Boris Smelov "There Should Be a Secret in Photography"
"There must be a mystery in photography. Otherwise, the ambiguity of its perception will be lost."
"I consider myself a representative of emotional, intuitive photography and, when shooting, I trust my feelings more than my preliminary plans. But at the same time, do not consider this mysticism, many photographs were in my dreams, and then, sometimes years later, I suddenly saw them with my own eyes. And luck, if at such moments the camera and film were with me."
In a world where time inexorably erases the boundaries between the past and the present, where moments dissolve in the flow of eternity, there are artists whose work becomes a bridge between worlds. Boris Smelov is one of such masters, whose works capture reality and at the same time reveal its secret essence, its hidden poetry. His photographs are windows into another world, where light and shadow dance in an eternal waltz, and objects acquire a soul.
Smelov, who was born in 1951 and passed away in 1998, became a legend of St. Petersburg photography during his lifetime. His name sounds like a symbol that opens the doors to a world where reality intertwines with a dream, and the city becomes a state of mind. Smelov's Petersburg is a City with a capital letter, a mythical city, a dream city, where every stone, every corner, every ray of light tells its own story.
Boris Smelov's art is always a dialogue. A dialogue between light and shadow, between objects and their essence, between the viewer and the image. His still lifes, like his famous landscapes of St. Petersburg, have become an integral part of St. Petersburg photography. But if the city in his works is history, then the still life is poetry. Poetry in which each object finds a voice, and light becomes not just an instrument, but also the main character.
Smelovsky's still life is a philosophical reflection on the essence of things. A philosophy that is rooted in ancient ideas about the world, where matter is animated, and each object has its own inner life. In his works, objects gain independence, they are freed from their utilitarian purpose and begin to live their own life. A watch and scissors next to a flask, a glass with a broken stem, a roach with a shell - all these objects in his still lifes become symbols, signs that speak of something more than their physical form. Smelov treated objects with respect, recognizing their immanent significance. For him, every object was animated, each had its own soul, and it was this soul that he sought to liberate.
Light in Smelov's still lifes is the soul of the composition. It plays, glares, shimmers, creating a rhythm that captivates the viewer's gaze. First, the eye stops on a bright, shining object, then slides to a dark, matte one, then returns to the glare on the crystal. This movement is like a melody that unfolds before us, forcing us to return to the image again and again. Smelov's still life is music captured in a frame. And, like good music, it has its own pauses, its own accents, its own crescendos and diminuendos. The process of creating a still life for Smelov was almost sacred. He could spend hours, or even days, building a composition, selecting objects, experimenting with light, waiting for dandelions to turn into fluffy balls. During this time, the household was forbidden to touch the objects on the table: for the entire duration of the work, they became sacred. Each element in his works is the result of long reflection, patience and love. And it is felt. Boris shot most of his still lifes in the cozy bay window of Zhilina's house on the 18th line of Vasilievsky Island, he set them up slowly and with love. These still lifes by Smelov keep the warmth of his hands, his attentive attitude to each object, his respect for their inner life.
The influence of the Little Dutchmen, especially such masters as Kalf and Klas, is felt in Smelov's works, this concerns those still lifes where the cut lemon peel hangs from the edge of the table in a whimsical spiral. But this is not imitation, but rather homage. He did not copy their style, but was inspired by their ability to see beauty in the ordinary, their attention to detail, their love of light and shadow. Smelov's still life is a continuation of tradition, but at the same time it is a completely independent phenomenon.
Smelov's still life is a conversation. A conversation that does not end when the viewer turns away from the photograph. This is a work that continues to live in memory, returning to moments of silence and reflection. It does not lose its relevance, does not become part of the "dead zone" of perception. It is always ready for dialogue, always open to new interpretations.
There should be a mystery in photography. And Boris Smelov's still lifes are precisely that - a mystery. A mystery that is not fully revealed, but attracts, fascinates, makes you come back again and again. This is not just an image of objects. This is a world in which each object finds its soul, and light becomes a guide to this mysterious, beautiful universe.
But it was not only still lifes that made Smelov a legend. His cityscapes are a separate chapter in the history of photography. His Petersburg is a state of mind, where the past and the present merge. His pictures of the Summer Garden, St. Isaac's Cathedral, Nevsky Prospect are poetic statements, where each frame is a story. His "Apollo" from the series of photographs of sculptures in the Summer Garden became a symbol of St. Petersburg culture at the end of the 20th century. The marble profile of the ancient god, with raindrops running down it and a spider crawling nearby, is a polysemantic symbol, speaking of eternity and transience, of beauty and decay.
Smelov was a passionate admirer of Dostoevsky, and this passion was reflected in his works. He wandered the same streets where Fyodor Mikhailovich himself and his heroes once walked. His routes ran through places filled with literary history, and each frame taken by Smelov seemed to enter into a dialogue with the past. He avoided sunlight, preferring the soft, diffused glow of a cloudy sky, which gave his pictures a special depth and drama. In his works, St. Petersburg appears not as a bright, ceremonial city, but as a place where every shadow, every corner of the street keeps its own history.
Smelov loved to shoot the city from above, from the height of attics and upper floors. For him, roofs were no less expressive than the facades of houses. He knew every house, every park, every descent to the water in his favorite areas. He felt the slightest changes in their condition and was able to catch that single moment when light, shadow and mood merged into an ideal composition. His Petersburg is a city that lives its own life, where every house seems ready to talk to a passerby, as in Dostoevsky's White Nights: "Hello; how is your health? And I, thank God, am healthy, and in May they will add a floor to me."
Smelov's Petersburg is a city without people, but not without their presence. Its streets, embankments, courtyards and squares are filled with emotions left behind by those who once lived here or simply passed by. This is a city that breathes memories, where every frame is a story told through architecture and light.
Smelov left us a unique legacy - Petersburg, which can no longer be seen as it was in his time. His photographs captured streets and courtyards not filled with cars, where you could still feel the spirit of the old city. This is Petersburg, which is gone, but remained to live in his works.
Smelov was an artist who stood on the border of centuries. His work is a bridge between the past and the future, between tradition and innovation. He was the heir to the great cultural tradition of Petersburg, but at the same time his works are comparable to the best examples of world photography. His name is on a par with such masters as Cartier-Bresson, Atget, Curtis.
The third section of Smelov's poem about St. Petersburg is his portraits. Boris Smelov's portraits stand apart. They do not simply capture a person's appearance, they open the door to their inner world, allowing the viewer to enter into a silent dialogue with the person captured in the picture. Smelov does not tell stories - he creates a space where everyone can find their own.
In the Soviet era, when photography often served as a propaganda tool, Smelov's portraits were a challenge. While academics were photographed wearing yarmulkes against the backdrop of bookcases, and agronomists with ears of wheat in their hands against the backdrop of fields, Smelov rejected clichés. His portraits were not a photographer's story about a person - they were a meeting between the viewer and the individual. He removed himself from the frame, leaving the model alone with the person looking at the photograph. And every time a new viewer stops in front of his works, the portrait comes to life anew, giving birth to a unique dialogue.
Self-portraits occupy a special place in Smelov’s work. For him, this was not just a way to capture himself at a certain moment in time, but a separate genre in which he explored his relationship with the world. More than two dozen self-portraits are milestones in his creative path. Each of them is an integral image of everything the artist saw and felt. There is no ostentatious demonstration of the camera in them — Smelov’s main instrument is his gaze. Sharp, inquisitive, penetrating. In life, this gaze was softened by a smile, but in portraits it reveals all its sharpness, forcing the viewer to think about what is hidden behind the outer shell.
Smelov was a man who believed in himself and his talent. His self-esteem was high, but it did not diverge from the opinions of others. He knew that he deserved to be captured, and his self-portraits were not just a recording of appearance, but an exploration of his own personality. He loved his physical shell, and this is evident in his works. Even after death, he looked like an antique statue. But behind this external beauty there was a depth that Smelov knew how to convey through his portraits.
One of the funny episodes associated with Smelov shows his eccentricity. Once, during a love date, he suddenly jumped out of bed, assumed a pose worthy of a bodybuilding podium, and loudly asked: "Am I good-looking, am I handsome? You must admit that I am good-looking!" This moment, which became a reason for his companion to break up, only emphasizes his self-confidence and peculiar sense of humor. But behind this external bravado hid an artist who, through his portraits, sought answers to eternal questions.
The Petersburg that Smelov captured in his works is not just a city. It is a mirror that reflects the artist's personality. His portraits, whether they are images of other people or self-portraits, are windows into another world where everyone can find something of their own. They do not age, do not lose their relevance, because eternity is contained in them. And every time we look at Smelov's portraits, we enter into a dialogue not only with the people depicted in them, but also with the artist himself, who continues to live in his works.
Despite all his fame, Smelov remained a mysterious figure. His works are mysteries that each viewer solves in their own way. There is always something unsaid in them, something that makes you return to them again and again. As he himself said, every successful photograph should have a Secret. And it is this Mystery that makes his works so attractive, so eternal.
In 1988, Boris Smelov gave an interview to the magazine "Soviet Photo". Here are his main topics:
Photography as an intuitive art
Smelov admits that his path to photography was not a straight line. As a child, he tried to draw, but quickly realized that his calling was not in the brush, but in the lens. The first steps in photography were associated with failures, especially technical ones. However, it was these difficulties that taught him to appreciate every moment, every success, when a creative premonition coincides with the final result.
For Smelov, photography is, above all, an emotional and intuitive process. He trusts his feelings more than pre-planned plans. Interestingly, many of his works were born from dreams. He saw them in his dreams, and then, years later, found these images in reality. And if he had a camera with him at such moments, he could capture what once seemed like a fleeting vision.
Teachers and Inspiration
Although Smelov does not name specific teachers, he emphasizes that each encounter with the art of great masters left a deep mark on him. The exhibition "The Face of France" was a revelation for him, expanding his ideas about the possibilities of photography. He admired the works of Henri Cartier-Bresson, who proved that a photographer must be a thinker. Josef Sudek revealed to him that every object has its own soul, and Alexander Rodchenko showed how photography can express the spirit of the era.
Technical Progress and the Danger of "Depersonalization"
Smelov speaks with concern about the technical revolution in photography. On the one hand, new technologies have made the shooting process easier, expanding creative horizons. On the other hand, the ease with which one can now take a high-quality photo conceals the danger of "depersonalization". Photography risks becoming a mechanical process, devoid of the author's view and human position. Smelov is convinced that without the artist's personality, without his unique vision of the world, photographs become empty and cold.
How to avoid "anonymity"?
In order to preserve individuality in photography, Smelov believes it is necessary to develop theory and education in this field. He complains about the lack of serious theoretical works and calls for introducing Soviet readers to the classic works of Western theorists such as Siegfried Kracauer and Roland Barthes. For Smelov, it is important that photographers have not only technical skills, but also a liberal arts education - knowledge of philosophy, psychology, and art history. This is the only way to create something truly significant that will carry not only beauty, but also depth.
Theme and genre
Smelov does not limit himself to the framework of genres. What is more important to him is the theme that excites him at the moment. He devotes most of his work to his hometown, creating urban landscapes that become a reflection of his inner world. Early works, such as the "In Memory of Dostoevsky" series, were more like parables, while today's photographs are reflections on urban life, on how a person interacts with the space around him.
Mystery as the essence of photography
And finally, the most important thing that, according to Smelov, should be in every successful photograph is mystery. Without mystery, the photo loses its ambiguity, its ability to evoke questions, thoughts, and emotions in the viewer. Photography should leave room for interpretation, so that each person can see something of their own in it. It is in this mystery, in this understatement, that the magic of photographic art lies.
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Boris Smelov left behind not only magnificent photographs, but also deep reflections on the nature of photography. His works are philosophical statements that continue to inspire and make us think about what really makes photography art.
Oleg Astakhov, 2025