Article 216 is a digital experience that combines film, music and visual art to tell the story of the LGBTQ+ community in Bulgaria.
Love for the homeland and a sentence from the 1896 Penal Law inspired the project’s creator, Borislav, to present Bulgarians with a “different” sexual orientation in a new light. In a modern and dynamic website, images fly across the screen over music written especially for the project. Traditional 19th-century motifs that we are used to seeing in black and white become intersected with colour and together offer an alternative view of the queer Bulgarians of that era.
On the one hand, Article 216 speaks to heterosexual Bulgarians, some of whom believe that a “different” sexual orientation is something imported from abroad in the new times. The project shows that this is not the case through local examples from antiquity, the Middle Ages, and the late 19th century.
Article 216 also addresses those people who are made to feel less Bulgarian because of who they love. Borislav recreates the images of our gay ancestors, but this time instead of being persecuted and punished, they are free to love each other and be themselves. The author’s hope is that the descendants of these people will see that they too are part of the fabric of Bulgaria, and that they too deserve a place on the horo (a traditional dance).
Article 216 calls to restore this erased chapter of Bulgaria’s history. The sources are out there – the hidden love letters, secret photos, and forgotten files.
Borislav is joined in the journey through time and alternate realities by Kosta Karakashyan (Studio Karakashyan) as producer, Boris Urumov as cinematographer, Dobromir Kisyov, C-Mo, Sirma Kuncheva and Rostislav Schipochky with music and Antonia Kundakova, Ahmet Ismail, and (again) Sirma Kuncheva as actors.
I caught up with Borislav for a behind-the-scenes look at the project.
The project brings to life the stories of queer people throughout Bulgaria’s history – what eras of history are you referencing?
The project references four different time periods—the Antiquity, Medieval ages, end of 19th century, and the future.
Visually, this is represented by splitting the website into two sections—one is black and white, kind of restrained to represent the past when queer people were being prosecuted for who they are, and the other section has bright block colours, with same-sex couples existing freely in the nude to inspire our community to dream about a future when we are truly free.
What sort of research did you have to discover the queer stories that are featured in this project?
I had to go out of my comfort zone and work with a few government institutions – such as the Library, the National Archive, and the Ministry of Interior. It was nerve-racking, because I had to approach people and explain to them what I was looking for, which – for the small town I live in – is not that common.
It’s not my forte to work with such institutions and the information I got from them was very scarce.
Eventually, this pivoted the project to a place where it’s asking to revive the lost stories and for anybody who has information to step forward and share it so we can begin to assemble, bit by bit, our past.
You’re launching the project on Liberation Day – is that a controversial choice?
Of course, there are people who might impulsively take this project as an attack on their joyful day, but that’s not actually my goal. I don’t want to create a further divide.
I’m saying that LGBTQ+ people can also be proud of being Bulgarian and there are many of us who’d like to join in on the celebration, wear the traditional clothing and dance the traditional dances.
The belief that love for the motherland and being queer are mutually exclusive is wrong.
You’ve talked about how you want people to feel when they’re exploring the website, how will you measure success?
I’m considering adding a comment section so people can share their opinions, but that also opens the floor for hate speech which might create more issues than it is solving.
There’s going to be a way for people to reach out privately and share how they felt.
If even just one person writes to me to tell me they felt better about who they are then I’d consider the project successful.
Is there life for this project beyond the launch of the website?
Definitely, there are ways in which the project can grow and evolve.
One way is for people to reach out and share the bits of queer Bulgarian history they might have hidden in the attic and then presenting the findings to the world.
In general, I’m keeping an open mind and I’m going to let things happen naturally.
