Five years ago, Mihaela Aroyo found herself at a youth meeting in Moldova without knowing that this was the beginning of a long-term photographic project exploring the contemporary identity of one of the largest Bulgarian diasporas – that of the Bessarabian Bulgarians. We talk about the historical background to the origin of this community and the context in which the project develops, as well as its possible readings through photography.
The occasion for this material is the exhibition “Dreaming in Bulgarian” at Synthesis Gallery, curated by Nadezhda Pavlova and Nikola Mihov, which runs until September 24, 2024. The questions were asked by Jenny Decheva.
Mihaela, how did you get into photography?
While I was still a student at the high school in Varna, I used to walk around with a camera and take pictures of my classmates, although I didn’t really pay much attention to this activity. The decision to study photography actually coincided with now historic events - the big protests against the Oresharski government and the election of Delyan Peevski as the head of State Agency for National Security in 2013. The occupation of Sofia University, where I was studying, was one of the occasions for me to think about what I wanted to do, and so I changed my studies from Bulgarian philology to photography. At the beginning of my education I did an internship program at the “Trud” newspaper. I was attracted by the idea of being around people in order to reflect real life moments, as opposed to studio photography where you create the environment yourself.
Most of my classmates had an interest in commercial photography, while I preferred to be outdoors discovering new stories. So, in my final year I ended up being the only student enrolled in Tsvetan Tomchev’s Photojournalism and Documentary Photography course, which gave us the opportunity to discuss subjects and authors in much more detail, delving deeper into photojournalism and documentary photography. When I finished my semester, I got an offer to become a photojournalist at Bulfoto Agency. For me, it was a dream job back then. I covered a wide range of events from football and politics to protests, festivals and music events. Working at the agency offered me great experience in learning different skills, but I realized that the news approach doesn't allow much insight into an area of concern.
Which directions of contemporary photography are you interested in? Where do you position your artistic practice?
I follow projects that involve long-term research on a given topic. I identify with documentary photography and share Jennifer Good and Paul Lowe’s thesis in their book Understanding Photojournalism that while photojournalism focuses on the news element of an event, the actuality of the moment, documentary photography is more about exploring the state of things that result from sociopolitical processes.
What led you to the project “Dreaming in Bulgarian”, which is currently on view at Synthesis Gallery?
I started the project totally by chance. I had heard about the existence of the Bessarabian Bulgarians, but I knew almost nothing about them. In the spring of 2019, I read somewhere on the Internet about the youth festival of Bessarabian Bulgarians “Есть Контакт”, which is organized annually in different villages in Moldova or Ukraine. It turned out that the next meeting was in a month and so on July 27 Denislav Stoychev and I spontaneously set off and found ourselves in the village of Stoyanovka in Moldova. Not only was the hospitality with which we were welcomed a great surprise, but also the fact that everyone spoke Bulgarian. I often tell the story of how on entering the village we stopped in front of a woman’s house and in broken Russian I asked her where the festival was being held and she replied, “Speak in Bulgarian!”.
At that time I did not intend to start a project that would last so long. I decided to return the following year, and in the meantime I was reading books and articles to get into the subject.
And what exactly do we understand by Bessarabia and what is the history of the Bulgarians in this region?
Bessarabia is a historical and geographical region on the territory of present-day Ukraine and Moldova. In addition to Bulgarians, Moldovans, Ukrainians, Romanians, Russians, Gagauz, Albanians and Jews live there. Tens of thousands migrated from Bulgarian lands to this area after the Russo-Turkish Wars of 1806-1812 and 1828-1829. The Russian Empire acquired this territory after the signing of the Treaty of Bucharest in 1812. At that time Bessarabia was declared an administrative unit and became a border region for the empire, which was not very developed. This was the reason why Bulgarians and other settlers were given certain advantages such as farmland, exemption from military conscription, freedom of religion, etc. During these two centuries, the government of Bessarabia changed eight times - it was part of the Russian Empire, Romania, the Moldavian SSR and the Ukrainian SSR within the Soviet Union. According to the data, today between 250 and 300 thousand people live in Ukraine and Moldova who identify themselves as Bulgarians. (This information is based on conversations with local people during the trips and on available statistics from the last censuses in Ukraine in 2001 and in Moldova in 2014 – ed.).
I’d give one example of the complex history of the region: after the end of the Crimean War in 1856, approximately half of the territory of Bessarabia passed into the borders of the Moldavian Principality. The population was given the choice of continuing to live there or moving to the Russian Empire within three years. However, this period coincided with the concept of uniting Wallachia and the Principality of Moldavia and creating the common state of Romania. Some of the aforementioned acquisitions were taken away from the Bulgarians and processes of assimilation and imposition of the Romanian language began. The internal conflicts caused new waves of migration, resulting in over 20 000 Bulgarians heading east to Tavria in the Russian Empire, forming another ethnic group – the Tavrian Bulgarians. To date, many of them fall into the Russian-occupied Ukrainian territories.
The manner Bessarabian Bulgarians are represented in the media is often limited to their destiny to preserve their language and traditions outside the territory where their ancestors came from. How does one work on a topic with an already clichéd imagery?
For me, it probably helped that I went unencumbered to Bessarabia. Usually what the media shows is a result of several days of reporting. I admit that at first, and I was also impressed mainly by the preserved Bulgarian language and traditions. With time I became aware that there are more layers that are interesting in this region. A culture is not only shaped by the elements we see on the surface. This is a concept of American anthropologist Edward Hall that I came across a year ago and appropriated in some way. He describes culture as an iceberg – 10% is visible at first glance, including customs, food, literature and clothing. The other 90% remains invisible, but contains beliefs, values, ethics, attitudes to education, and gender roles. All things can’t be noticed if you go somewhere for two days. So I think time is the main factor that allows you to go in-depth.
I also decided to do a Master’s degree in history, which in turn helps me to see Bessarabia not only as the home of our diaspora, but also as a dynamic region in geopolitical terms.
You’ve spent a lot of time there in those five years. How does a trip go and how do you choose the places to visit?
My first meeting in the village of Stoyanovka was organized by the Bulgarian Youth Club “Active”. It was very valuable because I met people from my generation. Before my second trip, this time to Ukraine, I asked them to put me in touch with people important to the community.
Everything became easier when I got closer to a few people. With Alexander Polibza from the village of Kubey, for example, we developed an unspoken collaboration over time. Sasha is an amateur ethnographer who collects folk costumes and objects, and maintains a Facebook group where he posts photos and materials on the subject. He doesn’t own a car and when I go there we make a joint travel plan. When he wants to go to a granny in a particular village and record her singing, he suggests I go with him, introduce me to someone or just take the opportunity to wander around the village. Over time he got to know my style of shooting and understood what I was looking for. It’s essential for me to talk to people, we tell each other stories, we are curious about each other. Often when we meet, the first thing they want to show me is the museum with objects of everyday life, as there are in almost every village.
In general, I’m pleased to collaborate in different ways. I recently spoke to Ivan Borimetchkov from Taraclia, who asked me for some of my images which he could include in a future exhibition about his fifty years of cultural activity. A boy from the village of Glavan also wrote to me, who has built up an incredible archive of photographs of the village from the 19th and 20th centuries and wants to make an exhibition with them. Perhaps on my next trip to Ukraine I will meet him so I can help him and maybe even integrate some of this archive into my project.
You are saying that not only are you showing interest in them, but they are showing interest in you. How do you feel the perception that the Bessarabian Bulgarians have of Bulgaria is reflected in your communication?
I feel easily accepted, even undeservedly put on a pedestal. I often hear the phrase “come and see a real Bulgarian”. There is an idealized image of Bulgaria, especially among older people who have never visited the ancestral homeland. I guess it’s like anything you mythologize if you can’t reach it. That’s why there are different stories related to the younger generation who have traveled to Bulgaria in the last 20-30 years. There are more than one and two disappointments. They grew up with their grandparents’ stories of the country, who in turn remembered them from their parents. Suddenly, they come here and someone, for example, tells them “what kind of Bulgarian are you, you’re Russian.” There’s a joke I’ve heard there – “The Macedonian explains to you in pure Bulgarian that he’s not Bulgarian, and the Bessarabian Bulgarian, in Russian, swears to you from the bottom of his heart that he is Bulgarian.”
Who do you think has the right to tell a story of a community?
This is a much debated question in photography. The media has changed a lot in terms of economics and it has become more profitable for them to hire local photographers. Let’s say 50 years ago there were some stars of photography sent to photograph stories from all over the world because of their visual mastery, albeit with the help of fixers doing much of the work. Perhaps tightening budgets is one reason and this is proving positive for local artists. They have certain accumulations while the outsider still comes with some stereotypes, but ultimately I think it depends on your ethics. If you do extensive research on the subject and give the people you interact with the opportunity to express for themselves what they think or feel about an issue or situation, you’ll be able to tell the story honestly.
The original title of the project was “Root” – why did you decide to change it and is this also related to a shift in the way you work?
“Root” sounded logical to me because I was looking to understand how these people have preserved their origins, traditions and family memory. This title fits the original direction of the project. “Dreaming in Bulgarian,” on the other hand, is much more about the idea that identity is not fixed and does not exist within specific geographical, historical or political boundaries, but is something dynamic that exists despite all these frontiers. I started using it recently, although this phrase came up some time ago in a conversation with Yordana Mitanova from the village of Chushmeliy. She and I were discussing the fact that Bessarabian Bulgarians use at least three languages in their daily lives – Bulgarian as a family language, Russian as a common language for everyday communication outside the household, and the state language, be it Ukrainian or Moldovan. Suddenly I exclaimed “And what language do you think in?” and she told me that she did not know, but “she dreams in Bulgarian.” Over time my work evolved in a more metaphorical and poetic direction, to which this title corresponds.
Although the project has been shown several times, so far you’ve selected the photographs and how they are presented on your own. The current exhibition at Synthesis Gallery is the result of an active exchange with the curators Nadezhda Pavlova and Nikola Mihov. Did this influence the interpretation of the project?
For the exhibition in which I participated in Plovdiv (“Na/rodna zemya”), and then for the presentation at Atelier Plastelin, I had support from Sarkis Mutafian. But indeed, the project is now shown for the first time on such a scale. For me, working with the curators of Synthesis was very valuable, they gave me the necessary distance that I cannot always create. The photographer incorporates the emotions experienced during the shooting, before the shooting and after the shooting.
Sometimes I really want to show a photo because I have put an enormous amount of effort into making it. Other times it’s the other way around – a shot I took on the fly turns out to be more revealing. That’s why working with other people is beneficial, in this case with the curators.
Is there a narrative in the exhibition?
In the process of photographing, I never imagined a linear narrative. For me, each scene or encounter is part of the collective image of Bessarabia. In the exhibition there is no distinction between the people and places located in Ukraine and Moldova, because ultimately their lives are the result of the same historical processes, even though they are part of different countries with small differences in cultural influences. This idea of the cultural iceberg that I mentioned earlier helped us to select and arrange the exhibition. We decided to make this the core of the exhibition itself because it corresponds to the change in my view of the subject over these five years, from focusing on traditions to gradually paying attention to social specificities, politics, history and their visual representation.
Landscape holds a special place in the gallery.
Yes, for me it is something really important because it gives a sense of a common space. In Bessarabia, the landscape is very specific because it is dominated by the steppe, and the image of the steppe as a protagonist is strongly present in the writing of authors from the region. In my opinion, the environment largely determines the culture and way of life of the people there. In turn, in the urban or rural landscape we can find the historical layers that coexist.
Landscape has become a favourite genre of mine, I take inspiration from artists like Joel Sternfeld, in whose project Rome After Rome we see how remnants of the Roman Empire, cars and modern city residents amicably inhabit the urban environment.
Tell us more about the sound environment that Svetoslav Todorov created especially for the exhibition.
Initially, I didn’t want to have texts accompanying the photographs, because I think that in some cases having a descriptive text underneath the photograph makes you lose the opportunity to perceive and interpret through your own knowledge, experiences and emotions. In this case the sound environment proved to be an opportunity to trigger another sense. It is based on audio material that I have recorded during my travels in order to capture the different layers of a place – interviews, soundscapes including liturgies during church festivals, as well as street ambience, random sounds, conversations in the market or what is playing on the car radio.
Instead of me narrating, we hear directly the voice of the community. We perceive the specifics of speech – archaic words we have forgotten, the inevitable influence of Russian, and the mixing of several languages at once. It also adds to the idea of the region’s multi-layered character, and all these voices, places and people come together in a common narrative.
I guess every photographer has their heroes. Who are the authors that have influenced your work?
I want to highlight people I’ve personally interacted with. I can't help but mention the photographer Denislav Stoychev, with whom we have a long-standing partnership. He introduced me to the work of many photographers I had never heard of before. I also very much appreciate the help of photographer Stefano De Luigi, a mentor in VII Academy’s educational program. He noticed the poetic line in my photographs, encouraged me to work in that direction and to abandon the classic photojournalistic approach where you try to tell the whole story with one photo. Stefano also encouraged me to start very intensive interviews in Bessarabia, because before that I was taking notes and memos, but not so methodically. Visually, I’m inspired by a lot of authors, but during the time I was working on this project, I looked at Carolyn Drake’s Two Rivers and Jonas Bendiksen’s Satellites a lot for reference. Otherwise, I feel close to photographers who spent a long time with the community, such as Péter Korniss, who explored life in various villages in Transylvania for over 30 years, or to Edward Curtis, who documented indigenous peoples in North America in the early 20th century. It seems to me that photographers who work with communities are often driven by the idea that they are photographing something that will soon disappear.
How do you see the project developing and at what point would you consider it finished?
I want to publish it as a photobook, which means at least two or three more years of work. An exhibition provides scale and space, but is temporary. A book remains as a document and travels easily, so I think the responsibility to the content is greater. In my book, I would include texts by people in the community and researchers to give an account of the current state of the place and different perspectives on the subject.
In any case, after the formal end of the project, I don’t think my relationship with the region will end because I have made friendships that I hope will remain.
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