From the series "Moscow – Demiurgia"

      ..."Give it a touch!" I couldn’t get it out of my head, it was, like a piece of candy stuck in the teeth. "Touch it," my entire being cried, "especially to the left," something unbearable buzzed inside of me - "but only from top to bottom, as high as you can reach, run your hand down it." There was a metal taste that burnt the roof of my mouth. These weren’t even voices, but some kind of tiny bits of knowledge. "Do it, do it, you’ll see!" So I ran up to it, jumped, and ran my hand down the column as I squatted next to it. I will now describe what happened next, but I’m not sure it will be clear. A piece of the faсade fell off and vanished into thin air, as if it were made not of brick, but something drawn in chalk on a blackboard that I had wiped off with a wet rag. Some kind of boundary remained, insurmountable, even though it was invisible and weightless. A boundary between what?

Between Moscow and Demiurgia. I didn’t understand what was happening, but as soon as my glance "fell" on something, I immediately snatched a piece of information, (or rather I did not even snatch it - it was given to me as a bonus). This information didn’t explain anything, it was just one of the conditions, like in a problem at school. So in this case, I just had to accept that there is a boundary that I could not cross, but it was open so that I could see the "other" side. There are a few …creatures there. I clearly remember a huge scaly . . . being (each scale was about the diameter of a man’s watch,) whose body and wide-branching antlers resembled those of a noble buck; it had tough, long turquoise-colored feathers for flying on its powerful wings.

When I glanced at the scales it was as if I felt them, was touching them. They were silver and warm, like a brick roof heated all day in the village sun. It was a tactile sensation, but one I felt not with the tips of my fingers, or by touching with my hand, but with my entire body, as if I had taken off my clothes and laid down on it. It was serpinton. I knew right away that it was serpinton, but serpinton isn’t a name, its name was - Poshkivan, while serpinton... 

Moscow through the eyes of serpinton Poshkivan.

Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series
Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series
Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series
Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series

    ...There were still a few other of these creatures, (I remembered them later,) but the most important for me was grikan Vaii. Vaii is a name, but a grikan is half griffon, half rabikan. A griffon is half eagle, half lion, but rabikan is a large, dazzling, very fast horse.

     He was quite spectacular looking. Imagine – the body of an Arabian jumper, with huge wings tightly fixed to his sides, with the rear feet of a lion, springing as he walked, and a tail with a tassel on the end. On the other hand, he strode heavily on his front, bird-like paws, as if he were putting all of his weight into each step. Although he had the head of an eagle, he had a horse’s neck. He didn’t, therefore, twist his neck around, only gracefully turn when necessary. In sunlight he appeared fiery red, but in overcast weather he seemed almost carroty. When he walked at a normal pace, occasionally sparkles escaped from under his paws. But when he ran it was if Bengal light went off under his feet; when he flew, he sparkled from the tips of his claws to his powerful beak. The feathers on his strong wings spanning almost five meters would change color in flight, from amber ochre to red-orange cadmium - a shower of sparks, a firework of warm colors - this is what flying Grikan looked like...

Moscow through the eyes of grikan Vaii

Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series
Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series
Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series
Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series
Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series

      ...There was also Dideric. No, Dideric, that indeed is a name. Dideric looked like a white centaur. He had a white horse’s body with the upper torso of a graying man of forty to forty five, not a frail man, but also not pumped up like a muscle man, a massive fish tail, a powerful neck, and about a one-foot winding horn stuck out of his forehead...

Moscow through the eyes of centaur Dideric

Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series
Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series
Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series
Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series
Alexander Art, art photos, photos and texts, photo series