Planes, Trains, Automobiles and So Much More

One of the biggest adjustments for me now living in Cape Town has been getting used to the many different methods of transportation. Coming from Prague, which is the best public transportation system I have ever used, Cape Town leaves a lot to be desired. One can get to nearly any part of the city in Prague through a combination of the street trams and the underground metro. They both always run frequently, on time or with only a few minutes of delay, and are safe. There are many places to transfer from one line to another to get where you need to go and it is almost always faster than driving.

Now I realize Cape Town is not a city like Prague and does not have access to the same kind of funding (and the funding that is earmarked for is not always received due to corruption at various levels), but I did not expect that there would be so many different types of transportation, each with their own drawbacks meaning most journeys are most efficiently completed by taking two or three different types. So far, the various means of transport I have used are: city buses, metro trains, commuter buses, mini-bus taxis, Uber taxis, private taxi companies, a moped, and good old fashioned walking. However, it becomes clear after using each method by observing your fellow passengers that the reason there are so many options is because the consumers being catered to come from all across a very broad and unequal economic spectrum.

Most people who use public transportation at all are people of color. Members of the white upper class typically own a car. When they do use other forms of transportation, they probably only use Uber, which is cheaper than in the US, but still the most expensive option available to the public without their own vehicles. For most privileged people, including a lot of international students volunteering or interning in Cape Town, Uber is the only method they use even if they don’t have a car of their own.

Surprise surprise, the two most expensive options are also by far the fastest and most efficient. For the rest of Cape Town, the options are less appealing. The cheapest options, the city buses and metro trains, are the least reliable, often 15 minutes to an hour late. Trains are frequently delayed because of protestors blocking the tracks and maintenance issues. The bus network is very limited in terms of routes, mostly serving to connect the wealthier suburbs to the city center. The train system, however, does serve communities more evenly. Nevertheless, with fixed lines and no public bus system serving the suburban areas, it is almost impossible to use exclusively.

Enter the mini-bus taxis, or usually just called taxis. In Econ 50, I remember learning that when there is a market failure of an important good not being provided by the market, government often steps in to fill the gap. In Cape Town, the equation is reversed. Private businesses have developed their own ride-sharing system that provides faster transit at almost the same cost or cheaper.

The mini-buses themselves are usually white Toyota vans, about 20 feet in length that have been stripped of all interiors and filled with three or four rows of bench seats (and often makeshift seats made of milk cartons, wooden stools, or cushions). They are piloted, and I say piloted because it takes the skill of more than a mere driver to navigate the streets and traffic of Cape Town at the speed they usually drive, by a two-man crew, one driver and one “doorman”. Driving along the main roads, the driver honks his horn while the doorman whistles and yells the ultimate destination of the taxi hoping to attract customers along the road.

All you have to do is flag one down to witness the impressive and perfectly coordinated routine. The driver will pull over while the doorman slides open the door, you jump in and start making your way to the closest available seat. As soon as both of your feet are inside the van the driver is pulling away again and the doorman is sliding the door shut, once you get to your seat, you pay the doorman if you can reach him, and if you cannot, you pass your money up to the passenger in front of you. The whole process seemed like a bizarre whirlwind at first, but once you get the hang of it, and they expect you to be as efficient as them, it is an impressive feat to watch.

These taxis are the way that most people who do not have cars get around, with the train added in if they are commuting a longer distance. Impressive as they are, there is so much time lost compared to driving. I learned this with my own commute, which takes at least an hour and a half via train (assuming it is on time) and takes only 20 minutes by car (even with traffic). That is over two hours wasted each day, nearly 12 hours each week, and over 45 hours each month.

Now from a purely mathematical perspective, the time for people driving cars is more valuable because their wages are so much higher.  However, the less fortunate people taking public transportation are often working longer hours and even multiple jobs, not to mention, they need those wages much more. For these people, lost time and wages do not mean they have to go without upgrading their flatscreen or computer a bit longer, it means they can’t feed their families, pay rent, or make much needed repairs to their homes. Because of this, these 45 extra hours don’t come from work, these hours are taken away from time that could have been spent at home with their families, taking care of their kids, and just time to relax.

It is no wonder then, that most of the young men I work with at the Ottery Youth Care and Education Center come from homes where they rarely saw their parents. And when they did see them, they were often too tired to do the extremely time consuming and tiring job of parenting. When there is not a parent actively present in their lives teaching them right from wrong, developing their skills, and simply giving them love, these kids often turn to other authority figures. Even without any other prior knowledge, it is not difficult to guess the type of person that fills this gap.

In the poorer communities where the adults, especially those with families, are working long hours, the only people that are still around when the kids are home are people who are not working, or if they are, it is working in an illegal industry. It creates the perfect opportunity for gang members to grow their ranks by recruiting vulnerable boys.

This is not an issue confined to Cape Town, to South Africa, or to Africa. This is an issue that affects the poor globally. However, because my personal knowledge is limited to working with kids from the Cape Town area, I can only describe the extremely detrimental effects it has on these boys and on their communities in the long term.

The disparities in transportation, which on the surface seem unimportant in the overall picture, further exacerbate the critical issues of drug abuse, gangsterism, and overarching inequality that face South Africa. It is also an important component that helps explain the situation here that I would not have experienced or considered without this firsthand experience. 

Welcome to Cape Town

Almost exactly 24 hours after I arrived at the Vaclav Havel airport in Prague, I touched down in Cape Town International in a new hemisphere and thousands of miles away, but, remarkably, still in the same time zone. Thankfully this, and the $40 memory foam travel pillow I bought during my layover in Dubai, meant that I wasn’t too jet-lagged and could immediately start getting to know my new home for the next few months.

On the shuttle ride from the airport on the eastern flats of the Cape Town metropolitan area to my apartment in Gardens just south of the city center, my first view of South Africa was the townships that lined the freeway. Each block consists of about ten small houses, each made of a mash-up of corrugated steel, weathered wood, and plastic tarps, most connected to a central, elevated power line making the overall shape resemble the structure of a circus tent less the red and white tarp.

I had read only a small amount about the townships in Cape Town so I knew they existed, and I knew they were some of the poorest, most dangerous parts of South Africa, but it did not prepare me for seeing them with my own eyes with the skyscrapers of the city center juxtaposed in the distance behind them.

It didn’t take long for the freeway to take us from the townships to nice and clean suburban homes that, aside from the high walls with electrified fences and barbed wire placed on top, conjuring images of Jesus wearing the crown of thorns, were indistinguishable from most suburban areas in the United States. It was during this first car ride that I knew I had underprepared myself for just how apparent the disparity between the affluent, white middle and upper class was from the poor, black communities.

Just 26 years since apartheid, I knew the country would still be far from any resemblance of actual equality even though there was now formal equality, but I did not even begin to understand the far reaching and visible effects of the poverty and segregation. The violent culture of gangsterism and drug addiction, which are impossible to separate into distinct phenomena, are the reasons that almost all of the youth I would be working with ended up in a correctional facility while their white peers were spending time with friends at the mall or preparing to attend college.

Arriving at my apartment for the next two and a half months, I realized I would be living in one of the more affluent, whiter suburbs, and therefore, as my mom was happy to learn, one of the safest places in the Cape Town metro area. Despite this, I was still very much on edge as I walked to the grocery store and explored my neighborhood a bit. On this first solo exploration of Cape Town, I kept passing men on the street, who, despite their reflective safety vests, looked like they might be homeless. About half of them greeted me, saying, “Hey my bru, howsit?” or “Hey boss”.

I quickly learned that these gentlemen as much a part of Cape Town as Table Mountain. Known as “car guards”, each one looks after roughly one block of the street, keeping watch over the cars parked there and collecting the small fee of five rand, or about 40 cents, from drivers before they leave. Many of them are in fact homeless, and their sole source of income comes from being a car guard and any other donations they might get during the day.

Even though these men are far from police officers or security guards, they are a visible presence that helped calm my initial worries. But it also shocked me that, if your car is not being watched or behind an electrified gate, it is likely to be broken into and stripped of anything valuable or stolen. The biggest culture shock so far has been getting used to that fact, the fact that due to a long history of discrimination, political corruption, and inequality, Cape Town, along with many other parts of South Africa, is a place where the law is woefully unprepared to fully protect its citizens and their property. Much of that responsibility falls upon the people themselves, and it made me uncomfortable to have that responsibility thrust on me as well. 

Goodbye Prague: The IKEA Effect

Just a few days into my study abroad experience, my Czech buddy Zdenek made a comment after Evan and I cooked one of our more ambitious dishes that perfectly sums up my experience this semester. We were surprised and excited about how well our cooking turned out and he simply said “The IKEA effect”. I had never heard of this before so I asked him for clarification, to which he responded, “It’s when you make something yourself instead of buying it already finished, it makes the whole thing more enjoyable.”

This idea stayed in my mind as we continued cooking and trying more and more things, but it has been at the front of my mind the past few weeks as I think about this past semester. Looking back, I have experienced more freedom than this past semester, from living on my own, to classes that challenged me creatively instead of sticking to a strict framework, to deciding how I wanted to explore Europe and even deciding how to spend the free time that I had in a foreign city. Unlike any other point in my life, I had the primary voice in these decisions.

The CMC Study Abroad Office, CET and FAMU all contributed the individual pieces that made up my experience, but it was up to me to decide how to combine them, how to spend my time and resources, and to tailor the experience so that I could get exactly what I wanted out of it.  And like buying a bookshelf from IKEA, there were points of confusion, of looking at the directions and thinking to myself “how is this all going to come together?”, but it eventually did come together to produce a fantastic experience that has fundamentally changed how I experience the world. Knowing that I can live, and even thrive, in a foreign country where I can barely speak the language, is an achievement that I take pride in and relieves me when I think to the future beyond CMC.

Another unexpected lesson from this semester was experiencing an academic arrangement with a distinct separation between school and the rest of life. At CMC, I was on campus probably 95% of the time. For me, that meant that classes, homework, and even work followed me everywhere and was intermixed with every part of my day. That’s just the nature of a residential college with tough classes when you have a lot of commitments. But in Prague, going home to my apartment rather than my dorm room, shopping for groceries and cooking instead of sitting in Collins, and even taking the tram 20 minutes to class instead of walking to Kravis were all welcome respites. A residential setting certainly has its advantages, sure, but, as talking with friends in the program from other schools across the US showed me, it’s not the norm. It is also not what ‘real life’ will be like after graduation. I know that once I return to Claremont, I will try to create at least one space that gives me this separation where I escape CMC for a few minutes a day just to clear my head.

As you can tell, this semester was very introspective for me. Perhaps that is not the primary goal of study abroad which is focused on cultural emersion, but I think it would be dishonest to say that I’ve truly learned enough about Czech culture during this short time to make any broad sweeping claims. What I have experienced, however, are many meaningful interactions with Czechs, and people from all over the world, that have given me a glimpse into different perspectives. From talking with bunkmates in hostels, my Airbnb hosts, and other strangers along the way, I have been amazed by the sheer diversity of opinions and experiences that exist. The final, perhaps most meaningful lesson I am taking away from this experience is one that I think is often overlooked and, from time to time, discouraged at CMC. Simply listening to someone’s personal experiences, especially in regards to things you think you a lot about, is one of the best ways to absorb new information. I think we too often see ourselves as experts because we read books and essays, study data and spreadsheets, and even listen to our professors. But this approach can leave out any information from the people actually confronting the issues we study.

The best example of this that gave me this idea was chatting with a German family from Berlin in a shuttle from Kitzbuhel to Salzburg in Austria about the refugee crisis and the state of the EU. The two parents are self-described liberals and lawyers with three very well-behaved kids that I’m sure will do big things one day. They talked about the duty that Europeans, and Americans as well, had to help these refugees fleeing the terrible violence, about how their core beliefs lead them to support the initial acceptance of hundreds of thousands of refugees. However, they also described first-hand how the refugee center that was setup in their neighborhood has drastically changed their community, how their children can no longer participate in their favorite sports because the recreation center has been converted into temporary housing, and how the joblessness already facing Berliners has only been exacerbated leaving thousands without any income and becoming homeless. Their initial stance of supporting the refugee efforts has changed to being much more skeptical and unsure that the country can handle the strain.

This perspective forced me to think much more deeply about the refugee crisis and about these large-scale issues as a whole. It is never as simple as weighing the argument and the counterargument and presenting evidence on both sides. There are gritty details that we often overlook when we receive information only from academics who are themselves removed from the situation that can only be described by those facing them in their daily life. I could fill pages with similar interactions I had that have made me rethink my positions on everything from Islamophobia to healthcare. In short, I have learned as much about myself this semester as I have about any culture, and I have also been exposed to numerous perspectives that will continue to shape how I see the world. 

Jachymav

Like my favorite trip of the semester to Southern Bohemia, my second favorite trip was also just a few hours away from Prague and a last minute decision to attend. The trip was created for students in the Central European Studies program, also facilitated by CET, to give students a personal tour of the Jachymav labor camps and uranium mines, one of the darkest chapters of Czech history. I had very little idea what to expect and I walked away with the most meaningful and profound experience of my semester.


We left Prague on Saturday morning with our tour guide for the weekend, Jicha, who is currently spearheading an effort to increase visibility of the use of political prisoners in the labor camps in the decade after World War II. After studying oral history, Jicha eventually served as the Director of Communications for the Ministry of Education and now teaches at NYU Prague. His grandfather was sent to a concentration camp during Hitler’s occupation of Czechoslovakia and after surviving that horrible ordeal, was then sent to one of the Jachymav labor camps for supporting anti-communist ideals. 


During my travels, I have not taken a trip to any of the former concentration camps, even though I had been presented with a few opportunities. Certainly, I have learned a bit about these horrific places, the events leading up to them, the damage they caused, and their lasting impact, but I was not sure if I was ready to confront them in person. On the other hand, I knew almost nothing about labor camps in the Soviet Union, other than I knew they existed and were also horrible. Because I knew I had so much more to learn and there would not be another opportunity like this, I decided to attend the Jachymav trip. I did not, however, anticipate how much it would affect me. 


After arriving in Jachymav, we toured one of the mine shafts that was first used for silver mining, like in Kutna Hora, but was transformed into a uranium mine immediately after WWII. The Soviet Union was struggling to catch up to the United States in the atomic weapons race, and their large number of tests and experiments required large amounts of uranium ore. Mines in the Jachymav region produced almost half of the uranium used in Soviet experiments and weapons before approximately 1975. There was no expensive machinery designed to expedite the process. Instead, prisoners worked 10-12 hours a day in the mine planting explosives, detonating them deep in the shafts, clearing the exploded material, and separating the valuable ore from the rest of the rock. Inside the mines was one of the only places where prisoners had a small degree of freedom and the only place where they interacted with members of the outside world. Prisoners would befriend the civilian laborers and workers and attempt to send letters and gifts home to their families. Even though the mine was the only place where there were no guards, the prisoners were forced to work at an excruciating pace, having to meet a daily quota in order to receive their rations that day. If prisoners consistently underperformed, they were held in solitary confinement, beaten, or killed. 


After leaving the mine, we hiked the memorial knowledge trail which Jicha and his organization created. The trail is a large loop, with numerous stops along the way including three sites where the camps once stood. Now, there is hardly any evidence of the terrible events that happened there. The Communist government wanted to remove all traces of the camps, destroying the foundations, fences, and crude barracks. The only remaining structure is a small concrete bunker that served as the cells for solitary confinement. In a twisted way, I found this to be a strangely comforting part of the experience. Even though terrible and inhumane crimes were committed on that very ground only 50 years ago, nature has reclaimed the space. Tall trees, full bushes, and grass cover the countryside. If it were not for the small plaques that made up the knowledge trail, it would be impossible to know about these events. 


However, people have also reclaimed the space. At the site of one of the processing facilities, summer homes now dot the hillside, many of the residents themselves ignorant of history of the region. It is incomprehensible to me how these people could live their lives, play with their kids, and eat dinner just yards away from the site of such terrible suffering. Part of the problem, Jicha described, is the communists were successful at hiding their crimes. They interrogated individuals in secret prison facilities, abducted people from their homes without official record in the dead of night, and imposed strict penalties on anyone speaking out. 


The day after finishing the hike, we had the honor to meet a survivor of the labor camps. After moving cities and changing his name to avoid serving in the Czech military, he was eventually tracked down and forced to serve for three years. During this time, many Czechs believed the United States would continue past Germany and would liberate Czechoslovakia from Soviet control. With this in mind, him and a small group of friends began cataloging any information that might be useful to American troops when they finally arrived. Two years after serving his time, he was abducted from his home in the middle of the night by Communist police. One of the members of his friend group that had conspired with him sold out the other members, likely for a cash reward. He was taken to a secret prison and interrogated for two weeks, beaten, and prevented from sleeping. He became so worn down and delirious that he began giving in to the interrogators demands to confess to crimes he did not commit. He was convicted and sent to work in the Jachymav mines, where he was imprisoned for six years until the point the labor camps were closed in the late 1950s. 


He shared many heartbreaking stories describing the treatment of prisoners, the evil methods used by the communist government, and how the events robbed an entire generation of cultural, religious, and political leaders. There are too many to go into detail here, but the story that had the greatest impact on me is the story of the famous Czech sculptor, Peter Schlesinger, who was imprisoned for making art that was too ‘Western’. He was approached by Communist leaders to make the official bust for the first Czech President but he refused. Eventually, he was convinced by the communist officials that he would be granted his freedom if he created the bust. After finishing the bust, instead of returning to his family, he was sent back to the labor camps, this time to the uranium processing facility where the uranium ore was refined into smaller and smaller pieces. The process of crushing the uranium made the conditions especially toxic and most prisoners developed lung and skin cancer within just a few months. Schlesinger died just three months after returning to the camp. 


Hearing first hand from a survivor of this awful period is an experience I will never forget. He talked so earnestly about these issues and was able to describe them in simple yet terrifying detail. What has stuck with me the most is being able to understand just how barbaric the idea of political prisoners is. All of the freedoms we enjoy under the First Amendment were nonexistent in his time. People were convicted, jailed, and forced into labor camps for offenses such as listening to jazz or reading American authors. Priests and bishops were framed for staging coups against the communist regime and sent to the camps. Not only were these people innocent of any legitimate crimes, they were engaging in the fields that make society flourish and progress. The kind of persecution I witnessed is distinct from the persecution carried out by Nazi Germany, but it is in the same vein: the dehumanization of people based on their beliefs, identity, and thoughts. I was deeply saddened to learn about Jachymav and all it represents, but it has made me realize that this kind of discrimination is easier to recognize and combat. It is overt and it is ruthless. Other kinds of dehumanization and persecution continue to occur, but it is more veiled and hidden. Still, this trip has disgusted me by displaying the kind of extreme evil that can happen when stop seeing the humanity in others. 

 

Travel Wrap Up: Czech Repub- I mean Czechia

One of the weekly occurrences I have gotten used to during my time here in Prague is seeing my Facebook feed flooded with pictures of the most popular cities of Europe taken by other people on the program. Paris, Madrid, Barcelona, London: European staples that I was told by numerous people that I just HAD to visit during my study abroad and missing them would be a tragedy. Certainly these cities are appealing, but I have approached my travel plans a bit differently. Not only are these cities more expensive than the lesser known, further east cities I have been traveling too, but they are also cities that I have a better chance to come back to in the future.

However, even after traveling for a few weekends in the first half of the semester outside of the Czech Republic, I realized that there is just as much to explore here within a few hours of Prague and the experience is much more authentic than any tourist trap plagued city. With this in mind, I spent the second half of the semester traveling close to home and I believe I have benefitted from a more authentic experience. I may not have seen as many old churches or castles, but I have gained a new understanding of Czech history that has changed the way I understand this country, its people, and the world more generally.

My first trip outside of Prague to another part of the Czech Republic was to Kutna Hora, a small town an hour from the outskirts of Prague that was home to the richest silver mine in Europe between 1400-1800. After donning hard hats equipped with small flashlights and questionable white robes, we were led 300 meters down into the mine where we snaked our way through passages that had been used to access veins of silver by serfs over 500 years ago. I am not a tall person, but even I was uncomfortably doubled over for the majority of the tour.

After escaping back into sunlight, we visited the other main attraction Kutna Hora has to offer, a 500-year-old church that is constructed of and adorned with human bones from victims of the Black Death. Kutna Hora was acutely affected by the plague and lost almost 90% of its population. A blind monk, who was rumored to be suffering from some kind of insanity (understandable in those conditions), decided to cope with the situation by methodically disassembling corpses and constructing intricate sculptures from the individual bones. All told, historians estimated that the church contained bones from over 5,000 bodies with possibly many more buried or lost due to time.

The best part of the trip to Kutna Hora however, was learning about available slots on an overnight trip the next day with a Czech buddy to her family’s cabin in the Southern Bohemia region. Evan and I decided to sign up because hiking was promised. What we decided as a last minute trip became one of my favorite couple of days of the semester so far.

The cabin was about an hour and a half south of Prague by bus through rolling green hills separating dozens of small towns. Unlike our previous trips outside of the city, this route did not take us along a major highway and the difference was immediate. Instead of seeing advertisements for large corporations, there were only houses, farms, and the occasional family run restaurant or corner store. Jana, the Czech buddy, told us about how the land, about 5 acres with a small cottage, barn, and small wooded area, had been taken from her family during the Communist collectivization of farmland. Thankfully her family just used the cottage as a summer and vacation home, and the structures were all kept intact. After the fall of communism, there was a realignment of sorts trying to return all the land to the original owners. Jana’s family’s share of the land grew slightly and now they have the rights to half of a muddy pond at the edge of their property. One of the only positives I’ve heard from Czech people about the communist times, but hey, it is a nice little pond.

Our first hike of the trip was to a local restaurant with an old wooden fire tower that offered a complete view of the Bohemian countryside. We spent the evening cooking in the antique kitchen which was powered by a large wood burning stove that heated the water tank, stove, oven, and the entire house. Evan and I put our cooking skills to work by helping prepare a family recipe that we have made a few times since for our friends. Jana and her boyfriend who joined us on the trip, filled dinner with lots of stories of growing up and visiting her grandparents at this house and she described how she experienced the Czech Republic change from the beginning of her life.

The rise of capitalism and multinational corporations is one of the biggest influences to her. She said when communism fell and was replaced by some level of competition in business and industry, the country experienced a kind of national confusion. Many people had to find new jobs, which was both a challenge and blessing in her eyes. Some people were able to find careers they actually enjoyed, some people relied on government assistance after being laid off.

That night was the first night I had seen the stars in almost half a year. It is one of my greatest joys, looking straight up on a cloudless night where your entire vision is filled with stars except the very edge where the horizon bends out of view. This gave me time to reflect on living in the city, something I anticipated would be the biggest adjustment for me. I have grown accustomed to walking just five minutes in any direction before arriving at a grocery store. I have developed a taste for durum kebabs and I think of any commute longer than 20 minutes as a long journey. In a strange way though, Prague feels less crowded than CMC. It took a few weeks, but as soon as I realized that the thousands of other people I see every day are completely irrelevant in any way, I think I understand the appeal of cities a bit better.

We spent the next day hiking from town to town, about 12 km in total through fields and replanted forests. After touring an open air museum with preserved buildings from the region during the Middle Ages and Renaissance, we took a short nap on the side of a trail in a farmer’s field. Apparently this is a totally normal thing to do, which was confirmed when we were passed by two other hikers who offered a friendly “Ahoj” as they passed. Our trip ended after stopping for a refreshing beer from the local brewery.

Even though we were outside of Prague for just over 24 hours, the trip was the most authentic experience with Czech culture for me this semester. Interacting with Jana, hearing the stories of her and her family, and actually living in their shoes for a night, was much more effective than any museum or guided tour. I thoroughly enjoyed leaving the city for the weekend and was able to experience part of the Czech Republic that is often overshadowed by Prague and its fancy churches.

 

How Kafka is Teaching Me Art

One of the greatest parts of Prague is its central location in Europe, offering many interesting places to visit for the weekend that is only a bus ride away. The first weekend trip I decided to take was to Vienna, Austria with a group that I quickly became friends with in the first week. 

During the four-hour bus ride there I got a chance to become more acquainted with Prague’s most famous writer and read Kafka’s short stories and The Metamorphosis. While many of his short stories felt unsatisfying after the first reading, I have since gone back and re-read about half of them and enjoyed them much more after shifting my focus from narrative and characters, to my own emotional responses to his dark and detailed writing style.

Alternative Fashion Project

I think a combination of my practical temperament and CMC education prepared me to use this approach when confronted with any type of media. I constantly pick at the logic of the events and try to perceive a clear argument in the work. Part of my education here in Prague, however, has been to reverse this typical approach and to experience media instead through the emotions it elicits. Once I made this switch and applied it to Kafka’s writing, I think I discovered why I have struggled when it came to viewing art. 

I remember most of my experiences in a museum or gallery where I spent time looking for meaning and structure that was not there, leaving with the impression that most art was impenetrable to me. It is also one of the main reasons that I have always been reluctant to call myself an artist; I knew I was creating images that were at least somewhat visually appealing, but most of my images did not make a statement, like I believed art was supposed to. 

While it is certainly true that art can, and often does, contain substantive claims about certain things (I have been bombarded with numerous examples from documentary photographers since the beginning of the program), this is, at most, only half of the equation. As reading Kafka has demonstrated to me, it is the artist’s own style and creativity that creates a rich piece, regardless of message. 

Editorial Portrait

This is not a groundbreaking idea obviously, but it took until these past few weeks and reading Kafka for this idea to click for me. Not every piece has a deep, broad sweeping meaning that is supposed to be clearly understood by all who view it. It is more likely that the piece contains many meanings, each dependent on how the viewer appreciates and perceives the stylization and individualization at play. 

As the semester continues, I am learning about the visual elements of images, the emotions they evoke, and the many ways they can be used together as part of a broader artistic style. For the rest of the semester I will be incorporating these elements and techniques into my own work and hopefully develop my own style. That is one huge benefit choosing an art specific program. I could have taken separate art classes at Pomona or Scripps (even though registering might be tricky, there was room in my schedule), but this approach would not allow me to learn these concepts while simultaneously applying them in a variety of media week after week. Because I am immersed in art classes, I am able to take complimentary classes that build my skills across the board instead of being constantly distracted or interrupted by other competing subjects like GEs or my major. 

Street Photography

That being said, my academic life looks quite different from when I am at CMC and I am still adjusting. My usual estimates of how long it will take to get work done have gone out the window as I now find myself riding waves of creative energy instead of sticking to my usual study schedule. So far I am embracing this change and enjoying every second of it. 

 

 

Class is in Session

After finishing a week of intensive Czech instruction, it was time to jump into the rest of my classes. My academics this semester are unusual to me in a few ways. The first reason is that I am taking my core classes through my study abroad program which are taught by Miroslav Vojtěchovský, an award-winning Czech photographer. In addition to my core classes, I am also taking an elective class on fashion and studio photography with a Prague-based professional photographer and completing a few lighting workshops through CET. My electives are being taken through the FAMU TV and Film School’s international program so that I receive instruction in English with other students from across Europe and Asia.

Another way class is unusual for me was how disorganized classes actually were. Admittedly, I expected this when attending an art school as compared to CMC where the registrar makes sure classes work like clockwork. After laying out seven different schedules to get the complete list of classes available to us, we couldn’t even find syllabuses for most and I decided to attend every class I could to figure out which ones would be best for me. During the first week of classes, I caught a glimpse of the full range of classes FAMU offers; everything from nude portraiture, to large-format architecture photography, to basic visual theory is covered.

I quickly realized a pattern after the first day of classes which consisted of getting to know the professors and showing your own work to the class. As I have alluded to in earlier posts and elsewhere, this semester is my first time taking a real art class. I took Intro to Photography my freshman year of high school which was mostly a joke of a class because the juniors and seniors spent most of their time getting food off campus instead of shooting. Also, the class was taught by one of the PE coaches.

Needless to say, then, I have never really presented my work to anyone who is an authority on photography. Presenting my work on the first day to the professor and the rest of the class was nerve wracking for me. I clicked through each of the pictures on my portfolio pausing for the occasional comment or question from the professor while talking about my experience with photography and my “vision” as an artist.

My lack of formal instruction was very apparent. Instead of having projects and photo series focused on specific themes and messages like the students from Syracuse, my portfolio consisted of a mish-mash of photos I had taken over the last approximately four years. Most of my pictures are landscapes of places I’ve traveled or scenes I otherwise thought were striking in some way. I have not created a project from start to finish with an overarching theme or approached photography as a means to convey deeper meanings.

This has been a concern of mine long before I found myself in front of the class presenting my work to seasoned photographers, but instead of trying to gloss over that glaring fact, I have embraced it. One of the reasons I chose this specific program was to completely immerse myself in that kind of conceptual thinking and to experience the artistic process so that I could bring it back to my own projects in the future. I kept this goal in mind as I visited each class the first week, trying to pay attention to what the class had to teach me about being an artist, not just a photographer.

Even from this first week, I have learned how valuable it is to have someone who understands photography to critique and evaluate your work. Since the first day, I have adjusted my portfolio slightly, taking out images I thought were weak and scouring my library of 25,000+ photos for better examples to showcase my work. Each professor has added their own input and advice, and the fact that they have taken the time to get to know students that will be here for only a few months has been inspiring.

So far I am enjoying the ups and downs that come with the disorganization and informal nature of classes. Class almost never starts on time, but we have also taken time outside of class to visit galleries and practice techniques. I am looking forward to my classes as I have now settled on a schedule that will push me intellectually, but mostly it will challenge my creativity and promote self-reflection about my work.

Getting Settled

Finally after a week of intensive Czech introductory classes and three welcome dinners from the program, I am starting to get settled in my new living arrangements in Prague. I am sharing an apartment with two other students, Luke from Syracuse and Evan from Pomona, as well as our Czech buddy, Zdenék. Luke, Evan, and I have hit it off from the start and seem like we are some of the closest roommates on the program so far. Even though Evan and I both come from the Claremont schools and have a few mutual friends, we have never met. Nevertheless, we have quickly become friends and have made a pact to introduce each other to our friends once we are back on campus and hopefully start some more mingling between Pomona and CMC. Along with Luke and Evan, we have found a group of friends we all get along with from across the United States.

Cooking for myself and others has quickly become the unexpected highlight of living on my own so far. Even in our meager kitchen, which does not have a single mixing bowl, wooden spoon, or sharp knife, we have managed to make some of the most delicious meals in recent memory. A weekly tradition we have started with our friends from other apartments is to host dinner parties and make a communal dinner. So far we have made yellow curry, italian sausage pasta, roasted chicken and potatoes and even crepes.

I am joined by five other students in the photography program I am completing, four of which are studying fine art photography at Syracuse. There are surprisingly a lot of Syracuse students here, and along with students from American University they make up about half of the total program. Making up the rest of the program are students from all kinds of schools, from other small schools in SoCal to big state schools in Minnesota and North Carolina. This has brought another kind of diversity that I didn’t think of when applying to study abroad: getting to meet other American students. While we are by and large very similar as a group, it is easy to forget just how much of a bubble CMC really is and it has been refreshing to swap stories about everything from campus food to bigger issues of campus climate.

So far, I think I am adjusting to Prague and this new social setting quite well. The population density of Prague is just right so that everything you need is within walking distance but living here does not feel as busy and crowded as living in a US city like LA or Seattle. Part of the difference, that I have almost become completely used to now, is that the buildings and architecture have been preserved in their beauty but the inside of the buildings has been updated to include housing, a supermarket, and other boutique shops, all in one space. The tram system is also incredible for those times when it’s cold, raining, or I just don’t feel like walking. Actual classes start soon and I am ready for the challenges of this new academic environment.