• Mikhalevkin Boris – Anna Kharkina

    Date posted: June 23, 2006 Author: jolanta
    Boris Mikhalevkin is a master of black-and-white photography. Hie does not require a complex color scheme to convey his thoughts and feelings with the viewer. He expresses, in simple words his thoughts on life and man. "I find black-and-white self-sufficient," says Mikhalevkin. "Moreover, it is a philosophic conception. It is less distracting and easier to perceive. Photography is a dialogue between the author and viewer. If the dialogue occurs, then the photograph has helped the viewer understand what the author wanted to say."

    Mikhalevkin Boris

    Anna Kharkina

    Courtesy of Russki Album

    Boris Mikhalevkin is a master of black-and-white photography. Hie does not require a complex color scheme to convey his thoughts and feelings with the viewer. He expresses, in simple words his thoughts on life and man. "I find black-and-white self-sufficient," says Mikhalevkin. "Moreover, it is a philosophic conception. It is less distracting and easier to perceive. Photography is a dialogue between the author and viewer. If the dialogue occurs, then the photograph has helped the viewer understand what the author wanted to say." Good photographs, like good ideas, cannot be numerous. An amateur photographer can have but three neat, striking-home snapshots, a professional will have ten, while a photo-master can produce 50. A genuine master knows how to select. Sometimes Mikhalevkin prints only one frame out of several rolls of film, and considers it a great luck. This is how demanding he is to himself. And so each of his works, once seen, can never be forgotten. He has a reverential attitude to the viewer, desiring to display only the perfect pictures. And it is more than mere professionalism–Mikhalevkin has never been a professional photographer, that is, he has always shunned commissions–this being the peculiarity of his personality.

    His thoughtful, kindly attitude toward people, apparent in all his photographs, may have stemmed from the early years of his difficult childhood and adolescence. At the age of 11 he learned what war was; he saw his beloved people die during the Siege. In 1942 he was employed at the evacuation hospital, where his father used to work before him. After the Siege had been lifted, he went to the front. Life taught him independence. He learned to play the guitar and started touring with a band, and only later, in his mature years, did he take up photography. He was a success from the very start. For his 36th birthday, his friends gave him an old Zenith camera and taught him the basic rules. It was then that Mikhalevkin made his first picture, an event that changed his life: a black starling perched on a twig of a white birch-tree. He sent this piece to the All-Russian Exhibition held in Moscow where it won him the First Prize. Mikhalevkin quit the band, got a job as an electrician, and devoted his free time to photography. He was a member of the now famous Mirror photo-club (at the Marx Cultural Centre) headed by Eugene Raskopov.

    His favorite camera now is the Leika. But this is not the only thing that associates him with the famous French photographer Cartier-Bresson. His method is similar–renouncement of staging. To capture the immediate moment is of most importance. Surely, Mikhalevkin makes portraits, and when a model sits for him, Mikhalevkin masterfully catches the moment when the model gets unmasked and reveals his or her true personality. Maybe this accounts for a large number of kindly faces.

    In his works, Mikhailevkin seeks individuality. He creates portraits of the places he has happened to visit, be it St Petersburg, Moscow, Staraya Russa, Surgut, a Russian village, Paris, or the Vatican. He never treats the world in terms of hackneyed expedients, thus depriving the here-and-now moment of its uniqueness. Each time, his captures his personal encounter–the dialogue conducted by the author with the beyond; cognition through photography. He also catches and shares with the viewer the surprise and happiness he derives from what he has seen. One cannot acquire this mood, which has become his idiom, it must be an inherent gift.

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