I just try to seize my own life – every day, every moment I feel how it sneaks out from my hands, but a luckily snatched shot seems to take out at least a moment, at least a drop from the rush and oblivion. I stop a fragment of life, which stands face to face with my lens – and I feel alive, for a couple of minutes longer.
My films are a diary. How could I, or anyone else, really fixate my state of mind, leave an imprint of a real “me”? It is almost impossible. Thousands of every-moment thoughts, splashes of momentary emotions and desires, that blink all the time like an oscilloscope – everything passes away, because there are no words, no numbers and no measures to describe them.
But there is my camera, and what else, except it, could display my mood, my feelings. It is a kind of magic to pass on something that has captured my attention and my mind. Everything I love and everybody will evaporate one day. My films will stay a bit longer, probably. Nobody knows. But if one can save what he loves by pushing the shutter button – why not?
Though it is a specific kind of love – not strange, rather the opposite, with a bitter scent of routine. I live in a world, which is too tight and there isn’t enough air. But it is the only possible variant, so I have to learn to love it - as it is. The world doesn’t find me very interesting too. But we’ve reached a compromise – we suit each other when there is a camera between us.
When I’m taking my pictures, the emptiness seems to dissolve. Maybe, this is the point in this small world, which has everything found out and made, and where people still remain just fragile evanescent shadows.