On our Biotope
by Lora Tchekoratova
Biotope is an enormous installation made from more than 500 trash containers to be exhibited in the center of Bulgaria’s capitol city by artist Slav Nedev.
When I first got involved in this project and started spreading the word about it, I found myself answering a number of very rudimentary questions. “What are you going to do with so many trash containers in the center of Sofia? Why are they setting this up? Is this a joke? Who is this crazy person? Is this really your project?”
Then I’d steer the conversation in the direction of the environment by explaining the fact that we, the supporters of the project, are deeply concerned about the natural world and would like to focus the attention of the public to the simple fact, that we are surrounding ourselves with too much trash and must do something about it. Then I’d get a typical disparaging response “what do you thing you’ll achieve … no one really cares, the government is corrupt, the people are hillbillies, the whole world is going to hell.”
Of course, it is impossible for me to predict the actual reaction of the public once the installation is set up approximately in the way the artist has imagined it. But I can presume that it will stir the conversation in the direction of “is this art?” And since the answer to such fundamental question is not a simple task, one should consider whether or not one deems it important enough to respond to.
The problem we as humans have with art, is that we try too hard to define it, to explain it, to understand it, to give it a moral legitimacy in our minds, rather than to simply experience it. I am not talking about getting basic background, stylistic, technical, and historical perspective of a piece, which can not only be informative, but can also help us “place” a work in the particular surroundings it came from. That is helpful but not essential. Sometimes, our attempt to categorize art actually limits its significance and defuses our ability to “see” it beyond the surface. And that is just as true of old and well-known works as it is of contemporary creations.
Oftentimes we dwell on defining art. Some of it we’ve come to a pretty much universal agreement to accept as ultimate or high art: Bach, Shakespeare, da Vinci; as supposed to street art or pop-folk art or whatever historical stylistic definitions we’ve come to acquire. There is also the art of entertaining, the art of raising a puppy, and the art of grilling, all of which contain their respective amount of beauty although they can’t exactly fit into the textbook definition of art.
Still, there are some general principles that we all share when we do admire and get close to artistic expressions, regardless of their period or genre: we have the potential of finding a part of ourselves in them. Whether that part is a particular romantic ideal, a reflection, a simple feeling, or a version of reality which we are not necessarily aware of, art is a way for us to discover who we really are and to wonder about the fundamental things in this world, regardless of weather or not we share the author’s beliefs.
One does not need to be a Christian to admire and feel deeply moved by Mozart’s Requiem. In the same way we do not need to read Japanese characters to marvel at the beautiful calligraphy of the ancient masters. Going further, we don’t need to have fought or lived through a war to understand the ghastly effects it has on the human mind, spirit, and body. But we do need to reflect on the horrors in life as much as we crave to admire the beautiful and the divine. And sometimes, it is through the experience of the grotesque and the horrid that we can truly appreciate beauty and life.
Does art have the power to change things? I’d like to think so. In order for a change to occur on a collective level, it needs to start within the individual. And more often than not, it is the thinker, the creator of beautiful things, the poet, and the visionary who has the tools to inspire and bring us outside of our trivial existence. And thus, it is through art that we learn of ourselves the way we, as humans, were through the ages. We can hear the caveman who took a piece of rock and started banging it against another thus starting the fundamental rhythm of music. The old master who blinded himself by meticulously engraving a cross and the poet who spent his days admiring a nightingale were driven by the same inexplicable, yet essential desire to express or attempt to express and share their perception of the divine, regardless of weather or not they were understood. What drives those who create is beyond common sense and yet, ultimately is the only thing that makes sense at all.
Oftentimes we fail to acknowledge that the greatest manifestations of humanity and what we leave behind, is what we have created in the arts. However, by interpreting the work of an artist in a political sense, we limit our vision. There are numerous examples in history when the arts have either purposely been created to support or oppose a political idea, or have been used unbeknownst to the creators for propaganda. This is not the case here. If there is a single point we are to make with this project, it is our shared desire to reflect on our surroundings and yes, to make them better.
Industrialization has progressively centered our existence away from nature and thus profoundly away from ourselves. Still, knowingly or unknowingly, we crave to return to it by dreaming of yachts and private beaches and pretending that the planet is fine at least in our immediate realm. As we spill oil in our oceans and destroy our rain forests, we still try to spend at least our weekends in country houses, not realizing that our addiction to greed is where we’ll ultimately find our end.
Biotope was a word I did not know. It comes from Greek and it has come to mean so much to me as it refers to an area where life lives. Looking at the images of our world today I often wonder if all the cement and concrete we’ve surrounded ourselves with has indeed become our natural habitat. I always find it funny that grass patches in cities are not to be walked upon; for fear that our shoes will damage their delicate, manicured look. And still, can one think of a superior sensation than the feel of mossy grass on an early spring morning, under one’s bare feet? The smell of a summer rain shower, the feel of warm earth, the sounds of crickets in the depth of night…
When we dream of nature and imagine a pastoral scene, do we see in it any traces of human trash: the abandoned plastic bottle, the crumbled plastic bag, the oversized coffee cup, or the smashed coke can? We don’t exhibit these in our houses. Indeed, we niftily put them away, pretending they don’t exist, denying ourselves an honest view of our own detachment from our actions. And still, by trying to get rid of the evidence of our consumer addiction, by trying to discard and make our trash disappear, we do nothing but surround ourselves with neatly shelved up trash containers. And one by one, little by little, we close our view more and more until our habitat becomes completely transformed into the dreadfully astonishing vision of the artist.
So as we take off on our quest, I would like to welcome you to join our efforts, to comment, discuss, get involved, and find ways to be a part of this journey, in your own time and in your own way. Sometimes the stars align in such ways that the right things happen at the right time.
I believe the time is now.
by Lora Tchekoratova
Biotope is an enormous installation made from more than 500 trash containers to be exhibited in the center of Bulgaria’s capitol city by artist Slav Nedev.
When I first got involved in this project and started spreading the word about it, I found myself answering a number of very rudimentary questions. “What are you going to do with so many trash containers in the center of Sofia? Why are they setting this up? Is this a joke? Who is this crazy person? Is this really your project?”
Then I’d steer the conversation in the direction of the environment by explaining the fact that we, the supporters of the project, are deeply concerned about the natural world and would like to focus the attention of the public to the simple fact, that we are surrounding ourselves with too much trash and must do something about it. Then I’d get a typical disparaging response “what do you thing you’ll achieve … no one really cares, the government is corrupt, the people are hillbillies, the whole world is going to hell.”
Of course, it is impossible for me to predict the actual reaction of the public once the installation is set up approximately in the way the artist has imagined it. But I can presume that it will stir the conversation in the direction of “is this art?” And since the answer to such fundamental question is not a simple task, one should consider whether or not one deems it important enough to respond to.
The problem we as humans have with art, is that we try too hard to define it, to explain it, to understand it, to give it a moral legitimacy in our minds, rather than to simply experience it. I am not talking about getting basic background, stylistic, technical, and historical perspective of a piece, which can not only be informative, but can also help us “place” a work in the particular surroundings it came from. That is helpful but not essential. Sometimes, our attempt to categorize art actually limits its significance and defuses our ability to “see” it beyond the surface. And that is just as true of old and well-known works as it is of contemporary creations.
Oftentimes we dwell on defining art. Some of it we’ve come to a pretty much universal agreement to accept as ultimate or high art: Bach, Shakespeare, da Vinci; as supposed to street art or pop-folk art or whatever historical stylistic definitions we’ve come to acquire. There is also the art of entertaining, the art of raising a puppy, and the art of grilling, all of which contain their respective amount of beauty although they can’t exactly fit into the textbook definition of art.
Still, there are some general principles that we all share when we do admire and get close to artistic expressions, regardless of their period or genre: we have the potential of finding a part of ourselves in them. Whether that part is a particular romantic ideal, a reflection, a simple feeling, or a version of reality which we are not necessarily aware of, art is a way for us to discover who we really are and to wonder about the fundamental things in this world, regardless of weather or not we share the author’s beliefs.
One does not need to be a Christian to admire and feel deeply moved by Mozart’s Requiem. In the same way we do not need to read Japanese characters to marvel at the beautiful calligraphy of the ancient masters. Going further, we don’t need to have fought or lived through a war to understand the ghastly effects it has on the human mind, spirit, and body. But we do need to reflect on the horrors in life as much as we crave to admire the beautiful and the divine. And sometimes, it is through the experience of the grotesque and the horrid that we can truly appreciate beauty and life.
Does art have the power to change things? I’d like to think so. In order for a change to occur on a collective level, it needs to start within the individual. And more often than not, it is the thinker, the creator of beautiful things, the poet, and the visionary who has the tools to inspire and bring us outside of our trivial existence. And thus, it is through art that we learn of ourselves the way we, as humans, were through the ages. We can hear the caveman who took a piece of rock and started banging it against another thus starting the fundamental rhythm of music. The old master who blinded himself by meticulously engraving a cross and the poet who spent his days admiring a nightingale were driven by the same inexplicable, yet essential desire to express or attempt to express and share their perception of the divine, regardless of weather or not they were understood. What drives those who create is beyond common sense and yet, ultimately is the only thing that makes sense at all.
Oftentimes we fail to acknowledge that the greatest manifestations of humanity and what we leave behind, is what we have created in the arts. However, by interpreting the work of an artist in a political sense, we limit our vision. There are numerous examples in history when the arts have either purposely been created to support or oppose a political idea, or have been used unbeknownst to the creators for propaganda. This is not the case here. If there is a single point we are to make with this project, it is our shared desire to reflect on our surroundings and yes, to make them better.
Industrialization has progressively centered our existence away from nature and thus profoundly away from ourselves. Still, knowingly or unknowingly, we crave to return to it by dreaming of yachts and private beaches and pretending that the planet is fine at least in our immediate realm. As we spill oil in our oceans and destroy our rain forests, we still try to spend at least our weekends in country houses, not realizing that our addiction to greed is where we’ll ultimately find our end.
Biotope was a word I did not know. It comes from Greek and it has come to mean so much to me as it refers to an area where life lives. Looking at the images of our world today I often wonder if all the cement and concrete we’ve surrounded ourselves with has indeed become our natural habitat. I always find it funny that grass patches in cities are not to be walked upon; for fear that our shoes will damage their delicate, manicured look. And still, can one think of a superior sensation than the feel of mossy grass on an early spring morning, under one’s bare feet? The smell of a summer rain shower, the feel of warm earth, the sounds of crickets in the depth of night…
When we dream of nature and imagine a pastoral scene, do we see in it any traces of human trash: the abandoned plastic bottle, the crumbled plastic bag, the oversized coffee cup, or the smashed coke can? We don’t exhibit these in our houses. Indeed, we niftily put them away, pretending they don’t exist, denying ourselves an honest view of our own detachment from our actions. And still, by trying to get rid of the evidence of our consumer addiction, by trying to discard and make our trash disappear, we do nothing but surround ourselves with neatly shelved up trash containers. And one by one, little by little, we close our view more and more until our habitat becomes completely transformed into the dreadfully astonishing vision of the artist.
So as we take off on our quest, I would like to welcome you to join our efforts, to comment, discuss, get involved, and find ways to be a part of this journey, in your own time and in your own way. Sometimes the stars align in such ways that the right things happen at the right time.
I believe the time is now.