An interesting trip to Voronezh.

I visited the "Russian Style" exhibition, a project by Svetlana Cheprova called "Photon of Light," held at a local museum. I've been following their work for a while and finally found the time to check it out in person. There was a lecture by an artist, Pyotr Sklyar, from the "Slovographica" project. I listened, observed, and overall, the event was well-organized and engaging. However, my review will cover both the positives and some concerns.

I’m drawn to the idea of reviving national culture amid attempts (not yet fully realized actions) by the Russian economy to find a foundation for independent development in today’s era, which demands constant interaction with the outside world. Globalization, as it has unfolded in the 21st century, has significantly suppressed our unique regional tools for reflecting reality and, frankly, much of philosophical thought itself. So, with the onset of conflict with the West, projects like "Russian Style" have inevitably emerged or rapidly gained traction.

I stumbled upon it by chance, having been subscribed to Venguard for a while. I follow him and other artists like 6VCR. I started exploring their paintings and clothing. There’s a certain authenticity and an attempt to reinterpret history. At first, it seemed like an effort to revive and modernize the culture of the Russian Empire, but thankfully, it didn’t stop there. I saw avant-garde and even experimental themes. I’m highly skeptical of overly narrow specialization—it’s not the development of artistic abilities but their rigid preservation. After reading an interview in our magazine, I decided to see it all in person. Let’s dive into Pyotr Sklyar’s work to explain the essence:

Slovographica is an intriguing genre where a specific phrase, proverb, or line from a poem becomes a visual emblem. The idea isn’t new, but the artist has executed it well, with distinctive features that provide room for further growth. I particularly liked the historical and literary imagery, with a slight military undertone.

What concerned me, though, and not for the first time, was the presence of Western elements. The issue is that, despite the stated goal of moving away from the West and Europe while emphasizing our own traditions, Russian artists and filmmakers often fall into a dialectical contradiction. A significant period of our history—from the 1990s to 2022—is deeply tied to American cultural hegemony. This influence is so ingrained in our language and culture that it inevitably seeps into artworks, creating a stark cognitive dissonance. This warrants a separate discussion on philosophy, Russian Western-centrism, and Eurocentrism, but it results in an intriguing postcolonial logic.

The second issue, which is only embryonic here and not exclusive to this artist, is an obsession with a single theme. It’s fine if it’s minor, as with Pyotr Sklyar, where there’s flexibility to reflect various events. But many artists cling so tightly to a specific style or event that they gradually fade from reality, becoming relics of the era when they were popular. This happened with 6VCR. If you look closely at her stunning pixel art paintings, you’ll quickly feel like you’re stuck in the 2010s—and you’d be right.

This is why artists shouldn’t focus too heavily on, say, the Special Military Operation. It’s crucial to look around and explore Russia more deeply, perhaps even embracing cultural currents they hadn’t initially considered. Continuing the topic of Russian culture, it’s worth noting how it splits into distinct historical periods. To clarify what I mean when I say Russia has two opposing traditions that shape our existence, and why 6VCR and Venguard represent different worlds despite emerging around the same time:

We’re talking about two parallel yet intersecting trends shaping the Russian art scene.

The first is the dissident (liberal) renaissance: artists and intellectuals, often critical of the Soviet legacy, aim to reinterpret the past, drawing on Western theories, human rights, cosmopolitan aesthetics, and individualistic paradigms. This is where the synthesis of post-Soviet Russian culture and Western trends occurs. They acknowledge the Soviet experience but frame it negatively or tragically—repressions, ideology, losses.

The second is traditional patriotic art: a project to restore national identity through symbols, myths, and references to pre-revolutionary and Soviet heritage, emphasizing collective memory and state or local narratives. This can be further divided into those fully aligned with the state and those operating at a grassroots level, though the difference is minimal.

These two lines don’t just coexist—they interpenetrate and conflict. The result is a pulsation: attempts to reclaim “our own” culture intertwine with subconscious, lingering Western imagery and forms that appear in language, style, and reactions. Have you noticed how rarely, almost never, we see influences from the East or even nearby Central Asia in either trend, yet there’s a constant reaction to Europe, America, and their entrenched pop culture? This creates fertile ground for experimentation, a source of cognitive dissonance, and a persistent pull toward what lies beyond our shared space.

This polarity isn’t inherently bad. Conflict has produced interesting hybrids (Pyotr Sklyar’s Slovographica, for example: traditional phraseology + modern visual hermeneutics). The key is for the conflict to be productive, not trapping artists in rigid roles reminiscent of posters from a totalitarian state. Patriotic art can easily slide into state rhetoric; liberal critique can fall into perpetual lamentation of the past. Curatorial and museum practices must maintain independence, providing context without merging with propaganda or turning exhibitions into spaces of mourning or jingoistic patriotism, as was often the case before.

Synthesis is possible. The dissident cultural sphere has a strong tradition of producing content—paintings, films, and more—almost like corporate mass production, driven by a zeal for free expression and profit. Meanwhile, traditional art preserves unique, conserving elements but struggles to compete with mass media or YouTube, which relentlessly cultivate audiences. If we could scale this tradition while keeping it unique and ever-evolving, like a spiral, we might finally bridge this monstrous divide.

As for another guest at the event...

The person to my left was Mikhail Mavashi. I was lucky to be seated near him in the hall. Thankfully, it was a cultural event, so everything went smoothly. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him, but from his interactions with others, I gleaned a lot about him and his “Northern Man” project.

A few burly guys with serious faces listened to Pyotr’s lecture, nodding thoughtfully, while the musician chatted with the artist, often mentioning “haters” or some “hooliganism” at an event.

You know my stance on any vigilante groups that slowly usurp state functions, pulling the rope their way. It doesn’t matter who they are—Muslim, Christian, communist, or nationalist. Disrupting order leads to rising crime. I’ve written in my blog about drug cartels and leftist organizations, and any group far removed from discipline and management risks turning into a closed, aggressive structure with an anti-state stance.

I’m even more skeptical of destroying another culture through force. This resembles the practices of China’s Red Guards, who are still so “appreciated” that even the Party despises them. Xi himself was a victim of the Cultural Revolution, after all.

It’s impossible to imagine the Russian Federation without the collective efforts of all its peoples. Nearly all our victories and achievements stem from constant integration, interaction, and cooperation. Even in the Russian Empire, foreigners served the state and became part of it. Those fixated on ethnicity or nationhood often forget how these concepts were historically formed.

Another issue is migration. Cities can’t grow without it—either from rural areas sustaining demographics or from other countries. Anyone who doesn’t grasp this simply doesn’t understand economics. Improving quality of life, expanding infrastructure, and increasing production all demand a vast workforce. The focus shouldn’t be on aggression toward migrants but on refining integration tools—not pitting diasporas against each other but creating a civic melting pot that unites the federation’s diverse peoples. This aligns with the Orthodox Church’s logic: the word of Christ isn’t spread solely through birth within a closed structure.

Some might argue for reviving rural areas, but are Russians rushing to leave cities for places with crumbling infrastructure, healthcare, communications, and negligible development, forcing locals to migrate to cities for work? Exactly.

The same applies to culture. If it’s preserved in amber, it survives but doesn’t grow as dynamically as one that integrates other peoples’ experiences, synthesizing them into a harmonious symphony of diverse elements. Russian culture has historically woven in Western and Eastern influences. Reviving this tradition of constant synthesis could achieve great things.

To sum up, I enjoyed this exhibition far more than those curated by others before the Special Military Operation. Thanks to artists working for an idea, this is a solid platform for nurturing and expanding their talents. The key is not to limit culture to books, paintings, or films about a single event. Game development, visual novels, interactive models, and even interactive cinema need artists, writers, and directors to capture today’s world. Collaboration and stepping outside boundaries—like turning Slovographica into animation or crafting art from everyday objects—are vital. A work on a provocative topic can spark discussion and raise philosophical questions. There’s room to grow, absorb styles, methods, and tools, and pass this experience to future generations to depict the world in all its colors.

In the age of neural networks, we must consider their symbiotic use as tools to accelerate processes, but it all depends on the human ability to think and combine. We mustn’t deify machines that assist our work.

For once, I’m speaking this highly of an exhibition—not just niche experiments like Meryafuturism or yet another painting about life in panel buildings. It’s intriguing, and I’ll keep following these projects. Other cultural initiatives should take note of some of these aspects.

Telegram: @ShapkaSchpree