Cold War Modern Review

The exhibition at the V&A, the Cold War Modern...

Leaves a lot to be desired, frankly. The subject that it purports to cover is so immense, and the space devoted to it so small (and possesed of such an awefull layout)... This, really, is what all the rest of my complaints would spring from, so i will not mention them here. It did cover all of the more essential points of interest of the time. And of course there was the iconic banner that advised travelers that they were about to leave the American sector... As i said, the pieces that the exhibition have were interesting, i just wish there'd been more of them.

The object that i'd highlight particularly was one that actually amused me. I was besically an oversied metal collar intended as a necklace and heralded as jewelry of the 21st century. I think the source of my amusement is quite obvious.

I'm not entirely sure that it could be said to be an element of the design, but i think i owe it to myself (and everyone else) to say that the prohibition against backpacks on backs is silly. Will not really knock down anything. (IB

Josef Koudelka's photograph 'Prague, 1968, 22 August, past midday' shown at the V and A's Cold War Modern exhibition is a powerful and compelling statement, communicating many layers of meaning. The Russian invasion of Czechoslovakia on 21 August 1968 was a brutal display of Soviet power, dictatorship and violence. Five months earlier the Czech nation had voted and achieved democracy, and in the heady days of the so-called 'Prague Spring', political freedom and social equality was briefly glimpsed by this cultured, dumpling-loving nation. But it was too much for the brutal Russian regime, who feared loss of power in her satellite countries. Troops invaded on the night of the 21st August and as planes flew overhead, the nation was terrified yet again; many had lived through Nazi invasion and brutality thirty years earlier.

I know this because my family were trapped in Prague, a few metres from Wenceslas Square (the equivalent of Prague's Trafalgar Square), the street depicted in Koudelka's picture. It is one of my clearest childhood memories. The Russians broadcast that any individual or groups of people demonstrating in the streets, would be shot. On 22 August, the Czech people, by word of mouth, told each other that their protest must be through absence, not presence.

Thus, Koudelka's photograph shows the silent, absent demonstration of a nation - no-one walked or drove on the usually crowded streets that afternoon. Instead there was an eerie emptiness and only the sound of tanks rolling on the cobblestones. Even the largest country in the world was powerless to stop such a 'non'-protest.Of course, twenty years later, as the Soviet Union collapsed and each Eastern European country threw off Soviet dominance, the Czech Velvet Revolution seamlessly achieved what it had tried to do two decades too early. My father's family, trapped throughout their lives by different regimes, once again watched history unfurl outside their bedroom window. In December 1999 I organised a fund-raising evening of drama, music and discussion on behalf of Amnesty International entitled 'Last Days of the Century'. Koudelka kindly allowed me to use this photograph for publicity, as well as the main image on our programme. He visited me from Paris and gave me a copy of this picture. As the bloody twentieth-century staggered towards its end, this photograph was my way of connecting both my family history to the larger history we have all lived through, as well as paying homage to a brave nation standing up to the main power behind the Cold War. (Katherine Klinger)