During perestroika and the early years of Belarus's independence, Syarhey Brushko worked as a photojournalist, capturing poignant black-and-white photos of a country transitioning from a Soviet republic to an independent nation. This period also saw the rise of Alyaksandr Lukashenka, the country's authoritarian leader -- who still rules today.
In 2000, at the age of 42, Brushko passed away after suffering from Raynaud's disease. He left behind a collection of images that capture this turbulent time.
His son, Dzmitry Brushko, has given RFE/RL a glimpse into the life and works of his photojournalist father.
From Geologist To Photographer
Brushko was born in the small village of Haradzyeya in the Nyasvizh district, southwest of Minsk. At the age of 7, he was given a camera and quickly developed a passion for photography. He later studied geology at Belarusian State University, often spending his time in the school's photo lab perfecting his printing skills.
"My grandfather did not understand photography, often asking, 'What kind of profession is being a photographer?'" Dzmitry recalled.
After his studies, Brushko pursued his passion for photography, first working in a photo studio in Salihorsk and later for the local newspaper, where his work began to be noticed. Eventually, he was invited to work for the larger Banner of Youth and Chirvonka newspapers, both of which had broad circulations of more than 500,000 copies in the late 1980s.
"Dad had to live in a photo lab in the basement of the printing house. I remember this place well. I can still hear the rumble of subway trains there. It was forbidden to stay in the facility at night, and a policeman was on guard," Dzmitry recounted.
Severe Reprimand Without Reprimand
The newspaper where Brushko worked was youth-oriented and reformist, which often attracted the ire of officials.
"My dad was repeatedly called 'on the carpet' by the local officials. He would come back from there and joke, 'Severe reprimand without reprimand.'
"We have one family trait: In extreme situations, we joke," Dzmitry said, before adding, "Laughter kills fear and brings you to consciousness."
Lessons Of Love And Life
Dzmitry studied art and dreamed of attending Minsk State College, the center of art life in Belarus. However, his father had other ideas.
"Dad said that I don't need to learn a specialty. 'You will make connections, and I will teach you,'" Dzmitry recalled his father saying.
Despite being ill, Brushko trained Dzmitry in the technical and artistic aspects of photography.
"My dad also taught me about life. On the first floor, there were photo laboratories with ventilation. When they were drinking vodka, you could hear the clinking of glasses throughout Belarus. They also knew Dad's voice. When he yelled at me [for some transgression], they would nod their heads in sympathy and smile," Dzmitry reminisced.
The Burning Of His Legacy
If his father had not died so early, Dzmitry admits he would never have gone into photojournalism. The then-19-year-old says he was deeply touched by the words of his father's colleagues at his funeral, one of whom pointed out that his father had left behind a great legacy of photos that needed to be preserved.
Brushko's archive was stored in the editorial office of the Narodnaya gazeta. Colleagues said that immediately after his death, the newspaper decided to remove his work.
"My father had already moved some of his archive to his grandmother's house. A significant part of the archive lay there for six years, until she died," Dzmitry said.
"After her death, I asked my relatives not to throw away the archive. Unfortunately, they burned part of it. They also burned a photo from the exhibition that was in the National Art Museum. They did keep the glass plates for use in the greenhouses."
Extremist Recognition After Death
In 2015, the then-Belarusian ambassador to France, Paval Latushka, invited journalists to Paris for Belarusian Fashion Week.
This was also a chance for Dzmitry to move parts of his father's legacy outside of Belarus for safekeeping. Brushko's works had earlier been labeled "extremist" by the Lukashenka government after they were featured in the 2013 edition of Press Photos Of Belarus.
"The book contained photos by Sergei Gudilin of the Belarusian Army. There was a part on Chernobyl and my dad's documentary photos about life in the '80s and '90s. About 30 works in total. There was no politics; there were no symbols. Instead, there was a sense of time," Dzmitry explained.
Photojournalist Syarhey Brushko Chronicled Everyday Life In 1980-'90s Belarus. Not Everyone Approved.
Dzmitry was able to move some of his father's prints to Paris.
"And eventually, they came back to me. An archive is always difficult, expensive, and cumbersome. We need to know when and where it was filmed. You need to do research and learn a lot of interesting things about the history of your country. This is hard archival work for memory recovery.
"I have something to be proud of in my life: It's my father's work," Dzmitry said.
'Dad Did Everything Alone'
In 1998, Brushko had an exhibition at the National Arts Museum. The director of the museum was against it. They first offered the exhibition to another photographer, but he refused, and Brushko agreed.
"Dad was already terminally ill; he understood that he had little time left, and he literally clung to this project. This was his outlet: to go on business trips, to shoot, not to take a set of photographs but to develop a theme and reveal it," Dzmitry said.
For a year, Brushko took pictures for his final project, even venturing into the Chernobyl exclusion zone. It was at times physically demanding, often leaving him bedridden. While working on the project, he was told to register his disability, but he refused.
"He had a small apartment under the workshop, where he put a photo enlarger on top of a washing machine. Sometimes he could no longer walk and could only crawl. He did everything alone: choosing, printing, and retouching the photos," Dzmitry said. "I would often visit, though it was very painful for me to look at him."
The exhibition at the National Arts Museum became a significant event, covered by all TV channels. It was then that Brushko's father realized the importance of photography.
"He always thought it wasn't serious. And then, after reading about his son in newspapers and seeing his work on TV, he finally accepted his son's profession," Dzmitry added.
'Publish This Again And I Will Go To Court!'
At the same time, the book In Search Of Belarus was published 12 years after the Chernobyl disaster, with a circulation of 1,000 copies. However, only 50 censored copies reached Belarus, with some pages left blank, reminiscent of old newspaper censorship.
Dzmitry recounts another story about an exhibition held in the Central Cinema in 2011 under the auspices of the Znyata photo gallery. The cinema director called Dzmitry to inform him that the exhibition was canceled. Allegedly, a captain from a nearby building -- the KGB was close by -- visited and said that the exhibit discredited the country.
"The photographs at the exhibition were about life in Belarus -- nothing special, no politics. I received a call from a hidden number. The caller said, in a pleasant manner, 'I used to talk to your father, and now I have to talk to you.' He introduced himself as the deputy head of the presidential security service."
"He then shouted on the phone, 'If you publish this again, I will go to court! Where is your father?' I said, 'He died 10 years ago.' He then hung up."
"They don't like photography if it shows them from an unflattering perspective. In 20 years, they will be remembered as a boy with a pioneer badge, standing in a puddle on November 7," Dzmitry said.
Unrequited Love
In 2019, Dzmitry published the book Change, containing over 100 of his father's photos from 1988 to 1994, covering the period from the heyday of glasnost in the U.S.S.R. to the first presidential election in Belarus.
"Change is perhaps the best word in the Belarusian language that describes the historical period of the 1980s and early 1990s," Dzmitry writes in the preface to the book about his father's work.
Within a year, the entire edition was sold out. It's success was a personal triumph for Dzmitry. By 2019, the print run had ended, and by 2020, the book was out of print.
"Dad didn't take beautiful pictures; he captured what the country truly looked like. Realism is inherently connected with the social life of a person. Without social context, realism is impossible. You can't photograph a person without context.
"Dad loved his country," Dzmitry said, "but it was an unrequited love."
