Monday, September 22, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Sunday evening
Rabo Karabekian, the Armenian immigrant protagonist in Kurt Vonnegut’s 1987 novel Bluebeard, was an amusing footnote in the history of Abstract Expressionism due to the fact that the paint he used, Sateen Dura-Lux, was defective and fell off his canvases. His other medium, coloured tape, was laid on top of the paint in long vertical strips and was supposed to represent people, or to be more exact, people’s souls. That fell off too. I mention this because it reminds me of several things that went through my mind when I was out researching today. Žalgirio Stadionas, one of the places I visited, was at the time it was built in 1950 by German prisoners of war, a masterpiece of socialist realist architecture. It too has fallen to pieces (see the black and white photograph below). As already mentioned, the stadium was built on top of a Jewish Cemetery, which was moved to the outskirts of town and which I never managed to get to this afternoon. Art is a strange thing. Just like I have visions of Lithuanians roller-blading over the top of Jewish graves in the Botanical Gardens in Palanga, I can also see one of Lithuania’s top soccer teams, Vilniaus Žalgiris (followed by a notorious fan base of racists I might add) playing on more dead bodies. Whether they mean it or not, the Lithuanians have an uncanny knack of dancing on the graves of a race of people they once lived alongside for hundreds of years and who they helped obliterate during the Holocaust. We leave traces wherever we go, and I’m attracted to the idea of shooting these roller-bladers and footballers in low light using a slow shutter speed. A fitting example of photographic Abstract Expressionism indeed. I wouldn’t say this research is fun, but it’s certainly making me think. Jonas Basanavičius, the Lithuanian national(ist) hero mentioned yesterday, wrote of his outrage that people should be allowed to rule over others on territory that doesn’t belong to them (in this case the tsarist Russian Empire). He then goes on to mention how Lithuania was once the largest country in Europe and stretched all the way to the Black Sea. One can only wonder how he justified the fact that this former empire was made up of several parts of the world (now Belarus and Ukraine) that clearly didn’t belong to the Lithuanians. I’m currently reading the life story of Fidel Castro in his own words. He too makes the same mistake, in one breath justifying Cuba’s military intervention in the South African invasion of Angola, and in the next mentioning how this was only possible with the help of the Soviet Union, itself acting in an identical manner to South Africa and interfering on a massive scale with countries such as Lithuania. I don’t think I want to use any of this as a final photographic project, but it’s an interesting way of working towards projects. I’m certainly interested in the former multi-cultural makeup of Lithuania, and would like to somehow remember the previous occupants of the country who are little more than memories now. The Borders project I want to work on remains focused on Palanga and Druskininkai, but while I’m stuck here in Vilnius I might as well use the history around me. Finally, I didn’t get to fill my phone with photographs of people as I wanted to today, partially because of the weather and partially because Vilnius is practically empty of people on a Sunday. I did get one or two nice pictures of people, and was at least reminded that I like pictures of people more than anything else. The people-free pictures I’m taking as part of this research are interested in a notebook kind of way, but don’t do it for me on any other level. I think I’ve said enough for now. I’m off to Poland next week. Hopefully I can visit Druskininkai on the way and really start getting an idea of what it is I want to do with the Borders theme. I may even abandon the idea altogether, but as I already mentioned, I’m certainly enjoying the journey.
More notes
The Battle of Grunwald, fought between the joint armies of Poland and Lithuania against the Teutonic Knights on July 15, 1410, is considered to be one of the greatest battles ever to take place in medieval Europe. A defining moment in Polish history, the battle was immortalised in Kraków with the unveiling of this weighty monument in front of an estimated 160,000 people on the 500th anniversary of the event in 1910. Antoni Wiwulski's (1877-1919) original masterpiece was, not surprisingly, destroyed by the occupying Nazis during WWII and the copy that now stands in its place dates from 1976, having been faithfully reproduced using sketches and models of the original. At the top on his horse is the Lithuanian king of Poland Władysław Jagiełło, his sword pointing downwards in his right hand. At the front is his cousin the Lithuanian prince Vytautas (Vitold), who is flanked on either side by victorious soldiers from the joint army. The dead man at the front is Urlich von Jungingen, the Teutonic Order’s Grand Master, who lost his life during the battle.
Sunday morning
Which bit of the border do I photograph? The dead bit in the past? The transitional bit like the flaking paint in this picture? The modern bit? A composite of all three? More research required. Bah! I’ll try and make it out to the Jewish Cemetery today. It dates from around 1950, when the original one, closed by the tsarist regime after the Rebellion of 1830, was removed in order to build a stadium in the centre of Vilnius. The stadium was built by German POWs. Remember, Vilnius had been occupied by the Poles since just after the end of WWI before being invaded by the USSR and given back to Lithuania in 1940 before being invaded again by the Germans and once again being recaptured by the Soviets towards the end of the war in Europe. Notoriously, many of the Jewish headstones were incorporated into post-war development projects including the infamous flight of steps leading up the hill in the centre of the city to the former Trade Union Palace. Oh, and yesterday in the cemetery at Rasos, which is almost entirely Polish, I found the grave of the Lithuanian national hero Jonas Basanavičius (1851-1927). Like many Lithuanian national heroes, Basanavičius spent a large amount of time not actually living in the country he was so fond of. An irrational nationalist who wrote as much gibberish as sense, the inscription on his tomb is in the old style of writing Lithuanian. I found that rather amusing. Anyway, not important at the moment. I’m enjoying the journey. No idea where it’ll end.
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