Post-Communist Aesthetics

Anca Pusca

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2015
• ISBN:
  9781317360643
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Politica e relazioni internazionali
• Subtopic: Politica

In this book, Anca Pusca seeks to extend the aesthetic and cultural turn in international relations to an analysis of post-communist transitions in Central and Eastern Europe. Building on the philosophy of Walter Benjamin and Jacques Ranciere, the work investigates how post-communist film, photography, theatre, art, museumization and architecture have creatively re-engaged with ideas of revolution, communism, capitalism and ethnic violence, and how this in turn has helped people survive and reinvent themselves amongst the material and ideological ruins of communism. The work illustrates how popular culture has effectively targeted and re-interpreted the classical representations of the transition in order to question:

• The origin – focusing on practices of re-staging, memorializing and questioning the 1989 revolutions.

• The unfolding – focusing on the human and material consequences of significant changes in processes of production and consumption.

• The potential end – focusing on the illusions and disillusions surrounding the 'transition' process.

A unique take on the influence that popular culture has had and continues to have on how we understand the post-communist transitions, this work will be of great interest to students and scholars of cultural and visual studies, eastern European politics and international relations.

1 Introduction

What/why/how post-communist aesthetics?

DOI: 10.4324/9781315668284-1

What is post-communist aesthetics?

The concept of post-communist aesthetics already carries strong connotations for both those interested in questions related to post-communism and the experience of the ‘transition’ in Central and Eastern Europe as well as for those interested in the relationship between ideology/politics and aesthetics. Bringing these two audiences together is not always easy as both the concept of ‘post-communism’ as well as the concept of ‘aesthetics’ are heavily invested with their own set of connotations and meanings. Post-communism, through the very presence of the ‘post’, implies a certain temporal trajectory that takes you through and beyond a particular ideological era – communism – which is understood as clearly bracketed by set historical events. The ‘post’ puts the emphasis on the ‘end’ of an era – the closing ‘bracket’ event – and the beginning of another. The moment of 1989 and the revolutions that marked it represent, in this case, the definitive end point of communism, and everything that comes after emerges as a time of intense change and transition whose trajectory is ongoing.

By adding the concept of ‘aesthetics’, the discussion is in a way both narrowed – by focusing it on the ‘aesthetic’ angle – as well as opened – by introducing a series of potentially new interventions. Those who expect this to be largely a discussion of post-communist art will be to a certain extent disappointed: although the book does look at specific forms of artistic expression such as photography, film, theatre, performance art and architecture, it does so within a very specific context. It looks at how some of these artistic expressions openly engage with and challenge the meaning of key historical moments – such as the moment of 1989, as well as key experiences of the transition, such as the collapse of major state owned industries and the communities associated with them during the early transition period, the rise of intense commercialisation and the new structures/architectures that came along with that, and the radical stratification of society which served not only to create deep inequality but also to connect that inequality to violence against other races and ethnicities.

‘Aesthetics’ in this case is understood not so much as being about a certain (art) object and its perception – what Rancière calls ‘the sensible’, but rather about what he calls a ‘politics of aesthetics’ – ‘a refiguration of the forms of visibility and intelligibility of artistic practice and reception’ (Rancière 2009: 6) as well as ‘the staging of a dissensus – of a conflict of sensory worlds’ (Rancière 2009: 12). To exemplify this, Rancière gives the example of the worker's gaze as captured by one of the workers’ newspapers that emerged during the French Revolution of 1848: a joiner who lays the floor in a palace is described as stopping for a moment to enjoy the view from the open window; his perspectival view is unlike that of the palace owners in that it places both his body as well as his uniquely shaped capacity of perception in an unlikely circumstance, turning the short moment of enjoying the palace view into a political act and, as Rancière would argue, a form of political resistance. The dissensus is created by the unexpected presence and enjoyment of a particular way of seeing – the perspectival view – by a worker who is usually confined to closed spaces, obstructed views and a work ethic that does not afford contemplation.

From this perspective, post-communist aesthetics is understood as a unique set of circumstances, events and interventions, which disrupt normal/expected forms of perception and visibility and create/open a space where new and often unexpected meanings, interpretations and opportunities emerge. This can happen both intentionally – through targeted interventions, as well as spontaneously through the odd juxtapositions created by the process of historical change itself. These circumstances, events and interventions are usually guided or afforded by a series of specific technologies – this books focuses in particular on the technologies of photography and film; as well as by particular material embodiments of the process of historical change – in this case, the focus lies mainly on different architectural forms such as the large industrial platforms and building estates often associated with communism, as well as the open-markets, garage architecture, shopping malls and excessive publicity often associated with the transition to capitalism.

The book follows and retraces a series of different ‘gazes’, which afford different fields of vision and ways of perception: the gaze from ‘within’, often associated with those who are undergoing the ‘transition experience’; the gaze from ‘outside’, associated with those who examine the transition while being either physically or politically removed from it – in the sense that they are not directly/personally affected by it or that even when affected they can remove themselves from within it at will; and the ‘oblique’ gaze, generally associated with those who find themselves in between the ‘inside’ and the ‘outside’, such as emigrants and different ethnic groups whose ‘belonging’ has always been challenged – this book discusses mainly Roma/Gypsy groups.

Neither of these three gazes represents a unified field of vision: each is in turn splintered along class, ethnic and intellectual/political/ideological inclinations. The idea of the book is not to represent each of them in an equal fashion, nor to try in any way to offer a comprehensive view, but rather to acknowledge their presence and differences within the specific context of the circumstances, events and interventions chosen to showcase the ‘dissensus’ and through them challenge the creation of a set ‘storyline’ for the experience of ‘transition’. While prioritising views from ‘within’ and to a certain extent ‘oblique’ views – also the author's view – as challengers of ‘outside’ views that have generally dominated academic discussions surrounding the post-communist ‘transition’ experience, the book also acknowledges that the separation between them is largely imaginary, as many ‘outside’ views have been effectively internalised, while ‘inside’ views are often so fragmented that they cannot provide a coherent picture.

Each of the chapters that follow seeks to challenge, in different ways, the prevalent storyline of the post-communist transition: the ‘heroism’ and ‘democratic intentionality’ of the 1989 Revolutions at the beginning of the transition; the ‘necessity’ and ‘positive’ impact of economic restructuring following the revolutions; the embracing and celebration of consumerism and its culture as something necessarily new; and the common association of the ‘problems’ of the transition and integration into the ‘West’/European Union with marginalised and vulnerable groups such as Roma/Gypsy minorities. They do so from the perspective afforded by the passing of a certain amount of time – in this case over two decades: looking back onto the early stages of the ‘transition’, largely the 1990s and early 2000s as particularly intense moments of change uniquely prone to a certain sense of ‘blind sidedness’. The ‘present’ – largely the mid to late 2000s up to today – emerges as a period with a much stronger sense of ‘clarity’ and confidence to explore and question the past, particularly by a generation for whom ‘communism’ is now a distant memory.

The ‘looking’ back is often literal here, with each chapter focusing on a series of interventions that prioritise the sense of ‘seeing’ as key to the experience of the transition, and ‘(en)frame’ what we see by zooming in on a particular, often emblematic, aspect of change. The second chapter for example looks at different forms of visually re-staging the moment of 1989 through: television – particularly through the inclusion of new visual shots and perspectives of the first televised revolution; film – by focusing on the success of the so-called Romanian ‘New Wave’; early street performances and a more recent ‘New Wave’ in theatre; as well as street monuments. Each of these re-stagings strategically disrupt the perceived unity in meaning of 1989 – in particularly its heroism – as well as its limited temporal timeframe. Through each of these re-stagings the ‘moment’ of 1989 emerges as a much more elastic timeframe that has often been strategically (mis)used to attach desired connotations to certain spaces and people.

The third chapter zooms in on some of the most emblematic material remains of communism: the now dilapidated industrial platforms that sustained the communist economies and the towns and people that were ruined along with them. By focusing on a series of photographic, film and performance interventions which seek to engage with and bring forward this unique patrimony, the chapter re-prioritises the now marginalised and overlooked former heroes of communism, seeking to afford them new meaning. The photographs, film and artistic performances bring these spaces alive by showing that there still is life amongst the ruins, that even when dilapidated, these spaces continue to be deeply invested emotionally, and that those living among them cannot just be erased.

The fourth chapter turns our eyes towards the future by looking at how communism laid the foundations for unusually strong consuming desires and how, in turn, these were expressed and sustained by increasingly sophisticated architectures/spaces of consumption: from open-markets, to garage architecture, to hypermarkets and shopping malls, and more recently, gated communities. The chapter adopts the pace and perspective of a nineteenth-century flâneur stepping into the twenty-first century: the novelty of the first sidewalks, the arcades, and panoramas is replaced by that of publicity panels and bright colours that hide the grey of former communist flats, and the opening of new shopping spaces that create the illusion of equal access to both new commodities and new lifestyles. By focusing on the now famous Painting Tirana project – which saw most of Tirana, Albania painted in bright colours; as well as the Czech Dream documentary – which filmed the fake opening of a new hypermarket with ‘unbelievable’ prices, the chapter challenges some of the unique forms in which capitalism has not only been internalised across transitioning Central and Eastern Europe but also taken to its consumerist extremes.

The fifth chapter examines the problematics of the increased visibility of Roma/Gypsy minorities across Europe and how this newfound visibility is negotiated in different ways by both majority groups – which often use it as a way to instigate further violence; and Roma minority groups – which creatively, although at times controversially, use it to demonstrate a new found control over their changing identity and their portrayal. By looking at the new kind of visual and physical spaces that Roma minorities occupy – from ‘nomad’ camps and slums, to palaces, reality TV shows and international photography and art exhibits, the chapter compares and contrasts the effects of what appears to be a radical shift in how Roma minorities are ‘seen’ and choose to be ‘seen’.

Post-communist aesthetics is thus about exploring new ways of ‘seeing’ and ‘experiencing’ the transition through a series of creative interventions which seek to position the viewer/reader at certain key vantage points and afford them the ability to look both back and forth in time, to experience often unseen corners of the transition on an equal footing with the more prevalent images, and to put themselves in the shoes of often marginalised or mundane characters which tend not to make the news. Different readers will ‘see’ different things as they go through the book: some might recognise similar experiences of change or ‘transition’ as those happening in other parts of the world, while others might see a completely new face of the post-communist transitions. Although written in text, the book employs similar montage techniques as documentaries, juxtaposing case-studies, images and discussions in order to elicit different reactions, but also carefully chooses the issues, images and sites that it sets its eyes on as key entry points into understanding the experience of the transition.

Why post-communist ‘aesthetics’?

By prioritising not only the ‘experience’ of the transition but also the potential for a new kind of ‘politics’ embedded in certain aspects of this experience, the book offers an opportunity to re-think key moments of the transition and experience unique spaces endowed with what Foucault calls heterotopic powers (Foucault 1967). Very much inspired by Walter Benjamin's Arcades Project, this is a much more humble attempt to find the remaining passages spread across the post-communist landscape which continue to afford glimpses into the past as well as the future. Like Benjamin's project, this is not an attempt at ‘grand theorising’, or offering an overarching understanding of post-communist transitions. Very much intended as a fragmented argument that functions as a constellation of ideas, which resist a singular interpretation, the chapters offer at most an example of how some of these ideas and spaces could be arranged and interpreted, without giving a definitive explanation.

While this goes against the spirit of most theoretical endeavours in the discipline of international relations, and certainly comparative studies, resisting in many ways the most basic demands that each of these disciplines place on the creation of relevant ‘text’, including the increasingly pressing demand for ‘impact’, the book nonetheless hopes to spark relevant discussions and thoughts without seeking to arrange them into pre-drawn disciplinary and theoretical boxes with pre-conceived conclusions. While some might argue that this constitutes an easy way out of important disciplinary debates that nonetheless need to be acknowledged – we are after all in the business of acknowledging and debating with each other; as well as an easy way out of having to ultimately draw some kind of conclusion – the book does actually have a conclusion, which functions however more as a furthering the discussion as opposed to offering a decisive final word; the book hopes to nonetheless offer a strong enough theoretical and methodological structure to justify its purpose.

The theoretical framework of the book is largely built upon the work of two critical thinkers: first is Walter Benjamin's unique understanding of history and social change which challenges on the one hand the ‘location’ of history in historical texts – suggesting instead that material objects, spaces, architecture and images are much more likely to capture and reveal key aspects of history (Benjamin 1968); and on the other the linearity of historical time – for him, the past, present and future can co-exist, even if briefly, brought together by the very same materials and spaces mentioned above (Benjamin 1998). Materials, spaces, images, become in a sense history itself, absorbing us not only metaphorically but physically: certain sites – for him, the arcades, for us movie theatres, former industrial platforms, open markets, shopping malls, migrant camps – serve to not only open up spaces where history stops, but also often entrap within them entire (forgotten) sections of society.

Second is Jacques Rancière's unique understanding of the relevance of ‘aesthetics’ in terms of its ability to create/point to unique and unexpected disassociations of experience, that create new opportunities for ‘seeing’ things differently. For him, this is largely a question of class, whereby the working class creates for itself ways of engaging with the sensible that would otherwise not be afforded by their position: writing poetry,...