How a Norwegian organisation is supporting Russian protest art: 鈥業f we stop communicating, Putin wins. Propaganda wins.鈥�
Kirkenes in Norway's far northeast has long had close links with Russia. The Norway-Russia border town is now home to a group of Russian artists who fled their homeland and are now making their voices heard.
This article was written by Helena Gjone, PhD candidate (creative writing) at Griffith University, and originally published on . It has been republished here in full under the terms of their republishing license.
As an international student at the Bolshoi Ballet Academy in Moscow in 2012, I remember studying Rekviem (requiem) by Russian poet , an elegy she penned in secret as a tribute to the countless victims of Stalin鈥檚 murderous purges.
Akhmatova鈥檚 writing revived the atrocities, delivering their darkness into the light. Her words spoke of constant fear permeating lives; of distrust, anxiety and betrayal; of the secret police arriving to drag you or your family away.
To avoid detection and retribution, Ahkmatova whispered the poem to her friends who committed it to memory. She burned the incriminating scraps of paper.
In the first four-and-a-half months following Putin鈥檚 attack against Ukraine, over 13,000 anti-war protesters in Russia.
Some estimates are that fled Russia in early 2022, among them thousands of artists who no longer felt safe in the climate of increasing censorship.
Some of these artists have found themselves in Kirkenes, a small Norwegian town 15 kilometres from the Russian border.
Russia鈥檚 protest art
Russian and Soviet artists have a long history of art as protest.
The poem (1933) authored by depicted Stalin as a gleeful killer. Authorities imprisoned and tortured Mandelstam, then deported the poet to a remote village near the Ural Mountains.
After returning from exile, he persisted writing about Stalin until he was sent to a labour camp in Siberia, where he died in 1938 at the age of 47.
Under the comparatively liberal rule of Stalin鈥檚 successor from 1953, the Soviet Union began to enjoy previously unimagined freedoms.
Protest art reflected these newfound liberties, becoming increasingly provocative and experimental.
Many famous art movements surfaced during this period, including 鈥� a fusion between Soviet and Pop Art 鈥� as Russian artists tested the boundaries, exposing the grim realities and unhappiness of life under Stalin鈥檚 regime.
In 1962, the legendary composer Shostakovich set his to a series of poems by his contemporary, Yevgeny Yevtushenko. One of these poems was Babi Yar, which criticised the Soviet government for concealing the in a mass grave outside Kyiv.
In contemporary Russia, came to the attention of the world in 2012 when members stepped behind the altar in Moscow鈥檚 golden-domed Christ the Saviour Cathedral wearing neon-coloured balaclavas to deliver a 鈥減unk rock prayer鈥�.
Their voices echoed off the cavernous, hand-painted ceilings, raging against Putin鈥檚 affiliation with the Orthodox church and the homophobic, anti-feminist policies that followed.
They were sentenced to two years imprisonment.
Today, reveal anonymous anti-war graffiti on the sides of buildings, 鈥渘o war鈥� chiselled into a frozen river, and yellow and blue chrysanthemums and tulips left at the feet of Soviet war memorials.
Cross-border collaborations
(girls on the bridge) is an arts collective based in Kirkenes.
They have spent the past 25 years curating art projects to promote cross-cultural collaboration and tackle political problems in the borderland region.
Pikene p氓 Broen is host to the the annual art festival Barents Spektakel (spectacle), an international artist residency including Russian, Norwegian and Finnish creatives, the gallery and project space Terminal B in Kirkenes town, and the debate series Transborder Caf茅.
The venue has become a hub for open discussions relating to current political and cultural issues, drawing contributions from artists, musicians, writers, politicians and researchers.
Evgeny Goman, an independent theatre director from Murmansk, Russia 鈥� about 200 kilometres from Kirkenes 鈥� has been collaborating with Pikene p氓 Broen for over 10 years.
After moving to Norway in early 2022, Pikene p氓 Broen worked with Goman to organise Kvartirnik (from the word kvartira, meaning apartment), an online talk group for Russian and Norwegian artists to exchange ideas.
Following Putin鈥檚 attack on Ukraine, Kvartirnik shifted to an underground movement for dissident artists. Ironically, the name Kvartirnik derives from the clandestine concerts arranged during the Soviet Era when musicians were banned from performing in public.
is one of several Russian protest art groups who participated in Kvartirnik.
Pictures from the snow-decked Piskaryovskoye Cemetery in Saint Petersburg reveal members dressed as skeletons, holding placards reading: 鈥渁re there not enough corpses?鈥�.
I spoke with Goman about the art coming out of Kvartirnik today. 鈥淚n peaceful times, art is more about entertaining,鈥� he says.
But in war and conflict, art is more important because it鈥檚 the language we use to express our pain. And through metaphors and symbolism, it allows us to speak about things that are censored.
Countering propaganda
Kvartirnik collaborators in Murmansk have also produced and distributed (self-publishing), an anonymous newsletter containing art suppressed by the state.
鈥淲e have to be really smart now about how we do things in Russia,鈥� Goman says. 鈥淪ubtle.鈥�
Goman is pessimistic about Russia鈥檚 future. But he believes the key to moving forward is keeping communication open. He tells me the West鈥檚 decision to has backfired on their plan to pressure Putin into ending the war against Ukraine.
Instead, he says, the divide is steadily increasing, leaving dissident artists isolated inside a country operating on fear and propaganda, furthering Putin鈥檚 agenda.
鈥淧utin wants us to not affect Russian minds. And that鈥檚 why we have to keep the dialogue going,鈥� he says of the importance of cross-border collaborations like those he has undertaken in Kirkenes.
If we stop communicating, Putin wins. Propaganda wins.
This article was written by Helena Gjone, PhD candidate (creative writing) at Griffith University, and originally published on . It has been republished here in full under the terms of their republishing license.
