Rummaging through my grandfather’s stuff, I find a small wooden suitcase. It is unusually heavy for its size and has black spots on the lid. When I carefully open the case a pungent chemical fragrance rises and a mechanism pops out. A metal frame is fitted to the lid and covered in deep black ink. Lines are carved into the wooden bottom of the case. The frame holds a white mesh. It is full of words in mirror writing on top of each other and illegible. It looks like a riddle.
Word for word I decipher the text: “Arrested in 1970, 10 years’ imprisonment, artist. Arrested in 1971, 9 years’ imprisonment, 5 years of exile, writer. Arrested in 1972, 10 years’ imprisonment, 5 years of exile, historian.”
Slowly the puzzle unravels. I discern Russian names and how long people have been imprisoned and exiled. Then I realize they are dissidents: political prisoners in 1970s Russia.
The text on the grid continues, calling for a greeting to be sent, in solidarity with those imprisoned for their beliefs. (As you can still send letters to political prisoners)
All of a sudden I realize the wooden suitcase is a portable printing press. The metal frame is a small ink screen to print leaves by hand. The words in mirror writing on the mesh and wood, are remnants of a mini print shop and hard manual labour. The small case was used by my gramps and granny to print solidarity calls.
Unconsciously, my thoughts wander to present-day Russia, where political and social activists has been muzzled, crushed or placed in solitary confinement. The small wooden case feels like a déjà vu. Or rather a mirror image of the troubled times in which we (again) live.
Note: some pictures are re-mirrored
