Leks, the author of the post, noted that part of language
classes in schools and colleges is learning more about the culture in which the
language is situated, and often includes looking at the visual arts of that
culture. For example, a course in
Spanish is likely to include at least some reference to famous Spanish artists
and well known Spanish paintings.
He wondered whether anything similar existed within the
Esperanto culture, and he couldn’t think of any examples (at least, none that
were readily accessible).
But I could.
As I was reading his article, I realised that my impression
of Esperanto as a culture is actually strongly associated with art. When I think about Esperanto as a cultural
movement or a cultural group, there are a number of artworks in particular that
spring to mind – and almost always have.
I hadn’t noticed it before I read this article, but the art of the
Esperanto movement is a big part of it for me.
Now, the author of the article is someone who is heavily
involved in the Esperanto culture, while I dabble around the edges. So why would it be that he struggled to think
of a “visual culture” within the Esperanto culture, while I’ve “almost always”
associated Esperanto with art?
I think it’s because we’re looking for art in different
places. He’s thinking about finding it
in a gallery, while I found it in the ephemera collection of a library.
I’ve known about the language of Esperanto (or at least the
idea of it) since I was a child, but it was always an abstract concept – one to
which I didn’t pay much heed. I only
really realised that there was an entire culture (or subculture) wrapped around
the language when I visited the Esperanto Museum in Vienna.
The Esperanto Museum isn’t actually a museum at all – it’s a
permanent display by the Austrian National Library. It takes up two smallish rooms in one of the
library’s buildings. And what they
display is…
Posters and other ephemera.
The library has produced some interpretive signs to tell the story of Esperanto (and these signs formed the beginning of my education on the subject), but what captured my attention was the posters, pamphlets, flyers and printed what-nots that were on display on the walls and in the cabinets.
A lot of people forget that posters are an artistic
medium. When you look at a poster advertising
an event or product, you’re not just reading it for information – you are
looking at a work of art. Late 19th
and early 20th Century poster art in particular is fantastic, and you’ve
probably seen a lot of old posters (once advertisements) that have been
reproduced as decorative items in cafés and living rooms.
Posters, pamphlets, conference programmes… these are all
examples of a certain kind of art at a certain point in time. And they are all things that were designed
for a particular purpose or event, and were often destroyed after they had
served their purpose. That’s why we call
them “ephemera” – they were never meant to stick around.
But many libraries have ephemera collections, and in this
way they have saved these items that are – at one and the same time – evidence
of the historical events of a culture and slices of visual culture.
Thanks to the Austrian National Library, I have a strong
association in my mind between the Esperanto culture and poster art –
particularly early 20th Century poster art.
Not only is the art itself glorious (in a way that only
poster art can be), but it’s also rife with symbolism. It’s fascinating to see how the artists
(almost all anonymous) have captured some aspect of the culture’s ethos or
highlighted a particular characteristic of Esperanto and Esperantists – all in
approximately four colours.
Does Esperanto have a visual culture? Yes.
Resolutely yes. And if the flyer
I recently saw for a congress in Indonesia is anything to go by, it’s still
flourishing.
 |
| Artist: Joanne Johns |
