НАТЮРМОРТ

I'm an artist by trade, but since childhood, I've always had a camera in hand. Like many, my passion for photography began with the "Amateur" camera, a gift from my father for either my tenth or eleventh birthday. After that came the "Fed," then the "Zenith." My first darkroom was tucked away in a closet under the stairs to the attic. Over time, I worked my way through the world of analog photography, using cameras from Canon, Minolta, Nikon, and even the "Moscow." While photography was never my main focus, it always accompanied me, becoming a constant companion in my artistic journey. In many ways, it has complemented and enriched my primary calling—painting.

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My foray into digital photography began in the 1990s, with a Casio camera that boasted a resolution of just 320x240 pixels (0.07 MP), a novelty at the time. Yet, I held onto film for years, reluctant to fully embrace the digital era. While others moved on to Canon 10D and 20D cameras, I was still storing away my enlarger. Eventually, though, the pull of the evolving digital landscape and my own curiosity led me to transition from analog to digital. My darkroom shifted from a small closet to a computer.

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I have a deep love for black-and-white photography. Why? That's not an easy question to answer. Maybe it’s the connection to classic photography, or perhaps it's the historical significance. One might assume that, as someone who works with color and paint daily, I would be more drawn to color in photography as well. Yet, the opposite is true. When color is stripped away, something else emerges—something intangible, something not of the material world. I cherish the conversion process. It's magical. It's nostalgic. It's romantic. I can't fully explain the allure of black-and-white photography, but I follow its current, trusting my instincts and emotions to guide me.

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