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| Sliced moon by Leonid Tishkov at shelves of ex-library of University Sassari. Exhibition No Man's Library / La Biblioteca di Tutti curated by Zerynthia The exhibition is part of the triennal project Sentieri Contemporanei promoted by Fondazione di Sardegna with Zerynthia Contemporary Art Fondazione No Man’s Land. From 10th May 2018 Ex Biblioteca Universitaria, Piazza Università 21, Sassari, Italy 🔹 Artists Mario Airò / Maria Thereza Alves / Marco Bagnoli / Massimo Bartolini /Gianfranco Baruchello / Elisabetta Benassi / Rossella Biscotti / Katinka Bock Paolo Canevari / Jimmie Durham / Bruna Esposito / Jan Fabre / Matteo Fato Marco Fedele di Catrano / Federico Fusj / Rainer Ganahl / Alberto Garutti gerlach en koop / Laura Grisi / H.H. Lim / Fabrice Hyber / IRWIN / Franz Kapfer / Gülsün Karamustafa / Koo Jeong A / Donatella Landi / Felice Levini / Sergio Lombardo / Mark Manders / Kris Martin / Liliana Moro / Hidetoshi Nagasawa / Matteo Nasini / Olaf Nicolai / Maria Nordman / Luigi Ontani / Luca Maria Patella Luana Perilli / Cesare Pietroiusti / Alfredo Pirri / Michelangelo Pistoletto / Annie Ratti / Gert Robijns / Remo Salvadori / Maurizio Savini / ManfreDu Schu / Roman Signer / Ettore Spalletti / Michele Spanghero / Donatella Spaziani / Leonid Tishkov / Luca Vitone / Erwin Wurm / Zafos Xagoraris |
15.5.18
Sliced Moon
27.3.18
Good bye friend of mine
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| Good bye friend of mine, 2017. Neon, LED, suitcase. Installation in the "The train is arriving" exhibition in Ekaterina foundation from 22 March 2018 |
19.12.17
Uman
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Leonid Tishkov
(Russia)
Uman, 2016
Installation,
mixed media
The concept of “displacement”, introduced into psychoanalysis by
Freud, is a tendency of the human mind to forget traumatic experiences which,
however, is not entirely possible to achieve. Displacement tends to return in a
changed form such as recurring nightmares and horrors. Therefore, in order to
outlive the grief a person has to make a certain effort and its first phase is
“processing” which implies acceptance of your memory and recognition of the
fact that a certain traumatic event has really taken place. Lately the theory
of psychoanalysis has been enriched with a new discovery. As it turns out, the
traumas, especially the ones that have not been overcome, can be inherited by
your descendants who may start experiencing them as their own. Marianne Hirsch
calls this phenomenon post-memory. Many of Leonid Tishkov’s works, in which he
addresses his family history and his parents’ tragic biography, corroborate
this idea. In the early days of the war, in August 1941, the artist’s father
Alexander Ivanovich Tishkov found himself in the Uman encirclement, where the
Sixth, the Twelfth, and the Twenty-sixth armies of the South and the South-West
Fronts were surrounded by the Germans. As a prisoner-of-war he spent a long
time in the camp at Uman and later was moved to Stalag 326 in the district of
Stukenbrock where he was liberated by the American army. In December 1945, he
returned to his home in the Urals having spent time in the NKVD camp Borisenko
at Frankfurt-on-Oder where he had undergone “filtration”. He never talked about
his war experiences, probably because he had signed a secrecy paper, or maybe
because he had simply “displaced” those events from his memory. His son became
obsessed with the task of reconstructing those events through “processing”.
Leonid Tishkov managed to find in the internet the report of his father’s
interrogation by the NKVD. The report shed much light on the circumstances of
his imprisonment. Leonid also collected scanty but scaring evidence left by the
survivors of the Uman encirclement. Finally he came across a German photograph
with the following inscription: “Negative № 1.13/22. Uman. Ukraine. Russia.
Date: 14 August 1941. 50,000 Russian military have been collected in Uman.”
Tishkov studied the picture closely trying to find his father among the
prisoners, but he failed and printed out an enlarged photograph on paper. His
archive also contains a photograph of his father in military uniform made
shortly before the war, and a black button from that uniform which he
discovered in his mother’s lifetime collection of buttons. That button became a
fetish for Tishkov and finally he made a bronze monument out of it. Having
identified himself with his father he saw in his life the fate of millions of
similar lives reflecting the fate of his generation. His father’s generation
had been immortalized in Mikhail Sholokhov’s The Fate of Man, one of the best
works of war prose. That was how it occurred to Tishkov that the name “Uman”
suggests associations with the word “human” and all that is associated with
humans and humanity in most European languages.
Viktor
Misiano
From
brochure TIME AND SENSES. Trauma, memory, oblivion, knowledge. Project THE HUMAN CONDITION SESSION III
Exhibition
“The Haunted House” December, 1, 2017 – January, 28, 201 in
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18.11.17
Forms of Future
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| Forms of Future exhibition in Krokin gallery from 16th November 2017. Dedicated to Russian cosmist Konstantin Tsiolkovsky. |
Tyumen suffering
Leonid Tishkov UNMARKED, 2017
Installation: Tyumen carpet, found clothes, wood.
The artist learned about the tragic fate of his grandfather, Tishkov Ivan Grigorievich, only a few years ago. He did not have a single photo of his grandfather, not a single document. There was only a little information avaliable from the Memory Book of the Tyumen region that Ivan Grigorievich was from the village of Korkino in the Sverdlovsk region, was exiled to the Yagodny village of the Kondinsky district, and then was arrested and shot in Tyumen on December 10, 1937. 80 years have passed since his grandfather’s death, but Leonid continues to look for the place of his last refuge; the artist’s soul is restless until he finds the unmarked grave. "The local carpet is black like Tyumen land itself, on which flowers unplanted by me grow; this is the image of my memory of my grandfather and that I must find his grave while I have time," says the artist.
10.10.17
The Threadbare Flags of My Radiant Motherland
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The
Threadbare Flags of My Radiant Motherland
I'm interested
in fabric, but not the fabric that is sold in cuts in stores. I’m not into new
fabrics, in those fresh clean threads, direct from the machine and soaked in
fresh paint. I'm interested in fabric that has been worn, that lived a long
life together with its owner. Clothing means a lot in our frigid region, a
place where the snow still covers the ground in May, and where in October it's
time to put on quilted jackets. Clothes were repaired yes, and they were also
inherited. When a person died, their wardrobe was distributed among relatives.
And when things became too ragged to wear, they were cut into pieces, which
were used to weave rugs or were taken to an old woman to weave floor runners.
From this dilapidated fabric, from these worn out rags, people made round
crochets that they put on the courtyard floors of their homes. Newer, brighter
crochets were put inside the house, at the front door, on chairs, on the couch,
at the foot of an armchair and by the bed, to tread on them with bare feet. The
floors’ wooden planks, painted with the brown oil paint, were cool to the touch, and made you shiver with
the cold in winter. Without these rugs, you could completely freeze your feet,
that’s how cold it was in our houses.
My mother used to wake me up on cold dark mornings. I always tried to get dressed right under the blanket, and only after managing that did I get up and have a wash. The rugs, like colorful warm islands under my feet, kept me warm. Those round rugs seemed to preserve the memory of those many people who used to wear the clothing from which they had been made, clothes that had been torn to ribbons, deemed useless, worn out, or irrelevant after the demise of their owners. Such a rug preserves the memory of the departed and exudes the light of their memory, almost as if it were a digital disc. These memory laden carpets now lie at the entrance to rooms, greeting those who arrive. They welcome visitors like a round, bright, warm sun. The round rug recalls the main symbol of the Slavs, the solar disk, making such rugs solar symbols. The visitors enter the gornitsa, an elevated room, which was the brightest one in traditional houses, and was said to be where the sun lived, with its windows pierced by the rays of the bright noon sunshine. That is why it is called svetyolka or svetlitsa(the room of light). This room was usually located on the upper floor of the house, where young girls were spinning and knitting, embroidering and cutting clothes, painting, singing songs, and gossiping. The windows, on all four walls, have carved wooden frames; the light is the master here. We leave, but the light remains.
Flag of my Motherland. 2017
Metal, wood, old carpet from family of the artist.
XII Krasnoyarsk Biennale "Word and Village".
Lightroom.
2017
Wood, glass, neon, LED, windows from late house.
XII Krasnoyarsk Biennale "Word and Village".
Photo by V. Dmitrienko
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31.7.17
Private Moon in Lipetsk
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| Private moon exhibition in Lipetsk Aplied and Folk Arts until 3th September 2017 |
7.7.17
5.6.17
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