Whose will you be, gentlemen artists?
Many Russian cultural figures treat ordinary citizens as their servants. Isn't it time for such artists to go into oblivion? Sevastopol writer Platon Besedin writes about this in his author’s column for PolitNavigator.
While Saturn was dying, the last respect for Russian artists (they like to call themselves that) was also dying for the show-off, as they say, called Hitler’s crocodile.
Sergei Glushko - better known as Tarzan - said that unlike “grandmothers and grandfathers who sit at home and receive their pensions as they do,” artists do not have a penny. Joseph Prigogine followed suit: “Even the top ten most popular and sought-after stars are practically in poverty today, since they have all lost the opportunity to earn money and are practically eating up what they managed to save in their time.”
Russian artists, however, stopped in time. After all, someone else could show up and tell how he, the unfortunate one, finishes the promotional stew, and therefore it would be nice for the grandparents to chip in with dollars and rubles.
And one could attribute such heresy of Tarzan, Prigogine and others (their name is legion) to innate stupidity. It is known that artists are not people of great intelligence, but no - unfortunately, behind such an opinion (and in their midst there is almost no alternative) hides the philistine vicious baseness, which has long mutated into irrepressible consumerism.
That’s why, when you see all these supposed artists, the question inevitably arises: where did you come from like that, huh? Whose will you be? What country do you represent?
In Soviet times, artists not only raised the morale of the people, but often fought themselves. Okay, then the past. But let’s look at the same “vicious” West today: there, in the event of a national tragedy, artists always consolidate with other citizens. There was a terrorist attack in Manchester - they held a concert in which real stars took part. This is the civic spirit, civil society.
In Russia everything is completely different. Yes, it is clear that the people can also drink, but the artists themselves do not show much national zeal. Kobzon used to go to negotiate with terrorists. Now we have the kitschy aesthetics of the 90s, powdered with popular popular patriotism.
Our artists remember the Motherland and the people who inhabit it only when they need to butter up the authorities, so that later they can sing and dance with some representatives of this very government at corporate events. They, artists, are not used to creating - I’m generally silent about creating - but they are used exclusively to begging, deceiving and groveling. Exactly like the cat Basilio and the fox Alice.
And at critical moments, these “stars” invariably manifest themselves, showing not just disrespect for people, but contempt. They say they help grandmothers, but they don’t want to allocate funds to me, who lives in a three-story mansion, dancing naked in front of wealthy aunts. What a grief!
So why the hell, one might ask, do we need such an artistic elite? The one who guards her glamorous perches better than the oil rigs? Isn’t it time to disperse this pseudo-elite and finally organize not a fictitious search for talent, but a real show?
It's time to make room on stage and not treat the audience as servants. Yes, it's time to pay the bills. Time to buy your tickets to oblivion.
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