Two pairs of projections offer a glimpse into a corner of Austrian and Hungarian reality, linked by a thousand cultural threads and geographical proximity, into disappearing or changing corners of communal existence.
In Austrian photographer Klaus Pichler’s series Golden Age, Before It Ends, we gain an insight into Viennese small pubs where time seems to have stood still for sixty years, while Hungarian photographer Zsófia Sivák’s No Credit series flashes descriptive images from the world of small pubs in rural Hungary. The vanishing object culture and clientele of the two-million-strong Austrian capital’s half-basement taverns are surprisingly similar to the last communal spaces and the people who frequent them in rural Hungarian villages with fewer than three thousand inhabitants.
Nothing surprising, one might say, given that the sites are only 400 kilometers apart, but the 20th century destinies of the countries that were once united under the umbrella of the Austro-Hungarian Empire until 120 years ago, took a very different course, and as a result Austria is now considered as part of Western Europe, while neighbouring Hungary is considered as part of Eastern Europe. Working against prejudices, this pair of screenings presents community spaces from both countries that are in their last hours and, although they function as a home-substitute for many people, they are disappearing without a trace or a real alternative.
Hungarian photojournalist János Bődey’s What’s up? Been a while… Village Day Snapshots gives a overview of the world of Hungarian village festivities, which are fading due to the depopulation of villages, but are changing even more due to globalisation. Austrian photographer Reiner Riedler’s series This Side Of Paradise, on the other hand, turns his camera specifically towards non-traditional mass events, focusing on the Austrian products of the global festival industry: Krampus festivals, bodybuilding events, erotic fairs and carnivals.
Should we rejoice that the world of messy pubs is being replaced by neat specialty cafés? Clearly, the standard will be higher, but where is the life in them, the community that sees its host pub not as a means but as an end to which it belongs? Everyone can find an event to their liking nowdays, but can themed festivals organised based on financial reasons reflect the sense of belonging that a community wants to experience? With the move to the big cities, with the professionalisation, is something that is not a commercial marketing product of consumer societies being lost forever? Is something lost that has character and a sense of life?
The documentary photographers, often grotesque in tone, hold up a curved mirror to us and direct their lenses where we tend to look away: to the margins of society. In our schematic world, does it make sense to talk about the West and the East and to think in these terms? Because looking at the four series, we may get the feeling that we see the same thing everywhere. The most widespread traditional basic unit of belonging were scenes of religious and, from the 19th century, national consciousness, which had lost much of their weight in Europe by the beginning of the 21st century. Local characteristics are dissolving, and the community places that made belonging a tangible experience are fading away. And the uniformised, selfie-ready entertainment industry is steamrollseverythnig down, while providing no real identity. But marginalised groups fleeing from poor living conditions, often out of forced interdependence, will nevertheless keep their communities alive with their unique character.