Every protest in Bulgaria brings a certain sense of deja vu: the noise, words, speeches. We fall into a trap: when it is time for change, we enter a timeless state. On the other hand, new ways of self-expression, new symbols and humor highlight the different meanings, the growth and determination, the different generations. Over the years, creative actions have often been markers by which we remember previous seasons of discontent.
How have protest movements and historical events influenced Bulgarian art since the 1980s? And also, what is important about a protest with a strong visual language?
A quick backstory
Even though they are poorly documented and systematic only in fragments, we can still make a tentative timeline of the intersections of rebellious thought and art: the "happenings" outside the tightly controlled space of the capital Sofia in the 1980s, the first examples of street art and the forming of subcultures around 1989, Ventsislav Tsankov's performances, and more generally the activities of the groups March 8, XXL, Rub in the 90s and Ultrafuturo in the mid-00s, the first provocative pieces of video art (RASSIM and Kalin Serapionov). Over the decades, the artists associated with the Institute of Contemporary Art have been a constant presence with projects combining introspection, humor and sophistication: that list includes Nedko Solakov, Pravdolyub Ivanov, Lachezar Boyadzhiev, Ivan Mudov.
Often, these events are not in response to specific political developments, even if they take place against the backdrop of social conflict: sometimes they merely serve as a declaration of existence, of the right to live and be an artist in this environment. "In the mid-80s, the first examples of so-called unconventional art forms were socially engaged rather than critical of society. Artists mastered new artistic languages and means of expression, and also looked for new ways to communicate with their audience," critic Diana Popova writes in the catalog for the exhibition Art for Change (1985-2015) at the Sofia City Art Gallery. Since the 1980s, artists have reacted in different ways, but their voices often remain a mere echo within a society and system where until recently they were part of an ideological project, and subsequently had a very limited influence on the general public. "Contemporary Bulgarian artists realize that they are still somewhere in the depths of the political transition. It's hard to say if they feel lost in that space. Like all their compatriots, they live in a country that never built a unified past and has a hard time adjusting to the present, which makes its future prospects less than optimistic."
Pravdolyub Ivanov. Tools, 2013. Photography, newspaper, printed paper, triptych
Protest art? Maybe, not quite
Does contemporary Bulgarian art have its own internal history of protest? How many of the protest actions can be called art and vice-versa? Pravdolyub Ivanov, a contemporary artists with a sustained presence in the country who became widely known during the 2013-2014 protests for the slogan "I'm not paid, I hate you for free," is not sure if we can build a local history of protest art.
"Is there even such a thing? The collages, posters, large figures that protesters carry – these are attempts, some more successful than others, at political caricature and satire. Things that would hardly exist outside this specific context and which lack a sufficient degree of artistic autonomy in order to be called art. And they don't claim to be art," says the artist who, in addition to his slogans, captured the spirit of the time with his work "Tools," also from 2013. "A protest, a moment of opposition and resistance can be used when creating a work of art, but the work certainly does not remain bound up in everyday life and the specifics of that protest. ”
One for all, all for one
Ivanov, who earlier this year showed the video piece "Natural Fear" at the Goethe Institute and the installation "Free Flags" at the National Palace of Culture, points to an important distinction – some actions can be defined as art (the way Belarusian protesters find ways to express their goals using the red and white flag rather than the "official" Soviet-era legacy flag), but others are created regardless of the events of the day. "The actions by the groups Voina and Pussy Riot are political art that is not part of mass protests," says Ivanov, whose video piece "Natural Fear" which invites the viewer to see through the eyes of a fugitive soldier. "If we decide that protest is an art form, then the riot police are its first and most sincere critics."
Parallels with other countries, events and movements are not superfluous, they demonstrate the growing links between our art scene and the world.
Zoran Georgiev, part of the Well Known Soundtracks series
For example, artist Zoran Georgiev's recent series of drawings Well Known Soundtracks artist Zoran Georgiev addresses several topics at once in a minimalist manner. "It came about as a response to various political events and memories of military barbarism around the world," said Georgiev, whose work often combines different symbols and motifs in new contexts. He explains the title thus: "When something is gone and we don't want it to return, Bulgarians say that its song has been sung. During the EU negotiations over the budget for pandemic recovery, the so-called “Frugal Four” (Netherlands, Austria, Denmark and Sweden) tried to impose strict restrictions, reminiscent of a scenario we remember very well from Greece in 2015. We also see an ideological struggle taking place in Hong Kong reminiscent of the times before 1989. Another drawing, "Monument to Eternal Corruption," captures the undying practice of buying off voters in Bulgaria.
Zoran Georgiev, "Monument to Eternal Corruption"
These practices often bring ideas together over the years. Interestingly, although in Bulgaria different generations of artists are often quite distant from each other, historical events resonate regardless of distance – for example, at the end of 2019, street artist Alexi Ivanov used the famous 1989 line by Foreign Minister Petar Mladenov "It would be best if the tanks came" in his pop-up exhibition "Stanko."
Eyes wide shut
Blindness has become one of the motifs of the current protest, which began with eco-demonstrations in late spring and turned into a wholesale anti-government protest against Boyko Borissov's third cabinet. Questions like "EU, are you blind?" are often seen on posters, and after repeated instances of police violence they also became part of the street art actions by the artist Stanislav Belovski (more about his work on page 8).
On August 12, protesters put on blindfolds in front of the German Embassy in Sofia, and the relationship between Borissov and German Chancellor Angela Merkel was ironized using references to Kubrick's film Eyes Wide Shut.
Protest in front of the German Embassy, photo: Velko Velkov
Why did blindness become one of the metaphors used in the current wave of protests in Bulgaria? "People in power are shameless, not only do they pretend to be deaf, but they have closed their eyes and do not see where they are going," says Pavel Bozhilov, film director and one of the organizers of the action in front of the German Embassy.
Blindness also means constantly looking away from problems: “Some pretend to be asleep, others put on pink glasses, or talk gibberish. It is scary to think that these are the people who decide what happens in the country. They do not tolerate any criticism, let alone protest, but we know them – they did not come here from a different planet. This is our society and they are its product."
According to Pavel, change will be difficult. We need more people whose eyes are open. "The critical mass must be built on solid foundations, otherwise the change that follows will be hollow. The main responsibility of the protesters is to help others see the bigger picture, and that picture is so clear that anyone who sees it will know that it is time for the government to resign, and they will go to a protest. Using these symbolic actions with closed eyes and so on, the protest asks everyone else precisely this question–'Are you blind?'"
Protest in front of the German Embassy, photo: Svetoslav Todorov
According to illustrator Andrea Popyordanova, author of one of the most memorable drawings in that action, the symbolism can be interpreted in two different ways – drawing attention to how the current ruling coalition will distribute and absorb EU rescue funds and asking why many Bulgarians are still apathetic about the events of the day.
"Everyone has a right to their personal choice and, of course, the pandemic is the reason many people are not participating," said Popyordanova, who is a member of the TI-RE platform for independent publications by Bulgarian artists. "But there are those who seem to be blind, they do not see, do not hear, do not read about what is happening, they float down current. When most of society closes its eyes and allows others to mislead them, change is slower and more difficult."
Protest in front of the German Embassy, photo: Svetoslav Todorov
Strength rules over chaos
For Pavel, not just the visual aesthetics, but also the protest vocabulary deserves special attention. "The energy that people put into expressing their position has a creative charge and deserves attention. One can feel this abundance in the midst of the protest, but there is no trace of it in the news coverage later. There are so many references among the slogans, sometimes you can only understand them if you have carefully followed all of the nonsense spoken by people in power. This protest is dominated by wordplay, with familiar symbols such as pigs, pumpkins and mirrors, even cigarette boxes, and there were also shadows on the building of the National Assembly."
According to him, this diversity legitimizes the protest as distinctive and authentic. "Because it was spontaneously organized, and it also had this spontaneous aesthetic chaos.”
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