Although this is really Michelle's blog, she's given me (Richard) posting permissions, so I'm taking the opportunity here to add a few of my impressions.
There's a little park near our apartment, and it contains several examples of public art -- something that seems relatively rare around Pristina (at least in my limited experience so far). Nevertheless, this park makes up for that limited quantity with some appealing and eccentric choices. Take this yellow jacket (or hornet, perhaps). It's apparently depicted as dead; notice how its legs and wings are splayed out beside its body; and how the body is positioned sort of carelessly right on the ground instead of on the pedestal that's standard for most outdoor sculpture. I get the impression that this piece does not take a particularly reverential view of nature but rather celebrates its taming ... the only good hornet is a dead hornet ... that sort of thing. Of course, I have no idea about the artist's original intent, and it's entirely possible that it was exactly the opposite: that this piece is actually a lament for the disappearing bee populations of the earth. Or that this dead hornet represents the war on nature that was part and parcel of the "ethnic cleansing" assault on Kosovo from the north a few short years ago. But within the larger context of Kosovo's environment and its public space (or lack of), it's easy to assume that the general culture here lacks an appreciation of nature and that environmentalism is barely a blip on the cultural radar.
Along these lines, here's a scene that's a lot more common around here than some carefully maintained grassy park area. Unfortunately, this is what I'd conclude so far is the more representative "public space": a vacant lot perhaps slated for development (despite its recent turbulent past, Pristina appears to be something of a boomtown), partially fenced off with barbed wire, power lines invariably nearby, and mountains of trash -- both common and industrial. And as often as not, you'll see footpaths snaking through the weeds and rubble ... the standard pedestrian by-ways.
Actually, this shot was taken out in the 'burbs, not right in the city. We'd ridden a bus out there to go shopping at one of the "hyper markets" along the road that heads toward the airport. That main thoroughfare is located directly behind Michelle, in the direction of the picture-taker. We had to walk down this grungy side road about a quarter-mile to get to the market. As you can see, there are no sidewalks, but at least this side road isn't busy, and there's plenty of room for cars to pass without danger (unlike in much of the city proper). But again, the whole notion of public space, whether parks, sidewalks, benches, or plazas seems somewhat impoverished around here. I have no idea whether this was different before the Serbian invasion back in the late '90s or if there is simply no tradition of this sort in Kosovo. (There is, however, a thriving sidewalk cafe scene in the city -- on some streets, there may be a dozen cafes and restaurants on a single block. And in the nice weather, most of the outdoor tables are filled with people eating and drinking coffee, tea, and alcoholic beverages from late morning on into the evening. And we're told that most of these places don't pressure you to keep purchasing even if you sit there for a couple of hours or more. So, for a euro, you can easily hang out in some prime outdoor people-watching location for two or three hours. Undoubtedly this takes up some of the slack that parks and municipally sanctioned public space fill in the west.)
Returning once more to the sculpture park ... here's a view in the other direction from the fallen hornet. I particularly like the head on the right, with the white-gloved hand rubbing the angst-ridden temple (perhaps he has just escaped from a close call with the late hornet?). The sculptures in this park could easily comprise a full study in themselves, but that's not where I wanted to go today. Instead, a closing rumination on the public space topic.
We had picked up some Turkish street food from a cafe window the other day. (Because we had Hazel with us, we couldn't eat inside the place ... and you really can't feel secure leaving your dog tied up outside around here.) So we decided to walk until we found a good place to sit down and eat ... preferably a quiet, pleasant spot without lots of noise, diesel fumes, and trash (lots of luck). We finally realized that this sculpture park wasn't all that far off, so we aimed in that direction.
Once we got there, we went inside the gate and found an out-of-the-way spot on the grass toward the back of the lot, but near the iron fence separating the park from the public walkway outside. So there we were, enjoying the food, the lovely warm weather, and the rare grassy, treed surroundings. But we noticed that the people walking by outside the fence seemed to view us as an anomaly of some sort ... staring, nudging each other, nodding in our direction. We assumed this must be because of Hazel (see Michelle's other postings about the local attitude about dogs). But finally, a security guard and another guy came out of the building on the park property, stared in our direction, and appeared sort of agitated. The security guard looked around sort of furtively and then made shooing motions with his hands. He obviously didn't want to have to come over and confront us directly, but he clearly wanted us to leave. We got up and left pretty quickly, and were left to conclude that this sculpture garden must not be a public space after all. Maybe the neatness of the grounds -- the mowed and raked lawn, the dearth of the normal street litter -- should've been the tipoff. We still have no idea who or what owns this space that has all the trappings of a small public park. Perhaps in time, this curiosity will be resolved, as a Balkans sensibility about public space gains a foothold in us.
There's a little park near our apartment, and it contains several examples of public art -- something that seems relatively rare around Pristina (at least in my limited experience so far). Nevertheless, this park makes up for that limited quantity with some appealing and eccentric choices. Take this yellow jacket (or hornet, perhaps). It's apparently depicted as dead; notice how its legs and wings are splayed out beside its body; and how the body is positioned sort of carelessly right on the ground instead of on the pedestal that's standard for most outdoor sculpture. I get the impression that this piece does not take a particularly reverential view of nature but rather celebrates its taming ... the only good hornet is a dead hornet ... that sort of thing. Of course, I have no idea about the artist's original intent, and it's entirely possible that it was exactly the opposite: that this piece is actually a lament for the disappearing bee populations of the earth. Or that this dead hornet represents the war on nature that was part and parcel of the "ethnic cleansing" assault on Kosovo from the north a few short years ago. But within the larger context of Kosovo's environment and its public space (or lack of), it's easy to assume that the general culture here lacks an appreciation of nature and that environmentalism is barely a blip on the cultural radar.
Along these lines, here's a scene that's a lot more common around here than some carefully maintained grassy park area. Unfortunately, this is what I'd conclude so far is the more representative "public space": a vacant lot perhaps slated for development (despite its recent turbulent past, Pristina appears to be something of a boomtown), partially fenced off with barbed wire, power lines invariably nearby, and mountains of trash -- both common and industrial. And as often as not, you'll see footpaths snaking through the weeds and rubble ... the standard pedestrian by-ways.Actually, this shot was taken out in the 'burbs, not right in the city. We'd ridden a bus out there to go shopping at one of the "hyper markets" along the road that heads toward the airport. That main thoroughfare is located directly behind Michelle, in the direction of the picture-taker. We had to walk down this grungy side road about a quarter-mile to get to the market. As you can see, there are no sidewalks, but at least this side road isn't busy, and there's plenty of room for cars to pass without danger (unlike in much of the city proper). But again, the whole notion of public space, whether parks, sidewalks, benches, or plazas seems somewhat impoverished around here. I have no idea whether this was different before the Serbian invasion back in the late '90s or if there is simply no tradition of this sort in Kosovo. (There is, however, a thriving sidewalk cafe scene in the city -- on some streets, there may be a dozen cafes and restaurants on a single block. And in the nice weather, most of the outdoor tables are filled with people eating and drinking coffee, tea, and alcoholic beverages from late morning on into the evening. And we're told that most of these places don't pressure you to keep purchasing even if you sit there for a couple of hours or more. So, for a euro, you can easily hang out in some prime outdoor people-watching location for two or three hours. Undoubtedly this takes up some of the slack that parks and municipally sanctioned public space fill in the west.)
Returning once more to the sculpture park ... here's a view in the other direction from the fallen hornet. I particularly like the head on the right, with the white-gloved hand rubbing the angst-ridden temple (perhaps he has just escaped from a close call with the late hornet?). The sculptures in this park could easily comprise a full study in themselves, but that's not where I wanted to go today. Instead, a closing rumination on the public space topic.We had picked up some Turkish street food from a cafe window the other day. (Because we had Hazel with us, we couldn't eat inside the place ... and you really can't feel secure leaving your dog tied up outside around here.) So we decided to walk until we found a good place to sit down and eat ... preferably a quiet, pleasant spot without lots of noise, diesel fumes, and trash (lots of luck). We finally realized that this sculpture park wasn't all that far off, so we aimed in that direction.
Once we got there, we went inside the gate and found an out-of-the-way spot on the grass toward the back of the lot, but near the iron fence separating the park from the public walkway outside. So there we were, enjoying the food, the lovely warm weather, and the rare grassy, treed surroundings. But we noticed that the people walking by outside the fence seemed to view us as an anomaly of some sort ... staring, nudging each other, nodding in our direction. We assumed this must be because of Hazel (see Michelle's other postings about the local attitude about dogs). But finally, a security guard and another guy came out of the building on the park property, stared in our direction, and appeared sort of agitated. The security guard looked around sort of furtively and then made shooing motions with his hands. He obviously didn't want to have to come over and confront us directly, but he clearly wanted us to leave. We got up and left pretty quickly, and were left to conclude that this sculpture garden must not be a public space after all. Maybe the neatness of the grounds -- the mowed and raked lawn, the dearth of the normal street litter -- should've been the tipoff. We still have no idea who or what owns this space that has all the trappings of a small public park. Perhaps in time, this curiosity will be resolved, as a Balkans sensibility about public space gains a foothold in us.
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