36 frames

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.