Instruments of Resistance: Critical Art and Censorship in Eastern Europe
- Kateryna Lushchyk
- Dec 10, 2025
- 6 min read
Updated: Mar 23
A statement often attributed to Picasso asserts: “You know, painting is not done to decorate apartments. It is an instrument of war for attack and defence against the enemy” [1]. By using this quote as the opening, by no means am I trying to diminish the worth of art intended for decoration. Rather, I aim to highlight the notion that if the artist chooses so, art could become a powerful tool of warfare against injustice. A form of combat that, despite the connotations of the word, is beneficial to the public.
Critical art achieves exactly this. In a society where the impact of words is gradually getting diluted, it emerges as an outlet that appeals directly to the emotional sensibilities of the audience. Through visual language, it exposes struggles and failures, highlights inequalities, and empowers those who have been denied a voice. It resists the comfort of the existing system, challenges established narratives and provokes critical reflection.
Oliver Marchart, summarizing Mouffe, defines critical art as “...practices that bring to the fore alternatives to the contemporary neoliberal order,” targeting a specific form of dominance — “the postpolitical hegemony of late capitalism”[2]. While this definition is particularly useful in Western contexts, where neoliberal capitalism has been dominant for decades, in Eastern Europe, critical art is a fairly recent phenomenon. Historically, artists under communist regimes engaged in nonconformist practices, confronting authoritarian structures — in particular, state control, censorship, propaganda, and the lack of political freedoms. It was only after the collapse of communism that critical art emerged in the contemporary sense, allowing the artists to openly address social, political, and economic issues.
This transition has shaped the trajectory of Eastern European critical art, placing it in an environment that is both complex and contested. Artists addressing topics such as neoliberalism, inequality, nationalism or minority rights frequently encounter public hostility, accusations of undermining national identity, and institutional or social pushback. They may even face various forms of persecution, ranging from censorship and intimidation to smear campaigns and funding cuts.
Galleries also hesitate to exhibit critical art, as curators may fear backlash from sponsors or local communities. As a result, controversial works that could ignite anger are often refused, while decorative or “apolitical” art is favored. According to a 2023 report by Culture Action Europe, “many cultural spaces — theatres, venues, galleries — are government or church owned … and … opportunities to stage works that may not conform to dominant political or religious ideologies” are increasingly restricted [3]. This institutional gatekeeping limits the visibility of critical artists and simultaneously makes it difficult for them to sustain their practice. Such dynamics reflect the lingering influence of conservatism, historical anxieties, and rapid social-economic change. Even within democratic societies, critical art continues to provoke discomfort and protest.
Just recently, Cracow-based painter Ignacy Czwartos was selected to represent Poland at the 2024 Venice Biennale — a biennial international cultural exhibition. However, shortly after the Polish parliamentary elections of 2023, his exhibition, Polish Practice in Tragedy. Between Germany and Russia, was cancelled by the new Minister of Culture and National Heritage. Czwartos condemned the decision as an act of censorship, arguing that “no reasons were given to justify the decision and, what is more, this decision is contrary to the regulations in force” [4]. According to some reports, the proposed exhibition's main concern was its narrative, as it portrayed Poland as a victimized nation, emphasizing its historical trauma [5]. The exhibition was supposed to feature 35 works, highlighting Poland's struggle under Germany and Russia, including a piece titled Nord Stream 2, which symbolized the Merkel-Putin relationship. Other works were to depict the Cursed Soldiers, link the Waffen-SS to Russian mercenary Yevgeny Prigozhin, and draw connections between the Holocaust and the 2010 Smolensk air disaster [6].


A similar dynamic can be observed in Ukraine, where contemporary artist David Chichkan has repeatedly faced hostility for his explicitly political work. In 2017, his exhibition Lost Opportunity, which questioned the unrealized potential for deep political and social change following the Maidan revolution, was violently attacked by far-right activists [7]. The gallery space was broken into, artworks were destroyed and defaced, and the exhibition was forced to close. Chichkan also received threats, while perpetrators were never held accountable. Five years later, in 2022, his Lviv exhibition Ribbons and Triangles suffered a similar attack, while another show in Odesa, With Ribbons and Flags, was cancelled entirely. Renowned for his anarchist and anti-authoritarian views, David Chichkan used painting and graphic art to critique nationalism and advocate decentralization and solidarity, until his death on the battlefield in August 2025.



While the Polish and Ukrainian cases demonstrate public and institutional censorship in the democratic context, the Belarusian example reveals how political repressions can escalate under authoritarian rule. In July 2023, prominent Belarusian artist Ales Pushkin died under “unexplained circumstances” while serving a five-year prison sentence. Known for his avid opposition to President Lukashenko, he had been arrested in 2021 and charged with “desecration of state symbols” and “incitement to hatred” [8]. These charges stemmed from his exhibition of a portrait of Yevgeny Zikhar, a leader of the Belarusian anti-Soviet resistance. Although the painting had been originally created in 2014, its renewed display was described by state authorities as an attempt to justify and rehabilitate Nazism, a claim widely viewed as politically motivated. Svetlana Tikhanovskaya, the Belarusian democratic opposition leader currently living in exile in Lithuania, stated: “He [Ales Pushkin] died as a political prisoner of the regime.” Her view was shared by the Belarusian Helsinki Committee, Legal Initiative, and several other human-rights organizations, all of which condemned Pushkin’s imprisonment and held the authorities responsible for his death [9].

Presented above are just a few examples of the many ways in which critical art continues to challenge authority across Eastern Europe, revealing both the power and risks inherent in politically engaged artistic practice. These cases also underscore the enduring relevance of critical art: it not only exposes historical and contemporary issues but also provokes public debate. As Piotrowski argues in Art and Democracy in Post-Communist Europe, “It is such debate, which reveals deeply seated conflicts and allows for the airing of opposite views, rather than the building of consensus, that by definition eliminates and excludes radical voices from the public sphere; it is debate that creates the necessary conditions for the development of a democratic society” [10].
Because the aim of critical art is often exposure, it is often deliberately unsettling and far from conventionally aesthetic. The discomfort it generates is productive — it interrupts passive viewing, demands emotional engagement, and encourages critical reflection. Every day, artists fight through metaphor, provocative narratives, or public interventions. By provoking unease, they assert the honesty, urgency, and necessity of critical art, fulfilling its central purpose of challenging complacency. In this way, it becomes exactly what Picasso described: an “instrument of war.”
Bibliography
Chipp, H.B., ed., 1968. Theories of Modern Art: A Source Book by Artists and Critics. Berkeley: University of California Press, p. 487.
Marchart, O., 2019. Conflictual Aesthetics: Artistic Activism and the Public Sphere. Berlin: Sternberg Press, p. 45.
Council of Europe, 2023. Free to Create: Artistic Freedom in Europe. Strasbourg: Council of Europe Publishing, p. 34.
Losonczi, M., 2024. Polish Artist Cries Censorship After New Tusk Govt Pulls the Plug on His Exhibition. Hungarian Conservative, 12 April. Available at: https://www.hungarianconservative.com/articles/current/poland_censorship_ignacy_czwartos_venice-biennale/
Chwalisz, M., 2022. ‘“See it while you can” – Banned exhibition showcasing Soviet and German war crimes in Poland debuts in Warsaw’, Remix (news site), [online] Available at: https://rmx.news/article/see-it-while-you-can-banned-exhibition-showcasing-soviet-and-german-war-crimes-in-poland-debuts-in-warsaw/
Dzhupina, A., 2024. Scandal around Polish Pavilion at the Venice Biennale: What’s going on? ART HUB, 17 January. Available at: https://art-hub-magazine.com/2024/01/17/scandal-around-polish-pavilion-at-the-venice-biennale-whats-going-on/
Ukrainian Artist and Soldier David Chichkan Killed on the Frontline, 2025. Artslooker. Available at: https://artslooker.com/en/ukrainian-artist-anarchist-and-soldier-david-chichkan-killed-on-the-frontline/
Artists at Risk Connection, 2025. Ales Pushkin Exhibition. [online] Available at: https://artistsatriskconnection.org/exhibition/ales-pushkin-exhibition/
DW, 2023. Belarus: Prominent Lukashenko‑critical artist dies in jail. [online] 13 July. Available at: https://www.dw.com/en/ales-pushkin-the-tragic-end-of-a-lukashenko-critic-in-belarus/a-66223784
Piotrowski, P., 2012. Art and Democracy in Post-Communist Europe. London: Reaktion Books, p. 59.




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