ‚ËÁÛ‡ÎËÁËÛÂÚ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚËÍÛ ÊËÁÌË Ë ÒÏÂÚË, „ÌËÂÌËfl, ‡ÁÎÓÊÂÌËfl: ‚˚·ÓÒ˚ Â„Ó ÎÂÌÚӂˉÌ˚ı ÙÓÏ, ÔflÚÂÌ, Á̇ÍÓ‚, ÓÂÓÎÓ‚ – Ë Ó· ˝ÚÓÏ ÚÓÊÂ. ÇÔÓ˜ÂÏ, ÚÂÏËÌ ‚ËÁÛÎËÁ‡ˆËfl ÒÛʇÂÚ ÒÏ˚ÒÎ Â„Ó ‡Ú-χÌËÔÛÎflˆËÈ. ÇËÁÛ‡ÎËÁ‡ˆËfl «ÔÓ óÛ·‡Ó‚Û» – Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ Ë ‡ÍÍÛÏÛÎflˆËfl, Ë ˝ÌÂ„ÓÔÓ‰ÔËÚ͇, Ë ÚÂ‡ÔËfl, Ë ‡Áfl‰ – Û‰‡. ëÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ÓÌ Á‡ÔÛÒ͇ÂÚ ÔÓˆÂÒÒ ÊËÁ̉ÂflÚÂθÌÓÒÚË ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl – ‰‡Î¸¯Â ‚Ò ˉÂÚ «Ò‡ÏÓ»: ËÌÚÂÙÂÂ̈ËË Ë ‚Á‡ËÏÓÔÓ‰Íβ˜ÂÌËfl, ‡Á˚‚˚ Ë ‚ÓÒÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ÎÂÌËfl ÍÓÌÚ‡ÍÚÓ‚. Ç ÚÓÏ ˜ËÒÎÂ Ë ÒÓ ÁËÚÂÎÂÏ, ÍÓÚÓ˚È Ë Ì‡ ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌÓÏ, Ë Ì‡ Ú‡ÍÚËθÌÓÏ ÛÓ‚ÌÂ Ó˘Û˘‡ÂÚ Ì‡Ò˚˘ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸, ÒÓ‰ÂʇÚÂθÌÓÒÚ¸ ÔÓÎÂÈ, ‚ÓÁÌË͇˛˘Ëı ‚ÓÍÛ„ Ó·˙ÂÍÚÓ‚ óÛ·‡Ó‚‡. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, ÍÓÚÓÓÏÛ Í‡Í ÌËÍÓÏÛ ‰Û„ÓÏÛ ÔÓ‰ıÓ‰ËÚ ÓÔ‰ÂÎÂÌËÂ, ‰‡ÌÌÓ ‚ Ò‚Ó ‚ÂÏfl û.í˚ÌflÌÓ‚˚Ï Ó‰ÌÓÏÛ fl‚ÎÂÌ˲ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ ÂÏÛ ÍÛθÚÛ˚: ‡ı‡ËÒÚ-ÌÓ‚‡ÚÓ. àÏÂÌÌÓ Ú‡Í, ˜ÂÂÁ ‰ÂÙËÒ. Ç ÒÎÛ˜‡Â óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ – ˜ÂÚÓ˜ÍÛ ‰ÎËÌÓ˛ ‚ ÊËÁ̸. ∆

(20) ‰Âڇθ / detail

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«B ÒΉ Á‡ ÚÂÏ ÍÓ ÏÌÂ

ВИТАЛИЙ ПАЦЮКОВ

VITALY PATSUKOV

ПОТЕРЯННОЕ И ВОЗВРАЩЁННОЕ

THE LOST AND FOUND

ВРЕМЯ АБСТРАКЦИИ

TIME OF ABSTRACTION

Ö„Ó Ó·‡Á ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ÒÓ‚Ô‡‰‡ÂÚ Ò Â„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÓÏ –

His appearance is quite compatible with his art – a

ÏÓÌ„ÓÎÓˉÌ˚È ÚËÔ Îˈ‡, ÔÎÓÚ̇fl ÍÛÔ̇fl ÙË„Û‡, „‰Â

Mongoloid face and a powerful torso with the outline of

ÍÓÌÚÛ˚ Ú·, ͇ÊÂÚÒfl, Á‡‚Â¯‡˛ÚÒfl Á‡  Ô‰Â·ÏË,

his body seeming to overlap its own limits. A pigtail at the

Ë ÍÓÒ˘͇ ̇ Á‡Ú˚ÎÍÂ. è‡‡‰ÓÍ҇θÌÓ ÒÓ‰ËÌÂÌËÂ

nape completes the picture. A paradoxical mixture of Marlon

ÔÓÚÓÏ͇ óËÌ„ËÁˉӂ Ë å‡ÎÓ̇ Å‡Ì‰Ó, ÂÎËÍÚÓ‚˚È

“After that my sight

Brando and descendent of Genghis Khan. He brings to mind

Ë Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ ‡ÍÚۇθÌ˚È „ÂÓÈ ÙËθÏÓ‚ ÑÊËχ

gradually returned

the primeval yet contemporary heroes of Jim Jarmush’s films

ÑʇÏÛ¯‡, ÔÂÒÓÌ‡Ê ï.ã. ÅÓıÂÒ‡, ÔÂÂÔËÒ˜ËÍ ‰‚ÌËı

to me…”

and characters from Jorge Luis Borges. He is a copyist of

«èÓÒÚÓflÌÌÓ ˜‡ÒÚ¸ „Ó

ÚÂÍÒÚÓ‚, ÔÓ„ÛÊÂÌÌ˚È ‚ ÛÒÒÍÛ˛ ÔÒËıÓ‰Â΢ÂÒÍÛ˛

— MARCEL PROUST

ancient texts immersed in psychedelic Russian prose and

ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl ·˚· ÓÚÍ˚Ú‡

ÔÓÁÛ Ë ‡ÔÓÍËÙ˚ „ËÔÂÚÒÍÓÈ «ÍÌË„Ë ÏÂÚ‚˚ı». éÌ

‚ÓÁ‚‡˘‡ÎÓÒ¸ ÁÂÌËÂ…» —

åÄêëÖãú èêìëí

‚̯ÌÂÏÛ ÏËÛ». —

ëéã ÅÖãéì

·ÂÒÍÓ̘ÌÓ ËÒÛÂÚ, Ô‚‡˘‡fl Ò‚ÓË ËÁÓ·‡ÊÂÌËfl ‚ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚Ì˚È «ÚÂÍÒÚ», „‰Â ÊË‚ÂÚ ‡ı‡Ë͇ Ë Ú‡‰ËˆËfl, ÔÓÒÎÛ¯‡ÌËÂ Ë «‚Á˚‚ÌÓ» Ôӂ‰ÂÌËÂ, ‚ÌÂÁ‡ÔÌ˚Â

“Part of his mind was constantly open towards the outer world…” — SAUL BELLOW

the apocryphal texts of The Book of the Dead. He draws incessantly creating one uninterrupted text that combines the archaic with the traditional, obedience with explosive resistance yielding sudden revelatory experiences.

ÓÁ‡ÂÌËfl ‚ „‡Ìˈ‡ı ·Û‰‰ËÈÒÍËı ÍÓ‡ÌÓ‚. í‡ÍÓÈ ÚËÔ

óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ åÓÒÍ‚Â / Chubarov in Moscow ÙÓÚÓ /photo 1979

ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl Ò„ӉÌfl ÛÌË͇ÎÂÌ, ÌÂÒÏÓÚfl

Eugene Chubarov’s artistic consciousness is quite unique

̇ Â„Ó ÙÓχθÌ˚ ÒÓ‚Ô‡‰ÂÌËfl Ò ‰‡Ï‡ÚÛ„ËÂÈ Ì‡¯Â„Ó

today despite its formal compatibility with our culture’s

‚ÂÏÂÌË, Â„Ó ÏÌÓ„ÓÒÎÓÈÌÓÒÚ¸˛ Ë ÓÚÍ˚ÚÓÒÚ¸˛ Í

multi-layered structures and open dialogue. His art is rich in

‰Ë‡ÎÓ„Û. éÌÓ Ì‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌÓ ÔÓ‰ÎËÌÌ˚Ï ÒÓ‰ÂʇÌËÂÏ,

ideas and conveys the reality of man’s extreme states without

‡θÌÓÒÚ¸˛ Ô‰ÂθÌ˚ı ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËÈ ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ÌÓ ÌÂ

shying away from play, from resorting to simulacra, from

ÓÚ‰ÂÎÂÌÓ Ë ÓÚ Ë„˚, ÓÚ Ï˚¯ÎÂÌËfl ÒËÏÛÎflÍ‡ÏË, ÓÚ

coded magic symbols, where the codes themselves may be

Á‡ÍÓ‰ËÓ‚‡ÌÌ˚ı χ„˘ÂÒÍËı Ó·‡ÁÓ‚, „‰Â ÍÓ‰ ÏÓÊÂÚ

more important than the magic behind them. His facial ex-

ÔËÓ·ÂÚ‡Ú¸ ¢ ·Óθ¯Â Á̇˜ÂÌËÂ, ˜ÂÏ Ò‡Ï‡ χ„Ëfl.

pressions change as if he puts on different masks to observe

Ö„Ó ÎËˆÓ ÏÂÌflÂÚÒfl Í‡Í Ï‡Ò͇, ÌÓ Ë ÒÓı‡ÌflÂÚ Â ͇ÌÓÌ˚,

our canons: he laughs, he’s ironic, he persuades, but in all

ÓÌ ÒÏÂÂÚÒfl, ËÓÌËÁËÛÂÚ, Û·Âʉ‡ÂÚ, ÒÍ˚‚‡fl Ò‡ÏÓÂ

situations he conceals the essence and only comes into the

„·‚ÌÓÂ, ӷ̇ʇflÒ¸ ‚ Ò‚ÓËı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı, Ó‰ÌÓ‚Â-

open in his compositions. Even there he leaves ellipses or

ÏÂÌÌÓ ÓÒÚ‡‚Îflfl ‚ ÌËı Ò‚ÓË ÔÛÒÚÓÚ˚ ‰Îfl ÛÏÓΘ‡ÌËfl

intentional omissions like John Cage. His art glimmers with

Í‡Í ÑÊÓÌ äÂȉÊ. Ö„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó ÏÂˆ‡ÂÚ ÛÒÚÓȘ˂˚ÏË

recurring messages, occasionally diverting into fortuitous

ÒÏ˚Ò·ÏË, Ò‰‚Ë„‡flÒ¸ ‚ ÒÎÛ˜‡ÈÌÓÒÚË, ‚ „ÎÛ·ÓÍÓ Î˘Ì˚Â

details and deeply personal signs and symbols, but invariably

Á̇ÍË Ë ÒËÏ‚ÓÎ˚ Ë ‚ÌÓ‚¸ ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘‡flÒ¸ ‚ ÙÛ̉‡ÏÂÌ-

he returns to his fundamental iconography. His work lives in

ڇθÌÛ˛ ËÍÓÌÓÎӄ˲. éÌÓ ÊË‚ÂÚ ÌÂÓ·ÓÁËÏ˚Ï

a boundless landscape embracing cities, people, and objects,

ÔÂÈÁ‡ÊÂÏ, „‰Â ÚÂfl˛ÚÒfl „ÓÓ‰‡, β‰Ë, Ô‰ÏÂÚ˚, ÛÒÍÓθÁ‡fl ‚ «ÒÍ·‰ÍË» ÜËÎfl ÑÂÎÂÁ‡, ËÒ˜ÂÁ‡fl

26

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1980 37 ÒÏ • 36 ÒÏ

where everything slides away into Giles Deleuze’s ‘slits’ and disappears beyond the receding horizon into a Post-Modern

27


«B ÒΉ Á‡ ÚÂÏ ÍÓ ÏÌÂ

ВИТАЛИЙ ПАЦЮКОВ

VITALY PATSUKOV

ПОТЕРЯННОЕ И ВОЗВРАЩЁННОЕ

THE LOST AND FOUND

ВРЕМЯ АБСТРАКЦИИ

TIME OF ABSTRACTION

Ö„Ó Ó·‡Á ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ÒÓ‚Ô‡‰‡ÂÚ Ò Â„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÓÏ –

His appearance is quite compatible with his art – a

ÏÓÌ„ÓÎÓˉÌ˚È ÚËÔ Îˈ‡, ÔÎÓÚ̇fl ÍÛÔ̇fl ÙË„Û‡, „‰Â

Mongoloid face and a powerful torso with the outline of

ÍÓÌÚÛ˚ Ú·, ͇ÊÂÚÒfl, Á‡‚Â¯‡˛ÚÒfl Á‡  Ô‰Â·ÏË,

his body seeming to overlap its own limits. A pigtail at the

Ë ÍÓÒ˘͇ ̇ Á‡Ú˚ÎÍÂ. è‡‡‰ÓÍ҇θÌÓ ÒÓ‰ËÌÂÌËÂ

nape completes the picture. A paradoxical mixture of Marlon

ÔÓÚÓÏ͇ óËÌ„ËÁˉӂ Ë å‡ÎÓ̇ Å‡Ì‰Ó, ÂÎËÍÚÓ‚˚È

“After that my sight

Brando and descendent of Genghis Khan. He brings to mind

Ë Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ ‡ÍÚۇθÌ˚È „ÂÓÈ ÙËθÏÓ‚ ÑÊËχ

gradually returned

the primeval yet contemporary heroes of Jim Jarmush’s films

ÑʇÏÛ¯‡, ÔÂÒÓÌ‡Ê ï.ã. ÅÓıÂÒ‡, ÔÂÂÔËÒ˜ËÍ ‰‚ÌËı

to me…”

and characters from Jorge Luis Borges. He is a copyist of

«èÓÒÚÓflÌÌÓ ˜‡ÒÚ¸ „Ó

ÚÂÍÒÚÓ‚, ÔÓ„ÛÊÂÌÌ˚È ‚ ÛÒÒÍÛ˛ ÔÒËıÓ‰Â΢ÂÒÍÛ˛

— MARCEL PROUST

ancient texts immersed in psychedelic Russian prose and

ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl ·˚· ÓÚÍ˚Ú‡

ÔÓÁÛ Ë ‡ÔÓÍËÙ˚ „ËÔÂÚÒÍÓÈ «ÍÌË„Ë ÏÂÚ‚˚ı». éÌ

‚ÓÁ‚‡˘‡ÎÓÒ¸ ÁÂÌËÂ…» —

åÄêëÖãú èêìëí

‚̯ÌÂÏÛ ÏËÛ». —

ëéã ÅÖãéì

·ÂÒÍÓ̘ÌÓ ËÒÛÂÚ, Ô‚‡˘‡fl Ò‚ÓË ËÁÓ·‡ÊÂÌËfl ‚ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚Ì˚È «ÚÂÍÒÚ», „‰Â ÊË‚ÂÚ ‡ı‡Ë͇ Ë Ú‡‰ËˆËfl, ÔÓÒÎÛ¯‡ÌËÂ Ë «‚Á˚‚ÌÓ» Ôӂ‰ÂÌËÂ, ‚ÌÂÁ‡ÔÌ˚Â

“Part of his mind was constantly open towards the outer world…” — SAUL BELLOW

the apocryphal texts of The Book of the Dead. He draws incessantly creating one uninterrupted text that combines the archaic with the traditional, obedience with explosive resistance yielding sudden revelatory experiences.

ÓÁ‡ÂÌËfl ‚ „‡Ìˈ‡ı ·Û‰‰ËÈÒÍËı ÍÓ‡ÌÓ‚. í‡ÍÓÈ ÚËÔ

óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ åÓÒÍ‚Â / Chubarov in Moscow ÙÓÚÓ /photo 1979

ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl Ò„ӉÌfl ÛÌË͇ÎÂÌ, ÌÂÒÏÓÚfl

Eugene Chubarov’s artistic consciousness is quite unique

̇ Â„Ó ÙÓχθÌ˚ ÒÓ‚Ô‡‰ÂÌËfl Ò ‰‡Ï‡ÚÛ„ËÂÈ Ì‡¯Â„Ó

today despite its formal compatibility with our culture’s

‚ÂÏÂÌË, Â„Ó ÏÌÓ„ÓÒÎÓÈÌÓÒÚ¸˛ Ë ÓÚÍ˚ÚÓÒÚ¸˛ Í

multi-layered structures and open dialogue. His art is rich in

‰Ë‡ÎÓ„Û. éÌÓ Ì‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌÓ ÔÓ‰ÎËÌÌ˚Ï ÒÓ‰ÂʇÌËÂÏ,

ideas and conveys the reality of man’s extreme states without

‡θÌÓÒÚ¸˛ Ô‰ÂθÌ˚ı ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËÈ ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ÌÓ ÌÂ

shying away from play, from resorting to simulacra, from

ÓÚ‰ÂÎÂÌÓ Ë ÓÚ Ë„˚, ÓÚ Ï˚¯ÎÂÌËfl ÒËÏÛÎflÍ‡ÏË, ÓÚ

coded magic symbols, where the codes themselves may be

Á‡ÍÓ‰ËÓ‚‡ÌÌ˚ı χ„˘ÂÒÍËı Ó·‡ÁÓ‚, „‰Â ÍÓ‰ ÏÓÊÂÚ

more important than the magic behind them. His facial ex-

ÔËÓ·ÂÚ‡Ú¸ ¢ ·Óθ¯Â Á̇˜ÂÌËÂ, ˜ÂÏ Ò‡Ï‡ χ„Ëfl.

pressions change as if he puts on different masks to observe

Ö„Ó ÎËˆÓ ÏÂÌflÂÚÒfl Í‡Í Ï‡Ò͇, ÌÓ Ë ÒÓı‡ÌflÂÚ Â ͇ÌÓÌ˚,

our canons: he laughs, he’s ironic, he persuades, but in all

ÓÌ ÒÏÂÂÚÒfl, ËÓÌËÁËÛÂÚ, Û·Âʉ‡ÂÚ, ÒÍ˚‚‡fl Ò‡ÏÓÂ

situations he conceals the essence and only comes into the

„·‚ÌÓÂ, ӷ̇ʇflÒ¸ ‚ Ò‚ÓËı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı, Ó‰ÌÓ‚Â-

open in his compositions. Even there he leaves ellipses or

ÏÂÌÌÓ ÓÒÚ‡‚Îflfl ‚ ÌËı Ò‚ÓË ÔÛÒÚÓÚ˚ ‰Îfl ÛÏÓΘ‡ÌËfl

intentional omissions like John Cage. His art glimmers with

Í‡Í ÑÊÓÌ äÂȉÊ. Ö„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó ÏÂˆ‡ÂÚ ÛÒÚÓȘ˂˚ÏË

recurring messages, occasionally diverting into fortuitous

ÒÏ˚Ò·ÏË, Ò‰‚Ë„‡flÒ¸ ‚ ÒÎÛ˜‡ÈÌÓÒÚË, ‚ „ÎÛ·ÓÍÓ Î˘Ì˚Â

details and deeply personal signs and symbols, but invariably

Á̇ÍË Ë ÒËÏ‚ÓÎ˚ Ë ‚ÌÓ‚¸ ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘‡flÒ¸ ‚ ÙÛ̉‡ÏÂÌ-

he returns to his fundamental iconography. His work lives in

ڇθÌÛ˛ ËÍÓÌÓÎӄ˲. éÌÓ ÊË‚ÂÚ ÌÂÓ·ÓÁËÏ˚Ï

a boundless landscape embracing cities, people, and objects,

ÔÂÈÁ‡ÊÂÏ, „‰Â ÚÂfl˛ÚÒfl „ÓÓ‰‡, β‰Ë, Ô‰ÏÂÚ˚, ÛÒÍÓθÁ‡fl ‚ «ÒÍ·‰ÍË» ÜËÎfl ÑÂÎÂÁ‡, ËÒ˜ÂÁ‡fl

26

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1980 37 ÒÏ • 36 ÒÏ

where everything slides away into Giles Deleuze’s ‘slits’ and disappears beyond the receding horizon into a Post-Modern

27


‚ Â„Ó Û‰‡Îfl˛˘ËıÒfl „ÓËÁÓÌÚ‡ı, ‚ ÔÓÒÚÏÓ‰ÂÌËÒÚÒÍÓÈ ËÁ·˚ÚÓ˜ÌÓÒÚË. èӂ‰ÂÌË ւ„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ Ô·˚‚‡ÂÚ ‚ ÚÂÍÒÚ ÍÛθÚÛ˚, ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ‚ Â„Ó ÔÓ„‡Ì˘Ì˚ı ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËflı, ‚ ÒÚ‡Ú„Ëflı ÍӘ‚Ì˘ÂÒÚ‚‡, ‚ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚ÌÓÏ ÔÂ‰‚ËÊÂÌËË ‚ „ÂÓ-·̉¯‡ÙÚ‡ı ËÒÚÓËË Ë Â ÓÒÏ˚ÒÎÂÌËfl, ÌÓ ‚ Â„Ó ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ı ÓÚÍ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl Ë ÓÒ‰ÎÓÒÚ¸ ÍÛθÚÛÓÎÓ„‡, ÒÓ·Ë‡ÚÂÎfl Ë ı‡ÌËÚÂÎfl ÔË‡Ïˉ Ë ‰‚ÌËı ÛËÌ. Ö„Ó ÛÍÓÂÌÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸ ·ÎËÁ͇ Í ÏÂˆ‡˛˘ÂÈ ÛÍÓÂÌÂÌÌÓÒÚË ÛÒÍÓθÁ‡˛˘Ëı ‚ ÔÂÒ͇ı ËÒÚÓËË ı‡Á‡, ̇ÔÓÎÌfl˛˘Ëı Ò‚Ó ÏËÓÓ˘Û˘ÂÌË «ÏÓ˘Ì˚Ï ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚËÈÌ˚Ï ÔÓÎÂÏ» ÓÒ‚˚ı ÂÎË„ËÈ, ÌÓ ‚ ‡θÌÓÒÚË ÊË‚Û˘Ëı Ë‡ˆËÓ̇θÌ˚ÏË Ì‡ËÚËflÏË, ÔËÔÓÏË̇ÌËflÏË Ë „ÓÎÓÒ‡ÏË ÍÓ‚Ë. äÓÏÔÓÁˈËË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇ ÔÓ‚ËÌÛ˛ÚÒfl ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚Ï ÒËÎ‡Ï Ò‡ÏÓÓ„‡ÌËÁÛ˛˘ÂÈÒfl «ÚÂÍÒÚÓ‚ÓÈ» ÔËÓ‰˚, ÓÚ˜ÂÚÎË‚ÓÈ ‚ Ò‚ÓÂÈ ÌÂÔÂÎÓÊÌÓÒÚË Ë ‚ÏÂÒÚÂ Ò ÚÂÏ ‡ÁÏ˚ÚÓÈ ‚ ıӉ ÌÂËÒ˜ËÒÎËÏ˚ı ÔÂÂÔËÒ˚‚‡ÌËÈ, Í‡Í „Ó‚ÓËÎ êÓÎ‡Ì Å‡Ú, «·ÂÁ„‡Ì˘ÌÓÈ ËÏÔÂËË Á̇ÍÓ‚». Ç ıÓÎÒÚ‡ı Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, ‚ Ëı „ÎÛ·ËÌÌ˚ı ÒÎÓflı ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚Û˛Ú ·ÂÁ΢Ì˚ ÔÓÚÓÍË ËÌÚÂÌÒË‚ÌÓÒÚÂÈ Ë Ò‚Âı‡ˆËÓ̇θÌÓ Ê·ÌË ҇ÏÓ„Ó èËÒÓχ, ËÁ̇˜‡Î¸ÌÓ ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓ„Ó Í‡Í ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒ͇fl ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ‡, Í‡Í ÒÍËÙÒ͇fl ·‡·‡, Í‡Í Á‡Û·ÍË ÎÂÒÌ˚ı ÚÓÔ ËÎË Û·ˆ˚ ̇ ÚÂÎÂ. ùÚÓ ÔËÒ¸ÏÓ ÊË‚ÂÚ ÔÓ‰ ÓÒ˚ÔflÏË ÍÛθÚÛÌÓ„Ó ÒÎÓfl, ÍÛθÚÛ˚ ãÓ„ÓÒ‡, ‚ÒÂÎflflÒ¸ ‚ «ÔËÍÚÓ„‡ÏÏ˚» ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡. Ö„Ó ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍË ÙÓÏ˚ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚ÌÓ Ó·ÌÓ‚Îfl˛ÚÒfl, ÏÂÌflflÒ¸ ̇ „·Á‡ı, Ô·˚‚‡fl ‚ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ı, „‰Â ·˚ÎÓÈ ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰-ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁÏ ÛÒÏÓÚÂÎ ·˚ ÌÂÊ·ÚÂθÌÓ ÔÎÂÌÂÌË Ú‡‰ËˆËË. Ö„Ó ÌÓ‚ËÁ̇ Ó·ÂÚ‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ̘ËÚ‡ÂÏÓÒÚflı, ‚ ÌÂ‡Á·Ó˜Ë‚ÓÒÚflı ËÎË ‚ ËÒ͇ÊÂÌÌ˚ı ÔÓ˜ÚÂÌËflı, „‰Â ÚÂÍÒÚ ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ËÚÂθÌÓ ÔÓ„ÛʇÂÚÒfl ‚ Ú‡ÍË „ÎÛ·ËÌÌ˚ ËÁÏÂÂÌËfl, ˜ÚÓ ‰ËÒÍÛÒ

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1984 44 ÒÏ • 59 ÒÏ

28

redundancy. Chubarov’s behavior is a part of the general cultural milieu; perhaps more in the margins like the strategies of nomadic cultures – incessant wanderings in the geo-landscapes of history and its assimilation today. His art reveals the outlook of a settled scholar, a collector and keeper of pyramids and ancient ruins. He is rooted in contemporary life much like the ancient nomadic tribes. Disappearing into the vast sands of history and leaving us a worldview that infuses our axis faiths with a powerful energy that is still present in today’s reality in the form of irrational brain waves, recollections and voices of the blood. Chubarov’s compositions obey the natural forces of the self-organizing nature of any text, unmistakably obvious and at the same time blurred in the course of repeated copying, what Roland Barthes called “a boundless empire of signs”.

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1979 35 ÒÏ • 38 ÒÏ

In the deeper layers of Chubarov’s canvases we recognize certain impersonal currents of intensity and the superrational wish of the painting itself, corporeal by definition, like ancient sculpture or Scythian idols, like notches on a forest path or scars on a human body. His painting lives under the crumbling rubble of Logos, infiltrating the pictograms of art. Its archaic forms are constantly renovated, changing under our very eyes, and residing in spaces where the former avant-garde and modernism seem an undesirable arrest of tradition. Its novelty consists in its illegible or downright distorted interpretations when the text reaches such profound depths that any discourse turns out to be completely incapable of rendering clarity and transparency. Scattered in the space of a painting, the artist’s fossilized signs and images are somewhat reminiscent of ‘flag’ structures — emblematic sets of established social systems and paraphrased elements of pop art – that reveal Chubarov’s ideology of pop subversion with an openness to mass culture. But within the artistic dimensions of his works they are translated into ruses or unexpected slips of the brush, stumblings over something wrong, and thus turning or rather returning into Koanic Satori. These seemingly accidental errors surprise us with unknown elements. They disprove the dictate of homogeneous abstraction over the vitality of sign-creation as an attack on common sense or a lapse into insanity. Such a strategy affirms a new principle of

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‚ Â„Ó Û‰‡Îfl˛˘ËıÒfl „ÓËÁÓÌÚ‡ı, ‚ ÔÓÒÚÏÓ‰ÂÌËÒÚÒÍÓÈ ËÁ·˚ÚÓ˜ÌÓÒÚË. èӂ‰ÂÌË ւ„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ Ô·˚‚‡ÂÚ ‚ ÚÂÍÒÚ ÍÛθÚÛ˚, ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ‚ Â„Ó ÔÓ„‡Ì˘Ì˚ı ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËflı, ‚ ÒÚ‡Ú„Ëflı ÍӘ‚Ì˘ÂÒÚ‚‡, ‚ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚ÌÓÏ ÔÂ‰‚ËÊÂÌËË ‚ „ÂÓ-·̉¯‡ÙÚ‡ı ËÒÚÓËË Ë Â ÓÒÏ˚ÒÎÂÌËfl, ÌÓ ‚ Â„Ó ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ı ÓÚÍ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl Ë ÓÒ‰ÎÓÒÚ¸ ÍÛθÚÛÓÎÓ„‡, ÒÓ·Ë‡ÚÂÎfl Ë ı‡ÌËÚÂÎfl ÔË‡Ïˉ Ë ‰‚ÌËı ÛËÌ. Ö„Ó ÛÍÓÂÌÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸ ·ÎËÁ͇ Í ÏÂˆ‡˛˘ÂÈ ÛÍÓÂÌÂÌÌÓÒÚË ÛÒÍÓθÁ‡˛˘Ëı ‚ ÔÂÒ͇ı ËÒÚÓËË ı‡Á‡, ̇ÔÓÎÌfl˛˘Ëı Ò‚Ó ÏËÓÓ˘Û˘ÂÌË «ÏÓ˘Ì˚Ï ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚËÈÌ˚Ï ÔÓÎÂÏ» ÓÒ‚˚ı ÂÎË„ËÈ, ÌÓ ‚ ‡θÌÓÒÚË ÊË‚Û˘Ëı Ë‡ˆËÓ̇θÌ˚ÏË Ì‡ËÚËflÏË, ÔËÔÓÏË̇ÌËflÏË Ë „ÓÎÓÒ‡ÏË ÍÓ‚Ë. äÓÏÔÓÁˈËË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇ ÔÓ‚ËÌÛ˛ÚÒfl ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚Ï ÒËÎ‡Ï Ò‡ÏÓÓ„‡ÌËÁÛ˛˘ÂÈÒfl «ÚÂÍÒÚÓ‚ÓÈ» ÔËÓ‰˚, ÓÚ˜ÂÚÎË‚ÓÈ ‚ Ò‚ÓÂÈ ÌÂÔÂÎÓÊÌÓÒÚË Ë ‚ÏÂÒÚÂ Ò ÚÂÏ ‡ÁÏ˚ÚÓÈ ‚ ıӉ ÌÂËÒ˜ËÒÎËÏ˚ı ÔÂÂÔËÒ˚‚‡ÌËÈ, Í‡Í „Ó‚ÓËÎ êÓÎ‡Ì Å‡Ú, «·ÂÁ„‡Ì˘ÌÓÈ ËÏÔÂËË Á̇ÍÓ‚». Ç ıÓÎÒÚ‡ı Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, ‚ Ëı „ÎÛ·ËÌÌ˚ı ÒÎÓflı ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚Û˛Ú ·ÂÁ΢Ì˚ ÔÓÚÓÍË ËÌÚÂÌÒË‚ÌÓÒÚÂÈ Ë Ò‚Âı‡ˆËÓ̇θÌÓ Ê·ÌË ҇ÏÓ„Ó èËÒÓχ, ËÁ̇˜‡Î¸ÌÓ ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓ„Ó Í‡Í ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒ͇fl ÒÍÛθÔÚÛ‡, Í‡Í ÒÍËÙÒ͇fl ·‡·‡, Í‡Í Á‡Û·ÍË ÎÂÒÌ˚ı ÚÓÔ ËÎË Û·ˆ˚ ̇ ÚÂÎÂ. ùÚÓ ÔËÒ¸ÏÓ ÊË‚ÂÚ ÔÓ‰ ÓÒ˚ÔflÏË ÍÛθÚÛÌÓ„Ó ÒÎÓfl, ÍÛθÚÛ˚ ãÓ„ÓÒ‡, ‚ÒÂÎflflÒ¸ ‚ «ÔËÍÚÓ„‡ÏÏ˚» ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡. Ö„Ó ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍË ÙÓÏ˚ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚ÌÓ Ó·ÌÓ‚Îfl˛ÚÒfl, ÏÂÌflflÒ¸ ̇ „·Á‡ı, Ô·˚‚‡fl ‚ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ı, „‰Â ·˚ÎÓÈ ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰-ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁÏ ÛÒÏÓÚÂÎ ·˚ ÌÂÊ·ÚÂθÌÓ ÔÎÂÌÂÌË Ú‡‰ËˆËË. Ö„Ó ÌÓ‚ËÁ̇ Ó·ÂÚ‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ̘ËÚ‡ÂÏÓÒÚflı, ‚ ÌÂ‡Á·Ó˜Ë‚ÓÒÚflı ËÎË ‚ ËÒ͇ÊÂÌÌ˚ı ÔÓ˜ÚÂÌËflı, „‰Â ÚÂÍÒÚ ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ËÚÂθÌÓ ÔÓ„ÛʇÂÚÒfl ‚ Ú‡ÍË „ÎÛ·ËÌÌ˚ ËÁÏÂÂÌËfl, ˜ÚÓ ‰ËÒÍÛÒ

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1984 44 ÒÏ • 59 ÒÏ

28

redundancy. Chubarov’s behavior is a part of the general cultural milieu; perhaps more in the margins like the strategies of nomadic cultures – incessant wanderings in the geo-landscapes of history and its assimilation today. His art reveals the outlook of a settled scholar, a collector and keeper of pyramids and ancient ruins. He is rooted in contemporary life much like the ancient nomadic tribes. Disappearing into the vast sands of history and leaving us a worldview that infuses our axis faiths with a powerful energy that is still present in today’s reality in the form of irrational brain waves, recollections and voices of the blood. Chubarov’s compositions obey the natural forces of the self-organizing nature of any text, unmistakably obvious and at the same time blurred in the course of repeated copying, what Roland Barthes called “a boundless empire of signs”.

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1979 35 ÒÏ • 38 ÒÏ

In the deeper layers of Chubarov’s canvases we recognize certain impersonal currents of intensity and the superrational wish of the painting itself, corporeal by definition, like ancient sculpture or Scythian idols, like notches on a forest path or scars on a human body. His painting lives under the crumbling rubble of Logos, infiltrating the pictograms of art. Its archaic forms are constantly renovated, changing under our very eyes, and residing in spaces where the former avant-garde and modernism seem an undesirable arrest of tradition. Its novelty consists in its illegible or downright distorted interpretations when the text reaches such profound depths that any discourse turns out to be completely incapable of rendering clarity and transparency. Scattered in the space of a painting, the artist’s fossilized signs and images are somewhat reminiscent of ‘flag’ structures — emblematic sets of established social systems and paraphrased elements of pop art – that reveal Chubarov’s ideology of pop subversion with an openness to mass culture. But within the artistic dimensions of his works they are translated into ruses or unexpected slips of the brush, stumblings over something wrong, and thus turning or rather returning into Koanic Satori. These seemingly accidental errors surprise us with unknown elements. They disprove the dictate of homogeneous abstraction over the vitality of sign-creation as an attack on common sense or a lapse into insanity. Such a strategy affirms a new principle of

29


Ó͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl ÒÓ‚Â¯ÂÌÌÓ ÌÂÒÔÓÒÓ·Ì˚Ï ÔÓfl‚ÎflÚ¸ Ò‚ÓË ÙÛÌ͈ËË ÔÓÁ‡˜ÌÓÒÚË Ë flÒÌÓÒÚË. ê‡Á·ÓÒ‡ÌÌ˚ ‚ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl ÓÚ‚Â‰Â‚¯Ë «Á̇ÍË-Ó·‡Á˚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇», ˜ÂÏ-ÚÓ Ì‡ÔÓÏË̇˛˘Ë «Ù·„Ó‚˚ ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚», ÛÒÚÓÈ˜Ë‚Û˛ ˝Ï·ÎÂχÚËÍÛ ÒӈˇθÌ˚ı ÒËÒÚÂÏ, ÔÂÂÙ‡ÁËÓ‚‡ÌÌ˚ ˝ÎÂÏÂÌÚ˚ ÔÓÔ-‡Ú‡, ÓÚÍÓ‚ÂÌÌÓ Ó·Ì‡Ê‡˛Ú ˉÂÓÎӄ˲ ‡ډ˂ÂÒËÈ Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Â„Ó ÓÚÍ˚ÚÓÒÚ¸ Í flÁ˚Í‡Ï Ï‡ÒÒÓ‚ÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛ˚. çÓ ‚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ı ËÁÏÂÂÌËflı ͇ÚËÌÌÓ„Ó ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ ÓÌË Ú‡ÌÒÎËÛ˛ÚÒfl, ÒÍÓÂÂ, Í‡Í ÛÎÓ‚ÍË, Í‡Í ‚ÌÂÁ‡ÔÌ˚ ÓÔËÒÍË, ÒÔÓÚ˚͇ÌËfl Ó ÌÂÍÓ «˜ÚÓ-ÚÓ Ì ڇͻ, Ô‚‡˘‡flÒ¸ ËÎË ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘‡flÒ¸ ‚ ÍÓ‡Ì˘ÂÒÍÓ ҇ÚÓË. ùÚË «ÒÎÛ˜‡ÈÌ˚» ӯ˷ÍË ‰‡flÚ Ì‡Ï ¯ÓÍ ÒÓÔËÍÓÒÌÓ‚ÂÌËfl Ò Ì‚‰ÓÏ˚Ï ÔË ÍÓÌÚ‡ÍÚ Ò, ͇Á‡ÎÓÒ¸ ·˚, Á‡‚‰ÓÏÓ ÓÒ‚ÓÂÌÌ˚Ï. éÌË ÓÔÓ‚Â„‡˛Ú ‰ËÍÚ‡Ú Ë‰ÂË Ó‰ÌÓÓ‰ÌÓÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË Ì‡‰ ‚ËڇθÌÓÒÚ¸˛ Á̇ÍÓÚ‚Ó˜ÂÒÚ‚‡ Í‡Í ‚˚Ô‡‰ ÔÓÚË‚ Á‰‡‚Ó„Ó ÒÏ˚Ò·, Í‡Í ‚˚Ô‡‰ÂÌË ‚ ˆÂÎËÚÂθÌÓ ·ÂÁÛÏËÂ. Ç Ú‡ÍÓÈ ÒÚ‡Ú„ËË Ëı Ó·‡Á˚ ÛÚ‚Âʉ‡˛Ú ÌÓ‚˚È ÔË̈ËÔ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, ÓÒ‚Ó·ÓʉÂÌÌ˚È ÓÚ ‚·ÒÚË Î˘ÌÓ„Ó ÏÓÌÓÎÓ„‡ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, ÌÓ ‡ÎËÁÛ˛˘ËÈ Ò·fl ‚ ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚ ÌÓ‚Ó„Ó ÒÏ˚ÒÎÓ‚Ó„Ó ÔÓÎfl, «Á‡Ô‡ÍÓ‚˚‚‡fl» ÌÂÔÓÒ‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚Ó ‚ ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌÛ˛ ÂÙÎÂÍÒ˲. é̇ ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ‚ÓÁÌË͇ÂÚ ‚ Ò‚ÓËı Ò„Û˘ÂÌËflı Ë ÔÛÒÚÓÚ‡ı, ̇ÔÎ˚‚‡ı Ë ‡Á˚‚‡ı Í‡Í „ÓËÁÓÌڇθ̇fl ÏÓ‰Âθ

á‡ÏÍÌÛÚ˚Â Ë ‡ÁÓÏÍÌÛÚ˚ ÍË‚˚ ÑÊÂÍÒÓ̇ èÓÎÎÓ͇ ÔËÒÛÚÒÚ‚Û˛Ú ‚ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛÂ Í‡Í Ú‡ÌÒÎflÚÓ˚, ÔÂ‰‡˛˘Ë ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍËÈ ÏË Ë ÏË ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰‡ 10-20 „Ó‰Ó‚ ۯ‰¯Â„Ó ‚Â͇. éÌË ÌËÍÓ„‰‡ Ì ËÒ˜ÂÁ‡˛Ú ËÁ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÒÚË Ì‡¯ÂÈ ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËË. á̇ÍÓ‚‡fl ÒËÏ‚ÓÎË͇ ‚ Ô·ÒÚËÍ ւ„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÍÓÂÒÔÓ̉ËÛÂÚ Ò ˝ÚËÏË ‡ıÂÚËÔ‡ÏË «¯‡Ï‡ÌËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó» ÚÂÍÒÚ‡, ÔÛθÒËÛfl ‚ Â„Ó ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı, ‡ÒÍ˚‚‡fl Ëı ¢ Ì ‚˚„Ó‚ÓÂÌÌ˚ ÒÏ˚ÒÎ˚. ÑÊÂÍÒÓÌ èÓÎÓÍ, «ëÚ‡Ì˘ÍË ËÁ ·ÎÓÍÌÓÚ‡», 1938 Closed and open-ended curves of Jackson Pollock exist in contemprary culture as translators, conveying the archaic world and that of the avant-garde art of the 1910s and 20. They never disappear from view in our mythology. The sign symbolism in the art of Evgeny Chubarov corresponds to the archetypes of Shamanist texts, pulsing in his compositions and disclosing the meaning of their yet unexpressed messages. Jackson Pollock, “Pages from Sketch-book”, 1938

ÌÓ‚Ó„Ó ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl, ÔÓ˚‚‡fl „ËÔÌÓÁ Á̇ÍÓ‚ÓÈ ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚË ˜ÂÂÁ ÊÂÒÚ Ò‚ÓÂÓ ·‡ÁÌÓÈ «‰ÂÍÓÌÒÚÛ͈ËË». ë‡Ï‡ ÚÂıÌÓÎÓ„Ëfl ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡,  ÒÔÓÒÓ·ÌÓÒÚ¸ ÍÓÏÏÂÌÚËÓ‚‡Ú¸ Ë ÓÔËÒ˚‚‡Ú¸ Ò‡ÏÛ Ò·fl ÔÓÓʉ‡ÂÚ ˝ÙÙÂÍÚ Í‡ÚËÌ˚ Í‡Í ÌÂÍÓÂ„Ó ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓ„Ó Ó·˙ÂÍÚ‡, „‰Â ҇χ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒ¸ ‡ÒÍ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl Í‡Í ˜ËÒÚ‡fl ÌÓÒڇθ„Ëfl ÔÓ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË, Í‡Í ‚ÓÒÔÓÏË̇ÌËÂ Ó Í‡ÚËÌÂ, „‰Â ‚ „Û˘Â ËÌÙÓχˆËÓÌÌÓ„Ó ¯Ûχ ÒÔflÚ‡Ì ‚ ÍÓÍÓÌ ·˚ÎÓÈ «‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚È ¯Â‰Â‚», «ÌÂÚÎÂÌ͇», ÔÓ ‚˚‡ÊÂÌ˲ àÎ¸Ë ä‡·‡ÍÓ‚‡. Ö «ÔÓ˜ÂÍ»,  ÏÌÓ„ÓÒÎÓÈÌ˚È Î‡Ì‰¯‡ÙÚ, ·ÎÂÒÚfl˘Â ‚˚ÒÚÓÂÌÌ˚È ÒÓ ‚ÒÂÏË Ò‡ÓËÏË ‡ÒÒӈˇÚˇÌ˚ÏË fl‰‡ÏË, „‰Â ÔÓ‰ÎËÌÌ˚ ÒÎÓË ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ‡θÌÓÒÚË ÔÓ҂˜˂‡˛Ú ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸ ÔÓÙ‡ÌÌ˚Â, ÔÓ‰·‡Ò˚‚‡fl Á‡„‡‰ÍË – ‚Ò ˝ÚÓ Ò‚Ë‰ÂÚÂÎ��ÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ Ó ÌÓ‚˚ı „ÎÛ·ËÌÌ˚ı ÓËÂÌÚ‡ˆËflı ‚ ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Â ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË. éÌË „Ó‚ÓflÚ Ó ‚ÂÚ¯‡ÌË Ë ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ı ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰Ì˚ı ÏÓ‰ÂÎÂÈ Ë Ó ÓʉÂÌËË Â ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚË, ÓÚÂÙÎÂÍÒËÓ‚‡ÌÌÓÈ Ë „ÂÌÂÚ˘ÂÒÍË ÔÂÓ·‡ÊÂÌÌÓÈ. Ö ÌÓ‚˚ ÙÓÏ˚ χÌËÔÛÎËÛ˛Ú ÒΉ‡ÏË Ë Ó · ÎÓÏ͇ÏË Â ËÒÚÓ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÔÓ¯ÎÓ„Ó Ë ÔÓÒΉÒÚ‚ËflÏË ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó Î˘ÌÓ„Ó ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌÂ„Ó ÓÔ˚Ú‡ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇. Ç ÌËı ÔÓÒÚÛÔ‡˛Ú ÒÓÁ̇ÚÂθÌ˚ ˆËÚ‡Ú˚ ÏËÓ‚Ó„Ó ÍÛθÚÛÓ̇ÒΉËfl, ‚Íβ˜‡˛˘Ë ˆÂÎ˚Â

èÓËÒÍË ÔÂ‚˘Ì˚ı Ó·‡ÁÓ‚ ̇˜‡Î‡ ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓÈ ËÒÚÓËË, Â„Ó ‡ıÂÚËÔÓ‚ ÓÚÍ˚‚‡˛Ú Ô‡‡‰ÓÍ҇θÌ˚È ‰Ë‡ÎÓ„, ÌÂÓ·ÛÒÎÓ‚ÎÂÌÌ˚È ÌË͇ÍËÏË ‚̯ÌËÏË ‚ÎËflÌËflÏË. Ç ÌÂÏ ÓÚÍ˚‚‡˛Ú Ò·fl ‡Ì„ÎËÈÒÍËÈ ÏËÒÚËÍ, ÔÓ˝Ú Ë ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ XIX ‚Â͇ ÇËθflÏ ÅνÈÍ Ë ÏÓÒÍÓ‚ÒÍËÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ Ì‡¯Â„Ó Ú˚Òfl˜ÂÎÂÚËfl, Ӊ˂¯ËÈÒfl ‚ ·‡¯ÍËÒÍÓÈ ‰Â‚ÌÂ, ‚ «ÍÛθÚÛ» ¯‡Ï‡ÌËÁχ – Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚. íÓÚ Ê ÔÂÈÁ‡Ê, Ú‡ Ê Ô·ÒÚË͇, Ú Ê Ô‰ÂθÌ˚ ÔÒËıÓ‰Â΢ÂÒÍË ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËfl – ÒÎÓ‚ÌÓ ÓÌË ‡·ÓÚ‡ÎË ‚ Ó‰ÌÓÏ Í‡ÌÓÌ ËÎË ‚ˉÂÎË Ó‰ÌÓ Ë ÚÓ ÊÂ. é· ˝ÚËı Ê ÒÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚Ëflı Á‡fl‚ÎflÂÚ ÂÊËÒÒÂ ÌÂÁ‡‚ËÒËÏÓ„Ó ‡ÏÂË͇ÌÒÍÓ„Ó ÍËÌÓ ÑʇÏÛ¯ ‚ ÙËθÏ «Dead man», „‰Â ‚ÒÚ˜‡ÂÚÒfl ·ÂÎ˚È ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍ, ÌÓÒfl˘ËÈ ËÏfl ‡Ì„ÎËÈÒÍÓ„Ó ÔÓ˝Ú‡ ÅνÈ͇ Ë Ë̉ˆ, ÊË‚Û˘ËÈ ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍÓÈ ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËÂÈ. ÇËθflÏ ÅνÈÍ, «íÂÎÓ Ä‚ÂÎfl, ӷ̇ÛÊÂÌÌÓ ĉ‡ÏÓÏ Ë Ö‚ÓÈ», 1826 A search for original images related to the birth of human history, its archetypes inspired a paradoxical dialogue, unconditioned by any external influences. The English mystic, poet and artist William Blake and Evgeny Chubarov, a Moscow artist of our times, born in a Bashkirian village amidst Shamanist culture, both find a place in this dialogue. The same landscape, the same artistic style, the same extreme psychodelic states, it’s as if they followed the same canon or had the same things before their eyes. These similarities have also been proclaimed by the independent American film director Jarmush in his film Dead Man, in which two men are confronted: a white man named Blake, as the famous English poet, and an Indian, who is immersed in his archaic mythology.

abstraction, one that is free from the pressure of the artist’s monologue and one that realizes itself in the context of a new field of meaning, packaging spontaneous feelings into intellectual reflection. It emerges naturally as densities and empty spots, inflows and gaps, as a horizontal model of a new artistic consciousness, breaking through the hypnosis of the sign surface by way of a deconstructing gesture. The technology of Chubarov’s art, its capacity for selfcommentary and self-description, creates paintings that have the effect of being objects of pure nostalgia for painting. A recollection of a painting where in the thick of the information noise, as in a cocoon, a former masterpiece of abstract art is concealed, “Imperishables” to quote Ilya Kabakov. Its style and complex landscapes, brilliantly structured with all their associations, where different layers of artistic reality show through the profane, suggesting all sorts of riddles – all this testifies to the new, deep-going orientations in abstract art. They demonstrate the withering of the abstract avant-garde models and the emergence of a new corporeality, carefully thought out and genetically transformed. These new forms manipulate with the traces and debris of history and the consequences of the artist’s personal experience. Intentional quotation from the world cultural heritage is evident in

èÒ‚‰ÓÊË‚ÓÔËÒ¸ á˄χ‡ èÓθÍÂ Ò ËÒÔÓθÁÓ‚‡ÌËÂÏ ÌÓ‚˚ı ÚÂıÌÓÎÓ„ËÈ ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ˜ËÒÚÛ˛ «‚¢ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸» Ë Ï‡ÚÂˇθÌÓÒÚ¸ íÂÍÒÚ‡. àÏÂÌÌÓ ÔÓ·ÎÂχ «ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó Í‡Í ÚÂÍÒÚ» Ò„ӉÌfl ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ËÚÒfl Ó·˘ÂÈ ‰Îfl ‚ÓÔÂÈÒÍÓÈ Ë ÛÒÒÍÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛ˚, ÔÂÂıÓ‰fl ËÁ «Ú͇ÌË» ÒÏ˚ÒÎÓ‚ ‚ «Ú̸͇» ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡. Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ ˝ÚËı ÚÂÍÒÚÓ‚˚ı ÒÎÓflı Ó·ÂÚ‡ÂÚ Ò‚ÓË ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ ËÁÏÂÂÌËfl. á˄χ èÓθÍÂ, “Yggdrasil”, 1984 Pseudo-painting of Sigmar Polke, based on new technologies, returns us to pure “objectivity” and materiality of the text as such. It is precisely the problem of “space as text” that has become common for European and Russian cultures, marked by the fact of transition from the texture of meaning to the texture of space. In these textual layers Evgeny Chubarov acquires his own dimension.

this art, including whole movements and trends, skillfully woven into a new cultural context. Moreover, you find in its carpet-like continuity Chubarov’s self-quotation and his mythologies existing in the collisions of dissimilar returns above the imagery and style of abstract expressionism, turning his heroic structures into archeological finds and ready-made objects. Both Jackson Pollack and Mark Toby as well as the German ”New Wild” are impressed in Chubarov’s intellectual energy much like film stars’ names are on Hollywood plates. Post-historic handwriting reveals obvious legends in their contours of the remains of gilding, where respect borders on notions much broader than cultural memory, where irony alludes to the games in the labyrinths of time and space. In Einstein’s shifted geometry with its “parallel” curvilinearity and relativity, these endless labyrinths bring to mind the abandoned caves and tunnels in Egyptian pyramids. Half-filled with crumbled stone, sand-drifts and excrescencies: they can be viewed both horizontally and vertically. Here you find forgotten and lost texts that were once declared revelations and prophecies. These multi-dimensional signbearing structures are being cleared and sorted out to be transformed into illuminations or oppositions like paradoxical tactile surfaces or jottings on the margins where the artist himself ‘archaeologizes’ his mysterious verbalism weaving the fabric of a universal manuscript that

ÑÎfl Ö.óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Ú‡Í ÊÂ Í‡Í Ë ‰Îfl Ä.èÂÌ͇, Ó·‡˘ÂÌËÂ Í ÔÓ‰ÒÓÁ̇Ì˲ ‰‡‚‡ÎÓ ‚˚ıÓ‰ Í ËÌ˚Ï ÙÓÏ‡Ï ÛÒÚÓȘ˂ÓÒÚË, ˜ÂÏ ÓÍÛʇ˛˘‡fl Ëı ÚÓÚ‡ËÚ‡̇fl ‡θÌÓÒÚ¸. «ÑËÌÓÁ‡‚˚» Ä.èÂÌ͇, ÒËÏ‚ÓÎËÁËÛ˛˘Ë ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ÒÓÔÓÚË‚ÎÂÌË ÚÓÚ‡ÎËÚ‡ÌÓÈ ÒӈˇθÌÓÒÚË, Ù‡ÍÚ˘ÂÒÍË Ú Ê ÁÏ‚ˉÌ˚ ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚‡ – Á̇ÍË, ̇ÔÓÎÌfl˛˘Ë ҂ÓÂÈ ‰Ë̇ÏËÍÓÈ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË Ö.óÛ·‡Ó‚‡. Ä.èÂÌÍ, «G.B.I.», 1988 For Chubarov, the same as for A. Penk, address to the subconscious provided an outlet to other form of stability, distinct from those offered by the surrounding totalitarian reality. Penk’s “Dinosaurs”, symbolizing absolute resistance to totalitarian sociality, are in fact the same snake-like creatures-signs, which infuse with dynamism Chubarov’s compositions as well. A.R.Penk, “G.B.I.” 1988

Sigmar Polke, Yggdrasil. 1984

William Blake, “The Body of Abel Found by Adam and Eve.” 1826

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Ó͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl ÒÓ‚Â¯ÂÌÌÓ ÌÂÒÔÓÒÓ·Ì˚Ï ÔÓfl‚ÎflÚ¸ Ò‚ÓË ÙÛÌ͈ËË ÔÓÁ‡˜ÌÓÒÚË Ë flÒÌÓÒÚË. ê‡Á·ÓÒ‡ÌÌ˚ ‚ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl ÓÚ‚Â‰Â‚¯Ë «Á̇ÍË-Ó·‡Á˚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇», ˜ÂÏ-ÚÓ Ì‡ÔÓÏË̇˛˘Ë «Ù·„Ó‚˚ ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚», ÛÒÚÓÈ˜Ë‚Û˛ ˝Ï·ÎÂχÚËÍÛ ÒӈˇθÌ˚ı ÒËÒÚÂÏ, ÔÂÂÙ‡ÁËÓ‚‡ÌÌ˚ ˝ÎÂÏÂÌÚ˚ ÔÓÔ-‡Ú‡, ÓÚÍÓ‚ÂÌÌÓ Ó·Ì‡Ê‡˛Ú ˉÂÓÎӄ˲ ‡ډ˂ÂÒËÈ Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Â„Ó ÓÚÍ˚ÚÓÒÚ¸ Í flÁ˚Í‡Ï Ï‡ÒÒÓ‚ÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛ˚. çÓ ‚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ı ËÁÏÂÂÌËflı ͇ÚËÌÌÓ„Ó ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ ÓÌË Ú‡ÌÒÎËÛ˛ÚÒfl, ÒÍÓÂÂ, Í‡Í ÛÎÓ‚ÍË, Í‡Í ‚ÌÂÁ‡ÔÌ˚ ÓÔËÒÍË, ÒÔÓÚ˚͇ÌËfl Ó ÌÂÍÓ «˜ÚÓ-ÚÓ Ì ڇͻ, Ô‚‡˘‡flÒ¸ ËÎË ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘‡flÒ¸ ‚ ÍÓ‡Ì˘ÂÒÍÓ ҇ÚÓË. ùÚË «ÒÎÛ˜‡ÈÌ˚» ӯ˷ÍË ‰‡flÚ Ì‡Ï ¯ÓÍ ÒÓÔËÍÓÒÌÓ‚ÂÌËfl Ò Ì‚‰ÓÏ˚Ï ÔË ÍÓÌÚ‡ÍÚ Ò, ͇Á‡ÎÓÒ¸ ·˚, Á‡‚‰ÓÏÓ ÓÒ‚ÓÂÌÌ˚Ï. éÌË ÓÔÓ‚Â„‡˛Ú ‰ËÍÚ‡Ú Ë‰ÂË Ó‰ÌÓÓ‰ÌÓÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË Ì‡‰ ‚ËڇθÌÓÒÚ¸˛ Á̇ÍÓÚ‚Ó˜ÂÒÚ‚‡ Í‡Í ‚˚Ô‡‰ ÔÓÚË‚ Á‰‡‚Ó„Ó ÒÏ˚Ò·, Í‡Í ‚˚Ô‡‰ÂÌË ‚ ˆÂÎËÚÂθÌÓ ·ÂÁÛÏËÂ. Ç Ú‡ÍÓÈ ÒÚ‡Ú„ËË Ëı Ó·‡Á˚ ÛÚ‚Âʉ‡˛Ú ÌÓ‚˚È ÔË̈ËÔ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, ÓÒ‚Ó·ÓʉÂÌÌ˚È ÓÚ ‚·ÒÚË Î˘ÌÓ„Ó ÏÓÌÓÎÓ„‡ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, ÌÓ ‡ÎËÁÛ˛˘ËÈ Ò·fl ‚ ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚ ÌÓ‚Ó„Ó ÒÏ˚ÒÎÓ‚Ó„Ó ÔÓÎfl, «Á‡Ô‡ÍÓ‚˚‚‡fl» ÌÂÔÓÒ‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚Ó ‚ ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌÛ˛ ÂÙÎÂÍÒ˲. é̇ ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ‚ÓÁÌË͇ÂÚ ‚ Ò‚ÓËı Ò„Û˘ÂÌËflı Ë ÔÛÒÚÓÚ‡ı, ̇ÔÎ˚‚‡ı Ë ‡Á˚‚‡ı Í‡Í „ÓËÁÓÌڇθ̇fl ÏÓ‰Âθ

á‡ÏÍÌÛÚ˚Â Ë ‡ÁÓÏÍÌÛÚ˚ ÍË‚˚ ÑÊÂÍÒÓ̇ èÓÎÎÓ͇ ÔËÒÛÚÒÚ‚Û˛Ú ‚ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛÂ Í‡Í Ú‡ÌÒÎflÚÓ˚, ÔÂ‰‡˛˘Ë ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍËÈ ÏË Ë ÏË ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰‡ 10-20 „Ó‰Ó‚ ۯ‰¯Â„Ó ‚Â͇. éÌË ÌËÍÓ„‰‡ Ì ËÒ˜ÂÁ‡˛Ú ËÁ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÒÚË Ì‡¯ÂÈ ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËË. á̇ÍÓ‚‡fl ÒËÏ‚ÓÎË͇ ‚ Ô·ÒÚËÍ ւ„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÍÓÂÒÔÓ̉ËÛÂÚ Ò ˝ÚËÏË ‡ıÂÚËÔ‡ÏË «¯‡Ï‡ÌËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó» ÚÂÍÒÚ‡, ÔÛθÒËÛfl ‚ Â„Ó ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı, ‡ÒÍ˚‚‡fl Ëı ¢ Ì ‚˚„Ó‚ÓÂÌÌ˚ ÒÏ˚ÒÎ˚. ÑÊÂÍÒÓÌ èÓÎÓÍ, «ëÚ‡Ì˘ÍË ËÁ ·ÎÓÍÌÓÚ‡», 1938 Closed and open-ended curves of Jackson Pollock exist in contemprary culture as translators, conveying the archaic world and that of the avant-garde art of the 1910s and 20. They never disappear from view in our mythology. The sign symbolism in the art of Evgeny Chubarov corresponds to the archetypes of Shamanist texts, pulsing in his compositions and disclosing the meaning of their yet unexpressed messages. Jackson Pollock, “Pages from Sketch-book”, 1938

ÌÓ‚Ó„Ó ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl, ÔÓ˚‚‡fl „ËÔÌÓÁ Á̇ÍÓ‚ÓÈ ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚË ˜ÂÂÁ ÊÂÒÚ Ò‚ÓÂÓ ·‡ÁÌÓÈ «‰ÂÍÓÌÒÚÛ͈ËË». ë‡Ï‡ ÚÂıÌÓÎÓ„Ëfl ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡,  ÒÔÓÒÓ·ÌÓÒÚ¸ ÍÓÏÏÂÌÚËÓ‚‡Ú¸ Ë ÓÔËÒ˚‚‡Ú¸ Ò‡ÏÛ Ò·fl ÔÓÓʉ‡ÂÚ ˝ÙÙÂÍÚ Í‡ÚËÌ˚ Í‡Í ÌÂÍÓÂ„Ó ÊË‚ÓÔËÒÌÓ„Ó Ó·˙ÂÍÚ‡, „‰Â ҇χ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒ¸ ‡ÒÍ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl Í‡Í ˜ËÒÚ‡fl ÌÓÒڇθ„Ëfl ÔÓ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË, Í‡Í ‚ÓÒÔÓÏË̇ÌËÂ Ó Í‡ÚËÌÂ, „‰Â ‚ „Û˘Â ËÌÙÓχˆËÓÌÌÓ„Ó ¯Ûχ ÒÔflÚ‡Ì ‚ ÍÓÍÓÌ ·˚ÎÓÈ «‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚È ¯Â‰Â‚», «ÌÂÚÎÂÌ͇», ÔÓ ‚˚‡ÊÂÌ˲ àÎ¸Ë ä‡·‡ÍÓ‚‡. Ö «ÔÓ˜ÂÍ»,  ÏÌÓ„ÓÒÎÓÈÌ˚È Î‡Ì‰¯‡ÙÚ, ·ÎÂÒÚfl˘Â ‚˚ÒÚÓÂÌÌ˚È ÒÓ ‚ÒÂÏË Ò‡ÓËÏË ‡ÒÒӈˇÚˇÌ˚ÏË fl‰‡ÏË, „‰Â ÔÓ‰ÎËÌÌ˚ ÒÎÓË ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ‡θÌÓÒÚË ÔÓ҂˜˂‡˛Ú ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸ ÔÓÙ‡ÌÌ˚Â, ÔÓ‰·‡Ò˚‚‡fl Á‡„‡‰ÍË – ‚Ò ˝ÚÓ Ò‚Ë‰ÂÚÂθÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ Ó ÌÓ‚˚ı „ÎÛ·ËÌÌ˚ı ÓËÂÌÚ‡ˆËflı ‚ ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Â ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË. éÌË „Ó‚ÓflÚ Ó ‚ÂÚ¯‡ÌË Ë ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ı ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰Ì˚ı ÏÓ‰ÂÎÂÈ Ë Ó ÓʉÂÌËË Â ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚË, ÓÚÂÙÎÂÍÒËÓ‚‡ÌÌÓÈ Ë „ÂÌÂÚ˘ÂÒÍË ÔÂÓ·‡ÊÂÌÌÓÈ. Ö ÌÓ‚˚ ÙÓÏ˚ χÌËÔÛÎËÛ˛Ú ÒΉ‡ÏË Ë Ó · ÎÓÏ͇ÏË Â ËÒÚÓ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÔÓ¯ÎÓ„Ó Ë ÔÓÒΉÒÚ‚ËflÏË ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ„Ó Î˘ÌÓ„Ó ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌÂ„Ó ÓÔ˚Ú‡ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇. Ç ÌËı ÔÓÒÚÛÔ‡˛Ú ÒÓÁ̇ÚÂθÌ˚ ˆËÚ‡Ú˚ ÏËÓ‚Ó„Ó ÍÛθÚÛÓ̇ÒΉËfl, ‚Íβ˜‡˛˘Ë ˆÂÎ˚Â

èÓËÒÍË ÔÂ‚˘Ì˚ı Ó·‡ÁÓ‚ ̇˜‡Î‡ ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓÈ ËÒÚÓËË, Â„Ó ‡ıÂÚËÔÓ‚ ÓÚÍ˚‚‡˛Ú Ô‡‡‰ÓÍ҇θÌ˚È ‰Ë‡ÎÓ„, ÌÂÓ·ÛÒÎÓ‚ÎÂÌÌ˚È ÌË͇ÍËÏË ‚̯ÌËÏË ‚ÎËflÌËflÏË. Ç ÌÂÏ ÓÚÍ˚‚‡˛Ú Ò·fl ‡Ì„ÎËÈÒÍËÈ ÏËÒÚËÍ, ÔÓ˝Ú Ë ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ XIX ‚Â͇ ÇËθflÏ ÅνÈÍ Ë ÏÓÒÍÓ‚ÒÍËÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ Ì‡¯Â„Ó Ú˚Òfl˜ÂÎÂÚËfl, Ӊ˂¯ËÈÒfl ‚ ·‡¯ÍËÒÍÓÈ ‰Â‚ÌÂ, ‚ «ÍÛθÚÛ» ¯‡Ï‡ÌËÁχ – Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚. íÓÚ Ê ÔÂÈÁ‡Ê, Ú‡ Ê Ô·ÒÚË͇, Ú Ê Ô‰ÂθÌ˚ ÔÒËıÓ‰Â΢ÂÒÍË ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËfl – ÒÎÓ‚ÌÓ ÓÌË ‡·ÓÚ‡ÎË ‚ Ó‰ÌÓÏ Í‡ÌÓÌ ËÎË ‚ˉÂÎË Ó‰ÌÓ Ë ÚÓ ÊÂ. é· ˝ÚËı Ê ÒÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚Ëflı Á‡fl‚ÎflÂÚ ÂÊËÒÒÂ ÌÂÁ‡‚ËÒËÏÓ„Ó ‡ÏÂË͇ÌÒÍÓ„Ó ÍËÌÓ ÑʇÏÛ¯ ‚ ÙËθÏ «Dead man», „‰Â ‚ÒÚ˜‡ÂÚÒfl ·ÂÎ˚È ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍ, ÌÓÒfl˘ËÈ ËÏfl ‡Ì„ÎËÈÒÍÓ„Ó ÔÓ˝Ú‡ ÅνÈ͇ Ë Ë̉ˆ, ÊË‚Û˘ËÈ ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍÓÈ ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËÂÈ. ÇËθflÏ ÅνÈÍ, «íÂÎÓ Ä‚ÂÎfl, ӷ̇ÛÊÂÌÌÓ ĉ‡ÏÓÏ Ë Ö‚ÓÈ», 1826 A search for original images related to the birth of human history, its archetypes inspired a paradoxical dialogue, unconditioned by any external influences. The English mystic, poet and artist William Blake and Evgeny Chubarov, a Moscow artist of our times, born in a Bashkirian village amidst Shamanist culture, both find a place in this dialogue. The same landscape, the same artistic style, the same extreme psychodelic states, it’s as if they followed the same canon or had the same things before their eyes. These similarities have also been proclaimed by the independent American film director Jarmush in his film Dead Man, in which two men are confronted: a white man named Blake, as the famous English poet, and an Indian, who is immersed in his archaic mythology.

abstraction, one that is free from the pressure of the artist’s monologue and one that realizes itself in the context of a new field of meaning, packaging spontaneous feelings into intellectual reflection. It emerges naturally as densities and empty spots, inflows and gaps, as a horizontal model of a new artistic consciousness, breaking through the hypnosis of the sign surface by way of a deconstructing gesture. The technology of Chubarov’s art, its capacity for selfcommentary and self-description, creates paintings that have the effect of being objects of pure nostalgia for painting. A recollection of a painting where in the thick of the information noise, as in a cocoon, a former masterpiece of abstract art is concealed, “Imperishables” to quote Ilya Kabakov. Its style and complex landscapes, brilliantly structured with all their associations, where different layers of artistic reality show through the profane, suggesting all sorts of riddles – all this testifies to the new, deep-going orientations in abstract art. They demonstrate the withering of the abstract avant-garde models and the emergence of a new corporeality, carefully thought out and genetically transformed. These new forms manipulate with the traces and debris of history and the consequences of the artist’s personal experience. Intentional quotation from the world cultural heritage is evident in

èÒ‚‰ÓÊË‚ÓÔËÒ¸ á˄χ‡ èÓθÍÂ Ò ËÒÔÓθÁÓ‚‡ÌËÂÏ ÌÓ‚˚ı ÚÂıÌÓÎÓ„ËÈ ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ˜ËÒÚÛ˛ «‚¢ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸» Ë Ï‡ÚÂˇθÌÓÒÚ¸ íÂÍÒÚ‡. àÏÂÌÌÓ ÔÓ·ÎÂχ «ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó Í‡Í ÚÂÍÒÚ» Ò„ӉÌfl ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ËÚÒfl Ó·˘ÂÈ ‰Îfl ‚ÓÔÂÈÒÍÓÈ Ë ÛÒÒÍÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛ˚, ÔÂÂıÓ‰fl ËÁ «Ú͇ÌË» ÒÏ˚ÒÎÓ‚ ‚ «Ú̸͇» ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡. Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ ˝ÚËı ÚÂÍÒÚÓ‚˚ı ÒÎÓflı Ó·ÂÚ‡ÂÚ Ò‚ÓË ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ ËÁÏÂÂÌËfl. á˄χ èÓθÍÂ, “Yggdrasil”, 1984 Pseudo-painting of Sigmar Polke, based on new technologies, returns us to pure “objectivity” and materiality of the text as such. It is precisely the problem of “space as text” that has become common for European and Russian cultures, marked by the fact of transition from the texture of meaning to the texture of space. In these textual layers Evgeny Chubarov acquires his own dimension.

this art, including whole movements and trends, skillfully woven into a new cultural context. Moreover, you find in its carpet-like continuity Chubarov’s self-quotation and his mythologies existing in the collisions of dissimilar returns above the imagery and style of abstract expressionism, turning his heroic structures into archeological finds and ready-made objects. Both Jackson Pollack and Mark Toby as well as the German ”New Wild” are impressed in Chubarov’s intellectual energy much like film stars’ names are on Hollywood plates. Post-historic handwriting reveals obvious legends in their contours of the remains of gilding, where respect borders on notions much broader than cultural memory, where irony alludes to the games in the labyrinths of time and space. In Einstein’s shifted geometry with its “parallel” curvilinearity and relativity, these endless labyrinths bring to mind the abandoned caves and tunnels in Egyptian pyramids. Half-filled with crumbled stone, sand-drifts and excrescencies: they can be viewed both horizontally and vertically. Here you find forgotten and lost texts that were once declared revelations and prophecies. These multi-dimensional signbearing structures are being cleared and sorted out to be transformed into illuminations or oppositions like paradoxical tactile surfaces or jottings on the margins where the artist himself ‘archaeologizes’ his mysterious verbalism weaving the fabric of a universal manuscript that

ÑÎfl Ö.óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Ú‡Í ÊÂ Í‡Í Ë ‰Îfl Ä.èÂÌ͇, Ó·‡˘ÂÌËÂ Í ÔÓ‰ÒÓÁ̇Ì˲ ‰‡‚‡ÎÓ ‚˚ıÓ‰ Í ËÌ˚Ï ÙÓÏ‡Ï ÛÒÚÓȘ˂ÓÒÚË, ˜ÂÏ ÓÍÛʇ˛˘‡fl Ëı ÚÓÚ‡ËÚ‡̇fl ‡θÌÓÒÚ¸. «ÑËÌÓÁ‡‚˚» Ä.èÂÌ͇, ÒËÏ‚ÓÎËÁËÛ˛˘Ë ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ÒÓÔÓÚË‚ÎÂÌË ÚÓÚ‡ÎËÚ‡ÌÓÈ ÒӈˇθÌÓÒÚË, Ù‡ÍÚ˘ÂÒÍË Ú Ê ÁÏ‚ˉÌ˚ ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚‡ – Á̇ÍË, ̇ÔÓÎÌfl˛˘Ë ҂ÓÂÈ ‰Ë̇ÏËÍÓÈ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË Ö.óÛ·‡Ó‚‡. Ä.èÂÌÍ, «G.B.I.», 1988 For Chubarov, the same as for A. Penk, address to the subconscious provided an outlet to other form of stability, distinct from those offered by the surrounding totalitarian reality. Penk’s “Dinosaurs”, symbolizing absolute resistance to totalitarian sociality, are in fact the same snake-like creatures-signs, which infuse with dynamism Chubarov’s compositions as well. A.R.Penk, “G.B.I.” 1988

Sigmar Polke, Yggdrasil. 1984

William Blake, “The Body of Abel Found by Adam and Eve.” 1826

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̇Ô‡‚ÎÂÌËfl Ë ‰‚ËÊÂÌËfl, ËÒÍÛÒÌÓ ÔÓ„ÛÊÂÌÌ˚ ‚ ÌÓ‚˚È ÚÂÍÒÚ ÍÛθÚÛ˚. à ·ÓΠÚÓ„Ó – ‚ Ëı ÍÓ‚Ó‚˚ı ÌÂÔÂ˚‚ÌÓÒÚflı Ôfl˜ÛÚÒfl Ë ‡‚ÚÓˆËÚ‡ˆËË Ò‡ÏÓ„Ó Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Â„Ó ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ÂÏ˚, ÊË‚Û˘Ë ‚ ÍÓÎÎËÁËflı ÌÂÚÓʉÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ı ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËÈ – ̇‰ Ó·‡Á‡ÏË Ë ÒÚËÎÂÏ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓ„Ó ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁχ, Ô‚‡˘‡fl Â„Ó «„ÂÓ˘ÂÒÍË» ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚ ‚ ӷ̇ÛÊÂÌÌÛ˛ ‡ıÂÓÎӄ˲ Ë ready-made. à ÑÊÂÍÒÓÌ èÓÎÎÓÍ, Ë å‡Í íÓ·Ë, Ë «ÌÓ‚˚ ÌÂψÍË ‰ËÍË» ÓÚÍ˚‚‡˛ÚÒfl ‚ ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌÓÈ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚËÍ ւ„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ Í‡Í ËÏÂ̇ Á‚ÂÁ‰ ̇ „ÓÎÎË‚Û‰ÒÍËı ÔÎËÚ‡ı, ÓÒÓÁ̇ÌÌÓ Ó·ÓÁ̇˜ÂÌÌ˚ı ‚ ÔÓÒÚ-ËÒÚÓ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ ¯ËÙÚÂ, „‰Â ‚ fl‚Ì˚ı ΄Ẩ‡ı ÔÓÒÚÛÔ‡˛Ú Ëı ÍÓÌÚÛ˚, ‚ ÔÓÎÛÒÚÂÚÓÈ ÔÓÁÓÎÓÚÂ, „‰Â Û‚‡ÊÂÌË „‡Ì˘ËÚ Ò ·ÓΠ¯ËÓÍËÏ ˜ÂÏ ÍÛθÚÛ̇fl Ô‡ÏflÚ¸ ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚÓÏ, ‡ ËÓÌËfl ÓÚÒ˚·ÂÚ Í Ë„‡Ï ‚ ··ËËÌÚ‡ı ‚ÂÏÂÌË Ë ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡. Ç Ò‚ÓÂÈ ÒÏ¢ÂÌÌÓÈ „ÂÓÏÂÚËË ùÈ̯ÚÂÈ̇, ‚ «Ô‡‡ÎÎÂθÌÓÈ» ÍË‚ËÁÌÂ Ë ÓÚÌÓÒËÚÂθÌÓÒÚflı ˝ÚË ·ÂÒÍÓ̘Ì˚ ··ËËÌÚ˚ ̇ÔÓÏË̇˛Ú Á‡·Ó¯ÂÌÌ˚ ͇ÏÂ˚ Ë ÚÓÌÌÂÎË Â„ËÔÂÚÒÍËı ÔË‡Ïˉ. éÌË ÔÓÒχÚË‚‡˛ÚÒfl ‚ÂÚË͇θÌÓ Ë „ÓËÁÓÌڇθÌÓ, Á‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌÌ˚ ÓÒ˚ÔflÏË, Á‡ÌÓÒ‡ÏË, ̇ÔÎ˚‚‡ÏË, „‰Â ӷ̇ÛÊË‚‡˛ÚÒfl Á‡·˚Ú˚ ËÎË ÛÊ ÛÚ‡˜ÂÌÌ˚ ÚÂÍÒÚ˚, ÍÓ„‰‡ÚÓ Á‡fl‚ÎÂÌÌ˚Â Í‡Í ÓÚÍÓ‚ÂÌËfl ËÎË ÔÓÓ˜ÂÒÚ‚‡. Ç

ìÌË‚Â҇θÌ˚ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛ˚ ÒÚ‡‚flÚ Ò‚ÓË ÔÓ·ÎÂÏ˚ Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ ‚ Ò‡Ï˚ı ‡ÁÌÓÓ·‡ÁÌ˚ı ‡‡·ı „ÂÓ„‡Ù˘ÂÒÍÓÈ ˝ÍÁËÒÚÂ̈ËË. èÎÓÚÌÓÒÚ¸ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÈ ˝ÌÂ„ËË,  ҂flÁË Ò ÏÂÌڇθÌÓÒÚ¸˛ ÍÓÌÍÂÚÌÓ„Ó ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ ÔÂÓ‰Ó΂‡˛Ú Ò‚Ó˛ ÎÓ͇θÌÓÒÚ¸. «èÓ˜‚ÂÌÌ˚È» ÙÛ̉‡ÏÂÌÚ ‚ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı ÄÌÒÂθχ äËÙÂ‡ ӷ̇ÛÊË‚‡ÂÚ Ò‚ÓË ‚ËÁۇθÌ˚Â Ë ÒÏ˚ÒÎÓ‚˚ ҂flÁË ‚ ‚ÓÒÚÓ˜ÌÓ-‚ÓÔÂÈÒÍÓÈ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÒÚË, ‚˚Á˚‚‡fl ‡ÒÒӈˇˆËË Ë ÂÁÓ̇ÌÒ˚ ‚ Ú‚Ó˜ÂÒÚ‚Â Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Â„Ó Ï‡ÚÂˇÎËÁÓ‚‡ÌÌ˚È ÁÌ‡Í ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚË «ÏÂÒÚ‡» ÔËÓ·ÂÚ‡ÂÚ ÓÒÓ·˚È ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚ ‚ ÒÓÔÓÒÚ‡‚ÎÂÌËË Ò ÊËÁ̸˛ ready-made ‚ ÏËÙÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍËı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı ÄÌÒÂθχ äËÙÂ‡. ÄÌÒÂÎ¸Ï äËÙÂ, «å‡„‡ËÚ‡» (Ù‡„ÏÂÌÚ), 1981 The universal spaces of contemporary culture pose the same problems simultaneously in completely different areas of our geographical existence. The density of visual energy and its ties with the mentality of a concrete space overflow its locality, The “roots” orientation in the compositions of Anselm Kiefer reveals its visual and intellectual ties with Eastern European art, inspiring associations and comparisons with the work of Evgeny Chubarov. His material sign of an objectivized place acquires a special context compared to life ready-made in the mythological compositions of Anselm Kiefer.

ÏÌÓ„ÓÏÂÌ˚ı ÒÚÛÍÚÛ‡ı Ëı Á̇ÍÓ‚˚ı Ó ·˙ÂÏÓ‚ ‚‰ÛÚÒfl ‡Ò˜ËÒÚÍË, ÓÌË Ú‡ÌÒÙÓÏËÛ˛ÚÒfl ‚ ҂˜ÂÌË ËÎË, ̇ÔÓÚË‚, ‚ Ô‡‡‰ÓÍ҇θÌ˚ ڇÍÚËθÌ˚ ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚË «Á‡ÏÂÚÓÍ Ì‡ ÔÓÎflı», „‰Â Ë Ò‡Ï ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ‡ıÂÓÎÓ„ËÁËÛÂÚ Ú‡ËÌÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ‚Â·‡Î¸ÌÓÒÚ¸ Ë ÚÂÏ Ò‡Ï˚Ï ÚÍÂÚ Ú̸͇ ÛÌË‚Â҇θÌÓÈ ÛÍÓÔËÒË, ÔËÓÚÍ˚‚‡fl Ë Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ ÒÍ˚‚‡fl Ò‚Ó ‚‡ÁËÈÒÍÓ ̇ÒΉÒÚ‚Ó. é·ÂÚ‡fl ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÒÚ¸, ˝ÚË «ÚÂÍÒÚ˚» ‰ÎflÚ Ò‚Ó˛ ÊËÁ̸ Ë ÔÓÒΠÁ‡ÒÚ˚‚‡ÌËfl ‡ÚÂÙ‡ÍÚ‡, ÔÓÓʉ‡fl, Í‡Í ˝ıÓ, ÌÓ‚Û˛ ˝ÌÂ„˲ ÒÏ˚ÒÎÓ‚, ÓÚÁ‚ÛÍË Ë ÂÁÓ̇ÌÒ˚. îÓÏ˚ ˝ÚÓÈ ÒÚ‡Ú„ËË ÔÓfl‚Îfl˛Ú Ë ÓÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Îfl˛Ú Ò·fl ‚ÔÓÎÌ ‚ ‰Ûı ÔÓÒÚ-ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÒÚÒÍÓ„Ó ‰ËÒÍÛÒ‡, ‚ Ú‡‰ËˆËË Ü‡Í‡ ÑÂˉ‡, Ò Â„Ó «ÚËÏÔ‡ÌÓÏ ÓÚÁ‚ۘ˂‡˛˘Ëı ÚÂÍÒÚÓ‚» — ÔËҸχ ·ÂÁ ̇˜‡Î‡, ÍÓ̈‡, ÒÂ‰ËÌ˚ Ë ÓÍ‡ËÌ. Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ ˝ÚÓÈ «ÚÂÍÒÚÓ‚ÓÈ ‰‡Ï‡ÚÛ„ËË» ÓÚÍ˚‚‡ÂÚ ÌÓ‚Û˛ ΢ÌÛ˛ ˝ÍÁËÒÚÂÌˆË˛, Ò‚ÓÂÓ·‡ÁÌ˚È Ó·‡Á „ÂÓfl ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËË Ä̉Âfl í‡ÍÓ‚ÒÍÓ„Ó — ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, Ë‰Û˘Â„Ó ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸ ‚ÂÏfl. éÒڇ̇‚ÎË‚‡flÒ¸, ÓÌ Ô‚‡˘‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ҂ˉÂÚÂÎfl, ‚ ÒÍËÔÚÓ‡, ÔÂÂÔËÒ˜Ë͇ ÍÌË„Ë ÔÓÒÚ-ËÒÚÓËË, ËÒÔÓθÁÛfl Ó·ÎÓÏÍË ÒÚ‡˚ı ˉÂÓÎÓ„ËÈ, ‰‚ÌËı ÍÛθÚÛ Ë Ëı Ó·ÌÓ‚ÎÂÌÌ˚ı ÙÓÏ, ÛÊ ÔÓ„ÛÊÂÌÌ˚ı ‚ ÁÓÌÛ ‡ı‡ËÍË Ì‡¯ÂÈ ÒÚÂÏËÚÂθÌÓÈ ‚ËÚۇθÌÓÈ ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË. ùÚË Ó·ÎÓÏÍË ‰ÂÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËÁËÛ˛ÚÒfl, ӷ̇ʇflÒ¸ Í‡Í Ï‡ÚÂˇΠ‰Îfl

èÓÔ-‡ÚËÒÚÒÍË ËÚÏ˘ÂÒÍË ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚, „‰Â ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ̇˜‡ÎÓ ÔÓÒÚÂÔÂÌÌÓ ‚˚ÚÂÒÌflÂÚÒfl ÍÓ̈ÂÔÚۇθÌ˚Ï, ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ‚ıÓ‰flÚ ‚ ÒÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚Ëfl Ò ‚‡ˇÚË‚ÌÓÒÚ¸˛ «Ù·„Ó‚˚ı» ˝ÎÂÏÂÌÚÓ‚ ‚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ÒËÒÚÂÏ ւ„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡. éÌË Ó·Î‡‰‡˛Ú Ú‡‰ËˆËÓÌÌÓÈ ÒÛ„„ÂÒÚË‚ÌÓÒÚ¸˛ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, ÌÓ ÓÌË Ê ÛÚ‚Âʉ‡˛Ú ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚ ̇˜‡Î‡ ‚ ÔÓ˝ÚËÍ ÌÂÙË„Û‡ÚË‚ÌÓ„Ó ÔÓÒÚÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁχ. ÑʇÒÔÂ ÑÊÓÌÒ, «ÅÂÁ ̇Á‚‡ÌËfl», 1975

half-reveals yet conceals his Eurasian heritage. Having acquired a visual state, these texts prolong their life even after the artifact has congealed, creating a reverberating echo of new meanings, reflections and resonance. The forms of this strategy are revealed and realized in the manner of Post-Modern discourse, in the tradition of Jacques Derrida with his “timpani of long gone sounds” or a letter without a beginning or end, without middle or margin. In this ‘textual drama’ Chubarov finds a new existence like a hero of Andrei Tarkovsky’s mythology, of a person walking through time. As he stops he becomes a witness and a scribe, re-writing the book of post-history based on fragments of old ideologies, ancient cultures with renewed forms that have already been relegated to the archaic zone by our fast-moving virtual civilization. These fragments are de-ideologized to their bare essence and thus provide material for the artist’s visual cosmogony. Chubarov does not try to avoid the role of a ‘stalker’. He does not shirk working with the refuse and relics of the past. He cleans history from the sediment in the name of a new philosophical stone – ‘meta-abstraction’– with its poetics of eternal return and images of the absolute. He becomes a veritable alchemist and his technique includes mysterious experiments with paints, emulsions, and spe-

ÇËı‚˚ ÔÓÚÓÍË ÌÓ‚˚ı ËÌÙÓχˆËÈ ‚ ÒÔË‡Îflı å‡ËÓ åÂˆ‡, ‚ Ò‚ÓËı Ú‡‰ËˆËflı Ë‰Û˘Ë ËÁ ÍÓÒÏ˘ÂÒÍËı Ó·‡ÁÓ‚ ÛÒÒÍÓ„Ó ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰‡, ÔÓ‰Ú‚Âʉ‡˛Ú ‰ËÌÒÚ‚Ó ÍÓ‰‡ ‚ Ô·ÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ ËÌÚÂ̇ˆËÓ̇θÌÓÏ ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚÂ. î‡Íڇθ̇fl „ÂÓÏÂÚËfl Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Â„Ó ÌÂÓ-·‡Ә̇fl ÒÔË‡Î‚ˉÌÓÒÚ¸ «ÍÓ‰ËÛÂÚ» ÏÌÓ„Ë ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇. å‡ËÓ åÂˆ, «ëÔË‡Î¸», 1982

Pop-art rhythmic structures, where sensual elements are gradually replaced by conceptualist principles, naturally combine with the variations of “flag” elements in Evgeny Chubarov’s artistic system. They possess a traditional suggestiveness of abstract art, but they also affirm intellectual principles in the poetics of non-figurative post-modernism.

The whirlwinds of new information flows in the spirals of Mario Merz, deriving from the cosmic images of the Russian avant-garde, confirm the unity of the codes in the international visual context. The fractured geometry of Evgeny Chubarov and his neo-baroque spiral principle encodes as it were many of his compositions.

Jasper Johns, “Untitled”. 1975

Mario Merz, “Spiral” 1982

cial pigments. These combine some man-made magic with extra-personal evidence, thus layer upon layer a butterfly cocoon is created, a mysterious container hiding a new substance. The density of Chubarov’s painting space comes to resemble a geo-landscape text of the earth, or the shell of a giant tortoise and at the same time, a ‘black square’ or an ancient manuscript with some traces of history studded with new additions addressed to the future. In its depressions and niches lurk the remnants of totalitarian arts. The latter are indivisible from the totalitarian consequences of Soviet rule in which the artist spent the larger part of his life. Their signs show in the ‘flag’ imagery and fossilized clusters of social and cultural memory as artistically perfect grotesques of history, textual defects that have been rendered aesthetic, creative deformities of artistic texture with the profane showing through the sacred. In this position of a traveler through the ages (a character in Malevich’s opera “Victory over the Sun”) Chubarov wins over from history what belongs to art, distorting his finds in the crooked mirrors of quotations, blending genuine reality with artistic event. Then Russian history itself begins to resemble a majestic abstract field with Mesopotamian or ancient Egyptian-like elements being transformed into a computer image, a radical world of

ê‡ÌÌËÈ ÍÛ·ËÁÏ èËÚ‡ åÓ̉ˇ̇, Â„Ó ÌÂÓÔ·ÒÚ˘ÂÒÍË ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚ ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ Ò·ÎËʇ˛ÚÒfl ‚ Ò‚ÓËı «Ó‰Ó‚˚ı» ÍÓÌflı Ò ÔÓÒÚÏÓ‰ÂÌËÒÚÒÍÓÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓÈ ÂÙÎÂÍÒËÂÈ. ÜÂÒÚ Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ «ËÙÏÛÂÚÒfl» Ò ˝ÎÂÏÂÌÚÓÏ ÍÓÌÒÚÛ͈ËË èËÚ‡ åÓ̉ˇ̇, Á‡ÒÚ‡‚Îflfl ÌÓ‚Û˛ ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌÛ˛ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆË˛ ÔÂÂÊË‚‡Ú¸ ÛÊ ̇ ‰Û„ÓÏ ˝Ú‡Ô ËÒÚÓËË ÍÛθÚÛ˚ – ÚÓÚ Ê ҇Ï˚È Í‡ÌÓÌ˘ÂÒÍËÈ ÔÛÚ¸, Ú Ê ҇Ï˚ ËÒÚÓÍË ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ı ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍËı ÙÓÏ Ë ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl. èËÚ åÓ̉ˇÌ, «äÓÏÔÓÁˈËfl ‚ ˜ÂÌÓÏ Ë ·ÂÎÓÏ», 1917 Piet Mondrian’s early Cubism and his neo-plastic compostions come very close in their roots to the post-modern abstract reflection. Evgeny Chubarov’s artistic gesture rhymes with certain structural elements in Piet Mondrian’s compositions, compelling the new intellectual abstraction to traverse the same canonical path but at a different stage of cultural history, to digest the same sources of archaic forms and consciousness. Piet Mondrian, “Composition in Black and White.” 1917

Anselm Kiefer, “Margarethe”, 1981

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̇Ô‡‚ÎÂÌËfl Ë ‰‚ËÊÂÌËfl, ËÒÍÛÒÌÓ ÔÓ„ÛÊÂÌÌ˚ ‚ ÌÓ‚˚È ÚÂÍÒÚ ÍÛθÚÛ˚. à ·ÓΠÚÓ„Ó – ‚ Ëı ÍÓ‚Ó‚˚ı ÌÂÔÂ˚‚ÌÓÒÚflı Ôfl˜ÛÚÒfl Ë ‡‚ÚÓˆËÚ‡ˆËË Ò‡ÏÓ„Ó Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Â„Ó ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ÂÏ˚, ÊË‚Û˘Ë ‚ ÍÓÎÎËÁËflı ÌÂÚÓʉÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ı ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËÈ – ̇‰ Ó·‡Á‡ÏË Ë ÒÚËÎÂÏ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓ„Ó ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁχ, Ô‚‡˘‡fl Â„Ó «„ÂÓ˘ÂÒÍË» ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚ ‚ ӷ̇ÛÊÂÌÌÛ˛ ‡ıÂÓÎӄ˲ Ë ready-made. à ÑÊÂÍÒÓÌ èÓÎÎÓÍ, Ë å‡Í íÓ·Ë, Ë «ÌÓ‚˚ ÌÂψÍË ‰ËÍË» ÓÚÍ˚‚‡˛ÚÒfl ‚ ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌÓÈ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚËÍ ւ„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ Í‡Í ËÏÂ̇ Á‚ÂÁ‰ ̇ „ÓÎÎË‚Û‰ÒÍËı ÔÎËÚ‡ı, ÓÒÓÁ̇ÌÌÓ Ó·ÓÁ̇˜ÂÌÌ˚ı ‚ ÔÓÒÚ-ËÒÚÓ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ ¯ËÙÚÂ, „‰Â ‚ fl‚Ì˚ı ΄Ẩ‡ı ÔÓÒÚÛÔ‡˛Ú Ëı ÍÓÌÚÛ˚, ‚ ÔÓÎÛÒÚÂÚÓÈ ÔÓÁÓÎÓÚÂ, „‰Â Û‚‡ÊÂÌË „‡Ì˘ËÚ Ò ·ÓΠ¯ËÓÍËÏ ˜ÂÏ ÍÛθÚÛ̇fl Ô‡ÏflÚ¸ ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚÓÏ, ‡ ËÓÌËfl ÓÚÒ˚·ÂÚ Í Ë„‡Ï ‚ ··ËËÌÚ‡ı ‚ÂÏÂÌË Ë ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡. Ç Ò‚ÓÂÈ ÒÏ¢ÂÌÌÓÈ „ÂÓÏÂÚËË ùÈ̯ÚÂÈ̇, ‚ «Ô‡‡ÎÎÂθÌÓÈ» ÍË‚ËÁÌÂ Ë ÓÚÌÓÒËÚÂθÌÓÒÚflı ˝ÚË ·ÂÒÍÓ̘Ì˚ ··ËËÌÚ˚ ̇ÔÓÏË̇˛Ú Á‡·Ó¯ÂÌÌ˚ ͇ÏÂ˚ Ë ÚÓÌÌÂÎË Â„ËÔÂÚÒÍËı ÔË‡Ïˉ. éÌË ÔÓÒχÚË‚‡˛ÚÒfl ‚ÂÚË͇θÌÓ Ë „ÓËÁÓÌڇθÌÓ, Á‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌÌ˚ ÓÒ˚ÔflÏË, Á‡ÌÓÒ‡ÏË, ̇ÔÎ˚‚‡ÏË, „‰Â ӷ̇ÛÊË‚‡˛ÚÒfl Á‡·˚Ú˚ ËÎË ÛÊ ÛÚ‡˜ÂÌÌ˚ ÚÂÍÒÚ˚, ÍÓ„‰‡ÚÓ Á‡fl‚ÎÂÌÌ˚Â Í‡Í ÓÚÍÓ‚ÂÌËfl ËÎË ÔÓÓ˜ÂÒÚ‚‡. Ç

ìÌË‚Â҇θÌ˚ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛ˚ ÒÚ‡‚flÚ Ò‚ÓË ÔÓ·ÎÂÏ˚ Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ ‚ Ò‡Ï˚ı ‡ÁÌÓÓ·‡ÁÌ˚ı ‡‡·ı „ÂÓ„‡Ù˘ÂÒÍÓÈ ˝ÍÁËÒÚÂ̈ËË. èÎÓÚÌÓÒÚ¸ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÈ ˝ÌÂ„ËË,  ҂flÁË Ò ÏÂÌڇθÌÓÒÚ¸˛ ÍÓÌÍÂÚÌÓ„Ó ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ ÔÂÓ‰Ó΂‡˛Ú Ò‚Ó˛ ÎÓ͇θÌÓÒÚ¸. «èÓ˜‚ÂÌÌ˚È» ÙÛ̉‡ÏÂÌÚ ‚ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı ÄÌÒÂθχ äËÙÂ‡ ӷ̇ÛÊË‚‡ÂÚ Ò‚ÓË ‚ËÁۇθÌ˚Â Ë ÒÏ˚ÒÎÓ‚˚ ҂flÁË ‚ ‚ÓÒÚÓ˜ÌÓ-‚ÓÔÂÈÒÍÓÈ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÒÚË, ‚˚Á˚‚‡fl ‡ÒÒӈˇˆËË Ë ÂÁÓ̇ÌÒ˚ ‚ Ú‚Ó˜ÂÒÚ‚Â Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Â„Ó Ï‡ÚÂˇÎËÁÓ‚‡ÌÌ˚È ÁÌ‡Í ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚË «ÏÂÒÚ‡» ÔËÓ·ÂÚ‡ÂÚ ÓÒÓ·˚È ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚ ‚ ÒÓÔÓÒÚ‡‚ÎÂÌËË Ò ÊËÁ̸˛ ready-made ‚ ÏËÙÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍËı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı ÄÌÒÂθχ äËÙÂ‡. ÄÌÒÂÎ¸Ï äËÙÂ, «å‡„‡ËÚ‡» (Ù‡„ÏÂÌÚ), 1981 The universal spaces of contemporary culture pose the same problems simultaneously in completely different areas of our geographical existence. The density of visual energy and its ties with the mentality of a concrete space overflow its locality, The “roots” orientation in the compositions of Anselm Kiefer reveals its visual and intellectual ties with Eastern European art, inspiring associations and comparisons with the work of Evgeny Chubarov. His material sign of an objectivized place acquires a special context compared to life ready-made in the mythological compositions of Anselm Kiefer.

ÏÌÓ„ÓÏÂÌ˚ı ÒÚÛÍÚÛ‡ı Ëı Á̇ÍÓ‚˚ı Ó ·˙ÂÏÓ‚ ‚‰ÛÚÒfl ‡Ò˜ËÒÚÍË, ÓÌË Ú‡ÌÒÙÓÏËÛ˛ÚÒfl ‚ ҂˜ÂÌË ËÎË, ̇ÔÓÚË‚, ‚ Ô‡‡‰ÓÍ҇θÌ˚ ڇÍÚËθÌ˚ ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚË «Á‡ÏÂÚÓÍ Ì‡ ÔÓÎflı», „‰Â Ë Ò‡Ï ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ‡ıÂÓÎÓ„ËÁËÛÂÚ Ú‡ËÌÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ‚Â·‡Î¸ÌÓÒÚ¸ Ë ÚÂÏ Ò‡Ï˚Ï ÚÍÂÚ Ú̸͇ ÛÌË‚Â҇θÌÓÈ ÛÍÓÔËÒË, ÔËÓÚÍ˚‚‡fl Ë Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ ÒÍ˚‚‡fl Ò‚Ó ‚‡ÁËÈÒÍÓ ̇ÒΉÒÚ‚Ó. é·ÂÚ‡fl ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÒÚ¸, ˝ÚË «ÚÂÍÒÚ˚» ‰ÎflÚ Ò‚Ó˛ ÊËÁ̸ Ë ÔÓÒΠÁ‡ÒÚ˚‚‡ÌËfl ‡ÚÂÙ‡ÍÚ‡, ÔÓÓʉ‡fl, Í‡Í ˝ıÓ, ÌÓ‚Û˛ ˝ÌÂ„˲ ÒÏ˚ÒÎÓ‚, ÓÚÁ‚ÛÍË Ë ÂÁÓ̇ÌÒ˚. îÓÏ˚ ˝ÚÓÈ ÒÚ‡Ú„ËË ÔÓfl‚Îfl˛Ú Ë ÓÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Îfl˛Ú Ò·fl ‚ÔÓÎÌ ‚ ‰Ûı ÔÓÒÚ-ÏÓ‰ÂÌËÒÚÒÍÓ„Ó ‰ËÒÍÛÒ‡, ‚ Ú‡‰ËˆËË Ü‡Í‡ ÑÂˉ‡, Ò Â„Ó «ÚËÏÔ‡ÌÓÏ ÓÚÁ‚ۘ˂‡˛˘Ëı ÚÂÍÒÚÓ‚» — ÔËҸχ ·ÂÁ ̇˜‡Î‡, ÍÓ̈‡, ÒÂ‰ËÌ˚ Ë ÓÍ‡ËÌ. Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ ˝ÚÓÈ «ÚÂÍÒÚÓ‚ÓÈ ‰‡Ï‡ÚÛ„ËË» ÓÚÍ˚‚‡ÂÚ ÌÓ‚Û˛ ΢ÌÛ˛ ˝ÍÁËÒÚÂÌˆË˛, Ò‚ÓÂÓ·‡ÁÌ˚È Ó·‡Á „ÂÓfl ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËË Ä̉Âfl í‡ÍÓ‚ÒÍÓ„Ó — ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, Ë‰Û˘Â„Ó ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸ ‚ÂÏfl. éÒڇ̇‚ÎË‚‡flÒ¸, ÓÌ Ô‚‡˘‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ҂ˉÂÚÂÎfl, ‚ ÒÍËÔÚÓ‡, ÔÂÂÔËÒ˜Ë͇ ÍÌË„Ë ÔÓÒÚ-ËÒÚÓËË, ËÒÔÓθÁÛfl Ó·ÎÓÏÍË ÒÚ‡˚ı ˉÂÓÎÓ„ËÈ, ‰‚ÌËı ÍÛθÚÛ Ë Ëı Ó·ÌÓ‚ÎÂÌÌ˚ı ÙÓÏ, ÛÊ ÔÓ„ÛÊÂÌÌ˚ı ‚ ÁÓÌÛ ‡ı‡ËÍË Ì‡¯ÂÈ ÒÚÂÏËÚÂθÌÓÈ ‚ËÚۇθÌÓÈ ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË. ùÚË Ó·ÎÓÏÍË ‰ÂÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËÁËÛ˛ÚÒfl, ӷ̇ʇflÒ¸ Í‡Í Ï‡ÚÂˇΠ‰Îfl

èÓÔ-‡ÚËÒÚÒÍË ËÚÏ˘ÂÒÍË ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚, „‰Â ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ̇˜‡ÎÓ ÔÓÒÚÂÔÂÌÌÓ ‚˚ÚÂÒÌflÂÚÒfl ÍÓ̈ÂÔÚۇθÌ˚Ï, ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ‚ıÓ‰flÚ ‚ ÒÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚Ëfl Ò ‚‡ˇÚË‚ÌÓÒÚ¸˛ «Ù·„Ó‚˚ı» ˝ÎÂÏÂÌÚÓ‚ ‚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ÒËÒÚÂÏ ւ„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡. éÌË Ó·Î‡‰‡˛Ú Ú‡‰ËˆËÓÌÌÓÈ ÒÛ„„ÂÒÚË‚ÌÓÒÚ¸˛ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, ÌÓ ÓÌË Ê ÛÚ‚Âʉ‡˛Ú ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚ ̇˜‡Î‡ ‚ ÔÓ˝ÚËÍ ÌÂÙË„Û‡ÚË‚ÌÓ„Ó ÔÓÒÚÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁχ. ÑʇÒÔÂ ÑÊÓÌÒ, «ÅÂÁ ̇Á‚‡ÌËfl», 1975

half-reveals yet conceals his Eurasian heritage. Having acquired a visual state, these texts prolong their life even after the artifact has congealed, creating a reverberating echo of new meanings, reflections and resonance. The forms of this strategy are revealed and realized in the manner of Post-Modern discourse, in the tradition of Jacques Derrida with his “timpani of long gone sounds” or a letter without a beginning or end, without middle or margin. In this ‘textual drama’ Chubarov finds a new existence like a hero of Andrei Tarkovsky’s mythology, of a person walking through time. As he stops he becomes a witness and a scribe, re-writing the book of post-history based on fragments of old ideologies, ancient cultures with renewed forms that have already been relegated to the archaic zone by our fast-moving virtual civilization. These fragments are de-ideologized to their bare essence and thus provide material for the artist’s visual cosmogony. Chubarov does not try to avoid the role of a ‘stalker’. He does not shirk working with the refuse and relics of the past. He cleans history from the sediment in the name of a new philosophical stone – ‘meta-abstraction’– with its poetics of eternal return and images of the absolute. He becomes a veritable alchemist and his technique includes mysterious experiments with paints, emulsions, and spe-

ÇËı‚˚ ÔÓÚÓÍË ÌÓ‚˚ı ËÌÙÓχˆËÈ ‚ ÒÔË‡Îflı å‡ËÓ åÂˆ‡, ‚ Ò‚ÓËı Ú‡‰ËˆËflı Ë‰Û˘Ë ËÁ ÍÓÒÏ˘ÂÒÍËı Ó·‡ÁÓ‚ ÛÒÒÍÓ„Ó ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰‡, ÔÓ‰Ú‚Âʉ‡˛Ú ‰ËÌÒÚ‚Ó ÍÓ‰‡ ‚ Ô·ÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ ËÌÚÂ̇ˆËÓ̇θÌÓÏ ÍÓÌÚÂÍÒÚÂ. î‡Íڇθ̇fl „ÂÓÏÂÚËfl Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡, Â„Ó ÌÂÓ-·‡Ә̇fl ÒÔË‡Î‚ˉÌÓÒÚ¸ «ÍÓ‰ËÛÂÚ» ÏÌÓ„Ë ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇. å‡ËÓ åÂˆ, «ëÔË‡Î¸», 1982

Pop-art rhythmic structures, where sensual elements are gradually replaced by conceptualist principles, naturally combine with the variations of “flag” elements in Evgeny Chubarov’s artistic system. They possess a traditional suggestiveness of abstract art, but they also affirm intellectual principles in the poetics of non-figurative post-modernism.

The whirlwinds of new information flows in the spirals of Mario Merz, deriving from the cosmic images of the Russian avant-garde, confirm the unity of the codes in the international visual context. The fractured geometry of Evgeny Chubarov and his neo-baroque spiral principle encodes as it were many of his compositions.

Jasper Johns, “Untitled”. 1975

Mario Merz, “Spiral” 1982

cial pigments. These combine some man-made magic with extra-personal evidence, thus layer upon layer a butterfly cocoon is created, a mysterious container hiding a new substance. The density of Chubarov’s painting space comes to resemble a geo-landscape text of the earth, or the shell of a giant tortoise and at the same time, a ‘black square’ or an ancient manuscript with some traces of history studded with new additions addressed to the future. In its depressions and niches lurk the remnants of totalitarian arts. The latter are indivisible from the totalitarian consequences of Soviet rule in which the artist spent the larger part of his life. Their signs show in the ‘flag’ imagery and fossilized clusters of social and cultural memory as artistically perfect grotesques of history, textual defects that have been rendered aesthetic, creative deformities of artistic texture with the profane showing through the sacred. In this position of a traveler through the ages (a character in Malevich’s opera “Victory over the Sun”) Chubarov wins over from history what belongs to art, distorting his finds in the crooked mirrors of quotations, blending genuine reality with artistic event. Then Russian history itself begins to resemble a majestic abstract field with Mesopotamian or ancient Egyptian-like elements being transformed into a computer image, a radical world of

ê‡ÌÌËÈ ÍÛ·ËÁÏ èËÚ‡ åÓ̉ˇ̇, Â„Ó ÌÂÓÔ·ÒÚ˘ÂÒÍË ÒÚÛÍÚÛ˚ ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ Ò·ÎËʇ˛ÚÒfl ‚ Ò‚ÓËı «Ó‰Ó‚˚ı» ÍÓÌflı Ò ÔÓÒÚÏÓ‰ÂÌËÒÚÒÍÓÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓÈ ÂÙÎÂÍÒËÂÈ. ÜÂÒÚ Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ «ËÙÏÛÂÚÒfl» Ò ˝ÎÂÏÂÌÚÓÏ ÍÓÌÒÚÛ͈ËË èËÚ‡ åÓ̉ˇ̇, Á‡ÒÚ‡‚Îflfl ÌÓ‚Û˛ ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌÛ˛ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆË˛ ÔÂÂÊË‚‡Ú¸ ÛÊ ̇ ‰Û„ÓÏ ˝Ú‡Ô ËÒÚÓËË ÍÛθÚÛ˚ – ÚÓÚ Ê ҇Ï˚È Í‡ÌÓÌ˘ÂÒÍËÈ ÔÛÚ¸, Ú Ê ҇Ï˚ ËÒÚÓÍË ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ı ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍËı ÙÓÏ Ë ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl. èËÚ åÓ̉ˇÌ, «äÓÏÔÓÁˈËfl ‚ ˜ÂÌÓÏ Ë ·ÂÎÓÏ», 1917 Piet Mondrian’s early Cubism and his neo-plastic compostions come very close in their roots to the post-modern abstract reflection. Evgeny Chubarov’s artistic gesture rhymes with certain structural elements in Piet Mondrian’s compositions, compelling the new intellectual abstraction to traverse the same canonical path but at a different stage of cultural history, to digest the same sources of archaic forms and consciousness. Piet Mondrian, “Composition in Black and White.” 1917

Anselm Kiefer, “Margarethe”, 1981

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‡‚ÚÓÒÍÓÈ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÈ ÍÓÒÏÓ„ÓÌËË. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ Ì ÓÚÒÚ‡ÌflÂÚÒfl ÓÚ ‰ÂflÚÂθÌÓÒÚË «ÒÚ‡ÎÍÂ‡», Ó ‡·ÓÚ˚ Ò ÓÚıÓ‰‡ÏË Ë ÂÎËÍ‚ËflÏË ÔÓ¯ÎÓ„Ó, Ó˜Ë˘‡fl ¯Î‡ÍË ËÒÚÓËË ‚Ó ËÏfl ÌÓ‚Ó„Ó «ÙËÎÓÒÓÙÒÍÓ„Ó Í‡ÏÌfl» — ÏÂÚ‡‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË,  ÔÓ˝ÚËÍË «‚˜ÌÓ„Ó ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËfl» Ë Ó·‡ÁÓ‚ ‡·ÒÓβڇ. éÌ ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸ÌÓ ÔÂÓ·‡Ê‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ‡��ıËÏË͇, ‚ Â„Ó ÚÂıÌÓÎÓ„ËË ‚ıÓ‰ËÚ ‚ÓÓÊ·‡ Ò Í‡Ò͇ÏË, ˝ÏÛθÒËflÏË, Ò ÓÒÓ·˚ÏË ÔË„ÏÂÌÚÌ˚ÏË ÒÛ·Òڇ̈ËflÏË. éÌË ÒÓ˜ÂÚ‡˛Ú ‚ Ò· χ„˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ ÛÍÓÚ‚ÓÌÓÒÚ¸ Ò Ì‡‰Î˘Ì˚ÏË Ò‚Ë‰ÂÚÂθÒÚ‚‡ÏË, ̇‡˘Ë‚‡fl ÒÎÓÈ Á‡ ÒÎÓÂÏ Ë Ô‚‡˘‡fl ͇ÚËÌÛ ‚ ÍÓÍÓÌ ·‡·Ó˜ÍË, Ú‡ËÌÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ÙÛÚÎfl «ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚË». ä‡ÚËÌÌ˚È Ò„ÛÒÚÓÍ ÔËҸχ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇ ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ËÚÒfl ÔÓ‰Ó·Ì˚Ï „ÂÓ·̉¯‡ÙÚÛ — ÚÂÍÒÚÛ ÁÂÏÎË, ԇ̈Ë˛ ˜ÂÂÔ‡ıË Ë, ̇ÍÓ̈, «˜ÂÌÓÏÛ Í‚‡‰‡ÚÛ», ‰‚ÌÂÈ ÛÍÓÔËÒ¸˛ Ò ÔÓÁ‰ÌÂȯÏË Á‡ÎÂʇÏË ÓÚÔ˜‡ÚÍÓ‚ ۯ‰¯ÂÈ ËÒÚÓËË, ËÒÔ¢ÂÂÌÌÓÈ ÌÓ‚˚ÏË ÒÎÓflÏË, Ó·‡˘ÂÌÌ˚ÏË ‚ ·Û‰Û˘ÂÂ. Ç Â„Ó ‚Ô‡‰Ë̇ı Ë Ì˯‡ı ÔÓ„Îfl‰˚‚‡˛Ú ÚÓÚ‡ÎËÚ‡Ì˚ ÒΉ˚ ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡, ÌÂÓÚ‰ÂÎËÏ˚ ÓÚ ÚÓÚ‡ÎËÚ‡Ì˚ı ÒΉӂ ÒÓ‚ÂÚÒÍÓÈ ËÒÚÓËË, ‚ ÍÓÚÓÓÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ Ô·˚‚‡Î ·Óθ¯Û˛ ˜‡ÒÚ¸ Ò‚ÓÂÈ ÊËÁÌË. àı Á̇ÍË ‚ Ò‚ÓÂÈ «Ù·„Ó‚ÓÈ» Ó·‡ÁÌÓÒÚË, ‚ Á‡ÒÚ˚‚¯Ëı ·ÎÓ͇ı ÍÛθÚÛÌÓÈ Ë ÒӈˇθÌÓÈ Ô‡ÏflÚË ÔÓfl‚Îfl˛ÚÒfl Í‡Í Ô·ÒÚ˘ÂÒÍË Á‡‚Â¯ÂÌÌ˚È „ÓÚÂÒÍ ËÒÚÓËË, Í‡Í ˝ÒÚÂÚËÁËÛÂÏ˚È ‰ÂÙÂÍÚ ÚÂÍÒÚ‡, Í‡Í «Ú‚Ó˜ÂÒ͇fl» ‰ÂÙÓχˆËfl

ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ Ú͇ÌË Ò Â ÔÓ҂˜˂‡ÌËflÏË ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸ Ò‡Í‡Î¸ÌÓ – ÔÓÙ‡ÌÌÓ„Ó. Ç ˝ÚÓÈ ÔÓÁˈËË ÔÛÚ¯ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌË͇ ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸ ‚ÂÏfl, ÔÂÒÓ̇ʇ ÓÔÂ˚ ä.å‡Î‚˘‡ «èӷ‰˚ ̇‰ ÒÓÎ̈ÂÏ» Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÓÚ‚Ó‚˚‚‡ÂÚ Û ËÒÚÓËË ‰ÓÒÚÓflÌË ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡, ÒÏ¢‡fl Ò‚ÓË Ì‡ıÓ‰ÍË ‚ ÒÚ‡ÌÌ˚ı ˆËÚ‡ÚÌ˚ı ÁÂ͇·ı, Ò‡˘Ë‚‡fl ÔflÏÛ˛ ‡θÌÓÒÚ¸ Ë ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ÒÓ·˚ÚËÂ. à ÚÓ„‰‡ ÓÒÒËÈÒ͇fl ËÒÚÓËfl ҇χ ̇˜Ë̇ÂÚ Ì‡ÔÓÏË̇ڸ ‚Â΢ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ÔÓΠ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, „‰Â ÔÓ„Îfl‰˚‚‡ÂÚ Ì˜ÚÓ ÏÂÒÒÓÔÓÚ‡ÏÒÍÓ ËÎË ‰‚Ì„ËÔÂÚÒÍÓÂ, ÔÂÂıÓ‰fl˘Â ÌÂÔÓÒ‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ‚ ˝Í‡Ì ÍÓÏÔ¸˛ÚÂ‡, ‚ ‡‰Ë͇θÌ˚È ÏË Ô‡‡‰ÓÍÒÓ‚ Ë ÌÓ‚ÂȯËı ÚÂıÌÓÎÓ„ËÈ. é̇ ÔÂÓ‰Ó΂‡ÂÚ ¯ÓÍ ÓÚ ÌÂÓÊˉ‡ÌÌÓÒÚÂÈ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ‰‡Ï‡ÚÛ„ËË, ıÓÓÌËÚ, ı‡ÌËÚ Ë Ò·Â„‡ÂÚ Â˘Â Ì ‚˚„Ó‚ÓÂÌÌ˚ ÒÏ˚ÒÎ˚, ‡Ì„‡ÊËÓ‚‡Ì̇fl ·Û‰Û˘ËÏ ‚ Ò‚ÓËı Á‡„‡‰Í‡ı, ‚ Ò‚ÓËı ·ÂÒÍÓ̘ÌÓ Û‰‡Îfl˛˘ËıÒfl „ÓËÁÓÌÚ‡ı Ë ‡ÁÛ¯ËÚÂθÌ˚ı ÊÂÒÚ‡ı. àÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÔÓ‚ËÒ‡ÂÚ ‚  „‡Ìˈ‡ı, ‚  ÙÂÌÓÏÂÌ Óı‡ÌËÚÂθÌ˚Ï ÒËÏ‚ÓÎÓÏ, ÌËÍÓ„‰‡ Ì Á‡·˚‚‡fl Ó ·˚ÎÓÈ ÔËÓχÌËË, ÓÒ‚Ó·Óʉ‡flÒ¸ ÓÚ ˝ÌÂ„ÓÒÓ‰Âʇ˘Ëı ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚ Ò‚ÓÂÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ‡θÌÓÒÚË. ∆

paradoxes and new technologies. It overcomes the shock from its own unexpected twists and turns as it buries and preserves unexpressed meanings. It is oriented towards the future with its riddles, endlessly receding horizons and destructive gestures.

ëÚÛ‰Ëfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ‚ ÅÂÎËÌÂ, 1995 / Work in progress at Chubarov’s studio in Berlin, 1995

Chubarov’s art is hanging in its midst as a guardian symbol forever apprehensive of its former pyromania and ridding of the energy-generating substances in its artistic reality. ∆

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1984 41 ÒÏ • 48.5 ÒÏ

34

35


‡‚ÚÓÒÍÓÈ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÈ ÍÓÒÏÓ„ÓÌËË. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ Ì ÓÚÒÚ‡ÌflÂÚÒfl ÓÚ ‰ÂflÚÂθÌÓÒÚË «ÒÚ‡ÎÍÂ‡», Ó ‡·ÓÚ˚ Ò ÓÚıÓ‰‡ÏË Ë ÂÎËÍ‚ËflÏË ÔÓ¯ÎÓ„Ó, Ó˜Ë˘‡fl ¯Î‡ÍË ËÒÚÓËË ‚Ó ËÏfl ÌÓ‚Ó„Ó «ÙËÎÓÒÓÙÒÍÓ„Ó Í‡ÏÌfl» — ÏÂÚ‡‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË,  ÔÓ˝ÚËÍË «‚˜ÌÓ„Ó ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËfl» Ë Ó·‡ÁÓ‚ ‡·ÒÓβڇ. éÌ ·ÛÍ‚‡Î¸ÌÓ ÔÂÓ·‡Ê‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ‡ÎıËÏË͇, ‚ Â„Ó ÚÂıÌÓÎÓ„ËË ‚ıÓ‰ËÚ ‚ÓÓÊ·‡ Ò Í‡Ò͇ÏË, ˝ÏÛθÒËflÏË, Ò ÓÒÓ·˚ÏË ÔË„ÏÂÌÚÌ˚ÏË ÒÛ·Òڇ̈ËflÏË. éÌË ÒÓ˜ÂÚ‡˛Ú ‚ Ò· χ„˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ ÛÍÓÚ‚ÓÌÓÒÚ¸ Ò Ì‡‰Î˘Ì˚ÏË Ò‚Ë‰ÂÚÂθÒÚ‚‡ÏË, ̇‡˘Ë‚‡fl ÒÎÓÈ Á‡ ÒÎÓÂÏ Ë Ô‚‡˘‡fl ͇ÚËÌÛ ‚ ÍÓÍÓÌ ·‡·Ó˜ÍË, Ú‡ËÌÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ÙÛÚÎfl «ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚË». ä‡ÚËÌÌ˚È Ò„ÛÒÚÓÍ ÔËҸχ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇ ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ËÚÒfl ÔÓ‰Ó·Ì˚Ï „ÂÓ·̉¯‡ÙÚÛ — ÚÂÍÒÚÛ ÁÂÏÎË, ԇ̈Ë˛ ˜ÂÂÔ‡ıË Ë, ̇ÍÓ̈, «˜ÂÌÓÏÛ Í‚‡‰‡ÚÛ», ‰‚ÌÂÈ ÛÍÓÔËÒ¸˛ Ò ÔÓÁ‰ÌÂȯÏË Á‡ÎÂʇÏË ÓÚÔ˜‡ÚÍÓ‚ ۯ‰¯ÂÈ ËÒÚÓËË, ËÒÔ¢ÂÂÌÌÓÈ ÌÓ‚˚ÏË ÒÎÓflÏË, Ó·‡˘ÂÌÌ˚ÏË ‚ ·Û‰Û˘ÂÂ. Ç Â„Ó ‚Ô‡‰Ë̇ı Ë Ì˯‡ı ÔÓ„Îfl‰˚‚‡˛Ú ÚÓÚ‡ÎËÚ‡Ì˚ ÒΉ˚ ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡, ÌÂÓÚ‰ÂÎËÏ˚ ÓÚ ÚÓÚ‡ÎËÚ‡Ì˚ı ÒΉӂ ÒÓ‚ÂÚÒÍÓÈ ËÒÚÓËË, ‚ ÍÓÚÓÓÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ Ô·˚‚‡Î ·Óθ¯Û˛ ˜‡ÒÚ¸ Ò‚ÓÂÈ ÊËÁÌË. àı Á̇ÍË ‚ Ò‚ÓÂÈ «Ù·„Ó‚ÓÈ» Ó·‡ÁÌÓÒÚË, ‚ Á‡ÒÚ˚‚¯Ëı ·ÎÓ͇ı ÍÛθÚÛÌÓÈ Ë ÒӈˇθÌÓÈ Ô‡ÏflÚË ÔÓfl‚Îfl˛ÚÒfl Í‡Í Ô·ÒÚ˘ÂÒÍË Á‡‚Â¯ÂÌÌ˚È „ÓÚÂÒÍ ËÒÚÓËË, Í‡Í ˝ÒÚÂÚËÁËÛÂÏ˚È ‰ÂÙÂÍÚ ÚÂÍÒÚ‡, Í‡Í «Ú‚Ó˜ÂÒ͇fl» ‰ÂÙÓχˆËfl

ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ Ú͇ÌË Ò Â ÔÓ҂˜˂‡ÌËflÏË ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸ Ò‡Í‡Î¸ÌÓ – ÔÓÙ‡ÌÌÓ„Ó. Ç ˝ÚÓÈ ÔÓÁˈËË ÔÛÚ¯ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌË͇ ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸ ‚ÂÏfl, ÔÂÒÓ̇ʇ ÓÔÂ˚ ä.å‡Î‚˘‡ «èӷ‰˚ ̇‰ ÒÓÎ̈ÂÏ» Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ ÓÚ‚Ó‚˚‚‡ÂÚ Û ËÒÚÓËË ‰ÓÒÚÓflÌË ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡, ÒÏ¢‡fl Ò‚ÓË Ì‡ıÓ‰ÍË ‚ ÒÚ‡ÌÌ˚ı ˆËÚ‡ÚÌ˚ı ÁÂ͇·ı, Ò‡˘Ë‚‡fl ÔflÏÛ˛ ‡θÌÓÒÚ¸ Ë ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ÒÓ·˚ÚËÂ. à ÚÓ„‰‡ ÓÒÒËÈÒ͇fl ËÒÚÓËfl ҇χ ̇˜Ë̇ÂÚ Ì‡ÔÓÏË̇ڸ ‚Â΢ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ÔÓΠ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, „‰Â ÔÓ„Îfl‰˚‚‡ÂÚ Ì˜ÚÓ ÏÂÒÒÓÔÓÚ‡ÏÒÍÓ ËÎË ‰‚Ì„ËÔÂÚÒÍÓÂ, ÔÂÂıÓ‰fl˘Â ÌÂÔÓÒ‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ‚ ˝Í‡Ì ÍÓÏÔ¸˛ÚÂ‡, ‚ ‡‰Ë͇θÌ˚È ÏË Ô‡‡‰ÓÍÒÓ‚ Ë ÌÓ‚ÂȯËı ÚÂıÌÓÎÓ„ËÈ. é̇ ÔÂÓ‰Ó΂‡ÂÚ ¯ÓÍ ÓÚ ÌÂÓÊˉ‡ÌÌÓÒÚÂÈ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ‰‡Ï‡ÚÛ„ËË, ıÓÓÌËÚ, ı‡ÌËÚ Ë Ò·Â„‡ÂÚ Â˘Â Ì ‚˚„Ó‚ÓÂÌÌ˚ ÒÏ˚ÒÎ˚, ‡Ì„‡ÊËÓ‚‡Ì̇fl ·Û‰Û˘ËÏ ‚ Ò‚ÓËı Á‡„‡‰Í‡ı, ‚ Ò‚ÓËı ·ÂÒÍÓ̘ÌÓ Û‰‡Îfl˛˘ËıÒfl „ÓËÁÓÌÚ‡ı Ë ‡ÁÛ¯ËÚÂθÌ˚ı ÊÂÒÚ‡ı. àÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó Ö‚„ÂÌËfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ÔÓ‚ËÒ‡ÂÚ ‚  „‡Ìˈ‡ı, ‚  ÙÂÌÓÏÂÌ Óı‡ÌËÚÂθÌ˚Ï ÒËÏ‚ÓÎÓÏ, ÌËÍÓ„‰‡ Ì Á‡·˚‚‡fl Ó ·˚ÎÓÈ ÔËÓχÌËË, ÓÒ‚Ó·Óʉ‡flÒ¸ ÓÚ ˝ÌÂ„ÓÒÓ‰Âʇ˘Ëı ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚ Ò‚ÓÂÈ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÈ ‡θÌÓÒÚË. ∆

paradoxes and new technologies. It overcomes the shock from its own unexpected twists and turns as it buries and preserves unexpressed meanings. It is oriented towards the future with its riddles, endlessly receding horizons and destructive gestures.

ëÚÛ‰Ëfl óÛ·‡Ó‚‡ ‚ ÅÂÎËÌÂ, 1995 / Work in progress at Chubarov’s studio in Berlin, 1995

Chubarov’s art is hanging in its midst as a guardian symbol forever apprehensive of its former pyromania and ridding of the energy-generating substances in its artistic reality. ∆

ÚÛ¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1984 41 ÒÏ • 48.5 ÒÏ

34

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ИЛЛЮСТРАЦИИ ILLUSTRATIONS


ИЛЛЮСТРАЦИИ ILLUSTRATIONS


(1) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 207 ÒÏ • 148 ÒÏ


(1) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 207 ÒÏ • 148 ÒÏ


(2) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992 150 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(3) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992 172.5 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ


(2) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992 150 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(3) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992 172.5 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ


(4) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 207 ÒÏ • 148 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >


(4) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 207 ÒÏ • 148 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >


(5) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 150 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(6) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 150ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(7) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 206 ÒÏ • 95 ÒÏ


(5) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 150 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(6) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 150ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(7) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 206 ÒÏ • 95 ÒÏ


(8) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail

<


(8) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail

<


(9) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 305 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >


(9) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 305 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >


(10) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 203 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >


(10) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 203 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >


(11) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(11) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(12) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 305 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(13) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1989 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(12) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 305 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(13) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1989 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(14) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(15) > ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 207 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ


(14) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(15) > ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 207 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ


(16) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >>


(16) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >>


(18) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 207 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ

(19) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 206 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ

< (17) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(18) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 207 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ

(19) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 206 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ

< (17) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(21) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >>

< (20) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(21) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >>

< (20) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(22) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(23) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(24) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 305 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(22) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(23) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(24) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 305 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(25) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— < ‰Âڇθ / detail


(25) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— < ‰Âڇθ / detail


(26) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1990 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ —————— < ‰Âڇθ / detail


(26) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1990 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ —————— < ‰Âڇθ / detail


(27) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(27) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(28) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(29) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(28) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(29) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(30) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ —————— < ‰Âڇθ / detail


(30) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ —————— < ‰Âڇθ / detail


(31) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >


(31) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >


(32) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(32) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(33) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(34) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(33) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(34) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(36) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(37) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 307 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

< (35) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(36) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(37) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 307 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

< (35) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(38) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— < ‰Âڇθ / detail


(38) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— < ‰Âڇθ / detail


(39) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(39) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(40) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(41) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 307 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(40) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(41) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 307 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(42) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >


(42) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >


(43) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(43) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(44) ‰ËÔÚËı / diptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 307 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ


(44) ‰ËÔÚËı / diptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 307 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ


(45) ‰ËÔÚËı / dipt ych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ


(45) ‰ËÔÚËı / dipt ych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ


(46) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 200 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ

(47) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 200 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ


(46) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 200 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ

(47) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 200 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ


(48) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— < ‰Âڇθ / detail


(48) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— < ‰Âڇθ / detail


(49) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >>


(49) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >>


(50) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(51) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(50) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(51) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(52) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(53) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(54) > ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 207 ÒÏ • 148 ÒÏ


(52) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(53) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(54) > ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 207 ÒÏ • 148 ÒÏ


(55) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(55) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(56) ÚËÔÚËı / triptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 600 ÒÏ


(56) ÚËÔÚËı / triptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 600 ÒÏ


(57) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(57) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(58) ‰ËÔÚËı / diptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ


(58) ‰ËÔÚËı / diptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ


(59) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(59) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(60) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(60) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(62) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(63) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

< (61) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(62) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(63) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

< (61) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(64) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(65) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(64) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(65) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(66) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >>


(66) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ —————— ‰Âڇθ / detail >>


17


17


(67) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(67) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ


(68) ‰ËÔÚËı / diptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ


(68) ‰ËÔÚËı / diptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ


(69) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


(69) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ


СПИСОК ИЛЛЮСТРАЦИЙ LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

(1) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 207 ÒÏ • 148 ÒÏ

(13) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1989 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(25) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(2) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992 150 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(14) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(26) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1990 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(3) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992 172.5 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(15) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 207 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ

(27) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(4) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 150 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(16) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(28) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(5) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 150ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(17) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(29) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(6) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 150 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(18) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 207 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ

(31) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(7) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 206 ÒÏ • 95 ÒÏ

(19) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 206 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ

(32) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(8) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(20) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(33) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(9) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 305 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(21) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(34) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(10) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 203 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ

(22) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(35) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(11) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(23) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(36) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(12) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 305 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(24) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 304 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(37) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 307 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

141


СПИСОК ИЛЛЮСТРАЦИЙ LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

(1) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 207 ÒÏ • 148 ÒÏ

(13) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1989 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(25) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(2) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992 150 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(14) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(26) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1990 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(3) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992 172.5 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(15) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 207 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ

(27) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(4) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 150 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(16) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(28) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(5) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 150ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(17) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(29) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(6) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 150 ÒÏ • 110 ÒÏ

(18) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 207 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ

(31) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(7) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 206 ÒÏ • 95 ÒÏ

(19) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 206 ÒÏ • 146 ÒÏ

(32) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(8) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(20) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(33) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(9) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993 305 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(21) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(34) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(10) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 203 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ

(22) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(35) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(11) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(23) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(36) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(12) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1992-1993 305 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(24) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 304 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(37) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 307 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

141


142

(38) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(51) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(64) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(39) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(52) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(65) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(40) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(53) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(67) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(41) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 307 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(54) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 207 ÒÏ • 148 ÒÏ

(66) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(42) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(55) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(68) ‰ËÔÚËı / diptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ

(43) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(56) ÚËÔÚËı / triptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 600 ÒÏ

(44) ‰ËÔÚËı / dipt ych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 307 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ

(57) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(45) ‰ËÔÚËı / dipt ych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ

(58) ‰ËÔÚËı / diptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ

(46) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 200 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ

(59) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(47) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 200 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ

(60) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(48) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(61) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(49) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(62) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(50) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(63) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

ꇷÓÚ˚ ÓÚϘÂÌÌ˚ ÌÓÏÂ‡ÏË (19), (52) Ë (53) Ô‰ÓÒÚ‡‚ÎÂÌ˚ ÍÓÎÎÂ͈ËÂÈ Ñ‡‚ˉ‡ íÂÚÛ‡¯‚ËÎË. éÒڇθÌ˚ ‡·ÓÚ˚ Ô‰ÓÒÚ‡‚ÎÂÌ˚ ÍÓÎÎÂ͈ËÂÈ É‡Ë Ë ÖÎÂÌ˚ í‡ÚË̈flÌ. ÅÓΠÔÓ‰Ó·ÌÛ˛ ËÌÙÓχˆË˛ ÏÓÊÌÓ ÔÓÎÛ˜ËÚ¸: www.tatintsian.com info@tatintsian.com Plates (19), (52) and (53) are from the collection of David Tetruashvili. The rest of the works are from the collection of Garri and Elena Tatintsian. More information is available at: www.tatintsian.com info@tatintsian.com

(69) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

143


142

(38) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(51) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(64) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(39) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(52) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(65) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(40) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(53) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(67) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(41) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 307 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(54) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 207 ÒÏ • 148 ÒÏ

(66) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(42) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(55) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(68) ‰ËÔÚËı / diptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ

(43) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(56) ÚËÔÚËı / triptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994-1995 300 ÒÏ • 600 ÒÏ

(44) ‰ËÔÚËı / dipt ych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 307 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ

(57) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(45) ‰ËÔÚËı / dipt ych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ

(58) ‰ËÔÚËı / diptych ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 400 ÒÏ

(46) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 200 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ

(59) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(47) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1993-1995 200 ÒÏ • 186 ÒÏ

(60) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 300 ÒÏ • 200 ÒÏ

(48) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(61) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(49) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1994 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(62) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(50) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

(63) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

ꇷÓÚ˚ ÓÚϘÂÌÌ˚ ÌÓÏÂ‡ÏË (19), (52) Ë (53) Ô‰ÓÒÚ‡‚ÎÂÌ˚ ÍÓÎÎÂ͈ËÂÈ Ñ‡‚ˉ‡ íÂÚÛ‡¯‚ËÎË. éÒڇθÌ˚ ‡·ÓÚ˚ Ô‰ÓÒÚ‡‚ÎÂÌ˚ ÍÓÎÎÂ͈ËÂÈ É‡Ë Ë ÖÎÂÌ˚ í‡ÚË̈flÌ. ÅÓΠÔÓ‰Ó·ÌÛ˛ ËÌÙÓχˆË˛ ÏÓÊÌÓ ÔÓÎÛ˜ËÚ¸: www.tatintsian.com info@tatintsian.com Plates (19), (52) and (53) are from the collection of David Tetruashvili. The rest of the works are from the collection of Garri and Elena Tatintsian. More information is available at: www.tatintsian.com info@tatintsian.com

(69) ıÓÎÒÚ, χÒÎÓ / oil on canvas 1995 200 ÒÏ • 150 ÒÏ

143


óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ ÒÚÛ‰ËË, ÅÂÎËÌ / Chubarov in his studio, Berlin ÙÓÚÓ /photo 1995

ВОЗВРАЩЕНИЕ К ПРОШЛОМУ–

RETURN TO THE PAST –

ОТКРЫТИЕ БУДУЩЕГО

DISCOVERY OF THE FUTURE

ВИТАЛИЙ ПАЦЮКОВ ИНТЕРВЬЮ С ЕВГЕНИЕМ ЧУБАРОВЫМ

VITALY PATSUKOV INTERVIEW WITH EVGENY CHUBAROV

ЧУБАРОВ: åÓË Ó‰Ó‚˚ ÍÓÌË ÛıÓ‰flÚ ÍÓÌflÏË ‚ ‰Â‚Ì˛˛ êÛÒ¸ Ë åÓÌ„ÓÎ˲. à Ô‰ÍË ÏÓË – ÛÒÒÍË ÒÚ‡Ó‚Â˚, ÊË‚¯Ë ıËÒÚˇÌÒÚ‚ÓÏ ÇËÁ‡ÌÚËË Ë Ì ÔËÌfl‚¯Ë ˆÂÍÓ‚Ì˚ ÂÙÓÏ˚ åÓÒÍÓ‚ÒÍÓ„Ó ˆ‡ÒÚ‚‡ XVII ‚Â͇ Ë ÓÒÒËÈÒÍÓÈ ËÏÔÂËË èÂÚ‡ ÇÂÎËÍÓ„Ó. ÑÛ„‡fl ÎËÌËfl ÏÓÂ„Ó Ó‰‡ ˉÂÚ ÓÚ ·‡¯ÍË, Ó̇ – ÏÓÌ„ÓÎÓˉ̇fl, ‚ ÌÂÈ ÊË‚ÂÚ ¯‡Ï‡ÌËÁÏ, ÁÓÓ‡ÒÚËÁÏ, ·Û‰‰ËÁÏ, Ú.Â. ‚Ò ‰‚ÌË ÂÎË„ËË Ë ÂÎË„ËË ‰ÓıËÒÚˇÌÒÍÓÈ ˝ÔÓıË, Ë, ·ÓΠÚÓ„Ó, Ò‡ÏÓ ÔÂ‚ÓÂ Ó˘Û˘ÂÌË ÓʉÂÌËfl ̇¯Â„Ó ÏË‡. é˜Â‚ˉÌÓ, ‚Ó ÏÌ ÒÓı‡ÌË·Ҹ Ô‡ÏflÚ¸ Ó Ò‡ÏÓÏ „ÎÛ·ËÌÌÓÏ ‚ ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÂ. Ç Ò· fl Ó˘Û˘‡˛ ˝ÌÂ„ËË Óʉ‡˛˘Â„ÓÒfl ̇˜‡Î‡ ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, Â„Ó Â‰ËÌÒÚ‚‡ Ò ÏËÓÏ ÔËÓ‰˚, Ò Ò‡ÏÓÈ ÁÂÏÎÂÈ. îÓχθÌÓ ÏÓË ËÒÛÌÍË ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊ‡Ú ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÈ Ú‡‰ËˆËË Ë ˝ÚÓ ËÒÛÌÍË ÒÍÛθÔÚÓ‡. éÌË ËÏÂ˛Ú Í‡ÍÛ˛-ÚÓ Ò‚flÁ¸, ̇ÔËÏÂ, Ò ËÒÛÌ͇ÏË ÉÂÌË åÛ‡ ‚ÂÏÂÌ ‚ÚÓÓÈ ÏËÓ‚ÓÈ ‚ÓÈÌ˚. çÓ ÒÓ‚Â¯ÂÌÌÓ Ó˜Â‚Ë‰ÌÓ, ˜ÚÓ Ì ÒÚËÎËÒÚË͇ Ëı Ò·ÎËʇÂÚ ËÎË ‡Á‰ÂÎflÂÚ – ÓÌË ÔË̈ËÔˇθÌÓ Ó ‰Û„ÓÏ. éÌË Ò‚Ë‰ÂÚÂθÒÚ‚Û˛Ú Ó ÔÂ‚ÓÏ ÔÓfl‚ÎÂÌËË ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÂ-ÚËÚ‡ÌÂ, ÔÂ‚Ó˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÂ, Â„Ó ÒÚ‡‰‡ÌËflı, Òӷ·Á̇ı Ë Ì‡Û¯ÂÌËflı ‚˚Ò¯Ëı Á‡ÍÓÌÓ‚. Ç ÏÓËı Ò˛ÊÂÚ‡ı ÎÂÊËÚ ÏËÙÓÎÓ„Ëfl ·Ó¸·˚ ÚËÚ‡ÌÓ‚ Ë ·Ó„Ó‚, Ëı Ò‚flÁË, ÒÓ‚ÓÍÛÔÎÂÌËfl, ÒÏÂÚË Ë ÌÓ‚˚ ÓʉÂÌËfl. ë‡Ï‡ Ëı ÙËÁ˘ÂÒ͇fl χÒÒ‡ ¢ Ì ÓÔ‰ÂÎË· Ò‚ÓË ÙÓÏ˚, Ó̇ ÌÂÓÚ‰ÂÎËχ ÓÚ ÁÂÏÎË, Ì‚ÂÓflÚÌÓ ÔÎÓÚ̇fl Ë ÚflÊ·fl. é·‡Á˚ ˝ÚËı ÔÂ‚Óβ‰ÂÈ Ì‡ÔÓÏË̇˛Ú î‡ÌÍÂ̯ÚÂÈ̇, ÚÓθÍÓ ÒÓÚ‚ÓÂÌÌÓ„Ó Ì ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÓÏ, ‡ ‚˚Ò¯ËÏ ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ÓÏ. ÇÒ ÓÌË ËÁ ‚ÂÏÂÌË ãÓıÌÂÒÒ‡ Ë äËÌ„-äÓÌ„‡, Ë „‰Â-ÚÓ, Ì ÚÓθÍÓ ‚ ÏÓÂÈ Ô‡ÏflÚË, ÒÓı‡ÌËÎËÒ¸ Ë Ò„ӉÌfl.

CHUBAROV: My family roots go down into the ancient history of Russia and Mongolia. My ancestors on my father’s side were Russian Old Believers who wouldn’t renounce Byzantine Christianity for the sake of the church reforms adopted in the 17th century Moscow Principality and the Russian Empire of Peter the Great. Another line of my family tree comes from the Bashkir, a Mongoloid nationality that has absorbed Shamanism, Zoroastrianism, and Buddhism, that is, all the pre-Christian religions and, moreover, the first awareness of the birth of our world as we know it. I have probably preserved those deep-hidden memories in my subconscious. I am aware of that inner energy of the emerging man and his bond with nature and the earth. Formally my drawings belong to the tradition of Expressionism, they are typical drawings of a sculptor. They have something in common with the drawings of Henry Moore of the times of the Second World War. However, quite obviously, these similarities or distinctions are not in the style, they concern different things in principle. My pictures are about the emergence of the first man, a titan, a proto-person, his ordeals, temptations, and violations of the higher order. My plots are based on the mythology of the struggle between titans and gods, their ties, copulations, deaths and rebirths. Their physical mass has not yet taken shape -- unbearably heavy and solid it is not yet completely separated from the earth. The images of these proto-people bring to mind Frankenstein, only one who is created not by man but by a supreme being. They all come from the times of Loch Ness and King Kong. And somewhere not only in my memory, they have been preserved to this day.

àı ÏÓ˘Ì˚Â, ÚflÊÂÎ˚ χÒÒ˚ Û͇Á˚‚‡˛Ú ̇ ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍÛ˛ „ÂÌÂÚËÍÛ, ̇ Ëı Ò‚flÁ¸ Ò ÔÓ‰ÁÂÏÌ˚Ï ÏËÓÏ, ̇ ÒÛÏÂÍË Ëı ÓʉÂÌËfl. Ç ˝ÚÓÈ ÌÂÔÓÎÌÓÚ ÏË‡ ÔËÒÛÚÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ ÎÛ̇, ‡ Ì ÒÓÎ̈Â, Ë ÊËÁ̸ ˉÂÚ ÔÓ ÎÛÌÌÓÏÛ Í‡ÎẨ‡˛. Ä Í‡ÍÓ Ê ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó ‚ÓÍÛ„ ÌËı?

Their powerful heavy bulks indicate their archaic origin and their connection to the underground world and to the twilight time of their birth. The moon rather than the sun illumines this incomplete world and life there follows the lunar calendar. And what is the surrounding space like there?

PATSUKOV:

ПАЦЮКОВ:

ЧУБАРОВ: ü Ì Û͇Á˚‚‡˛ ‚ ËÒÛÌ͇ı ̇ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó. Ç ËÒÛÌ͇ı ÏÓÊÌÓ ‚ˉÂÚ¸ ÚÓθÍÓ ÎËÌ˲ „ÓËÁÓÌÚ‡, ‰ÂÎÂÌË ÏË‡ ̇ ÁÂÏβ Ë Ì·Ó. ÇÒfl ‰‡Ï‡ÚÛ„Ëfl ÒÓ‚Â¯‡ÂÚÒfl ̇ ÁÂÏÎÂ, Ë Ì ÒÎÛ˜‡ÈÌÓ ä‡ÁËÏË å‡Î‚˘ ‚‚Ó‰ËÚ ‚ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÛ˛ ÍÛθÚÛÛ Ó·‡Á Í‚‡‰‡Ú‡. óÂÌ˚È Í‚‡‰‡Ú Ó·ÓÁ̇˜‡ÂÚ Ô·ÌÂÚÛ áÂÏÎfl. óÂÌÓÂ Ë ·ÂÎÓÂ, ‰‚Ó˘ÌÓÒÚ¸ ÓÔ‰ÂÎflÂÚ ÔÂ‚Ó ÒÓÒÚÓflÌË ÏË‡ Ë ‚ÒÂ Â„Ó «ÚÓ̇θÌ˚» ÙÓÏ˚. ùÚÓ ÔÂ‚˚ Á‚ÛÍË, ÍÓÌÙÎËÍÚ Ë Òӄ·ÒËÂ, ÏÛÊÒÍÓÂ Ë ÊÂÌÒÍÓÂ. ë‡ÏÓ ÒÓÚ‚ÓÂÌË ÏË‡ ·˚ÎÓ ÒÂÍÒۇθÌ˚Ï ‡ÍÚÓÏ Ë ÒÂÍÒۇθÌÓÒÚ¸ ÔÓÌËÁ˚‚‡ÂÚ ‚ÒÂ. èÓÒÚ‡Ì-ÒÚ‚Ó ‚ ÏÓËı ËÒÛÌ͇ı Á‡ÏÂÌflÂÚÒfl ÒÂÍÒۇθÌ˚Ï ÊÂÒÚÓÏ. çÓ, ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó Í‡Í ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËÂ, Í‡Í ˝ÌÂ„˲ fl ‡θÌÓ Ó˘ÛÚËÎ ‚ Ò‚ÓËı ·ÂÎËÌÒÍËı ͇ÚË̇ı. äÓ„‰‡ fl ËÒÛ˛, fl ‚‡˘‡˛ ÎËÒÚ ·Ûχ„Ë Í‡Í ÍÛ„, Í‡Í „Ó̘‡Ì˚È ÍÛ„. Ç ÏÓËı ͇ÚË̇ı fl ‚‡˘‡˛Ò¸ Ò‡Ï Ë Ú‡Í Ê ‚‡˘‡˛ Ëı. äÓ„‰‡ ä‡Ì‰ËÌÒÍËÈ Û‚Ë‰ÂÎ Ò‚Ó˛ ÔÂ‚ÂÌÛÚÛ˛ ͇ÚËÌÛ – ÚÓ„‰‡ ÓÌ Ë ÔÓÌflÎ ÔÓ-̇ÒÚÓfl˘ÂÏÛ, ˜ÚÓ Ú‡ÍÓ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚ̇fl ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËfl. ùÚÓ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ ÔÓÎÂ, ‚ ÍÓÚÓÓ ÔÓÔ‡‰‡ÂÚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ, ÁËÚÂθ, ˝ÚÓ ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó, ‚Á„Îfl‰ ËÁÌÛÚË ‚Ó ‚̯ÌËÈ ÏË. çÂÏÌÓ„Ë ËÁ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÓ‚ ¯‡˛ÚÒfl ÔÓÌËÍÌÛÚ¸ ‚Ó ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl, Ë ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ ÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌËË ‡ÏÂË͇ÌÒÍËÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚È ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁÏ Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÂÚ ÒÓ·ÓÈ ÛÌË͇θÌÓ fl‚ÎÂÌËÂ.

I’m not concerned with space in my drawings. You can only indicate a horizon in a drawing, dividing the earth from the sky. The whole drama is happening on earth. It is not for nothing that Kazimir Malevich introduces into contemporary culture the image of a square. His black square symbolizes the planet Earth. The black and white duality determines the primary state of the world and all its “half-tone” forms – its first sounds, conflicts and agreements, the male and female principles. The very creation of the world was a sexual gesture and sexuality permeates everything in it. In my drawings space is replaced with a sexual gesture. I was particularly aware of this space as a state, as energy in my Berlin pictures. When I draw I move the sheet of paper round like a disk or a potter’s wheel. It’s as if I revolve myself, too, while I draw and also revolve my picture. When once Kandinsky saw his picture upside down he understood what abstract composition was really like. It is an energy field in which both the artist and the viewer are drawn in; it is an inner space and, at the same time, a look from within into the outer world. Few artists try to penetrate this inner space. In this sense American abstract expressionism is a unique phenomenon.

CHUBAROV:

Ú Û¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1985 42 ÒÏ • 55 ÒÏ

144

145


óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ ÒÚÛ‰ËË, ÅÂÎËÌ / Chubarov in his studio, Berlin ÙÓÚÓ /photo 1995

ВОЗВРАЩЕНИЕ К ПРОШЛОМУ–

RETURN TO THE PAST –

ОТКРЫТИЕ БУДУЩЕГО

DISCOVERY OF THE FUTURE

ВИТАЛИЙ ПАЦЮКОВ ИНТЕРВЬЮ С ЕВГЕНИЕМ ЧУБАРОВЫМ

VITALY PATSUKOV INTERVIEW WITH EVGENY CHUBAROV

ЧУБАРОВ: åÓË Ó‰Ó‚˚ ÍÓÌË ÛıÓ‰flÚ ÍÓÌflÏË ‚ ‰Â‚Ì˛˛ êÛÒ¸ Ë åÓÌ„ÓÎ˲. à Ô‰ÍË ÏÓË – ÛÒÒÍË ÒÚ‡Ó‚Â˚, ÊË‚¯Ë ıËÒÚˇÌÒÚ‚ÓÏ ÇËÁ‡ÌÚËË Ë Ì ÔËÌfl‚¯Ë ˆÂÍÓ‚Ì˚ ÂÙÓÏ˚ åÓÒÍÓ‚ÒÍÓ„Ó ˆ‡ÒÚ‚‡ XVII ‚Â͇ Ë ÓÒÒËÈÒÍÓÈ ËÏÔÂËË èÂÚ‡ ÇÂÎËÍÓ„Ó. ÑÛ„‡fl ÎËÌËfl ÏÓÂ„Ó Ó‰‡ ˉÂÚ ÓÚ ·‡¯ÍË, Ó̇ – ÏÓÌ„ÓÎÓˉ̇fl, ‚ ÌÂÈ ÊË‚ÂÚ ¯‡Ï‡ÌËÁÏ, ÁÓÓ‡ÒÚËÁÏ, ·Û‰‰ËÁÏ, Ú.Â. ‚Ò ‰‚ÌË ÂÎË„ËË Ë ÂÎË„ËË ‰ÓıËÒÚˇÌÒÍÓÈ ˝ÔÓıË, Ë, ·ÓΠÚÓ„Ó, Ò‡ÏÓ ÔÂ‚ÓÂ Ó˘Û˘ÂÌË ÓʉÂÌËfl ̇¯Â„Ó ÏË‡. é˜Â‚ˉÌÓ, ‚Ó ÏÌ ÒÓı‡ÌË·Ҹ Ô‡ÏflÚ¸ Ó Ò‡ÏÓÏ „ÎÛ·ËÌÌÓÏ ‚ ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÂ. Ç Ò· fl Ó˘Û˘‡˛ ˝ÌÂ„ËË Óʉ‡˛˘Â„ÓÒfl ̇˜‡Î‡ ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, Â„Ó Â‰ËÌÒÚ‚‡ Ò ÏËÓÏ ÔËÓ‰˚, Ò Ò‡ÏÓÈ ÁÂÏÎÂÈ. îÓχθÌÓ ÏÓË ËÒÛÌÍË ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊ‡Ú ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÈ Ú‡‰ËˆËË Ë ˝ÚÓ ËÒÛÌÍË ÒÍÛθÔÚÓ‡. éÌË ËÏÂ˛Ú Í‡ÍÛ˛-ÚÓ Ò‚flÁ¸, ̇ÔËÏÂ, Ò ËÒÛÌ͇ÏË ÉÂÌË åÛ‡ ‚ÂÏÂÌ ‚ÚÓÓÈ ÏËÓ‚ÓÈ ‚ÓÈÌ˚. çÓ ÒÓ‚Â¯ÂÌÌÓ Ó˜Â‚Ë‰ÌÓ, ˜ÚÓ Ì ÒÚËÎËÒÚË͇ Ëı Ò·ÎËʇÂÚ ËÎË ‡Á‰ÂÎflÂÚ – ÓÌË ÔË̈ËÔˇθÌÓ Ó ‰Û„ÓÏ. éÌË Ò‚Ë‰ÂÚÂθÒÚ‚Û˛Ú Ó ÔÂ‚ÓÏ ÔÓfl‚ÎÂÌËË ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÂ-ÚËÚ‡ÌÂ, ÔÂ‚Ó˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÂ, Â„Ó ÒÚ‡‰‡ÌËflı, Òӷ·Á̇ı Ë Ì‡Û¯ÂÌËflı ‚˚Ò¯Ëı Á‡ÍÓÌÓ‚. Ç ÏÓËı Ò˛ÊÂÚ‡ı ÎÂÊËÚ ÏËÙÓÎÓ„Ëfl ·Ó¸·˚ ÚËÚ‡ÌÓ‚ Ë ·Ó„Ó‚, Ëı Ò‚flÁË, ÒÓ‚ÓÍÛÔÎÂÌËfl, ÒÏÂÚË Ë ÌÓ‚˚ ÓʉÂÌËfl. ë‡Ï‡ Ëı ÙËÁ˘ÂÒ͇fl χÒÒ‡ ¢ Ì ÓÔ‰ÂÎË· Ò‚ÓË ÙÓÏ˚, Ó̇ ÌÂÓÚ‰ÂÎËχ ÓÚ ÁÂÏÎË, Ì‚ÂÓflÚÌÓ ÔÎÓÚ̇fl Ë ÚflÊ·fl. é·‡Á˚ ˝ÚËı ÔÂ‚Óβ‰ÂÈ Ì‡ÔÓÏË̇˛Ú î‡ÌÍÂ̯ÚÂÈ̇, ÚÓθÍÓ ÒÓÚ‚ÓÂÌÌÓ„Ó Ì ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÓÏ, ‡ ‚˚Ò¯ËÏ ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ÓÏ. ÇÒ ÓÌË ËÁ ‚ÂÏÂÌË ãÓıÌÂÒÒ‡ Ë äËÌ„-äÓÌ„‡, Ë „‰Â-ÚÓ, Ì ÚÓθÍÓ ‚ ÏÓÂÈ Ô‡ÏflÚË, ÒÓı‡ÌËÎËÒ¸ Ë Ò„ӉÌfl.

CHUBAROV: My family roots go down into the ancient history of Russia and Mongolia. My ancestors on my father’s side were Russian Old Believers who wouldn’t renounce Byzantine Christianity for the sake of the church reforms adopted in the 17th century Moscow Principality and the Russian Empire of Peter the Great. Another line of my family tree comes from the Bashkir, a Mongoloid nationality that has absorbed Shamanism, Zoroastrianism, and Buddhism, that is, all the pre-Christian religions and, moreover, the first awareness of the birth of our world as we know it. I have probably preserved those deep-hidden memories in my subconscious. I am aware of that inner energy of the emerging man and his bond with nature and the earth. Formally my drawings belong to the tradition of Expressionism, they are typical drawings of a sculptor. They have something in common with the drawings of Henry Moore of the times of the Second World War. However, quite obviously, these similarities or distinctions are not in the style, they concern different things in principle. My pictures are about the emergence of the first man, a titan, a proto-person, his ordeals, temptations, and violations of the higher order. My plots are based on the mythology of the struggle between titans and gods, their ties, copulations, deaths and rebirths. Their physical mass has not yet taken shape -- unbearably heavy and solid it is not yet completely separated from the earth. The images of these proto-people bring to mind Frankenstein, only one who is created not by man but by a supreme being. They all come from the times of Loch Ness and King Kong. And somewhere not only in my memory, they have been preserved to this day.

àı ÏÓ˘Ì˚Â, ÚflÊÂÎ˚ χÒÒ˚ Û͇Á˚‚‡˛Ú ̇ ‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍÛ˛ „ÂÌÂÚËÍÛ, ̇ Ëı Ò‚flÁ¸ Ò ÔÓ‰ÁÂÏÌ˚Ï ÏËÓÏ, ̇ ÒÛÏÂÍË Ëı ÓʉÂÌËfl. Ç ˝ÚÓÈ ÌÂÔÓÎÌÓÚ ÏË‡ ÔËÒÛÚÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ ÎÛ̇, ‡ Ì ÒÓÎ̈Â, Ë ÊËÁ̸ ˉÂÚ ÔÓ ÎÛÌÌÓÏÛ Í‡ÎẨ‡˛. Ä Í‡ÍÓ Ê ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó ‚ÓÍÛ„ ÌËı?

Their powerful heavy bulks indicate their archaic origin and their connection to the underground world and to the twilight time of their birth. The moon rather than the sun illumines this incomplete world and life there follows the lunar calendar. And what is the surrounding space like there?

PATSUKOV:

ПАЦЮКОВ:

ЧУБАР��В: ü Ì Û͇Á˚‚‡˛ ‚ ËÒÛÌ͇ı ̇ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó. Ç ËÒÛÌ͇ı ÏÓÊÌÓ ‚ˉÂÚ¸ ÚÓθÍÓ ÎËÌ˲ „ÓËÁÓÌÚ‡, ‰ÂÎÂÌË ÏË‡ ̇ ÁÂÏβ Ë Ì·Ó. ÇÒfl ‰‡Ï‡ÚÛ„Ëfl ÒÓ‚Â¯‡ÂÚÒfl ̇ ÁÂÏÎÂ, Ë Ì ÒÎÛ˜‡ÈÌÓ ä‡ÁËÏË å‡Î‚˘ ‚‚Ó‰ËÚ ‚ ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÛ˛ ÍÛθÚÛÛ Ó·‡Á Í‚‡‰‡Ú‡. óÂÌ˚È Í‚‡‰‡Ú Ó·ÓÁ̇˜‡ÂÚ Ô·ÌÂÚÛ áÂÏÎfl. óÂÌÓÂ Ë ·ÂÎÓÂ, ‰‚Ó˘ÌÓÒÚ¸ ÓÔ‰ÂÎflÂÚ ÔÂ‚Ó ÒÓÒÚÓflÌË ÏË‡ Ë ‚ÒÂ Â„Ó «ÚÓ̇θÌ˚» ÙÓÏ˚. ùÚÓ ÔÂ‚˚ Á‚ÛÍË, ÍÓÌÙÎËÍÚ Ë Òӄ·ÒËÂ, ÏÛÊÒÍÓÂ Ë ÊÂÌÒÍÓÂ. ë‡ÏÓ ÒÓÚ‚ÓÂÌË ÏË‡ ·˚ÎÓ ÒÂÍÒۇθÌ˚Ï ‡ÍÚÓÏ Ë ÒÂÍÒۇθÌÓÒÚ¸ ÔÓÌËÁ˚‚‡ÂÚ ‚ÒÂ. èÓÒÚ‡Ì-ÒÚ‚Ó ‚ ÏÓËı ËÒÛÌ͇ı Á‡ÏÂÌflÂÚÒfl ÒÂÍÒۇθÌ˚Ï ÊÂÒÚÓÏ. çÓ, ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó Í‡Í ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËÂ, Í‡Í ˝ÌÂ„˲ fl ‡θÌÓ Ó˘ÛÚËÎ ‚ Ò‚ÓËı ·ÂÎËÌÒÍËı ͇ÚË̇ı. äÓ„‰‡ fl ËÒÛ˛, fl ‚‡˘‡˛ ÎËÒÚ ·Ûχ„Ë Í‡Í ÍÛ„, Í‡Í „Ó̘‡Ì˚È ÍÛ„. Ç ÏÓËı ͇ÚË̇ı fl ‚‡˘‡˛Ò¸ Ò‡Ï Ë Ú‡Í Ê ‚‡˘‡˛ Ëı. äÓ„‰‡ ä‡Ì‰ËÌÒÍËÈ Û‚Ë‰ÂÎ Ò‚Ó˛ ÔÂ‚ÂÌÛÚÛ˛ ͇ÚËÌÛ – ÚÓ„‰‡ ÓÌ Ë ÔÓÌflÎ ÔÓ-̇ÒÚÓfl˘ÂÏÛ, ˜ÚÓ Ú‡ÍÓ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚ̇fl ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËfl. ùÚÓ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ ÔÓÎÂ, ‚ ÍÓÚÓÓ ÔÓÔ‡‰‡ÂÚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ, ÁËÚÂθ, ˝ÚÓ ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó, ‚Á„Îfl‰ ËÁÌÛÚË ‚Ó ‚̯ÌËÈ ÏË. çÂÏÌÓ„Ë ËÁ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÓ‚ ¯‡˛ÚÒfl ÔÓÌËÍÌÛÚ¸ ‚Ó ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl, Ë ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ ÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌËË ‡ÏÂË͇ÌÒÍËÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚È ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁÏ Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÂÚ ÒÓ·ÓÈ ÛÌË͇θÌÓ fl‚ÎÂÌËÂ.

I’m not concerned with space in my drawings. You can only indicate a horizon in a drawing, dividing the earth from the sky. The whole drama is happening on earth. It is not for nothing that Kazimir Malevich introduces into contemporary culture the image of a square. His black square symbolizes the planet Earth. The black and white duality determines the primary state of the world and all its “half-tone” forms – its first sounds, conflicts and agreements, the male and female principles. The very creation of the world was a sexual gesture and sexuality permeates everything in it. In my drawings space is replaced with a sexual gesture. I was particularly aware of this space as a state, as energy in my Berlin pictures. When I draw I move the sheet of paper round like a disk or a potter’s wheel. It’s as if I revolve myself, too, while I draw and also revolve my picture. When once Kandinsky saw his picture upside down he understood what abstract composition was really like. It is an energy field in which both the artist and the viewer are drawn in; it is an inner space and, at the same time, a look from within into the outer world. Few artists try to penetrate this inner space. In this sense American abstract expressionism is a unique phenomenon.

CHUBAROV:

Ú Û¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ / ink on paper 1985 42 ÒÏ • 55 ÒÏ

144

145


ë˜Ëڇ¯¸ ÎË Ú˚, ˜ÚÓ ‡ÏÂË͇ÌÒÍËÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚È ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁÏ Ó͇Á‡Î ̇ Ú·fl ‚ÎËflÌËÂ? ê‡ÒÒχÚË‚‡fl Ú‚ÓË ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË, ÏÓÊÌÓ Ó·Ì‡ÛÊËÚ¸ ÓÔ‰ÂÎÂÌÌÛ˛ ÒÚËÎÂ‚Û˛ Ó·˘ÌÓÒÚ¸ ‚ ÒÚÛÍÚÛÂ, ‚ χÁÍÂ, ‚ ÊÂÒÚÂ. à ‚ ÚÓ Ê ‚ÂÏfl fl ‚ËÊÛ ‚ Ú‚ÓËı ‡·ÓÚ‡ı ÌÂÒÓÏÌÂÌÌÛ˛ Ò‚flÁ¸ Ò å‡Î‚˘ÂÏ, Ó˜Â̸ ÒÍ˚ÚÛ˛ Ë Ì ÒÚËÎÂ‚Û˛.

ПАЦЮКОВ:

PATSUKOV: Do you think you’ve been influenced by American abstract expressionism? Looking at your abstract compositions one can’t help noting a certain stylistic similarity in their structure, brush stroke, and gesture. At the same time I can clearly see in your pictures a certain influence of Malevich, which is not immediately apparent, an influence that does not concern style.

Style is a product of the times rather than one’s inner essence. As far as formal features are concerned you could find something in common in my pictures with Mark Toby and Jackson Pollock, especially at the level of experimenting with rhythmic structures. But I’m more interested in the pictorial space as such. I see it as a chasm that excites me. In my dreams I try to open it up and penetrate its interior, to fill it with some visual substance. It is true that I’m more inclined towards the Malevich tradition and his method of filling in the picture space and finding the right “organs” of this space. Malevich, the same as Jackson Pollock, tries to penetrate this inner space. However, Pollock lives in the pulsing of this inner world while Malevich experiences its physical substance and qualities. In 1910 he wandered around Vitebsk with a spyglass in his hands, this optical aid turned into an aircraft, transporting him into the past. I fly after him into the strange world of his pictures. I touch everything in it for I’m interested in its shape and tactility. Malevich’s black square is practically present in my black-and-white compositions and I consider myself a successor of the Russian “archaic” avant-garde culture that lives today in the subconscious of the European culture, serving as a polygon, which is practically inaccessible for scrutiny so that a Western mind can only view its actions and events from the outside. The “black square” possesses certain proportions of relationship between black and white – in my works I’m intuitively trying to find these inner proportions, these relationships between the surface curves and the pure white, suspension of the “hairy” structures, shielding the white space, and the sudden breakthroughs of the white through the quivering color or black matter. The more dense and heavy this matter gets the more actively it grows blacker, establishing the extreme states of the world – its birth or death that are one and the same thing in principle.

CHUBAROV:

ëÚËθ ҂ˉÂÚÂθÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ ÒÍÓÂÂ Ó ‚ÂÏÂÌË, ˜ÂÏ Ó ÒÛ˘ÌÓÒÚË. îÓχθÌ˚ ҂flÁË, ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, Û ÏÂÌfl ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Û˛Ú Ë Ò å‡ÍÓÏ íÓ·Ë, Ë Ò ÑÊÂÍÒÓÌÓÏ èÓÎÎÓÍÓÏ. åÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ˝ÚÓ ÔÓfl‚ÎflÂÚÒfl ̇ ÛÓ‚Ì ÔÓËÒ͇ ËÚÏ˘ÂÒÍËı ÒÚÛÍÚÛ. çÓ ÏÂÌfl ËÌÚÂÂÒÛÂÚ ·Óθ¯Â Ò‡ÏÓ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó, ÓÌÓ ÏÂÌfl ‚ÓÎÌÛÂÚ Í‡Í ·ÂÁ‰Ì‡, Ë fl ‚ Ò‚ÓËı Ϙڇı Ô˚Ú‡˛Ò¸  ͇Í-ÚÓ ÔËÍ˚Ú¸, ‚ÓÈÚË ‚  «ËÌÚÂ¸Â» Ë Á‡ÔÓÎÌËÚ¸ Ô·ÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÈ Ï‡ÚÂËÂÈ. ÑÂÈÒÚ‚ËÚÂθÌÓ, fl ‡ÍÚË‚Ì ӷ‡˘‡˛Ò¸ Í Ú‡‰ËˆËflÏ å‡Î‚˘‡, Í Â„Ó ÏÂÚÓ‰‡Ï Á‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌËfl ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡, Í Â„Ó ÔÓËÒÍ‡Ï «Ó„‡ÌÓ‚» ˝ÚÓ„Ó ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡. å‡Î‚˘ Í‡Í Ë ÑÊÂÍÒÓÌ èÓÎÎÓÍ ÒÚÂÏËÚÒfl ÔÓÌËÍÌÛÚ¸ ‚Ó ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌË ËÁÏÂÂÌËfl ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡, ÌÓ èÓÎÎÓÍ ÊË‚ÂÚ ÔÛθ҇ˆËÂÈ ˝ÚÓ„Ó «‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌ„ӻ ÏË‡, ‡ å‡Î‚˘ ÔÂÂÊË‚‡ÂÚ Â„Ó ÙËÁ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ ÒÛ˘ÌÓÒÚ¸, Â„Ó Í‡˜ÂÒÚ‚‡. ç ÒÎÛ˜‡ÈÌÓ ÓÌ ıÓ‰ËÎ ÔÓ ÇËÚ·ÒÍÛ ‚ 1918 „Ó‰Û Ò ÔÓ‰ÁÓÌÓÈ ÚÛ·ÓÈ. ЧУБАРОВ:

„Û‡¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ /gouache on paper 1979 50 cm • 37 cm

Ö„Ó ÔÓ‰ÁÓ̇fl ÚÛ·‡, Â„Ó ÓÔÚË͇ Ô‚‡˘‡Î‡Ò¸ ‚ ÎÂÚ‡ÚÂθÌ˚È ‡ÔÔ‡‡Ú Ë ÓÌ ‚ÏÂÒÚÂ Ò ÌÂÈ ÔÂÂÏ¢‡ÎÒfl ‚ ÔÓ¯ÎÓÂ. ÇÒΉ Á‡ ÌËÏ fl «‚ÎÂÚ‡˛» ‚ ˝ÚÓÚ ÒÚ‡ÌÌ˚È ÏË ͇ÚËÌ˚, Ó˘ÛÔ˚‚‡˛ „Ó, ÏÂÌfl ËÌÚÂÂÒÛÂÚ Â„Ó ÙÓχ, Â„Ó Ú‡ÍÚËθÌÓÒÚ¸. Ç ÏÓËı ˜ÂÌÓ-·ÂÎ˚ı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı Ù‡ÍÚ˘ÂÒÍË ÔËÒÛÚÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ «˜ÂÌ˚È Í‚‡‰‡Ú» å‡Î‚˘‡. à Ò·fl fl Ò˜ËÚ‡˛ ̇ÒΉÌËÍÓÏ ÛÒÒÍÓÈ «‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍÓÈ» ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰ÌÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛ˚. é̇ Ò„ӉÌfl ÊË‚ÂÚ Í‡Í ÔÓ‰ÒÓÁ̇ÌË ‚ÓÔÂÈÒÍÓ„Ó ÏË‡ ÍÛθÚÛ˚, Í‡Í ÔÓÎË„ÓÌ, ̇ ÍÓÚÓÓÏ Ô‡ÍÚ˘ÂÒÍË Ì‚ÓÁÏÓÊÌÓ Ó͇Á‡Ú¸Òfl Ë ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌ˚È Á‡Ô‡‰ ‡Á„Îfl‰˚‚‡ÂÚ ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚Ëfl ̇ ÌÂÏ, Â„Ó ÒÓ·˚ÚËfl ÒÚÓÓÌ˚. Ç «˜ÂÌÓÏ Í‚‡‰‡Ú» ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Û˛Ú ÔÓÔÓˆËË ‚Á‡ËÏÓÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌËÈ ÏÂÊ‰Û ˜ÂÌ˚Ï Ë ·ÂÎ˚Ï, Ë ‚ ÏÓÂÈ Ô·ÒÚËÍ fl ËÌÚÛËÚË‚ÌÓ Ë˘Û ˝ÚË ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌË ÔÓÔÓˆËË, ‚Á‡ËÏÓÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌËfl ÍË‚ËÁÌ˚ ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚÂÈ Ë ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ·ÂÎÓ„Ó, Á‡‚ËÒ‡ÌË «‚ÓÎÓÒflÌ˚ı» ÒÚÛÍÚÛ, Ëı Á‡ÒÎÓÌÂÌËfl ·ÂÎÓ„Ó Ë ‚ÌÂÁ‡ÔÌ˚ ÔÓ˚‚˚ ·ÂÎÓ„Ó ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸ ÚÂÔÂÚ ˆ‚ÂÚÌÓÈ ËÎË ˜ÂÌÓÈ Ï‡ÚÂËË. óÂÏ ·ÓΠχÚÂËfl Ò„Û˘‡ÂÚÒfl, ˜ÂÏ Ó̇ ÚflÊÂÎÂÂÚ, ÚÂÏ ‡ÍÚË‚Ì Ó̇ «˜ÂÌÂÂÚ», ÛÚ‚Âʉ‡fl Ô‰ÂθÌ˚ ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËfl ÏË‡ — Â„Ó ÓʉÂÌË ËÎË ÒÏÂÚ¸, ˜ÚÓ ‚ ÔË̈ËÔ ӉÌÓ Ë ÚÓ ÊÂ.

As for your color world, doesn’t it signify life between the two poles of birth and death, a sensual real life in all its variations?

PATSUKOV:

CHUBAROV: My color world is closer to reality than my black-and-white world. It flows uninterruptedly, as a living substance of life itself. It is made of all our joys and sorrows, our despair and pleasures. But it is unique in its abstraction, its every change can be considered from various points of view. For me it is more universal than, let’s say, the Renaissance. Maybe even more universal than Giotto, who lived even before Michelangelo.

Ä Ú‚ÓÈ «ˆ‚ÂÚÌÓÈ» ÏË Ì ÓÁ̇˜‡ÂÚ ÎË ÓÌ ÊËÁ̸ ÏÂÊ‰Û ÔÓÎ˛Ò‡ÏË ÒÏÂÚË Ë ÓʉÂÌËfl, ÌÂÔÓÒ‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ÊËÁ̸ ‚Ó ‚ÒÂı Ò‚ÓËı ‚‡ˇˆËflı?

ПАЦЮКОВ:

ЧУБАРОВ: åÓÈ ˆ‚ÂÚÌÓÈ ÏË ·ÎËÊÂ Í Ì‡¯ÂÈ ‡θÌÓÒÚË, ˜ÂÏ ˜ÂÌÓ-·ÂÎ˚È, ÓÌ Ú˜ÂÚ ‚ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚ÌÓÒÚflı Í‡Í Ú̸͇ ÊË‚Ó„Ó ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚‡ ÊËÁÌË. Ç ÌÂÏ — ̇¯Ë ‡‰ÓÒÚË Ë ·ÓÎË, ÓÚ˜‡flÌ¸Â Ë Ì‡Ò·ʉÂÌËfl. çÓ ÓÌ ÛÌË͇ÎÂÌ ‚ Ò‚ÓÂÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, β·ÓÂ Â„Ó ËÁÏÂÌÂÌË ÏÓÊÌÓ ‡ÒÒχÚË‚‡Ú¸ Ò ‡ÁÌ˚ı ÚÓ˜ÂÍ ÁÂÌËfl. ÑÎfl ÏÂÌfl ÓÌ ·ÓΠÛÌË‚ÂÒ‡ÎÂÌ, ˜ÂÏ, ̇ÔËÏÂ, êÂÌÂÒÒ‡ÌÒ, ‰‡Ê ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ·ÓÎÂÂ, ˜ÂÏ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË ÑÊÓÚÚÓ, ÓÌ ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Ó‚‡Î ¢ ‰Ó åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ. ПАЦЮКОВ:

í˚ ˜‡ÒÚÓ „Ó‚Ó˯¸, ˜ÚÓ ·Ó¯¸Òfl Ò åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ. óÚÓ ˝ÚÓ ÓÁ̇˜‡ÂÚ? ЧУБАРОВ: ü ÊË‚Û ‚ Ô‡ËÒÚÓËË — ‰Ó ÑÊÓÚÚÓ Ë ‰Ó åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ, ÌÓ ÓÚÚÛ‰‡ fl Ô˚Ú‡˛Ò¸ Á‡„ÎflÌÛÚ¸ ‚ ·Û‰Û˘ÂÂ. ä‡Í ËÁ ÍÓÎÓ‰ˆ‡, ËÁ ÍÓÚÓÓ„Ó ‰ÌÂÏ ÏÓÊÌÓ Û‚Ë‰ÂÚ¸ Á‚ÂÁ‰˚. Ç ˛ÌÓÒÚË fl ·˚Î Ó˜Â̸ ۂΘÂÌ åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ, ͇˜ÂÒÚ‚ÓÏ Â„Ó Ô·ÒÚËÍË, Í‡Í ÓÌ ÔÂ‰‡‚‡Î ˝ÌÂ„˲ Ú·, Ë ˝ÚÓ ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ËÚÂθÌÓ ÔÓ·ÎÂÏ˚ ˛ÌÓÒÚË Ë ‚ÂÒ¸ êÂÌÂÒÒ‡ÌÒ ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊËÚ ˛ÌÓÒÚË ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÚ‚‡. çÓ ÔÓÚÓÏ fl ÒڇΠÒÔÛÒ͇ڸÒfl ‚„ÎÛ·¸ ‚ÂÏÂÌË. à ˜ÂÏ „ÎÛ·Ê ÒÎÓË ‚ÂÏÂÌË, ÚÂÏ ÓÌË ‡ÍÚۇθÌ — ÓÌË ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊ‡Ú Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ Ë ÒÎÓflÏ ·Û‰Û˘Â„Ó. ü ÔÂÂÊË‚‡˛ ÏË Í‡Í Í‡Ú‡ÒÚÓÙÛ Ë ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚Û˛ Í‡Í ‰‚ÌË ÒÎÓË ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl ‚˚·‡Ò˚‚‡˛ÚÒfl Ò„ӉÌfl ̇ ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚ¸. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ÔÓ„ÛʇÂÚÒfl ‚ „ÎÛ·ËÌÌ˚ ÍÛθÚÛÌ˚ ÒÎÓË, ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, Ë ‚ ‰ÓÍÛθÚÛÌ˚Â, ÍÓ„‰‡ ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍ ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊËÚ ‚ÒÂÏÛ ÏËÛ, ÌÂ

146

PATSUKOV:

You’ve often mentioned your resistance to Michelangelo. What do you mean by that? CHUBAROV: I live in pre-history, before Giotto and Michelangelo, but from there I’m trying to have a glimpse of the future. As if I were at the bottom of a deep well from where you can see stars even in daylight. In my youth I was carried away by Michelangelo, by the quality of his forms and the way he could convey the living energy of the human body. Those are the problems associated with youth and the whole of the Renaissance belongs to the youth of the humankind. But later I began my descent into the depth of time. I discovered that the deeper layers of the past you penetrate the more relevant they are to the future. I experience the world as a catastrophe, and I’m aware of the ancient layers of consciousness being expelled on the surface today. The artist immerces into the deep-going cultural layers, maybe even into pre-cultural layers, when man was part of the whole world rather than being a super-man that Michelangelo presents to us. I’m no longer concerned with the human anatomy but with the anatomy of the world with its spaces, muscles and sinews, its structure. But I’m not a surgeon. I’m rather a Philippine healer. My vision gives life to reality. I make real journeys into the anatomy of the surrounding world. It is close to the human anatomy but it exists in quite different dimensions and on larger scales. Its forms are quite abstract.

147


ë˜Ëڇ¯¸ ÎË Ú˚, ˜ÚÓ ‡ÏÂË͇ÌÒÍËÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚È ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁÏ Ó͇Á‡Î ̇ Ú·fl ‚ÎËflÌËÂ? ê‡ÒÒχÚË‚‡fl Ú‚ÓË ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË, ÏÓÊÌÓ Ó·Ì‡ÛÊËÚ¸ ÓÔ‰ÂÎÂÌÌÛ˛ ÒÚËÎÂ‚Û˛ Ó·˘ÌÓÒÚ¸ ‚ ÒÚÛÍÚÛÂ, ‚ χÁÍÂ, ‚ ÊÂÒÚÂ. à ‚ ÚÓ Ê ‚ÂÏfl fl ‚ËÊÛ ‚ Ú‚ÓËı ‡·ÓÚ‡ı ÌÂÒÓÏÌÂÌÌÛ˛ Ò‚flÁ¸ Ò å‡Î‚˘ÂÏ, Ó˜Â̸ ÒÍ˚ÚÛ˛ Ë Ì ÒÚËÎÂ‚Û˛.

ПАЦЮКОВ:

PATSUKOV: Do you think you’ve been influenced by American abstract expressionism? Looking at your abstract compositions one can’t help noting a certain stylistic similarity in their structure, brush stroke, and gesture. At the same time I can clearly see in your pictures a certain influence of Malevich, which is not immediately apparent, an influence that does not concern style.

Style is a product of the times rather than one’s inner essence. As far as formal features are concerned you could find something in common in my pictures with Mark Toby and Jackson Pollock, especially at the level of experimenting with rhythmic structures. But I’m more interested in the pictorial space as such. I see it as a chasm that excites me. In my dreams I try to open it up and penetrate its interior, to fill it with some visual substance. It is true that I’m more inclined towards the Malevich tradition and his method of filling in the picture space and finding the right “organs” of this space. Malevich, the same as Jackson Pollock, tries to penetrate this inner space. However, Pollock lives in the pulsing of this inner world while Malevich experiences its physical substance and qualities. In 1910 he wandered around Vitebsk with a spyglass in his hands, this optical aid turned into an aircraft, transporting him into the past. I fly after him into the strange world of his pictures. I touch everything in it for I’m interested in its shape and tactility. Malevich’s black square is practically present in my black-and-white compositions and I consider myself a successor of the Russian “archaic” avant-garde culture that lives today in the subconscious of the European culture, serving as a polygon, which is practically inaccessible for scrutiny so that a Western mind can only view its actions and events from the outside. The “black square” possesses certain proportions of relationship between black and white – in my works I’m intuitively trying to find these inner proportions, these relationships between the surface curves and the pure white, suspension of the “hairy” structures, shielding the white space, and the sudden breakthroughs of the white through the quivering color or black matter. The more dense and heavy this matter gets the more actively it grows blacker, establishing the extreme states of the world – its birth or death that are one and the same thing in principle.

CHUBAROV:

ëÚËθ ҂ˉÂÚÂθÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ ÒÍÓÂÂ Ó ‚ÂÏÂÌË, ˜ÂÏ Ó ÒÛ˘ÌÓÒÚË. îÓχθÌ˚ ҂flÁË, ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, Û ÏÂÌfl ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Û˛Ú Ë Ò å‡ÍÓÏ íÓ·Ë, Ë Ò ÑÊÂÍÒÓÌÓÏ èÓÎÎÓÍÓÏ. åÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ˝ÚÓ ÔÓfl‚ÎflÂÚÒfl ̇ ÛÓ‚Ì ÔÓËÒ͇ ËÚÏ˘ÂÒÍËı ÒÚÛÍÚÛ. çÓ ÏÂÌfl ËÌÚÂÂÒÛÂÚ ·Óθ¯Â Ò‡ÏÓ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó, ÓÌÓ ÏÂÌfl ‚ÓÎÌÛÂÚ Í‡Í ·ÂÁ‰Ì‡, Ë fl ‚ Ò‚ÓËı Ϙڇı Ô˚Ú‡˛Ò¸  ͇Í-ÚÓ ÔËÍ˚Ú¸, ‚ÓÈÚË ‚  «ËÌÚÂ¸Â» Ë Á‡ÔÓÎÌËÚ¸ Ô·ÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÈ Ï‡ÚÂËÂÈ. ÑÂÈÒÚ‚ËÚÂθÌÓ, fl ‡ÍÚË‚Ì ӷ‡˘‡˛Ò¸ Í Ú‡‰ËˆËflÏ å‡Î‚˘‡, Í Â„Ó ÏÂÚÓ‰‡Ï Á‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌËfl ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡, Í Â„Ó ÔÓËÒÍ‡Ï «Ó„‡ÌÓ‚» ˝ÚÓ„Ó ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡. å‡Î‚˘ Í‡Í Ë ÑÊÂÍÒÓÌ èÓÎÎÓÍ ÒÚÂÏËÚÒfl ÔÓÌËÍÌÛÚ¸ ‚Ó ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌË ËÁÏÂÂÌËfl ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡, ÌÓ èÓÎÎÓÍ ÊË‚ÂÚ ÔÛθ҇ˆËÂÈ ˝ÚÓ„Ó «‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌ„ӻ ÏË‡, ‡ å‡Î‚˘ ÔÂÂÊË‚‡ÂÚ Â„Ó ÙËÁ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ ÒÛ˘ÌÓÒÚ¸, Â„Ó Í‡˜ÂÒÚ‚‡. ç ÒÎÛ˜‡ÈÌÓ ÓÌ ıÓ‰ËÎ ÔÓ ÇËÚ·ÒÍÛ ‚ 1918 „Ó‰Û Ò ÔÓ‰ÁÓÌÓÈ ÚÛ·ÓÈ. ЧУБАРОВ:

„Û‡¯¸, ·Ûχ„‡ /gouache on paper 1979 50 cm • 37 cm

Ö„Ó ÔÓ‰ÁÓ̇fl ÚÛ·‡, Â„Ó ÓÔÚË͇ Ô‚‡˘‡Î‡Ò¸ ‚ ÎÂÚ‡ÚÂθÌ˚È ‡ÔÔ‡‡Ú Ë ÓÌ ‚ÏÂÒÚÂ Ò ÌÂÈ ÔÂÂÏ¢‡ÎÒfl ‚ ÔÓ¯ÎÓÂ. ÇÒΉ Á‡ ÌËÏ fl «‚ÎÂÚ‡˛» ‚ ˝ÚÓÚ ÒÚ‡ÌÌ˚È ÏË ͇ÚËÌ˚, Ó˘ÛÔ˚‚‡˛ „Ó, ÏÂÌfl ËÌÚÂÂÒÛÂÚ Â„Ó ÙÓχ, Â„Ó Ú‡ÍÚËθÌÓÒÚ¸. Ç ÏÓËı ˜ÂÌÓ-·ÂÎ˚ı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı Ù‡ÍÚ˘ÂÒÍË ÔËÒÛÚÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ «˜ÂÌ˚È Í‚‡‰‡Ú» å‡Î‚˘‡. à Ò·fl fl Ò˜ËÚ‡˛ ̇ÒΉÌËÍÓÏ ÛÒÒÍÓÈ «‡ı‡Ë˜ÂÒÍÓÈ» ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰ÌÓÈ ÍÛθÚÛ˚. é̇ Ò„ӉÌfl ÊË‚ÂÚ Í‡Í ÔÓ‰ÒÓÁ̇ÌË ‚ÓÔÂÈÒÍÓ„Ó ÏË‡ ÍÛθÚÛ˚, Í‡Í ÔÓÎË„ÓÌ, ̇ ÍÓÚÓÓÏ Ô‡ÍÚ˘ÂÒÍË Ì‚ÓÁÏÓÊÌÓ Ó͇Á‡Ú¸Òfl Ë ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌ˚È Á‡Ô‡‰ ‡Á„Îfl‰˚‚‡ÂÚ ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚Ëfl ̇ ÌÂÏ, Â„Ó ÒÓ·˚ÚËfl ÒÚÓÓÌ˚. Ç «˜ÂÌÓÏ Í‚‡‰‡Ú» ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Û˛Ú ÔÓÔÓˆËË ‚Á‡ËÏÓÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌËÈ ÏÂÊ‰Û ˜ÂÌ˚Ï Ë ·ÂÎ˚Ï, Ë ‚ ÏÓÂÈ Ô·ÒÚËÍ fl ËÌÚÛËÚË‚ÌÓ Ë˘Û ˝ÚË ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌË ÔÓÔÓˆËË, ‚Á‡ËÏÓÓÚÌÓ¯ÂÌËfl ÍË‚ËÁÌ˚ ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚÂÈ Ë ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ·ÂÎÓ„Ó, Á‡‚ËÒ‡ÌË «‚ÓÎÓÒflÌ˚ı» ÒÚÛÍÚÛ, Ëı Á‡ÒÎÓÌÂÌËfl ·ÂÎÓ„Ó Ë ‚ÌÂÁ‡ÔÌ˚ ÔÓ˚‚˚ ·ÂÎÓ„Ó ÒÍ‚ÓÁ¸ ÚÂÔÂÚ ˆ‚ÂÚÌÓÈ ËÎË ˜ÂÌÓÈ Ï‡ÚÂËË. óÂÏ ·ÓΠχÚÂËfl Ò„Û˘‡ÂÚÒfl, ˜ÂÏ Ó̇ ÚflÊÂÎÂÂÚ, ÚÂÏ ‡ÍÚË‚Ì Ó̇ «˜ÂÌÂÂÚ», ÛÚ‚Âʉ‡fl Ô‰ÂθÌ˚ ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËfl ÏË‡ — Â„Ó ÓʉÂÌË ËÎË ÒÏÂÚ¸, ˜ÚÓ ‚ ÔË̈ËÔ ӉÌÓ Ë ÚÓ ÊÂ.

As for your color world, doesn’t it signify life between the two poles of birth and death, a sensual real life in all its variations?

PATSUKOV:

CHUBAROV: My color world is closer to reality than my black-and-white world. It flows uninterruptedly, as a living substance of life itself. It is made of all our joys and sorrows, our despair and pleasures. But it is unique in its abstraction, its every change can be considered from various points of view. For me it is more universal than, let’s say, the Renaissance. Maybe even more universal than Giotto, who lived even before Michelangelo.

Ä Ú‚ÓÈ «ˆ‚ÂÚÌÓÈ» ÏË Ì ÓÁ̇˜‡ÂÚ ÎË ÓÌ ÊËÁ̸ ÏÂÊ‰Û ÔÓÎ˛Ò‡ÏË ÒÏÂÚË Ë ÓʉÂÌËfl, ÌÂÔÓÒ‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ÊËÁ̸ ‚Ó ‚ÒÂı Ò‚ÓËı ‚‡ˇˆËflı?

ПАЦЮКОВ:

ЧУБАРОВ: åÓÈ ˆ‚ÂÚÌÓÈ ÏË ·ÎËÊÂ Í Ì‡¯ÂÈ ‡θÌÓÒÚË, ˜ÂÏ ˜ÂÌÓ-·ÂÎ˚È, ÓÌ Ú˜ÂÚ ‚ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚ÌÓÒÚflı Í‡Í Ú̸͇ ÊË‚Ó„Ó ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚‡ ÊËÁÌË. Ç ÌÂÏ — ̇¯Ë ‡‰ÓÒÚË Ë ·ÓÎË, ÓÚ˜‡flÌ¸Â Ë Ì‡Ò·ʉÂÌËfl. çÓ ÓÌ ÛÌË͇ÎÂÌ ‚ Ò‚ÓÂÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, β·ÓÂ Â„Ó ËÁÏÂÌÂÌË ÏÓÊÌÓ ‡ÒÒχÚË‚‡Ú¸ Ò ‡ÁÌ˚ı ÚÓ˜ÂÍ ÁÂÌËfl. ÑÎfl ÏÂÌfl ÓÌ ·ÓΠÛÌË‚ÂÒ‡ÎÂÌ, ˜ÂÏ, ̇ÔËÏÂ, êÂÌÂÒÒ‡ÌÒ, ‰‡Ê ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ·ÓÎÂÂ, ˜ÂÏ ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËË ÑÊÓÚÚÓ, ÓÌ ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Ó‚‡Î ¢ ‰Ó åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ. ПАЦЮКОВ:

í˚ ˜‡ÒÚÓ „Ó‚Ó˯¸, ˜ÚÓ ·Ó¯¸Òfl Ò åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ. óÚÓ ˝ÚÓ ÓÁ̇˜‡ÂÚ? ЧУБАРОВ: ü ÊË‚Û ‚ Ô‡ËÒÚÓËË — ‰Ó ÑÊÓÚÚÓ Ë ‰Ó åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ, ÌÓ ÓÚÚÛ‰‡ fl Ô˚Ú‡˛Ò¸ Á‡„ÎflÌÛÚ¸ ‚ ·Û‰Û˘ÂÂ. ä‡Í ËÁ ÍÓÎÓ‰ˆ‡, ËÁ ÍÓÚÓÓ„Ó ‰ÌÂÏ ÏÓÊÌÓ Û‚Ë‰ÂÚ¸ Á‚ÂÁ‰˚. Ç ˛ÌÓÒÚË fl ·˚Î Ó˜Â̸ ۂΘÂÌ åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ, ͇˜ÂÒÚ‚ÓÏ Â„Ó Ô·ÒÚËÍË, Í‡Í ÓÌ ÔÂ‰‡‚‡Î ˝ÌÂ„˲ Ú·, Ë ˝ÚÓ ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ËÚÂθÌÓ ÔÓ·ÎÂÏ˚ ˛ÌÓÒÚË Ë ‚ÂÒ¸ êÂÌÂÒÒ‡ÌÒ ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊËÚ ˛ÌÓÒÚË ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÚ‚‡. çÓ ÔÓÚÓÏ fl ÒڇΠÒÔÛÒ͇ڸÒfl ‚„ÎÛ·¸ ‚ÂÏÂÌË. à ˜ÂÏ „ÎÛ·Ê ÒÎÓË ‚ÂÏÂÌË, ÚÂÏ ÓÌË ‡ÍÚۇθÌ — ÓÌË ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊ‡Ú Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ Ë ÒÎÓflÏ ·Û‰Û˘Â„Ó. ü ÔÂÂÊË‚‡˛ ÏË Í‡Í Í‡Ú‡ÒÚÓÙÛ Ë ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚Û˛ Í‡Í ‰‚ÌË ÒÎÓË ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl ‚˚·‡Ò˚‚‡˛ÚÒfl Ò„ӉÌfl ̇ ÔÓ‚ÂıÌÓÒÚ¸. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ÔÓ„ÛʇÂÚÒfl ‚ „ÎÛ·ËÌÌ˚ ÍÛθÚÛÌ˚ ÒÎÓË, ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, Ë ‚ ‰ÓÍÛθÚÛÌ˚Â, ÍÓ„‰‡ ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍ ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊËÚ ‚ÒÂÏÛ ÏËÛ, ÌÂ

146

PATSUKOV:

You’ve often mentioned your resistance to Michelangelo. What do you mean by that? CHUBAROV: I live in pre-history, before Giotto and Michelangelo, but from there I’m trying to have a glimpse of the future. As if I were at the bottom of a deep well from where you can see stars even in daylight. In my youth I was carried away by Michelangelo, by the quality of his forms and the way he could convey the living energy of the human body. Those are the problems associated with youth and the whole of the Renaissance belongs to the youth of the humankind. But later I began my descent into the depth of time. I discovered that the deeper layers of the past you penetrate the more relevant they are to the future. I experience the world as a catastrophe, and I’m aware of the ancient layers of consciousness being expelled on the surface today. The artist immerces into the deep-going cultural layers, maybe even into pre-cultural layers, when man was part of the whole world rather than being a super-man that Michelangelo presents to us. I’m no longer concerned with the human anatomy but with the anatomy of the world with its spaces, muscles and sinews, its structure. But I’m not a surgeon. I’m rather a Philippine healer. My vision gives life to reality. I make real journeys into the anatomy of the surrounding world. It is close to the human anatomy but it exists in quite different dimensions and on larger scales. Its forms are quite abstract.

147


‚˚‰ÂÎflÂÚÒfl ÒÛÔÂÏ˝ÌÓÏ, Í‡Í Û åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ. åÂÌfl Ò„ӉÌfl ËÌÚÂÂÒÛÂÚ Ì ‡Ì‡ÚÓÏËfl ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ‡ ‡Ì‡ÚÓÏËfl ÏË‡, Â„Ó ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡, ÏÛÒÍÛÎ˚ Ë ÒÛıÓÊËÎËfl ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ – Â„Ó ÒÚÛÍÚÛ‡. çÓ fl Ì ıËÛ„, ‡, ÒÍÓÂÂ, ÙËÎËÔÔËÌÒÍËÈ ‚‡˜,- ÏÓ ÁÂÌË Ô‚‡˘‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ‡θÌÓ ·˚ÚËÂ, Ë fl ÒÓ‚Â¯‡˛ ‡θÌ˚ ÔÛÚ¯ÂÒÚ‚Ëfl ‚ ‡Ì‡ÚÓÏ˲ ÓÍÛʇ˛˘ÂÈ ÏÂÌfl ‡θÌÓÒÚË. é̇ ·ÎËÁ͇ Í ‡Ì‡ÚÓÏËË ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ÌÓ ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ ÒÓ‚Â¯ÂÌÌÓ ‚ ËÌ˚ı χүڇ·‡ı Ë ËÁÏÂÂÌËflı. Ö ÙÓÏ˚ ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚.

In what way do you become aware of this anatomy? Do you sense it with your sense organs or through certain signs and symbols or your energy? When you speak about muscles what visual image do you have in your mind?

PATSUKOV:

I mean it as a poetic license, of course, pure artistic invention, part of a power supply system. You could say it’s my secret. This is the first time I’m disclosing it, trying to put into words my attempts to present visually the world’s energy. In all the ancient cultures the human body is presented as an energy field or rather as various envelopes of this field. I’m aware of their motion zones as waves. The 20th century began with Cezanne, with his assertion that everything could be reduced to a globe, a cylinder and a cone, as these are the genetic codes of space. Picasso and the Russian avant-garde art absorbed this philosophy and found their own place within it. My ribbon-like signs, often resembling flags or scythe-like curves that Malevich talked about, are precisely those globes, cylinders and cones but on a more complicated level. They appear as portions of energy, as its forms, or the elements employed by shamans. All modern art derives from them in my view. In Yves Klein they become very thin and turn into a kind of a biological mass. In Joseph Beuys they materialize in felt fibers or honey crystals. In Rebecca Horn their energy inspires her structures. They are capable of transforming into reflective imagery, feeding the energy of conceptual art.

CHUBAROV:

Ä̇ÚÓÏËfl, ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ Ú˚ ‚ˉ˯¸, Ó˘Û˘‡Â¯¸, ‚˚fl‚ÎflÂÚÒfl ÚÓ·ÓÈ ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ËÚÂθÌÓ ˜ÂÂÁ Ó„‡Ì˚ ËÎË ˜ÂÂÁ Á̇ÍË ˝ÚËı Ó„‡ÌÓ‚, ˜ÂÂÁ ÒËÏ‚ÓÎ˚ Ë ˝ÌÂ„˲. äÓ„‰‡ Ú˚ „Ó‚Ó˯¸ Ó ÏÛÒÍÛ·ı — ͇ÍÓÈ ‚ËÁۇθÌ˚È Ó·‡Á Ú˚ Ëϯ¸ ‚ ‚Ë‰Û ?

ПАЦЮКОВ:

ЧУБАРОВ: äÓ̘ÌÓ, ˜ËÒÚÓ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ÒÏ˚ÒÎ, ˜ËÒÚÛ˛ Ó·‡ÁÌÓÒÚ¸, ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ ÒËÒÚÂÏÛ. à ÏÓÊÌÓ Ò˜ËÚ‡Ú¸, ˜ÚÓ ˝ÚÓ ÏÓÈ ÒÂÍÂÚ. ü ‚ÔÂ‚˚Â Â„Ó ‡ÒÍ˚‚‡˛, ‡ÒÒ͇Á˚‚‡˛, ˜ÚÓ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓ fl ‚˚fl‚Îfl˛ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚËÍÛ ÏË‡. óÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓ ÚÂÎÓ ‚Ó ‚ÒÂı ‰‚ÌËı ÍÛθÚÛ‡ı Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÂÚÒfl ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚ˘ÂÒÍËÏ ÔÓÎÂÏ Ë ÔË ÚÓÏ ‡ÁÌ˚ÏË Ó·ÓÎӘ͇ÏË ˝ÚÓ„Ó ÔÓÎfl. ü Ó˘Û˘‡˛ Ëı ÁÓÌ˚, ‰‚ËÊÂÌËfl ‚ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â Í‡Í ‚ÓÎÌ˚. 20˚È ‚ÂÍ Ì‡˜‡ÎÒfl Ò ëÂÁ‡Ì̇, Ò Â„Ó Ù‡Á˚, ˜ÚÓ ‚Ò ÏÓÊÌÓ Ò‚ÂÒÚË Í ¯‡Û, ˆËÎË̉Û Ë ÍÓÌÛÒÛ, Í‡Í ·˚ „ÂÌÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÏÛ ÍÓ‰Û ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡. èË͇ÒÒÓ Ë ÛÒÒÍËÈ ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰ ÔÂÂÊËÎË ˝ÚÛ ÙËÎÓÒÓÙ˲, ÓÒÓÁ̇ÎË Ò·fl ‚ ÌÂÈ. åÓË ÎÂÌÚÓÓ·‡ÁÌ˚ Á̇ÍË, ËÌÓ„‰‡ ̇ÔÓÏË̇˛˘Ë Ù·„Ë, ËÌÓ„‰‡ ÒÂÔӂˉÌ˚ ÍË‚˚Â, Ó ÍÓÚÓ˚ı „Ó‚ÓËÎ å‡Î‚˘, — Ë ÂÒÚ¸ ¯‡, ˆËÎË̉ Ë ÍÓÌÛÒ, ÌÓ Ì‡ ·ÓΠÒÎÓÊÌÓÏ ÛÓ‚ÌÂ. éÌË ‚ÓÁÌË͇˛Ú Í‡Í ÔÓˆËË ˝ÌÂ„ËË, Í‡Í Â ÙÓÏ˚, Í‡Í ˝ÎÂÏÂÌÚ˚, ÍÓÚÓ˚ÏË ÔÓθÁÛÂÚÒfl ¯‡Ï‡Ì. ç‡ ÌËı, fl ‰Ûχ˛, ÒÚÓËÚÒfl ‚Ò ÌÓ‚Âȯ ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó. éÌË ÒÓ‚Â¯ÂÌÌÓ ÛÚÓ̘‡˛ÚÒfl, Ô‚‡˘‡˛ÚÒfl ‚ ·ËÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ χÒÒÛ Û à‚‡ äÎflÈ̇. àı Ó·‡Á˚ ÚflÊÂÎÂ˛Ú ‚ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÈ ˝ÍÓÎÓ„ËË âÓÁÂÙ‡ ÅÓÈÒ‡, χÚÂˇÎËÁÛflÒ¸ ‚ ‚ÓÎÓÍ̇ı ‚ÓÈÎÓ͇, ‚ ÍËÒڇηı ω‡. àı ˝ÌÂ„Ëfl ‰‚ËÊÂÚ ÍÓÌÒÚÛ͈ËflÏË ê·ÂÍÍË ïÓÌ. éÌË ÒÔÓÒÓ·Ì˚ Ú‡ÌÒÙÓÏËÓ‚‡Ú¸Òfl ‚ Ó·‡Á˚ ÂÙÎÂÍÒËË, ÔÂÂÏ¢‡flÒ¸ ‚ ˝ÌÂ„˲ ÍÓ̈ÂÔÚۇθÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡.

Do you mean that your aspirations, your gesture within the space of your canvas are not simply a physical action but also intellectual? Are you thinking about formal aspects during the process of creating your work?

PATSUKOV:

CHUBAROV: No, I simply exist within my work, but my thoughts determine its structure. They certainly influence my composition and also carry my comments to the picture. Moreover, my comments turn into a visual image. It is not easy to pinpoint and separate feelings and thoughts. This is precisely how my work differs from traditional abstract art. My abstract pictures carry their own dramatic structure, baring abstract symbols so that one could call my manner “post-abstractionism” in the sense that my abstract compositions are supplemented by commentary and pose a question: What is an abstraction? Here is an abstraction in its pure form, where the image and the concept become a single whole. Take, for instance, Picasso’s portrait of Ambrois Vollar. It is full of such “intellectual drops” while each detail is a typical abstract picture in itself. Existing already in a different layer of space-time I examine these “drops” from within and subconsciously analyze them. I regard Picasso’s modernism through the prism of post-modernism, in the light of my thoughts and analyses while remaining within the framework of art, that is, in the same situation as Picasso had been. Culture is a continuous process, as distinct from direct reality its phenomenal nature is constant but it lives through different phases of its “tree of life”. Today its branches acquired intellectual forms, but the next metamorphoses are already in the way. Maybe some qualitative explosion will lead us to a new sensual perception.

ëΉӂ‡ÚÂθÌÓ, Ú‚Ó ‰‚ËÊÂÌËÂ, Ú‚ÓÈ ÊÂÒÚ ‚ ‡Ï͇ı ıÓÎÒÚ‡ — ˝ÚÓ Ì ÚÓθÍÓ ÙËÁ˘ÂÒÍÓ ‰‚ËÊÂÌËÂ, ÌÓ Ë ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌÓÂ? äÓ„‰‡ Ú˚ ÌÂÔÓÒ‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Û¯¸ ‚ ÔÓˆÂÒÒ ÒÓÁ‰‡ÌËfl ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl, ‡ÁÏ˚¯Îfl¯¸ ÎË Ú˚ Ó Â„Ó ÙÓχı?

ПАЦЮКОВ:

ЧУБАРОВ: çÂÚ, fl ÔÓÒÚÓ ÔËÒÛÚÒÚ‚Û˛ ‚ ÌÂÏ, ÌÓ ÏÓË ‡ÁÏ˚¯ÎÂÌËfl ÏÂÌfl˛Ú Â„Ó ÒÚÛÍÚÛÛ. éÌË, ÌÂÒÓÏÌÂÌÌÓ, ÓÍ‡¯Ë‚‡˛Ú ÏÓ˛ ÍÓÏÔÓÁËˆË˛, ÓÌË ÌÂÒÛÚ ‚ ÒÂ·Â Ë ÏÓË ÍÓÏÏÂÌÚ‡ËË Í Í‡ÚËÌÂ. çÓ ÏÓË ÍÓÏÏÂÌÚ‡ËË Ò‡ÏË Ô‚‡˘‡˛ÚÒfl ‚ Ô·ÒÚËÍÛ. à ˝ÚÓ Ó˜Â̸ ÒÎÓÊÌÓ ‚˚fl‚ËÚ¸, ‡ÒÒÎÓËÚ¸ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚Ó Ë ‡ÁÏ˚¯ÎÂÌËfl. ëÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ Ë ÏÓ ÓÚ΢ˠÓÚ Ú‡‰ËˆËÓÌÌÓÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË. åÓfl ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl ÓÚÍ˚‚‡ÂÚ Ò‚Ó˛ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ‰‡Ï‡ÚÛ„˲, Ó̇ ӷ̇ʇÂÚ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ ÒÏ˚ÒÎ˚, ˝ÚÓ Í‡Í ·˚ ÔÓÒÚ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl, ˝ÚÓ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl, ̇ ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ ̇ÎÓÊÂÌ˚ ÍÓÏÏÂÌÚ‡ËË Ë ÔÓÒÚ‡‚ÎÂÌ ‚ÓÔÓÒ: ˜ÚÓ Ê ڇÍÓ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl? èÂ‰ ‚‡ÏË — ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl ‚ ˜ËÒÚÓÏ ‚ˉÂ, „‰Â Ó·‡Á Ë ÔÓÌflÚË ӷ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚flÚÒfl ‰ËÌ˚Ï ˆÂÎ˚Ï. ÇÓÁ¸ÏËÚ Á̇ÏÂÌËÚ˚È ÔÓÚÂÚ ÄÏ·Û‡Á‡ ÇÓη‡ èË͇ÒÒÓ. éÌ ‚ÂÒ¸ ̇ÔÓÎÌÂÌ Ú‡ÍËÏË «ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚ÏË Í‡ÔÎflÏË» Ë Â„Ó Î˛·ÓÈ Ù‡„ÏÂÌÚ Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÂÚ ÚËÔ˘ÌÛ˛ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÛ˛ ͇ÚËÌÛ. ü, ̇ıÓ‰flÒ¸ ÛÊ ‚ ËÌÓÏ ÒÎÓ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ — ‚ÂÏÂÌË, ‡Á„Îfl‰˚‚‡˛ ˝ÚË «Í‡ÔÎË» ËÁÌÛÚË Ë ·ÂÒÒÓÁ̇ÚÂθÌÓ ‡Ì‡ÎËÁËÛ˛ Ëı. åÓ‰ÂÌËÁÏ èË͇ÒÒÓ fl ‡ÒÒχÚË‚‡˛ ‚ ÓÔÚËÍ ÔÓÒÚÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁχ, ‚ ÓÔÚËÍ ‡Ì‡ÎËÁ‡ Ë ‡ÁÏ˚¯ÎÂÌËË, ÌÓ ÓÒÚ‡˛Ò¸ ‚ ‡Ï͇ı «ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ» ‚ ÚÓÈ Ê ÒËÚÛ‡ˆËË, ˜ÚÓ Ë èË͇ÒÒÓ. äÛθÚÛ‡ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚̇,  ÙÂÌÓÏÂ̇θÌÓÒÚ¸, ‚ ÓÚ΢ˠÓÚ ÔflÏÓÈ ‡θÌÓÒÚË, - ÔÓÒÚÓflÌ̇, ÌÓ Ó̇ ÔÂÂÊË‚‡ÂÚ ‡ÁÌ˚ هÁ˚ Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó «‰‚‡ ÊËÁÌË». ë„ӉÌfl  «ÒÚ·ÎË» ÔËÓ·ÂÚ‡˛Ú ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚ ÙÓÏ˚, ÌÓ ‚ÓÚ-‚ÓÚ ÔÓËÁÓȉÛÚ ÒÎÂ‰Û˛˘Ë ÏÂÚ‡ÏÓÙÓÁ˚, ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ͇˜ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ‚Á˚‚, Ë Ó̇ ÔÓ‚ÂÌÂÚÒfl Í ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚË.

148

óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ ÒÚÛ‰ËË, ÅÂÎËÌ / Chubarov in his studio, Berlin ÙÓÚÓ /photo 1995

What about that sensual perception that we observe in the recent English painting with its elongated bodies resembling an unfolding landscape? Is this new imagery in your opinion or only approaches to it?

PATSUKOV:

CHUBAROV: Of course this new English style launches a new relevance and corporeality of the world. This is certainly a return to the roots and, at the same time, an opportunity to take a detached look at oneself within this new physiological reality. My drawings of 20 years ago have something in common with this new sensual perception. But the world is changing fast and this new corporeality also reveals changes in man’s genetic code. It shows his external as well as internal transformations. Mathew Barney is a brilliant example of the clear external changes in man, the birth of a new man with new sexual organs, those responsible for the reproduction of humanity. I’m concerned with the genetic structure as such, my energy forms and

149


‚˚‰ÂÎflÂÚÒfl ÒÛÔÂÏ˝ÌÓÏ, Í‡Í Û åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ. åÂÌfl Ò„ӉÌfl ËÌÚÂÂÒÛÂÚ Ì ‡Ì‡ÚÓÏËfl ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ‡ ‡Ì‡ÚÓÏËfl ÏË‡, Â„Ó ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡, ÏÛÒÍÛÎ˚ Ë ÒÛıÓÊËÎËfl ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ – Â„Ó ÒÚÛÍÚÛ‡. çÓ fl Ì ıËÛ„, ‡, ÒÍÓÂÂ, ÙËÎËÔÔËÌÒÍËÈ ‚‡˜,- ÏÓ ÁÂÌË Ô‚‡˘‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ‡θÌÓ ·˚ÚËÂ, Ë fl ÒÓ‚Â¯‡˛ ‡θÌ˚ ÔÛÚ¯ÂÒÚ‚Ëfl ‚ ‡Ì‡ÚÓÏ˲ ÓÍÛʇ˛˘ÂÈ ÏÂÌfl ‡θÌÓÒÚË. é̇ ·ÎËÁ͇ Í ‡Ì‡ÚÓÏËË ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ÌÓ ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ ÒÓ‚Â¯ÂÌÌÓ ‚ ËÌ˚ı χүڇ·‡ı Ë ËÁÏÂÂÌËflı. Ö ÙÓÏ˚ ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚.

In what way do you become aware of this anatomy? Do you sense it with your sense organs or through certain signs and symbols or your energy? When you speak about muscles what visual image do you have in your mind?

PATSUKOV:

I mean it as a poetic license, of course, pure artistic invention, part of a power supply system. You could say it’s my secret. This is the first time I’m disclosing it, trying to put into words my attempts to present visually the world’s energy. In all the ancient cultures the human body is presented as an energy field or rather as various envelopes of this field. I’m aware of their motion zones as waves. The 20th century began with Cezanne, with his assertion that everything could be reduced to a globe, a cylinder and a cone, as these are the genetic codes of space. Picasso and the Russian avant-garde art absorbed this philosophy and found their own place within it. My ribbon-like signs, often resembling flags or scythe-like curves that Malevich talked about, are precisely those globes, cylinders and cones but on a more complicated level. They appear as portions of energy, as its forms, or the elements employed by shamans. All modern art derives from them in my view. In Yves Klein they become very thin and turn into a kind of a biological mass. In Joseph Beuys they materialize in felt fibers or honey crystals. In Rebecca Horn their energy inspires her structures. They are capable of transforming into reflective imagery, feeding the energy of conceptual art.

CHUBAROV:

Ä̇ÚÓÏËfl, ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ Ú˚ ‚ˉ˯¸, Ó˘Û˘‡Â¯¸, ‚˚fl‚ÎflÂÚÒfl ÚÓ·ÓÈ ‰ÂÈÒÚ‚ËÚÂθÌÓ ˜ÂÂÁ Ó„‡Ì˚ ËÎË ˜ÂÂÁ Á̇ÍË ˝ÚËı Ó„‡ÌÓ‚, ˜ÂÂÁ ÒËÏ‚ÓÎ˚ Ë ˝ÌÂ„˲. äÓ„‰‡ Ú˚ „Ó‚Ó˯¸ Ó ÏÛÒÍÛ·ı — ͇ÍÓÈ ‚ËÁۇθÌ˚È Ó·‡Á Ú˚ Ëϯ¸ ‚ ‚Ë‰Û ?

ПАЦЮКОВ:

ЧУБАРОВ: äÓ̘ÌÓ, ˜ËÒÚÓ ıÛ‰ÓÊÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ÒÏ˚ÒÎ, ˜ËÒÚÛ˛ Ó·‡ÁÌÓÒÚ¸, ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ ÒËÒÚÂÏÛ. à ÏÓÊÌÓ Ò˜ËÚ‡Ú¸, ˜ÚÓ ˝ÚÓ ÏÓÈ ÒÂÍÂÚ. ü ‚ÔÂ‚˚Â Â„Ó ‡ÒÍ˚‚‡˛, ‡ÒÒ͇Á˚‚‡˛, ˜ÚÓ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓ fl ‚˚fl‚Îfl˛ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚËÍÛ ÏË‡. óÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓ ÚÂÎÓ ‚Ó ‚ÒÂı ‰‚ÌËı ÍÛθÚÛ‡ı Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÂÚÒfl ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚ˘ÂÒÍËÏ ÔÓÎÂÏ Ë ÔË ÚÓÏ ‡ÁÌ˚ÏË Ó·ÓÎӘ͇ÏË ˝ÚÓ„Ó ÔÓÎfl. ü Ó˘Û˘‡˛ Ëı ÁÓÌ˚, ‰‚ËÊÂÌËfl ‚ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â Í‡Í ‚ÓÎÌ˚. 20˚È ‚ÂÍ Ì‡˜‡ÎÒfl Ò ëÂÁ‡Ì̇, Ò Â„Ó Ù‡Á˚, ˜ÚÓ ‚Ò ÏÓÊÌÓ Ò‚ÂÒÚË Í ¯‡Û, ˆËÎË̉Û Ë ÍÓÌÛÒÛ, Í‡Í ·˚ „ÂÌÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÏÛ ÍÓ‰Û ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡. èË͇ÒÒÓ Ë ÛÒÒÍËÈ ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰ ÔÂÂÊËÎË ˝ÚÛ ÙËÎÓÒÓÙ˲, ÓÒÓÁ̇ÎË Ò·fl ‚ ÌÂÈ. åÓË ÎÂÌÚÓÓ·‡ÁÌ˚ Á̇ÍË, ËÌÓ„‰‡ ̇ÔÓÏË̇˛˘Ë Ù·„Ë, ËÌÓ„‰‡ ÒÂÔӂˉÌ˚ ÍË‚˚Â, Ó ÍÓÚÓ˚ı „Ó‚ÓËÎ å‡Î‚˘, — Ë ÂÒÚ¸ ¯‡, ˆËÎË̉ Ë ÍÓÌÛÒ, ÌÓ Ì‡ ·ÓΠÒÎÓÊÌÓÏ ÛÓ‚ÌÂ. éÌË ‚ÓÁÌË͇˛Ú Í‡Í ÔÓˆËË ˝ÌÂ„ËË, Í‡Í Â ÙÓÏ˚, Í‡Í ˝ÎÂÏÂÌÚ˚, ÍÓÚÓ˚ÏË ÔÓθÁÛÂÚÒfl ¯‡Ï‡Ì. ç‡ ÌËı, fl ‰Ûχ˛, ÒÚÓËÚÒfl ‚Ò ÌÓ‚Âȯ ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó. éÌË ÒÓ‚Â¯ÂÌÌÓ ÛÚÓ̘‡˛ÚÒfl, Ô‚‡˘‡˛ÚÒfl ‚ ·ËÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ χÒÒÛ Û à‚‡ äÎflÈ̇. àı Ó·‡Á˚ ÚflÊÂÎÂ˛Ú ‚ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÈ ˝ÍÓÎÓ„ËË âÓÁÂÙ‡ ÅÓÈÒ‡, χÚÂˇÎËÁÛflÒ¸ ‚ ‚ÓÎÓÍ̇ı ‚ÓÈÎÓ͇, ‚ ÍËÒڇηı ω‡. àı ˝ÌÂ„Ëfl ‰‚ËÊÂÚ ÍÓÌÒÚÛ͈ËflÏË ê·ÂÍÍË ïÓÌ. éÌË ÒÔÓÒÓ·Ì˚ Ú‡ÌÒÙÓÏËÓ‚‡Ú¸Òfl ‚ Ó·‡Á˚ ÂÙÎÂÍÒËË, ÔÂÂÏ¢‡flÒ¸ ‚ ˝ÌÂ„˲ ÍÓ̈ÂÔÚۇθÌÓ„Ó ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡.

Do you mean that your aspirations, your gesture within the space of your canvas are not simply a physical action but also intellectual? Are you thinking about formal aspects during the process of creating your work?

PATSUKOV:

CHUBAROV: No, I simply exist within my work, but my thoughts determine its structure. They certainly influence my composition and also carry my comments to the picture. Moreover, my comments turn into a visual image. It is not easy to pinpoint and separate feelings and thoughts. This is precisely how my work differs from traditional abstract art. My abstract pictures carry their own dramatic structure, baring abstract symbols so that one could call my manner “post-abstractionism” in the sense that my abstract compositions are supplemented by commentary and pose a question: What is an abstraction? Here is an abstraction in its pure form, where the image and the concept become a single whole. Take, for instance, Picasso’s portrait of Ambrois Vollar. It is full of such “intellectual drops” while each detail is a typical abstract picture in itself. Existing already in a different layer of space-time I examine these “drops” from within and subconsciously analyze them. I regard Picasso’s modernism through the prism of post-modernism, in the light of my thoughts and analyses while remaining within the framework of art, that is, in the same situation as Picasso had been. Culture is a continuous process, as distinct from direct reality its phenomenal nature is constant but it lives through different phases of its “tree of life”. Today its branches acquired intellectual forms, but the next metamorphoses are already in the way. Maybe some qualitative explosion will lead us to a new sensual perception.

ëΉӂ‡ÚÂθÌÓ, Ú‚Ó ‰‚ËÊÂÌËÂ, Ú‚ÓÈ ÊÂÒÚ ‚ ‡Ï͇ı ıÓÎÒÚ‡ — ˝ÚÓ Ì ÚÓθÍÓ ÙËÁ˘ÂÒÍÓ ‰‚ËÊÂÌËÂ, ÌÓ Ë ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌÓÂ? äÓ„‰‡ Ú˚ ÌÂÔÓÒ‰ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚Û¯¸ ‚ ÔÓˆÂÒÒ ÒÓÁ‰‡ÌËfl ÔÓËÁ‚‰ÂÌËfl, ‡ÁÏ˚¯Îfl¯¸ ÎË Ú˚ Ó Â„Ó ÙÓχı?

ПАЦЮКОВ:

ЧУБАРОВ: çÂÚ, fl ÔÓÒÚÓ ÔËÒÛÚÒÚ‚Û˛ ‚ ÌÂÏ, ÌÓ ÏÓË ‡ÁÏ˚¯ÎÂÌËfl ÏÂÌfl˛Ú Â„Ó ÒÚÛÍÚÛÛ. éÌË, ÌÂÒÓÏÌÂÌÌÓ, ÓÍ‡¯Ë‚‡˛Ú ÏÓ˛ ÍÓÏÔÓÁËˆË˛, ÓÌË ÌÂÒÛÚ ‚ ÒÂ·Â Ë ÏÓË ÍÓÏÏÂÌÚ‡ËË Í Í‡ÚËÌÂ. çÓ ÏÓË ÍÓÏÏÂÌÚ‡ËË Ò‡ÏË Ô‚‡˘‡˛ÚÒfl ‚ Ô·ÒÚËÍÛ. à ˝ÚÓ Ó˜Â̸ ÒÎÓÊÌÓ ‚˚fl‚ËÚ¸, ‡ÒÒÎÓËÚ¸ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚Ó Ë ‡ÁÏ˚¯ÎÂÌËfl. ëÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ Ë ÏÓ ÓÚ΢ˠÓÚ Ú‡‰ËˆËÓÌÌÓÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË. åÓfl ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl ÓÚÍ˚‚‡ÂÚ Ò‚Ó˛ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ‰‡Ï‡ÚÛ„˲, Ó̇ ӷ̇ʇÂÚ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ ÒÏ˚ÒÎ˚, ˝ÚÓ Í‡Í ·˚ ÔÓÒÚ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl, ˝ÚÓ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl, ̇ ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ ̇ÎÓÊÂÌ˚ ÍÓÏÏÂÌÚ‡ËË Ë ÔÓÒÚ‡‚ÎÂÌ ‚ÓÔÓÒ: ˜ÚÓ Ê ڇÍÓ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl? èÂ‰ ‚‡ÏË — ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl ‚ ˜ËÒÚÓÏ ‚ˉÂ, „‰Â Ó·‡Á Ë ÔÓÌflÚË ӷ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚flÚÒfl ‰ËÌ˚Ï ˆÂÎ˚Ï. ÇÓÁ¸ÏËÚ Á̇ÏÂÌËÚ˚È ÔÓÚÂÚ ÄÏ·Û‡Á‡ ÇÓη‡ èË͇ÒÒÓ. éÌ ‚ÂÒ¸ ̇ÔÓÎÌÂÌ Ú‡ÍËÏË «ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚ÏË Í‡ÔÎflÏË» Ë Â„Ó Î˛·ÓÈ Ù‡„ÏÂÌÚ Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÂÚ ÚËÔ˘ÌÛ˛ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÛ˛ ͇ÚËÌÛ. ü, ̇ıÓ‰flÒ¸ ÛÊ ‚ ËÌÓÏ ÒÎÓ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ — ‚ÂÏÂÌË, ‡Á„Îfl‰˚‚‡˛ ˝ÚË «Í‡ÔÎË» ËÁÌÛÚË Ë ·ÂÒÒÓÁ̇ÚÂθÌÓ ‡Ì‡ÎËÁËÛ˛ Ëı. åÓ‰ÂÌËÁÏ èË͇ÒÒÓ fl ‡ÒÒχÚË‚‡˛ ‚ ÓÔÚËÍ ÔÓÒÚÏÓ‰ÂÌËÁχ, ‚ ÓÔÚËÍ ‡Ì‡ÎËÁ‡ Ë ‡ÁÏ˚¯ÎÂÌËË, ÌÓ ÓÒÚ‡˛Ò¸ ‚ ‡Ï͇ı «ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ» ‚ ÚÓÈ Ê ÒËÚÛ‡ˆËË, ˜ÚÓ Ë èË͇ÒÒÓ. äÛθÚÛ‡ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚̇,  ÙÂÌÓÏÂ̇θÌÓÒÚ¸, ‚ ÓÚ΢ˠÓÚ ÔflÏÓÈ ‡θÌÓÒÚË, - ÔÓÒÚÓflÌ̇, ÌÓ Ó̇ ÔÂÂÊË‚‡ÂÚ ‡ÁÌ˚ هÁ˚ Ò‚ÓÂ„Ó «‰‚‡ ÊËÁÌË». ë„ӉÌfl  «ÒÚ·ÎË» ÔËÓ·ÂÚ‡˛Ú ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚ ÙÓÏ˚, ÌÓ ‚ÓÚ-‚ÓÚ ÔÓËÁÓȉÛÚ ÒÎÂ‰Û˛˘Ë ÏÂÚ‡ÏÓÙÓÁ˚, ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ͇˜ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ‚Á˚‚, Ë Ó̇ ÔÓ‚ÂÌÂÚÒfl Í ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚË.

148

óÛ·‡Ó‚ ‚ ÒÚÛ‰ËË, ÅÂÎËÌ / Chubarov in his studio, Berlin ÙÓÚÓ /photo 1995

What about that sensual perception that we observe in the recent English painting with its elongated bodies resembling an unfolding landscape? Is this new imagery in your opinion or only approaches to it?

PATSUKOV:

CHUBAROV: Of course this new English style launches a new relevance and corporeality of the world. This is certainly a return to the roots and, at the same time, an opportunity to take a detached look at oneself within this new physiological reality. My drawings of 20 years ago have something in common with this new sensual perception. But the world is changing fast and this new corporeality also reveals changes in man’s genetic code. It shows his external as well as internal transformations. Mathew Barney is a brilliant example of the clear external changes in man, the birth of a new man with new sexual organs, those responsible for the reproduction of humanity. I’m concerned with the genetic structure as such, my energy forms and

149


signs represent those phenomena; they are hidden from view deep down, they are part of the inner cells of the human body and psyche. Abstract art will soon experience a new relevance. The world lying at our feet is basically accessible to us; it lies open as a naked human body. It is filled with the kitsch of new visual imagery, the new refuse of our civilization. It is decorative like baroque art but in fact it’s a giant garbage heap. Both Ilya Kabakov and Mathew Barney spoke about it. But inside this world something incredible is taking palace. Scientists speak about cloning, that is about creating human beings directly, without participation of the higher reason. These processes are impossible to stop. They form a new texture of our reality, an invisible texture existing in the chaos and at the same time following some inexplicable laws. Look at my painting in this light and forget about abstract expressionism; try to discover in it those real processes that man is experiencing today. Our society avoids thinking about the world’s new image. People don’t want to see the testimony of the artists. We are immersed in total transformation. I convey this totality in continued series. I feel as if I cut off pieces of this new flesh with a pair of scissors. It vibrates and pulses in my compositions. But it is totally endless as a caterpillar, as some mince meat passed through the meat-grinder of civilization. Everything plunges into some void, into Malevich’s Black Square. I often repeat to myself that I must retreat into my own self. One’s own self is precisely this void. But one can find a support there, which we all need, a hyper-structure given to us from on high. Art that only addresses the outer aspects of civilization is deluding itself. In this, perhaps, lies the tragedy of Michelangelo of whom I can’t help thinking constantly. His images relate to civilization’s tragedy, its presumption and senselessness. I prefer the outlooks of Cezanne and Van Gogh who belittled themselves as they peered closely and listened carefully to the world, looking for its hidden regularities and accords with the human consciousness. It is not God-fighting that we need today but ecological states, not radical reforms but dialogues and agreements. The space has overturned on us, increasing its energy, and we have to accept it, to accept this situation and open up toward this new space. Today we need to be able to find our right place in space and be in harmony with it. Don’t you think this space, which we all inhabit, is split like the consciousness of a schizophrenic? And some of its layers may be completely unrelated to one another? It shows in the lack of understanding among people, in the generation gaps. What does the artist have to do in such circumstances – to identify with this deconstruction or look for other forms of harmony?

PATSUKOV:

To some extent an artist always lives with madness. In order to discover the true image of reality you have to switch off your reason. All the major figures in the 20th century art had to do this: Kandinsky, Malevich, Duchamp, Joseph Beuys. But today, in this split world you find an intellectual layer as well. It has accumulated a critical mass during the history of humankind and thus acquired autonomy of its own. Now it plays the role of a translator of the image, demonstrating its variability, its mutual ties and its fields. In the third millennia artists use it skillfully as one does a computer. Through this image the artist maintains a dialogue with the other layers of reality, and here another harmony opens to him already in the world of artificial, manmade systems. But these man-made systems had already been programmed in man’s mind as memory units and programs of the same computer. And then I say: “Fall back into your own self”, discover in yourself both the pure nature and your potential future. Art always lives in this borderline area between madness and canon, between despair and faith. Art feeds on tradition but it also resents this constantly increasing number of reality layers.

CHUBAROV:

(57) < ‰Âڇθ / detail

151


signs represent those phenomena; they are hidden from view deep down, they are part of the inner cells of the human body and psyche. Abstract art will soon experience a new relevance. The world lying at our feet is basically accessible to us; it lies open as a naked human body. It is filled with the kitsch of new visual imagery, the new refuse of our civilization. It is decorative like baroque art but in fact it’s a giant garbage heap. Both Ilya Kabakov and Mathew Barney spoke about it. But inside this world something incredible is taking palace. Scientists speak about cloning, that is about creating human beings directly, without participation of the higher reason. These processes are impossible to stop. They form a new texture of our reality, an invisible texture existing in the chaos and at the same time following some inexplicable laws. Look at my painting in this light and forget about abstract expressionism; try to discover in it those real processes that man is experiencing today. Our society avoids thinking about the world’s new image. People don’t want to see the testimony of the artists. We are immersed in total transformation. I convey this totality in continued series. I feel as if I cut off pieces of this new flesh with a pair of scissors. It vibrates and pulses in my compositions. But it is totally endless as a caterpillar, as some mince meat passed through the meat-grinder of civilization. Everything plunges into some void, into Malevich’s Black Square. I often repeat to myself that I must retreat into my own self. One’s own self is precisely this void. But one can find a support there, which we all need, a hyper-structure given to us from on high. Art that only addresses the outer aspects of civilization is deluding itself. In this, perhaps, lies the tragedy of Michelangelo of whom I can’t help thinking constantly. His images relate to civilization’s tragedy, its presumption and senselessness. I prefer the outlooks of Cezanne and Van Gogh who belittled themselves as they peered closely and listened carefully to the world, looking for its hidden regularities and accords with the human consciousness. It is not God-fighting that we need today but ecological states, not radical reforms but dialogues and agreements. The space has overturned on us, increasing its energy, and we have to accept it, to accept this situation and open up toward this new space. Today we need to be able to find our right place in space and be in harmony with it. Don’t you think this space, which we all inhabit, is split like the consciousness of a schizophrenic? And some of its layers may be completely unrelated to one another? It shows in the lack of understanding among people, in the generation gaps. What does the artist have to do in such circumstances – to identify with this deconstruction or look for other forms of harmony?

PATSUKOV:

To some extent an artist always lives with madness. In order to discover the true image of reality you have to switch off your reason. All the major figures in the 20th century art had to do this: Kandinsky, Malevich, Duchamp, Joseph Beuys. But today, in this split world you find an intellectual layer as well. It has accumulated a critical mass during the history of humankind and thus acquired autonomy of its own. Now it plays the role of a translator of the image, demonstrating its variability, its mutual ties and its fields. In the third millennia artists use it skillfully as one does a computer. Through this image the artist maintains a dialogue with the other layers of reality, and here another harmony opens to him already in the world of artificial, manmade systems. But these man-made systems had already been programmed in man’s mind as memory units and programs of the same computer. And then I say: “Fall back into your own self”, discover in yourself both the pure nature and your potential future. Art always lives in this borderline area between madness and canon, between despair and faith. Art feeds on tradition but it also resents this constantly increasing number of reality layers.

CHUBAROV:

(57) < ‰Âڇθ / detail

151


Ä Ú‡ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸, ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ Ï˚ ̇·Î˛‰‡ÂÏ ‚ ÌÓ‚ÂȯÂÈ ‡Ì„ÎËÈÒÍÓÈ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË, ‚ ÔÓÚflÊÂÌÌ˚ı ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍËı Ú·ı Í‡Í ÓÚÍ˚‚‡˛˘ËÈÒfl ÔÂÈÁ‡Ê? ùÚÓ ‰Îfl Ú·fl ÛÊ ÌÓ‚‡fl Ó·‡ÁÌÓÒÚ¸ ËÎË ÚÓθÍÓ Ô‰ÒÚÓflÌË ÔÂ‰ ÌÂÈ?

ПАЦЮКОВ:

Does this man-made intellectual layer affect the artist’s behavior or his creative state and strategy?

PATSUKOV:

Without a doubt. It all began with Picasso. He was the first who established his own artistic behavior and his own esthetic space. It is in the artist’s behavior that reflection acquires an esthetic coloring particularly evidently. It was not easy for me to break away from the visual-figurative mythology and move on to its abstract forms. I owe it to Berlin with its monotony and consumerism as part of Western civilization, its special social structure, a blend of socialist images inherited from the GDR and the ingrown forms of capitalist consciousness.

CHUBAROV:

äÓ̘ÌÓ, ˝Ú‡ ‡Ì„ÎËÈÒ͇fl ÒÚËÎËÒÚË͇ ÓÚÍ˚‚‡ÂÚ ÌÓ‚Û˛ ‡ÍÚۇθÌÓÒÚ¸, ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚ¸ ÏË‡. à ˝ÚÓ, ÌÂÒÓÏÌÂÌÌÓ, ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËÂ Í Ì‡¯ËÏ ËÒÚÓÍ‡Ï Ë ‚ ÚÓ Ê ‚ÂÏfl ‚ÓÁÏÓÊÌÓÒÚ¸ ۂˉÂÚ¸ Ò·fl ÒÓ ÒÚÓÓÌ˚ ‚ ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ÙËÁËÓÎÓ„ËË ÏË‡. åÓË ËÒÛÌÍË ‰‚‡‰ˆ‡ÚËÎÂÚÌÂÈ ‰‡‚ÌÓÒÚË ‚ ˜ÂÏ-ÚÓ ÒÓÔË͇-Ò‡˛ÚÒfl Ò ˝ÚÓÈ ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸˛. çÓ ÏË ÏÂÌflÂÚÒfl ÒÚÂÏËÚÂθÌÓ, Ë ÌÓ‚‡fl ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚ¸ ‡ÒÍ˚‚‡ÂÚ Ë „ÂÌÂÚ˘ÂÒÍË ËÁÏÂÌÂÌËfl ‚ „ÂÌÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ ÍӉ ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇. é̇ ÔÓ͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚ Â„Ó ‚̯ÌË ËÁÏÂÌÂÌËfl Ë Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌËÂ. å˝Ú¸˛ ŇÌË—·ÎËÒÚ‡ÚÂθÌ˚È ÔËÏÂ ̇„Îfl‰ÌÓÒÚË ËÁÏÂÌÂÌËfl ‚̯ÌÂ„Ó Ó·‡Á‡ ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ÓʉÂÌËfl ÌÓ‚Ó„Ó ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, „‰Â ÔÂʉ ‚ÒÂ„Ó ËÁÏÂÌfl˛ÚÒfl Â„Ó ÒÂÍÒۇθÌ˚ Ó„‡Ì˚, Ó„‡Ì˚, ÒÔÓÒÓ·Ì˚ ‚ÓÒÔÓËÁ‚Ó‰ËÚ¸ ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÚ‚Ó. ЧУБАРОВ:

ü ÔÂÂÊË‚‡˛ Ò‡ÏÛ „ÂÌÌÛ˛ ÒÚÛÍÚÛÛ, ÏÓË Á̇ÍË Ë ÙÓÏ˚ ˝ÌÂ„ËË – ˝ÚÓ Ú ÙÂÌÓÏÂÌ˚, ˜ÚÓ ÒÍ˚Ú˚ ‚̯ÌÂ, ÓÌË „ÎÛ·ÓÍÓ ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌËÂ, ÓÌË ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊ‡Ú ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌËÏ ÍÎÂÚÍ‡Ï ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Ó„‡ÌËÁχ Ë ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓÈ ÔÒËıËÍË. Ä·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl ÒÍÓÓ Ì‡˜ÌÂÚ ÔÂÂÊË‚‡Ú¸ Ò‚Ó˛ ÌÓ‚Û˛ ‡ÍÚۇθÌÓÒÚ¸. åË, ÎÂʇ˘ËÈ ÔÂ‰ ̇ÏË, ÙÓχθÌÓ ÓÚÍ˚Ú, ӷ̇ÊÂÌ, Í‡Í Ó·Ì‡ÊÂÌÓ ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓ ÚÂÎÓ. éÌ Ì‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÒÚ¸˛, ÍËÚ˜ÂÏ ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÒÚË, ÓÚ·ÓÒ‡ÏË ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË. éÌ Ô˚¯ÂÌ Í‡Í ·‡ÓÍÍÓ, ÌÓ ˝ÚÓ „Ë„‡ÌÚÒ͇fl Ò‚‡Î͇ — Ë Ó· ˝ÚÓÏ „Ó‚ÓflÚ Ë àθfl 䇷‡ÍÓ‚, Ë å˝Ú¸˛ ŇÌË. çÓ ‚ÌÛÚË ˝ÚÓ„Ó ÏË‡ ˜ÚÓ-ÚÓ ÔÓËÒıÓ‰ËÚ Ì‚ÂÓflÚÌÓÂ. ì˜ÂÌ˚ „Ó‚ÓflÚ Ó ÍÎÓÌËÓ-‚‡ÌËË, Ó ÒÓÁ‰‡ÌËË ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇ Ò ÔÓÏÓ˘¸˛ ÚÓθÍÓ ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ‡ Ì ‚˚Ò¯Â„Ó ‡ÁÛχ. ùÚË ÔÓˆÂÒÒ˚ Ì‚ÓÁÏÓÊÌÓ ÓÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ËÚ¸, ÓÌË ÙÓÏËÛ˛Ú ÌÓ‚Û˛ Ú̸͇ ̇¯ÂÈ ‡θÌÓÒÚË, ÌÂÁËÏÛ˛ Ú̸͇, ÊË‚Û˘Û˛ ‚ ı‡ÓÒÂ Ë ‚ÏÂÒÚÂ Ò ÚÂÏ ÔÓ Í‡ÍËÏ-ÚÓ ÌÂÓ·˙flÒÌËÏ˚Ï Á‡ÍÓ̇Ï. èÓÒÏÓÚËÚ ̇ ÏÓ˛ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒ¸ Ò ˝ÚÓÈ ÒÚÓÓÌ˚, Á‡·Û‰¸Ú ӷ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓÏ ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁÏÂ Ë ÓÚÍÓÈÚ ‚ ÌÂÈ Ú ‡θÌ˚ ÔÓˆÂÒÒ˚, ˜ÚÓ Ò„ӉÌfl ÔÓËÒıÓ‰flÚ Ò ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÓÏ. é·˘ÂÒÚ‚Ó Ì Á‡‰ÛÏ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl Ó ÌÓ‚ÓÏ Ó·‡Á ÏË‡, ÓÌÓ Ì ıÓ˜ÂÚ ‚ˉÂÚ¸, Ó ˜ÂÏ Ò‚Ë‰ÂÚÂθÒÚ‚Û˛Ú ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍË. å˚ ÔÓ„ÛÊÂÌ˚ ‚ ÚÓڇθÌ˚ ËÁÏÂÌÂÌËfl. ùÚÛ ÚÓڇθÌÓÒÚ¸ fl ÔÂ‰‡˛ ‚ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚Ì˚ı ÒÂËflı, fl ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚Û˛, ˜ÚÓ ÒÎÓ‚ÌÓ ÌÓÊÌˈ‡ÏË ÓÚÂÁ‡˛ ˝ÚÛ Óʉ‡˛˘Û˛Òfl Ú̸͇. é̇ ‚Ë·ËÛÂÚ, ÔÛθÒËÛÂÚ ‚ ÏÓËı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı, ÌÓ Ó̇ ÚÓڇθÌÓ ·ÂÒÍÓ̘̇ Í‡Í „ÛÒÂÌˈ‡, Í‡Í Ù‡¯, ÔÓıÓ‰fl˘ËÈ ˜ÂÂÁ ÏflÒÓÛ·ÍÛ ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË. ÇÒ ÔÓ‚‡ÎË‚‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ͇ÍÛ˛-ÚÓ ·ÂÁ‰ÌÛ, ‚ «˜ÂÌ˚È Í‚‡‰‡Ú» å‡Î‚˘‡, Ë fl ˜‡ÒÚÓ ÔÓ‚ÚÓfl˛: «çÛÊÌÓ ÛÔ‡ÒÚ¸ ‚ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ «ü». 燯 «ü» Ë ÂÒÚ¸ ˝Ú‡ ·ÂÁ‰Ì‡, ÌÓ ‚ ÌÂÏ ÏÓÊÌÓ Ì‡ÈÚË ÓÔÓÛ, ÌÂÓ·ıÓ‰ËÏÓ Ì‡ÈÚË ˝ÚÛ ÓÔÓÛ, „ËÔÂÒÚÛÍÚÛÛ, ‰‡ÌÌÛ˛ Ì‡Ï Ò‚˚¯Â. àÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó, Ó·‡˘‡˛˘ÂÂÒfl Í ‚̯ÌÂÈ ÒÚÓÓÌ ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ÒÔÓÒÓ·ÌÓ Á‡·ÎÛʉ‡Ú¸Òfl. åÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ Ú‡„‰Ëfl åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ, Ó ÍÓÚÓÓÏ fl ÔÓÒÚÓflÌÌÓ ‰Ûχ˛. Ö„Ó Ó·‡Á˚ ÒÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚Û˛Ú Ú‡„‰ËË ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË,  ҇ÏÓ̇‰ÂflÌÌÓÒÚË Ë ·ÂÁÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚË. ü Ô‰ÔÓ˜ËÚ‡˛ ÔÓÁˈËË ëÂÁ‡Ì̇ Ë Ç‡Ì ÉÓ„‡, ÍÓÚÓ˚ ҇ÏÓÛÏÓÎflÎËÒ¸, ‚ÒÎۯ˂‡ÎËÒ¸ ‚ÒχÚË‚‡ÎËÒ¸ ‚ ÏË, ‚ Â„Ó ÒÍ˚ÚÛ˛ Á‡ÍÓÌÓÏÂÌÓÒÚ¸, ‚ Â„Ó ÒÓÁ‚Û˜Ëfl Ò Ì‡¯ËÏ ÒÓÁ̇ÌËÂÏ. ç ·Ó„Ó·Ó˜ÂÒÚ‚Ó Ò„ӉÌfl Ú·ÛÂÚÒfl, ‡ ˝ÍÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍË ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËfl, Ì ‡‰Ë͇θÌ˚ ÂÙÓÏ˚, ‡ ÙÓÏ˚ ‰Ë‡ÎÓ„‡, Òӄ·ÒËfl.

But I live as it were in the “passive” rather than “active” voice. I follow the energy vectors, which are organic to my nature, and which are leading me on. It’s as if I’m soaring in these intellectual layers as in a living space. They cannot be reduced for me into concepts and categories, they feed me with their energy and become transformed into visual images, naturally. They may glimmer in my compositions like the Milky Way or Tao, to use a Chinese concept, coinciding with my personal life way. They dissolve in my abstract pictures, existing as some soft fragments or streaming whirls. The fact of their existence helps me to preserve my equilibrium and this is why the image of Tao, I mentioned above, is probably my personal road and my philosophy. Tao reveals to us the grandeur of the space with all its layers that we cross, but Tao is free from subjectivity and arbitrariness. Tao is bigger than any dimension, which my mind is capable of imagining. And now to go back to the main point: “Fall into your own self “ and then you will understand what Tao and the burden of time are, and you will be relieved from the heavy pressure of our dubious age, your body and mind will be liberated. Be genuine artists in the true and natural sense. ∆

èÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó ÓÔÓÍˉ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl ̇ ̇Ò, Û‚Â΢˂‡fl Ò‚Ó˛ ˝ÌÂ„˲, Ë Ï˚ Ó·flÁ‡Ì˚ Òӄ·ÒËÚ¸Òfl Ò ˝ÚËÏ, ÔËÌflÚ¸ ˝ÚÛ ÒËÚÛ‡ˆË˛ Ë ÓÚÍ˚Ú¸Òfl ÌÓ‚ÓÏÛ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Û. ë„ӉÌfl Ú·ÛÂÚÒfl ÛÏÂÌËÂ Ó˘Û˘‡Ú¸ Ò‚ÓÈ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ÒÎÓÈ ‚ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â, ·˚Ú¸ ÂÏÛ Ó„‡Ì˘Ì˚Ï.

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Ä Ú‡ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸, ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ Ï˚ ̇·Î˛‰‡ÂÏ ‚ ÌÓ‚ÂȯÂÈ ‡Ì„ÎËÈÒÍÓÈ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒË, ‚ ÔÓÚflÊÂÌÌ˚ı ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍËı Ú·ı Í‡Í ÓÚÍ˚‚‡˛˘ËÈÒfl ÔÂÈÁ‡Ê? ùÚÓ ‰Îfl Ú·fl ÛÊ ÌÓ‚‡fl Ó·‡ÁÌÓÒÚ¸ ËÎË ÚÓθÍÓ Ô‰ÒÚÓflÌË ÔÂ‰ ÌÂÈ?

ПАЦЮКОВ:

Does this man-made intellectual layer affect the artist’s behavior or his creative state and strategy?

PATSUKOV:

Without a doubt. It all began with Picasso. He was the first who established his own artistic behavior and his own esthetic space. It is in the artist’s behavior that reflection acquires an esthetic coloring particularly evidently. It was not easy for me to break away from the visual-figurative mythology and move on to its abstract forms. I owe it to Berlin with its monotony and consumerism as part of Western civilization, its special social structure, a blend of socialist images inherited from the GDR and the ingrown forms of capitalist consciousness.

CHUBAROV:

äÓ̘ÌÓ, ˝Ú‡ ‡Ì„ÎËÈÒ͇fl ÒÚËÎËÒÚË͇ ÓÚÍ˚‚‡ÂÚ ÌÓ‚Û˛ ‡ÍÚۇθÌÓÒÚ¸, ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚ¸ ÏË‡. à ˝ÚÓ, ÌÂÒÓÏÌÂÌÌÓ, ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËÂ Í Ì‡¯ËÏ ËÒÚÓÍ‡Ï Ë ‚ ÚÓ Ê ‚ÂÏfl ‚ÓÁÏÓÊÌÓÒÚ¸ ۂˉÂÚ¸ Ò·fl ÒÓ ÒÚÓÓÌ˚ ‚ ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ÙËÁËÓÎÓ„ËË ÏË‡. åÓË ËÒÛÌÍË ‰‚‡‰ˆ‡ÚËÎÂÚÌÂÈ ‰‡‚ÌÓÒÚË ‚ ˜ÂÏ-ÚÓ ÒÓÔË͇-Ò‡˛ÚÒfl Ò ˝ÚÓÈ ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸˛. çÓ ÏË ÏÂÌflÂÚÒfl ÒÚÂÏËÚÂθÌÓ, Ë ÌÓ‚‡fl ÚÂÎÂÒÌÓÒÚ¸ ‡ÒÍ˚‚‡ÂÚ Ë „ÂÌÂÚ˘ÂÒÍË ËÁÏÂÌÂÌËfl ‚ „ÂÌÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓÏ ÍӉ ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇. é̇ ÔÓ͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚ Â„Ó ‚̯ÌË ËÁÏÂÌÂÌËfl Ë Ó‰ÌÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌËÂ. å˝Ú¸˛ ŇÌË—·ÎËÒÚ‡ÚÂθÌ˚È ÔËÏÂ ̇„Îfl‰ÌÓÒÚË ËÁÏÂÌÂÌËfl ‚̯ÌÂ„Ó Ó·‡Á‡ ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ÓʉÂÌËfl ÌÓ‚Ó„Ó ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, „‰Â ÔÂʉ ‚ÒÂ„Ó ËÁÏÂÌfl˛ÚÒfl Â„Ó ÒÂÍÒۇθÌ˚ Ó„‡Ì˚, Ó„‡Ì˚, ÒÔÓÒÓ·Ì˚ ‚ÓÒÔÓËÁ‚Ó‰ËÚ¸ ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÚ‚Ó. ЧУБАРОВ:

ü ÔÂÂÊË‚‡˛ Ò‡ÏÛ „ÂÌÌÛ˛ ÒÚÛÍÚÛÛ, ÏÓË Á̇ÍË Ë ÙÓÏ˚ ˝ÌÂ„ËË – ˝ÚÓ Ú ÙÂÌÓÏÂÌ˚, ˜ÚÓ ÒÍ˚Ú˚ ‚̯ÌÂ, ÓÌË „ÎÛ·ÓÍÓ ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌËÂ, ÓÌË ÔË̇‰ÎÂÊ‡Ú ‚ÌÛÚÂÌÌËÏ ÍÎÂÚÍ‡Ï ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓ„Ó Ó„‡ÌËÁχ Ë ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓÈ ÔÒËıËÍË. Ä·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËfl ÒÍÓÓ Ì‡˜ÌÂÚ ÔÂÂÊË‚‡Ú¸ Ò‚Ó˛ ÌÓ‚Û˛ ‡ÍÚۇθÌÓÒÚ¸. åË, ÎÂʇ˘ËÈ ÔÂ‰ ̇ÏË, ÙÓχθÌÓ ÓÚÍ˚Ú, ӷ̇ÊÂÌ, Í‡Í Ó·Ì‡ÊÂÌÓ ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓ ÚÂÎÓ. éÌ Ì‡ÔÓÎÌÂÌ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÒÚ¸˛, ÍËÚ˜ÂÏ ÌÓ‚ÓÈ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÒÚË, ÓÚ·ÓÒ‡ÏË ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË. éÌ Ô˚¯ÂÌ Í‡Í ·‡ÓÍÍÓ, ÌÓ ˝ÚÓ „Ë„‡ÌÚÒ͇fl Ò‚‡Î͇ — Ë Ó· ˝ÚÓÏ „Ó‚ÓflÚ Ë àθfl 䇷‡ÍÓ‚, Ë å˝Ú¸˛ ŇÌË. çÓ ‚ÌÛÚË ˝ÚÓ„Ó ÏË‡ ˜ÚÓ-ÚÓ ÔÓËÒıÓ‰ËÚ Ì‚ÂÓflÚÌÓÂ. ì˜ÂÌ˚ „Ó‚ÓflÚ Ó ÍÎÓÌËÓ-‚‡ÌËË, Ó ÒÓÁ‰‡ÌËË ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇ Ò ÔÓÏÓ˘¸˛ ÚÓθÍÓ ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, ‡ Ì ‚˚Ò¯Â„Ó ‡ÁÛχ. ùÚË ÔÓˆÂÒÒ˚ Ì‚ÓÁÏÓÊÌÓ ÓÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ËÚ¸, ÓÌË ÙÓÏËÛ˛Ú ÌÓ‚Û˛ Ú̸͇ ̇¯ÂÈ ‡θÌÓÒÚË, ÌÂÁËÏÛ˛ Ú̸͇, ÊË‚Û˘Û˛ ‚ ı‡ÓÒÂ Ë ‚ÏÂÒÚÂ Ò ÚÂÏ ÔÓ Í‡ÍËÏ-ÚÓ ÌÂÓ·˙flÒÌËÏ˚Ï Á‡ÍÓ̇Ï. èÓÒÏÓÚËÚ ̇ ÏÓ˛ ÊË‚ÓÔËÒ¸ Ò ˝ÚÓÈ ÒÚÓÓÌ˚, Á‡·Û‰¸Ú ӷ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌÓÏ ˝ÍÒÔÂÒÒËÓÌËÁÏÂ Ë ÓÚÍÓÈÚ ‚ ÌÂÈ Ú ‡θÌ˚ ÔÓˆÂÒÒ˚, ˜ÚÓ Ò„ӉÌfl ÔÓËÒıÓ‰flÚ Ò ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÓÏ. é·˘ÂÒÚ‚Ó Ì Á‡‰ÛÏ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl Ó ÌÓ‚ÓÏ Ó·‡Á ÏË‡, ÓÌÓ Ì ıÓ˜ÂÚ ‚ˉÂÚ¸, Ó ˜ÂÏ Ò‚Ë‰ÂÚÂθÒÚ‚Û˛Ú ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍË. å˚ ÔÓ„ÛÊÂÌ˚ ‚ ÚÓڇθÌ˚ ËÁÏÂÌÂÌËfl. ùÚÛ ÚÓڇθÌÓÒÚ¸ fl ÔÂ‰‡˛ ‚ ÌÂÔÂ˚‚Ì˚ı ÒÂËflı, fl ˜Û‚ÒÚ‚Û˛, ˜ÚÓ ÒÎÓ‚ÌÓ ÌÓÊÌˈ‡ÏË ÓÚÂÁ‡˛ ˝ÚÛ Óʉ‡˛˘Û˛Òfl Ú̸͇. é̇ ‚Ë·ËÛÂÚ, ÔÛθÒËÛÂÚ ‚ ÏÓËı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı, ÌÓ Ó̇ ÚÓڇθÌÓ ·ÂÒÍÓ̘̇ Í‡Í „ÛÒÂÌˈ‡, Í‡Í Ù‡¯, ÔÓıÓ‰fl˘ËÈ ˜ÂÂÁ ÏflÒÓÛ·ÍÛ ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË. ÇÒ ÔÓ‚‡ÎË‚‡ÂÚÒfl ‚ ͇ÍÛ˛-ÚÓ ·ÂÁ‰ÌÛ, ‚ «˜ÂÌ˚È Í‚‡‰‡Ú» å‡Î‚˘‡, Ë fl ˜‡ÒÚÓ ÔÓ‚ÚÓfl˛: «çÛÊÌÓ ÛÔ‡ÒÚ¸ ‚ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ «ü». 燯 «ü» Ë ÂÒÚ¸ ˝Ú‡ ·ÂÁ‰Ì‡, ÌÓ ‚ ÌÂÏ ÏÓÊÌÓ Ì‡ÈÚË ÓÔÓÛ, ÌÂÓ·ıÓ‰ËÏÓ Ì‡ÈÚË ˝ÚÛ ÓÔÓÛ, „ËÔÂÒÚÛÍÚÛÛ, ‰‡ÌÌÛ˛ Ì‡Ï Ò‚˚¯Â. àÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó, Ó·‡˘‡˛˘ÂÂÒfl Í ‚̯ÌÂÈ ÒÚÓÓÌ ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË, ÒÔÓÒÓ·ÌÓ Á‡·ÎÛʉ‡Ú¸Òfl. åÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ Ú‡„‰Ëfl åËÍ·̉ÊÂÎÓ, Ó ÍÓÚÓÓÏ fl ÔÓÒÚÓflÌÌÓ ‰Ûχ˛. Ö„Ó Ó·‡Á˚ ÒÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚Û˛Ú Ú‡„‰ËË ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË,  ҇ÏÓ̇‰ÂflÌÌÓÒÚË Ë ·ÂÁÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚË. ü Ô‰ÔÓ˜ËÚ‡˛ ÔÓÁˈËË ëÂÁ‡Ì̇ Ë Ç‡Ì ÉÓ„‡, ÍÓÚÓ˚ ҇ÏÓÛÏÓÎflÎËÒ¸, ‚ÒÎۯ˂‡ÎËÒ¸ ‚ÒχÚË‚‡ÎËÒ¸ ‚ ÏË, ‚ Â„Ó ÒÍ˚ÚÛ˛ Á‡ÍÓÌÓÏÂÌÓÒÚ¸, ‚ Â„Ó ÒÓÁ‚Û˜Ëfl Ò Ì‡¯ËÏ ÒÓÁ̇ÌËÂÏ. ç ·Ó„Ó·Ó˜ÂÒÚ‚Ó Ò„ӉÌfl Ú·ÛÂÚÒfl, ‡ ˝ÍÓÎӄ˘ÂÒÍË ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËfl, Ì ‡‰Ë͇θÌ˚ ÂÙÓÏ˚, ‡ ÙÓÏ˚ ‰Ë‡ÎÓ„‡, Òӄ·ÒËfl.

But I live as it were in the “passive” rather than “active” voice. I follow the energy vectors, which are organic to my nature, and which are leading me on. It’s as if I’m soaring in these intellectual layers as in a living space. They cannot be reduced for me into concepts and categories, they feed me with their energy and become transformed into visual images, naturally. They may glimmer in my compositions like the Milky Way or Tao, to use a Chinese concept, coinciding with my personal life way. They dissolve in my abstract pictures, existing as some soft fragments or streaming whirls. The fact of their existence helps me to preserve my equilibrium and this is why the image of Tao, I mentioned above, is probably my personal road and my philosophy. Tao reveals to us the grandeur of the space with all its layers that we cross, but Tao is free from subjectivity and arbitrariness. Tao is bigger than any dimension, which my mind is capable of imagining. And now to go back to the main point: “Fall into your own self “ and then you will understand what Tao and the burden of time are, and you will be relieved from the heavy pressure of our dubious age, your body and mind will be liberated. Be genuine artists in the true and natural sense. ∆

èÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó ÓÔÓÍˉ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl ̇ ̇Ò, Û‚Â΢˂‡fl Ò‚Ó˛ ˝ÌÂ„˲, Ë Ï˚ Ó·flÁ‡Ì˚ Òӄ·ÒËÚ¸Òfl Ò ˝ÚËÏ, ÔËÌflÚ¸ ˝ÚÛ ÒËÚÛ‡ˆË˛ Ë ÓÚÍ˚Ú¸Òfl ÌÓ‚ÓÏÛ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Û. ë„ӉÌfl Ú·ÛÂÚÒfl ÛÏÂÌËÂ Ó˘Û˘‡Ú¸ Ò‚ÓÈ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ÒÎÓÈ ‚ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â, ·˚Ú¸ ÂÏÛ Ó„‡Ì˘Ì˚Ï.

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ç ͇ÊÂÚÒfl ÎË Ú·Â, ˜ÚÓ ˝ÚÓ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó, ‚ ÍÓÚÓÓÏ Ï˚ Ô·˚‚‡ÂÏ, ‡ÒÒÎÓÂÌÓ Í‡Í ÒÓÁ̇ÌË ¯ËÁÓÙÂÌË͇. à ͇ÍËÂ-ÚÓ Â„Ó ÒÎÓË ÏÓ„ÛÚ ·˚Ú¸ ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ Ì ҂flÁ‡Ì˚ ‰Û„ Ò ‰Û„ÓÏ. ùÚÓ Ò͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl Ë ‚ ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓÏ ÌÂÔÓÌËχÌËË ‰Û„ ‰Û„‡, ‚ ‰ËÒڇ̈Ëflı ÏÂÊ‰Û ÔÓÍÓÎÂÌËflÏË. óÚÓ Ê ÚÓ„‰‡ ÓÒÚ‡ÂÚÒfl ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÛ — ÓÚÓʉÂÒÚ‚ÎflÚ¸Òfl Ò ˝ÚÓÈ ‰ÂÍÓÌÒÚÛ͈ËÂÈ ËÎË ËÒ͇ڸ ÌÓ‚˚ ÙÓÏ˚ ÒÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚Ëfl?

ПАЦЮКОВ:

ЧУБАРОВ: Ç Í‡ÍÓÈ-ÚÓ ÒÚÂÔÂÌË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ‚Ò„‰‡ ÊË‚ÂÚ ‚ ·ÂÁÛÏËË. ÑÎfl ÚÓ„Ó, ˜ÚÓ·˚ ÓÚÍ˚Ú¸ ÔÓ‰ÎËÌÌ˚È Ó·‡Á ‡θÌÓÒÚË, ÌÂÓ·ıÓ‰ËÏÓ ‚˚Íβ˜ËÚ¸ ‡ÁÛÏ. í‡Í ÔÓËÒıÓ‰ËÎÓ ‚Ó ‚ÒÂı ·Óθ¯Ëı ΢ÌÓÒÚflı 20-„Ó ‚Â͇ — Ë ä‡Ì‰ËÌÒÍËÈ, Ë å‡Î‚˘, Ë Ñ˛¯‡Ì, Ë âÓÁÂÙ ÅÓÈÒ. çÓ Ò„ӉÌfl ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ ‡ÒÒÎÓÂÌÌÓÏ ÏË ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ Ë ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚È ÒÎÓÈ, ÓÌ Ì‡·‡Î Ò‚Ó˛ ÍËÚ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ χÒÒÛ Á‡ ‚Ò˛ ËÒÚÓ˲ ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÚ‚‡ Ë Ó·ÂÚ‡ÂÚ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ‡‚ÚÓÌÓÏ˲. àÏÂÌÌÓ ÓÌ ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ËÚÒfl Ú‡ÌÒÎflÚÓÓÏ Ó·‡Á‡, ‰ÂÏÓÌÒÚËÛfl Â„Ó ‚‡ˇÚË‚-ÌÓÒÚ¸, Â„Ó ‚Á‡ËÏÓÒ‚flÁË, Â„Ó ÔÓÎfl. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ÌÓ‚Ó„Ó Ú˚Òfl˜ÂÎÂÚËfl ̇˜Ë̇ÂÚ Ò‚Ó·Ó‰ÌÓ ËÏ ÔÓθÁÓ‚‡Ú¸Òfl Í‡Í ÍÓÏÔ¸˛ÚÂÓÏ.

óÂÂÁ ÌÂ„Ó ÓÌ ÓÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ÎflÂÚ Ò‚ÓÈ ‰Ë‡ÎÓ„ Ò ‰Û„ËÏË ÒÎÓflÏË ‡θÌÓÒÚË — Ë Á‰ÂÒ¸ ÓÚÍ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl ÓÒÓ·‡fl „‡ÏÓÌËfl, ‚ ÏË ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ı ÒËÒÚÂÏ, ÔÓÒÚÓÂÌÌ˚ı ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÓÏ. çÓ ˝ÚË ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ ÒËÒÚÂÏ˚, Ә‚ˉÌÓ, ·˚ÎË Á‡ÎÓÊÂÌ˚ ÍÓ„‰‡-ÚÓ ‚ ÒÓÁ̇ÌË ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, Í‡Í ·ÎÓÍË Ô‡ÏflÚË ÚÓ„Ó Ê ÍÓÏÔ¸˛ÚÂ‡, Í‡Í Â„Ó ÔÓ„‡ÏÏ˚. à ÚÓ„‰‡ fl „Ó‚Ó˛ «ÛÔ‡‰ËÚ ‚ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ü», ӷ̇ÛʸÚ ‚ Ò‡ÏÓÏ ÒÂ·Â Ë ˜ËÒÚÛ˛ ÔËÓ‰Û, Ë ÔÓÚÂ̈ˇθÌÓ ·Û‰Û˘ÂÂ. àÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó ‚Ò„‰‡ ÊË‚ÂÚ ‚ ˝ÚÓÈ ÔÓ„‡Ì˘ÌÓÈ ÒËÚÛ‡ˆËË – ÏÂÊ‰Û ·ÂÁÛÏËÂÏ Ë Í‡ÌÓÌÓÏ, ÓÚ˜‡fl̸ÂÏ Ë ‚ÂÓÈ. éÌÓ ÔËÚ‡ÂÚÒfl Ú‡‰ËˆËÂÈ, ÌÓ Ë ÂÙÎÂÍÒËÛÂÚ Ì‡ ˝ÚÓ ÔÓÒÚÓflÌÌÓ ‚ÓÁ‡ÒÚ‡ÌË ÒÎÓ‚ ‡θÌÓÒÚË. ПАЦЮКОВ: ÇÎËflÂÚ ÎË ˝ÚÓÚ «ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È» ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚È ÒÎÓÈ Ì‡ Ôӂ‰ÂÌË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, ËÎË Ì‡ Â„Ó Ó·‡ÁÌÓ ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËÂ, ‡ ËÏÂÌÌÓ, ̇ Ôӂ‰ÂÌËÂ, ̇ Â„Ó ÒÚ‡Ú„˲? ЧУБАРОВ: çÂÒÓÏÌÂÌÌÓ, Ë ˝ÚÓ Ì‡˜‡ÎÓÒ¸ Ò èË͇ÒÒÓ. éÌ ·˚Î ÔÂ‚˚È, ÍÚÓ ‚‚ÂÎ Ò‚Ó ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ Ôӂ‰ÂÌË ‚ ˝ÒÚÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó. êÂÙÎÂÍÒËfl ÔËÓ·ÂÚ‡ÂÚ Ò‚Ó˛ ˝ÒÚÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ ÓÍ‡ÒÍÛ ‡ÍÚË‚ÌÂÈ ‚ÒÂ„Ó ‚ Ôӂ‰ÂÌËË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇. åÌ ·˚ÎÓ Ó˜Â̸ ÌÂ΄ÍÓ ÓÚ͇Á‡Ú¸Òfl ÓÚ ÙË„Û‡ÚË‚ÌÓÈ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÈ ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËË Ë ÔÂÂÈÚË Ì‡  ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ ÙÓÏ˚. à ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ ÏÌ ÔÓÏÓ„ ÅÂÎËÌ – Â„Ó ÌÂÍÓÚÓ‡fl ÏÓÌÓÚÓÌÌÓÒÚ¸, Â„Ó ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸ Í‡Í „ÓÓ‰‡ Á‡Ô‡‰ÌÓÈ ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË, Â„Ó ÓÒÓ·˚È ÒÎÓÈ ÒӈˇθÌÓ„Ó, „‰Â ÒÓ‰ËÌËÎËÒ¸ ÒӈˇÎËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍË ӷ‡Á˚ ÉÑê Ë ÛÒÚÓȘ˂˚ ÙÓÏ˚ ͇ÔËÚ‡ÎËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl.

çÓ fl Ò‡Ï ÊË‚Û ÒÍÓ ‚ «ÒÚ‡‰‡ÚÂθÌÓÏ Á‡Îӄ», ˜ÂÏ ‚ «‡ÍÚË‚ÌÓÏ». ü ÒÎÂ‰Û˛ ÚÂÏ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚ˘ÂÒÍËÏ ‚ÂÍÚÓ‡Ï, ‚ ÍÓÚÓ˚ı fl Ò‡Ï Ì‡ıÓÊÛÒ¸ Ë ÔÓ ÍÓÚÓ˚Ï ÒÛ‰¸·‡ ̇Ô‡‚ÎflÂÚ ÏÂÌfl. ü Í‡Í ·˚ Ô·ÌËÛ˛, ÎÂÚ‡˛ ‚ ˝ÚËı ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚ı ÒÎÓflı Í‡Í ‚ ÊË‚ÓÏ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â. éÌË Ì ‚˚Óʉ‡˛ÚÒfl ‰Îfl ÏÂÌfl ‚ ÔÓÌflÚËfl ËÎË Í‡Ú„ÓËË, ÓÌË ÔËÚ‡˛Ú ÏÂÌfl Ò‚ÓÂÈ ˝ÌÂ„ËÂÈ Ë, ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ÔÂÂıÓ‰flÚ ‚ Ô·ÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚Ó. éÌË ÏÓ„ÛÚ ÏÂˆ‡Ú¸ ‚ ÏÓËı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı, ̇ÔÓÏË̇fl ÏΘÌ˚È ÔÛÚ¸, Ñ‡Ó — Í‡Í „Ó‚ÓflÚ ÍËڇȈ˚, ÒÓ‚Ô‡‰‡fl Ò Î˘ÌÓÈ ‰ÓÓ„ÓÈ ÊËÁÌË. ê‡ÒÚ‚ÓflflÒ¸ ‚ ÏÓÂÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, ÓÌË ÊË‚ÛÚ Í‡ÍËÏË-ÚÓ «Ïfl„ÍËÏË» Ù‡„ÏÂÌÚ‡ÏË, ÔÓÚÓ͇ÏË Á‡‚ËıÂÌËÈ. î‡ÍÚ Ëı ‡θÌÓÒÚË ÔÓÏÓ„‡ÂÚ ÏÌ ÒÓı‡ÌflÚ¸ ‡‚ÌÓ‚ÂÒËÂ, Ë ÔÓ˝ÚÓÏÛ Ó·‡Á чÓ, Ó ÍÓÚÓÓÏ fl ÛÔÓÏflÌÛÎ, ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, Ë ÂÒÚ¸ ÏÓÈ Î˘Ì˚È ÔÛÚ¸ Ë ÏÓfl ÙËÎÓÒÓÙËfl. Ç Ñ‡Ó ‡ÒÍ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl ‚Â΢ˠÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ Ë Â„Ó ÒÎÓË, ÍÓÚÓ˚ Ï˚ ÔÂÂÒÂ͇ÂÏ, ‚ Ñ‡Ó ÓÚÒÛÚÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ ÒÛ·˙ÂÍÚË‚ÌÓÒÚ¸, ÔÓËÁ‚ÓÎ. Ñ‡Ó ·Óθ¯Â β·ÓÈ ‚Â΢ËÌ˚, ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ ÏÓÊÂÚ Ô‰ÎÓÊËÚ¸ ̇¯Â ÒÓÁ̇ÌËÂ. à ‚��Á‚‡˘‡flÒ¸ Í „·‚ÌÓÏÛ: «ìÔ‡‰ËÚ ‚ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ü», Ë ÚÓ„‰‡ ‚˚ ÔÓÈÏÂÚÂ, ˜ÚÓ Ú‡ÍÓÂ Ñ‡Ó Ë ·ÂÏfl ‚ÂÏÂÌË, ÚflÊÂÒÚ¸ ̇¯ÂÈ ÒÓÏÌËÚÂθÌÓÈ ˝ÔÓıË ÔÓÍËÌÂÚ Ç‡Ò, ÓÒ‚Ó·Ó‰ËÚ Ç‡¯Â ÚÂÎÓ Ë Ç‡¯Û ‰Û¯Û, Òڇ̸Ú ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇ÏË ‚ Ò‡ÏÓÏ ÔÓÒÚÓÏ Ë ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÏ ÒÏ˚ÒÎÂ. ∆

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ç ͇ÊÂÚÒfl ÎË Ú·Â, ˜ÚÓ ˝ÚÓ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó, ‚ ÍÓÚÓÓÏ Ï˚ Ô·˚‚‡ÂÏ, ‡ÒÒÎÓÂÌÓ Í‡Í ÒÓÁ̇ÌË ¯ËÁÓÙÂÌË͇. à ͇ÍËÂ-ÚÓ Â„Ó ÒÎÓË ÏÓ„ÛÚ ·˚Ú¸ ‡·ÒÓβÚÌÓ Ì ҂flÁ‡Ì˚ ‰Û„ Ò ‰Û„ÓÏ. ùÚÓ Ò͇Á˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl Ë ‚ ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÍÓÏ ÌÂÔÓÌËχÌËË ‰Û„ ‰Û„‡, ‚ ‰ËÒڇ̈Ëflı ÏÂÊ‰Û ÔÓÍÓÎÂÌËflÏË. óÚÓ Ê ÚÓ„‰‡ ÓÒÚ‡ÂÚÒfl ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍÛ — ÓÚÓʉÂÒÚ‚ÎflÚ¸Òfl Ò ˝ÚÓÈ ‰ÂÍÓÌÒÚÛ͈ËÂÈ ËÎË ËÒ͇ڸ ÌÓ‚˚ ÙÓÏ˚ ÒÓÓÚ‚ÂÚÒÚ‚Ëfl?

ПАЦЮКОВ:

ЧУБАРОВ: Ç Í‡ÍÓÈ-ÚÓ ÒÚÂÔÂÌË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ‚Ò„‰‡ ÊË‚ÂÚ ‚ ·ÂÁÛÏËË. ÑÎfl ÚÓ„Ó, ˜ÚÓ·˚ ÓÚÍ˚Ú¸ ÔÓ‰ÎËÌÌ˚È Ó·‡Á ‡θÌÓÒÚË, ÌÂÓ·ıÓ‰ËÏÓ ‚˚Íβ˜ËÚ¸ ‡ÁÛÏ. í‡Í ÔÓËÒıÓ‰ËÎÓ ‚Ó ‚ÒÂı ·Óθ¯Ëı ΢ÌÓÒÚflı 20-„Ó ‚Â͇ — Ë ä‡Ì‰ËÌÒÍËÈ, Ë å‡Î‚˘, Ë Ñ˛¯‡Ì, Ë âÓÁÂÙ ÅÓÈÒ. çÓ Ò„ӉÌfl ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ ‡ÒÒÎÓÂÌÌÓÏ ÏË ÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ Ë ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚È ÒÎÓÈ, ÓÌ Ì‡·‡Î Ò‚Ó˛ ÍËÚ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ χÒÒÛ Á‡ ‚Ò˛ ËÒÚÓ˲ ˜ÂÎӂ˜ÂÒÚ‚‡ Ë Ó·ÂÚ‡ÂÚ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÛ˛ ‡‚ÚÓÌÓÏ˲. àÏÂÌÌÓ ÓÌ ÒÚ‡ÌÓ‚ËÚÒfl Ú‡ÌÒÎflÚÓÓÏ Ó·‡Á‡, ‰ÂÏÓÌÒÚËÛfl Â„Ó ‚‡ˇÚË‚-ÌÓÒÚ¸, Â„Ó ‚Á‡ËÏÓÒ‚flÁË, Â„Ó ÔÓÎfl. ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ ÌÓ‚Ó„Ó Ú˚Òfl˜ÂÎÂÚËfl ̇˜Ë̇ÂÚ Ò‚Ó·Ó‰ÌÓ ËÏ ÔÓθÁÓ‚‡Ú¸Òfl Í‡Í ÍÓÏÔ¸˛ÚÂÓÏ.

óÂÂÁ ÌÂ„Ó ÓÌ ÓÒÛ˘ÂÒÚ‚ÎflÂÚ Ò‚ÓÈ ‰Ë‡ÎÓ„ Ò ‰Û„ËÏË ÒÎÓflÏË ‡θÌÓÒÚË — Ë Á‰ÂÒ¸ ÓÚÍ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl ÓÒÓ·‡fl „‡ÏÓÌËfl, ‚ ÏË ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ı ÒËÒÚÂÏ, ÔÓÒÚÓÂÌÌ˚ı ˜ÂÎÓ‚ÂÍÓÏ. çÓ ˝ÚË ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚ ÒËÒÚÂÏ˚, Ә‚ˉÌÓ, ·˚ÎË Á‡ÎÓÊÂÌ˚ ÍÓ„‰‡-ÚÓ ‚ ÒÓÁ̇ÌË ˜ÂÎÓ‚Â͇, Í‡Í ·ÎÓÍË Ô‡ÏflÚË ÚÓ„Ó Ê ÍÓÏÔ¸˛ÚÂ‡, Í‡Í Â„Ó ÔÓ„‡ÏÏ˚. à ÚÓ„‰‡ fl „Ó‚Ó˛ «ÛÔ‡‰ËÚ ‚ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ü», ӷ̇ÛʸÚ ‚ Ò‡ÏÓÏ ÒÂ·Â Ë ˜ËÒÚÛ˛ ÔËÓ‰Û, Ë ÔÓÚÂ̈ˇθÌÓ ·Û‰Û˘ÂÂ. àÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚Ó ‚Ò„‰‡ ÊË‚ÂÚ ‚ ˝ÚÓÈ ÔÓ„‡Ì˘ÌÓÈ ÒËÚÛ‡ˆËË – ÏÂÊ‰Û ·ÂÁÛÏËÂÏ Ë Í‡ÌÓÌÓÏ, ÓÚ˜‡fl̸ÂÏ Ë ‚ÂÓÈ. éÌÓ ÔËÚ‡ÂÚÒfl Ú‡‰ËˆËÂÈ, ÌÓ Ë ÂÙÎÂÍÒËÛÂÚ Ì‡ ˝ÚÓ ÔÓÒÚÓflÌÌÓ ‚ÓÁ‡ÒÚ‡ÌË ÒÎÓ‚ ‡θÌÓÒÚË. ПАЦЮКОВ: ÇÎËflÂÚ ÎË ˝ÚÓÚ «ËÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È» ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚È ÒÎÓÈ Ì‡ Ôӂ‰ÂÌË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, ËÎË Ì‡ Â„Ó Ó·‡ÁÌÓ ÒÓÒÚÓflÌËÂ, ‡ ËÏÂÌÌÓ, ̇ Ôӂ‰ÂÌËÂ, ̇ Â„Ó ÒÚ‡Ú„˲? ЧУБАРОВ: çÂÒÓÏÌÂÌÌÓ, Ë ˝ÚÓ Ì‡˜‡ÎÓÒ¸ Ò èË͇ÒÒÓ. éÌ ·˚Î ÔÂ‚˚È, ÍÚÓ ‚‚ÂÎ Ò‚Ó ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ Ôӂ‰ÂÌË ‚ ˝ÒÚÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Ó. êÂÙÎÂÍÒËfl ÔËÓ·ÂÚ‡ÂÚ Ò‚Ó˛ ˝ÒÚÂÚ˘ÂÒÍÛ˛ ÓÍ‡ÒÍÛ ‡ÍÚË‚ÌÂÈ ‚ÒÂ„Ó ‚ Ôӂ‰ÂÌËË ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇. åÌ ·˚ÎÓ Ó˜Â̸ ÌÂ΄ÍÓ ÓÚ͇Á‡Ú¸Òfl ÓÚ ÙË„Û‡ÚË‚ÌÓÈ ‚ËÁۇθÌÓÈ ÏËÙÓÎÓ„ËË Ë ÔÂÂÈÚË Ì‡  ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍÚÌ˚ ÙÓÏ˚. à ‚ ˝ÚÓÏ ÏÌ ÔÓÏÓ„ ÅÂÎËÌ – Â„Ó ÌÂÍÓÚÓ‡fl ÏÓÌÓÚÓÌÌÓÒÚ¸, Â„Ó ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸ Í‡Í „ÓÓ‰‡ Á‡Ô‡‰ÌÓÈ ˆË‚ËÎËÁ‡ˆËË, Â„Ó ÓÒÓ·˚È ÒÎÓÈ ÒӈˇθÌÓ„Ó, „‰Â ÒÓ‰ËÌËÎËÒ¸ ÒӈˇÎËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍË ӷ‡Á˚ ÉÑê Ë ÛÒÚÓȘ˂˚ ÙÓÏ˚ ͇ÔËÚ‡ÎËÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ„Ó ÒÓÁ̇ÌËfl.

çÓ fl Ò‡Ï ÊË‚Û ÒÍÓ ‚ «ÒÚ‡‰‡ÚÂθÌÓÏ Á‡Îӄ», ˜ÂÏ ‚ «‡ÍÚË‚ÌÓÏ». ü ÒÎÂ‰Û˛ ÚÂÏ ˝ÌÂ„ÂÚ˘ÂÒÍËÏ ‚ÂÍÚÓ‡Ï, ‚ ÍÓÚÓ˚ı fl Ò‡Ï Ì‡ıÓÊÛÒ¸ Ë ÔÓ ÍÓÚÓ˚Ï ÒÛ‰¸·‡ ̇Ô‡‚ÎflÂÚ ÏÂÌfl. ü Í‡Í ·˚ Ô·ÌËÛ˛, ÎÂÚ‡˛ ‚ ˝ÚËı ËÌÚÂÎÎÂÍÚۇθÌ˚ı ÒÎÓflı Í‡Í ‚ ÊË‚ÓÏ ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚Â. éÌË Ì ‚˚Óʉ‡˛ÚÒfl ‰Îfl ÏÂÌfl ‚ ÔÓÌflÚËfl ËÎË Í‡Ú„ÓËË, ÓÌË ÔËÚ‡˛Ú ÏÂÌfl Ò‚ÓÂÈ ˝ÌÂ„ËÂÈ Ë, ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ, ÔÂÂıÓ‰flÚ ‚ Ô·ÒÚ˘ÂÒÍÓ ‚¢ÂÒÚ‚Ó. éÌË ÏÓ„ÛÚ ÏÂˆ‡Ú¸ ‚ ÏÓËı ÍÓÏÔÓÁˈËflı, ̇ÔÓÏË̇fl ÏΘÌ˚È ÔÛÚ¸, Ñ‡Ó — Í‡Í „Ó‚ÓflÚ ÍËڇȈ˚, ÒÓ‚Ô‡‰‡fl Ò Î˘ÌÓÈ ‰ÓÓ„ÓÈ ÊËÁÌË. ê‡ÒÚ‚ÓflflÒ¸ ‚ ÏÓÂÈ ‡·ÒÚ‡ÍˆËË, ÓÌË ÊË‚ÛÚ Í‡ÍËÏË-ÚÓ «Ïfl„ÍËÏË» Ù‡„ÏÂÌÚ‡ÏË, ÔÓÚÓ͇ÏË Á‡‚ËıÂÌËÈ. î‡ÍÚ Ëı ‡θÌÓÒÚË ÔÓÏÓ„‡ÂÚ ÏÌ ÒÓı‡ÌflÚ¸ ‡‚ÌÓ‚ÂÒËÂ, Ë ÔÓ˝ÚÓÏÛ Ó·‡Á чÓ, Ó ÍÓÚÓÓÏ fl ÛÔÓÏflÌÛÎ, ÏÓÊÂÚ ·˚Ú¸, Ë ÂÒÚ¸ ÏÓÈ Î˘Ì˚È ÔÛÚ¸ Ë ÏÓfl ÙËÎÓÒÓÙËfl. Ç Ñ‡Ó ‡ÒÍ˚‚‡ÂÚÒfl ‚Â΢ˠÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡ Ë Â„Ó ÒÎÓË, ÍÓÚÓ˚ Ï˚ ÔÂÂÒÂ͇ÂÏ, ‚ Ñ‡Ó ÓÚÒÛÚÒÚ‚ÛÂÚ ÒÛ·˙ÂÍÚË‚ÌÓÒÚ¸, ÔÓËÁ‚ÓÎ. Ñ‡Ó ·Óθ¯Â β·ÓÈ ‚Â΢ËÌ˚, ÍÓÚÓÛ˛ ÏÓÊÂÚ Ô‰ÎÓÊËÚ¸ ̇¯Â ÒÓÁ̇ÌËÂ. à ‚ÓÁ‚‡˘‡flÒ¸ Í „·‚ÌÓÏÛ: «ìÔ‡‰ËÚ ‚ ÒÓ·ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓ ü», Ë ÚÓ„‰‡ ‚˚ ÔÓÈÏÂÚÂ, ˜ÚÓ Ú‡ÍÓÂ Ñ‡Ó Ë ·ÂÏfl ‚ÂÏÂÌË, ÚflÊÂÒÚ¸ ̇¯ÂÈ ÒÓÏÌËÚÂθÌÓÈ ˝ÔÓıË ÔÓÍËÌÂÚ Ç‡Ò, ÓÒ‚Ó·Ó‰ËÚ Ç‡¯Â ÚÂÎÓ Ë Ç‡¯Û ‰Û¯Û, Òڇ̸Ú ıÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇ÏË ‚ Ò‡ÏÓÏ ÔÓÒÚÓÏ Ë ÂÒÚÂÒÚ‚ÂÌÌÓÏ ÒÏ˚ÒÎÂ. ∆

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ЕВГЕНИЙ ЧУБАРОВ

EVGENY CHUBAROV

êÓ‰ËÎÒfl 11 ‰Â͇·fl 1934 „., ÒÂÎÓ Öχ¯Ë, Ň¯ÍËËfl.

Born:

1951-54 ëÚÛ‰ÂÌÚ Û˜ËÎˢ‡ „‡‚ËÓ‚‡ÌËfl ÔÓ ÏÂÚ‡ÎÎÛ, á·ÚÓÛÒÚ 1960’s ì˜ËÎÒfl ‚ ÒÚÛ‰ËË ÑÏËÚËfl ñ‡ÔÎË̇, Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ËÚÂÎfl Ô‡ËÊÒÍÓÈ ¯ÍÓÎ˚ 20-ı „Ó‰Ó‚.

1951–54 Student at the school for engraving in Zlatoust 1960’s Met and began visiting the studio of Dimitrij Zaplin, sculptor of the 1920’s Parisian School

ÜË‚ÂÚ Ë ‡·ÓÚ‡ÂÚ ‚ åÓÒÍ‚Â.

Lives and works in Moscow

1934 in the village of Emashi, Russia

ГРУППОВЫЕ ВЫСТАВКИ:

ПЕРСОНАЛЬНЫЕ ВЫСТАВКИ:

SELECTED GROUP EXHIBITIONS:

SOLO SHOWS:

2003

2004

2003

2004

2002 1999 1998 1989 1988 1987 1986 1985 1962 1961

«ÑÂ̸ ÓʉÂÌËfl ä. å‡Î‚˘‡», ñÂÌÚ «ÑÓÏ», åÓÒÍ‚‡ «êÂÔÎËÍË», ñÂÌÚ «ÑÓÏ», åÓÒÍ‚‡ “ëÓÎ ãÂÇËÚ, åÂÎ ÅÓÍÌÂ, Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚” ɇÎÂÂfl ɇË í‡ÚË̈flÌ É‡ÎÂÂfl ŇÈÂ, òÚÛÚ„‡‰ «ÑˇÎÓ„», êÛÒÒÍËÈ ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰ ‚ ñÂÌÚ ËÏÂÌË ÅÓËÒ‡ ǡ̇, ãÂÁ-ìÎËÒÒ, î‡ÌˆËfl «ä‡ÚË̇ Í‡Í Ó·˙ÂÍÚ», åÓÒÍÓ‚ÒÍËÈ ÑÓÏ ïÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, åÓÒÍ‚‡ «ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ Ë ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸», Ç˚ÒÚ‡‚Ó˜Ì˚È Á‡Î ̇ 䇯ËÒÍÓÏ ¯ÓÒÒÂ, åÓÒÍ‚‡ «è‡Á‰Ì˘̇fl ÍÛθÚÛ‡», Ç˚ÒÚ‡‚Ó˜Ì˚È Á‡Î ̇ 䇯ËÒÍÓÏ ¯ÓÒÒÂ, åÓÒÍ‚‡ «åËÙÓÎÓ„Ëfl ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡», Ç˚ÒÚ‡‚Ó˜Ì˚È Á‡Î ̇ 䇯ËÒÍÓÏ ¯ÓÒÒÂ, åÓÒÍ‚‡ «åÓÎÓ‰˚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍË åÓÒÍ‚˚», ÉÓÒÛ‰‡ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ÏÛÁÂÈ «åÓÎÓ‰˚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍË åÓÒÍ‚˚», åÓÒÍÓ‚ÒÍËÈ ÑÓÏ ïÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, åÓÒÍ‚‡

2004

2003 2001 1998 1996 1993 1990 1990 1989 1988 1987

«ÇÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËÂ Í ·ÂÒÔ‰ÏÂÚÌÓÏÛ », ÉÓÒÛ‰‡ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È êÛÒÒÍËÈ åÛÁÂÈ, ë-èÂÚÂ·Û„ «ÇÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËÂ Í ·ÂÒÔ‰ÏÂÚÌÓÏÛ », ÉÓÒÛ‰‡ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ñÂÌÚ ëÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ„Ó àÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡, åÓÒÍ‚‡ ɇÎÂÂfl ɇË í‡ÚË̈fl̇, 縲-âÓÍ É‡ÎÂÂfl ɇË í‡ÚË̈fl̇, 縲-âÓÍ «ÜÂÚ‚˚ ÒÚ‡ÎËÌËÁχ», åÛÁÂÈ ÔÓ‰ ÓÚÍ˚Ú˚Ï Ì·ÓÏ, ñÂÌÚ ËÏ. Ä.ë‡ı‡Ó‚‡, åÓÒÍ‚‡ ɇÎÂÂfl Ä̉Â‡Ò ÇÂÈÒ, ÅÂÎËÌ 1-‡fl Ç˚ÒÚ‡‚͇ ÇÓÒÚÓ˜ÌÓ-Ö‚ÓÔÂÈÒÍÓ„Ó àÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡, ɇϷÛ„ (͇ڇÎÓ„) ɇÎÂÂfl 4, ÅÂÎËÌ É‡ÎÂÂfl í‡ÚÛ̈ ÅÂÎËÌ É‡ÎÂÂfl í‡ÚÛ̈, ÅÂÎËÌ «ÇÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌË», ÑÓÏ ÒÍÛθÔÚÓ‡, åÓÒÍ‚‡ «Ç ÒÚÓÓÌÛ ÒÍËÙÓ‚», é·˙‰ËÌÂÌË «ùÏËڇʻ, åÓÒÍ‚‡

2002 1999 1998 1989 1989 1988 1987 1986 1985 1962

НАГРАДЫ:

1995

É‡ÌÚ ÙÓ̉‡ Krasner-Pollock, New York

1961

“Kazimir Malevich’s Birthday”, Art Center DOM, Moscow “Rejoinders”, Art Center DOM, Moscow “Sol LeWitt, Mel Bochner, Eugene Chubarov,” Tatunz Gallery, New York Galerie Bayer, Stuttgart “Paradoxes Of The Corporeal”, Municipal Gallery A-3, Moscow “Dialogue: Russian and Modern Times”, Boris Vian Center, France “Picture As Object”, The House of Artist on Kuznetsky Most, Moscow “The Artist and Modern Times”, Exhibition Hall in Kashirskoye Shosse, Moscow “Holiday Culture”, Exhibition Hall in Kashirskoye Shosse, Moscow “The Mythology Of Environment”, Exhibition Hall in Kashirskoye Shosse, Moscow “Emerging Artists”, The State A.S. Pushkin Art Museum, Moscow “Moscow’s Emerging Artists” M.O.S.C.H, Moscow

2004 2003 2001 1998 1996 1993 1990 1990 1989 1987 1987

“Return to the Abstract”, The State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg “Return to the Abstract”, The National Center for Contemporary Art, Moscow Gary Tatintsian Gallery, New York Gary Tatintsian Gallery, New York “Victims of Stalinism”, A. Sakharov Art Center, Moscow Galerie Andreas Weiss, Berlin International Art Fair for East European Art, Hamburg (catalog) Galerie Vier, Berlin Tatunz Galerie, Berlin Tatunz Galerie, Berlin “Homecoming”, The House of Sculpture, Moscow “Looking Back at the Scythians”, Hermitage Association, Moscow

GRANTS & AWARDS:

1995

Krasner-Pollock Foundation Award, New York

КОЛЛЕКЦИИ: COLLECTIONS:

ÉÓÒÛ‰‡ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È åÛÁÂÈ Ä.ë.èÛ¯ÍË̇, åÓÒÍ‚‡ ÉÓÒÛ‰‡ÒÚ‚ÂÌ̇fl íÂÚ¸flÍÓ‚Ò͇fl ɇÎÂÂfl, åÓÒÍ‚‡ åÛÁÂÈ ìÌË‚ÂÒËÚÂÚ‡ ê‡Ú„ÂÁ, 縲 ÑÊÂÒË îÂÌËÍÒ îÓ̉, íÂθ-Ä‚Ë‚ ç˝ÌÒË Ë çÓÚÓÌ ÑÓ‰Ê, LJ¯ËÌ„ÚÓÌ Ñ‡‚ˉ‡ íÂÚÛ‡¯‚ËÎË, ÅÂÎËÌ äÓÎÎÂ͈Ëfl ê.ŇÈÂ, òÚÛÚ„‡‰ ÅÂÂÌÒÂÌ äÓÌÒ‡ÎÚËÌ„, ä‡Ì‡‰‡

156

Pushkin Museum, Moscow Tretiakov Museum, Moscow Rutgers University Museum, New Jersey Phoenix Foundation, Tel Aviv Nancy & Norton Dodge Collection, Washington David Tetruashvili, Berlin Collection R.Bayer, Stuttgart Berensen Art Consulting, Canada


ЕВГЕНИЙ ЧУБАРОВ

EVGENY CHUBAROV

êÓ‰ËÎÒfl 11 ‰Â͇·fl 1934 „., ÒÂÎÓ Öχ¯Ë, Ň¯ÍËËfl.

Born:

1951-54 ëÚÛ‰ÂÌÚ Û˜ËÎˢ‡ „‡‚ËÓ‚‡ÌËfl ÔÓ ÏÂÚ‡ÎÎÛ, á·ÚÓÛÒÚ 1960’s ì˜ËÎÒfl ‚ ÒÚÛ‰ËË ÑÏËÚËfl ñ‡ÔÎË̇, Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ËÚÂÎfl Ô‡ËÊÒÍÓÈ ¯ÍÓÎ˚ 20-ı „Ó‰Ó‚.

1951–54 Student at the school for engraving in Zlatoust 1960’s Met and began visiting the studio of Dimitrij Zaplin, sculptor of the 1920’s Parisian School

ÜË‚ÂÚ Ë ‡·ÓÚ‡ÂÚ ‚ åÓÒÍ‚Â.

Lives and works in Moscow

1934 in the village of Emashi, Russia

ГРУППОВЫЕ ВЫСТАВКИ:

ПЕРСОНАЛЬНЫЕ ВЫСТАВКИ:

SELECTED GROUP EXHIBITIONS:

SOLO SHOWS:

2003

2004

2003

2004

2002 1999 1998 1989 1988 1987 1986 1985 1962 1961

«ÑÂ̸ ÓʉÂÌËfl ä. å‡Î‚˘‡», ñÂÌÚ «ÑÓÏ», åÓÒÍ‚‡ «êÂÔÎËÍË», ñÂÌÚ «ÑÓÏ», åÓÒÍ‚‡ “ëÓÎ ãÂÇËÚ, åÂÎ ÅÓÍÌÂ, Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚” ɇÎÂÂfl ɇË í‡ÚË̈flÌ É‡ÎÂÂfl ŇÈÂ, òÚÛÚ„‡‰ «ÑˇÎÓ„», êÛÒÒÍËÈ ‡‚‡Ì„‡‰ ‚ ñÂÌÚ ËÏÂÌË ÅÓËÒ‡ ǡ̇, ãÂÁ-ìÎËÒÒ, î‡ÌˆËfl «ä‡ÚË̇ Í‡Í Ó·˙ÂÍÚ», åÓÒÍÓ‚ÒÍËÈ ÑÓÏ ïÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, åÓÒÍ‚‡ «ïÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍ Ë ÒÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓÒÚ¸», Ç˚ÒÚ‡‚Ó˜Ì˚È Á‡Î ̇ 䇯ËÒÍÓÏ ¯ÓÒÒÂ, åÓÒÍ‚‡ «è‡Á‰Ì˘̇fl ÍÛθÚÛ‡», Ç˚ÒÚ‡‚Ó˜Ì˚È Á‡Î ̇ 䇯ËÒÍÓÏ ¯ÓÒÒÂ, åÓÒÍ‚‡ «åËÙÓÎÓ„Ëfl ÔÓÒÚ‡ÌÒÚ‚‡», Ç˚ÒÚ‡‚Ó˜Ì˚È Á‡Î ̇ 䇯ËÒÍÓÏ ¯ÓÒÒÂ, åÓÒÍ‚‡ «åÓÎÓ‰˚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍË åÓÒÍ‚˚», ÉÓÒÛ‰‡ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ÏÛÁÂÈ «åÓÎÓ‰˚ ıÛ‰ÓÊÌËÍË åÓÒÍ‚˚», åÓÒÍÓ‚ÒÍËÈ ÑÓÏ ïÛ‰ÓÊÌË͇, åÓÒÍ‚‡

2004

2003 2001 1998 1996 1993 1990 1990 1989 1988 1987

«ÇÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËÂ Í ·ÂÒÔ‰ÏÂÚÌÓÏÛ », ÉÓÒÛ‰‡ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È êÛÒÒÍËÈ åÛÁÂÈ, ë-èÂÚÂ·Û„ «ÇÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËÂ Í ·ÂÒÔ‰ÏÂÚÌÓÏÛ », ÉÓÒÛ‰‡ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È ñÂÌÚ ëÓ‚ÂÏÂÌÌÓ„Ó àÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡, åÓÒÍ‚‡ ɇÎÂÂfl ɇË í‡ÚË̈fl̇, 縲-âÓÍ É‡ÎÂÂfl ɇË í‡ÚË̈fl̇, 縲-âÓÍ «ÜÂÚ‚˚ ÒÚ‡ÎËÌËÁχ», åÛÁÂÈ ÔÓ‰ ÓÚÍ˚Ú˚Ï Ì·ÓÏ, ñÂÌÚ ËÏ. Ä.ë‡ı‡Ó‚‡, åÓÒÍ‚‡ ɇÎÂÂfl Ä̉Â‡Ò ÇÂÈÒ, ÅÂÎËÌ 1-‡fl Ç˚ÒÚ‡‚͇ ÇÓÒÚÓ˜ÌÓ-Ö‚ÓÔÂÈÒÍÓ„Ó àÒÍÛÒÒÚ‚‡, ɇϷÛ„ (͇ڇÎÓ„) ɇÎÂÂfl 4, ÅÂÎËÌ É‡ÎÂÂfl í‡ÚÛ̈ ÅÂÎËÌ É‡ÎÂÂfl í‡ÚÛ̈, ÅÂÎËÌ «ÇÓÁ‚���‡˘ÂÌË», ÑÓÏ ÒÍÛθÔÚÓ‡, åÓÒÍ‚‡ «Ç ÒÚÓÓÌÛ ÒÍËÙÓ‚», é·˙‰ËÌÂÌË «ùÏËڇʻ, åÓÒÍ‚‡

2002 1999 1998 1989 1989 1988 1987 1986 1985 1962

НАГРАДЫ:

1995

É‡ÌÚ ÙÓ̉‡ Krasner-Pollock, New York

1961

“Kazimir Malevich’s Birthday”, Art Center DOM, Moscow “Rejoinders”, Art Center DOM, Moscow “Sol LeWitt, Mel Bochner, Eugene Chubarov,” Tatunz Gallery, New York Galerie Bayer, Stuttgart “Paradoxes Of The Corporeal”, Municipal Gallery A-3, Moscow “Dialogue: Russian and Modern Times”, Boris Vian Center, France “Picture As Object”, The House of Artist on Kuznetsky Most, Moscow “The Artist and Modern Times”, Exhibition Hall in Kashirskoye Shosse, Moscow “Holiday Culture”, Exhibition Hall in Kashirskoye Shosse, Moscow “The Mythology Of Environment”, Exhibition Hall in Kashirskoye Shosse, Moscow “Emerging Artists”, The State A.S. Pushkin Art Museum, Moscow “Moscow’s Emerging Artists” M.O.S.C.H, Moscow

2004 2003 2001 1998 1996 1993 1990 1990 1989 1987 1987

“Return to the Abstract”, The State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg “Return to the Abstract”, The National Center for Contemporary Art, Moscow Gary Tatintsian Gallery, New York Gary Tatintsian Gallery, New York “Victims of Stalinism”, A. Sakharov Art Center, Moscow Galerie Andreas Weiss, Berlin International Art Fair for East European Art, Hamburg (catalog) Galerie Vier, Berlin Tatunz Galerie, Berlin Tatunz Galerie, Berlin “Homecoming”, The House of Sculpture, Moscow “Looking Back at the Scythians”, Hermitage Association, Moscow

GRANTS & AWARDS:

1995

Krasner-Pollock Foundation Award, New York

КОЛЛЕКЦИИ: COLLECTIONS:

ÉÓÒÛ‰‡ÒÚ‚ÂÌÌ˚È åÛÁÂÈ Ä.ë.èÛ¯ÍË̇, åÓÒÍ‚‡ ÉÓÒÛ‰‡ÒÚ‚ÂÌ̇fl íÂÚ¸flÍÓ‚Ò͇fl ɇÎÂÂfl, åÓÒÍ‚‡ åÛÁÂÈ ìÌË‚ÂÒËÚÂÚ‡ ê‡Ú„ÂÁ, 縲 ÑÊÂÒË îÂÌËÍÒ îÓ̉, íÂθ-Ä‚Ë‚ ç˝ÌÒË Ë çÓÚÓÌ ÑÓ‰Ê, LJ¯ËÌ„ÚÓÌ Ñ‡‚ˉ‡ íÂÚÛ‡¯‚ËÎË, ÅÂÎËÌ äÓÎÎÂ͈Ëfl ê.ŇÈÂ, òÚÛÚ„‡‰ ÅÂÂÌÒÂÌ äÓÌÒ‡ÎÚËÌ„, ä‡Ì‡‰‡

156

Pushkin Museum, Moscow Tretiakov Museum, Moscow Rutgers University Museum, New Jersey Phoenix Foundation, Tel Aviv Nancy & Norton Dodge Collection, Washington David Tetruashvili, Berlin Collection R.Bayer, Stuttgart Berensen Art Consulting, Canada


èà ‹ 2-4957 ISBN 5-93332-135-4 (Russia) ISBN 3-935298-79-X (International) ————————— êÛÒÒÍËÈ åÛÁÂÈ Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÂÚ: Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ «ÇÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËÂ Í ·ÂÒÔ‰ÏÂÚÌÓÏÛ» Äθχ̇ı. Ç˚Ô. 88. ëè·: Palace Editions, 2004 Russian Museum presents: Evgeny Chubarov “Return to the Abstract” Almanac, Edn. 88. St Petersburg: Palace Editions, 2004 ————————— © 2004, State Russian Museum © 2004, Palace Editions © 2004, Garri Tatintsian Printed in Hong Kong by Asia-Pacific Offset, Inc. ————————— Internet: http://www.rusmuseum.ru http://www.tatintsian.com E-mail: info@russ-museum.spb.ru info@tatintsian.com ————————— ä‡Ú‡ÎÓ„ ËÁ‰‡Ì ÔË ÔÓ‰‰ÂÊÍ ч‚ˉ‡ íÂÚÛ‡¯‚ËÎË Ë ÙËÏ˚ BROCARD Group, ÅÂÎËÌ Catalog was published with financial support from David Tetruashvili and Brocard Group GmbH & Co. KG aA, Berlin www.brocard.com —————————


èà ‹ 2-4957 ISBN 5-93332-135-4 (Russia) ISBN 3-935298-79-X (International) ————————— êÛÒÒÍËÈ åÛÁÂÈ Ô‰ÒÚ‡‚ÎflÂÚ: Ö‚„ÂÌËÈ óÛ·‡Ó‚ «ÇÓÁ‚‡˘ÂÌËÂ Í ·ÂÒÔ‰ÏÂÚÌÓÏÛ» Äθχ̇ı. Ç˚Ô. 88. ëè·: Palace Editions, 2004 Russian Museum presents: Evgeny Chubarov “Return to the Abstract” Almanac, Edn. 88. St Petersburg: Palace Editions, 2004 ————————— © 2004, State Russian Museum © 2004, Palace Editions © 2004, Garri Tatintsian Printed in Hong Kong by Asia-Pacific Offset, Inc. ————————— Internet: http://www.rusmuseum.ru http://www.tatintsian.com E-mail: info@russ-museum.spb.ru info@tatintsian.com ————————— ä‡Ú‡ÎÓ„ ËÁ‰‡Ì ÔË ÔÓ‰‰ÂÊÍ ч‚ˉ‡ íÂÚÛ‡¯‚ËÎË Ë ÙËÏ˚ BROCARD Group, ÅÂÎËÌ Catalog was published with financial support from David Tetruashvili and Brocard Group GmbH & Co. KG aA, Berlin www.brocard.com —————————


Evgeny Chubarovâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s work belongs to the latest art strategies in contemporary Russian visual culture while at the same time blending naturally with the international context. It enters into a dialogue with the Western forms of artistic consciousness while preserving its originality and all the distinguishing features as a Eurasian phenomenon. Born within the independent culture of the 1960s, in the natural opposition to the standards of the Soviet establishment, Chubarov created his own artistic philosophy, combining his fundamental research with the current artistic reality. His creative system incorporates the artistic discoveries of the latter half of the 20th century and the post-avant-garde ideals of the latest decade, and thus he reveals in the classical tradition as yet unarticulated meanings and unrealized energies. Resorting to the post-modern images of redundancy and the neo-baroque multi-dimensionality Chubarov studies the various models of the genetic code and their potential for transformation and renovation in their endless variations. In our virtual world his art technologies restore the universal cultural values, their living integrity and democratic spirit. His work is the product of both his emotional experiences and intensive intellectual reflections. Chubarovâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s images are always unexpected, verging on revelations similar to Eastern battle arts and meditative practices. â&#x20AC;&#x201D; VITALY PATSUKOV



Eugeny Chubarov. Return to the abstract.