Lennon Wall Magazine - Fall 2018 by Lennon Wall Magazine

LENNON WALL ON THE PREMISES OF DEATH by Stefan Fiedler

A STORY ABOUT THE BEEKEEPER by Katherina Martin

THE STUDENT MATRIX DEBUNKING PERFECTION by Jordan Sandoval

MYTHS OF CULTURAL APPROPRIATION by Megan Chotrani

FALL 2018

CULTURE Pump Up the Volume 4+4 Days in Living Art Andrea Culkova Challenging Minds Through Film

We are excited to present the Fall 2018 Lennon Wall issue to you! As the new editors and team of the magazine, this journey proved to be full of challenges and uncertainties. However, our hard-working and ambitious team members made it possible to overcome the difficulties and channel our creativities into the magazine. We decided to focus on making this issue minimalistic, gender-neutral, and sophisticated with bright pops of color. Our main goal was to have it appeal to all students of Anglo-American University.

CONTENTS

Mariam Bakhturidze, Editor-in-Chief Irina Nikolaeva, Assistant Editor

TEAM MEMBERS Magazine Layout Designers: Shirin Kozhoeva and Julie Meunier

Section Editors: Angelina Nikonova (Culture) Natalie Kejhova (Opinion) Janel Umarbaeva and Laura Brunk (Creative Writing) Georgi Shillington (Travel) Koto Haramiishi (On Campus)

Website Editor: Valeria Novitskaia Social Media Editor: Ye Seul Kim

PR Manager: Ify Nsoha

Writers: Jordan Sandoval Peter O’Neill (Photographer/Videographer) Megan Chotrani (Proofreader) Stefan Fiedler Iryna Volkovska Georgi Shillington

Cover (Front and Back): Anastasia Mezenina

13 17

MULTIMEDIA Life Forms Myths of Cultural Appropriation

20 26

CREATIVE WRITING The Search: W ho We Are and What We’ve Been All Along On the Premises of Death

31 33

ON CAMPUS 39 43

TRAVEL pattern source: pexels.com

www.lennonwall.aauni.edu

Ethics: Privacy & Photography in the Age of Entitlement The Student Matrix: Debunking Perfection

Chasing the Czech Sunset A Story About the Beekeeper

CONTRIBUTORS Michael Indriolo (Videographer) Daniel Gurin (Video Editor) Anastasia Mezenina (Photographer) Nela Tomczyk (Writer) Michaela Dehning (Writer) Kat Martin (Writer) Brandon Marashi (Photographer)

OPINION

Because final exams are creeping up and everyone’s stressing, we created another way for you to procrastinate! Find copies by the staircase of the main entrance, at Café des Taxis, the reception, and all over campus!

Editor-in-Chief: Mariam Bakhturidze Assistant Editor: Irina Nikolaeva

Poland, Get Your Shit Together Dark History, Darker Tourism: Exploring Prague’s Abandoned Past

45 49

Pump Up The Volume Story by Iryna Volkovska

roken, outspoken, and eagerly unafraid to call out the whole world, “Pump Up the Volume” is a high school movie like you’ve never seen! The movie was made by a Canadian filmmaker, Allan Moyle, in 1990. In his career, Moyle has worked in many genres, from crime thrillers to sci-fi horror to sports dramas, but he is best known for his coming-of-age music comedies. “Pump Up the Volume” is one of Moyle’s most highly-acclaimed movies.

It was instantly popular with audiences worldwide and earned itself a sizable fan base, remaining one of the most beloved cult classics today. “Pump Up the Volume” stars the ‘90s heartthrob Christian Slater and Samantha Mathis of “Little Women” along with the cast of up-and-coming stars, such as Seth Green, Ahmet Zappa, and Ellen Greene.

The film tells the story of a high schooler Mark, played by Slater, who has recently moved to Arizona with his parents. Lonely and down on his luck, Mark starts a pirate radio show. He calls himself Hard Harry and comes on air every night at 10 pm to play the remaining gems of the late ‘80s music. His fearless and rebellious attitude makes Hard Harry overwhelmingly popular with his peers, who have no idea that their beloved DJ is just a quiet, shy kid like them. Mathis’s character, Nora, one of Hard Harry’s die-hard fans, decides to figure out the identity of the mysterious celebrity. On the same quest is the staff of their conservative and corrupt high school, turned upside down by Hard Harry’s involvement with suspended students. The pirate radio concept might sound familiar to many of us as it has been used in numerous films, most notably in Disney’s “Radio Rebel” and Richard Curtis’s super-hit “The Boat That Rocked”. “Pump Up the Volume”, however, is known as the earliest and one of the most outstanding examples of this concept. The film’s soundtrack album includes songs by Leonard Cohen, The Pixies, Ice-T, Beastie Boys, and Soundgarden. “Pump Up the Volume Soundtrack Album” was released by the MCA record label in 1990 and re-released in 1993.

All screens are from the movie “Pump Up The Volume”

TV Titles 1990

Pump Up the Volume Original Soundtrack Album cover, MCA, 1990

“Pump up The Volume” owns two awards, the Audience Choice Award of the 1990 Deauville American Film Festival and the Golden Space Needle Award for the Best Feature Film of the Seattle International Film Festival, scandalously beating that year’s fan favorite, “Jesus of Montreal”. The movie’s serious approach to the problems of adolescence was the real reason it resonated so well with the audiences. Instead of dismissing the issues as being too silly or insignificant, the movie recognized the problems of teenage self-identity, sexuality, and high expectations. Moyle’s choice to present the story through a teenager allowed the young generation to be heard and empowered over the last 28 years.

“Pump Up The Volume” does not feature colorful hallways, prom nights, baseball games, or generic romances of a traditional high-school movie. It is a story of a tiny glimmer of hope in the sea of despair, never quite clear whether the glimmer will survive or break under the pressure of those very same realities that inspired it to arise. Will it be strong enough to continuously stand up against greed and injustice or will it surrender to the world of ignorance and labels? 4

4+4 Days In Living Art By Michaela Dehning Photo courtesy of Markéta M. Černá

tepping into the abandoned Desfours Palace in the center of Prague, you immediately became a part of the art. Throughout the 4+4 Days in Motion Festival, viewers were invited to participate in the artwork in the exhibits. This participation came in many forms, from directly influencing the way the art is created, from observing, or simply being in the same space as the art.

An extremely memorable part of this festival was the space itself. Built in 1845, the Desfours Palace is a charming, four-story building that has been abandoned. However, the 4+4 Days in Motion Festival brought it back to life. By using this unique location, they removed the idea that contemporary art is inaccessible and unapproachable. Instead, the viewer was brought into the art and was not forced to observe it from afar, as one would in an traditional museum.

The 4+4 Days in Motion Festival happened from October 5th to 13th in the Desfours Palace near the Masaryk train station. This annual festival has multiple exhibits, and this year’s included “Uncertainty of the Principle,” “It Started with a Memory,” and “Stories Are Us.” The overarching theme throughout the festival was “the topic of Uncertainty Principle.” Over 50 artists were invited to contribute in this year’s striking combination of creations.

Desfours Palace

Smaller rooms allowed the viewers to become enveloped in their experiences. With most rooms containing only one main artwork or theme, the outer world was completely removed. Walking from room to room felt like you were passing through multiple dimensions; the long hallways were the empty spaces between them. Exhibition “The Principle of Uncertainty”

Many artists used this unique space to their full advantage. One of which is Dries Verhoeven, a Dutch artist, with

his interactive work, “Guilty Landscapes.” In this work, Verhoeven attempted to make the viewer feel discomfort with the confrontation of unfamiliar situations from around the world. In “Guilty Landscapes,” visitors entered the room completely alone in which there was a large screen occupying one of the walls, displaying an industrial factory with a deafening machinery noise.

Soon, a young woman entered the screen, mimicking each viewer’s movements while also inviting the viewer to copy hers. So the viewer and the factory worker were both alone, together, while still remaining completely separate. It was extremely unnerving as the young woman stared at the viewer. The observer became the observed.

T.I.T.S. Neurobeat Exhibition “The Principle of Uncertainty”

Performance art was a significant portion of the 4+4 Days in Motion Festival, and almost every performance required the viewer’s contribution. This idea was tested multiple times in the exhibits, compelling the viewer to become both the audience and the performer. A performance art piece that utilized the viewer as a performer is UN:TIT:LED by T.I.T.S., a performance art group that began at the Norwegian Theatre Academy in Fredrikstad. In this piece, the viewer was invited to participate by not only watching the performance but also by answering the performers’ questions and helping project images on the performers’ bodies. These activities invite the viewer to become the art, involving them in its creation, and allowing them to feel empowered by its success.

Vernissage / Opening of the Festival

Bringing together the space, the artist, and the viewer in such an exceptional way makes the 4+4 Days in Motion Festival, held every October in a different location, a must-see for anyone who wants to collaborate with living art. Since the beginning, the festival has been led by producers Denisa Václavová Markéta Černá, production manager Nikola Böhmová, and dramaturg Pavel Štorek.

During the eight days that the festival resided in the Desfours Palace, an empty building once again was given life through the energy that the people brought. Everyone who attended was shown a new perspective on the way art is shared. Voyeuristic, eccentric, and dynamic, the artworks all came together to challenge what art can be and how viewers can experience it.

ANDREA CULKOVÁ — Challenging Minds Through Film By Mariam Bakhturidze

ndrea Culková fisted her hands as she exclaimed, “I have 3 kids and I don’t want them to live in this fucking world with all these things happening. So when I started to film I thought, should we bow our heads, follow these rules and allow ourselves to be manipulated? No! We should scream!” From suffering through gestational diabetes during her pregnancy to having debt collectors raiding her home and confiscating her property and films in front of her children, Culková is no stranger to life’s roller coaster. After graduating from Charles University and the Documentary Film Department at the Film Academy of Performing Arts in Prague (FAMU), Culková turned to documentary filmmaking to shed light on the injustices of businesses and political organizations. “First it was more observational and doing research about diabetes, which turned into my film Sugar Blues,” Culková said.

“Then, in Don’t Take My Life, I turned more political because the film focused on exposing debt collectors. And I basically turned into an activist, which I hadn’t even necessarily planned.” Culková dedicated her life to art. But filmmaking was not her initial career focus. The lack of fulfillment in her initial field of painting and photography pushed Culková to turn to her tutor at university for advice.

Andrea Culkova . Photograph by David Neff 9

“Well, you were always thinking in series. In stories,” he told Culková. “Why don’t you try film? I think film is good for you.” And with that, she redirected her focus to her true passion — documentary filmmaking. She hasn’t held a paintbrush since.

From the film “Sugar Blues”

Although Culková’s films act as a means of creative self-expression, they also invite the audience into her personal life. The struggles that most people try keep private, Culková makes public. “I don’t feel that it is something personal. When I’m doing these films, I usually feel like it is just another character in the film,” she explained, shrugging off her leather jacket and running her finger through her tousled hair. To her, filming her struggles felt natural. Sugar Blues, Culková’s five-year long project, revolves around her struggle with gestational diabetes and her quest to investigate and raise awareness about the consequences of sugar consumption.

Photo source: pexels.com

Quite simply, Culková wants to change the world. She highlights humanity’s tendency to constantly focus on the negative aspects and on a dystopian narrative of their lives. Through her creation, Culková attempts to shift people’s focus and uses documentary framing as a medium to achieve that. By focusing her film Sugar Blues on investigating which foods lead to diabetes and talking about her lifestyle changes, Culková hopes to highlight to her audience that there is a solution to the issue of excessive sugar consumption through lifestyle change. “After Sugar Blues aired in many parts of the world, I got so many emails from people asking me for advice. And at some point, my partner said, ‘Andrea, you’re a filmmaker, not a psychologist.’” For this reason, Culková chose to deviate from activism in her movie H*ART ON and, instead, create a reflective and philosophical film.

“It’s like my chance to just take a breath.”

In 2014, the film had an international premiere in addition to screenings at the World on a Plate Festival in India, and throughout Europe in Hungary, Romania, Croatia, Greece, Italy, Norway, Sweden and more. Additionally, in 2016, her film H*ART ON, a reflective and conceptual film created as a tribute to the universal emotions of fear, love, sex and loneliness, premiered at the DOK LEIPZIG 2016, a festival held in Leipzig for documentaries and animated films.

In contrast to Sugar Blues, H*ART ON focuses on documenting the struggle of finding a balance between living in the present and leaving your trace in the world. Specifically, the film involved the museum holding the forgotten legacy of Zdeněk Rykr, a Czech painter. Interestingly, the film includes footage of the museum guide, Jitka, who is hopelessly trapped in her small town without many opportunities to leave. So, she begins to live her life through the paintings of Rykr. However, after participating in the creation of the film, Jitka was inspired to leave the town and buy a trip to Turkey.

“She really took that step and it was a big step for her,” Andrea said, her eyes gleaming. “And when I meet her she gets so excited and shows me her photo albums that she creates from her travels. So sometimes during filming, you can help people like that.” Currently, Culková is testing new waters by producing a fictional film called Testosterone Story. Adopting the techniques of documentary framing, the film revolves around the topic of the fragile beauty of masculinity. The film criticizes the internal imbalance between men’s masculine and feminine sides. “I think it’s important to realize that we are complete as humans when our feminine and masculine sides within ourselves are balanced. Most of the time, it’s not in balance because men end up refusing to accept and embrace their feminine sides.” Furthermore, the film points to the issue of the middle-age crisis. Specifically, Culková highlights the importance of leaving the ego behind and beginning self-exploration, at the age of around 40, to determine your identity and values. “But so many men don’t dive within themselves. Instead, they boost their ego even further from the outside by buying faster cars, switching from wives to lovers, and so on. They are not leaving their ego.”

However, Culková emphasizes the benefits of beginning the journey of self-exploration at younger ages.

“You must definitely start reflecting when you’re still young because you have this great opportunity of youth energy. But around your middle ages, you’re a little bit tired and start losing energy,” she said. Culková recalled her trip to the high mountains of Norway to film footage of bikers racing down icy roads to include in her upcoming film Testosterone Story. “The footage we filmed was so energizing and overwhelming that when we came home, my friend who came with me showed some of the footage to her husband and that night, after 8 years of not being affectionate, they started to kiss again,” she said, chuckling. From the film “H*art On”

In contrast to the complexities of Culková’s illness and the intricate philosophies of her films, her restorative hideaway is a simple place — under the sun. “When it’s sunny and I’m depressed I just like to go out and watch the sun,” she shared. “Another thing I do is listen to music and dance,” she exclaimed with a grin, whipping her hair from side to side and pumping her fists in the air.

n 1999, an American photographer named Philip-Lorca diCorcia set up his camera and took a random series of people in Times Square, New York City over a period of three years. The series gained popularity and was exhibited at a gallery from September 6th through October 13th, 2001. These prints were published in a book titled “Heads.” 10 limited edition prints of each photograph in the book were sold for $20,000 – 30,000 each. Fast forward to 2005. By this time the images have gained a large amount of traction. Erno Nussenzweig, an Orthodox Jewish man pictured in one of diCorcia’s photos, learned of the photograph and filed a lawsuit. He claimed that diCorcia and the publishers violated his privacy rights under Sections 50 and 51 of New York’s Civil Rights Law.

ETHICS Privacy & Photography in the Age of Entitlement

New York state law restricts using a person’s likeness for profit without their consent. DiCorcia argued that the photo represented “artistic expression” and was protected under the 1st Amendment. Not to mention that the statute of limitations had expired for bringing a lawsuit. On February 8th, 2006, the court ruled in favor of diCorcia and dismissed the lawsuit. Had diCorcia lost, and Erno been successful, we would be living in an entirely different world. That case would trigger an international privacy-revolt against the photography industry and, on a greater scale, the art world.

Text & photos by Peter O’Neill

The issue of privacy is a trending topic. With the advancement of technology, everyone has a camera. Everyone is a photographer, granted not always a good one. Nevertheless, privacy is a highly criticized part of photography as an art form and as a business.

Art and business have some difficulty joining into one industry, as some individuals have a problem with photographers using other people’s likeness to make ends meet. For those that do it professionally as their career, a lawsuit can be detrimental. The aim is to destroy the business, but art is the one that suffers. There are two different types of photographers in my book: subjective and objective. With objective photography, you have to put on a brave face and shoot what you see at the moment that it happens. This is how most street photographers go about taking their pictures. They capture an unfiltered slice of life wherever they are. Though it can be used to tell strong narratives, it also gets many photographers into trouble. There are going to be people who lash out when you take photos of them, no matter where you go. Photographers combat this possibility in various ways. New York street photographer Bruce Davidson has an album filled with a collection of his work always on him, in the event he was ever questioned or approached on the street. From there, he talks them down and even will send them a copy of the final print. Other photographers, like Bruce Gilden, share a more aggressive style of photography. Bruce just takes the photo without asking for permission. He takes very close-up images with a flash. The result is some of the most interesting portraits in the art world. If his subjects raise their voice or get physical, he yells right back. For him, it is not just a matter of making money; it is his sole method of storytelling, and on another level, connecting with people.

“I love the people I photograph. I mean, they’re my friends. I’ve never met most of them or I don’t know them at all yet, through my images, I live with them,” Gilden writes. American photographer Jamel Shabazz asks permission before he shoots any of his subjects. After scaring off a prostitute’s client, and getting into trouble with a pimp in his early career, Shabazz believes asking first is the safest, and most personable, option. This is what I refer to as a subjective photographer. However, he has faced hefty criticism for having his subjects look directly into the camera and give a cheek-to-cheek smile in all his work. Shabazz’s subjects became too comfortable, or uncomfortable depending on how you look at it, and as a result seem too posed.

There will be cases where you stumble upon an interesting subject and that situation requires finesse. There are situations where you will have to interact with your subject and share some humanity. After all, photographers are still people, not just walking lenses.

No matter how you look at it, for business or for art, photography requires the thoughts of the photographer and the likeness of a subject. Objective or subjective shooting, in the end, is only as good as the subject in the shot and the photographer behind it.

Photographers that pose their subject form a relationship beforehand, and you can see it in the photo. Sometimes it works or it may lead to what seems like a very forced and unnatural picture. That is why I shoot objectively. It leads to a fascinating piece where the photographer opens up and the subject never has to.

Walking through the streets of Prague is a hassle on its own with many people, mostly tourists, blocking your way. The last thing you want is a camera in your face. However, a good photographer can have dozens of photos before you even notice. That does not mean they are always going to capitalize on them, or even use the shots. Not everyone has what Gilden refers to as “the look” — a particular facial expression or physical characteristic he deems shootable.

cold rationality; we are heaven’s handmade calligraphies where intellect is only one of many ways to understand the world. Thus, once we unroot ourselves and discontinue to internalize the dogmas of institutionalized environments, we can enter the multiplex and a multiverse of existence.

Text by Jordan Sandoval Photo courtesy of Anastasia Mezenina

The Student Matrix: Debunking Perfection

hen we think of sentient beings, we think of artificial intelligence coupled with sleek designs, metallic gloss, and a cool-to-the-touch tactility associated with a polished aesthetic. Intelligence, when placed into the context of robots, seems necessary as well as obvious, for they are built to be computing machines whose knowledge knows no bounds. Characterized by their mindless spewing of factual information at a near perfect average of correctness, nothing less is to be expected from them. In fact, if machines are anything less than flawless, they lose their value and are unable to master their ultimate purpose: approximating absolutes. But, we are not robots. We weren’t created for an indifferent logical perfection, rather, we were crafted in the oceans of intangible wisdom. We weren’t built to maximize a

In university, it feels as if we are on a conveyor belt, being pulled and stretched. Our bodies become pliable, malleable, and formed by the knowledge of others before us. Somewhere in the midst of it all, we lose our sense of curiosity and exploration. Schools purge us of our creativity, our personality, and turns classrooms into vacuums of monotony. We’re not sentient beings, who have vanquished our emotions in the name of augmenting pure success. However, it seems that we may have already lost ourselves in a mental matrix as unrelenting series of data have forcibly assembled themselves into the fibers of our brain. In trying to perfect ourselves, we have calibrated our minds towards artificial states of evolution. We have bulldozed our peaceful homes and transformed them into cellars of intelligence, illuminated by LED lights and white walls. Our mental atmosphere has shifted from peaceful organic meadows, into mining fields of theoretic explosions, coupled with hailstorms of stress. Schools have taught us to see our own mental states as mere platforms whose functions can be exploited as a means to an end. Because of this, we never come to appreciate our minds for what they are.

We learn to view intelligence as mere groundworks for materialistic success; and rarely, appreciate our minds for what they simply are, or value our capabilities outside the realms of the academic. Similarly, we look at emotional and spiritual wisdom as childish in the face of a robotic world. We have internalized the apathy of academicism, and have dismissed life experiences outside the sphere of assignments, and midterm exams. When we strive to become mindless welloiled machines, it’s easy to disassociate from the world as it truly is. Ultimately, we run the risk of never fully realizing the value of existing by and for itself. Life quickly becomes a race when, in fact, it’s supposed to be a dance of exuberance. We find ourselves tearing at the fibers of our existence in exchange for arbitrary paper awards

and public acknowledgment, and as a result, we have been stripped to our bare skeletons. Once unclothed from peace and comfort, we fumble amidst earth in our barren bodies with our minds iced around the edges. We seek a warmth that only comes with realizing that we are perfect

We don’t need to damage our mental health by trying to reach perfection when our DNA is already infused with excellence. University should be a time where we come closer to understanding who we are. College should be a place where we are not changing ourselves, but digging deeper to understand who we’ve always been. It’s important to take studies seriously, but schools should never push one to the precipice of an “all-or-nothing” mentality. A school environment should never lead one to rationalize sleepless nights or never-ending bouts of anxiety. University should never make us devalue our creative pursuits, nor lead us to chain our wishes and shackle our passions. We should be willing to speak about these issues and reassure one another that getting an education, and showing up is already good enough. We shouldn’t be dislocating our bodies in the pursuit of an arbitrary form of academic success.

We shouldn’t look at our present states and discredit our worth, rather, schools should teach us that we already have what we are striving for within.

the way we are and that we don’t need to become anyone or reach arbitrary numerical scores in order to certify our worth. We were born with the rights to a joyful life, our souls were designed from the seas of significance. We don’t need to wage war on ourselves in order to reach purpose as we were born with destiny etched in our bones.

A certificate is a nice gesture, but the significance of education lies elsewhere, activated once we come to master the powers concealed inside. We need to be reminded that schools are a place of guided exploration, where we are discovering who we are. For university shouldn’t transform our minds to fit a mold, but help us manifest what’s already pulsing through our veins and beating inside our chests.

LIFE FORMS Project by Anastasia Mezenina

ife is perfect in its every shape and form. Beauty standards are artificially created by people and are used to judge everyone and everything. But they are nothing more than mind games. In an attempt to understand beauty, people created a concept which is the exact opposite of beauty: ugliness. This is caused by the duality of our minds. Human brain processes abstract concepts by applying a dual filter. No in-depth analysis occurs because we do not have the time or capacity for it. If we processed everything in-detail, we would be overloaded with the data.

Sometimes this is helpful and other times it makes people misunderstand and misinterpret things. This is good and this is bad. This is happy and this is sad. This is beautiful and this is ugly. These are just labels which do not reflect the truth. Beauty has many versions. But they need to be explored, uncovered, and comprehended. The goal of this project is to bring attention to the deeper meaning of beauty that is usually overlooked because humans strive to simplify their process of understanding the world around them.

“I

have always felt the need to look like the white women on the television screen. I knew that I did not look like them in terms of skin color, therefore I went through a stage of self-hate. I then decided that I could straighten my hair to make it look more normal and like them,” said Iyana Buckmon, an African American exchange student at Anglo-American University (AAU). Cultural appropriation is a widely controversial term that most people do not understand as its meaning has been twisted by social media and extremists. The term describes the process of dominant cultures adopting elements of a minority culture, especially for monetary gain. While this may sound like an equal cultural exchange, dominant cultures fail to recognize that there is a power imbalance between cultures which makes this process harmful. Appropriation is also mistaken for appreciation, and the difference between the two is quite distinct. The problem first starts with a lack of representation and making minorities feel ashamed or even criminalizing them for their culture. They grow up thinking their culture is something unnatural or even primitive. Media has a powerful impact on people’s lives. Growing up, minorities do not see their culture or

MYTHS OF CULTURAL APPROPRIATION Text by Megan Chotrani Photographs by Peter O’Neill 25

themselves represented positively in mainstream books, TV shows, and movies. They believe that they have to abandon the cultural features that make them distinct from the dominant culture and do their best to assimilate. African-Americans are subject to discrimination or criminalization for their hair. For example, actress and singer Zendaya wore locks (dreadlocks) to the 2015 Oscars Red Carpet where she faced racist abuse from “Fashion Police” host, Giuliana Rancic. Rancic commented that her natural hair made her look like she smells of “patchouli oil. Or, weed.” While a lack of representation was already a serious problem, then came the mainstream appropriation of minority cultures. A good example was when in 2016, Marc Jacobs held a fashion show where the models wore pastel wigs made to look like dreadlocks. While this may seem like appreciation of a culture, out of 52 models in the show, only 8 were Black.

Brands cannot claim to appreciate and represent a culture without appreciating and representing its people. “The Fashion Spot” analyzed 236 fashion campaigns, featuring 422 models, in 2016. The data compiled showed that 78.2% of the models were all white, while 21.8% were either Black, Hispanic, Asian or other. Yet, fashion designers and companies will continue to feature clothes inspired by other cultures and call it appreciation, when really it’s for monetary gain. Marc Jacobs responded to the criticism saying, “Funny how you don’t criticize women of color for straightening their hair.” Jacobs and many others fail to recognize when minorities are assimilating to the dominant culture due to pressure to conform. Black men and women are considered unkempt and unprofessional when their hair is worn naturally, and even get subject to ridicule like Zendaya. It may seem like a hasty generalization to

claim that minorities always assimilate to the dominant culture everytime they straighten their hair. However, consider again the lack of representation in the U.S. If you’re Asian, Black or Hispanic living in the U.S, you hardly ever see your culture or your people being represented on screen. Mass media is one of the largest forms of socialization, and by the lack of representation, minorities will be conditioned to think that the cultural norms for a society are whatever people with fair skin, blue eyes, and blonde straight hair are doing. How can their standard for beauty and culture be objective if they only see one kind being portrayed? The reach of Western media is so powerful that it does not only affect minorities in the U.S. “There has been pressure [to straighten her natural hair], but I haven’t succumbed to it. We’re exposed to a lot of Western stuff, [media] so that’s all that you look up to. Like, it’s only recently that you see people, like my own people, being represented

in the media, like Lupita Nyong’o. Then, it’s like, ‘Omigosh she has dark skin, like it’s really dark, and her hair is short!’ It’s only recently that people have started to accept themselves. I did feel it at some point [pressure to conform to Eurocentric ideals] until representation hit,” said Chanda Mwape, an exchange student from Zambia at AAU, who felt the need to look a certain way that was perpetuated by Western media. India’s top-selling beauty products are skin-lightening creams that include harmful ingredients, like steroids, hydroquinone, and tretinoin, which can lead to health issues, like liver damage, skin cancer, and mercury poisoning. These are the effects of what colonization and media can do to a society. That may seem like an exaggeration, but the caste system in India was first established when the Harappan civilization was invaded by Indo-European invaders,

known as the Aryans, who considered themselves to be above the local population due to their lighter skin and hair. The invasion started India’s obsession with fair skin, and it was only perpetuated when the British invaded. Indian media encourages fair skin to this day. Most Indians feel pressure to have lighter skin and even get shamed for being “too dark”. “Even from my mom, she would tell me like, whenever I got a suntan she would get mad at me. She’d be like, ‘Why are you tan? What happened? What did you do?” I got bullied for being Indian. They used to tell me I was made out of shit. They made a song about how my mom found me in a trash can,” said Devisha Bisaria, an exchange student from Florida, who is ethnically Indian. Another component to cultural appropriation is monetary gain. A good example is when, in 2017, ASOS, a British online clothing retailer, appropriated Indian jewelry worn at weddings and parties known as a tikka. The company stripped the jewelry of all of its cultural meaning and background by calling it a “chandelier head clip”. This may seem like a minor issue but consider the fact that most companies will manufacture clothes in countries like India, Pakistan, Bangladesh to keep their production costs low before selling it at high prices to increase their profits. It’s well-known that manufacturers in these countries face terrible working conditions. ASOS has been a part of the Ethical Trade Initiative (ETI) which promotes healthy working conditions for laborers worldwide since 2009. However, they do not list

their suppliers directly online and their published reports on worker conditions are not comprehensive. Also, in 2016, a BBC investigation found evidence of child labor in a Turkish factory that was one of ASOS’s suppliers. ASOS denied the allegations. ASOS is just one of the many brands that outsource their products and claim to be culturally appreciative yet do nothing to actually benefit the people who belong to that respective culture. Where is their representation? Where is their respect? Laborers will suffer to make their own cultural items yet gain hardly anything in return.

Cultural appropriation is not about stopping cross-cultural exchange. Minorities want equal exchange and anyone that says otherwise is operating on a different agenda. It is about understanding that minorities do not have the representation or power for an equal exchange. Brands and media influence us greatly in the way we act, dress, and perceive people and culture. It is their ethical responsibility to represent the people if they choose to represent their culture.

It is also the responsibility of ordinary people who hold more power than minorities to use their privilege to empower those who do not have any and to understand the anger minorities feel. Most minorities have been made to feel that their culture is something “exotic” and unacceptable in foreign countries, yet when the dominant culture can appropriate these cultural items without facing similar discrimination, it is frustrating. Minorities were first mocked and ridiculed for their heritage. Now even if their cultural fashion is seen as beautiful, they are still not.

It’s cruel enough to subject workers to harsh conditions, but then to exploit the very culture that made them subject to racism and colonialism in the first place is another level of corporate greed. A good example of cultural appreciation is when ASOS - in a brilliant PR move released a clothing range called “ASOS Made in Kenya.” The line features bright and colorful prints inspired by Kenya and its culture. However, this range actually benefited the workers that made this line as ASOS not only pays the workers decent wages, but also funds local educational institutes, operates a stitching academy for girls, and supplies the residents with sanitary napkins and rain-catchers. The line is modeled online with an equal mix of Black and White models. Despite the clothing line being a form of an apologetic cover-up rather than ASOS’s own initiative, it is an amazing template for what equal cultural exchange looks like.

THE SEARCH T A H W D N A E G R N A O E L A W L O L H W BEEN A E T V ’ E W

raveling the world does not equate with escape. Our emotions know nothing about distance or the way this world works. Truth is, you won’t magically find yourself in others, or stumble across it in the new places you explore abroad. Our identity is in symbiosis with each breath, heartbeat, and passing thought we have, regardless of location. It’s intertwined with the intangible parts of our being, having no reason to unravel itself to console our misunderstanding and musings.

By Jordan Sandoval Image by SAM HILLS 31

Being stripped of everything you called home, however, does something interesting. It faces you with what’s left standing: yourself. In discovering cities, walking down cobbled streets unfamiliar to your footsteps, and entering buildings skeptical of your presence, you see that life has placed you on a trail of mirrors. Those momentary observations and glimpses of yourself you’ve never taken the time to fully acknowledge, culminate into a symphony of revelations. Harmonizing frequencies of personal discovery cascade into portals leading you into the kaleidoscope realms of your inner world. You crack the codex when left alone to your own devices and come to see that this soul operates according to its own cosmic orders, conjuring up constellations only you can fully recognize. You begin to connect the dots by tracing the stars that palpitate within and realize what a wonderful home this truly is. In feeling out-of-place you understand that your roots run deep, burrowed in soils crafted only for you. Amidst the whirlwind of the unexpected, life rekindles a lifelong romance with the body you’ve inhabited since birth, telling you, “this is who you’ve always been.” And that is when you grasp that the search of the self was never an endeavor through the external universe, but rather, an odyssey across the depths of the spirit. Once you align and discern the electric energies at work inside, navigating this life becomes an everlasting dance of revival, moonwalking through the sorrows of the night. 32

Text by Stefan Fiedler

e all crave suspense, adrenaline, danger, and fear. Not all of us show it, but it’s a part of our psychology. Freud named this impulse Thanatos, after the Greek god of nonviolent death. In some of us, this impulse is so strong that we willingly fly into the unknown like a moth into a flame. We hope not to crash and be cooked to death upon our encounter with the flame, the unknown, but there is always that ludic element in uncovering the mysteries we behold. I am in love with a tenacious Polish girl. Her name is Julia. She, being from Krakow, traveled almost 400 kilometers to visit me in Warsaw, where I lived for almost a year. Being a pair of adventurous souls, we sought out our July quest and found it in the nearby town of Otwock, twenty-three kilometers south of Polish cosmopolitizing capital.

We arrived in Otwock by train at the 21st hour. No wind blew, no stars shone, and darkness began to overcome this long and late June day. A growing moon lit the night sky, giving it a dimly lit deep blue hue. Last time I had visited this town, it was a hot spring afternoon. A local music festival featured many local bands and a Mexican Chaman carried out a small riverbed ritual to bless all living beings. Not knowing where to walk, and not wanting to use the last minutes of battery our phones had, we asked a young crew of friends where we might find this infamous Asylum. With disbelief in his voice, one of the kids gave us some convoluted, yet seemingly precise

Near the train track, I resolved to arm ourselves up. Each picked up a pair of rocks; we couldn’t afford to meet the Devil on the way and not be prepared to smash his face in. We each held a rock and our hands. The second earth grenade we hid in our pockets. Our trek to the Sanatorium began.

hands and, to lighten the mood, joked about our horrible sense of direction and how it was far more likely for us to get lost halfway than to ever reach the Sanatorium. Perhaps that would have been better. I’ll admit, I was afraid of what might await us in this strange place. A part of me did not want to go. I was fearful of what danger I might be compelling Julia to go through. Once she heard this, she blushed and called me adorable for fearing for her safety and doubled the speed of the march.

The town was dimly lit, and no people walked its streets. It was cold, but our fear and excitement kept us warm. We clutched each other’s

Photo from Pexels

On the Premises of Death

directions. Warningly, he remarked that the Zofiówka was located outside the town, in the nearby forest. “Excellent!” Julia and I exclaimed with ecstatic naivete. They informed us of the common presence of criminals and drug addicts in the asylum. We thanked them for their help, perhaps instead a condemnation, and went on our way.

At first sight, Otwock is not a remarkable town. Most of its buildings are what you’d expect from a regenerating post-communist nation. It is, however, home to the endemic architecture known as Swidermeijer. The river Swider flows across the northwest of the town and joins the Vistula further north. It is quiet and peaceful… nowadays at least. We headed down to Otwock to make the best of the night and look for Sanatorium Zofiówka, an abandoned mental asylum. Unbeknownst, we had invited ourselves into a desecrated domain of death.

“Here we are,” I murmured. “Let’s go,” she answered, as if regretting the words that slipped out her mouth. We took out our cell-phone flashlights to illuminate the way. Our few remaining minutes of battery encouraged us to move fast. The wind blew, helping the icy fear creep into our cores. We followed the path, surrounded by tall shadow trees whose rustling treetops gossiped about our arrival. We came upon a split road, hesitated for a moment to decide and headed right. In the distance, we saw a big house with a room lit by a warm light. A dog warned whoever dwelled there of our presence. Figuring it was not abandoned, we returned to the intersection and took to the left. Our hands were held as if by magnets powered by currents of curiosity and fear. We walked with cold sharp senses, our pupils desperately grasping what light there was. Silence was law, and our steps disrupted the frigid order of the air. Wondering how much more we had to go until we came upon the asylum, we found the answer in the sky ahead. Between the treetops, we saw the deep blue sky cut by a line of darkness.

building ahead. We walked to the end of the canopy covered path. Pierced by the chilling horror of having reached our destination, we froze in a terrified awe. Before us stood Sanatorium Zofiówka.

“Oh fuck,” we both lamented, as one more curse flew into the air. We saw that at the side lay a torn metal fence; privacy had been violated a long time ago. Those who were drawn to Zofiówka were welcomed by decay and misery. The walls, perhaps six meters tall, were covered in violent and erratic graffiti. A pair of cylindrical columns held the roof above the entrance and reminded us of a perhaps elegant past. The derelict brick structure full of large broken windows had its arching main door shut by a damaged brick wall. The sharp remains of glass threatened our intention to enter. We approached the one on the right, and I climbed inside. I landed upon glass, stone, and beer cans. The walls were peeling like dry, dead skin. Terrified by the sound of my own making I examined the cold, stagnant room. Julia followed. I approached the door that led to a corridor between the main hall and the right wing of the building. I peeked anxiously, expecting to find a psychopath ready to sever my head. Not finding death incarnate, I stepped into the corridor, and held Julia’s hand.

The wall in front of us was covered in graffiti homages to Slayer and some other cryptic drawings. Very clearly though, we saw red arrows pointing to the right. Terrified to choose where to go now, we let the memories in this place choose for us. We followed the arrows.

Photo by Julie Meunier

Fearful but determined to uncover the mystery of Zofiówka, we walked on. We entered a forest passage and a long, dark, and the chilling walk led us to a street. We passed a big, white, noblelooking building, which we assumed to be a preschool. Two-hundred meters forth and marked by a pair of pillars, we came upon an entrance. Within was not the darkness that comes with night, but that which exists because light fears coming in. I looked at Julia and she looked at me. The moon looked down upon us. It was late into the 22nd hour.

Immediately, we came upon a corridor leading to an entrance to the right and three entrances to the left. We entered the room to the right and came into a large, trashed room where condom packets lay on the bloodstained ground. A flaking wall spoke the nature of this asylum: ANTYPSYCHIATRIA. The roof was pierced by dirty stalactites of paint, threatening those who looked up to heaven for safety or hope. Everything was still and quiet. Suddenly, we heard muffled steps somewhere within the building. We hushed and waited for more, but nothing followed. Like a blinding mist fear arose from within; adrenaline kicked up the exploration’s speed.

To some places we are drawn, and from others repelled. This place inspired neither. Now so near, I could feel this conspicuous sensation of presence, as if tentacles of evil exuded from the

Under the spotlight of the moon we left the grounds of Zofiówka. We called for a cab and received no answer. We quickly walked back, for the last train left soon. On the main street, a white van zoomed by, its open back doors banging against itself. We reached the train and sat down satisfied with our adventure and happy to be safe.

We came back to the corridor and a gush of cold fear blew into us. We felt our body temperatures drop. Following the arrows, we stepped forward and entered the first room to the right. Its tone differed from the rest of the sanatorium. We were received by a graffiti of “LOVE” on the right wall. We turned around and entered the second room. In the same handwriting, in big red letters we read: “HERE THERE ARE NO LIVING, WE ARE RULED BY THE DEAD.” Again, the strange cold wind penetrated us. Terrified at the omen of death, I returned to the corridor. Julia remained inside reading some other graffiti I could not understand. Resolving to discover where the arrows led at the end of the corridor, I found myself in a

small passage room with an entrance to the right, and cry for HELP on the left. Julia came to me and I told her to wait for me to check the final room. A bleak, sinister energy emanated from this room. Morbid curiosity pulled me in step by step and I, very cautiously, peeked inside. From this angle, I saw three bathroom stalls, then plain concrete. I took one big, final step. I saw etched in blood upon the wall the origin of the energy: the face of the demon Baphomet, cursed by an upside down cross and three sixes across its head. At its base, a space delimited in red full of ash remains.

We struck a conversation with some guys on the train, and we told them of our fresh adventure. They looked blankly at us, “Kids what the fuck were you doing there? Do you have any idea of what happened in that place?” Julia and I looked at each other puzzled. We shook our heads. He explained, “Sanatorium Zofiówka was founded in 1908. It used to be a hospital for patients of tuberculosis. When the Nazis invaded, they brought in patients with mental illnesses. In August of 1942, Nazis authorized Action T4. They pulled out 140 patients from the hospital, lined them up and executed them. Zofiowka was a place where minds who were in dire need of help and care instead received torment a lived horrors. The remains of the 140 patients were found in the 1980’s, buried in the hospital’s garden. During its operation in World War II, over 400 patients were starved to death. The entire Jewish population of Otwock was sent to Treblinka to die: over 7000 souls perished.” As we began to understand the weight of history in the place we had just ignorantly been, Julia and I looked at each other and laughed in astonishment! Enduring fear and the possibility of immediate danger bonded us deeply. As a couple, so as a team, we have become stronger and closer for it.

I hollered for Julia to see, and we unanimously decided to leave right away. We ran towards the window, jumped it over, and sped down the beaten path. Photo from Pexels

Riegrovy Sady Located a short walk from Jiřího z Poděbrad, Riegrovy Sady is a beautiful, winding park with multiple restaurants and a beer garden. This park is welcoming for every time of person; families with little children, wild, loud sports fans, or people just looking to relax. With Zemský Pivovar on tap, Riegrovy Sady Beer Garden is one of the few outdoor drinking spaces that serves a microbrew. They also serve typical Czech beers, like Pilsner or Gambrinus, wine, cocktails, and a variety of food from the grill. When the weather is nice, the beer gardens are usually packed with crazed sports fans watching the games on the large screens, so if you are looking for a relaxing place to unwind, this is not the place. About a five minute walk away from the beer gardens is Mlíkárna, a cosy cafe with outdoor

and rooftop seating, drinks and grilled food. Both the beer gardens and Mlíkárna have a take away option for beer, which is what many people do because just a minute walk away from the Prague Castle. During the warm season this sloped lawn is barely visible because it’s covered in a vivid tapestry of blankets and people. The Riegrovy Sady sunset hill, as my friends and I call it, represents a community of all kinds of people coming together to enjoy the tranquility of the setting sun. With beers and food from the nearby restaurants, a blanket to sit on, and a community of friends, ending the day here is pure bliss.

By Georgi Shillington Photo by Georgi Shillington

fter a long day of exploring the magnificent city of Prague, the best thing to do is settle down with a drink in hand and watch the city wind down as the sun slowly falls below the horizon. No matter where you are in the Czech Republic’s capital, you will always have beautiful views, but not all of them will allow you to see the sunset. Rooftop bars and viewpoints give you the opportunity to see the city fall asleep to the melodic colors of the sky, but not without a pretty price tag. There are, however, multiple places in Prague where you can grab great food while watching the setting sun for a reasonable price. Head to these four places to end the stress of a tiring week, or to simply enjoy the beautiful views of the most underrated city in Europe.

Vyšehrad Vyšehrad towers above the city, providing views of most of the iconic buildings in Prague. At sunset, the Vltava river creates the perfect canvas for the sunsets to reflect off of. Although it is quite a hike to get up there, the panoramic views more than make up for it. Unlike the other locations, Vyšehrad is usually a quiet and peaceful place at all times of the day. It’s home to the most famous cemetery in Prague, where many famous Czechs are buried, and the beautiful Saint Peter and Paul Basilica. A walk around the park with a drink in hand from either Café Citadela Vyšehrad or Hospůdka Na Hradbách is a peaceful and

Náplavka

Stalin

If you’re a foodie or beer snob, Náplavka is the place for you. Náplavka, literally meaning “on the embankment” in Czech, is located just north of Vyšehrad on the riverside. On Saturday this place is a bustling farmers market. Whenever the weather permits, Náplavka holds events the trickle into the night, including food truck festivals, beer festivals, and live music events. The Náplavka crowd tends to be younger and therefore many of the events are geared towards millennial and alternative people of Prague. Whether there is an event or not, this riverside is always a great place to view the sunset. When the food trucks are gone, you can enjoy a juicy burger and a drink on one of the multiple boats that are docked there. On any given day, Náplavka is a great place to visit, but for a truly magical experience try dangling your feet over the water, sipping on some wine, while watching the pinks and oranges of the sky fade away.

From 1955 to 1962, the world’s largest statue of Joseph Stalin towered over the city where the Metronome now stands. Despite being 50 years since this statue was demolished, this popular area is known to any local as “Stalin.” During the summer, Stalin has events almost every night, such as movie nights, concerts, and theatrical performances,. The best part of it is that it’s all free! All that’s necessary to buy is the beer, Károba 11°,that is made exclusively for this beer garden. With shoes hanging from the power line above your head and skate boarders gliding around at all times of the day, you will find an amazing outlook of Prague with views of the many spires of Prague, the Petrin Tower, and even parts of the castle.

relaxing way to unwind from the events of the day, and a great way to see the city from a different perspective. The best views aren’t at either of these restaurants though, but rather right outside of the Galerie Vyšehrad. Luckily both places have drinks to go, so you can either grab one for there and enjoy the nice atmosphere or take one with you to watch the city slowly fall asleep.

Photo by Julie Meunier

Grab a beer in one of Stalin’s iconic reusable cups, and go up to the metronome to dangle your feet over the city as the sun sets.

n 2002, I went with my mother to a local tattoo parlor where she got her second tattoo. The memory isn’t mine.

This memory is a story I’ve been told countless times before. On a warm, humid day I sat and watched in childish delight as buzzing needles danced on my mother’s skin, ink diving and transforming her into a living, walking art. As soon as the artist put the tattoo gun down, I proudly proclaimed, “I want one.” Although the small rabbit that the artist drew on me with marker brought me joy, I knew that one day I would have my own real ink. Now, at almost 20, I have 4 tattoos, and each one of them has its own story and its own connected memory. For example, a simple circle one inch in diameter, designed in the Hemingway Bar in Prague, brings me warm memories with my best friend and our travels. A matching circle is a direct symbol of love and connection, forever placed on my right forearm. Mirroring the circle is a black and white bumblebee, my most recent tattoo, and the strongest connection I will have to someone long gone.

A story about the beekeper By Katherina Martin

My bumblebee tattoo was done in Amsterdam. I started the day by walking through the city and repeatedly found myself at the windows of tattoo parlors, debating whether I wanted to get new ink. Eventually, I sat by the water and thought of all the designs I planned to get and, while watching the spring petals fall into the canal, I decided that I wanted to honor someone very dear to me. I walked to the nearest parlor and with a confidence that matched my younger self I said, “I want a bee tattoo.” Soon after, I felt the familiar sting of the needles, and with it I found myself zoning out and thinking of my grandpa, the beekeeper. I’ve known all of my grandparents and greatgrandparents my whole life. On my mom’s side, both of my great-grandmothers are still thriving way into their 90s. On my dad’s side, I’m still lucky enough to be able to listen to my grandmother singing her gospel songs or reminiscing on her life. I’ve had the luck of knowing the heartbreaks and triumphs of most of my family members, both Latin and USA-born.

But one story I’ll never get to hear first-hand is that of my grandpa from my dad’s side. When I was a year old, he died of cancer, leaving me with no memory of him. However, I can sense the care he had for me in the way others talk about him. In the year I knew him, he wasn’t allowed to be near me for at least 48 hours after each chemo session. During those hours, it broke his heart to hear me cry with no way to comfort me. There’s an ocean of photographs of him holding me with adoration and wonder shining through his eyes. I’ve been told that the last time I saw him was the day I cried harder than I ever had before. My mother said it was like I knew that I’d never get to properly know him. Before he died, he left me two gifts to remember him by, one of which was a small teddy bear with wings, a guardian angel. Whenever I felt downcast, I’d hold her close until I calmed down again. The other gift was a small matryoshka doll in the shape of a beehive. The beehive, now with splits in the wood and cracks in the paint, opens to a faded honeypot, and inside of that a fragile, wooden bee. When I was younger, I would hold the little bee close to my chest as I looked through old family photo albums. In a way, that little bee brought me closer to someone I wish I could have known. I never got to know my grandpa. To me, he is scattered memories that I’m told. He is the man in the old photos on my shelves. Even if he isn’t my own memories and even if I never got to have a one-on-one with him, I can feel his love and care in my tattoo. I know that there’s so much he would want me to know I can accomplish. My tattoo reminds me to do the most I can with my life because I feel like that’s what he’d want me to do.

POLAND, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER by Nela Tomczyk

Gdansk is the birthplace of the Solidarity movement, a Polish labor union — the first one not controlled by the communist party. Through civil resistance in the ’80s, they contributed to the end of the communist regime in Poland and the fall of the Eastern Bloc.

It only takes a 20-minute walk from the city center to reach the Gdansk Shipyard, where 17,000 workers led by the shipyard electrician, Lech Wałęsa, started Solidarity. The central element is the huge, rusty-looking steel building. Its raw and visually heavy exterior reminds of the concrete buildings typical in the former Communist Bloc. However, this construction was newly built, and it is the main facility of the ESC — European Solidarity Center.

For the 4 euro entrance fee, visitors can be transported back in time and explore Poland’s long, rough way to democracy, and discover the ideas that started among ordinary shipyard workers and quickly spread to all parts of Poland. After only a year, more than 30 percent of all working-age Poles were members of Solidarity and their resistance eventually influenced the changes across entire Europe. The first floor is a walk through history. On the walls, you see the authentic boards with 21 demands of the strikers, and the ceiling is covered with hundreds of yellow safety helmets that workers had to use. In the middle of the room, you can see the desk where the martial law was declared. Apart from this, each wall has personal stories printed on them.

Photo by Akron, CC BY 3.0 license

dansk is a Polish city located on the Baltic Coast. For Scandinavians, it’s a convenient place for a cheap dental treatment. Germans value it as the perfect holiday spot due to the sandy beach and affordable accommodations. Young Brits see it as the party capital with a large number of pubs serving Mojitos for 2,50 euros each.

While all of the above make Gdansk a good traveling spot, there is more to the city than the beautiful beach, cheap alcohol, and a vibrant Old Town. One aspect, in particular, the city’s historic significance, seems to be outshined by other attractions and overlooked by the tourists, as well as the locals. Photo by Yanek, CC BY-SA 3.0 license

Photo source: pexels.com

Although the stories printed on the walls of the ESC are captivating, the best stories can be heard from the visitors themselves, exchanging comments with each other. “We were visiting your Dad’s parents when they declared the martial law,” says a middle-aged woman to her son. “On our way home, the streets were full of tanks. You must have been a few months old. I was sure another war is about to start.” “That’s how stores used to look like,” a young woman tells her little daughter who is fascinated by the picture of an empty grocery store. “I remember when our local store got a few kilograms of lemons. Your uncle waited in the queue the whole night and still came home with nothing, they ran out.”

“Before leaving the house, I would always leave my watch and wedding ring on the bedside table,” says the older man to his friend. “If I didn’t come back, at least my wife would be able to get some money for it.”

Strike at the Vladimir Lenin Shipyard in August 1980 Photo by Zenon Mirota, CC BY-SA 3.0 pl license

On the next floor, visitors can see items from the time where freedom seemed like an unachievable goal. The memories from the Pope John Paul II’s trips to Poland, private correspondence between the members of opposition youth movements, and illegally distributed press and books.

The information boards explain the importance of opposition journalists that managed to distribute over 6,000 press issues in the time of strict media censorship. It’s hard not to feel like the history came full circle while observing the decline in media freedom in Poland, and the few opposing media outlets trying to give people the most obtainable version of the truth.

“Poland, get your shit together,”

In a three-hour trip, we travel through the beginning go Solidarity, protests, strikes, martial law, the first democratic election, and finally the “freedom’s triumph.” That’s the title of the last room of the ESC’s exposition, full of huge screens showing how Europe has changed after 1989. One wall is covered with white and red post-it notes that the visitors can fill. Together, they form into a large word Solidarność — Solidarity.

In 2015, the far right-wing party Law and Justice (PIS) has won the Polish parliamentary election and has since then taken control over Polish media, peddled the conspiracy theories about the Smolensk plane crash in Russia, and neutered the constitutional tribunal.

Some notes are the personal memoirs about life under the communist regime, while others refer to the heroic fight for democracy or the anecdotes from the ‘80s.

says one note. “Where is all that heroism now?” This is not the only critical remark. There are many more notes pointing out the alarming political situation emerging in Poland.

Despite the frequent protests happening all over Poland, the support for PIS is growing, and the voters seem to have forgotten what living in an authoritarian regime feels like. This is why visiting ESC is important for foreigners but should be mandatory for Poles. They need a reminder of what solidarity means, now more than ever.

**** 48

Dark tourists get engrossed in the past in the oddest ways possible, whether on a stroll through the highly irradiated city of Chernobyl or a drive past the assassination spot of President John F. Kennedy. When death and tragedy strike, you can be sure a dark tourist will be there a few hundred years later, Geiger unwter and a digital camera in-hand.

DARK HISTORY, DARKER TOURISM: EXPLORING PRAGUE’S ABANDONED PAST Text and photo by Peter O’Neill

istory is impossible to remove from the minds of inhabitants, especially an entire nation’s past. It reminds them of everything they, or those before them, fought for and eventually lost. The hardship and torment can be seen in the very architecture, and if walls could talk, they’d surely cry out. Regular buildings no longer hold their innocence as every physical object takes on a new negative connotation.

Countries like Germany have dealt with this positively, owning up to the war crimes their ancestors committed. The Czech Republic, however, has not. 49

The capital city of Prague is a metropolis that, despite its newfound cultural optimism, has been beaten down by tyranny and existed under the boot of powers much larger than their own. Yet, there is a previously unknown demographic of travelers that would be ecstatic to uncover the darker sides of the nation’s history. These individuals travel the world, specifically visiting the strangest and most infamous tourist attractions offered - and sometimes restricted - on the map. Visiting historical sites closely connected to death or tragedy is known as “Dark Tourism.”

Despite being highly criticized as yet another way to desecrate or exploit a historical area and the dead associated with it, the popularity of Dark Tourism has risen in the last decade.

The popularity of dark tourism has brought light to areas otherwise forgotten by society. Along with the extension of tourism, there is a necessity to address these events as something that has indeed happened and impossible to be neglected further. Cue the Czech Republic. Under the site of what was once a 14,200-ton statue of the international icon of tyranny, Joseph Stalin, lives Prague’s newest and most innovative dark tourism hotspot. Organized by “Post Bellum,” an organization preserving Czech historical memory, this new exhibit opened to touch all recent modern cases of threatened life in the Czech Republic. The exhibit offers a truly immersive look into Czech oppression of the 20th century. A dark, narrow-gated hallway with the only sunlight intruding from the doorway behind, leads visitors’ way to the viewing room. As the gate stops further down, ominous spotlights greet you.

With the popularization of shows like the Netflix Original “Dark Tourist,” hosted by a New Zealander journalist, David Farrier, a whole new generation of dark tourists have emerged. Those who have seen Farrier’s excursions have witnessed an exponential amount of dark, thrilling, and outright controversial historical sites and experiences.

From there you are thrown straight into a memorable experience filled with artificial gunfire, neon lighting, and even a secret police interrogation similar to those done to political prisoners in the early 1950s. A projector lights up the floor with planes bombing the terrain. The room paints a grim moving picture of Czech Jews being herded into concentration camps, like unsuspecting cattle to the slaughter.

This is not your family’s average summer trip up to Mount Rushmore. In the show, Farrier meets Pablo Escobar’s charismatic enforcer, Popeye, in Columbia, and is guided through Escobar’s former apartment by the drug lord’s sister-in-law. David then witnesses an exorcism in Mexico and participates in a faux illegal border crossing. That is just the first episode. Viewers see the danger and the controversy as appealing elements to this strange take on a traditional getaway.

You are then transported into the crypt of St. Cyril and St. Methodius Cathedral, where the paratroopers sent to assassinate Reinhard Heydrich, a high-ranking German Nazi official, are killed by overwhelming German forces. The room begins flooding and gunfire ricochets off the cement walls. Though only a simulation, the threat of danger seems real.

Dark tourists will immediately be intrigued by the immersive experience of reliving central Europeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s most gruesome moments. However, the purpose of this exhibit is not to purely glorify violence.

The experience is meaningfully disorientating, revealing a fraction of what the country has had to go through to shape itself into what we know it today. It is no coincidence that this exhibit correlates with the 100th anniversary of the Czech Republicâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s establishment, as it was designed to illustrate the long process of forming a cultural identity.

There is a separate portion of the exhibit with an enclosed screening room where you can hear actual testimonials by those who lived in the eras of outright oppression. Jewish concentration camp survivors, former Communist party members, and victims of the vast oppression have all been recorded to give an oral first-person report of what transpired. This puts a face to the chaos and gives you an opportunity to sympathize. Prague has limited museums covering this era, and none of them offer this intense look into almost a century of oppression and hardship. Presenting this narrative using particular lighting and audio arrangements convey the point well, simultaneously attracting dark tourists. That is what may just normalize the nationâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s dark history: a darker form of tourism. Photo by Julie Meunier

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