"This is from Bulgaria?" This was DJ Joro-Boro's reaction when he first saw a performance by Azis, a drag queen from Joro-Boro's native Bulgaria, on screen. Azis was on screen again the night of November 9 at Bloomfield's Brillobox, included in filmmaker Daniela Kostova's short, Body Without Organs, and again as a backdrop to the dance party that followed. The night was hosted by local DJ Pete Spynda of the band Air Guitar Magazine as part of the monthly international music night, pANdEMIc. Joro-Boro and local DJs Spynda, Caulen Kress of Centipede Eest, and Justin Hopper of Soulcialism and the New Alcindors spun the beats that rocked the bodies on the second floor. But first, both Joro-Boro and Kostova, also originally from Bulgaria, offered a glimpse into the mixing of cultures, East and West.

Bulgaria, in Eastern Europe, borders the Black Sea to the east, Romania to the north, Turkey and Greece to the south, and Serbia and Macedonia to the west. Like many countries in this region, Bulgaria at one time had a Communist government. In the Bulgaria that DJ Joro-Boro and Daniela Kostova grew up in, nothing like Azis existed. Under Communist rule, things like freedom of sexual and gender expression were forbidden, and by most accounts, so was any sort of artistic expression. Or at least artistic expression that did not fit into what a Communist government found acceptable. Communism in Bulgaria officially fell in 1989 and a Parliamentary Democracy was established and has been in place since. Such a radical shift threw Bulgaria and many of its citizens for a loop. According to the "Bulgaria" entry on wikipedia.com, "the standard of living fell about 40% [and there was] a mass exodus of Bulgarian professionals" following the installation of democracy.

With this came the influx of Western European and American pop culture. Azis, now a Bulgarian national icon, is a result of this. With his brightly-colored, flashy costumes; short-cropped, bleached hair; heavy eye makeup; and entourage of scantily-clad minion stage performers, his very existence flies in the face of Bulgaria's Communist past. "We never had a 60s. This is our sexual revolution," DJ Joro-Boro said, nodding toward the screen where Azis was shown performing. He added, "This is not the Bulgaria I know." The Bulgaria of his youth is not the Bulgaria of today. Joro-Boro left Bulgaria nine years ago to come to America "because it was worse in Bulgaria." Since then, he's lived in a small town in Oregon, in Boston, and in New York City, where he currently resides.

On one hand, the West has brought its influence to Bulgaria through things like gender and sexual expression. On the other, Bulgaria has brought its own culture to the West, as in the case of the various "Bulgarian Cultural Centers" throughout the United States. Kostova focuses on one of these "BCCs" in particular, the Mehanata Bulgarian Bar in New York City (which has recently reopened at a different location after having been closed for six months), also her current place of residence. According to a representative from the Bulgarian government, whose image is purposely blurred on the film to protect her identity, these private BCCs are not officially recognized by the government. That's fine with the proprietors of these establishments--BCCs were originally used as tools of Communist propaganda in Bulgaria. Now, particularly in New York City and Chicago, Bulgarians have appropriated the title of Bulgarian Cultural Center and recreated what that title means in their own ways.

When I asked Joro-Boro about the Bulgarian Bar in NYC, he related this story: "It was started by the owner as a place for Bulgarians to hang out. Wasn't intended as a club, began as a restaurant, then he started getting bands to play every now and then (some, but not all of them, Gypsy), then some DJs (all sorts of music), and eventually Eugene [Hutz, front man of Gogol Bordello] and I started doing nights there. In the beginning, we were doing our things independently and unaware of each other, so each had a more distinct sound (Eugene with more emphasis on punk, Russian stuff, and Balkan bass, me with more Arabic, Indian and Gypsy), but inevitably we found out about the other's gigs and influenced each other's sound."

The Bulgarian Bar as it is depicted in Body Without Organs shows well how Bulgarians and other Eastern Europeans have reinvented themselves in America. The film also gives them a platform on which to speak about their political beliefs. In addition to DJ Joro-Boro, the aforementioned Eugene Hutz was also featured in film. Originally from the Ukraine, Hutz expressed concern over how governments the world over have treated Gypsies. "It's a violation of human rights," he said, for governments to tell a people that their nomadic way of life is illegal. He also spoke on how Gogol Bordello's songs are a lot about the "American, oppressive regime," but how their American fans think they're singing about their past experiences in Eastern Bloc countries. Most audiences, he continues, are apathetic, "too cool for motherfucking school. People don't learn from history. They forget everything."

Perhaps the Bulgarian Cultural Centers in America have grown out of the fight against that forgetfulness. People of Bulgaria who came here for a better quality of life established the BCCs to remember where they came from. Doing this, however, they cannot create Bulgaria as it is again--they have to recreate it in a foreign context. "We have to reinvent, reestablish ourselves," Joro-Boro said. He talked on the film about having an American identity on a passport as a sort of social identity, but then "you have this other identity" of being from another country. Then people have the working week identity, so on the weekends, go to clubs and have that identity.

Further, just as Bulgarians left their homeland and appropriated BCCs as a new form of cultural identity here in the States, Kostova's film shows how Americans have discovered the Bulgarian Bar in NYC and appropriated it for themselves. Or, at the least, they've exploited it as a cool place to spend a Saturday night. Body Without Organs does an excellent job giving viewers a glimpse what a night at the crowded NYC BCC is like: people packed in shoulder-to-shoulder; dancers in traditional, ornamental costumes; a blend of Bulgarian folk and different music from all over the world; videos of Bulgarian singers and dancers performing Madonna songs.

But, it wasn't always like this. A few young women from Eastern Europe were interviewed as they left the Bulgarian Bar one evening. One commented on how in the beginning, the Bar drew a much more "international crowd." Now, however, it seems most of the patrons are mainstream Americans just out looking for a good party. Her comments spoke to her disappointment at this change, although the film itself never gets preachy about whether these cultural and political changes are right or wrong. It simply asks questions and observes reactions.

Throughout Body Without Organs, the interviews are interspersed with images of the above, a newly invented Bulgarian culture in America and in Bulgaria. The flashiness and fast-paced "EthnoMesh" music that DJs like Joro-Boro create lends an excitement to what Kostova's interviewees are saying. This music, according to a quotation on Joro-Boro's website, is born "out of a trans-cultural osmosis of East meets West, romantically fusing the abundant expressions of a relevant past into a shifting matrix of the now-sound of today's wayward cultural bents. That is, an unorthodox real-deal identity stamp to destroy and forge through all barriers that are politikal, social, and musical." The film shows this and the experiences of those people recreating themselves and their culture from their own perspectives. It blends interviews with music, East with West, Bulgarian with America.

Perhaps the most poignant scenes frame the film: two individuals (one is the filmmaker, Kostova) are seen walking down a crowded New York City street. They walk together, shrouded in long, blue robes with hoods. Their identities are concealed, yet they are apparent to everyone around them with their strange costumes. Then, their robes become superimposed images of different street scenes, perhaps from the same street at a different time of day, perhaps from a street in Bulgaria. They attempt to blend into the NYC street scene with their would-be camouflage, but they are still visually different than the rest of the street. Their robes then switch back to all blue, undermining their attempt to blend in, again exposing their difference to everyone around them. Then they duck into the Bulgarian Bar and take refuge. They feel safe to take off their robes and reveal their personal identities in a place that's like home in the middle of a place they've recreated as home.

Following the film, DJ Joro-Boro and Daniela Kostova opened themselves for questions. Only one question came up from the audience, wanting a confirmation of a rumor that if you have sex in the Bulgarian Bar and a bartender verifies it, you get a free bottle of vodka. Joro-Boro was able to confirm this rumor by relating a short story where he was witness to a couple receiving a free bottle for just that reason. The rest of the questions for Joro-Boro and Kostova came later when people approached them individually.

Then, Joro-Boro went to work. He spun and mixed music not only from Bulgaria, but also from India, the Middle East, Latin America, Brazil, Southern Europe, the Balkans, and America. It took a while, but more and more folks started filing in and overcoming their self-consciousness to dance. Pretty soon, the place was packed with people dancing and bumping into each other, sweaty bodies and smiling faces. After Joro-Boro played, the locals took over, each getting a turn at the tables (DJs Pete Spynda, Caulen Kress, and Justin Hopper), ensuring the dancing would continue through the night. And there was Azis, strutting and singing on the screen in the background, on mute, a new national icon sprung from the tumultuous cultural changes happening in Bulgaria since the fall of Communism. In part, these changes also served as a catalyst for the work of Daniela Kostova and DJ Joro-Boro, which we in Pittsburgh were able to experience that night at the Brillobox--the recreation of a Bulgarian identity.

by Miles Dinnen

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