Winter stories

“Nothing can be as peaceful and endless as a long winter darkness.”
— Tove Jansson

It doesn’t snow here in Ohio very often, but when it does, I always try to go for a walk right away — to catch the moment when the world is still and everything feels possible.

I have a soft spot in my heart for silver-gray winter landscapes. Perhaps it comes from spending the first 30 years of my life in Russia. When you grow up in the land of snow, you learn to love winter — not only for skiing and snowball fights, but for its quiet beauty. You begin to see a hundred shades hidden in white snow. You learn to appreciate long, silent evenings and the warm, marmalade glow of windows in what feels like endless twilight.

I believe winter is the best season for visual artists. The rest of the year can be too bright, too colorful, too overwhelming. To paint summer, you must subtract. To paint winter, you only need to observe. Winter reveals its beauty through a minimalist palette — orange rowan berries against white snow, deep blue afternoon shadows, muted silver tones of a passing blizzard.

As a Russian saying goes: “If you want to heal your body, go south; if you want to heal your soul, go north.”