|The Frozen Neva|
|When in Russia…|
St Petersburg is a masterpiece of water and baroque. A city built on an inhospitable marshy wasteland by Peter the Greatas a window to Europe. Whereas other European capitals were erected over centuries, St Petersburg was built in just 50 years according to strict principles. Erected as a monument to European grandeur upon the Finnish swamplands by conscripted workers who perished in their hundreds of thousands; Peter’s antidote to the dark murky streets of old Muscovy ruled by orthodoxy and occultism.
Winter has cast a gauzy spell over the vast confection coloured buildings, their colourful Italian pulse subdued in the blue Nordic light. It is the only season when their austere Soviet cousins can issue a sigh of relief for they are not eclipsed by these immense rococo jelly-hued palaces, which sit sheepishly in the snow.
I’ve barely been here 5 minutes but am already in love with the place. There’s a conspicuous duality to it which fascinates me. Imperial Russia and Communism…The mint green Winter Palace birthplace of the Red Revolution… Spirituality and science. Sunless winters and nightless summers.
|Just a tad Chernobyl|
|Dad – Keeping Warm|