New Eastern Europe Issue 1

Opening the Door? Belarusian Art Today
(2003). The fact that they leave the country
is not such a problem, but not being
able to exhibit their works in Belarus too
often is. The picture of Belarusian art is
thus incomplete. Moreover, there is no
discourse about Belarus which could be
contested and challenged. That gives the
curators carte blanche, but also exposes
them to charges of latitude.
Generally, the exhibition features works
by artists of middle to younger generations,
those born in the 1960s, 70s and 80s.
However, some older artists are also on
display, such as Vladimir Tsesler and Sergei
Voichenko. Marina Naprushkina’s The
Anti-Propaganda Bureau is a surprisingly
effective display of an archaic method of
propaganda. In 2007, Napurshkina set up
an archive of video materials, texts and pictures,
documenting various manifestations
of Lukashenko’s propaganda. Postcards,
books and photographs where Belarusian
sportsmen display their chests proudly are
next to photographs of war veterans and of
course the president himself; sometimes in
the company of friendly leaders from other
countries, Vladimir Putin or Hugo Chavez.
In front of the building, another work of
Naprushikina is displayed. It is the Way of
the Sun, a huge fl ower bed designed in
imitation of the Belarusian KGB emblem.
Most do not recognise the symbol. For
them it is just another fl ower bed which
evokes no emotions. It is completely
neutral. Ironically, it became an integral
part of the cityscape, just as the secret
services became an inherent part of the
Belarusian state. The exhibition reminds
us that art is completely immersed in local
reality. This was actually one of the main
objections raised during the exhibition
in Vilnius. When discussing Opening the
Books and Reviews
Door? critic Tatiana Fedorenko wrote that
“the politicisation of even non-political topics
and subjects is quite embarrassing”.
Texts dedicated to the exhibition inform
us of the escape of Belarusian art into
apolitical neutrality.
Lena Prents, an art historian critically writes
about the existence of “anti-contemporary
art” in the country which is distinguished
by the “concentration on inner problems
as opposed to the social world. In contrast,
there is anticipation of art which may have
the potential for social change”.
Marina Naprushkina, in an interview for
the Internet magazine New Europe, put
it frankly, “Artists are obviously not able
to do everything, but they can initiate
changes in society thanks to their art”.
So where does the discontinuity between
the political involvement in Belarusian art
and the content of the exhibition come
from? Perhaps viewers expected to see
politically involved art? Works of art with
unquestionably critical and political overtones
were an exception at the exhibit, not
the rule. The artists represented at the
exhibition in Zachęta prefer to examine
the mix of Soviet times and the post-Soviet
period. Through their works, the artists
present the realities of life under Lukashenko
rather than take bold steps. Igor
Pieshekhonov, in his work Ironconcrete.
Substance of Memory, records the cultural
and historical landscape of Belarus. He
photographs monuments, built from low
quality materials and painted with oil paint,
erected in even the tiniest city and village.
They symbolise both irony and nostalgia.
The Sun City of Dreams by Artur Klinau
is part of a bigger project which consists
of collages and texts about the Belarusian
capital. Klinau was the fi rst one to take up
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