I wouldn’t have done this snow series at all if I hadn’t immediately seen the contrasts in the form of holes breaking through the snow surface. There is always something firm, solid under thaw holes. We know that snow is a temporary, albeit prolonged, phenomenon, so sooner or later it will end and the soil on which it lies will appear. We always expect flesh, solidity of earth, as we live not in Antarctica, not on a piece of ice, but on the soil, on which the snow fell. Thus, snow is a coat, a veil that covers our stable planet for the time being. Work with thaw holes actually indicates that there is no solid ground under our feet. It turns out there is an incredible hole, unknown space spreading in different directions with different trends under the snow. I was attracted to the idea of holes in the snow by association with the other fog cover — with clouds. When landing on an airplane, a person sees pieces of land in the holes, which bring about all sorts of associations with something from the past, something dear, well-known, but infinitely distant. In fact, I have decided to create the series because of this distance that opens up from behind the snow.