2012 was an awesome year for me. Besides a number of interesting activities, it brought many photographic opportunities. The results of these opportunities are shared on this page, I would call it a summary of my photographic activity.
JANUARY
Testing my new Canon lens in Mdina. 1st January 2012. Mdina.
1st January 2012. Mdina. Malta
FEBRUARY
Carnival in Valletta (19th February 2012)
Carnival in Valletta (19th February 2012)
MARCH
Perfect storm Stormy weather on 10th March 2012 in Valletta, Malta.
Stormy weather on 10th March 2012, in Valletta, Malta
Ragusa Ibla In March I travelled to Ragusa, Sicily, where this photo was snapped.
Architecture of Ragusa Ibla (the old, historic part of the Sicilian town Ragusa) is truly magnificent
MAY
Cannabis March
The march supporting legalization of cannabis was organized by movement Graffiti and held in Valletta on 5th May 2012.
Cannabis March held in Valletta, Malta on 5th May 2012
JUNE
First day of June. Filfla.
First day of June. Filfla
Steve McCurry Meet and Greet Session
Maltese public had a splendid opportunity to meet one of the world’s most renowned photographers, Steve McCurry, on 19th June at Malta Conference Centre.
If you are not familiar with Steve McCurry’s works, then (shame on you!) have a look at his blog http://stevemccurry.wordpress.com/, it is a must-do!
Steve McCurry Meet and Greet Session on 19th June, Valletta, Malta
JULY
March against institutional racism
The silent protest against institutional racism was held on 11th July. Protesters tried to attract public attention to the murder of two immigrants, Mamadou Kamara and Ifeanyi Nwokoye, at the detention centre.
Yesterday, on the 18th of November, I had a pleasure to participate in the Next Door Family EU project. Here, in Malta, the project brings together Maltese and non-EU families to have a lunch on a particular date. Every meal is attended by one Maltese family (which can be either a host or a guest), one non-EU family and an assistant.
Information about the project can be found here: http://www.nextdoorfamily.eu/ma/index.php/en/2-project/1-next-door-family-project-eu.
I learnt about the project from a friend of mine a week and a half before the date. The idea sounded very appealing, indeed, though, due to the lack of free time I could apply as a guest only. To be honest, I felt a pity about ‘poor hosts’ who would have to prepare a meal for me and my partner, as we are both very selective in food, but in different ways . Both of us are vegetarians, he cannot even stand smell of sea food (which I love); one would have to torture or to starve me before feeding me pasta, French fries or any processed food – also so popular among Maltese people – are out of the question. The organisers let me know, the couple who applied as hosts were seriously worried (let’s say, frustrated, as they could not decide what to cook). Perhaps, it was the food frustration I gave to the supposed hosts, that led to changing of the plan. Three days before the event, I got to know the Maltese couple could not host us. Apparently, there was another guest couple who could not manage to arrange the lunch with their Canadian hosts. The news left me with two options: to become a host myself or to postpone my participation until the next time. And I chose the first option. The project really looked meaningful and participating in it was irresistible.
Getting ready to host the Maltese couple and the assistance was quite a challenge, considering other ongoing activities we were involved in. Preparation of a traditional Russian meal takes a lot of time and effort. A festive table must be covered with food and drinks, and new dishes and bottles are placed as soon as previous disappear – a pleasant succession. Not only the lack of time was challenging in my case, but also lack of space in the fridge to store prepared dishes, lack of pots and lack of space in general. These conditions forced me to sacrifice the possible great variety of salads, pies and other yummies that could have been cooked otherwise. The vegetarian meal was planned with love and care, though. Russian salad Vinegret (sour cabbage, boiled beetroot, carrots, carrots, salted cucumbers, onions and peas) and Maltese brushcetta – for the start; potato mush, aubergine towers, mushrooms in batter, slices of pepper – for the main course; Russian sweets and Maltese roly-poly as a desert. And, of course, in the centre of the table, on the improvised Maltese flag made of white and red napkins, there was a selection of drinks. Russian soft drinks, vodka “Russian Standard” (oh, that smooth, soft, liquid fire!), Hennessy, red and white wines (that we did not even managed to get to) were waiting to welcome my guests.
Aubergine towers, personal recipeVodka “Russian standard”, French cognac “Hennessy”, Maltese white and red wines on the improvised Maltese flag made from a white and a red napkins. Soft drinks were added later on (picture by Martin Galea de Giovanni with a mobile photo camera)Russian marmalade “Lemon slices” (picture by Martin Galea de Giovanni with a mobile phone camera)
The guests, Mary-Rose and Joe from Tarxien, assisted by a sweet British young man Daniel, came to my apartment with a smile, an open heart and some more food (rice salad from Mary-Rose, and humus from Daniel). The lunch could not be better. When the starters were over, we toasted with vodka to our meeting (“Za vstrechu!”). “You have to drink it in one gulp!” I warned my guests, and they showed class, I must say. After a while, proceeding with the main course, we toasted to friendship (“Za druzhbu!”) with some Hennessy. Deserts were served together with the special tea (black tea leaves, infused accordingly to the Russian tradition).
Russian romances were playing on the background, and we were talking as if had already known each other for years. So many subjects were discussed – life in Malta and politics, health, Maltese and Russian wedding traditions, customs and hospitality. We even sang to each other – Mary and Joe sang in Maltese, and me – in Russian. The atmosphere of warmth embraced us so much that we even forgot to take a photo of us around the table :).
Speaking about the project in general, I believe, such activities cultivate understanding, tolerance and assimilating in the new home country better than slogans and politically correct statements. Nothing is so powerful than the experience of meeting people from a country with different traditions and realising how much in common there is between us all. Yes, we speak different languages, cook different meals, but the language of friendship does not need translation, it is understood by everyone.
N.B. If a Japanese family living in Malta decides to take part in the project, may I take liberty to propose myself as a guest? 🙂
Generation of early 1980s witnessed the wind of change at its best (or worst?). Such an extreme shift in the country’s politics and economy left a deep mark on those born in the still-USSR. The agony of USSR coincided with the most innocent and careless period of our lives – childhood.
In the 80s Lenin was everywhere – the main streets were named after him, his full-face and profile portraits were everywhere and so were red sickle-n-hammer flags with yellow fringe. We knew the lyrics and the legends about him by heart; this kind-looking man in a cap was smiling to kids from so many book pages. “Granddad Lenin likes clean plates!” – our nannies used to tell us instructively. “Study, study and study! (V.I.Lenin)” preached the posters on the class wall. His authority could not be questioned. International worker’s day was always fun – sitting on pony’s back and holding little red flags flickering on fresh May’s breeze.
In 1991, already after the army dudes failed to hold the power yet before the official death of USSR, me and my classmates were honoured a title “octyabryonok” – the youngest grade of Soviet youth which then would have promoted to “pioneer” and “komsomoletz”. The brown school uniform with the red star badge attached to the top became our second skin for 4 years, despite all the changes happening in the country.
me in 1992 wearing school uniform and the badge
Suddenly they told us “we lied to you about Lenin. He was a mean man with malicious intentions, and the miseries we are facing are entirely his fault”. The problems at that time were not a joke: a total deficit of all types of goods, rapid inflation and insecurity. In 1992-1993 prices were growing every day, making it 10-30 times higher at the end of the year in comparison with the beginning. This rapid inflation flushed away all the savings of 90% of population which meant utter poverty. The savings my family had, before 1992 were enough for a two bedroom apartment and a car, in 1993 same amount was worth only a fridge, in 1995 – a few loaves of bread. I remember going to buy bread, standing in a queue for an hour, and every day it would become more and more expensive. If in January 1992 bread coasted 1 ruble then in a year the price was already 24 rubles. The worst thing was the endless queues for anything and food tickets. Food available was crap – liver sausages that I will hate for the rest of my life and Italian spaghetti of the lowest quality (maybe, that’s why I dislike pasta so much). For a child like me, queues were annoying but bearable – I played with other children in a queue, right in a store or outside. Queuing in winters and summer was a tough experience, queues often did not fit in a store and a long tail of it stayed outside, struggling with freezing snowstorms or melting under scorching sun. Often a few hours of waiting used to end up in nothing – food supplies could finish just before your turn. Especially often it happened when my grandfather was sent for a food mission. He was such a gentleman that could not resist offering his turn to every lady with a child (of course, my grandma did not adore this habit). And the worst was yet to come…
Wild 90s gave us another surprise – in 1994 governmental employees stopped receiving their monthly pay. Sometimes salaries were 5-6 or even more months overdue. Grandparents’ pensions saved us from starving. Their veteran status was beneficial too – from time to time we could buy delicacies from a special store for veterans.
Security was going down as fast as prices were going up. The blast of crimes shocked everyone, it was no longer safe to leave a child playing outside. Sounds of shots became a common thing. If you do not believe how bad it was, I can tell you my two school mates, one 15 and the other one 16, were murdered for SEGA game and a video player.
Whist majority was struggling for survival, the small group of enterprising people was multiplying they yeast-like growing wealth. We witnessed a huge mentality shift and changes of values. Whatever was good for USSR became a taboo in the newborn Russian Federation, and the opposite. Thus, money became everything and could justify anything, including the way they were earned. “Losers” learned the new truth “The rich is always right”.
However, do not think everything was bad in the 90s. Yes, we did not have enough food and not always it was delicious. Yes, some of us did not have nice clothes to wear (whereas others had plenty of them). But there was some great rock music; bands like Kino, Nautilus and DDT (highly recommended) fuelled our hearts with passion. Music helped us to pass though the hard time and save our sanity. For worse or for better, we always be the last generation born in USSR who witnessed the historical change, and who learnt two very important lessons: first – with an empty stomach, freedom seems incomplete and not so desired and second – truth is never a constant, it is a variable.
On Tuesday, 19th June I was lucky to attend Meet and Greet session with Steve McCurry, one of the greatest photographers of modern era. It was hard to believe this humble person, sitting in front of the audience, was the author of the world’s most recognizable portray – the portrait of Afghan girl. There was so much in him – peace, sincerity, openness. And not even a hint of pride or superiority. Seeing a person whose eyes had seen so much, I suddenly felt connected to all the countries and events he photographed. I had such a desire to hug him and shake his hand.
When he kindly and patiently was signing prints for everybody I noticed he was left-handed with his right hand not fully functional. Can imagine what a challenge it must have been to take photos for a person with a limited hand functionality. Nevertheless, faces and scenes captured by his camera became immortal. Those are works of a real master.
The audience was quite mixed – glamorous girls and guys, Maltese elite that took a chance to present their designer’s outfits and tan, professional photographers and other interested in photography people. One thought got firmly stuck to my minds: what does the portrait of Afghan girl mean to the glamorous elite? A famous picture with the author’s signature to be hang on the wall? An image of the horrible life they had no idea about?
The event received strong publicity: newspapers along with bloggers complemented to McCurry’s incredible talent, describing his most famous works and explaining why the photos are so wonderful. Strange enough, both, bloggers and newspapers, mentioned same photos. Oh yes, I understand, photos of the Afghan girl and the Peruvian boy became iconic, they deserve fame, but still, there are so many more far less known photos of Steve McCurry that have so much life in them, such a story to tell. Amusing but true – photographs have a destiny too, some are luckier than others, some have won their ticket to eternity, others might be forgotten and rediscovered as paintings of Vermeer years after.
My feeling about the exhibition was pretty similar – great iconic images known for years. I wish there would have been a greater number of McCurry’s less famous photos. Unlike a painting, a photograph does not reveal more when presented at the exhibition, there is no “master’s hand touch” feeling, no brush strokes, in other words, no secret details that are only visible on the original. That is why, in my opinion, the exhibition should have presented not only photos with the name to public.
Ahmadi Oil Fields, Kuwait
My favourite photo from the exhibited was the one of camels on the background of burning Kuwait oil. Such a piercing image! I think I know why McCurry’s photos penetrate so deep – beauty in them is inseparable from suffers and horror to such an extent that it is hard to discern what exactly is so hypnotizing about them – the horror of reality or the beauty of colours and composition. Photos of joy were there as well – beautiful, peaceful, inspiring.
My biggest question after the exhibition was about the Afghan girl. Her image has become iconic, no doubt, it will live longer than the model and will continue excite living ones with its mysteries. Despite miserable life, she was luckier than any beautiful girl from a rich family that saw wars on TV only. We are immortal as long as we live in minds of others. And that girl certainly got it, wonder if she realizes it herself.
Legality status of this cute plant and its derivatives varies in different countries: from legal in a very few countries including Spain, Netherlandsand Czech republic to confirmed illegal in majority of others.
Growing cannabis for personal use is legal in Russia since 18th November 2010. Although smoking it in public still remaining illegal.
In Astrakhan, my home town, Cannabis ruderalis grows right on sidewalks, not to mention countryside where it grows in wild and feels perfectly fine. I remember we even made a herbarium of cannabis during university botany practice. Considering such availability of cannabis there it was pretty hard for authorities to enforce the illegal status.
Decriminalization of cannabis defiantly was a logical action but still far from return to its glorious status. Historically, in Russia cannabis was one of the most cultivated cereal grains, its fiber was used for hemp and textile manufacturing; status of cannabis was as high as of wheat and sunflower. In fact, you can see cannabis leaves right between wheat sheaves on the fountain of the International Friendship in Moscow.
Everything changed in 1961 when USSR adopted UN Convention on Narcotic Drugs, initiated in USA (weird enough that USSR adopted something initiated in USA but it was Khruschev´s “snowbreak” time). Nowadays cannabis is still cultivated on microscopic scale for agricultural purposes.
In Malta growing cannabis is illegal and there is nothing surprising about it. What would you expect if legalisation of divorce happened only a year ago? Although not everything is so clear: drug trafficking in Malta is as active as everywhere else and authorities do not try hard to wipe cocaine from the island: places of trade are known to many including police. On Saturday 5th May supporters of legalization of cannabis gathered in Valletta in front of the new Parliament building. The march was a pretty peaceful action, some even brought their children :).
I do not believe cannabis is banned to protect us from any harm. Otherwise, how to explain the fact that alcohol and cigarets are available in such a broad variation? And even if so, if an adult person decides to harm himself, doesn’t he have the right to do so? There is a strange perception that “dangerous” things controlled only if banned, and their legalization would be a total disaster – everyone would be trapped by their power. Strange perception, isn’t it? Are all married Maltese in the process of divorce now?
I remember, in my teenagerhood we used to gather on the staircase in some block of apartments and some of my friends smoked cannabis. I know how it smells, I remember how they used to smile and laugh after. Something kept me from doing same thing, maybe I wanted to be different in the company of weed-smoking and heavy drinking still kids. Cannot recall any harm to anyone. Some became wonderful parents, some finished bad but cannabis did not have anything to do with it.
