I was born in Rostov Veliky and considered my city too small, too quiet, too insignificant. I was ashamed of it; I dreamed of leaving—and I did. But years pass, and what we once felt ashamed of becomes central. Today, I see the grand onion domes of the churches, the slender birches, the screaming gulls rushing toward the lake, the hurried fishermen. And all of this is a part of me.
I no longer want to look at the Golden Ring as a tourist. I want to meet myself—that girl who felt embarrassed by her provincial town. I took a film camera—a kindred spirit—and hit the road. With 36 frames on the roll, the camera teaches you to look closely and cut away the excess. Rostov, Shuya, Palekh. I wasn’t searching for postcards, but for people: hands, wrinkles, gazes. And sometimes—the silence that follows them. In every frame is the breath of the city. This series is my self-identification.
Rostov Veliky. A second against centuries.
Rostov Veliky. Kupalshchik.
Rostov Veliky. The main thing is not to scare it away.
Rostov Veliky. Avraamiev Monastery. Keeper of Silence.
Rostov Veliky. Monumental illusion.
Shuya. Guardian.
Shuya. City archetype.
Shuya. Between the bell and the vastness.
Shuya. Fellow Travelers.
Shuya. Shuya calicos.
Palekh. The shadow preserves the pattern.
Palekh. Ascension Cathedral. Awaiting the light.
Palekh. A crossroads of faith.
Palekh. Palekh canvas.
Palekh. Home.
