I remember my first drawing very well. Or rather, it was not the very first one, but it was the first conscious drawing and the brightest one of my life. I was five years old then; it was winter and terribly cold, and I was sitting at home alone. Suddenly I heard on the radio an announcement of a drawing competition called “I Live on the Land of Volgograd.” I found a checked notebook sheet at home, took a simple pencil, and began to draw a naval battle.
My mother came home from work, and I started persuading her to send my drawing to the competition. She took the drawing, but I felt that she would not send it — she would simply put it on a shelf, and that would be that. I insisted: I took the drawing myself, carefully folded it, put it into an envelope, and quite literally made my mother take it to the post office. And then, when everyone had already forgotten about the whole episode, an invitation to the exhibition arrived. Of course I was delighted, but we did not go, because it was February and the frost outside was terrible. And imagine — it turned out that I had won first prize! That was how my creative life began.
(Umka in Volgograd — a magazine for future and loving parents — June–July 2008)
