FiLM.45: February 2012

Disclosure: All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

These are photos from my artists book 'The Deserter'. This is a story about a Russian soldier's escape from the Battle of Stalingrad in November of 1942. Furthermore it is a love story between the soldier who is named Alexei and his loved one he left behind, Anastasia. He is essentially escaping for his life and to see Anastasia again. I based this story off of the Russian folk song 'Katyusha', which in all honesty was propaganda in some ways. The song is about a soldier who is going to war and leaving his beloved behind, but it's all OK because he is guarding the Mother Land. Through my sarcasm, I actually love the song, I think it is beautiful and romantic, but it is propaganda in more than a few ways. This story is my response to the song. Alexei views his love for Anastasia as being more important than fighting, and most likely dying for his country. So my story based around the song is ironic. These are all scattered thoughts about 'The Deserter' and one day I will have to organize them so that when I talk about it, it doesn't sound like disorganized ramblings. I have a lot of thoughts I want to share about it, but it's really disorganized at this point and writing as I am thinking doesn't help. Anyways I wrote a letter from Alexei's point of view, and the reason why it is significant and some things I want you to keep in mind as you read it is that when you desert in the military, there is no one to punish but your family. Just keep that in mind. Personally I think the experience of this artist's book is compromised by looking at it online but there is only one and probably will only be one, oh well. I worked on this for a good three months, it was a school project and I'm proud of this so enjoy!

Format:
Artist's Book
8x10 prints, Fiber Paper, Matte Finish
35mm Black and White Film, T-Max, 400 ISO

Alexei's Letter:

Dearest Anastasia,

I am not sure how to start this story other than to say I am sorry. I realize now it was a mistake to run from my comrades, but what was I to do? Many of us were given rifles with no ammunition, or no rifle with our ammunition. I was lucky enough to receive nothing. When I asked my officer if I would receive a weapon, he scoffed and said, “Pick one off the nearest dead comrade.” We were not even given food rations or proper clothing. We were lucky however, the civilians who didn’t flee, were worse off. I could not stay. I wouldn’t stay. I am writing this for one purpose, closure. You have a right to know what happened.

With Love,

Alexei

P.S. Burn this