Alexandra Kaurowa The Subtle Interventions of Christian Hasucha St. Petersburg, August 1993 Translated from the Russian by Maria Marginter In a sense, the action staged by the Cologne-based artist Christian Hasucha in St. Petersburg was akin to the spirit of our city: metaphysical, poetic, and romantic. He did not intend to depict his particular relationship to Russian reality, nor did his event engage in the kind of political subtext and symbolism so often practiced today. The "public diary" is one link in a series of projects that the artist has realized in Germany and beyond. The fundamental strategic principle of "Public Interventions" remains: artifacts were distributed throughout the urban space, provoking a flow of events. A key characteristic of the St. Petersburg action, however, was the fact that the context, which is crucial to Hasucha's work, differs significantly from that in Western Europe. At the locations chosen by the St. Petersburg participants in his project, Hasucha installed objects: ten unadorned, white-painted steel stools, reminiscent of hospital furniture. The stools' bases were fixed in the asphalt, making it impossible to remove or even move them. The artist's activities went unnoticed by the authorities; he hadn't informed anyone, anticipating a lack of understanding. The installation of the stools in the heart of St. Petersburg, in the city's oldest districts, must have struck many residents as disconcerting: a stool on the banks of the wide Neva River, against the backdrop of the austere architecture of the Academy of Arts, framed by the ornate facades of state buildings from the time of Peter the Great, and in a small square next to the former Monument to the Unknown Pioneers. The clear outline of a stool stands out at the vanishing point of a linden-lined avenue, on a rooftop against the changing colors of the evening sky. The stool as a keyword, a point, a question mark. It really belongs in the kitchen. But Hasucha wanted to place it at the center of events. Thus, the stool is the main character and instigator of this interlude on the street. Over the course of five days, at specific times, an "observer" sat on each stool and recorded all the events they perceived. However, this wasn't a formal, protocol-like record: the entries on the pages of the "diary" were of a deeply personal nature. The writer sitting on the stool became an outsider, a "fool on the hill," as the Beatles would say. In this position, he had to concentrate on his own perceptions and feelings. The diaries were therefore all different. Each one reflected the individual writer's state of mind and mood. The "observer" who sat for two hours in the middle of a busy square, for example, devoted most of his notes to the sparrows pecking at breadcrumbs around his feet. One participant's diary was written in verse, a third meticulously tracked the passage of time, down to the second, and so on. Afterward, Hasucha collected the diary pages and attached them to trees, posts, and house walls in close proximity to the "objects." In this way, the thoughts and impressions of the participants were made public. The five days of "eavesdropping" and "secret observation" were, in a sense, compensated for. The situation shifted, much like a Möbius strip: the boundary between the reflection of the events in the "observer's" consciousness and their reproduction on the diary pages became vague and almost indistinguishable. What was meant to remain hidden turned outward and once again became part of the urban space. The city itself was not indifferent to such an unexpected invasion of its life. Hasucha's idea would have remained a sterile designer piece had it not provoked reactions from the people of St. Petersburg. Like the ripples created by a stone thrown into water, rumors, explanations, and speculations spread. The appearance of the stools was welcomed by the city's inhabitants: "At least there's something to sit on! So what if it's standing there, it's not bothering anyone!" Among other things, the following dialogue ensued: "Why did they put the chairs out?" - "Just because." - "Well, that's right, you're being good." The encounters surrounding the stools were reminiscent of the staged "incidents" of the St. Petersburg poet Daniil Charms, with whose work Hasucha, incidentally, is very familiar. Two residents from neighboring buildings placed a piece of railway track next to the stool to demonstrate their appreciation of modern art. The seat of another stool was covered with colorful ornaments two days after the installation—the pristine white of the stools had not left many indifferent. Another of Hasucha's objects was brutally smeared with sticky black paint. The uniformity, whiteness, and solid craftsmanship of the objects, in a way, highlight the difference in mentality: a Russian artist would likely not have approached the action with such precision. The interaction between the "observer" and the passersby expressed the full spectrum of human emotions: from idle curiosity and suspicion of espionage to complete trust. The latter was evident in the lively conversation that gathered around the seated figure, with people sharing stories of their lives when they saw their words being recorded. Hasucha's works continue to exist in time and space. For now, the stools still stand out as a jarring element. Soon, however, people will become accustomed to them, no longer notice them, and perhaps use them in a different way in the future. Christian Hasucha's concept - logically structured and consistently implemented - has naturally integrated itself into our cultural context. Against the backdrop of relentless environmental destruction (which is particularly destructive in our city), nothing seems more enduring than a simple place to sit. In a state of inner confusion and without any points of reference, the invitation to sit down and reflect on what is happening around us seems especially appropriate. Cf. Project documentation No. 17: Public Diary