Today’s post is a full scan of the 1986 publication Преглед на Спомениците и Спомен-Објележјата во СР Македонија, a book compiled by Gjorg Trajkovski detailing monuments, memorials, commemorative plaques, museum-houses, and other commemorative objects in the Socialist Republic of Macedonia, dedicated to events and personages ranging from the period of the National Awakening to the antifascist National Liberation Struggle and the rise of socialism.
The publication contains extremely extensive reference information (although it is of course impossible to know if it is comprehensive), including not only the names of monuments, their locations and dates of inauguration, and the names of artists and architects, but also information on the reasons for their construction, lists of names of those commemorated (in the case of cemeteries, for example), etc.
The visual documentation in the publication is minimal: a few key works are highlighted in the final section of the book with photographs, while most of the entries are not visually documented. In this sense, the book presents a different kind of publication than others I’ve uploaded here, many of which sought primarily to present the visual dynamism of socialist monumental art and commemorative architecture. Here, instead, the goal is a careful cataloguing of monuments and their basic information. Nonetheless, the resource is invaluable for anyone studying monumental sculpture in the former Eastern Europe more broadly, or in Macedonia in particular.
Like Mircea Grozdea’s Arta monumentală în România socialistă , Veneta Ivanova’s Българска монументална скулптура: развитие и проблеми [1978), and Juraj Baldani’s Revolucionarno Kiparstvo, Përmendore të Heroizmit Shqiptarrepresents a socialist nation’s viewpoint on the history and development of its own monumentality. Published in 1973, the book comes precisely at the historical moment when socialist Albania turned decidedly against ‘foreign influences’ in art and culture (after a period of openness and in some cases experimentation in the late 1960s, a period during which the country had also aligned itself ideologically with China’s cultural revolution). In the 1960s and 70s in particular, a huge number of monuments were constructed in Albania (in many cases to correspond to the celebration of the 25th anniversary of liberation from fascist forces, in 1969).
These memorials included both lapidars, architectural and sometimes sculptural ensembles that were dedicated to the martyrs and heroes of the National Liberation War (the Second World War), as well as traditional figurative sculptures commemorating Skanderbeg, independence from the Ottoman Empire, the War of 1920, and so on. Monuments existing prior to the socialist period, especially those commissioned by the regime of the Albanian interwar leader King Ahmet Zogu, are absent–with the exception of works created by Odhise Paskali, whose messages were considered to be purely nationalist, and therefore ideologically amenable to the project of socialist nation-building in Albania. (The opening text by artist and critic Kujtim Buza and historian Kleanth Dedi discuss the memorial landscape prior to the rise of socialism as a blank slate, primarily attributing the rise of materialized history in Albania to the socialist regime. This is of course inaccurate–several memorials from prior regimes were destroyed by the socialists for ideological reasons.)
*Unfortunately, the version of the book that I scanned was a misprint and included a section of repeated pages. Thus, some images (for example, of the martyr’s cemeteries in Librazhd and Fier) only appear as thumbnails in the back of the book, but not as full-sized photographs. At some point, I will scan these pages from another copy of the book, but for now they are not present.
Today’s post presents two photobooks devoted to the two settlements designated by the Albanian government “musem-cities” [qytet-muze] under socialism. (Both became UNESCO sites after socialism’s end.)
The former, with a text by Emin Riza and photographs by Refik Veseli, is devoted to the southern Albanian city of Gjirokastra, the birthplace of Albanian dictator Enver Hoxha. Gjirokastra: Qytet-Muze includes a wealth of images of the ancient and Ottoman-era cultural heritage in the city, as well as an impressive documentation of socialist-era buildings and monuments. (Interestingly, Hektor Dule’s monument to the battles of Skënderbeu–already seemingly out of place in the southern city–is omitted.) There are also images of the interiors of the major museums created in Gjirokastra during socialism, which are invaluable for understanding Albanian socialist-era exhibition design.
The second book, published almost a decade later, with a text by Gazi Strazimiri and photographs by Refik Veseli, focuses on the southern Albanian city of Berat, located between Mount Tomorr and Mount Shpirag (the latter the site of Armando Lulaj’s NEVER, of 2012). Berati: Qytet-Muzelikewise focuses on the ancient and Ottoman-era structures in the city, as well as modern urban restructuring and industrial architecture (such as the massive ‘Mao Zedong’ Textile Factory, which of course–by 1978–was no longer identified with Mao). There are also interesting images of socialist-era monuments, although there are relatively few of these in comparison to Gjirokastra.
Of particular interest is a panoramic view of the city of Berat that features the massive ENVER geoglyph in the background, across the slopes of Mt. Shpirag. Upon closer examination, however, the letters have been inscribed not on the mountain itself, but on the photograph: little attempt has even been made to make the letters correspond to the visual rules of perspectival recession into space. They appear to hover over the landscape, perhaps unintentionally positing the flatness of the photograph itself as the surface of history, rather than the immensity of the landscape indexed by the image. The image, therefore, clearly represents the alteration of a photograph made before the creation of the ENVER geoglyph in 1968, a studious updating of the landscape to match its more current visual actuality. Alterations of photographs—whether to contribute to the rewriting of history or to increase the legibility of the history supposedly depicted by them (or both)—were not uncommon in socialist culture, and Albania was no exception to this. This particular textual supplement to the panorama of Berat must have been particularly significant in 1987, just two years after Enver Hoxha—Albania’s socialist leader and eventually dictator from 1944 through 1985—died. Regardless of precisely when the photograph was originally altered, the inscription on Shpirag’s slopes represents an attempt to assert Hoxha’s longevity not only forward into the future (as the permanence of the geoglyph was not doubt meant to) but also backwards in time, as if it was somehow part of an eternal view of the city of Berat and the mountain. Of course, the details of this retroactive eternity were loose: close consideration of the photograph in comparison to later images reveals that the letters do not even appear on the correct slopes, but have been shifted to the left. This inexactness, however, has its own logic—its imprecision is the imprecision of myth, rather than the precision of documentation. This altered photograph provides a fascinating piece in the history to which Armando Lulaj’s subsequent re-writing of the geoglyph in NEVER (2012) belongs: a history of reinscribing the geoglyph across various historical surfaces: photographs as well as the mountain itself.[i]
[i] On this topic, see Chapter 4 of my forthcoming dissertation, Monumental Endeavors: Sculpting History in Southeastern Europe, 1960-2016, which focuses on postsocialist negations and temporal extensions of monuments in Albania and the former Yugoslavia.
Today we have another scan of a photobook published in socialist Albania, in the period immediately following the height of the country’s Cultural and Ideological Revolution: Poem for the Albanian Woman, by Llazar Siliqi and Petrit Kumi . The book, published by General Council of the Women’s Union of Albania, features a text by poet Llazar Siliqi and photographs–in both color and black and white–by well-known photographer Petrit Kumi. (I have unfortunately only been able to find an Englishlanguage copy of the photobook, which is perhaps fitting considering these publications were primarily created for foreign export, as external-facing propaganda about the country’s advances.)
The photobook is a key example of Albania’s visual presentation of the emancipation of women under socialism, and features a wealth of images showing Albanian women painting, working in factories, tending to children, training in the military, and reading. Some images emphasize the sacrifices of female partisans who died liberating the nation from fascist occupation, while others depict Albania’s links to the global struggle for women’s emancipation in the socialist world. (A photo of Albanian Dictator Enver Hoxha wih a group of Chinese women is one of my favorites.)
Today’s post is a full scan of Spomenici narodnooslobodilačke borbe i revolucije SR Srbije 1941-1945 [Monuments of the National Liberation Struggle and Revolution in the Republic of Serbia, 1941-1945] (Belgrade: NIRO Eksport pres, 1981), edited by Razumenka Popović Zuma. The volume contains an extremely thorough (perhaps exhaustive) catalog of monuments dedicated to the Yugoslavian antifascist struggles created in the Republic of Serbia and the socialist autonomous provinces of Vojvodina and Kosovo. The book includes information on the locations, dedications, and inscriptions of monuments of all shapes and sizes, from large-scale works documented in recent photographic surveys of Yugoslav monuments to smaller plaques and obelisks in villages and neighborhoods.
The book abounds in photographic documentation (though in black and white, and frequently low-quality reproductions), but of course the sheer number of monuments prevents complete visual documentation. The volume may be seen as a valuable counterpart to more recent publications such as Lapidari (edited by Vincent WJ van Gerven Oei, New York: punctum, 2015), which contains comparable information (and more complete photo documentation by Marco Mazzi) of socialist Albanian monuments to that country’s antifascist struggle.
This interview was conducted as part of the first official plenary meeting of the Congress of Conceptual Art (CoCA), in the studios of the Art Department at the University of Maryland, College Park, on May 1, 2017.
DJT: (audio recording) I mean if Andrew Jackson had been a little bit later, you wouldn’t have had the Civil War. He was…he was a very tough person, but he had a very big heart. And he was really angry that he saw what was happening with regard to the Civil War. He said there’s no reason for this. People don’t realize, you know, the Civil War…if you think about it, why. People don’t ask that question. Why was there the Civil War? Why couldn’t that one have been worked out? (switch to news anchor commentary)
RI: So, thanks to everyone for being here. I’m going to speak in a pretty informal fashion, for my part, but please everyone chime in. Let’s just start with the name: Congress of Conceptual Art. Could we speak about the significance of the name of the organization? Where does it come from? Where is it going?
KH: Ok, so I was not the one who came up with the name, but I want to say the name is kind of an appeal to legitimacy, which at this point our group perhaps needs, but also all of the other artistic congresses that have happened, I’m sure at some point they were just three or four people sitting around trying to figure out what the hell they’re doing. So it could very well be that this is simply the form that this takes.
CB: And of course we do need to appear legitimate, but of course Conceptual Art as the basis of this organization demonstrates our legitimacy clearly. The problem comes when you get the Formalists involved. And the Formalists have their own agenda. And this stuff scares them, doesn’t it?
KH: I think Conceptual Art scares the general public. So that legitimacy doesn’t hurt. Or maybe doesn’t scare, but most of the people I know who aren’t in the art world don’t understand Conceptual Art. Like they can look at something that just has formal qualities and appreciate ‘that must be art’, but once you start to bring concepts in, especially once you start to have concepts be the main part of an artwork, people are lost.
RI: Or do they understand it too well? And that’s why it scares them. And why it scares the Formalists.
CB: Well, Formalists would never admit this, but most art these days is conceptual art, fundamentally. People don’t realize it; it hides under the banner of painting or sculpture or whatever, but there is a huge amount of conceptual art out there that isn’t recognized as such because that recognition, that admission, it doesn’t….keeping formal control keeps power in the ‘correct’ hands, and we’re interested in dismantling that system, I believe.
KH: So do you think that an education context like this one should have a Concept Department?
CB: Absolutely. I mean at least in theory.
RI: You’ve already hinted at this, but I wonder if you could discuss the structure of CoCA. How do decisions get made, and how do collaborations function? Is the organization with a firm structure, like the Formalists, or a kind of loose network?
CB: I’m not sure decisions do need to be made.
RI: I mean I certainly feel that I don’t think that in my involvement, I’ve ever been part of a decision-making situation. Lots of things have gotten made, but decisions, not so much.
KH: I know there’s been at least one occasion when I was doing something, and wanted to invoke the Congress of Conceptual Art, and specifically sought group approval, but for the most part it’s mostly been us operating independently under the aegis of Congress of Conceptual Art, and feeling somewhat free to speak on behalf of the congress.
CB: Independently or collaboratively.
KH: There has been a lot of collaboration. In different pairings within the network.
RI: Do you think those collaborations have been formalized, or it’s just sort of not that important for them to be discussed as collaborations?
CB: Depends on how much we want to share the credit.
RI: That raises the question of what kind of organization is CoCA? An art collective? A business venture? An internet startup? A social media entity? Tax break scheme?
CB: I think that looking at the history of Conceptual Art probably provides a pretty good answer to that. Conceptual Art, one of its goals was the dematerialization of the object, and I think that that lesson can be directly applied to this organization.
RI: I think that pretty much answers it. I mean, it’s an organization whose main goal, by any means, is that dematerialization. Why this return to Conceptual Art at this point in artistic and political history? I mean, we began this discussion by listening to what’s arguably a great work of Conceptual Art, namely: the speculative rearrangement of Andrew Jackson’s significance in history, and his chronological point. But, what can Conceptual Art teach us this particular historical moment?
KH: I think, the performance that started this meeting is maybe…highlights the need for the Congress of Conceptual Art. So, what we’re doing emphasizes the value of ideas, which I think is an important thing to do right now because so few people have them.
CB: A lot of people think that Conceptual Art just isn’t relevant anymore, and if you go back and look at the framing of Conceptual Art by Sol LeWitt and Lucy Lippard and others, I can understand why that’s the case. Like we said, Conceptual Art has been integrated into a lot of art practices. However, I don’t think that we are aware of how that impacts not only the way that we make art and consume art, as well as live our lives. It has instead been pushed under the rug. The Congress of Conceptual Art, one of its prime missions is to push, no, I’m sorry, not push…to create a new, clear structure that explains why Conceptual Art is relevant to artists, to viewers, and to society in this day and age. And that has not been articulated.
RI: Right, do Formalists have the tools our contemporary world, and the argument would be no. You give a Formalist Donald Trump’s speech, and they can’t tell you anything about it.
CB: They just see a speech.
RI: I wonder if you could talk about CoCA’s relationship to the University of Maryland? Is it an administrative sub-unit the University of Maryland? An administrative sub-unit of the College of Arts and Humanities, is it associated with the President’s offices?
CB: Absolutely not. I believe that CoCA is, in part, an opposition front, but one that also sees the importance of opposing itself.
GT: We’re operating in spite of, not because of, that’s for sure.
KH: We don’t have any specific administrative association with the University of Maryland, aside from the fact that the university functioned as an incubator for the Congress of Conceptual Art. So the University of Maryland was kind of our patient zero.
RI: But the organization is ultimately basically viewed as being a transnational sort of thing, it’s not supposed to be regionally localized?
CB: Absolutely, it transcends borders, it transcends politics, yet it is political. Deeply so. But then, what isn’t.
RI: So, CoCA has worked in a variety of media. I wonder if you could say something about the significance of these different media (printmaking, stamped-editions of mail art, limited-edition clothing articles, vinyl lettering, etc.). And also if you could comment on where is CoCA looking to expand to next, in terms of media?
KH: I disagree with putting this much emphasis on the media.
RI: So you think the media itself is rendered immaterial by the conceptual weight, so to speak?
CB: I wouldn’t say immaterial, but certainly we transcend that media. I mean, one of the most difficult things now is to make art on the internet, but I feel that CoCA has already transcended the internet as a medium. And used it and really abused it as a developmental tool.
GT: And I do think in terms of different media expansions, we are looking at a book, hopefully in the works.
CB: At least one.
GT: Preferably multiples.
CB: Getting that publishing house up and running is one of the main projects of the upcoming quarter.
KH: So, would you say that the media is dictated as a byproduct of the specific programs that CoCA is interested in?
CB: Well, you use whatever means necessary. If we didn’t learn anything else from Spike Lee, we at least learned that. We learned a lot of other things too.
RI: There seems to be a relationship between CoCA’s artistic practice and an adjacent, emergent set of works by some of the same artists that document ‘found installations’, ‘found performances’, etc. Could you discuss the relationship between this set of works and Conceptual Art? Are they the same thing? Or do you see important distinctions? Is there a kind of middle-range overlap? Are these found installations works by CoCA, are they Conceptual Art, or are they something totally different?
CB: Well, found installations are a practice area that has yet to be properly examined by art historians, who are typically late to the gate anyway. But they are something that I think it’s not fully our role to interrogate. Our role is to is that of practitioners, primarily, and through this practice we promote, we advocate, we are in the role of changing lives, not saving them.
KH: I think the found installations and found performances were just an expansion on existing fields. Specifically, photography has always been about the documentation of existing things. So we’re just adding a conceptual layer to that. Specifically, finding instances in the world and then adding a conceptual interpretation to those documentation processes.
KH: I mean you may be as much photographer as Conceptual Artist, so it makes sense…I think that one started with you.
CB: I disavow any previous association with photography, however. Photography is merely a tool with which to tell my lies.
KH: As far as the different branches, I think all of them at the moment fall under the conventional practices of the Congress of Conceptual Art. If you were looking at this as a more formalized organization, those would be some of our primary departments.
CB: The found installations pre-date CoCA, actually by a couple of months, actually. And the found installations developed, really, as a response to the conceptually problematic conditions that we have experienced within this institution. Which, given geopolitical realities and changes in the past several months, has only worsened, really.
RI: But, you believe that there are found installations elsewhere, right? It of course raises the question: since this has occurred in a more or less geographically described region, there’s the question, do found installations exist, say, in New York? And the hypothesis is yes, it’s just that up till now the research done by CoCA has only been able to verify it in a particular context.
CB: I don’t want to get too Rumsfeldian here, but there are known knowns and there are known unknowns. And the found installations are known knowns, but the unfound installations are known unknowns at this point. So, certainly. There are found installations in New York, but they aren’t found yet, so they aren’t found installations. At this point, we have to face the reality that we have a great deal of work ahead of us. Which is why we must practice with diligence and persistence.
KH: I think at this point I would say, you said New York doesn’t have any found installatons, I would say New York doesn’t have any found installations yet. But that’s simply because no one has gone out to look for them.
CB: We’ve had potential found installations in Illinois. An associated artist, Caden, has, I think, begun to dabble with the idea.
RI: CoCA seems to frequently work with or adjacent to certain memes, and one could say that—among a certain group of social media users connected to the artists involved, again, I don’t want to conflate CoCA with its social media presence—it has already transformed ‘Conceptual Art’ (as a pseudo-empty signifier) into a meme. Is that the goal: to remake Conceptual Art into a meme both online and off? And I’m thinking about meme in the broad sense, not just on the internet but broadly as a paradigm of culture or language or practice…
CB: A basis of thought, or a seeming understanding, whether that’s a true fact, or some kind of alternative.
RI: I pose the question because maybe the meme-ification of art is maybe an inappropriate description of the process because it implies maybe too much re-materialization. I mean, even the idea of the mem has a kind of real, material presence, and in that sense the Meme-ification of Conceptual Art, in capitals, can really only be one aspect of the process of CoCA’s practice, and not even the primary one.
CB: I think it’s more likely that Conceptual Art is remaking memes. And our basic understanding of meaning, in that way.
RI: Does CoCA have a politics, and if so, what is it? Will CoCA members seek to run for public office, or take prominent roles in political/grassroots organizing?
KH: No comment.
CB: No comment at this time. We don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.
GT: Or give anything away.
CB: Well, I mean, some things we can give away, but that’s usually the material things. But we reserve the right to future action.
KH: Would you run for public office as a conceptual performance?
CB: Isn’t every run for public office a conceptual performance?
KH: Would you wittingly run for public office as a conceptual performance.
CB: That might be a first, if it were done.
GT: I think it just has.
CB: It might be. I think the jury’s still out.
KH: I think you’re giving too much credit.
RI: CoCA’s handle on Facebook is in fact @AltCoCA, suggesting already that CoCA speaks both for and against itself; we touched a little bit on this earlier. Is the organization undergoing an internal schism? Is it existing in a perpetual state of near-crisis vis-à-vis its own ideological situatedness?
CB: True change can only take place in crisis. Bringing about crisis is essential to bringing about change in this reformulation of Conceptual Art, making it once again clearly relevant, making the understanding of its relevance part of modern life.
GT: But again, in terms of internal schisms, I don’t know if an organization that’s fragmented to begin with could necessarily have such schisms occur. I suppose we could reserve the right to future action?
CB: Oh, absolutely. Although I might disagree with that. But, probably only as a conceptual stance.
GT: Not enough to cause a schism?
CB: Mmm, no, only to cause a schism.
KH: I think I want to say that everything has self-destructive impulses, and it might just be that CoCA is more aware of these at its inception than other instances might be. Not that these self-destructive impulses are necessarily going to be a total thing or a bad thing, just that the process is battling itself while its achieving everything else that it’s trying to do.
RI: Does CoCA have a recipe for success, and if so, what is it?
CB: 2/3 cup white sugar, 2/3 cup brown sugar, um, oh, 2 sticks of butter, 2 teaspoons vanilla, 2 eggs, 2 ¾ cup flour, teaspoon of salt, teaspoon of baking powder. 375 for 10-12 minutes.
KH: That’s how you make yogurt.
CB: You’re eating some weird fucking muffins.
KH: I don’t actually read recipes. I just kind of measure things out and throw them in.
CB: Fair enough.
KH: I don’t think there’s a specific recipe for success, or if there is, no one has told me about it.
RI: Mine would be similar to yours, except I would go with one cup of white sugar and half a cup of brown sugar.
GT: I think if there was a recipe for success I might not have ended up here with y’all at the University of Maryland.
CB: In my case, it’s because that [the white sugar] goes back in the cabinet first. Generally, the white sugar should be put away, I’ve found.
RI: At this point if there are particular other matters that you’d like to discuss, if there are particular things you think it would be helpful for the public to know, or historians to know…
KH: I think this was our first full formal meeting.
RI: Was it formal, though?
CB: No, we don’t have a gavel.
KH: More formal than the other meetings.
CB: I’ll see about getting a gavel for next time.
GT: Can we just put the stamp on it? Get it witnessed?
CB: On the gavel? Yeah but we’ve got to get a gavel first.
RI: We could sort of in audio form, for the record… [sound of self-inking stamp depressing near microphone]
CB: Plastic gavel…oh, walnut…. Sixteen bucks? That’s not bad. …So, I mean as far as the future of CoCA, I think that there’s a lot of directions it can go, and it will likely go all those directions, and more. The goals we have are intentionally unclear. [sound of KH re-entering the room]
CB: Well, we now have a gavel.
RI: Should I use this end to stamp it?
GT: Yeah. [sound of loud thud] Oh my god, what is that made of?
RI: No it didn’t really work. Well, the concept transferred, we know that much worked.
CB: I realize that sometimes people find CoCA to be obtuse. But this failing is theirs, not that of CoCA. More likely, what they need to do is continue to engage, paying full price every time, until they understand fully.
RI: I mean, I actually have to say that I find CoCA to be….the works that I’ve seen, that I didn’t have any part in realizing, were actually pretty admirably easy for target audiences to understand. It’s just a matter of their willingness to engage, but once that willingness is there, I think it’s much easier to understand concepts, because that’s often what we do with concepts is we understand them, we figure them out.
KH: Looking back to one of your last questions, is it the goal to make Conceptual Art into a meme online and off, it seems like it has that idea of you’re talking about of maybe watering down and making accessible Conceptual Art, and maybe the idea is to provide people an easier entry point.
RI: And that could come back to again to why it appears so dangerous to people like the Formalists is it seems like it’s going to attract more people, which we know that it is. I mean we know that history is on our side. In the same way that we can be sure that Andrew Jackson saw the Civil War. [laughter]
CB: Might be a little different there. I don’t want to live in a closed system, one that’s deterministic, but looking at culture today, living as an American, in the particular positions that I live in, the necessity of Conceptual Art in our lives is clear, and that it will benefit everyone in many ways, not the least of which is materially, which is…
RI: One of the ironies.
RI: Well, thank you all for your time.
CB: Thank you.
This interview has been slightly edited for conceptual clarity.
Today’s post is a full scan of the 1968 publication Jugoslavija: Spomenici Revoluciji [Yugoslavia: Monuments to the Revolution], edited by Miloš Bajić. The photobook contains many of the same monuments later documented in Revolucionarno Kiparstvo , but also includes several monuments (or alternate views of memorials) not included in the later publication. The publication is entirely in black and white, and includes two supplementary sections, one with biographies of the artists and architects of the various monuments and one with descriptions of the significant events associated with each memorial or location.
In some cases, the memorials included are documented as maquettes (such as Miodrag Zivković’s model for the ‘valley of the heroes’ monument to the battle of Sutjeska). The publication showcases the variety of Yugoslav monumental forms and styles, showing examples of abstract, architectonic, and figurative monuments and monumental complexes. The recognition of this diversity is crucial in the face of the continued transformation of Yugoslav monuments (and especially the abstract ones) into what Owen Hatherley terms ‘concrete clickbait’–anonymous images of a conveniently ‘abstracted’ bizarre future past. It is also important to understand the forms of photographic representation (and, it must be said, photo-aesthetic fetishization) that were applied to these monuments long before Jan Kempenaers’ recent photo-documentation project Spomenik (2010-2014). While Kempenaers’ photographs are the source of much recent popular interest in Yugoslav monuments, and also the source of much recent fetishization of their supposedly ‘alien’ aesthetic paradigms, it is important to seriously consider how these monuments were photographed and presented by their contemporaries, and how they were framed both historically and aesthetically in these photographs.