Place and method

The photographs are made through layered exposure, colour interference, optical distortion, and the imperfect behaviour of digital capture. The image is built through contact with the place, with the camera receiving several visual pressures at once.

Rostov is my native city. In this series it returns as a material already stored in memory: familiar, difficult, excessive, intimate, broken, and alive. The city appears through atmosphere, surfaces, winter trees, damaged colour, and the density of ordinary streets.

The layered exposure fits this place because Rostov already feels layered. Repairs, cables, bare branches, façades, fences, colour stains, and fragments of memory gather into the same visual field.

Branches, wires, surfaces

The trees carry much of the image. Without leaves, they become lines: sharp, exposed, nervous, sometimes almost calligraphic. They cross walls and windows like cracks, cables, nerves, or drawn marks.

Human figures are absent, but human presence stays everywhere: in buildings, fences, repairs, wires, painted surfaces, old walls, and the logic of the street. The city feels inhabited by traces, decisions, damage, and unfinished care.

Colour gives the series its artificial intensity. It cuts through the greys and browns of the original scene and turns the city into a charged surface, where memory, structure, and interference occupy the same frame.

A native city as accumulation

The series holds a place that is intimate and difficult to explain. Rostov appears through accumulation: lines, surfaces, interruptions, repairs, artificial colour, and memory moving through the structure of the image.

The photographs keep the city bright, unstable, and exposed. The image stays close to the way a familiar place can return: partial, charged, overlaid, and full of details that belong together because they have always been there.