In an era defined by hyper-connectivity, relentless digital tracking, and compounding geopolitical anxieties, the human impulse to retreat into nature has taken on an urgent, almost radical dimension. For Belarusian-born photographer Elena Serafimova, this retreat is not merely a lifestyle choice or a seasonal hobby; it is a profound sociological and psychological inheritance.
Serafimova’s critically acclaimed photographic project, “In the shadow of an old apple tree,” weaves together family archives, cross-generational observations, and intimate contemporary moments to examine a uniquely post-Soviet phenomenon: the dacha. Shortlisted for the prestigious 2026 Booooooom Art Photo Book Award, the project interrogates what these modest plots of land truly mean to a modern populace shaped by the collapse of the Soviet Union, the turbulent emergence of Belarusian statehood, and the lingering shadow of totalitarian legacy.
Main Facts: History, Identity, and the Lens of Elena Serafimova
To understand the emotional and political weight of Serafimova’s work, one must first examine the biographical and historical coordinates that anchor her practice.
The Artist: Elena Serafimova was born in 1986 in Borisov, Belarus, which was then a constituent republic of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR).
The Historical Shift: Her childhood directly intersected with one of the most volatile geopolitical realignments of the 20th century: the dissolution of the USSR and the subsequent, often painful transition toward independent Belarusian national identity.
The Artistic Focus: Serafimova’s broader artistic oeuvre consistently returns to the persistent ghosts of the Soviet legacy—exploring how systemic state structures, collective memory, and historical ruptures continue to shape individual personalities and modern psychological identities.
The Core Project:“In the shadow of an old apple tree” serves as both an artistic manifestation of personal memory and an anthropological study of sanctuary. The project captures ephemeral moments of peace while charting how spaces of refuge evolve to protect and shelter new generations under contemporary pressures.
Recognition: The project earned Serafimova a coveted spot on the shortlist for the 2026 Booooooom Art Photo Book Award, highlighting its resonance within contemporary international photography circles.
Chronology: From Soviet Concrete to the Inherited Garden
The evolution of the dacha—and Serafimova’s relationship to it—spans decades of profound political and personal transformation.
1. The Soviet Era: The Autonomous Island of Freedom
During the height of the Soviet Union, the dacha was much more than a weekend cottage or a simple plot of land. In a society dominated by overcrowded communal apartments (kommunalki), industrial concrete cities, and suffocating state surveillance, the dacha functioned as an autonomous island of freedom.
Allocated typically as parcels of six hundred square meters (known as sotki), these plots transformed urban workers into absolute masters of their own micro-realms. Within these boundaries, families dictated their own labor and leisure: deciding what vegetables to plant, how to construct makeshift shelters out of scrap materials, and when to tend the earth. While cultivating crops was frequently a matter of economic survival during harsh winters, it provided an intangible psychological independence—a rare opportunity to sever ties with the collective state and focus on growing something pure, real, and self-made.
2. Childhood and the Collapse (Late 1980s – 1990s)
Serafimova’s earliest memories are rooted in this ecosystem. Growing up in Borisov during the twilight of the Soviet experiment and the chaotic birth pangs of the post-Soviet era, she spent her formative summers at her grandmother’s dacha. Amidst the shifting political tides and economic instability of the 1990s, the dacha remained a steadfast anchor of domestic rhythm, sensory memories, and generational continuity.
3. The Return of the Garden (Adulthood)
Years later, as an established artist living through the complexities of the 21st century, this inherited garden naturally returned to Serafimova’s life. Confronted by renewed external pressures, political clampdowns, and social uncertainties in the region, the artist found herself returning to the physical strategies of her ancestors. The urge to flee where the asphalt ends and hide behind the green curtain of the forest became more than a nostalgic exercise—it transformed into a vital strategy for survival and self-preservation.
Supporting Data and Context: The Cultural Geography of the Dacha
To fully appreciate the scope of Serafimova’s work, it is helpful to contextualize the dacha within Eastern European sociology and art history.
Dimension
Soviet Context (Historical)
Post-Soviet Context (Contemporary)
Primary Function
Escape from overcrowding and food supplement during shortages
Psychological sanctuary and preservation of private identity
Architectural Style
DIY, makeshift, utilizing recycled and salvaged industrial materials
Diverse, ranging from preserved heritage shacks to modern minimalist cabins
Social Role
Collectivist labor disguised as individual hobbyism; family bonding
Intergenerational refuge from renewed external socio-political pressures
Political Subtext
Quiet resistance against state-mandated urban collectivism
Reclaiming bodily and mental autonomy in times of tightening control
As cultural historian and urban researchers often note, the dacha acts as a physical manifestation of the Soviet psyche’s split personality: the public sphere of duty, monuments, and mandatory ideology versus the private sphere of the kitchen table, the handwritten notebook, and the soil-stained hands. Serafimova’s photography exposes the seams where these two worlds meet, demonstrating how the private sanctuary inevitably absorbs the historical trauma of the public domain.
Official Statements and Artistic Manifesto
At the heart of Serafimova’s project lies her own evocative description of what the dacha represents. In her artist statement accompanying the shortlisted submission, she writes:
"During the Soviet era, the dacha was far more than a plot of land; it was an autonomous island of freedom. It offered a vital escape from overcrowded communal apartments, industrial cities, and rigid state control. Within their designated six hundred square meters, families became the absolute masters of their own realm—deciding what to plant, how to build, and when to water."
She continues, bridging the historical reality with the urgent anxieties of the present day:
"While cultivating the earth was essential for survival during hard winters, it also provided mental independence—a rare opportunity to disconnect from the state and focus on growing something pure, real, and self-made. I spent my childhood at my grandmother’s dacha, and those times remain my most cherished memories. Years later, this inherited garden returned to my life. Today, as external pressures tighten once again, we flee to where the asphalt ends—hiding behind the green curtain of the forest to find temporary salvation. To be together, to stand still, and to remember who we truly are."
These words frame her visual language, which avoids sensationalism in favor of quiet, observational framing. Her photographs do not scream political dissent; instead, they whisper truths about endurance, domestic ritual, and the stubborn persistence of human dignity.
Implications: Memory, Resistance, and the Future of the Post-Soviet Landscape
Serafimova’s work arrives at a critical juncture in contemporary discourse surrounding Eastern Europe, memory studies, and documentary photography. The implications of “In the shadow of an old apple tree” extend far beyond the borders of Belarus or the specific history of the USSR.
1. The Art of Quiet Resistance
In political science, resistance is frequently categorized through overt acts of protest, strikes, or public demonstrations. However, anthropological photography like Serafimova’s highlights a different category of resistance: infra-politics or everyday quiet defiance. By maintaining a space of personal autonomy—growing food, sharing stories out of earshot of the state, and passing down memories across generations—ordinary people preserve their psychological sovereignty against encroaching authoritarianism.
2. The Dacha as a Transnational Metaphor
As urban centers worldwide become increasingly dense, digitized, and commodified, the longing for a plot of land where one can "stand still" resonates universally. While the Soviet dacha has specific historical roots, its contemporary iteration speaks to a global audience experiencing climate anxiety, political polarization, and urban burnout. Serafimova transforms a localized post-Soviet architectural typology into a universal sanctuary for the modern human condition.
3. Photography as an Act of Manifestation
Memory is notoriously fragile, prone to fading under the weight of forced displacement, migration, and the passage of time. By framing her family archives alongside current observations, Serafimova uses the camera not merely as a recording device, but as a magical tool of manifestation. She captures escaping moments of peace, freezing them in silver gelatin and digital pixels to ensure that the sanctuary she inherited can be passed down, intact, to yet another generation navigating an uncertain future.
Conclusion
Elena Serafimova’s shortlisting for the 2026 Booooooom Art Photo Book Award is a testament to the enduring power of intimate, deeply personal documentary storytelling. Through “In the shadow of an old apple tree,” she successfully bridges the gap between macro-history and micro-experience.
By looking back at the wooden shacks, overgrown berry bushes, and sun-dappled apple trees of her childhood, Serafimova offers viewers a roadmap for survival in troubled times. Her work reminds us that when the asphalt finally ends and the noise of the modern world fades behind the green curtain of the trees, we are given a rare, precious chance to stop, to breathe, and to remember who we truly are.
