An interdisciplinary intersectional multimedia project
I sign up as Pussy Riot “Sweat and Blood” by Diana Burkot to indicate that this is a political artistic statement, and also for people’s convenience, to distinguish my practices from those of other participants. However, over time I find myself increasingly shifting the emphasis toward the project itself, as the group name tends to create certain expectations. For example, in the exhibition Sweat and Blood presented at Kristianstads Konsthall, Sweden, the primary focus was placed on the project title rather than the group name.
The project Sweat and Blood is an artistic methodology for making sense of experiences within the framework of the project’s own ongoing research — whether choosing a sound for an alarm clock, which will inevitably become annoying; or navigating the emotional spectrum that accompanies the loss of a family member not through death, but through political disagreement.
In Sweat and Blood I am a co-author rather than an isolated creator. We explore social, political, economic, cultural, technological — including co-creation with AI — and philosophical phenomena. Many other aspects fall outside the specific research focus here (which forms part of my final MMA research project at the Iceland University of the Arts), as the project itself is an open and ongoing practice that began in 2018 and continues to evolve. Alongside human-made elements, natural phenomena are also part of the ecosystem. Both human-made and natural processes interact continuously, forming a single interconnected system.
Sometimes the focus of attention is narrow, sometimes it shifts depending on the project’s goals, and sometimes it expands to include broader contexts, such as the interaction of phenomena with humans, groups of people, nations, and concepts like time, memory, power, imagination, laws, and repression. Other undefined but important aspects may emerge through the creative process.
My approach is based on multimedia, interdisciplinarity, and intersectionality.
For example, when creating a work, I may use a material or technique that gives rise to new ideas and concepts, which can develop into other works.
When creating the sculpture “Fantasy Memorial of Collective Trauma” for the Museum of Viennese Actionism, I used a specific fabric combined with silicone. While experimenting, I made small objects, which quickly led to the idea that these could become wearable art — merch for the “Sweat and Blood” project. In this case, the material and technique produced a new concept for a new project under the “Sweat and Blood” umbrella.
I’ll start with myself. I am many who and how. Another example is video art / documentation of performances, where, in collaboration with the protagonists of the videos, we used visual language to tell stories about the characters and their specific situations. This approach remained but took a new form of realization through the songs on the “Sweat and Blood” music album. In the video art pieces, the novellas also had titles — the names of the characters — just as the songs on the album do, and the logic of the artistic approach remained the same.
The foundational principle of the project:
The idea is primary, followed by form; material is secondary, if felt needed.
I’ll start with myself.
I am many who and how.
Who am I, and how am I, when I am part of the Pussy Riot collective?
Pussy Riot is a Russian feminist protest art collective founded in 2011, which gained wide public attention in 2012 after their action in the Cathedral of Christ the Savior.
Initially the collective focused exclusively on unsanctioned actions with a bright, memorable visual image, for example, a colorful balaclava became a symbol of Pussy Riot, and later different members began developing the group’s identity not only through activist actions, but also by creating musical albums, theatre works, exhibitions, and other artistic projects. Our primary activity still remains politically critical expression. They advocate for human rights, LGBTQ+ rights, and oppose all forms of discrimination.
I joined the Pussy Riot collective in 2011.
During my time with the collective, I wrote music, played drums and electronic instruments, screamed vocals, participated in actions, edited videos, performed, and created artworks. After the action at the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in early 2012, the police did not manage to identify or arrest me. I remained anonymous for approximately eight years, until the statute of limitations expired. From 2019 to 2025, I was part of Riot Days, a punk theater production based on Maria Alyokhina’s memoir of the same name.
I also participated in the exhibition Velvet Terrorism: Pussy Riot’s Russia, where artworks created with my participation and production were presented. And I was part of the team working on the installation the exhibition.
Between 2011 and 2022, Russian police detained me multiple times. Surveillance, phone tapping, paranoia, and anxiety. I was taken from my apartment after being followed for days; officers wrote to me in private messages on Instagram; At some point a Russian policeman even gave me flowers and then took me to the police station. I was sentenced to eight years in prison for an anti-war song — In Russia, a criminal case was opened against me for Pussy Riot anti-war song “Mama, Don’t Watch TV”.
I was charged under the so-called law on “discrediting the Russian army,” specifically Article 207.3 of the Criminal Code of the Russian Federation — “Public dissemination of knowingly false information about the use of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation.” Criminal case No. 1-454/2025, reviewed and decided with a verdict by the Basmanny District Court of Moscow on 15 September 2025. I was sentenced in absentia to eight years in a penal colony.
On December 15, 2025, the Tverskoy District Court in Moscow designated the feminist protest collective Pussy Riot as an “extremist organization,” effectively banning its activities in Russia. The decision criminalizes support or association with the group and forms part of a broader crackdown on dissent and critical artistic expression. Although Pussy Riot’s work has focused on opposing state repression, human rights abuses, and the war in Ukraine, authorities claimed the collective’s actions threatened state security.
My name appears on the official list of individuals identified as “active participants.”
It places me under heightened risk and increased scrutiny by Russian police.
However, I did not spend around two years in a Russian penal colony, like Maria Alyokhina and Nadya Tolokonnikova. On February 21, 2012, Alyokhina and Tolokonnikova were arrested and later sentenced to two years in prison. That just didn’t happen to me. I always felt that I hadn’t suffered enough. As if I had to be a victim of repression in order to become a heroine / good enough activist. This resembles that familiar feeling from a feminist perspective, the state of “not being good enough” is a constant feeling of falling short of imposed expectations — something I long perceived as a personal weakness, but which is in fact produced by systemic pressure and the structural devaluation of experience. But now, I no longer share this predominantly Christian idea of self-sacrifice as the highest virtue. This shift led me toward Nietzsche’s philosophy — toward rejecting the “slave morality” imposed by society, where suffering becomes the main criterion for justice or heroism.
“The wretched alone are the good, the poor, the powerless, the lowly alone are the good; the suffering, the deprived, the sick, the ugly are also the only pious, the only godly — for them alone is there blessedness; whereas you, you noble and powerful ones, you are for all eternity the evil, the cruel, the lustful, the insatiable, the godless — you will also be eternally the unhappy, the cursed, and the damned!” – Nietzsche, 1887
For me, Nietzsche’s perspective is too aggressive, and in many ways I do not agree with him. I can reference him here for context, but my point looks like a bit different: all the ideals which claim that suffering is valuable have poisoned life; they have made people see suffering as something holy. I also became completely disillusioned with the concept of heroism as such. I would describe the general concept of heroism as a model of behavior in which a person undertakes actions involving risk or sacrifice for the sake of others, or for values they consider more important than their own safety. In my model, I want to exclude everything related to taking risks for the sake of risk itself, rather than for meaningful, real action. For example, in the context of activism, this would refer to drawing attention to social or political issues through provocation, often — though not necessarily, as it is entirely possible to avoid — followed by repressive actions from an authoritarian regime.
There is a long-standing critique of the figure of the hero as a cultural construct.
The hero is not a natural human position but a social role that romanticizes risk, sacrifice, and suffering. The heroic model of behavior often serves to reproduce power: it turns political action into spectacle, and suffering into cultural and/or media capital. An artist occupying such a role may function more as a careerist, fully aware of the tools and strategies they choose to employ. A victim placed on display becomes a figure who does not so much act as reinforce the existing order—one in which the state continues to repress, and the “hero” continues to suffer. In this sense, heroism can sustain the regime rather than disrupt it, even when it is formally positioned against it. Contemporary critical frameworks propose an alternative: genuine strength lies not in accepting the blow but in stepping outside the imposed script. Heroism is not the willingness to endure repression, but the ability to act effectively and strategically, preserving one’s freedom and subjectivity precisely where the state expects obedience or self-sacrifice.
I prefer to avoid punishment by a government I do not consider legitimate (and therefore do not recognize its methods) to avoid trouble.
Prison is not exactly fun.
After the full-scale war in Ukraine began, much changed in the world and within me. I made the decision to leave Russia and focus more on artistic activism, because I believe that apoliticism is a privilege that I and maybe none of us can afford anymore. At the moment, everything I do is, in one way or another, connected to activism. Therefore, representing the Pussy Riot collective is a process of self-identification with that part of my personality that actively manifests to the current political situation. My musical tastes and political views, as well as my strategies, have changed greatly compared to what I used to do in the collective. That is why I have decided to separate myself, though not leave, from the Pussy Riot umbrella — to push the boundaries of the collective in the way one would in a healthy democracy.
My focus is first and foremost on “ordinary” people and collaboration with people. Personally, I don’t need another Navalny. I believe in civil society, in the idea that the majority can change history — not through a single hero, but through countless honest and consistent acts.
Political theory has long critiqued the idea of the leader as a central figure on whom society’s fate depends. Even when framed as a “hero,” such a figure remains embedded in hierarchical structures that mirror authoritarian logic: power, responsibility, and agency are concentrated in one body. This model creates civic dependency—when the leader disappears, collective hopes collapse not because of personal failure, but because authority was never distributed. In this sense, “good” heroes can reproduce the same structures as authoritarian rulers, differing only in rhetoric. By centering movements around charismatic individuals, communities relinquish their own agency, making political action fragile and unsustainable. Contemporary critical frameworks therefore argue for horizontal forms of organization, where power is shared, responsibility is collective, and leadership is no longer a position of exception but a function distributed among many.
Diana Burkot’s Master’s thesis at the Iceland University of the Arts, an interdisciplinary project combining music, performance, installation, and visual art, is included in this publication through selected excerpts. The thesis unpacks the album presented at her concert and documents “Sweat and Blood” as a multi-modal artistic exploration and will be finalized within the next few weeks.
Pussy Riot is a Russian feminist protest art collective founded in 2011, which gained wide public attention in 2012 after their action in the Cathedral of Christ the Savior. Initially focused on unsanctioned actions with striking visual imagery, such as the colorful balaclava, members later expanded the collective’s identity to include musical albums, theatre works, exhibitions, and other artistic projects. Their core activity remains politically critical expression and opposing all forms of discrimination.