The exhibition is an intervention into the Finishing Workshop of the “Fabrika” CCI, as it was important to situate the project within an open, non-exhibition space — allowing the viewer to interact with the works without the distancing effect usually imposed by a gallery setting.
Photo: Ekaterina Kraeva, Marina Rogozina
"I'm not afraid of your ghosts anymore"
installation
wood, bandages, cotton wool, texts, found objects, videos.
250х600х600
video documentation of the performance "Beneath the Ice"
"Maybe one more time?"
installation
wood, texts, found objects
"Quiet Hour"
ceramics,
baby cots
MAYBE ONE MORE TIME?
project, installations "Maybe one more time?""I'm not afraid of your ghosts anymore", "Naptime"
2023-2024
Wounds don’t ache, and scars don’t hurt —
They’re wrapped in sterile bandages.
V. Vysotsky
The project “Maybe One More Time?” is structured in three parts, each exploring the ongoing contrast and flicker between the archetypes of home and homelessness, and how these concepts are interpreted through the artist’s body. It investigates the exhausting repetition of reliving the same events within one's own physical space — the body. In the large-scale installation “I’m Not Afraid of Your Ghosts Anymore”, we enter a wound-apartment space, a maze where vulnerable “secrets” are hidden beneath sterile bandages — reflecting the trauma of recognizing the boundaries of one’s own body, and the experiences of sexuality and femininity.
In contrast, the minimalist installation “Maybe One More Time?” presents doorframes arranged into a spinal structure. Like a tunnel or portal, the object allows for endless movement within the dimension of memory, always offering the possibility to return to the zero point. “Often we stigmatize our own experience, creating a looping journey through a space so distorted by small secrets it becomes unrecognizable,” I think. “And maybe we need to live it all again and again, since we haven’t yet learned to speak out loud about what haunts us?”
The installations are interactive — viewers can explore the objects placed within, engaging in a personal dialogue with the author.
The trilogy concludes with the ceramic project “Naptime”, where shadows are as important as the objects themselves. This is a reflection on the duality of what is seen and who we are, on the wish to sleep through what frightens us, and the disorientation when “morning is wiser than evening” never arrives.
The exhibition is an intervention into the Finishing Workshop of the “Fabrika” CCI, as it was important to situate the project within an open, non-exhibition space — allowing the viewer to interact with the works without the distancing effect usually imposed by a gallery setting.
Curator: Ira Konyukhova
Texts included in the project:
– 1 –
Slowly I remove the bandage and examine the wounds.
I’m not scared of the sight of blood—though they’re not bleeding.
Peel off the scab, look inside. Like puff pastry.
Painful—not painful. Loves me—loves me not. Will it ruin me—or won’t it?
Hop-skip—and where am I among all these thoughts? How far have I leapt?
Maybe one more time, huh?
– 2 –
If I don’t eat, don’t sleep—I’ll become tiny, better at hiding.
Spoon by spoon, for mama and papa, for the cat and the mouse,
for a new book—so I’m easier to find, to disappear into fluff.
Maybe this, at least, you’ll manage?
Maybe one more time, huh?
– 3 –
Blood is not pus.
I’m not kind.
I’m sick of myself.
– 4 –
Bare feet run faster, bare arms hug easier.
Will it be easier to breathe if I undress?
– 5 –
Roll on, little head, across the dish.
Show me, little head, what to do with you.
I see—I don’t. I believe—I don’t.
Maybe one more time, huh?
– 6 –
You say, if you don’t say it aloud, then it didn’t really happen,
and if it did—it won’t count,
and if it counts—it’s not real truth,
and if it is—it’s not the kind you can speak of.
– 7 –
Sterile bandages.
White cotton.
Sore throat.
Need to stay silent.
Need to dab it
with iodine.
If I disappear,
everything will remain
white-white.
– 8 –
I sit on the edge of the bed and look at the doorway.
Maybe it’s the wrong door,
or maybe I’m the wrong one,
or maybe it’s not my home,
or the light is just no comfort.
My feet don’t touch the floor, and shadows thicken.
Who slept in my bed,
who ate from my plate?
Who became me, while I was lost in thought?
– 9 –
A sip of water,
A sip of water,
A sip of water.
Maybe one more time, huh?
– 10 –
Ointment or no ointment —
this scar won’t tan again.
– 11 –
I wrapped bandages around my memory,
the memory healed like an old wound.
Who am I now without the past?
Maybe one more time, huh?
– 12 –
Screw you all —
this life is mine.
– 13 –
Forgot something, Olya?
Shall I remind you?
– 14 –
Mind yourself—don’t break.
– 15 –
The pillow is hot, the windows unwashed,
the faucet leaks and the sink is clogged.
I’ll smash the windows, flood the apartment,
finally say everything I really think.
Nothing else can happen anymore.
I’ll go to bed.
And sleep.
And rest.