PERSONAL FILES * WAR MEMORY ARCHITECTURE
IDENTITY
The first great socialist industry was the production of personal files.
In the socialist world, people and things exist only in personal files. The owner of files is the owner of all existence. —Monarhia de Drept
Starting in Zagreb, I would base myself in cities and towns, occassionally venturing out into villages and countryside throughout Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia and Kosovo. My purpose was to understand how identity was shaped in these former Yugoslavian countries through the lens of war memorials built during Tito's era. It was an attempt and it remained as so. A traveller will always be outsider and this truth has found its way into this zine. At the beginning, I did not have much of a plan besides asking questions and taking photos with my old beaten up Canon. I promised myself to keep my eyes and ears and all senses open at all times. Armed with Mischa Glenny's tome on the history of the Balkans, I embarked. As with any journey, it was trial and error, crossing out things from my itinerary along the way, changing what I wanted to see and what I thought would enrich my research. The project aimed to document spomeniks—war memorials erected during Tito's rule in 1960s and 1970s. Hundreds of these concrete monsters were built, commemorating fallen soldiers, civilians and genocides. Today most of them stand neglected and falling apart, obscurities in a barren landscape. The world at large started to find out about so-called spomeniks relatively recently. Several years ago, photos by Dutch artist Jan Kempenaers made the rounds around news and culture websites, even generating clickbait articles. 'What are these? Where? Why? How come nobody talks about them?' I was asking myself these questions, staring at weirdly shaped masses of concrete and metal. They mostly reminded me of organic matter, threatening bacteria, largely ignored remnants of a past regime. Some spomeniks were promptly blown up and destroyed in the early 1990s. Some are in good shape, being taken care of and regularly visited. Some simply stand there, in a forest or a city square, with locals walking past, not paying attention. Some of them will have a wreath or two laid at their feet to honour the victims. Some of them are waiting to be demolished and replaced with grander and newer memorial complexes.
Whatever their fate, when you are visiting locals will know there is a spomenik nearby. They will point you in a good direction and go on with their day, not showing emotions, perhaps only curiosity as to why? would you wish to see the place. There is something about the general inaccessibility of the memorials and foreign quiet of the villages and tiny towns. Even in busier places such as Vogošća (a suburb of Sarajevo) or Pristina, the silence shakes you to the core. Cars whizz past; people walk nearby, hands heavy with grocery bags. An old man slowly smokes a cigarette on a bench, eyeing you up and down as you snap away with a camera. Suddenly you are alone, with this thing-that-we-donot-talk-about, perched on top of a hill or crowning a meadow. It is akin to being in a cemetery: filled with people it would still feel empty and deprived of life. On the last evening of my trip I found myself in Niš, walking through a big city park to see the spomenik in the shape of three marvelous concrete fists. As the oppressive heat loosened up and the sun sank, kids were playing football around the memorial site, mothers lazily walking around and chatting. A car parked nearby was blasting Kendrick Lamar and teenagers were drinking beers. Snap snap, a bunch of friends take a few selfies. This is what I was on the hunt for: our interactions with architecture from the past. How do we fit our lives around something so emotionally charged, built to commemorate people who died for our nation? Do memorials still have a place in our lives? Identity is ever-fluid. We are forever trying to find out who we are in relation to our country, our chunk of earth which does not belong to us at all, which will be taken away from us, bombed, lacerated with mines, buried under corpses. More often than not, identity is tied in with the noble idea of nationality, and that comes with certain privileges— privileges that have caused this suffering and questioning. In the end it did not matter whether I was in Belgrade or Prizren or Novo Selo Palanječko. People told me the same: that some things used to be better, that some things are getting better,
that they want to leave, that they do not see much hope. This zine is based on the idea of 'personal files' that would hold information about people in socialist regimes, presenting an infinite, negatively powerful knowledge. Turning it on its head, here is a broken collection of photographs, quotes and observations, all torn out of contexts that were not usually there for me to begin with, aiming to restore positive knowledge. I attempted to learn the contexts but history books and websites and hours of listening can teach you only so much. In this life, identity is not a book you will finish, and so I feel it is only appropriate to play by its rules; to present a messy, somewhat incoherent collection of what I saw, heard and observed. Here is a role an individual plays in identity-making. What you see is my vision and no one else's. As I went on and on and learned more and met people, some things in my mind settled down and I understood them, but mostly my brain scattered into bits and pieces. I decided to not turn it into anything but leave it as it is. This is as far as I can get as an outsider. I am purposely being subjective here. This file is personal to me. What you see here is not chronological, is not in order. It is a quote from a Bosnian on top of a photo taken in Zagreb because the way I see it is we are all the same but we are all different. For the record, I did not even entertain a question of whether Yugoslavia should still exist, or whether people of all different nationalities be united as Yugoslav; it is not my question to ponder. What I did entertain in my mind, however, were the similarities between what people told me, what I saw and what past networks that united people still existed (in this case: concrete, war and socialist regime).
"Imagine if we could come together as Yugoslavia now. That would be perfect. But it's not possible now, the thing is that lots of people lost family relatives in the war and it's too soon. Maybe later."
The past will let itself be known easily. Although it is not a wild land, something is in the air if you smell closely. People go about their day, selling bursting watermelons in the oppressive heat, drinking coffee, living life out in the open. They smile at you, lend a hand, give you a ride. Not in spite of very recent and cruel events, but despite them.
Location: Novo Selo Palanječko, Croatia Population: Two teenage girls walking out of the forest where the monument is placed. Quiet residential street leading through the village: people working in the gardens, repairing their houses. Design: Želimir Janeš, 1981 History: 'Monument to the Detachment in Brezovica Forest' commemorates the first organised group who fought against the invasion of Croatia by Axis powers during World War II. In April 1941, forces of the Axis countries invaded the then Kingdom of Yugoslavia. Soon afterwards, Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina were established as the Independent State of Croatia. Run by fascist Ustaše forces (which were supported by Nazi Germany), the Independent State of Croatia was brutally oppressive towards many ethnic groups, including Serbs, Jews and Roma. A group of young men angered by this development established the 1st Sisak Partisan Detachment in the Brezovica Forest near Novo Selo Palanječko. The group supposedly met under an elm tree, which inspired the design of the memorial.
“People don't want to go back to Yugoslavia but they are like 'oh, those were the days.' They are bitter about the situation today and they are thinking of the better times when you could get a job anywhere, even in a village. It was better structure... I don't know what was it, I don't know what disrupted this system of work we had.“
The usual focus is on how weird and alien these look. Once you get to meet the giants, you forget all about the novelty of the design. The real power is this: the monument pierces the landscape. After getting lost on the bus and walking a few miles into a tiny sleepy village near Sisak, I found the spomenik in a forest. Nearby: an old man watering his plants, people repairing the facade of their house, some tractors, two teenage girls looking bored out of their minds but all of a sudden just me and this. Perhaps this is what memorials are about: solitary, almost fearful pondering in the face of a few tonnes of concrete whipped into a shape.
The melancholic restressed concrete lotus not only stops evil thoughts on each end, but it also has a certain cathartic power: it insults no one it threatens no one it does not encourage revenge yet it does not hide the truth. —Bogdan Bogdanovic
Location: Jasenovac, Croatia Population: Several visitors by the monument and the accompanying museum. September-May is likely busier, with school visits from all over Croatia. Design: Bogdan Bogdanović, 1966 History: Flower Monument, or 'Stone Flower', commemorates tens of thousands of victims of Jasenovac forced labour and concentration camp. The camp was run by the fascist Ustaše forces, ranking as one of the deadliest of World War II. It is estimated that at least 100,000 people have died in Jasenovac and its neighbouring smaller camps. So far the identities of over 80,000 have been confirmed. As the liberating forces advanced in April 1945, Ustaše realised that they would have to abandon the camp. Before they did so, they killed the remaining prisoners and burned the whole place down in effort to conceal their crimes. A few hundred prisoners managed to escape.
"The general consensus is that socialism was better. You could get a job easily. Now young people have to move abroad to find work. (pause) I don't follow politics or media. It's all negative stuff. Ask me if you want to know about stuff that makes us feel better, yoga, vegetarianism, or meditation."
"My parents could have left during the war several times. They could have gone to Norway or to England. My aunt went to England and she was begging them to come over. But they stayed. I guess they have a strong connection to the place. I think they would be better off now if they left."
"I love Kosovo but I tell you one thing, when I get out of here I am never coming back."
"We are exporting pork for very little price and importing all kinds of meat from Germany and EU for high prices. You are destroying the small guys with this. And the big farmers, they live thanks to the small farmers. Then there are villages in Serbia which are empty. But of course, if you are destroying these people, what else can you expect?"
"People either don't want to discuss the politics at all or they are leaning to extreme nationalism."
"After the war the things kept getting better, more liberal, but in the last five years or so it is the opposite, it's getting more and more conservative. You can see the influence of Turkey in this region. Some people even held a little celebration in the streets when Erdogan won the referendum recently."
Location: Šumarice Memorial Park, Kragujevac, Serbia Population: A creep hiding in the bushes next to the memorial. An old guy sitting topless on the bench and drinking beer. Several gardeners moving the lawn nearby. Design: Miodrag Živković, 1963 History: 'Interrupted Flight' is a memorial dedicated to the hundreds of students and their teachers murdered in this location by Nazi soldiers in October 1941. It is estimated that alongside around 300 students and teachers were also executed between 3,000 to 7,000 civilians—in the cemetery located in Šumarice village near Kragujevac. 'Interrupted Flight' is part of a big memorial park marking the location of tens of mass graves with remains of the executed people. Eleven other monuments and a museum can be found in the memorial park.
"Tito was smart. He was stealing a lot, he had a house in every city, he had his own train, can you imagine? But he was also sharing. Here, I will take this bottle (points at a bottle of water on the table) but this part of it I will leave to you. A few years ago one of the ministers was on the TV news and he was caught saying 'But I told my people not to steal so much!' And everyone made fun of him. But why? If I was a politician, I would probably steal too, it's high power. But you have to be smart about it, leave something to the people too."
"I come from Slavonia [a region of eastern Croatia] and I always talk about this. I understand this part of the country very well. Then I lived in Dalmatia for four years and now I live in Zagreb so I can see what's happening in different parts of the country. Slavonia was, thirty, forty, sixty years ago, the most promising part of Croatia because of the agriculture, the fields and nature, we had a big export of apples. A lot of people worked in industries too, for example in clothing industry. And the war of course really changed stuff because there was the important border with Serbia. Until the 90s it was growing and growing and everyone was moving to Slavonia and then it was the war and everyone was moving or running away. And this has been going on for last twenty years. And it's vast fields left over and empty factories.
We had a really huge rail infrastructure and now even that is going downward because the people in charge are incompetent. So for me to get from Zagreb to my hometown is still the same amount of time as it was thirty years ago. A lot of Slavonians used to go to Dalmatia to work but the working conditions for them are so low. And people there love Slavonians because they want to earn anything, because they have no choice. But now, even Slavonians are protesting and now that we are in the EU, they just move abroad for the work and come back only to see the family. So the moving is no longer really in the direction of Zagreb or the coast, it's just outside."
Mitrovica in Kosovo currently has some international travel warnings set against it but when I went today all I saw was a normal town with people going on about their day, drinking coffee, chatting on the street. There have been persistent clashes since the northern part is populated by Serbs and southern by Kosovars. This shows in aggressive use of flags, clothes with emblems, language, graffiti and even currency (southern: euros, northern: Serbian dinars). There is only one bridge across the river linking the two sides which you can only cross as a pedestrian. Kids play with toy guns in the street; a sleepy policeman is trying to stay awake and man the bridge.
"For us it wouldn't be safe to go there but you will be fine. Just don't speak Serbian in the south (laughter)."
Location: Partisan Hill, Mitrovica, Kosovo Population: Almost no one. Very quiet residential street winding zig-zag up the hill, three construction workers repairing a house nearby. Design: Bogdan Bogdanović, 1973 History: Monument to the Fallen Miners commemorates local Albanian and Serbian fighters from Trepča mines who stood up against Nazi occupation. Top part of the memorial in shape of an ore cart refers to the mines in the region. Two supporting poles represent two ethnic groups, Albanians and Serbs working together in unity. Mines were under German control during the World War II and miners were forced to work against their will—all mined materials were sent off to Germany to produce amunition and guns. Additionally, a forced labour camp was set up in Trepča.
(RE)BUILDING
They won't care about you unless you play big in world politics or go through a war. They will shoot bullets in your belly. They will help only if they can gain. They will prefer other, more titillating stories to entertain themselves. They will fetishise you.
They will pause for a second to consider your blood and flesh before continuing with their own misery. They will drive you into debt. They will invade, pillage and steal. They will prevent you from learning who you are and set you back decades. They will enforce their identity upon yours. They will load your landscape with explosives and not sew it back. They will become you and me. (You will become them.) A story. My country, yours.
Location: MatiÄ?ansko Pristina, Kosovo
Hill,
Velanija
neighbourhood,
Population: Two old guys drinking beer about 50 metres down the hill. A lady with heavy grocery bags walking towards the blocks of flats behind the memorial. A stray dog. A lively street immediately beneath the hill. Design: Svetislava LiÄ?ine, 1961 History: The memorial commemorates fallen civilians and soldiers from Pristina during the National Liberation War. It was frequently vandalised and has been left in disrepair. Currently there are tentative plans to tear it down and build a memorial complex dedicated to Kosovo's first president Ibrahim Rugova.
Google Mostar and you will get pictures of the famous bridge. Try going there in July and you will be swimming in an ocean of tourists. Just a 10 minute walk away from the centre is a former bank building that was turned into a sniper tower during the war in the 1990s as its strategic position and height allowed snipers to shoot Bosniaks walking or driving past. Today the building is abandoned and covered in bright graffiti that carry messages about war, the past, the future, hatred, love. A favourite drinking spot with the locals, I hear. A war memorial does not have to be erected on purpose.
"At the moment there is Right-wing party but even when it was Left-wing party it was bad. We are so irritated by politics that we cannot even say 'Happy National Day!' And there is a constant tension between Croatian and Serbian politicians because now governing parties in both countries are Right-wing and they provoke each other. Last year or so we had a National Day renamed to Day of the Victory and now the Serbians are thinking of this as provocation. They said that for them it would be a 'Day of Sorrow' and they are saying 'How can you celebrate this day?'"
Location: Adem Jashari Square, Pristina, Kosovo Population: An old man smoking a cigarette on a bench, suspiciously looking in my direction. Design: Miodrag Živković, 1961 History: Officially titled Monument to Brotherhood and Unity, the memorial commemorates Partisan fighters who died in the National Liberation War during World War II. The three pillars represent three ethnic groups living in Pristina and surrounding regions—Albanians, Serbs and Montenegrins. The uniting middle-part affirms co-operation and peaceful living of these groups. In recent years there have beententative plans to tear the memorial down and build a new parking lot and plaza instead.
"I have hopes for this place but they are not enough for me to risk my life staying here."
Location: Džindino Hill, Vogošća (suburb of Sarajevo), Bosnia and Herzegovina Population: No one. Cars and buses whizz past the tiny hill on top of which this memorial is perched but it's quiet on a Sunday morning. A few people enter a nearby mosque. Design: Petar Krstić and Zlatko Ugljen, 1969 History: Memorial to the fallen Partisan fighters from then separate town of Vogošća during World War II. The memorial also acts as a crypt where their remains are buried. The copper inserts possibly represent wounds of those who died in effort to liberate Vogošća.
"In the 80s Sarajevo was home to all these cool rock'n'roll bands. Then the war came and all these artists moved away. After the war, mostly people from smaller towns like Srebrenica and FoÄ?a moved in and I think that brought in more conservative attitudes towards life."
Weren't you afraid to travel in Kosovo? In the Balkans? note: The Balkans is not a mysterious part of Europe where people are less civilised than (insert nationality). People drink coffee, take dips in the river, try and earn enough to provide for their family, laugh and cry like you and I.
"But of course they are not going to demolish it, it's just a thing they say to people, that they will build new flats or a supermarket there. They want to keep it for tourists and as an attraction."
You expect to see the holes in the walls and on pavements. In Sarajevo they are called 'roses.' The mortar shells hit the ground and left peculiar shapes that were later painted red by citizens, to commerate the blood shed. But then you will be walking through the city and you look up and all of a sudden there is a barelyhanging on skeleton of a church, former ministry, an office building. A sign of our times. You will not defeat us; we will stand here regardless of our wounds. A war memorial does not have to be erected on purpose.
Location: Bubanj Memorial Park, Niť, Serbia Population: Plenty. Cars parked nearby, teenagers chilling and listening to music. Parents with kids walking past, kids playing football. Selfie takers. Three other photographers. Design: Ivana Sabolić & Mihajlo Mitrović, 1963 History: The fists commemorate more than ten thousand Serbian, Jew and Roma citizens executed by Nazi occupiers on a site nearby from 1942 to 1944. The number of executed is a rough estimate; many mass graves still have not been identified and thousands of remains were burned by Nazi forces in effort to conceal the crimes. Fists represent entire families of men, women and children killed and their resistance.
A note to you, whichever chunk of earth you occupy:
you shouldn't take the stairs by two
with the greatest pleasure sense your joints crack
and watch others maybe run up faster maybe climb up slow
(no summer without winter)
As time passes, pessimists actually become realists, and optimists insufficiently informed utopists
And where did the revolution stop?
?
Photography directory Cover
Jasenovac spomenik
2
Rudo, Eastern Gate of Belgrade
7
graffiti, Prizren
8
facade, Sarajevo
10,12,13 Sisak spomenik
14
Sisak spomenik, Jasenovac spomenik
16,17,18 Jasenovac spomenik 21
street in Zagreb's quarter Trešnjevka
22,23
side street in Zagreb's city centre
24
memorial, Sarajevo
25
light installation at Dokufest Prizren
26
protest tent in Banja Luka; inscription on the bridge, Novi Sad
27
banner on a café/community centre in Sarajevo
28
Komar & Melamind, 50 Proposals for the United Nations, 1995, located in Ars Aevi, Sarajevo
30
DemoFest music festival banner in Banja Luka
31,32,33 Kragujevac spomenik 34,35
Kragujevac spomenik
36
art supplies shop, Sarajevo
37
abandoned Slavonia Café, Okučani
38,39
street art, Belgrade
40,41
courtyard of a block of flats, Novi Beograd
42
the only bridge left (from the northern side), Mitrovica
43
Mitrovica: northern, Serbian side; Mitrovica: southern, Kosovar side
44
Mitrovica spomenik
46
banner for Ministry of Culture, Youth and Sports and banner for Agriculture, Forestry and Rural Development, Pristina; banner on a café/ community centre, Sarajevo
48,49
view from Kaljaja fortress, Prizren
50,51
Velanija spomenik, Pristina
52,54,55 former sniper tower, Mostar 57
Pristina spomenik
58
former sniper tower, Mostar; NEWBORN sculpture, Pristina
59,60,61 Vogošća spomenik 62
bookshop window, Sarajevo
63
graffiti on the facade of former sniper tower, Mostar
64
Eternal Flame, memorial to the victims of NATO bombing, Belgrade
65
Genex Tower, Western Gate of Belgrade
66
riverside, Banja Luka
69
former government building, Belgrade
70,71,72 Niš spomenik 73
thank yous to countries that formally recognised Kosovo's independence, Prizren
74
graffiti, Zagreb
76,77,78 graffiti, Zagreb 84,85
street art, Zagreb
Back
communal space in a hostel, Sarajevo
Resources Libuša Vajdová and Róbert Gáfrik (eds), 'New Imagined Communities': Identity Making in Eastern and South-Eastern Europe (Kalligram and Ústav Svetovej Literatúry, SAV: Bratislava, 2010) Mischa Glenny, Balkans: Nationalism, War and the Great Powers, 1804-1999 (Granta Books: London, 2012, 2nd Edition) Owen Hatherley, Landscapes of Communism: A History Through Buildings (Penguin: London, 2016) Various, Kosovo 2.0, #6 Balkart, Fall/Winter 2013, www.kosovotwopointzero.com Various, Kosovo 2.0, #5 Public Space, Spring/Summer 2013, www.kosovotwopointzero.com
W.L. Tochman, Akoby si kameň jedla (Absynt: Žilina, 2015) —-english version—Wojciech Tochman, Like Eating a Stone: Surviving the Past in Bosnia (Atlas & Company: New York, 2008) www.balkaninsight.com
www.prishtinainsight.com www.spomenikdatabase.org
Disclaimer Due to sensitive nature of issues discussed and to protect identities of people I talked to, I decided not to publish their names, nationalities or whereabouts. Quotes have been recreated to my best memory immediately after talking to people. Quotes are distinguished by quotation marks and have not been edited or corrected. Observations and poetry are my own; they do not represent opinions of any third party. All photography by Adriana Bielkova. For any questions relating to the project or to order a printed copy, email adrianabielkova@protonmail.com. Thank you———Schwarzkopf Stiftung and Anna Saraste, J+J+S Copyright © 2017-2019 by Adriana Bielkova All rights reserved. This zine or any parts of it may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author.