Mr. Meyers writes on photography for the Journal. His photo book “Outer Boroughs: New York Beyond Manhattan” was published earlier this year by Damiani.
An exhibition about Soviet photography and film showcases astounding artistic accomplishments that served a vile end.
‘The Power of Pictures: Early Soviet Photography, Early Soviet Film” at the Jewish Museum has several rooms of stunning photography from the 1920s and ’30s, and if you do not know the history of Russia in the 20th century, you will leave the exhibition at the Jewish Museum buoyed. If you do know the history of the “Evil Empire” you can only weep that such artistic accomplishment served such a vile end.
Nowhere is this dichotomy more intense than in Soviets, the room devoted to portraiture. Georgy Zelma’s “Three Generations in Yakutsk” (1929), Max Penson’s “Untitled (Turkmen in Telpeks)” (late 1930s) and Georgy Petrusov’s “Asiatic Sailor” (c. 1935-36) are arresting pictures of ethnic minorities—and also agitprop disseminated to remind Russians of the peoples they dominated and to show the captives’ gratitude. “The Poet Anna Akhmatova” (1924) was taken by Moisei Nappelbaum, the dean of Russian portraitists. She is shown in profile like a patrician in a Renaissance painting, with her aquiline nose and her soulful expression offset by her stylish headgear and her left hand clutching at her beads. It is a fabulous image and, like most of the works in the exhibition, a wonderful print, but who can look at it without thinking of Akhmatova, the greatest Russian lyric poet since Pushkin, decades later standing with other women outside a St. Petersburg prison in the snow and cold, hoping for glimpses of their loved ones? Akhmatova’s son, a hero of World War II, was arrested because Stalin feared heroes were most likely to challenge him. Her first husband had been executed in 1921.