From Aestheticized Politics to Politicized Aesthetics

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An enquiry into Aleksandr Rodchenko’s Gulag Photography

Thesis Research Master Arts and Culture: Art Studies University of Amsterdam

August 2017 Word count: 23.933

M.M.C. (Michelle) de Wit; student number 10202374 Supervisor: dr. M.H.E. (Mirjam) Hoijtink

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Key words

Aleksandr Rodchenko; White Sea – Baltic Canal; Soviet Union; art and politics; canonization; visual studies; cultural memory

Abstract

This thesis examines today’s inherently problematic aspect of the representation of Aleksandr Rodchenko’s photographs and photomontages of the White Sea – Baltic Canal Gulag.

Executed according to the aesthetics of the Russian avant-garde, these images portray the violent story of the creation of a new Soviet landscape and a new Homo Sovieticus. These originally highly aestheticized political images lost their meaning over time. Today, this results in a new politization of these images to connect them back to their cultural memory of the Gulag. The goal of this thesis is therefore twofold. On the one hand, it aims at gaining insight into the dynamics behind the process of meaning making of these images in order to understand how an aesthetic and a political interpretation could become so removed from one another. On the other hand, it aims at providing an analysis that takes into account both the political and aesthetic qualities of these images. This way, it offers an enquiry into

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Acknowledgements

Dear reader,

Two years ago, while I was studying in Saint Petersburg for a semester, I stumbled upon a series of photomontages made by the Russian avant-garde artist Aleksandr Rodchenko. The images accompanied a short article by Erika Wolf. The photomontages, which were

modernist in form, portrayed a Gulag camp, a laboratory for socialist ideology. The images struck me in two ways. First, they refuted within an instant everything I had always learned about the Russian avant-garde in my art history classes. Rodchenko’s photomontages showed me how the avant-garde and the state could reinforce each other, even if this occurred only for a brief period. Second, the images made me rethink everything I had learned about the

relation between art and politics, and how it is we define the notion of “good” art. These themes will certainly be discussed in this thesis.

Rodchenko’s images of the White Sea – Baltic Canal Gulag introduced me to a whole range of fascinating Soviet artists book. After two years of enquiring into these materials during this research master, I can say that their craftsmanship as well as often problematic subject matter still keen to amaze me. I am therefore grateful that I was given the opportunity to dig deeper into this subject matter during the last two years. I am especially grateful to Mirjam Hoijtink and Ihab Saloul, who guided me during this process and stimulated me to keep exploring this subject matter. I would also like to thank the many experts on the Russian avant-garde that enthusiastically shared with me their knowledge. I would like to thank in particular Erika Wolf (University of Otago), Sjeng Scheijen (Leiden University), Wouter Jan Renders (van Abbemuseum), Bernadette van Woerkom (Jewish Cultural Quarter), Hubert Smeets (NRC Handelsblad/Raam op Rusland), and Albert Lemmens and Serge Stommels (LS Collection van Abbemuseum) for discussing Rodchenko’s Gulag photography with me. Last but not least, I would like to thank a special person very close to me, Armin Karimi, who has bravely kept up with my “Soviet photo book obsession” and often found time to assist me during the editing process.

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Introduction

“I want to make photos such as I’ve never made before, ones that are life itself and the most genuine life, photos that are simple and complex at the same time, that will surprise and amaze… Otherwise there’s nothing to do in photography, then it’s worth working and fighting for photography as art.”

- Alexandr Rodchenko, 1934.1

“Here before us lies the volume, in format almost equal to the Holy Gospels, with the portrait of the Demigod engraved in bas-relief on the cardboard covers.”

- Alexandr Solzhenitsyn, 1974.2

From 1931 – 1933, the artist, designer and photographer Aleksandr Rodchenko (1891 – 1956) travelled to the region Karelia in Russia’s north to document the construction of the White Sea – Baltic Canal [hereafter: Belomor – see figure 1]. This construction project was carried out by the Main Administration of Corrective Labour Camps and Labour Settlements, also known as the Gulag.3_{The aim of Belomor was not just to build a canal; it also served as a}

laboratory for the creation of a new Homo Sovieticus. Culture played an essential role in this process. Rodchenko had the task to propagate this ideological undertaking, a task he took on willingly.4 It resulted in two high quality publications: the book The Stalin White Sea Canal:

being an account of the construction of the new canal between the White Sea and the Baltic Sea [hereafter: The White Sea Canal] and the 12th issue of the magazine USSR in

Construction of 1933. Modernist in form, his images told a socialist narrative. To reconstruct

a new person, the old one needed to be violently broken down. Conditions at Belomor were harsh and there was a lack of equipment.

1_{Aleksandr Rodchenko, diary entry, March 14, 1934. In: Lavrent’ev 2005: 310.} 2_{Solzhenitsyn 1973: 81.}

3_{Russian: Гла́вное управле́ние исправи́тельно-трудовы́х лагере́й и коло́ний, [Glavnoye upravleniye} ispravityelno-trudovykh lagerey i koloniy]. The Gulag administered and controlled a vast network of labour

camps. Overtime it became known not just as the administration of concentration camps, but as a system of slave labour and Soviet repression. The Gulag originated almost immediately after the 1917 Revolution and initially focussed on “rehabilitation” through labour. From 1929, a major expansion of the camps began. The camps disappeared when Stalin died – although the camps did not disappear altogether. According to historian Anne Applebaum, 28.7 million people passed through the Gulag. For more information see: Applebaum, Anne (2003).

Gulag: a History. New York: Anchor Books. 4_{Wolf 2008: 170.}

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Figure 1. Map of the White Sea – Baltic Canal waterway.

Belomor began and ended with a labour force of 126.000.5_{Officially, 12.000 prisoners died}

during the twenty-one months of construction work. According to Applebaum, 25.000 prisoners lost their lives.6

I started this introduction with two citations: one from Rodchenko, in which he described his photographic practice during the 1930s, and one from Solzhenitsyn, in which he described the book The White Sea Canal. The diary entry by Rodchenko is often used by art historians to underscore the a-political nature of Rodchenko’s photographic work and his constant search for perfecting photography as a form of art.7 The second citation counteracts this art historical

5_{Applebaum 2003: 64.} 6_{Applebaum 2003: 79.}

7_{This becomes most clear in the work of Olga Sviblova, who is a curator at the Moscow House of Photography.}

See: Sviblova, Olga (2008). Alexander Rodchenko: revolution in photography [exhibition catalogue]. Moscow: Moscow House of Photography; Lavrent’ev, Alexandr, Olga Sviblova (2006). Alexander Rodchenko:

photography is an art. Moscow: Interros publishing program.

See also: Lavrent’ev, Alexander. ‘Reconstruction of the artist: 1930 – 1940’ In: Lavrent’ev, Alexander [ed.] (2005) Alexander Rodchenko: Experiments for the Future – diaries, essays, letters, and other writings. New York: the Museum of Modern Art; Lavrent’ev, Alexander (1995). Alexander Rodchenko – Photography 1924 –

1954. Köln: Könemann Verlagsgesellschaft mbH; Sviblova, Olga (2008) Alexander Rodchenko: revolution in photography. Moscow: Moscow House of Photography; Tupitsyn, Margarita (1996). The Soviet Photograph: 1924 – 1937. New Haven: Yale University Press.

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discourse, by describing the book for which Rodchenko shot most of the pictures as a bible of evil. To me, these two citations articulate an inherently problematic aspect of the artists’ photographs of Belomor. On the one hand, the art historical discourse presents the images as experiments in form. On the other hand, particularly within the historical discourse on

Belomor, the images represent the falsification of history and a glorification of Stalinism. The conflict between these two different discourses is not a resolved one – on the contrary, it was only recently that a discussion regarding the different interpretation of Rodchenko’s images of Belomor gained attention. This discussion played out mainly in the Netherlands, where

recently several exhibitions were held that displayed Belomor within the broader context of the Russian avant-garde. These exhibitions were held at the Photography Museum in

Amsterdam (Foam), the Van Abbe Museum in Eindhoven, and the Jewish Cultural Quarter in Amsterdam. Even though all exhibitions historically contextualized Rodchenko’s images, they received severe criticism from the collective Window on Russia that their approach was too aesthetic and neglected to tell the story of the prisoners portrayed.8 The critics often compared the images of Belomor to Nazi art. Images created by artists who collaborated with the Nazis should naturally be considered as “bad art”, they argued. Then why was this not the case with these propagandistic photographs of Stalinism? These images should be treated as a historical document and not be displayed in an art museum, was one of their main statements.

The dual aspect of modernist in form while socialist in content intrigued me, especially because this posed a problem to museums. The aesthetic and politic aspects of the images, that were so closely intertwined when Rodchenko created them, seemed to have gone separate ways over time to now meet again. Where the art museum seemed to neutralize the political content of the aesthetics of the Belomor images, these aesthetics were now politicized anew

8_{Window on Russia aims at analysing East-West relations in order to understand Russia’s politics today and}

reinforce debates. It has a special focus on Russia’s involvement in Ukraine and Syria. raamoprusland.nl/ [last accessed: 17 August 2017]. For the articles of Oleg Klimov, Hubert Smeets, and Hella Rottenberg see: Klimov, Oleg (4-8-2015) ‘‘I wanted to be the devil myself’: the forgotten history of how a Soviet photographer glorified the Gulag’s White Sea Canal’. Meduza: the real Russia today. www.meduza.io.

https://meduza.io/en/feature/2015/08/04/i-wanted-to-be-the-devil-myself [last accessed: 23 Dec. 2016]; Klimov, Oleg [transl.: Hubert Smeets] (11-12-2009) “De montage van de terreur”. NRC Handelsblad

www.nrc.nl. http://www.nrc.nl/nieuws/2009/12/11/de-montage-van-de-terreur-11823738 [last accessed:

15-07-2016]; Rottenberg, Hella (7 August 2016). “Expositie Stalinistische kunst verhult historie”. Volkskrant

www.volkskrant.nl. https://www.volkskrant.nl/opinie/expositie-stalinistische-kunst-verhult-historie~a4353409/

[last accessed: 19 August 2017]; Smeets, Hubert (09-03-2016). “Wél het kunstwerk, niet de hongermoord”. NRC

Next www.nrc.nl. http://www.nrc.nl/nieuws/2016/03/09/wel-het-kunstwerk-niet-de-hongermoord-1596310 [last

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by this group of journalists. How did such a change come about? In order to examine this, I formulated the following research question. How can we reach an understanding of this changed reception of Rodchenko’s Gulag photography, while also reaching an understanding of the images that moves beyond an opposition of art and politics?

This master thesis will therefore concern this line of conflict between the aesthetic and political aspects of the Belomor images made by Rodchenko. The goal of this thesis is twofold. On the one hand, it aims at gaining insight into the dynamics behind the process of meaning making of these images in order to understand how an aesthetic and a political interpretation could become so removed from one another. On the other hand, it aims at providing an analysis that takes into account both the political and aesthetic qualities of these images. This way, it offers an enquiry suited for today’s museum space. It is important to emphasize that this study treats only one aspect of the creative production of Rodchenko, although it is an aspect of great importance that has been often overlooked. This thesis thereby contributes to a more nuanced understanding of Rodchenko’s work created in the 1930s. On a larger lever, it will contribute to a better understanding of art made under dictatorial regimes in the twentieth century.9 Situating it within one particular discipline is therefore a difficult task. As I briefly explained above, the conflict I will examine takes place between different disciplines. My methodology will therefore be a multidisciplinary one, based on interdisciplinary studies from the fields of visual culture and memory studies. But before going into this theoretical aspect in detail, let me first explain why I consider this multidisciplinary approach relevant for this thesis and elaborate on the different discourses and disciplines concerned with Belomor.

The explicitly political and propagandistic character of Rodchenko’s images of Belomor, which he made during the early 1930s when the state adopted a more centralist and

9_{Within this rising field of study, some interesting comparable studies as well as novels can be found. To name}

just a few examples: Claartje Wesselink’s study Kunstenaars van de Kultuurkamer: geschiedenis en herinnering (2014: dissertation: University of Amsterdam) offers an interesting analysis of Dutch artists who collaborated with the Nazi regime. Eva Maria Troelenberg recently conducted the study “Directions of the Gaze: A Visual Cultural History of the Suez Canal”, in which she scrutinized the propaganda that surrounded the opening of the Suez Canal. With regard to novels, the moral dilemma’s artists had to face who collaborated with repressive states has produces some fascinating stories. I would like to highlight two in relation to the Soviet Union: Michel Krielaars’ Voor het moederland (2017: Amsterdam: Atlas Contact) tells the story of the writers Isaak Babel and Vasilii Grossman, who both initially actively supported the Soviet state. Julian Barnes’ The Noise of Time (2016: London: Vintage) tells the story of the highly complex relation between the composer Shostakovich and the Soviet state.

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coordinating role, pose a discomfort to some art historians. This period is often described as repressive, treating its artistic production as completely subservient without any personal agency of the artist.10 From this perspective, the Stalin era is thus defined as a totalitarian one, which makes it easy to draw a line between “free” artistic works made before Stalinism and “totalitarian” ones made during. The art historical discourse that Stalin was personally responsible for all the horrors that occurred during the 1930s freed artists from any accountability and turned them into martyrs.11 The German-Russian art critic Boris Groys offered a more nuanced approach, by arguing that the state did not suppress the avant-garde, but became the avant-garde by taking over the role of artistic innovation.12 In his study The

Total Art of Stalinism, Groys critically analysed how the avant-garde was persecuted. This

occured because they operated within the same territory as the state, he argued.13

The idea of art as subordinate to the state that the concept of totalitarian art

presupposed, was counteracted in a slightly different way than Groys’s approach by several authors who were relatives of the artists who worked under Stalinism. Of most interest for this thesis is the Russian art historian Alexandr Lavrent’ev, grandson of Rodchenko. He provided a positive account of the designs Rodchenko made during the 1930s. In many of his writings he discussed the Belomor images as an important aspect of Rodchenko’s oeuvre. Lavrent’ev provided a historical context in relation to the images, informing his readers on the nature of the camp Rodchenko visited. However, he discussed the images only for their formal qualities and did not discuss the ideology inherent to these forms as well as the reasons why

Rodchenko visited Belomor. The political dimension of the works Rodchenko created remained overlooked or minimized.

The German art critic Benjamin Buchloh has been one of the few scholars to argue for a paradigm shift on the Soviet avant-garde.14 Buchloh argued to make a clearer distinction

10_{As I indicated earlier, this stance can mainly be found in the work of Sviblova, Tupytsin, Golomstock, and}

sometimes Lavrent’ev.

11_{Russian art historian Igor Golomstock, in his book Totalitarian Art in the Soviet Union, the Third Reich,} Fascist Italy and the People’s Republic of China, used the term “totalitarian art” to describe a complete

subordination of art to politics.

Golomstock, Igor [transl.: Robert Chandler] (2011). Totalitarian Art in the Soviet Union, the Third Reich,

Fascist Italy and the People’s Republic of China. New York: Overlook Duckworth. 12_{Groys 1992: 44.}

See also: Groys, Boris (1990). “The Birth of Socialist Realism from the Spirit of the Avant-Garde”. In: Gunter, Hans [ed.] (1990). The Culture of the Stalin Period. New York: St. Martin Press. 122-147; Groys, Boris [transl. Charles Rougle] (1992). The Total Art of Stalinism: Avant-Garde, Aesthetic Dictatorship, and Beyond.

Princeton: Princeton University Press.

13_{Groys 2013: 35.}

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between the notions of “faktura” (a focus on form) and “factography” (a focus on creating a visual narrative through form), two different aspects of the avant-garde that will be discussed at length in the first chapter. Within the art historical discourse on Rodchenko, this distinction isn’t made clear enough, which Buchloh considered to be the origin of the misinterpretation of the photographs of Belomor. Although Buchloh’s argument remained rather marginal, there are art historians and scholars within the field of book studies that prefer a more critical approach towards Rodchenko’s work. Recently, Manfred Heiting argued for a discussion on the lengths to which governments can go to convincingly package their ideology and make it irresistible.15

The historical and literary discourses concerned with Belomor tell a slightly different story. Within this discourse, Solzhenitsyn played an important role. In The Gulag Archipelago, he extensively wrote about Belomor and the horrors that occurred at its construction site. He argued that the propagandistic publications, to which Rodchenko actively contributed, should be taken more seriously when studying the Gulag for understanding to what extent the state was willing to go to implement ideology.16 Applebaum took over this stance in her historical account of the Gulag, where she discussed how The White Sea Canal served to underscore the idea that the prisoners portrayed were not human, but “units of labour”.17_{Historian Sheila}

Fitzpatrick moved away from the totalitarian concept and argued for a give-and-take relation between artists and the state.18 Julie Drascoczy, in her study on criminal prisoners at Belomor, argued to understand the camp as a laboratory for society.19 The camp offered an intense space to experiment with ideological constructs that could later be implemented on society at large. Where Drascoczy closely scrutinized the faith of criminal prisoners at Belomor, Cynthia Ruder examined its literary qualities and the faith of political prisoners.20 She

described Belomor not only as a historical event, but also as an important literary experiment. This more nuanced approach towards the dynamics between artists and the state is something I consider crucial to this study and to the study of Soviet artists in general. As the first chapter

15_{Karasik and Heiting 2015: 9.} 16_{Solzenitsyn 1973: 78 – 120.} 17_{Applebaum 2003: 102.}

18_{In discussing Fitzpatrick’s study, Margolin explains how in 1985, during a scholarly debate, her more}

objective approach to the 1930s was considered unsatisfactory by historian Stephen Cohen. He argued that Fitzpatrick’s approach ignored the emotional resonance of the purges.

Margolin 1997: 164 – 165.

19_{Draskoczy 2010: 7}

20_{Ruder, Cynthia (1998). Making history for Stalin: the story of the Belomor Canal. Gainesville: University}

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of this thesis will show, Rodchenko’s relation with the state was a complex one. This aspect is often overlooked in criticism on Rodchenko’s involvement at Belomor.

As will become clear in this thesis, museums play a crucial role in understanding the process of meaning making behind Rodchenko’s images of Belomor. In the introduction to his collection of essays on the logic of collections, Groys analysed the role of the art museum in our era of media.21 Within our era of media, the museum needed to become more engaged, it became a public space. This way a larger audience could be reached.22 It attributed a new power to the museum to position itself within the public space as a place for public debates to be analysed and play out. It placed the museum within our time, instead of a timeless white cube that only concerned itself with aesthetics. “We challenge ourselves and our visitors to think about art and its place in the world, covering a range of subjects, including the role of the collection as a cultural ‘memory’ and the museum as a public site”, is how the van Abbe Museum in Eindhoven describes itself.23 This makes clear why the memory aspect of Rodchenko’s images of Belomor was not discussed earlier but was only recently politicized anew. If the museum is more engaged with society and presents itself as a space for public debate, the objects of its collections are pulled into this space of public inquiry. It is here that I would like to position the current discussion concerning Rodchenko’s images of Belomor. Where first the political aspect of these images was neutralized within the sacred space of the art museum, the move of the museum towards a space for public debate allowed for these same aesthetics to be politicized anew.

As I will demonstrate in this thesis, understanding the images of Belomor within the museum as a public space can be found in the fields of visual studies and memory studies. Let me elaborate on the importance of visual studies first. This field developed with the aim of moving beyond an exclusive focus on the artistic quality of images. Instead, in takes into account the entire domain of images and the entire spectrum of the visual experience as well as practices of looking. Visual studies operate with a double objective in mind: that of understanding the historical as well as the social criteria according to which value is ascribed to images.24 According to William T.J. Mitchell, visual studies offers “a more nuanced and

21_{Groys, Boris [transl. Jan Sietsma] (2013). Logica van de verzameling. Amsterdam: Octavo Publicaties.} 22_{Groys 2013: 11.}

23_{Statement “who we are” on the website of the Van Abbe Museum:}

https://vanabbemuseum.nl/en/about-the-museum/organisation/who-we-are/ [last accessed: 14 august 2017]

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balanced approach located in the equivocation between the visual image as instrument and agency: the image as a tool for manipulation on the one hand, and as an apparently

autonomous source of its own purposes and meanings on the other. This approach would treat visual culture and visual images as “go-betweens” in social transactions, as a repertoire of screen images or templates that structure our encounters with other human beings.” Mitchell doesn’t consider the social sphere to construct the images, but instead considers images to construct the social field.25

In order to discuss Rodchenko’s images of Belomor as instruments and agents, I will refer to Ariella Azoulay’s notion of the photograph as event, a concept she developed within her study of images of regime made disaster.26 By considering the photograph as event, the gaze of the spectator is invited to wander beyond the frame of the image, inviting individuals to display interest and responsibility for what they see.27_{Azoulay divides the photograph as}

event into two distinct moments: the event of photography, which occurs in relation to the camera, and the photographed event, which occurs in relation to the photograph.28 Through this event-based approach, the opposition between an aesthetic and a political stance can be bridged, Azoulay argues. As her case studies she analysed photographs made by the Israeli military of the destruction of Palestinian property. She closely analysed the dynamic between spectator, photographer, and photograph subject (or lack thereof) within the image. Azoulay specifically focused on the dynamic between aesthetics and violence within the process of meaning making. This makes her study of particular interest for this thesis, for Rodchenko’s images were concerned with the destruction and rebuilding of the Karelian landscape and the destruction and rebuilding of people. With this approach, I aim at conducting as what Mitchell calls a “showing seeing” exercise, an approach that aims at questioning the veil of familiarly we have been accustomed to when analysing the avant-garde.

In order to tackle the actively manipulated aspect of Rodchenko’s images of Belomor, I will refer to the concept of “visual doublespeak”. Doublespeak can be understood as a language that deliberately obscures, disguises, distorts, or reverses the meaning of words, or what is true. It can be closely associated with political language and propaganda. It is a term mainly used in literary studies and its origins can be traced to Leo Strauss’ study Persecution

25_{Mitchell 2005: 351.}

26_{Azoulay, Ariella [transl. Louise Bethlehem] (2012) Civil Imagination: a Political Ontology of Photography.}

London: Verso.

27_{Azoulay 2012: 107.} 28_{Azoulay 2012: 26.}

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and the Art of Writing from 1952.29 It has also been related to George Orwell’s 1984, where this notion is referred to as “doublethink”. Orwell’s novel has recently gained new attention with regard to fake news stories and “alternative facts”. The concept of what I call visual doublespeak has never been used in relation to images. I therefore would like to make use of this thesis in order to take this concept to a test and see what it can contribute to the analysis of visual culture. I think it could be of value, for it helps to articulate the manipulated aspect of the images that will be analysed. As has been put forward in almost every study on photography the photograph is always considered a mediated representation, never an objective document. However, the images Rodchenko made were not just mediated, but actively manipulated in order to establish a false narrative and falsify history. Through the notion of visual doublespeak, I aim at critically analysing this manipulated aspect and how Rodchenko played with the notion of “archive” in order to create a past according to Stalin’s wishes.

One aspect of the methodology has thus been dealt with. However, there is still a second aspect to enquire, the aspect of memory and conflict. As indicated earlier, in criticism on the display of Rodchenko’s images of Belomor, a comparison was often made with Nazi art. As I will explain in this thesis, this is not a surprising relation to draw. In order to analyse this problematic aspect, I will refer to Aleida Assmann’s concept of the canon and the archive, and the mnemonic quality of images, two concepts that can be placed within the

interdisciplinary field of memory studies.30 The concepts of canon and archive are presented by Assmann to closely scrutinize the dynamics of remembering and forgetting. By referring to something as “archive” or “canon”, it becomes possible to explore how different memories were stored, activated, and changed over time. Assmann modelled her concept of the mnemonic power of images after the German art historian Aby Warburg (1866 – 1929). In contrast to other scholars of his time Warburg considered images to be always interwoven with culture in general. With this approach, he distanced himself from his contemporary art historians, who tended more and more towards an interpretation that considered the image as the autonomy of aesthetic form.31 The mnemonic power of images, Warburg argued, could store and mediate memory. Not only an image, but also an artists’ style could influence

29_{Strauss, Leo (1952). Persecution and the Art of Writing. Westport: Green Press Publishers.}

30_{Assmann, Aleida (2011). Cultural Memory and Western Civilization: Arts of Memory. Cambridge: Cambridge}

University Press.

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memories. Assmann followed this interpretation within her framework on cultural memory, emphasizing the dynamics of memory and forgetting behind the processes of meaning making. Assmann’s theory is of particular interest for my thesis for it focuses on the interaction between form, memory, and reception. This allows insight into how a certain artistic style could be used in order to influence artistic taste and thus decide what was considered “good art” and what “bad art”.

The concepts of Azoulay and Assmann will thus help me to closely analyse the Belomor images within their social sphere and articulate how their meaning changed over time. However, this does not yet offer any concrete ideas on how to exhibit these images in the future. Azoulay’s approach offers an alternative analysis, but not an alternative form of display. At the end this thesis, I will therefore refer to Allison Landberg’s concept of prosthetic memory.32 Originally based on film, Landsberg argued how modernity created a new and necessary form of cultural memory, which she explained as prosthetic memory.33 With prosthetic memory, Landsberg refers to the production and distribution of memories that are not directly connected with a person’s past or heritage. However, they do play an essential role within the creation of subjectivity.34 These memories can play out in sites such as the experiential museum, which enables a connection between a person and a historical narrative.35 In this way, I aim at closing this thesis with a remark on how the concept of prosthetic memory can help us understand how to exhibit ideologically charged images like Rodchenko’s in the future.

The concepts phrased above will be structured according to an inquiry into the form, content, and conflict (and its solution) inherent to Rodchenko’s images of Belomor. Every chapter will be introduced by one of the three exhibitions that were recently held in the Netherlands during which Rodchenko’s images of Belomor were displayed. The chapters will not offer a full analysis of these exhibitions; I will take one problematic aspect of a particular exhibition as a starting point in order to analyse this closely according to the concepts explained above. The first chapter will be concerned with form. The exhibition Red!: Utopian Visions

from the Soviet Union, held at the van Abbe Museum in 2015 – 2016, will serve as its point of

32_{Landsberg, Allison (2014). Prosthetic Memory: the Transformation of American Remembrance in the Age of} Mass Culture. New York: Columbia University Press.

33_{Landsberg 2014: 2.} 34_{Landsberg 2014: 20.} 35_{Landsberg 2014: 2.}

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entry in order to scrutinize the notion of propaganda as art. The position of Rodchenko will be closely looked at, as well as his relation to Alfred Barr, the first director of the New York based Museum of Modern Art (MoMA). Barr would become an important actor within the canonization of Rodchenko. I will track his influence on this process of canonization from the 1920s to the end of the Cold War. Then I will discuss Buchloh’s distinction between faktura and factography. This chapter will also gain some insight into Rodchenko’s position as an artist. How did he, and other artists involved in the Belomor project, consider their own position? And how was this described by scholars?

The second chapter will be concerned with content. As a point of entry, I will use the exhibition Alkesandr Rodchenko: Revolution in Photography! which was organized by Foam in 2010. Criticism on this exhibition accused the curator Olga Sviblova of presenting

Rodchenko as an artist purely concerned with form. This chapter will therefore be concerned with understanding the content of these forms. I will do so by closely analysing the images of

The White Sea Canal and USSR in Construction. I will do so by asking the reader to adopt the

perspective of the viewer of the photograph, while critically scrutinizing his or her own position as viewer of these images. The aim of this approach is to involve the reader in understanding the particular ways of seeing Rodchenko constructed. These particular ways of seeing are essential for understanding the ideological content inherent to the images. This chapter will therefore first offer a close enquiry of the content of Rodchenko’s Belomor images, to then move into an analysis that scrutinizes how form and content worked together. The exhibition The Power of Pictures, held at the Jewish Cultural Quarter in

Amsterdam in 2016, will serve as the point of entry for the third chapter. Criticism on this exhibition mainly focussed on a lack of historical context and compared the way of displaying Rodchenko’s images with ways of displaying Nazi art. The first part of this chapter will therefore be concerned with the conflict of comparison between Soviet and Nazi art. One particular point of interest within this discussion is the notion of a photograph as trace, a concept I will look at critically. I will close this chapter by enquiring how Landsberg’s concept of prosthetic memory could offer some interesting ideas for exhibiting Rodchenko’s work in the future.

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1. Modernist in Form

From January till July 2016, the exhibition Red! Utopian Visions from the Soviet Union [hereafter: Red!] took place at Museum de Fundatie in Zwolle and at the Van Abbe Museum in Eindhoven. I visited the exhibition in Eindhoven where it was on display in the library. The key publications within the exhibitions, all 121 issues of the magazine USSR in Construction, immediately struck my attention [figure 2 and 3]. The strong and colourful visual language that was used to package utopian and propagandistic ideas still had the ability to amaze me – they introduced me to a dazzling and colourful world filled with happy and hardworking people. I knew this wasn’t reality, but the utopian idea portrayed intrigued me. It was through

USSR in Construction that the curators of the exhibition, Serge Stommels and Albert

Lemmens, explained their aim. They wanted to express how the vision of the young

communist state was distributed worldwide through radical avant-garde designs made by the country’s cultural elite and how influential these ideas and designs were.36 This was meant to provoke a discussion regarding the nature of “art”. Should a magazine like USSR in

Construction, a propaganda magazine, be considered a work of art? Can a great work of art

still be a great work of art if it was produced and distributed under and for a dictatorship? The curators were clear in their statement that they considered the works on display works of art, a statement that was not shared with the journalist Hubert Smeets. Smeets responded to the exhibition through an article in NRC Handelsblad called “Wel het kunstwerk, niet de hongermoord”.37 Smeets found it hard to believe that the artists who worked for USSR in Construction were blinded with enthusiasm and not aware of the horrors they so thoughtfully concealed. He therefore argued that the exhibition not only lacked historical context, but failed to refute the propaganda altogether. Smeets’ argument was picked up by Martin Bossenbroek in his book Fout in de Koude Oorlog.38_Bossenbroek

related Smeets’ observation to the question of representing Nazi propaganda. According to Bossenbroek, to Dutch cultural memory Nazi ideology means the most dangerous ideology of all, surrounded by crimes that directly affected many Dutch citizen. That the same sort of crimes occurred in the Soviet Union could never be truly understood in the Netherlands. It is therefore that we can exhibit Stalinist propaganda as art, while this would never be possible

36_{Lemmens 2016: 6-7.} 37_{Smeets 2016.}

38_{Bossebroek, Martin (2016). Fout in de Koude Oorlog: Nederland in Tweestrijd, 1945 – 1989. Amsterdam:}

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Figure 2 and 3. Rood! Utopian Visions from the Soviet Union. Van Abbe Museum, 2016. Figure 2 shows the exhibition entry. Figure 3 shows the second part of the exhibition that was located in the library’s basement. Here we can see several issues of USSR in Construction and a spread from the Belomor issue (issue 12, 1933).

with Nazi propaganda, Bossenbroek argued.39

As I was reading the critique by Smeets and Bossenbroek on Red!, it intrigued me that they instantly considered art and propaganda as two different entities. “Art” was “good” and “propaganda” was “bad”. Stommels and Lemmens, on the other hand, considered art and propaganda to be inseparable. According to them, a great work of art could simultaneously serve as propaganda; “look at the works Michelangelo made for the Catholic Church”, they told me, “that was great art and clever propaganda.”40_{It didn’t surprise me that a dialogue}

between these two different stances was not taking place, for their treatment of the element of “form” relied on completely different interpretation that excluded one another.

The different stances of Smeets and Bossenbroek, and Stommels and Lemmens are just a micro version of the larger discussion regarding the relation between the Russian avant-garde and the Soviet state, a discussion I shortly referred to in the introduction of this thesis. This chapter is therefore shaped around the treatment of “form” in relation to the work Rodchenko made of Belomor. This first chapter will have as its central point of focus Assmann’s concept of the mnemonic power of style and her concept of the dynamic between canon and archive. I will start by outlining Rodchenko’s position within the Russian avant-garde and discuss his meeting with Alfred Barr, who would play an essential role within the canonization of the artist. I will then discuss Buchloh’s essay “From Faktura to Factography”, in which Buchloh strongly criticized Barr’s way of canonization. In relation to the notion of “factography” I will

39_{Bossenbroek 2016: 300.}

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introduce the concept of “visual doublespeak”, which I consider essential in order to reach a critical understanding of the images of Belomor.

Experiments for the Future

The material of the artists of the Russian avant-garde was the world, or more specifically: creating a new one. The role of the artist was to visually and socially organize this new

world.41 Rodchenko explained this as the engineering will of the artist.42 Rodchenko’s life and work form a fascinating account of the artistic life of the early Soviet period. His family story suggests the sincere social progress that was underway in Russia; as the revolution advanced, the lives of Rodchenko and his family changed for the better. Rodchenko’s father, the son of a former serf, taught himself how to read and write and was a labourer in Petrograd. After the turn of the century the family moved to Kazan, where Aleksandr received his elementary education. He learned about the art world through magazines and got enrolled in the local art school.43 There he met Varvara Stepanova, who would become his lifelong companion. In 1915 Rodchenko moved to Moscow, where he entered a vibrant artistic environment, now known as the Russian avant-garde. After the October Revolution, the avant-garde was the only artistic group to side unambiguously with the Bolsheviks.44 Rodchenko saw himself not so much as an artist, but as an engineer of social life. He described his works as “experiments for the future”.45 He was greatly concerned with the question on how to be an artist in the new Soviet Union and worked within a variety of mediums. After 1921 his main concern was mass media and its effective communication, which let him to work in advertisement, propaganda, and photojournalism. The prominence he enjoyed, however, diminished during the late 1930s and eventually left him, as he put it, “an invisible man”.46 Rodchenko was constantly

rethinking his relation to and use of mass media, a position that put him in constant dialogue with the authorities. His work in mass media can therefore be referred to as an attempt to develop a political modernism.47 However, this was initially not picked up by someone who would play an important role in his canonization. This was Alfred Barr (1902 – 1981), who in 1927 visited the Soviet Union. A few years later, Barr became the first director of the

Museum of Modern Art (MoMA). In what follows, I will outline how Barr, through the

41_{Groys 1992: 18.} 42_{Groys 1992: 19.} 43_{Dabrowski 1998: 10.} 44_{Dabrowski 1998: 12.}

45_{Rodchenko, Aleksandr (1920). “Everything is Experiment”. In: Lavrent’ev 2005: 108 – 111.} 46_{Cited in Dabrowski 1998: 16}

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MoMA, canonized Rodchenko as a modernist artist.

In 1927, Barr was busy defining the concept of modernism, which he understood as a highly international European movement.48 His trip to the Soviet Union would form a key element in his understanding of modernism as well as in his later programme for the MoMA.49 Today, the MoMA owns 184 works by Rodchenko ranging from 1919 to 1941.50 Together with his friend Jere Abbott, Barr had the freedom to travel the Soviet Union without supervision for ten weeks and was allowed into the basements of museums and private collections.51 What stands out from Barr’s diary entries is his fascination for the cross disciplinary approach of the artists he met. Where he was constantly looking for modernist painters, the Soviet Union at first disappoints him. On a visit to Lissitzky, he noted: “I asked whether he painted. He replied that he painted only when he had nothing else to do, and as that was never, never.”52

The same can be read from his diary entry on a visit to Rodchenko and Stepanova: “We left after 11 p.m. – an excellent evening, but I must find some painters if possible.”53 Rodchenko and Stepanova would later donate many of their works to Barr. They considered the paintings of little value, for they weren’t the “new art”.54

Barr thus witnessed a shift in Soviet art, a shift that Buchloh later described as the

development from faktura to factography. Further on in this chapter, I will discuss this shift at length. Even though this change in Soviet art shimmers through in Barr’s writings, he doesn’t seem aware of the importance of what he was witnessing. This becomes clear in his notes on a visit to Sergei Tretyakov, the leader of the group Lef (of which Rodchenko and Stepanova were members) in which he noted that Tretyakov “seemed to have lost all interest in

everything that did not conform to his objective, descriptive, self-styled journalistic ideal of art. He no longer writes poetry but confines himself to reporting.”55 Barr considered

Tretyakov’s change of focus towards reporting (or what Buchloh would call factography) to

48_{Kantor 2002: 147.}

49_{Kantor 2002: 161.}

50_{MoMA online collection database: https://www.moma.org/search/collection?query=Rodchenko [last accessed:}

18 August 2017].

51_{Kantor 2002: 162.} 52_{Cited in Sandler 1986: 10.}

53_{Barr, Alfred. Diary entry 4 January1928. In: Sandler 1986: 113.} 54_{Cited in Kantor 2002: 171-172.}

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be a mere distraction from modernist art. It was only a year later, in the fall of 1928, that Barr realized the importance of this shift to factography.56

The Western discourse on modernism, however, would not follow this implication. For the exhibition Cubism and Abstract Art, held in 1936 at the MoMA, Barr summarized his findings in a now famous chart [figure 4]. In this chart, we find the Russian avant-garde (represented by suprematism and constructivism) on the right side, underneath French cubism. This presents the Russian avant-garde as an early twentieth century European

Figure 4. Alfred H. Barr, Jr. "Flow chart" diagram of art movements, from the jacket of the catalogue for the 1936 exhibition at The Museum of Modern Art, Cubism and Abstract Art.

movement separated from the political sphere of its time. It is placed at the periphery as well, which made it even more important for scholars of the Russian avant-garde to present it as a purely artistic movement able to compete with the Parisian centre.57 Barr thus preserved a specific quality of the Russian avant-garde: its experiments in form. He actively preserved this fragment within the museum, making it an important aspect of his canon on modern art. From his writings we learn that his process of selection was solemnly concerned with form – the political implications of the Russian avant-garde, in particular of Rodchenko, were stored away. Not because Barr deliberately wanted to falsify Soviet history abroad, but because

56_{Kantor 2002: 169.}

57_{John Bolt during the panel discussion of the conference “The Many Lives of the Russian Avant-Garde (2-3}

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these specific political implications did not fit his model of European modernism. It simply fell out of his frame of interest. Here we can distinguish what Assmann calls the process of selection, value, and duration, three elements she considers essential for the process of canonization.58 Barr selected his modernist artists and their works, he ascribed new meaning to these works, and he included them into his (what would become dominant) canon of modernism.

On this foundation of European modernism, Barr started building an American modernism. Barr was not the only one working on this project. There were many other important

stakeholders involved – amongst them the American government, who during the Cold War discovered the potential of abstract art as a weapon for soft power politics. Abstract art, especially abstract expressionism, focussed purely on aesthetics: pure use of form and colour. It was an art form that broke with traditions and focussed purely on the formal problems of the artist. During the Cold War, the United States Information Agency (USIA) was in charge of public diplomacy. This agency found in abstract art a perfect ally. The presentation of abstract expressionism as freedom could easily be contrasted with socialist realism, which was considered a product of a repressive and backward state. This might best be expressed by the words of the chief spokesman of the USIA, Andy Berding, in 1953. He asserted that the USIA was only interested in art insofar as it was a “medium of communication, a means of interpreting American culture to other peoples.”59 In practice, this meant that artworks in a certain visual style that the USIA did not approve of as being representative for American culture were banned from exhibitions abroad.60

Gabriel Rockhill explained this use of style in his essay “The Politicity of ‘Apolitical’ Art”.61 Rockhill made clear how governmental organisations provided patronage in

stimulating certain artistic practices at certain places, thereby using the canvas of the artist as their canvas for ideology. Simply speaking, this meant that abstract art represented the free West, while figurative art served the occupied East. A work of art is seen trough the eyes of a cultural identity, Assmann stated.62 As I aimed at illustrating above, the model of European modernism Barr created was later used as an example of artistic freedom, a search of the free

58_{Assmann 2008: 100.} 59_{Cited in Sandler 1986: 221.} 60_{Sandler 1986: 221-223.}

61_{Rockhill, Garbiel (2014). “The Politicity of ‘Apolitical’ Art”. In: Rockhill, Garbiel (2014). Radical History &} the Politics of Art. New York: Columbia University Press.

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artist concerned with form. The Russian avant-garde was just a piece within this foundation, that relied heavily on France. This foundation was used by Barr to construct an American form of modernism in which all previous forms of art culminated. When the Cold War broke out, this was then used to contrast the Western, free identity against the Soviet, repressive identity. Even though Rodchenko’s works expressed socialist realist ideals, these were never shown by Barr. We can thus speak of a passive form of forgetting, to refer back to Assmann’s concept of the creation of the canon, that during the Cold War resulted in a purely aesthetic representation of art.63

Seen through the eyes of western identity, Barr’s process of canonization ascribed to the Belomor images a mnemonic power of artistic experiments that represented freedom. Even though the images clearly represented the Soviet Union, to a Western audience they would represent only an experiment in form, the prequel of American modernism, and the last bits of artistic freedom in Soviet Russia. It is here that we can understand one aspect of the argument of Smeets and Bossenbroek. It explains why we, as a Western audience, don’t consider the Belomor images to represent mass violence. However, Smeets and Bossenbroek relate this to an inability of the Dutch audience to understand Stalinism. This is a whole different topic, to which I will refer partly in the third chapter. I don’t consider this mnemonic power of style to exclude a Dutch memory on Stalinism, but I do find that it complicates this process. But don’t let me jump ahead. Before diving into this material further, I would like to analyse the work of an art critic who was (and still is) very sceptical of Barr’s process of canonization:

Benjamin Buchloh. Buchloh understood very well how Barr failed to underscore the change in Rodchenko’s work and how mass media and photojournalism were used by the Soviets.

From faktura to factography

In explaining the continuity between the avant-garde and socialist realism, Buchloh referred to the notions of faktura and factography. While faktura describes the initial formal artistic experiments of the avant-garde that took place during the 1910s and 1920s, factography refers to the mobilization of these artistic tendencies for propaganda purposes during the late 1920s and 1930s. According to Buchloh, analysing early Soviet art according to these concepts makes clear the transformation in aesthetic thinking in relation to the rapid industrialization of society the artists underwent. The notion of faktura developed during and shortly after the

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revolution. It had a focus on the particular material properties of an object and emphasized the placement of an object and its interaction with the spectator. Through the strong focus on materiality, objects created according to the notion of faktura underlined the importance of construction. The technical means of construction were incorporated into the work itself and relate it to the existing standards of the development of society at large. During the late 1920s, however, this theory was no longer sufficient. Art and visual culture needed to be tailored towards the needs of the working class. Painting was largely abandoned; in order to reach the masses photography became the main medium for representation, as well as architecture and industrial design. In order to create convincing images, the photographs and photomontages needed a documentary character that contained aspects of reality. “The photographic print is not the sketch of a visual fact, but its precise fixation. The precision and the documentary character gives photography an impact on the spectator that the graphic representation can never claim to achieve”, is how an anonymous artist described the practice.64 Many scholars believe this artist to be Rodchenko. Faktura is thus more strongly related to form and focuses on an individual viewer, while factography had a specific focus on writing a visual narrative aimed at the collective.

Factography manifested itself in photojournalism, which emerged during the mid 1920s when illustrated magazines became more popular and accessible.65_{Photojournalists}

had as their aim to create convincing photographic narratives on the industrial progress of the Soviet Union. Magazines often created a network of photo-correspondents all over the

country and facilitated domestic and international agencies with the production and

distribution of the photographic materials.66 The resources for producing photographic works were, however, increasingly limited and controlled, especially during the first Five Year Plan (1928 – 1932). For Belomor, Rodchenko created a coherent and readable visual narrative that leads the viewer through the process of change the landscape and prisoners underwent. This approach differed from his earlier photomontages that aimed at creating a visual historical narrative, as can be seen for example in the history posters Bloody Sunday [figure 5].67 What is interesting about these posters is the relative lack of ideological guidance. The viewer is not

64_{Anonymously published in the magazine Lef - although many scholars have attributed this text to Rodchenko.}

Cited in: Buchloh 1984: 98.

65_{An example of one of the most important magazines at that time is Ogonek (the Soviet equivalent of the}

American Time and Newsweek). Soviet Photo also played an important role within the field of photojournalism.

66_{Wolf 2004:108}

67_{In January 1905, during a protest that would subsequently be called ‘bloody Sunday’, demonstrators marched}

to the Winter Palace in Saint Petersburg to let tsar Nicholas II know about their poor economic positions. They were fired on by troops. This event catalysed a series of demonstrations and strikes, which eventually led tsar

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Figure 5. Aleksandr Rodchenko. Bloody Sunday. 1925 – 1926.

guided into a specific narrative, as will become clear when analysing Belomor, but is asked to construct his or her own interpretation out of the presented fragments. The viewer can thus negotiate between various positions. On his posters, Rodchenko displayed photographs of protesters and corpses, as well as newspaper clippings. The viewer can identify the event, but little has been done to create a coherent narrative. Rodchenko often used juxtaposing images in order to let his viewer negotiate between different positions, allowing different

understandings of the same event. As an archive of history the posters had a clear message: the past is just as unstable as the present, today’s leaders may not be tomorrow’s. The archive as poster thus becomes a public tool to constantly present historical events from a different perspective, creating an ever changing and unstable past - a constant reconfiguration of the past takes place. The archive, presented in this way, becomes a tool for shifting the meaning of collective social memory. Yet where in these history posters the power of constructing a narrative remains with the viewer, the power over the narrative of Belomor, as I will explain in the second chapter, shifted completely to the state.

Nichloas II to concede the principle of a constitution and parliament. In the aftermath of the Revolution, history was dropped for a time from the educational curriculum of the new Soviet Union. These history posters indicated a return of history to daily life, although according to the party line.

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Photojournalism was thus concerned with creating a “truthful” visual language on the Soviet Union that was used for propaganda purposes. The ways in which artists searched for such a visual language was relatively free, as Rodchenko’s early history posters indicated. When analysing photojournalism through the concept of factography, we can outline its double intention. I would like to discuss this double intention of Soviet photojournalism through the concept of visual doublespeak. To define this notion of doublespeak, we need to look at literary studies. In 1952, Leo Strauss analysed the politics of public culture in relation to literature in non-liberal societies in his book Persecution and the Art of Writing.68 With this

study, he created a framework for analysing what has been said between the lines; an analysis that seems fruitful for unravelling hidden narratives or double intentions. Considering Strauss’ focus on dismantling double intentions on a conceptual level, his analysis can be used outside the context of the literature as well. He aims at laying bare claims on “any truth”.69

Strauss, however, does not mention the notion “doublespeak”. This term was first used by the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) of the United States, which they based on the novel 1984 by George Orwell, where it is described as “doublethink”. Since 1974, the NCTE hands out every year the NCTE Doublespeak Award, as “an ironic tribute to public speakers who have perpetuated language that is grossly deceptive, evasive,

euphemistic, confusing, or self-centred.”70_{The NCTE also hosts the Orwell Award, which is}

given to an author or producer who contributed to honesty and clarity in public language. The notion of doublespeak has since then been used to analyse deceptive language within all kinds of fields, ranging from literature and politics to real estate and health insurance agencies.71 The term hasn’t been used within art history and barely within visual culture. This surprises me, for I think it could be an interesting tool in analysing propaganda or political soft power mechanisms. The notion of visual doublespeak allows focusing specifically on the dual aspect of visual language that intends to deform truth or create an intentionally deceptive image of reality. In relation to images that are strongly mediated, as is the case with Belomor (and also many other projects of Soviet photojournalism), this notion doesn’t only help us to underscore what is real and what is an illusion, but also aims at emphasizing how the

68_{Strauss 1952: 36.}

69_{Strauss 1952: 34.}

70_{National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) www.ncte.org}

http://www.ncte.org/volunteer/groups/publiclangcom/doublespeakaward [last accessed: 12 February 2017]

71_{Kehl, D.G. (1977). “Public Doublespeak: Hocus-Pocus and the Gift of Double Focus”. College English. 39:3.}

395-398.

Kehl, D.G. (1988). “The Two Most Powerful Weapons against Doublespeak”. The English Journal. 77:3. 57-65. Gibson, Walker (1975). “Public Doublespeak: Doublespeak in Advertising”. The English Journal. 64:2. 14-15.

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mnemonic power of the image was altered. In the second chapter I will use this concept when analysing some images of Belomor, while in the third chapter I will use it to complicate the use of the concept of the photograph as trace. But before going into these discussions, I would like to return to the early Soviet Union and its photojournalists. Because how did they relate themselves to photojournalism? Had they concerns about the ethical implications of these projects? Little is known to answer these question, for so many of the artists and writers did not survive the 1930s. On Belomor, however, quite some information survived. I will therefore spend the remaining words of this chapter on elaborating on the positions of these artists and writers, before diving into an analysis of the images themselves. I find it

enlightening to briefly elaborate on the position of artists at Belomor for it sheds some light on the complex social situations they worked in. It is not an excuse to relativize their participation in Belomor. On the contrary – I consider it important to take into account a glimpse of how Rodchenko and others considered their own position in relation to the state and the Gulag.

From reality to truth

The position of Rodchenko’s involvement at Belomor remains ambiguous. According to Slavonic scholar Erika Wolf, Rodchenko was not coerced into working at Belomor by the Soviet state.72 Buchloh argued that Rodchenko had no other choice than to accept the

commission if he wanted to remain a respected artist, while Lavrent’ev stated that Rodchenko simply followed his contract with the publishing house Izogiz, with whom he had an

agreement to document several construction sites.73 The most extensive explanation can be found in Wolf’s dissertation USSR in Construction: from avant-garde to socialist realist

practice.74 During eight years, she extensively researched the magazine USSR in

Construction, and therefore also how Rodchenko ended up at Belomor. She argued that

Rodchenko had indeed a contract with Izogiz, the state publishing house responsible for USSR

in Construction.75 It is presumed that Izogiz commanded Rodchenko to go to Belomor, but no

contract or letters specifically referring to this event have been found. However, Rodchenko was not exclusively working for Izogiz. Motivated by a lack of money as well as his

persisting wish for artistic recognition, he took on many other commissions. In 1933,

72_{Wolf 2008: 170.} 73_{Wolf 1999: 239.}

74_{Wolf, Erika (1999). USSR In Construction: from avant-garde to socialist realist practice [dissertation]. The}

University of Michigan.

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Rodchenko started working for the Worker’s International Relief (Internationale Arbeiter

Hilfe – hereafter IAH), a German press agency that collected materials on Soviet construction

sites for publication in Germany. These photographs were always published anonymously. With IAH, Rodchenko made an agreement that he would photograph Belomor. This founding by Wolf would prove that Rodchenko was not sent to Belomorstroi by the Soviet state or a Soviet organization. Disappointed that IAH would publish his photographs anonymously, while at the same time realizing the potential of the project he was working on, Rodchenko wrote to Stepanova to sell his photographs to other newspapers and magazines, particularly Izogiz.76

In Making History for Stalin: the story of the Belomor Canal, Slavonic scholar Cynthia Ruder closely analysed not only the practice of collective writing, but also discussed the moral dilemmas these writers encountered. This provides an interesting insight into the creation of a socialist realist aesthetic and the agency artists had in participating in state projects.

Considering the position of Rodchenko is surrounded by ambiguity, it seems interesting to shortly reflect on how other artists reflected on their participation in this project.

Most interesting might be the position of Maxim Gorky (1868 – 1936), the chief editor of both The White Sea Canal and USSR in Construction. He had a difficult relation with the communist party and spent the 1920s in exile in Italy, while defending human rights. In 1932 he was personally invited by Stalin to return to the Soviet Union as the “father of Soviet literature”. One of his activities would be actively propagating the spiritual reforgement of criminals in Gulag camps like Solovetsky and Belomor. How to understand this radical transition from human rights defender to concealer of Stalinist brutality? Bernice Glatzer Rosenthal reflected on this question in New Myth, New World: from Nietzsche to Stalinism. Rosenthal discussed the influence of Nietzsche on “left” Bolshevism from 1917 onwards.77 With regard to artistic creativity, this group considered art a power that could transfigure the world. Especially Gorky was influenced by Nietzsche’s notion of the Dionysian, she argued, which he interpreted as being anti-individualistic. The Dionysian idea of breaking down individuality through a direct appeal on emotions could create a new collective creativity, while transforming passive spectators into active performers.78 Rosenthal legitimizes Gorky’s

76_{Rodchenko to Stepanova, Medgora, August 18 1933. In: Lavrent’ev 2005: 292.} 77_{Rosenthal 2002: 112.}

78_{Rosenthal 2002: 310.}

From Aestheticized Politics to Politicized Aesthetics - An enquiry into Aleksandr Rodchenko’s Gulag Photography