In 2001, the St. Petersburg business center NOBEL organized a private party dedicated to the opening of Andy Warhol exhibit at the St. Petersburg Hermitage Museum. All representatives of the St.
Petersburg art-bohemia of the time were invited: fashionable artists, critics, journalists, museum workers and gallery owners. The most honored guests received personal invitations, guests of lower rank were invited without a name. I also managed to receive one of these nameless invitations through “personal acquaintances.” In order to consolidate and legitimize this “personal acquaintance,” I decided to make an appropriate performance.

I was dressed in a black suit. On my right hand, I put on a black rubber glove, which made the hand look like a prosthesis. The glove was filled with raspberry jam. As soon as I found among the audience, communicating at ease, one of the scandalous representatives of Petersburg bohemia, I took off the glove, approached the “star” closely, stretched out my clammy hand in a salute, and loudly pronounced my name. “Celebrities” stretched their hands in response, mostly imposingly and reluctantly, yet snatched it back with disgust and horror, looking at me in fright and questioning. In response, I handed them a specially prepared paper napkin, bowed, and left.

Among the huge number of “acquaintances” made in the evening with numerous quite famous people, there was but only one positive contact, which is worth of special mention. It was the “acquaintance” with the art scholar Ivan Dmitrievich Chechetov. Ivan Dmitrievich was the only man from the complete St. Petersburg beau monde, who, in response to my action, laughed loudly and cheerfully, asking then twice with a genuine interest for my name.

(Documentation of performance is not preserved.)