I’ll have that painting and, by the way, how much for the flat?

Saturday 9 November 2019

Today we were off to an art exhibition. Of the exhibition I knew little or nothing, except that it would be different and was by invitation only. Oksana, our neighbour, had invited us, and the ‘different’ element made all the difference in that I was very curious.

I had no idea what to expect, as, in Oksana’s car, we pulled into a cramped carpark opposite a new red-brick block of flats. A group of people were walking alongside the building to a gate and were directed back from whence they came ~ we followed.

On the opposite side of the building we were shown into a narrow corridor. A woman, carrying a clipboard, appeared. The group, of which we were a part, about 20 in total, lined up on either side of the corridor, whilst the clipboard lady delivered a short introductory talk, about which, of course, I understood nothing. Then we filed through the door and took the lift to one of the floors above.

The block of flats we were in was new and unfinished, but the corridors, at least on the floors we were occupying, appeared to be in quite an advanced stage of completion. Chunky white door surrounds and white walls dominated the décor. From a distance it appeared as if a series of thin slate-like slithers of different dimensions had been painstakingly inserted at various depths to give a naturalistic, uneven surface finish to the walls, but on closer inspection you could see, as with even the best toupées, where the join was. Cunningly, the complexity of construction had been made considerably easier by the slate pieces being mounted on, or integral to, brick blocks. As modern as this was supposed to be, I could not help feel that there was something rather retro about the whole ensemble, so much so that it would not have surprised me had Russian versions of John Steed and Emma Peel come sauntering out from one the flats.

The flats themselves were at the stage known here as ‘grey scale’. This is an apt description, which means that the walls and ceilings have been plastered and skimmed but no finishing décor has been applied. There were no internal doors as yet but the double-glazing was in, as were the rads.

The concept explained

The concept of the art exhibition was an interesting one. My wife explained it to me. A number of empty flats in the building had been requisitioned to serve as exhibition halls. Each participating flat ether contained the displayed work of one individual artist or, if the artist’s contribution was less prolific, one room would be allocated. Thus, in some flats you would find the work of one artist and in others the work of, say, three artists, housed in separate rooms.

The concept worked surprisingly well. Since the walls of the flats were grey-scale they provided the perfect neutral backdrop and as, apart from the artwork, the only other items in the rooms were display units, advertising brochures and the odd bottle of mineral water, distraction had been obviated. Even the display modules were as basic as they could be ~ simple unobtrusive plinths and the occasional wooden easel. As there were few wall hooks in evidence, many of the exhibits were placed at ground level. This was in hindsight one possible flaw, as arguably the works in question were not shown at their best in this position.

The exhibition rooms not all being situated on one floor meant that the viewing public had to hop into lifts and run up and down stairs, and this alone added an interesting twist to what was already a novel concept.

Among the contributing artists whom we liked best was the work of Yri Bulechev and a second artist who, to add intrigue to his work, wished to remain anonymous. We did learn that the anonymous artist was by profession an engineer, and this calling was demonstrated thematically throughout his art. The focus subject matter was portrait: strained, tense faces with worried, uncertain eyes, apprehensive, frightened even, contextualised within a claustrophobic grid, an invasive backdrop of lines, narrow rectangles and circles, which reminded me of the geometrical patterns that I used to draw as a nipper with the aid of my then trendy Spirograph set.

This background fretwork ramped up the element of tension, especially since it invaded the human features, as if intermeshing the frailty of the human condition with the modern world’s increasing connectivity, the pressures that such a Brave New World inflicts and the hard-wired engineering by which our lives are ruled and controlled. That my good lady wife liked these paintings, indeed was drawn to them so much that she put in a bid for two, was, given her penchant for the light, airy and positive, somewhat surprising.

One painting she particularly liked was that of female face. It was, in fact, half a female face, the portrait painted on the very edge of the substrate with half of the image missing. Taught and compelling, the one eye blue and bright reflected something like fear, and there again was that all-pervasive geometrical static, smothering the backdrop and overlaying the startled features. Interestingly enough ~ but remember the artist’s vocation ~ this art form had not been painted on board or canvas but brought to life and into the world on a sheet of rusty iron.

The industrial-look of this artist’s work was indubitably enhanced by the stark, incomplete environment in which it was displayed, a factor which also fed into the large picture of a Russian female comedy actress, noted, I was told, for her happy-go-lucky and comical typecasting, drawn or painted all in white, whilst the dark shadowy head and face of Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs) looks predatorily over her shoulder with a hunger in no way related to the baguette that the actress is ready to eat.

As a long-time devotee of Leonard Cohen, Lord Byron and Edgar Allan Poe, and being continually reminded by my wife that I am bleak and melancholic, these pieces should have been right up my nightmare street and, I have to confess, I enjoyed them, but on this occasion incongruously a role reversal had taken place, with me feeling enthusiastic about a large painting in contrasting pastel and vivid colours depicting two stylized lovers floating in the luminous air somewhere between Heaven and Earth. Seldom have I seen such a picture which radiates instant Karma ~ so soothing, idyllic, tranquil and so ethereal in every sense. Until, that is, I discovered how much it cost. Brought quickly down to earth again by the asking price of (ssshhhh!), I am yet inclined to say that the painting is worth every ruble ~ it was only my wallet holding me back!

Seldom have I seen such a picture which radiates instant Karma ~ so soothing, idyllic, tranquil and so ethereal in every sense.

Flat 10

During our wandering from room to room, I had had the good fortune of being addressed by a very tall, very attractive young Russian woman, dressed in red leather trousers and elevated on a pair of block high heel shoes that seemed to be giving me vertigo.

She told me, among other things, that the best was yet to come ~ wait until you get to apartment number 10, she said. Funny, but the last two exhibit rooms before I got to number 10 are difficult to remember.

I am tempted to say that all I can recall about flat 10 was that it contained a massive king-size bed and a bath tub large enough for four Donald Trumps, but, in reality, I can remember quite a lot more.

Flat 10 was a showcase flat. It had been given the personalised designer treatment and as with all ~ or most ~ of the paintings here on display was up for grabs if you wanted it. Indeed, I was told by the interesting young lady who was talking to me in very good English that I could buy it if I wanted to.

Well, did I?

The old adage that first impressions count may or may not be true, but it is as good a place to start as any. I may have been the only one amongst today’s privileged public to have made a mental note that the door design harked back to the Soviet era, in that access to the apartment (too grand to call it a flat) was governed by two doors in close proximity: first the traditional Russian heavy weight external door with its Fort Knox bolting system and then a more conventional door painted in non-conventional salmon pink. Beyond this curiosity, one walked into a tall, narrow corridor flanked by what appeared to be grey veneered paneling but which was, we discovered later, discreetly shuttered cabinet space. As one would expect from a modern designer flat, the accent was placed firmly on minimalist décor and maximalist space-exploitation. The floor-to-ceiling paneling, which was utilised again in the walkway between the master bedroom and bathroom, was as discreet as it was maximising, and this was because, as with the kitchen cabinets, all of the grey paneled doors had been built sans-handles. All one needed to do to access the space beyond was to touch lightly and the doors pop open. Nothing wrong with that, I thought, unless, of course, you have just woken up from a nightmare in which the world had been robbed of its handles.

If you have a fetish for handles, the flat had a place for them. Indeed, as designer flats go, this one was very much built with a place for everything and everything in its place. The wall directly opposite the entrance has been thoughtfully provided with floor-to-ceiling box shelving in a beech-veneered wood, the rectangular display units varying in size being reminiscent of the modular concept. Space such as this could hold any number of different sized handles and anything else for that matter.

Space optimisation at its best!

By turning left you were heading to the master bedroom, which was located on the right, with the toilet and bathroom opposite. First impressions again: the door with its angled lozenge panels. These I liked. They were one of only two nods in this ultra-modern flat to the past and to antiquity. As for the master bedroom, I was not quite sure whether it was somewhat small or whether the bed was very large, but any risk of complete claustrophobia was dispelled by the timely inclusion of a large glass window that looked out into the covered balcony beyond.

The next stop, however, was the bathroom. I have already referenced the bath tub. It was big. And so was the fixed shower rose above it. As the musician and singer Judge Dread once said, ‘I haven’t see one as big as that before’.

The toilet was round the corner in a separate place of its own and here we were in for more surprises. No, it wasn’t a bucket; it was as designer-modern as the rest of it. We were shown into the toilet cubicle in the dark, but no matter as the inside of the pan was illuminated with little blue lights and the seat popped up automatically. Really, there was no way that you could not be impressed. I whispered to my entranced wife that such a toilet as this was made for a hypochondriac such as me. I had reached the age where ailments and hospital tests are more prevalent than hot dinners, and an illuminated toilet bowl was an excellent idea for checking your stools.

My wife refrained from comment (a phenomenal moment in itself), perhaps because she was already peering inside another room hidden away behind more grey paneling. This was a narrow room, also accessible by the paneling on the inside of the apartment door. It was here where you did your washing and hung your clothes out to dry. On one side there were a couple of 21^st century washing machines and elevated above them an up-to-the-minute tumble dryer; on the other, there were fitted wardrobes and shelves for your clothes. This was so right. The very idea of hanging your socks, pants and sundries over the edge of the balcony just would not work in a place like this.

Room with a view

We were on the balcony next. Make no mistake, this was no khrushchev flat. The balcony was completely self-contained, a great plate of double-glazed glass extending from the yellow-ridged floor to the dizzy heights of the ceiling. The wall had appropriately ~ given the artistic concept by which the event was defined ~ been fitted out with two large abstract paintings, whilst a handsome reproduction antique desk and swivel desk chair demonstrated how the space therein could be utilised as an additional ‘room’, in this case as an office. I liked this balcony. It was, as they say in British estate agents’ parlance, well-appointed, and I could honestly see myself sitting there typing away on an evening as I tried to resist supping beer in the nearby London Pub. I could not, however, see myself walking there ~ too much ~ as impressive as the modern floor structure was, like most modern floors today which are made of composite wood it tended to shift and creak. Not good if like the Sheik of Araby, you tend to creep about at night, and in a compact space-saving flat like this no one could blame you for feeling so inclined, particularly as this balcony contained an adjoining door to the guest room.

Although the guest room was rather small, containing a kind of settee bed, the strategic positioning of a slim vertical mirror opposite the balcony entrance and a wide mirror on the wall facing it, created the illusion of much more space than there was, particularly when the tall, Baroque-style door from bedroom to sitting area was left open.

Looking back at this door, from the sitting room to the guest bedroom, endorsed my earlier prejudice that the lozenge-shaped panels struck an essential and clever juxtaposition, the geometrical profile, although simple, being the perfect foil to handle-less cabinets and satin-smooth textures.

The sitting room and kitchen were, in essence, a double act. The sitting room determined by its flat wall-mounted TV screen and serpentine-shaped comfy settee and the kitchen starting, but partly concealed, behind a tall block screen. If anything did not work for me inside this flat it was the screen. It was dark-coloured and its height and breadth reminded me of the type of front desks that you feel belittled by in old Soviet-style hotels, such as Kaliningrad’s Moscow. Behind the front desk in this room, there were the kitchen work surfaces and state-of-the-art kitchen appliances and, immediately behind them, and soaring up behind them, a monolithic formation of touch-door operated fitted-kitchen cabinets. I am a beans-on-toast man myself, but even I could see that for kitchen aficionados there was nothing wanting in high-tech, or in ultra-swish, clean and easily cleanable where this kitchen was concerned.

The one thing that I have omitted to mention so far is the absence of a proper ceiling ~ by proper I mean traditional. In fact, there is no ceiling, at least no plasterboard painted ceiling. Above your head in this flat the concrete structure looks down on you in all its unexpurgated and natural naked glory. I like it. It melds perfectly into the industrial and steampunk ethos by which we live our modern lives, from train station to airport, from café bar to attic revamp, it is the modern-day equivalent of the nuts, bolts and rivets statement which defined the architecture of the industrial revolution. That it has followed us into our homes should not surprise us, but in this flat, just in case it did, the designers had taken the decorative precaution of stenciling onto the overhead concrete an elaborate sequence of scrolls, this constituting the second nod to antiquity, as the distinctive outline and shell-like form is unmistakably related to the family Rococo.

For a man who has spent most of his life dodging minimalism as if it were the plague, I have to confess that I was happily engaged by what I had witnessed today and the way that it had affected me. There is every possibility that I will never be able to look at a half-finished flat again without thinking, ‘this needs artwork’ or ‘what I could do with this space if only I had the creative vision of the designers of flat number 10’.

Essential Details:

The exhibition is a joint offline project of the ART SPACE Internet Gallery and PEPA HOME STEGING, which prepares real estate for sale.

Project Organisers

Stepanyuk Natalya, Exhibition Curator & Artist (examples of her works exhibited)

Kiseleva Tatyana, Architect & Interior Designer

Contributing Artists Include:

Baeva, Natalya

Elfimov, George

Elfimova, Lyudmila

Bulychev, Yuri

el cartoon

Kiseleva, Tatyana

Stepanyuk, Natalya

Vernikovskaya, Olga

Chepkasova, Natalya

Elfimov, Alexander Prokopyevich

Apartment Design

Tatyana Kiseleva, Architect (planning, interior design, furniture and all interior items)

Personalised Interior Design Project

Following consultation with the architect, an individual planning solution is offered to any buyer of any apartment in the building this article features.

For more information, contact

Tatyana Kiseleva

Tel: +7 9211033313

KSK Real Estate

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