When I think of Boris Mikhailov’s
photography, I think of large prints, perfectly composed, people of the street
who have been violated and abused usually by the State. The slick
gelatin-silver prints make the naked bodies more vulnerable and more confronting,
creating an uncomfortable viewing experience.
The current exhibition of photographs at
Suzanne Tarasieve’s Marais gallery could not be further from the familiar
Mikhailov prints, and the viewer’s experience could not be more different. The
series of 67 photographs in Arles, Paris
… and are small, ephemeral, even whimsical. They are light, joyful and celebratory. Mikhailov travelled to Paris in 1989, the
year the Soviet Bloc collapsed and took these photographs apparently, to
capture the joy and freedom of the West. For this current exhibition, Mikhailov
re-presents the images, and as if to give a contemporary commentary, he
overpaints them in bright colours. These images are anything but the tragedy of
his native Ukraine.
This context, the re-articulation of Paris
26 years after the fall of communism, is essential to understanding the power
and influence of Mikhailov’s photographs. Without it, the rationale behind the
overpainting is not always clear. Knowledge of the context, and in particular,
the date of 1989, however, underlines the celebration that is indeed taking
place in the photographs. Hand in hand with seeing the joy and freedom that
Mikhailov experiences on this, his first visit to the West, we cannot ignore
the grey austere world that he has left behind. Thus, the small, hand painted
photographs make a powerful political statement on behalf of their artist.
Without the story behind them, the vision
of Paris in the photographs is enchanting. Every traveller to Paris thinks that
her photographs are special and different. Really, they are the same as those
of every other tourist. Mikhailov’s are however, unique. Not only is each
photograph individualized through the addition of gold, silver, green and
yellow paint, but each has an unexplored vision of Paris. Even the familiar
icons and landmarks become curiosities in Mikhailov’s images. Together with the
overpainting, the landscape frame stretches the image, making Paris strange, offering
a perspective to which other tourists are blind.
Images courtesy Suzanne Tarasieve/the Artist
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