Boris Smelov is a photographer with an impeccable reputation. Boris Smelov - a photographer with an impeccable reputation Who surrounded Smelov

Boris, you were wrong! Today is a dark anniversary. Five years ago, in the capital of democratic Russia, the legally elected Supreme Soviet was shot from tank guns. The president made an unconstitutional coup. Hundreds of people died. The enlightened West is, as it were, nothing and

Father Boris In July, Berezovsky realized that it was time to leave. This understanding matured, as always, with some advance - about two moves ahead. On the one hand, he was an oligarch and, as such, had to be subjected to careful and tactful equidistance, and on the other hand,

In January, an exhibition of photographer Boris Smelov opened at the Hermitage's General Staff Building. He is called the legend of St. Petersburg photography, the one who became a classic during his lifetime.

"Paper" talked to exhibition curator Daria Panaiotti about how Leningrad photographers of the 70s walked around cemeteries and Kolomna, why it was not customary to shoot the city from above, and how Smelov and his environment shaped the visual culture of most contemporary St. Petersburg photographers.

- Over the past 10 years, this is the second exhibition of Boris Smelov in the Hermitage. Why is he getting so much attention?

Smelov - even without the merit of the Hermitage - is one of the main St. Petersburg photographers, the creator of the image of a poignant, somewhat melancholic black-and-white St. Petersburg. In the strict Soviet cultural hierarchy, photography has always stood below painting and was not considered high art. Boris Smelov - both in his work and in his life (he was friends with poets and artists, was married to an artist) - brings these two worlds together.

Fontanka in winter, 1987

- Is it possible to say that it was with Smelov's big exhibition in 2009 that his popularity began?

Smelov has always been a significant figure in unofficial art. Everyone who moved in these circles knew him. But, perhaps, the Hermitage exhibition declared him not as a hero of unofficial art, but as a classic.

That exhibition, it seems to me, fulfilled two important tasks. On the one hand, it was a retrospective of an artist who was obviously very significant for the Leningrad cultural landscape, but is still not well known to a wide audience. On the other hand, it has become a device of persuasion for those who are still not ready to recognize photography as a full-fledged form of high art. A decade later, we show Boris Smelov in the halls with a permanent exhibition. Now it is a recognized fact: these photographs are in the collection of the Hermitage.

- Smelov's first solo exhibition in 1976 lasted less than a day. What didn't the censors like?

As a researcher, I deal with the issue of how censorship functioned in Soviet photography and interview photographers. None of them can accurately name the reason for such a ban. The prohibitions were not articulated and spelled out in the training manual, but everyone understood that it was impossible to do.

Griboyedov Canal, 1978

So one can only guess what caused the closure of the Smelov exhibition. For example, in the Journalist magazine, photojournalists of the older generation wrote about the young Smelov that his photographs were very gloomy and depressing. In their opinion, it was a kind of mannerism and a desire to shock.

- How different are Smelov's works from the works of other St. Petersburg photographers of that time?

In the works of Smelov, in a very specific way, fidelity to photography and an orientation towards poetry are combined. He becomes an artist without ceasing to be a photographer, and this is important.

The 1970s–80s were the time of radical experiments with abstraction, the loosening of the framework of Soviet reporting, and the transformation of the social documentary genre. The 1990s is the time of conceptual photography. Smelov never did any of the above; it seems that the very interaction with the city suggested style to him, and any trends were indifferent.

"Spring Frog Hunt", 1995

There is an opinion that it was Smelov who began photographing non-ceremonial Petersburg in the way everyone does now. How true does this seem to you?

Smelov is a well-known, now recognizable and, probably, the most convincing representative of such a visual language, but something does not allow him to be solely responsible for the photographic image of the city at the end of the 20th century. Still, the role of the environment was very great, and much was born from joint conversations and walks.

They also talk about Smelov's angles: shooting from above, a look from some last floor at a courtyard-well with shabby walls and leaky roofs. Then such photographs could raise questions, in some way it was connected with the fact that spies were filming from above. Everyone knew that it was not necessary to shoot like that.

Untitled, 1990s

- Who surrounded Smelov?

Boris Kudryakov is considered the first and main influence on Smelov. They were even called "Grand Boris" (Kudryakov) and "Petit Boris" (Smelov). Leonid Bogdanov, Sergey Falin, Olga Korsunova (founder of the FotoDepartament fund).

When it became clear that the conversations in amateur photography clubs were not about that, they form their own more closed circle, where they discuss photography. They arrange apartment exhibitions, which, as Smelov's adopted daughter Maria Snigirevskaya recalls, were crowded. They go to a kind of photo plein air: they walk together around the city, especially in its quiet parts - Kolomna, Vasilyevsky Island, and also around the Smolensk cemetery. I suspect that such places were chosen, among other things, because at that time a person with a camera could be stopped on the street and asked to hand over the film.

"Boat", 1971

Unlike the Soviet reporter, who hurries along the planned route to film some event, has a clear plan and goal, photographers like Smelov can rightfully be called flaners. To flanker means to walk without purpose and purpose, but at the same time not to be inactive, but to be in a state of intense observation both of one's feelings and of what is happening around. The flaneur is the most attentive observer not only of the city crowd, but of the city and its changes as a whole. French philosophers of the second half of the 20th century - from Guy Debord to Michel Certo - attribute great political significance to the walk: it is a way of reclaiming and reclaiming urban space, fighting the ideology that structures and normalizes the life of a city dweller. Here are the walks of Soviet amateur photographers, in my opinion, an equally important gesture, the reconquest of their freedom.

- You said about amateur photographers, but was Smelov a professional photographer?

Yes and no. His photographs, which we know, could not be sold, they could not be considered a product of his professional activity. At the same time, he worked as a photographer at the Combine of Decorative and Design Art, then at the publishing house "Artist of the RSFSR".

At an evening in memory of Leonid Bogdanov, which was recently held at Rosphoto, a photographer who knew Boris Smelov told the following story. Bogdanov gave Smelov an order: he asked him to shoot a series for a set of postcards with views of the Summer Garden. Smelov went to do a test shoot, returned with "brilliant" shots. Maybe, famous photo Apollo with a spider on her cheek was made then. Unfortunately, these pictures did not meet the requirements in any way. Realizing that he could no longer do better, Smelov refused the order.

This example demonstrates well how Smelov prioritized. The author's beginning was more important for him.

- How did Smelov work?

The official directive (which was broadcast by the Soviet Photo magazine) was to first construct a frame in your head, and then move forward to meet it and see it in reality. Smelov, apparently, shot in a completely different way. I think he really appreciated randomness as the basis of an artistic shot. At the exhibition, you can also find street photography in the literal sense: when a person takes to the streets of a metropolis and turns into an eye that clicks the shutter button.

"Monkey", 1982

For his still lifes, Smelov specially collected all sorts of gizmos from pre-revolutionary life. Why was it so important to him?

Smelov, as they say, from a good St. Petersburg family. His grandmother graduated from the Bestuzhev Courses (one of the first women's educational institutions in Russia - approx. "Paper"). Apparently, therefore, the connection with pre-revolutionary culture was important to him.

There are almost no signs of the times in Smelov's photographs, like the statues of Lenin or the banners that his contemporaries have. His photographs are timeless. It is difficult to understand that this is St. Petersburg of the 70s. But it is clear that Smelov's optics, the way he looks at the world, is a product of that time. Thanks to his photographs, we can see and feel the city exactly as a cultured Leningrader of those years saw and felt it.

- Can we say that Smelov invented his own style of photography?

Smelov, to be honest, does not look like a theoretician. Unlike, for example, Kudryakov, who wrote a lot. At the same time, as can be judged from the fact that he was a member of the Punctum group (and this name is borrowed from the cult book of Barthes “Camera lucida”), he is interested in the theoretical dimension of photography. In the manifesto of this group there is the word "beautiful" - and it seems that this is the truth that interests him most. Intimate, deviant, beauty captured by him personally.

- What attention did Smelov pay to the technical part of filming?

He was a professional photographer, and at that time a professional had to act accurately: there was very little quality film, especially color. Therefore, Smelov, of course, was a master of technology. In the 1990s, he experimented a lot with infrared film. However, he does not have color photographs.

At that time, a very clear and distinct idea of ​​“good photography” was formed in the circle of domestic photographers, which implies the author’s manual printing, the dominance of a black and white image over a color one, the absence of manipulations, preferably even cropping, a strong composition, richness and subtle tonal transitions.

Untitled, 1980s

- Is there a concept of the St. Petersburg school of photography?

There are a couple of historians who are trying to describe and comprehend this process. For example, Alexander Kitaev. In philology, after the famous article by Vladimir Toporov, the concept of "Petersburg text" appeared. If we talk about something similar in visual art, then this is probably a photograph in which there are few people and architecture prevails.

Who is its ancestor is a question for discussion. You can start the story with Karl Bulla, you can from amateur photo clubs. The very concept of “school of photography” probably refers more to the Soviet photo club culture.

The phenomenon of amateur photography is very important - and especially in the history of Soviet photography in the second half of the 20th century. Each major recreation center had its own photo club, where people discussed art. Smelov, by the way, attended a photo club at the Vyborg Palace of Culture, but quickly left. He is from the generation that is starting to create their own unofficial photography.

- Who became a follower of Smelov?

His works have many fans, but I have not heard that anyone formed a conditional “Smelov memory society” and set a goal to shoot the same way as he did. But for many, it is his style that causes a strong emotional reaction. The visual culture of most photographers who are now shooting the city was formed under the influence of Smelov and his circle.

The work of the legendary St. Petersburg photographer Boris Smelov is of interest to art historians, critics, theorists, historians and photography enthusiasts. In 2009, the largest exhibition of his photographs was shown at the State Hermitage Museum. No one is left indifferent by any mention of Petit-Boris. Why? We tried to answer this question by citing various points of view, memories, quotes from Boris Smelov himself that have survived in time.

Photographer Boris Smelov became a legend of St. Petersburg photography during his lifetime.

- Do you want the sun and the moon, and the flood and snow - and all this in one frame??? But is this the end of the world?

From a dialogue between Boris Smelov and Masha Snigirevskaya

Arkady Ippolitov

older Researcher Department of Western European

fine arts of the State Hermitage,

Photographer Boris Smelov (1951-1998) during his lifetime became a legend of St. Petersburg photography, a living classic who aroused real worship among everyone who was somehow connected with the art of photography.

Any more or less prominent St. Petersburg photographer today has not escaped his influence. The image of Petersburg he created is not just high-quality photographs, but, of course, the most expressive statement that was made about this city at the end of the last century, a statement equal in its meaning to Brodsky's poetry.

His work is the most valuable and striking phenomenon of St. Petersburg culture of the 70-90s, connected with St. Petersburg, dedicated to St. Petersburg and St. Petersburg, but at the same time reaching the international level, since his works are comparable to the most high standards world photography.

David Galloway. City of shadows. City of Tears

Prof. David Galloway

contemporary art historian

art critic (ARTnews, International Herald Tribune),

Art in America Editor,

curator of international exhibitions,

It is interesting to imagine how Boris Smelov would have reacted to the digital revolution in photography, which in 1998, when he died, was just beginning to spread its wings over the world. On the one hand, this photographer was always fascinated by the latest in photographic technology, and he often regretted how difficult it was to get latest equipment and materials in the Soviet Union, where only journalistic and amateur photography enjoyed official recognition. However, Smelov had top-notch cameras and always printed his shots on high-quality photographic paper. It was obvious to him that the development of technology naturally entails its qualitative changes. In an interview published in 1988, Smelov suggested that the advent of automatic cameras and new technology for developing and printing images expanded "creative horizons, enriched the imagery and even the vision of photographers." But he was not enthusiastic about any innovations: “The ability to make a high-quality“ card ”without possessing either intelligence or culture carries the danger of stupid photography.” It is not surprising that he anticipated the phenomenon that many later regarded as reverse side digital aesthetics that flooded the art market at the end of the last century: without the author's view of the world, without the artist's human position, the results are "empty and cold."

In Smelov's reflections on photography, the main word is always “culture”. When asked what the ideal education of a photographer should be, he replied that it would be more useful not technical, but humanitarian - philosophical, psychological, art criticism. Although, according to many, “pictures speak louder than words,” it is worth noting that among the subjects important for the future photographer, Smelov included in his academic plan foreign languages.

His photographs were the testament of a dedicated master who loved Dostoevsky's philosophy, Van Gogh's paintings, and Mozart's music, but also read the theoretical works of Siegfried Krakauer and Roland Barth and was generous with praise when judging the works of his colleagues. In the field of photography, his favorites were Henri Cartier-Bresson and Joseph Sudek, who taught him the most important lesson: "Every object of the material world is endowed with its own soul."

Early in his career as a photographer, Smelov took portraits of underground writers and artists, including himself, and occasionally worked—with great success—in the still life genre. His "Still Life with Pomegranate" (1988) and "Still Life with a Crooked Mirror" (1991) are true masterpieces of this genre. They clearly show how well Smelov knew the painting of the Renaissance.

But in essence, he was a photographer-chronicler of the city, and not just any, but Leningrad / St. Petersburg, where he was born and died. He thus continued the great tradition of urban photography that began in the 19th century with the advent of this art form. It was an era of rapid urbanization and industrialization. The contrast between wealth and poverty, between sunny boulevards and dark alleys, between luxurious public buildings and dilapidated apartment buildings served as an inexhaustible source of motives for photographs.

Smelov's work "Tuchkov Lane" (1995) shows that this contrast has retained its strength many decades later. In the photograph, which is notable for its strict geometric composition, we see an elderly woman leaning on a stick, cautiously stepping along a narrow strip of light that falls parallel to the featureless wall of a rectangular building. Her path crosses a shaded lane, in the depths of which several trees are visible: perhaps this is a park, one of the photographer's favorite motifs. The shadows in the foreground are clearly from a tree that is not visible in the frame. The language of contrasts is simple, but rich and expressive: light and dark, architecture and nature, man and an anonymous urban landscape. In other works, including such gloomy sketches as "The Man with a Bucket" (1974) and "The Wall" (1975), there is no nature - there are only dull labyrinths into which invisible tenants are driven. It must be borne in mind that these works refer to a particularly important and eventful period in Smelov's creative biography, when he first received public recognition, but at the same time he began to be persecuted by the authorities, who in 1975 closed his exhibition at the Vyborgsky Palace of Culture and confiscated the works exhibited there.

In Smelov’s urban landscapes, you rarely see a human figure, and those people who meet there, for example, in the work “Two Figures in the Gateway” (1971), are essentially nameless extras who clearly attract the artist because of the interesting play of light and shadow and not as individuals. The Silver Boy (1995) is a striking exception to the rule: in this composition, the human figure forms the true center. In most cases, the figures that appear in Smelov's photographs are not living people: these are stone statues in a cemetery, sculptures decorating a fountain or a bridge, for example, a centaur, so gracefully balancing in the works "Pavlovsk, Centaur Bridge I" (1975) and "Pavlovsk , Centaur Bridge II" (1994). It is interesting to note that in the later work, the natural environment is brought to the fore, while the sculpture itself is almost completely absorbed by the shadow.

Smelov also has architectural sketches bordering on geometric abstraction. Light falling obliquely through the windows; arches crossed by the border between light and darkness; spiral staircases and balustrades - these motifs, obviously, attracted the artist precisely by their form. However, Smelov, who was interested in modern philosophy, saw in them, perhaps, existential connotations. An atmosphere of mystery and sadness reigns in these St. Petersburg cityscapes, partly because Smelov rarely photographed in bright sunlight. Sometimes we see the fading light of the evening in the pictures, but most of all the artist liked the lighting of the early morning, when Sun rays fog was just beginning to dissipate over a cemetery, a bridge, or a playground. The shadows in these morning hours were long and deep, so that the details highlighted by the light stood out especially brightly. Looking at Smelov's photographs, we perceive Leningrad / Petersburg not as the city of light that architects conceived under Peter the Great. With all the splendor that can be found in this city, it is a world of shadows and - often - a world of tears. In an article entitled "After Raskolnikov: Russian photography today,” critic John P. Jacob called Smelov “a master of the school of spiritual aestheticism.” Indeed, the cycle "In Memory of Dostoevsky" could serve as a kind of story about the entire work of this artist - amazingly gifted and standing apart in photography.

Boris Smelov. From interviews over the years

Secrecy needed

Soviet photo. 1988. No. 10.

- What do you mean when you talk about successes and failures?

My biggest failures have always been related to the technical aspects of photography, with the craft, when, due to impatience and fuss, I irretrievably lost the best shots when shooting or in the laboratory. And luck is the coincidence of creative aspirations, “premonition of the frame” with the end result. In general, I consider myself a representative of emotional, intuitive photography and, when shooting, I trust my feelings more than preliminary plans. But at the same time, don't take it for mysticism, I dreamed of many photographs, and then, sometimes years later, I suddenly saw them with my own eyes. And happiness, if at such moments the camera and film were with me.

- What, in your opinion, can and should be done to avoid the "depersonalization" of photography?

Today we are lacking a serious theory of photography. There is practically no influx of young, fresh forces here.

The issue of education for photographers seems to me extremely important. I myself feel its gaps more and more painfully with age. It is interesting that most modern photographers have a technical education, and it would be more useful to have a humanitarian one - philosophical, psychological, art history, and even with knowledge foreign languages. After all, a person must easily navigate the history of art in order to create new story. The artist must know the past, perhaps even better than the present, which he can perceive on an intuitive level. The culture of the author is always, one way or another, manifested in his works. And, I think, without love for Dostoevsky's philosophy, Van Gogh's painting, Mozart's music, not only myself, but also my works would be poorer.

- And the last question. Is there a quality that a good photograph must have?

There is. It must have a secret. Otherwise, the ambiguity of its perception will be lost.

The image of the city

Subject. 1995. No. 1.

In my photography, the city dominates, although lately, in order to bring it to life (and only for this reason), I have been paying more and more attention to the people in the city. I shoot in infrared light on a special film. I used to shoot on high-speed emulsions with a red filter to achieve a certain drama, thickening, concentration of Petersburg. Infrared film fascinated me because it gives a new quality and a completely different graphic effect. The difficulty of shooting lies in the fact that it is impossible to correctly measure exposure meters. This film is meaningless in automatic cameras where sensitivity is introduced. What is the beauty of working with it: one more parameter is added, and sometimes you don’t know what will happen, despite many years of experience. The further you live, the less you understand the effect of light on the emulsion. We are used to not taking into account thermal radiation, but here the temperature of objects affects the overall exposure, but there is absolutely nothing to measure this effect. Naturally, you have to make duplicates, although it is a pity to translate expensive material. Another feature: the correct focusing on such a film is different from the usual one. The sky is very darkened, the greenery is brightened, it looks unusual. And therefore, a unique approach to composition is needed, taking into account all these features.

Shooting on infrared film helps me emphasize a certain cosmism of the city, its objects, epic, significant, tragic. And the pictures taken on ordinary film in foggy weather, given the limited or no backgrounds, in fact, only the foreground and this delicate pearly gray emphasize a certain localized lyricism. But I must say that in both cases, the romantic approach prevails in my photographs.

My house

From an interview in 1993 with the publisher of the album "Winter Petersburg" (1997).

- How long have you been shooting in general, including in winter?

Probably since he got frostbite on his hands and feet at the age of thirteen.

- What features of winter photography can you name?

Hoarfrost, when a sharp drop in temperature, and the lens under the jacket and even in the wardrobe trunk fogs up, therefore, before taking a picture, take a look at the lenses of your camera with peripheral vision!

- What attracts you in shooting the city of St. Petersburg, and winter in particular?

Roughly - the absence of dirt. If more subtly, then everything that is conceived and, by the way, embodied by all European architects. Winter, definitely, like the Neva in a flood, cleans, but in a different sense.

- What moments of winter filming can you remember?

Break from the roof in winter: it was possible, like a cat, to “twitch” through the attic window, but maybe in vain ...

- What should a photographer have for shooting in winter?

I think that the "Team Cousteau" should be consulted here. It would be nice if they went to the Neva, that's it! Seriously, the main thing is shoes. Valenki are good, but not very good. Why? Ideal for the countryside, but let's say your pinched foot on the roof won't add to your agility.

- Do you use shot directing or rely on chance?

An intuitive case is when snow, a passer-by, a bridge, a house are united into immutability, that is, into destiny.

- Who influenced you from the masters of photography?

Intimate question. In the sense that his production implies for the layman - who are you more like? If I buy with this one, and I’ll wait for the other one until you yourself die.

From the catalog of the exhibition “Boris Smelov. Retrospective” in the State Hermitage

We thank the Boris Smelov Foundation for providing texts and photographs for publication.

For the exhibition in the Hermitage, the album “Boris Smelov. Retrospective” (KERBER publishing house, 448 pages, in Russian and English, 3500 copies, sold in all bookstores on art in Europe and the USA).

Text: Arkady Ippolitov, David Galloway

Yesterday I posted a photo of the front of St. Petersburg.
But he's not like that. It's just a pretty wrapper...
And there is another, real St. Petersburg ... The outgoing city ...
And how no one filmed it Boris Smelov.

“Photographer Boris Smelov during his lifetime became a legend of St. Petersburg photography, a living classic,
which evoked real worship from everyone who was somehow connected with the art of "light painting.
Any more or less prominent St. Petersburg photographer today has not escaped his influence.
The image of St. Petersburg he created is not just high-quality photographs, but, of course, the most expressive statement that was made about this city at the end of the last century, a statement equal in meaning to Brodsky's poetry. His work is the most valuable and vivid phenomenon of St. Petersburg culture 70 -90s connected with St. Petersburg, dedicated to St. Petersburg and specific to St. Petersburg, but at the same time reaching the international level. his works are comparable to the highest examples of world photography.”
Arkady Ippolitov, senior researcher at the State Hermitage

And here is a self-portrait of the photographer himself, or rather the artist ...

B. Smelov died absurdly and tragically, on Vasilyevsky Island on January 18, 1998.

His photographs were compared with the poems of Joseph Brodsky.
And these lines are like an epitaph to Smelov:

No country, no graveyard
I don't want to choose.
To Vasilyevsky Island
I will come to die.
Your facade is dark blue
I can't find it in the dark.
between faded lines
I'll fall on the asphalt.

And the soul, relentlessly
rushing into the darkness
fly over the bridges
in the Petrograd smoke,
and April drizzle
snow over the back of the head,
and I will hear a voice:
- Goodbye, my friend...

“Boris Smelov was buried on January 24 at the Smolensk cemetery, not far from the chapel of Xenia the Blessed. As soon as the gravedigger slapped a fresh mound for the last time with a shovel, a dove flew down from above, crowning this mound of frozen earth like a living gravestone. Boris, as Borya Smelov's friends called him from the beginning of the 1970s. One of the best shots of Ptishka is a dove on a pedestal, from which the granite parapet of the embankment goes into the distance, bending and, as it were, repeating the soaring shape of a bird's body in stone. The photographer clicks - and the Bird flies away ...

He shot the city alone, night and day. He climbed roofs and attics, found the most incredible points.
Now we will not ask the artist about anything, we will not find out how he imagined his author's photographic book. His name was included in photographic encyclopedias and reference books. And as is usual with us, Boris Smelov was more known and appreciated abroad.

Gradually, the filming routes develop into a meaningful study of where we still live? The façade city had not been repaired since the revolution, the houses had a historical glow. Fences, tiles, chimneys, laundries, carriage rooms - everything still carried that “non-Bolshevik” spirit. Ferns grew on the roofs, pines grew on the balconies, sweet grass made its way from the embankments. We spent the night under the fence and in the area of ​​the Electrodepo station, which is near the Varshavsky railway station, and on Khimichnaya, Chelyabinskaya, Magnitogorskaya streets, the theme of forgetfulness and God-forsakenness attracted us with its silent poetry. We walked along Moskovsky Prospekt at night, turned to the port, drank wine there, then went to the Kalinkin Bridge, napped there for about fifteen minutes, had a dry breakfast and walked to New Holland. He filmed with my "Moscow", and I shot with his "watering can". Sometimes we shot something with one camera from one place, but remembered the frame number. After developing, we looked at the negatives. The footage was completely different!
...Here we are listening to Mozart in his room. He slowly smokes the terrible "Belomor", I drink Cabernet, okay. It is raining outside, such rains only come when you are not saddened by the past, and the future is endless and colorful...

From the book "Childhood Friend"

A Secret is Necessary (interview with B. Smelov, 1951-1998)

– Boris, is your entry into photography your “first love” or the fruit of a conscious search for your art form?

- In my childhood I tried to draw, but by the age of ten I realized that I could not achieve serious success here. Then there was the first device - "Amateur" and a long period of photographic failures. The real awareness of photography as an art came when I was already finishing school. My first successful works date back to this time.

What do you mean by success and failure?

– My biggest failures have always been related to the technical aspects of photography, with the craft, when, due to impatience and fuss, I irretrievably lost the best shots when shooting or in the laboratory. And luck is the coincidence of creative aspirations, “premonition of the frame” with the end result.

In general, I consider myself a representative of emotional, intuitive photography and, when shooting, I trust my feelings more than preliminary plans. But at the same time, do not take it for mysticism, I dreamed of many photographs, and then, sometimes, years later, I suddenly saw them with my own eyes. And happiness, if at such moments the camera and film were with me.

– Were there masters or photographic schools that influenced the formation of your photographic face?

- Probably, I could not name specifically some of my teachers in photography. But each encounter with the art of great masters, of course, shaped me in its own way both as a photographer and as a person. One of the strongest impressions of my youth was, for example, the exhibition "Face of France": acquaintance with the work of so many outstanding photographers at once (and in the author's originals) significantly expanded my understanding of the possibilities and boundaries of photography. I admired the works of A. Cartier-Bresson, indisputably proving that a real photographer must be a thinker. J. Sudek revealed to me that every object of the material world is endowed with its own soul. L. Rodchenko, a master most adequate to his time, showed that the spirit of the era can be expressed by means of photography ...

– In your opinion, are there any new features, new trends in the development of photography today?

– technical revolution in photography - the appearance of automatic cameras, highly sensitive photographic materials, perfect laboratory equipment - naturally led to its qualitative changes. On the one hand, the ease of solving technical problems has expanded creative horizons, enriched the figurative structure and even the vision of photographers. On the other hand, the ability to make a high-quality “card”, having neither intelligence nor culture, carries the danger of making a photo stupid. It is not for nothing that in the West, and even in our country, “objectivism” has become so fashionable - the deliberate complete elimination of “traces” of the author’s personality from the work. For me, in any work, it is more important than the exact photographic fixation of nature, the author's view of the world, the human position of the artist. Without it, the pictures are empty and cold.

In the work of colleagues, I like most of all what I myself do not know how to do. In my opinion, when coming to other people's exhibitions, one must leave vanity and envy behind the threshold, then one begins to understand and feel a lot. For example, I really like the rational-irrational pictures (especially color ones) by Boris Savelyev, his impeccable "sniper" vision conquers.

- What, in your opinion, can and should be done to avoid the "depersonalization" of photography?

– Today we really lack a serious theory of photography. There is practically no influx of young, fresh forces here. Recently, I have been interested only in the articles published by "SF" of Andrei Speransky, who died untimely, who wrote sincerely, passionately and, most importantly, with love for photography.

It seems to me that it is simply necessary for Soviet readers to get acquainted with the classical works of such major Western theorists as Siegfried Krakauer, and with new foreign studies that are original in their view of photography, for example, with the book by the French esthetician Roland Barthes “Camera Lucida”.

The issue of education for photographers seems to me extremely important. I myself feel its gaps more and more painfully with age. It is interesting that most modern photographers have a technical education, but it would be more useful to have a humanitarian one - philosophical, psychological, art history, and even with knowledge of foreign languages. After all, a person must easily navigate the history of art in order to create a new history. The artist must know the past, perhaps even better than the present, which he can perceive on an intuitive level.

What genres of photography do you prefer today?

- Here, perhaps, it is more appropriate to talk not about the genre, but about the topic. Basically I shoot my city. And if, say, the works of the long-standing cycle "In Memory of Dostoevsky" were more like parables, then the genre of today's is the urban landscape. Less often than before, I shoot still lifes. They need some special impetus, the appearance of an object around which the plot will begin to take shape, like a pearl growing around a grain of sand.

- And the last question. Is there a quality that a good photograph must have?

- There is. It must have a secret. Otherwise, the ambiguity of its perception will be lost.

Magazine "SOVIET PHOTO", No. 10 1988

The realm of art is the second
reality, it is
magical combination of dreams and
reality.

Boris was born in 1951 and lived up to ten years on Vasilevsky Island, the corner of the Seventh Line and Sredny Prospekt (now there is a metro), together with his mother Natalya Nikolaevna Smelova, a pediatrician (who broke up with Boris's father Ivan Vasilyevich Popov, a projectionist, when Bor was five years old), older brother and grandmother, a former Bestuzhev. Every time my grandmother took young Borya with her to the annual meetings of graduates of the Bestuzhev courses, Boris photographed them and as a result created a whole series of portraits of Bestuzhev women. Having become interested in photography in childhood after his mother gave him a camera, he immediately entered the photo club at the Palace of Pioneers. Participating in children's competitions, he repeatedly received awards and diplomas.

He studied at a mathematical school, dreaming of entering an institute that was as connected as possible with photography. At first there was an optical-mechanical one, but, as it turned out, it had nothing to do with photography. Then the Faculty of Journalism of Leningrad State University, but it turned out to be even worse there due to the imposition of Soviet ideology.

Cafe "Saigon", on the corner of Nevsky and Vladimirsky prospects, in the late 60's - early 70's was a place where creative people gathered who did not want to engage in official art. There Boris met K. Kuzminsky, V. Krivulin,. Kostya Kuzminsky arranged apartment exhibitions at his home, including the photographic exhibition Under the Parachute, in which Boris participated. At Kuzminsky, Boris met the artist Dmitry Shagin, who was delighted with his photographs, and introduced Boris to his mother, the artist Natalya Zhilina.

After an uncomfortable life in new buildings, Boris again ended up in his native Vasilyevsky, settling with his wife, Natalya Zhilina, my and Mitina's mothers. It was fun in the house, large groups of Boris's friends, mother and Mitya gathered. Between drunken fun, there were serious philosophical conversations. Exhibitions were organized.

In 1975, in Vyborgsky D.K. the first personal exhibition of Boris took place. It featured over 50 stunning photographs. The exhibition lasted one evening, the next morning “party workers” came from the Vyborg district committee of the party and ripped off the photographs from the walls, tore them up and threw them into a trash can.

For the third year now, at the sight of freshly fallen snow, the first desire to run to Borya shouting: “Get up, it snowed, let's go shooting!”..........

We always jumped out, headlong, to find the fallen snow, completely perfect, not trampled. Especially valuable was the snow that fell in early autumn, when the sculptures in the Summer Garden were not yet closed. I, a twelve-year-old student of Boris, had a lot of fun wandering around the fabulously snowy city for days on end, climbing onto attics and rooftops, looking out for bird's-eye views of the city. And then, already through the muddy snow, wander into the workshops of Boris's friends and listen to conversations about photography, dreaming of the time when I will become a "real photographer."

Trips outside the city, mainly to Pavlovsk and Peterhof, played a significant role in the work of Boris. The fountains of Peterhof in the works of Boris, striking in their splendor, look completely unusual, despite such a popular topic among photographers. And the Centaur Bridge in Pavlovsk, to which he returned again and again! The same bridge, and each time a completely new amazing photo!

Collecting old bottles, shells and all sorts of gizmos from pre-revolutionary life, Boris built amazingly elegant and eye-catching still lifes from them. The magical world was born from damask bottles, decanters, watches and mirrors, and, despite great amount objects, struck by its harmony and harmony.

In 1993, when the bans on exhibitions were long forgotten, and Boris had already participated in many exhibitions in Russia and abroad, his second solo exhibition finally took place at the Borey Gallery on Liteiny Prospekt. There was no crowd at the opening, such was the number of friends and admirers of his talent.

It seemed that everything is very rosy, art is free, and talented artists will be appreciated. But after the “perestroika” euphoria, the official “Soviet” art was replaced by a fashionable “concept”, which really did not allow the artists to come out of the underground. Art historians quickly refocused and announced that in contemporary art there is only social realism, kitsch and concept. And artists looking for harmony and beauty have no place in the so-called "contemporary art".

Trying to somehow resist this, Boris, I, my husband photographer Alexander Sokolov and my student Alexei Zelensky, united in a group called "Punktum". And they started by arranging an exhibition in "Borea", calling it "To be continued", but there was no continuation, despite the fact that the exhibition was a success with true connoisseurs of art. After all, to fight the "sharks" of conceptual art, you need to become the same toothy and fanged, which absolutely does not fit with the vocation of the artist. As a result, we simply continued to work in silence and obscurity, as before, without wasting energy in the struggle for survival in the social environment.

Once, a friend of Boris, having arrived from America, presented him with an infrared film. The effect of this film, which mainly affects the extraordinary whiteness of the foliage of trees, captivated Boris, and with the help of this film he made a large series of absolutely enchanting photographs. As a result of final stage creative activity Boris.

It seems that Borya knew that he would soon leave this life. Walking around his beloved Smolensk cemetery, he repeatedly said to his wife, who was horrified by his words: “Be sure to bury me here, in Smolensk.”

How many times have we waited in excitement for him when he did not return home in the evening, wandering around the city, enchanted drunk on wine and fantasies. He always returned in the morning, talking about that wonderful moment for him, when consciousness returns from the abyss of intoxication, and then the beauty of the surrounding world is especially sharply perceived.

On January 18, 1998, he never returned, falling asleep and not waking up on Bolshoy Prospekt of Vasilyevsky Island, between the chapel and the tavern....

It is not enough to say that Boris loved Petersburg; he could not imagine himself outside of Petersburg. Even when the city bore the shameful name of Leningrad, it didn't matter to Boris, he lived in his old, ruined, abandoned Petersburg, where every crack in the wall is beautiful. He wandered around the city in search of the shots that he had dreamed of in a half-asleep, and with his "watering can", which became one with his eye, the necessary lighting, the snow that had fallen, turning his visions into marvelous photographs.

An adherent of direct photography (without any assault), Boris created works that go beyond the usual reality, but reflect a different reality, full of harmony and mystery, which is revealed only to the gaze of a great artist detached from society.

Maria Snigirevskaya, November 2000

Franz Konwitschny, cabinet dry Hans Wirsching Riesling and nostalgia for what never was (?).