intro
Borders
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omania has always harbored interesting contrasts. Nobody – from the tourism ministry to ad agencies – can agree on a strategy for nation branding, but we all agree and embrace the idea of contrasts. A recent study concluded that 75 percent of Romanians believe they are worse off than they were 10 years ago. The same study though, said 73 percent believe in a brighter future. But at the same time, about 60 percent of responders think Romanians are fundamentally unlucky people. What this means is that we’re never content with where we’re at, but nevertheless think it’ll get better. But we don’t believe it will get better if we do something ourselves (go to page 30 to learn more about this). The good things, if they ever happen, will be serendipitous. Then, something bad will follow. And so on. We’ve always been a borderland country, caught between East and West, and we’ve never found a way to reconcile our short-term pessimism with our long-term optimism, our need to blame others for our misfortunes with the skepticism that we can improve our fate. (For more on the Romanian ethos, read Lucian Boia’s fantastic book, Romania: Borderland of Europe). In DoR we publish stories of borders, and we do it so we can further our understanding of who we are as a people, and where we’re headed. That’s why Dan Perjovschi is a natural choice for our cover story. Perjovschi has been an internationally acclaimed artist for years. His drawings have been exhibited and sold around the globe, including at the Tate Modern in London and MoMA in New York. But he’s never gotten the same level of attention in Romania. Moreover, he’s had plenty of run-ins with the established artistic community. But he won’t leave, because in order to create his sparse visual statements that earn him foreign accolades, he needs the chaos and uncertainty of his homeland. Inna, at the other end of the spectrum, is a pop-product shun in Romania for her lack of sophistication, but adored by dance music fans around the Balkans and farther away. The intelligentsia bemoans the fact that Romania exports
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such a superficial product, ignoring the economic and PR argument the Inna brand makes: wellpackaged exoticism sells. DoR is a magazine of stories because we believe stories are the best tools humans have to understand their surrounding. Hopefully, this collection – made up of both content published in the Romanian edition, but also original pieces – will not only make you curios about this part of the world, but will also put your own worlds into perspective. We eagerly await your feedback at dor@ decatorevista.ro. – CRISTIAN LUPȘA, editor
All cover illustrations were done by Dan Perjovschi.
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STAFF & COntributors More than 50 writers, photographers and illustrators are featured in this issue. Some are listed here, the others throughout the magazine. We thank them all.
Carmen Gociu is our art director. She is an experienced graphic designer with a lot of projects on her plate and that’s why we sometimes dream of locking her in our office when working on a new issue.
Samira Sarah Natour is a graphic designer who believes in people’s power to change the Bucharest urban landscape. She is the driving force behind Reper, a recent magazine that explores and unlocks the city.
Marko Risovic is a Serbian documentary photographer interested in long term projects about social issues. He landed one day in Romania, and was irrevocably attracted by the friendship and sense of freedom.
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editor Cristian Lupşa art director Carmen Gociu
designers David Stroe, Samira Natour, Radu Manelici
Gabriela Piţurlea, an associate editor, wrote the definitive posthumous profile of Romanian movie critic Alex Leo. Şerban, who died this year from cancer. He was respected cultural figure, but also a vitriolic Internet commenter – and Gabriela did a wonderful job capturing it all.
associate editors Ani Sandu, Georgiana Ilie, Gabriela Piţurlea, Sorana Stănescu, Simina Mistreanu, Andreea Lupu, Anca Iosif typefaces and such The DoR logo is based on Irma. Body text is written in Ingeborg and National. printed at Master Print Super Offset tell us we’re awesome www.decatorevista.ro Email: dor@decatorevista.ro Facebook: Facebook.com/decatorevista Twitter: @decatorevista issn 2247-5168
English translations and proofreading Mircea Drăgoi is a designer and illustrator based in Târgu Mureş, Romania. He does wonders with info graphics, and the one published in this issue, Evolution: From Pioneer to Hipster, is a compelling visual essay about the changes in trends over the last 20 years.
Ioana Şopov is a painter, designer and illustrator. In this issue, she illustrated an essay about the struggle of being gay in Romania. View her portfolio at dreamboard.ro.
A journal of Romanian nonfiction.
senior editors Gabriel Dobre, Lavinia Gliga, Adrian Lungu
Georgiana Ilie is an associate editor, and a hardworking and patient writer. She followed the story of Ionuţ Ungureanu, the first Romanian firefighter to die in the line of duty in the last 45 years, for more than a year.
Tudor Vintiloiu is a photographer, a traveler and, more recently, a dad. For this issue he shot The Fire, trying to capture absence among the left behind squad of a dead Romanian firefighter. View Tudor’s portfolio at tudorvintiloiu.com.
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Roald Aron has shot photos for most Romanian magazines. He is as creative as he is prolific, always managing to surprise, even when he only has five minutes with his subject. For this issue he photographed Dan Perjovschi, the biggest name in Romanian contemporary art.
Oana Gavrilă is a journalist and translator with a penchant for well-written stories. She lives and works in. Find her on Twitter: @PhenoBD. Ioana Pelehatăi is a philologist, a translator, a reader, a writer, a ghostwriter, a screenwriter, a freelancer and an all-round, full-time word addict. Alicia Krzyczkowski was until recently a Peace Corps volunteer in Romania. Now she is studying Public Policy at CEU in Budapest, but plans to return to research civil society. Alecia Ball is a master’s student at the University of Gastronomic Sciences in Pollenzo, Italy. She supports eco- and gastro-tourism in Transylvania at www.savortransylvania.com. Meghan Sullivan is an American journalist living in Bucharest. She has previously worked for National Public Radio and washingtonpost.com.
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Evolution A metamorphosis from Communist pioneer to hipster. [Visual essay by Mircea Drﾄトoi]
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Letters from Romania The language wars Within a few months, a revised edition of the Romanian Thesaurus will roll off the presses, after the Academy’s linguists have amended the definitions of the words kike and gypsy in response to pressure from civil society.
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ate this summer, the word kike caused a linguistic and political storm, after an NGO accused the Romanian Academy’s Linguistics Institute of anti-Semitic sentiment. The Institute received a letter from the Center for Combating and Monitoring AntiSemitism, which asked that the word’s definition be changed. The dictionary’s most recent edition, published in 2009, featured kike as a familiar
word, although the dictionary’s 1998 edition had explained it as slang and a pejorative. For Marco Maximilian Katz, the Center’s president, the word “expressed hatred in its most primitive form against people who happen to have been born Jewish.” He demanded that the linguists also introduce antiSemitic in the new definition. Katz, who is fifty years old and runs a Bucharest hotel, was inspired by a similar appeal filed in February 2011 by several Roma rights organizations that had demanded the amendment of one of the definitions of the word gypsy: “an epithet assigned to a person of bad habits.” The Romanian Academy’s Linguistics Institute is a state-run institution in charge of regulating language – the dictionaries they publish are official guides that school textbooks, books, official documents and mass media language observe. Having entered the Romanian language via Old Slavic before the late 19th century, the word kike (jidan) was used almost exclusively by popular media at the time, to which the word Jew was
virtually unknown. During the interwar era, it was taken over by the far right, which had a very strong press behind it. “They created an over-saturation. It became toxic; it is a toxic word, you can’t dub it familiar now,” says anthropologist Andrei Oişteanu. Kike would frequently show up in the speeches of inter war ultra-nationalists and was solidified as a slur when Romanian ruler Marshall Ion Antonescu initiated an ethnic cleansing against the Jewish population. Roughly 8,000 Jews live in Romania today, whereas the Romania of 1940was home to the third largest Jewish community in Europe and the fourth largest worldwide, after the USSR, Poland and the United States. (During the Holocaust, between 280,000 and 380,000 Romanian and Ukrainian Jews died or were killed in Romania and the territories under its administration.) Out of the 27 European Union member states, Romania ranks 20th in terms of tolerance toward Jews and 12th in terms of tolerance toward the Roma, its second largest ethnic minority after Hungarians. With respect to doR
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Roma intolerance, Romanians find themselves in line with other European Union citizens. However, when it comes to intolerance against Jewish people, it can be said that Romania is among the most anti-Semitic countries in the European Union, as indicated by a report from Soros Foundation Romania. Following the appeal issued by Katz’s NGO, the Romanian Academy’s Linguistics Institute acknowledged the familiar label as a mistake and, several weeks after the appeal, promised that the forthcoming 2014 edition of the Romanian Thesaurus will label kike as pejorative, not recommended term. A month after that declaration, in late September, the Institute announced it would go a step further and immediately publish a new edition of the Thesaurus with amended definitions of the words kike, as well as gypsy. This came in response to the threats of Roma activists to launch a discrimination suit against the Institute if the word gypsy was not amended in a timely fashion. The linguistic debates between Jewish and Roma representatives and the Academy’s linguists lasted for over a month. In the end, Kike was not termed anti-Semitic, but the new definition 28 • winter 2011/2012
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will stipulate that the noun “is employed as an expletive, racist term, as well as with the neutral meaning of Jew in outdated, popular language,” according to Monica Busuioc, chief of the Institute’s Lexicography Department. The word gypsy received the often pejorative label, and the “epithet assigned to a person of bad habits” was changed into “expletive epithet assigned to a person of rude behavior.” It’s hard to believe that, once published in dictionaries, the words’ new nuances will produce a more tolerant society overnight. According to the Council against Discrimination, the word gypsy has been increasingly used by the press during the past three years. However, the Council does see progress. “Dictionary definition amendments cannot change the collective mindframe, but they can regulate an issue that is not just linguistic, but also social and legal,” Oişteanu says. “In a hate speech case, if the judge sees the dictionary has kike pegged as a familiar word, they’ll say no harassment was committed. This debate showed society is alive; if it hadn’t responded, it would’ve meant it was dead.” – By Oana Sandu
Next stop: Buzău Buzău is a relatively unknown region of Romania. A RomanianGerman couple has moved to a village in the area and hopes to change that.
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hen checking travel routes in Romania, Buzău might not be on most people’s must-see lists. The hilly region, a two-hour drive North from capital Bucharest, is little known by Romanians themselves. But for German Thorsten Kirschner, it’s a second home and a place he aims to turn into a travelers’ choice. If you’ve recently started to hear more of this region, chances are Kirschner and his wife Juranda are to blame. After 10 years of working around the world as an international development and export consultant, Kirschner now lives with his wife in the remote village of Berca. Most tourists pass by this village on their way to see the Muddy Volcanoes, rare formations Illustration by Alex Macsoda
of water and clay continuously pushed to the surface by gas, a phenomenon that creates cones resembling volcanoes. The Buzău muddy volcanoes are among the few visible in Europe, where most are to be found under water. It was through his wife – who was born in Romania, but left when she was 18 – that Kirschner discovered the area, and later figured out it had no real tourism development strategy. So, after moving to Romania in 2009 to work on an international consultancy project, he drafted one. The Kirschners then started the Monteoru Renaissance foundation, and a project called Travel Buzău mostly as a hobby. It soon became a full time endeavor. “If you start a business or project here, there is still place for development,” he says. “In Germany, there are 20 others already doing the same.” Their aim is to establish the region of Buzău as an alternative to the so-popular mountain resorts of the Prahova Valley, but they know it’ll take 5 to 10 years. Despite having the first mover’s advantage, their task is not easy. “The most frustrating thing is that a lot of people do not see (or do not want to see) that they sit on an unexploited treasure,” Kirschner says. “That’s why we need key investments in the region. Only when they see what can be done, and that you can make money with that, they wake up.” Travel Buzău organizes tours and events in the area, promotes Buzău in the media, and at international fairs. The Kirschners bring foreign tourists for truffle hunting sessions in area forests, wine tastings in the hilly vineyards, and cycling tours. They’re also drafting a tourism master plan for the region, and work to attract new investors. And, despite local difficulties and political games, Travel Buzău fights several battles at once. Helping develop the Dealu Mare region for premium wine tourism is one of them. Few people know Buzău has similar climate conditions to Bordeaux, Tuscany and Piedmont. Another is the development of rural tourism within the area of the future Geopark „Land of Buzău”. And if you ever heard of Sărata Monteoru, with its salty, healing waters and its
archeological richness, well, they also plan to help establish a spa/health center there and help the resort regain its lost glory. All these pieces slowly come together while the Kirschners enjoy life in the Buzău area. Moments like watching the Muddy Volcanoes in the morning light or enjoying the Dealu Mare vineyards panorama view make it worthwhile. – By Corina Săceanu
Into the light Seeing eye dogs could help improve the lives of the blind.
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itting with his guide dog Chloe in the park in front of the Romanian Athenaeum, Gabriel Nicolescu recalls a time when he almost got killed crossing the street. Nicolescu, who wears a fluorescent yellow vest, says that despite having the dog and a white walking cane, a car slammed on its breaks, barely missing him on the crosswalk. The driver, he says, shouted out the window: “What are you – are you blind?” to which he responded: “Yes, I am blind. Are you blind?” It is rare to see a handicapped person out and about in Bucharest, much less on his own. Though Romania is 20 years removed from communism, many of the old attitudes and social structures remain. Those with physical and mental disabilities are often sheltered at home by family or put in an institution for the disabled, due, in part, to the belief that handicapped people are not to be seen. But while views are slowly changing, especially among younger generations, the city’s infrastructure continues to hinder mobility and easy access. Chloe and her kind are making strides, paw by paw, in pushing change forward. Chloe is Romania’s first working guide dog. Though her path to this position was not direct, she is a symbol of the new wave to come.
Now 4, Chloe was donated as a puppy, to a partially sighted pre-teen in Bucharest a handful of years ago. However, the initial owner was too young to manage her training and temperamental ways, and the girl’s family didn’t know where to begin in terms of taking Chloe from active puppy to obedient guide dog. Light Into Europe, a Britishbased non-profit organization working with the sight-and hearing-impaired in Romania, stepped in to get Chloe working with a trainer. Light Into Europe also found Nicolescu, a 52-year-old man they considered a perfect match for Chloe. Or, rather, Nicolescu found them. He called repeatedly asking if he could be considered to take on the puppy. Tall and thin with salt and pepper hair, Nicolescu completely lost his sight due to diabetes nearly 15 years ago. He went from having freedom to live life on his own to relying on others to accompany him anytime he left the house. He lost his independence, he says. But Chloe has helped changed that. Nicolescu now goes out for walks and to nearby stores on his own. But, he admits, he is less eager to travel downtown without a human companion. Strolling around the park and toward the subway with Nicolescu and Chloe, it is easy to see the challenges they face. Passersby stop and stare. They fail to give them room to move with ease. At the moment, Nicolescu and Chloe are the sole means to growing awareness of seeing-eye dogs in Romania. Nicolescu says he is often denied access to the subway and shops, though people’s pets and stray dogs can be seen in both places. Cars parked on the sidewalks might be annoyances for bikers or people pushing baby strollers, but they are serious obstacles for Nicolescu and Chloe. As are trash bins in the wrong locations or garbage in the street. Chloe is pretty well trained, says Nicolescu, but she’s still a dog. If there’s food or garbage about, her instinct is to check it out. Chloe is a test case for Romania. And her successors may have it easier because of the challenges she has faced. This summer, Romania’s first pedigreed guide dogs were born in doR
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Van ishing Points By Irina Crişan Photographs by Roald Aron Illustrations by Dan Perjovschi
Dan Perjovschi draws his trademark figures on the walls of the world’s most important art institutions, but he couldn’t do them without Romania.
The photo was taken two years ago, on July 14, France’s national holiday. We were out in the yard of the French Embassy in Bucharest, where the Taraf de Haidouks were getting ready to perform. Since I love music, I kept taking pictures of them. At a certain point, one of the Taraf members said to me, “Never mind us, we’re old. Look; young, beautiful kids over there on that bench.” Florentina and Leonard had just gotten married back then. I liked her elegance and his casualness, and the backdrop suited them so well.
By Adi Bulboacă Florentina, 18 Leonard, 19
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The fire
In 45 years, Bucharest firefighters had never lost one of their own in a fire. Then IonuĹŁ Ungureanu died. By Georgiana Ilie Photographs by Tudor Vintiloiu
The Fabric of Power Photo essay by Bogdan Gîrbovan
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he following photographs are part of a project called Uniforms and Vestments, by Bogdan Gîrbovan, a 30-yearold Romanian art photographer. They depict the hierarchy of the Romanian Border Police from agent, the lowest in rank, to chief-commissioner, the highest. The other two parts of his ongoing project involve the hierarchy of the Romanian Police and that of the Romanian Orthodox Church. Gîrbovan, who shoots only on film, first had the idea of depicting social hierarchies while working on another project, 5@14, where he tried to capture the transitory state of adolescence by shooting portraits of a group of 14-year-old boys. While spending two weeks with them, he realised they had a very clear hierarchy: from the leader, the one that decided when they should play football, to the lowest in rank, who had to fetch the ball or the leader’s phone if it happened to ring during a game. Gîrbovan approached the subject of social hierarchies by going after the ones with the biggest presence in daily life: the police and the church. The most visible sign of their authority are their garments. Their uniforms and vestments, with their special vocabulary of power, are the ones that signal their status – both inside their hierarchy and outside of it, in society. This series of portraits depicts the hierarchy of the Border Police from Drobeta Turnu Severin, on Romania’s border with Serbia. As Romania is a member of the European Union, they also guard EU’s border.
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* You can see Gîrbovan’s other projects at girbovan.ro.
Corina Moraru, Agent (Sergeant)
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The Good Life By Gabriela Piţurlea Photographs from Alex. Leo Şerban’s personal archive
The critic Alex. Leo Şerban, and the joys of being.
One by one they came to his memorial service on that April day. Andrei PleȘu, Radu CosaȘu, Cristi Puiu, Cristian Mungiu, Radu Muntean, Răzvan Rădulescu, Maria Dinulescu: writers, directors, actors, film critics, journalists, former students, friends, people who had met him at some point, people who just knew of him.
Some chatted, even giggled from time to time, as if at a gathering where no one had yet cracked open that first bottle of wine. The conversation flowed, heartened by Leonard Cohen’s voice, which warmed up the cold room with his Famous Blue Raincoat – Leo’s favorite –and by photos of Marilyn Monroe, for whom Leo had a soft spot, scattered all around. One of the friends who handled the funeral said that, had they had the courage, they should’ve all worn red. Leo would’ve loved that. The wine was opened, eventually, at the dinner they held in his honor at the Salsa Picante restaurant, where he was a 108 • winter 2011/2012
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regular. A dinner spiced, of course, with gossip and delicious stories. Alex. Leo Şerban was the most beloved Romanian film critic, one who knew how to give context and value to the new Romanian cinema. He was a cultural journalist for more than 25 years, the author of seven books and hundreds of articles which appeared in dozens of national and international publications. He hosted radio and TV shows, he coordinated a collection of books about film, he inspired and promoted many of the Romanian film critics whose voices are relevant today. He died of lymphoma this spring, in the hospital. He was 51. He belonged to everyone – readers, colleagues, friends, family – and to no one. There were so many people who were
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New Dawn Over the Carpathians Photo essay by Marko Risovic
01 Silvia and Elizabeta, early in the morning in grandma's house, moments after waking up. Before they go to school, they have to milk the cows and do other jobs. Then, they walk 5 kilometers to the nearest road to catch the school bus.
As the grey and heavy fog, woven out of layers of the past, rises slowly over the peaks of the Carpathian Mountains, it reveals the colorful landscape of Romania’s new youth. This new generation is building its own world out of dreams, hopes and youthful enthusiasm. These teens aren’t much different from their peers all over the world. Raised on pop culture, exposed to media and international icons, techologically savvy, they 118 • winter 2011/2012
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are barely aware of a time, not long ago, when their parents lived in a country that offered very little opportunity. This new age means new dilemmas, difficulties and polarizations in society. It also creates new trails, leading Romanian youth toward the future. These trails start as muddy, narrow, rural roads traveled by teenagers in small towns as they dream of learning, big cities, and success that will lead
them away from the life in the countryside. Their paths continue through major cities, to university centers and on to the capital, where the young have better opportunities for education, training and jobs. In these places, they can start their own, independent lives. The hustle and bustle of the capital leads them to their desired goals, often extending beyond the borders of Romania. For many, it is a logical choice.
Along these paths, from the beautiful mountains in the north, through the green plains of Transylvania, to the bright lights and noisy clubs of the metropolis, a major change occurs. Something pure and innocent is lost, erased from their thoughts and hearts with every rattle of the wheels that carry them into the future, toward adulthood and the struggle for survival. This essay is my attempt to salvage a part of their youthful dreams. doR
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