A book like this can’t be simple if done honestly — and the book you’ve opened is honest. This honesty makes it either a thrilling adventure from which it’s impossible to return, no matter how far you go with the protagonists, or a deep existential dive from which it’s impossible to tear yourself away, no matter how frightening, unbearable, heartbreaking, or painful it may be.
Katerina Gordeeva
leading journalist and documentary filmmaker who was designated as a “foreign agent” by the Russian government in 2022; her interviews can be found with English subtitles on her YouTube channel, TellGordeeva
Photography: Dasha Karetnikova Texts: Katerina Gordeeva, George Probstein, Dasha Karetnikova Design: Dudar Translation: George Probstein Language: English Editionof 500 copies(60 of them include a signed limited edition print)
Artists Solidarity Program Europe (ASoP) financed by
The Gulag was a system of forced-labor camps in the USSR that reached its peak during Stalin’s rule.
Dasha Karetnikova’s father was born in ALZhIR (the Akmolinsk Camp of Wives of Traitors to the Motherland), northern Kazakhstan in 1938. Her grandmother, a music teacher, was arrested in Moscow while she was pregnant and sent to the camp for 8 years. The children of the prisoners lived in complete isolation, separated from their mothers by barbed wire.
Dasha’s grandmother taught the commandant’s children to play piano. When she heard that a committee was coming to place the children into an orphanage, she told the commandant that if her son was taken away, she would not teach his children piano anymore. He announced quarantine for the entire camp—thus, none of the children were taken. Dasha’s father first saw his mother at the age of 8, when they were freed. They were deprived of civil rights until Stalin’s death.
The book's title, "Motherland hears, Motherland knows", refers to the name and opening line of a song the author’s father once sang in front of Joseph Stalin as a member of the leading Soviet boys' choir.
From Kazakhstan, Georgia, Russia, these photographs, alongside a collection of historical materials, document the travels which Dasha undertook with her father between 2019 and 2023. Researching deep into historical events and revisiting the cities and places where he lived and worked during and after his imprisonment, this collaborative road-trip between Dasha and her father attempts to piece together the uncertainties about his past, which he had spent a lifetime trying to make sense of.
“I never took dad’s warnings about the future seriously... I needed to travel with my dad to the places that he always talked about, and to fully hear him out. It was a serious trial for us both, but neither the pandemic nor emigration stopped us.”
After having been born in the Gulag in 1938 and living in the shadows of accusations, he was once again threatened by state authorities in old age in 2022. Despite lifelong attempts and the intense process of making this book, Dasha’s father died in 2024 without knowing exactly why his mother was arrested so many years ago.
This project would not have been possible without the support of Simon Mraz, Dr. Helga Rabl-Stadler, Artists Solidarity Program Europe (ASoP) financed by BMEIA, Dialog Büro Vienna and people whom we cannot name for their safety.
In KarLag’s former administrative building, 2023. Today, it’s the Dolinka Museum for the Commemoration of Victims of Political Repression (KarLag Museum)
20 June 1940 Olya, you must understand: that which doesn’t move, doesn’t grow, and doesn’t develop dies. It’s a law of life. You know it better than anyone else! That’s why I understand your wounded pride and the whirlwind of emotions you’re feeling. But I don’t ask for much from you, only a bit of attention and your response — to know how hard it is for you and our son in captivity. If you don’t want to answer for some reasons unknown to me, then write just 2 words — or even one!?! And I’ll fall silent. Don’t take this as a reproach, it’s a necessity! I treat you and the boy, a drop of my blood, as well and simply as a human being can.
Gently kissing you both
Your Nikolai
a letter from my grandfather (Nikolai)
to my grandmother (Olga/Olya) in the camp
The painted vault of the church across from the house where my father lived while he was teaching at the Kaluga College of Music. 2020
19.9.59 Dear mom, hello! At last, I received a letter from you. I don’t know if I need to fend off all the accusations you make, but I can’t help responding to some of them. You’re right that you suffered a lot because of me, more than because of anyone else. Yes, I’m guilty before you of many things. Children are always guiltier before their mothers than anyone else. It’s likely that I’m more guilty than others. Sometimes I think it would be much calmer without my existence at all. I’ve often thought of helping this along. You were always the counterweight to all this, you and only you. Don’t think that I wouldn’t have the strength — if we won’t call it the will — to end your suffering. Oh, if only I were sure that it would end! And as for what the public would think, I really don’t give a damn anymore.
<...> Garik
letter from my dad (Georgy/Garik)
to my grandmother (Olga)
A spring under the cross in the street of Kutaisi (Georgia),
where dad spent his youth. 2023
Dad tells me:
"We rented from this one woman who was a former KGB captain and a Catholic Georgian at that. Komarishvili — but really, Komarova. She spoke Russian. But the notion of the KGB there, in Georgia... it was peculiar. Because we know that Stalin, with Beria, carried out the first mass purges precisely in Georgia. They purged the Georgian intelligentsia like no one had ever destroyed it before. That’s why the attitude towards us, Russians who came from the camps, was ideal. The intelligentsia, naturally, knew what was going on. Especially since it was after the XX Party Congress, when Khrushchev spoke and revealed this universal evil to all the republics. [Khrushchev delivered his Secret Speech denouncing Stalin’s cult of personality, launching a wave of de-Stalinization.] Everyone suffered, but he began with Georgia."
The bathtub in which Stalin bathed, Tskaltubo. 2023
Dad tells me:
Neuhaus went there, mom’s teacher in Kyiv. [Heinrich Neuhaus was a well-known Russian pianist and music teacher.] When mom was rehabilitated, she arranged a sanatorium voucher for him — his hands hurt — to the Tskaltubo spa resort, for the hot springs and baths. [In the USSR, staying at spa towns, sanatoriums, and other tourist destinations required a voucher, which were difficult to get.] She went there herself after the camps; her hands and joints ached. Many people from Moscow went there, even Stalin used to go there for treatment. There’s a special mineral spring or bath where Stalin used to bathe. I’ve always said that life takes twists and turns: first he bathed there — then the convicts.
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