Slava Uncensored

March 12, 2019

Slava Mogutin wasn’t totally surprised when Tumblr—which was, up until December of last year, one of the most liberal social sharing platforms around, and a go-to for the fetish and queer communities—announced it would be banning adult content. “The overall political and cultural climate created by Trump’s government is very much in support of censorship and cracking down on basic constitutional rights and freedoms,” he told office, “so I really see it as part of the larger picture.”

The 44-year-old multimedia artist and writer has devoted much of his life and his practice to activism and documenting queer lives around the world, in a fashion that’s pissed off a lot of authorities—everyone from social-media moderators to the Russian government.

Interview by Lou Delaney
Photos by Joe Gray and Noah Blough

Long before same-sex marriage was legalized anywhere in the US, Mogutin attempted to marry his then-partner Robert Filippini in Moscow, back in 1994. Faced with criminal investigation by his native country, he fled to the US where he was granted political asylum a year later. But his fight against bigotry didn’t end there; it followed him into the art scene. While he was targeted for his reporting and activism in Russia, in New York it was his visual art that was censored.

“[Censorship] used to translate into my works being physically removed from certain projects and shows and publications; I know I was banned from many media outlets,” Mogutin explained. So he started sharing work on the internet; at first, in a virtual gallery on Blogspot featuring queer artists, until that site started censoring him as well. “I just feel like the internet turned from the most popular and democratic medium into the most controlled one, and it’s almost a tool of oppression at this point,” he said.

As other sharing sites moved, like Blogspot, away from lawlessness toward seemingly arbitrary regulation, his work––a survey of identity, human nature, queer life and sexuality—continually got taken down. And to him, compromise when it comes to his art isn’t an option. “I never create images to fit the criteria being sold to us as ‘community guidelines,’ because I feel like I am the community and the people I represent,” he told office. “People who censor artists like myself are parasites, and they would be out of jobs if there was no content for them to censor.”

To him, the future of free expression is in alternative platforms—both on the internet and IRL. Sites like Tom of Finland store—on which Mogutin is currently exhibiting a show, “XXX Files”—and organizations like Queer Biennial create space for the content Facebook’s overlords would rather have wiped away. “Clearly the system allows more freedom for trolls and homophobes and bigots,” Mogutin said, “than people who actually create something original and radical and unconventional.” But luckily, the people are on Mogutin’s side. Apart from his Tom of Finland exhibition, Mogutin recently collaborated with Helmut Lang on a collection of sheer and graphic tops as part of the brand’s “Logo-Hack” series.

Read our chat with the artist about art-world politics and internet irony, below.

Conceptually, what is your mission?

I started in my teen years as a poet and journalist in Russia, and since I was the first openly gay journalist, the Russian media brought a lot of attention to my work and my personal story. I brought a lot of negative attention from the authorities, [which is] why I had to leave Russia. That background informed my work in so many different ways, because I do feel like I represent a certain community and group of people that don’t have representation in contemporary mainstream culture. I see myself as the commentariat of different subcultures and social outcasts, people that are considered marginalized by the mainstream culture.

How does your activism extend beyond your art?

I attempted to register for a same-sex marriage in Russia back in 1994, and at the time it wasn’t legal anywhere else in the world. So that was not the starting point of my work as an activist, but it was probably the main event that led to my exile from Russia. And when I received my asylum in the US as an activist, it became an important point for discussion and I also think it opened a lot of doors for similar cases. It gave people some sort of union––not just Russia, but other republics. I’ve done a lot of talks and interviews regarding discussion with gay rights in Russia nowadays. It went from bad to worse basically––when I left, the anti-gay law was already abolished but still homophobia prevailed in mass media and in mainstream culture.

I still feel very much connected with what’s going on in Russia. I follow the news, I have a lot of friends telling me what’s going on in the underground community and a lot of the work I do addresses the issues related to censorship and homophobia, not just in Russia, but really in America as well.

It seems like a lot of your focus, especially with the most recent work you’ve done, is on American censorship. So I wanted to ask about what you think of Tumblr’s recent ban on nudity and Instagram’s censorship.

It was not a big surprise to me that it happened. Because it was a result of the pressure from the new government regulations. It’s actually the same reason why Craigslist had to drop the personal ads earlier last year. It was kind of a chain of events, and the overall political and cultural climate created by Trump’s government is very much in support of censorship and cracking down on basic constitutional rights and freedoms, so I really see it as part of the larger picture. And also the fact that there was no regulation of adult material on platforms like Facebook and Instagram, which basically led to, on one hand, assuming freedom of expression, but on the other there was this arbitrary censorship with entire profiles being deleted and people being banned from various platforms, with no arbiter mechanism for them to appeal the decision and whatnot. So I feel it highlights the need for constructive dialogue about how this issue should be addressed in the larger culture and context.

Do you see censorship as a positive thing in any case?

Obviously nobody wants adult material to be available to minors, but to me it seems like a lame excuse for suppressing minorities and selling us this homogenized, sterile, castrated version of culture, which has been sold to us as the mainstream norm. I just don’t buy that. A lot of people I know don’t buy that. When I did that story with Tom of Finland store, it was basically my artistic response to this situation and the fact that we do need to talk about it and we do need to resist this whole––the way I see it––huge, evil corporate machine that is controlling not just our personal data and selling it to the highest bidders, but also controlling the content. Yet they’re feeding on the very content that they’re trying to censor and control. I find it very hypocritical and immoral on so many accounts.

What do you see as the result of this kind of censorship?

The result of this censorship is that we’re being sold this very distorted and castrated version of the world and culture that is far from freedom of expression. It’s not what this country is about. I feel like we’re entering this really gray area where we have less and less control over the content we generate or the art that is being accepted in the institutionalized spaces. And I’m one of the lucky examples of artists who has had access to traditional gallery spaces, and I’ve been showing my work around the world for the last 20 years. But I’m aware of the fact that there are many queer artists and artists in general whose only outlet and platform is social media. So this puts them in a very difficult situation, because it essentially leads to not just censorship from the outside, but also self-censorship, because people are too scared to post anything that is outside of the norm being imposed on us by those corporations pretending to be social networks.

You’ve been dealing with this similar theme for much of your art career and it seems that in the beginning, like you said, the work took place in a more physical space. And now it’s shifted into the internet landscape. So I’m curious how you’d compare your fight against censorship then to now.

It used to translate into my works being physically removed from certain projects and shows and publications; I know I was banned from many media outlets. The internet, I did embrace it as one of my preferred mediums and I had a curatorial project on Blogspot before they started censoring as well.

But that was then and this is now, and it actually just highlights the need for not just an alternative virtual space for the minorities and queer community in particular, but also the fact that we can’t solely rely on the virtual representation or virtual exposure, because it’s become more and more difficult to be free of censorship. I feel like the future is in alternative spaces and platforms, not just online but in real life.

How does sharing work in real life compare to sharing online?

As much as the internet offers this great exposure for the new generation of creatives, I also feel like the limitations are greater than the exposure they get. It’s an ambiguous situation when you see self-censorship being one of the main driving forces behind what you see online on platforms like Instagram. They will support accounts that post endless selfies and topless pictures from the gym as opposed to queer artists who are doing something meaningful and radical and unconventional. Essentially the whole system creates mediocrity and reduces content to selfies and what people ate for breakfast. It’s a mediocre selection that is allowed and anything outside the norm is being censored.

I’ve been routinely censored on both Facebook and Instagram and sometimes pictures with no nudity are taken down. Clearly the system allows more freedom for trolls and homophobes and bigots than people who actually create something original and radical and unconventional.

When you’re creating work, do you have these things in mind?

To be honest with you, I never consider my audience and I never consider the outlet it’s going to be published in, because I think it’s counterproductive and not very stimulating in a creative sense. If anything, I was always making work that was against the grain and if something is being censored, it just gives me even more reason to continue with the work I’m doing. In a way it’s reverse-psychology validation for me, because I feel if my work is still considered so radical and dangerous, then I’m doing something right. I really feel this way.

And I never create images to fit the criteria being sold to us as “community guidelines” because I feel like I am the community and the people I represent. People who censor artists like myself are parasites, and they would be out of jobs if there was no content for them to censor. It’s a very distorted model and that’s why I say it’s not sustainable.

You have a different experience of censorship than, for example, most people who were brought up in the United States would have. Do you think people take it as seriously as you do?

Of course there are people who are narrow-minded enough and don’t know any better, and they would subscribe to this model and be happily censored for the rest of their lives. Some people are conformists. It’s not a surprise. But from my personal perspective, it’s not just a personal issue it’s also political, and it’s a fight worth fighting because it’s a part of a larger cultural context that we now live in. If we give up this freedom to post uncensored content, we might as well give up the rest of our freedoms. I don’t see how this online censorship goes with the fundamental principles of the American constitution; and being an American citizen and paying my dues to become one, I feel like I have a right to criticize the injustices and evil the same way I have the right to criticize Russia.

See more from Slava here.

Art

Rare Prints, Raw Pulse

November 12, 2024

Based in Milan, Veins Books is a carefully curated online archive dedicated to rare and cult publications on photography, art, music, and underground culture, founded by Nicola Bortoletto. With a sharp eye for unique, avant-garde titles, Bortoletto has created a haven for collectors and enthusiasts who share his passion for visual culture’s more esoteric side. As a member of Ann Demeulemeester’s creative team, Nicola brings his discerning aesthetic and devotion to print to both the fashion and publishing worlds, bridging the two through his dedication to rare publications.

In October, Veins Books emerged from its online format, presenting its carefully assembled archive to the public in Milan for the first time. The pop-up event not only showcased iconic works by artists like Robert Mapplethorpe and Joseph Beuys but also introduced Milan’s art scene to a fresh, curated space. This initiative reflects a growing desire for a vibrant artistic community in Milan, a city that is increasingly embracing its underground culture. As Nicola notes, the local scene is thriving with artists, photographers, and musicians eager to connect and share their visions.

By Francesca Fontanesi
Photography by Francesca Fontanesi

It’s like flipping through Tulsa by Larry Clark with the perfect song playing in the background

Why did you choose the name Veins Books?

The name Veins Books felt like a natural choice. I wanted something simple, almost intuitive. I spend hours in bookstores, often with my arms resting, and the veins in my arms become visible. It resonates with that image of veins and books linked physically. There’s also a nod to The Velvet Underground. In their song Heroin, Lou Reed sings, When I put a spike into my vein, and that line stuck with me. It aligns with themes I’m exploring in my research. There wasn’t a long, romantic process to it—it just felt like the right fit.

How did you start collecting and selling books?

I developed this fascination with books back in high school, around age 17. I went to an art high school in Padua, Italy and they had an amazing library with some pretty unconventional titles, you could say. They had first editions, like Arte Povera by Germano Celant, "Multiples" by Joseph Beuys, The Fourth Sex, by Raf Simons. Gorgeous editions. That library was my entry point to theseartists and to informal art, Arte Povera, American Minimalism and so on. Later, I came across American land artists like Richard Long and Walter De Maria. My interest started mainly with visual art and then widened into other fields, eventually leading me to create Veins Books. But it all started with a deep connection to the art of the 1950s-70s.

So your passion for publishing really took off during that time.

It was all about research back then. I always had this drive to look at, photograph, and photocopy these books—and, of course, to own them. Later, when I had more financial means, I began collecting them, partly to prepare for what I hoped would become my career. But mostly, it was for research, since I was also creating my own visual art, primarily two-dimensional work, like compositions with tar, fire, and pencil drawings on paper. I sought inspiration in both words and images. So yes, research and image regeneration were pivotal for me: the collection grew, and eventually, I felt the need to show the path of this research. It’s like this idea in the book "Arte Espansa" by Mario Perniola,where you look at what it means to be an artist today: where all arts blend and yet nothing is singular. It’s a bit like the distinction between inside and outside artists— artists who want to display their work, live off it, pay bills, and sell. It’s this concrete, driven vision that led me to open two open libraries in my small apartment in Milan, opening my doors and curating the space. Initially, because of budget constraints, it was all very DIY, much like Hans- Ulrich Obrist, who curated exhibitions in his New York kitchen.

How and where do you collect books from?

I find them from all over—online shops, eBay, Instagram. Sometimes I’ll see a post about a particular artist or book and go from there. I also try to pick up new books while traveling. I’ve found great ones in Paris, at Boo-Hooray in New York, Motto Books in Berlin, and at the Milan book market every month. It’s really a mix of online and in-person discoveries. There’s no strict formula; it’s an ongoing, instinctual search.

How many books are in your collection right now?

Between 350 and 400.

Do you have any criteria for collecting?

There’s not really a strict criterion. I just go with what feels right and what fits with the collection at Veins Books. I have a particular aesthetic, and there are certain artists I gravitate towards, but I don’t limit myself with hard rules. If I come across a book and it feels like it belongs in the collection, I go for it. It’s an organic process that lets me stay open to new finds and ideas. I’d love to know if there is a book in your collection that holds special significance. It changes often, but Arte Povera by Germano Celant will always be special to Veins, for how it influenced the whole project. I’m also obsessed with certain artists, like Robert Mapplethorpe, Richard Kern, and Larry Clark. Their ability to provoke, to ask questions that challenge the ethics of art—it fascinates me. Celant, with his visionary ability to capture an entire movement with a single term—Arte Povera—probably created the last true art movement, recognizing that those artists could connect in a unified way. That book will always be fundamental. Then there’s Mapplethorpe Early Works, an edition with the “Altars” and other framed compositions, which is one of my favorites. There are others too, like Berlin by Hedi Slimane, with iconic photos from my teenage years, like the one of the boy on the ground with the Mercedes-logo leather jacket, which brings back strong memories. It’s always hard to pick—every book holds a unique meaning.

Any books you can recall having trouble giving up?

There were a few books I took off the price list at the last pop-up in Milan. For instance, in the

office, we call Ann Demeulemeester’s book “the Bible”—it has all the photos from the shows before

Sébastien Meunier took over. That was the first one I took off the shelf because I just couldn’t part

with it. I imagine it’s one of those books that, years from now, I’ll look back on and think, this is the

book I showed during my interview about three and a half years ago. That one was tough to let go

of, for sure. Mapplethorpe: Early Works is another I sold but immediately regretted and had to buy

back. Some books feel like a part of you, and it’s hard to imagine not having them around.

How did you decide to open a pop-up in Milan?

The decision was partly practical—Milan simply made sense. But on another level, it filled a gap. Milan has a few niche bookstores, but nothing quite like what I’m building with Veins. I see Veins as closer to the curated spaces you’d find in New York or Paris. The positive response to the pop-up confirmed that there’s a community here that values this kind of experience. It feels like we’re helping to build a local scene and a space where people can connect over unique works. A few years back, there wasn’t much of a following for this kind of scene in Milan, so I’d often go to Paris to find that vibe, those artists, that outlook. There’s always been a pull toward Paris, Berlin, and London within Europe. But now we’ve realized that this scene does exist in Milan; it’s just that no one had represented it in a cool, grounded way. When we did the first Nausea Twins live event, it was clear that the same people you’d see at La Perle, Le Connétable or PCC in Paris, or at 80mmBar in Berlin, are right here in Milan, too. Milan isn’t just what it’s been in recent years—there’s room for an artist scene that hasn’t been fully recognized yet. I wouldn’t call it a “movement” exactly; it’s more like a space that’s now open, and it’s very real. There are artists, photographers, musicians, brands—all with a desire to establish a vision. And as more people discover it, that vision only gets stronger. Honestly, community is almost everything to us. It’s exciting, even though, at the end of the day, we’re not doing anything revolutionary.

What are your thoughts on the accessibility of artistic knowledge?

Art and fashion often feel elitist. Exclusivity has a certain allure. It works in a lot of cases, and it’s part of the proximity experience. Think of Chrome Hearts, where you can only enter by appointment, two people at a time, with a gate and a bodyguard. That mystique around an artist as this one-of-a-kind figure is compelling because it builds that dream of being that person. But at the same time, if it weren’t accessible, I wouldn’t have been able to form myself. So a bit of exclusivity is good when balanced thoughtfully.

What about Instagram? And what’s next?

Instagram is essential. I love seeing the variety of profiles and how each one personalizes its own space. In my case, it started as an archive of the volumes I owned, and from there, everything started: the pop-up, the e-commerce we’re about to launch. The big goal is to find a permanent space in Milan. I’m also considering doing more pop-ups

abroad. There was almost a chance to go to Los Angeles, but it didn’t quite work out. I’m not rushing; I want to build Veins Books slowly and sustainably. The first pop-up was great, so I’m planning the next one in January during Fashion Week. We’ll see where it goes from there.

I can’t end this interview without complimenting you on the playlist from the Milan pop-up.

Thanks for noticing! Music is an integral part of Veins Books. As I mentioned earlier, there’s a definite influence from the New York scene—the Velvet Underground, CBGB, The Cramps, Richard Hell, Patti Smith, Dead Boys, Television—and, of course, European influences like Public Image Ltd., Siouxie and the Banshees, The Fall and The Clash. These artists all seem to speak the same language as the books in the collection; it’s like flipping through Tulsa by Larry Clark with the perfect song playing in the background. Everything in Veins is about creating that immersive experience, with music adding depth and atmosphere that connect people to the art on a visceral level.

Art

Samsara: Death, Rebirth, and Birth

November 11, 2024

All of your favorite LES regulars were in attendance last weekend for Samsara, a group exhibition exploring the boundaries between dreams and perception. Curated by Zal Dormishian and hosted by PRIV.Y, the show presented works using a distortion lens co-designed by Zal and artist Luciano Picone.

The beating heart of Samsara was its emphasis on multidisciplinary approaches. Utilizing the lens inspired the artists to express themselves in new ways, resulting in seven remarkably different yet intertwined outcomes. The collaboration showcased works by Matt Weinberger, Armyan Nispel, Luciano Picone, Ant Aguirre, Oliver Leone, Poyenchen, and the curator himself. The weekend culminated in a closing reception with an illuminating panel discussion, free ice cream, and musical performances by Breaker Novogratz, Torri Weidinger, and OSIYA. Seeping through the events was a sense of community and deep consideration for the artistry at hand.

Interviews by Abby Dillingham
Photos by Lucy Ly

office sat down for a smoke break amidst the crowded sidewalk with Noah Berghammer, the founder of PRIV.Y. Noah discussed his take on combining forces with technology in the art world. He remarked that technology is "so viscerally a part of our everyday society now so I think avoiding using technology to enhance work is stupid or naive. But, real-live work and real-live showing of work is still the most important thing in the world." Samsara is just one of many shows PRIV.Y is expected to host. One of Noah's hopes is that these events will help deepen our appreciation for the work, getting people off of the sidewalk and into the gallery.

Using technology as a tool to chronicle Samsara, Noah hopes to include the online community and bring these experiences to them as well. He added, "I think we are at this interesting point where we know about the internet community and we know about the real life community and there’s this beautiful gap to bridge. So, how do you take IRL experiences and give it to the masses on social or by using tech? A lot of what we’ve tried to do with our events is use them to create culture where we are and then document it properly to give culture to people like…me when I was living in Wisconsin six years ago before knowing what New York was, you know."

Alongside all of the pieces was an element of the artistic process. This addition is heavily due to the curator's interest and love for understanding the methods used to arrive at the final product the viewer sees. At the show's end, Zal was able to give office some deeper context into the process of Samsara.

When did the idea for this show begin to unfold and why?

ZD: The creation of the lens began a year ago as I experimented with various textures to layer onto my digital photography. While analog grain will always be the most romantic, the environmental impact—from material shipping to plastic containers and the chemicals used in film development—makes film too wasteful for regular use. In my search for new textures, these lenses were created. Though I’m hesitant to call these lenses eco-friendly, they are far less wasteful than film which in turn creates textures that feel more relevant to today’s world." After the long process of creating the lenses, the idea for the show emerged from my desire to share a physical product in a tangible setting and inspire other artists to explore and incorporate the lenses into their own practices. Too often, artists unveil work on social media, only for it to fade after seconds. Like a musician’s album release party, I wanted a live event where people could feel the work’s energy and understand the process. These lenses are like adult toys— from Cameron Gonzolez Williamson’s CRT livestream distorted lens window display to co-designer and engineer Luciano Picone’s desk with lenses for hands-on exploration, we aimed to make this exhibition as interactive as possible.

How did you choose this group of artists for the show? In what ways do you all complement each other?

ZD: I have always been confident in my taste. From the visual artists whose works make up the show to the musicians who closed the event, I knew that if I curated artists I genuinely admired, it would resonate with everyone. So, in selecting artists, I reached out to those who, over my three years in NYC’s art scene, have deeply inspired my personal practice, in both aesthetic and philosophy. My taste being highly eclectic, brings a mix which enhances the show's aim to showcase the fluid versatility of the distortion lenses across artistic mediums. What unites the work is the use of the distortion lenses as well as the already surreal nature of many of the artists’ work. I included artists with both fast and slow creative flows to reveal the distortion lenses' range — from quick inspirations that can be recreated digitally to meticulous frame-by-frame analog work. Ultimately, I curated a show which I am a fan of, celebrating both the artists and the dynamic possibilities of these lenses.

What brought on the interest in the Hindu concept of the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth? How do you see this concept shaping the way we interact with the world?

ZD: David Carson’s quote, “Don’t mistake legibility for communication,” sparked my research into German Expressionism and Hindu philosophy—two central themes woven throughout this show. The parallels to German Expressionism, where artists, diverging from realism, used color and form not merely as aesthetic choices, but as profound responses to the societal turmoil of their time. Similarly, Carson’s design philosophy, which deconstructs traditional norms to give rise to new forms of communication, mirrors the Hindu cycle, Samsara, of birth, death, and rebirth. In both realms, distortion is not chaos—it is the key to unveiling deeper truths and discovering new perspectives. I find it is often forgotten that, while humans have created tools for the practicality of mundane categorization and communication of life, we each move through our own unique planes of reality. In the pursuit of efficiency, nuances and personality are sacrificed. Distortion, I have found, is an extremely effective way to break the illusion of sameness and allows one to express not just what they see, but the deeper emotions of how they feel. By distorting the work to the point of chaos, new channels of communication emerge, allowing for a deeper, more authentic way to express ideas and feelings beyond the limitations of our own minds or something as simple as words. This approach mirrors the Expressionist movement which around 100 years ago, when color was first used creatively to evoke emotion rather than simply depict life as it literally appeared.

How does the distortion lens further your exploration of these themes?

ZD: After sending my Ray Gun magazine scans to painter and typographist Ant Aguirre, we discussed how we could expand on David Carson's idea that, “legibility does not always equal communication”. Ant explored how many times a word must be distorted before it loses recognition and transforms into something new. For his piece, he took the word "turmoil," a complex concept reduced to seven letters for the sake of efficient communication, and distorted it repeatedly until it became an abstract painting, revealing a deeper, purer meaning of turmoil through his lens of Ant’s mind. In my own work, I was deeply inspired by my time living in a monastery deep in the forests of Thailand as I sought to convey abstract moments and visions of the surreal realms of peaceful emptiness often reached through deep meditation. In addition I was influenced by Egon Schiele’s portraiture, where he emphasizes a single detail or two while allowing the rest to slowly fade into the canvas. The liquid distortion lenses have, for the first time, allowed me to express the fluid, dream-like nature in which I perceive reality.

How do you feel about the use of technology in art? Is the lens an example of this?

ZD: From analog to digital, technology in art serves as a powerful tool to expand one's creative vocabulary and explore new forms of self-expression, breaking through the confines of one's own mind. Artificial intelligence, a major focus in contemporary discourse, often faces skepticism from traditional artists, yet I’ve come to see that AI is only as strong as the intention and input behind it. In a similar way, I view these liquid distortion lenses like AI—your input shapes the process, and the outcome remains beautifully unpredictable. As you refine your technique with the lenses, holding them at unique angles to capture intriguing perspectives, your control over the medium grows.