Stalin & Me

Saturday I went to Debrecen to see an exhibition on Hungarian Socialist Realism (Szocreal) paintings and other artwork, from the period immediately after WWII until, approximately, 1956.

The experience was both educational and interesting, but it was also a heavy, emotionally loaded experience for me. I was revisiting a past that could have been mine and which was the reality for so many in my family and growing circle of acquaintances here.

I don't really know how to explain this yet to somebody who hasn't lived here...the fact that I see and understand the sadness behind the smiles of all the peasants and factory workers in these photographs and paintings...it's both comforting to know I understand the realities of their lives and slightly disconcerting because the masks are so complete that I second guess what I know to be true. I have talked with people personally about the history of their nation and the changes older generations have lived through and what they have seen come to pass.

The original of this statue of Stalin stood at one of Budapest's major intersections for about 4 years before it was torn down and broken into many pieces by iron workers with blow torches during the revolution in October 1956. I know people who lived with this as an everyday reality and who were there the day it fell...standing next to him was like standing beside ghosts of my family's past.