Moscow’s Modern Art Museum is hosting a project by noted Ukrainian sculptor Oleh Pinchuk, graphic artist Serhiy Poyarkov, and painter Yury Horbachov, titled The Figurative Bridge. Many who frequent the Russian capital’s bohemian gatherings keep clear of the Tsereteli Museum, scornful of its content, saying such a father and such a son, meaning that its display consists of cheap salon stuff. The creative-oligarchic beau monde, however, holds a different view and regularly visits the museum’s expositions. The reason, of course, is not to buy something for one’s collection; such expositions usually do not sell the items on display. The art devotees, having acquired quite enough in terms of antiquity, classical realism, and expensive modernism of the late 1990s, look for something new, not trivial and of course having quality. One can hiss at Zurab Tsereteli’s bronze works, but, as a museum curator, he does not put junk on display. It is an established fact, so the new exposition kept in the neofigurative style attracted interest in Moscow.
After all, Poyarkov, Pinchuk, and Horbachov are well known in Moscow, other countries of Europe and North America; the authors have an impressive record of exhibits, although there are different views on what they do and how. All three, however, show indisputable talent, their ability to represent themselves is unmatched in Ukraine. While most of their colleagues proudly state that they are not commercial and complain of an “uncultured” society (because no one is buying their works), Pinchuk, Poyarkov, and Horbachov are lucky and prospering. Lady Luck is no fool, she does not smile on just anyone. The trio works hard every day, not only in the creative but also in the self-advertising domain, and they proudly state that they are commercial artists; there is demand when there is adequate supply, it is just that one must know how to sell their goods, find prospective customers, and convince them that theirs is the best there is. Otherwise it is best to be content painting bedside tables. Unlike those considering the arts a vocation rather than occupation, these artists are convinced to the contrary. If you attach a price to a canvas or sculpture it means that it is part of your business. If no one buys it, it means that you are bad at business.
When asked about the concept of their exhibit, Oleh and Yury immediately point to Serhiy Poyarkov. The latter has a knack for uttering mystifying statements, because none of the artists has ever been able to clearly state the concept of his exposition.
“The concept of our project is that we, three egoists, can work with each other, a seldom occurrence among us conceited artists. In principle, we all do works that are easily identifiable. For example, a child comes to explore the exposition and asks why are the hands twisted that way on that canvas, why do you have spots there and what are these lines supposed to mean. The artist replies that it is how he sees things. If that is really so, persists the youngster, then why did you become an artist in the first place? Kurt Vonnegut said if a scientist can’t explain what he is doing to a five-year-old in five minutes, he is not a scientist but a fake. Our kids can tell a horse or fish when they see one as well as any adult can. The nonfigurative epoch is over in the West.
“Some believe that an artist’s professionalism is determined by the number and quality of his exhibits, which museums have his works on display and their price. But you will agree that all this is the product of a promotional campaign. You can sell practically anything for a dollar, but you can also sell something for a million dollars, it all depends how smart you are at making a deal. I think that art exhibits are necessary as a kind of spectacle, an art theater where you must try to get the lead role and then note with satisfaction that the right kind of people were in the audience, who will help you keep a decent lifestyle.
“Works of art must be shown to art consumers. Exhibits are milestones on the artist’s creative road, they are like progress reports filed with oneself. I know that my clientele will buy my works with or without such exhibits. An art show is an opportunity to communicate with others. Here prospective customers meet and people are pleasantly surprised to run into colleagues. Yet many artists are under the illusion that they will attract customers by just staging such exhibits. Wrong. Every such event takes a wealth of arrangements. A grand piano will appear in the bushes only when you have made the required payments. Take our exhibit in Moscow. We have the right kind of VIPs among the visitors and a good media following They say how lucky we are. Nonsense. Nobody is lucky in our profession. We have lured them all, exerting a Herculean promotional effort. Nothing comes your way like manna from Heaven, especially in the arts. They accuse us of putting such emphasis on promotion. Take me, I’d love to just sit and paint. So what? I hate advertising, all of it, but I had to learn to do it professionally, because we don’t have normal art agents so far, because neither I nor any of my friends would want to live like beggars — and reduce our families to misery — just because we are head over heels in love with the arts. Why does one have to suffer for the sake of art, rather than rejoice at earning good money, using that art? If you are a dedicated man of the arts, you must do your best to make a good career rather than get drunk and cry on someone’s shoulder. So you’ve learned to use your pencil. But there are lots of other things you must also learn. A ‘noncommercial’ artist sees the results of my endeavors, but he doesn’t see me get up at seven every morning and run around the rest of the day, having a list of hundreds of things I must do before I can turn in. If you can’t cope with this tight schedule, you’ll never succeed.”
One can understand why most of your less successful colleagues take a dim view of what you’re doing. But you don’t seem to care. You rely on the principle of may the best man win.
“Absolutely, except that I would like to use this opportunity to thank all our colleagues persisting in their refusal to learn and improve themselves, cultivating self-conceit on a daily basis. In our community, as with models, 90% are on the trash heap and 1.5% are basking in the limelight. We the authors of this display belong with that 1.5%. What do you thing the corps de ballet think of Maya Plisetskaya? They hate her, but any premier danseur will tell you that she is great. We are well off precisely because others don’t want to do anything to improve their situation. I need corps de ballet. If you can no longer take a critical look at yourself you are doomed to mediocrity. Poor artists hate their prospering colleagues and not because they are more talented. 95% of the artists displayed by the world’s leading museums were very rich. Paupers are lazy. They indulge their laziness. I don’t. I’ve studied ever since the Soviet regime collapsed, every day. They have only complained. The result is apparent. I feel so well in Ukraine simply because I am surrounded by a crowd of lazy artists. I work like a slave because I want to be noticed by prestigious art agents in the West, so they are interested in doing business with me. However, no one will need me there until I start making $150,000-200,000 a year, all on my own. Such are the rules of the game. If an artists offers his works five times and is refused as many times, it means that he must offer them another hundred and fifty times. Being an artist is an occupation ruling out modesty as such.”
This means that your choice of the Tsereteli Museum in Moscow was anything but coincidental; you wanted to show respect for an artist scorned by so many envious colleagues.
“It’s a museum founded by a man I personally hold in esteem. I think that Tsereteli is a prominent figure in the history of Russian art. He succeeded in portraying his epoch in its entirety. Others choked on their bile, watching his progress. Remember the Eiffel Tower and how it was first responded to in France? Outrage. The military prevented its dismantling, saying it was a good antenna. It was the same with the statue of Peter I in Moscow. Zurab Tsereteli has known the road to success since Soviet times. They don’t like him because he is hard-working. The fact that he did not like to take part in all those bohemian gatherings was another important factor making us want to stage our exhibit at his museum. There is his statue near the UN building in Manhattan. It was taken free of charge, but Shemiakin had to pay a price. There are objective ratings showing who is who. Anyway, Yury Horbachov and I decided to stage our display at the Tsereteli Museum, we wanted our exposition on the premises of someone we thought was smarter than we were. There are artists whose names and works are worth millions of dollars. That’s an interesting target to reach. Playing tough is very simple in Ukraine these days, sad but true.”
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What Serhiy Poyarkov has had to say on the subject gives rise to questions and objections, of course. On the other hand, there is no denying the fact that he, Pinchuk, and Horbachov, as well as all those other Ukrainian men of the arts deserve respect, considering the confident, professional manner in which they have been able to assert themselves in the international creative realm, proving their stand, refusing to use old stereotypes. This is real patriotism, on the one hand. On the other, it is doing well in a thriving business. We are witness to the emergence in this country of individuals who are professionals, knowing what they are after, turning objets d’art into hard cash, being far better equipped to cooperate with those mustering the courage to crawl out from underground rat holes into the sunshine of modern creativity.
