In the art museums of Russia, women sit in the galleries and guard the collections. When you look at the paintings and sculptures, the presence of the women becomes an inherent part of viewing the artwork itself. I found the guards as intriguing to observe as the pieces they watch over. In conversation they told me how much they like being among Russia’s great art. A woman in Moscow’s State Tretyakov Gallery Museum said she often returns there on her day off to sit in front of a painting that reminds her of her childhood home. Another guard travels three hours each day to work, since at home she would just sit on her porch and complain about her illnesses, “as old women do.” She would rather be at the museum enjoying the people watching, surrounded by the history of her country.
1. Stroganov Palace, Russian State Museum
2.Matisse Still Life, Hermitage Museum
3.Konchalovsky’s Family Portrait, State Tretyakov Gallery
4. Veronese’s Adoration of the Shepherds, Hermitage Museum
5. Rublev and Daniil’s The Deesis Tier, State Tretyakov Gallery
6. Michelangelo’s Moses and the Dying Slave, Pushkin Museum
7.Malevich’s Self Portrait, Russian State Museum
8. Nesterov’s Blessed St Sergius of Radonezh, Russian State Museum
9. Petrov-Vodkin’s Bathing of a Red Horse, State Tretyakov Gallery
10. Kugach’s Before the Dance, State Tretyakov Gallery
‘Scener Ur Ett Äktenskap' (Scenes from a Marriage), Ingmar Bergman (1973)
We’re emotional illiterates. We’ve been taught about anatomy and farming methods in Africa. We’ve learned mathematical formulas by heart. But we haven’t been taught a thing about our souls. We’re tremendously ignorant about what makes people tick.
Feel inspired by your own existence.
You can put whatever you want on the walls as long as it’s appropriate.
So, no pictures of penises?
Not unless it’s very scientific.
A classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say.
#lens #hmi #arri #hmilens #gaff #gaffer
Poetry isn’t a profession, it’s a way of life. It’s an empty basket; you put your life into it and make something out of that.
You know, I don’t get it. Why would anyone paint a picture of a door, over and over again, like, dozens of times?
But it wasn’t the same.
Yeah, it was.
It was the same subject, but it was different every time. The light was different, her mood was different. She saw something new every time she painted it.
And that’s not psycho to you?
That door was her home and she loved it. To me, that’s about making that feeling last.