Two artists battling for supremacy. However, we are never quite sure whether it is a skillful staging or a real fight. Every public conflict has a part of play, every power sport has a theatrical component. There are not so many differences between MMA and wrestling matches, although the fighters of the former claim to be authentic, confirmed by blood and injuries, and the participants of the latter do not hide - they emphasize the highest level of acting. But the most important element is the emotion that fans and spectators stir up. By this indicator, all tournaments are unified. But aren't these the battles between left and right, apologists for old and new media, students of old and new schools, supporters and opponents of “modern,” “traditional,” “conceptual,” “aggregator,” “activist,” “spiritual,” or any other art? The commentators tear their voices down in commentary because they want the spectacle, yearn to be part of it.

The formidable, frightening masks that their faces become seem to turn today's fighters into ancient deities, mythical heroes, historical celebrities, former champions, great artists of the past. Disorienting by shouting, growling and distorted facial expressions before the fight even begins is a well-known technique. But it hides the language behind it: a promise to maim or a hint of a deal, a deceptive gesture or a cry of despair. Look at animals, it's the same with them - a bright, eloquent cluster of signals always precedes a battle for territory, female or prey. First, they show fluffed feathers, horns raised to the sky, wide-spread limbs, arched back; the animal hisses, shrieks, clucks, clatters, clatters its hooves, and freezes motionless, like a marble sculpture. Nerves are maximally strained just in this brief moment, followed by the relief of battle, when life is given over to chance.

Yves Klein, a judo artist, became the winner in an extremely illusory, but so realistic for the participants struggle for supremacy in art. For a short time, of course. But for the sake of the feeling of triumph he was ready to do anything - to throw himself from the roof into the void, as wrestlers jump from the ropes into the ring; to reserve for himself a rich blue color, like a German ace pilot who took the red, or a British artist who got the blackest black; to print images with the help of living people, as if he were not a painter, but a tyrant who seized power over humanity. Behind all these feats, or pranks (depending on how you look at it), there seems to be an actor's smirk peeking through. But we'll never know where Klein was being serious and where he was acting. And so it is with every artist. Maybe we don't need to guess. It's better to just start cheering, support your fighter with a shout-out. And there will be what will be.

Sergey Guskov

Slava Nesterov

Moyboi

Moyboi