Meet & Greet: Pussy Riot
Woody Guthrie Center
March 14, 2024
Pussy Riot’s transgressive artivism has the world frothing — and Moscow fuming.
Yet in Tulsa on March 14, their truth-bombs detonated less in their usual colorful roar and more in searing whispers. About 50 Tulsans gathered in a cozy theater inside the Woody Guthrie Center for a meet and greet with five members of the Russian feminist protest punk group — and 2024 WGC Artist in Residence — known for their provocative, sometimes shocking, guerrilla performances and bright balaclavas.
Stopping in Tulsa as part of the ongoing engagement between the band, the Center, and its visitors, three women and two men from Pussy Riot sat in chairs on the stage, puffing big, white clouds as they gripped their nicotine vapes and spoke in rapid-fire Russian among themselves. They told us, in plainest English, about police brutality in Russia, the parallels between Putin and Trump, and above all, the hope they still have for the future — despite facing prison time back home.
In between the discussion of their art and political work, the band showed pieces of their recent multimedia art show, Velvet Terrorism. (Take a deep dive into their YouTube channel for more.)
In a short film called “Swan Lake,” a fever dream of words and imagery played directly on our psyches. Long fingers grew menacingly out of windows, gripping trees, reaching toward us. The women wore white leather suns as face masks, bright red circles for cheeks. Near the end, the masks were gone. Their bare faces stared into the souls of their political enemies over a bonfire, as they chanted, “We won’t forgive you/And will trample the remains/Ostankino tower will burn beautifully.”
The members of Pussy Riot, decidedly ordinary in street clothes, crouched side-stage so we could read the subtitles. We all watched the art together in the dark. No showy punk posturing here: just a handful of passionate refugees channeling revolution.
The crowd was tuned in to their every defiant word. One fan white-knuckled her phone, recording every moment of the chat; another woman leaned quietly forward, her large-lens camera trained on the band.
Many of the members are unable to return to Russia without facing criminal charges and half a decade in prison. Maria “Masha” Alyokhina, in her signature long, red side-braid with red lipstick and tortoiseshell glasses, spoke the most. She has at least one criminal case opened against her in Russia. There could be more, she said.
Someone in the front row asked, “Do you expect to go back?”
“Oh I expect,” Masha said. “I’m fucking sure that I will see Russia.”
When they were awarded the 2023 Woody Guthrie Prize, band member Nadya Tolokonnikova said, “We don’t really do folk but we don’t really do punk either. We simply scream and protest as loud as we can, and hope we can show others they can do the same.”
“Like Woody said, any fool can make something complicated. Our message is clear and simple. ‘Riot. Riot. Resist!’” she said. The resistance burns on.
Next at the Woody Guthrie Center: “Killing the Negative” book talk, March 30
