FMP - final - angle changes and motivation

As I mentioned in the introduction, some of the angles are different from those in the original images. The reasons for that vary.  At some places, it was simply impossible to re-create the old image since there was real danger for me doing so. Even though, I tried and here is the result:

The original image was taken in 1910 when the road must have been relatively peaceful. However, now this is one of the busiest roads in the country. I took quite the risk standing in the middle of it - even at red lights - to take the re-photographed shot. When the lights changed to green, however, things were dangerous. Bulgarian drivers are not the most tolerant ones, I'd say. hence, this is closest I could get to the original (and I really loved the old image because of the tram). Unfortunately, the old angle used is to be in the middle of the street (which would be directly in the cars' way) so i could not do that. 

At other cases – like the monument of Vasil Levski shown in another section – I decided to shift the angle a bit to show something that is important to the culture of Bulgaria.

I shifted the angle to show Vasil Levski’s portrait in the background since this way the composition speaks volumes to the Bulgarian observer (who was my target audience for the exhibition). In this case I decided to shift the angle for the sake of recognition and for the sake of impact.

In other case (when I needed to photograph Saint Alexander Nevski cathedral), I decided not to cut the building in half to show its magnificence. The original image was taken in 1910 when the cathedral was under construction - it is one of the very few images of the place at that stage and I was fascinated by it so I totally wanted to include it in the project since it it unique. When I got on location, however, the scale of the original image did not fit what I saw. If I wanted to do an exact copy of the old image, I needed to cut out half of the church and I wanted to show the splendour of the place. Hence I changed the scale and showed the whole church in the final image to show how bit the church has got since then. 

Another case was when I needed to photograph the monument of Sofia – there, to capture the whole of it (it is a very tall one), I needed to change the scale (since the old monument of Lenin that used to be there was much smaller). Unfortunately, the scale change was necessary to show the new monument.

The case with the National Theater was different - it has not changed much though its surroundings have. The theater has not changed much, but its surroundings have - if I had to recreate the original shot, I needed to be in the middle of a cafe full of tourists and which blocks like 70% of the view. Hence I changed the angle to be able to shoot the actual image and not the cafe in front of it.

FMP - WIP development - when the nailing actual angles are not as easy as you think

My main motivation in selecting the initial crop of old photographs to work with was the way the image looked in the old photograph rather than the way I intended to shoot it now. I simply wanted to make the viewer wonder and marvel at the picture and "scratch their head" as the Bulgarian expression goes. 

Hence, I selected images that made my jaw drop not thinking at all about how I was going to recreate them, having to shoot in the contemporary urban environment. And I was wrong. It turned out that nailing the exact same angle is not as easy as I thought it was. 

The university rectorate building (above) has always been among my top choice of images. One of the reasons behind that is that now this place is one of the biggest buildings in Sofia, with two huge winds full of auditoriums and a central building with twisting corridors and doors leading nowhere. I spent 8 years there (doing two BAs and one MA) and I have a certain soft spot for that place (the history of it, in another post). The students who study there call it Hogwards (by the name of the school Harry Potter went to) because there always seems to be a new corridor or a room that you haven't seen. You can easily get lost inside, even if you have a map. That neo-classicist style building is one of the urban "monsters" in modern Sofia. However, in the 1930s when the rectorate central building was first open to the public, it was way smaller (see above). 

I really wanted to show this change. The urban environment, however, took the upper hand. The university once stood in the middle of its own park complex. Nowadays it is just next to one of the busiest crossroads in Sofia. To make matters worse, there is a huge park (with threes that almost completely hide the building) on one side, and an underground passage to the homonymous underground station (just below the busy crossroads) on the other. 

It was this angle I wanted to re-photograph. The reality showed that to do that, I would need to hang off a railing above that underground passage (estimated height, at least 4 meters to the floor) to get the exact angle. Hence, I needed to give up the idea since I needed an assistant (to make sure I don't fall off, as I am afraid of heights). 

The other image I really wanted to photograph was the royal palace (the former royal palace, that is, now it houses the National gallery - why, in another post). Hence I selected the image below which shows how much the place has changed since that time. 

This is a rare glimpse of the royal palace building without the cheering crowds or the international delegations in front of it. It was taken in the beginning of the 20th century and was used as a postcard at the time. It shows the palace (built by Viennese architects) at its most spectacular - with the now non-existent front garden and the gates. I really wanted to contrast this with the modern view of the place but that is when urban environment interfered again. 

I have no idea how the photographer back then took the image. One is certain - it is taken from a viewpoint that is above human eye level. Maybe the photographer climbed atop any of the buildings that used to be around the palace but I cannot tell which one since after WWII most of them were demolished.

There is one building that stands roughly at the same spot, but unlucky for me - it is the council of ministers building that houses half of the government. Entrance is restricted and one can be allowed in only after lengthy procedure and quite a lot of bureaucracy. Besides, there is virtually no way they were going to let me take pics out of their windows (if I was let in at all) and doing an MA in photography would totally not count. 

Hence, I needed to abandon this exact image, as it was totally impossible to re-photograph it. 

Critical contextualization of my WIP - looking for style part 1: an unexpected discovery

Throughout the module it turned out that my biggest problem was not scope (unlike module 2) but style. How to create a style of my own that is different from the cookbook stock images I am used to creating. Honestly speaking, that proved to be a tough call and greatly hampered my work. To experiment (because that seemed the obvious route) one needs to be brave and step out of their comfort zone. However, I am not exactly the brave type of person and tend to love my comfort zone so the first thing I needed to do was some research. 

Most of the food stylists I was familiar with did more conventional style photography showing food as it was and I will write more about them since some of them had quite the influence on my earlier works - in a different post. I was in need of a different approach so tutors and colleagues turned out to be of great assistance. 

One of the first people I was refereed to turned out to be a Bulgarian. What makes the whole picture even funnier was that I hadn't heard her name (which is strange since I thought I knew at least by name all prominent Bulgarian photographers). But I knew nothing about that woman, Eugenia Maximova or her project, entitled Kitchen stories.

This sounded like a fascinating start since she, too, focused on the Balkans, just like mine. Here is what she said for an interview for Lensculture, describing why she started the project:

'The people of the Balkans live in the shadow of a long history of wars, conflicts and unresolved ethnic tensions. Much of the energy that could have gone into building a future has been squandered on maintaining those tensions and the result is an impoverished present.

Young families must either pay exorbitant rents or live packed like sardines in their parents apartments. And most of those apartments are in the hopelessly ugly, crumbling concrete blocks which are the legacy of the communist era.

The term Balkan whether it is describing a culture or a geographic area, usually has a strong suggestion of the rural with a heavy overlay of the Orient. In whatever context it is used, the word reverberates with cultural and sociological connotations, with a sense of division and disagreement.

When I set out to tell a story about the Balkans, it was food that sprang to mind as being the only thing people in the whole region agree that they have in common. After five centuries of Ottoman occupation we have all continued to eat the dishes they brought.

Thinking about this shared culinary heritage, I began to wonder what was happening in Balkan kitchens these days. The kitchen is a multipurpose room, a space which reflects identity and self-perception. It embodies the spirit of the Balkan home and mirrors society as a whole.

People in the Balkans would rather spend what little money they have in a cafe than on interior decoration. The functional, unadorned style which results from this conveys a tangible sense of the region’s lost identity, the inevitable legacy of half a millennium under the Ottoman yoke and half a century behind the Iron Curtain.'

So, she decided to use the kitchen space as a metaphor and means of expressing the way people on the Balkans live today. In Bulgaria and most of the other Balkan countries, the kitchen is the heart of the home - where most of the family life goes. The living room is reserved for special occasions or guests so most of the time people gather, do their daily tasks and even have their meals in the kitchen. Actually, I am writing this on the kitchen table as this is the room in which I do most of my work.

A house without the smell of freshly cooked food is considered ill-kept and 'dead' and a woman who cannot make a simple dish is deemed 'not good' to put it very mildly. Kitchens are usually the pride and joy of any wife, the 'feminine' corner of the house which is decorated and adorned. Sometimes, it is just out of the need to restructure the space but sometimes it is driven by the need to 'show off' to the neighbours. Still, the kitchen space is of pivotal importance to any Balkan home and Maximova does have a valid point that the state of the kitchen usually tells a lot about what is the general condition of the family and the space they inhabit.

What Maximova did was travel around Bulgaria and document the interior of the houses she visited focusing on how the interior functions as an augmented whole to create an overall impression. In her works, however, she focused much more on interior (what is IN the kitchen space and how it is actually used or how it functions together with the rest of the other tools to form a whole set of symbols) than on the actual food being cooked. 

Her images look like they have been taken out of a memory book with candid interior images of the home. They are surreal at times, the whole impression being almost dream-like and thus transporting the reader back to a time long-gone when all that mattered was to be allowed to get out and play in the yard or to get that longed-for waffle or bar of chocolate. 

Fig.1 - Eugenia Maximova - Interior from Kremikovtsi, Bulgaria 

To viewers that are part of this culture, these images evoke a certain sense of nostalgia. Not because the 1990s (in my case) were a wonderful time to be in Bulgaria (or any country on the Balkans) but simply because one tends to idealize all childhood memories, even the most mundane ones. 

I can heavily relate to all images I decided to post here - because they look as if they have been taken years ago at my own house. My mother used to have those ceramic spice jars (fig.1 above) which she inherited from my great-grandmother and they are still somewhere at the back of the spice drawer (and yes, we have a whole section full of different spices). The singer on the poster used to be a chalga star when I was a teenager and most of my classmates would adore her. 

Fig.2 - Eugenia Maximova - Interior from Gorno Drjanovo, Bulgaria 

 The image above (fig.2) also projects a vivid image from my childhood (and not only). That type of salami is one of the most popular breakfast 'dishes' in Bulgaria since during the Communist times it was presumed the best quality salami. Made out of raw dried meat, it is quite tasty and most Bulgarians would eat it with anything (I do, at least, even with pancakes). When I was a child this salami was a mark of prosperity (if you can put it on your table). The jar is actually full of yogurt - on the Balkans when we use the word 'yogurt' we mean something that is not sweet. When I was a child, my mother would make yogurt herself in jars like this - that was before the era of supermarkets and packed goods. So this is like a snapshot of my childhood life. 

The next image (fig.3) I saw literally shook me because it is so alike my grandmother's kitchen. As if I am a child again and can smell the chilly peppers she used to bake (an still does) on the hot plates. 

Fig.3 - Eugenia Maximova - Interior from Kostenez, Bulgaria 

This type of stove is called Rahovets and it marked a whole era during the Communist period. It is a local brand, probably sold only on the Balkans, and (according to my whole family) the best brand ever. My mother used to cook on the exact same model up till a few years ago and that machine worked for more than 20 years. 

The icon on the next image (fig4) is also a common sight in Bulgarian kitchens, especially if the place is inhabited by older people. 

Fig.4 - Eugenia Maximova - Interior from Ruse, Bulgaria 

The last image I selected (fig.5) struck me the most since we had absolutely the same tablecloth at home and that sight - of a table covered in this print and the jars and bottles transported me around 20 years back in time. I must have been six or seven when my mother took me to an open air market to buy a new tablecloth and I picked this one because of the animals. Then, for years on end I would stare at the pictures and imagine what it would be like to be in a fairytale wood surrounded by all those beautiful animals. I even tried to draw the animals printed on the cloth. 

Fig.5 - Eugenia Maximova - Interior from Kremikovtsi, Bulgaria 

What I love about Maximova's work is that she does manage to incorporate the cultural environment into her images. These interior shots look almost like still life images or abstracts but to me (and to many more Balkan viewers, I guess) they are not still life compositions but fragments of real life. Looking at her images, I do think that I can make some use of the props she depicts - like jars, spoons etc . - in my own images to add in some local flavour. I would really like to be able to transport the viewer into a different time and evoke as strong feelings as she does. 

Her images, however, are focused on the living quarters rather than the food itself so apart from that, even though her style is quite interesting, I cannot put into practice more of it and apply it to my own work. 

My biggest problem with her project is much more ideologically oriented - or in other words, related to the message she tries to send out to the world, especially to viewers that are out of this culture and are totally unfamiliar with its specifics. 

What I dislike about the whole project is the one sided view of the Balkans as backward and torn apart. As Maximova herself stated in the interview, her idea was to show the 'lost identity' as she puts it of the Balkan people. Being at the crossroads of Europe, the Balkan people have met with a pot of other invaders through the centuries but this doesn't mean they have lost themselves and their rituals in the process. On the contrary, I believe that a new identity was forged - something that combines bits and pieces from all peoples that mingled on the territory. That makes the people on the Balkans unique, not backward or lost. 

Hence her one-sided attitude and deliberate selection of old and withered kitchens really annoys me. As if she aimed at depicting Bulgaria as the poor neighbour that has been robbed and now crumbles. The nostalgia these images evoke for me will be turned into either dismay or disgust in the eyes of a Westerner. The author herself has studied and now lives in Vienna ever since her late teens - quite a stark difference from what it is like to live in Eastern Europe - so I guess that the attempt was totally deliberate as some ex-pats tend to forget where they come from and hence tend to regard everything related to their home country as 'backward' and 'falling apart'. 

I totally wouldn't blame the Iron Curtain or the Ottoman rule for the state of those places. These are just rural areas (all the places cited are actually villages or small towns) inhabited mostly by elderly people so that they see no reason to buy new appliances or lack the funds to do so. That is why the interior gradually deteriorates - the peeling paint and the withered prove it. But such a generalization is far-fetched, to say the least. 

So, as beautiful and thought-provoking her images are, I will be incorporating little of her style and idea into my works as my aim it at the opposite end of the spectrum. 

Sources:

Eugenia Maximova's website - Kitchen stories
https://www.emaxphotography.com/kitchen-stories-from-the-balkans
https://www.lensculture.com/articles/eugenia-maximova-kitchen-stories-from-the-balkans

List of figures: 

Figure 1 – MAXIMOVA, Eugenia - Interior from Kremikovtsi, Bulgaria, 2010
Available at: https://www.emaxphotography.com/kitchen-stories-from-the-balkans
[accessed 08 August  2018]

Figure 2 – MAXIMOVA, Eugenia - Interior from Gorno Drjanovo, Bulgaria, 2010
Available at: https://www.emaxphotography.com/kitchen-stories-from-the-balkans
[accessed 08 August  2018]

Figure 3 – MAXIMOVA, Eugenia - Interior from Kostenez, Bulgaria, 2010
Available at: https://www.emaxphotography.com/kitchen-stories-from-the-balkans
[accessed 08 August  2018]

Figure 3 – MAXIMOVA, Eugenia - Interior from Ruse, Bulgaria, 2010
Available at: https://www.emaxphotography.com/kitchen-stories-from-the-balkans
[accessed 08 August  2018]

Figure 5 – MAXIMOVA, Eugenia - Interior from Kremikovtsi, Bulgaria, 2010
Available at: https://www.emaxphotography.com/kitchen-stories-from-the-balkans
[accessed 08 August  2018]

Exhibitons? The sad truth about having an exhibition in Bulgaria

I guess that most photographers crave seeing their work framed and hanging in a gallery. At least I do. There is one obstacle to that, however - money. Not only for printing (which is relatively cheap, depending on the materials you choose) but for exhibition space. 

In Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria, where I live, having your work exhibited is a costly business with murky end. Few people go to exhibitions so if you aim at selling your work that way, you'll have a hard time. One-to-one sales work much better since people get to actually meet the person that had created the image and hear the true story.

In general, to do an exhibition in Bulgaria, you need some connections to gallery curators so that you can get a slot at a lower price and yet have some time for your works to be displayed. The bad news is that galleries are not that many and the most desired ones are very few. I, unfortunately, lack those connections, yet so this one was completely off the table, at least for the time being.

Alternative spaces are also very few since the concept of alternative galleries is relatively new in Bulgaria so most people don't even know it exists. Supermarkets and most stores are totally against having works of art distracting the potential customers and as for cafes - they would also require some payment to let you display your work on their walls. On top of that, most cafe or restaurant owners would then demand to keep the works after the exhibition is over since 'they look so good on our walls' - and that basically means you give out your work for free.

So, having an exhibition of prints is quite the ordeal.

As a part of my project, Culture Crossroads, I did plan an exhibition of works but I didn't mean to have it done this early. I have a few spaces in mind and I think I might use the help of the other members from the Association of Professional Photographers to get decent place at a decent price. Some business centers also have places for art works and I might ask the UNESCO club for help. Still, since I was in and out of Bulgaria and missed the whole exhibition preparation and excitement, there was no way to arrange an exhibition of prints for just three weeks. 

Still, the idea remains open for my Final Major Project.

Work in progress portfolio - the stories behind the images

The time came to share the story behind those places and since I cannot do it in the PDF for submission, I decided to create this post and share the information. 

Name of the place of worship: Sveta Petka Samardzhiiska chucrh

Location: Sofia, Bulgaria

State: in use

Age: 1000+ years

The image above shows a church which barely escaped demolition - Saint Petka Samardzhiiska church. It is a 12th century small church, build on even more ancient remains. In the 1950s when the big Stalinist-style center was built the church was destined to be demolished. The complex, known as the Triangle of Power led to the destruction of the Roman Serdica and the whole layer of the earliest history of  the city. They destroyed a whole street that used to house the trade shops in town (the so-called Targovska street), famous for its Viennese-style architecture AND they demolished the forum of Roman Serdica AND the larger part of the palace of Constantine the Great. If that is not stupidity, I don't know what is. 

So, having destroyed all that, the Comrades, destined the church for demolition too. Until a delegation of government officials and their wives came from Moscow to inspect the new government's work. While the men did their job, the wives entertained themselves. One of these was an art historian and wanted to tour the city in search for frescoes. She found that church and demanded to see it. Even though it was already destined for demolition and locked up, somehow the Bulgarians managed to find the key and open the place, The woman was in awe because the frescoes were unique in the whole of Europe. She asked what the church would be made of, hoping to hear the phrase 'a museum' and was appalled to hear that it was to be demolished. 

She made an effort to preserve the church (talking her husband to press on the Bulgarian Comrades for that) and they somehow bent to the wishes of the wife of the high official. The whole architectural plan was changed and now the church sits in the middle of one of the busiest crossroads in Sofia. All that, thanks to one woman who just loved art...

Otherwise, the history of the place spans across more than 10 centuries because it was built on  the site of an ancient Roman temple. It is dedicated to Saint Petka, who is a Bulgarian saint that lived in the 11th century AD. The Samardzhiiska part of the name refers to the fact that in the Medieval ages the place was used by the guild of the saddlers so Samardzhiiska means of the saddlers. 

A legend goes that Vasil Levski (a national hero, too long a story to explain all the context here) was buried in the church. There is even a tombstone at one side. Truth is, no one knows where Levski was buried...

Name of the place of worship: Saint George rotunda

Location: Sofia, Bulgaria

State: in use

Age: 1600+ years

It was built in the 4th century AD by the Romans on the remains of other archaeological remains (most of which were destoryed by the Comrades in the 1950s) and is practically one of the oldest churches in Bulgaria that is still in use. It has amazing frescoes and it is deemed one of the most important places of the Serdica Ecumenical Council. All in all, the fate of the Roman empire was determined behind its walls. 

The church has been used for many a thing over the years - both as religious and secular building. During the Ottoman rule, it even functioned as a mosque. 

This church shared the fate of the previous one - it was also destined for demolition. The reason was simple - it was located in the middle of the Presidential complex. The Comrades wanted to destroy it so that the government officials can go to the hotel next door in style (by car, that is). Problem was that this church was just in the way. Moreover, they discovered the palace of Constantine the Great and decided to preserve at least the part that was inside the building. The church, however, was a different story since the new ideology regarded religion as something degrading. 

Here the church was saved by society - it is an example of different styles of iconography and you can see four centuries of frescoes and their development during the centuries along its walls. It is still quoted in art historians' textbooks and history books as a unique example. 

Name of the place of worship: Italian Church of the Most Holy Redeemer

Location: Bucharest, Romania

State: in use

Age: 100+ years

This church also has a dramatic story to tell. It was consecrated in 1916 and is owned by the Italian government. It is a Catholic cathedral that differs drastically from anything else you can see in Bucharest. What is also draws some attention is the surrounding area. Blocks of flats are built so close that you can actually see through the church windows from their balconies.  

The fact that it was owned by a foreign government saved the building from demolition during the huge reconstruction projects of Nicolae Ceaușescu (who was notorious for destroying churches and ) but it could save the priests that worked there and the architects who created it. The priests were imprisoned and the archcitect was forced to leave Romania. 

The church remained closed up till 1968 when the government opened it for a while for the most important Christian holidays such as Easter and Christmas. It has been in use ever since. 

Name of the place of worship: Cathedral of St Joseph

Location: Sofia, Bulgaria

State: in use

Age: less than 15 years (current building)

One of the newest places of worship in Sofia, this Catholic cathedral (commonly known as the cathedral by the locals) was built on the same spot where the old Catholic cathedral used to be before the bombings of WWII. The foundation stone was laid by  Pope John Paul II during his visit to Bulgaria in 2002 and now there is a full-size monument depicting the Pope in front of the Cathedral. 

Its futuristic design sets it aside from most of the other places in my project but since it is such an important landmark (and the only Catholic cathedral in Sofia), I decided to include it. 

Just as the previous churches in Sofia, this one was also built on ancient remains as some of the Roman Serdica can be seen in the yard. 

Name of the place of worship: Banya Bashi Mosque

Location: Sofia, Bulgaria

State: in use

Age: 500+ years

The only mosque in Sofia that looks like a mosque, Banya Bashi is one of the most spectacular buildings in the centre of Sofia. Together with the rotunda, the cathedral and the synagogue down the street it forms to so-called Rectangle of Tolerance where you see places of worship of four different religions and no one offends the others. 

As with anything in the Sofia city centre, this place of worship stands on Roman remains, some of them still visible at the back yard. Below the mosque lies the stratum of Roman Serdica that was excavated a few years ago during the underground system construction works so the biggest underground station is literally five meters away from its entrance. 

The mosque was built by the famous Ottoman architect Mimar Sinan in the 16th century and was once surrounded by huge baths (which gave the name to the mosque and were demolished in the beginning of the 20th century when the whole area was rebuilt). The story of the mosque resembles that of Taj Mahal because it was built in loving memory of a diseased wife of the local Ottoman ruler. 

That mosque somehow managed to survive though wars, bombings, numerous earthquakes and what not. It is still in use so during prayer time (especially on Fridays) the space around it is packed with worshipers (which was one of the reasons I couldn't take pictures of it during night time). 

Name of the place of worship: The Great Mahmud Pasha Mosque

Location: Sofia, Bulgaria

State: not in use, now housing the National Archaeological institute

Age: 600+ years

One of the biggest used-to-be mosques in Sofia that was not as fortunate as the previous one. It was used for many things during the years: a library, a military hospital and finally - a museum. 

Legend has it that when the Liberation of Bulgaria became a fact (in 1878) most mosques in Sofia were either demolished or turned into churches - the same way Ottomans turned churches into mosques 500 years earler. 

This mosque, however, was too big to be demolished. Another mosque in Sofia had already been turned into a dungeon (called the Black mosque, now a church) and city jail so this one was destined to be a theater. At the time, Sofia had no theater so this seemed like a good idea, especially given the location of the place - in the ideal center. 

What saved the place was the speech of the Bulgarian Patriarch who gave an angry speech in front of all National Assembly members, stating that 'I will not turn a temple of God into a den of sin'. So, once excavations around Bulgaria were carried out, the place became the storehouse of the findings. Naturally, it was turned into a museum at the end of the 19th century.

Name of the place of worship: Saint Alexander Nevski Cathedral

Location: Sofia, Bulgaria

State: in use

Age: 150+ years

One of the most imposing buildings in Bulgaria and one of the symbols of Sofia, Saint Alexander Nevski church was built around the end of the 19th century. Paradoxically, one of the most famous place of worship in Bulgaria is dedicated to a Russian kniaz and warrior. The architecture is a cross breed between that of Hagia Sophia in Istanbul and that of traditional Russian churches. It is one of the biggest churches in Bulgaria and the place where the Patriarch announces the birth and resurrection of Christ. BUT it wasn't always as venerated. 

In the 19th century it was built on donations by the grateful Bulgarian people and was a masterpiece of architecture. Some of the bells weigh up to 10+ tons and the whole complex houses several thousand people during festivities. 

At the beginning of the 20th century, the church was hated for the Russian saint that was its patron. The reason were the political problems and numerous wars Bulgaria took part in. It even had its name changed because of this. During World War II. it was bombed because of its golden domes. The gold was a gift from Russia (15 years ago, when the domes had to be restored, the Russian church again donated 10 kilograms of gold for the restoration) but also a target for Western pilots. They were told to bomb yellow domes and yellow pavements. Paradoxically, the church is in the middle of the city center, all paved in yellow tiles, famous for their durability and beauty. 

Today, the church is one of the most famous places in Bulgaria and the mark of the ideal center of Sofia. The area around it, though, is quite secular - since it doubles as a concert space and public parking.

Name of the place of worship: Holy Trinity Romanian church

Location: Sofia, Bulgaria

State: in use

Age: 100+ years

The Romanian church in Sofia is one of the hidden gems of the city. It is located on a quiet street, not far away from the other religious buildings in the complex. It is included here because it differs significantly from the Romanian churches in Bucharest. 

It was built by the Romanian government for the Romanian congregation and was severely damaged by the WWII bombings and was restored in the 1950s. Now it is owned by the Romanian state. 

Name of the place of worship: Kretzulescu Church

Location: Bucharest, Romania

State: in use

Age: 250+ years 

One of the strangest structures in Bucharest and strangely eerie place. It was destined for demolition in the 1960 but was saved by the efforts of local architects. The church had been damaged during several earthquakes so the exterior (which used to be richly painted with frescoes) was changed to bricks. 

The bust on the right belongs to a Romanian politician that was a devout Christian and in strict opposition to the Communist regime. 

Name of the place of worship: Saint Dumitru Church

Location: Bucharest, Romania

State: in use

Age: 150+ years (current building)

The old church with the same name was built at the same place in the 16th century but was destroyed by a fire in the 19th century so the new building was consecrated shortly after that. It is dedicated to Saint Dimitru, the patron saint of Bucharest. It is located right behind the old Post office in the old town and is famous for its richly decorated interior. 

Name of the place of worship: Curtea Veche church of Saint Anton

Location: Bucharest, Romania

State: in use

Age: 500+ years

This is the oldest church in Bucharest, build by one of the first Romanian kings in the 16th century. It was once part of a huge palatial complex that existed on the place of the Old town of Bucharest. 

During the past two centuries, coronation ceremonials of the Romanian kings were held there. Today it is still one of the must-see sights of Bucharest and one of the most holy churches in the area. 

Name of the place of worship:  Stavropoleos Monastery church

Location: Bucharest, Romania

State: in use

Age: 250+ years

This small nunnery is one of the most famous places of worship in the whole of Bucharest. It was built by one of the Princes of Wallachia in the 18th century and used to be sustained solely by the inn it owned. Today, the only thing that stands from the original monastery, amidst the restaurants and bars of the Old town, is this little church with its amazing frescoes.

It is still in use and you can go in and listen to a mesmerizing choir during the service. Monks and nuns take it in turns to sing psalms (in Romanian so I couldn't make much of what they sang) and the feeling once inside the monastery - as if you have been transported back in time.  

Name of the place of worship: Saint Nicholas the Miracle-Maker church

Location: Sofia, Bulgaria

State: in use

Age: 200+ years 

This church was built in the place of a mosque that was demolished towards the end of the 19th century. This was one of the few churches that was open for all worshipers at all times (even during the Communist regime). Unlike other churches, where only old women were let in (technically anyone could come inside but younger people used to be scolded for lighting candles and so on), here anyone could come, but everyone was watched by the state secret police. 

This is one of the most beautiful churches in Sofia and one of the landmarks of the city. Now it is located in a very busy (and fancy hence expensive) area, as you can see from the image (a reflection in a restaurant window). 

Project development - style and editing

Speaking of style, I cannot say I am a pro. What I do has been crafted through trial and error and I cannot speak of myself as an 'artist' in the sense that to me being an artist equals being a painter. Photography is in a way painting with light BUT I tend to regard myself as more of a craftswoman. Photography is a craft, after all, as much as it is related to art. 

Within the previous modules, I had to make an effort and think of style as a complex phenomenon. While I work, I don't consider style important - which means that I don't consciously follow one and the same technique throughout the editing process - I edit by intuition and even though it is not exactly a valid argument, the final edit is the one that 'seems' good to me. I can say that I trust my gut feeling in this rather than just blindly follow a certain trend. 

During this and the previous module. I noticed that I have started to think of style, in some way. Last module I did some abandoned buildings and I consciously pushed the 'clarity' slider more than usual to put an emphasis on the cracks in the facade or the unkempt environment around them to raise awareness of the condition these places were (and still are) in. 

This module, however, things changed as I didn't want to make churches look like ruins (even though some of them are far from perfect condition). I aimed for a more natural look and edited accordingly. A bit less clarity but a bit more colours to make the details pop up (the abandoned buildings images are a bit more washed-out to emphasize on the faded look of the colours) and a dash of contrast. 

While editing, however, I noticed that there is a certain pattern in my work flow - I tend to use one and the same tools in more or less one and the same way. The images do not look alike, of course and I am a bit reluctant to talk about style yet but there seems to be a subtle similarity in editing that started to become visible and the images to be recognized as mine on the basis of it. 

I guess I have to thing this over and work more on that but I am yet to find out how to do it. 

Project development - the context in photographs

As a photographer, I aim to tell stories (I've said this more than once in this blog). When I started the religious theme, I noticed that whenever I take a picture, the story of the place plays a crucial role in the choice of location. To me, stories matter as much as images and in images taken for the sake of Culture Crossroads, I aim to add a story of the place, but not only the story of the image (how I created it). 

When I started working on the religious theme this module, one of the first motivations I had was telling a story. Sofia has a long and turbulent history and most of the buildings in the city centre are bearers of its past. In a place that has been inhabited for no less than three thousand (yes, three thousand!) years, places are packed with history, ergo with stories to tell. 

Once I chose the old vs. new topic, I noticed that the history of the place became even more important. During the seminars I noticed that I am talking about the story much more, than about the image itself. 

The images below are a wonderful example of my tendency to not only try to tell stories with images but also put the story in words:

Saint Petka Samardzhiiska church in the centre of Sofia

The image above shows a church which barely escaped demolition - Saint Petka Samardzhiiska church. It is a 12th century small church, build on even more ancient remains. In the 1950s when the big Stalinist-style center was built the church was destined to be demolished. The complex, known as the Triangle of Power led to the destruction of the Roman Serdica and the whole layer of the earliest history of  the city. They destroyed a whole street that used to house the trade shops in town (the so-called Targovska street), famous for its Viennese-style architecture AND they demolished the forum of Roman Serdica AND the larger part of the palace of Constantine the Great. If that is not stupidity, I don't know what is. 

So, having destroyed all that, the Comrades, destined the church for demolition too. Until a delegation of government officials and their wives came from Moscow to inspect the new government's work. While the men did their job, the wives entertained themselves. One of these was an art historian and wanted to tour the city in search for frescoes. She found that church and demanded to see it. Even though it was already destined for demolition and locked up, somehow the Bulgarians managed to find the key and open the place, The woman was in awe because the frescoes were unique in the whole of Europe. She asked what the church would be made of, hoping to hear the phrase 'a museum' and was appalled to hear that it was to be demolished. 

She made an effort to preserve the church (talking her husband to press on the Bulgarian Comrades for that) and they somehow bent to the wishes of the wife of the high official. The whole architectural plan was changed and now the church sits in the middle of one of the busiest crossroads in Sofia. All that, thanks to one woman who just loved art...

Saint George rotunda

This church - the Saint George rotunda - shared the fate of the previous one - it was also destined for demolition. The reason was simple - it was located in the middle of the Presidential complex. The Comrades wanted to destroy it so that the government officials can go to the hotel next door in style (by car, that is). Problem was that this church was just in the way. Moreover, they discovered the palace of Constantine the Great and decided to preserve at least the part that was inside the building. The church, however, was a different story since the new ideology regarded religion as something degrading. 

Here the church was saved by society - it is an example of different styles of iconography and you can see four centuries of frescoes and their development during the centuries along its walls. It is still quoted in art historians' textbooks and history books as a unique example. 

The archaeological museum in Sofia, a former mosque. 

This building is another example of the turbulent history of Sofia. In the 19th century, it used to be a mosque. It was built as a mosque by a high official and used to be a toponym of a whole neighbourhood. When the Liberation of Bulgaria became a fact (in 1878) most mosques in Sofia were either demolished or turned into churches - the same way Ottomans turned churches into mosques 500 years earler. 

This mosque, however, was too big to be demolished. Another mosque in Sofia had already been turned into a dungeon and city jail so this one was destined to be a theater. At the time, Sofia had no theater so this seemed like a good idea, especially given the location of the place - in the ideal center. 

What saved the place was the speech of the Bulgarian Patriarch who gave an angry speech in front of all National Assembly members, stating that 'I will not turn a temple of God into a den of sin'. So, once excavations around Bulgaria were carried out, the place became the storehouse of the findings. Naturally, it was turned into a museum at the end of the 19th century. 

Saint Alexander Nevski church

One of the most imposing buildings in Bulgaria and one of the symbols of Sofia, Saint Alexander Nevski church was built around the end of the 19th century. Paradoxically, one of the most famous place of worship in Bulgaria is dedicated to a Russian kniaz and warrior. The architecture is a cross breed between that of Hagia Sophia in Istanbul and that of traditional Russian churches. It is one of the biggest churches in Bulgaria and the place where the Patriarch announces the birth and resurrection of Christ. BUT it wasn't always as venerated. 

At the beginning of the 20th century, the church was hated for the Russian saint that was its patron. The reason were the political problems and numerous wars Bulgaria took part in. It even had its name changed because of this. During World War II. it was bombed because of its golden domes. The gold was a gift from Russia (15 years ago, when the domes had to be restored, the Russian church again donated 10 kilograms of gold for the restoration) but also a target for Western pilots. They were told to bomb yellow domes and yellow pavements. Paradoxically, the church is in the middle of the city center, all paved in yellow tiles, famous for their durability and beauty. 

Today, the church is one of the most famous places in Bulgaria and the mark of the ideal center of Sofia. The area around it, though, is quite secular - since it doubles as a concert space and public parking. 

Work in progress portfolio - reflections ethics, framing, timing and composition

I love photographing architecture because it is a huge part of travel photography. However, religious buildings have their own specifics and you need to photograph some concrete details that distinguish them from one another. What is more, these have to be recognizeable. 

The first challenge was framing and I had to choose between two approaches - one was to concentrate on details and show only that while the other was to show the whole building. I love photographing  architectural details but I decided that this approach will not be very effective when it comes to Orthodox churches since they are very similar in terms of style. The Orthodox tradition was established more than 1000 years ago and hasn't changed much since so choosing to shoot details only would have led to having very similar images that themselves cannot say much. 

Here is an example - this is a mural at the door of the church of my neighbourhood, dedicated to Saint  Prophet Elijah:

Overall, it is a good image showing an old mural BUT on the other hand, it tells nothing of the architecture of the place, especially to a non-specialist in medieval murals. 

Another vote against the 'detail' approach was the fact that photography is forbidden in almost all places of worship - Bulgarian Orthodox churches leading the way. Even if it is possible to pay and take a few pictures, I consider it unethical in some way since it is a place of worship and prayer, not a commercial museum and it should be treated with respect. Things get even more complicated with places such as mosques and cathedrals since I am not very well versed in the rules of worship and I prefer not to offend someone because of ignorance. No one would tell me off - places of worship are open to all - but it simply does not seem right to me. 

For this reason, I decided to concentrate on the overall view of the places I photograph. I've always been better at photographing the general view, the 'big' picture. Throughout the module I figured out that I prefer to tell the story behind the place I am photographing and to do this I needed to photograph the church AND its surroundings. 

I was advised to try tighter crop and use the square format and I did try it out but it didn't seem to work for me, or at least it doesn't work for all places: 

In the case of these two images it seems to create the desired impact but things look quite differently when it comes to more elongated shapes, such as the churches I saw in Romania: 

Shapes such as these will look too tight in square crop. Besides, I noticed that I am so used to shooting in rectangle format, that most images look well-composed only in this way. Re-framing them in square format cuts out some of the story of the place and makes the images too cluttered - since the whole surroundings are just as important as the place of worship. 

Timing proved to be an issue since some places look better at dusk whereas some are better-looking at daytime. So I decided to use the time that makes the place the most enticing or tells its story better.