The ability to see and observe beauty when and where it seems to be impossible, or to be more precise - is made into something inappropriate, even shameful - a valuable property. There is nothing high-brow, nothing down-to-earth - it just happens to you one day. Like a strong feeling, the nature of which is not chemistry, but elemental. The way I look and those whom I see as my heroes, these images are primarily about me and for me. At the same time, my characters are as important to me as the author's own works. These people are not accidental: I feel them, catch the reflections of their bodies and faces in my personal mirror. No one can make a mark in it - something must happen: foreboding, the synonymy of their nature with mine, stretched out in time or a momentary unison of beauty. So that I could go into myself, go down the long stairs of what I have experienced and seen, and find my own key to each one. At the start of this path are locked rooms with a flickering light seeping into the crack under the door. Always on this path are artifacts that have no meaning for the surrounding world and its inhabitants, but for me they are symbols, puzzles, precious memories. This is what happens when you suddenly hear a melody, touch the sleeve of your coat, fasten the zipper of your dress; and they bring you back, but no one but me notices them. My characters are never like their documentary counterparts: in this transformation, there are no lies, no superficial striving to fall and appear better or better than they really are. It's just another interpretation, an alternative way of seeing as I alone can see. And if you manage to bring it out and convey it - embody it, then the door opens and, having entered it, you realize that you can perceive beauty without any reason, despite external factors and circumstances. It exists in contradiction. Social, political, cultural - among others. Even more, the worse the circumstances of time and place, the brighter the change of doors inside me. Exhibited in a canonical gallery hall, these works would not have lost their power, but would have told the same story, only in different words. This time, the choice of works for the exhibition was largely dictated by the space I was trying to make friends with. And at the same time, the place itself became a certain contrast and a symbol of our time. In some sense - the embodiment of general hopelessness and my personal hope for beauty, the presence of which I now feel even more acutely. Ad libitum beauties.