We had the opportunity to chat with artist Yulia Spiridonova, whose project Unseen Presence: Homeland Hues is being exhibited in our Virtual Gallery, through June 30th. Utilizing a language of visual displacement and visibility, the project chronicles the lives of Russian expats in the Greater Boston area, following the aftermath of the war with Ukraine. A Q&A with the artist follows.
Yulia Spiridonova is a multimedia, lens-based artist working across photography, collage, and installation. With over a decade of experience as a photo editor and commercial photographer, she has collaborated with clients such as PORT Magazine, Esquire Russia, RBC Magazine, and L’Officiel. Her work has been exhibited internationally and featured in publications including Dazed Digital, The Calvert Journal, and A New Nothing. Yulia holds a Post-Baccalaureate Certificate and an MFA in Photography from the Massachusetts College of Art and Design. She is the recipient of the Anderson Ranch MassArt Fellowship (2023), the Abelardo Morell MassArt Photography Thesis Prize (2024), and the MASS MoCA Studios MassArt Fellowship (2024). She is currently based in Boston, Massachusetts, and works as a Teaching Assistant at Harvard University’s Department of Art, Film, and Visual Studies.
Follow Yulia Spiridonova on Instagram: @liver_lovers
Can you develop the title of the series for us?
Yulia Spiridonova: Unseen Presence: Homeland Hues serves as a glimpse into the broader ideas at the heart of the series—namely, the difficulty of portraying a community that simultaneously blends into the social fabric of Massachusetts while remaining only vaguely identifiable. The title gestures toward this visual and existential ambiguity. Unseen Presence speaks to a state of partial visibility: individuals navigating displacement while negotiating their safety, identity, and belonging in silence or restraint. Homeland Hues references the subtle yet persistent traces of origin—emotional, political, and aesthetic—that surface in exile. Together, the title suggests a quiet tension between presence and erasure, visibility and opacity, memory and performance.
Can you expand on your use of flash and composition to obscure the identities of your subjects?
YS: I began the series without a fixed visual strategy, letting the language of the work emerge through process and collaboration. Since I often meet my subjects for the first time right before photographing them—usually after connecting through social media—I quickly realized that many were deeply anxious about showing their faces. This hesitation, rooted in real concerns around safety, became both conceptually and visually compelling to me.
From that point, the visual approach began to take shape around the question of concealment. I explored various techniques—deep shadows, obstructing elements within the frame, motion blur, and flash that intentionally overexposes or “washes out” parts of the image. These gestures are not only aesthetic choices, but also acts of protection and reflection, emphasizing the precariousness of visibility for many of my subjects.
What’s the significance of photographing these subjects in neutral settings?
YS: Photographing in neutral, often anonymous settings—like empty streets, parks, parking lots, or sparse studios—reflects the liminal and precarious state that many in the Russian diaspora currently inhabit. These are not places of permanence or belonging, but rather transitional zones that echo the uncertainty of their legal and emotional status. By avoiding specific or familiar backdrops, I remove immediate markers of place or context, allowing the focus to rest on the subtle presence of the subjects themselves. These spaces also function as a kind of visual camouflage: the subjects are there, but always on the verge of blending into their surroundings—mirroring the ways in which they navigate daily life, trying to remain both present and unremarkable. The neutrality of the environment underscores a shared, displaced condition and resists easy categorization, just as their identities remain partially withheld or obscured.
Is there something particular that sets the Russian diaspora of the Greater Boston Area apart?
YS: The Russian diaspora in the Greater Boston Area is notably large. In Brookline, where I live, there’s a well-established Russian-Jewish community, with stores like Bazar and Berezka, and even a Russian-language newspaper. Yet being immersed in a community can sometimes mute your sensitivity to its specific nuances. What became more noticeable to me was not the existence of the diaspora itself, but the quiet ways in which people gravitate toward one another—how a longing for home manifests as a subtle search for familiarity.
My project focuses less on ethnicity or nationality and more on the conditions of migration, displacement, and the psychological pull to find kinship. People don’t always consciously seek out community, but emotional and linguistic familiarity becomes a compass. Whether through living in the same neighborhoods or attending small events like the Russian Trivia nights I started going to, many of the people I’ve photographed came into my life through these loose, almost accidental networks.
Do you encounter a different significance to your photographs in color versus in black and white?
The decision to work in black and white holds particular significance for this series. It helps shift the viewer’s attention away from surface detail or aesthetic appeal, and instead situates the images within a more archival or documentary context. The absence of color creates a sense of distance and historical weight—anchoring the work more firmly in themes of record, displacement, and collective memory, rather than visual indulgence or saturation.
In terms of composition, how you approach directing or posing your subjects? Is it a more active approach or an intuitive one?
I approach image-making as a collaboration, inviting my characters to share their interests, personal rhythms, and inner preoccupations. I never fully anticipate what will unfold during a session—what will be revealed, offered, or transformed. Apparent surfaces often give way to unexpected depth once a sense of trust is established. My focus is on creating an environment in which those I photograph feel both secure and emboldened to take imaginative risks. In 5Rhythms, for instance, a casual conversation about hobbies led to an impromptu dance—an expressive gesture that emerged spontaneously and became central to the work. I give my characters the freedom to inhabit the frame on their own terms, while I remain attuned to light, timing, and composition.
