a selection of video essays we made while travelling the Ukraine in 2004.
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A lot of old trees guard the city lanes of Odessa. Like ancient and mysterious entities they watch the city and its people.
In summer they cover the city in a thick layer of fluff. Like a gray ghostly mist they infest the streets, gardens, balconies, statues, everything.
The trees have seen times change. Witnessed Poesjkin and Paustovski find inspiration. Witnessed the revolution unfold. Stood by when Stalin and the Nazis massacred the Jews. Saw marching masses in anti-capitalist rallies, and dissidents being arrested. Saw new entrepreneurs in blinded German cars race the streets. Saw people get drunk, every day of their lives.
They stand in silence, not knowing what the future will bring
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When we are in another country we are always interested in national television-shows. Here it's impossible to understand a word they say, so we just have to go after the images.
One channel, be it Ukranian, Russian or Moldavian, plays a Coldwar-filmclassic every night. Unknown films that seem strangely familiar.
Our guide Rimma is of Russian origin. Her father was a high-ranking military officer. As pioneer children she and her friends dreamt of becoming a nurse, an astronaut or a hero firefighter.
Now that communism is replaced by neo liberal beliefs, Rimma is genuinely concerned that these days most children dream about becoming a smooth criminal or a high-end hooker.
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For those raised in the Cold War it’s a strange awareness to be in the land of the former great enemy.
The images of heroic statues being torn down and flown away have become the postmark-cliche for a change of regime, but in Odessa, as in many other Ukranian cities and villages, Lenin is still staring at the horizon. Ready to lead his people to a brighter future. With bodies of hardened black steel or forced concrete, slowly eroding.
For us foreigners it’s nevertheless comforting he’s not already dumped onto some scrape heat junk pile.
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This place easily captures ones imagination.
In the dead zone we didn’t encounter eight-legged frogs, giant grown trees or mutant children. But the breathtaking silence was more we could have ever imagined for. It’s hard not to make a fantasy out of this place.
Back home in Holland there was some extensive and outraged media coverage about the Ukrainian Government turning Chernobyl and its post-nuclear landscape into a hotspot for tourism. Having been there we know this was of course complete nonsense. In Kiev it was almost a mission impossible to find a travel-agency who could help us get into the restricted zone around Chernobyl.
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The Apathic State
Now, we have nothing. In the old days we also had nothing, but then we had a glorious future.
Somewhere in one of the desolate halls of a old Soviet factory, behind some abandoned machines we found a not-so-clean aquarium with groggy orange fish. Suddenly we realised what Ukraine felt like after an era of apathy.
There seems to be a goldfish in everyone here. Me with my natural inclination for dreaming off, I should be having a ball. Seeing but not taking in; somehow it doesn't work. It's my wrist that is cramping, not my brain.
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Need more money – a massage – a babysitter?
-notes from Kiev
Not many cybercafé’s here in the outskirts of Kiev, but nevertheless a dense network. People just send and receive the analog way.
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When we spoke about going to Chernobyl I remembered seeing a photo-site about a girl driving her motorbike into the town, mainly because the roads were so quiet there. Googling Chernobyl it was hard to not end up at her site, she seemed to be linked everywhere.
We tried to get in contact with her, not knowing then what we were soon to find out. That she'd made up most of her story. Needless to say that she didn’t answer our lettres. No email-adress on her site; I should have known. Since on the internet nothing is believed to be true, why did this get so popular?
Every once and a while in the Dutch media-world the prehistoric discussion turns up about manipulating truth in documentary, and some accused filmmaker is nailed to the cross for it. I always find this truth-digging/defining-boundries rather boring. Now i seem to be on the other side, but am i.
If you are amongst the few that have not seen Elena's site, do now:
They are some great pictures!.
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