Sign 1984

Curator: Here we have Oleksandr Aksinin’s “Sign” from 1984, crafted with acrylic paint. The geometric patterns and bright colours give it quite a distinctive presence. What strikes you initially about it? Editor: It definitely grabs your attention. I’m curious about the materials – acrylic on what exactly? And what's the relationship between these hard-edged shapes and the almost scientific-looking diagrams and handwritten text? Curator: That's a keen observation. Knowing that Aksinin worked during a time of strict Soviet control significantly shifts our perception. What was readily available as artistic materials back then? Where might he have sourced his supports? The act of creation itself becomes a commentary, wouldn't you say? Editor: So the material limitations maybe influenced the artistic choices, turning the artwork into a quiet act of defiance? Like using what's at hand to make a statement that traditional means wouldn't allow. Curator: Precisely. Consider the labour involved. This isn't mass-produced; it's meticulously crafted, probably with repurposed materials. Think about the cultural context: how did this piece circulate, who saw it, and how did they interpret it in that restrictive environment? Does that influence how you look at the “pop art” aesthetic? Editor: That does change things. Seeing it as a product of scarcity rather than abundance, created under watchful eyes, makes it a much more potent symbol. It also feels incredibly handmade and immediate, in a way that feels very removed from Pop Art’s mass produced consumerism. Curator: Exactly! We often divorce artistic intent from the physical act of making, forgetting that the means of production carry their own message. Understanding that link deepens our appreciation of works like this. Editor: It's fascinating how the constraints around the art making process became integral to the artwork's meaning. Thank you for your insights. Curator: And thank you for seeing past the surface. Materiality always has a story to tell.