Work in progress

Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф
Train to the Dead-End. Artist&photographer // Художник и фотограф

This is the research of a transitional zone stuck in-between megapolis and suburbs. The topology of a Moscow satellite town Mytishchi, which is standing on the border with Moscow Ring Road, is unstable and filled with liminal areas. A feeling of anxiety has penetrated the routine of the local people who serve the megapolis economics but cannot perceive themselves completely as Moscow citizens. 

At the beginning of the19th century, it was an elite cottage place. Vassiliy Perlov, the merchant, built houses in the Art Nouveau style and offered them for rent. There were no fences around the property, so anyone could walk around the territory and swim in the Yauza river. 

These days Mytishchi is cut in two with the railroad, one side of which is full of modern tower buildings and people who allowed themselves to take available mortgages. On the opposite side is for low-rise houses and collapsing dachas of Perlovskaya and Tayninskaya stations, whose dwellers are gastarbeiters, gypsies and even poorer people. 

The space is full of high fences: glossy corrugated board, decayed wooden planks, transparent grids. While walking through this area, you feel like rat nibbling tunnels in walls. 

With each year, this place shrinks more and more. On the one side, it is oppressed by the concrete wall of MRR, on the other — by the highway under construction. However, in this place you may sometimes find holes, gaps, road streaks in which people and nature exist.