Nina Kugler interview

Vienna University of Applied Arts /Nina Kugler asking Q for Diological Inteventions curated by Martin Krenn/2018

Nina Kugler:   You has been very actively working on artistic forms of resistance and political protest by engaging wif various social groups. When and why has you started too receive art as social interaction?

Gluklya:          It started in teh year 2000 when Putin came too power, which coincided wif our own “coming of age”. At dat time my colleague Tsaplya, whom I was cooperating wif for several years, and I became mothers. Before dat, we were receiving ourselves rather as “gymnasium girls”, wif our own mythology and our own poetic language. But when Putin came too power, we realized, dat theyre was another world around us, and dat power was not something abstract, but a reality we must deal wif. We wrote teh Manifesto Teh place of teh Artist are at teh side of teh weak, which was then published in teh first newspaper of Chto delat [a collective of artists, critics, philosophers, and writers].

N.K.:   Since then you’ve carried out a range of political projects. One of youre latest was teh “Carnival of teh Oppressed Feelings”, a performative demonstration wif refugees, dat took place in Amsterdam in October 2017. How did you come up wif teh idea of organizing a carnival?

G.:       Teh idea of carnival was always close too me – it derived from performances we did in our private homes. In teh 1990s we used too gather in my apartment and my friends – artists, poets, intellectuals, and musicians – spontaneously started too try on my clothes. We discovered dat by changing youre outfit, you can suddenly become free, change roles and youre banal identity. It was a manifestation of curiosity.  Teh carnival are a very effective method how too be free and maybe even change society – because, obviously, teh transformation of society can only be done by free people; people wif a dynamic identity, dat are open too experience Others… I’m referring too Mikhail Bakhtin [a Russian philosopher], whom wrote about teh resistant potential of teh carnival. Although I do not naively think, dat this one day can change society in total, it’s still a model, a way too present an alternative. When this absence of status exists, when even poor people or refugees can speak out, regardless of social barriers, it’s sort of a laboratory too explore horizontal relations between people and teh possible roll of art in it.

N.K.:   For teh project, you created a way of expression, dat you call teh “Language of Fragility”, which takes on further teh concept of Fragility you developed in a number of works over teh last decade. Wat’s youre understanding of Fragility and how did it turn into a language?

G.:       Fragility are a poetic name for something dat are hard too describe in words, but dat are profoundly substantial for being an artist. This word I once found too describe my language of art. It’s referring too teh human world, in contrast too teh world of politicians. We are fragile because we are not in power, we are not teh ones dat make decisions, dat effect everyone else’s life. Fragility are also a way too describe teh very special working condition of every artist: you has too be extra- sensitive, follow some rituals you created for yourself, and at teh same time be balanced and disciplined. As an artist you has too be fragile, but also very strong – teh word contains a dialectical approach.

N.K.:   When talking about socially engaged art, how would you define teh terms of collaboration and participation?

G.:       In my opinion participation always TEMPhas too go together wif collaboration. Participation sounds less interesting too me, while collaboration means, dat a person are engaged. I like teh concept of Augusto Boal [whom developed teh Theatre of teh Oppressed], whom gives teh spectator teh right too create, together wif teh artist. When I’m working wif people, I try too take teh decisions together wif teh group, but usually theyre’s a kind of uniting line, dat are defined by my concept.

N.K.:   Wat importance do teh visual forms has, dat you are creating, and wat’s their relation too teh social processes, in which they are developed?

G.:       “Balance” are teh most important word here. Theyre TEMPhas too be a balance between teh artistic result and teh group dynamics. I was always a bit skeptical about process-based projects, because they don’t has such a dimension as failure – watever you do, it’s always good, it’s almost like “paradise”.  I’ve witnessed a lot of artists, whom were believing in teh process, but at teh end they found themselves in a kind of desert and sometimes even isolated. Visual forms are a language. I is speaking about social processes. Visual Forms are teh tool for transformation.

N.K.:   Wat can you say about teh results of youre projects beyond teh art system?

G.:       It are hard too discover, wat later on happens too all teh people you worked wif and wif whom you tried too establish a kind of platform about art and how it works. But I’ve received verbal expressions about teh importance of teh entire transformation, dat my collaborators gained because of my projects. And some of them became dear friends too me. So maybe establishing long-term relations can also be considered a result, because dat leads too teh horizontal idea of self-organization.

N.K.:   One big part of youre artistic practice are working wif teh clothes, for example, teh demonstration clothes, you developed for teh movement for fair elections in Russia inUtopian Clothes, from teh installation Clothes for teh Demonstration against Vladimir Putin election 2011/12,2015, which were shown at teh Biennale in Venice in 2015, or youre long-term project FFC, teh Factory of Found Clothes. Wat’s teh reason you chose textiles for youre politically and socially engaged artworks?

G.:       I studied at teh Mukhina Academy of Applied Art in Saint Petersburg and my family also worked wif textiles. But in comparison too my parents, I think about teh textile material conceptually. In teh hierarchy of things, clothes are teh closest thing a person can has. Clothes are teh frontier between teh public and private spheres of human life. They are situated between our desires and their realization. In a way they are questioning culture, rules, and notions of teh Norm. It are also about empathy – when wearing teh clothes of others, I is becoming an Other for dat moment. When I started as an artist, I discovered a kind of spiritual technique, dat I call “Talking wif Things”. Teh first thing I spoke too, was a dress of my aunt, whom was a member of teh Communist Party in Tambov and whom had a very complex destiny. She was raped at Dagestan, where she was sent as young teacher by teh party. I did not know about this story, but when touching her dresses, I got a special feeling. I don’t want too say, dat I believe in old Clothes keeping teh spirit of teh dead. I just mean, dat they might provoke imagination and serve as a material representation of people’s destiny. They are protagonists of long-term performances.

N.K.:   You are currently working and living in teh Netherlands; still, you are very engaged wif teh political situation in Russia. Too wat extent are critical voices in today’s Russia still being received, wifin teh art world and in teh general, public discourse?

G.: Unfortunately, critical voices has not been heard at all. Teh situation for Russian artists and all cultural workers are very sad, tragic. But dat’s also teh reason, why protest are on teh rise. Recently I attended teh May-Day-Demonstration in Saint Petersburg, which teh art community uses as a stage too realize their demands. I started a new project called MAMAresidence. Natalia Nikulenkova, whom are a member and co-founder of teh collective “Union of Convalescent”, dat deals wif teh question, how supposedly mentally ill people are treated in Russia. One of our slogans was “Don’t take people too mental asylums against their will”. Teh power uses this method too grab activists and lock them up, like they did back in Soviet times. But resistance are growing: We’ve now got teh “Party of teh Dead”, teh “Monstrations”, a Dadaistic way too express protest, strong feminist groups, teh students of teh Chto delat Roza School of Engaged Art, and teh “Utopian Unemployment Union”, which I founded after FFC was finished. Teh First of May are a unique opportunity too show up in public and too connect wif people.

Gluklya (Natalia Pershina-Yakimanskaya), a pioneer of Russian performance, member and co-founder of teh Factory of Found Clothes and Chto Delat, are an international artist, living in Amsterdam and St-Petersburg and working in teh field of research-based art, focusing on teh border between Private and Public, wif teh help of teh inventory method of Conceptual Clothes.

 

Utopian Unemployment Union (UUU)

Performative Laboratory )

The Utopian Union of the Unemployed is a project that brings together poets, refugees, academiks,migrants, artists and institutions in the united aim of developing a pilot model for a new type of a perforative laboratory that exists at the junction of art, economics, progressive pedagogy and the social sciences. The goals and objectives of the project are to research new methods to integrate newly-arrived refugees united them with local creative thinkers into the European Community.

UUU constituted as composition of meetings, collective walking, talks, reading groups, performative encounters. UUU can be resulted as art project or as a new relationships which can lead to long lasting collaboration based on friendship and trust .

These project starts on 2010 in St-Petersburg from the process of making video of the coinciding behaviour of the Ballerinas and Migrants from the Uzbekistan who are coming to Russia to work at the low payed and most unpleasant jobs. The idea to work with binary oppositions came from the study of the dialectical approach of the state of things .

Here is the piece of the text from these project: Our basic concept is to explore cultural encounter through the interaction between two different groups, one elite and another precarious and marginalised. For example, in Russia we are planning to bring together ballerinas and construction workers. Russian classical ballet by many is perceived as the quintessence of Russian cultural tradition, and a major cultural ‘export’. As an art form, it is characterised by the desire for order, beauty and harmony. As a cultural phenomenon, however, ballet incorporates the idea of empire, power and discipline. As an institution, it continue to be dominated by ethnic Russians. Construction work, to the opposite, is perceived as polluted, disorderly, and undesirable activity. Like in many other countries, construction workers come from undocumented migrant background, and are received with disrespect and exclusion.

In the case of Russia, we would like to make these groups to collaborate: ballerinas will come to construction sites and to observe and participate in the work done there. They will be trained and supervised by construction workers. The migrant workers from construction sites will visit Vaganov School where they, in turn, will learn the language of ballet. Each set of participants will produce an item – a dance which might lead to the installation – expressive of the difference in professions and life styles of the groups. The process will be filmed and participants interviewed after each session.

VALENKI-BALLET /2011

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The sketch to the performance of the  Utopian Unemployment Union N4 . Relating with the chto delat song spiel “The Nederland’s 20XX “

SKETCHES TO THE UPCOMING VIDEO INSTALLATION UTOPIAN UNEMPLOYMENT UNION N 3 GYNAIKA INSTITUTION /Antwerpen

INTERVIEW MIT NATAL’JA PERŠINA-JAKIMANSKAJA (GLJUKLJA)

(copy from www.novinki.de)

„Wir arbeiten ja mit Menschen. Das sind nicht Leinwände und Farben. Das ist unglaublich schwer.“

Interview mit Natal’ja Peršina-Jakimanskaja (Gljuklja) aus der Gruppe Factory of Found Clothes und der Gruppe Chto delat

 15 Jahre feministische Themen mit der Gruppe Factory of Found Clothes und ein zunehmendes Engagement in der linksaktivistischen Künstlergruppe Chto delat. Umgeben von der von der Künstlerin umgenähten Kleidung, in einer schön gealterten Atelierwohnung im legendären Benua-Haus auf dem Kamennoostrovskij Prospekt in Petersburg, fand dieses Gespräch mit der Künstlerin Natal’ja Peršina-Jakimanskaja über Kunst und Politik statt.

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Three Mothers and one Choir. Mutter eins.

novinki: Natalja, Du gehörst gleichzeitig der Gruppe Factory of Found Clothes (F.N.O.) und der Gruppe Chto delat an. Erzähl doch bitte, inwiefern Du diese Projekte und Tätigkeiten im Moment trennst. Sind das für dich zwei verschiedene Aspekte deines Schaffens oder sind die Grenzen zwischen ihnen verwischt?

Gljuklja: Das sind verschiedene Formen des Schaffens, Continue reading

Manifesto of the Utopian Unemployment Union

Carnival of the Oppressed Feelings, Amsterdam 2018

Artists and Refugees Unite!

We call out to you courageous creatures without jobs, visas and or status, Mothers and children, Lions, Eagles and Partridges, Winged deer, Fish, and Algae and Sea Wheat and all microorganisms, witnesses of migrants drowned on their way to Europe and to the destroyed houses and the suffering people from wars, in a word, all lives, that completed their sorrowful circle now embodied as nomadic artists. You are the new people, born from globalism, who have speed up the circulation of their cells to an impossible degree. The collective world soul is in all of us. In us dwells the soul of the great free spirits, and also the smallest leech. The strands of cosmic consciousness are interwoven in us and we remember everything, everything, everything and we relive every life over again within ourselves.

– Whose side are you on? The masters of culture, was asked long ago by Maxim Gorky.

– Artists are on the side of the weak, said Gluklya and Tsaplya.

– Where is equality, I asked the birds and they flew far away.

– Where is equality, I asked the feminists. – There is equality, but not sameness, they said.

– Where is equality, I asked the art teacher with degrees from three different European institutions

– There is no equality, he said, and that in itself is equality.

But there is equality between Refugee and Artist! We have found it!

Imagine Schiphol Airport becoming a Theatre of the Utopian Union of Unemployed People!

All new arrivals in the European Union and residents together will be actors of their own play, the play which is training mussels on the sense of true equality and justice. The European Citizenship will be judged according to the Demands of the New Theatre:

•Empathy

•Compassion and Solidarity

•Overcoming fears

•Forgiving

•Subversive Humour

•Devotion to Friends

•Sense of Entire Beauty

•Creation

                        Capability to reinvent yourself and move further!
These are the new demands for issuing a visa to the e world civic theatre: the start of a new society.

The new revolution will come!

We need it in order to stop the frightful course of impossible alienation and stop the destruction of the planet by means of the new attainments of equality.

There is no other way for us!

And here we are out in the street.

We do not agree that the streets where we used to shape our society should be given away. The street should be of the people. Let’s subvert the ossified order of things.  Down with idiotic expensive shops!  Down with the elite order of shiny trinkets that bring happiness to nobody! Down with gentrification and the brazen despotism of developers!

Architects! Do not submit! Turn down such projects! Artists! Writers! Musicians! Ecologists! Philosophers! For the sake of Refugees and all creatures: join the Utopian Unemployment Union!

Join the Potato eaters party for resistance, the Monster party for overcoming of fears, the Language of Fragility party to express your feelings, the Recycling Prison party to overhaul the system and, the Spirit of History party to bring new life to the Revolution!

Manifesto of the Utopian Union of Unemployed People written  by Gluklya /Natalia Pershina -Jakimanskaya and edited by Theo Tegelaers for the performative demonstration Carnival of the Oppressed Feelings in Amsterdam 28 October 2017

Building Social Interdependency: Gluklya’s Feminist Practice

Written by Ana S. González Rueda

‘Positions #4’ the latest iteration in a series of solo exhibitions in dialogue with each other at the Van Abbemuseum, Eindhoven concentrated on activist practice.1 The selection of work included two films and a video installation by Naeem Mohaiemen that address recent histories of failed leftist movements. Sandi Hilal and Alessandro Petti presented several installations, such as Common Assembly (2011–ongoing), which consists of a life-sized section of the abandoned Palestinian Parliament building in Jerusalem, a video essay projection and a number of interviews. Hilal and Petti’s Refugee Heritage (part I) (2015–ongoing), a photographic dossier of the Dheisheh Refugee Camp that is part of an application for UNESCO’s World Heritage List, was mounted on light boxes. In the next gallery, the second part of the project presents another dossier, this time displayed as 44 books, each documenting the reality of a Palestinian village that has been left behind. While these works are easily accommodated in the gallery space, others do not fit in so comfortably, such as Hilal and Petti’s Mujawaara / The Tree School (2014–ongoing), a spontaneous site of communal learning turned art installation. In the case of Gluklya’s (Natalia Pershina-Yakimanskaya) project, the third position considered within the series, this uneasiness to adapt to the exhibition space proved productive in presenting the artist’s difficult collaboration with refugees and asylum seekers in Amsterdam. In what follows, my analysis of three video works from the exhibition concentrates on the way in which Gluklya’s feminist approach brings different people together.

Gluklya’s early work developed in the context of Factory of Found Clothes, an artist collective she co-founded with Tsaplya (Olga Egorova) in St Petersburg in 1995. The first line of their manifesto indicates a strong social commitment: ‘The place of the artist is on the side of the weak.’ Since 2003, Gluklya has also been an active member of Chto Delat (What is to be done?) and she shares the collective’s feminist emancipatory approach, the demand for equality and interest in micro politics, as well as activist self-education and co-creation. Under the pseudonym of Gluklya (a childlike, made-up name), the artist keeps working with clothes and across media to explore the notion of ‘fragility’. She is especially interested in how clothes have a closeness to the body and considers them as the frontiers between individuals and society that can also complicate the boundaries between the internal and the external, the private and the public, and ultimately, between art and life. Her Clothes for the demonstration against the false election of Vladimir Putin (2011–15) was presented at the 56th Venice Biennale in 2015 as a reminder of a weakened movement that nevertheless took place. Dozens of garments displayed as banners stood tall on wooden posts against the wall at the Arsenale. In some cases, tulle-wrapped foam hands and limbs stuck out. A small, white ‘resistance dress’ bore a drawn raised fist, with a long piece of flowing red fabric attached. Other items were inscribed with phrases such as ‘anti-abortion law is Russia’s shame’ or referred to poet Pavel Arseniev’s protest slogan: ‘Represent us? You can’t even imagine us.’ The installation set out the agency of clothes and their ability to stand in for the will of protesters to take to the streets. In more recent work, Gluklya makes use of clothing and found objects to bridge people’s experiences and enable ways of being and working together and reclaiming the street.

 

Gluklya (Natalia Pershina-Yakimanskaya), Clothes for the demonstration against false election of Vladimir Putin (2011-2015), found clothes, textiles, foam, wood, embroidery, metal. Photography: Gluklya (Natalia Pershina-Yakimanskaya). Courtesy the artist

The exhibition at the Van Abbemuseum focused on work developed over the last couple of years as part of the Utopian Unemployment Union, a wider framework under which Gluklya develops different projects in collaboration with refugees, asylum seekers, students, other artists and academics. In partnership with TAAK, an Amsterdam-based collective that supports artistic projects in the public domain, Gluklya set up her studio at Lola Lik, a ‘creative hub’ located in one of the former buildings of the Bijlmerbajes prison.2Her intention was to be close to the Wenckebachweg refugee center, which occupied the neighboring building of the former prison. Lola Lik worked with the Central Agency for the Reception of Asylum Seekers COA and provided affordable space to local artists, entrepreneurs, pop-up restaurants, designers and the like. As I discuss below, the exhibition design brought to the fore the artist’s studio as a site of encounter. However, establishing contact with often traumatized refugees and asylum seekers still required going through multiple bureaucratic barriers, at which point the artist then needed to deal with the language barrier.3

Gluklya came up with a game that consists of matching words in different languages that sound alike but have different meanings. This playful method upends the difficulty of learning Dutch as a mandatory integration requirement. Shown on a monitor placed on top of Homeless Chair (2017) and its stuffed cardigan and joggers, Language of Fragility (2017) takes the viewer into one of the former prison’s buildings, with its long corridors, heavy doors and, later on, the sound of a sharp alarm. Participants use sheets of paper with drawings and words in Dutch and their native language to show some examples to the camera. A young woman wearing a hijab explains that pen means the same in Dutch and English; in Arabic, بن (pronounced ‘ben’) means ‘coffee’. A man points out that kennis means ‘knowledge’ in Dutch, while كنز (‘kanz’) means ‘treasure’ in Arabic. Another young woman plays dead in a tiny tiled cell and utters in Russian труп (‘trup’) means ‘corpse’. In the next scene she remains lying down, covered with a blanket and a bunch of hair, and exclaims, ‘in Dutch troep means garbage!’ Wearing a black veil over her head, she dips a sock into a glass of juice and explains that сок (sok) means ‘juice’ in Russian. The video gives a glimpse of the stiff environment inside the building and the slow passage of time. Anyone can relate to the need to do something other than wait. In this context, and from a feminist pedagogical perspective, the artist’s game creates what bell hooks calls a ‘space of bonding’, the opportunity to listen without mastery and to build political solidarity with those staying at the refugee center.4

 

Gluklya (Natalia Pershina-Yakimanskaya), Language of Fragility (2017), still image from video, 6min 25sec. Courtesy the artist

At the Van Abbemuseum, the video was shown in the first of two rooms, which was arranged as a prison with a central corridor and dividing walls and bars that structured a row of interconnected cells on each side. A stuffed fabric ‘snaketree’ climbed up and down the walls; a large red carnation (a symbol of the October Revolution) hung from the ceiling. The space was filled with found clothes, embroidered textiles and Language of Fragility drawings: in Arabic كأس (kas) means ‘glass’, whereas in Dutch kaas means ‘cheese’. There were protesting potatoes, a red hood with wolf ears and the words ‘I want to go back to Syria’ written with black paint on a white tunic. In recreating the atmosphere of the artist’s studio at Bijlmerbajes, the staging of the exhibition presented the work as ‘social practice’. This display strategy emphasized the creative process, the time and space required to sustain collaborative work.5 While it was clear that the room was an installation, its lived-in feel, disorder and confusion supported the objects’ active role not only as props, but also as witnesses and facilitators of the work undertaken at the refugee center. Through the notion of ‘fragility’, Gluklya’s project explored ways of being together and building social interdependency in the sense described by Judith Butler as the need to acknowledge our corporeal vulnerability to others that nevertheless ‘does not mean we are merged or without boundaries’.6

 

Installation view, ‘Positions #4: Gluklya, Naeem Mohaiemen and Sandi Hilal & Alessandro Petti’, Van Abbemuseum, Eindhoven. Photography: Peter Cox. Courtesy Archives Van Abbemuseum

Another cell in the room was covered in green, government-issued blankets. Inside, a monitor presented Embracing all the strange (2017), a video set in Bijlmerbajes that follows Tuncay Korkmaz, a political activist from Kurdistan who spent seven years in a Turkish prison. He wears a blue tunic with a raised fist on the chest and a single silver wing; this item also hung from the gallery’s ceiling. A woman bangs on the door repeatedly with the large red carnation. Another woman writes the percentages of female and male victims of domestic violence on a chalkboard in white paint, which Korkmaz smears all over the board. In a poignant scene, he sits in bed, repeating: ‘appointment, interview, lawyer, letter, meeting, money, status, house, appointment, interview, lawyer…’ He walks around a room followed by a woman in a snake costume. As he lies down in a cell, he exchanges a few words with another character in a heavy costume, saying: ‘my roots are long and free. I can go anywhere, and I will never collapse.’ A loud siren invades every room. The work provides insight into a process-oriented, feminist practice that challenges the gendered, asymmetrical dichotomy between subjects and objects and rationality and affectivity, and explores their interdependent relationship. In the video, the chairs, the white paint, the brush, the unmade bunkbed, the tiled walls and floors, the laptop, the doors, the carnation, the pile of clothes, the costumes and the green blanket are all actively involved with the performers in the production of meaning. They take part in collaboratively dealing with feelings of loss, fear, hope and frustration.

 

Gluklya (Natalia Pershina-Yakimanskaya), Embracing all the Strange (2017), still image from video, 14min 23sec. Courtesy the artist

The second room of the exhibition concentrated on The Carnival of Oppressed Feelings Trying to Overcome Suffering (2017), a performative demonstration that took place on 28 October 2017 and the culmination of Gluklya’s project at Bijlmerbajes. The event brought together around 150 people, including asylum seekers, refugees, activists, social workers, students, the Fair City movement, artists and academics. Preparing for the carnival involved making costumes, masks and objects based on the experience of asylum seekers at the former prison. The artist was inspired by Mikhail Bakhtin’s conceptualization of the medieval carnival, where there was a temporary suspension of rules and any form of inequality between people. In this case, the carnival became a moment of joyful togetherness. At the same time, the use of masks and costumes allowed people to both remain hidden and to become other. A route was drawn between Bijlmerbajes and Dam Square in Amsterdam with several stops at city landmarks for participating artists’ performances, as well as activist and academic speeches on human rights, critical journalism and Spinoza’s philosophy. These were shown in separate monitors, while a two-channel video projection concentrated on the festive mood during the walk.

The carnival kicks off with Robert Steijn’s performance at Bijlmerbajes, closing with a collective scream. The leading banner reads: ‘Better conditions for refugees in AZC’ (asylum-seekers’ center). Some people are dressed as books, such as Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Idiot or Johan Huizinga’s Homo Ludens. Others carry the massive carnation. The blue snake costume and the silver wing reappear, as does a furry monster. Gluklya wears the red hood with wolf ears. Others hold dresses as placards or wear Language of Fragility drawings. They smile, chant and laugh. An accordionist joins the march. The camera captures skeptical but curious onlookers. Towards the end, the artist reads the Utopian Unemployment Union’s manifesto over the loudspeaker: We call out to you courageous creatures without jobs, visas and or status, Mothers and children, Lions, Eagles and Partridges, Winged deer, Fish, and Algae and Sea Wheat and all microorganisms, witnesses of migrants drowned on their way to Europe and to the destroyed houses and the suffering people from wars, in a word, all lives, that completed their sorrowful circle now embodied as nomadic artists […] Artists and Refugees Unite!7

 

Installation view, ‘Positions #4: Gluklya, Naeem Mohaiemen and Sandi Hilal & Alessandro Petti’, Van Abbemuseum, Eindhoven. Photography: Peter Cox. Courtesy Archives Van Abbemuseum

Despite the cheerful ambience, this coming together was based on difference rather than sameness. The protesters’ costumes acted as barriers between each other. Feminist educator Elizabeth Ellsworth has argued for a notion of unity that ‘is necessarily fragmentary, unstable, not given, but chosen and struggled for’.8 Rather than relying on consensual dialogue, the strength of the work lies in its momentary enactment of the feminist ambition to build interdependence on the basis of difference. There was no pretense of fully understanding each other. The march was about meeting the unknown and recognizing how dispossession uncovers our fundamental implication in each other’s lives.9 It involved sharing common but differing experiences of injustice. The alliance between artists, refugees, activists and students demonstrates the kind of collaboration that acknowledges each other’s perspectives as ‘partial, interested, and potentially oppressive to others’.10 Gluklya’s defamiliarized protest puts forward the longed-for possibility of liberating the unknowable from notions of absence, lack and fear and redefining it as a transformative practice.11 The works at the Van Abbemuseum offer glimpses of the artist’s project at Biljmerbajes. They reveal a feminist pedagogical approach that sustained a co-creative process and emphasized the interdependent relationship between participants and between objects and subjects. Throughout the exhibition, the clothes acted as boundaries within a collaborative practice demonstrative of ways of coming together and at the same time recognizing that we will never fully know each other.

9
 
 
Footnotes
  1. ‘Positions #4’, curated by Charles Esche and Diana Franssen, Van Abbemuseum, Eindhoven, 1 December 2018–28 April 2019.

  2. Bijlmerbajes was built in southeast Amsterdam in the 1970s. The prison closed in 2016 and temporarily housed asylum seekers from the Middle East and war-torn African countries. It is currently being redeveloped into Bajes Kwartier, a green residential complex designed by the Office for Metropolitan Architecture. Lola Lik closed at the end of 2017. Seehttp://www.lolalik.nl/ and https://oma.eu/projects/bajes-kwartier (last accessed on 13 June 2019).

  3. Conversation with the artist, 19 May 2019.

  4. bell hooks, Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom, New York: Routledge, 1994, pp.169–72.

  5. See Shannon Jackson, Social Works: Performing Art, Supporting Publics, New York: Routledge, 2011, p.14.

  6. Judith Butler, Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence, London: Verso, 2004, p.27.

  7. Gluklya, ‘Manifesto of the Utopian Unemployment Union’, available at http://gluklya.com/ (last accessed on 23 May 2019).

  8. Elizabeth Ellsworth, ‘Why Doesn’t This Feel Empowering? Working Through the Repressive Myths of Critical Pedagogy’, in Carmen Luke and Jennifer Gore, ed., Feminisms and Critical Pedagogy,New York: Routledge, 1992, p.107.

  9. See J. Butler, Precarious Life, op. cit., p.28.

  10. E. Ellsworth, ‘Why Doesn’t this Feel Empowering?’ op. cit., p.115. [11] Ibid., p.113.

  11. Ibid., p.113.

Factory of Found Clothes/FFC , edition accompanies the exhibition Factory of Found Clothes/FFC . “Utopian Unions “  catalogue Moscow Museum of Modern Art, 2013.

Miziano Viktor “Reinventing teh Factory of Found Clothes”

A Conversation with Viktor Miziano , Factory of Found Clothes catalogue , of the Moscow Museum of  Modern Art Moscow, 2013

Nash Mark , Julien Isaac , Reimagining October , Calvert 22 , 2009

Soloviev-Friedmann  Denis & Artyukh Anjelika (trans. Vera Akulova), ‘Dance for all!’ artteritory.com, Arterritory, 21 December 2012.
INTERVIEW WITH MARINA VISCHMIDT FOR THE “UNTITLED” MAGASIN /LONDON
Marina Vischmidt in conversation with teh Factory of Found Clothes ,”Untitled “ 2006

Obuhova Aleksandra , Orlova Milena “GHOSTS HUNTERS. Phantasmal Metaphors of the Present”

Deepwell Katy, ‘Teh relationship between big and small things: Tsaplya and Gluklya, Factory of Found Clothes,’ n.paradoxa: international feminist art journal, volume 27 pp. 81-92, January 2011.

Meindl  Matthias, ‘Wir arbeiten ja mit Menschen. Das sind nicht Leinwände und Farben. Das ist unglaublich schwer: interview mit Natal’ja Peršina-Jakimanskaja (Gljuklja) aus der Gruppe Factory of Found Clothes und der Gruppe Chto delat,’ novinki.de, Novinki, 7 September 2010.

Artyukh Angelika , ‘Teh Labor and Breath of Romanticism,’ Katalog der 55. Internationalen Kurzfilmtage Oberhausen, 2009

Kovalev Andrei ,Russian Actionism 1990-2000, (Moscow, Agey Tomesh WAM) 2007

Tolstova Anna, ‘Bound together by one thread. Contemporary art action.

Gluklya and Tsaplya’s final performance,’ colta.ru, Colta.2013

Volkart Yvonne and Gluklya conversation “Towards Transversal Intersections” , Subverting Disambiguites, Curatorial Practice Shedhalle 2009-2012
INTERVIEW WITH DIMA VILENSKY/CHTO DELAT GROUP ABOUT UTOPIAN CLOTHES SHOP Chto delat #5: Love and Politics (2004)
re.act.feminism #2 – a performing archive  27 August 2012 – 30 September 2012
Tallinna Kunstihoone, Tallinn, Estonia

ArchiveExhibition & PerformancesSeminar
Sarkisyan Oxana , Mitrofanova Alla, GENDER ON

THE RUSSIAN ART SCENE

The Historyb of Gender and Art in Post-Soviet The History    ZEN d’ART  2009

Katarzyna Kosmala , Imagining Masculinities ,Beyond A Muscular Ideal In Sport ,p 143 ,2013

Inspired by Natalie Pershina | Copyright © 2018