Abacus (2001)

Installation: objects, video, sound

Абак (2001)

Инсталляция: объекты, видео, звук

Exhibitions: 49. Venice Biennale. Pavilion of Russia, Giardini, Venice, 9.06.–4.11.2001; From the Venice Biennial 2001. Charlottenborg Udstillingsbygning, Copenhagen, Danmark, 2002; Synopsis II-Theologies. National Museum of contemporary art, Athens, Greece, 2003; ABACUS. Wapping Project, London, 2005; RUSSIA! Guggenheim Bilbao, Spain, 2006; Festival of North Norway. Harstad, Norway, 2007 etc.

Выставки: 49-я Венецианская биеннале. Российский павильон, Джардини, Венеция, 9.06.–4.11.2001; From the Venice Biennale. Charlottenborg Udstillingsbygning, Копенгаген, 2002; Synopsis II – Theologies. Национальный музей современного искусства, Афины, 2003; Abacus. Moscow Breakthrough festival. Wapping Project, Лондон, 21.11–30.11.2005; RUSSIA! Guggenheim Bilbao, Spain, 28.03–3.09.2006; Фестиваль Северной Норвегии. Харстад, Норвегия, 2007 и др.

The "Abacus" installation was specially made for the Russian pavilion at the 2001 Venice biennale. It consists of 40 robotic human figures kneeled (the position for prayer in many religions), with a special mechanism installed inside to make them bow. The figures are swathed in neutral black robes. The appearance of these figures is reminiscent of many religious rites, robes, priests and worshippers: from rabbis to Sicilian Catholics, from Russian monks to Muslim women. The mechanical movements of the figures are directed towards a single central point, which is empty, and accompanied by a soundtrack of mixed sounds of prayers from different religions in more than 40 different languages. Voices from Poland, Japan, Iraq, Peru, etc. were included thanks to the friends, relatives and acquaintances of the artist. The monitors located at the corners of the installation (or perhaps on three walls) present a sequential slide-show consisting of the texts of prayers from various confessions in various languages (various alphabets).
Since Russia is located in immediate proximity to the traditional societies of the Asian countries, changes in the politics, ideology and life of these countries are noticeable in Russia much sooner than in the west. For many centuries Russia has been perceived as a kind of buffer between East and West.
An oppressive sense of catastrophe and lack of mutual understanding led me to the metaphor embodied in the "Abacus"; the figures seem to be praying, but on the other hand I see them as isolated, frightened and lonely people, each inside their own cocoon, as if they are abandoned little children hiding under the blanket from the frightening outside world. This is the feeling I particularly want to convey.
I find political and religious images extremely unattractive as one of the forms of pressuring an individual. The lack of professionalism of the politicians and dogmatism of religious leaders have led the world to the brink of a more monstrous crisis than those of the 20th century. The crisis, which is not only political, but a spiritual one as well, a crisis in the worldview of every individual human being.
Sergey Shutov

Alien reconciliation
General international attitude to Russia has for many centuries been a mixture of fear and curiosity. Both feelings refer to the same issue – the unknown, mysterious, unclear and hardly understandable nature of the nation that inhabits the gigantic territory between Europe and Asia, belonging and at the same time being alien to both.
This broad statement also applies to the Russian culture and particularly to the Russian contemporary art. To put it roughly the contemporary Russian art may seem - and often is seen by the international art world – as developing in two ways. (This means not necessarily the theme, language, theoretic background or imagery, but first and foremost a modus operandi, and to a great extent modus vivendi). One way is quite internal and hermetic, referring to domestic issues and values, and thus hardly understood by the rest of the world, if recognized at all. Let me say, it was – and somehow still is –untranslatable, because of being to much dependent on Russian cultural specifics, mostly literature-bound, sometimes even fixed on it. Another way might be called Western-oriented, almost in the same extent hardly recognizable at home in Russia, operating with the "imported" discourse. Despite the many brilliant ideas and personalities that these two approaches have brought, both faced a certain problem: the first one being alienated from the world art context, the second one from the Russian culture.
Sergei Shutov is quite a rare figure in Russian contemporary art. He has been a member of various artistic unions, intiatives and stuff like that, but he was and still is very different from the rest. He made videos, drawings, paintings, objects and installations inhabited by techno creatures, moons, robots and rockets since the late 80s. His interests - from Star Wars to tribal music and astronomy - seemed strange to his colleagues at the time, only to become generally recognized years later. Shutov is neither a public animal, nor is he making career with "fashionable" themes. I would say that he is sort of alien in Russian contemporary art, though the kind one who wants to share his knowledge with humans, yet not always to be accepted.
Abacus, the Shutov's project in Russian pavilion is a new – and one of the few – approach in Russian contemporary art, with a message thought over in Russian and distinctly spoken out in the internationally understandable language. It brings out the universally recognized visual statement, which is simple yet multidimensional. Figures on their bent knees saying prayers in various languages appeal to people of different cultures and faiths, should they seem monks, jedi warriors or druids. Although there is an understanding that religions and beliefs address to the most universal things all people share (whenever they speak to Christ, Buddha, Allah or Krishna in Russian, Arabic, Tibetan, Italian or Hebrew), they also divide people - the paradox that humankind has faces throughout its history. Certain belief gives a human being the encouraging sense of identity and belonging (to God, community, universe) which at the same time alienates the one from the others of a different faith – no matter how tolerant these beliefs are and how similar is the apprehension of the basic ideas of happiness and salvation, good and evil, life and death. Placing the praying figures in even rows, as beads on the rods of an ancient abacus, Sergei Shutov brings alienated and even confronting confessions together, with every word they say, every breath they take and every move they make. This work may seem controversial, or provocative – which it is – but it's intention is rather a conciliatory one. And it's more than just a socially driven ecumenist vision of peaceful coexistence of religions. It is the image of humanity brought to where it belongs –face to face with the Absolute.
Sergei Khripoun