BARDO: summer of 2020

So this text was a long time comin’, and in a way it’s useless at this point, because BARDO is sold out as far as I know. But since the editors of my university newspapers couldn’t be bothered with local artists, I figured I’d avoid the middleman and just put it up on my blog.

There are a couple changes I’d probably like to make, mostly to replace the names with “three amazing photographers and a drunk”, but the text remains more or less as it was sent to the editors with few cheeky additions. 

There is something oddly satisfying about seeing the photographs of one’s own everyday life - photographs tyou don’t have to daydream about because you’ve lived them. BARDO, the newest publication of the photography collective calling itself the “New Exit Group”, is a selection of documentary photographs that documents the summer of 2020 in central London. It documents a place that happened to be my proverbial backyard that summer, and so the scenes were  instantly familiar while simultaneously new and intriguing.

To better understand BARDO, it is useful to know more about the members of the New Exit Group (NEG) collective: the people behind the images. The name and purpose was inspired by a photography collective active in the late 70s called “The Exit Group”. The purpose of the Exit Group was to document the reality of inner-city poverty, especially homelessness. NEG’s goal to document the new face of poverty was inspired by the Exit Group’s philosophy. The NEG’s Photographers - David Babaian, Andy Blowers, Sagar Kharecha and Simon King - claim equal contribution to the zine, aiming to avoid name-calling and marketing to further their pursuit to document and present the story. BARDO, being their first publication, is a snapshot of the summer of 2020, a time some saw as the summer of hope. 

I am not thoroughly unbiased in this review, however. Partially because I was there for some of the events depicted in BARDO, and partly because I am still salty about not getting the “call to action” email (even though Simon et al. didn’t know me then, so I’ll forgive them for that omission).

To set the stage: London has been under lockdown or strict restrictions for several months due to the COVID-19 pandemic. The Government had promised that by the summer there would be a return to normal and that, despite the Science Committee’s warnings, some of the restrictions would be eased. Summer thus promised to be a relief and, to an extent, a fresh start. It was not. Photographers of the New Exit Group saw that, rather than a fresh start, it was a balancing act between hope for normality and fear of  reality. Hence the name: BARDO. Bardo is the state of two existences - a limbo of sorts - between death and rebirth. And for us in London, summer of 2020 was in a way, just that: a state between safety and sanity; fear and fight. Hope was on the horizon, yet every day brought a new blow. For every sunny holiday, a job was lost; for every couple reunited, one was torn apart. We lived alone and isolated, and yet more connected than ever.

In my opinion the real merit of BARDO comes not only from noticing this peculiar phenomenon, but from the way in which it was  documented and presented. People of London enjoy a hot summer day in Hyde park, whilst a mile away, a homeless man begs in the center of an empty Oxford Street. There is a Lamborghini passing by. I wonder if the driver stopped to help, or did he wonder at the “Thank you NHS” signs above? Would the homeless be able to access the NHS in time should they need to? Well-masked tourists share an outdoor table, much like the pigeons who later shared the rubbish left  behind. Teddy-bears gather for afternoon tea; their social life being richer than those of children who own them. This is where the tone of BARDO changes however, from a soft minor tune to an angry crescendo. For this summer was also a summer of fighting. Fighting for our personal and political freedoms.

The revolt against institutionalized racism incited by the murder of George Floyd was felt in London as well. BLM movement supporters overcame their fear of the invisible enemy in order to fight the injustice that lives on this side of the Atlantic  Ocean. The same park where people had picniked days earlier, now hosted demonstrations demanding an end to all forms of discrimination that still plague the metropolis.
We also saw how health and public well-being could become political as people fought against the “oppression” imposed by lockdowns and other measures aimed at slowing down the pandemic. Even though the majority of the protests were peaceful, clashes with the police and arrests were almost a weekly occurrence. Masks were seen as the symbol of this new oppression, so people often ridiculed them - by wearing a large panda head instead for example. In BARDO we see these moments, but there is no judgement. Not unless we impose our own view on the subject, that is. One can always read into the images, interpret them in as many ways, but what is presented is what was happening at the time. A crowd moving left whilst a sign points them right; political slogans blaming the “others”. The zine finally draws to a conclusion on a high note - summer as we know it happened!. Basking in the sun, trafalgar square, or the beach. Playing, with toys or a discarded tire. 

BARDO is not a collection of pretty photographs, but rather a no-nonsense look into the state of London’s contemporary society this past Summer. It is a sequence of stories unveiling in front of us and a nod to the summer that those who experienced it will hope to forget. BARDO was a rollercoaster. I’ve lived through these moments. I’ve felt hope, solitude, anger and joy. And in a way, that is one of my biggest complaints. Without having been there to witness these events, I am note sure I would have the same appreciation and admiration for BARDO.  I enjoyed the masterful sequencing as well as the emotions the careful pairing of images evoked in me, and the art and craft behind a printed photography publication. But not everyone lived through this, so what  might be missing is context. Traces of it can be seen in Andy’s and Sagar’s journals, but I am left longing for more. Who are those people, what are they doing? And in the grand scheme of things, why does it matter? 

I am confused, because I feel like I am holding something that could become a historical document, and yet, without having been there, I am not sure if I would “get it”. What I do “get,” however, is the sense that NEG photographers - Simon, Andy, Sagar and David - are on the path to producing an admirable body of work. Despite any of my qualms, BARDO is well printed, and meticulously thought-out. I might wish it had more captions, stories, or that it is better designed, but at the end of the day it is an amazing first step, and I am looking forward to seeing  what the future holds for the NEG. Maybe the addition of one more photographer? ;)