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In some parallel universe, I date a creative type. The guy reads Chekov's Three Sisters to me. We drink vodka from the bottle and he snaps me wearing warm animal skins on snowed-on hills. I'm madly in love with this Russian photographer. Looking at Vladimir Clavijo-Telepnev's photographs, though, I can dream.

Worth a look are the architectural shots of the Stalin era. Blown up, black and white, they show Soviet Russia from street level: industrial, intensely overbearing. His biblical photographs, intended to accompany the text are in contrast, landscapes of desolation. In the gallery, you can also find 'Children', where lost looking young girls are made up as 1920's femme fatales, with black glossy mouths, thin high eyebrows and hair crisply waved with setting lotion.

Dressed up in pearls and flapper dresses, they are totally captivating. All the noirettes sport characteristic dark eye makeup smeared with once wet tears. While I love picture Josephina - girl number fifteen - whose icy eyes look much older than her years, I keep returning to Polina, pictured here. Her shiny eyes are sad and as dark as her lipstick, even though she smiles. 



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