• Marina


I had a dream that one of my English friends came to Moscow and was arrested and sentenced to death. He decided to leave me a silver ring and, by his will, I had to personally remove it from his dead hand, which I did.

I put on the ring and it teleported me to London. It was a lovely day there, I walked a bit and stumbled upon a vintage store. Inside were cosy old-fashioned interiors, on the walls paintings by George Stubbs and interactive works by Mat Collishaw. As for clothes, among the countless no-name tweed jackets, there were masterpieces by Alexander McQueen and Vivienne Westwood. Inspired by such findings, I went deeper into the store, looking at works of other Young British Artists, adjacent by paintings by Gilpin, Palmer, Blake and Turner.

The store began to unfold like a huge labyrinth with many rooms and corridors. On my way, I met Trinny Woodall, who grabbed my hand and tried to get me onto the brightly lit scene of her fashion show. But I had greasy hair and shabby clothes and ran away from her.

The next door was an exit to the garden of blue roses, where an old woman with a pale face and cerulean fish-like eyes came out to me. “Do you want to photograph my death?” she asked. I agreed and we went to her stained-glass mansion. The windows had a blue-green hue and there was a feeling of being underwater. Pearl and coral jewellery were scattered on the floor.

“You don’t really exist without pictures, don't you?” the old woman said and gave me a contract for the provision of posthumous photographic services. It was written that I needed to document the process of her death, then place her dead body to the garden of blue roses and take nine photos of decomposition in the style of artist Kobayashi Eitaku.

As a reward, I received permission to live in her house during and after her death, subject to regular watering of blue roses. I signed the contract and woke up.

39 просмотров