Country: Spain 🇪🇸
In parallel to regular secondary school I attended an arts school in Sevastopol (USSR) the town where I was born. Then it was time for a pragmatic university economics degree in Moscow, followed by a masters degree in Spain, where I worked in the export department for a few years. However, I have never lost appreciation for art and as soon as I could I co founded with my friend an arts school-workshop in Barcelona specialising in Japanese sculpture and handcraft techniques. Some years passed by and I gave birth to my son, which made me leave that project and consider something which would enable me to manage maternity and professional development. That was how my interest in photography began, for then as an observer. I watched, admired, watched again and analysed. Some images I liked, some didn't. Some reached out to me, some left me untouched. Dozens of photographers, hundreds of images. Gradually I was discovering a new world. At a certain point I couldn't stay put and started a project , which would let me share this new world with other people. Texts accompanied by photographs. Photographs intensified with texts. This, initially very personal, was the project called "Nashi deti" (Our children), an online magazine dedicated to parenting. Then I started trying myself. Heavy handedly I tried to reproduce beauty. I learnt simple things, wondered, got upset, uplifted by little revelations and success, I studied. So by now I have been doing photography for two years. People, their portraits are what attracts and interests me the most. I and a person. A person and I. All we are frosted patterns on a glass surface, life lines on our palms, tree bark patterns. Years of life, experiences, emotions, feelings, knowledge - all this makes us imperfect, more complex and at the same time more interesting. Each of us is a world in itself with complicated tempers and intricate paths in life. We are an example of imperfect symmetry, devoid of luster and smoothness, we are the people. Perhaps our bodies over the course of years lose flexibility and definition, but their imperfection breathes life. They tell our story of love and tenderness, of betrayal and disillusion. About the first baby cry, sleepless nights and parting. About fright and pain, about happiness and pleasure.