The View From Here:
Contemporary Russian and American Screenprints, an exhibition dedicated to
printmaking, is definitely one you can sink your teeth into. The exhibition
consists of screenprints by 22 artists — 12 Russian and 10 American — with
a total of 70 works between them.

The differing artists’ styles are brought together through
the Hand Print Workshop International, which began as a partnership in Moscow
and is now based in Virginia. Individual artists from both countries worked
closely with master printmakers. It’s usually a learning experience for both:
Artists get to see their work in a different medium while the printmaker gets
to push the boundaries of the print medium to accommodate the artists’ vision.

What has come together at the Memorial Art Gallery is a
sophisticated example of these collaborations. The exhibition is a smaller
version of an exhibition that opened in Moscow in 2000 and concentrates on
artists dealing with the societal-global changes since the fall of the Soviet
state. While some of these concerns — such as war, freedom, and artistic
expression — transcend national boundaries, others — race, ethnicity,
government, and art institutions — are more society-specific. The literal,
profound differences between the two countries are some of the most intriguing
aspects of this exhibition.

For the American artists in the
exhibition, there is the sense of an artist that observes the world from the
outside — but the American artist is also part of that world, part of the
society at large. In Life in the Time #2,
Robert Heinecken juxtaposes images from the media of glamour with war images to
point out how these images, when separated, seem to be given equal value in our
culture. The juxtaposition makes their differences evident.

Meanwhile, a Russian artist must always an individual
outside the system (even if that’s impossible in reality). Alexander Brodsky,
in The Palace for Everyone’s Prosperity,
creates a vision of an architectural space that is vast, absurd, dark, and, at
the same time, poetically beautiful. Is he questioning the promises of wealth
for all? Or does the prosperity lie in Brodsky’s freedom to produce such
intricate and time-consuming work in the first place?

Unlike in the United States, where artists are often seen as
agents of freedom of expression, in Russia, and especially during the Soviet
era, an artist had a prescribed social function dictated by the state. This
disparity remains — you can even see it in the exhibition title.

The “here” in The View
from Here implies, as it does in the Russian title, the view of the artist.
But in English it can also imply a collective or broader “here,” such as a
nation. The Russian title literally translates into “personal view” and really
stresses the individual — his or her viewpoint, opinion, even personal
appearance.

The question is whether any of this actually can be seen in
the works themselves. The answer? Yes — but not easily.

Art has supposedly become a global language. Modernism, the
avant-garde, experimentation, conceptualism — all distinguishing
characteristics of contemporary art — prevail across borders. Only upon closer
examination are certain distinctions revealed, and even then they’re blurry.

For example, a screenprint by
American artist Carrie Mae Weems consists of four rows of iconic signal flags.
Underneath each is a letter. Together, the flags represent (and spell out) the
phrase, “If all else fails,” which is also the title of the piece. How do you
read a work like this?

For starters, the colorful pennants are reminiscent of the
work of the Russian avant-garde of the 1910s, particularly the work of Kasimir
Malevich. But, by adding letters to make words, is Weems implying that words
make the otherwise abstract readable? Is this a gesture addressing the
opaqueness of language?

Better yet, if we consider the context of Weems work, that
it frequently addresses the issue of prejudice, especially racial prejudice,
then the words “if all else fails” could be taken as a desperate call to
action.

This attempt at readability typifies
much of the work of the American artists in the exhibition. The Russian
artists, however, seem more obscure, more metaphoric. Once you clue into the
language of contemporary art, the work by American artists becomes, quite
literally, readable. The Russian artists, however, and although using the same
contemporary devices, give us work that defies an answer in any direct or
logical way.

Vera Khlebnikovas 2000
Stamps consists of 2000 Russian pre-revolutionary stamps that represent
different Russian czars. Khlebnikova found the stamps, enlarged them, and now
presents them in a way that is reminiscent of Warhol’s soup cans. You can
certainly read the work as an exploration into popular culture; but, like
Weems’ work, if placed into the right (i.e. her particular) social context, Stamps takes on a different meaning.

Images of the czars would have been something that the
Soviet state would not have allowed. Thus, presenting a wall of czars becomes
both a subversive act and a connection to Russia’s pre-revolutionary history,
something that has been erased in Soviet history books. If that weren’t enough,
the stamps have been cancelled by the post office. All the marks are different
and unique, just like the marks of an artist.

But just when we think we got it, those stamps, as pointed
out in an essay in the exhibition catalogue, also could be associated with a
childhood story of a kitchen woman who appears at a masquerade ball wearing a
gown made of postage stamps. She’s a character in a popular children’s book,
one that Khlebnikova probably read as a little girl.

Given the specific experiences that
inform all these works, maybe we’re not meant to understand after all.

You
should go if you’re interested in printmaking, contemporary art, or the
role of the artist in society.

The View From Here: Contemporary Russian and American Screenprints through June 27 at the Memorial Art Gallery, 500 University Avenue. Gallery
hours: Wednesday 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., Thursday 10 a.m. to 9 p.m., Friday 10 a.m.
to 4 p.m., Saturday 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., and Sunday 12 to 5 p.m. $7 adults, $5
students and seniors, $2 Thursdays 5 to 9 p.m. 473-7720, mag.rochester.edu.

This article appears in Jun 8-14, 2005.