When there once came an idea to make an exhibition on gay issue, first thing I though of was to express poetics of gay relationship in the place where homosexuals often meet, date and have sex. Through the photographs we wanted to reconstruct that marginal environment which, compared to the so called "regular" society, ideally expresses the essence and politics of gay sex as an ideal and pure sex. "Purity" here means absence of any moment, social, material or hierarchical, that usually accompanies sex. In the WC sex lacks everything but the sex itself; men who inscribe their messages on the walls, think only about sex, as they think when they come to meet other guys. The anonymity of encounter, when one doesn't even see his partner's face until they make sex, strengthens its self-efficiency, leaving apart every convention that applies to "straight" sex. Primarily the idea was to imitate some specific conditions that create the marginal environment, with all its attributes; I mean that so we could have shown how men behave when they come to this dirty place to gain pleasure. Here we felt ironical toward this public, sometimes not attractive, that creates lines like: "I'm young, handsome, horny, very well endowed etc."

In such a case we could have end up in two ways. Either we could get a "politically correct" exhibition, bringing marginal society into a wider, non-homosexual context, or making it a theme of wide-open discussion; or we could get an openly "anti-politically correct" exhibition, mocking at "ideal sex" and exposing homosexuals as marginals (which is true) in the society that, unlike Western one, has no idea how to deal with them. The authors had no intention to educate anybody or change anyone's attitude toward any marginal stratum (be it sexual, national, social or else). Having rejected a straightforward approach, like "gays gather in WC and write their stuff on walls", we've managed, or at least it seems so, to put up broader questions, maybe less attractive for arts, but inasmuch more honest. Roughly, we've made somewhat unexpected opposition to the two prevalent stereotypes of gay image: the one of indecently effeminate man, and the other of muscled leather-packed bubble-butted easy rider from Tom of Finland's cartoon or a Mapplethorpe's photo. We were interested in a different kind of men whom we could see on the streets, in subway or at the Library of Foreign Literature; toilet walls of the latter, written all over with messages, gave an idea for this exhibition. All those students, postgraduates and professors, who came to the WC to leave a message in hope of a good fuck, have never became objects of art, being its subject instead, as long as they wrote all these writings. This exhibition is a dedication to them, unknown artists, who, thinking about sex, have sometimes written funny poems that drove themselves from a dirty WC up to the highest spiritual spheres. Due to it is the exhibition's strict documentary, that gives comments on the margins to self-efficient subculture. Not all of our heroes have written the messages, but some of them did actually do that. For some of my pals there was a game of a kind, guessing who have written which message.

Maybe the exhibition looks less tough than it was wished at the beginning. To some extent that could be excused by charm of the men whom we pictured. Maybe our "victims" have held the reins for a moment; though the primary concept changed anyway but for worse.