PERFORMANCE ART: Gena Marvin: Queerness, Protest and Survival in Russia.
Photography Nicolas Lado
In a remote town on Russia’s frozen far eastern coast, performance artist Gena Marvin first began crafting a radically defiant version of herself. Born and raised in Magadan, once home to one of the USSR’s largest gulag camps, Marvin emerged from a grey, stifling environment to become one of the country’s most daring queer artists.
In the Peabody award-winning documentary Queendom, directed by Agniia Galdanova, Marvin’s story is told as a complex portrait of identity, resistance, and the transformative power of art. Galdanova was initially searching for drag performers across Russia when she discovered Gena, whose performances stood out not just for their aesthetic boldness but their sheer existence in a city where queerness is violently suppressed.
Photography by Boris Camaca
Photography: Misha Fedoseev
Raised by grandparents after losing her parents, Marvin received little emotional or creative encouragement. Her grandfather hoped she would follow a conventional path: military service or work in the fishing industry. But Marvin found inspiration elsewhere: figures like Leigh Bowery and Amanda Lepore, and the possibilities of performance art. Using scraps, tape, towering heels and black contact lenses, she transformed herself into post-human avatars, sharing her work on social media as a form of self-liberation.
Yet Marvin’s performances soon evolved beyond aesthetics. As Russian legislation increasingly criminalised queer existence, most notably through the expansion of the so-called “gay propaganda law”, her art took on an overtly political edge. In 2021, she staged a performance wrapped in duct tape coloured like the Russian flag, in protest of opposition leader Alexei Navalny’s imprisonment. She later marched through Moscow in barbed wire to symbolise the country’s tightening restrictions and the pain inflicted on those unable to escape.
Photography by Boris Camaca
These acts were dangerous. Galdanova recalled how the crew took precautions to avoid further charges, leaving Marvin’s wrists uncovered to protect arresting officers and filming on roller skates for a quick getaway. Marvin was eventually detained, and the fallout made it clear she had to flee the country to avoid imprisonment or forced conscription. She now lives in exile in Paris, where, as she reflected in the film, her identity is no longer a source of conflict: “Here, everything makes sense.”
Though the price of her activism has been steep, separation from family, risk of violence, exile, Queendom reveals a fierce truth: attempts to silence queer expression often amplify its urgency. Marvin’s work may have begun in isolation, but it has become a global call to protect those whose existence remains under threat.
