The image of mold in this project is an attempt to interact with the audience via the text which creates an amorphous pattern of time. The so-called “main" white walls of exhibition space are the sheets of paper symbolizing intellectual imprints of my inner world. The brick walls represent emotional and sensual form of suffering of painting. Mold is an unstable and metaphorical substance, it's easy to splutter in it and not to see the rest. It is a kind of a certain undertone in arts.
Today many questions remain unanswered. Particularly regarding painting. Hasn't it been covered with mold?
I'm not telling stories about reality but rather communicating it. Sorting out my relations with self by a language of metaphors and juxtapositions. Mold is like taking the inward turn to self through nature. I'm trying to draw attention to harmony and I'm interpreting observations.
Anton Logov played mold. What for? Mold has such a colossal power that dictators, prime-ministers, presidents can only dream of. Its pores are densely inhabiting the space, filling the lungs and therefore blood and brain of all the living. Anton came to realize one critical truth: he knows that a thought is mold and its spores are words. Logov infected the wall with the remaining flowering black mold, which split into letters in the other dimension and is already moving in the form of a clouded consciousness. Mold has replaced our innate cells. “Grey moss is the most disturbing state", writes the artist and extends the innerly-perceived threads between the words on one hand and the bottomless languishing rectangular blue abysses: “Softness is the cruelest thing I've encountered".
Anton does not spare the audience, he leaves no escape for the eyes, the look immerses into the depth of blue (grey-brown-green), black mold and allows to be devoured. The audience tries to find the rescue on the other bank but the words “The ground will never be the sky" struck their eyes. Because the sky is also mold. The brain is getting weaker and scares away all inborn human traits and lets the mold tear grey matter to pieces. Just have an attentive look around you and you'll understand: news published by media does not always give a true to life idea of the events.
However horrifying it might sound, Logov assesses and passes the verdict for a sorrowful existence of Homo Sapience and declares the further evolutionary development stage – transformation into Alternaria or Chaetomium. When mold penetrates into you and becomes you, it will cause you a lot of pain and torture. As a result, your body will be erupting fine threads of some Chaetomium, turning everything around into allergic paradise.
Logov is cruel, even too merciless when depicting abated pain, faded mind – convulsive flight straight into the abyss. However, the Logov's abyss has no “up-down" vector. It may involve simultaneous movement in all directions: that's how the mold grows and captures the worlds.
Logov states that mold is infinity with no bottom, no shores. It's viscosity that dooms to numbness. Mold is a feeling of horror, that all is over and nothing can be done about it. At the same time, we come to understand that there can be nothing calmer than mold. Turning into mold, we'll find tranquility and significance.