Ukrainian photographer Boris Savelev is one of the most fascinating “nonofficial” artists who worked during the tail end of the Soviet regime. The melancholy of his vision, expressed through an easily distinguished, steady style, is the leitmotif of this compelling exhibition comprising more than thirty photographs. The first body of work, black-and-white pictures made between 1976 and 1986, catches fugitive moments, mostly people at work. (The photographs were banned by the government for not portraying workers positively.) Although the subjects seem reluctant about being photographed, Savalev conjures an atmosphere of empathy—by manipulating the prints’ tones and by a peculiar printing technique that involves Asian paper—that counters the grandiose scale of much Soviet architecture and urban design and the impassivity of Soviet bureaucracy. A second set of photographs, created during the last twenty years, is marked by the use of color. (Savelev was awarded two hundred rolls of Kodachrome, then unavailable in Moscow.) These photographs favor explicitly formal decisions and conceptual approaches to the social analysis that marks the artist’s early work. Spaces are empty yet are animated by sharp tones and dramatic compositions. These rigorous works, in various sizes and shot with different cameras, likewise gain from Savalev’s unique printing technique. The multilayered pigment prints on gesso-coated aluminum are protected by what seems like a soft, nearly invisible membrane (actually beeswax), creating a tactility that draws the viewer further into the world of the image.
