Modern Russian Art

So much influences what we say, how we say it or even if we say anything at all.

Fatigue, anger, fear, hunger and sadness all wreak havoc on our ability to control what comes out of our mouths, or what doesn’t. So much of our time is occupied by trying to fit in, to behave in an acceptable manner, to oppress uncomfortable, painful emotions because to express them would be inappropriate or seemingly useless.

Yesterday I went to the Erarta Gallery of Modern Russian Art on 29^th Line of Vasilevskii Island. There is bizarre art, hilarious art, touching art and rather-loosely-interpreted-concept-of-art by Russian painters, sculptors and mavericks.

I would like to say, ‘Visit Erarta, it’s fantastic!’, but it’s hard to recommend an art gallery. We project our own emotions and experiences on to that which we see. A piece of art that makes me laugh may provoke an entirely different reaction in someone else. Neither reaction is right or wrong, but appropriate for our separate experiences.

Perhaps this is why galleries can be so freeing; It is as if you are being allowed to feel, to look inwards. Introversion and self-reflection is, for however brief a moment, not a bad habit or a luxury.

You can learn a lot about yourself by your reaction to a piece of art. Some pieces of art made me recoil in disgust, others made me cry, others made me laugh so hard I thought I might have to be escorted from the building.

So, here’s sharing the artistic expression and some of my favourite pieces…

Sharafiev Gleb In A World Of Beauty

Maria Okyneva's contribution to the Fashion Wedding VI exhibit

Dmitriy Shorin Lorenz

Aleksei Gaidin's contribution to the Fashion Wedding VI exhibit

Nikolai Sazhin Shrovetide

Puzzlement in Piter

I am slowly convincing myself that I have multiple-personality disorder. There’s a Russian-me and English-me. Whilst in English I can talk for England (yes, I wrote it), in Russian I’m so tragically silent.

Being unable to voice your thoughts because you can’t translate them is extremely frustrating and also rather depressing. It is as though your brain is waging war against you, finally having been given the chance to control what’s in your head and what comes out of your mouth.

This, apart from being creatively stifling, also brings with it a huge amount of guilt. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel as though I’m lying to all my Russian friends by not saying things I might otherwise have said in English. Let’s not be under the assumption any of these things are important or profound, for that would definitely be lying. But, they are thoughts that I would consider perfectly acceptable to voice and are indicative of my character. Am I, therefore, lying by omission?

Further to this point, I’m far shyer in Russian than in English because of the language barrier.  If I don’t know exactly how to translate something, I won’t say it. This is from experience; What is initially intended to be a flippant comment can spark whole hours of discussion as you desperately try to explain exactly what you meant or the way in which the comment was meant to be interpreted. By the end of the discussion both parties are left in a state of confusion, awkwardness and the original subject of conversation has been long forgotten. This. Is. Exhausting.

So perhaps, such tacit behaviour in Russian is a mixture of both inability and laziness.

Or, put in a way with which I am comfortable; It is a mélange of being a language student and supporting social harmony. I mean, God forbid I have a flaw in my personalities. 

Winter Wanderlust

Piter is grey and unforgiving this time of year. Every pavement is awash with slush and black ice and neither is preferable to the other. It is certainly a time when moody self-reflection triumphs and recurring dreams of sprawling across a green lawn under the hot summer sun in Sussex torment.

The other day I went to the far-western side of Vasilevskii Island to the Gulf of Finland. The view was one of hostile wintry whiteness, a harsh and frosty landscape looking out into the frozen nothingness between Russia and Finland. This certainly offered some respite from worries and heartache for your mind becomes as blank as the scenery.

It is hard to remain positive and cheerful when the weather is so brutally set against you. Crippling Wanderlust turns the inner monologue of even the most determined Year Abroad student into a tornado of negative emotions and guilt. “You should be enjoying yourself”, “How many other people get such a wonderful opportunity?”

However, thinking this way will get me nowhere. June will come quickly and then I’ll want to stay in Piter, such is the schizophrenic nature of my Wanderlust.

So, I suppose I must take comfort in the fact that the sun will again rise over Piter and this ‘skyka’, ‘toska’ or whatever the appropriate Russian word for this type of unhappiness is (for there are many..) will be short-lived.

Either that, or I’ll just obsess about this coming Summer when the only ice around me will be that floating in my glass of Pimms.