Russian street art reaches new heights
A noble sentiment, but is it reality? A Russian ‘art collective’ that go by the name Voina have, among other things, twisted that dictum and decorated the Liteiny bridge in St Petersburg with a 65m penis in a politically charged art explosion.
Voina have been creating controversy in their homeland for four years, engaging in a plethora of provocative ‘performances’ in order to draw attention to the crippling state controls that strangle their individual freedom.
Examples range from the penis portrayal to overturning police cars, throwing cats at McDonald’s workers and even staging a mock migrant execution. Many of their ‘performances’ carry a sexual overtone; five couples (including a pregnant woman) engaged in sexual intercourse in the State Museum for Biology, and a recent stunt involved female ‘members’ forcibly kissing police officers on the lips.
These actions, strange as they might seem, can be summarised in one word. Brilliant.
Whether the performances are considered ‘art’ is both the crux of the matter and an utter irrelevancy. Founded by philosophy students in 2007, the ‘radical collective’ have breathed life into the tired art of protest. Marches and banners, they have evidently decided, were not for them. Voina have added a special ingredient, that of originality, to aid their cause, and for this they deserve their plaudits.
But should their ‘performances’ be considered ‘art’ and thus differentiated from acts of sabotage, vandalism or public disorder? I believe they should. Art, according to Wilde, is the creation of something beautiful. Clearly, there is something intrinsically, satisfyingly beautiful in the daubing of a monstrous 65m penis on a bridge next-door to the Russian Federal Security Service.
And now the irrelevance of such discourse. The point of protest is often blurred, between making a stand on principle in its own right, and encouraging others to take this stance in order to force a change en masse. Whether Voina’s is ‘art’ or not pales into insignificance.
In an original, intriguing, and extremely stylised way, Voina are just grabbing the eyes of the world in order to open their ears.
Voina are not acting in a sensible, moderate way in order to usher in quiet, futile reforms on state censorship. In their own words, “our society has lived in fear for so many decades; we are trying to wake it by kicking it.” And that is exactly what they are doing. Gandhi had passive resistance. El Che fought with a gun and a cigar. Voina are fighting with what they have: creative, artistic expression. They are kicking out at a Russian State that flattens individual expression, points poison umbrellas at its detractors and makes voices of dissent conveniently ‘silent.’
‘Voina’ can be translated as ‘war’, and this is undoubtedly what they are embarking on: a battle for expression and personal, creative freedoms. If they have to do this by painting a phallus or having sex in a museum, fantastic.
Inevitably, as in any recent discussion about urban art movements with a political undertone, the mystical tag ‘Banksy’ must appear. The link between the graffiti artist’s style of art, unlicensed and unrestrained, and that of Voina performance is apparent, but Banksy also has a personal connection with the Russian rebel-art movement.
He recently put up bail money for two Voina leaders, arrested and awaiting trial for the overturning-police-car stunt. They thanked him, remarking how he was an ‘inspirational figure’.
But the respect was mutual – Banksy recognised in this movement a serious protest that had taken his method, graffiti and satire, paint and parody, to bring it to the attention of the wider world, through an artistic, creative medium.
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