We were loud for political prisoners in Belarus

Months of intense preparations had preceded. The artistic vision of Amsterdam based artist Maxim Tyminko needed hard work to realise: have hundreds of people together make noise on make-shift instruments, while wearing the masks of actual political prisoners in Belarus. This was going to be an art piece, but also a massive sign of solidarity and awareness-raising: these prisoners should not be forgotten. 

It took many months to apply for funds, find a spot big and iconic enough to host this event in Amsterdam, put the right safety precautions in place to get the city permit, e-mail hundreds of organisations, set up and grow a social media account and eventually get dozens of volunteers to make sure hundreds of participants are supported in becoming part of a piece of art. In the connections we made, ever more people got interested and involved. Two weeks before the event, we organised a lecture and artistic performance in a major debating society with Nobel laureate Ales Bialiatski, philosopher Olga Shparaga and Music for Belarus working with texts by writer and lawyer Maxim Znak. Maxim Znak promised to come to the actual performance two weeks later and  in contacts with the trade union movement we also heard that two other former political prisoners and leaders of the BKDP trade union, Aliaksandr Yarashuk and Siarhei Antusevich, would join in solidarity with their colleagues still in prison. 

This meant participants knew what they were doing this for.

Many explicitly came out of solidarity with Belarusian political prisoners, but others came to experience something new and exciting, to make art together or just out of curiosity. Directly before the performance Maxim Znak and Aliaksandr Yarashuk told the would-be performers what they were doing it for: what people in Belarusian prisons are going through. And every single mask carried a QR code with information about the prisoner they were giving a face. 

Art shouldn’t be easy.

It can be awkward, difficult, ask questions or provoke. This is what participants noticed as well during the 30 minutes of percussion. Not only was it loud, it was long. And hitting two things together for half an hour can be really tiring. The first five minutes lasted for ever, is what many participants told me afterwards, and is what I also noticed myself. But then something happened. Many people reached some sort of trance. Others kept themselves going with the thought of the people who we’re doing it for: this is nothing compared to what they are going through. Yet others put all their anger in those 30 minutes and came back with fully deformed cookie tins or found their solace in small rebellions of trying to derange the rhythms around them. All of this are the human reactions that make up this work of art and solidarity. Together we were loud. We hope we were heard by the families of those paying the highest price for freedom, of maybe even between the prison walls themselves. 

The performance might be over, but the work of art lives on.

The image and sound of hundreds people making noise for freedom will be worked into an audiovisual installation which will hopefully spark discussion in cultural institutions around the world. And the masks remain relevant as long as people languish in jails. So keep your eyes peeled, maybe these masks keep on showing up – as sign of solidarity and to wake people up: none of us are free until all of us are free. 

Libereco is one of the organisations in the MakeNoise.art – A Percussion Piece coalition and I was happy to be part of the core organising team.