The pain of others... Anne-Marie Atkinson

The pain of others…
Anne-Marie Atkinson



Among the harrowing, though non-explicit, images of scarred arms, red-light price lists, dingy bedrooms decorated with pornographic cut-outs, ram-shackle houses and women struggling to regain their lives, one little old lady strikes a meaningful chord.

Dana Popa’s current exhibition, not Natasha, at Bradford Impressions Gallery from 5th Fed until 18th April 2010, brings the disgusting abuses experienced by Eastern European girls who are tricked and trafficked into enforced prostitution into the public forum. A series of surrounding events and lectures, coinciding with the 100th Anniversary of International Woman’s Day, have furthered the push of ABP, who funded the project, to bring these issues into debate, using Popa’s work as an illustration.

To enrich the power of the work there are 3 clear strands within it: the girls themselves (escapees, recovering in women's shelters), the spaces that trafficked girls work in (brothel bedrooms in Soho) and the spaces the girls have let behind. With up to 50% of the female population of Moldova victims of trafficking at any one time, the magnitude of these spaces is a daunting prospect, almost inconceivable to those in Western Europe. Whole villages left bare of female presence; children with missing mothers; mothers with missing daughters… The image of Tanya, which itself contains another image, shows exactly this.

Denoting a fake, poster backdrop of an idyllic waterfall scene disturbingly incongruous with the subject matter, Tanya looks directly camera with a complex expression. She ponders her missing daughter, the image of which she holds tenderly in her hand, and at first there is sadness. Continue to gaze into her tear-brimmed eyes and a glimmer of hope is revealed, at being given the opportunity to tell her story. Finally the stillness of the image, which the backdrop accentuates, connotes a sense of acceptance, possibly of the worst. This static image produces peaks and troughs of emotion, but we can only be left asking, in the words of Mark Sealy, “What will become of them?”

The headscarf worn by Tanya and the way in which she holds her hands forward is reminiscent of religious imagery: nuns clutching rosaries. This links to another photograph in the exhibition denoting images of Mary, Jesus and angels on a girl’s dresser, which is more like a shrine. The connotation of the innocence and benevolence of the victims, and turning to God out of faith and desperation when the worst happens, furthers the power behind the project.

With only Tanya in focus and the image of her daughter Alexeeva excluded from the shallow depth of field, we are drawn entirely into the emotion of the subject. Unlike many of the other images in the exhibition, which put focus on the horrors experienced by the girls themselves, this image asks us to consider from an alternative point of view, the pain of others.

Human trafficking is a global industry, the most lucrative illegal business amassing more wealth each year than the drug trade (estimated at minimum $12 billion), and so the scope of those affected by it must clearly be huge. The invitation to consider the range of its impact seems new, complex, although entirely relevant.