Budapest, Hungary. Fake people. We have a special, split-second ability to recognize marketing models, like aliens among us. We know who they are. They have become a truly global phenomena, in every culture and part of the world. Obvious, to everyone, everywhere.
Budapest, Hungary. For the last 9 months on the road, I've visited many museums that focus on dark and difficult history. Mostly small museums, barely funded, not well known and hardly attended. In contrast, Terror Haza is a famous museum, highly designed, at great cost, with a constant line of visitors at the door.
There is already so much to read about this museum. In short, it was designed by movie set designer Attila Kovacs. So the installations are theatrical, and the visitor experience is cinematic. The design relies heavily on drama—of video, projection, architectural variety and lighting. An ominous musical theme permeates the space. The overhead cut title, which is meant to cast a moving shadow along the building, is oppressive even on a cloudy day. Consequently there are design issues such as overload. But the exhibition design is interesting and creative, with varied pacing from space to space.
There is controversy about the two threaded narrative that follows both the Cross Arrow and the Communists. At some points they (intentionally) cross-over, and the multiple stories can be confusing to the visitor. There is also controversy about how the role of Hungary is portrayed, or not.
Surprisingly, seating is lacking, and visitors sit on the floor, needing time to digest it all. Interpretation is provided as a single sheet multi-lingual handout for each room, or an audio guide, which is difficult to maneuver, turning it off and on in such an immersive environment.
I marveled at aspects of the design here. Like anyone involved in museum design, I am basically "ruined" as a visitor, having a conflict of interest between studying the exhibition's design, and trying to innocently and holistically "grok" the experience as a visitor would. After visiting a string of humbler, poorly designed and poorly curated museums on similar themes, I appreciate the intelligence of Terror Haza. But I have come to love the humbler museums on this year-long journey. Their intent seems more transparent and I often feel a kind of grass-roots urgency about their emotion and mission. Sometimes I wonder if there's an inverse connection between the degree of design (which strives to clarify and communicate) and the degree of cloudiness (in the inner workings of the process and intention).
Budapest, Hungary. This is a huge exhibition, at the Mucsarnok, Kunsthalle, part of the annual National Salon series put on by the Hungarian Academy of Art. The focus this year is on Hungarian Design and Applied Art from the last 10 years, organized by "actual function and professional challenges".
The exhibition begins outside the main entry with a "corridor" treatment that picks up again in the exhibition entry, runs down the long center of the exhibition, and branches into the side galleries.
The "corridored" pathways help to compensate for the huge open scale of the rooms, and also compete with the displays, in some places.
The more predictable themes include interior, product & branding, sport leisure & game, motion, community space, and innovation. Among the Hungarian Graphic Designers, here are some names to check out—Molnar Gyula, Krzysztof Ducki, Matai & Vegh, Arendas Jozsef, Peter Maczo, Andras Felvideki, Zoltan Halasi, Janiga Livia & Litvanyi Janos, Ferenc Kassai...
"After Gutenberg: The Multi-Colored Print World" gallery includes elegant designs of postage stamps and bank cards.
Tibor Pataki is an amazing book artist, who also creates book animations.
A smart floating book display design, using clear plex attached to the wall
A more unusual theme was "Around Our Souls: Sacred Spaces and Objects". Another was "Respect for Heritage: Restoration, Renovation, Recovery" where restoration artists were personally honored for their work.
Budapest, Hungary. Iparmuveszeti is a museum of applied arts, the third oldest in the world. The 1896 building, designed by Odon Lechner, is famous for it's unusual combination of Hindu, Mogul, and Islamic inspiration. It hasn't really changed, since my visit in 1989, except for the renovation in progress, which now obscures the entry with scaffolding. Horizontal banners have been strung along the covered walkway.
The relatively small entry is dazzling with ornate detail. The current signage seems uninspired in it's relationship to the building.
Entering the lobby is a light and airy surprise. The elegantly shaped cutaway through 3 levels is the dearly loved focal point of the whole building. Even the museum logo is based on this shape.
Hopefully the ticket counter and small cafe on either side of the lobby entry will be redesigned during the renovation. Sensitivity to the architecture seems extremely important here. Looks like they are experimenting with applying white vinyl over the floor designs to make them pop graphically?
In some areas, the magic of the building competes with the exhibitions. This one, wrapping around the central atrium, reinterprets the permanent collection according to collector/curator.
The big atrium is being used as a co-working space. I couldn't tell if this was a temporary situation or a more permanent use of the building.
"Breuer, At Home Again" is a temporary exhibition, using blue and yellow linoleum to define 2 time periods, rolling up onto the wall at either end of the long corridor. Overhead draping defines each designer's section, and helps take the focus away from the building. A nice touch was the dishes of period business cards on the furniture at each station, for the visitor to take, with the museum logo on the back.
"In the Mood For Colour" is another temporary exhibition, reinterpreting the permanent collection by color, using 3 rooms for green, red and blue. An almost circular vitrine creates a surround. It's pleasing to stand in one spot, and rotate to view the small green objects.
Sofia, Bulgaria. Illustration appears to be a strong and thriving tradition in Eastern Europe. Here are a few from a street series about "Guardianship"
Plovdiv and Sofia, Bulgaria.
Plovdiv has been awarded the European city of culture for 2019, so there are many new projects in the workd around town. Their motto and branding is "together". Another graphic theme is "All you need is Plovediv"
Poster campaign to promote the "arty" area of the trap.
Plovdiv and Sofia, Bulgaria. A few examples
There is a series of portraits on a big rock face in Plovdiv honoring important Bulgarians (or other people important to Bulgarians). This street art was not sanctified at first, but then the city recognized the artist and adopted it as an ongoing project. There must be more than 30. Apparently the artist was inspired by Mt. Rushmore.
Plovdiv, Bulgaria. Beautiful shop name with overlapping letter forms, crossing over.
Plovdiv, Bulgaria. The Plovdiv Regional Ethnographic Museum has an important and interesting collection. It inhabits the beautiful old Kuyumdzhioglu residence, one in a cluster of "house museums" in old town Plovdiv. The house adds to the haunted feeling that traditional "ethnographic" museums can evoke.
Sometimes just knowing that the cultural lifestyle represented is dead and gone can be saddening.
Spooky lighting, reflective plex, and billowing curtains can make it worse. A stiff formal display and language style add to the somber tone. In Plovdiv the unintentional, or accidental mood is more one of mourning than celebration.
Ghosts of departed Bulgarians are still lingering in the artifacts. Heavy elaborate clothing and big jewelry, musical instruments and bulky tools. This is part of the fascination.
But these bodyless displays seem to float awkwardly in their vitrines. They're suspiciously disheveled and uncomfortable. Do they roam around at night and return to their vitrines at dawn?
Full body manicans can also be creepy.
Musty air, creaking stairways, heavy drapery, old furniture...
This house museum is also haunted by the living Bulgarians on staff. The scowling ticket attendants, and the strict stares of the lurking guards add to the oppressive atmosphere. As if they personally feel haunted by troubled Bulgarian history.
Plovdiv, Bulgaria. At the beautiful Bachkovo Monastery, on a mountain south of the city, there is a small sign added to one of the ancient mural painted walls. The holy ghost (dove) is the straight on view.
Plovdiv, Bulgaria. The doors to a casino.
Thessaloniki, Greece. One poster gem (behind a grate) and a few examples of street art. Similar to Athens, not much stands out in the general smear of tagging.
A nice (accidental) street collage
Thessaloniki, Greece. The entry to this museum is a sad sight, as if neglected due to the economic crisis. The entry signs are small and truly bleak. The front walk way is full of weeds. Later I thought this was probably an intentional part of the paving design, as the mortar drops away at the edges. A naturalized transition, perhaps a nod to the ambiance of a "ruin".
The saw is an invention of the ancient Greeks, and even comes up in mythological stories. It's one way of connecting present to past that must seem random to visitors who don't know the story.
A zip tie sculpture at the entry seemed small, with no intuitive sense of it's connection to archeology. I couldn't find any signage for it. A temporary exhibition using wooden framing begins outside the front door and continues into the lobby.
Many artifacts are displayed in small functional clusters to tell stories of everyday life in ancient Greece. This nice panel was part of the music and dance theme, with larger scaling and a dramatic sense of motion in the lighting.
An effort to incorporate modern art here and there among the artifacts was failing. But a separate temporary exhibition of a contemporary artist was more successful, most likely because the symbolic realm of Greek mythology extends easily into modern art.
It's painful when I find something interesting right at closing time. I didn't have time to explore this exhibition about figurines.
Crete, Greece. A few poster examples. Theater posters are important in this country
Postcards are still for sale, but almost totally out of use. The postcard ritual is sweet and old fashioned, but it's a nuisance for travelers to find stamps or a post office. Postcard photography shapes our perceptions of a place and it's culture. Traditional postcard photos are often boring, out dated, unrealistically colorized. They tend to present images that cater to a nostalgic, romanticized approach to travel.
I always wonder how the photographers approached these shots of people, how naturally or contrived the process was. Some are really good. But they make me think I must have missed something because I didn't see people like this. Maybe I need to meet them to be sure that I'm really here in this unique country and culture? Maybe I should choose these images because they prove that I'm "authentically" here?
Most of the time we are happy to embrace the unreality of postcards, choosing a photo precisely because it is stereotypical, sentimental, campy, humorous, or even satirical.
"Art" photography postcards give us different choices. Perhaps more current, realistic, or expressive of a wider spectrum of experience. Still as images they are subject to the same cliches and iconic tendencies.
We have more creative control over our travel photos by taking and curating our own, sharing them on social media, and writing our own captions. This process of personal postcarding is so easy and compelling that the experience of "telling our travel story" can compete or interfere with the experience itself. Maybe this is not a new dilemma, considering the rich history of travel sketching, journal writing and scrap booking. Staying open to real experience before we "tell it" or "name it" in image and word is still a challenge.
Knosos, Crete. There are 2 pieces to this experience. The famous Minoan archeological site, and the Archeological Museum in Heraklion. At the site, we joined a routine (free) tour group with an official guide. This means (suddenly) becoming members of an intimate, but randomly selected group of travelers, for a relatively short period of time. This was my second visit to Knosos, so maybe I wasn't paying full attention. Our particular little group seemed so intriguing to me that my curiosity about my fellow tourists was distracting me from the actual tour.
Although our tour guide was very compelling
How much we engage or bond on a tour depends on the dynamic of the particular group, and the guide. In general, total strangers bond quickly as travelers when something "happens", like a rainstorm, or a transportation breakdown, or political event... but a short site tour is usually routine and uneventful. I wished I could've gotten a deeper introduction from each person, more than country of origin, for example, and I wonder if any tour programs try to address that desire?
The valuable murals and artifacts from Knosos are 15 mins away in Heraklion's Archeology museum. This is not as strange as having to go to London. But it still feels a bit disconnected from the site. The austere museum architecture uses columns, proportions, and colors to help reference the Minoan ruin.
The grand long information counter had a welcoming flower arrangement on it, but not a soul in sight
Like shop keepers often do, the information/welcome desk attendant was relaxing off to the side, leaving the counter empty. Many visitors wouldn't realize who he was, or feel comfortable enough to approach him.
Phaistos, Greece. Maybe because we've gotten so numb to "not working" media kiosks, we don't even notice their ugly tombstones anymore. They have their own archeology.
Archanes, Greece. Formidable street signs, chiseled in stone.
Various locations. I have been visiting a lot of archeological sites. I think of them as "found" museums, because they're discovered, not created. Excavated, preserved, protected, and interpreted. The valuables may be moved to a specially constructed museum, but the site remains, where it is, whatever it is. As visitors we're supposed to focus on the archeological part, but sometimes I find myself focusing on the supporting architecture instead. Most of it is permanent, carefully designed to protect the site, and support the visitor's experience moving through it.
Buttresses are interesting in a different way, because they appear randomly as needed, to prop things up. The design is often more urgent and less fussy. They can be subtle or prominent in relation to the site.
Many structures are (accidentally) playful with the site.
Scaffolding is interesting for the same reasons. Some scaffolding is famous. At the Parthenon, where it is a constant element, it's become part of our iconic perception of the place.
Rudimentary archeological sites, with no architecture at all (or interpretation), are alive, enjoyed like marginal parks for the view, drinking, etc. Tagging appears, and footpaths develop organically.
Loutro, Greece. It's easy to miss the Mini Museum because the only sign is a TINY title painted above the blue door—of the side kitchen at Taverna Limani, in a roadless village that is only accessible by foot or by boat. The only way to visit museums such as this is by accident, in my case, eating dinner out front.
The Mini Museum is a reminder of our universal desire or need to display (revere) objects that have meaning to us. The most basic "home made museum" is just one step away from "home", our most personal repository and display area for meaningful objects. It's home, but open to the public.
The objects hang from nails on the wall and minimal labels are written in magic marker.
The meaning extends to community, as most of the objects are weapons related to the turbulent war history of Crete, an island with a strong independent identity and a center for fierce resistance.
The primary need seems to be to represent shared memories and an unspoken understanding between neighbors. When there is no orientation or introduction, it sometimes means that it's not really "meant" for the outside visitor. And one feels the atmosphere of reverence, here, like visiting a temple.
The Mini Museum is completely integrated with the daily life of the Taverna Limani. Later, I noticed some similar displays at other Tavernas in town (mostly old tools). The only real difference is the name "Museum".
