Yesterday’s post had limited images because I am no photographer and it’s hard to move in focus when underground a few thousand miles away.
Alexey shared these on social media, mentioning that it was an “unusual” session, if Facebook got the translation right. I think that might be an understatement. A Moscow police officer modeling out on Friday night for strangers in a cozy studio, which includes the American moveable head on a tablet screen.
This might be the time to put on some contemporary airs—to the art media anyway, shift gears so to speak, spin backwards out of this art funk grave enthusiasm has been dropped into and spaded to oblivion. Dear movers and shakers of the great bubble metropolis, editors for Art-Earth Inc., continuously depicting sad people with paintbrushes miraculously making themselves more lonely with paint… Dear copycat educators, curators and gallerists propping up the naked individual on a golden throne, holding out your hands for money and saying that there’s meaning in that…
In some small, incredible way, unknown painters are rendering your entire enterprise meaningless. Undercurrents. I feel them. Vibrations. This is good because I have always trusted my genius to know what’s good.
Nowadays, thanks to the Internet, any group of painters can do this. However, no group is (as far as I know), besides us—The Russian Stuckists and a determined, perhaps crazy, American. So we are first. I declare history being made.
Please take note Art-Earth Inc. Maybe there is a spot here for you too.
Probably not. I’d rather be a fly on the wall where real feeling is practiced, than just another carrier of greed and avarice infection.
Look at these photos, and dream!