Macabre Mate

In the medieval dance of death, Death had no face of its own. A skull, empty sockets, a grin, the same for everyone. This was the source of its power: it is impersonal, and so it cannot be bargained with. It comes to the pope, the merchant, and the child in the same form and leaves no room for exceptions. Andrienko makes a simple and uncomfortable gesture: he replaces that face with his own. The skeleton in the round is no longer an allegory but a specific person with a name, a biography, and a date of birth. Death, leading the procession, turns out to be the artist, who does not stand beside it as an observer but puts on its role. The move works in both directions. On the one hand, the author admits that he is not outside the dance: whoever draws Death is already in line, and cannot remain a spectator. On the other hand, he takes on a role usually held by an impersonal force. Each of us is, in someone else’s life, a little bit of Death: the one who leaves, who forgets, who stops answering, who becomes a memory. Here the artist’s face works as a mask and a mirror at once. The old formula memento mori always addressed someone else: remember that you will die. Here, for the first time, it is spoken in the first person: “remember that I will die.” This changes the tone. The moralizing falls away, and what remains is a confession, almost a whisper, in a round dance where everyone holds hands. Work was presented in Zollamt Gallery in 2026.