This year has been a year of gratitude for me.
Gratitude to all those who continue to believe in me, who give me strength, support, and the courage to sail across the Atlantic.
Gratitude for old friends who remain close, and for new ones who remind me that sincerity, kindness, and mutual care know no borders.
Gratitude for the horizons others open before me, for the way they show—by their own example—how much better this world can be.
And gratitude for love.
For love overcomes everything.
Photo by @eviwilk 🤩
Summer is tilting toward its curtain call, and I find myself wanting to bow back in gratitude for the luminous, sweaty, history-soaked days it gave us.
After completing my first year as a grad student at UT, @varyaklever and I traded Texan heat and Moscow rain for Anatolian sun and set off on an odyssey across Turkey. From Bodrum’s glittering bays to the silent stones of Ephesus, from İzmir’s cosmopolitan hum to Urla’s vineyards, and finally northward to the storied plains of Çanakkale—we found ourselves standing on the threshold of Troy.
Another summer saga: a trip to LA to see my partner in crime — my copilot and unique director @dimabarch through Disneyland lines, Getty Museum halls, Oscar glitz, and Bob’s Big Boy burgers. I know we’ll carve our names into Hollywood’s sky and roll the credits on the greatest movies yet to be made
Forgot to post, but here’s another epic of the summer with @kmbgm74 : from Austin to Provincetown — chasing lighthouses, dodging seagulls, spotting whales, visiting Melville’s house, tipping my hat at Kerouac’s gravestone, catching John Waters, and wondering if my sense of space now needs an industrial-size spatula to flip it back into place
The day began with a photographer snapping me out of the blue on Madison Avenue—a completely unplanned moment that set the tone for everything to come.
With that spark of magic, I entered the MET, full of anticipation. Bosch’s wild imagination, El Greco’s divine drama, Rubens’ majestic opulence, Vermeer’s grace, and Rembrandt’s soulful brilliance were breathtaking.
But when I walked into the room with Monet’s water lilies, I was instantly transported back to my summer in Giverny in 2018, meditating on his pond of lilies and that little clay cat. That was the very year Monet’s long-lost ceramic cat returned to its rightful home in Giverny—such a small but perfect symbol of his world (scroll to the end).
The day ended with a dreamy Italian dinner, featuring meatballs so good it felt like Lady and the Tramp might wander in.
Pure magic from start to finish!
My mother wanted to name me Nikita. But Nikita was already taken—claimed by a Spitz on 58th Street. His owner, a sharp woman, struck me with her Russian.
- No, it’s not Russian. I named him after La Femme Nikita. When did you arrive?
- -
- Good luck to you. You’ll be fine.
- How long have you been here?
- They don't live that long (столько не живут)
One minute later, her friend swept in and carried Nikita away. The tea grew cold.
- We’ll meet again, won’t we? Nikita and I live here.
Over this scattered breakfast conversation, the tangled innards of the emigrant story spilled out in plain sight. We exchanged words, but not names.
And then there was Matisse. Once, he saved me. In the Pushkin Museum in Moscow, there is a room full of his works, where hope lies layered like paint mottled with life. His work sparkles—the journey to it is a detour, hidden just past a series of Parisian gray landscapes. And then you find him again—in Frankfurt, in Paris, and now here, in New York. It becomes a kind of game of catch-up. Always deliberate, always excessive, and yet smiling with the generosity of time.
And then there’s Stein, Picasso, Khokhlova, Delektorskaya, Shchukin—the whole 20th century reflected in the stained glass of Vence.
Harmony and Dissonance: Orphism in Paris, 1910–1930
A friend suggested I check out the Guggenheim’s golden masterpiece—Maurizio Cattelan’s famous America sculpture (aka the golden toilet)—but turns out it’s still stolen. So, I stayed for the art, and wow, what a revelation.
The Guggenheim’s latest exhibition dives into Orphism, where color, movement, and abstraction come alive in a global conversation. And it’s filled with all my favorites: Sonia Delaunay, Wassily Kandinsky, Marc Chagall, Aleksander Archipenko, and more—came together to shape this vibrant, transnational moment.
It’s the kind of interconnected creativity and exchange I really miss today. Harmony and dissonance—side by side, pushing boundaries together.
Art speaks where borders fail.
DFW Conference 2024 in the flesh!
At first, it feels like you’re alone, trying to accomplish something, as if you’re speaking a different language. But then, after traveling countless miles, you finally discover that beautiful place where you are truly understood.
Never did I think I would be here in Austin, talking about David Foster Wallace, communicating with people I could Identify with—people who speak Fosterian.
Now, the phrase ‘The man who knows his limitations has none’ hits completely differently.
Big thanks to @dfwsociety and @mattbucher for doing something truly amazing!
