Giving nicknames and labels is a popular habit in Russia. Artist Nikas Safronov, too, was no exception: he was once called erotic and the label nearly stuck.

In one of my earlier articles about the artist, I, too, tried to stick a tag on him. For me, he was “a blade runner”, us similar, to the hero of Scott Ridley's ruinous movie, because of his ability to tread the edge of the most incompat­ible styles and worlds. Now. many years later, looking through his new works he brought from Italy, I come to understand what is special about him: his kaleidoscopic eyes. Those of Lucy's in “the sky with diamonds”. His kaleidoscopic view scans the world inside out and blends it one single whole, llyu Glazunov also used this manner, but his academic school didn't allow him to achieve an utter synthesis of Russian reality.

A Lithuanian name and childhood, Moscow life, and Italian blues are the bricks from which the rebel artist is made. His career started with a scan­dal. He was the first who was struck by the idea to use old broken icons. The result: through the patina and faces of the saints, looking at you is something you do not expect to see beauties in the nude. Many were shocked, which probably contributed to accusations of eroticism. The feel­ing I have when looking at Safronov's paintings is that of entering a church devastated in Soviet times—an empty building with pages from an erotic magazine scattered on the floor. Sanc­tity overswept by the vulgarities of post-Soviet life. Pop symbols which claim to create a new philosophy. Saf­ronov is, perhaps, the only remaining Russian artist who knows how to se­lect from millions of strange and dreadful images around us only those which he needs and create “the song of songs” of present-day Russia.

His canvasses arc a rich brew of the real and mythical. In one of them, “From Moscow History”, a portrayal of Russia's tragic history, he brings together St. George, the patron of Moscow, and members of the royal family. The image of Grigory Ras­putin is borrowed from Elem Klimov's film “Agony” where the most notorious figure in Russian his­tory was played by Alexei Petrenko. Stylistically, his manner is bordering on a challenge.

But Safronov, hiding a smile in his semi-Asiatic eyes, seems not to notice that. Compared to Abram Terts's “Strolls with Pushkin”, which antag­onized all “patriot” writers, the pictor­ial image of (he greatly-revered Rus­sian poet in Safronov's “Pushkin in the Context of the Epoch” is much more controversial. A non-academic composition comprised of 17 frag­ments, the painting depicts Pushkin as a malicious, lustful person who seems to scorn his stupid contemporaries, as well as us, no less stupid descendants.

Or take his “Nostradamus” or Bosch-inspired “Birth of Venus”. That is vintage Safronov, with all his roots and ideals. Bearing resemblance to Bosch, Dali (by the way, Safronov's a-la-Dali Lenin is the funniest I've ever seen), Bruegel, and Lithuanian past masters, his canvasses exhale an unsuppresible male drive which is felt in his every stroke.

Safronov emanates a powerful sexual charge. It's akin to the feeling of liberation which is also a characteristic feature of post-totalitarian society. This makes Safronov the right person in the right place.

Indeed, one has to be a Safronov to be able to use the medium of icon painting at a time when former athe­ists convert into believers, and remain true to himself. One has to have his talent not to abuse the denial of aca­demic norms.

It's only sad, that his latest works he made in Italy returned home in the form of Kodak slides. All of the orig­inals were sold out (one was bought by Sofia Loren). That's probably, what they call popularity. But what then arc we left with?

Igor Maltsev