LOOKING – COUNTING ON EACH BOBBY PIN n°1

LOOKING – COUNTING ON EACH BOBBY PIN n°1

A TEXT BY AZIZE FERIZI WITH IMAGES BY KIM COUSSÉE

My aunts and mother preparing for events were the first visible memory of how physical appearance can be a testament to effort. In this small room in Papaz, Kosovo, I learned how appearance can be a position depending on the context. As an introspective moment, I spent hours in front of my mirrors. I could easily lose track of how the final aesthetic would meld into near-perfection for hours. While many people focus on the outcome, we were formed via the process. All of these aesthetics advice and knowledge become expertise. It took me a long time to recognize some savoir-faire that isn't officially mentioned or recognized as such in western culture. No dictionary, no archives, no books, no internet were involved as tools in this process, only our bodies, practices and memory.

Eastern cultures use a more direct semiotic approach to conveying images. What we consider as surcharged aesthetically in the Occident is a form of evidence in the Balkans, every phrase conjures up an image. As immigrants, our concepts of aesthetics are more easily integrated into how images are perceived and passed down depending on culture. All of these photographs, which are circulated through advertisements for hair salons, garages, and wedding restaurants, constitute a limitless pond of resources that are never preserved but are supposed to be collected again. I had to go through this quest for all these lost treasures in the same way that I seek for bobby pins when I'm doing my hair; I know they're all over the home; all I had to do was jog my memory. These images are particles that are dispersed across our collective mind.

The majority of these scattered images were created using magazines found in hair salons. You would choose your haircut just based on the photographs you came across. The main purpose of these models posing with haircuts was to provide a palette of options, but they actually said so much more; an entire aesthetic was created.

Hairstylists' business was a family affair at the time, and all commerce was passed down through generations. In Pristina, Kosovo, a month ago, I met Alban Avdullahu, a hair stylist who was introduced to the skill by his father and is now training his son. Alban owns a salon in Pristina that his father and grandfather have owned for the past seven decades. While his father styled and cut the hair of numerous Yugoslavian pop stars at the time, Alban continued the tradition by designing new hairstyles and ensuring that his clientele came to share more than just a haircut.

Alban was telling me how, during the Yugoslavian regime, there were no hairdressing schools, and how, from then to now, there has been a significant shift in information access via the internet and media. Everything has moved at breakneck speed in terms of aesthetics and fashion, much as when the turbo-folk swept the Balkan capitals in the 1970s. While overdone hairstyles, sequins, kitschy clothes, and glittering lips are currently popular, Yugoslavia was in the mood for a 70's Cher with side bangs hairdo at the time. Let's not forget that America's main purpose was to propagate its aesthetics, but the Kosovans twisted it their own way. Whether it's music, film, fashion, or food, the Balkans have a strong feeling of forming their own cultural aesthetics. Their unique way of spreading gestures and looks has worked as a foundation of society. For many years, hair stylists in parts of Kosovo did not pay taxes because hairstyling was deemed a basic right to people. Aesthetics was and continues to be a controversial topic in our community. Female singers, for example, were always the first to introduce new "looks" because there was no fashion show; instead, fashion presentations were videoclips. The majority of my Albanian peers would tell you about Adelina Ismajli, the female idol who revolutionized attitudes, fashion, haircuts, and make-up simply by being a singer.

I asked Alban and other hairstylists about magazine archives, photos that had an explicit depiction of how aesthetics altered over time, knowing that the Balkans, particularly Kosovo, had undergone significant cultural, political, and geographic changes. However, many records, photos, and kin iconographies were lost or destroyed after the conflict.

But one of the publications that my mother read at the salon lingered in my mind and that by chance is archived at the National Library in Pristina: KOSOVARJA.