Better late than never, right?

That is kind of hard being writing both for English speakers and my adorable Russians.

But since I've moved to London that's a great chance for Creative Writing improvement.

So here goes previously published in Russian post about Frieze 2011.

Frieze Art Fair 2011. Extravaganza, phantasmagoria, illusion, vertigo of colours and shapes, kaleidoscope. Temperature chill refused to abandon my body which made every change on the Tube to be a natural nightmare, but how is it possible to miss Frieze once you're in London.

Regent park was overwhelmed, blasted by a humming crowd. Now that is London, the most londony London of Londons - heels of every shape and height, midieval dressings, strands of hair coloured that every rainbow would envy, varnished raincoats and those fancy i-am-the-art-expert guys with elaborate spectacles, overstreched cardigans and must-be scarves around neck.

Honestly it's a natural blasphemy to get into Frieze just for an hour, but what can be done when you could easily fried a couple of eggs and get your English breakfast done on my forehead. That was the only option.

Ideally I wish I had a possibility to get a four-day ticket and get an opportunity of understanding slightly all the weave between galleries and salons with all their curiosities.

There on the wall you get mocking Don Putin hugging with Don Berlusconi and deadly bodies on the floor in front. When approaching Regina's stand I saw the ugly orcs, Frodo and Gollum and that was a surprise. Greetings from the past, I'd say. Pavel Peperstein, whom I remember drunk and slightly inadequate when I met him in St.P. reminded me so much amusing moments that I couldn't stop smiling.

The crowd of people was wearing that fancy mask of understanding everything and smart appearance, but that couldn't help hiding blasted brains from that alien art. What on earth, I bet it's been almost the same with Picasso, Dali and even Da Vinci.

Some of the pieces of art presented caught an eye with its simplicity and reminded of legendary Banksy, some of them made my back covered with creep, others are left somewhere behind the frames of my mind.

But why not to let a bit of absurd, nonsense and surrealism to get somewhere deeply in our frozen hearts?