07/08/2026
When I was a child, in the art classroom at my school, there was a reproduction of Karl Bryullov’s The Last Day of Pompeii — in its original size.
I still remember how our art teacher, Rima Vasikhovna Karimova, introduced us to the history of world art, and especially to the history of Russian art. That painting made a profound impression on me. At that time, Karl Bryullov was my favourite artist, and The Last Day of Pompeii became one of those images that stayed with me long after the lesson was over.
That is why visiting Pompeii myself felt deeply meaningful.
In 79 AD, the city was buried and thousands of lives were taken in an instant by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. But I could never have imagined how powerful the experience of actually being there would be.
Three hours in Pompeii is nothing — just a tiny glimpse. You need at least several days to truly walk through this place, to absorb its silence, its streets, its houses, its traces of everyday life, and to begin to comprehend the scale of what happened here.
To stand in a city where around 10,000–20,000 people lived, and to realise that an entire world was suddenly destroyed by nature, is overwhelming.
For me, Pompeii was not simply a historical site. It was a journey back to one of the very first encounters that shaped my relationship with art. 🤎🏛️🏺
