Oleg Kulik

November 2009 Field Guide

The State of Things

Robin Rhode and Leif Ove Andsnes

James Turrell

Omer Fast

Bill Viola

Federico Fellini

Alfred Leslie

Oleg Kulik Anatoly Osmolovsky Alexey Beliayev-Guintovt The Kandinsky Prize Visits London Advice and Verse in London Rules on the Road Politics and Performance at Kandinsky Prize Ceremony Russian Artist's Work Temporarily Censored at FIAC

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Oleg Kulik left his native Kiev in 1987, when he was 26, for the brighter prospects of Moscow, a city in cultural ferment, thanks to the glasnost introduced by then Soviet president Mikhail Gorbachev. Kulik soon made a name for himself as curator of the Regina Gallery with installations transgressing the boundaries of what exhibitions should be: For a retrospective of the Ukrainian painter Oleg Golosiy, for instance, he put paintings on wheels so that viewers could arrange them as they pleased, and for a group show of Regina artists, he hired people to hold the artworks in their hands. But his greatest celebrity, or perhaps notoriety, came from his own performance art. His most attention-getting work may have been his 1994 collaboration with fellow Moscow artist and wild man Alexander Brener: Mad Dog, the Last Taboo Protected by a Lonely Cerberus, in which Kulik transmogrified into the "original animal," a man-dog. Later he made headlines with the 2005 "I Believe." The group show, curated for the Winzavod Art Center, the nexus of Moscow’s contemporary art scene, questioned the role of faith and religion as a personal motive in contemporary art and art production. Public reactions ranged from the openly hostile to the enthusiastically supportive.

Kulik’s latest curatorial endeavor is the "Kandinsky Prize in London," which opened October 17 and runs through December 10 at the Louise Blouin Foundation, in West London. The show features works by more than 30 Russian artists and collectives who competed for the 2008 Kandinsky Prize, which was established in 2007 by the Deutsche Bank and the Art Chronika Culture Foundation to help nurture contemporary art in Russia and whose winner receives a cash award of some €40,000 ($58,000). The purse last year went to the 44-year-old Moscow-based artist Alexey Beliayev-Guintovt. Valentin Diaconov discusses the prize and the current Russian scene with the controversial Oleg Kulik.

How did the opportunity to curate the Kandinsky Prize show come about? Were you invited to do the job?

Not exactly. I presented a project — one among many — and the Art Chronika Culture Foundation seemed to like it more than the others.

Why have you chosen these artists?

I think that every artist I’ve selected for this show infuses his or her work with a little bit of individual experience. That’s a rare thing, especially in Russian art, which consists of commentary and cultural studies where the artist makes a choice of what is good and what isn’t good. From the individualities, I tried to construct something of a fairy tale. I’d love to present Russian art as an organic environment, a space in progress, not a showcase of finished works with distinct messages. This exhibition is a chance to create a field of communication where different energies meet. It isn’t a scholarly review or a presentation of current trends.

What do you think about the controversy surrounding the divided jury’s decision to award the prize to Moscow artist Alexey Beliayev-Guintovt last year?

The art scene is all about emotions. Beliayev-Guintovt was called a fascist, but he’s definitely not.

How do you want to present the Russian art scene?

There are a lot of people who think that Russian art is underdeveloped. On the contrary, I think that Russian art is very progressive. It is much more refined, and it builds itself around the hard edges that exist in today’s society and politics. But it wasn’t my objective to make an exhibition that would present a profound overview of Russian art. That’s impossible with a show that builds on the results of a competition. I’m ascribing value to artists and making statements about Russia as a whole. Basically I am playing God. For me every artist is good. My goal is to make something exciting.

If you had to give the show a title, what would it be?

"Once upon a Time in a Barn," a paraphrase of a Sergio Leone movie. It’s because I really love barns, hastily built things that became barracks for workers to live in as industry grew in Soviet Russia. I love being inside these buildings when I’m in the country. The cracks between the wooden panels let flashes of light in, creating psychedelic effects. It’s all about atmosphere, you see.