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If you didn't know the context (if only!), this is two people embracing. Someone is clinging to someone else, almost pressing themselves into the other person's body. At the same time, someone is accepting and holding the other, becoming a support and allowing them to fall into themselves: here, I'm holding you, I won't move.
This photograph, without telling the story of these people's lives, creates a very strong physical empathy. If you don't know the context, you can imagine that such a photo could have been taken during a war, behind the lines, after a flood or volcanic eruption, at a train station in front of a train — these embraces are like the language of those who have waited.
However, there is context. This is one of Serhiy Morgunov's photographs, taken during the May exchange, when Ukrainian soldiers held captive by Russia returned home, along with civilians. And with context, this body language becomes a little more understandable. It is important — just a little more understandable, not completely understandable, because such feelings cannot be shared, like bread or an apple, among everyone around. This is a language in which two people, or even just one, are overwhelmed.
The shot is extremely tight. There is no background, no space. The gaze does not wander, but slides along the shaved head and down to the neck, down the back to the hand and fingers, which sink into the fabric. There is nowhere to look away.
This photo is about touch, and I am impressed by it — it is a portrait of touch. And what's more, it is relief: with bends, hollows, slopes. The body is like a rock, like a bend in a river, like a ravine. Such a story can be read not only with the eyes, but also with the fingers.
This photograph echoes images from art. There is something of Gustav Klimt's “Embrace” here. However, while Klimt's embrace is like decorative infinity, here it is dark reality: the bodies are not illuminated by gold, they have returned from darkness. So this is my mistaken view. There is a much stronger echo of the intimate physical graphics of German artist Käthe Kollwitz. In her works, too, someone is always hugging someone else, as if wanting to hide them inside themselves: holding children, clasping hands, losing, trying to protect. There is a gesture, a touch, a hug, many hugs, a lot of body, while the faces are often not visible or are overshadowed. There is only a physical moment. The most similar motif can be found in her 1920s series War, which became her testimony to the war, which was also called great at the time, but naively did not yet have a serial number.
Photo: Serhiy Morgunov
Text: Vira Kuryko
