On the Way Home

Rating:
Summary: Timelessness and Memory in Russia: A Photographic Journey
Review: (...)

In 1990 Anne Fishbein traveled to the Russian city of Yaroslavl, northeast of Moscow along the Volga river, to work as a still photographer on an independent film. What began as a mere short term assignment proved a major inspiration for the artist, as she returned every year to photograph the city and its inhabitants. Now, 10 visits and 13 years later we have the marvelous fruits of her labors in On the Way Home (Perceval Press, 2003), a handsome volume of more than fifty black and white photographs culled from this project.
The photographs are imbued with a sense of wonder and discovery. They document a Russian city's awakening from the slumber of seven decades of relative isolation to a modern world that has come to visit, this time in the form of an artist and her camera. The varied subjects of Fishbein's pictures, nurses in a hospital, bakers, children in fields, soldiers on guard, a bride and groom in a park, often stand motionless, absorbed in a contemplative stillness. They gaze calmly and intently at each other and the viewer, just as the artist's penetrating eye focuses patiently on them. Her subjects seem fully at ease with themselves, and the artist's unusual presence within their environment, even for not appearing to know the world she has come from. Unafraid of the camera without being unsophisticated, they are at once innocent and self possessed.
Fishbein's photographs are not intended as journalistic efforts, specific to both a time and a location, as are most bodies of documentary work made after the fall of the Soviet Union. These photographs are rather the timeless story of a culture which seems of another century to us in the West. The pictures reach past the city limits, and come to signify a larger sense of place. Together they form a harmony of voices that we Westerners do not recognize, have not heard. Somehow we name it as Russia, and simply because Fishbein has told us with conviction that this is not merely a locale, or a decade, but an entire world that she has witnessed. They also remember how that older world was photographed. There are resonant echoes, for example, of August Sander, who encyclopedically chronicled the faces of German society as it transformed in between the two World Wars, as well as of more recent artists, such as Diane Arbus.
It is in this more vague, mysterious depiction of a people that the pictures display their greatest strength. Portraiture can often seem iconic and static, devoid of a sense of action and time; subjects are isolated and uprooted, deprived of a context. Anne Fishbein's photographs instead infuse the genre with a sense of epic; they make manifest her desire to record a sense of history. It is precisely her subjects' lack of movement, their dreamlike gaze that belies not only who they are, but also where they have come from. Their enveloping silence speaks of a long, rich and melancholy journey, its precise details unknown, but its existence palpably felt nonetheless. Their stillness is larger, and their tranquil stare longer than what we know in our world, one comprised more of short and fleeting moments. Their simplicity and tender composure, no longer familiar to most of us, appear almost monumental.
The photographs are a record of the meeting of two realities. One is the modern world of the American artist, which thrives on shedding its past, but ultimately comes to look yearningly across to this older place that refuses, or perhaps is unable to abandon its history. As a tool of modernity, the photograph lives in a world where continuity has been broken, and searches instead for what has somehow remained whole. Photography such as that of Anne Fishbein seeks a past that is still alive, often in order to take its confession before it dies.
The encounter is to some extent autobiographical. Fishbein is of Lithuanian extraction, and although her connection to her geographical roots had been heavily filtered through several generations of immigration, her travels to Russia allowed her to rediscover and reinterpret the world of her ancestors. Memory and invention have fused in her travels towards these people, which are a journey towards a sense of home and origin.
The book is beautifully designed and printed.  The two introductions both provide thoughtful context for the work. Otherwise it is a purely visually driven narrative, one which lets the photographs alone explain, or merely suggest. There is not so much as a page number to distract one from the forceful, wordless logic of the images. The book is the perfect expression of her utmost dedication to the medium at the expense of any notion of profit or other form of self advancement.
Anne Fishbein graduated from Exeter in 1976, and went on to Northwestern for her BA, and then Yale for her MFA in photography. Her work is in the permanent collections of major museums around the world, including the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris, and the National Museum in Ottawa, Canada. In 1994 a portion of this work was exhibited at the Academy in the Lamont Gallery. She currently lives and works in Los Angeles, dividing her time between a variety of documentary, editorial and teaching pursuits.

Rating:
Summary: Timelessness and Memory in Russia: A Photographic Journey
Review: (...)

In 1990 Anne Fishbein traveled to the Russian city of Yaroslavl, northeast of Moscow along the Volga river, to work as a still photographer on an independent film. What began as a mere short term assignment proved a major inspiration for the artist, as she returned every year to photograph the city and its inhabitants. Now, 10 visits and 13 years later we have the marvelous fruits of her labors in On the Way Home (Perceval Press, 2003), a handsome volume of more than fifty black and white photographs culled from this project.
The photographs are imbued with a sense of wonder and discovery. They document a Russian city's awakening from the slumber of seven decades of relative isolation to a modern world that has come to visit, this time in the form of an artist and her camera. The varied subjects of Fishbein's pictures, nurses in a hospital, bakers, children in fields, soldiers on guard, a bride and groom in a park, often stand motionless, absorbed in a contemplative stillness. They gaze calmly and intently at each other and the viewer, just as the artist's penetrating eye focuses patiently on them. Her subjects seem fully at ease with themselves, and the artist's unusual presence within their environment, even for not appearing to know the world she has come from. Unafraid of the camera without being unsophisticated, they are at once innocent and self possessed.
Fishbein's photographs are not intended as journalistic efforts, specific to both a time and a location, as are most bodies of documentary work made after the fall of the Soviet Union. These photographs are rather the timeless story of a culture which seems of another century to us in the West. The pictures reach past the city limits, and come to signify a larger sense of place. Together they form a harmony of voices that we Westerners do not recognize, have not heard. Somehow we name it as Russia, and simply because Fishbein has told us with conviction that this is not merely a locale, or a decade, but an entire world that she has witnessed. They also remember how that older world was photographed. There are resonant echoes, for example, of August Sander, who encyclopedically chronicled the faces of German society as it transformed in between the two World Wars, as well as of more recent artists, such as Diane Arbus.
It is in this more vague, mysterious depiction of a people that the pictures display their greatest strength. Portraiture can often seem iconic and static, devoid of a sense of action and time; subjects are isolated and uprooted, deprived of a context. Anne Fishbein's photographs instead infuse the genre with a sense of epic; they make manifest her desire to record a sense of history. It is precisely her subjects' lack of movement, their dreamlike gaze that belies not only who they are, but also where they have come from. Their enveloping silence speaks of a long, rich and melancholy journey, its precise details unknown, but its existence palpably felt nonetheless. Their stillness is larger, and their tranquil stare longer than what we know in our world, one comprised more of short and fleeting moments. Their simplicity and tender composure, no longer familiar to most of us, appear almost monumental.
The photographs are a record of the meeting of two realities. One is the modern world of the American artist, which thrives on shedding its past, but ultimately comes to look yearningly across to this older place that refuses, or perhaps is unable to abandon its history. As a tool of modernity, the photograph lives in a world where continuity has been broken, and searches instead for what has somehow remained whole. Photography such as that of Anne Fishbein seeks a past that is still alive, often in order to take its confession before it dies.
The encounter is to some extent autobiographical. Fishbein is of Lithuanian extraction, and although her connection to her geographical roots had been heavily filtered through several generations of immigration, her travels to Russia allowed her to rediscover and reinterpret the world of her ancestors. Memory and invention have fused in her travels towards these people, which are a journey towards a sense of home and origin.
The book is beautifully designed and printed.  The two introductions both provide thoughtful context for the work. Otherwise it is a purely visually driven narrative, one which lets the photographs alone explain, or merely suggest. There is not so much as a page number to distract one from the forceful, wordless logic of the images. The book is the perfect expression of her utmost dedication to the medium at the expense of any notion of profit or other form of self advancement.
Anne Fishbein graduated from Exeter in 1976, and went on to Northwestern for her BA, and then Yale for her MFA in photography. Her work is in the permanent collections of major museums around the world, including the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris, and the National Museum in Ottawa, Canada. In 1994 a portion of this work was exhibited at the Academy in the Lamont Gallery. She currently lives and works in Los Angeles, dividing her time between a variety of documentary, editorial and teaching pursuits.

Rating:
Summary: Coming "Home"
Review: Certain places in the world call out to the soul, and keep a person fascinated by the atmosphere and people. And something in the Russian city of Yaroslavl called out to Anna Fishbein, whose yearly visits to that place are chronicled in the quietly poignant "On the Way Home."

In 1990, Anna Fishbein made her first visit to Yaroslavl, while doing photographic work on an indie movie. In the years since then, she has returned to photograph the people and places of Yaroslavl -- jaded children with cigarettes in their mouths, newlyweds standing quietly beside one another, workers and businessmen caught during quiet moments on leafy streets.

Looking at the photos of "On the Way Home" is like watching a sleeping giant slowly coming back to wakefulness. And not just in Yaroslavl either -- you get the feeling of timeless unity in her pictures, as if you could see these people anywhere in Russia, anywhere in time. Maybe even anywhere in the world, if that part of the world was slowly rising from its own ashes.

The simple black-and-white photos have a sort of solid, quiet appeal. They're a little too gritty to be really beautiful, but instead they have a sort of peace ingrained in each picture. The people in them tend to appear solemn and calm, usually thoughtful; they stand on leafy streets, in parks, hospitals, and other ordinary places. They quietly look at the camera, or at each other, without ever looking self-conscious.

Quiet and introspective, "On the Way Home" lets us have a peek at the people of Yaroslavl through Anna Fishbein's eyes. The latest of Perceval Press's excellent books is definitely worth a look.