| Seva Galkin | The God of Love I have known Seva Galkin for a long time. Since that very moment when he released his first photo album dedicated to men. Having chosen the right time. As I see it now. When it seemed that feminism indeed prevailed. Once and for all. That matriarchy moved patriarchy aside. At this new stage of humankind evolution. In a constant war for equality. The total and all-out war. A man became a mere conventionality. A commonplace. A topos. Given the fact that the world has changed. Changed particularly after the invention of the A-bomb. Releasing the workforce. And war ceased to be men's primary occupation. In the struggle for the homeland and the greater destiny for the people. As declared by the ideological brainwashers. And clergy. Because a father is the head of the household. He is the Hunter and the Gatherer. Was so historically. And is so actually... Then suddenly appears a master performing an artistic inspection of his chosen ones and their past, present and future. Their rustic texture. Of quick and dead. Modifiers and properties. The artist set off to scrutinize his artistic subject with the diligence of an ethnologist. To record the perishable. The endangered race. According to scientists, man is doomed to become extinct. He will become extinct. Though, only in a few thousand years. But this is what their Y chromosome tabels say. Man is weak. And lazy. By nature. Kazimir Malevich called it economy. Because man is a lot more than just a muscle bulk of the outer wrapping. Political commissars and pastors of the peoples and continents. And artists, and philosophers. Among others... Galkin focused on the specific stratum of Russian men. All around their late twenties. Not those big-bellied generals in their respectable offices. But the well-groomed sporty males. With a positive outlook in general. Though with a little bit of a habit for introspecting. A tiny bit, really... Photography for Galkin is initially a pragmatic project. A creative development of a Pygmalion. With its own sobbing and its own lamenting. In the name of the legendary figure of the Greek mythology. Who carved his ideal out of ivory. So perfect that the deity put breath of live into the lifeless ideal. The name of the deity was Aphrodite. The Goddes of L. Aleksandr Schumow, Zurich. |
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