The going to the theatre left an odd impression of misunderstanding and social life which seems to submerge again.
I came to the local theatre an hour ahead to redeem the tickets. There were the autumn leafs everywhere and nobody in the hall. My reflection at the glasses was fine, at least I liked it and felt kinda Parisian. The small coffee shop in the calm Sunday trade center welcomed me. For half an hour I spend like a book heroine, reading the tale of Kazuo Ishiguro (who is the winner of 2017 Nobel Prize) and drinking coffee. The forgotten pleasure of reading fiction prose.
When I came back to the theatre there were much more people and a girl with the easel. Waiting for someone at the theatre hall is one of the least joyful things. I even filled in the questionnaire to which options of the favorite local theatres I added Vakhtangov’s. Then I started to speak with the girl by the easel, and evidently, she was from the art college. We had shortly discussed the teachers before Mary came to us. I tried to make a conversation but it cracked. Then she often came to her husband and I had no idea what to do. They seemed to be busy. Afterward, their third person came but he didn’t join our silence as he was eating something. I started to think that Mary was offended by me ( the odd situation with the tickets) but she lively talked about the local artist whose pictures were hung on the walls. The friend of Mary’s husband greeted me and made some jokes as we met before at the Quiz.Please game.
The performance made a really good impression at the beginning. There were two characters who played queer creatures and played them really good. Even at the moments, they weren’t at the focus they played. But after a few stories, the main idea has begun to melt their massages hardly matched. The composition of grounded stories about people and some pathetic temptation to touch “The Sacred Question of Art”. At the end, the artist who appeared from time to time during the whole performance turned the big picture to the audience. Frankly, I expected to see a key for the play but it was a messy unclear drawing which didn’t tell anything.
The talk we had after was full of men’s loud impressions, they got it was rubbish. And partly they were right but not in that expressive way. I found out that it was really hard for me to grasp and answer smartly on the man’s jokes. That was fast and non-straight-forward. (I spend to much time with less clever people). Mary’s husband dropped me at my bus stop.
So, most of the days I spend learning either history or social study and have nothing to do outside the flat. Sometimes as it’s been just now I go down the street to refresh my mind. That’s basically all I do.
A month ago at my hometown, the mass cafe – McCafe was opened. And today I was there again (it opened here) and did the regular thing I do at the public places – watching people. People are actually the most variable part of that cafe and the most important. Because it speaks for itself. Both times it was like a time machine into the past – talks and types of the girls around were surprisingly the same as it was many years ago. (I don’t mean a type of wear they took but sort of talk they had) While quantity didn’t change they got (I presume) that dump sense of involvement in the western world. An awkward pretty girl had done all she could (make-up, clothes, and location-cafe) to be like “them”. But the magic hadn’t happened. That wasn’t enough to immediately become a part of “that” world and thereafter be happy. Faking felt around quite sharp.
The more time I stay here the clearer reasons why I was eager to move on become. There are no good or bad towns but suitable for you personally or not. Not a moral problem.
But at the field of the preparation, I’m (yes) diligent and hesitating. Sometimes I can legibly hear a teeny tiny voice speaking to me that’s it’s all a silly idea and I am not able to endure this all properly and will only decrease. I cannot imagine the whole study process containing a pile of information. Plus to this, I’ve got some creative ideas outside the institute’s walls. While I’m free I think easily. (But I still despise drawing)
That was a bright day with all its little miracles and little disappointments.
Yesterday late evening my roommate came for a night. She brought the spirit of irritability and anger in her sharp manoeuvres. I was preparing the report for the art history and was so absorbed by the content that could hardly pay enough attention to her. But the attendance itself really decreased my clear focus and absolute excitement. That night I could hardly sleep and woke up by either light or noise. (Now I got that I need to watch her by the other angle. I need to be more open-minded, amicable and philosophically calm. And remember that things happen not with us but for us. Maybe she’s cool and interesting though not my type of a roommate)
At the morning I got away very fast and quietly sat at the swimming pool’s hall with my report. While swimming I perceived that my legs reject to work obediently. But the water had become my ally, not an enemy.
It was a rush to hurry up for being in time on the lesson. But I was late for 5 minutes and had to hear the teacher’s cry. Good start. Finally, after the explanation of exam’s structure, she had set that the only report on the book art was to perform. All others were checked by words. The worst happened.
At the hall on the second floor, I was sitting in stupor came by physical tiresome and the dilemma: go or not to the hostel for the pictures to get the mark on the irrelevant subject or not. Then Vlad came and we talked about fifteen minutes in a very fun way. As I observed after he could make people feel comfortable and easy-going. So was I after that fifteen minutes of light jokes and discussions.
The rest of the day there was no actual work but talking, watching and going to and fro. I should value my time more careful.
It’s so magnificently warm and bright on the street, there is so fresh summer air which is talking to all of us to go out, to play something on the grass, to drink wine sitting at the wooden branch and watching the sunset. The image of summer is ahead.
But the morning was distinct because of the greyness of sky and hardship of being there. I did read the papers for the report and happily went out. I reckoned to paint today as it could be the college. There was almost no one at the workshop. Mahler at the headphones and the common stir around. It appeared to be so chaotic and disorganised (as it always is). I tried to be very concentrated and think about work but few times talks caught me.
Nastya didn’t want to explain to me why she hides the type of job her boyfriend (and my course mate) got. She became sarcastic and boasting because of my attempts to recognize. It struck me and I asked her whether she hurts me willingly. Her answer was yes and for some reason, it alienated her. At the lunch, I was sitting on the other side of the table chatting with other girls and then just went out. Afterward, she asked had I really been offended by that. In an artistic manner, I let her know that I don’t offense but change the attitude.
The teacher as always was going from one workshop to another grumbling about the attendance but without real comments on work. There were also talks about films and other stuff, music in the headphones and inner freedom to skip the anatomy lesson (because of the workshop).
This day could be called miserable by some unpleasant point which begun the previous evening. The whole night I tried as hard as possible to focus and get asleep while the roommate was doing something with the night lamp. It was truly troublesome to make me relax. She went the Saturday night and spent the whole Sunday lying in pyjama in front of the laptop. I, in contrary, had a very busy and active Sunday. But in spite of all my weariness, I couldn’t get asleep and, as a result, today I had circles under the eyes and some tension inside.
I wore the new clothes: light blue jeans and beige cardigan. I must be a joyful moment of beauty. But while I was hurrying for a history lesson, I felt something that every girl wouldn’t prefer to feel in the light jeans. Yes, that was it. Fortunately, the lecture turned out to be a review of pictures and artifacts which are mostly well-known for the art department. I could relax and utter the answers easily.
The way back to the hostel, one part of me guessed that it would be a scene. At the morning I found out crumbs at the kitchen table and moreover the tablespoon stained in my coffee. It was a decision to leave a note with a message kinda “please, clean up after yourself and don’t touch my coffee”. Simple isn’t it. But there was a scene which I didn’t manage to control as polite as it should be. She assumed me blaming her for all sins. I was so irritated that the phrase “it sounds like an accusation” seemed me even on the way back utterly stupid. I explained her in a most impartial way I could – showing the real way of accusing and cleaning out my intentions and thoughts I wanted her to get. That was and still plain that she took offence and frowned even more. Ethical practice case.
At the way to and fro at the damp gray roads with dripping cars and trams (and everything), it seemed a day when one wants to give up all this stuff called life. When the walls, lifts, people, study look especially terrible.
But at the drawing, I laughed a lot and felt even relaxed for some time. Then it only decreased. The talks appeared illogical, impulsive and primitive. The sitter was out most of the time and I completely lost a zeal to draw hands and foot. I went out at three and on the way got that the roommate can be still there. It looked obvious. And it turned out so. She cleaned up one of my shelves at the kitchen and put there a plastic glass and a box of tea (instead of few cups and a stack of plates). I asked her openly whether she was offended and is everything OK. Her answer No was obviously unclear. Now she is lying in her pajama and, I perceive she isn’t going somewhere out. Not today.
Saturdays are my days of relief in spite of all possible business. Yesterday I went to the swimming pool as usual, but there was a huge mob at the hall – all were going to swim. That was lucky I wasn’t alone. The swimming itself went good, I could maneuver more freely and without that great fear to drown. I exhaled to the water more frequently though it was tough for me. The next time it’s better to swim by myself (without a board) and practice rowing as well as Kroll in general (the last time I tried it, that was like staying in the same place). The trainer said that the water loves relaxed people – I frankly tested it, but while I cannot afford to lose control.
That was a strange situation afterward. I went out with the girl from Directing dep., they went to the subway for getting at the institute. I couldn’t just leave them and go to drink coffee alone. That’s why I left them one station before institute’s and directed to the coffee shop. It could be foreseen that there be a queue and lack of seats. Finally, I amazed my stubbornness – every time I resolve to not to go there but from time to time it happens.
After history, Natasha clung to me with questions about life. That moment the last thing I wanted was a talk on life priorities and communications. At the crossroad, she gaily said that my second tour is passed. That was a joke when she said me “Don’t you want to be my friend?” But yesterday it seemed to me so terrifying. While I was passing her test she failed mine. All talks went to improvements of her life and problems with people. It’s not a good start for friendly connection, isn’t it?
The evening was beautiful. Without any delay, I got to be at the theater which seemed so good at the theater square beside all that stuff. There were real Moscow people in the real theater and it seemed magnificent. I was wondering around a crowd which filled the whole hall. There weren’t any free seats. Mine was on the first floor and a part of the scene was hidden. It didn’t interfere the joy of performance. The story of FRG’s chancellor and his personal referent who turned out to be a spy. It was not as detective as it could be. The stage was set smart and succinctly. Nice colours.
The night Moscow center won my heart. Colours and lights of old restaurants and historical places, clean roads, and walking people. I ate a plate of soap at the very center and could hear a talk of people who make money.
I’m still with the film “Silence”. It came out of the talk with Vlad about the films at all. I couldn’t speak freely and again had no ideas what to say. It’s too difficult for me to express thought about such sacred part of life as faith. I don’t have a habit and carriage. I feel like it’s much more complicated and profound that I previously reckoned it. Therefore, it’s not a time for making clear assumptions on this. It’s time for exploring, it’s time for cleaning a place from prejudices to openness.
It’s not cinematography which made me so addicted to films but ideas and their expression. The questions it raises, the message it sends.
With such mental background, the day went gloomy. I painted a lot and couldn’t find any proper reason in communications. Once I heard that Mary was thinking about dropping out. I went to the canteen with her and asked properly. Her problem is money and lack of real study. My problem is the whole field. That was a strange pleasure of disclosure.
The painting went as usual: girls were roaming to and fro, I was painting most of the time while felt tiresome. Then half an hour before the end, I like a mouse went away the workshop to breathe fresh air of gray streets.
The morning was so beautiful and fresh today. Just a morning at the gym (which is occasionally on the first floor of the hostel) with the calm and enthusiastic female trainer. The whole situation was quite efficient, there were only two of us and a boy, so the trainer could pay attention to us in particular. She showed us a few exercises for a back that I had done wrong before and moreover, it turned out that I had done squats valueless all those months. But then it was a discovery and delight. Nastya besides me helped to get some movement and I did the same for her. Peaceful efficiency.
After that, I had many ideas about life, summer time, purchases and etc. The painting lesson didn’t seem something necessary. I fell in love with the clarity of mind, history, press and books, and the whole idea that all we want to be is possible (just do it!). And as fast as I got it again the ideas and the whole desire to live came back to me. How easy! But there are many things which I must elaborate with my mindset.
Also, I did the terrible thing such as payment for study. In a wave of hand someone’s vacation transformed into a few months of study. Just a magic.
At the painting I went really late, two hours late. The teacher preached me up and tried to convince me that my composition is awful. The arguments were very so beautiful that I write it here. First, the centre of the body is the centre of the composition, second, the long-term professional work at the painting. Super! I was listening to him and couldn’t believe he reckons it enough to be trusted undoubtedly. I do doubt. Since then he hadn’t come to me. And I didn’t want as there wasn’t so much time for rhetoric. I focused and did needed work while others were treading to and fro. That was the greatest idea of mine to cut time for work. The concentration increased and the result was better.
The girls asked for skipping the anatomy lesson and she allowed it. Going to the hostel it was so strange to talk to cartoon art’s girls. Not my tribe obviously. Sasha looked at my food basket I looked at her and there was a gap of lifestyle. I do not disrespect her but her conclusion making process is quite mediocre. No data, no experience but ready prejudices. Some people fit us well some are not. And the background (the same college) doesn’t help it.
What a strange day! At the very beginning, this was terrific though I had so little time for exercises and morning routine. The girl on the street was freezing on the way to the institute in the spring gear and no hat. Surely. Red ankles, red ears.
The history lesson was wonderful and absolutely educating. I had a clean list about the topic before and some ideas after. Vague time in Russia was kinda intriguing, frightening and full of pivotal moments. I was perfectly happy during that time and was agreed to continue. But there were other lessons. But at the corridor, I got how easy it was to attract people while you’re happy yourself. I did talk with one cinema scholar and was welcomed by some other people. That was sort of socializing. Beautiful.
However, I felt so good and could talk with people totally amicable the drawing lesson hadn’t become joyful for me. There was the regular noise of chatting, disorganisation and absence of any motivation for work. To add my own lack of understanding what is the reason for drawing. What is the main purpose? And nothing worked to make anyone focused on the task. Nothing new. Finally, Sasha turned on the dynamics and all people wanted to own music to be sounded. That was absolute chaos. I tried to do something and had actually something done but frankly, I did and do draw worse than at the college. And I skipped the last hour.
What a relief to go out to the snowy street after such a mess! My way was to the trade centre in the suburb. Strange? No, it’s okay to buy dumbbells in the middle of nowhere. Again I listened to the history while the head was relatively clear and felt confused. So many details are out of my sight! And how primitive the knowledge I get know. However, I’m happy to get more and better than nothing and no way.
At the other trade centre that was a vacuum in my head. The famous poet talked about some social and literal phenomenon but I was out of touch. The whole world is in the room I can see only through the ajar door. The emptiness and the same time lightness of my own skills\knowledge\experience. Zero. The empty field for creation.
I haven’t still paid for the fee and actually have no desire to. But the common sense and my mom are on the other side of the question. I will finish this year this way or another. For some vague purpose.
The whole night I could hardly sleep well – the wind was blowing out of the window even through the blanket. I was waking up despite all the tiresome in my body (sleepless night at the bus and the busy day of purchases) and idea I needed to get up with the alarm clock. Now I’ve sealed the frame and hope for the warmer night today. Nonetheless, I had overslept the first lesson quite consciously and had no pangs of conscience about it though it was Russian history.
The strange thing is to take the heavy bag with paper and pencils, go to the roads and traffic lights to study. At the crossroad, it immediately struck me that Moscow lives its own life either I got it or not. There is some special air which I can seldom feel and recognize. The mixed sense of routine, disorientation, business and diversity. The life which is going on without particular persons but the big system. Typicality and complexity in the same basket. It is sunny and warm and people are scurrying as any other time, any other day.
You know how strange it is to come back and find out that nothing has changed. At the entry to the department, people forth are observed and upcoming talks are foreseen. Small talks and my barely concealed reluctance to mix with them. Fake smile. But I frankly tried. No set had been done at the moment I came in. The teacher gathered us at the workshop and spoke to us about the program. As usual, he was very optimistic and confessed that every year the course becomes worse and worse, that we have bad drawing as we all had bad preparation at art schools and colleges. In a word, he hasn’t changed for the last month – the same grumbling dwarf. The only fruitful point I got out of his speech was the number and content of the painting sets at this term. Certainly, I hadn’t been amazed at all.
At the hall I saw the girls speaking with each other, one of them was Nastya and for some reason, I decided I need to come and say hi. The other girls were so much the same that I could only joke about that. They were complaining about something. The talk with Nastya and her friend Tanya was kind of formal, though it looked friendly enough. Some moment I saw clearly that Nastya is sort of dump. We discussed the difficulty to go by bus home and she insisted that as far as she had no problems with that it’s easy. Finally, I burst out and said something about mom’s unluckiness at the road and some of my own occasions. She appeared to me a bit self-confident in terms of narrow-mindedness (it’s not the only example). To say nothing about the manner to pull the blanket over herself and let people talk about her. But their company is quite safe for me and this is the major reason I’m with them. No provocative questions or soul’s excavating. It’s comfortable and safe, and regressive.
The lunch went alike all the Thursday lunches. The girls couldn’t change the tune and discussed unfortunate love affair. Quickly I left them and went upstairs to read the detective. About an hour I read it. At the workshops nothing had been changed, the girls were chatting, the models were going to and fro. I and girls decided to go out. So went back to the hostel with some naive sense of freedom (while The Economist at the table).