March 1969, a year on the verge of a decade.
The USSR Boxing Championship is almost over.
Paul McCartney marries Linda Eastman.
Keith Richards, George Harrison and Patti Smith
are arrested for drug possession.
This was the time when in one of the maternity hospitals of the USSR I came to this world.
Years later my father’s camera FED rangefinder beckoned me like a magnet. And when frozen moments appeared on a transparent surface it looked like a real miracle. The first shots of fun in our yard… and long hours under the red light. Fearing to make a mistake, to overdo, to ruin the film (and God knows what else – something that today’s aspiring photographers won’t even see in their scariest nightmares).
I remember as though it was yesterday, when I asked my father’s friend Misha a professional photographer, who came to my dad (for tea or something stronger) to evaluate my photos. His response: “Looks ok! Go for it”. Therefore, I followed the thorny path of light and shadow catchers. Life performed various somersaults and often threw me into opposite job fields, but the camera was always with me – as my talisman. People, cities, moments in the camera’s viewfinder. And the sound of the shutter mechanism… like a metronome set the pace of my life. And the result? That’s for you to judge, my friends.