First solo show by esteemed Russian photojournalist Evgeny Feldman

Evgeny Feldman is a celebrated Russian photojournalist renowned for documenting political and social upheavals. From 2011 to 2022, Feldman closely followed Alexei Navalny’s evolution from an anti-corruption blogger to a prominent opposition leader challenging Vladimir Putin's regime.

His photographs provide a visceral, unfiltered look into Navalny’s life: electrifying speeches at mass protests, quiet moments of reflection, arrests, brutal crackdowns, and the relentless persecution Navalny endured. Feldman’s work also reveals the resilience of Navalny's movement, offering viewers an intimate glimpse into both the public and private sides of a historic struggle for democracy.

Feldman’s photography has been widely published, contributing significantly to international awareness of Navalny’s activism and the broader political landscape in Russia. As a member of Meduza, Russia's leading independent news outlet operating in exile in Latvia, Feldman has been instrumental in amplifying the voices of those resisting state oppression.

When I first saw Alexey Navalny, I hated the guy.

In 2011, I was a young photographer starting at the liberal newspaper Novaya Gazeta. I covered the radical opposition, which meant photographing covert actions with a handful of participants, attending presentations of pompous coalitions with only a few hundred attendees, or capturing rare rallies with thousands. I loved it.

At that time, Navalny was a scandalous blogger cursing the ruling party during interviews and launching his anti-corruption campaign. Worse still, he was engaging with nationalists. His idea was simply to co-opt someone new to the opposition and change its ways to make it more effective. He seemed too radical, too active, too political!

My attitude changed a few months later when his tactics proved effective. The Kremlin attempted to steal the parliamentary election, and Alexey managed to unite the already active liberals with the angry internet users. A wave of protests ensued, and suddenly, hundreds of thousands filled the squares.

It still wasn’t enough to break the regime, and Putin started counterpunching. Of the opposition leaders active in 2011, only a few kept their stance or stayed in Russia. Navalny, however, became increasingly active and outspoken as more pressure was applied to him. He ran for Moscow mayor while simultaneously being tried, and then his brother was imprisoned. Navalny’s offices were raided, and he was constantly attacked and harassed.

Early on, I felt he was someone I needed to be near to witness history. The more I covered him, the more we learned about each other. I admired his unbreakability, and he allowed me as much access as I wanted.

When Navalny ran for president in 2017, I knew I had to cover it as much as possible. Independent media couldn’t afford it, so we reached a public agreement: his campaign would fund my work without restricting my access or seeing photos before publication. I doubt there was ever a politician who could agree to such terms!

Navalny faced many challenges during that campaign. His volunteers were attacked, his staffers jailed, and he himself was sprayed with a caustic liquid, nearly losing his eyesight. Despite this, we criss-crossed Russia for a year. Navalny gathered tens of thousands of supporters in cities that had never seen a proper protest.

Although he was denied a spot on the ballot, his movement kept growing. The problem was, unbeknownst to us, government-sent murderers were shadowing us, studying Navalny’s habits and patterns. In 2020, they received the signal to poison Alexey.

I wasn’t nearby when he collapsed on a plane and was miraculously saved by doctors in Omsk. Alexey was transferred to Germany and imprisoned immediately upon his return. I was forced to leave Russia.

We wrote to each other extensively while he was kept in unbearable conditions. Navalny remained optimistic, encouraging me and others to act and not succumb to despair. His letters continued to arrive for two months after his death in a penal colony on the Polar Circle.

Dr. Ksenia Radchenko

Marking the solemn one-year anniversary of Alexei Navalny’s death in a Siberian penal colony, Evgeniy Feldman’s photography exhibition This Is Navalny – the inaugural exhibition for Goldstone Gallery – stands as a powerful tribute to Russia’s opposition leader. The exhibition features over a decade of Feldman’s work documenting Navalny’s extraordinary journey. Feldman’s evocative lens captures not only the life and activism of a man who challenged authoritarianism but also the resilience and courage of a movement that continues to fight in his absence. Through these photographs, Feldman navigates the intersection of political resistance and personal sacrifice, offering a nuanced portrayal of Navalny’s enduring legacy.

Feldman’s work serves as a visual account of Navalny’s political journey: from his emergence as an anti-corruption advocate to his role as a symbol of resistance against Vladimir Putin’s regime. Feldman captures the energy, tension, and human cost of political defiance. Through his lens, Feldman seeks neutrality while not aligning himself with the movement as he documents an unfolding historical narrative.

The exhibition spans across four gallery rooms highlighting Navalny’s activism and the evolving landscape of Russian opposition politics. Early campaign images highlight a rare moment of optimism and grassroots mobilization, while later works depict the increasingly repressive measures taken by the state. Feldman’s attention to detail and ability to capture fleeting emotions lend the photographs a sense of immediacy, drawing viewers into the unfolding narrative.

Feldman’s work is not merely a document of events; it is a call to preserve memory and foster understanding. Photography, traditionally viewed as a neutral medium, becomes in Feldman’s hands a powerful tool of resistance and testimony. His images remind us that even in the face of defeat, the act of bearing witness carries profound significance. By focusing on Navalny’s actions, expressions, and interactions, Feldman humanizes the opposition leader, presenting him as a courageous individual driven by conviction rather than as a distant political figure. This humanizing impulse aligns Feldman with the traditions of photographers such as Robert Capa and Dorothea Lange, whose works immortalized historical upheavals while never reducing their subjects to mere symbols. Like Capa and Lange, Feldman blends artistic sensitivity with journalistic integrity, ensuring his subjects retain their complexity and are presented within their full historical context.

In one of Feldman’s most iconic images, Navalny and his closest allies stride forward with purpose, their movements imbued with an almost cinematic energy. Taken from a low angle, the photograph elevates its subjects, transforming them into symbols of resilience and hope, with Navalny’s red tie sharply contrasting the swirling snowflakes, a vivid marker of his defiance. Yet this heroic image exists alongside others: the raided, vandalized apartment filled with simple, homely belongings, or tender moments shared with his wife. Feldman’s work captures this duality, portraying Navalny not only as a symbol of resistance but as a man grappling with vulnerability and fear, thus challenging the reductive narratives of authoritarian propaganda that often strip dissidents of their humanity.

Feldman’s photography consistently juxtaposes the fervour of public demonstrations with moments of personal reflection, conveying both individual and collective experiences. His images recall the emotionally charged work of Sebastião Salgado, whose photographs of human struggle evoke a deep empathy for the subjects they depict. In a similar vein, Feldman invites the viewer to witness not only the grand political spectacle but also the intimate, quiet moments that punctuate the lives of those resisting oppression.

The mercurial nature of Navalny’s character is reinforced through Feldman’s compositional choices. Rather than static portraits, Feldman captures Navalny in perpetual motion, his gaze never fixed on the viewer but always directed outward—toward the next rally, the next challenge, the next horizon. This dynamic framing conveys a sense of urgency and determination, drawing the viewer into the momentum of events and positioning them as an engaged witness rather than a passive observer. While Navalny’s dynamic presence dominates the frame in many of the photographs, the blurred, faceless masses of police and guards often loom ominously in the background or more often, in the foreground. These recurring motifs serve as visual metaphors for the oppressive machinery of the state.

Engaging with the aesthetics of composition, light, and atmosphere to create images that resonate emotionally and symbolically, Feldman’s photography goes beyond the immediacy of photojournalism. The deliberate use of chiaroscuro, dynamic framing, and temporal stillness in Feldman’s photographs transforms them into visual narratives that transcend their documentary origins. Images of protestors lit by the glow of streetlights or framed against imposing architecture emphasize the symbolic tension between individual agency and systemic oppression. Such aesthetic choices elevate Feldman’s work, making it not merely a record of events but a meditation on the emotional and philosophical dimensions of political resistance.

Roland Barthes, in Camera Lucida, distinguishes between the studium—the cultural, historical, or political context of a photograph—and the punctum—the detail that pierces the viewer on a deeply personal level. Feldman’s work exemplifies this duality, offering an intellectual engagement with the political landscape of Russia while also evoking visceral emotional responses. The studium of Feldman’s photographs lies in their documentation of Navalny’s activism and the broader struggle against authoritarianism. Through these images, viewers engage with the political narratives of resistance, defiance, and surveillance that shape the opposition movement. Yet it is the punctum—the fleeting, intimate details—that imbue these photographs with enduring emotional power. A tear in a protester’s eye, the soft glow of light illuminating a banner, or the momentary vulnerability captured in Navalny’s expression transcend the specific political context, resonating with universal themes of courage, loss, and hope.

As Feldman writes in his recent book Dreamers and Cosmonauts, “We marched in protests, searched for the truth, wrote manifestos, delivered final statements, declared hunger strikes, refused to cooperate with the state, resigned in protest, tried to reach out to others, or simply created. Let it be that it all led to nothing. Let it be that now we are scattered across the world, stripped of the professions we loved, living with a sense of guilt. But we - existed.” His words resonate deeply with the role of photography as a witness to history. Each photograph stands as irrefutable evidence of what once transpired, offering a profound affirmation of existence. In a world where words falter and memories fade, the photograph persists—a testament to the courage of those who resisted, ensuring that their actions endure.

This is Navalny not only reveals the public face of resistance but also the deeply personal toll of living under an authoritarian regime. It chronicles the bravery of protesters flooding the streets, artists creating powerful visual statements, and activists confronting power. Yet it also bears witness to the quieter, more intimate realities of resistance: the homes left behind, the families fractured, the friends imprisoned. Feldman himself was forced into exile in Latvia in 2022, underscoring the personal stakes involved in documenting dissent under authoritarian regimes.

This exhibition is more than just the history of a political movement; it is the history of loss, endurance, and resilience. The absence of Navalny—a figure whose unwavering resolve inspired hope even in the darkest moments—looms large. His death a year ago left a profound mark on the movement and on those who believed in his vision. Yet, through Feldman’s work, his legacy persists, a testament to the idea that the struggle for freedom, no matter the cost, is never truly in vain.