On a summer day, at lunchtime, we ran into Andrei Zhdanov in Pervomaisky Park. We were united by our love for fresh air and foamy drinks. I simply could not miss the opportunity to talk with the living legend of the musical (for those who survived the nineties and remember the group “Kolenval” ) and literary (for everyone else) Novosibirsk. We stood in the courtyard of his house, leisurely drank beer and looked at the three-story school building next door. Photo: Valentin Kopalov.

The second translation from a series of works by different authors about the work of Terrence Malick and his philosophical interpretations. Still from the film "Wasteland" In the poster for The Tree of Life (2011), an adult man examines the foot of a newborn. The fact that this man is Brad Pitt, a movie star, is of no interest to me in this case. Rather, the foot itself, its various meanings and meanings, is what I want to emphasize.

There is one popular blogger, I will prudently omit the name of the blog, who writes popular articles on the psychology of relationships. Specializing mainly in interpersonal relationships and, to a lesser extent, in personal development and external image, the blogger writes articles about how to resolve problems in a couple, what interferes with building a full-fledged relationship, and what laws govern relationships.

Inspired me by Oscar Wilde Once upon time, in early evening before sunset is comming to finished a day, the God create little beautiful blue bird. The bird opened her eyes first time and looks everywhere. The God was glad to see so pure creature what he made. — You were born with the same time, when love were born between one boy and one girl, and connect their souls. Said the God — you can die today, or tomorrow, or, live forever.

V.: Death, described in many literary works, is, in my opinion, shrouded in excessive mysticism. In the modern world, it is rather of a more technical nature, despite the fact that a person still opposes death as a complete cessation of the entire spectrum of his lifetime activity. Although today civilized death, for example, has become practically painless. In this connection, the question is - how relevant is death for you in terms of the cessation of your activities as a character?

Mikhail Zaborov Back in 1970, the author of these lines sent his work “On the principles of a systematic study of art” to a very famous esthetician, whom someone would aptly call later the Moses of Soviet aesthetics, Moses Samoilovich Kagan. The venerable professor not only found the time to read the work of an unknown author, but also sent, one might say, an enthusiastic review.

I sit at the bar, drink my free champagne, smoke, and don’t bother anyone. A short blonde woman approaches me. Black trousers, smudged butt, white shirt and heavily lined eyes. I would even say not let down, but circled. Just black all around. Black bold stripe around the eyes. Do you understand, right? Imagine eyes like these. Boldly outlined round slightly moist eyes. I don’t know, it looks strange, even with such devilish club lighting, for which “this strange” is apparently designed.

The reason for the round table at the Arsenal was two issues of the Logos magazine, 106 and 107, about art, including contemporary art. The range of questions proposed for discussion: What is hidden under the name “art” and the history of what does art history presuppose? How important is audience awareness and inclusion in art history? A work of contemporary art - tradition and/or innovation, overcoming time or “shock” and “lacuna”? Is art's memory short?

I heard that the ax suddenly blossomed I heard this place can't be named. I heard that bread can make you see And treat the hanged, Bread baked by his wife. I heard what they call life The only refuge. (Paul Celan. Translation by V. Bulgakov) Paul Celan, 1938 When compared with the more sonorous translation from V. Brodsky, it is clearly striking that in the original the ax does not turn red with blood, but rather blooms, since the executed person is hanged and not beheaded.