Soviet Union Photographer Captured Public Nudity When Such Images Were Illegal

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Images showing any form of nudity, such as this one, were forbidden under the Soviet regime. | Nikolay Bakharev

When photographer Nikolay Bakharev was born in the Soviet Union in the late 1940s, he entered a strict world where artistic expression was tightly regulated.

Warning: Some of the following photos might not be safe for work.

Orphaned at the age of four, Bakharev was placed in state care, where he first encountered photography after stumbling upon a plastic Smena camera.

In 1970, Bakharev was assigned to a job in a steel factory in Novokuznetsk, a Siberian city dominated by heavy industry. Soon after, he began working as a photographer for state-run Household Services, making official portraits in schools, factories, and public institutions.

A man and woman in swimsuits sit on the ground outdoors, embracing and smiling affectionately under the shade of leafy trees. The scene is relaxed and intimate, suggesting a warm, sunny day. — Bakharev’s photos, taken at a Russian beauty spot, have been curated into a new book titled *Cheryomushki* available through Stanley/Barker.

A black and white photo of two men and two women in swimsuits standing closely together beside a young child outdoors, surrounded by leafy bushes and trees, all looking at the camera.

A woman in a black swimsuit embraces a smiling man wearing a white cap; they are sitting together outdoors among leafy plants and grass, both appearing relaxed and happy.

A nude person lies face down on the grass in a natural outdoor setting, surrounded by leafy plants and flowering bushes, with dappled sunlight filtering through the foliage.

But as the Soviet Union began to collapse in the early 1980s, Bakharev turned to private portraiture. He traveled to nearby river and lake beaches, such as Cheryomushk, where workers and families gathered to relax. These beaches were among the few public spaces in the USSR where any form of nudity was tolerated. At the time, the circulation of photographs containing nudity was forbidden, as was a private commercial enterprise.

“Almost any image of a naked body was considered pornography, which was against the law,” says the photographer. Here, he created a deeply human archive of unvarnished Soviet life: intimate, unguarded portraits of people in moments of quite tenderness—parents embracing their children, couples pressed close, friends drinking in the afternoon light.

A woman in a swimsuit kneels in the grass, smiling as she hands a dandelion to a young boy in underwear. They are surrounded by trees and wildflowers on a sunny day.

A black-and-white photo of a man and a young boy in swimsuits crouching by the base of a tree, looking thoughtfully into the distance, with sunlight filtering through the leaves.

A black and white photo of two adults and a young child sitting closely together outdoors, surrounded by leafy branches and flowers. The adults are smiling gently and the child looks calmly at the camera.

Four adults relax in the grass near a tree in a wooded area. One man is shirtless with visible tattoos; a woman reclines and smiles while reading a magazine, and another man and woman sit nearby, enjoying the outdoors.

Bakharev’s camera served as a means of connection. “There must be a mutual relationship,” he says. “They need to understand that I am not watching my sitters — it’s as if I’m part of the picture… A picture should not be beautiful, but interesting, then you can find beauty. Beauty is in the human relationships that are formed.”

Bakharev has previously been nominated for the Deutsche Börse photography prize for his 2011 exhibition at the Venice Biennale and released Novokuznetsk, published by Stanley/Barker, in 2016. His latest book Cheryomushki is also available to purchase through Stanley/Barker.

Image credits: Photographs by Nikolay Bakharev.

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