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The Meaning of Photos in the Context of Memory and Remembering depiction of single short clips about renovation works produced for newsreels in the late 1940s, showing residents of Tallinn “voluntarily” working and enthusiastically clearing up the ruins (the voiceover does not mention the cause of the destruction). In the summer 1945, movie amateur Max Reikter filmed the fields of ruins in Tallinn, and must have done it in secret early in the morning as we can see only a few people moving about. Unlike Tartu and Tallinn, the ruins of Narva were not a taboo topic, because before the decisive battles the Germans evacuated from the town all civilians, and therefore there were no citizens to witness the destruction of the city. This provided the opportunity to blame the destruction of the city on the “German fascist invaders”. Of course, it remains inexplicable why the German forces defending the city should have destroyed it. My former colleague who was evacuated from Narva as a child, was convinced that the destruction of Narva by Soviet forces was an action meant to intimidate Estonians (not Germans) rather than a military necessity.’ In comparison, the Soviet regime in Estonia was more closed and hypocritical than elsewhere in Eastern Europe. For example, photographer Richard Peter senior’s (1895-1977) photo book of Dresden in ruins (Dresden, eine Kamera klagt an) was published as early as 1949 in the then German Democratic Republic in a run of 50 000 (!) copies. The album, which inspired much discussion, included superimposing photos of bomb-wrecked Dresden destroyed by the British in 1945. As Hans-Michael Koetzle (2008: 58) noted: “Richard Peter’s photograph was indisputably the first of an entire series of similar motifs—an image that bequeathed the world a valid pictorial formula for the horror of the bombing in general and of the destruction of the Baroque city of Dresden in particular.” In Estonia, there was no publicly endorsed way to access photos of Tartu in ruins, although they proliferated in private circles. These photos became an important part of a private tradition and practice. They were present in the homes and photo albums of very many local residents. They told the story of the past that had shaped the identity of Estonians. My informants owned photos of many important pre-war objects, for example a grandiose photo of the Stone Bridge, as well as photos of war-devastated Tartu. I found many of the photos used in my 2007 monograph in the photo collection of my husband’s parents. They were life-long inhabitants of Tartu and they, as many other people living there, had a small collection of historical photos of Tartu. Some of them had been acquired before the war. According to family memories, post-war photos were bought from Eduard Selleke who had sold the pictures to them at their workplace. They had photos of the market hall, the Stone Bridge and Vanemuine Theatre, etc. I saw a photo of my husbands’ grandfather standing in the ruins of his home, with the Market Hall visible in the background (Fig. 152). 7 Letter from Pearu Tramberg to the author, September 19, 2014. 355
