“Frigidna utičnica” [The Frigid Socket] was the first and only radio show dedicated to homosexuality in socialist Yugoslavia. The show, created and hosted by Croatian journalist Toni Marošević, was first aired in the spring of 1984 on Zagreb’s Omladinski radio [Youth Radio, later Radio 101], which in the 1980s was known for stepping out of the official boundaries of socialist journalism. Homosexuality in Yugoslavia was socially mostly unacceptable, almost invisible in the media, and negatively perceived both by most of the population and the ruling Communist Party. Even if it appeared in newspapers and magazines, the topic of homosexuality was usually presented with pity or ridicule (Kuhar 2003). Marošević conceived of “Frigidna utičnica” [The Frigid Socket] as a relaxed, humorous, but also very direct and provocative show, with a simultaneously strong educational component (Bosanac 2013). The first show sparked huge interest and dozens of listener phone calls and comments were aired live. Some were very aggressive, even vulgar, while some expressed support and approval. Also, some negative reviews appeared in the daily press (Tomeković 1984). Even though Marošević was not personally subjected to any sort of pressure from the communist authorities, due to the public controversy the show sparked, the broadcast was cancelled after the fourth week (Dobrović and Bosanac 2007, 233-236). Marošević entrusted his personal bequest to Domino (now part of the History of Homosexuality in Croatia Collection), together with a handwritten note for one of the “Frigidna utičnica” [The Frigid Socket] broadcasts from 1984.
- Zagreb Petrinjska ulica, Croatia 10000
- Charakteringas eksponatas:
Zbigniew Warpechowski affectionately repeats “I love you” to a yellow canary in a cage. The declarations become increasingly obtrusive and aggressive. He ties the canary to army boots with a red ribbon and commences to goose-step vigorously. The delicate canary tries to fly away, but time and time again is brutally pulled to the ground by the jolt of the military boot.
Afterwards he pours petroleum onto a plate and dips his hair in it. He sets the plate on fire, uses the flame to cut the ribbon and releases the canary. Finally he lowers his head, igniting his own hair and runs out of the room with his head on fire.
According to the description on the webpage of the Museum of Modern Art in Warsaw this represents a “one of the most explicit examples of the use of the language of aggression and self-aggression with the aim of amplifying the message encoded in the performance.”
The performance took place in 1984 in Stuttgart developing “the threads from the action at BWA Gallery in Lublin in 1983, which was interrupted by a group of hooligans sent by the security services.”The Museum’s commentary suggests that the numerous layers of the performance also include a commentary to the brutality of the martial law introduced in in December 1981 and formally lifted shortly before Warpechowski’s performance: “The situations which tapped into the artistic means of aggression often had existential meaning. Here, burning the hair was one of the gestures that served the purpose of materialising the notion of «nothing». However, there is also a clear political message to the performance, understood as an act of protest against martial law in Poland.”
Zbigniew Warpechowski, Marsz, Archiwum Polskiego Performansu, https://artmuseum.pl/en/archiwum/archiwum-polskiego-performansu/2648/126977
- Warszawa Pańska 3, Poland
- Charakteringas eksponatas:
The bequest of György Martin contains his folk dance films and documents about them. Martin started to shoot films in the 1950s, and he wanted to use the best technical facilities for his work. He worked together with his wife Jolán Borbély and his stepson Péter Éri. They collected folk music and folk dances among Roma and travelled to Transylvania regularly. They remained in regular contact with Transylvanian dancers. Films were made by Martin, Jolán Borbély documented the collections, and Péter Éri recorded sounds on tapes.
In the years which followed, he began to work with Ernő Pesovár, Ferenc Pesovár, and László Maácz. Later, Bertalan Andrásfalyv also joined these tours. The trips were supported by the Folk Art Institute. Its head, Jenő Széll, provided his car and chauffeur. The Hungarian Academy of Sciences also supported these research trips. Martin, however, used his own equipment during the collecting and research work. These folk dance films provide essential and in many respects unparalleled insights into peasant culture in socialist Hungary. Martin and his friends started their work as collectors in an extraordinary era, when the political elite launched programs to transform traditional peasant culture radically. Private farmers lost their land due to collectivization, and many members of the younger generations had to find jobs in industry. Martin was an inventive researcher and active traveler. Several anecdotes tell of how they used organized state tourist agency (IBUSZ) trips to Transylvania.
There were changes in the history of Hungarian scholarship on music in the 1960s. Researchers started to analyze the personal and collective dimension of the reception and to think about how the historical past could be interpreted through popular music.The two symbolic dates were 1962 and 1966. In 1962, József Ujfalussy’s book A valóság zenei képe [The Musical Image of Reality] was published, in which he examines the texture of the music and the places and ways in which it was presented.
In 1966, János Maróthy’s major work, Zene és polgár, zene és proletár [Music and Bourgeois, Music and Proletarian], was published. In his book, he elaborated on the different types of music in the twentieth century.
He studied the relationships between the bourgeois worldview and bourgeois music, as well as connections between the folk song and bourgeois music forms and historical types of the folk song. In his book, Maróthy dedicated a section to the relationships between folk and mass music, emphasizing the music of the workers and trying to examine the effects of folk music on workers’ culture. Maróthy turned away from the main directions of the local discussions on jazz. He was interested in the social roots of this type of music, its relationships to folk music, and its labor movement backgrounds. This book is one of Maróthy’s publications which had effects on later research methods.
Oleskandr Bohomazov's “Sawyers” refers to a triptych the artist worked in 1926-1929, but did not complete. As Elena Kashuba-Volvach notes in her essay for the catalogue Alexander Bogomazov, 1880-1930, the most famous piece “Sharpening the Saws” is held at the National Museum of Ukrainian Art in Kyiv, along with “Sawyers at Work.” The second painting in the cycle is not displayed publicly because of significant paint damage. The third piece “Rolling the Logs” was never completed, although Bohomazov did leave behind a number of pencil drawings and compositional sketches that indicate how the final painting and the project as a whole were meant to appear when finished.
Bohomazov worked on these paintings from 1926 to 1929, when “political considerations were becoming the main criteria for judging art in Ukraine and throughout the USSR,” as Kashuba-Volvach notes. This observation makes it even more remarkable that Bohomazov’s work on this triptych marked his return to painting. He took a lengthy hiatus following the October Revolution and Civil War, prompted in part by his ongoing battle with tuberculosis. During this time, Bohomazov concentrated mostly on teaching at the Kyiv Art Institute and his research into the foundations of painting. These endeavors ultimately dovetailed, leading Bohomazov to draft a teaching manual Experiencing Elements of Art. The desire to test the theories outlined therein inspired Bohomazov to once again pick up the brush.
Socialist Realism would not become official aesthetic dogma until 1934, but one can see how Bohomazov’s choice of subject and setting could come across as “formalist” to Soviet censors. As Simon Hewitt argues in his essay for the same catalogue, Bohomazov's triptych portrays labor in the countryside that features neither peasants nor city workers. Though his sawyers are conscientious and hard-working, they “work in a rhythmic tandem unchanged for centuries.” This work went against the emergent grain of a Soviet aesthetic that showcased cheerful peasants, industrious factory workers, electrification and industrialization. The “silent subversiveness” of the work is reinforced by its “abrasive color-scheme.” The futurists and the avant-garde “thrived on bright palettes,” but the “orangey-pink contrasts” used by Bohomazov in this work also made him a pioneer of color.