The month of photography in Kyiv is gaining momentum. Its speed is dreadful; pictures replace each other like in a kaleidoscope, leaving one amazed at the smartness of the organizers who have to open five new exhibitions every day (in general, there will be 52 of them). Plans for the future are also impressing: it is proposed to hold biennials every two years (what an original idea! — Ed.). One of the most significant exhibitions at present is Position > Twenty Kyiv Photographers at the Kyiv Lavra Gallery.
Here all the best is gathered together. Of course, all is an exaggeration, especially considering criteria for one’s self-estimation and the edge of physical reason. However, one should not complain at the exhibition hall’s size: the Lavra Gallery is quite roomy. The only problem facing the spectator is identifying the concept. In fact, any view, especially a professional one, no matter what one’s profession might be, is easy to adjust to the notion of position. A doctor, militiaman, artist, tax inspector, politician, or journalist — all have their own positions. Fixing reality on film or digital matrix is also a kind of position, especially if the position, exposition, and disposition are correctly chosen. However, all this doesn’t affect the level of the works at display, which is undoubtedly very high.
Without making any categorical judgments, one can say that all artists work with contrasts: situation versus emotions, reality versus stereotypes, and sham versus the authentic. Black and white. Thus, Natalia Bensionova presents an excerpt from her Afterparty series: the picture’s left portion depicts a fashionable teen party, while the right one represents piles of garbage behind a painted plastic wall playing a role of a bar stand. Which is real, a transient junket or junk with a long half-life? Oleksandr Hliadielov is his usual professional self with his Unwanted (throwaway children), Here and Now (AIDS and drugs), Without Motherland (Chechen refugees in Ingushetia), and Without Mask (a man, a prison, tuberculosis) projects. Every photograph cleanses your mind, so overloaded with television’s false propaganda. This is honesty.
Andriy Horb is also interested in a concrete man’s fate, not happiness for everybody: take his men against the line of militia shields and batons from his Opposition series. Hennady Minch enko’s Priest series depicts funeral, confession, and christening, all done by the same man. Viktor Suvorov’s photos under the telling title, Childbirth and Abortions, are quite shocking to the unsophisticated spectator. Here one cans raise questions of morality, ethics, the edge of cynicism, and more. Or one can simply look at the pictures to avoid mistakes and work out one’s own position.
However, far from all the works are melancholic. There is an Oleh Skrypka you have never seen before (Concerts series). The grimace on the pop singer’s face is incredible: it seems that his mouth has moved to one side. The impression is that the VV group soloist has indiscreetly leaned out the window of a Boeing during takeoff. His invariable accordion, bright shirt, and fantastic face never fail to make onlookers smile. Next to it is the model of style in music, singing Rector Mykhailo Poplavsky, passionately kissing a dancer. This role is usually played by Mykhailo Mykhailovych’s own students: cheap and nasty. A hero of another sort is displayed at Mykola Trokh’s photos: in his Our People series, the author presents Roman Viktiuk, renowned theater director, in the company of three quite colorful ladies.
