I was born in the former Soviet Union.
My father, a historian, was responsible for the restoration of a museum of archeology and history in a small Russian town, destroyed during the years of World War II.
The museum was our second home. There were only six rooms open for the visitors, each representing a different period in the history of mankind. I could run through them as many times a day as I wished and in any direction. I entered Scythian room and exited into the Twentieth Century!
I try to watch for images inside myself. They are provoked by combination of colors or the beauty of a gesture.
There is hidden magic in everyday life. The simple routine chores and gestures that have been performed by so many people so many times before have gained a certain eternity. Each image has its reflection, one can peel them endlessly, layer by layer. One image is visible through the other, as color appears through many translucent layers.