Konstantin Zhukov "Black Carnation: Case Study No. 2", outhouse gallery, London, 2025
Photo courtesy of the artist
Black Carnation: Case Study No. 2 Opening Night
written by Mikolaj
It was an unexceptionally cold, dark and rainy day in South London, formulaic for the city at this time of year. I presumed it to be an unfortunate set of circumstances for an exhibition opening contained within a park, yet despite the unfriendly conditions for a gallery space too small to shelter all its visitors from the elements, the gloomy ambience of the outdoors utterly complimented the melancholic temper of Konstantin Zhukov’s “Black Carnation: Case Study No. 2.” With the tone for the opening set I approached the Outhouse in the night.
Having briefly read about Zhukov’s work from the pamphlet provided by the curator Wei Hao, I held expectations and excitement. Named after a flower once used to refer to homosexual men in interwar Latvia, Black Carnation: Case Study 2 is second in a series of explorations and reflections of the censored histories of queer experience, touch and desire in post-soviet 1990s Riga, the birthplace of Zhukov. After newfound independence from the regime came an unshackling on personal freedoms — and under the quiet guise of the stars a queer underground sprung to life in the form of lucrative and loud parties held within inconspicuous abandoned locations. Zhukov recaptures the echoes of these ephemeral spaces within the walls of the Outhouse Gallery, transforming the former public toilet into a dingy, ill-lit temple of temporary pleasure for the othered. Using this installation to explore the impact of censorship on carnal human desire, Zhukov attempts to answer a leading question: “What is it like — to touch another person?”.
Konstantin Zhukov "Black Carnation: Case Study No. 2", outhouse gallery,
London, 2025. Photo courtesy of the artist
Mikolaj: What drew you to this space (outhouse gallery)?
Zhukov: Wei Hao, the exhibition's curator, proposed the outhouse gallery because the building’s history made a great connection with my work. The semi-legal gatherings that I am researching were organised in the basements, flats, and newly vacant factory spaces of quickly crumbling industries, including the basement of the Museum of Medicine in Riga. I am very much interested in how people adapt spaces to their needs, shifting their meaning and function. That’s why it felt fitting to present this work in the outhouse gallery, a former Victorian public toilet. Now a white cube space, this building is typical of ones which would have lent itself to cottaging, or cruising, a space for seeking anonymous sex between men.
As I walked toward the gallery on opening day, I glimpsed a glaring strobe cutting through the foliage of Brunswick Park, pulsing from behind one of the building’s obscured windows and guiding me towards itself; the air around shaking to the thud of a rumbling bass and reverberating with anticipation. The suspense grew louder as I neared the entrance, evoking memories of the anxious moments before entering a techno-fuelled club. I had not stepped inside of the space, and yet I already felt immersed in the artist’s vision. Upon arrival I was greeted by Zhukov, who was appropriately clad in layered black garments and silver hoop earrings evoking a style of the contemporary clubland. I asked if the space was open to view and received an affirmative “Yes yes! please come in!,” so I entered.
Inside the building, the compact foyer of the Outhouse gallery that connects the front door with the exhibition space was separated by an array of thick, silicone curtains, concealing the space with an additional layer of secrecy and muffling the intensity of the industrial techno track playing from behind it. Peeling back the curtain revealed a darkened, desolate room akin to a basement repossessed by the partygoers of Riga’s underground, the dusty floor littered with stacks of empty crates suggesting a series of raucous libations. The walls of the room were covered with cuttings of vintage Latvian newspapers, which upon closer inspection featured inconspicuous listings left behind by anonymous individuals seeking intimate experiences and connection. On the wall to the left, a series of three framed photos hung featuring a man stripped to his undergarments, losing more clothing with each image until he himself is erased from the picture. At the far end of the room, resting on the floor against the blackened wall stood the focal piece of the exhibition: a monitor displaying an erratic array of flashing images. Black and white photos of faces, words and nude bodies blinked, while the discombobulating industrial techno track marched relentlessly through the room, simmering down to an ambient pause every couple of minutes before igniting again.
Konstantin Zhukov "Black Carnation: Case Study No. 2", outhouse gallery, London, 2025
Photo courtesy of the artist
M: Would you describe Riga's basement parties as safe spaces? Why?
Z: It's hard to apply contemporary terms to these parties, but it’s important to understand that just a few years before they were organised, just a thought of such a space was unimaginable. Let me quote one of the original partygoers: “To me it didn’t seem dangerous or anything. Well, you see, you’re young… even if you were in danger… it would be exciting.”
It is during these brief moments of respite from the music where the most touching element of the exhibition presented itself in the form of a series of loose recollections and memories from partygoers in 1990s Riga. Over the droning ambience, anonymous voices described the patrons, locations and their reason for being. “They were entrepreneurs, they were diplomats (...) every gay from the west that happened to be in Riga went there” spoke one of the voices, “you’re young... even if you were in danger... it would be exciting.” said another. These ephemeral musings offered moments of vulnerability that penetrated past the anger, edge and grit of the dark simulacrum of a basement party. Case Study no.2 implores that it is in these steel-cold spaces that the human desire for oneness is unobstructed and queer relations are not forbidden. Basements, toilets and squats become places for the dissolution of ego, tearing down the walls that separate one person from another, transforming their touch into a radical tool for reconnecting in a hostile and fragmented world. Grey, unkept and seemingly uninviting spaces become havens for unobstructed explorations of self — they are where alienation is challenged and identity is understood. I stepped outside again into the rain and joined the rest of the visitors for a drink — it seemed like the only appropriate choice.
Konstantin Zhukov "Black Carnation: Case Study No. 2", outhouse gallery, London, 2025
Photo courtesy of the artist
M: How has the underground party scene in Riga changed since the days of the basement parties?
Z: Well, it’s all legal now, with ads and Instagram campaigns. I would say we have four major parties now – two clubs and two club nights. They do serve different demographics, that’s why it was nice to get the organisers of all four in one room to do a voice over for Black Carnation: Case Study No. 2 that exhibited at outhouse gallery
Amidst these discreet moments of connection “Black Carnation: Case Study No.2” resists nostalgia in favour of remembrance. Zhukov does not attempt to recreate Riga’s underground parties as they were, but instead evokes their emotional remnant — thrill, the fear, the need for connection and touch in a world where touch itself was an act of defiance. Case Study No. 2 blends the old with the new, weaving stories of the past with modern and contemporary re-imaginations of spaces for desire. The environments, sounds, music, smells and substances may have changed since the 90s, but the people and their never-ending search for dark pockets of intimate exploration in a society that continues to repress, and control continues to manifest — albeit in different guises. Stepping out of the Outhouse and back into the cold south London night, it became clear that the work’s power lies not in the loudness of the drumming techno, but in the quiet whispers of fragility and intimacy — intimacy that persists as a radical force against erasure in Riga, London, and beyond.
Black Carnation:
Case Study No. 2
Konstantin Zhukov
Curated by
Goh Wei Hao
5th-15th December 2025
at outhouse gallery