The Range. The Caucasus from Sea to Sea

«I don’t like mountains»

«The Range. The Caucasus from Sea to Sea» photobook was released a year ago, and now you are presenting us a full-length documentary with the same name. What is more important for you – photo art or movie?

Initially, this was only a photo and film project, so it is hard for me to say what was more important. This was my personal project where I was speaking as a producer, co-director, and as a storyteller as well. I am profoundly grateful to colleagues from the company "Northern Caucasus Resorts", who helped to realize the idea of my photo project several years ago.

In some way, I am playing the role of myself in the film, - a role of a photographer traveling with camera in his hand. I am a photographer in fact, and I have no ambitions being a cinema guy, I have ambitions to tell stories. The film is all about a photographer travelling and telling stories. It's like two sides of a coin – everything is inextricably connected.

«The Range» is seen as a logical extension of your previous project which was called «Russia Through a Train Window». There was a goal to show how wide is your native land. And what is the goal now? – to show how high your land is as well?

To a certain degree, it is a logical extension. Then I spent more than three years in expeditions and I still marvel at the incredible geography we managed to cover. I have a bunch of pictures, let’s name it «author’s gold collection», hits: Sikhote-Alin, the Polar Urals, the Kola Peninsula, the Baskunchak Lake, Khakassia, the river Chusovaya. It is really amazing how many places we have visited then. It was not even a period of life, but rather «life within life».

Mostly Russia is a horizontal and plane country. I spent years in expeditions: first as a biologist and as an assistant of famous Soviet photographer Vadim Gippenreiter, later as a photographer. I saw almost every Russian landscape. And at some point I realized I needed a break.

Our country is rich in landscapes, but everything is monotonous: Taiga - Taiga everywhere, for example. No matter how much you shoot taiga, it will be impossible to guess on the picture was it taken in the Urals or in the port of Vanino.

You wouldn’t say the same thing about the Caucasian landscape?

It is impossible to say that. When the idea of the film and «The Range» project only emerged, I suddenly realized that the Caucasian mountains, the main mountains in Europe, still haven’t been covered by me. Like the vast majority of population of Russia, I did not know the North Caucasus at all. Everyone takes this land as something mysterious and controversial. Because of the specific media coverage, people are afraid to go there. The most interesting for me was to find out that the mountains - is a vertical world. I’ve changed the idea completely.

And nothing but that? And didn’t you think about the beauty of the region?

I do not like mountains. In three years of shooting I still didn’t learn to love them. Mountains are something alien to me, I never was thrilled with delight while watching them. And I think it’s good. Sometimes it is very useful to keep your distance because the admiration makes you blind and hampers the focus. I look at the mountains - they are looking at me, and all this is at a distance.

That is quite surprising. What could keep you away from loving them?

I have another love. I love sea, I love desert, I love forest. I love the clear horizon, and it is a rarity in the mountains. It is impossible to love everything. I could never understand why the mountains are considered to be always beautiful while they are quite different. If «beautiful» means the postcard of an Alpine meadow – then the mountains are beautiful. But the word «beauty» means something bigger to me, I never try to make postcard shots.

I am not a mountain man. And I do believe, that it is not an organic landscape for a human being.

In the mountains you always have to overcome something. And even today people face huge trials there. I am not a climber, but I have always been interested in the phenomenon of overcoming that climbers have. Reinhold Messner was one of my invisible companions while working on the project. He is a great climber and a representative of the golden age of alpinism, he was the first to climb Everest without oxygen. The image of a man, making his final step to the top of a mountain is very important to me, it played a role in the formation of my perspective on the Caucasus.

At the same time the Caucasus is rich in invisible companions: Lermontov, Pushkin, Tolstoy. And Prokudin-Gorsky for sure.

Prokudin-Gorsky had one definite advantage in front of you: he was a pioneer. His «Portraits of the Russian Empire» continues to provoke great interest. What fate you wish for your photographs?

The photograph can stay alive only if it has a strong artistic charge. «Russia through the train window» is still popular even though the project was realized 10 years ago. Lots of things have changed, but I was not making actual report, I was interested in the artistic image of the country. And I would be happy if my work would in some way repeat the fate of pictures taken by Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorsky. After all, I hope my legacy will survive entirely, while, sad to say, only a third remained of Prokudin-Gorsky archive.

And there is one more important thing. Photography and time function in a very strange and unpredictable interaction. Therefore, I always follow the rule of the great Henri Cartier-Bresson: «Ten years later, look at the nearby shot». Today it seems you shot a masterpiece, but ten years later another picture – that even did not attract your attention - may become popular. Therefore, it is necessary to revise sometimes the old film, since there is such a possibility.

You refuse to acknowledge the digital camera and resist technology, don’t you?

I do not resist technology. I made an honest attempt to use advanced digital cameras, but then I realized it’s not mine – please, give me back my analog photography!

I hope photo film will be enduring beyond my time, and I don’t mind the improvements: I admit retouching, but I do not understand Photoshop. I do not manipulate the images - I make the picture at the moment of shutter release.

It is important not to see the result of my shooting immediately and not to deprive myself of the main intrigue of my profession. Photographer never knows in advance what he sees on the picture. This gives you the opportunity to feel the moment you made a photoshoot once again.

Photo film makes it possible to compare your tempo and rhythm with the tempo and rhythm of what you are trying to preserve for centuries. If you are using three different cameras, they give you three different visions of the world. You have different recording speeds and different time to recharge. If you have a gun and six bullets, you have to admit the fact that you need to reload after the last bullet flies. And you will definitely miss something, and that's fine too.

See Gimry and not to die

Originally «The Range» was a huge photo project from "Northern Caucasus Resorts". Didn’t you have any fears to get glossy pictures instead of the real Caucasus at the result?

I'm interested in doing something, which would have a real artistic impact. Because it’s impossible to fool the viewer, he always can tell if you just want to «sell him a pup». No one will buy the album, go and watch the movie.

So I was doing self-production from the beginning. I was choosing the Caucasian routes while sitting in Moscow, and that was also a great pleasure - you examine old paper maps, read texts, follow the same mountain trails, someone took 150 years before you. Many discoveries are made at the stage of working in libraries. That is how some dream is usually born.

What was yours?

Mine was to get to Gimry village. In the process of preparation I observed volumes of memoirs from the Caucasus, many of them were written in the nineteenth century. I came across a chilling story of one guy who found himself on Gimrinsky descent after sunset. He was riding a horse and fell into the abyss, and so he concludes that Gimry descent is the main road in Dagestan. The image of this is firmly implanted in my memory. As a result it was one of the hooks, that we took into consideration while laying the route. I was desperate to see Gimry. This is private territory, but to write a portrait of Dagestan without Gimry - the birthplace of the two imams – was impossible. This portrait would be fake and incomplete.

Did you manage to pass that road?

Yes. But not riding a horse, of course... I was preparing in such a manner for months. But finally everything went differently anyway.

Why was it different? Did you have some romantic notions on the Caucasus appropriate to an intelligent Russian man?

I was rather impressed - even during the preparation period – by the level of prenotion towards the Caucasians. I just wanted to drop this information ballast. I'm not interested in politics and do not make pictures of it, but it seemed to me that people in Gimry must somehow be particularly strict and uncommunicative. And they took me to the house of Imam Gazimagomed where I was introduced to his descendants, I made numerous portraits in the village.

So I had no prejudice, only «exceeding expectations».

In the documentary you can’t run out, wringing your hands and crying out «How amazing!» - even if it is really amazing.

It is difficult to cope with the emotions, when you translate your feelings into the language of movies or pictures, I hope we succeed. The North Caucasus has lots of amazing places - and I hope that the viewer can feel it.

Nagorno Dagestan impressed me most. It is impossible to imagine such a landscape structure, such an architecture of human life untill you see it with your own eyes. Imagine, you are driving to Hunzahe: mountain villages, rivers, forests, fields everywhere and almost no indication that you are in the mountains. And suddenly you realize that you are standing on the edge of an abyss. You see eagles flying below you, and somewhere at the bottom you see the villages. It seems like you see them from an airplane window.

Or let’s take Ingush towers - our Russian Machu Picchu.

Or Bezengi - same «Crystal Horizon» highlands. I like this Messner image, it has everything: the fragility, inaccessibility, and a little fear.

Dead Fog, dashing guys and charming human factor

Did you face any troubled situations during the expedition?

I would not say it was a trouble, but we had some sort of a difficult situation there. It's inevitable if you're so high and travel by helicopters. We were working together with an amazing aerobatic band, thanks to them we could access any place. You feel the hostility of Bezengi mountains, and getting there is only possible for a climber of category 5-6. It is cold and gloomy there. We flew there by helicopter because we had a task to film something in the night mode. We climbed to the Bezengi glacier head - 4,000 meters above sea level, it was almost sunset. And the same moment (you may see it both in the film and on pictures) solid fog was crawling with terrible speed from the valley below.

It emerged immediately; we did not even have time to pick up our tripods. Suddenly we were completely cut off from the lower world. Traces of light were still there, the sun was not completely gone. But we could not fly - the fop was everywhere. The valley was completely blocked by the fog. We had two choices: either to find a hole in the fog and fly, or to spend night here, with the cameras and a couple of chocolate bars in our pockets. We decided to fly – it got almost completely dark, the helicopter was making circles in the fog, and – God Bless us! – we saw a small hole with a diameter of one or two meters. We dived in there and landed in almost total darkness on the Bezengi camp ground.

And what about the «human factor»? Did it cause any difficulties? The conflict is lukewarm now, but, for example, did you visit Samursky forest?

Yes, we did. We did not see Robin Hoods there. Some dashing guys once got on our way, but nothing terrible. The human factor is perfect. People do not talk about politics. I am a curious person, I'm interested in everything: way of life, customs, I talked to the locals a lot.

Do you know what people worry there about most of all? The fact that tourists stopped visiting their region.

In Soviet times tourist flow was big, and now people are afraid to come. The doors were always open for us.

Well, once they start developing tourism, it will kill the beauty!

On the one hand, the lack of tourism is a great luck. On the other hand, it is an inevitable stage of peaceful development of any region that has a nice climate, snow in the mountains and sea. Tourism there is still the same, as it was at the times of Yuri Vizbor generation. They started building new overpasses and elevators. In general, tourism must be developed in such places on the laws of small businesses: there are no hotels in the Upland Dagestan for instance. There is no «tourist» concept there – everyone is a guest.

A person will watch your film, pictures and will decide to go to Adygea instead of Turkey.

A photo album is not a guide but rather a source of inspiration if one decides to go on a new route. But then a person must organize everything by himself because photography can perfectly hide the reality. The traveler should be ready to spend night at local houses in Dagestan, to shake on Chegemskaya dirt road, to face sudden rock falls – then there won’t be any frustrated expectations. Then a person will get normal and totally unglamorous alpine tourism.

If you are interested to be a hotel tourist – then you should go to Arkhyz and ski there.

«I like the archaic character»

You have been enthusiastically talking for an hour about the mountains that you do not like! Maybe, after all you eventually fell in love with them? Or probably you found your «place of power» there?

Pretty sure I found it. Bezengi, for instance. Teberda and the Caucasus national parks – it is also a biologist talking inside of me, but there is no other place like that in the world with such a scale of natural reserves. The territory of the Caucasus Nature Reserve is just stupendous – it’s 350 thousand hectares of forest!

Well, I should also mention Khunzakh and Khunzakh plateau. The film has one interesting episode, in order to make it bright our operator Valentin Sysoev and I had been standing for about seven hours on a plateau, just watching and filming the incredible light show. Seven hours on the same spot!

We were given water and food, and we recorded on tape fantastic laser show, made by God, where lightning strikes replaced thunder and clouds - all that at an altitude of 2000 meters!

What dominates in the Caucasus – the old or the new?

The old. The Caucasus is one of the most archaic regions in our country. I am now using the word «archaic» in a positive sense. It has been preserved everywhere in the mountains - in the Alps it is almost gone, but here it dominates. Of course, someone blanches thinking about falling to pieces dirt roads of Dagestan. Municipal courts in Vladikavkaz are not too convenient for life as well. But I think it’s all fine with every Caucasian.

As a person who has seen many cities and countries I can say that there is no other land in Russia, where people rely as much on their traditions.

There is an opinion that the Caucasians are «grabbing hold» of these traditions.

Let's be realistic: all will pass away, and this tradition too. Civilization will replace archaic - no need to rush things. If ruined roads are replaced with new highways, and the inhabitants of Vladikavkaz communal households will be resettled to the faceless tower-blocks - what the photographer will shot then? I love the archaic, I love traditions, and I am glad that the North Caucasus is dominated by the archaic, often in a strange way. We were filming Dargavs necropolis – the famous Ossetian city of the dead - in bad weather. Skulls, bones were in a snowy mist. And you do not feel you are in the XXI century.

«Mountains – that is hard»

What was your typical shooting day?

First of all, no matter how long you were planning something – you will always get terrible time trouble. Secondly, it is necessary to know exactly where you are going to be at dawn and at sunset, because the lighting cannot be repeated. A typical day starts at four in the morning, because you have to go somewhere. Or fly - warm up the engine and take off together with the sunrise. Everything is usually carefully planned, but goes differently and not as you hoped.

And the most important thing happens on your way to the goal.

This may be a weather change, different light or some unexpected meeting. One day we were driving somewhere in Ingushetia and suddenly saw the ruins. It looked like once it was the tower, and the ruins can be seen now near the gorge. And what was the most surprising – they are inhabited. People live there, one elderly couple cultivates bees. This is their generic place - head of the family told us about the history of the family and how they are trying to bring back some rights on this tower.

This story was worth the day-long drive.

«Every man must visit the Caucasus» - is it your phrase?

Yes, it is mine. But there is no gender-based prejudice. I had in mind Russian aristocratic tradition when the officers and scientists travelled to the Russian Caucasus. They went into exile, to war, to be treated for tuberculosis: there are brigands, then Pyatigorsk water society - all that was more interesting for a young man, than a boring capital.

Of course, in the XIX century it referred very often to the initiation of a young man, but nowadays young people are free to go for it anywhere they want. Rather, I meant that one should go for such a journey in a manhood, after you have visited a lot of places, because, you know, journey to the Caucasus is going back to basics in a certain sense.

It was a surprising discovery for me, that Lermontov's «Demon» that I was learning by heart at school, is not a metaphor, but a real travel guide to the Caucasus describing everything literally. Just in rhyme, not prose. There is everything one must know about the Caucasus: «Terek, jumping like a lion» (it jumps less because of the power plant, but nevertheless), «castle towers on the rocks» (in Ingush Vovnushki, for example), «golden clouds», and «mountains that view menacing through the fog» - here they are on the pictures I’ve taken in large quantities. No one has ever described Elbrus better than Pushkin did: «thrones of eternal snows» out of «The Prisoner of the Caucasus» - a very capacious characteristic.

And yet – why do you say «every man»? What must he find there?

Because mountains - it's hard. It's an adventure, and if you're lucky – then also a test. And because this trip expands the horizon of knowledge incredibly.

If a person has never been in the mountains, he cannot even imagine what's inside the vertical world and how people live there.

To feel the risk and danger in the mountains you don’t need to be an alpinist. You don’t need to climb up the hill to get an extra adrenaline - sometimes it is enough just to go to the spring in winter.

Then you realize that the expression «man is the conqueror of Nature» is just an illusion of those who live in the warmth and comfort. Not a single knotweed will agree with that, because he knows that once you take a step away from civilization, and the mountains will give you a chance to feel who you really are.

After all, according to Reinhold Messner words, the mountains are not fair or unfair. They are simply dangerous.