Making the tambourine and its animation is a mystical process and closely connected with its owner’s life, in particular with my – Vladimir Kalabin’s – life. At the moment I can assert: we have each other. I have born it. My tambourine is alive (hereinafter I’ll call it Tambourine) and it has a name. My Tambourine’s name is Khors.
I have never loved Andersen’s fairy tales, particularly about the everyday things which talk to each other. They always end somehow with nothing: some dish is broken, or a miserable Christmas tree is burnt after the celebration and its being lost for a year in the attic. The author can’t do without the torture of the girl having matches who is being frozen near the rich house.