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S e r g e y


Primorskaya Metro Station. It feels like nothing ever changes here: two narrow escalators, grey concrete panels on the walls - all surrounded by the same monotonous apartment blocks. The unwavering legacy of the Soviet past. At the time, Primorskaya used to be the final stop. Today it does feel like the end of the comforting world of the central Saint-Petersburg. What could attract in a place like this?

I meet Sergey outside the station. He was the one who picked the spot. "Shall we?" he says. And we start walking. We're heading to his place, a favourite location where he often shoots. Something from his own world.

"I love a dark soul of St. Petersburg by Dostoevsky. I can’t stand stereotypical postcard views. As soon as I get to the city centre, I want to hide, duck into a small alley, away from people and tourist attractions," he explains.
"Right here there used to be the sea." He points to the pavement ahead of us. He laughs. Many things were different here when he was a child. Where the sea once was, a new district has risen. We look on how the city displaces the living. And how the nature retreats, slowly giving up its legitimate place.

Finally, we have arrived. A large endless space unfolds in front of us. It’s breath-taking. Sand and sea – that’s all we can see all the way to the horizon. A low, brooding sky. Freedom. It feels exactly as Sergey described it to us.

We walk past sparse, low spruces stuck into the sand. Climb on the big sandy mound. We are at the top, where only wind and sea are. Far far away, in the entirely different world.




Diplopia Magazine: What is this place, and why are we here?

Sergey: I’m a big Tarkovsky fan. There’s always a lot of space and air in his films, exactly like here. When I first saw these spruces growing in the sand, I instantly got hooked. They reminded me of Solaris. When I did my first shoot here, I tried to make my own Solaris. I love the sense of freedom this place gives. The light. The low sky.

DP: You're a photographer. What do you shoot, and why is it important?

S: I work in three main styles: portrait, nude photography, and art. 

In art style, I prefer surrealism. That’s where I create depersonalized portraits. In that sense, I feel a connection with artists like René Magritte. 

What I love the most in the portraiture. People say it's easy to take portraits. However, I think the more minimalistic the photo is, the harder it is to make. Capturing person’s emotions is not easy.
Most of my work is in nude photography. It really teaches you the craft — it's so much easier to photograph someone who is dressed. Even a perfect body has its flaws.  I never undress anyone. I just talk to my models, try to build a connection, and during that process, I see wether a person is ready to open — emotionally and physically. The rest people do on their own, to the own comfortable extent.

I started with female nudes, but that experience wasn’t positive. Thus, I took a completely other route and spent years in children's photography. I thought the nude form just wasn't for me. But after a long break, I decided to try again.
Nowadays men are my main models. It’s easier for me to express myself through them because I’m a man too. I want to show that men can feel. That they can be vulnerable, they can cry and that they can be gentle. An emotional man I portray in my work is very labelled in the society we live in. I want to break that stereotype.

Why am I doing all of this? Photography is the meaning of my life. A reflection of myself. I’m willing to sacrifice a lot for it. For me art comes before my personal comfort.

It’s easier for me to express myself through man
because I’m a man too.
I want to show that men can feel.


DM: What do you respect yourself for?

S: I do what I want. It’s hard to do what one’s want when it's not in demand. 
Sometimes I feel like giving up — it’d be so much easier going back to work at children’s’ parties and having a stable income. Artistic photography doesn’t offer that kind of financial independence.
But I don't give up. That’s something I can respect myself for.

DM: Is being successful important to you?

S: Being "successful" means different things to different people. For me, it's about recognition. Every artist wants to be noticed.

It was hard to explain to my parents what I do. Only when I was accepted into the Russian Union of Art Photographers*, it became my professional validation for them. My mom told me “Finally you have a couple of good photos!” (laughs). For her, as for someone from the older generation, status means a lot.

Many young photographers today chose status — they want to be published in trendy magazines, tailor their work to match their aesthetics. But what they don’t understand is that in that constant hunt, they lose their unique personality. 

I can say I have a success now. But for me, it’s not about money.

DM: What do you do better than others?

S: That’s a hard question — it’s so subjective. 

Maybe I can say what I do differently. I live in my artistic universe. I don’t have kids, cars, or a mortgage. But that’s my conscious choice — I live the way I want.
It is not an easy thing to understand for everyone around me. For many people, stability is the most important thing in life. But for me, its absence is the strongest source of inspiration.


I live in my artistic universe (...). I live the way I want.
For many people, stability  
is the most important thing in life.
But for me, its absence
is the strongest source of inspiration.




DM: What are your weaknesses?

S: I’ve gotten so used to hide behind my work that I started hiding in real life. I’m a reserved person. I enjoy spending time alone, going to the movies or museums by myself.
People who come to my photoshoots often don’t even know how I look.

What about my main weakness… Probably, it’s my inconstancy (laughs).

DM: Who are you?

S: Professionally, it’s hard to say who I am. The most important thing is that I have my own style. The best compliment is when people recognize my unsigned work — “Did Vinogradov photograph you?”

I don’t do a complex makeup, hair, or elaborate lighting. I often say I’m “alone on my batter field”. I always shoot alone. I use only natural light. I don’t need lots of gear. I don’t work with references. My references are museums. I live in a city full of cultural treasures. So, it’s easy for me to improve my photographic style through art.

Personally, I don’t like an excessive modesty in me. It makes my life harder. I don’t know how to market myself. I just don’t have that skill.

DM: What are you afraid of?

S: The matter of fear is very relevant for me. A male photographer who shoots men is still very stigmatized. It discourages other male photographers from doing what I do. I’m no exception — it took me a long time to get where I am. The world is full of prejudices. I try to challenge them with my work.

Sometimes I notice in people what they fear of in themselves. In those cases, the models might not like my photos at first glance. It takes time to fully accept all parts of oneself.

Most of my models are muscular, athletic types. This is so beautiful. However, I’m upset that subjects with other body types aren't ready to pose for me. People only want to accept their "ideal" version of themselves. While their scars, moles and stretch marks are the things which attract me the most. The things they often see as flaws.

And what about my personal fears? I’m a total hypochondriac. Probably a fear of death is my biggest fear (laughs).


A male photographer who shoots men is still very stigmatized.
It discourages other male photographers (...).
The world is full of prejudices.
I try to challenge them with my work.


DM: Loneliness. Are you a lonely person?

S: I’m not lonely, but I enjoy being alone. I’m comfortable in my solitude. After all, loneliness comes in different forms.

Do you remember that Yevtushenko’s poem “Love for Solitude” **? An old woman lives alone, all she does is knitting all day long, and yet she claims she loves solitude. But at the end, she breaks down, screaming that she can't take being alone anymore.

"People love solitude out of pain, but never out of joy." Sometimes I want to scream too.

DM: Freedom. What does a freedom mean to you?

S: If we’re talking about financial freedom — I have it, I’m a free person. But who said freedom is about money? I think money is overrated. For me, freedom means doing what I want. Shooting how I want. A privilege to say “no”  if it contradicts my artistic philosophy.

My freedom are also my models. They are my tools. Through them, I photograph myself.
Unfortunately, I don’t always have their courage. It’s hard for me to step out in front of the camera. It’s not because I am afraid of a naked body, makeup, or nail polish. I wish I was as free inside as they are when they pose for me. I think I’m on the way to that freedom.

DM: One question to a man:

S: I don’t have one specific question. I’ve explored many aspects of masculinity through photography. However, it doesn’t mean I know everything about it. I often say: the day I take a photo that fully satisfies me is the day I quit my job.


My freedom are my models (...).
I wish I was as free inside as they are when they pose for me.
I think I’m on the way to that freedom.



DM: Masculinity. What does it mean to be a man?

S: For me, masculinity is reflected in my male portraits. They mirror my inner state. 
Being a man is a dissonance between the personality in my photos —a soft, vulnerable human, and my own version in a real life – a strong, masculine man.



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