For more details, please, check the calendar: https://marinakazakova.eu/index.php/events/
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*** I hear the river in tender white, under the black bridge warmed by red city trams, ironing the silver rails in -36,6 agony. I care no longer but for…
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*** Muddy, gold and swan-less they get in Autumn - the Volga river and my hometown. The more I think of it now, the sadder the canvas unfolds. The greatest…
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We'd slip quietly upstairs, I'd lead you by a single finger to the roof. On an impulse I'd grab a pillow and would rip out feathers by the handful, I'd…
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*** In the Southern sunlight I walked into the sterile hand symphony of yours. Before you had a second to resist, I shot the image with my eye and moved…
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*** I kiss the left bottom corner of the photo, I touch the force which lifts me higher than the airplane that holds me tight and brings to Budapest. The…
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*** On the art nouveau steps of a theater, the unjewelled silhoette witnessed by maritime figures of pines and me at Villa Torlonia, with no airplanes in the air, moved…
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*** We’d rest on the floor afterwards. As a leaf curl on my stomach your palm would lie, my eye would cascade down a seashell belly-button of yours. My fingers,…
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*** Sometimes I spend lunches in galleries, alone with Flemish or Italian rarities. I'd sit in quietude before a canvas or a statue for minutes. In love with silence of…
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Unseen pattern of inexisting kisses, Unseen insects - cicadas Sing and speak in the Da Vinci’s garden. I feel weightless When running behind you, Leaving the prints on the art…
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