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Host: Marat, in one of your posts, you wrote that within the framework of PACE you would demand the cancellation of Russia's participation and a ban on its pavilion at the Biennale. Yet in another instance, you noted that the pavilion serves as a splendid opportunity for our own creative expression—even mentioning an open-air festival adjacent to it. Ultimately, what is your definitive stance on this matter?
Marat Guelman: We must act along all vectors simultaneously. PACE has already appealed to the European Commission and, as we debated just yesterday, will appeal directly to the Prime Minister of Italy through its own channels. The artistic community signed a massive open letter addressed directly to the Biennale commissioner—even though we cleanly comprehend that he is a right-wing individual harboring practically fascist convictions. Let him at least observe the vast list of prominent names attached to the appeal.
Concurrently, artists are preparing their own creative, anti-war statements on the ground. One track does not preclude the alternative. The reality is that the Russian authorities no longer possess a favorable scenario here. Special Presidential Representative Mikhail Shvydkoy completely set them up, from my perspective. If the pavilion is officially banned, it will yet again manifest to the world that any connection to the Russian state is a permanent stain on a creator's reputation. On the alternative hand, if it isn't banned, the Venice Biennale will mutate over three months into a primary platform for broadcasting anti-Russian and anti-war statements, with both Ukrainians and alternative Russians actively participating together.
Host: Nadezhda Tolokonnikova from Pussy Riot also shared an idea to stage a performance or even a festival there. What could that look like? Do you already envision a concrete action and who might participate?
Guelman: Yes. We were debating this exact dynamic overnight with Nadya and alternative activists. I prefer not to disclose the specific blueprint today, to avoid giving our "comrades" in Moscow an opportunity to prepare counter-measures. But this is strictly the onset. Subsequently, we intend to hold a major convention with young Italian artists directly in Venice to map out a strategy of protest actions spanning the entire summer duration of the Biennale.
Host: When the Russian pavilion was shut down in 2022, it became a ubiquitous, ironic cliché to ask: "Oh, what happened?" Today, with the news of its sudden reopening, one wants to ask without any irony: "What happened?"
Guelman: It seems to me that Shvydkoy wanted to prove something to someone. He manifested excessive zeal to show that he is still useful, relevant, and possesses active international networks—and in doing so, he set everyone up. Look, I am not asserting that the Israeli or American cases are structurally identical to the Russian one. But when the events in Gaza erupted, the Israelis immediately boarded up their own pavilion. They comprehended that if they mounted an official state art project inside, the venue would instantly morph into a "Free Palestine" hub—transforming into three months of continuous daily provocations. Artists would be competing to devise the most artistic, visually striking, and media-catching methods to scream "Free Palestine".
The exact same paradigm applies to Russia. Even if we set aside our personal political stance, and set aside the reality that the Russian Federation does not represent contemporary Russian art... The factual reality is that when it comes to art, the Russian Federation imprisons creators and enforces brutal censorship. A brilliant article recently published on the BBC outlined this exhaustively. They do not represent Russian art. But even if they did, a rational bureaucrat should comprehend that during a war, it is wiser to dismantle such a platform. Otherwise, it functions like a massive monitor flashing: "Come along, everyone who wants to broadcast their words of rage and protest against Russia."
Host: When Shvydkoy announced Russia's participation in this Biennale, he effectively repeated the old line that "culture is beyond politics." Can culture truly reside beyond politics today?
Guelman: For them, "being in politics" strictly implies opposing the regime. Therefore, when they claim "culture is beyond politics," their literal message is: "Let's ensure art does not conflict with the authorities." That is the first point.
Secondly, a war is not a matter of politics; it is a matter of ethics. Forgive me, but people are being murdered. This isn't a debate where Putin harbors leftist convictions while I harbor liberal ones. I communicate perfectly well even with communists. The core issue is that human beings are being killed, and that is an ethical paradigm, not a political one.
Thirdly, look at a country that maintains official blacklists of artists, where artworks are physically stripped from art fairs, and where censorship morphs into a bizarre, localized initiative of every individual bureaucrat. Today, any regional official can act as a censor within their domain, guided strictly by their personal whims. I was told an amusing fact that different cities maintain completely alternative blacklists. An artist who is barred from exhibiting in Moscow can still quietly mount a show in Samara. They can do it for now, until the federal apparatus catches up.
So Shvydkoy is lying, unfortunately. I state this with bitterness, not joy. He was once a close friend of my father and our family. He literally wrote his academic dissertation on Alexander Guelman’s plays; he forged his entire career as a theater critic on my father's texts. Therefore, it is painful to witness how his servility and loyalty to the regime have crossed a hard boundary. One can no longer dismiss it by saying, "Well, the man is just not a rebel"—no, he operates as an active player on that team. He is a general of the arts wearing literal epaulets. Recall how at the very onset of the full-scale invasion, Hermitage Director Piotrovsky stated that every Russian exhibition mounted abroad functions as a "cultural SVO". Shvydkoy is actively managing that cultural SVO.
Host: You mentioned ethics, Marat, but I have a question regarding aesthetics. In another post dissecting the reality of the "two Russias," you compared Mikhail Shvydkoy and Nadezhda Tolokonnikova. Specifically, you labeled him an "ugly boar" and her "beautiful." Following that, figures like Anna Mongayt accused you of lookism. In your view, does this confrontation truly boil down to physical beauty, ugliness, and outer appearance?
Guelman: No, we are discussing a visual archetype, an image. The primary thesis of my post was explicitly that these protests are not directed against Russia as a whole; they represent a clash between two completely alternative Russias. And yes, these two Russias possess physical personifications. Whether you want to or not, you compare them, and you observe a literal old, bloated boar on one side. Theoretically, it could have been alternative; the regime could have put forward a alternative face, but it manifested exactly this way. I grab this visual archetype and offer it to you as a striking metaphor for the confrontation between the two Russias.
Host: A final question. Architect Yury Avvakumov, who represented Russia thrice at the Venice Biennale, proposed a radical solution: to board up the pavilions of all warring nations completely, prohibiting any exhibitions inside, and instead broadcast loud, wordless music from the windows. For the Russian pavilion, he suggested playing Tchaikovsky so it echoes across the gardens. What do you think of that concept?
Guelman: Yury is a highly refined guy; his instincts are entirely correct, but I disagree with him. I don't disagree with the concept of broadcasting music—he is an artist, that is his vision. I disagree with the way he groups these nations together separated merely by commas.
Look: America is fighting, I agree. Israel is fighting. But the American state does not persecute and crush its own contemporary artists domestically; the Israeli state does not enforce institutional censorship against its creators, understand? Yes, it might be wiser for those nations to board up their pavilions for the duration of the hostilities. But I stand opposed to him placing them into a single row, claiming "Russia isn't the only one fighting." Forgive me, but Russia actively squeezes its artists out of the country, throws them into prisons, and cancels their exhibitions instantly. This reality renders its official participation completely illegitimate. It does not represent Russian art, whereas the Israeli and American pavilions continue to represent their respective national art scenes precisely because those states are not waging a domestic war against art.
Host: Marat, thank you very much. This clarifies things immensely.
Guelman: Just promise to drop the patronymic next time. I am accustomed to Marat.
Host: Agreed, Marat. Have a great day, thank you. Bye.
