in a salty sand The sun has a musky taste
2021
Kirill Makarov, together with Ksenia Kononenko
Unreal Engine, installation, mixed media
in a salty sand The sun has a musky taste
The project is a series of three objects. Each object is a space inhabited by the visual objects that were created by the artist Kirill Makarov for the writings of the poet and psychoanalyst Ksenia Kononenko ( project “In the Salty Sand, the Sun Has a Musky Smell”). Every space is formed like a utopian space for hybrid objects and shapes and contains contains a poem, which was written purposefully for the project (different visual invariants could be found: the form of a classical poetic line, slogan or a freestanding monumental object). Each type of expression has its own visual solution.
Unreal Engine, installation, mixed media
The gaze lacking an anchorage
I feast my eyes admiringly on thee.
Thin water yields smoke. From the home chimney, the wind’s familiar howl slips
insinuating through the white bricks.
Labels and prefixes need no glue to bind
in this skin at best you will find
that everything that is, is on the outside; look:
the tissue rhetorically flowers in a warm box of toys, fairy tales on broadsheets, pure fictions, warm birds, Cyrillic inscriptions
«as soon as you hear it, it occurs.
The things you crave fade and blur
into snapdragon, into your very own match»
when the field ends in a moat, the sagebrush bursts into poppies like a maiden’s wide-open mouth
Translated, from the Russian, by Thomas H. Campbel
Unreal Engine, installation, mixed media
If you let the postal codes, the pointers, coincide,
then powered by prehistorical cockleshell or fire bird’s feather
flesh’s imaginary grandeur will graduate from pink to ruddy purple
the difference between fish that facilitate childbirth and footlights
is almost imperceptible from such a flight.
beneath them and beneath me, apparently, the same stage,
namely, the lava, shakes and wobbles.
I don’t prevaricate, I only have my doubts,
I don’t know what gesture’s truth has to do with truth be told,
whether it has anything to do with the piece of fiction by the bench, where nobody asks any more
how to get up, how to sit down, how the zero finger twitches
and how the vein walks around blue in a totally different part of town.
obviously:
the skin is the stage, the body is dressed,
and how rumpled the whole thing is, how battered and wrinkled,
how chilly how pointy how minty how nettle some or something after all.
Ksenia Kononenko
Translated, from the Russian, by Thomas H. Campbel
Unreal Engine, installation, mixed media
Into the flesh along the blue cut, as in old days
Go out as you got up
Get up and forget to fall
The hoop, the toothless jaw of the event.
Stare, it becomes, to be out of oblivion.
Hop, if they say, if nobody says hop
Into the lava, into the river, into the boat, into the fire
Heel on soil
Slip, breaststroke to the lake of feast
To the bouncy float without a resistance
Screen, without extra life-kit,
without handcuffs and inventing
going upstream
Ksenia Kononenko