Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Photos from Various Protests in Chania, Greece (Island of Crete)


Daniela Bulgaru, who is currently studying in Chania on the Erasmus program, sent these photos she took of various strikes and rallies going on in the area around Chania. Most of these were taken in the last week or so, although some go back to March.

All photos taken by Bulgaru Daniela Maria.




"I was at school," she says. "They closed the school and had a meeting, and some were like, 'Hey, how are you? We are having a strike--would you like to join us?'" Students are protesting because of funding cuts.




Hellenic Post office employees.




The KKE is (as if you couldn't tell) the Communist Party of Greece.




The KNE is the youth wing of the KKE.




Strikes in Crete are advertised a day or two in advance with posters and flyers (e.g., "come to strike tomorrow, agora, 15:00"). Live music is often featured. Ms. Bulgaru says that some folks show up not knowing precisely which strike they are participating in!





Poster for the All-Workers Militant Front.




Ms. Bulgaru says that the reason students enjoy relatively little intervention from police in their protests stems from World War II; a number of student broadcasters at university were killed back then (the banner below is in observation of that). Thus, today's Greek universities are effectively freedom zones for political expression.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Lonely Planet Design

What if the font sizes on the covers of Lonely Planet European guides were proportional to the populations of the countries covered within? Sure, we've all asked this at some point, but I have endeavored to illustrate some of the results.

The Netherlands has a slightly above average-sized population for a European nation (hence the lettering doesn't quite fit).



The title of the guide to the largest European country doesn't fit at all, but hopefully the image I have used will convey the subject.



You may be surprised to know that Slovenia is not the smallest European country, population-wise, to have its own Lonely Planet guide.



For example, there is this country:



A Serbian friend pointed out that he did not know the population of his country because it seemed each day it was getting smaller. I have designed a Lonely Planet cover to acknowledge the changing situation.



If you have a favorite European country you want me to design a cover for, let me know.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

The New Pre-Raphaelites

2010's answer to the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood is in Bucharest. It may change the nature of modeling.

In the brick-cellar basement of Bucharest's heavy-metal Club Fire, patrons stare transfixed at a slideshow of photographs projected onto a white curtain. Most of the images are of beautiful young women in ethereal settings. Some of the models pose in sunny Herăstrău Park; strum electric guitars on the rooftops of bleak, Ceauşescu-era concrete apartment buildings; or sit in charming Bucharest restaurants.

The images are the works of photographers and models that are among the most popular on the deviantART website. deviantART serves as a place for artists of all stripes to share their work for critique or comment. Online, the site claims 11 million members from all over the world. (deviantART did not reply to requests for comment on this article.)

"We are all friends now," says photographer Iulian Dumitrescu, 24. He and seven other photograhers and models are seated at a table in Curtea Berarilor, a Bucharest bar in the city's picturesque (and seemingly perpetually renovated) old town district of bars and cafes.

They met through Romania-centric discussion groups on the deviantART website. Using a variety of aliases (among them such poetic nom-de-plumes as "WildRainOfIceAndFire" and "ScorpionEntity"), they have forged a network of artists and models that dominate the deviantART photo forums. While Pre-Raphaelite-style imagery is generally popular on the site (which features many wannabe Ophelias and pensive Medieval maidens), the Romanian clique seems to embody the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood spirit itself in that they are a tightly-knit collective of young artistic visionaries intent on sharing a particular vision of human beauty. However, artistic idealism sometimes clashes with the real world.

"I had some problems with my boyfriend," admits model and student Alice Oprescu ("GoceAlice"), 19. "He was extremely jealous about what I'm doing. I was modeling for another photographer from deviantART, and he was like, 'Oh, you go on a date with him! You are cheating on me!' Oh no! I didn't do that!"

Feeling the pressure, Oprescu posted a message to her followers letting them know that she was taking a break from deviantART.

"To show him how much I loved him, I told him, 'I am going to quit deviantART,' " she says. "He accepted that for a while, but then I said, 'OK you're not quitting the things that you like, so why should I quit on something that I like?' " Oprescu and her boyfriend broke up, and new photos of "GoceAlice" have appeared on the site since then.

Oprescu and photographer Alin Ion ("~Alyn3D"), 19, periodically leave the table in order to smoke cigarettes, because photographer Andreea Retinschi ("=WildRainOfIceAndFire"), 25, recently had 1.5 liters of liquid drained from her left lung due to complications from pneumonia ("Nothing big," Retinschi insists), and cannot linger in smoky environments. Retinschi is a photographer who sometimes models--but do not call her a model first. "I'm not a model. I'm a photographer," she said when this reporter committed the error. "So, change the question!"

Her popularity on the site took time to cultivate. "You have one picture that you notice is getting very popular," she explains. "Then you might have a few others from the same series that become popular. Then your popularity goes low again. So you have to make something else that people like."

On deviantART she is a superstar whose images are routinely highly ranked by visitors. She has had a few exhibitions of her works in Bucharest. But her popularity on the site has not translated into an income.

"I'm trying to make money," admits Retinschi. "Aren't we all?"

When photographer Dumitrescu ("=ScorpionEntity") reveals that he, too, is looking to make a living at his craft, Retinschi exclaims, "Oh, I didn't know that! So we're competition! Were you keeping that a secret from me?"

"I'm not competition," Dumitrescu says.

"Of course you are," Retinschi replies sharply. "Every photographer is competition to another."

Horror stories of naive young women seeking legitimate modeling jobs only to fall into the clutches of photographers with seedier intent are as old as photography itself. In her book American Eve, author Paula Uruburu describes how a teenaged Evelyn Nesbit was carefully guided through the world of painters and photographers in 1900 New York in order to avoid a lurid fate as a pornographer's model. The close-knit, family atmosphere of the Romanian deviantART network helps to protect models from unscrupulous photographers.

"We are like a great family," says Oprescu warmly as she surveys the faces at the table.

"Working with friends as models trains you for when you work with real models," says photographer Razvan Seitan ("~Sykeye"), 23. "You must always reflect the model's personality, because otherwise it will show in the photos that she's struggling, and it's not right."

"When you know the model, the model is more relaxed and she is in her world with you," says Oprescu. She turns to photographer Dumitrescu and notes, "When he takes a shot of me, he takes a part of myself."

Their camaraderie becomes clear when one listens to them swap stories about outdoor photo shoots marred by an unexpected downpour of rain, photographs taken by mistake that trumped their posed counterparts, and batteries dying at inopportune moments.

None of the photographers in the group began by photographing models. Most began with animals, landscapes, and architecture before moving on to family and friends. This past experience of working primarily with natural light, coupled with the expensiveness of indoor lighting, is why many of the models are photographed outdoors.

"Usually we shoot in nature," Dumitrescu says.

"Parks, gardens, anything outdoors," Ion adds.

"Recently, I found an abandoned factory where I did some photoshoots."

"And you will tell me where that is!"

"Yes. In the very distant future I will tell you," Dumitrescu says dryly.

To the average person, the fashion industry's definition of beauty is governed by a mysterious elite of magazine publishers and fashion houses. To become a popular model on deviantART requires only that somebody with a camera recognizes and desires to share a person's beauty with the rest of the world (sometimes that photographer and the would-be model are the same person). The rest is determined by the number of views and downloads of that image from visitors to the deviantART website. Unhindered by the filtering process of the fashion houses, deviantART models may stray from the rigorous Vogue template of beauty, which opens up interesting possibilities regarding the future of marketing human beauty.

"My mother is quite excited about my modeling, but when she is pissed-off she always tells me, 'Oh you're never going to be a model. You're too small!" says the diminutive Oprescu. "But I don't care; I'm still beautiful."

"You have to be 185 centimeters tall to be a professional model," model and illustrator Raluca Porumbacu ("*Roxaralu"), 20, says.

"It's quite disturbing because there are so many beautiful women who are small," says Oprescu. "Shakira, is small, and so is Nicole Kidman. But they are great! When you see a real model in real model photos, you say 'She looks like a real model.' But she's just like a mannequin--a plastic one, a beautiful object and nothing more."

The group is downbeat about the future of Romania, a country where political corruption remains a persistent problem. Some go so far as to suggest that those who gave their lives in the December 1989 Romanian Revolution "died for nothing."

"The government is like a club," says Oprescu. "They eat reindeer and they give us all the bones. We're like dogs."

Oprescu's father died from lung cancer in 1998. Her mother, now under extra pressure as the family's sole breadwinner, lives in fear that she might lose her government job, Oprescu says. Most in the deviantART clique want to leave the country behind.

Ion shares a gallows-humor joke: "You're afraid of 2012? Come to Romania, because we're a hundred years behind."

But through photography and modeling, the Bucharest gang has found a means of escaping a world that is too much with them. And despite their concerns about the country's political and economic future, they remain optimistic about Romanians in general.

"I think Romanian women are the most beautiful in the world," says Raluca's identical twin sister Roxana ("*JustMeOnyX"), 20. "And then Russia," she adds democratically.

"Romanian people are really talented," her sister adds.

"They have great ideas and they really want to pop out from the crowd," says Oprescu.

They say their parents support their deviantART modeling. "They like our pictures," insists Raluca. But in addition to wearing long, flowing dresses and evening gowns, the women sometimes wear, well, less. How do their parents feel about the lingerie poses?

"The sexy pictures are not for parents!" Raluca says.

Monday, May 3, 2010

A List of Obstacles a Romanian Bus Driver Had to Avoid in February 2010

Chickens
Playing children
Horse-drawn carts
Gypsy pedestrians
A very old man on a bicycle
A very fat man on a bicycle

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Travel and Time Travel in Celje, Slovenia

From Ukraine, Romania, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, and Slovenia
Memory does not work in linear fashion. Leave home to visit the Balkans and it will not be a struggle to recall how to drive to your favorite cafe when you return to your neighborhood three months later. The mind picks up right where it left off. The contrast of two very different places promotes this separation of the memories. A weekend in Rome, Italy feels nothing like one in Rome, Georgia, and so memories from both places will be sharply partitioned and stand in high relief, occupying their own islands which await your return should you ever revisit them.

My father spent a lot of time in England in the 1950s. While we strolled around a small English town in 1992, he stopped at a seemingly random spot and said, "I think I remember a little footpath off of this street." He then stepped through a gap in the hedge and, sure enough, the path he remembered was still there. For him, it had been about 40 years since he had stood on that spot. It must have been a head-swimming moment for him.

The thing is, unlike the west side of Atlanta, cities in Europe don't change much. Nobody is going to demolish the old town section of Krakow, Poland and replace the St. Mary's Basilica with condos. If you visit Krakow today, you can expect to return to a very similar Krakow anytime in the future.

A few weeks ago I experienced the pleasure of time travel for myself. The place was Celje, Slovenia, which I had originally visited in January 2006. At that time it was a gray-skied, snowy mess, with rain falling on my last day there. That did not spoil the city's magic: Roman columns poking out of the snow by the Savinja River, a lively crowd at Branibor Pub, and a photogenic castle perched high on a mountain overlooking the town.

The train trip from Maribor to Celje takes only an hour. In Lonely Planet's Croatia guide, towns an hour away from Zagreb are treated as day trips, whereas in the Slovenia guide towns an hour away from one another are treated as separate entities. Truthfully, everything in Slovenia is a day trip from anywhere else, but everything in the Balkans is relative, including town rivalries.

High school girls passed time on the train working on various types of puzzles, which included word searches, "regular" crossword puzzles, and a very popular variation of crossword puzzles where clues are embedded within the puzzle itself (a Romanian example is here). Celje seems to boast a large number of commuting students.

The sunny, blue-skied and verdant Celje I encountered in April stood in sharp contrast to the snowy one I saw in 2006. Despite the change in the weather, every step I took triggered old memories. These memories were more than mere recollections of things I had seen before. The visit rekindled recollections of how it felt to be a younger traveler seeing things with fresh eyes. It's highly ironic that such a feeling can be stirred by returning to a place, but in 2006 I was younger and less knowledgeable than I am today, and walking down those familiar streets after a four-year hiatus allowed me to emotionally pick up right where I had left off. In short, I felt four years younger. I suspect my dad felt 40 years younger when he found that footpath.

I returned to the Maverick Pub, a place where I once sipped coffee while gazing through the window at a college girl outside who sported pink and purple streaked hair and wore a complimentary pink and purple shaggy coat. Today they are still playing electronic dance music mixed with pop tunes new and old. (This reminds me; the origin of a stellar drum and bass remix of Daft Punk's "One More Time" I heard back in 2006 remains a mystery.) Branibor Pub, where I spent a night scribbling down the titles of pop songs I heard (Robbie Williams' "Angels," Roxette's "Joyride," and Kenny Loggins' "Footloose") continues to entertain. And in one square of this small town I sipped coffee under the auspices of a plague memorial: a golden woman standing on a pillar with a halo of stars around her head (plague memorials are as popular in Slovenian towns as Romulus and Remus statues are in Romanian ones; Austria also has plague memorials).

Among new Celje experiences to append to the old, I discovered, near the museums, a nice little pub called TamkoUciri, which offered a cozy, outdoor setting for sipping one's Lasko beer. Taking advantage of the nice weather, students lounged near and beside the river, some drinking beers. And there was an abundance of Mohawk/mullet hybrid cuts on Celje's teenage boys, apparently inspired, I was told in Maribor, by a now-defunct David Beckham style. The cut is not limited to Celje; I saw it sported in Austria and Germany as well. Imagine how amazed I was when I saw similar Mohawks in Atlanta last week. Clearly I missed the international memo.

You get travel points for visiting new places, not revisiting old ones, but sometimes coming back to a town a few years later can offer great pleasures.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Slovenia and Balkan Rivalry

From Ukraine, Romania, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, and Slovenia
A record store employee in Graz, Austria asked me how long I was staying in his country.

"This is just a day trip," I said. "I'm staying in Maribor, Slovenia."

"Slovenia? Isn't that where stuff from the movie Hostel happens?"

"Hahahaha. Actually, Slovenia is gorgeous. And Hostel was set in Slovakia, incidentally. Have you ever been to Slovenia?"

"I've driven across the border to get cheaper gas," he told me.

The trip by train from Maribor, Slovenia to Graz takes only an hour, but I had found one Austrian who had no interest in his neighbors to the immediate south of him. As it turns out, Austrians and Slovenians, at least according to the people I chatted with, are not particularly chummy. It is true that Slovenians love to shop in Austria (there are many, many more stores in Graz than in Maribor). This might explain why Slovenians, I am told, are more likely to vacation in Vienna than Viennese are to vacation in Slovenia.

Like Graz, Maribor enjoys "second biggest" status in its country. But Graz's population is about three times larger than Maribor's. Slovenia is a country of only 2 million, so it is of little surprise that the number of Maribor residents lies in the neighborhood of 120,000. One can walk up and down every street there in half a day.

Maribor has a single hostel, the naughty-sounding "Lollipop Hostel," which in fact is an excellently-run place managed by a British woman named June who is appealingly always up for a beer. June told me that there is an intense political rivalry between Ljubljana and Maribor. She said the two cities "hate" one another, due to the funneling of Maribor money into Ljubljana (naturally, Maribor wants to keep more for itself).

As one would expect, there is also a large sports rivalry between the two cities. Emir, a bartender at the Metelkova club complex, bragged about how fans of the Olimpija Ljubljana football team showed up for a match in Maribor and proceeded not only to cheer the out-of-towners to victory against the home team, but to tear the Maribor stadium to pieces in the aftermath.

In terms of contrasts between Maribor and Ljubljana, I was told by a gay student that Maribor has a bigger—or at least more open—gay and lesbian community than does Ljubljana (in this sense Maribor reminded me of a tiny variation of my own city, Atlanta). In Maribor I was also introduced to a form of toasting that was met with puzzlement in Ljubljana (crying, "OHHHHHH-PA!!!!!!" while raising glasses, clinking them, bringing them down to the table with a clunk, then raising them to the lips).

There is a fierce rivalry between Slovenia's two flagship beers, Lasko and Union. Both beers recently updated their logos; ironically they seem designed to perfectly compliment one another, one boasting a burgundy-colored sticker on its bottles and the other featuring a tasteful forest-green sticker. A table full of Lasko and Union bottles is quite photogenic.

Distrust of one's neighbors is a common affliction in the Balkans, even between countries that did not wage war against one another. Slovenians and Croatians are wary of one another, a cultural divide due in part to a language barrier (Slovenians all learned Serbo-Croatian in school, but Croatians did not study Slovenian, which has led to such situations as the popularity of Croatian music in Slovenia without reciprocated appreciation of Slovenian music in Croatia).

Some Slovenians think that Croatians understand Slovenian but pretend not to (like snooty French pretending not to know English when confronted by tourists), but most people I spoke with seemed to feel that the incomprehension was due to honest ignorance.

Slovenia has a more overt hippie culture than Croatia. In Ljubljana I saw lots of dreads, one guy walking down the street in bare feet, and numerous instances of hippie-ish dress; I saw none of this in Croatia. Croatians, on the other hand, struck me as more fashionable, with more women in sleek, tight clothes and men in sunglasses. I might say that Croatia seemed more "hip" whereas Slovenia seemed more "cool."

Finally, for a long time Croatian and Slovenia have been embroiled in a border dispute, with both sides claiming historic precedence for their territorial claims, the result being that EU member Slovenia has used its vote to block Croatia's own accession into the EU (EU membership must be met with unanimous approval by the member-states).

All the Slovenians I spoke with who had an opinion about Serbia said that Serbians were friendlier than Croatians.

As an American, I find the rivalry between Croatia and Slovenia absurd, as both are Catholic countries who fought former Yugoslavia for their independence (if not together, at least soon after one another, reflecting a shared distaste for the government in Belgrade). Croatia boasts a beautiful coastline any Slovenian would enjoy; Slovenia has gorgeous Alpine mountains worthy of exploration by adventurous Croatians, and the people in both countries were extremely friendly to this outsider.

But the rivalries inside of Slovenia, a country where any city is a day trip from any other city, strike me as being even more amusing—perhaps even troubling. It seems that even a country of two million people needs to find ways to divide itself into rival camps. It suggests that conflict is a deep-seated human attribute.

But perhaps it is also a virtue. After all, innovation is spurred by rivalry.


ADDENDUM (added 23 May 2010):

Tension between Croatia and Slovenia was exacerbated during the Balkan Wars. This quote from a 1991 piece by Slavenka Drakulić, which was reprinted in her collection of essays The Balkan Express, captures that tension well:
"When I told [the Ljubljana professor] I was from Croatia his tone of voice changed instantly. 'I've read in the newspapers that you refugees are getting more money per month from the state than we retired people do, and I worked hard for forty years as a university professor for my pension. Aren't we Slovenes nice to you?' The irony in his voice was already triggering a sense of anger in me. I felt an almost physical need to explain my position to him, that I am not 'we' and the 'we' are not getting money anyway."

and from the same collection of essays:
"Slovenia has put real border posts along the border with Croatia and has a different currency. This lends another tint to the Slovenian hills, the colour of sadness. Or bitterness. Or anger. If we three [sharing the train compartment] strike up a conversation about the green woods passing us by, someone might sigh and say, 'Only yesterday this was my country too.' Perhaps then the other two would start in about independence and how the Slovenes were clever while the Croats were not, while the Serbs, those bastards..."