NEWNEW. Installation. 3d animation, objects. 2017
Elektrozavod gallery. Moscow, Russia.
Initially it should have been
a vernissage toast
But
Every single one
With the claim to Mayakovsky
And it would have been way too simple.
Before getting wasted it is necessary to philosophise.
That’s why
To you all,
Whom I liked
Or like.
Who came to drink
Vernissage wine
Or
To sincerely congratulate me with the exhibition.
Anyway,
It doesn’t really matter.
To the clear intentions!
To the discovery of cultural zombies
And to those
Who shamefully hide the infection of formalism.
(We will pretend that we cannot remember,
Neither postmodernism, nor kinetic movement.)
To everything that repeats.
To the unforgettable.
To the nostalgia for the unlived.
To the haunting.
To the unfinished.
To the experienced.
To the simple and the complicated.
To the resurrected.
To the twice
And three times new.
To the forbidden.
To the unhealthy.
To the new bored.
To the revived corpses.
To the uninterrupted production.
To the assembly line of discoveries from the garbage heap.
To the newnewnew.
To the old young men
with the dim look in their eyes.
To those spoilt by fame
and ptomaine.
To the objects from the junk
Of a stranger’s skull.
From the cesspool.
From the dumpster.
Just from the trash.
To the fact that nobody believes nothing
Treasures coexist with cockroaches.
An artist’s studio is a cemetery:
Artists are hungry cadavers
with the reduced supply of the subnormal fat.
Repetitive cycles, stopped shots
Serial production.
As if this is not enough
To the munched crumb of the discovered object.
To the stillborn from art.
To the evidence of desperate disinsection.
To the not revealing how empty everything is.
(Supposedly everything is based on inspiration).
To the other relics of the artist’s studio.
To the loyalty to the old school
And new trends.
To your health and my rest.
Thank you for your congratulations.
Rada Smolyanskaya
