How do you say "good-bye" to a whole city? In one day? If you know that the chances are great that you will never return, what do you choose to see one last time?
During our seven years in Moscow, I've made many trips to Russia's second largest city, usually to consult at the Anglo American School of St. Petersburg. (I wrote about the school and my morning walks to work in blog postings this fall.) My fondness for the city has grown with each visit, whether it be mid-winter when the days are dark and the snow is magical, or June 21 when Daylight takes only a short nap and revels in keeping the population awake. Radiant yellow leaves of fall, overhead and underfoot, defy anyone to remain gloomy in their midst. And finally spring, of this year. May 23. A day stretching before me, blue sky, sunshine, only a light jacket needed. .
I begin walking, allowing the day to direct me. My eye, then my camera, spots a color, a glint of light, delicacy of petal, angle, curve, a memory. I capture it and walk on, wondering about a bigger picture.
The Russian Museum is a must, my favorite, even surpassing the Hermitage. Russian art has educated me about Russia, its landscapes, history, traditions, the faces of its people from peasants to tsars. Today I put away the map, having been here three times, guiding myself to familiar paintings, as if they were friends. "There you are; nice to see you again," I might whisper as I walk up to "Visiting" by Abram Arkhipov. But this visit feels different. My eye focuses on details, pieces of the whole, searching for paintings within paintings.
faces of women
Or, "The Opera Singer, Fiodor Shalyapin" by Konstantin Korovin
still life on the table
The bigger picture? Good-byes are singular, solitary. . . one piece, one person at a time. The process of leaving forces me to notice, to appreciate, to take time with. The enormity of St. Petersburg is too much for me to hold onto, but the tulip, the dome sparking in the sun, the smiles of the women in the window and the flowers on Shalyapin's table are part of Russia that have touched my soul, and therein lies the secret.
During our seven years in Moscow, I've made many trips to Russia's second largest city, usually to consult at the Anglo American School of St. Petersburg. (I wrote about the school and my morning walks to work in blog postings this fall.) My fondness for the city has grown with each visit, whether it be mid-winter when the days are dark and the snow is magical, or June 21 when Daylight takes only a short nap and revels in keeping the population awake. Radiant yellow leaves of fall, overhead and underfoot, defy anyone to remain gloomy in their midst. And finally spring, of this year. May 23. A day stretching before me, blue sky, sunshine, only a light jacket needed. .I begin walking, allowing the day to direct me. My eye, then my camera, spots a color, a glint of light, delicacy of petal, angle, curve, a memory. I capture it and walk on, wondering about a bigger picture.
The Russian Museum is a must, my favorite, even surpassing the Hermitage. Russian art has educated me about Russia, its landscapes, history, traditions, the faces of its people from peasants to tsars. Today I put away the map, having been here three times, guiding myself to familiar paintings, as if they were friends. "There you are; nice to see you again," I might whisper as I walk up to "Visiting" by Abram Arkhipov. But this visit feels different. My eye focuses on details, pieces of the whole, searching for paintings within paintings.
Or, "The Opera Singer, Fiodor Shalyapin" by Konstantin Korovin
The bigger picture? Good-byes are singular, solitary. . . one piece, one person at a time. The process of leaving forces me to notice, to appreciate, to take time with. The enormity of St. Petersburg is too much for me to hold onto, but the tulip, the dome sparking in the sun, the smiles of the women in the window and the flowers on Shalyapin's table are part of Russia that have touched my soul, and therein lies the secret.
How lovely!
ReplyDeleteThanks for bringing me a little piece of St Pete home to Moscow.
IW
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