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Moscow Lights

In the digital object All Dungeons Will Fall, Aleksei Taruts explores how technologies of immediate communication affect the production of different types of knowledge, from the scientific to the irrational. The starting point for the project was the news of the discovery of Noah's Ark in Russia in 2017. Analyzing numerous videos uploaded to YouTube by enthusiasts, we can trace how these recordings shape viewers' confidence that a certain mountain plateau is indeed Noah's fossilized Ark or a crypt holding his remains. 

 The artist distances himself from the medium of the video game while formally preserving its properties. The interactive narrative is constructed in an intuitively familiar virtual environment, but it undergoes a multitude of changes through unfamiliar controls, the failing logic of the player's interaction with the environment, and the variable length of time. The story's fantastical protagonist, a three‑dimensional model of a wyvern dragon, travels to the Chechen Republic to “identify” Noah's Ark, experiencing the strange effects of distributed presence. 

 The motif of displacement in time and space becomes the basis of the artwork, including a reference to the deportation of the population from the territory of the Chechen‑Ingush ASSR in 1944. The same motif is supported by the viewer's shifting attention to the materiality of their own presence at the computer. They find themselves in several environments at once. In this way, the boundary of the interface of the digital object is broken and the user appears to be included in it. The file All Dungeons Will Fall can only be played once, after which a countdown timer starts, activating the geological time of the distant future.

 In the digital object All Dungeons Will Fall, Aleksei Taruts explores how technologies of immediate communication affect the production of different types of knowledge, from the scientific to the irrational. The starting point for the project was the news of the discovery of Noah's Ark in Russia in 2017. Analyzing numerous videos uploaded to YouTube by enthusiasts, we can trace how these recordings shape viewers' confidence that a certain mountain plateau is indeed Noah's fossilized Ark or a crypt holding his remains. 

 The artist distances himself from the medium of the video game while formally preserving its properties. The interactive narrative is constructed in an intuitively familiar virtual environment, but it undergoes a multitude of changes through unfamiliar controls, the failing logic of the player's interaction with the environment, and the variable length of time. The story's fantastical protagonist, a three‑dimensional model of a wyvern dragon, travels to the Chechen Republic to “identify” Noah's Ark, experiencing the strange effects of distributed presence. 

 The motif of displacement in time and space becomes the basis of the artwork, including a reference to the deportation of the population from the territory of the Chechen‑Ingush ASSR in 1944. The same motif is supported by the viewer's shifting attention to the materiality of their own presence at the computer. They find themselves in several environments at once. In this way, the boundary of the interface of the digital object is broken and the user appears to be included in it. The file All Dungeons Will Fall can only be played once, after which a countdown timer starts, activating the geological time of the distant future. 

All Dungeons Will Fall

Mascha Danzis invites you to visit the digital home she created with her son where you can see photos of their online life and video stories from it and learn about the experience of digital motherhood. 
 
 The Motherboard was created during the COVID‑19 pandemic. In 2020, when the borders closed, Mascha and her son were in different countries and began playing Minecraft online. They built houses and planted gardens, raised sheep and harvested fish. As they played, Mascha noticed that their relationship was transformed, with new patterns of communication and intimacy on a different, more sincere and open level. 

 The public narrative about a child's interaction with the internet is built around protecting them from harmful influences. But when real boundaries separate parents from children because of a pandemic or other social and political cataclysms it is the Web that becomes their place of freedom, their home, and their main opportunity to stay connected. 

 The Motherboard exists as an interactive archive and server in Minecraft with a world created by the project's characters and is available on the Garage Digital website. A plasticized image of a computer motherboard with Leonardo da Vinci's painting Madonna Litta embedded in it is also part of the work.

 Mascha Danzis invites you to visit the digital home she created with her son where you can see photos of their online life and video stories from it and learn about the experience of digital motherhood. 
 
 The Motherboard was created during the COVID‑19 pandemic. In 2020, when the borders closed, Mascha and her son were in different countries and began playing Minecraft online. They built houses and planted gardens, raised sheep and harvested fish. As they played, Mascha noticed that their relationship was transformed, with new patterns of communication and intimacy on a different, more sincere and open level. 

 The public narrative about a child's interaction with the internet is built around protecting them from harmful influences. But when real boundaries separate parents from children because of a pandemic or other social and political cataclysms it is the Web that becomes their place of freedom, their home, and their main opportunity to stay connected. 

 The Motherboard exists as an interactive archive and server in Minecraft with a world created by the project's characters and is available on the Garage Digital website. A plasticized image of a computer motherboard with Leonardo da Vinci's painting Madonna Litta embedded in it is also part of the work. 

The Motherboard

Gift of the artist

In his practice Alexander Povzner combines a love for traditional sculpture and conceptual art. His research projects often involve diametrically opposite media, materials, and techniques which are so different that they cannot always be identified as his work. He upends the canon with ease and switches between artistic styles, avoiding the use of a single language. This might involve surrealistic readymades, works in marble or bronze, abstract compositions or absurdist scenes made of painted plaster. Povzner does not limit his search in any way. Nevertheless, one of the characteristic features of his works is alogism, impossibility, the collision of the incompatible, the connecting of the unconnectable. His world is populated by werewolves, centaurs, chimeras, monster birds, goat women, two‑headed dogs, antique figures in flowerpots, people‑functions, and object‑paradoxes. 

 The sculpture Hare‑Warrior is from the series Animal‑Warriors. The huge, grotesque, mutant hare is made of plaster painted bright orange. In its paws it holds a Kalashnikov assault rifle and its uniform bears an emblem with a carrot planted in the ground. “Hares appeared in primary school during boring lessons,” Povzner recalls. “On the back pages of notebooks, in the margins of test papers and dictations. They inhabited my imaginary country. They spoke and wrote in a made‑up language. I drew political and geographical maps, flags, wise men and warriors, flora and fauna, and other details of the imaginary world. Everything was thought up, drawn, and named. Often the drawings were accompanied by small texts. This went on all through school and university. Every so often I return to them.”

 In his practice Alexander Povzner combines a love for traditional sculpture and conceptual art. His research projects often involve diametrically opposite media, materials, and techniques which are so different that they cannot always be identified as his work. He upends the canon with ease and switches between artistic styles, avoiding the use of a single language. This might involve surrealistic readymades, works in marble or bronze, abstract compositions or absurdist scenes made of painted plaster. Povzner does not limit his search in any way. Nevertheless, one of the characteristic features of his works is alogism, impossibility, the collision of the incompatible, the connecting of the unconnectable. His world is populated by werewolves, centaurs, chimeras, monster birds, goat women, two‑headed dogs, antique figures in flowerpots, people‑functions, and object‑paradoxes. 

 The sculpture Hare‑Warrior is from the series Animal‑Warriors. The huge, grotesque, mutant hare is made of plaster painted bright orange. In its paws it holds a Kalashnikov assault rifle and its uniform bears an emblem with a carrot planted in the ground. “Hares appeared in primary school during boring lessons,” Povzner recalls. “On the back pages of notebooks, in the margins of test papers and dictations. They inhabited my imaginary country. They spoke and wrote in a made‑up language. I drew political and geographical maps, flags, wise men and warriors, flora and fauna, and other details of the imaginary world. Everything was thought up, drawn, and named. Often the drawings were accompanied by small texts. This went on all through school and university. Every so often I return to them.” 

Warrior Hare

Any conversation about one of the leading Russian artists of the second half of the twentieth century, Erik Bulatov, is often accompanied by a long list of genres which, regardless of their differentiated nature, do not fully reflect the multiplicity and, despite that, the integrity of his creative method. Imagery that is almost photographically accurate, work with the conceptual and plastic components of text, and a subtle irony typical of the sots‑artists‑even this is not the entire arsenal of means that the artist has mastered. 

 In the early 1970s, Bulatov began to collect railroad posters and danger signs. Laconic images with eye‑catching texts to attract attention formed the basis of the visual language which Bulatov the conceptualist would begin to “speak.” Using the Soviet political poster or contemporary advertising banner as a prototype, the artist remained within the framework of traditional techniques and materials. In Bulatov’s programmatic works, the painterly illusion is covered by an intrusive text that forms a boundary between the space of freedom, true reality, and the conglomeration of visual, ideological, and social clichés within which a person is obliged to live. 

 In 2015 Bulatov was commissioned by Garage to create the monumental diptych Come To Garage!, which featured in the exhibition marking the opening of the Museum’s new building in Gorky Park. The two large‑format, nine‑meter‑high works were created graphically using a recognisable font and bright, pure colors reminiscent of 1920s advertising posters. However, whereas the avant‑garde experiments of Vladimir Mayakovsky and Alexander Rodchenko were constructed around the flatness of the collage system, combining image and text, Bulatov remained faithful to the spatial organization of the composition. The inscription “COME TO GARAGE!” against the background of a setting sun seems to fall onto the viewer, while the foreshortened name of the Museum on the second panel, in contrast, draws them into the picture space. The endlessly receding space of schematized sky is filled with balloons, which reference the world’s first amusement parachute tower that operated in Gorky Park in the 1930s.

 Any conversation about one of the leading Russian artists of the second half of the twentieth century, Erik Bulatov, is often accompanied by a long list of genres which, regardless of their differentiated nature, do not fully reflect the multiplicity and, despite that, the integrity of his creative method. Imagery that is almost photographically accurate, work with the conceptual and plastic components of text, and a subtle irony typical of the sots‑artists‑even this is not the entire arsenal of means that the artist has mastered. 

 In the early 1970s, Bulatov began to collect railroad posters and danger signs. Laconic images with eye‑catching texts to attract attention formed the basis of the visual language which Bulatov the conceptualist would begin to “speak.” Using the Soviet political poster or contemporary advertising banner as a prototype, the artist remained within the framework of traditional techniques and materials. In Bulatov’s programmatic works, the painterly illusion is covered by an intrusive text that forms a boundary between the space of freedom, true reality, and the conglomeration of visual, ideological, and social clichés within which a person is obliged to live. 

 In 2015 Bulatov was commissioned by Garage to create the monumental diptych Come To Garage!, which featured in the exhibition marking the opening of the Museum’s new building in Gorky Park. The two large‑format, nine‑meter‑high works were created graphically using a recognisable font and bright, pure colors reminiscent of 1920s advertising posters. However, whereas the avant‑garde experiments of Vladimir Mayakovsky and Alexander Rodchenko were constructed around the flatness of the collage system, combining image and text, Bulatov remained faithful to the spatial organization of the composition. The inscription “COME TO GARAGE!” against the background of a setting sun seems to fall onto the viewer, while the foreshortened name of the Museum on the second panel, in contrast, draws them into the picture space. The endlessly receding space of schematized sky is filled with balloons, which reference the world’s first amusement parachute tower that operated in Gorky Park in the 1930s. 

Come to Garage!

Poetry of Mature Searches

«Для московской художественной ситуации годами культурной революции были пять лет с 1972 по 1976 год», — отмечает в своей книге «Влюбленный агент» Виктор Пивоваров. «Проекты для одинокого человека» он относит к ключевым произведениям этой «пятилетки». В 1970‑е слово «проект» употребляли в отношении архитектуры, науки или техники: художник отмечает, что именно здесь оно впервые было использовано для обозначения и программы, плана будущей реализации, и готового художественного продукта. «Проекты для одинокого человека», альбомы «Слезы», «Лицо», «Конклюзии» (все — 1975), «Эрос», «Сад» (1976), «Микрогомус» и «Вопросы и ответы» (1978–1979) Пивоваров рассматривает как единый трактат, каждая часть которого дополняет остальные.

«Проекты для одинокого человека» — это шесть картин, в которых магистральная тема в искусстве художника решена максимально «нехудожественно»: с помощью схем, графиков и инструкций. Из них мы узнаем, что главный герой «Проектов» живет на 32 квадратных метрах, на его рабочем столе для красоты или утоления голода лежит яблоко, в 7 вечера по расписанию — ужин, после которого назначена встреча с другими одинокими людьми. Разнообразие мира редуцируется до ограниченного пространства, небольшого набора предметов, действий и траекторий движения. Даже небо с его неповторимыми градациями цвета поддается спецификации. Однако среди ограничивающих линий и структур проступают проблески свободы: через окно маленькой квартиры виднеется безграничное голубое небо, а во снах гигантская лестница растворяется в облаках. Жизнь одиночки обретает автобиографическое измерение: в любимых символах художника, в лиричной манере письма, в интересе к метафизическим мотивам. Дихотомии ограничение/простор, личное/анонимное встраиваются в диалектический подход Пивоварова к осмыслению одиночества. Разделяемое всеми — вне времени, пространства и культуры, — оно сближает и одновременно держит на расстоянии.

Оригинальная серия находится в собрании нонконформистского искусства из Советского Союза Нортона и Нэнси Додж (Художественный музей Зиммерли при Ратгерском университете, Нью‑Брансуик, США). В 2016 году для ретроспективной выставки Пивоварова «След улитки» в Музее «Гараж» были созданы реплики «Проектов» на акриле, авторизованные художником.

«Для московской художественной ситуации годами культурной революции были пять лет с 1972 по 1976 год», — отмечает в своей книге «Влюбленный агент» Виктор Пивоваров. «Проекты для одинокого человека» он относит к ключевым произведениям этой «пятилетки». В 1970‑е слово «проект» употребляли в отношении архитектуры, науки или техники: художник отмечает, что именно здесь оно впервые было использовано для обозначения и программы, плана будущей реализации, и готового художественного продукта. «Проекты для одинокого человека», альбомы «Слезы», «Лицо», «Конклюзии» (все — 1975), «Эрос», «Сад» (1976), «Микрогомус» и «Вопросы и ответы» (1978–1979) Пивоваров рассматривает как единый трактат, каждая часть которого дополняет остальные.

«Проекты для одинокого человека» — это шесть картин, в которых магистральная тема в искусстве художника решена максимально «нехудожественно»: с помощью схем, графиков и инструкций. Из них мы узнаем, что главный герой «Проектов» живет на 32 квадратных метрах, на его рабочем столе для красоты или утоления голода лежит яблоко, в 7 вечера по расписанию — ужин, после которого назначена встреча с другими одинокими людьми. Разнообразие мира редуцируется до ограниченного пространства, небольшого набора предметов, действий и траекторий движения. Даже небо с его неповторимыми градациями цвета поддается спецификации. Однако среди ограничивающих линий и структур проступают проблески свободы: через окно маленькой квартиры виднеется безграничное голубое небо, а во снах гигантская лестница растворяется в облаках. Жизнь одиночки обретает автобиографическое измерение: в любимых символах художника, в лиричной манере письма, в интересе к метафизическим мотивам. Дихотомии ограничение/простор, личное/анонимное встраиваются в диалектический подход Пивоварова к осмыслению одиночества. Разделяемое всеми — вне времени, пространства и культуры, — оно сближает и одновременно держит на расстоянии.

Оригинальная серия находится в собрании нонконформистского искусства из Советского Союза Нортона и Нэнси Додж (Художественный музей Зиммерли при Ратгерском университете, Нью‑Брансуик, США). В 2016 году для ретроспективной выставки Пивоварова «След улитки» в Музее «Гараж» были созданы реплики «Проектов» на акриле, авторизованные художником.

Projects for a Lonely Man

Moscow Lights, which was first shown at the 2nd Garage Triennial of Russian Contemporary Art (2020), tells the story of how the publisher Gluschenkoizdat Press moved from its native Kaliningrad to Moscow. The reasons for the move are described briefly and vaguely (financial problems) and neither the activities of the publisher nor the identity of its founder are revealed. Kirill Gluschenko’s project is one of Russian art’s most successful examples of founding a “quasi‑institution” in recent years. During its existence Gluschenkoizdat Press published several photo books on the post‑socialist cities of Eastern Europe (Pskov, Dresden, Kaliningrad) and organized a monumental “summary exhibition” of its activities, Our Days are Rich and Bright (former building of the Moskva furniture factory, 2016). 
 
 The title of the video is taken from the name of a café that opened in June 1976 on Moskovsky Prospekt in Kaliningrad. The café itself does not appear in the film. Nevertheless, Kaliningrad, with its mixture of buildings from the German and Soviet periods, is the central character. 
 
 For Gluschenko the aesthetic of a European city with a regular urban plan is an object of nostalgia and admiration. And even the era of stagnation does not seem so uncomfortable: at that time, in place of complete freedom, intellectuals and creative people had access to a wide range of flexible strategies of doublethink. A person could immerse themselves in their profession and no one would touch them. They could work half the year officially and spend the other half doing their own thing or simply sitting in the boiler room and writing poetry. Gluschenko’s film immerses the viewer in a blissful state of timelessness that is apolitical and even noble.

 Moscow Lights, which was first shown at the 2nd Garage Triennial of Russian Contemporary Art (2020), tells the story of how the publisher Gluschenkoizdat Press moved from its native Kaliningrad to Moscow. The reasons for the move are described briefly and vaguely (financial problems) and neither the activities of the publisher nor the identity of its founder are revealed. Kirill Gluschenko’s project is one of Russian art’s most successful examples of founding a “quasi‑institution” in recent years. During its existence Gluschenkoizdat Press published several photo books on the post‑socialist cities of Eastern Europe (Pskov, Dresden, Kaliningrad) and organized a monumental “summary exhibition” of its activities, Our Days are Rich and Bright (former building of the Moskva furniture factory, 2016). 
 
 The title of the video is taken from the name of a café that opened in June 1976 on Moskovsky Prospekt in Kaliningrad. The café itself does not appear in the film. Nevertheless, Kaliningrad, with its mixture of buildings from the German and Soviet periods, is the central character. 
 
 For Gluschenko the aesthetic of a European city with a regular urban plan is an object of nostalgia and admiration. And even the era of stagnation does not seem so uncomfortable: at that time, in place of complete freedom, intellectuals and creative people had access to a wide range of flexible strategies of doublethink. A person could immerse themselves in their profession and no one would touch them. They could work half the year officially and spend the other half doing their own thing or simply sitting in the boiler room and writing poetry. Gluschenko’s film immerses the viewer in a blissful state of timelessness that is apolitical and even noble. 

Banner from project “Moscow Lights”

Irina Korina is an artist, theater designer, and skilled creator of total installations from fragments of the material environment and echoes of collective memory. Her first major project, Urangst, was shown in 2003 at XL Gallery. Korina painstakingly directs her constructed environment, creating the dramaturgy and systematically immersing the viewer in a surrealistic whirlwind of sensations and emotions. Her main working materials include cheap, everyday decorating textures, fabrics, tablecloths and oilcloths, plastic facing, siding, and polymeric foam. Loud, tasteless ornament and kitsch decoration play an important role. Korina’s installations are full of carnival craziness and the deliberate fancifulness of various aesthetics.

The installation Good Intentions was created for the main project of the 57th Venice Biennale (2017). The masterfully arranged space was an imitation of an urban environment with fences made of mesh and corrugated steel, and the facade fabrics with whimsical patterns seemed to conceal a ruined building. The improvised walls were covered with neon images and wreaths of artificial flowers. As an ironic researcher of post‑Soviet culture, Korina refers to Moscow’s streets, with their nighttime illumination and tasteless flower compositions. If in real life these simple decorations or, as the artist puts it, “rattles of an infantile aesthetic level,” are perceived as something ordinary and unimportant, within the space of the installation they create an anxious and even sinister atmosphere. Saturated with artificial light, the flower arrangements become funeral attributes, casting doubt on the “good intentions” of those who create an illusion of prosperity in a situation of increasing social inequality.

Irina Korina is an artist, theater designer, and skilled creator of total installations from fragments of the material environment and echoes of collective memory. Her first major project, Urangst, was shown in 2003 at XL Gallery. Korina painstakingly directs her constructed environment, creating the dramaturgy and systematically immersing the viewer in a surrealistic whirlwind of sensations and emotions. Her main working materials include cheap, everyday decorating textures, fabrics, tablecloths and oilcloths, plastic facing, siding, and polymeric foam. Loud, tasteless ornament and kitsch decoration play an important role. Korina’s installations are full of carnival craziness and the deliberate fancifulness of various aesthetics.

The installation Good Intentions was created for the main project of the 57th Venice Biennale (2017). The masterfully arranged space was an imitation of an urban environment with fences made of mesh and corrugated steel, and the facade fabrics with whimsical patterns seemed to conceal a ruined building. The improvised walls were covered with neon images and wreaths of artificial flowers. As an ironic researcher of post‑Soviet culture, Korina refers to Moscow’s streets, with their nighttime illumination and tasteless flower compositions. If in real life these simple decorations or, as the artist puts it, “rattles of an infantile aesthetic level,” are perceived as something ordinary and unimportant, within the space of the installation they create an anxious and even sinister atmosphere. Saturated with artificial light, the flower arrangements become funeral attributes, casting doubt on the “good intentions” of those who create an illusion of prosperity in a situation of increasing social inequality. 

Good Intentions

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Мастер

Erik Bulatov was born in 1933 in Sverdlovsk. He attended the art studio at the Moscow House of Pioneers and studied at Moscow Middle Art School and then at the Moscow Surikov State Art Institute. From 1959, he worked at the Detgiz publishing house with Ilya Kabakov and Oleg Vassiliev. He has participated in numerous exhibitions, including the Biennale of Dissent (Venice, 1977) and the 43rd and 50th Venice Biennale (1988, 2003). He is a recipient of the Innovation Prize in the nomination For Creative Contribution to the Development of Contemporary Art (2012).

Bulatov Erik

Kirill Gluschenko was born in Kaliningrad. He graduated from the Institute of Contemporary Art (Moscow) and the Photography Department of the Academy of Fine Arts Leipzig. Selected group exhibitions: The Way of Enthusiasts , Casa Dei Tre Oci, Venice (2012); Detective , Moscow Museum of Modern Art (2014); Space Force Construction , V‑A-C Zattere, Venice (2017); General Rehearsal , Moscow Museum of Modern Art (2018); 2nd Garage Triennial of Russian Contemporary Art, Garage Museum of Contemporary Art, Moscow (2020). He is a winner of the Innovation Prize in the nomination New Generation (2017), the Marion‑Ermer Preis (Leipzig, 2018), the Architectural Book Award (Frankfurt am Main, 2019) and the competition Best Book Design From All Over the World (Frankfurt am Main, 2020). He is the recipient of a grant from the Cultural Foundation of the Free State of Saxony (2018).

Glushchenko Kirill

Alexander Povzner was born in Moscow. He graduated from the Russian Academy of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture (Moscow), Moscow Surikov State Art Institute, and the Institute of Contemporary Art (Moscow). He took part in the 1st Garage Triennial of Russian Contemporary Art (Garage Museum of Contemporary Art, Moscow, 2017) and the 8th Tashkent International Biennale of Contemporary Art (2018).

Povzner Alexander

Mascha Danzis was born in Leningrad. She is an interdisciplinary artist who works with video, experimental photography, and installation. She graduated from the Academy of Arts (Kassel) and did her postgraduate studies at Berlin University of the Arts. Since 2016 she has been teaching media and video art at St. Petersburg State University, and since 2021 in the School of Design at the Higher School of Economics (Moscow).

Danzis Mascha

Aleksei Taruts was born in Moscow. He graduated from Moscow State Institute of International Relations (2005), Higher Courses for Scriptwriters and Directors (2008) and Manezh/MediaArtLab Open School (2015). Selected solo exhibitions: Raves I Haven't Been To, Manezh Central Exhibition Hall, Moscow (2014); Respawn, eks zek li, who if not you, ISSMAG Gallery, Moscow (2016); No Human Grace, Triumph Gallery, Moscow (2017); More of Your Violent Visions, ZIL Cultural Center, Moscow (2018); Away from Underground, Ringing from a Cloud, Vadim Sidur Museum, Moscow (2019); Not Enough to Regret, Display, Berlin (2019); and Ultramouth of Two‑Ninety Languages, szena gallery, Moscow (2019). Selected group exhibitions: Fresh Blood, Winzavod Center for Contemporary Art, Moscow (2016); YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE CURSED WITH KNOWLEDGE,, YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE CURSED WITH KNOLWDGHE, Applied Art Museum of the Stieglitz State Academy of Art and Design, St. Petersburg (2020), Currency on Atarax, szena gallery, Moscow (202); and Mout tastes metal, Studio Ha Aliyah, Tel Aviv (2023).

Taruts Aleksei

Irina Korina was born in Moscow. She graduated from the Faculty of Stage Design at the Russian Academy of Theatrical Art (GITIS) and the Institute of Contemporary Art (Moscow), also studying at the Academy of Fine Arts Vienna. She took part in the 53rd (Russian Pavilion, 2009) and 57th Venice Biennale (main project, 2017). She is a recipient of the Innovation Prize in the nomination New Generation (2015).

Korina Irina

Viktor Pivovarov was born in Moscow. He studied at Kalinin Moscow Art and Industrial College and in the Graphics Department of Moscow Printing Institute from 1957 to 1962. He took part in the Biennale of Dissent (Venice, 1977). He is a recipient of the Innovation Prize in the nomination For Contribution to the Development of Contemporary Art (2017).

Catalogue of the Collection

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