Boris Feodorovich was born in the village Krigouzovo, that is in the Ivanovo region, "in unusually beautiful places", as he said. However then a fate threw his family to our land.

"In March 1935, my father left to Bashkiria to work at the construction of motor plant in Ufa. There were five of us at our father. Our life was poor and difficult. But were glad every our holiday — November, 7, the 1st of May day…We believed in our best future.

When the Domestic War began, I was seventeen years old. Frail, dystrophic, I looked quite a teenager, and so tragic I perceived then refuse of military registration office to take me as a volunteer. I went to the workshops of city municipal economy: wrote slogans, drew placards. It seems, that into every letter written by me I put my whole soul, pain, anger and hope… Here I appeared to be useful. The most good in my life is the end of the war. Victory day, when everybody was overfilled with light, high spirits.

 

Another lucky day was, when I learnt that I entered an art school. In the same forty fifth year.

 

Until now I keep warm recollections about Ufa artists, given me a way to the large art, — Lebedev, Tyulkin, Bespalova.

Each of us has debts before his conscience. For me it is a memory about war, about my father who did not return from the front. I tried to say it in the pictures "May 9", "Soldier’s cemetery", and "Father’s memory". But I haven’t said it yet, have not finished telling that torments my soul.

 

We are people of our epoch. My generation had probably, never to overcome that now called idealism. I mean a faith in the clearness of purpose, in lightness, whether that, man and his business. These senses were exposed to the very serious test, but they survived in many of us.

 

Every people have their sanctuaries, dear monuments, names, and events — all that makes national pride. Forgetting them or ignoring them, we violate harmony of life. It relates not only to Motherland in wide sense of the word but also to that place, where we live. We badly save our cities — without hesitation break, reconstruct that to what we related to not only with space and with time but also with unnoticeable heartily bonds. Let us take our city Ufa. I remember me being young, told Tyulkin, that time would come, and in place of Arkhiereyka a white city would grow. The wisest Alexander Erastovich then answered me: yes, I see, white city is perfect, but with Arkhiereyka something unique will go away from life…

 

I am asked sometimes: happy am I ? Yes. I am. I became an artist. I did not yet have time to do much. But I found some creative ways in my work. I have a family: two children: a son and daughter, three grandchildren. It is happiness also.

 

It is difficult to say for an artist, whether he is satisfied with his works. Something is successful something is not. But I have done much. I wrote Samarkand and Novgorod, Pskov and Rostov, Moscow and Ural, Italy and Czechoslovakia…

 

I am not a rich man in the modern meaning of these words; I have neither dollars nor spare rubles. But I have a lot of pictures, and this was estimated by our country. Not by chance I was conferred to the rank of the People’ artist of the USSR. And Ufa townspeople gave me the rank of the “Honored citizen of Ufa”...".