"a.k.a.лічнасцi"
A rack with jeans, unexpectedly rhyming with graffiti on a glamorous poster, or a man posing under the shade of a street lamp, the symphony of the first snow and a passionately blue fence, or the unexpectedly harmonious chorus of pipes on the roof of the Minsk Tractor Works... Any scene from Zmicer Waynowski's snapshots is proof of his attention and genuine passion for observing urban life. His Minsk, like his Barcelona, Berlin, or Milan, is more than just the geometry of streets, parks, and avenues; it is an archive of personal stories from chance encounters he manages to capture during his reflective flânerie with a camera.
The series «a.k.a.лічнасцi» is compiled from snapshots posted by the author on Instagram—the second-largest social network in the world, where 800 million active users regularly share images. According to Zmicer, this platform has the potential to give street photography a second life:
“Instagram and the multimedia genre have thrown the notion of 'photographer' off its pedestal... They have destroyed the total objectivism of institutions like Magnum and Life, which once prevented the subjectivity of individual authors, and they have given photographers freedom. And what else, really, does street photography need? Nothing!”
Olivia Laing, a researcher of the phenomenon of loneliness in the big city and a writer, called speech the closest connection that modern city dwellers can achieve. “Almost all city-dwellers are daily participants in a complex part-song of voices, sometimes performing the aria but more often the chorus, the call and response, the passing back and forth of verbal small change with near and total strangers.” This metaphorical choir with individual parts of especially interesting stars is the source of inspiration for the street photographer, where speech is a visual statement. A timely heard line of a frame. Zmicer Waynowski's «a.k.a.лічнасцi»are jazz improvisations with an open ending. Attempts to hear the rhythm of the city and convey it in a new, photographic language, bringing online photography into the physical life of a real print, a way to turn the flash of a decisive moment into a timeless meditation.
Olga Bubich
