Are people in Lithuania and Russia becoming nostalgic of the 1990s and what different taboos rein in their art scenes?
In the second installment of LRT’s bi-weekly English-language podcast Culture Nerve, two independent curators, Maria Sarycheva from Russia and Adomas Narkevičius from Lithuanina, talk about contemporary art in their countries, the heroisation of the 1990s, generation gaps and taboo topics of the art world.
Maria Sarycheva: I actually quite enjoy what is happening because of the pandemic. All cultural institutions really slowed down. Art is a slow media, that is why art shows are good if they work with historical narratives and archive materials, not so much talking about what is happening right now. This situation should grow and develop.
Before the pandemic, contemporary art exhibitions in Moscow were huge, we had like seven openings in a day and all institutions were competing with each other. So you ended up going nowhere because you didn’t want to choose, you didn’t have an ability to choose, you were frustrated and you had a fear of missing out.
It is so frustrating to be a cultural worker in the capital because of this overproduction. At the same time, if you go to another city, you have much slower production and a feeling that each show is super good, because people actually spent their time and invested their thoughts into it.
Now everything is happening on the internet, it is a big online show. And no one is questioning the criteria of this. What is a good digital experience?
I would like to get back to the history that we have in common. I don’t know how it is in Russia, but in Lithuania, for the last few years we have some sort of obsession with trying to understand the 1990s. It's not only in the contemporary art, but also in literature. We are trying to deconstruct everything. Can you relate to that?
Maria Sarycheva: Yes, about seven years ago we had a few shows that were dedicated to deconstructing the 90s, it kind of developed a heroisation of this period. When I was growing up within the art education, there was a heroisation of the 60s.
But we were tired of this heroisation of unofficial art life, we were interested in this completely new international art life. It was so much about knowing history than actually living history and taking something into your own life. It was all about: “You should know this stuff.”
This paternalistic way of teaching the new generation of art professionals is really irritating. Now it’s less active, but we still have this tension between two generations of artists. The older generation is still influencing us because they are in charge of major art schools. That generation has a strong need to formulate their own canon. We already have so many canons and now we also have canons from the 90s.
Even though I am a young person, I do not perceive myself as a young curator, I am well experienced. And I have a feeling that people who are only starting to develop their art careers – I do not want to use the word ‘career’, because we don't really do art career in Russia – but the people who decide to connect their daily labour to arts and culture, I want them to feel more included into the community and feel that it is possible to discuss anything. I am staying in cultural field in Russia because I feel it should be more inclusive.
Adomas Narkevičius: I didn't think before in such a way, in terms of the generation and its paternalistic effect. But I think, in Lithuania, it was never too paternalistic for people not to be able to create and foster their own visions. Every generation after the 90s that I have looked into has really interesting different kinds of artists. They are still really active, not only doing shows, but also doing discursive events for forming communities.
Obviously, there is this paternalistic element, that you cannot start dreaming your dream and doing your vision before you learn about their dreams. That can get oppressive, but the grapple was never so strong so that other generations wouldn't feel free to do whatever they wanted.
But at the same time, as I’ve now ventured into the academic field, that presented a different side of this double-edged sword. As a curator and as an artist, I think it's really freeing and emancipating to know that there's no big name you need to get the blessing from and you can just do your thing. But in terms of art history, we didn't do that much of theorisation, because everyone was pursuing their own vision of what contemporary art is.
There is still so much art history writing to be done about the 60s, the 70s and the 90s. In this case, it is really good for younger generations to have a springboard to think from and relate to.
Since we are discussing canons and elites, I think it is a good time to talk about taboo topics. Can you expand more on what is considered taboo in Russia and Lithuania?
Maria Sarycheva: Sorry, I cannot talk about it (laughing). It would take a really long time for me to list all the taboo topics. I am sure that there might be a new taboo created while I am speaking here. But of course, LBGT question is prohibited to discuss publicly since 2013. Soon we will have a new generation thinking that this question has always been prohibited, although in my childhood it was not, it could be discussed.
For the last year, we’ve had a huge political process against Yulia Tsvetkova, an artist from Komsomolsko, because of a representation of vagina. As you see, vagina is now prohibited as well. Still, you can never know, things are constantly changing. If you want to collaborate with a state institution, there will be a lot of questions. But in non-governmental institutions, there is less control.
You moved to Moscow eight years ago and were involved in the local art scene since then. Have you seen taboos being broken during those years?
Maria Sarycheva: Of course, they are broken each day. There are so many things that we are actually discussing despite the official prohibition. I think the scariest and the ugliest thing here is self-censorship. And this thing is always with us, on every topic.
Politics is messed up on so many levels, but it has been messed up for a really long time. It was never good. And now we face the danger of being nostalgic about the 90s. That is the reason why everybody likes the 90s – because it has a feeling of freedom. But I really want to have a feeling of freedom every day. I don't really want to have a feeling of freedom only in the days when I was young and everything was possible.
It is really good to do nothing because nothing bad can happen to you. But if you want to stay active, you can never know. Maybe I will be fired because of this discussion? I never know.
Adomas Narkevičius: The situation in Lithuania is obviously very different. Self-censorship is also something I want to talk about, but again, in Lithuania we have different levels of it and it has more to do with inherited societal taboos.
I feel that in this particular moment things are looking up, certain taboos are being broken. But at the same time, I am not that optimistic. It is interesting to relate to what Maria said about the last moment of freedom in the 90s. I'm not that optimistic about the direct line of progress. Even if now Lithuania is kind of hopeful, I'm really keenly aware of how it might change quite rapidly.
When I think about art projects, for me the big question remains not so much whether to discuss or not to discuss those topics, but rather how we are doing it? What kind of relation we're trying to establish between the artwork – or any other kind of discursive content – and the audience?
Even though Lithuania is in a very different political state right now than Russia, I feel those challenges exist here, too. For cultural institutions to attract diverse audiences, even those who do not necessarily see things the same way that curators or artists do, and to be able to speak with them about these subjects, to bridge those gaps in understanding.
I guess it is the big post-war ideal of any museum, that it is a space for dialogue. Obviously, it is very different from the context Maria is describing, where it feels more like it is an everyday struggle just to have your beliefs voiced and to speak out your mind in the way you want.
Culture Nerve is a series of conversations about culture between international professionals. In each episode, a Lithuanian and a foreign expert sit down for a virtual talk about what matters most in culture. The podcast is created by LRT RADIO together with the network of Culture Attachés of the Republic of Lithuania.
The podcast is also available on Spotify.
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