Born on May 13, 1951 in Leningrad.
In 1982 he graduated from the Leningrad Higher School of Industrial Art named after Vera Mukhina.
Artist, writer, screenwriter and film director.
Since 1994 – a member of the Union of Artists of Russia.
Member of many Russian and international exhibitions.
In 2009 - personal exhibition at the State Russian Museum.
His works are exhibited in galleries and private collections in Russia and abroad.
I like travelling but as if I like it post factum. The forthcoming travelling is always annoying to me. I am curious but there are plenty of things I have not seen in the next street and you do not need to fly somewhere to another edge of the world for that. In fact when I was a child I was of a different opinion. But post factum I always understand that I was not right and the passed journey is a bright gleam in the routine yet exciting everyday life.
A splendid rare opportunity to get occupied with labor of love – painting without being distracted for other things including care for the nearest and dearest, meetings and calls of necessity, bothering about daily bread. And what is the weather like! And air! And neighborhood taken right from the best adventure films. Immediately the well-forgotten feeling of childhood, summer vacations emerged from somewhere, probably because of plunging into the warmth which is so rare in our city. It was even shameful to enjoy it by yourself without any of your close people.
Nowadays in the whole Europe one can hardly see an artist painting on location. Everyone makes photographs and paint sneakily based on the photos. That is why a small crowd of the people interested gathers around you on plain air. But I had never met such a friendly attitude especially when you called yourself a Russian. From the second word some treatment was offered to you even against your will. Kindness at halves with inexplicable gratitude is literally poured on you. Even children and teenagers who usually like competing in impudence once learnt that the artist was Russian immediately demonstrated joy. Miller Gvozda could not give even ten minutes to concentrate on his picturesque mill without offering another drink or some food. He wanted to slaughter a sheep to prepare some fabulous dish. I hardly held him back…
Now this “Serbian gleam” is moving away with every day and becoming a dearer memory and canvasses depicting these magnificent and dear places as if were painted by someone else but not by me.