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The Historian, the Photographer, and the Babushka

I've read quite a bit of Russian history the last couple years. In part, it is a rebellion against the 'Boris & Natasha' silliness in the news -- not that an attempted soft coup d'etat is silly. And there were other reasons.

By now it is reasonable to ask whether all this history-reading is time well spent. Although the odds were against it, Google helped me find some Russian photographs to complement my reading.

Take a look at this photograph from Beyond Sochi: Photos Of Russia By Russians


Would you agree that this is not a trivial postcard of the type you have seen on the internet a million times?

Doesn't it make you feel like you are right there, in the babushka's shoes?

Now think of Tolstoy's essay, "What is Art?", wherein he argues against the common notion that Art is about beauty, and instead, claims that art is the transference of feelings to the observer, by means of pictures, sounds, and words.

The photograph is an excellent example of Art, by this definition. It should affect me even more if reading all those history books is good for anything. Otherwise all that reading has been a waste of time.

Think of Russia's tortured past, from backwardsness and superstition, to the climate, hunger, invasions from Mongols, Tsars, secret police, and Communists.  And then take another look at the photo.

Comments

Jim and Gayle said…
What is this blog coming to? Now you've resorted to posting cat photos ;-)
I just KNEW that somebody was going to make a comment like that! (grin)
XXXXX said…
My ancestors came from this part of the world, eastern Poland, and I believe we lost our land there in the Treaty of Versailles. I remember my grandmother and mother in their babushka's. We were farmers. Ancestry.com confirmed my dna, 100%,came from this general area. I have often thought this is why I have a love of the land, why I love potatoes, cabbage, carrots, and noodles, and animals especially horses and dogs. I still enjoy working the land, although now it is just a little yard, but there is still a supreme pleasure in doing so. And perhaps the biggest thing of all.....why I love plain, honest, hard-working, thinking
folk and don't care a twit for its opposite.
Perhaps Tolstoy is correct.
So, you are of east European peasant stock? (grin) That photo must have been right up your alley.