In the West, the word ‘Underground' refers to movements in art which are considered different to the current popular culture, where artists consciously swim against the tide. The origin of the term stems from resistance movements in history, where people would literally go underground to escape whichever harsh regime was oppressing them at the time. It's always been secretive and elitist to a point, but never truly beaten down.
In the USSR, ‘Underground' was never quite like its Western counterpart, despite sharing the same name. Mass culture so generic that over 80 percent of artists and writers didn't fit the mold they were expected to, and were forced to stop interaction with the public altogether or face a penalty of imprisonment or exile to the camps. They wanted not to stand out and change the world, but simply to express themselves in the way their nature demanded. Boris Sveshnikov was one of the leading artists of Underground in the USSR, and one of the many unfortunates who was packed off to the gulag for "anti-Soviet propaganda." Sveshnikov's imprisonment began when he was just 19 years old and lasted 8 years.
During his confinement he never stopped drawing, which was probably what kept him going through the years. The drawings and paintings from that period are incredible. His sketches of scenes from everyday life at the camps are fragile and elaborate, with a great many of them being so peaceful and lovingly drawn that they might as well be pastoral scenes from little villages. At the same time, some of these sketches have details which, once noticed, give the drawings an eerie atmosphere - a few characters sport no heads and others have facial expressions of horror or sadness, but because there's just so much going on (one some of the sketches there seem to be dozens of characters, each preoccupied with their own private business) you may never understand the picture as a whole. Sveshnikov obviously had a lot of patience - working in pen, every single detail is drawn out perfectly, from clouds to grooves in the grass to minute, barely visible creases in clothing. Some of the elements present in these old sketches are also signs of his works to come - it was probably in the camps that his morbid preoccupation with death began.
After his release from the camps Sveshnikov's style gradually changed. Having started with traditional oil painting, slightly reminiscent of Hieronymus Bosch in his style of coloring, presentation of characters and choice of doomsday-looking backgrounds, he steadily drifted towards more experimental styles. He started to incorporate elements of pointillism and employed mixed media, eventually ditching oil completely in favor of ink and gouache. 
Sveshnikov was extremely withdrawn. He talked little and rarely expressed his emotions; his paintings spoke for him instead. His engrossment with death and the frailty of our surroundings found its way into everything he produced. Characters' features, formerly shown with exaggerated curves and a general puffiness, began to elongate, becoming painfully thin and greener in color with every year, until by the end of his career they were almost alien-like. The presence of ominous shadows became more and more frequent. In terms of colors, blue reigned supreme and became a constant, with the other colors applied simply to make shapes discernible.
If you take one of Sveshnikov's early paintings and place it alongside a piece he produced not long before his death, the contrast is so strong it becomes difficult to believe that they were made by the same hand. He was an extremely talented artist, but I must admit I found his final works difficult to bear - the anguish he spilled out onto paper ultimately becomes painful to look at. Despite this I believe everyone, regardless
of their stylistic preferences - Sveshnikov spanned a very wide style spectrum - should visit his exhibition, which as of today is the first exhibition dedicated exclusively to him. The gulag sketches are absolutely fantastic in their purity of line (and are easily among the better things I've seen in months), his early works are engrossing in their detail, and while I didn't take to his final works, the style he developed is unique and should not be missed.
By Olga Yakimenko
July 13 - August 17
Novy Ermitazh
Spiridonovka, 4, building 1
