Denada Jushi
"In a tyrannical regime, people have two options: wear a mask, or become heroes."
On a rainy October Saturday, the activity "Masks That Reveal" was held in Spaç, with author Arnen Sula, curator Edison Çeraj, and mask construction by Travis Çela and Arnen Sula.
In this exhibition, each mask carries a story, a face and a narrative. There are 35 masks of the former Spaç prison administration and six masks of former political prisoners, accompanied by their authentic audio testimonies. Each of them is a memory that speaks, not to be forgotten, but to be heard.
Arnen Sula explains that the masks are created without any aesthetic stylization. “The goal is not beauty, but truth,” he says. “These masks reveal more than they hide.”
Through them, the visitor is confronted with difficult questions about fear, regret, shame and pride, two sides of a story that still seeks justice.
On one side, there are those who rejected masks and sacrificed everything with their true face, because the face is the most honest representation of a person, it is who we are.
On the other hand, there are those who served, raped, killed, and massacred in the name of a regime. Those who chose masks because their faces were not worth seeing.
"These plaster masks, taken directly from the faces of former Spaç prison staff, do not hide but reveal. They are faces without color, without expression, without makeup. Faces that look at us to force us to reflect on the present," says Arnen Sula.
This activity was decided to be held precisely in Spaç. Why? The answer is probably found in the words of Nelson Mandela:
"There's nothing like returning to a place that has remained the same to discover how much you yourself have changed."
Spaç Prison, established in 1968 by the communist regime, was a notorious labor camp built deep in the mountainous north of the country. It served to isolate political opponents, including many of the most prominent intellectuals of the 20th century.
In Spaç, life had inhumane rules; the convict was only allowed to have two pairs of clothes, an aluminum or plastic gourd, a toothbrush, a notebook, a bowl, an aluminum spoon, a mattress, and a few blankets. Enough to survive under the bloody regime.
In May 1973, Spaç Prison became the site of the first revolt of political prisoners in communist Europe, an act of courage that marked one of the most important pages of Albanian resistance to oppression. However, the prison continued to function as a labor camp until the early 90s, when the communist regime finally fell.
Returning to Spaç today is a journey of pain, but also of recognition. Each visit brings a new story, another voice that joins the chorus of memory.
It's the same pain, the same place, the same regime, but each time new evidence makes more tangible what perhaps hasn't yet been fully faced.
As you see the visitors who have braved the rain, approaching the masks, you are reminded of the words of Oscar Wilde who said:
"A man is less himself when he speaks directly. Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth."
But unlike this metaphor, none of those representing the regime ever took off their masks. Not to apologize, not to reflect on what happened. Forgiveness never came.
In Spaç, the masks on display are not art objects, but evidence that stares you straight in the eye, reminding you that silence and oblivion are new forms of violence.
"Masks That Reveal" is not just an exhibition, but an invitation to confront the past; a necessary reminder to understand the present.
Because every silence that hides evil only plants it deeper.
Spaç is no longer a labor camp, but it is still a place that forces you to think, to reflect on freedom, man, and responsibility.
This activity was held within the framework of the project "SPIRITUALITY", implemented by the organization Tek Bunkeri, which focuses on the legacy of the communist regime and the long-term effect of the system's crimes. This event brought art as a tool for reflection and collective memory.
In the end, amidst the plaster and silence, Spaç's colorless faces speak louder than any words. They will remain there as evidence that must not be forgotten.
