The contemporary photographer Monika Bulaj states
her aim is “to give a voice to the silent people.” After watching her TED talk, I am at once humbled and invigorated. I
am struck by her courage and conviction.
She has been traveling for over 20 years, reportedly armed with only her
notebook and Leica, a wonderful little camera that she uses like a nomadic paintbrush
to painstakingly recreate the light and vitality from what so much of the rest
of the world might be tempted to term darkness.
Addressing the TED audience, she begins “I was
walking through the [Polish] forests of my grandmother’s tales, a land where
every field hides a grave, where millions of people have been deported or
killed in the 20th century.” She goes on
to capture, through word and image, the places and faces she met where she
simply shared bread and prayer. And,
fortunately for us, she documented. Her stunning
portraits of both person and place remind me of Georges de la Tour’s evocations
in oil paint with browns and ambers, where candlelight becomes almost
personified: a silent character in an intimate scene, breathing life into our
primal need for hope. Similarly,
Monika’s lovely images are like hand-written invitations, to a party celebrating
our humanity, inviting us to a royal feast where stereotypes are smashed, and
the most humble among us are exalted and lifted up to be honored and praised
for the wonders they truly are.
After showing “Through Our Own Eyes,” the
documentary created by the Midwest Center for Holocaust Education which
features historic footage as well as still photographs and local Holocaust survivors’ testimony, from the
Kansas City area, I always give my students an open-notes quiz and ask not only
why, in their opinion, it is important to “remember” the Holocaust. But I also ask them to list 3 things they can
do, personally, to help make sure the Holocaust is remembered. Two of the most
common responses to this last question are 1) to watch movies or read books
about the history; and 2) to learn about places in the world where these
atrocities might happen again, so we can speak out about them and not become complacent bystanders.
Monika Bulaj’s art work does just that. Her photographs are beacons. They bears witness to her personal quest for
a universal understanding of what it is to be fully human. Like Rembrandt, she literally shines light on
the everydayness of human life. After visiting a school in Afghanistan where
13,000 young women hide the fact that they are going to school, underground,
among the scorpions, Monkia recounts
“their love of study was so big I cried.”
Her reportage is easily accessible, moving and excellent. Through the clarity of her still images, we become
party to both struggles and tendernesses.
We see our similarities and are presented with a portrait of not just
community, but humanity. Ms. Bulaj seeks
out individuals and spotlights their personhood. She enlightens by looking for commonalities
and showcasing them. “I have been walking and traveling, by horses, by yak, by
truck, by hitchhiking, from Iran’s border to the bottom, to the edge of the
Wakhan Corridor. And in this way I could find ‘noor,’ the hidden light of
Afghanistan.” Her photographs are like personal,
intimate offerings, luminous altars, celebrating all that we can be, and they
are indeed inspiring.
In
addition to Echoes and Reflections, I am still having my students read a
variety of Holocaust literature. Within
their literature circle groups, they read The
Diary of Anne Frank, A Coming Evil, The Boy Who Dared, Behind the Bedroom Wall,
Torn Thread, Play to the Angels, Someone Named Eva, Yellow Star, I Have Lived a
Thousand Years and All But My Life. 
