In honor of May 1, today’s post features a full scan of an art album published in 1977 in the People’s Socialist Republic of Albania: Klasa Punëtore në Artet Figurative [The Working Class in the Figurative Arts]. This book represents a kind of companion to the earlier Ushtria Popullore në Artet Figurative [The People’s Army in the Figurative Arts, 1969], and indeed there is some inevitable overlap between the themes of the two, since socialist culture aimed to emphasize the direct cooperation and interdependency of the development of working class consciousness and the legacy of partisan military organization.
The book contains a wealth of images of painting, sculpture, drawings, and prints (unfortunately nearly all reproduced in black and white) focused on workers in both industrial and agricultural settings. It includes scenes of work and leisure alike.
The earliest images in the book are focused not so much on workers as on the founding of the Albanian Communist Party (later the Albanian Party of Labor) and the partisan struggle, while the later images (especially the prints and poster designs near the end) are keyed to specific political events (i.e. the 7th Congress of the Albanian Party of Labor).
Today’s post is a scan of the 1983 book Mobiliet dhe Estetika e Banesës [Furniture and the Aesthetics of the Home] by Eduard Guxholli. This slim volume offers a comprehensive overview of the components and arrangements of domestic space in late socialist Albania. It analyzes the relationship of furnishings to apartmental architecture, considers the optimal proportions and arrangements of furniture, and offers a series of projects allowing readers to create furnishings for their own homes.
Guxholli (also the author of a book on famous artists, Mjeshtër të Pikturës ) does not provide a long history of the development of interior furnishings, but instead focuses on practical matters. He lays out the prevailing standardized models of apartments in socialist Albania, and suggests how different pieces of furniture may be grouped and distributed throughout the rooms of apartments. He considers the emotional impact each space should have: “the living room should create the feeling of comfort and warmth, the guest room [dhoma e mysafirëve] that of welcome, the kitchen that of cleanliness, the bedroom the feeling of calm, and so forth” (p. 14).
Evident throughout Guxholli’s text is an emphasis on the rational arrangement of modern space as a key aspect of domestic comfort and productivity. Published in the 1980s, a period when socialist Albania had cut off most of its prior ties to other socialist nations, the emphasis on self-sufficiency– educating readers on how to create their own furniture to match their standardized living environment–is particularly noteworthy. Although produced during the final decade of Albania’s socialist period, Guxholli’s book provides a glimpse into the project of socialist modernization, and specifically the effort to provide Albanian citizens with the knowledge to function as socialist citizens, optimizing their surroundings in the spirit of modernity’s emphasis on efficiency and productivity. Often at the forefront of Guxholli’s considerations are those to do with avoiding waste (either in the form of material or space). He is also, however, concerned with personalization, and the avoidance of monotony (the perennial accusation raised against socialist material culture by its critics). This text will be of interest to scholars of socialist architecture, material culture, and domestic space in socialist Eastern Europe. It will also be of interest to those broadly concerned with the implementation of modernist rationalism in socialist contexts.
This scan comes to us thanks to Kreshnik Merxhani, who tracked down a copy of the book.
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 Albanian photographer Niko Xhufka’s album Ritme të Jetës Shqiptare [Rhythms of Albanian Life], published in 1976. Xhufka was one of the finest photographers working in socialist Albania, and his works evidence the originality and aesthetic force of Albanian documentary and socialist realist photography during the socialist years.
Most studies of photography as it has developed in Albania have focused either on earlier phtographers, such as the Marubis, or else have treated socialist photography in the country as little more than a means of propaganda. Xhufka’s images are striking because they are so obviously ‘artistic’–richly indebted to and conscious of a tradition of avant-garde, realist, and socialist realist photography–even as their ideological content is plainly legible. It is truly impressive to survey this collection of works and see Xhufka shift effortlessly between dynamic, abstract compositons that recall Russian avant-garde photography; clear and legible compositions emphasizing the narrative clarity of socialst realism; and sweeping aerial landscape panoramas.
While the entire album is a treasure, my favorite image is certainly a pair of juxtaposed photos entitled Zëvendësimi (Myzeqe) [Transplantation (Myzeqe)]. The first of the images shows a pair of storks nesting atop a twisted tree against a background of gray, flat fields. In the second image, the stork’s nest sits atop the skeletal structure of an electrical tower, and bottom edge of the photo is filled with stalks of grain or hay. The image succinctly pictures the ‘modernization’ of Albania carried out under socialism in a way that is both iconographically and compositionally striking.
* Several years ago, I first came across Xhufka’s work at propagandaphotos, and I am indebted to that blog for drawing my attention to a truly amazing artist. This interview with Xhufka offers important information on his work, process, career, and life.
Today’s post is the second in a series of posts that will present scans of the historically and critically indispensable publication PamorART, a magazine published by the National Gallery of Arts in Tirana. PamorART began publication in 1997, and was a crucial reflection of the artistic and cultural scene in Albania in the late 90s, providing a specialized venue for discussion and critical assessment of the visual arts in the country. This issue contains, among other things, articles on Edi Hila and Kristaq Rama, as well as an insert in English.
The scans of the PamorART magazines are made possible by the tireless efforts of philologist Vincent W.J. van Gerven Oei, who scanned the issues, and art critic Gëzim Qëndro, who made the issues available to us from his private collection. My deepest thanks go to both of them for making these texts available to us.