Tom Dunne
Well-Known Member
In a rural graveyard, not far from the Russian city of Yekaterinburg, there are many huge, ostentatious constructions built to honour the memory of deceased Mafia leaders and important professional people of the city.
Further into the woods, amongst very tall trees, birdsong and a breezy silence, lies hundreds of small graves with simple memorials. On each headstone there is a little portrait of the deceased.
The images have a hauntingly formal beauty and made me think about the actual moment these pictures were taken. Were they studio portraits or were they simple home snaps taken by loved ones and in the company of family and friends?
The faces are sad, some look frightened; almost as if the subjects might have been aware that they were now posing in front of a camera for the very last time.
With a heavy heart and some discomfort, I photographed many of these faces knowing that, otherwise, I would never see these expressions again.
Further into the woods, amongst very tall trees, birdsong and a breezy silence, lies hundreds of small graves with simple memorials. On each headstone there is a little portrait of the deceased.
The images have a hauntingly formal beauty and made me think about the actual moment these pictures were taken. Were they studio portraits or were they simple home snaps taken by loved ones and in the company of family and friends?
The faces are sad, some look frightened; almost as if the subjects might have been aware that they were now posing in front of a camera for the very last time.
With a heavy heart and some discomfort, I photographed many of these faces knowing that, otherwise, I would never see these expressions again.