moscow art critic andrey kovalev
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Ilya Kabakov, the bard of Soviet Atlantida which has sunk to the Time ocean bottom, sings it anywhere but Russia for here his "total installation" theory may well be taken with a smirk, which seems to prevent the master from returning to the present constantly changing context of this reincarnated country.

But Kabakov himself also had to undergo a metamorphosis in order to be implanted in the West and learn to criticize social tissue quite different from that he had known. There is a wide difference between "Soviet" Kabakov, fearless analyst of idioms immersed in the rotting space of communality, and "international" Kabakov who materialized so clearly the fear of the Red Empire that had been buried deeply in the subconscious of the West. The myth left by Ilya Iosiphovich behind him in Russia is quite different: here he is, above all, a cultural hero and founder of the so-called Moscow conceptualism. That remarkable phenomenon has long been considered in Russia as synonymous to contemporary art in general. Just as in the 1910s all modern artists were dubbed "futurists", so anything like actual art experiments is now called "conceptualism". The paradox is that Kabakov is in the way of other Russian artists seeking their identity within the world art process. To be identified is to be distinct from others, but most Russian artists are similar to all others and only claim identity by barking like a dog as Kulik or vandalizing costly museum exhibits as Brener.

So, Kabakov's armchair in his old workshop stays empty, the premises are occupied now by the Institute of Contemporary Art. The new exhibition hall built as extention of the historic studio was opened with a show of graphic works from his albums entitled "Primakov Sitting in the Cupboard" of the early 70s. Strange as may seem, this is Kabakov's first one-man exhibition in Russia.

This memorial gesture confirms Kabakov's orthodox myth; the younger generation suffering from the Oedipus complex can see the image of the father who abandoned them. It is probably not by chance that the series is an analytical opus about teenage perversions and the impossibility to communicate with the world. Its first part is the story of a boy who preferred to stay in the cupboard — a metaphor of Kabakov's own existential position, the initial point for comprehending the outer world. The strategy of secret observer hiding within his childish fears and resisting the influence of the external world was, in fact, the only productive one in those years. Now things have changed and the victorious capitalism has wiped out all nooks and crannies to habour an autist studying the world.

The way Kabakov's exhibition was arranged at the ICA resembled a traditional museum display of a great classic's heritage. Parallel to it the Red Art Gallery (jointly with the XL Gallery) staged another show of Kabakov's works, with quite a different method of presenting contemporary art. The curatorial project treats a concrete work by a concrete artist just as one element in the overall composition. Sometimes it looks as if the curator needs no artists at all. Who is the artist in this particular case? Is it Kabakov, after all? The installation in the attic above the Red Art Gallery is called "Taboo" and marks the 25th anniversary of Kabakov's famous stool. The absent Kabakov remains a real participant and conceptualism remains the basic method of studying of complex relations between art and life, between the word and the visual image, so manuals for manufacturing stools are presented as art objects while Kabakov's old drawing plays the role of reality — ready-made. In the best tradition of the Moscow conceptual school each part of the installation comments on onother, but the real taboo is Kabakov himself emerging in the space between reality and his own myth. This uncomplicated homage to the master demonstrates the cardinal distinction of conceptualism "after Koshut" from Moscow conceptualism "after Kabakov". The plain conceptualist spends his life in a Zen contemplation of the echoing empty space between the sign and the denotat, while the Moscow conceptualist finds in that space a whole existential world keenly feeling its being abandoned by God.

The attic is not only the abode of Kabakov's personages, it is the present-day sad shelter of the contemporary art process with its institutions once again ousted to corners and cellars. The "new"

Andey Kovalev - [email protected], [email protected]