The story centers on Dmitry Shagin, the leader of the Mitki art group, who says that his painting “Mitki 91” and his name on the exhibition stand were removed from the Manege exhibition in St. Petersburg after what he calls a denunciation. The disclosure of his words came through RBC via a Telegram channel report.
Shagin voices a clear suspicion: a tip-off against him likely triggered the decision. He suggests that the choice to remove his work was influenced by some informant who framed the situation in a way that led organizers to act.
According to Shagin, he first found out about the removal not from the organizers but from journalists who were on the scene. Later, Anna Yalova, who runs the Manege exhibition space, explained that the painting had been taken off to undergo restoration due to a hole in the canvas.
Shagin recalled asking if he could address the issue himself, offering to repair the hole, but said the response remained evasive. This exchange left him with the impression that a straightforward solution was being avoided.
As the situation unfolded, Shagin learned that his name had been blurred on the exhibition’s information stand, that photographs featuring him had been removed, and that his name had disappeared from the press release. The organizers characterized the incident as a mistake and noted that the blurring applied to many participants, not just him.
“Yesterday they sent me a photo of the new stand; I was already removed from the exhibitor list, and those two names that were previously blurred out appear again”, Shagin observed, underscoring how the changes seemed to reverse and complicate the earlier explanation.
Mitki 91, created in 1991, holds a concrete connection to a real historical moment—the August 1991 coup attempt in Moscow. The painting has long been read as a reflection on political tension and the fragility of public truth in times of upheaval.
Shagin noted that this particular work, and the broader discussion around it, has echoed through years of exhibitions and public conversations about art and politics. In earlier years, discussions around another of his works, Vest Day, I have referred to the same broad topic: the way art can provoke, challenge, and become a focal point for debates about peace and conflict. The artist has since clarified that the removed painting was connected to an intended message of peace, and this intention has been part of the dialogue about his oeuvre.
There are broader implications in play here as well. The public conversation surrounding the Manege exhibition and the treatment of Shagin’s piece raises questions about how museums and galleries respond to sensitive political content. The incident has sparked reflections on whether curatorial decisions are influenced by external pressures, how information is presented to the public, and who is ultimately responsible for the integrity of an exhibition catalog.
Meanwhile, in the background of these events, a separate note surfaced about a previous case involving the consideration of Akunin’s matter, which relates to activities designated as foreign agent work in Russia. The reference serves as a reminder that cultural spaces operate within a landscape where political labels and vigilance can intersect with artistic presentation. The juxtaposition pushes the conversation beyond a single painting and into broader themes about freedom of expression, institutional accountability, and the responsibilities of cultural institutions in times of political sensitivity. It also underscores how art can become a mirror for public tensions, inviting viewers to examine the balance between safeguarding heritage and preserving open dialogue.