It seems to me that in a series of reportage portraits of cinematographers of the 2000s, Nikita Pavlov managed to portray time. Imagine a book like this about people making movies in the 1930s or during the Thaw. After all, they were also very different, but we would know from their faces what time they belonged to even without dating. Time left its imprint on them, time united them. What do these, such different faces in Nikita's book have in common?
Nothing. They all look like aliens from different eras, somehow miraculously turned out to be compatriots, contemporaries and colleagues in the craft.
The result was a group portrait of timelessness, a collective portrait of loneliness, when you are alone with yourself, with your craft, with the need to overcome this timelessness and translate it into an artistic result. And either pay an exorbitant price for this, or accept that the task is impossible. And so, in my opinion, this is not an exhibition catalog, but a book by Nikita Pavlov about Russian cinema of the present moment - sad, tender, and compassionate.
— Lyubov Arkus
Book / Russian Cinema. Reality Point
Seance Publishing House, 2009
