Eddo Hartmann - The Sacrifice Zone
Huis Marseille, Amsterdam
As I step into the old yet well-lit halls of Huis Marseille, the anticipation of experiencing Eddo Hartmann's latest project, "The Sacrifice Zone," hangs in the air. It's not my first encounter with him, but the first time coming up with the work face-to-face. The familiarity adds a layer of excitement as I walk up the many creaky stairs of the canal house.
Hartmann's lens takes me to the unforgiving steppe of Kazakhstan, a landscape that, until recently, remained obscure on the world map. The geopolitical shifts triggered by the war in Ukraine and the resurgence of the Silk Road have turned this once-hidden terrain into a focal point of global attention. "The Polygon," an open-air laboratory during the Cold War, now exists as an embodiment of the scars left by the most destructive nuclear tests in history.
Equipped with equipment protecting him against radiation alongside his camera gear, Hartmann immerses us in the harsh reality of the landscape, capturing not just its physical remnants but also the resilient spirit of the people who call it home. The images oscillate between stark portraits and surreal landscapes, offering an immersive experience that goes beyond mere observation – it evokes a sense of being able to feel the fabric and texture of life in the steppe - the crumbling asphalt, scorched glass, and the strange water-filled craters.
The vast emptiness of the steppe permeates almost every frame, emphasizing its unrelenting nature. A highlight of the exhibition is Hartmann's work from the epicentre of the nuclear test zone, where the protective clothing lends the photographs an otherwordly air. Through the lens of an infrared camera, the green steppe transforms into an intense red, revealing just how contaminated the area remains. Despite this, the zone remains populated by several small towns where people seem to have pushed the fear of radioactivity out of their consciousness. It makes it all the more dramatic from the perspective of the viewer who imagines the particles travelling through the ecosystem by means of contaminated food, while inhabitants of the region seem dismissive of the effects.
As I traverse the exhibition, I grapple with the notion of photography as testimony, a theme that echoes throughout Hartmann's oeuvre and the exhibition. The images serve as a visual time capsule, which is brought into the present through the varied portraiture of inhabitants and their spirit in the face of adversity. The act of documenting events from decades ago raises questions about representation, distance, and the nuanced balance between beauty and desolation.
"The Sacrifice Zone" invites contemplation on the hidden histories of nations, urging the viewer to confront what limitations their “reality” might carry. It aligns with photography's intrinsic ability to unveil the unseen, even as the consequences of large-scale contamination reveal themselves over time. As I leave Huis Marseille, the consequences of human actions on the environment, the palpable tension between past and present, linger in my thoughts.
