Konstantin Grouss. Photo by Irina Trushina
The Question
Konstantin Grouss has been asking one question in different materials since 2003.
He borrowed the term for it early, from Aristotle — entelechy, the movement from the possible to the actual — and the epigraph for his first piece from Dürer's Treatise on Proportions: "one form may take on another; the reasons for such a change are countless". That piece, Intuition of Form (2003), was dedicated "to everything that has not found form". Everything since has been the same question in another material.
Two things run through the work. He calls one of them the sign — the hieroglyph: the compressed, readable trace a form leaves. The other is energy: the source a form comes out of, which is never fully spent by any particular form it takes.
For most of twenty years the two were braided together. In 2015 they separated: the sign went into sculpture, the energy stayed in dance as pure improvisation. In the work made in Bali they have joined again.
The sign showed itself most clearly in the work with Alexei Lubimov's musical programmes, the first of which — Amores, to music by John Cage — was made in September 2004. A whole series of programmes followed: Bacchanale in the Garden of Stones, Four Walls in the Rachmaninov Hall, Cage for Air. The roots of the movement vocabulary, he has said, are in Joan Miró's compositions and in Cage's own musical notation: pictograms, a way of writing a form down rather than describing it. A critic reviewing him years later called the dancing hieroglyphic, and he agreed.
The sign kept reappearing. In Mask for Body (Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, 2006) the body used movement as a mask. In Notes (2010) choreography was made out of a linguistic symbol, for a festival whose subject was translation — and it was there that the work crossed out of dance and into contemporary art. In EASY-COME-EASY-GO<at>BODY<dot>MOVE, begun at the Garage Museum in 2014 and premiered at the State Theatre of Nations in 2018, a live news feed was read through the body by a motion sensor and converted back into sound: one sign turned into another, with the body as the processor.
In The Swans Have Arrived! (2018), ballerinas built from scrap found in a botanical garden made a sign that played Tchaikovsky in the head of anyone who recognised it, and stayed scarecrows for everyone else — and the tutus they wore were real, given by the ballet-wear house Grishko. Standing beside them on the pond of the Apothecary Garden he called them "our homage to ballet": a choreographer's sentence about an object that cannot move. The sculpture turned out to be time-based anyway. The festival closed in August; the swans stayed on the water through the autumn and under the snow until the following spring, so that the piece anyone saw depended on the month they came. A work about stillness took a year to perform.
The other line is harder to photograph. It is what Info<at>body<dot>move (2013) was about: an address to the audience about a deep and unexplored source, then twenty-five minutes in which a thousand forms come out of it through the body without losing their connection to it — bounded not by a frame but by an alarm clock set to ring at the end. It is what Aheym (2019) was: improvised from beginning to end, unset, with the hieroglyph appearing only on the last note of the music and melting into silence. It is why he defines dance, in 2022, in three words: continuity, energy and rhythm.
Because they were the same work. 'Choreography became the basis of all the other practices,' he said in 2022. 'If I make an exhibition or a festival, as a rule it obeys choreographic laws.' The idea came out of an Irish residency in April 2008, where he spent two weeks at Castletown House with a lighting designer, a dramaturg, a singer, an architect and four visual artists, and no obligation to produce anything. He built the same structure in Moscow the following year: Art-Residence, at Povarskaya 20, in Anatoly Vasiliev's first theatre.
The transition has a date and a work. Circular Ruins (September 2009), after Borges, was the first Art-Residence project and the first time a performance of his was accompanied by an exhibition connected to it only conceptually. What followed was a decade of festivals: No Translations, Architecture. Body. Dance, extension.art; Random Gallery, thirty exhibitions in one unfunded room; Art-Ovrag festival in the steel town of Vyksa, which grew from five to eighteen thousand visitors in a year under his direction; and Kod Epokhi / Zeitgeist project in 2013, built on the idea that an epoch leaves a hieroglyph behind and that the object is the key to reading it. Its motto was 'a world of ideas in a world of things'.
In December 2013, in an empty Venice, he recorded the sound of his own footsteps on a phone. A musician made a composition from it for Quest for Silence, the 2014 exhibition that asked twenty-five artists what silence is. His own answer, printed beside his work: "silence is intrinsic to memory; the further away, the cleaner the general background."
Since then the work has moved steadily towards stillness — the Almost Empty Space videos, the kinetic sculptures in which movement is not depicted but held as a possibility, and Eclipse 4′33″, an action lasting exactly as long as the solar eclipse of 2 July 2019 and exactly as long as Cage's silent piece.
Since 2024 Grouss has lived in Ubud, Bali, where the work is made of leaves, flowers, stones and crystals. A composition is assembled, photographed, and gone; the image is then carried into aluminium, teak or silk, each of which does something different to it. He calls the method Bali Ku — the extension and condensation of time through material transformation — and the series Extended Moment. It is the same sentence he put on stage as an epigraph twenty-three years ago. One form may take on another; the reasons are countless.
The archive of the earlier practice — choreography, video, sculpture and curatorial projects, 2003–2023 — is on this site. The current work is at grouss.art.
‘...one form may take on another; the reasons for such a change are countless...’ (Albrecht Dürer, Treatise on Proportions)
dedicated to all that has not found its form
duration, silence, chance
dance — contemporary art transition
silence as subject
the sign, standing still for a year
the moment held open
In print
"Konstantin Grouss is a magnificent dancer and a fascinating choreographer."
Alexei Lubimov — letter of 5 January 2006 — People's Artist of Russia, laureate of the Prize of the City of Moscow, Professor of the Moscow Conservatory
"He is certainly not a revolutionary… rather a mathematician-philosopher… Not the architecture of the body, but the architecture of the soul."
Irina Plotnikova — Teatralniy MIR /Театральный МИР/ №11 — November 2010
"Grouss's dance is striking. Energy really does matter in it, becoming the second protagonist of the piece."
Anastasia Gladilshchikova — Moskovskie Novosti — 19 March 2013
"Il corpo nella corrente di informazioni prende una forma dopo l'altra."
'The body, within the current of information, takes one form after another.'
Il Tirreno , Pisa — 18 November 2016
The Record
A complete catalogue of artistic works, curatorial practice and choreographic works — grouped by medium, ordered in reverse chronology, nothing omitted.
Each group opens on the plus sign in its header and closes again on the same control. Individual entries carry the year or span and the venue, institution or project they belong to.
Documents
Three open files: a current CV, a selection of projects in context, and the full source dossier with ninety-five cited sources.
Each file opens in a new tab on click. The whole row is the control — click anywhere on it.
Complete CV — practice, residencies, teaching, publications.
№ 02Twenty years of artistic and curatorial work, with venue and partner context.
№ 03Ninety-five sources, each with quotation and provenance — the archive behind the record.