|Photograph by Matt Barnes|
|Photographs by Nicolas Grospierre|
A metro station. Something that I can catch myself dreaming of, as stupid as it sounds. Lately I've been thinking of the frame in "Jeune et Jolie" which has Marine walking around metro in Paris. I could talk and talk of how much I want to explore the underground of Paris and it would probably make no sense to a Parisian, but that's what my Eastern heart dreams of at night. The sounds, the wind that blows as you start walking through the door, searching for a seat. You can definitely tell that I am dreamer.
|"Jeune et Jolie" (2013)|
Moscow's metro is a whole another thing. My fascination with russian culture is quite odd really, but there's no time or space for this discussion. Russian metro still glorifies the days of soviet union, the sculptures down there tell you the story of the happiest person - worker. Shamelessly skipping the communism part, we can admit that Moscow's metro is perhaps even more interesting than some museums. It's an underground's hermitage, if we can compare it to the one in St.Petersburg. Enjoy your trips to school or work while passing the halls, not everyone has such a fancy metro, some countries don't have metros at all (I am definitely not whining).
Train stations. Even the sound of a train at night makes me shiver, makes me feel jealous of those who are in that train in the deepest hours of night. Train stations, sadly, do not associate to me with the beautiful start of twentieth century, where ladies were walking around the polished floor while men were carrying their luggage. It associates to me with dirt, loud noises, smoke, coming from some young boy's mouth while he is holding a cigarette with his dirty nails and little fingers, smoke, following as a trail through rails while the train is riding in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately, associations are hard to give up and even more awfully - I do not want to let go of these associations. I can hear David Bowie's "Heroes" in my head already, as I imagine a train station and Christiane ("Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo"(1981)) walking around with her lifeless face and transparent body, her hair all around her face in a storm when trains stop and start riding again. Trains are the sign of freedom, this thought came to me in first pages of "The Catcher in the Rye", while I was taking a ride with Holden, 3 or 4 years ago. I wish I could glorify simple things less, but it's more fun that way, isn't it?
|"Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo"(1981)|
|Photograph by Lise Sarfati|