Date

Author

Katya Balaban, Ned Garvey, Aurélien Goubau

Source

Meduza

Preserved copy

Internet Archive

Original Material

‘Ideas imposed by those in power, loosely prepared’

Belgian photographer Aurélien Goubau on his trips to Murmansk, inspired by a project to put giant mirrors in space

Aurélien Goubau Murmansk, Russia. A man diving into ice-cold water in the middle of the city.

Between September 2021 and February 2022, Belgian photographer Aurélien Goubau made a series of trips to Murmansk, Russia. Knowing little about Russia, its politics, or its people, and inspired by a radio report he heard about the Znamya project, in which Russian scientists sought to light up the northern sky through giant mirrors in space in the 1990s, he set off to use Murmansk’s near-perpetual darkness as a metaphorical lens through which to explore the lives of the city’s inhabitants. And while his original intention was to discover contemporary Russia from a “naive perspective,” the onset of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine both forced him to reckon with Russia’s realities and imbued his own Znamya project with new meaning. Nonetheless, Goubau says that his attitudes towards the people he photographed has not changed, even if his attitude to the country as a whole has.

On Belgian radio, I stumbled upon a story about Murmansk, a city that experiences prolonged periods of darkness each year. The journalist drew parallels between present-day Murmansk and a fascinating project from the 1990s, wherein Russian scientists attempted to illuminate the country’s northern regions using a colossal space mirror. The project, known as “Znamya,” achieved limited success, with the light lasting only a few minutes, before its eventual abandonment.

The Znamya project

The Znamya or “Banner” project was the name of an ambitious program to launch a giant mirror into space that would reflect the sun’s rays back towards earth, thereby lengthening the day and increasing worker productivity.

The idea of using mirrors in space was first proposed by Hermann Oberth, a German scientist, in 1929. NASA and the Pentagon were also said to have explored the idea, but it was the Soviet Union, and then the Russian Federation, where this idea began to be realized.

The project began in the 1980s under the direction of Vladimir Syromyatnikov. Syromyatnikov had previously worked on the the Vostok program (which put Yuriy Gagarin in space), but he is best known for his docking mechanism designs, many of which are in use on the International Space Station.

The first demonstration took place on February 4, 1993. Leaving the Mir Space Station at around 8 pm Eastern U.S. Time, the device unfurled a space mirror 65 feet in diameter. Lasting eight minutes, the mirror sent a two-and-and-half-mile-wide beam of light across Europe and the Atlantic Ocean.

Nikolai Sevastyanov, a ranking project engineer said, “The reflector was a big success because it proved the concept was right. Now we must seek support to build one of bigger size.”

The second and slightly larger Znamya 2.5 was deployed on February 5, 1999, and had a diameter of 82 feet. However, the test failed after the mirror got caught and eventually ripped on an antenna.

There would be no Znamya 3, and Syromyatnikov went back to working on docking mechanisms until his death in 2006.

In 2019, Andrey Chibis, the governor of Murmansk region, proposed another project to light up Murmansk. In his version, an artificial sun installation would be placed on top of the Gorelaya mountain in Murmansk. The project did not come to fruition.

Driven by curiosity, I embarked on multiple trips to Murmansk between September 2021 and February 2022. My goal was to immerse myself in the night alongside the locals, exploring the significance of darkness, the lives of its inhabitants. The objective of the project was not merely to visually depict the ambitious endeavors to combat the darkness, but rather to utilize this narrative, along with the essence of the night itself, as a metaphorical lens through which to explore contemporary Russia.

Aurélien Goubau A view of the city of Murmansk at night. In the distance, three children play in the snow. The buildings are typical of the Soviet era.

Aurélien Goubau I met Victor Trochenko on the streets of Murmansk. I met him as he was looking at the sun through a special instrument, drawing and noting some measurements. Later he explained to me that he wanted to measure the intensity of the sun.

Aurélien Goubau Later that day, Victor took me to his flat. His flat was covered with posters of the northern lights, with maps of stars, books, and poems. Victor explained to me that he was an astrophysicist and poet working in Murmansk. In this photo, Victor dives into the piles of books in his flat to find a small pamphlet with poems he wrote about Murmansk. He gave one to me.

What I found compelling with the Znamya project was that the significance of the idea surpasses the actual implementation of the project. I recently came across a fascinating article in The Financial Times that delves deeper into the subject of the Russian Arctic, and the lack of economic viability in certain towns. The journalist, Kathrin Hille, claims that “The idea of mastering nature is very much part of Russian identity, as is the myth of conquering the Arctic.” That sums things up for me.

Let’s consider another example: During Josef Stalin’s reign, the Soviet Union endeavored to conquer the Arctic. Stalin issued orders for the construction of an east-west railroad line north of the Arctic Circle, now known as the Dead Road (Salekhard-Igarka Railway). However, this project was poorly executed, encountering issues such as inadequate materials, insufficient planning and the need to lay tracks in swampy areas. Consequently, the project remained unfinished (just like Znamya).

Once again, the emphasis lies on the idea rather than economic rationality and its implementation.

Aurélien Goubau A plane from the Monument to the soldiers of the 1st Air Defense Corps. The monument contains a variety of military equipment, like World War II-era fighter planes, a Cold War-era fighter, and anti-aircraft guns, some of which were used against the Germans during World War II, where Murmansk played an important strategic role. In Russian society, victory over the Germans is an important part of history and is often used to shape national identity.

Throughout my stay, I was guided by encounters inside the heart of Soviet-era apartment blocks. These experiences revealed a profound connection between the Russian people living amidst Murmansk’s darkness and the night itself. Paradoxically, the absence of light acted as a filter, allowing me to grasp what truly mattered: family, religious life, love, and friendship. The city’s backdrop, characterized by Soviet architecture, harsh external conditions, and snow, faded into the background, enabling me to capture the meaningful fragments of life. These images confronted me with the diverse facets of the contemporary Russian population, its history, mysteries, tenderness, vulnerabilities, and dreams.

Aurélien Goubau A view of the port of Murmansk at night

Aurélien Goubau I meet Vlad in the streets of Monchegorsk, a city 100 kilometers (about 60 miles) south of Murmansk. He invites me to his house. We watch a Russian talk show on television together.

Aurélien Goubau Sasha (pictured right) and his friend hug each other in their dacha, in a suburb of Murmansk. These dachas are a custom in Russia. It is a place of social gatherings. The emblem of Russia hangs on the right of the picture. I met Sacha in a café a few days before. Sasha is in his 30s and works as a net repairer for fishing companies. With Sasha I had a lot of discussions, about Russia, life in Belgium and about future prospects for both his personal life and Russia.

Aurélien Goubau In Sasha’s apartment. We spoke about politics in Russia. He told me that he felt that the government was not doing much to improve working conditions in the region. Sasha enthusiastically explained to me that he dreamed of travelling to Bermuda at least once in his life.

I stumbled upon the protagonists by chance, whether on the streets, in cafés, or through connections with people I had previously met. Typically, I would initiate the conversation myself. I am straightforward, immediately mentioning that I am a photographer working on a project in the region. I appreciate the clarity it brings regarding my identity and purpose. Consequently, I consider it a participatory project as people willingly welcomed me into their homes, becoming integral to the narrative from that point onwards. Although I don’t speak Russian, I quickly learned to introduce myself and pick up basic words, which made a significant difference. When my vocabulary ran out, we resorted to using Google Translate for our discussions, which proved to be highly efficient. I captured screenshots of our various conversations, and at times, the translations were quite amusing.

Aurélien Goubau Sasha looks at the city from his balcony. Sasha and I talked a lot about life for young people in Murmansk. According to him, economic opportunities are few, and there are not many possible escapes. One evening we discussed politics and the future of the country. His criticism of Putin and the government was more about the lack of state provision, of low wages and opportunities. He feels trapped in Murmansk because you need money to go to the big cities.

Aurélien Goubau Anton’s bedroom is filled with fluorescent plastic stars. Anton was my first host in Murmansk. I spent my first night in Murmansk in this room. As soon as I entered it, I realized I was in the right place to talk about the night and the relationship betweenpeople and the night.

From my very first night in Russia, it became clear to me that I needed to spend time staying with the people. I would often stay for one night, and sometimes up to five nights. This was important to me for several reasons. Firstly, it took time to gain people’s trust and be accepted into their intimate moments. Secondly, I believed that staying in people’s homes was the only way to truly portray the individuals I met in an honest manner. While Russia is visually captivating with its unique landscapes, architecture, and pastel colors, I wanted to focus on highlighting the people rather than just the surroundings. Coming from Belgium, I also noticed that people seemed closed off on the streets, perhaps due to the weather or a deeper cultural tradition. It was only in their homes, in the living rooms and kitchens, where people truly opened up, and that’s where I wanted to be. The night was very important for me because I felt the night was the time that people were really themselves.

Aurélien Goubau A picture of Lydia, a 76 year old woman. In this photo, Lydia is praying in front of her computer. There are religious songs scrolling on Youtube in “karaoke” mode. Every evening and every morning, Lydia recited her prayers. I met Lydia in the house of Alexander, a carpenter whose place I slept at before.

Aurélien Goubau A six-year-old girl shows me her room before going to bed

Aurélien Goubau In the house of four Kazakh workers. In this photo, one of the Muslim men is praying in the sleeping room.

To establish trust, I begin by being completely honest about who I am and what my intentions are. In addition to that, I am very open when interacting with people. I invest a great deal of myself in these interactions. Furthermore, I believe that my effort to speak the language as much as possible and my sincere interest with people's stories actually piqued their interest in sharing them with me. This mutual exchange of information greatly contributed to building trust between us.

Aurélien Goubau Nastja and Katja, two adolescents aged 17 and 19 respectively, kiss each other in their living room. Nastja is studying at university, while Katja works in a sushi shop. Both can only express themselves as gay in their apartment because it is difficult to wearthis identity outside. I met Nastja and Katja at their workplace in the sushi shop. Their colourful hair initially caught my attention. They spontaneouslyinvited me to spend the night in their flat with two other friends. I spent a total of four nights with them.

Aurélien Goubau A portrait of Katja in her kitchen

Aurélien Goubau A family spends time together. As it is cold and dark, it is at night and indoors that life blossomsopenly. Family life then plays an important role within daily life. Alexander, the man in the picture, has four children. After working for Dutch shippingcompanies for a long time, he now works as a freelance construction professional. This allows him to spend more time with his family. I met Alexander in another house the night before.

When I initially started the project, I had very little knowledge about Russia. I simply took a visa, packed my backpack, and set off. Throughout my three trips, I undoubtedly gained good insights into the country's history and its people. However, it was only during my last visit, coinciding with the onset of the war in Ukraine, that I truly became aware of the country I was in and its international relations. It was at that moment when the metaphorical darkness became apparent to me.

I believe [my limited knowledge of Russia] enabled me to prioritize the people over the background story. It allowed me to spend time with people without directly associating them with the current government’s ambitions. Exploring a place with limited prior knowledge allows for a very spontaneous perspective. In doing so, the small and ordinary stories become much more captivating and intriguing to me compared to the broader context, which requires a deeper background understanding. We can draw a parallel to how a child looks at something. A child learns through personal discovery and is fascinated by what they encounter without judgment. In that sense, a child’s perspective, or in this case, my perspective, is naive, but I think also honest. Inexperience may provide the opportunity for greater honesty, I think. This naivety also allows for a very personal and subjective viewpoint to emerge.

Therefore, I can say that I commenced the project with a rather naive perspective, but I concluded it with a deeper understanding of Russia. While the initial capture of the photographs may have been somewhat naive, the subsequent editing process, which took place in the following months, was influenced by a more knowledgeable approach.

Aurélien Goubau Natalia and her brother build a fire on the hills in the middle of Murmansk

Aurélien Goubau I met Natalia on a hill in the middle of the city of Murmansk. Her apartment was covered with posters of the Eiffel Tower, posters of beaches in Italy, and postcards of sunsets. Natalia dressed in her wedding dress from 10 years ago, as she wanted me to photograph her in it.

Aurélien Goubau Natalia’s brother rests in her flat

According to my observation, the war in Ukraine followed a similar pattern [to Znamya]. The decision to engage in the conflict was made by a single individual. The objective was to quickly invade Kyiv and overthrow the elected government of Ukraine. However, due to the lack of preparation and miscalculations (and many other reasons of course), the endeavor did not succeed.

To me, the Znamya project, along with other projects during the USSR such as the Salekhard-Igarka Railway and now the war in Ukraine, exhibit a comparable pattern: ideas imposed by those in power, loosely prepared, and/or lacking in financial resources and/or organization, resulting in project failures. The idea has precedence over its (economic) feasibility and rationality.

Aurélien Goubau A view of the city of Murmansk at dusk. People coming out of a café.

Perhaps my limited knowledge of the country played a role in allowing me to capture certain aspects in a certain way, though I cannot be certain. With that being said, my increased awareness of Russia's history and recent imperial tendencies does not impact my thoughts and opinions about the individuals I encountered. I make a clear distinction between the people and the regime. Although my attitude towards Russia has shifted from naive to a more informed perspective, my attitude towards the individuals with whom I shared the darkness of the polar night remains unchanged; friends are still friends.

However, because the brutal invasion into Ukraine began shortly after my last trip, I had to mention the Soviet past while presenting my work, it felt mandatory to me. I needed to give the project more historical background that I wouldn’t have given otherwise. However, it didn’t affect the selection of the images very much. I remained true to myself (true to the naivety and honesty) and included images solely related to the encounters I had. Certain pictures, such as the one featuring the military monument with planes from World War II, were intentionally chosen and included in the project to establish a connection between the country’s history, the night, and its people.

Aurélien Goubau A view of the northern lights on the outskirts of Murmansk

[My increased understanding of Russia] changed my perspective on the original Znamya project. I can now loosely draw a connection between the Znamya project and the ideologies of both the USSR and the present-day Russian government, including the ongoing invasion of Ukraine. Even if I had a more comprehensive understanding of Russia as a whole, I still believe I would have chosen to undertake a project inspired by Znamya. I eagerly await the opportunity to work in Russia once again, whenever that becomes possible.

Photography and words by Aurélien Goubau. Edited by Katya Balaban and Ned Garvey