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January 24 in the gallery of Osnova at Winzavod will open an exhibition of Duni Zakharova "- 77.8 ° C", which will present the work done over the past year: painting, graphics, sculpture.
The previous project "Extinct Species" in the Osnova gallery showed the form as a self-sufficient object, but now the form was reduced to emptiness. The unnaturally sensual rose faded to all shades of white. Convex turned into a plane, - and there were oval canvases with faces where painting is almost not a painting, where the faces are frozen in a state of slipping fr om reality. The face as an archetype, which in endless repetition reproduces the primordial rhythm necessary for immersion in the total space of the exposition.
Sculpture, previously extremely tactile and sensual, goes beyond the corporeal materiality and becomes fragile and tender, like hoarfrost on trees. The name of the exhibition refers us to the birthplace of Duni Zakharova - Yakutia, where the lowest possible temperature was recorded in 1938. This figure is taken as an indicator of the limits of human capabilities. An attempt to immerse the viewer in a total space, wh ere not only the upper layer is cold before the goose bumps, but also a deep limit of permafrost lies underground. And show the body that exists in the struggle for survival, trying to cover itself with a protective layer of heat and, finally, dissolving in a colorless fog. Staying at a distance from the place of birth, the author is more aware of the state of the cold, in which the state of pain crystallizes. Now this pain is felt as phantom and is expressed in sculpture.
But behind all this coldness lies love coded in fragments, revealed from a love discourse and materialized into abstract forms. This obscene sentimentality, which covers the whole exhibition, acts as a manifesto about the artist's right to express his feelings without fear of being vulgar.
As Roland Bart wrote in the preface to his "Fragments of Love Speech", which served as inspirational material for the exhibition: "Love speech is today in utmost solitude. This speech, perhaps, is spoken by thousands of subjects, but no one supports it; before it does not matter to surrounding languages: they either ignore, or underestimate, or ridicule it, it is cut off not only from power, but also from power mechanisms (science, knowledge, art). When a discourse like that drifts in the direction of the irrelevant, beyond all gregarious interests, it has nothing else but to be a place, however arbitrarily limited, a certain statement. "