Departáment
Production
Peter Ivanov
Creative direction
An unfinished museum: dust everywhere, wires hanging from the ceiling, and you standing there wondering where the entrance is, where the exit is, where the restrooms are. And tomorrow — the opening of Rem Koolhaas’s architectural masterpiece. Seven events back to back, each with its own crowd and its own mood, from the international press to a party for the art scene.
We kicked off with the press conference. Both our perfectionism and our nerves got a workout — we spent weeks arguing over the color of a tablecloth. Seriously. It had to work with the mosaic, catch no glare, and "breathe" with the room. Then came dinner for Roman Abramovich and Dasha Zhukova’s guests: 300 people in a room built for a hundred. The fix — a snowflake seating plan and a Cossack choir. Guests floored, their stories nothing but delight.
Then the climax. Artist Rirkrit Tiravanija sent a black square up into the sky — a full-on daytime firework: smoke, a boom, a shockwave big enough to set off a scare over at Gorky Park. The Ministry of Defense was on the phone, security came tearing in with lights flashing. Now that’s a performance.
The next day — the art crowd: Kusama, a mirror room, ping-pong installations, printed tees. Lines out the door, glitter, pure delight. The museum had come alive.
And yeah — on this one we were less creatives in the usual sense and more directors of chaos. Our job was to make it all click: the mosaic, the tables, the ribbons, the badges. The building was still going up while the event was already running.
That’s what the opening of the year looks like — when you’ve got no finished venue, but you do have nerve, taste, and a black square made of fireworks.
We kicked off with the press conference. Both our perfectionism and our nerves got a workout — we spent weeks arguing over the color of a tablecloth. Seriously. It had to work with the mosaic, catch no glare, and "breathe" with the room. Then came dinner for Roman Abramovich and Dasha Zhukova’s guests: 300 people in a room built for a hundred. The fix — a snowflake seating plan and a Cossack choir. Guests floored, their stories nothing but delight.
Then the climax. Artist Rirkrit Tiravanija sent a black square up into the sky — a full-on daytime firework: smoke, a boom, a shockwave big enough to set off a scare over at Gorky Park. The Ministry of Defense was on the phone, security came tearing in with lights flashing. Now that’s a performance.
The next day — the art crowd: Kusama, a mirror room, ping-pong installations, printed tees. Lines out the door, glitter, pure delight. The museum had come alive.
And yeah — on this one we were less creatives in the usual sense and more directors of chaos. Our job was to make it all click: the mosaic, the tables, the ribbons, the badges. The building was still going up while the event was already running.
That’s what the opening of the year looks like — when you’ve got no finished venue, but you do have nerve, taste, and a black square made of fireworks.
Peter
Ivanov
Ivanov
