Fascinated by the Unknown and Creating for the Present. An interview with Kazimieras Brazdžiūnas

One beautiful day, I met the Mother of God, the Sphinx, and saw an atomic bomb explode and a sentimental Nintendo machine. And this was not part of a dream or a memory of wandering in virtual space. Kazimieras Brazdžiūnas (b. 1991) invited me to such a meeting: in March he opened the personal exhibition ‘Postprodukcija’ (Postproduction) at the Pamėnkalnio Gallery in Vilnius.

Kazimieras is a painter, an active creator in the Lithuanian art field, and founder of the art platform ‘Kontr-argumentas’ for young Lithuanian painters. The current period is very busy for him: in the winter he organised the exhibition ‘Paroda Counter Strike’, and while we were preparing this interview, Klaipėda Cultural Communication Centre (KKKC) Exhibition Hall started to exhibit ‘X / Y’, which opened together with the painter Vita Opolskytė. In our interview, we talked mainly about the ‘Postproduction’ exhibition, which opened in March, as well as originality, continuous information flow, and new beginnings.

Agnė Sadauskaitė: In March, you transformed the white spaces of the Pamėnkalnio Gallery into the large-scale exhibition ‘Postprodukcija’. You mentioned that contemplation on the identity of painting and personal inspiration has lately been relevant, so the main motif of the exhibition is the post-production of various popular symbols, which allow you to move away from personal themes. Why did you choose well-known cultural symbols? What is the connecting element in the exhibition?

Kazimieras Brazdžiūnas: The motifs I use are depersonalised and laconic, due to their abundant use or frequent encounters. I call them ‘artwork prostitutes’. Most importantly, these banal motifs are not even seen live, with our own eyes; we only know them through a filter, usually a screen, for example. Therefore, I see the reuse of universal symbols through another, my filter, as a kind of irony or sarcasm. In other words, by using popular motifs that are in essence not so well known, I create memes of a worn-out culture.

The axis of the exhibition is visuality: I am talking about frontality, monumentality and certain colours. No narratives or semantic elements connecting the artworks were intentionally sought in this exhibition, but even the miscommunication between pieces creates a certain common language. I think it has become impossible to avoid a narrative. However, I deliberately did not create a narrative, and I presented the works to the viewer based on the principle of scrolling 9gag or visual noise imposed by Instagram, presenting it all on one page of the Pamėnkalnio Gallery.

AS: In the exhibition, the works are seen as if looking through a thick mist: the objects in them, without clear facial features, create a sense of distance. Talking about this exhibition, you said you were moving away from personalised stories in your work. Still, in previous works, you often presented excerpts from daily routine. Why did you decide to ‘depersonalise’ your work? Is this the beginning of a new creative phase?

KB: The very concept of depersonalisation means a changed self-perception. The state of dreaming, uncertainty, vagueness and detachment from one’s actions is similar to this feeling. These principles guide me in the creative process. I want to convey that feeling to another person who experiences it. Why? I realised that I was not the only one experiencing similar symptoms of false experience, instilled memories and an endless sense of uncertainty, which becomes a kind of background, or perhaps even a symbol, of my generation.

I did not choose to ‘depersonalise’ my work. I have tried to talk about similar topics before, only in a different form. I don’t think it came out as I had expected, so I had to look for another form, one that could broadcast the message more widely. That is how I came to the ‘depersonalisation’ of painting itself, that is, the abandonment of the oil painting technique. To me, oil painting evokes associations with romanticisation, bohemianisation, and a certain refinement of motifs. Spray paint invites you to think more about painting as a medium, and its identity. Banal, laconic motifs, with which you have no close relationship, help you to rethink the identity of oil painting. Also, abandoning ways, strokes and gestures, and the touch of the canvas in general, aspects that are probably pillars of painting, speaks for itself about the intentional refusal of titles. In terms of a new creative phase, I would call this exhibition an introduction, in which it is possible to see that the search for forms, the analysis of discourses, access to the viewer, and the study of the perceiver are visible. I think I’m on the way to exploring it.

AS: Spray paint, graffiti, easily recognisable symbols and large-format works are associated with street art. A red spot sprayed on one of the gallery’s columns, like the tags in street art, seems to carry the note ‘I was here.’ Street art usually contains messages about current events, but it is also a temporary art. Do the means used show a rebellion against traditional forms, or a search for new expression? Maybe both, or neither?

KB: I would not call it new expression, because I have been using spray paint along with oil painting since the second year of my studies. And I wouldn’t call it a rebellion, because we have other artists using spray paint, both in this country and abroad. Maybe it would be more appropriate to call it intolerance? Intolerance of the inability of oil painting to convey effectively the image, obligatory contemplation during lubrication, its banality, spiritualisation, and overestimation. In general, graffiti culture, or street art, is not my starting point or ideology; and the red spot on one of the gallery columns doesn’t mean ‘I was here,’ it’s not a hint of a tag. It is more like marking an unnecessary column, like a tree, to be removed. Street art is temporary, because it can be painted or sprayed over. In my work, I seek at least fictitious conservation. I stop the coloured dust, which is apparently a metaphor for the temporality around us. If we are talking about technique, spray paint is a new tool, so, unlike oil painting, its lasting value is unknown. I am probably fascinated by the unknown because I create for the present, and therefore the paintings are only as important to me as they are today.

AS: Every day we receive an excessive amount of external information. The writer Neil Postman, analysing US society since the advent of television, said that the news presented on the screen is fragmented, television creates a pseudo-context, and minimises important events. For example, shots of war are followed by an advertisement for lipstick. I also found a similar ironic outlook in your exhibition, such as the atomic bomb explosion exhibited near an image of Mickey Mouse. Has the defragmented continuous information influenced your work?

KB: My first exhibition was called ‘Defragmentation’. The prefix de- before fragmentation spoke about the systematisation of fragmented reality, accommodation into one being, or more simply, of placing unrelated paintings in one space. So, from this exhibition, it can be noted that the flow of information, the visual landfill, affects me. Like most other people, I am a hostage of this situation. However, the exhibition does not seek paradoxes, a confrontation of paintings in order to create a hierarchy or a secret message. The modern human can see this, due to the state of mistrust, discomfort or uncertainty I have already mentioned. By our nature, we tend to seek clarity and security. However, all my paintings mean the same thing to me: they are equal. I see and claim them as one representation. Therefore, my task was to turn them all into one spectacle.

AS: In addition to painting, you have other talents: you are a DJ, and you make music. There are symbolic similarities in the ‘Postprodukcija’ exhibition, since by mixing and re-creating motifs, you have enabled existing cultural symbols to operate in a new context. I think the things we create are the influence of the outside world transferred through the prism of our understanding. Where do you think the line is between an original and its reconstruction? What is originality to you?

KB: I am not a DJ, and I do not make music, unless we see my exhibitions and selected images that way. My language is images, so I only ‘play’ in the images, on a plane. I can only congratulate the art critic who created this myth about me, or otherwise made another meme. As for originality, the question arises, what can we call original in this case? In mass production, we would consider originality to be a patent or a company that brought out the original version of an item, say Adidas. The ensuing counterfeits will no longer be the original, but copies of it, plagiarism. In a cultural context, meanwhile, Adidas recycled as Adibao can be considered an original work, because in taking over the features of the original version, it creates a new product, a different aesthetic, with an ironic or critical sense. What an artist can do is control this phenomenon and turn it into an intention; that is when we can talk about artistic originality. Therefore, in this exhibition, I talk about the image produced, the difference from the use of our favourite appropriation, which is one of the stages or components of post-production. We live in an age when the boundaries of originality are expanding, the muses are vanishing, and the rules of how we have to or can behave in the world of images are changing, leaving only ethical issues and questions about value. Is it possible to criticise, change and postproduce religious, cultural and social icons or not? Do we remain slaves to quotes? And here is a quote from Guy Debord:

The literary and artistic heritage of humanity should be used for partisan propaganda purposes […] Any elements, no matter where they are taken from, can serve in making new combinations. […] Anything can be used. It goes without saying that one is not limited to correcting a work or integrating diverse fragments of out-of-date works into a new one; one can also alter the meaning of these fragments in any appropriate way, leaving the imbeciles to their slavish preservation of ‘citations’.[1] ^[1]

AS: You are an active artist in the Lithuanian art field, not only participating and organising exhibitions, but also as a founder of the Lithuanian painters’ art platform ‘Kontr-argumentas’. Do you feel you have discovered your niche in the field of art, your so-called ‘place under the sun’?

KB: I have canvas, paint, a studio, I can talk to colleagues, I have made friends and enemies, I organise exhibitions … So I have not found a place, I created it myself. However, why under the sun, and not under the moon? If we call a ‘place under the sun’ commercial success or an opportunity for an artist to live off it, I would say no, but I do not worry about it. Not all astronauts fly into space.

AS: Painting can be viewed mainly from a visual perspective, without narrative, context or symbols. What do you prefer, the visual impression or the story of the painting?

KB: I want to clarify that I do not consider my works to be paintings, but works of art with a pictorial legacy. A visual impression or a story told in a painting? I think these are and should be inseparable, but today I prefer the spectacle, the grandeur of the image. I am fascinated by the influence of the chosen technique on the content and the enduring after-image of the work, not only visual but also semantic.

AS: You have mentioned that in your work you study people of your generation, their condition, and points of common understanding. Are there any common threads that you have found?

KB: I will not answer this question, because of its speculative nature. If I were to talk about some kind of communion, it would be more about my bubble than the whole; it is also one of the traits.

AS: Thanks for the interview, Kazimieras!

The exhibition ‘X / Y’ by Vita Opolskytė and Kazimieras Brazdžiūnas will be open until 2^nd May in Klaipėda Culture Communication Centre (KKKC) Exhibition Hall (Didžioji Vandens St 2, Klaipėda). We invite those who want to see Kazimieras Brazdžiūnas’ works live to pay a socially distanced visit.

[1] ^[2] Guy Debord, ‚Methods Of Detournement‘ In Situationist International Anthology, edited and translated by Ken Knabb (Berkeley: Bureau of Public Secrets), 1981, p. 9.