Alexander Yakovlev is a Russian photographer known for black-and-white and colour portraits of dancers caught in the middle of a movement, often inside a cloud of flour thrown into the air. My Modern Met describes him as a Moscow-based photographer who studied law before turning to dance photography, and his best-known flour images belong to a series he calls The Mirages.
The idea is simple and very effective. A dancer is dusted with flour, or flour is tossed around her, and studio light picks out every grain against a dark backdrop. When she moves, the powder lifts off the body and hangs in the air for a fraction of a second, so the photograph shows not only a pose but also the path that led to it. The result sits somewhere between sports photography, sculpture and a painted study.
This gallery brings together 61 of his images, from explosive flour pictures to quiet studio portraits with no powder at all. Each photo has a short note on what to look for.
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Who is Alexander Yakovlev?
Yakovlev did not start out as a photographer. In an interview with the Italian magazine Collater.al he explained that he studied fine arts but did not get into art school, so he took a law degree instead. While working in a shop that sold photographic supplies he bought his first camera. Because there were few places in Russia in the 2000s to learn art photography, he spent about five years as an assistant to an established Russian photographer, an apprenticeship he says he still relies on.
He names painters such as Jan van Eyck, Johannes Vermeer and the Russian landscape artist Arkhip Kuindzhi among his influences, along with fashion and portrait photographers including Paolo Roversi, Peter Lindbergh, Albert Watson and Herb Ritts. You can see that mix in his work: the lighting is painterly and soft, but the bodies are shown with the precision of a fashion studio. On his own website he argues that photography stands equal to fine art, and he sells his dance images as fine art prints.
How the flour photographs are made
The flour images follow a clear method. The dancer works against a black or dark grey background, which makes white powder stand out sharply. Flour is either applied to the skin and costume or thrown into the frame, and the dancer moves through it. A fast shutter and strong, directional light freeze the cloud at its most dramatic shape, so each grain is visible.
The flour does three jobs. It shows where the body has just been, like a long exposure but frozen. It gives volume to the empty space around the dancer, so the air itself becomes part of the composition. And it softens the line between person and statue: in the close-ups, a powdered face looks almost like plaster or marble.
Many shots also depend on the dancer's skill. Holding a split, a deep backbend or an arabesque on pointe long enough for the camera, and repeating it until the flour falls just right, takes years of training. Yakovlev has said that ballet photography requires understanding a dancer's body language, posture, direction of movement and positions, so the photographer must know dance as well as light.
The photographs
The images below mix the flour series with studio and location portraits. A few dance terms help: a plié is a bend of the knees, an arabesque is a pose on one leg with the other extended behind, and dancing on pointe means balancing on the tips of the toes in reinforced shoes.
A dancer arches into a deep backbend on all fours while a column of flour rises from her shoulders. The powder settles on her legs and leotard, recording where the body has just been.
Crouched low with one hand at her chin, the dancer whips her long hair upward, and the flour follows it in a tall curling wave. The dark backdrop lets the white cloud read almost like a breaking sea.
Caught at the top of a leap, the dancer folds one arm over her head and kicks her back foot towards it. A faint haze of flour hangs behind her, so the jump seems to leave a trail.
Here the flour almost swallows the dancer: a dense white arc sweeps from her raised arm to the floor. Only a hand, a foot and part of her face break through the cloud.
Balanced on one leg with the other bent behind her, the dancer reaches up and back as two separate bursts of flour drift overhead. The gap between them suggests two quick movements captured in a single frame.
A standing split with the raised foot flicking out a jet of flour is one of the clearest examples of the technique. The powder marks exactly where the leg finished its arc.
Without any flour at all, this black-and-white image relies on muscle and posture. The dancer sinks into a wide, turned-out squat, head bowed over a braid gripped in both hands, on a worn wooden floor.
The flour bursts around the dancer's waist and hips, reading almost like a tutu made of smoke. Her arms open in a classical line while one leg lifts behind her.
The dancer folds completely forward, head tucked below her hip, one hand holding the ankle of the supporting leg as she rises onto the ball of the foot. The pose shows the extreme flexibility and balance that professional training builds.
Kneeling, the dancer throws her head back and her hair carries a long trail of flour with it. The warm skin tones against the cold blue-black background are typical of the colour images in the series.
A long dark skirt swings out as the dancer bends sideways with one arm curved over her head. Fabric does the work that flour does elsewhere: it shows the direction of the turn.
One of the few duets in the set: a kneeling dancer supports a partner who leans back above her, both dusted in flour. The powder falling between them links the two bodies into one shape.
Sitting on the floor with one leg folded under her, the dancer twists her torso and drops her head into her hand. The rough boards and bare wall keep attention on the spiral of the spine.
A pair of large white feathered wings turns this colour portrait into something theatrical. The dancer presses one hand against the plaster wall and steps forward on bare feet.
Shot against a pale blue-grey background, the dancer pulls her knees to her chest in mid-air. Specks of flour float around her like snow, which helps the eye read how high she has jumped.
Seen from behind, the dancer opens into a wide second-position squat with arms stretched to the sides and hair hanging over her face. The symmetry gives the picture the feel of a sculpture.
A dancer holds her leg straight up beside her head in front of a tall factory-style window, with the city visible beyond. The backlight turns her into an almost complete silhouette.
Flour clings to every part of this dancer's skin and leotard, and a cloud bursts from behind her head. The close crop makes the texture of the powder as important as the pose.
Sitting cross-legged on a floor covered in flour, the dancer raises both arms while two arcs of powder fall from her hands like wings. Her direct gaze at the camera is unusual in the series.
In this close-up the flour coats the face and shoulders so thickly that the model resembles a plaster bust. Her closed eyes and the powder drifting off her skin turn a portrait into a study of stillness.
The dancer stands inside a thick cloud of flour, hands crossed in front of her body and face half hidden. It is one of the quietest images in the collection.
Suspended in the air with knees bent and arms crossed, the dancer seems to float in a haze of flour. Her hair, flung upward, adds a second line of movement.
A head and shoulders in profile are covered with flour so evenly that the result looks like a classical marble carving. Powder breaking away at the back of the head reminds us that this is a living person.
No flour here: a ballerina in pointe shoes stretches into a long lunge across a wooden studio floor, one arm lifted in a soft curve. The lace leotard and the bare wall give it the look of a rehearsal photograph.
On pointe, the dancer extends one leg high behind her while flour sparkles around her raised arms. The dark background turns the falling powder into points of light.
With long dark hair swinging, the dancer turns her face into a cloud of flour and hugs her own shoulders. The pose feels more like contemporary dance than classical ballet.
A dancer arches her back and throws her hair behind her, sending a great plume of flour into the dark. The plume is larger than the dancer herself, which gives the picture its drama.
The dancer bends forward and sideways into a thick cloud, her hair falling over her face. The soft focus of the flour makes the body appear to be emerging from mist.
Kneeling in the flour with hands pressed to her chest, the dancer looks down as powder rises around her. The image is closer to a portrait of emotion than a display of technique.
Bent forward from the hips, the dancer lets a stream of flour pour from one hand to the floor. The falling line works like a plumb line against the curve of her back.
Standing on one leg, the dancer pulls her other foot up behind her head while flour explodes outward on both sides. The pose combines balance, flexibility and a sense of sudden release.
Flour flies off the dancer's shoulders and arms in jagged streaks, as if she has just stopped a fast turn. Her lowered head keeps the moment calm in the middle of the burst.
Taken outdoors in a courtyard, this image shows a ballerina in pointe shoes bracing against a large wooden crate with one leg raised. The weathered setting is a strong contrast to the clean studio shots.
On full pointe, the dancer opens into an arabesque with arms spread wide while a fountain of flour rises behind her. It is one of the most classical poses in the set.
A colour image against a plain grey backdrop: the dancer rises on pointe and lifts one leg high behind her head, her back deeply arched. Without flour, the line of the body carries the whole picture.
Covered in a fine coat of flour, the dancer crouches with both hands on the floor and gazes downward. The pale blue light makes the scene feel cold and quiet.
Caught mid-jump with knees tucked and arms around her head, the dancer leaves a trail of flour fragments behind her. The motion reads from left to right like a comet.
This colour photo against pure black shows a dancer at the peak of a split jump, red hair flying. No powder is used; the timing of the shutter does all the work.
In black and white, a dancer with a large tattoo on her hip and thigh reaches one arm straight up and turns her head to follow it. The clean background makes the long diagonal of the body the subject.
The dancer leans and stretches sideways, one leg extended, as flour swirls off her arms. The powder trail continues the line of her hand into the air.
Here the flour hides almost everything; only the legs and pointe shoes are clearly visible beneath a towering cloud. The dancer becomes part of the material rather than the centre of the frame.
A long white fabric streams from the dancer's raised hand as she runs low across the studio. Like the flour, the cloth shows the speed and direction of the movement.
A pregnant dancer in a black leotard rises onto pointe at the barre in a bright, sunlit studio. It is a reminder that the series is about dancers' bodies in many stages of life, not one ideal.
Crouching low with one hand on the floor, the dancer flings her long hair up and back. The bent knees and spread fingers suggest a sprinter at the start line.
The grain of this image gives it the look of an old print. The dancer reaches upward through a sideways blast of flour, her face turned towards the light.
Curled in mid-air with her head resting on her hands, the dancer appears to be asleep while floating. The flour around her looks like clouds, adding to the dreamlike effect.
Another tucked jump, this time with flour exploding from the dancer's back and shoulders. The body is compact while the powder spreads in every direction.
A tight close-up shows a face and torso coated in flour, eyes closed and chin raised. The powder settles in every fold of skin, giving the picture an almost sculptural texture.
A dark scarf or shawl swings around the dancer as she spins on one foot on a wooden floor. The cloth acts like the flour elsewhere, tracing the speed of the turn.
Framed by a ring of flour, the dancer arches back in mid-air and reaches for her foot above her head. The circular cloud gives the image the shape of a portrait medallion.
In warm sepia tones, the dancer leaps with both arms raised and legs folded beneath her. The flour behind her is lit softly, so it reads as dust in sunlight.
On pointe in the middle of a flour storm, the dancer lifts one knee and throws her head back. The powder behind her looks like a wave about to break.
The dancer twists so fast that her hair and the flour around it blur into one shape. Only her legs and part of her torso remain sharp.
Rising on pointe, the dancer is almost entirely wrapped in a vertical column of flour. The effect is of a figure appearing out of smoke on a stage.
In a wide stance with arms raised in a V, the dancer drops her head as an arch of flour hangs above her. The symmetry of body and cloud makes this one of the most graphic images in the set.
Balanced on one pointe with the other foot tucked behind her knee, the dancer is enveloped by a cloud that billows up and out. The powder seems to rise from her own body.
The dancer launches forward with both arms stretched ahead and a heavy trail of flour behind her. The photograph freezes the moment of greatest effort.
Arching back on one leg with arms bent overhead, the dancer sends flour flying behind her shoulders. The dark backdrop isolates every grain.
In colour, a woman wrapped in bandage-like cloth turns her face into a burst of flour that sweeps across her eyes. It is more of a conceptual portrait than a dance image.
A standing split on half-toe, with a puff of flour leaving the raised foot, closes the gallery. It echoes the earlier split, showing how Yakovlev returns to a strong idea and refines it.
What makes these images work
Looking at the whole set, a few choices repeat. The backgrounds are almost always plain, so nothing competes with the body. Black and white is used for most of the flour pictures because it turns the powder into pure light and shadow, while the colour images tend to use warm skin tones against cold blue or black. And Yakovlev often crops tightly, so the cloud spills out of the frame and feels larger than it is.
If you want to try something similar, the lessons are practical: use a dark backdrop, a strong side or back light and a fast shutter speed, and work with someone who can repeat a movement precisely. Keep in mind that flour makes a mess and fine dust is unpleasant to breathe, so good ventilation and a floor cover help.
Dance and the space around it are a theme elsewhere on this site too. For a very different setting, see Julie Gautier's AMA: Reading an Underwater Dance Film, where water plays the role that flour plays here.
Sources: photographs by Alexander Yakovlev (ayakovlev.com); My Modern Met: The Mirages; Collater.al interview; Metalocus: ballerina portraits with flour.
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