Where the beauty gets created: at Andrey Kuzkin parisian studio
At the end of 2023, the editors of our magazine had the opportunity to visit the Parisian studio of Andrei Kuzkin, an artist known for his performances, forest campaigns, and bread sculptures. One of his first works that attracted attention was the performance "In a Circle," during which the artist walked for five hours in a pool filled with concrete. The main themes of his art are the confrontation between life and death, frailty, and the disappearance of the human body.
Since October 2022, Andrey has been living in Paris. We talked with him about how his work is structured in a new country, what difficulties there are in integrating into the French art environment, and why he continues to organize exhibitions in Russia.
YOU ARE NOW LIVING IN PARIS, THOUGH YOU SAID IN ONE OF THE RECENT INTERVIEWS THAT IT’S DUE TO RATHER FORCED EMIGRATION. HOW DO YOU FEEL LIVING IN THIS CITY?
Currently, I don’t feel well. We left on October 12, 2022, and I thought that I would become overwhelmed one year later, but I actually started feeling better. When you’re deeply involved in work and life, there are exhibitions, events, and you feel content. But when there's none of that, it feels pretty bad.
I have never considered myself as an artist who creates individual pictures or independent pieces of art that can stand alone in any context. There is a background to my art, and I have always perceived my creative life as something whole and interconnected: a single work doesn’t mean much, but all of it together means something. The journey from one piece to another, from one performance to another – it all forms a coherent narrative. I operated within that framework and created a system of relationships within my own biography, delving into my childhood or envisioning the future — it was all about the fabric of time and development, moving forward from one thing to another. Those were deliberate and meaningful actions; I had a clear plan for development, and now it has collapsed.
Your background and biography mean nothing to anyone and are not interesting to anyone in the new place. You used to have a certain standing back there, and now you need to recount your entire life story chapter by chapter here. It might be possible, but I don’t know how to approach it, as the new chapters lack significance and weight if the chapters from the past are not considered. This must be the main loss.
For some, immigration is a new experience; some felt unhappy in Russia and finally made it out, but most of us were forced to leave. I’m not assimilating here, not learning the language. And then there's the question: am I doing it on purpose? Not really, because I’m simply being lazy and I don’t feel like spending my time on it.
BUT STILL, YOU ARE ABLE TO CONTINUE SOME KIND OF EXHIBITIONAL ACTIVITY. FOR INSTANCE, THERE WAS AN EXHIBITION CALLED «72-23», CURATED BY DMITRY OZERKOV. DO SUCH STORIES HELP TO FEEL ALIVE?
I’m not too satisfied with that exhibition. I haven’t participated in collective projects for a while now, as it has always been personal or significant works that are self-contained. This project had too little time to be prepared; the exposition arrived just two days prior to the opening, with a plan drawn on a piece of paper during a flight. I was in Paris, but I couldn’t make decisions on preparations, as it was a collective effort. I didn’t like how my works were displayed: everything was sorted out chaotically, and I even had to paint the podium myself, which was brought to the location one day before the opening.
I think there wasn't a subtle, distinct poetic statement made in that exhibition. It was a selection of certain artists who were not properly connected to each other, although their works were individually good.
The idea behind the project was based on the exhibition that took place in Dina Vierny’s gallery in 1973. It featured the works of five Moscow artists: Eric Bulatov, Ilya Kabakov, Oscar Rabin, Vladimir Yankilevsky, and Alexander Arkhipenko. But back then, the artists were selected by a foreigner, and that’s the first difference. The second is that it was all within one circle of people who shared thinking and principles.
SPEAKING OF CIRCLES, IS THERE SUCH KIND OF THING AMONG RUSSIAN SPEAKING ARTISTS IN PARIS NOW?
Yes, it’s true: the people I communicate with are 99% Russian-speaking, and I got acquainted with them while living in Russia, particularly in Moscow. I can’t speak for specific communities, as I've always kept my distance from creative groups and associations. Perhaps it’s related to the Soviet past, after which group discussions and communities became irrelevant to me. I’ve never been at the center of any circles and never gathered people around me, except at forest events, but those were attended only by my close friends from Moscow, many of whom weren’t artists at all.
We occasionally host parties in Paris, where we gather all our friends and acquaintances. It was around the same time I arrived in Paris that the EliKuka duo also moved here. Vanya Lungin, who has been living in two countries for a long time and spent his youth in France, also moved here. Alisa Yoffe recently moved to Paris, as well as Sergey Prokopiev, an artist and friend of mine whom I have known for a long time.
We share an apartment and a studio with Vanya Volkov. Vanya is a young artist who knows a lot of people, so I got acquainted with some through him. Overall, there's quite a big community growing currently. It’s all related to the work of the Artist in Exile organization in France, which helps artists from around the world. Almost everyone I mentioned above moved here with their help.
YOU HAVE RECENTLY RETURNED TO ACTIONS IN THE FOREST. FIRST IT WAS "CHANGE SHOES, OR LOOKING FOR THE SUN" AND THEN "BRUSHED TEETH" IN THE SUBURBS OF PARIS. HOW WAS THIS RETURN?
I am mostly satisfied with how the event unfolded. Last time, there was quite a crowd — 15 people came. I wrote a detailed text, and many pictures were taken. During the event, there were two strange episodes that didn't follow the script but added to the poetic fabric of the action. On our way to the location, we encountered a Frenchman who bore a striking resemblance to Monastyrsky. He led us to an unusual place: a round pond, more like a moat with water, in the middle of which there was an island overgrown with trees. He mentioned that the ashes of someone were scattered in this place, and a marker was placed on the island. However, we never found it.
The second mystical moment was connected to Patrick Vack, a Frenchman who was on his way to the action location and found the skull of a deer with horns. These two episodes were integrated into the overall event, and in the text, I attempted to tie everything together. The story continues to unfold, and we'll see what happens next. But these events have had a powerful impact on my conscience; I feel as though the place itself is speaking to me.
WILL YOU CONTINUE YOUR FOREST ACTIONS? IT SEEMS TO BE THE THING THAT HAS A STRONG INTEREST IN YOU.
This is truly something that excites me more than other activities. But I don’t make any plans, not having any scenarios or dates, but I think I’ll be visiting this forest from time to time and I’ll see what it will bring to life.
YOU ARE NOW LIVING IN PARIS, THOUGH YOU SAID IN ONE OF THE RECENT INTERVIEWS THAT IT’S DUE TO RATHER FORCED EMIGRATION. HOW DO YOU FEEL LIVING IN THIS CITY?
I feel better in places where the presence of people is minimal, that’s absolutely certain. I have been in not all, but most of the museums in Paris, attended different exhibitions, and visited the Louvre for one time only, and I must say that’s quite a great stress: a giant museum where you can get lost in many senses — physically and mentally at the same time.
“No matter how much you feed the wolf, he stares into the forest anyway. I dream about moving somewhere close to a forest or river and trying to live there for some time. But I still have things to do here at the moment.”
Museums are wonderful and have a nature theme too. For example, the Branly Museum, which houses colonial art from countries such as Polynesia and Africa. When you get there, you understand where Picasso drew inspiration for his forms. But this is not exactly art — for people these were ritual things that had some kind of mystical power. These exhibits have not been affected by technological progress in the usual sense of the word; they have not changed much over the centuries. There is a museum of Cluny with medieval art, also very good, I have been there two times already. I also really liked the Rodin Museum.
Well, and the Rothko exhibition, which is currently taking place at the Louis Vuitton Foundation. It makes a strong impression, but it is very large, with 5 floors.
DESPITE THE FACT THAT YOU SAY THAT YOU ARE IN WAITING MODE AND ARE NOT INTEGRATING INTO THE PARIS ART SCENE, HOW DO YOU THINK THE FRENCH ART SCENE IS DIFFERENT FROM THE RUSSIAN ART SCENE? HAVE YOU NOTICED A DIFFERENCE ALREADY?
I can't say that I'm very familiar with it. There are two thousand galleries in Paris, because of this the public’s attention is scattered, people are extremely lazy — most likely, they will not go to another area for an exhibition, as they are used to having several galleries nearby.
I also noticed that the quality of the artists’ work here is much higher than in Russia: the visual and plastic components occupy people more than any conceptual ideas. For example, my pictures themselves are in many ways not self-sufficient, and the text for them has always been an integral part.
DOES THIS ENVIRONMENT AND PASSION FOR TECHNIQUES INFLUENCE YOUR ART SOMEHOW? FOR EXAMPLE, YOU SEEM TO BE IN A SMALL FORM IN MANY THINGS.
Of course, the environment does influence. But I do small plastic works, also because I don’t have a large studio and the opportunity and desire to rent another space now. The reluctance to produce large-scale projects is due to the internal uncertainty that it makes sense and can be in demand here.
I am engaged in small plastic arts. I began to try to combine materials — now sculptures are created not only from bread, but also with use of soil. I continue to make the "Cubes" series, but these are all small-format works. I don't have a finite idea of what it should look like, whether this work has an end, or whether it's just endless variability and replication.
Because of this, you get the feeling that you are doing small crafts, not thinking big, not thinking about big projects. In this sense, "Forest Actions" is something different, more for the soul or something, they have an element of improvisation and something alive. Of course, I understand that it is easier to sell a sculpture than something ephemeral that exists only in the form of photographic documentation and texts. But I don’t think about this too often yet.
ABOUT A YEAR AGO I MET THE ARTIST MAYANA NASYBULLOVA IN TBILISI, AND WE TALKED, INCLUDING, ABOUT THE FACT THAT SHE HAS SOME DISAPPOINTMENT FROM ALL HER ARTISTIC ACTIVITY AND THE TOPICS THAT SHE OFTEN RAISED, AS IF WOULD NOT HAVE ANY INFLUENCE ON THE PEOPLE, NOTHING HAS BEEN CHANGED IN THEIR CONSCIOUSNESS, AND WE ARE BACK AGAIN TO WHAT HAPPENED IN THE LAST CENTURY. DO YOU FEEL SO FRUSTRATED AND DO YOU THINK IF YOU COULD HAVE YOUR TIME BACK, YOU WOULD DO SOMETHING DIFFERENTLY?
History does not tolerate the subjunctive mood, and I don’t think I could change myself. There are activists and doctors who do much more important things than artists, really helping people. I suppose everyone has their own limit, physically and mentally. When I made the installation "Prayers and Heroes," I had the feeling that I had done everything I could. It was very difficult for me, but when I finished it, there was a feeling of some kind of liberation, getting rid of the guilt complex in front of the killed, tortured, and forgotten people throughout history. But I don't think that if they invented a time machine, I could do anything bigger or better.
It’s true that the feeling of complete failure and disappointment is not something that only I and my friends are experiencing. All our work is dedicated to humanism and respect for people, and all of this was destroyed by [a word forbidden by Russian legislation] and politics that have been giving growth to these metastases. Now all of this crap continues to develop. The human brain works this way; we all distance ourselves in attempts of saving, since it’s impossible to stay in current events all the time. But it’s also impossible to comprehend, put it away, and forget about it as well.
YES, OF COURSE, YOU FEEL DISAPPOINTMENT AND FAILURE CONSTANTLY. BUT, ON THE OTHER HAND, YOUR LAST EXHIBITION IN ST. PETERSBURG SEEMED TO RECEIVE POSITIVE REVIEWS FROM MANY AND GAVE AN OPPORTUNITY TO CARRY OUT SOME THERAPEUTIC ACT — WRITE ON A SHEET THE WORDS «I’M STILL ALIVE, I’M STILL ALIVE» AND SEE THAT YOU ARE NOT ALONE IN THIS FEELING. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE FACT THAT THE LATEST EXHIBITION IN RUSSIA BECAME SO POPULAR AMONG PEOPLE?
I am glad that the exhibition has received such attention from the audience. I’ve always said that my art is targeted for a broad public and not for a narrow circle of admirers. And I’m happy it turned out that way; I have great gratitude for that to Anna Nova gallery and Lilian Marre in particular, the art director. Additionally, they did good advertising for the project and managed to cover it extensively in the media. It’s a pity I didn’t have the opportunity to visit the event and talk to the audience myself because of my fear. On the other hand, perhaps such excessive popularity indicates a certain posterity of the works: people are driven underground and use this chance to express their feelings.
I decided to combine two projects into one. One from 2021, the other from 2019. The first one, with receipts, is about the value of the life of each individual person. And the second, "The Gift of Oblivion and the Formula of an Empty World," is about exactly the opposite — that human life is of no value from the point of view of the state; people are interchangeable, and everything is permeated with lies and fear, which lead to the deadening of society — if not physical death, then mental death. People cannot express their own thoughts; they are afraid to think, and this leads to oblivion. On the one hand, it allows us to move on, to hope for something, but on the other hand, it leads to the fact that we always repeat the same mistakes, step on the same rake, and our history goes in circles. Such duality. In my opinion, a conflict arose between these two projects. This is probably why the audience reacts.
“I always say a job should work itself, evoke emotions”
I wouldn’t want to do another exhibition in Russia, because it’s hard to speak of anything else in this situation.
WHY DO YOU THINK IT’S IMPORTANT TO CONTINUE LAUNCHING SUCH PROJECTS AND EXHIBITIONS?
I’m not among those who have made a decision to stop doing projects in Russia. But I don’t condemn anybody: some people still hold exhibitions in Russia, different ones, in fact — people attend vernissages, drink champagne at opening ceremonies, and so on, because they're alive and they want to continue living even during such dreadful situations. I think we should continue hosting exhibitions in Russia. There are an enormous number of artists left in Russia who can’t leave for different reasons. They display their works: some censored or self-censored. But everyone makes such decisions for themselves — what to do and what not to do.
The trivial phrase, "a person gets used to anything eventually," sounds terrible but provides the opportunity to move on. If we look back at history, we see that art continued to exist even during wars and other cataclysms. During the pandemic, many said that everything would change completely, but who remembers that now, and what exactly changed?
The other thing is, the government is pressing against any live actions by people; everything gets adapted to a certain concept and strategy. Life under pressure, under this concrete floor — it still exists out there somewhere; its roots are still fighting with the soil.
AND THE LAST QUESTION I’D LIKE TO ASK IS: WHY DO YOU THINK WE NEED ART IN 2024?
Art is always necessary. It doesn’t matter what year it is. After the Second World War and the Holocaust, Adorno said his famous phrase: "To write poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric," but people should still sublimate their thoughts and feelings.
“When a viewer comes to an exhibition, they see works where senses related to them are expressed, and they start to feel better.”
When you feel like you understand somebody’s desire to express something in the form of a painting, music, movie, or theatrical play, and to feel it through just like you feel, catharsis happens. It works this way and it will continue to, changing only with new technologies emerging and the continuous development of human consciousness.
Of course, art can’t be an inoculum that guarantees a society free from violence and murders. This is why today this question is so important, even for art itself: what is more important, ethical themes in a project or their visual content. I don’t have the answer to what seems right, but I will continue to do, among other things, pure art.