White Nights

With days waning and nights getting longer--it's even more apparent in the prairies than in the mountains--I realized that I never shared any White-Nights images from Russia's northern capital (apart from mobile shots on social networks).

In June, even after 10 o'clock at night, the sky remains light, and everything around--churches, statues, bridges, and you--acquires a honeyed glow. Couples stroll, and sea gulls hunt in this seemingly neverending golden hour, whereas austere stone looks as gilded as the dome of St. Isaac's cathedral eclipsing Saint Petersburg's skyline.    

Everything is reduced to two royal shades: blue and gold. 

This, perhaps, is one of the reasons Peter I chose this location to construct his imperial capital just over three hundred years ago.

The Sun, the Moon, and Raven Ravenson

The other day, two fellow Slavs with a similar taste in underground forms of music reminded me of a classic Russian fairy tale, The Sun, the (Crescent) Moon, and Raven Ravenson.  

Perhaps, it was due to the natural elements present in the latter more so than, say, Koschei the Deathless, that I couldn't get this strange tale out of my head. So much so that I decided to pull together a quick illustration, as if for a children's book.

(If interested, I found an English translation on Google books. For those who don't bother clicking on the link:  I must specify that all three characters are masculine, whereas I'm used to personifying the Moon in the feminine.)

In the last little while, I've been reexamining folk culture, particularly my own, through the lens of sociologie de l'imaginaire. The latter is a method which combines the scholarship of Carl Jung on the collective unconscious and that of David Émile Durkheim on the collective consciousness, respectively. This research area refers to the sum total of surface-based cultural features as the logos, whereas mythos stands for the symbolic and archaic undercurrents pushed into the unconscious, the Dreamworld, in the Modern period. Unlike Europe, this is a relatively new field of expertise for Russian sociologists, according to Alexandr Dugin.

By analyzing various traditional attributes, such as the types of folk-tale characters that are prevalent in a particular culture, the sociology of the imaginary allows one to determine its collective functioning regime. I bring this up now because I've realized that

Russians are the Moon People.

That's what I'd call us, that is. With the exception of the Cossack soslovie, Russians, by and large, operate according to a nocturnal feminine system (as per Dugin's Logos and Mythos, untranslated). (For instance and by contrast, Germans, collectively, are diurnal masculine types.)

The above makes Russian tales and legends a particularly fruitful area for me to pursue creatively.

 

Moscow Nights

>>Enter nostalgic mode. <<

"Moscow Nights" is likely one of the best known Russian songs abroad. Despite being somewhat contrived, however, it possesses the right kind of sentimentality, especially when performed by our operatic badass, Dmitri Hvorostovsky:

The river is flowing, and seems still;
Everything shines silver in the moonlight;
Song is heard, and then it's silent again
On these quiet evenings.

Like this: 

Of course, technically the song is about those nights that are spent outside of Moscow. Yet, at the same time, Russia's capital was smaller when it was written in the 1950s, so the error is forgivable. 

Moscow is a magical city.  If you look up, you just might catch a glimpse of a naked witch flying over your head as she straddles a pig. At least in literature!  

But it can also be serene. After all, it rightfully is the Third Rome. 

These are my recent Moscow nights:

A bit too central, but at least I lived them.

Birdman

Is it possible to shoot 10 GB of photos and pick a single favorite? 

Yes. 

This is it: 

He really stood out, this Birdman, in Moscow's Vorontsovsky Park, filled with joyous children and their parents' fashionably overdressed lapdogs.

Some would say that he was an urban St. Francis, but a more careful inspection reveals the piercing alienation of a contemporary metropolis embedded in the grooves on his face.

A Fateful Place for a Meeting

- Do you know whom you are speaking with - Woland asked the newcomer - and whom you're currently visiting?
- I know - replied the Master - my neighbor in the mental asylum was this boy, Ivan the Homeless. He told me about you.
- Of course - Woland responded - I had the pleasure of meeting this young man at the Patriarch's Ponds. He almost drove me insane, proving to me that I do not exist! But you do believe that I am real?
 - I am forced to believe - said the newcomer - but, of course, it would be much safer to consider you a fruit of my hallucinations. I apologize - realizing what he had just said - added the Master.

(Bulgakov, Master and Margarita, chapter 24)

 

A Real-Life "Russian Ark"

Whenever I mention that I've finally had the chance to visit the Hermitage museum in St. Petersburg and, what's more--photograph it with virtually no one around (a rarity!), chances are that the subject of the Russian Ark comes up.

The film received substantial acclaim at the time of its release (2002). Created by a renowned director Sokurov using a single-sequence shot and featuring the music of Glinka, the Russian Ark offered an unusual and somewhat voyeuristic look at the 300-year history of St. Petersburg by traveling through the Winter Palace (now part of the Hermitage) and examining various episodes linked to the structure thereby weaving its cultural topography.

Truth be told, I remember the experience of viewing the film more than the film itself. After all: having relocated to Toronto, Canada at that time, this was my very first chance to attend a large bona-fide international film festival!

So the day I viewed the Russian Ark was the day that I discovered an entire world of worthwhile cinema outside of the Hollywood mainstream.  (Indeed, as I say all too often--that particular aspect of culture is the one thing I miss about living in a North American metropolis, and so I'm tempted to hop on a plane and go to Seattle or New York, Montreal or even Toronto itself.)

It was only a decade later that I got another chance--the chance to wander the almost-empty rooms and corridors of the Winter Palace early in the morning and feel a bit like the ghostly narrator of the Russian Ark. And like the Russian Ark--out of chronological order--this was a decade that occurred somewhere far away and comprised a lifetime of people, places, and never enough sleep, but seemed to pass by in a moment.

And what of St. Petersburg? Inevitably compared to Moscow as our "most European city,"  I was a bit concerned that it was, but it felt Russian enough.

It felt like home.

I say that as a staunch Muscovite, born and raised, and I think the Russian Ark helped!

 

Immer Vorwärts!

Spring has got to be wildlife photographers' favorite, since it is baby-animal season, even in metropolitan areas! I found these ducklings--slightly hesitant, though ready to proceed with further investigation of their murky element--in the pond outside the New Maiden (Novodevichy) Convent in Moscow.

After the Patriarch's Ponds, the New Maiden is my favorite place in the city. Admittedly, a part of me feels immeasurable, infinite nostalgia: after all, I grew up a subway stop away, and I engaged in a lot of sporting activities nearby as a child. But more immediately important, this is a somewhat central, yet quiet place to get away from the nonstop buzz of a massive city.

The ducklings' mother carefully oversaw their water training and suspiciously avoided my telephoto lens (almost, hah!). Normally, I try to check the specific names for the wildlife I photograph--if it is unfamiliar--but I'm ashamed to say that I'm not sure what these bright orange ducks are called, though I saw them all over the city, and though surprisingly beautiful they are. 

The Law and I

I suppose I should actually blog about some of the major projects in publishing--my current field--that I've completed recently, huh? :)

The 2012 installment of The Law and I (Zakon i ia) has just been released. The latter is a charitable undertaking on the part of Russia's well-known lawyer, radio and TV personality, Ruben Markaryan, who also functions as the editor-in-chief of Zakonia.Ru, that country's premiere online legal portal. This doorstopper of a publication is kind of an annual report in the legal field, but with a twist. It is a collection of articles that are sharp, funny, and, at times, snarky, so illustrating them was quite an enjoyable experience for me! 

The book's editor with whom I've worked gave me a lot of creative freedom. Equally important, this project served as a viable lesson in terms of dealing with a client across an ocean (i.e., between western North America and Moscow) on something of this size. I've produced over 50 photo-illustrations--many of which were conceptual--and some of which I've blogged about earlier. Like these:

 

I was also responsible for cover art and graphic design. We've chosen an immediately obvious archetypal Blind-Justice concept. I certainly remember climbing this Classical-throwback statue (outside of a private home and with permission, worry not!) in the dead of winter with a massive snowstorm, to boot, to blindfold and photograph it. 

Next time I might consider wearing gloves! 

The book's presentation took place at a legal forum in Saint Petersburg, which I missed by a day, literally!

Source: personal archive of zakonia.ru's editor-in-chief.

Russian actors Nikolai Serdtsev and  Maria Malinovskaia from Trial by Jury: Final Verdict, a popular daytime television show screened on Russian state channel NTV check out their colleague's new book:

Source: personal archive of zakonia.ru's editor-in-chief.

Source: personal archive of zakonia.ru's editor-in-chief.

Despite the fear of sounding trite, I will say that I've had a wonderful experience, and I'd love to be able to pursue similar projects for the Russian audience in the future.

Dear Future, please come soon! 

Shadows

Woland to Matthew Levi:

 “But would you be so kind as to ponder this question: what would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared? After all, shadows are cast by things and people. Here is the shadow of my sword. But shadows also come from trees and living beings. Do you want to strip the entire globe of all trees and living things just because of your fantasy of enjoying naked light? You are stupid."

(M. Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita, ch. 29) 

 

The Crow of Peterhof

"I am a Eurasian hooded crow, just chilling here--literally--by the Gulf of Finland, hanging out outside of Peter the Great's palatial complex in Peterhof."

"I like it here up north: when it gets hot for those few days in the summer, I refresh myself in the royal fountains. How many avians can attest to that? In fact, I prefer the cascades perching atop golden Samson glistening in the sun. (His post-WWII replacement, that is, since the Nazis stole the real one, and it's never been recovered.)

And best of all, I watch silly tourists from all over the world attempting to toss coins into Peter's boots (those of his statue, but it might as well be real Peter, since he was nearly seven feet tall!). Their tour guides tell them that it's for good luck. Good luck for me--I've already amassed a small fortune from all the coins that missed!

So I'd retire in the Maldives, but I prefer the local climate. And besides, who's going to keep all the tourists in check?"