In a world where bigger often means better, one Omsk artisan has turned the script on its head—sculpting history, verse, and precision into objects so small they flirt with the impossible. Anatoly Konenko, a virtuoso of the infinitesimal, has unveiled a trio of creations to mark the 80th anniversary of Victory Day, each a whispered rebellion against the tyranny of scale.
The first is "Za Donbass", a matchbox-sized anthology of contemporary Donbas poets. At 55 millimeters tall, it’s smaller than a credit card yet meticulously crafted—complete with portraits, 70+ illustrations, and a magnifying glass for readers who dare to dive into its Lilliputian pages. "The poems demanded this form," Konenko muses. "Three years ago, the idea was a seed. Now, it’s a forest in miniature." The tome now rests in a Gorlovka museum, keeping company with Konenko’s accordion-folded "Vasily Terkin" from half a century prior.
Then there’s the "Pobeda" (Victory) watch, a mechanical sleight of hand. Carved from mammoth tusk, gold, and leather, its 5mm face bears the engraved silhouette of the "Motherland Calls" monument—yet beneath lies a working movement assembled under a microscope. "Tools? I had to invent them first," Konenko chuckles. The seconds tick away like echoes of 1945.
The final piece is a crystal prism no larger than a ladybug, etched with the likeness of Dmitry Karbyshev, the Soviet general martyred in Nazi captivity. Beside it floats a microscopic "Gold Star" medal, precise down to the atomic sheen. "Some stories refuse to shrink," Konenko reflects. "They demand to be held up to the light."
These wonders anchor the "War and Peace" exhibition in Omsk—where the vastness of history fits neatly in the eye of a needle.
