“A bag was found among a pile of stones, in which there were several sheets attached to a tablet. The paper was exposed to the environment, some of the text was unreadable.
September 6th, 11:47 pm:… .. We are advancing through the tunnels as ordered. Purpose of appointment: “station of transgression”. Instrument readings are normal. Nothing out of the ordinary noticed. ”
September 7th, 12:48 pm I had to take the commander’s notebook, I hope he won’t scream too much if we see each other sometime.
The water is coming. For several hours there is no one, silence. There were four in our detachment, now only I remained. Why I am writing this, whether anyone will read these notes, I do not know. But if they find them, then they should know what happened here.
17:51 The dial froze at this minute. All electronics are gradually failing, and in some way, it even brings a feeling of relief, you no longer need to monitor all these devices. <...> We need to carefully examine the area.
XX: XX I walk this maze of arches, repeating the route over and over again. Moving further is impossible, all the tunnels are blocked. It remains only to study the walls.
XX: XX These posters, why should I believe them?
XX: XX The rats left this abode. What is it, why am I here? Time flows like slime. The last days have stuck together in a single sticky lump, nasty and disgusting. <...> I know this is impossible, but are the mushrooms watching me?
XX: XX This fire is not real. <...> They say the walls have ears, but these walls are grinning.
XX: XX Alien gods are watching us from the walls. There is no way out of here, we are doomed. These catacombs will become a grave, a graveyard of the last minutes. The air becomes dull. I already cease to remember who I came to this place. Or have I always been here? I, sprouting from the concrete soil, raised by the petals of fire, praise the moon that has sunk into the sea.
XX: XX memory, those scraps of events and images, they go away. they no longer belong to me, I am no longer a part of them. the head became completely clear. how insignificant things seem that until recently seemed paramount, important.
XX: XX the crackle of a fire helps to drive away anxiety. <...> I am no longer afraid of my grave.
XX: XX I woke up from a long sleep. a person cannot exist for a long time in such conditions. <...> with every hour I feel that everything in me is changing.
all day now
my new body but can i continue to call myself i
this word now seems complete unnecessary
it is difficult to output letters
author: Evgeny Kuzmichev
Fyodor Hiroshige «Transgression st.»
The metro fascinates, like poetry or a fairy tale, and some stations – especially. Luxurious decoration, pretentious reliefs, pompous mosaics – underground palaces glorifying utopia that has crumbled to dust. Ashes, but so beautiful. I often have to work among sawdust – it happens that each piece of wood shines with perfection and self-sufficiency, acquires a new meaning. The old skeleton of the ritual building is overgrown with new flesh, the underground temple is going through a renovation stage. The angel overgrows the wings of a pterodactyl and becomes Sirin, a siren, the High Priest grows the head of a stegosaurus, Persephone mutates into a mushroom girl, the underground ruler Saturn turns out to be more acceptable in the guise of a beautiful warrior. The ghost of the witch merges with the image of the magical girl from the anime maho-girl and takes an honorable place on the wall of the sanctuary. The train stops at the Transgression station to get stuck in this ark forever, so that passengers can continue to transgress forever – into the inhabitants of a future that has suddenly come, bursting out like a stranger from within.
Text: provided by the author
Biography: (1982, Tolbazy) – artist, author of wooden objects and installations, performer. Has a higher philological education (Saratov State University N.G. Chernyshevsky). In 2010-2014. active participant and co-founder of the REPA art group, which criticized the consumer society. Since 2011 lives and works in St. Petersburg. In 2012-2019. active member of the creative association PARAZIT.
A fictional post-humanist character comes to life and is transferred to today’s everyday life, taking pictures for social networks, the object-oriented method of creating an image is transferred from digital editors to the world of material objects. Syntactic modules, typed in the book antiqua font, appear on the timber that supports the ceiling, and the Tibetan script is transferred to Russian soil and appears on birch logs – along with portraits of prominent thinkers and anime characters.