Butterflies Chapter 2 (Swiss Stories 2014, by Scott Typaldos) - Swiss Press Award

Die Nacht Magazine, DocPhoto mag, Archivo,

Scott Typaldos

BUTTERFLIES In ancient Greece, drifting souls were represented by the symbol of a butterfly. This was related to Psyche, the goddess of souls, who herself was schematized wearing lepidopteran wings. In searching for a title for my work on mental illness, I wanted a word that would elevate the individuals I encountered beyond the trauma and social stigma that had destroyed their lives. The word “Butterflies” quickly emerged as an image of a delicate and luminous state of being; a description of a freedom perpetually terrorized by the outside world and an unstable condition susceptible to cracking at the touch of a misplaced touch. This vulnerability of the soul, constantly contaminated by fear, became my main obsession as I photographed the human beings living in these institutions or care centers. CHAPTER 2 Before the Kosovo War (1998-1999), the Štimlje Psychiatric Hospital was funded by the Serbian government and staffed by patients from Serbia, Bosnia, and Croatia. After the change of power, the new government, dominated by the Albanian ethnic group, abandoned the hospital, leaving the infrastructure to deteriorate and patients from minority ethnic groups without care. The patients, who are mostly suffering from severe psychoses, wander the institution's corridors or gardens in poor hygienic and medical conditions. The building's interior walls and toilets are dilapidated. The staff is almost invisible, underpaid, poorly trained, unwilling or unprepared for the difficult task of caring for people in extreme conditions. The only psychiatrist on site only shows up for a few hours each week to resolve a few administrative issues. Patient visits are rare. The only commodities distributed are meals and cigarettes, for which the patients fight daily. One could hypothesize that the institution, the caregivers, and the politics responsible for managing Štimlje generate or aggravate the symptoms they are supposed to alleviate or cure. In a relationship where time and space are confused values, all attempts at connection must be made without compromise. The interiority of the soul (its anxieties, visions, and ruminations) recounts its ordeal like an open book. The camera has been inserted between the ever-fluctuating border separating reason and madness.