The Dead Pool Won’t Ripple

The Dead Pool Won’t Ripple


The Dead Pool Won’t Ripple. 2019, 50 found sleeves, welding, acrylic paint, text on a wall, 250 x 1 x 1 cm.

Exhibitions history

Ain’t nobody’s business, PinchukArtCentre, Kyiv, Ukraine
Ukraine. Under a Different Sky, Zamek Ujazdowski, Warsaw, Poland

A minimalist stack of used cartridge cases visualizes the fragilities and fortitudes of the LGBT+ community.
The constituent cartridges have a tendency to scatter upon firing—chaotically covering the ground, trudged upon, left to rust. In vertically piling the cartridges, Karabinovych transforms something deemed expendable into something intrinsic. Casualties assume a new, vertical, towering formation. Though each cartridges are cast from the same mould, they each retain subtle differences in color and texture.
In short, each cartridge has its own skin—a skin that shines, a skin that camouflages, a skin that catches the light just so.

Лукаво без меры сердце человеческое и погрязло в пороке: кто познает его? Омут в дремучем лесу — страшная, черная вода, безмолвная, неподвижная. Жуткий мертвый покой. Буря бушует в лесу, гнутся высокие сосны, рвется паутина меж их ветвями, треск и стон стоит кругом. Но мертвая гладь не шелохнется. Неподвижна черная вода в глубокой котловине, только сучья падают в омут. Ветер терзает лес, но ему не прорваться вниз к воде. Ты спишь и в бурю, лесное озеро. На дне твоем нет драконов; времена мамонтов и ящеров миновали. Казалось бы, человеку нечего бояться тебя. На дне твоем гниют растения, да изредка плеснет по воде ленивая рыба. И больше ничего… Пусть так, пусть это всего лишь вода, и все же как страшна она, черная, недобрая, застывшая в грозном безмолвии…

Alfred Döblin

Berlin Alexander platz

I grew up in a building on the corner of Pushkinska and Zhukovska Street. The first gay club in Odesa, the iconic Tema, was several blocks away from my family’s apartment, on the corner of Pushkinska and Derybasivska. Another was directly across the street from it. They were like Romeo and Juliet.

Actually, I don’t quite remember which club was the original. Perhaps it was Chornomorets.

I’ve only been to Tema once. By the entrance was a quaint gypsum angel. The interiors were unremarkable.

Tema’s owner fought in the Anti-Terrorist Operation in the east of the country. It was a car accident, where he died on his way back from the East.

This story captivates me.

Thanks: Daniella Geo and Hisk


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