Freddie Mercury off the chart in Russia’s Kaliningrad
Published: 6 May 2022 ~ Freddie Mercury Kaliningrad House is one in a million
Were you, or are you, a fan of Freddie Mercury? I cannot say that moustachioed Freddie or his band Queen did very much for me, although they did produce one or two memorable tracks. But something tells me that the owner of this property (see photos), not very inconspicuously tucked away in Russia’s Kaliningrad region’s countryside, has more than a passing admiration for the flamboyant singer songwriter, his unforgettable stage persona and outstanding vocal range.
Freddie Mercury Kaliningrad House
Bright pink with a stencilled silhouette of Freddie strutting his stuff, its not the sort of property that you might expect to find in, well almost anywhere really, but least of all in a small Russian hamlet.
My favourite musician, back ~ way back ~ in the progressive-rock era of my youth, was Frank Zappa and his innovative and rather unconventional band the Mothers of Invention.
Inspired by the Mercury tribute, I am trying to imagine the exterior makeover of our 18th century UK family home had I undertaken it using various artistic devices from some of Zappa’s zany album covers, perhaps a complete rendition of Freak Out! or the imagery used on the soundtrack album of Zappa’s surreal psychedelic and Freudian-infused musical monolith 200 Motels.
I am almost certain had I attempted such a profane project that the planning department of Northants County Council not to mention the parish council would have moved to have me committed, especially if there was a real danger that neither could make any money out of it.
However, in the case of Freddie House, it sort of grows on you, don’t you think?
The other advantage that the owner of this property has over us in Britland is that in the UK we would not be allowed to paint a Union Jack on the side of the house combined with Queen’s Crown motifs, for the very reasonable reason that it might offend minority imports. You have to admit, however, that the red, white and blue cuts a rather dashing figure! I think the Union Jack should be painted on every wall in the UK, particularly every wall in London!
In the Kaliningrad provinces, possibly an embryonic catalyst is at work, subliminally suggesting the constitution of an entire village exterior designed on the principle of tributes to favourite rock artists. Would Zappa have a hand in this, he could well have called it Tinsel Town.
Meanwhile, until that day which never may dawn, here’s looking at you Fred! 😊
Posts devoted to the Kaliningrad region, Russia, recent and not so …
Ivan Zverev saves old German building from terminal decline
Published: 31 December 2021 ~ Restoration brings Museum to Life in Nizovie
There are good days and bad days, and Christmas day is no exception. But this year there was no need to wonder what we were going to do. If I had been in the UK, I could have put on my Christmas-cracker hat and high-tailed it to the nearest McDonald’s for a Yuletide jab, but as I was in Kaliningrad I would have to accept the next best thing, which was an invitation to attend the opening of Zverev’s museum in the village of Nizovie.
Restoration and museum comes to life in Nizovie
As long as you know where Nizovie is, the museum is impossible to miss. It is a large, red-brick, three-storey German building, set back from the road; very municipal-looking; very formal; and unmistakeably civic.
Today, its presence was even more unmissable. In addition to the soviet pennants fluttering in the breeze on either side of the imposing entrance and next to them a red sign bearing the words ‘NKO USSR, Military Commandant of Waldau’, and a large, decorated and illuminated Christmas tree on one side of the forecourt upstaged only by the pea-green 18th century carriage located on the opposite side and a very active music system, a not insubstantial crowd was gathering, some of the younger folk among it dressed in animal costumes and some among the older in the velvet-rich finery and lace that would have been worn by the well-to-do back in the 18th century.
😊Waldau Castle and Museum are a short distance from the Zverev museum, making it possible to visit all three on the same day …
Snow, and lots of it, completed a scene which for me was exceedingly 25th of December, although the meaning that I attributed to it may have been lost on the crowd, as in Russia Christmas is celebrated according to the Orthodox calendar, and thus falls later on the 7th of January.
Nevertheless, we were into the festive season and the composition all told engendered a perfect seasonal atmosphere.
Restoration brings Museum to Life in Nizovie
The official opening of the museum took place at the foot and on top of the steps leading to the main entrance. The ribbon was cut by a representative of Kaliningrad’s administration and then, after a short speech from this gentleman, Mr Ivan Zverev, owner of the building, chief restorer and curator of the museum, delivered a slightly longer one, upon completion of which up went the volume of the music and with it a herd of people who, whilst no doubt endeared by the snowy scene around them, which was extremely picturesque, could not forbear a moment longer the urgent need to throw themselves inside the warmth that the building offered.
I endured for a few minutes more, as I wanted to have my photograph taken with the man from the 18th century and his female entourage. That done, I, too, shot up the steps and into the entrance hall behind the great wooden door.
Mick Hart with re-enactors at the opening of Ivan Zverev’s renovated German building and museum in Nizovie
As I passed through the doorway, someone remarked ‘original’. It could have been me they were talking about, in which case I am glad that I did not catch the last word, but I think they meant the door, which they believed was genuinely old. The key to the door looked old, also. I did not stop to verify this as my toes were nipped and nippy, but I must say that I would not want this heavy, six-inch metal object hanging on my key ring.
The 18th century photograph taken outside had been a prelude to what awaited me on the other side of the door, a flirtation with the past possessing curious overtones of baronial medievalness and 19th century sobriety. Too many facets for immediate computation presented themselves, but the tiled flooring, stained glass partition windows, beamed and lattice-work ceilings, heavy Tudor-style wrought iron chandeliers, enamel and metal signs and, on either side of the hall, views of an eclectic profusion of bygones announced your departure from the 21st century, which, let us not be shy in saying it, can by no means be misconstrued as anything but agreeable.
Entrance Hall to Nizovie Museum
The extent of the building’s restoration to date is confined to the ground floor, but make no mistake, given the size of the building and the condition in which it was found after 10 years of neglect, the work involved so far has been nothing short of considerable.
If you were to put the plaster entirely back on the walls and mask out the curios and relics, the feeling of being back at school would be understandably justified since, in Soviet times, this is what it had been ~ Nizovie village school. Interestingly, some among today’s visitors were former pupils who attended the school in the 1960s and 70s.
Prior to its scholastic purpose, in German times the building had served the village as an all-inclusive health centre and, considering Nizovie’s diminutive size, an elaborate one at that. It had contained a dentist’s surgery, doctor’s surgery and also an apothecary.
The apothecary theme has been picked up by the building’s restorers and built into the first room on the left hand-side of the hall, which today doubled as an exhibit’s gallery and refreshment centre. The room is screened off, but not enclosed, by a decorative wrought iron framework, likewise the room opposite. This is an excellent arrangement as it affords irresistible glimpses of all that lies beyond.
Today, it was a choice of hot beverages and snacks, or, if you were so inclined, exotic and novel alcoholic infusions. Into the room we went!
The first one I sampled was a herb-based liqueur, the secret ingredient of which, or so it was whispered, is amber, over which the liquid recipe is poured and then slowly left to marinate. I took a nip of this not knowing what to expect and instantly wished I had been more greedy!
The second beverage was difficult to decant. It sat within a giant, thin-necked oblong bottle. Snow-bitten fingers and hands that looked like salmon made manoeuvring this a risky endeavour, but not one to forego a challenge, at least when it comes to alcohol, needless to say I excelled myself and was thus rewarded with a delicious glass, which then became two, of mead. Other people in the room must also have been unsure as to whether they had the dexterity to safely handle the bottle, since nobody made for the mead until I had shown them the way, after which I was quickly promoted to chief difficult bottle controller and mead dispenser extraordinaire!
Whilst drinking this pick-me-up, I was able to enjoy the many and various apothecary elements displayed in the wall-side cabinets as well as reflect favourably on specific details of restoration, for example the technique repeated throughout the building of contrasting exposed and clean brickwork with asymmetrical flowing panels of plaster.
Medicinal herbs in the apothecary at Nizovie Museum
In this room, the plastered section has been artistically decorated with large, coloured illustrations of herbs and plants, accompanied by short descriptions of their medicinal value and the curative or health-giving properties that each is said to impart. The apothecary theme is further enhanced by a line of suspended dried plants strung against the ceiling and, of course, by a multiplicity of obsolete bottles together with teeth-chilling dentistry and twinge-inducing surgical instruments.
Anaesthetised by the pleasant brew, I did, however, eventually vacate this room and, fortified as much if not more than I should be, given the time of day, I set off floating somewhat on a personal voyage of discovery.
Restoration brings Museum to Life in Nizovie
Having stopped for five minutes to enjoy the resuscitating heat puthering out from a great barrel of a wood burner, which bore an uncanny resemblance to a vintage eight-cylinder car engine, my explorations revealed that the building’s ground floor is arranged around a T-shaped profile. The entrance hall, flanked by the two rooms, has no door at its opposite end. A corridor running at right angles to it lets into rooms adjacent, and at either end of this corridor, within two symmetrical wings, a room in each is located transverse to the others.
The room on the opposite side of the entrance hall, the apothecary’s counterpart, is chocker block, mostly with relics of a domestic nature, ranging from kitchen utensils to telephones, whilst the end room in the wing on the right contains larger, more bulky household devices and many other items and implements once commonplace to gardening and agricultural work. All this was good, educational and insightful stuff from the past, reminding us that before the universality of plastic everything from watering cans to ‘washing machines’ had been manufactured from heavy, solid materials including, but not limited to, galvanised steel, wrought iron and wood.
The most inspiring and thought-provoking of the museum’s exhibit rooms are, without question, the one themed around bygone motorcycles, associated vehicle parts and ephemera and the other which is devoted to the Second World War.
As a westerner, the two-wheeled Soviet transport displayed offered me an intriguing chance to compare the similarities of and differences between the mopeds and motorbikes used in postwar Soviet Russia with models I was familiar with in the UK that had been manufactured and ridden in an era contemporaneous to that of their Russian counterparts.
This room also contains a number of enamel wall signs, most of them German, some advertising motor oils, others vehicle requisites.
These signs are a particular favourite of mine and were, and no doubt still are, highly sought-after by collectors and interior designers. When we owned and ran our UK-based antique and vintage emporium enamel signs were never out of demand.
The Nizovie exhibition of Soviet war memorabilia is really in a class of its own. Naturally, it helps with a display of this kind that the environment in which it is housed has a stark, industrial feel to it, a backdrop which comes naturally to buildings of a certain age where the walls and floors are made of brick, the ceilings lined with thick oak beams and the lighting commercial in character.
Mr Zverev and his helpers have spared nothing creatively in an effort to frame the exhibits in such a way that they guarantee emotivity.
Two explicitly detailed and dramatic murals, one a battle scene raging above and around Königsberg Castle, the other a depiction of vanquished Hitler youth and battle-exhausted German soldiers forlornly resigned to their fate as they huddle against the walls of a bomb-gutted Königsberg Cathedral, capture the hell of war in its devastating consequences for culture and humanity.
Suffering and death are also served up in two macabre symbolic compositions: one is a life-sized skeleton dressed in a German greatcoat wearing a gas mask; the other, aligned above him, is a wall painting of a Nazi officer in full military uniform locked behind a grid of real iron bars. The mask used for the face in this depiction has allowed the artist to twist and distort it into a crumpled agony of bewildered despair.
Displayed against this sensory backdrop is a diverse assortment of German and Soviet field gear, some excavated others well-preserved, as well as small arms, edged weapons, military uniforms, flags and banners and examples of heavier weapons such as the Maxim M1910, Degtyaryov machine gun DP-27 and what I think may be a tripod-mounted German MG34 anti-aircraft gun. A particularly interesting exhibit is the military motorbike and sidecar combination fully equipped with machine guns.
Another valuable asset was the war room’s guide — a knowledgeable re-enactor dressed in full Soviet combat uniform. As my Russian is slow and still has a few shell holes in it waiting to be plugged, the fact that this particular Russian infantryman could speak good English and, as with most re-enactors, was a mine of information (Did you get it? ‘Mine’ of information? Alright, well you do better!) proved most beneficial.
Mick Hart with Soviet re-enactor in the war room at Ivan Zverev’s museum
In conclusion, Ivan Zverev’s red-bricked building, a one-time German centre for a doctor’s, dentist’s and apothecary, which later became a Soviet school, has been rescued from extinction. It is a deserving restoration project, a first-class example of the architectural style of its time and the culture from which it derives, which now, in addition to its intrinsic merit, accommodates, thanks to Mr Zverev, a unique historical exposition that combines the satisfaction of entertainment with an improved understanding of the socio-cultural timeline of this fascinating region.
All in all, I must say that this Christmas Day was one to remember. Thank you, Ivan Zverev, for your gracious invitation!
Ivan Zverev with Olga Hart, Nizovie
Ivan Zverev and the Zverev Creation Ivan Zverev, the inspiration behind the restoration of the former Soviet school and medical centre in the village of Nizovie, is a Kaliningrad businessman. He purchased the derelict school after a long search for somewhere close to Kaliningrad where he could establish a museum dedicated to the history of Königsberg and its territory which would encompass its pre-war German, wartime and Soviet periods.
Already, a percentage of that vision has been brought to fruition with exhibitions devoted to a German pharmacy, German post office, motorcycles of the 1960s and 70s (a personal interest of Mr Zverev’s), a WWII exposition and artefacts pertaining to gardening and agriculture. Mr Zverev has also obtained thousands of photographs and associated documentation relating to the building when it was a school, which he intends to use as a basis for a classroom diorama.
Ivan Zverev is a hands-on restorer. He fully understood from the outset that the restoration of a building as large and run down as Nizovie School would be no undertaking for the faint hearted, but often the hard graft that underscores labour for love is not without its special compensations, and Ivan was rewarded for his hard work.
In a hitherto unknown or forgotten cellar, exciting finds were unearthed ~ a mummified mouse in a mousetrap (possibly of German ancestry), shelves containing cans of unopened food and ~ joy upon joys ~ a real German motorbike in remarkably good condition!
In a disused well at the back of the building a further discovery was made, which Ivan Zverev considers to be one of the most poignant and historically valuable. It is a white enamel dentist’s sign, inscribed in German ‘Dental Practice, Kai Marx, Dentist’. As this find ties in with at least one important vocational aspect of the building’s history, it now has pride of place in Nizovie’s entrance hall.
Ivan Zverev’s business and cultural curriculum vitae testify to a long-standing interest in and love for the past, especially for the land in which he lives and for the Soviet era in general. It is also reflected in his passion for acquiring antiques and collectable and in ‘Chevalier’, the quirky mediaeval-styled restaurant which he conceived, created, owns and operates in Alexander Kosmodemyansky, a village outlying Kaliningrad.
Let’s face it and the cost of fast food ~ Limitations and Silence by Kaliningrad artist El Kartoon
Updated: 4 October 2021 | first published: 28 July 2020
In my blog post of 9 November 2019 I wrote about an unusual art exhibition we had attended and how we had been seduced by a particular artist’s work. A couple of months ago, a number of artworks by this artist were up for grabs.
The artist, anonymous artist (nom de guerre El Kartoon) had placed a number of his works for sale on the internet and was about to advertise them via Facebook. However, before the works were posted on Facebook the exhibition organiser, recalling our interest in the artist’s work, emailed my wife, Olga, to ascertain if we were in the market for any of the pieces he was selling, particularly the half-face painted on metal substrate, as we had expressed an interest specifically in this item, together with another composition featuring Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins).
For a while, we ummed and ahhhed, as you do; Olga weighing up the cost of the paintings against the number of plants she could buy for the garden, and me, mentally converting the cost of the paintings into foaming glasses of ale. Eventually, we decided to compromise.
The painting we bought was that of the female face, or rather half a female face, painted not on board or canvas but on a sheet of rusty metal.
The painting in question, Limitations, certainly has an innate power. When I beheld it unwrapped and standing in the lobby at the foot of our attic steps I experienced an overwhelming and incisive sense of awe, which rapidly transmuted, becoming first privilege and then disbelief that we now actually owned this fascinating composition.
The artistic arrangement is simple but effective. The face has been painted on a metal sheet. The sheet is old and rusting. It has a turned edge on one side, suggesting that in a previous life it had an industrial-mechanical purpose.
The face is female and comprises exactly 50% of a full human face, the invisible proportion achieved by positioning the image on the extreme left hand-side of the substrate. Both the location of the image and the facial expression lends itself to the interpretation of peering anxiously out from behind something, in the way, for example, you might steal a glance from behind a half-opened door. The remaining portion of the metal base, approximately one-third, has been left untreated ~ rusting and tarnished.
El Kartoon ‘Be Seeing You!’ in our attic
I have suggested that the expression on the face betrays a sense of anxiety, to that can be added apprehension. The looker is uneasy, vulnerable. The one eye, brilliant blue, reflects something white and rectangular. The blue of the eye is as deep and beautiful as it is insistent; the glazed reflection upon its surface (could it be a window?) stares out at you above the dark well of the pupil, drawing you into its mystery.
Everything in the composition of the face itself, the broad, black serrated outline, the layers that form the contours of the face and the fine details, are jagged, frayed, fragmenting. There is nothing calm, nothing quiescent. Whatever it is that informs the expression, it is as unnerved as it is unnerving.
In this work, as in most of the artist’s works that we have seen, a striking and, I am inclined to believe, essential engine of the thematic enigma resides in the application of a curious overlay of geometrical lines. In this example, those lines are fainter than in his other creations and do not extend so definitely from the painting’s centrality into the outlying images or borders, but they are there ~ on the exposed and rusting metal and among the drizzle and daubed discolouration, the latter looking like natural erosion, perhaps from water exposure, as if, along with the fading black paint to one corner, they belong to the metal’s former existence, to its pre-artistic, functional and then discarded history.
To the beholder, these lines are key. They, above anything else, if there is, indeed, anything else, help to unlock all manner of ambivalence. But one is a constant, and that is that the lines emphasise connectivity ~ the inescapable interconnection between the realm of flesh and emotion and the hard, unyielding, material world to which, no matter how unforgiving it is, we are all hardwired.
Taken together with other paintings by the same artist in which this technique is employed, I am inclined to understand these lines to be not just an overlay on an overwhelmed human face extending outwards and then back again into and from the physical world but the circuit board of modern life, which speaks to us not just of hard engineering but in the technological idiom by which our life is controlled and defined ~ the ultimate interconnectivity from which there is no escape, at least not for us in our flesh and blood lifetime.
Given the nature of this unusual painting and its more than flirtatious relationship with negativity, I was surprised that it somehow fitted into Olga’s reality of butterflies, trees and flowers, but the mystery was made known to me when after voicing my confusion she declared simply that she did not find the composition unnerving. ‘Vulnerable’, yes; ‘unnerving, no’. Had she really failed to discern the connection between our vulnerability in this world ~ the world that others have created for us ~ and how this might be ~ indeed cannot be, anything else but unnerving?
I was pleased, however, that her second choice as to where to hang the painting, which was the kitchen, was discounted fairly quickly, not on the basis of my interpretation but, whilst she would not see the picture as often as she liked, on the wall at the bottom of the attic steps, which seemed to be the place for it. We agreed on this. It fitted perfectly. It was where it would have most impact without impacting mostly.
Anthony Hopkins
Since learning that Mr Anonymous’ paintings were on the market for prices we could afford, we had been arguing the toss as to whether we should buy another of this gentleman’s artworks, the one based on Anthony Hopkins’ fictional character, Hannibal Lecter, in TheSilence of the Lambs.
El Kartoon’s ‘Silence’ as seen at the 2019 art exhibition, Kaliningrad
We had negotiated a price for this second artwork provided we bought both, ie the half-face, Limitations, and Silence as well, and had just about talked ourselves out of it when our inquiries as to why there was a near identical painting masquerading as graffiti on a small brick utility building opposite Kaliningrad’s lake met with an interesting answer: apparently, the artist had been caught subjecting the aforesaid building to his aesthetic skills, had been summarily arrested and thereafter charged with vandalism. The case had gone to court but in conclusion had been dismissed*.
El Kartoon’s open-air work, sadly, since defaced*
*Note that this public stencil was painted over sometime in 2021 🤔
The artist’s compulsion to reproduce his painting as ~ ahem ~ an ‘urban art form’ had arisen, we were told, out of twin noble sentiments: a sense of civic duty and moral obligation. He had disposed the image where he did as a warning to young ladies who, reportedly, were apt to congregate there after dark to eat the stuff they had bought from a certain US fast-food chain nearby. The artist wished to say, ‘look out there are predators about’ and was not necessarily commenting on the quality, or perhaps the content, of what it was they were eating or who, in fact, they were buying it from.
The framed artwork has an interesting historical annotation attached to it in that it still bears the official tag it was given as a possible ‘exhibit’ in a court of law!
Bugger! We had to have it!
Olga beamed with delight when I suggested that she get on the blower right away and tell the lady in charge of the art exhibitions that we had decided to take it if the artist was prepared to wait for payment at the end of the month. She, the lady, opined that it was a matter of fate that we would buy both as we had expressed such interest in them when first we saw them at the exhibition. Like Olga she believed that we were meant to own them. And I believe they were meant to own us.
El Kartoon’s ‘Silence’ displayed in our attic
Further information on the artist and artist’s work:
A comment from my wife, Olga, on her Facebook account Mick and I bought these artworks just because we like the feel and amplitude. They call the artist the Russian Bansky, because of his distinctive stencilling technique. His works have been featured on the streets of Kaliningrad. I wonder if he will sell the copyright? When he is as famous as Bansky (and I believe he will become so one day, as he has talent), his public ‘installations’ might be sold by removing the walls they were painted on!
Notes from the art exhibitor’s website [link no longer active as at 12/04/2022] Art Space Gallery El Kartoon, artist The main direction [of his work] is stencil graphics aspiring to painting. The works reflect the desire to reflect fundamental values, feelings and social problems through the prism of our digital age. Contemporary, about contemporaries, for contemporaries.
El Kartoon And now in Russian … Основное направление – трафаретная графика стремящаяся к живописи. В работах отражено стремление отразить некие фундаментальные ценности, ощущения, социальные проблемы сквозь призму нашей цифровой эпохи.Эта живопись – отражающая современников, о соврем…
El Kartoon EL Kartoon начал рисовать граффити в 1998 году. С 2002 по 2009 год был творческий перерыв. С 2009 года работает в трафаретной технике.Единственный Российский художник, который представляет трафаретную графику на международной арене, в частности на крупнейшей международной выставке трафаретного искусства Stencil Art Prize, Sidney, Australia, а так же является участником The Kutz, Bristol, United Kingdom
О работе «Молчание…»
Причиной создания работы послужило случайное наблюдение за ночными “обитателями” парковки, которые в ночное время едят там Макдональдс.В процессе создания картины на стене близлежащего здания автор был арестован и доставлен в отдел милиции. Часы, которые должны были показывать время – 18:00, сделать не получилось, но благодаря этому работа получила “новую окраску” и новый смысл.
O работе” Limitations”
Металл – это ассоциация художника с окружающим миром. В работе “Limitations”- человек в какой то степени заперт, в какой-то степени ограничен. Эта работа является одной из серии уличных работ на тему “цифрового человека” – современного, технологичного, оцифрованного и запущенного в сеть, в тираж, и как автору казалось в процессе над работой – это время наступает стремительно. Недавние законы, принятые в Москве, подтверждают “теорию цифрового человека”.
And now in English … El Kartoon The only Russian artist who represents stencil graphics in the international arena, in particular at the largest international exhibition of Stencil Art, Sidney, Australia. He also participated in The Kutz Exhibition, Bristol, United Kingdom.
About the artwork Silence Silence came from the accidental observation of the night ‘inhabitants’ ~ the young who congregate in the parking area close to McDonald’s to consume the food they purchase from the fast-food chain.
In the process of the creating the stencilled work on the side of a building close to the parking area, the artist was arrested and taken to the police department. The clock, which was supposed to show the time, 18:00, was not finished, but thanks to this unfinished touch, the work received a ‘new colour’ and a new meaning.
About the artwork Limitations El Kartoon writes: “Metal is my association with the outside world. In this case, the subject is locked to some extent, to some extent limited …”
Limitations was a series of street works on the topic of ‘digital man’ ~ modern, technological, digitised and launched into the network, in circulation and so on. At the time when the work was being created, it seemed to the artist that the time of the ‘digital man’ was rapidly approaching. Recent laws adopted in Moscow suggest to the artist that the time of the ‘digital man’ has come.
Published: 7 January 2021 ~ Orthodox Christmas Day in Russia❤: Support the Restoration of Zalivinio Lighthouse
You might think that the last place you would want to be on a freezing cold winter day, with the wind whistling round the Baltics and shivering your timbers, would be perched on top of a derelict lighthouse. You might feel the need to ask why? Why would anyone in their right mind want to do this? And you might believe that the answer lies notably in the psychological reference above ‘in the right mind’. But there are at least two other factors that need to be considered: one, history and a love of it; two, that in the right mind or not, we happened to be in the right place ~ I think it is called nearby.
Zalivino lighthouse is located in Zalivino ~ where else? Ahh, but it is not that simple. Zalivino is a village nestled against the Baltic Coast in Russia’s Kaliningrad region. Now, if you were to conduct a search on the internet for the exact location of the lighthouse, you might find that lighthouse or no lighthouse you run aground on the rocks of all sorts of name changes and district alterations, so, for the sake of simplicity, let us say that the original (German/ East Prussian) name of the village was Labagiene, which, after the Second World War, when the region fell into Soviet hands, then became Zalivino.
The lighthouse, however, is named Rinderort, after Labagiene, renamed as Haffwinkel, merged with the settlement of … and if that has not confused you, I do not know what will.
But moving swiftly on: The first lighthouse to be constructed on this spur of land at the edge of the Curonian Lagoon was made of wood. Erected in 1868, it was illuminated by a simple kerosene lantern. The brick tower that replaced the wooden structure was built in 1908, extending upwards to a height of 15 metres, with a cottage appended for the lighthouse caretaker. In the intervening years, between the tower’s construction and World War II, subsequent modernisation was sporadically enacted.
After the war, when the former East Prussian region passed into the hands of the Soviets, the lighthouse and the land it occupied fell under the auspices of a local fish farm, and the ruined building next to the tower was an occupied dwelling. From what people say, the lighthouse continued to function during this period, but ceased to do so in the post-Soviet era.
Whilst some of the dilapidation evident today has accrued from common disuse and neglect, rumour has it that in the 1990s the building was cannibalised. Bricks, always a sought-after commodity, went missing as did the bronze lantern and other metal parts from inside and around the dome of the tower. Inevitably, as the tower and surrounding buildings fell steadily into ruin, it soon attracted the unwanted attention of vandals, among whose number were also arsonists.
By the end of the first decade of the 21st century, lighthouse romanticists and those interested in the history of the region in which they lived had seen their numbers swell substantially, as tourists, both from further afield in Russia and from other parts of the world, travelled to Zalivino to pay homage to the lighthouse. In 2020, this influx received greater impetus by the closed-border restrictions caused by coronavirus and the Russian government’s related incentive to boost domestic tourism.
In recognition of the site’s heritage status and its destination as a tourist attraction, in July 2020 it was acquired by the Museum of the World Ocean, whose remit it is to preserve, conserve and renovate the structure as a place of historical interest. The renovation will include restoration of the bronze lantern, the tower, caretaker’s cottage and the rare weather mast.
The estimated cost of renovation is somewhere in the region of 18 million rubles (approximately £179,575.47), and a fundraising campaign is already underway.
Support the restoration of Zalivinio Lighthouse
When we arrived at the lighthouse site on this very cold day, we found the lighthouse and its associated buildings at the end of a winding track. We parked up in front of some long, old, German buildings, which I presume were once part of the fish farm complex, and then walked the short distance to the rickety gate and compound fencing behind which the tower resides.
A large banner, pictorial and text-laden, told me in Russian all I wanted to know about the future plans for the site, and had my command of the Russian language been better, I would have been well informed.
As we approached the compound two people donned their coats and emerged from a little blue mobile hut. These were the caretaking staff and representatives of the World Ocean Museum.
If we had been in England this site would have been strictly out of bounds due to the ongoing process of renovation, coronavirus and the fact that it was winter and therefore out of season and off limits, but we were not in England so we were not told to bugger off! Instead, we were cordially welcomed, and, after five minutes of jumping up and down on the spot to keep the circulation going, we were taken on a tour of such as there was to see.
First, we were invited to contribute something to the renovation fund, which was a bit embarrassing as we had to have a whip round. We were carrying plastic, naturally, but otherwise we were cashless on the Curonian Spit. It was not much, our 500 roubles, but as the old lady says, every little helps (That is a saying, by the way, not a reference to my wife!).
The roubles having been procured and placed for safe keeping into a very attractive antique lamp placed on top of the sites’ well, the guide began her talk. The historical background of which she spoke is augmented and illustrated by four or five display boards attached to the wall of the larger of the domestic buildings. Alas, however, these signs are all in Russian, but, with the timely assistance of my wife, I was able to capture the tour guide’s gist.
History boards at Zalivinio Lighthouse Kaliningrad region, Russia
Moving around to the bay side of the buildings exposed us to the full frontal of the rude breeze, where, to tell you the truth, we had difficulty concentrating. I hopped around on one foot, and my wife’s nose had turned so red that it could easily have stood in for the lighthouse lamp. However, I refrained from suggesting that my wife’s nose would make an excellent money-saving alternative to a replacement lantern out of concern for my personal safety, that and the fact that my teeth were too chattery to formulate the words.
Olga Hart feeling cold in front of Zalivinio Lighthouse (Jan 2021)
Olga Hart feeling colder a few feet from Zalivinio Lighthouse next to the sea
Although the outbuildings offered little in the way of shelter, much of the roof is missing and the doors and windows have gone the same way as a substantial proportion of bricks, inside proved kinder for our bones than shivering outside on the water’s edge.
Zalivinio Lighthouse Kaliningrad region: much work to be done …
For all the ravages of time and misappropriation of materials, the building itself appears to be quite sound and the massy wooden beams strong and durable, and, with a little imagination ~ a lot, if you have not got much ~ it was not difficult to envisage these rooms reconstructed and reinstated to their former glory.
I did not expect that we would have access to the tower in its present condition, my conclusions based once again on precedent in my native country, England, where Health & Safety and all that jazz would most likely have stymied any such fancy, so imagine my surprise as well as untrammelled delight when the question was put to us, ‘Would you like to climb the tower?’
The guides warned that the last stretch of the staircase was almost vertical, so be careful, and that was it, off we went. It was so refreshing to be allowed to do something that relies for safety on your own common sense.
Climbing the tower of Zalivinio Lighthouse (Mick Hart, 2021)Out of the window all at sea
The lighthouse tower is by no means wide, and the mode of ascension is by a stone-stepped spiral staircase. Windows at regular intervals permit you to gaze out at the increasingly elevated scene as up you excitedly go. Suddenly, you feel the cold breeze on your face, alerting you to the fact that you are almost at the top, and there, in front of you, is a short metal ladder. To gain access to the lamp room and viewing tower, it is necessary to climb these steps, so, although I am not a great fan of heights, it had to be done and up I went.
Metal ladder leading to the lighthouse dome and viewing platform (January 2021)
Where better on a freezing cold day? Mick Hart, top of Zalivinio Lighthouse (Jan 2020)
Already inside the dome was a gentleman dressed in a woolly hat, overalls and thick white gloves. He was busy wrapping webbing around his body and adding and fastening buckle attachments to a series of belts. Surely, I thought, he is not … But he was.
He looked up at me looking at him, and I said, in my best Russian, “Stratsveetee,” to which he replied with the same. He gave me a lingering look and smiled, as if he had worked out what it was I was thinking: “Rather you than me!”
Heritage restorer at Zalivinio Lighthouse Over the top on a cold day
The dome, which is windowless and open to the elements, can easily accommodate three people. In its centre stands a solid brass or bronze stanchion, which would, I surmised, once have supported the warning lantern. Some of the dome’s outer wall panels are absent, nicked, I imagine, but the decorative metal railings that encircle the platform looked present and correct enough.
To say that the view from the top is breath-taking, particularly on a day like today, would be as predictable, I predict, as coining the phrase that Zalivino lighthouse is located in Zalivino, but look at the photos and judge for yourselves.
Zalivinio Lighthouse, Kaliningrad region, Russia. View from the top (January 2021)
Whenever I visit a conservation/restoration site, I never fail to be impressed by the commitment and dedication of the people involved, and today was no exception. Many would have taken one look at that fellow hanging on his harness doing whatever it was he doing at a height of 15 metres in temperatures well below freezing and their response would be, rather you than me Gunga Din.
Just hanging around at Zalivinio Lighthouse Kaliningrad. (Mick Hart, Jan 2020)
I am sure that the suspended man’s name was most likely Valordia, Sergey or Vladimir, but all the same in my estimations he was up there all right and doing it ~ whatever it was he was doing. I bet not even Gunga Din himself would have left his Indian restaurant in Bethnal Green to do such a thing as that!
Support the restoration of Zalivinio Lighthouse
Eighteen million rubles is a lot or rubles to muster, so if you could see your way to donate to this worthy cause it would be most appreciated. Not only will you have the satisfaction of knowing that you have done your bit to preserve an important heritage site, but through the donation incentivisation programme you will be eligible for certain rewards, which include tours of historic places and other cultural and entertainment benefits.
Please click on the following link for more details on how to donate and for further information on the restoration programme: Old Lighthouse Zalivino
Outline of the lighthouse restoration programme
Restoration of the bronze lantern
Restoration of the lighthouse tower and caretaker’s house
Restoration of the weather mast, complete with navigational signs
Repair the pier and undertake dredging work along the coastline
Improve the quality and appearance of the grounds around the lighthouse
Create an exhibition of the history of navigation and business in the region.
A regular report on the collected funds and completed works of the Museum of the World Ocean in conjunction with the foundation Beautification and Mutual Assistance will be posted on the official website of the museum: www.world-ocean.ru
Examples of donation rewards
Donation: 1,000 rubles Exclusive tour, with a tea party for 2 people. Choice of one of the following destinations:
Royal Gate Friedrichsburg Gate
Donation: 5,000 rubles A collective tour on a fishing boat, a ‘Rusna’ kurenas (invitation ticket for 2 people), approximate duration 2 hours. This service is available in summer from 1 June to 10 September.
Exclusive tour, with a tea party for 2 people. Choice of one of the following destinations:
Lighthouse in the village of Zalivino Royal Gate Friedrichsburg Gate Maritime Exhibition Centre (Svetlogorsk)
Donation: 50,000 rubles A collective tour on a fishing boat, a ‘Rusna’ kurenas (invitation ticket for 2 people), approximate duration 2 hours. This service is available in summer from 1 June to 10 September.
An exclusive tour for 2 people of the ‘Depth’ exhibition, with a visit to the GoA ‘Peace-1’ accompanied by a hydronaut.
Exclusive tour, with a tea party for 2 people. Choice of one of the following destinations:
Lighthouse in the village of Zalivino Friedrichsburg Gate Royal Gate Maritime Exhibition Centre (Svetlogorsk)
Donation: 500,000 rubles The opportunity to hold two corporate events at the Museum of the World Ocean (up to 30 participants; maximum duration 3 hours each), choosing from the following venues:
Sea Hall NIS Vityaz Royal Gate Friedrischburg Gate Warehouse Maritime Exhibition Centre (Svetlogorsk)
The opportunity to stay in a guest cabin on the NIS Vityaz (invitation for 2 people) (1-day duration).
A collective tour on a fishing boat, a ‘Rusna’ kurenas (invitation ticket for 2 people), approximate duration 2 hours. This service is available in summer from 1 June to 10 September.
Exclusive tour, with a tea party for 2 people. Choice of one of the following destinations:
Lighthouse in the village of Zalivino Friedrichsburg Gate Royal Gate Maritime Exhibition Centre (Svetlogorsk)
An unlimited number of free visits to the lighthouse exhibits in the village of Zalivino.
Awarded the Beacon Friends Club sign.
Invitation to the annual ceremonial meeting of the members of the Beacon Friends Club (June 8, the day of the Lighthouse Service, on the territory of the lighthouse in the village of Zalivino).
Addendum Have you spotted the deliberate mistake? Zalivino Lighthouse is, of course, in Zalivino and not ‘Zalivinio’ as it sometimes appears in this text. I apologise unreservedly to anybody to whom this mis-spelling may have caused inconsolable and even terminal distress, especially to those who may have incorrectly assumed that Zalivinio is somewhere in Italy (is it?) I know of many wordsmiths who sadly may never recover ~ shame that … I wrote this piece whilst I was perfectly sober, which might go some way towards explaining why I have got my words in such a mucking fuddle. However, after careful consideration, I have resisted the desire to rectify the mistake on the grounds that it may incriminate my permalink, an occupational hazard of blogging that fellow bloggers are sure to empathise with even if the rest of the universe will forever stand in judgement. Er, sorry.
I’ll have that painting and, by the way, how much for the flat?
Saturday 9 November 2019
Today we were off to an art exhibition. Of the
exhibition I knew little or nothing, except that it would be different and was
by invitation only. Oksana, our neighbour, had invited
us, and the ‘different’ element made all the difference in that I was very
curious.
I had no idea what to expect, as, in Oksana’s car, we pulled into a cramped carpark opposite a new red-brick block of flats. A group of people were walking alongside the building to a gate and were directed back from whence they came ~ we followed.
On the opposite side of the building we were shown
into a narrow corridor. A woman, carrying a clipboard, appeared. The group, of
which we were a part, about 20 in total, lined up on either side of the
corridor, whilst the clipboard lady delivered a short introductory talk, about
which, of course, I understood nothing. Then we filed through the door and took
the lift to one of the floors above.
Modern Chic or Retro Chic?
The block of flats we were in was new and unfinished, but the corridors, at least on the floors we were occupying, appeared to be in quite an advanced stage of completion. Chunky white door surrounds and white walls dominated the décor. From a distance it appeared as if a series of thin slate-like slithers of different dimensions had been painstakingly inserted at various depths to give a naturalistic, uneven surface finish to the walls, but on closer inspection you could see, as with even the best toupées, where the join was. Cunningly, the complexity of construction had been made considerably easier by the slate pieces being mounted on, or integral to, brick blocks. As modern as this was supposed to be, I could not help feel that there was something rather retro about the whole ensemble, so much so that it would not have surprised me had Russian versions of John Steed and Emma Peel come sauntering out from one the flats.
Flats for sale, Kaliningrad
The flats themselves were at the stage known here as ‘grey
scale’. This is an apt description, which means that the walls and ceilings
have been plastered and skimmed but no finishing décor has been applied. There
were no internal doors as yet but the double-glazing was in, as were the rads.
The concept
explained
The concept of the art exhibition was an interesting
one. My wife explained it to me. A number of empty flats in the building had
been requisitioned to serve as exhibition halls. Each participating flat ether
contained the displayed work of one individual artist or, if the artist’s
contribution was less prolific, one room would be allocated. Thus, in some
flats you would find the work of one artist and in others the work of, say,
three artists, housed in separate rooms.
The concept worked surprisingly well. Since the walls
of the flats were grey-scale they provided the perfect neutral backdrop and as,
apart from the artwork, the only other items in the rooms were display units,
advertising brochures and the odd bottle of mineral water, distraction had been
obviated. Even the display modules were as basic as they could be ~ simple
unobtrusive plinths and the occasional wooden easel. As there were few wall
hooks in evidence, many of the exhibits were placed at ground level. This was
in hindsight one possible flaw, as arguably the works in question were not
shown at their best in this position.
The exhibition rooms not all being situated on one
floor meant that the viewing public had to hop into lifts and run up and down
stairs, and this alone added an interesting twist to what was already a novel
concept.
Among the contributing artists whom we liked best was the work of Yri Bulechev and a second artist who, to add intrigue to his work, wished to remain anonymous. We did learn that the anonymous artist was by profession an engineer, and this calling was demonstrated thematically throughout his art. The focus subject matter was portrait: strained, tense faces with worried, uncertain eyes, apprehensive, frightened even, contextualised within a claustrophobic grid, an invasive backdrop of lines, narrow rectangles and circles, which reminded me of the geometrical patterns that I used to draw as a nipper with the aid of my then trendy Spirograph set.
Modern consciousness
This background fretwork ramped up the element of
tension, especially since it invaded the human features, as if intermeshing the
frailty of the human condition with the modern world’s increasing connectivity,
the pressures that such a Brave New World inflicts and the hard-wired
engineering by which our lives are ruled and controlled. That my good lady wife
liked these paintings, indeed was drawn to them so much that she put in a bid
for two, was, given her penchant for the light, airy and positive, somewhat
surprising.
One painting she particularly liked was that of female
face. It was, in fact, half a female face, the portrait painted on the very
edge of the substrate with half of the image missing. Taught and compelling,
the one eye blue and bright reflected something like fear, and there again was that
all-pervasive geometrical static, smothering the backdrop and overlaying the
startled features. Interestingly enough ~ but remember the artist’s vocation ~
this art form had not been painted on board or canvas but brought to life and
into the world on a sheet of rusty iron.
Half way there
The industrial-look of this artist’s work was
indubitably enhanced by the stark, incomplete environment in which it was
displayed, a factor which also fed into the large picture of a Russian female
comedy actress, noted, I was told, for her happy-go-lucky and comical
typecasting, drawn or painted all in white, whilst the dark shadowy head and
face of Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lecter (Silenceof the Lambs) looks predatorily over
her shoulder with a hunger in no way related to the baguette that the actress
is ready to eat.
As a long-time devotee of Leonard Cohen, Lord Byron
and Edgar Allan Poe, and being continually reminded by my wife that I am bleak
and melancholic, these pieces should have been right up my nightmare street
and, I have to confess, I enjoyed them, but on this occasion incongruously a
role reversal had taken place, with me feeling enthusiastic about a large
painting in contrasting pastel and vivid colours depicting two stylized lovers
floating in the luminous air somewhere between Heaven and Earth. Seldom have I
seen such a picture which radiates instant Karma ~ so soothing, idyllic, tranquil
and so ethereal in every sense. Until, that is, I discovered how much it cost. Brought
quickly down to earth again by the asking price of (ssshhhh!), I am yet
inclined to say that the painting is worth every ruble ~ it was only my wallet
holding me back!
Yri Bulechev composition, which would look very nice hanging above my bed!
Seldom have I seen such a picture which radiates instant Karma ~ so soothing, idyllic, tranquil and so ethereal in every sense.
Flat 10
During our wandering from room to room, I had had the
good fortune of being addressed by a very tall, very attractive young Russian
woman, dressed in red leather trousers and elevated on a pair of block high
heel shoes that seemed to be giving me vertigo.
She told me, among other things, that the best was yet
to come ~ wait until you get to apartment number 10, she said. Funny, but the
last two exhibit rooms before I got to number 10 are difficult to remember.
I am tempted to say that all I can recall about flat 10
was that it contained a massive king-size bed and a bath tub large enough for
four Donald Trumps, but, in reality, I can remember quite a lot more.
Flat 10 was a showcase flat. It had been given the
personalised designer treatment and as with all ~ or most ~ of the paintings
here on display was up for grabs if you wanted it. Indeed, I was told by the
interesting young lady who was talking to me in very good English that I could
buy it if I wanted to.
Flat 10 as illustrated on the cover of the art exhibition advertising leaflet
Well, did I?
The old adage that first impressions count may or may not be true, but it is as good a place to start as any. I may have been the only one amongst today’s privileged public to have made a mental note that the door design harked back to the Soviet era, in that access to the apartment (too grand to call it a flat) was governed by two doors in close proximity: first the traditional Russian heavy weight external door with its Fort Knox bolting system and then a more conventional door painted in non-conventional salmon pink. Beyond this curiosity, one walked into a tall, narrow corridor flanked by what appeared to be grey veneered paneling but which was, we discovered later, discreetly shuttered cabinet space. As one would expect from a modern designer flat, the accent was placed firmly on minimalist décor and maximalist space-exploitation. The floor-to-ceiling paneling, which was utilised again in the walkway between the master bedroom and bathroom, was as discreet as it was maximising, and this was because, as with the kitchen cabinets, all of the grey paneled doors had been built sans-handles. All one needed to do to access the space beyond was to touch lightly and the doors pop open. Nothing wrong with that, I thought, unless, of course, you have just woken up from a nightmare in which the world had been robbed of its handles.
If you have a fetish for handles, the flat had a place
for them. Indeed, as designer flats go, this one was very much built with a
place for everything and everything in its place. The wall directly opposite
the entrance has been thoughtfully provided with floor-to-ceiling box shelving
in a beech-veneered wood, the rectangular display units varying in size being
reminiscent of the modular concept. Space such as this could hold any number of
different sized handles and anything else for that matter.
Space optimisation at its best!
By turning left you were heading to the master
bedroom, which was located on the right, with the toilet and bathroom opposite.
First impressions again: the door with its angled lozenge panels. These I
liked. They were one of only two nods in this ultra-modern flat to the past and
to antiquity. As for the master bedroom, I was not quite sure whether it was
somewhat small or whether the bed was very large, but any risk of complete
claustrophobia was dispelled by the timely inclusion of a large glass window
that looked out into the covered balcony beyond.
The next stop, however, was the bathroom. I have
already referenced the bath tub. It was big. And so was the fixed shower rose
above it. As the musician and singer Judge Dread once said, ‘I haven’t see one
as big as that before’.
The toilet was round the corner in a separate place of
its own and here we were in for more surprises. No, it wasn’t a bucket; it was
as designer-modern as the rest of it. We were shown into the toilet cubicle in
the dark, but no matter as the inside of the pan was illuminated with little
blue lights and the seat popped up automatically. Really, there was no way that
you could not be impressed. I whispered to my entranced wife that such a toilet
as this was made for a hypochondriac such as me. I had reached the age where
ailments and hospital tests are more prevalent than hot dinners, and an
illuminated toilet bowl was an excellent idea for checking your stools.
My wife refrained from comment (a phenomenal moment in
itself), perhaps because she was already peering inside another room hidden
away behind more grey paneling. This was a narrow room, also accessible by the
paneling on the inside of the apartment door. It was here where you did your
washing and hung your clothes out to dry. On one side there were a couple of 21st
century washing machines and elevated above them an up-to-the-minute tumble
dryer; on the other, there were fitted wardrobes and shelves for your clothes. This
was so right. The very idea of hanging your socks, pants and sundries over the
edge of the balcony just would not work in a place like this.
Room with a view
We were on the balcony next. Make no mistake, this was no khrushchev flat. The balcony was completely self-contained, a great plate of double-glazed glass extending from the yellow-ridged floor to the dizzy heights of the ceiling. The wall had appropriately ~ given the artistic concept by which the event was defined ~ been fitted out with two large abstract paintings, whilst a handsome reproduction antique desk and swivel desk chair demonstrated how the space therein could be utilised as an additional ‘room’, in this case as an office. I liked this balcony. It was, as they say in British estate agents’ parlance, well-appointed, and I could honestly see myself sitting there typing away on an evening as I tried to resist supping beer in the nearby London Pub. I could not, however, see myself walking there ~ too much ~ as impressive as the modern floor structure was, like most modern floors today which are made of composite wood it tended to shift and creak. Not good if like the Sheik of Araby, you tend to creep about at night, and in a compact space-saving flat like this no one could blame you for feeling so inclined, particularly as this balcony contained an adjoining door to the guest room.
Balcony Flat 10
Although the guest room was rather small, containing a kind of settee bed, the strategic positioning of a slim vertical mirror opposite the balcony entrance and a wide mirror on the wall facing it, created the illusion of much more space than there was, particularly when the tall, Baroque-style door from bedroom to sitting area was left open.
Looking back at this door, from the sitting room to the guest bedroom, endorsed my earlier prejudice that the lozenge-shaped panels struck an essential and clever juxtaposition, the geometrical profile, although simple, being the perfect foil to handle-less cabinets and satin-smooth textures.
Sitting pretty … well, at least sitting on something pretty!
The sitting room and kitchen were, in essence, a double act. The sitting room determined by its flat wall-mounted TV screen and serpentine-shaped comfy settee and the kitchen starting, but partly concealed, behind a tall block screen. If anything did not work for me inside this flat it was the screen. It was dark-coloured and its height and breadth reminded me of the type of front desks that you feel belittled by in old Soviet-style hotels, such as Kaliningrad’s Moscow. Behind the front desk in this room, there were the kitchen work surfaces and state-of-the-art kitchen appliances and, immediately behind them, and soaring up behind them, a monolithic formation of touch-door operated fitted-kitchen cabinets. I am a beans-on-toast man myself, but even I could see that for kitchen aficionados there was nothing wanting in high-tech, or in ultra-swish, clean and easily cleanable where this kitchen was concerned.
As I gaze thoughtfully at the ceiling stencil in the Swish kitchen …
The one thing that I have omitted to mention so far is
the absence of a proper ceiling ~ by proper I mean traditional. In fact, there
is no ceiling, at least no plasterboard painted ceiling. Above your head in
this flat the concrete structure looks down on you in all its unexpurgated and
natural naked glory. I like it. It melds perfectly into the industrial and
steampunk ethos by which we live our modern lives, from train station to
airport, from café bar to attic revamp, it is the modern-day equivalent of the
nuts, bolts and rivets statement which defined the architecture of the
industrial revolution. That it has followed us into our homes should not surprise
us, but in this flat, just in case it did, the designers had taken the
decorative precaution of stenciling onto the overhead concrete an elaborate
sequence of scrolls, this constituting the second nod to antiquity, as the
distinctive outline and shell-like form is unmistakably related to the family Rococo.
For a man who has spent most of his life dodging
minimalism as if it were the plague, I have to confess that I was happily
engaged by what I had witnessed today and the way that it had affected me.
There is every possibility that I will never be able to look at a half-finished
flat again without thinking, ‘this needs artwork’ or ‘what I could do with this
space if only I had the creative vision of the designers of flat number 10’.
Essential Details:
KvartirnikExhibition
The
exhibition is a joint offline project of the ART SPACE Internet Gallery and
PEPA HOME STEGING, which prepares real estate for sale.
Project Organisers
Stepanyuk Natalya, Exhibition Curator & Artist (examples of her works exhibited)
Kiseleva Tatyana, Architect & Interior Designer
Contributing Artists Include:
Baeva,
Natalya
Elfimov,
George
Elfimova,
Lyudmila
Bulychev,
Yuri
el cartoon
Kiseleva,
Tatyana
Stepanyuk,
Natalya
Vernikovskaya,
Olga
Chepkasova,
Natalya
Elfimov,
Alexander Prokopyevich
Apartment Design
Tatyana Kiseleva, Architect (planning, interior design, furniture and all interior items)
Personalised Interior Design Project
Following consultation
with the architect, an individual planning solution is offered to any buyer of
any apartment in the building this article features.
