Resentment is a concept introduced by Nietzsche and further developed by Max Scheler. This is not just the offence, but self- poisoning of the soul, arising from the long-term prohibition of such natural affects as the impulses of hatred, revenge, an answer to humiliation and insult. The very feeling of revenge arises as a delayed reaction to hurt when you realize your own powerlessness at the moment. But in some time, the uncomfortable feeling of revenge begins to change our consciousness, leads to an internal breakdown, makes us come back to experiencing your humiliation again and again. Hence the name - "Resentment", that is, the experience anew more and more.
For modern Russia, there are two types of resentment: the sense of the masses, skillfully used by the authorities, and the resentment of the elites to the Western world, which does not want to accept in its circle a community with archaic values and a corrupt arrangement. The first kind, the "slaves" resentment, has the appearance of long-term apathy, despondency and depression. The second type, the "gentlemen" resentment, manifests itself in impudence and aggression. But they both lead to the fact that a person is not able to look positively at the ideals of health, beauty, free and lasting life, inaccessible to him. In place of these values are put their opposites: suffering, poverty, pain, death.
At the same time, the resentment is not only a social, and even not really a social problem. This is a spiritual misfortune that affects the entire human being, beginning with everyday trifles and ending with his relationships with himself, with the material universe and the world of meanings and sacred categories. One, who is poisoned by resentment, is like an unfortunate dog that licks a saw, and, drunk with the taste of his own blood, does not notice that he hurts himself even more.
I'm not trying to illustrate the life of a society that is riddled with this feeling. Rather, my images are an embodied, sublimated resentment. Concentration on the negative, accompanied by a sense of pleasure - in this there is nothing commendable. But, maybe, for me it was necessary to see my own monsters.