Horizons Stas Falkov did not waste even one minute at the Olympic Games in Sochi. While the absolute majority of people assaulted the stadiums, the photodocumentalist has chosen the reverse vector of movement. A bit later, after looking through the shaped and succeeded photoproject «Horizons», the art-director and connoisseur of candid photography Alexander Kireev was overwhelmed by a wave of remembrances and emotions, that is why he decided to ask the photographer straight away on how that series of photos was built up and what happened there. Later on, he wrote, stepped into and accompanied — at his best, with the letters.
Introduction I haven’t been to Sochi for many ages, since 1987. And did not strive to go there in contemporary history. All roads led to some other destination points. Probably, that was a consequence of a childhood trauma — I spent one month in the hero-city of touristic activities with a troop of the Academic theater of musical comedy. A muddy Soviet panel-wall hotel from the days of late USSR collapse. Wild crowds of unpleasant people, some strange aunties in awkward swimsuits — they should have finalized their daytime beach fights on contrast, with a touch of culture, at the theater, listening to entertaining operettas by Imre Kalman and then continuing their evening at some banqueting room of hotel «Zhemchuzhina». Oh, wait, no! There was a single sweet remembrance — a giant portion of ice-cream in an equally huge, as I perceived it, waffle cone, that was sold at the main promenade. The ice-cream was an unbelievably tasty, sugary sundae — very simple, with the sea salt from the air as a seasoning. It melted very quickly and, after transitioning into a less pleasant state of aggregation, it escaped through the hole of that waffle cone. As a result — the palms are sticky, the cone becomes grey, soft and ridiculous. Alas nobody helps to finish up the ice-cream and you have to throw it away. What an aggravation. To the exactly same extent is the main Olympic Torch - ridiculous and sopping. This is the very same icecream from Sochi of those times: it looks attractive when you get it from the hands of an ice-cream vendor, but later on the problems come off. To understand and to forgive, but crudeness is no goodness. Let us understand through the visualities and patterns and dream up our own stories. Let us imagine that we are on a little-inhabited island surrounded by the sea from all sides. Captions Captions or legends under the photographs are unwelcome. They are deflecting attention from the essence of what will be happening here with that amount of extra pleasure. What if you make up a better story right now?
Thorns made of concrete and a clapped-out landing-dock without a possibility to enter it. A piece of fence that begins somewhere in the center, or probably even in Moscow. Yes, Sochi nowadays is a city of fences.
Once in a random morning you wish to reach the nearby shop and buy a bread loaf, it will take you a 15 minutes right-round walk before you actually reach the target point. It is worth the effort, sometimes.
To the beach. The sea purifies, even if it is muddy. The sea talks to you. Probably that is the reason why it attracts the local brain-sicks and those seeking solitude. Everything is in the center, in an abruption. Now it is possible to talk to the sea and to ask for an advice.
To tell about the glorious past and to bemoan the future. It is not likely that the sea will laugh, except perhaps do a spit of ooze. Well, even that is pleasant: a natural product in the middle of a technogenic hell.
The sea heals. «Stand up, my son, because the redemption has come», — the preacher screams. It doesn’t work out. The freedom of highest quality does not groove through the amplifiers.
I can swim even when the whole world does not care. The sea sees.
To scoop up at least something. The sunbeams penetrate through the SPF numbers of protective sunscreen creams. While people have concentrated on the continent of Sochi, the access to water floated to the surface.
«Next person, please!» — and now the horizon is ready to reveal the «Scarlet sails». Assol cries her heart out and pledges her word to wait.
The retrofuturistic pipe-arms of the landing docks are ready to accommodate the ÂŤaqua-BoeingsÂť.
Please have your passports and masks at hand, do not forget to smile to the dolphin-officers at the visa control.
A catcher of a stalker and a dialectical choice. To put out a feeler into the outside, to test the waters and look at the inner resources. The means are not important, the comrades-in-arms may become traitors and the enemies may help.
The most scary enemy is inside, it was clear from the very beginning. Now it’s all transparent. Now it is announced as «peace». Okay?
An hour and a half outwards, then another hour and a half backwards. Damn logistics. To transfer the transitions into the scale of Moscow — and it will be in frames of the city. But the capital city does not have any sea around it.
The «ring-shaped» road surrounds you, there is that heavily stressed energetical contour. Permanent discharges stimulate the spasms and convulsions. Err. Where can you take a ticket?
You want to go in on a three-way split? What an ideal conversation partner. The one who does not interrupt. The sea is ready to give you a hearing and does not bother with excessive talks. Stories, folk tales and epic poems — narrated, whispered and fabled on shore by the others who are just like you.
The sea does calm you down and, some even say, may put you into its embracements‌ At the output there is sea foam, ooze and coloured oily film. Who once again drained off that petroleum oil into the sea?
He caught, she caught, it caught, they caught. A sign of sympathy, isn’t it? Too many people willing to catch in here. No free slots currently available. But there is always some space for love. Used, abused and refused. Love someone and leave someone. Love me tender. You are not ready to catch and to scoop up?
Simply relax and you may be lucky to see how that bottle of sparkling playful jinn reaches the shore front. But before that, right now — watch the parade of white unsunned bellies and quaggy hips.
The choice is not that large, just like the classical options of aviation-food manufacturing industry: «fish-or-meat». Now you choose: human or concrete. The concrete does not care, and the human does not quiet down, because it’s curiously enough. It’s easy to walk, it’s not obligatory to get through.
In any case, there is no chance to get over the fences, but nobody prevented from putting out the foil with beforehand-packed eatables. Reserve the beat seats in the trains, only from there you will capture the finest view.
It is still out of temper, it doesn’t allow to approach. The coastal line is fenced off, the most adhamant ones from the advanced guard of the waves are ready to nab at the jogging shoes, next you are constrained to walk in squelchy footwear.
You’d better go the waste ground and invest your efforts there. Let a garden city burst into blossom in that area, and there will be no need even to fly to Mars.
The grandfathers. Someone’s. And they could be mine. They do not take things easy, but they are flamboyant. Let one of them be a technician who tried to unfold yes-exactly-that ring, but something went wrong and when it’s gone, it’s gone. At long last, you are happy to be alive. You live once once, and for the entire rest part there is video editing available.
Let the other one be a captain. Every day he comes to see his boat, the one that is currently put out into the sea under the leadership of someone else’s hands. The diesel fuel is wrong and the ecology was cankered. But he worked for the sea, and the waters returned him a generous payoff.
The underwater aerial navigation in the background. In the skies, among the clouds you may find your own tiny crabs and horse mackerel scads. Flowing manoeuvres of the flotsams. Higher means deeper and lower means closer to the ground.
Emulation of the reality should inspire and remind. «Goodbye Earth, bon voyage!». But first let me put on my swim fins and make a descent to the water. I’m feeling sluggishly. Let’s use the lift, for example.
The cats’ paradise was ruined and nowadays they are a gang of cats from the wayside of the highways. The wayside can handle all desirings, the passings shall pay a bribe. A step to the left or a step to the right from the central separating strip and you hear the question straight away: «Who are you?». «Feed or pass on».
For those not willing to introduce themselves there is a toylike demonstration of a plush ritual performance with a subsequent quest of seeking the preliminary sawn-off parts.
Get ready to choose an affordable housing at comfortable prices. Just in ÂŤ-hundredÂť kilometers from Moscow Automobile Ring Road, there is developed land, a full deal. And also a tropical garden.
An outlet to the sea - according to your wish and the status of your health and wallet. By the way, the conditions of real estate mortgage are also affordable and transparent. Start breathing from a new angle, because you are worthy of it.
Don’t be dead to shame, because the ‘rents are watching you. With an attentive regard, over the city, among the cleared-up footpaths. Beautiful people look at you from the discoloured turquoise ovals. They don’t know, and they don’t need to know. You should be full of respect and have no fear of them.
Of course, you can make a call, but you’d better think of yourself, because you have a spate of work on your own plate. And anyway, at such places you would like to believe that the maturity does not exist and it was confabulated by the Pension Fund.
The combined machines of consciousness redefine the reality and serve out bundles of pure experience. This is the fuel for further movement, otherwise you will continue to lose your way in stones.
Even Manson will be outdated without a redefinition and will not be able to roll out his songs in a new manner, the ones from an old compact disc as sold in a bootleg kiosk, 40 rubles per CDr.
Hit-Mix: text a message to a short code and get a wallpaper-picture. Hotels abandoned by the common sense! The eye of Sochi, oh, even two eyes! The road to «abroad», the seekers of the lost chains, a waterpark and a good-looker seaport. Waterfalls that do not deliver any benefits.
An old promenade. A modern replica-kaleidoscope from the hipsters’ jumble market — a hardly useful and practical thing under normal conditions. But, good grief! Isn’t it exciting when you spend the last money on the possibility to touch the fairytale that you made up for yourself.
Things have to be explained, because all this was not about death and not about depression. In the chapter by Alexander Payne in the videoalmanac «Paris, I love you», the heroine named Carroll tells about one day that was special for her. «One day I will also be buried, and nobody will come to see me. But this will not reck me at all. I will be dead. But I’m not a sorrowful person, in contrary, I’m a happy one. I have many friends and two wonderful dogs». Forever young. Forever 20! Get along! Live on! Move on!