Accepted without review
An essay on trust, institutional fear, and the right to be unformatted.
A well-respected figure of the institutional art world once told me, "Irina, you must understand that the art community is terrified of amateurs. We put a lot of effort into protecting art from them."
This idea stuck with me for a long while because it is this protectiveness, this almost paranoid fear of unprofessionals, that leads to losing something crucial. The art world tends to surround itself with impenetrable walls. Not literally, of course. These walls take the form of language, format, structures, and a subtle code that only the insiders can decipher. For all the rest, contemporary art is distant, ironic, and arrogant. It is something that requires specific knowledge to understand or have a feeling about. That is why so many people choose the distance: not because they are unable to comprehend art, but because they do not feel it speaks to them.
This idea stuck with me for a long while because it is this protectiveness, this almost paranoid fear of unprofessionals, that leads to losing something crucial. The art world tends to surround itself with impenetrable walls. Not literally, of course. These walls take the form of language, format, structures, and a subtle code that only the insiders can decipher. For all the rest, contemporary art is distant, ironic, and arrogant. It is something that requires specific knowledge to understand or have a feeling about. That is why so many people choose the distance: not because they are unable to comprehend art, but because they do not feel it speaks to them.
Accepted without review
September 10, 2025
Irina Cheremisova
CEO DOM Art Residence
It seems that the art community has lost sight of this fine line between protecting art and promoting it. Government-supported institutions, or those supported by grants, on the one hand, must support and encourage artists. On the other hand, they strive to maintain their position and justify the financing. This paradox created a vicious system that strongly resembles a totalitarian state where the key values are status, structure, and hierarchy.
This contradiction nurtured the creation of the DOM Art Residence as a strong effort to act differently. In practice, this project is a living proof that the art scene can become closer to people - if only we can change the initial conditions of how we interact. First and foremost, we consider the art residency format as a language: we speak to the public about three points that are crucial for us: the past, the present, and the future.
First. The past. Meeting an artist.
We commence the residency with the exhibition of the existing artworks. It is a crucial starting point. It is a way to show his background, his experience, visual language, and themes that matter to him. But his presence and live communication are just as important. We want the viewer to have the opportunity to meet the artist as a human being, hear him speak, ask him questions, and feel the rhythm and intonations. These meeting destroys the distance. Where "an expert is looking at an artwork" used to be, a wonderful opportunity appears: to be close, to be together, and it creates connection and trust.
We commence the residency with the exhibition of the existing artworks. It is a crucial starting point. It is a way to show his background, his experience, visual language, and themes that matter to him. But his presence and live communication are just as important. We want the viewer to have the opportunity to meet the artist as a human being, hear him speak, ask him questions, and feel the rhythm and intonations. These meeting destroys the distance. Where "an expert is looking at an artwork" used to be, a wonderful opportunity appears: to be close, to be together, and it creates connection and trust.
Second. Present process as a part of expression.
We strongly believe it is crucial to show the process, not just show the result. The art is not being born in a laboratory. It emerges in everyday life: in thoughts, dreams, while shopping and reflecting, in vulnerability, euphoria, irritation, talks, and silence. It is a 24/7 job, and most of the time it stays invisible. We offer artists the opportunity to share their whole artistic existence, and it resonates with them. The viewer gets a precious chance to glimpse into this fragile, dynamic, living matter. And this creates a new form of empathy.
We strongly believe it is crucial to show the process, not just show the result. The art is not being born in a laboratory. It emerges in everyday life: in thoughts, dreams, while shopping and reflecting, in vulnerability, euphoria, irritation, talks, and silence. It is a 24/7 job, and most of the time it stays invisible. We offer artists the opportunity to share their whole artistic existence, and it resonates with them. The viewer gets a precious chance to glimpse into this fragile, dynamic, living matter. And this creates a new form of empathy.
Third. The future: as a result and as a collective experience.
The final exhibition at the end of the residency is not a shop window, not a kick-off point, not a culmination. It is the end of a collective path. By this time, the viewer has seen, heard, and felt. He witnessed the process, met the artist, and got immersed. It is the closure of a live art cycle where the end is not distinct from the way.
The final exhibition at the end of the residency is not a shop window, not a kick-off point, not a culmination. It is the end of a collective path. By this time, the viewer has seen, heard, and felt. He witnessed the process, met the artist, and got immersed. It is the closure of a live art cycle where the end is not distinct from the way.
In just two years, we held three residencies. The first one happened in Sitges, in an old house by the sea. It was an experiment: we investigated the theme "Censorship and Self-censorship", and we were worried that the artists might be uncomfortable with letting the viewer into this investigation process. We were afraid it might hinder the process and that meetings would be superficial or formalistic. But it all worked out. The practice proved that the artists were happy to share, and the audience was ready to respond.
The second residency took place in Barcelona, parallel to Manifesta 15. This allowed us to develop further the educational program that we organise during the residency each time. Among the speakers were, for instance, the artist Pep Vidal, Dessislava Pirinchieva, Head of Manifesta15’s Public Program, and other interesting guests.
The third residency will take place in Sorrento, Italy, in August 2025, in collaboration with an Italian project ExtrArtis. The topic for investigation will be "Reimagining Genius Loci: how the movement of people and traditions shapes the Spirit of Place and new communities".
The second residency took place in Barcelona, parallel to Manifesta 15. This allowed us to develop further the educational program that we organise during the residency each time. Among the speakers were, for instance, the artist Pep Vidal, Dessislava Pirinchieva, Head of Manifesta15’s Public Program, and other interesting guests.
The third residency will take place in Sorrento, Italy, in August 2025, in collaboration with an Italian project ExtrArtis. The topic for investigation will be "Reimagining Genius Loci: how the movement of people and traditions shapes the Spirit of Place and new communities".
And already next year, again within the framework of the DOM Art Residence, we plan to participate in the European Culture Centre program, parallel to the Venice Biennale. We are preparing the project "Accepted without review".
For many years, the ECC has created its parallel program, an unofficial biennale that takes place at the same time and in the same space. And, frankly speaking, I have always considered the ECC as live and somewhat antagonistic to the sterile institutional system of the Biennale. Within the ECC project, one dares to take a risk, and one can be unsure. And this is why I want to be part of it.
Within this project, we make a statement about the selection, the lack of trust, and the access systems that regulate what will be seen. We are asking a question: what if we refuse the reviewing process as a form of power, and create a space where the artist is trusted?
In the historical Palazzo, we will install a replica of ship container - the exact one used for goods shipment, as a metaphor for a rigid institutional framework. This container is a utilitarian form that is impenetrable from the outside, opaque, and closed. That is how the general public often perceives art. Something is happening inside, but one cannot see it or comprehend it; thus, it has no value. But in reality, inside this container is real life.
In this container, we will install two screens that will live-stream the DOM's artists-in-residence while they work. For half a year, 12 artists from 12 different countries participate in the project, two artists each month. We will not require an artistic proposal, and we will not edit their ideas. Instead, we will create an atmosphere of trust, and in these conditions, artists will create new work. At first, the audience will see an empty container with only the process shown on the screens inside. As artists are finishing their works, they will send them to Venice, and we will place them inside the container.
It is not an exhibition in a conventional sense. It is a container of artistic time. It gets filled with ready artworks, the result of real inner work. The artworks that will not be selected but will be lived through.
Let me guess a question on the face of it: “How can you avoid a review system? You are still selecting artists in the end.”
Yes, of course, we select them. And it is the most difficult task. First, for us, it is crucial to broaden the geography. This way, the artists from different countries, the bearers of varied cultures, will become part of the project. Second, we are determined to find those who resonate with our idea, those who feel the same need to free themselves from the pressure of format, explanations, and proof. However, we don’t ask them to send artistic proposals or explain their particular plans. We do not require strict formatting, and we don’t review it this way. Again, we create an atmosphere of trust. And the work appears in this atmosphere. It can be complex, fragile, unexpected - but it is always honest work.
We use the image of a simple shipment container as a metaphor for the rigid institutional framework. From the outside, it is a closed system only including artists, curators, objects, and discourses. From the outside, a viewer sees nothing but a closed shape. He doesn’t know what is happening inside and hence does not consider it valuable or important.
Within this project, we make a statement about the selection, the lack of trust, and the access systems that regulate what will be seen. We are asking a question: what if we refuse the reviewing process as a form of power, and create a space where the artist is trusted?
In the historical Palazzo, we will install a replica of ship container - the exact one used for goods shipment, as a metaphor for a rigid institutional framework. This container is a utilitarian form that is impenetrable from the outside, opaque, and closed. That is how the general public often perceives art. Something is happening inside, but one cannot see it or comprehend it; thus, it has no value. But in reality, inside this container is real life.
In this container, we will install two screens that will live-stream the DOM's artists-in-residence while they work. For half a year, 12 artists from 12 different countries participate in the project, two artists each month. We will not require an artistic proposal, and we will not edit their ideas. Instead, we will create an atmosphere of trust, and in these conditions, artists will create new work. At first, the audience will see an empty container with only the process shown on the screens inside. As artists are finishing their works, they will send them to Venice, and we will place them inside the container.
It is not an exhibition in a conventional sense. It is a container of artistic time. It gets filled with ready artworks, the result of real inner work. The artworks that will not be selected but will be lived through.
Let me guess a question on the face of it: “How can you avoid a review system? You are still selecting artists in the end.”
Yes, of course, we select them. And it is the most difficult task. First, for us, it is crucial to broaden the geography. This way, the artists from different countries, the bearers of varied cultures, will become part of the project. Second, we are determined to find those who resonate with our idea, those who feel the same need to free themselves from the pressure of format, explanations, and proof. However, we don’t ask them to send artistic proposals or explain their particular plans. We do not require strict formatting, and we don’t review it this way. Again, we create an atmosphere of trust. And the work appears in this atmosphere. It can be complex, fragile, unexpected - but it is always honest work.
We use the image of a simple shipment container as a metaphor for the rigid institutional framework. From the outside, it is a closed system only including artists, curators, objects, and discourses. From the outside, a viewer sees nothing but a closed shape. He doesn’t know what is happening inside and hence does not consider it valuable or important.
A curator I deeply respect once mentioned that curators almost always choose artists they know personally. To a great extent, personal connections shape visual literacy. This phrase stuck with me, as well. I understood I wanted to try a different way. To DOM, we invite new artists from a wide range of countries, backgrounds, languages, viewpoints, and working with various mediums.
DOM keeps being the space for research. We are not striving for a final form or a universal answer. We test trust as an artistic method. We witness the reaction and nourish the connections that appear between the artists, audience, space, and time. And step by step, it becomes crystal clear to me that the distance between the viewer and contemporary art can be overcome, even though, by many, it is not considered to be true. This distance, this line can be shifted, blurred, or made penetrable. And probably this is the right thing to do: to make the barriers live and breathing, instead of simply destroying them. While it works, we go on.