NIKITA GASHUNIN
What gives these works their uniqueness, and much of their visual pleasure, is Gashunin’s nonsystematic method of organization. The found objects, detritus of the modern world, are arranged neither casually nor according to some predictable formal pattern. Instead Gashunin seeks maximum variety: colors and shapes are arranged mostly next to others that are visually contrasting, even opposites, to create a collision of forms. But lest such an arrangement become too predictable, he will sometimes juxtapose similar or identical shapes: near the top of Plastic Egg are several identical red construction-crane-toy parts, side by side. The only formula in these works is the absence of any formula, and the result is that the eye is continually tickled, repeatedly surprised, and made somehow more alive.
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Gashunin, 38, lives in Moscow, where he was born; this is his first U.S. visit. He studied drawing for years in school, beginning as a child; trained as an art teacher in college, he learned useful technical skills but much more of the “story of the Communist Party,” in which he had little interest. His early paintings and drawings were both abstract and figurative; his present direction, assembling works out of found materials, dates to the mid-80s; the works in the exhibit were completed between 1988 and 1994.
The Captive, the most intricately constructed object, took 18 months to make. A giant fly sits in a bird cage with a mirrored bottom that allows one to see its underside. Constructed of wires, tubes, tiny electrical parts, and various unidentifiable fragments, it displays the care and intricacy of a machine ready for flight. Though made of found objects, it is surprisingly and realistically symmetrical: two tiny gear wheels on one side are replicated almost exactly on the other. Red, white, and green lights blink on and off to the accompaniment of gentle percussive sounds suggesting that it is ready to soar, yet the humorous playfulness of these lights and sounds undercuts its fiercely poised form. There is a cockpit with a tiny pilot, introducing a further contradiction–insect or plane?–and his instrument panel has a band of red lights that flash with impressive realism. The fly is connected to a battery on the cage’s floor, doubling the contradiction; how will it fly away if it needs a battery for power?
