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War & peace
7 min read

Diary of an invisible war

As her journalism career started, Lika Zarkaryan’s home town was invaded. She kept a diary as she reported and recalls the experience of an invisible war.

Lika Zakaryan is a writer and photographer based in the Republic of Artsakh (Karabakh).

The Stepanakert Monument
The We Are Our Mountains monument, a war memorial in Stepanakert, the capital of the Republic of Artsakh,
Photo: Marcin Konsek, Wikimedia Commons.

Once upon a time in a faraway corner of the world, there was a little republic. It was mountainous and beautiful, located in the South Caucasus. Here was the ancient Amaras monastery, where the creator of the Armenian Alphabet Mesrop Mashtots founded the first-ever school that used his script - the Armenian Letters, in the 4th century. Many other Armenian Christian monasteries and churches from the 4th, 8th, 13th and different centuries are located in this area. 

This is a magical place - the Republic of Artsakh, although you may have heard it called Karabakh. Depending on who you ask that means Black Garden or a Beautiful Garden.

Stalin’s legacy

Nagorno-Karabakh is a disputed territory between Armenia and Azerbaijan, but for me, it is HOME. The conflict over Karabakh dates back to the early days of the Soviet Union when the boundaries of a new empire were being drawn. It was Joseph Stalin’s idea to award the territory of Karabakh, inhabited by Armenians for centuries, to Soviet Azerbaijan, which produced 60% of the oil of the USSR. But Karabakh would remain semi-autonomous and Armenians actually remained a firm majority there even though ethnic crimes increased over the next decades.

In February 1988 mobs of Azerbaijanis in the seaside town of Sumgait began to attack and kill Armenians in the town. That is when Armenians in Karabakh and in Armenia rose after protests

and in 1991, as the Soviet Union was collapsing, the people of Karabakh voted to regain independence, just like Armenia, Azerbaijan and other Soviet countries. Of course, Azerbaijan didn’t like that. That is how the first war started. In the early 1990s, Armenians from all over the world came to Artsakh to fight in an intense ground war. When a ceasefire was brokered in 1994 Armenians were in control of Artsakh and several surrounding regions. So the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe’s  Minsk Group, co-chaired by Russia, France, and the United States, was charged with organizing the peace process. But negotiations failed and Artsakh was never recognized. Azerbaijan continued to dream of revenge.

A peaceful capital

This area is not so rich in natural resources, but it seems like heaven on earth. Clean mountain air, green and dense forests, pristine water from the mountains, and kind, smiling people. Here, for example, in public transport, you will never be afraid that someone might steal something from your bag. Such things do not happen in Artsakh. Children can play quietly for hours in the yard, and parents don't even think that someone can harm them. While walking in the capital city - Stepanakert, it is impossible to see any garbage on the street, people keep the environment very clean. People do not usually take their parents to the care home, but take care of them themselves and enjoy the presence of their parents until the last day. Everyone cares about each other and just wants to live peacefully in their homes. I was born in Stepanakert and grew up in just such an environment.

The first day

On September 27, 2020, we woke up in the morning to the sounds of an explosion. At first, I thought it was just a nightmare. But then, when I saw my little sister trembling with fear, I realized that it was real, and the war had begun. Azerbaijan attacked Artsakh and used various prohibited weapons, targeting ordinary people like me. My family and everyone went down to the basements, the first floors of our houses, or wherever we could hide. However, we were aware that we would not be saved in case of a direct hit, of course.

I was working as a journalist in an Armenian media outlet Civilnet at that time and could not sit idly by. My cameraman and I went out into the streets together to see what evidence we could film. I started my work as a journalist only two months before the war and it would be a lie to say that I was the most experienced one. However, at that moment there was no more time, it was necessary to get together and do what you can. Our colleagues from Yerevan, the capital of Armenia, joined us and together we began to tell stories about the war. I turned from a novice journalist into a war correspondent.

The diary of war

All my family was in this war: my mother worked in the hospital and I saw her only several times during those 44 days of the war; my brother was called to the frontline on the first day and was in the war till the end; my father, a veteran and a disabled person from the First Artsakh War, helped transport military equipment. For us it wasn’t like ‘going to war’, for us it was ‘protecting our home’. 

I started to write posts - diaries every day and post them online. Here is a paragraph from the first day: 

‘I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. No matter how much my parents insisted, I decided to go out into the city and work. I am not a war journalist, of course, but this is not simply a job. These events are happening in my Artsakh. Today, for the first time, I witnessed the traces of explosions, scattered pieces of rockets, wounded people and a drone flying and exploding in the air… I think that’s enough for a day.’

The diaries became quite popular by that time, especially after some days, when my cameraman was also called to the frontline. I couldn’t make video reports myself, and then I started to write and photograph more. I understood that I don’t want to write about politics, but rather about human beings, who suffer, hope, smile, cry, lose, and love. 

‘Today my friend Mike from the USA, also a reporter, asked the five-year-old boy Marat what he would do if he had a lot of money. We met the family of Marat in a basement of an old school. He replied, “I would buy a watch and sunglasses.” Mike took his Lacoste glasses out of his bag and gave them to Marat as a gift. “Try them on!” And Marat, not knowing how to put them on, wore them backwards. We all laughed and helped him to do it properly. They were too big for him but he was incredibly happy. We looked at the boy and said, “Marat, you have to be careful, they cost a fortune!” We all had a good laugh…’

Sometimes it was very difficult to stay resilient…

‘Day 15: October 11, 2020

It already feels like Groundhog Day. Stepanakert isn’t being bombed, at least that is how it seems so far since I’m still in the basement. The drones flew and fell, but I did not hear talk of victims. The weather was great today, but it was scary to go outside. Sometimes, it feels like I will never be able to go out into the street. I woke up at midnight and I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night from yesterday’s heavy bombing. We already can distinguish the sounds—when it’s a Smerch, when it’s a drone, when it’s cluster bombs, and when it’s us hitting their drone. It is sad that we can distinguish these sounds. But what can we do? This is our reality for today.’

During the war, I and my diaries experienced a lot. I heard that the hospital where my mother works was bombed. I headed there and found her, thanks to God, safe and sound. I saw a man repairing his garage as cluster bombs were falling; a woman making tea between an intermission of the bombs; the targeting against the civilian population; a human rights defender who could not see asking the world not to be blind; soldiers being baptised in the middle of the war; a man dying in a hospital; houses without faces; closets abandoned; toys left behind; mothers who lost the meaning of the lives - their sons… 

The war was over with our loss… We didn’t win, although we thought we will… Azerbaijan conquered nearly 70% of Artsakh. Thousands of people lost their lives, and thousands lost their homes and became displaced persons. The war continued for 44 days and 150 000 Armenians of Artsakh and millions of Armenians in Armenia and Diaspora will never forget those bloody days.

Writing the diaries for me was a way to express myself, as sometimes it seemed that I could go insane. I also felt that by doing that I am useful to others. And that is a very important factor for me. I, like everyone else, wanted to be useful. Mostly the women and children left for Armenia, to a safer place, than Artsakh. They went there to wait until the war is over, and later they came back home. I felt that people who are outside couldn’t really know what happens there. That is why I wanted to give them information first-hand. 

During the war, I met many wonderful people. I also met a director, Garin Hovannisian, who came to Artsakh from Armenia to film the war and my diaries. After the war, he supported me in publishing the diaries as a book: 44 days: Diary From an Invisible War. Together we made a documentary on the Artsakh war - Invisible Republic, which is now, after taking part in film festivals, available for watching. 

Essay
Art
Culture
Trauma
7 min read

From egalitarian to elite: 100 years of Art Deco

Birthed by a lost generation, its legacy is not what its creators sought

Sarah Basemera is a circular economy enthusiast and a founder of Canopi, a boutique for recrafted furniture.

An art deco poster shows the heads of three woman against a beach background.
McGill Library on Unsplash.

Agatha Christie, The Savoy Hotel, Cartier, The Great Gatsby, and All That Jazz sit under the gilt-edge umbrella that is Art Deco. This design movement blossomed for two decades. In 2025, Art Deco turns 100 years old. Today, it's a celebrated era for its gift to design, but what can we learn from this period, and how have the ideologies of this period stood the test of time? 

Art Deco saw  geometric patterns with rectilinear lines, rich jewel contrasting colours with luxury exotic materials, virtuosic craftsmanship, and streamlined expression in architecture, furniture, fashion, art, and jewelry.  

On the surface, this style had many muses, from traditional African art to Cubism. It linked the discovery of Tutankhamen in 1926 with the ceramics of Japan. The bold theatrical colours of the costumes and stage designs of the Ballet Russes, also made a huge impression on Deco creatives. It infused their work with the first vibrant, intense strokes of modern design.  

Over the past 100 years, we have applied Art Deco ideas in different ways, taking what we want from it when we needed to. 

It was the first truly international style, yet it had distinct local expressions. American Art Deco – such as the ornate topped skyscrapers like the Empire State building, had a different expression from opulent Parisian objects such as Cartier alabaster cigar boxes. 

The original Art Deco creatives sought to capture the essence of beauty refined to its simplest form. There was a focus on geometric shapes, symmetry and measured ornamentation.  They wanted to remove the excess frills of previous generations and refine the design.   

Under the gilt-edged Art Deco umbrella were two somewhat opposing arms – the decadent strand vs the essentialist. Today, in popular culture, we remember this period for the Roaring Twenties, excess and hedonism. The decadent strand favoured luxurious, opulent craftsmanship. Its products were attainable only by a small pool of wealthy patrons. 

The essentialist strand – "Art Deco de Moderne" began with noble intentions. They prized efficiency and simplicity, characterised by geometric rectilinear designs. These creatives wanted design to respond to the changing needs of the age. They wanted great design to be accessible to more people. Both strands recognised the power of design to elevate the human experience. They invested in the endeavour to craft beauty across the entire sphere of life, from elevated factories to generous streamlined apartments. 

Vogue Cup and Saucer, 1930, V&A Museum.

An art deco cup and saucer on display.
Vogue cup and saucer, 1930.

100 years later, the problem of accessibility of good design hasn't been fixed. Craftspeople still need to find ways to sustain a living. Handmade design from natural materials is still mainly attainable by the wealthiest. Local craftsmanship is in crisis, and many of us do not know and cannot afford artisans to make things for us from natural materials. Many skilled artisans cannot maintain workshops in our cities. 

Art Deco designers may not have described themselves as hedonists, but they certainly produced goods with this dazzling class in mind. These designers had to be at ease with this world and knew how to play its game to remain commercially viable. So why did the Art Deco Age gush with an ideology of hedonism?  

The philosophy of hedonism from the interwar period reflected the worldview of the so-called 'Lost Generation'. American author Gertrude Stein famously said to a young Ernest Hemingway years after World War I: 

"All of you young people who served in the war... You are all a lost generation . . . You have no respect for anything. You drink yourself to death ...". 

This mood was the backdrop to the literary and creative landscape of the 1920s. 

 When the Great War ended, people wanted to celebrate - play, party and travel, but euphoria for some turned to excess. The simple joys of living here and now became an absolute value. They had witnessed the horrors of war, the fragility of life and were jubilant, wishing to live life to the full. Knowing life could be cut short, the doyennes of the age swung into excess, supposedly breaking free of Christian values, only to find they became trapped in cycles of gratification that didn't deliver. "Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die!" 

This unbridled hedonism was their feast after the plague - it was a coping mechanism. They couldn't think about the future – living here and now was a maxim underpinning this period.  

The Lost Generation grasped the concept of being present in the moment, but they also discovered numbing pain was a deeply unsatisfying solution. 

Fast forward a hundred years, and hedonism is still elusive and utterly unhelpful. It still has a numbing rather than a healing effect. Perhaps its modern relative is bingeing. You know what your binge is, and so does Netflix and our NHS.  

What can the hedonists hijack of Art Deco teach us? Looking sympathetically on this era – hedonism appears to be a coping mechanism. Something humans have needed for aeons. "Do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own",said Jesus. The Lost Generation grasped the concept of being present in the moment, but they also discovered numbing pain was a deeply unsatisfying solution. 

Ideally, the weight of grief and loss must be wrestled with, carried, shared and not buried. In great pain, it is still wiser to face it, wrestle, get help and cry out to God. In our age, we have the benefit of hindsight to know that burying trauma produces unhealthy outcomes in the long term. We have the privilege of being able to access counsellors, therapists and psychologists.  

The fragility of being in the shadow of death doesn't hang over us today in the West, because we haven't had a recent World War. The closest reminder came through the COVID-19 pandemic. For a moment, we were all forced to focus on simpler things and live less frenetically.  

Another ideology underpinning the age of Art Deco was the belief in the transformative power of the machine age. In this era, confidence rose in the ability of machines.  Steamships, aeroplanes, automobiles, electrification and telecommunications were transformative innovations.  

The rise of machines represented a break from the failed past and the move into modernity into the future. Some of the more modern leaning Art Deco designers took inspiration from the shapes of the new machines and hoped that mass production would lead to more democratic outcomes, with good design being available to all. From Art Deco de Moderne, we began to learn the beauty of simplicity. Efficiency and essentialism were prized. It was the forerunner to Modernism proper. Sadly, this aspect has been butchered over the decades and reproduced unfaithfully in architecture and consumer products. The principle of celebrating the inventiveness of man slowly evolved into something less noble. The desire to return to the essence of good design was galvanised by the need to rebuild fast after World War Two, both as a sign of triumphalism but also to give the nation decent homes. Council house homes were built quickly to rehouse the nation using cheap materials. 

Today, mass production has indeed made design more accessible. More of us have access to contemporary-designed objects and clothes because they are manufactured quickly out of cheap, synthetic, non-biodegradable, toxic materials, at the sweat and tears of workers who are trapped in inhumane conditions, rarely seeing sunlight or fair wages. 

Nevertheless, 100 Years of Art Deco design has shown us that quality still endures over quantity. The Art Deco legacy of brilliant buildings made of robust materials, with subtle virtuoso ornamentation, has survived the test of time. Though more of us can enjoy contemporary design at affordable prices, I doubt we will cherish most of what we own today even 20 years from now. It is mass-produced, less durable and made from low-grade materials and built to pass. 

Art Deco teaches us, our legacy is not in our hands but in those who remember us. Today, we look back at Art Deco not as egalitarian or hopeful but as opulent and lavish. The intellectuals of that age openly lived torn by their excesses, some even dying by suicide. Yet it was meant to be designed for the ordinary person and to elevate all. By simplifying design to its essence, it was supposed to democratise design. 

From Wall Street Deco to the frivolous woos and woes of Wodehousian characters and music in the keys of Jazz, this era has made its distinguished, enduring mark on the arts. Beneath the sparkle, what has developed an enduring patina with age, is the high quality of craftsmanship across all fields. 

Looking beyond the arts, the Lost Generation has taught us that escapism is elusive and to be cautious but not charmed by machines. We can delight in excellent craftsmanship and cherish the beauty of essence. 

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