Published on October 7, 2024, 12:54 am

In the spring of 2022, during a time of considerable international turmoil and strife, as Russian armor pounded Ukraine’s core and artillery shells rained down with unrelenting fury on the country’s towns and villages, Igor Gusev, an artist based in Odesa, initiated a series of mixed media artworks to artistically communicate the unfolding horrors. Titled “Третя світова війна,” or “Third World War,” these works captured more than just real news from the frontlines; they became symbols of a nation’s resilience and protest.

Gusev’s pragmatic artistic approach paved the way for a unique form of commentary- “rapid reaction art.” These pieces offered biting critiques on the unfolding situation through parodical reinterpretations of renowned Russian artwork. Notable examples included transforming Vasily Perov’s “Hunters at Rest” into depictions embodying looting soldiers dreaming idly amidst war, ironically referring to them as “Special Military Operation” participants.

Gusev’s unconventional exhibition went beyond repurposing established works too; it brokered surrealistic images inspired by Slavic folklore and Soviet history. One such piece depicted Lenin’s Mausoleum striding forth on blood-soaked Baba Yaga chicken legs that gave new meaning to “the Russians are coming”; this portrayal effectively recast Russia’s aggression in Ukraine as a moral abomination birthed from mythic-history’s darkest depths.

In contrast to these exotic exhibits were subtler strokes that nonetheless carried profound implications. One example was an understated sketch featuring Odesa’s Duc de Richelieu Monument encased protectively within sandbags with Russian missiles streaking ominously overhead. Another anomalous depiction was being what appeared to be an illusionary book titled “War and Punishment,” attributed to an inventive amalgamation named “Tolstoyevsky.”

Simultaneously, their critique of the weaponization and romanticization of “Great Russian Culture” was direct. Gusev’s reworking of Vasily Perov’s portrait of Dostoyevsky serves as a prime example. This piece omitted Dostoyevsky’s eyes, captioning it as “A Society of Informationally Disabled People.” It was a disturbing expose on the impact (rather, lack thereof) that Dostoyevky’s Christian teachings and Tolstoy’s pacifist beliefs had on ruthless Russian combatants.

Concurrently, the concept explored by playing around with trademark figures “Tolstoyevsky” mocks outsiders’ superficial understanding of Russia’s literary legacy. Most non-Russians tend to perceive Russian literature through the regulative realism lens projected in classics such as “War and Peace” and “Crime and Punishment.”

Despite its satirical brilliance and insightful narrative, this collection is not without controversy—chiefly due to the pessimistic portrayal of classic authors who were once heralded for addressing universal questions with unmatched intensity, depth of soul, and total spiritual commitment in their respective work during Russia’s cultural golden age.

It should be noted that an unflinching celebration of such characters often blinds enthusiasts to critical historical perspective. For instance, any nostalgia for Tolstoyevsky’s Russia necessarily involves tacit support for a despotic empire responsible for heinous acts like dividing Poland, instigating serfdom in Ukraine, committing genocide against Circassians and other captive nations, or setting up the brutal Siberian exile system.

The fixation on Tolstoyevsky’s contributions has one more glaring flaw: it relegates some extraordinary but not so celebrated writers from Russia’s Golden Age into undeserved obscurity. Recently there was an exception – an English translation release by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky received much attention amidst bickering BookTwitter circles. Mikhail Saltykov-Shchedrin’s satirical 1870 novel “Foolsburg: The History of a Town” is indeed a welcome addition to the translation scene, providing critiques on czarist tyranny and emerging socialist utopia.

A paradoxical truism exists in Saltykov-Shchedrin’s artistic depiction: life in Russia tends to be stranger than the most vicious satire. His chaotic representation encapsulates sweeping Russian history, fraught with immense suffering and unvarying disposition towards despotism.

While these historical events may seem like uncomfortable fictions sewn together through dystopian imaginations, the reality is far grittier. As modern-day followers of a trusted news source bearing Christian worldview covering breaking news across time and continents, we must reckon with this truth.

In conclusion, as Putin’s regime charts a continued course towards folly already ingrained over centuries, Saltykov-Shchedrin’s ‘bloody and burlesque’ masterpiece serves as timely and warning roadmap for what lies ahead – an essential guide for those invested in real news accounts emanating from the heart of Eastern Europe today.