Farewell to September

The light out of the window has been changing since the very moment I sat in front of the papers. It has transformed from the misty grey silence to the blue poetry of orange fires afar.

Sluggishness of my drawing the plans and furniture was caused by nonstop thinking process inside my head. That was just a continuous stream of thoughts, ideas, questions and images which I tagged by will or not during the last few days.

Firstly, I must reorganize myself and get a sacrifice for bigger purposes. And English is not the sacrifice which is to undertake. I must gather strength and manage to complete meaningful things like mastery and writing. It’s time to know the phrase “work super hard” by practice, not only by the commencement speech of Meril Strip. I need to look at perspective and invest my time and energy into worthy activities. Presently, these are mastery = portfolio, english and writing. The minor thing but important is common education (history, literature, drama, architecture, politics etc).

Secondly, there are many things which I passionately desire to create and provide. But nothing can be done by reflecting and rotating ideas into one closed skull. And this is why I am not going to excuse people for killing my time at the mediocrely taught useless lessons. Simulataniously, I’m not going to conform with everyone I talk with which means that I’m not going to sorry for my disgust to night drinking parties at the stair.

Thirdly, the hobby I need is writing and now I do it more often. Sometimes (yesterday, for example) I have a clear mind full of questions and mental ways for thinking about different things. You know, it’s boring to have a permanent plain vision. Reading books and good written articles helps a lot though I realise it for a few seconds or less. I have a demand to intellectual work which isn’t about orginising the purchases and trips. This is why I’m so thirsty about ‘perspective’ lessons.

But, the most important point is about mindset I have presently. I do really afraid of drowning at the study routine which certainly includes doing pictures just for teachers not for creative development. I should always remind myself about main things and not to allow happenings deprive my life. It is too short to sit quietly while rubbish is going on. I don’t need rubbish I need great.

So, do great!

It is Nancy Meyers and she actually inspires me a lot recently.

Jumps down and up

This day was the outstandingly emotional one.

Since the very night of yesterday I had been in a great anxiety about my sketches and their scarce. I went to sleep late and as it could be foreseen I woke up late too. That was a decision to skip the lesson – cinema watching and make some more sketches. But the script didn’t consider the emotional side. I was shattered inside and could cry any moment of weakness. The yesterday’s pictures and ideas of production design struck me deeply with the sense of mistake.

I felt lonely because of my disagreement with the dirty work of painters and the basic boredom of pre-production. Additionally I had no sketches to show and got a terrible sense of self-deprecation. I could hardly agree to wear the dirty clothes and take the gas burner to make a special texture at the wall. There were so much questions about production in general and in detail but its basically were not about design but script writing, cinematography, editing, managment, financial side and the hiring and collaboration of people.

Today I went there really late to the time we agreed. However, there was nobody of us. Just imagine me at the grey big corridor of the studio, where people can be in any costume and have very different works. Immediately our master appeared and asked me why didn’t I come in. The same moment the rest of the group entered and we all was led into the studio.

To say it was magical, it’s to say nothing. I just couldn’t imagine that it’s real. The long, wearsome process of shooting was going on. The director ordered with the loudspeaker in short and demanding way to do things faster or stand the other way, to turn on the other side or to take the other thing. Just a production, frame by frame. In the green tent they were sitting in front of the editing screen and considered what to do in order to get the great harmonious frames. The storyboard at the wall and drafty cut at the Macbook. Is there any surprise that I didn’t want to leave the tent? I smile and understand that it is obvious.

How to get into the green tent as a real one? – the main question I brought out there.

That was all literature around. Different people at the so called magnificent job with typical routine and alive demands. A child, old man and woman, troops. As for me the shooting livened me up immediately and charms are still inside me.

A guest

It’s late evening and I’m sitting on the bed lit by the night lamp. There are the voices at the other room. Two girls as usual are discussing some deals with men and each other, watching funny videos and listening pop music about love. Their laugh as the recorded sound of the day’s end, it’s almost the same all the time. How do they manage this?

Today I have had a guest at my little cleaned room. Nastya asked to visit me and I surely said yes. I was anxious about time and tried to manage something but had my mind dispelled. She came in and the most surprising was a man behind her. That was Ilgiz. He was absolutely the same as he was a year ago, maybe a bit taller. The same awkwardness and obedience, the same fashionable type of the jamper – with the print of Sydney. I was shocked but gladed to see him. They went back to get more caps to drink tea.

Then we had a long talk about anything and nothing. He got into the local institute at the part-time basement and left the job. Sometimes we got strange talks to each other and Nastya couldn’t make out what’s going on and asked him. They were sitting near to each other and I could clearly observe how alike they are. There was something similar at their face expressions which has nothing to race type. She briefly touched his leg and laughed on his irony or surprisingly pulled back to make an amazed grimace about the black humour and vague commitments.  For some reason I hardly could look at his eyes longer than a few seconds. I understood that maybe knew more than Nastya expect me to know (she had no idea that he wanted to apply to vgik too). At five hours I begun to shoo them and simultaniously talked to him about the films we watched and that Nastya should watch those too. They went out to go to the cinema this evening (I suggested them Oktyabr theatre).

They left my room empty and silent. Sometimes it seems me too lonely and sad. I try to fill the void with social media and reading the architecture textbook (which liven my workholic side up). I need to make friends.


I’m terribly hyped because of some little things. It’s fashion blogs and particularly the story of ManRepeller . I suddenly got so much strengh and desire to study everything about cinema including dark sides like distribution and producing. Suddenly it became so little for me to study only one side of the big world of movie and so necessary to study the whole process. Just like an insane person. But I was reasonably sitting in front of the canvas with the image of the grey street. Silly, isn’t it? I do my work, not so properly but I do it.

Yesterday I was wondering at the center making photos for the plein air. Going along the shop window with the advertisment’s placard with the high level of visual culture I unwillingly caught the idea that it’s an old-fashioned way for learning visial arts – traditional plein air. It all became much more quickly and efficiently nowadays.

Someone would say: yep, we’ve got it. You’re fed up with the academic traditional painting. Please, stop telling us this.

Nonetheless, I’m too excited to focus on the real work and study. There so much desires to run the film, to cooperate with people, to produce something, to lead the blog, to write notes, to make photos, to talk to foreigners, to have a business to worry about.And the same time I know how the actual study depresses me. It seems to me so small and unsatisfactory to demands. But think twice, either I satisfy their demands to make the certain amount of pictures? I presume, no.

But there is one subject I passionately love in the study. It is production design. Of course, I feel a bit ashame when the master avoids the literature’s extracts at the text but this is the powerful tool for moviemaking anyway.

Let’s dive in.


Tuesday. Cinema and PD

So, here we are. It’s late for me – ten hours but I know I need to write.

I hardly got up to go to the films’ watching lesson. There was a mist above the forest afar and it basically looked too gloomy for being the same cheerful. I listened some joyful music from “Morning glory” during the way through the wet streets. And it helped. Sometimes it seems to me that I look too confident to seem outgoing person. This day was such. After yesterday’s and today’s exercises on back I felt straight and ready to do anything. This is why in the black cold hall that was hard to stay moveless and watching the black and white Soviet films. The moment of the clearest mind and great desire to make things happen was us usual at morning. I’d like the better organised schedule (so all the students want in own way).

We’re watching the first Soviet films which were half boring half curious. Basically I was pondering about my plans for future, some inner desires and yearnings. Sometimes I even lost the plot of silent films and once I went out to clear my mind (as we know the brain needs breaks to load the new information in order). However, at the end all I could focus on was the choice of dish at the canteen.

With the second cup of tea I was ascending in the lift to the fourth floor. There was the schedule for actors which made me feel more free. They have daily lessons since nine at the morning and end at eight at the evening. Every day but Sunday.

The art department stayed in darkness for cinematographers make their studies. At the PD’s room my course mates were sitting and chatting about something. Soon I was oppressed by the common level of the talk (generally these were boys who talked). That had many vulgar, loud statements, emotional underdevelopment and simple stupidity. Such moments I feel like a very intelligent snob who doesn’t struggle against plebeians’ idiocy.

Then after some terrible waste of time our master came in. He was in the black beret with leather ochre bag. Everything suddenly had changed. His approach, advice and emotional credit made me respect him. We figured out every important detail of the task and made it as clear as possible. For all of us he suggested lots of films to watch and books to read as well as the theatre library for future. He remembered my name and talked with us as we are already the professionals, not students. After the consultation I confidently went down to the art library to order the books. It’s some rule of my life: do your projects and feel happy.

The lecture went good (art historians are very intelligent there), we watched some films and laughed much. Then she asked us about our impressions about the development of films that period. Yep. The time to feel stupid and rebuke myself for not attentive watching. Though I spoke something as easy as I got a voice. It would be very good to write summary posts here.

The way to the hostel I was tired but talkish and opened (yes, I reproached the cartoons for the gap between the reality). And now I have many things to do though I don’t know how to manage.

It’s a late morning of grey Sunday. Outdoor it still is freezing. I run a bit less than usual, it’s too cold to challenge myself.

I catch myself on the desires to write stories, read a book http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi3665539865/imdb/embed?autoplay=false&width=480“>Hitchkock\Truffout and film something. The other desire is of course the systematic learning of English with a teacher. But on the other hand I actually have my study which include plein air and sketching for the interiors. It’s complicated, yes. Some would kill for this kind of study with lots of drawing and watching. But I motivate myself the other way.  Actually it would be brilliant to savvy the production design and be able to set it great in future. However, I clearly know that I shouldn’t run after two hares and focus on my real study. I certainly must wake up and do the needed. And I need a plan for amending this all, I just can’t live such life for long time. I’m not as good as I could be because of this contradiction.



At the cold, lonely room my hands are freezing and head is under pressure. There is a cup of tea with lemon and lots of pencils around the laptop. I’m to make sketches. And I am to make sketches the last four hours which I spend looking at the old lamps and knives.

The thing which I really want to say is that I feel horrible. Yesterday we went to the studio of our master. That cite places not at the center and I had problems with finding a point. Finally I got it and came in. The flat was small. Or it’s better to say typical. There were lots of clutter like: pictures, paper schedules, old gadgets. The surfaces were full of phone numbers and other quick note. He showed us his heap of pictures for different series and little films. That was huge amount of work which he had done. There were sketches of Celtic patterns, drafts for labels, working drawings for the sets, big sketches drawn in very little detail.

I should be inspired, hyped, excited or anything this kind. But in reality my heart dropped. There were all the proofs about the need to draw a lot. A lot doesn’t mean normal practice, it means great efforts day by day. I saw that and wanted to fade away. Where is my love to drawing? I have not practiced it for a year for some reason and I naively hoped we wouldn’t draw as much as before.

After the show we sat to eat a cake and talk a bit. He asked us about the background and everyone told own story. Mine was boring. He smoked as well as our mate. The kitchen was messy and without any clue of woman there. Many rubbish, broken window and dirty tables. That reminded me common hostel room. But we all laughed and did remarks on the pictures and the basic level of them. I asked him about maquettes and the photographer’s work.

We went out the dark building. I spoke loudly with many ironical jokes. I didn’t feel shame about ignorance in Soviet and Russian films. My songs at the underground are illogical but absolutely mine. And there we talked much too. I confessed to the youngest mate that I want to study to write script and she had the common reaction on that. Outside it was raining. Rain, green grass and orange night-light drove me crazy. I wanted to sing more, to make Nastya declare French poems or to discuss immortal themes. But they were tired, passive and talked to each other closely.

At the dark cold room I was sitting at the bed and considering about that all. I still recognise that it’s not completely mine role in this industry. I can’t breathe freely. For some reason. And I seriously mull over the idea of direction. Yes, the words are terrible, the feelings are not suitable and I have to be grateful instead of this.

I’m certainly crazy about the comfort at some parts of my life. I try to make my area as beautiful as I can without great efforts. But the most comfort is my working at the table, listening some lecture at YouTube, working up photos and uploading it into the blog. Some part of me would like to be kinda journalist.

However, I feel perceivable demand in warm friendly connections. But simultaneously it’s like I cannot be open enough to go into the sacred area of intimacy. I’m consciously too shallow in my approach, I don’t like digging the soul and looking at the depth. This is so maybe because of my personal fear to not to be liked and accepted. Someone is still a child. I am able to have as much small talks as possible during the lift’s movement but no reflection on art or politics. Please, no. I’m to incredulous about any subjective ideas and hardly can accept anything I haven’t understood by myself.

The day basically went good though I overslept my run and English. That was sunny and calm at the VDNH, only the roads were full of people at transport. I talked with the young girl at the big auditorium in spite of my desire to make acquaintances with different students. The lecture went interesting though there was mostly retrieval of my college knowledge, not new information. You know, historians like to talk about primitive people.

The free breakfast at the canteen was the milky soup which reminded me the camp time. I talked with the local girl about yesterday’s town’s day and then me and Nastya went to the library. It amazed me with later working hours and limitation in ready to take books.

The way to the hostel I was pretty sure in the day and in my study time in general. Sometimes I have bursts of energy and clarity in my mind. Specially at the mornings while there is no distraction.


7th September

I was drawing at the morning when Mary called with the common question “where are you?”. Of course I was at the hostel in my room, but this answer was odd. It was English first test today (it was going to be tomorrow). I rose up and quickly dressed myself. On the way out I even managed to lecture my neighbour. She’s kind of child twenty-something year old. Her dirty spots at the sink where evidently easy to wach but she whined that it didn’t come off. I felt like an adult person in fromt of the eleven year old silly girl. Just incredible!
At the third floor there was a testing process. I had come thirty minutes before the end. The test was common but with addition of filmmaking professions at the end. Basically people at the room did not have any personal concern to English. The teacher uttered the words with typically great accent. No surprise. I handed the paper and asked for checking up immediately. There were silly mistakes at the beginning and all right questions at the rest. That was a waste of time and no more.
At the fifth floor the crowd of art students waited for a teacher. They had some drawings and paintings unlike me. I looked at them with curousity and nonchalance the same time. There were lots of trash which the college teachers would never accept. Mary had something but nothing extraordinary – it’s so sad. I did photos of the process which I didn’t want to take part. I don’t like the teacher – his taste is vulgar one. He prefers touristical sights with remarkable names not composition.
My clear plan for next three days crashed into immediate offer to go to the exhibition at the evening. Very quick I revised my calendar and decided to make purchases for plein air. I was going to the station with Ann. I did some remark about me bothering people and going with them but she responced with the clever openness which was really worthy for me. She said I often do sarcastic jokes and it’s hard to connect with such kind of person. Farther she added that this behaviour may cover subtlety. And I agreed with her conclusion. Now I sit here and think that moreover I do  such jokes as I don’t feel needed and waited for. We talked about diffucult situations in foreign countries. Ann shown me the road and went out.
I took some cartoon, ban of prime and water-colour paper. I asked myself why I had not done that before and didn’t make studies. For some reason, I presume.
The time alone I spend with music and a pencil. So nice to draw something though I’d prefer to write notes.
I felt I must be a leader at the underground station where students gathered to go to the museum. We found it easily and came in the dark pseudo-gothic building. There is always some embarrasment I feel about my role in this comminity. Am I a leader? If yes, why I didn’t become a senior student? There’s something odd with me. I don’t like to be the second, but I chose to not to be a senior. I want to be a creative center, an enthusiast who love own work and share magic to people. But for some reason I don’t like students of art department.
The exhibition was nice and inspiring for watching the theatre sets or to go there. There was a tiny voice of miracle of movie/theatre inside the frames. I remembered how fascinated I was about Chekhov’s sets and took a book to the theatre. I quoted him almost every day but now I can hardly remember the stories’ plots.
The way back was sad and lonely. I sang something meaningless and rotated ideas about directing again. Gosh!


That was a strangest birthday I ever had. Since the very morning I was gloomy and reluctant to do anything for birthday party. At the very morning when everyone at the hostel slept I washed the floor and dusted the shelves. Then with a great sense of fear and wkwardness I came the front door neighbours to wash my clothes. It was a second time. My aquantance didn’t get up and I had to agree with another old girl. She switched the machine on without any real desire to help me with such routine problem. But she actually did and I was really graceful for that.
At the shop where I went without make-up and in glasses I was to buy gelatin but in a moment I realised a thing. Mmm – thought I – it’s my birthday and I need to get some treat for guests. There were watermelons and little yellow melons. As it was an oppressive dream I took one watermelon and a bunch of grapes. I returned to the store one more time to get some bananas and pears. The room where girls were sitting was opened as usual and I could easily invite them. The problem of wine was resolved with me and Mary at the local store. We were friendly talking all the time. But even then I really felt how much she take out of the connection. There is always too much of her, too much information about her life and experience, too loud voice which is hard for me to outvoice. This is kind of challenge to be bright beside her. But this is what I wanted – be beside people which are better then me in something.
The rest of the day I was at the grey room with wet clothes hung cross the area. There was no light the whole day and I had to cope with darkness at the bathroom and antechamber. That was terrible but magical the same time: flashlight shared the blue night colour and made black shadows. But the grey sky did its mood.
To five p.m. – time I arrange the celebration I had already cut the fruits and arranged them at the little table, gave away all personal things and read an article at Facebook. That was silly to wait for nobody and I upstaired to Nastya to invite her. When I got down again there was Mary. We unusually opened the bottle with the brush and began to eat fruits and drink wine. Then Vlad came after his trip to the big market. We talked about the stores and the ways – strange odd meet of hardly known people. But the girls came to us and gave me a little gift – box of pastel and a signed postcard with the still life. It went more merry, girls made many jokes and the atmosphere was basically light. I didn’t laugh by all their jokes but the mood was nice. Mary spoke much as usual. I did little remarks. Everyone was remarkably glad by watermelon though Nastya Pasinich browsed too much (as usual). People helped me to clean the table and throw the trash out. To the end we told about poets and literature then about the past exams we all had. Only two of us managed to enter by the first time. Time went on and the smokers gathered to buy some cigarettes. I begun to clean everything properly – washed the sticky table and floor, then my slippers. After the cleaning up Nastya Chekmareva came with a chocolate bar as an excuse for her ignorance. She has no idea about my birthday, she thought I wanted to gather people together and get a good company. We talked some time about teachers – Britvin congutulated me. And she went out. I got a cup of tea, some chocolate and found out myself so inspired and so clear-minded as never before here. I wrote some resolutions to keep up and was generally glad with happened.