Bia艂owie偶a Forest, on the border of Poland and Belarus, is the largest surviving remnant of a vast area of primeval woodland that once stretched across Europe. The landscape has remained unchanged for millennia, surviving partly as a hunting ground for Russian Tsars and Polish Kings. It is home to more than 5,500 plant species and 11,564 animal species, including the largest population of free-ranging European bison. For photographer Nicolas Blandin, entering the forest is 鈥渓ike taking a trip back in time鈥hile letting the senses take over. The smell of grass, leaves, wood, and bark slowly returning to the earth while sustaining thousands of creatures in the perpetual cycle of life.鈥
But the journey documented in Blandin鈥檚 new photobook Puszczka (a Polish term simply meaning 鈥渙ld forest鈥) is not one of simple escapism. Bia艂owie偶a Forest was designated a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1979 and is protected by EU directives. Nonetheless, the Polish government’s ruling Law and Justice party launched a controversial logging operation in the area during 2016-2018. As such, this new book from Another Place Press tracks a timely passage through a wilderness under threat from twin forces: financial exploitation and resurgent populism.
Early images transport us to the Bia艂owie偶a meadow at dawn, a deep bay of grass where wild bison like to graze, flanked by clusters of trees and wisps of cloud lifting in the early morning light. Only one sixth of the Polish side of the forest is designated as a national park, and is therefore protected from all logging. Snaps of the woodland interior draw the eye into a lush vortex of ferns and bark, fungus and flowers, as if we were wandering through a painting by Russian artist Ivan Shishkin (1832-1898). Elsewhere, in areas where deforestation has been sanctioned, young spruce plantations managed by the Polish government spring up amidst seas of stumps. This fresh planting will itself be exploited for commercial ends down the line.
The polemical subtext of Blandin鈥檚 images is impossible to ignore. But the portrait shots interspersed throughout offer a window on the mixed perspectives of locals. In amongst the acolytes of conservation (including one literal 鈥渢ree hugger鈥) we find Jakub Lemiesz, a 17-year-old student at Bia艂owie偶a鈥檚 School of Forestry, and W艂odek Abramowicz, 76, a forest resident for 53 years. 鈥淲e just want to use the timber from the dead trees,鈥 he states in one of Blandin鈥檚 endnotes: 鈥渨e have to import timber from 60-100 kilometres away from the region鈥t鈥檚 madness! Now it is impossible to find timber from Bia艂owie偶a because of the European Union, which prohibits everything.鈥
This is a snapshot, perhaps, of the strong grassroots support which the Law and Justice party enjoys amongst rural communities. But on-the-ground messaging seems to be controlled by protestors against government policy. On one page, each cross-section of a stack of felled logs is spray-painted with the age of the tree lost: 150 years! 120 years! 110 years! (EU policy, which the Polish government has consciously contravened, prohibits the logging of timber over 100 years old.) On the wall of an 鈥渁gritourism guesthouse鈥 hangs a sign reading 鈥淲arning! The Forest grows slowly but disappears quickly!鈥
Other structures, like old WWI German rail-lines, and a creaking wooden manor house erected in 1845 for the Governor of Grodno 鈥 now a nature education centre 鈥 remind us of the social and cultural stories entwined beneath the canopy. But it is the allure of the forest itself which sticks in the mind after encountering Blandin鈥檚 photographs鈥攁 place of immense sensory and natural richness that, according to 93-year-old native Olga Szpakowicz, 鈥渨as here long before me, and will still be here after I鈥檓 gone.鈥 This book kindles the hope that ancient environments such as Bia艂owie偶a will indeed survive us.
Nicolas Blandin, Puszczka, is published by Another Place Press. Find out more .
Words: Greg Thomas
All images 漏 Nicolas Blandin.
