Mikhail Dashevsky
MOSCOW PALIMPSEST
The way of living “in photography” always raises the question: why and for what reason are you doing “it”? If it is a profession, then the answer is obvious – there is a public demand for visual information, you can satisfy it and thereby provide your family with a satisfactory standard of living. The usage of terminology like “sell oneself” etc. should be rejected and instead advantage taken of Pushkin’s famous saying: “Inspiration is not for sale, but a manuscript can be sold”. However, there is just one small point – the society’s order should call forth or facilitate the appearance of this very inspiration.
And when photography is not a profession but a way of life, then you want to portray this life through the emotions that arise in you. You can make series of photographs, or, as they now say, “projects”. You can make each image self-sufficient, one which “can be hung on the wall and which inspires you every day”. But a “project” always involves sifting through images, which are then often reluctantly tagged onto a successful one. And it shows. But a single photograph is not enough. Thus among these arguments there arose – purely intuitively – an attempt to have two meaningful images in a single photograph and see how they interact. At the very outset I rejected the principle of overprinting or printing one photograph from two or more negatives – as being inappropriate in principle. It would be more like lucky craftsmanship, although many do make art like this successfully in “Contemporary Art”. This method is very common and has been taken by many to unprecedented heights of perfection; nevertheless, it is still visible – as manipulation “coming from the head”. In short, they are mere “exercises in narration”. The charm of the unrepeatable “instant” disappears, in its stead there is a skilfully made fake, nothing more than that – like the staging of an imitation of the “reality of life” in the ideological photography of recent times.
And what if you just photograph twice on one negative? Then one “instant” definitely happens, but what about the second? And at the right moment... You can “shoot” to the right and to the left, maybe it might work out. This is similar to a monkey that is pressing on the keys of a typewriter, theoretically, but with negligible probability, it could print “War and Peace”. There is just as much chance of success in counting the stars in the sky. The probability of counting them all is the same.
Later it occurred to me “to prime” the film with some “atmospheric” subject, and then photograph on this film. Thus one reference point would be preserved, in full or as a hint, and the second subject would organise the frame – as a united “instant”. And then an “atmospheric” subject for the “priming” of the film turned up – the yard of a wonderfully charming old house in the centre of Moscow, in Kiselny cul-de-sac near Rozhdestvensky Convent (on Rozhdestvenskaya, then called Zhdanov Street). I was shown this house by a highly complex man, with a deep knowledge of Moscow, Boris Gusev (his “maiden name” is Obertaller), an older friend in our MISI-tourist group (MISI – is the Moscow Engineering and Construction Institute, from which almost all in our group graduated). His father, as was the case with many of us, was imprisoned in the “moustached” Stalin years and disappeared. And that, as it is said, “explains a lot”. He was an “atmospheric” man, his knowledge and interest in Moscow created a certain aura around all his words and deeds. So, it was he who pushed me into this yard – through a half-meter wide gap between two time-worn brick walls. Later, I would visit this yard over a 20-year period – in winter, summer, early spring – simply to admire it. People, of course, lived there, but for me, “a man from a communal flat”, that was not a hindrance. Doors would open, people, young and old, would come out onto the balcony of the 2nd floor, cats would run about, and there I would stand with my camera – also bothering no one. So, as regards the “atmosphere” everything was all right.
The beginning was black-and-white. All of us at that time were “black-and-white” – slides were expensive, and the word “digital” simply did not exist. Naturally, the “yield” was negligible – 3-4 worthy frames from each film on average. At this time I could do nothing (in photography) but make “overlaid images”. One day my wife and I went to Israel. In the old part of Jerusalem, in the Hasidic (orthodox Jewish) quarter, I took a picture of two orthodox Jews, bearded, dressed all in black. Of course, on the “primed” film. And when, back in Moscow, I had developed the film and printed the “contact sheets”, I saw that a brick wall of the old house in Kiselny was showing through their clothes – black in reality and white on the negative. And I realised that had I photographed in colour, these people’s clothes would have been brick-coloured, which would be very beautiful. From that moment on I began photographing in colour. And later, for one of such photographs I was awarded a box of colour films – 20 or so rolls, by TASS, thanks to Alla Vakhrameeva. It was then that it really took off!
Initially, once or twice, I was “seduced” by the obvious “interaction”. The first thing I did was to photograph, on the “primed” film, the monument at VDNH – “The Worker and Collective-Farm Girl”, dressed by the conceptual artists in the colours of the Russian flag (our then Mayor, Yuri Mikhailovich Luzhkov, having “a very strong business-like” approach to Art, ordered that the “clothes” be removed, but I caught it just in time). In the photograph a great deal came together “by chance”, but the narrative “overwhelms”, and I did not like this subject. But later, looking more carefully, I saw a lot more there and realised that life is wiser than hasty conclusions. On another occasion I photographed “Silva” in the Petrozavodsk Theatre – it was a complete disaster, and I threw the photograph away. And afterwards I left only those photographs which possess some internal, non-apparent links; it is they that I enjoy to this day.
At one moment the skeleton located in Salvador Dali’s bedroom suddenly appears on the veranda of the house in Kiselny, at another the hand of the driver on Myasnitskaya pops out of the windows of this house... and so on in almost every image. And then “suddenly” I lost interest in doing this... It was as if I had already photographed all of “this”. And it stopped. Then the house was restored, and it became just another bank, typically ugly and uncomfortable – there was nothing left to photograph. In 2002, I was able to publish the album “Through the Eyes of an Old House”, which included 25 colour prints. The album inspired no particular enthusiasm: “This is not Art at all, just collages...” But I, on the contrary, realised that black-and-white photos are no worse, and now a second, expanded version of 100 photographs (50 colour and 50 black-and-white) is being published. I was also spurred on by the news from western photography that such an approach to life was turning into a kind of movement. As always – until something similar happens “there”, everything is rejected at the threshold. But later – “well, that’s been known for a long time!” So now this album is “that which has been known for a long time”, which does not bother me in the least. And then the name of the album appeared, it was suggested by the artist Yuri Iorsh, whose article is also included in the album.
Look and empathise.
Translated by P. Glebov and R. O’Dowd
© P. Glebov, R. O’Dowd, translation, 2013
Перевод – П. Глебов и Р. О'Дауд
© П. Глебов, Р. О’Дауд, перевод, 2013
MOSCOW PALIMPSEST
The way of living “in photography” always raises the question: why and for what reason are you doing “it”? If it is a profession, then the answer is obvious – there is a public demand for visual information, you can satisfy it and thereby provide your family with a satisfactory standard of living. The usage of terminology like “sell oneself” etc. should be rejected and instead advantage taken of Pushkin’s famous saying: “Inspiration is not for sale, but a manuscript can be sold”. However, there is just one small point – the society’s order should call forth or facilitate the appearance of this very inspiration.
And when photography is not a profession but a way of life, then you want to portray this life through the emotions that arise in you. You can make series of photographs, or, as they now say, “projects”. You can make each image self-sufficient, one which “can be hung on the wall and which inspires you every day”. But a “project” always involves sifting through images, which are then often reluctantly tagged onto a successful one. And it shows. But a single photograph is not enough. Thus among these arguments there arose – purely intuitively – an attempt to have two meaningful images in a single photograph and see how they interact. At the very outset I rejected the principle of overprinting or printing one photograph from two or more negatives – as being inappropriate in principle. It would be more like lucky craftsmanship, although many do make art like this successfully in “Contemporary Art”. This method is very common and has been taken by many to unprecedented heights of perfection; nevertheless, it is still visible – as manipulation “coming from the head”. In short, they are mere “exercises in narration”. The charm of the unrepeatable “instant” disappears, in its stead there is a skilfully made fake, nothing more than that – like the staging of an imitation of the “reality of life” in the ideological photography of recent times.
And what if you just photograph twice on one negative? Then one “instant” definitely happens, but what about the second? And at the right moment... You can “shoot” to the right and to the left, maybe it might work out. This is similar to a monkey that is pressing on the keys of a typewriter, theoretically, but with negligible probability, it could print “War and Peace”. There is just as much chance of success in counting the stars in the sky. The probability of counting them all is the same.
Later it occurred to me “to prime” the film with some “atmospheric” subject, and then photograph on this film. Thus one reference point would be preserved, in full or as a hint, and the second subject would organise the frame – as a united “instant”. And then an “atmospheric” subject for the “priming” of the film turned up – the yard of a wonderfully charming old house in the centre of Moscow, in Kiselny cul-de-sac near Rozhdestvensky Convent (on Rozhdestvenskaya, then called Zhdanov Street). I was shown this house by a highly complex man, with a deep knowledge of Moscow, Boris Gusev (his “maiden name” is Obertaller), an older friend in our MISI-tourist group (MISI – is the Moscow Engineering and Construction Institute, from which almost all in our group graduated). His father, as was the case with many of us, was imprisoned in the “moustached” Stalin years and disappeared. And that, as it is said, “explains a lot”. He was an “atmospheric” man, his knowledge and interest in Moscow created a certain aura around all his words and deeds. So, it was he who pushed me into this yard – through a half-meter wide gap between two time-worn brick walls. Later, I would visit this yard over a 20-year period – in winter, summer, early spring – simply to admire it. People, of course, lived there, but for me, “a man from a communal flat”, that was not a hindrance. Doors would open, people, young and old, would come out onto the balcony of the 2nd floor, cats would run about, and there I would stand with my camera – also bothering no one. So, as regards the “atmosphere” everything was all right.
The beginning was black-and-white. All of us at that time were “black-and-white” – slides were expensive, and the word “digital” simply did not exist. Naturally, the “yield” was negligible – 3-4 worthy frames from each film on average. At this time I could do nothing (in photography) but make “overlaid images”. One day my wife and I went to Israel. In the old part of Jerusalem, in the Hasidic (orthodox Jewish) quarter, I took a picture of two orthodox Jews, bearded, dressed all in black. Of course, on the “primed” film. And when, back in Moscow, I had developed the film and printed the “contact sheets”, I saw that a brick wall of the old house in Kiselny was showing through their clothes – black in reality and white on the negative. And I realised that had I photographed in colour, these people’s clothes would have been brick-coloured, which would be very beautiful. From that moment on I began photographing in colour. And later, for one of such photographs I was awarded a box of colour films – 20 or so rolls, by TASS, thanks to Alla Vakhrameeva. It was then that it really took off!
Initially, once or twice, I was “seduced” by the obvious “interaction”. The first thing I did was to photograph, on the “primed” film, the monument at VDNH – “The Worker and Collective-Farm Girl”, dressed by the conceptual artists in the colours of the Russian flag (our then Mayor, Yuri Mikhailovich Luzhkov, having “a very strong business-like” approach to Art, ordered that the “clothes” be removed, but I caught it just in time). In the photograph a great deal came together “by chance”, but the narrative “overwhelms”, and I did not like this subject. But later, looking more carefully, I saw a lot more there and realised that life is wiser than hasty conclusions. On another occasion I photographed “Silva” in the Petrozavodsk Theatre – it was a complete disaster, and I threw the photograph away. And afterwards I left only those photographs which possess some internal, non-apparent links; it is they that I enjoy to this day.
At one moment the skeleton located in Salvador Dali’s bedroom suddenly appears on the veranda of the house in Kiselny, at another the hand of the driver on Myasnitskaya pops out of the windows of this house... and so on in almost every image. And then “suddenly” I lost interest in doing this... It was as if I had already photographed all of “this”. And it stopped. Then the house was restored, and it became just another bank, typically ugly and uncomfortable – there was nothing left to photograph. In 2002, I was able to publish the album “Through the Eyes of an Old House”, which included 25 colour prints. The album inspired no particular enthusiasm: “This is not Art at all, just collages...” But I, on the contrary, realised that black-and-white photos are no worse, and now a second, expanded version of 100 photographs (50 colour and 50 black-and-white) is being published. I was also spurred on by the news from western photography that such an approach to life was turning into a kind of movement. As always – until something similar happens “there”, everything is rejected at the threshold. But later – “well, that’s been known for a long time!” So now this album is “that which has been known for a long time”, which does not bother me in the least. And then the name of the album appeared, it was suggested by the artist Yuri Iorsh, whose article is also included in the album.
Look and empathise.
Translated by P. Glebov and R. O’Dowd
© P. Glebov, R. O’Dowd, translation, 2013
Перевод – П. Глебов и Р. О'Дауд
© П. Глебов, Р. О’Дауд, перевод, 2013
