Secret City talks about the memory of a soviet city that was created in the late 1950’s, specifically for the development of civil and military nuclear power. And it does it by using the memories of an inhabitant that represents the intermediate generation of the city, that lived the perestroika and the collapse of the USSR, first-hand. Ultimately it invites us to reflect on what has become of the Homo Sovieticus that once dreamt of being the New Soviet man.
Jean-Luc Godard used to say, “cinema cannot change the world, but it can change the way we see it”. The same could be said of photography. I would add that on top of the intrinsic motivation of the very action of capturing the image, there is another one no less powerful and previous to this one: the motivation of understanding that world. So, photography could be the instrument that we use as a translator between what we are and what we see, thus capturing that new reality that shows itself, so it can end up becoming part of “what we are”.
In my case, the need to become part of that new reality is due to the fact that my life partner belongs to it. She is the main character of the whole catalogue of memories linked to every part of the territory I photograph in this project. She represents that second-generation resident that lived in the place I am talking about, acting as an excuse to try and understand the past, the present and the future of that location in particular and, therefore, all the Soviet Union / Russia.
So, it was designed as a large-scale town planning experiment based on the concept of garden city, and it was used as a prototype city for future soviet settlements in the nuclear field. One of them was Pripyat (Ukraine), the city where the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant was located, whose design was based on the Leningrad Power Plant in Sosnovy Bor. This was the first power plant that implemented the RBMK-1000 reactor, the faulty design of which would later cause the Chernobyl catastrophe; however, the information was classified.
The Nobel Prize in Literature Svetlana Alexievich, regarding her book Second Hand Time: The Last of the Soviets, explains that Russians live in a kind of Stockholm Syndrome towards their abductors, their political leaders, who since Stalin’s times, have generated in the citizens a romanticised idealisation of the state. When asked what has become of the Homo Sovieticus , the writer states that he is still there because he never ended up leaving.
“My mother took the same route to go to work every day, always passing by the giant carnations. Their iron petals had electrical lights. I was deeply fascinated by this and by the scale of the sculpture. I accompanied her sometimes during school holidays. One of these times I asked her what they were doing there. She told me that carnations were a symbol of the Revolution and part of Soviet iconography, along with everything red: the flag, the passport, the banners, the boards with portraits of the heroes of work, diplomas cum laude, the communist card… During the demonstrations on the day of the Great October Socialist Revolution, the workers used to wear a carnation on their lapels to show their involvement in the common cause.”“I used to go to the Labor Day and Revolution Day parades with my parents and their companies. I loved the atmosphere of illusion and excitement that accompanied these events. Nothing was claimed, but the Party was praised and new work achievements were promised under the portraits of the communist leaders, a kind of Soviet icons. I participated in the Revolution Day parade only once in my life with the rhythmic gymnastics school. It was snowing. We wore hoops and we had to walk firmly. As we passed by the tribune where the heads of the city, of the party and of the largest companies were standing, they greeted us. The tribune was at the foot of a white sand dune with pine trees where we used to go sledding in winter. Now in place of the dune there is a new shopping center.”“Some summer weekends my parents, my sister and I used to go to the forest to pick berries and mushrooms. One day we stopped next to some concrete blocks along the road, in front of a bas-relief of soldiers. My parents explained its meaning to us. They told us that on this bank of the Voronka River, in September 1941, the German army was stopped for the first time on its way through the Soviet Union. Later, once the siege of Leningrad was established, the combatants continued to resist for more than two long years to maintain control over this part of the Gulf of Finland that borders the Capital of the North. It was the first time that I connected my land with the history of the Great Patriotic War that seemed so far away by then.”“In the late 90’s I found out that there was a church in my previously atheist town. It had no conventional church architecture or decoration, and its small bell tower was clearly a later addition. The church turned out to be an old work canteen that was built, back in the 60s, in the newly emerged provisional settlement. After the fall of the USSR and a decade of ideological turmoil that followed it, more and more people clung to the Orthodox religion. It was strange to see the bullies among them displaying such religious fervor. It seemed to me too much of a contradiction between their life and the commandments of Christ. Within a few short years, orthodoxy penetrated all facets of society and became almost obligatory, even for former communist enthusiasts.”“In the nursery, during breaks, we went out to the playground to do sports and play. We had our favorite place among all facilities: a spacecraft that we boarded to undertake star travels. There was a captain, a crew and even passengers, although by then it was still something unheard of. Later I began to realize how close we Soviet children were to the world of cosmonautics, within easy reach.”“It was quite a surprise when they opened a pet store next to my house. There we bought food and accessories for my dog. It was one of the first stores to open in the mid-90s inside the mandatory fallout shelters that existed in most buildings. They came very well for the new era as there were adapted as second-hand shops, food stores, photography workshop…”AllaTatianaVladimirno nameNaúmovVasily, Nina and GueórguiOfficial photo of the liquidators of Sosnovy Bor awarded by the U.S.S.R. for their involvement in the management of Chernobyl disaster consequences. Palace of Culture. Sosnovy Bor. 1986. (Archive)Homo sovieticus
I hold a Master’s Degree in Photography, Art, and Technique from the Polytechnic University of Valencia. Between 2004 and 2008, I collaborated in organizing the PHotoESPAÑA Photography Festival, where I had the opportunity to closely engage with masters such as Chema Madoz, Michael Ackerman, Robert Frank, García-Alix, Hiroshi Sugimoto, and Martin Parr, among many others.
I also collaborated with the Contacto Agency, and I currently combine freelance work with various personal projects in progress, focused on memory and territory.
I have been awarded in the 2nd National Contest for New Photographic Creation Expositivos 22, as well as in the Lumínic Festival of Catalonia 2025, and have been a finalist in the 2023 FNAC New Photography Talent Award, the PHE23 Discoveries Award, GETXOPHOTO’s MAPS 2024, and Talent Latent 2024 at Scan Tarragona. In April 2025, I received the Iberia PHotoESPAÑA PRO Grant.
My work has been exhibited in several venues across the Valencian Community, as well as at the Palacín Hall of León City Hall, the Russian Museum of Málaga, and La Kursala at the University of Cádiz, where I was selected as “Kursalero 99.”
In late December 2024, I published the photobook Secret City, featuring forewords by Pilar Bonet, Álvaro de los Ángeles, and Caroline Benichou.
