Nowa

Huta

Nowa Huta stands as a testament to the ambitious urban planning of socialist realism, a design movement and cultural doctrine of the Soviet Union. Architecture was weaponised by the creators of social order, with buildings and urban spaces engineered to ‘arouse a feeling of persistence and fear’. 

The provisional pro-Communist coalition government was instated at the Yalta Conference at the behest of Joseph Stalin. An exiled Polish government was powerless to the Soviet leader’s advances. Having guaranteed the Allies that they would preserve Polish sovereignty and allow for democratic elections, Stalin and the Soviet authorities falsified election results to add legitimacy to Soviet influence over Polish affairs.

The coalition government, influenced by the Soviets, built a large steelworks in the vicinity of Kraków. Nowa Huta was born. The town was designed to provide housing and amenities for the workers of the steelworks, formerly known as The Lenin Steelworks, but today called 'the Tadeusz Sendzimir Steelworks', with a series of self-contained neighbourhoods, each with schools, healthcare facilities, and recreational spaces. Wide boulevards and expansive squares were constructed to facilitate communal gatherings and political demonstrations, emphasising the importance of collective identity and solidarity.

Created in 1949, Nowa Huta was composed of the repossessed former villages of Mogiła, Pleszów and Krzesławice: initially a separate city from nearby Krakow, it became a district of Poland's second-largest city in 1951. 

Soviet influence over the people of Nowa Huta during the mid-20th century was widespread in its neglect of a distinct, Polish identity. The denial of residents' Catholic faith, evidenced in the refusal of consent to build a church before 1960 and the removal of a crudely erected wooden cross by authorities, led to violent demonstrations with riot police. Bishop Karol Wojtyla, who later began his papacy as Pope John Paul II in 1978, held Christmas Eve Midnight Masses and regularly reinstated the cross in rebellion. His actions paved the way for a church that was constructed between 1969 and 1977, though the Pope was never permitted to visit the site after its completion.

The political liberalisation of Poland, the Polish October of 1956, saw a burgeoning influence of modernist-style architecture, with buildings that adhered to the ideals of Le Corbusier. Soviet influence was still present, with the unveiling of the ‘Avenue of Roses’ in 1973, upon which a statue of Vladimir Lenin was erected. It stood until 1989: its dismantling was a symbol of the Soviet Union’s decline. The name of Lenin has been wiped from sites in the city, with recognition instead granted to Pope John Paul II and Polish war heroes, such as Władysław Anders. The city is now reflective of wider Poland, a western-looking, Central European nation, whose ideals are based upon the tenets of democracy and capitalism. Their identity continues to starkly contrast with neighbouring Russia.

Our research of Nowa Huta led us to the work of James Talalay, and a series of images that capture the essence and identity of the Cracovian district and its people. James explains how the work was made below.

WT: What led you to become interested in photographing Nowa Huta and its people?

JT: In 2015, I signed up for a documentary photography workshop based in Krakow. It was my first visit to Poland and I didn’t know anything about Nowa Huta. The workshop folks asked me what types of places and subjects I liked to photograph. I mentioned my interest in subjects with some history, interesting architecture, and a sense of place. Right away, they thought of Nowa Huta and it turned out to be a perfect experience.

WT: How did people respond to the presence of the camera?

JT: The people were great. I had a local contact with me to translate and he helped to approach people, explain what we were doing, and see if they would be comfortable posing. I don’t remember anyone turning us down. Frequently, after taking someone’s photograph, that person would then lead us to another person who became a subject to photograph. Once you tell someone what you are doing, it’s almost as if they also want to help your project.

WT: Is there a particular moment or photograph that holds significant meaning for you?

JT: There isn’t one photograph or moment that is more special to me than any other image from the Nowa Huta project. When conducting a project, the goal is to get a certain number of great images, work well together, and tell your story in equal measure. When I look at my Nowa Huta images, I think they hang together well and accomplish what I wanted with the project.

I’m not a traditional documentary photographer. I didn’t spend weeks in Nowa Huta, hanging out, getting to know people and their families. With the workshop, I didn’t have the time. I was also concentrating on images, and visuals, not so much embedding myself in other people’s lives. Creating a good image is independent of having a great experience. I strive for both things, careful not to let one affect the other.

I also like to leave my portraits a bit open-ended to let the viewer use their imagination to determine who is the person in the portrait. I want to let the subject’s unique features and background environment be the information to inform the viewer’s impressions.

WT: You’ve documented people and places across the world, did making this work change the way you approached future projects? If so, how?

JT: This work and the process of making it had a big effect on my photography. The workshop helped me look at my images with a more critical eye, to pay attention to every detail, and question and justify what I was photographing. Nowa Huta was the perfect subject to improve my work; such great people, environments, (and a) sense of history to record.