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The masks, which were used in early times to celebrate the mysteries,
or in the ancient theatrical acts,
are portrayals of Dionysian characters.
Dionysus himself is the quintessence of alterity,
of The Other.
The end of a year and beginning of a new one
was celebrated through disguised processions
– where the masks depicted the souls of those who died and returned among the living –
through symbolic battles, through a temporary overthrow of the natural order,
through the dissolution of the principle of identity.
All these symbolise that boundaries have been overridden,
the old year has been abolished and that chaos precedes a new creation.
Year after year the mythical time is restored and revived;
year after year the cosmogony is replicated.
The year opens with a big creation
and ends in indistinctness, in chaos.
But isn't this the humans' aspiration, to annul the profane time and live in sacred time?
Isn't this the nostalgia for eternity, for a here and now paradise?
Neculai Popa's masks and costumes tell the story of all these things.
They talk about the bygone traditions and folk customs,
about the foretime of the long-established village world and the past traditional crafts.
But again, what are all these traditional art works
other than the attempts of someone coming from a different history
to preserve and keep in the light what used to be natural, useful and quotidian?
We regard these achievements today as something beautiful,
aesthetic, something that would look good in our modern living room.
For Neculai Popa,
they intrinsically belong to his essence.
The collections of traditional clothing,
of items used within the rural household,
of wood and rock sculptures
aren't they various manners for the past
to currently look us in the eyes?
And aren't we the condescended ones looking back at this past
- that is, when we have the time (!) to look upon it?
Amongst the family photographic archive,
strewn through Tārpesti ethnographic museum's rooms,
one in particular catches the eye of the watcher.
We see Neculai Popa dressed with the clothes sewn by himself,
with a massive drum on his shoulder.
The photograph, which was taken around the winter celebrations
and now is pressed on one of the inner museum doors,
is surrounded by masks that covered long-forgotten faces.
From the photograph is smiling to us a man
who has always lived in harmony with the nature,
with himself
and with others...