August 16, 2023
Editorial Note
Before her untimely death in May 2023, Bakhyt Bubikanova (1985-2023) was one of the leading figures of a younger generation of Kazakh artists. She used her work to reflect on the paradoxical elements of everyday life and the socio-cultural changes taking place in Kazakhstan’s rapidly developing economy. Connecting the local with the global, she dissected and reassembled entrenched associations, symbols, and representations of “Central Asian identity” as she saw fit. The essay below, written by art historian Yuliya Sorokina delves deeper into the life and work of Bubikanova. It is an adaptation of an essay that was first published in Russian on ariadna.media in October 2021. The text has been translated by Timur Zolotoev. In 2020, two works by Bubikanova were donated to the Stedelijk, one of which, B. BUBIKANOVA after A. DJAPAROV #3 (2020), is currently on display at the museum.
“I let go of the past and extend myself forward.”
Bakhyt Bubikanova (1985-2023)
“Bakha-Festival” was the nickname given to Bakhyt Bubikanova by her classmates at KazNAA (Temirbek Zhurgenov Kazakh National Academy of Arts), where she pursued her studies at the Department of Monumental Sculpture. The nickname aptly reflected her infernal behavior and constant antics. She was very delicate yet powerful: the stark contrast between her subtle physique and her astonishing inner strength was impossible to overlook. Bubikanova consistently manifested her individuality through independent conduct, self-confidence that bordered on despotism, and a remarkable ability to generate brilliant ideas out of thin air. When observing her work, one often found it nonsensical at the beginning. However, akin to the unfolding of a compelling dramaturgy, the concept, composition, and harmony gradually revealed themselves at the end when the results were unveiled.
The first work that truly captivated me was the video performance Sebastian (2013). A piece that vividly depicts the quest for the Other through a gendered lens. It features a half-naked androgynous figure assuming the iconic pose of Saint Sebastian: bound to a (telegraph) pole. The figure’s gender is later revealed as a young woman engaged in the mundane task of hanging laundry on a rope. The video was filmed on a cell phone without any editing; evoking the impression of an impromptu performative sketch. Yet, this unfiltered approach serves as a testament to the unwavering exploration of transgender manifestations in the contemporary world. Simultaneously, the work assumes the form of a video oxymoron, intertwining the tragedy of death and the burden of domestic labor within the artist’s own life.
Bubikanova’s performances are not immanent, they transcend mere action and concept; they sprout along unpredictable trajectories into other artifacts. Therefore, we could presume that Sebastian is intricately linked to a series of her works that utilize the artist’s body as a sculptural medium: Peri (2012-2013), Portrait of Ida Rubinstein (from the Remake series) (2013), The Renaissance of Kazakh Elian Barocco (2014), and Barymta (from the Kazakh Imperial Painting series) (2016 – ongoing). Although these works may appear straightforward at first glance, they are multilayered and possess the quality of lasting understatement. It seems that through performativity, Bubikanova was able to engage with the “plastic mindset” of a sculptor, translating her plastic reflections into tangible objects and paintings.
In Bosom (2016), she started utilizing carpets and their language as her sculptural tool by penetrating their pattern system and disrupting it with her body image. The subsequent phase unveils the utilization of carpets as gateways to Asian aesthetics, employing Malevich’s iconic Black Square (1915). Bakha meticulously painted multiple carpets using black paint, displaying them as non-functioning portals. She revisited the the carpet-portal, mercilessly cutting into it and delving into its meanings and patterns. She also repeatedly reverted to the message of Black Square, each time offering a reinterpretation through the lens of her own work. For Bubikanova, the Black Carpet became what Malevich described as “zero of form”—a foundation for a new language.
After the Black Carpets series, Bubikanova ventured into the exploration of micro-elements within her artistic universe. She imitated architectural and natural details by arranging different natural elements using micro-optics. She described her universe in a simple, even dry language. However, this plastic non-narrative storytelling inexplicably conveyed ambiguous emotional information. Bubikanova’s newly emerged universe unfolded within her paintings, such as Copy 2 (2017), Grass (2017), Ot (Fire) (2018), and Tutin (Smoke) (2018).
BUBIKANOVA after A. DJAPAROV #3, 2020. Acrylic on canvas, 150 x 120 cm. Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, Inv. Nr. 2021.0230.2
A series of conceptual paintings titled B. BUBIKANOVA after A. DJAPAROV (2020-21) serves as more of a simulacrum of painting, with the artist utilizing it as a signifying tool and medium. On large canvases, the artist renders doodles reminiscent of those we often scribble in notebooks during lectures, phone calls, or Zoom meetings. These doodles can be perceived as glimpses into our psyche, even as some evocative symbols emerge—a swastika, a candle, a crescent moon, a mountain, a river, and more. Bubikanova incorporated numerous doodles created by her husband, Arman Djaparov, arranging their fragments and motifs in her own distinctive manner and constructing a figurative narrative. Simultaneously, the artist creates the illusion of a notebook page within a grid, giving the impression of an enlarged reproduction. Essentially, what we witness is hypertext—a “non-sequential writing—text that branches and allows choices to the reader”[1]—unveiling a multilayered message open to interpretation. This series reflects the rise of cognitive dissonance that impedes our perception of reality from decade-defining events such as the pandemic lockdowns, reactionary policies, global economic collapse, and overall social unpredictability.
How can we interpret, for instance, the image of a swastika involuntarily drawn by her husband’s hand? Does it stand for a multilayered ancient symbol representing movement, life, and prosperity? Or does it evoke the historical association with Hitler’s fascist regime, symbolizing death and atrocities? Why does this symbol emerge from the subconscious at this particular moment? The perspective of the observer determines the place of swastika in the modern world. It seems that in the case of Baha, who emphasized her non-involvement in political issues, the choice of the swastika can be considered an artistic gesture of another appropriation of the swastika as a foreknowledge of a new war and through the understanding of horror and chaos.
In the process of interpretation, the doodles emerge as a symbolic quest of an individual tethered to the computer screen, struggling with neurosis stemming from excessive online engagement.
On one hand, employing the medium of painting to convey hypertext in an age of digitalization and virtual reality may seem provocative, beckoning a return to a classical understanding of creativity and cognition. On the other hand, painting elevates simple doodles—the unconscious flow of thoughts—to the status of symbols representing our time.
One of the fundamental principles of modern creative thinking as researched by Austin Kleon is the idea to “steal like an artist”. Bubikanova’s approach involved appropriating the intimate moments of others’ thoughts and transforming them into her own public expression.
Bubikanova said the following of her practice:
My work always progresses in layers. Each layer can span a couple of years, like an archeological excavation—you dig deeper and deeper, unearthing something new in the process. Sometimes, it happens like this—one, two, three, four—I do something, but as I work, something new reveals itself…
- Portrait of Bakhyt Bubikanova. Courtesy: Aspan Gallery, Almaty.
- Bakhyt Bubikanova, Sebastian, 2014, video still. Courtesy: Aspan Gallery, Almaty.
- Bakhyt Bubikanova, BUBIKANOVA after A. DJAPAROV #3, 2020, acrylic on canvas, 150 x 120 cm. Collection Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam.
- Bakhyt Bubikanova, Peri, 2012-2013, photocollage, 123 x 82 cm. Courtesy of Aspan Gallery, Almaty.
- Bakhyt Bubikanova, Peri, 2012-2013, photocollage, 123 x 82 cm. Courtesy of Aspan Gallery, Almaty.
- Bakhyt Bubikanova, Peri, 2012-2013, photocollage, 123 x 82 cm. Courtesy of Aspan Gallery, Almaty.
- Bakhyt Bubikanova, Fence, 2021, installation, metal, various dimensions. Courtesy of Aspan Gallery, Almaty.
- Bakhyt Bubikanova, BLYAYA, 2021, acrylic on plywood, 150 x 55 cm each. Courtesy of Aspan Gallery, Almaty.
Reflection
Once, during a lecture on ornaments, an idea struck me—that a rhombus resembles the shape of an entrance portal. I wanted to present this entrance in an extremely minimalist manner using our carpet as the foundation. So, what if I divided it into three parts? Essentially, I would transform the two-dimensional into the three-dimensional. This deviation from minimalism allows me to extract volume from a flat medium…
My work and life are intertwined. I always learn something about life, its meaning, what is God, who I am, who people are, what space is… I start with something, an idea, but I never know what will come out in the end—that happens during the creative process. Because it’s not just me who works, the space and everything else works too…
There’s this concept of “bifurcation”—when you can’t go here and can’t go there. Artists often superficially latch onto general ideas—social, political, and also common archetypes and symbols. I aspire to delve deeper than that. I can’t use Kazakh attire because it has already been extensively used. Or I need to approach things differently to avoid repetition—with Almagul Menlibayeva, with Said Atabekov, or with the Madanovs. I don’t like overtly political themes because I’m not knowledgeable about politics. I don’t want it to be like a mere illustration for a newspaper headline. I’m not allowed to, not allowed to, and so I keep digging deeper and deeper, refusing to stay on the surface, and going deeper…
To me, art is a means of understanding life. This is the way I comprehend everything around me. When I uncover something for myself, it marks the completion of a certain stage in my life and the beginning of something new…
In the past, I refrained from revisiting previous themes or works. However, over the past two years, I have been requested to do so. It has intrigued me to observe that while these works were once physically and emotionally challenging, I now approach them with ease as these themes no longer hold significance for me. They belong to a distant past. In other words, I let go of the past and extend myself forward.
Bubikanova employed social media and societal norms in their various forms, navigating within the realm of human rules and relationships. She utilized diverse mediums such as painting, collage, video, performance, and intervention, allowing them to interchange and complement each other, emphasizing her life collisions or the pressing issues of the time. Every day, Bubikanova transformed her life into a unique “performance-drome,” constantly generating artistic gestures as she lived and interacted with the world. Personal experiences, observations, aesthetic and ethical inquiries, as well as fundamental and paradigmatic aspects of art, remained at the forefront of her creative agenda.
The performance The Sower: The Great Artist B. Bubikanova (2020) has an interesting backstory. Due to the artist’s ongoing battle with illness, she couldn’t always be present at her own exhibitions or carry out planned performances. As a result, two invited artists took on her role in The Sower. To honor the author, the invited performers wore badges that read: “The Great Artist B. Bubikanova.” They performed a simple act, taking turns scattering banana peels and collecting them. The performance took place at Essentai Mall, one of the most upscale shopping centers in Almaty, as part of the Food for Thought exhibition curated by Olga Veselova and Vladislav Sludsky.
In this instance, Bubikanova remained true to herself and conveyed a multilayered message through a performance. Seasoned audiences would primarily interpret it as a satirical critique of consumerist society, which indulges in a life surrounded by expensive commodities and elitist products without generating anything meaningful. The banana peel served as a symbol of the superficiality inherent in such consumerist existence. It unavoidably also brings about a dialogue with the controversial artwork Comedian by Maurizio Cattelan that features a banana affixed to a wall with duct tape, which was sold in three editions for $120,000 each at the Art Basel Miami fair in 2019. More discerning viewers would also recognize the allusion to the novel The Twelve Chairs by Ilya Ilf and Yevgeny Petrov. In this classic satirical novel, the conman protagonist Ostap Bender impersonates an artist and paints a sower who is scattering government bond certificates. In this performance, the artist offered us the key to unraveling its essence which extends beyond the act of scattering bananas. It revolves around the substitution of the artist with duplicates, questioning Bubikanova’s qualitative attributes and exploring the formation of artistic authority. It raises thought-provoking questions such as: What defines an artist? What is the value of an artist? What constitutes authentic art? Who determines the truthfulness of art? Which is more important, the idea or the execution? These are fundamental questions about the nature of art that transcend time.
Bubikanova avoided explicit connotations and instead opted to operate in the periphery, as if on the fringes of the main narrative. However, this approach granted her the ability to merge meanings and mediums and infuse irony and even sarcasm, resulting in a cohesive and innovative body of work that demanded viewers to independently interpret its significance. More often than not, she either repelled or attracted people, drawing individuals into her orbit like a supernova that ignites the universe of art to evolve while concurrently creating black holes. These portals are illuminated by the reflected meaning of her gestures. Essentially, she “extends herself forward.”
About the Author
Yuliya Sorokina, PhD, independent curator and researcher of contemporary art in Central Asia.
[1] Ted Nelson, cited in George P. Landow, Hypertext: The Convergence of Contemporary Critical Theory and Technology (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992), 4.