Associating oneself with Ter-Oganian has become dangerous. Contemporary Russian artists are emerging from long years of Soviet control, and are attempting to re-establish a broken tradition of experiment and creativity. Despite having to contend with Tsarist censorship, a succession of painters, poets, composers, novelists, and, later, filmmakers established one of the world's great avant-garde traditions, encompassing visual and poetic constructivism, literary mystic sectarianism, advances in cinematic montage, and other movements that, while perhaps unfamiliar to many Westerners, are an integral part of the world's artistic heritage. This remarkable vitality was driven underground by the Communist regime. In attempting to re-establish the tradition, today's Russian artists find themselves in the contentious role once occupied by such creators as Stravinsky, Jarry, the Dadaists, and the painters of the Salon des Refuses.
Controversy is endemic to critical art.
Mr. Ter-Oganian does not regard himself or his work as immune from criticism, either of the sort invited by his performances, or from criticism that arises from unintended responses. In a democratic society, Orthodox believers have as legitimate a role in the discourse of art as anyone else. But at stake is the issue of freedom itself. Already, critics and journalists sympathetic to Mr. Ter-Oganian's situation have become wary of supporting him. Many of Mr. Ter-Oganian's supporters in Russia see his case as the most significant threat to freedom of expression since the collapse of the Communist regime.