‘I Am Warning You’ by Rafał Milach
Welcome to this edition of [book spotlight]. Today, we uncover the layers of 'I Am Warning You,' by Rafał Milach (published by GOST Books). We'd love to read your comments below about these insights and ideas behind the artist's work.
In an era where the boundaries between the personal and political increasingly blur, the work of visual artists like Rafał Milach gains a heightened relevance. Milach, a distinguished photographer, visual artist, and educator, delves into the complex interplay of society and power structures through his lens. His projects, characterized by a profound engagement with protest and state control, emerge not only as pieces of art but as critical commentaries on the nature of surveillance, freedom, and resistance. In this interview, we explore Milach's journey, his inspirations, and the pivotal moments that have shaped his artistic and pedagogical endeavors.
Rafał Milach’s latest work, “I Am Warning You,” is a striking book dedicated to the exploration of three significant border walls: the American-Mexican (#13767), the Hungarian-Serbian-Croatian (I Am Warning You), and the Berlin Wall (Death Strip). Through a combination of architectural surveys and evocative essays, Milach presents a nuanced narrative on propaganda and control while capturing the lived experiences and scars of borderland communities. The physical degradation of these walls, from the fortified American barrier to the remnants of the Berlin Wall, symbolizes the persistent yet evolving nature of geopolitical divisions.
Martin: Rafał, could you share with me the moment or experience that initially drew you to photography? Additionally, how has your relationship with this medium evolved from your first encounter to your current project?
Rafał Milach: Of course, Martin. It's been quite a long journey—over 20 years, in fact. It all began when I was a student at the Academy of Fine Arts. Interestingly, I had no prior experience with photography; I hadn't even taken a single picture. But then, I had to pass a photography class at the academy, and that's when I immediately fell in love with the medium. As a result, I gradually started to move away from other disciplines, such as graphic design, which was actually my primary field of study.
After graduating with a degree in photography from the Institute of Creative Photography at Opava, I began working as a professional photographer. I spent about a decade in the editorial market, shooting for magazines and newspapers. However, alongside my commercial assignments, I always made sure to work on my personal projects.
Maintaining a healthy balance between my editorial or commercial work—which was financially rewarding—and my art projects, which were more of a financial drain, was essential to me. But eventually, I found that I didn't have enough time to dedicate to my personal endeavors. That led me to make a significant decision: I quit the editorial market to focus more on long-term documentary projects.
"I Am Warning You " is actually my latest project in this vein. It also represents a culmination of nearly two decades of professional experience, blending concept, fieldwork, and book publication into a coherent whole. This format has shaped my career for almost twenty years, until I decided to return to a very basic documentary photography and embark on new projects.
What initially drew you to document the Hungarian-Serbian border, and how does this project align with your broader interests in architecture and propaganda?
The inspiration actually came from another project focusing on the American wall—the border with Mexico—back in 2018. I participated in a collective Magnum project during the era of Donald Trump's presidency. It was a significant period because the narrative around the border transformed; what was once referred to as a 'fence' began to be called a 'wall'—a shift pushed by Trump himself, marking a physical and ideological reinforcement of the U.S.'s southern border. Along with a group of fellow photographers, I went there to document the evolving situation.
This experience was part of a larger, ongoing project that explores themes of propaganda and social formatting. It's an extension of my work on open structures and archives, focusing on various global issues, including the physical and metaphorical constructions of walls and borders.
The concept of control, both soft and hard oppression, embodies the essence of state control, with border walls serving as a prime example. My work over the past decade, primarily focused on former Eastern Bloc countries, has centered on these themes. However, I felt it was crucial to extend my research beyond this specific region to illustrate that issues of propaganda, control, and oppression are not confined to post-Soviet or Eastern European contexts; they are global phenomena.
Hence, my decision to explore the US-Mexico border was to highlight this universality. Including this segment in my "I'm Warning You" project was intended to shift perspectives and show that these concerns are pervasive, transcending geographical boundaries. This section became the first chapter of the book, marking a significant point in the narrative and setting a precedent for the broader discourse in my work.
Upon returning to Europe, I was struck by the parallels in migration issues and governmental responses. Hungary, under Viktor Orbán, erected a border fence with Croatia and Serbia—a move mirroring actions in the US, aimed at halting migration. This observation led me to document the Hungarian-Serbian and Hungarian-Croatian borders, noting the differences in fortification and the underlying anti-migrant propaganda, a sentiment propagated by administrations in both the US and Hungary.
The exploration of these borders constituted the second chapter of my project. Concurrently, the year marked the anniversary of the Berlin Wall's fall—a poignant moment reflecting on barriers and their symbolic and physical impacts. This confluence of events and anniversaries deepened the project's layers, illustrating the enduring relevance and complexity of walls, borders, and the narratives constructed around them, just before the pandemic hit.
In Berlin, I embarked on a quest for traces of a wall that, while mostly erased from the physical landscape except in certain memorial areas, leaves a lingering division between former East and West Germany. This division, though not as visible, persists and I believed it warranted exploration, especially within the confined yet historically rich expanse where the Berlin Wall once stood encircling West Berlin.
Interestingly, the demolition of the Berlin Wall was quickly followed by an unrelated yet symbolically parallel event: just a few months after its collapse, George Bush senior initiated the construction of a border fence along the US-Mexico boundary—a fence that hadn’t existed before. This occurrence in 1990 started a new chapter in border enforcement, creating a chronological link among the different segments of my project. While the world has many more walls and divides, I chose to concentrate specifically on these three significant barriers.
Could you share more about the technical and creative decisions that guide your approach to capturing the architecture of these borders? And how do you aim to reflect the ideological undertones in your images?
My primary focus was on the architecture of these borders. While I did capture images of individuals associated with the border areas, my primary intent was to present a more dehumanized view.
The aim was to depersonalize the outcome significantly because this mirrors the impersonal nature of control systems impacting communities around borders—they are indifferent to the lives disrupted on either side. My documentation effort was extensive, despite not being an architecture photographer nor particularly interested in architecture itself. However, the way architecture is wielded in political contexts deeply intrigues me. It's fascinating how everyday structures, which may seem benign, shape our behaviors and lives, especially when they are integrated into landscapes as part of border enforcement.
This architecture, while a part of daily life, becomes a persistent force, altering the dynamics and routines of those living in proximity to borders—and not just at the borders, but extending beyond into the surrounding regions.
One of my key objectives was to identify and highlight the unique characteristics of each location. In the United States, particularly in California where the border fortifications begin, the transformation of the landscape marked a significant moment. However, rather than just documenting another segment of the wall, I chose to focus on the propagandistic elements surrounding its construction.
For instance, I discovered a Homeland Security report, available publicly online, detailing tests conducted on new border wall designs to assess their resistance to breaches and physical attacks. This document, spanning several hundred pages, was particularly telling of the ideological underpinnings guiding the wall’s construction.
It was quite a revelation to find that the Homeland Security report, despite being made public, was extensively redacted. This document, spanning hundreds of pages, essentially revealed nothing concrete—only generic information remained unobscured, supposedly redacted for security reasons. This act of publishing yet concealing the document struck me as particularly absurd.
Before my trip to the US, I came across this report and contemplated how I could reinterpret the missing information. I aimed to reconstruct the redacted sections visually through my photography, not merely through documentary shots but also through staged images depicting various tools and actions likely employed during the wall's testing phase.
These images, set against vibrant backdrops, introduce a speculative dimension to my project, contrasting with the straightforward nature of my documentary work. These still lifes represent imagined scenarios of the tests conducted on the new wall prototypes, filling in the gaps left by the redacted text.
However, my goal was not to uncover the specific actions of Homeland Security or the border guards. I did not intend to delve into the precise details of the tests. Instead, my approach was to reflect on the obscured information, to create a narrative from what has been deliberately hidden from public view, thereby engaging with the themes of visibility, censorship, and the manipulation of information.
In the US segment of my project, this concept is visually represented not only by the collection of objects and situations photographed against the color backdrops but also in the book's design, where images are superimposed over the pages of the redacted report, shining a speculative light on the obscured processes. This creative choice aims to reveal or hint at the hidden aspects of border enforcement practices.
Moving on to the Hungarian fence, the situation was markedly different. The fence, less fortified than the US wall, still impacted the local environment significantly, especially since the areas it traverses are not densely populated but are instead comprised of farming fields and natural reserves. Especially in Croatian part of the fence, the primary concern is not the disruption of local human traffic but the peril and barriers presented to wildlife attempting to cross.
The stark contrast between the fence and the local scenery—particularly the natural landscapes it bisects—was striking. This intrusion into pristine areas highlights the invasive nature of such border structures.
Interestingly, a similar situation unfolded in Poland with the construction along the Belarusian border, specifically around the Białowieża Forest, a primeval forest under strict protection. The introduction of border structures there posed a significant intrusion into one of Europe's last untouched natural landscapes. At the time I documented the Hungarian barrier, Poland had not yet commenced construction of its own border wall.
Moving to the Berlin Wall segment, the absence of the wall today, except for designated memorials and the commercialized fragments available for purchase online, struck me profoundly. This transformation of a once ominous barrier into a commodified object available for acquisition online represents a peculiar twist in the wall's physical and symbolic legacy.
Integrating images of these wall fragments, sourced from online auctions, with photographs of the landscape, particularly the 'death strip'—the lethal no-man's land between the inner and outer barriers—illustrates the profound changes over time. Although the physical structures have largely vanished, a palpable tension remains within the landscape and among the people, influenced by the historical context and the residual scars on the land.
The transition from the US to the Berlin Wall represents a decline in the physical manifestation of border architecture. Yet, it’s not solely the tangible structures that interest me; it’s the enduring legacy of divisions, ingrained in societal behaviors and social divides, persisting long after the walls themselves have crumbled. This ongoing influence on society is a significant aspect that I find particularly compelling.
What do you hope people will glean from your work?
Walls, as a subject, have been extensively documented. However, despite the apparent redundancy in such projects, each brings something unique due to the shifting contexts of time, political climates, and social landscapes. My aim is not just to add to the collection of images showcasing border walls but to serve as a reminder of our susceptibility to control and oppression.
In places like Poland or the Czech Republic, we might feel removed from these issues, but recent events have bridged that distance, highlighting that these concerns are closer to home than we might like to admit. With the construction of our own wall in Poland and the unfolding crisis in Ukraine, these themes have become increasingly relevant.
During the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine, I spent weeks at the Ukrainian border, witnessing firsthand the impacts of such conflicts. This proximity to conflict underscores the mechanisms of control and the pervasive nature of walls—not just as physical barriers but as instruments of division and control, shaping realities and underscoring the fragility of peace and freedom.
On the Ukrainian border, I observed stark contrasts in how the system treated different groups. Ukrainian women with children could flee from the war with relative ease compared to people of color, including students, who faced greater challenges crossing the border. This disparity showcases how walls and borders can have varying impacts on local communities.
In the U.S., cities like Tijuana are profoundly affected by the border’s existence, facing daily challenges that are direct results of the physical barrier. Meanwhile, in Hungary, the issue seems more linked to the Viktor Orban’s right-wing propaganda, whereas in Berlin, the remnants of the Wall have been integrated into the city's fabric, becoming a part of its history and daily life, albeit with underlying trauma.
These differences underscore that while walls and borders are erected as monuments of propaganda, control, and oppression, they often fail to serve their intended purpose effectively. There's always a way to cross or circumvent them, although fortifications can make it significantly harder.
This project includes not just imagery but also texts, such as the insightful contributions from Michael Dear, an urban geographer. His work complements the visual narrative, adding depth and context. Together, they form a comprehensive exploration of walls, not just as physical barriers but as manifestations of deeper societal and political divides.
I don't harbor illusions that walls will vanish; on the contrary, I believe they are likely to persist. However, it’s imperative that we begin to consider how we can de-traumatize these landscapes. There have been numerous art performances and activist interventions aimed at challenging the dominance of border infrastructures and their control mechanisms, showcasing creative ways to confront and mitigate the impact of these divisive structures.
In addressing the trauma inflicted by the mere existence of such architectural barriers, my book serves as a stark reminder and harbors a perhaps unrealistic hope that if walls do disappear, there remains a significant amount of work to heal the impacted lands and communities.
As for future directions, I'm shifting away from project-based work towards creating diverse archives. While my collection on the mechanisms of propaganda across different nations represents a more traditional approach, it forms a foundation that can be reinterpreted and applied across various contexts.
In recent years, I've embarked on the Archive of Public Protests, a collaborative endeavor distinct from my previous solo projects. This platform is not merely a project but a collective of visual activists united by the commitment to document protest movements in Poland, addressing power abuses, human rights violations, discrimination, xenophobia, homophobia, and the climate crisis. It's a dynamic, semi-open repository for protest photography, supported by an online presence and the publication of a specific newspaper dedicated to these causes.
The Strike Newspaper associated with the Archive of Public Protests is distributed at protests occasionally. This initiative remains active, and despite recent political changes, I anticipate the continuation of protests as the core issues we address remain unresolved; the change in power hasn't significantly altered the landscape of these problems.
Additionally, I've launched a platform dedicated to collecting testimonies from Ukrainian refugees and internally displaced persons (IDPs), collaborating with Ukrainian writers and photographers. This effort spans various phases of the war and migration processes, with contributions also being made by professionals working in Poland. This, too, is an ongoing endeavor, reflecting the complex and evolving nature of the current crises.
With so many pressing issues at hand, focusing on a single, detailed project like I used to is challenging. The urgency and immediacy of these situations demand a different approach, away from the slow, methodical, metaphorical narratives I've been known for. While I have ideas brewing, it’s premature to discuss them in detail—I look forward to sharing them when they're more developed.
Martin: Thank you, Rafał, for this insightful conversation and for sharing your future perspectives.
To discover more about this intriguing body of work and how you can acquire your own copy, you can find and purchase the book here. (Amazon, GOST Books, Magnum)
Rafał Milach
Rafał Milach, an acclaimed visual artist, photographer, and educator, stands at the forefront of contemporary discourse on power, society, and resistance. Serving as a professor at the Krzysztof Kieślowski Film School at the Silesian University in Katowice, Poland, Milach's work is distinguished by its critical engagement with the dynamics of surveillance and state control. His accolades include scholarships from renowned institutions like the Polish Minister of Culture and National Heritage and the Magnum Foundation, alongside prestigious awards such as the Deutsche Börse Photography Foundation Prize Erich Salomon Prize (finalist) and the Author Book Award at Rencontres d'Arles.
As a co-founder of the Archive of Public Protests and Sputnik Photos, Milach has significantly contributed to collective efforts in documenting and critiquing societal issues through visual media. His globally exhibited works, recognized by institutions and part of public collections worldwide, probe the subtle intersections of individual actions and political environments, making visible the unseen forces of control and resistance. A member of Magnum Photos, Milach's oeuvre is a testament to the power of photography as a medium of protest and social commentary, inviting viewers to question and reflect upon the world around them. (Website, Instagram)
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