assets/images/installation/station/grr_8132_resized.jpg

The installation was carried out on the site of a building under construction.
As part of the project, the artist completed an internship at a blood draw station.

assets/images/installation/station/image-5.png

Photo: Kristina Tsvetkova, Grigory Yakimov

assets/images/installation/station/bordzi_06_08_001-1-197.jpg
assets/images/installation/station/grr_8093_resized.jpg
assets/images/installation/station/snimok-ekrana-2025-10-09-v-23.31.19.png

video, 2'00", looping

assets/images/installation/station/bordzi_06_08_001-1-105.jpg
assets/images/installation/station/bordzi_06_08_001-1-129.jpg
assets/images/installation/station/bordzi_06_08_001-1-103.jpg
assets/images/installation/station/image-6.png
assets/images/installation/station/grr_8137_resized.jpg
assets/images/installation/station/grr_8092-1_resized.jpg
assets/images/installation/station/bordzi_06_08_001-1-157.jpg

BLOOD DRAW STATION

installation, 200×250×250

2025

For someone unaccustomed to this routine, it usually starts with discomfort: the smell of blood and alcohol wipes, the sound of metal tapping against glass, the vulnerability of the human body—so soft, so intimately compliant. Sterile cubicles behind a synthetic curtain. For privacy, for safety, for comfort. A surveillance camera in the corner.

Such obedience, such shy submission behind that simple phrase:
“Make a fist for me.”

The empathy, gestures, and soft voices of the nurses and brothers are sharpened by the system every day.
Whether you’re being examined for your own safety or trying to help someone by donating blood — here, one way or another, you are still a donor.

The couch is occupied by you now, and later—by others. And when you leave, you politely say thank you. For the speed, for the fact that no bruise was left behind.

Curators: Olya Tumanova, Vasilisa Lebedeva