The Lullaby for the Matter

Contemplating abandoned buildings, rooms no longer in use, and ruined houses, I feel the abandonment and the decay. Watching the meaning of human creations disappear leads me to realize how temporary and fragile are the things that man gives life to. Things that used to serve become, without man, nobody’s junk, a pile of useless rubbish. When I encounter such pictures of the world, I see the image of death nullifying the essence of life and leaves only the disintegrating, lonely shell of a former existence. This visual journey is not about the social devastation of the Russian province, but about the death of the physical, which is designed to communicate with the invisible life. Otherwise it ceases to be alive. For if there is no man with his everyday life and presence inside the dwelling, there is no house, which itself becomes nothing again. Many people are familiar with the beauty and picturesqueness of ruins, but in an empty village among abandoned houses I do not admire the still life of the landscape, in the centre of which I am, but feel the longing, the oblivion and the vanity of vanity known to every of every human being. Interestingly, I am a young and happy person with a life, a home and love. But I’ve been touched very closely by the objects in the pictures, which reflect the helplessness of the material without the abstract content, the spirit. The spiritual does not fear death when matter disappears and ceases to participate in life. The bodies of houses, emptiness and time-beaten things that exude their absence, nevertheless bring me back to the hope — there is something eternal and indestructible at the centre of human life. And I know that it is the spirit that sings a lullaby to matter, which falls asleep and dies without fear, if there is anything left behind that has gone before.