The story of branch weaving and tiniest presence of birds among it.
It was shot during one of our local history trips along “weekend route”, couple hours from Saint-Petersburg. Corner of the mansion, of which only a pond and century-old willows over it remains. Its crowns and beauty was covering everyone of our cultural hike.
Then the material was left in an archive for some years. It is not that I forgot about these pictures, no, on the contrary, deep in my soul it was glittering with its beauty and warming by recognition, that there is something to present towards the world.
Only when the photographs were printed in exhibit format, suddenly I discovered, that many of them neither have top, nor bottom. By looking at it closely, I began to read meanings, that go beyond the original formula.
Two natures.
Trees – are embodiments of constancy, whose life is much longer, than life of a human, still, they are “man-made”. The creator of park space didn’t suspect future collapses, as well as that the manor house will not just fall in decay, but disappear. He was not able to see the final embodiment of his idea, which would be opened to people of another time after a while. As well as the fact, that after a century and a half the photographer arrives there and translocates his space and time into another dimension.
Birds, free migratory birds, but the instinct or sense of Homeland leads them to the same place. Generation by generation…
Relations between them, between time, freedom, constancy and duty has become the main theme of this short and beauteous story.
And one more thing, I remember for sure, that we were happy under those tree crowns.