June, 1943, Trans-Urals, Arctic Circle. The reflections of military lightning paint the horizon with blood, the enemy has not yet surrendered and, with the ridge broken at Stalingrad, is slowly crawling to the west. But even here, to the expanses of the tundra near the mother of the circumpolar waters of the great Ob River, to cities, towns, camp zones, trading posts and deer camps, The shadow of war falls and fills the air with anxiety. This restless atmosphere drives some people crazy, turning people into monsters or a pitiful semblance of a person, devoid of will and mercy, while others, seemingly the same people, rise above the sea of everyday life and become heroes or angels. And in the center of these events is the life and fate of the artist, in whose magical hands clay, stone, wood and metal breathe and come to life.