Among the world's forgotten geniuses, Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii stands in the first rank. He was a chemist by trade but developed a pioneering color-slide camera and, in the early 1900s, made more than 2,000 images of remote landscapes, industries, monasteries and people in the empire of Russia's last czar, Nicholas II.
Miraculously surviving World War I, the Bolshevik Revolution and the vagaries of history, his glass-plate photos ended up in the United States and were purchased by the Library of Congress. There they languished, virtually unseen, for 60 years.
Now 23 of his images are on view in a stunning display at the Museum of Russian Art in south Minneapolis through Sept. 13. The exhibit testifies eloquently to the ingenuity of both artist and museum. In its exploration of Russian history and technology, and its celebration of an unsung talent, "The Lost Empire: Photographer to the Tsar" is a smart program expansion at an institution founded less than a decade ago primarily to promote Soviet-era realist painting.
Pioneering photographer
Prokudin-Gorskii (1863-1944) had to abandon his camera and projector when he fled Russia in 1918 and there is no replica or diagram to show how the equipment worked. Each of his 3- by 9-inch glass plates contains three virtually identical images, shot respectively through red, green and blue filters. When projected through a special three-lens projector, the images converged into a single, full-color image. But the original glass plates are too fragile for a long exhibit.
So, working with images digitized by the Library of Congress, the museum enlarged the photos onto mylar sheets fitted into custom-built light boxes. Installed in a darkened gallery where the boxes and even the walls seem to disappear, the images glow with cinematic brilliance.
Pale summer light dances off the silvery domes and white walls of the 500-year-old St. Nil monastery, a pristine palace on the shores of Lake Seliger. Greek peasants harvesting tea leaves stare curiously at the camera from a hillside in Georgia, and a family crouches in the stubble of a field by artfully twisted wheat sheaves near the Mariinsk Canal. Glorious cumulus clouds sail over the plains of Borodino outside Moscow where, in 1812, Russian forces confronted Napoleon's troops in a battle memorialized in Leo Tolstoy's novel "War and Peace."
The scenes go on -- a multidomed mosque in Uzbekistan nestles into a greening hillside pocked with sunken graves, a bearded hermit sits beside his ragged lean-to in a Siberian clearing, miners in horse-drawn carts peer wearily from terraced digs in an iron-ore mine outside Ekaterinburg, Jewish children in colorful Mongolian robes crowd around a bearded elder on a plaza in Samarkand.