Kyiv . Ya Gallery Art Center
24.03.2010 – 12.04.2010
IN HONOUR OF HIMSELF
Human as a biological creature is inclined towards a balanced diet. Over-eating occurs as well as cases of extreme pickiness in food and occasional connoisseurship.
Human as a spiritual creature has an indestructible aptitude to shit - both others' and own - and is capable of living in it, eating it, breathing it, spilling it all over and even praying to it, while agreeing to pay a big buck for these essentially free opportunities.
That is to say if you understand "human" as in entire humanity or a human in general.
Every human chooses his or her attitude to own-and-world bullshit him or herself.
But if you add first and last name - "Rostyslav" and "Koterlin" - to the word "human", you will be able to see a history a human and own-and-world shit relationship in drawings.
I am conscientiously calling Rostyslav Koterlin's painting drawings, because I am not referring to their thoroughness and detail (he can be both commercially perfect and openly sketchy) - they are drawings in essence. They are sketches of nature, the only nature worth capturing, one that everyone names in a different way. Some call it their own "Self", some - their "inner Taliban" and some - a skeleton in a drawer.
Undoubtedly all the bones depicted by Rostyslav Koterlin are his own skeletons that he inevitably surprised every time obtains from his sock drawer and adds up to ones procured before. He collects them. He puts them in a line. He sews clothes for them and sculpts their faces from the most tender play dough. He initiates complex role games with them, he builds a dome of a puppet theatre around them, leads them on stage, turns the lights on, adjusts them, while children fill the hall, because there is no performance more fun than the dance of Rostyslav Koterlin's inner skeletons. He sings in their honour in such a whimsical way, because after all it doesn't matter how to sing Hosanna, it only matters that there is no one to sing it to except to yourself. "In honour" is "honour" because it's IN, and the rest is OFF or "fuck off", because when you clean the highlands of your inner Taliban from the shit drifts and shit avalanches, that you've been fed with by parents and children, books, teachers, streetlights and all the other crap, you will see the green grass on the slopes. You will see how fast it sprouts into the sky, how you loyal samurai exercise on the meadows, and your inner bodhisattvas meditate in the bushes, and your personal Buddha comes down from the mountains. When you see it all and become a bit overwhelmed as to why you haven't seen it all before, that is when you will understand that your inner skeletons going out to the pastures with the other creatures are neither scary nor ugly, because they are a part of the Plan, because they also need the oxygen, because it is the very Promised world where the lion and the calf, the wolf and the lamb... and other glamorous crap is also there. All you need is in there, all you need, all you need, in reality, this world is inside of you, Rostyslav, and you are in it! And the situation is great indeed. That's why you wouldn't call it anything else than IN HONOUR!