It’s just a wonderful day filled with miracles and sun.
At the morning I pushed me out of the bed and went to run. And there were no regrets about that. Streets were so silent and empty that it had been hard to believe that it was the big capital. No, at the arbat district it is calm as in a little town with the pond and intelligent ladies walking with the beagle, with an old man who work out. I knew the road well and run with pleasure of confidence and pressure.
At the Arbat street air was fresh and springy. I found the cafe, took a cup of tea and sit to schedule activities. But suprisingly I could’t focus without my google calendar. Isn’t it silly? However the sun was bright and roads were free. I had the dinner with soap. In front of me there were two girls and their mothers who are to enter GITIS. Interesting, isn’t it?
Then I discovered the new way to reach the Tretyakov’s Gallery. At the Krimsky Val sky had so much white low clouds that I couldn’t restrain from stopping and looking at the huge picture of nature among the stony town.
The gallery was welcome as there wasn’t much visitors (thank God!). I did everything very accurate as I had big experience in going to the exibitions (pathetic!). The halls were smartly composed and we could go through the creative ages. Pictures were huge and monumental, programm sometimes, sometimes phylosophical. The main thing which I carried out of there was sketches. Little sketches with black pen or indian ink for the preparation to the canvas itself. They spoke me how to create things, how to think. Sometimes I forget that it’s allowed to make sketches, draw ideas and write instrutions down. The painting is proficient in the frames of natural school though his composition is usually cinematographic. There are cuts and not fully shown details as the cadre will change and the next will show us the continue.
The rest of the gallery I went through with tired foot. Nonetheless, I could really enjoy the pictures of some artists. The collection of the twentieth century is so big there that at the end I prayed it to be the last room. But then there was another room filled with masterpieces. What to say here? I want my student ID back to visit galleries freely and do it selectively, from time to time with little portions.
As the great art require the feedback my head had been splitted to the end of the visit. I was in hurry to have time for the meeting with Mary and the main event. It turned out that she couldn’t come. So, nothing’s scary. I went alone to the place. There was so much people that I had had no hopes to seat down at the beginning. But then I found the folding chairs, took one and enjoyed. After the half of an hour with the closed eyes, cup of americano and another stir around the books the audience had became quiet and calm. Just in a moment the waited for journalist came and just on a second I felt the pleasure of seeing the very admired person in life. It was Vladimir Pozner, the journalist who made a few profound films about different countries and the same time he is the great interviewer. I couldn’t believe, but then it was like the talk of near person in the lilac sucks.
He said many profound things about the importance of fantasy and the relevant part of reading in developing the vision. And as usual he said that without any importunacy which is typical for political stuff. Also he touched the importance of writing by hand (what a coincidence! Only this morning I looked for the notebook for usual writing sort of I used at the college). The screen versions and the books he called alarmed the great desire to read, to watch, to imagine, to develop. To look under the cover and find the gist.
The woman who accompanied him was interesting and resilient too. But people sometimes cryed without any politeness or understanding. How little and silly that routine life seemed and how big and beautiful – the world of art and truthfulness. When it ended I went directly to the stand with the foreign literature and considered about the purchase but put myself together and run away to the fresh Saturday Arbat. Sky was full of air and something magical. Something what makes life valuable and wonderful. I flight like a butterfly and didn’t want to touch the greyness.
Write notes by hand, read books, listen music, make sketches, learn languages, discover new, imagine, live.