You are an artist working with a solid academic background. 

I pursued a double major in political science and sociology, earning a dual diploma – I’m interested in society. After a few years, I realised that while I enjoy research projects, I don’t approach them in a conventional academic manner. Instead, I want to explore various mediums beyond academic writing. I wanted to expand my research by incorporating more creative approaches to examine some subjects. Relying solely on historical references (e.g. administrative or legal documents) can be limiting, especially when you're not engaging with people, which means you lack personal testimonies or interviews. I'm not trying to oppose academia. I aim to view research as a global endeavour. I believe it’s essential for me to integrate academia with art, merging the two to create a more holistic understanding.

Later, I studied photography in London. Naturally, my background in sociology inevitably influences my approach and how I frame questions about various topics. The theoretical tools gained from sociology are beneficial in many of my projects, enabling me to tackle complex subjects on different levels. However, I often notice a gap between artistic dedication and research. While there’s a strong emphasis on the form and results in art, focusing on research to reach those outcomes is often lacking. I strive to consistently reflect on the production and creative process, prioritising the journey over the final product. 

How did you initially discover the archive at OSA in Budapest, Hungary, and what sparked the beginning of your project and book, Truth Stranger than Fiction?

When I began studying in London, I had already developed a keen interest in archives. I embarked on a collaborative project with the Women's Library at the London School of Economics, exploring how we could approach archival materials and the questions they might raise about the past. 

Despite the limited information available about some of London’s suffragette archival objects, I sought to analyse and speculate on them from various angles. This experience fuelled my desire to continue working with archives, leading me to Budapest after completing my studies. The Open Society Archives (OSA) in Budapest welcomes researchers and artists, making it an ideal environment for me. Despite being awarded a Visegrád fellowship in Budapest in 2020, the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic delayed my arrival. 

To make use of my time before travelling, my tutor at OSA suggested I explore their online collections. It led me to discover text documents, particularly field reports from Radio Free Europe, detailing daily life in Hungary during the 1950s. Fascinated by these reports, I later worked with a collection of photographs from the private archive of Péter Forgács (of the Private Photo and Film Foundation) upon my arrival in 2021. 

Both sets of materials provided insights into everyday life, albeit from politically and culturally different periods. My goal was to create a dialogue between these disparate sources, which span two crucial periods in Hungarian history—the tumultuous aftermath of World War II before the revolution in 1956 and the more relaxed yet socially transformative era of the 1980s and the end of the Soviet era. 

From the beginning of my project, I was aware of the challenges posed by the field reports’ propagandistic nature and the sensitivity surrounding the private collection’s photographs. However, I believe an artistic response could offer a unique way of engaging with these archival collections. During my six-week stay at OSA, I decided to produce a tangible outcome of my research – a dummy book. Presenting this book to the archive team not only allowed me to have their reactions but also underscored the importance of visualising and contextualising archival materials. While my project received positive feedback from historians or archivists, I encountered scepticism from a few accustomed to a more traditional text or visual approach. For them, blending different materials and time periods poses a challenge to conventional archival practices. 

Nevertheless, I remain committed to my artistic work with the archives, recognising that it helps provide a valuable perspective on complex or problematic materials if a traditional historical approach couldn’t be applied. By embracing a multidisciplinary approach, I sought to bridge the gap between academia and art, shedding light on overlooked aspects of history and challenging conventional narratives.

Did you have a specific method for finding the pictures for the book? 

I had the opportunity to access a vast collection of photographs from the Private Photo and Film Foundation, which Péter Forgács and András Bán collected in the ‘80s from the Fővárosi Fotó Vállalat (Főfotó) – the state photo company of the time – a resource that intrigued me. I requested access to a box of photographs nobody had previously worked on. It contained around 10,000 images. Undeterred by the daunting task, I meticulously sifted through each photo, seeking ones that resonated with me personally. After careful consideration, I narrowed down my selection to approximately 500 photographs. While some of these images found their way into my book project, the abundance of material allowed me to explore various themes and narratives. Despite the subjective nature of my selection process, each chosen photo held significance to me, either due to its intrinsic appeal, historical references to Hungary or its connection to my own memories from the eighties as a child living in the USSR.

How did you address the primary concern surrounding the archive, specifically regarding the acquisition of photographs without the consent of the original photographers during the transfer from Főfotó to the Private Photo and Film Foundation?

I tried to address this concern by selecting photographs where people would be protected by “technical problems” and would be unrecognisable (e.g. blurred face).  

I am concerned about how people inside and outside Hungary would see or read these photographs. For this reason, I think an artist’s book could be a partial solution. My book (the 2024 version) comprises three sections: 1) a selection of photographs from the Private Photo and Film Foundation and Radio Free Europe’s field reports; 2) a frequency index; and 3) a short story I wrote. I think combining these photographs with other materials creates a different perception of them.

I wish more artists could work with Private Photo and Film Foundation photographs. It is a vast collection, and if no one is interested in it or takes care of it (e.g., digitisation), how long can these photographs be preserved?

Have you met Péter Forgács while in Budapest?

I haven’t yet had the opportunity to meet with Péter Forgács. I hope to meet him in person once I self-publish or publish my book. However, I sought his permission to include the photographs in my book. I contacted him through OSA to ensure all necessary permissions were obtained. Péter Forgács responded affirmatively via email, granting consent for using photographs from the Private Photo and Film Foundation in my book. 

What elements did you find particularly notable or distinctive in the style of vernacular photography from the era in Hungary? 

While sorting through the photographs, I encountered some that puzzled me, possibly depicting traditions or cultural practices unfamiliar to me. However, this presented an opportunity for me to learn something new about Hungarian culture. As an outsider, I had the chance to build emotional ties with this country. Since the age of ten, I have visited Hungary on many occasions.

It's fascinating how our perception of photographs can evolve over time. While some of these photographs may have been considered problematic or defective for technical reasons (e.g. overexposure) in the past, they now possess an artistic quality that I find captivating. 

Discovering these nuances in the photographs resonated with me, especially given my background in sociology. It highlighted the diversity of perspectives and experiences captured in the images – a multitude of voices united within a single project. This democratic approach not only enriches the project but also offers a more complex portrayal of everyday life, challenging stereotypes associated with life under communism. I sought to capture the richness and diversity of everyday experiences by featuring photographs from various moments and locations. 

What are your observations on the current state of post-communist countries from your perspective?

I must mention that I began this project in 2021 before Russia invaded Ukraine. At that time, when discussing the project and the place where I conducted my research, which deals with stories from the Cold War, some people would jokingly dismiss it, saying, “Oh, it’s just passé.” No one's interested in Cold War topics anymore.” However, following the invasion, there was a notable shift. Suddenly, Cold War themes regained relevance, not only in Western Europe but also in how we perceive Russia – and Hungary’s position within the European Union now.

These events sparked parallels with history, prompting reflections on the current state of formerly communist countries, particularly Hungary. While history doesn’t repeat itself exactly, patterns emerge that echo past experiences. For instance, the Hungarian government attempted to control food prices to appease the population before the elections. It mirrors tactics employed during the communist era. Similarly, discussions about issues like homosexuality and gender evoke past ideologies and political forces, such as the desire for conformity and the suppression of dissent. For example, I've deliberately chosen to include photographs depicting foreign students and workers in my book. During the communist era, Hungary often welcomed students and workers from other friendly communist countries outside of Europe, making such scenes a familiar sight. I aim to challenge current narratives surrounding modern migration by showcasing these photographs.  

So, has the project's reception changed in light of recent events?

The project's reception has been positive, with people from various countries interested in the book. The project has been showcased in Spain and will soon be exhibited in Paris. While the dummy book was shortlisted for an award in Spain, securing grants for publication has proven challenging. Nonetheless, the project has garnered attention and sparked meaningful conversations about Hungary’s history and the power dynamics of archival materials. 

One archivist told me, “People think all archival documents are genuine, but archives actually can be full of lies.” The archive, as such, usually cannot give us a whole picture of a society. In poetic terms, I see it as a repository of fragments of the past. 

My goal with this project is to question the authenticity of archival materials and explore how combining images and texts can create new narratives. It’s essential for viewers to engage critically with the material and understand the context of Hungary’s history to appreciate the project’s depth. By questioning status-quo narratives and challenging assumptions, I hope to provoke meaningful dialogue and reflection on the complexities of European History.