From the splendid images in the Bishop's Basilica in Plovdiv to the black-and-white portraits in Villa Armira, Bulgaria is proud of its ancient mosaics, which are mostly Roman. However, while a growing number of tourists discover these centuries-old gems, a universe of newer mosaics is slowly crumbling and going to seed before our eyes.

Under Communism, mosaic-making was a venerable art form taught at the Art Academy and widely applied. Decorating the facades and interiors of newly constructed party houses, administrative offices, factories and blocks of apartments, commercial centres and prestigious projects, mosaics brought some welcome colour to the often monotonous architecture. They also served specific propaganda purposes. Their topics invariably featured real or imaginary heroes of Communist Bulgaria: strong workers, determined farmers and inspired engineers, medieval warriors and scribes, bespectacled scientists and astronauts in spacesuits, happy children and buxom women. Together, they represented the People's Republic's progress, the fecundity of its lands, the richness of its history and the strength of its nationhood.

Made by trained professionals with the intention of lasting for posterity, many of these mosaics are still here, almost untouched by time. Sadly, many increasingly disappear due to neglect or deliberate destruction, as old buildings are demolished to make way for new ones. On the following pages, we present some of the finest or most curious surviving mosaics of Communist Bulgaria.

Together with their historical, ideological and geographical background, they subtly document the life, propaganda and ideas of the People's Republic of Bulgaria.

Buzludzha

With its futuristic architecture and demanding location, the Communist Party Memorial House on Mount Buzludzha is one of the emblematic propaganda projects of the People's Republic of Bulgaria. Inaugurated in 1981, it commemorated the 90th anniversary of the beginnings of organised Socialism in the country. Its gargantuan proportions and position atop the Stara Planina mountain range bespoke a single message: Communism was here to stay.

Workers of the world, unite!

Communism collapsed just eight years later. The building was abandoned and soon fell prey to both the elements and vandalism. One of its outstanding features, the extensive mosaics in its congress hall and corridors, was among the most vulnerable victims. Covering over 900 sq m, they were created for a sheltered, controlled interior environment, not for the storms and harsh winters of the mountain. Without the protection of windows and roofs, the extensive scenes depicting Marx, Lenin and the local dictators, Georgi Dimitrov and Todor Zhivkov, enthusiastic Communist guerrilla fighters and happy Socialist workers quickly started to deteriorate. Even the slogan "Workers of the world, unite!" on the congress hall ceiling is now crumbling.

Signs of vandalism and natural decay are visible across the Buzludzha mosaics

For about a decade, the Buzludzha Project has tried to reverse what seems irreversible and to conserve and restore the mosaics. For now, work has stalled due to administrative issues, underfunding and the opposition of self-styled anti-Communists who would rather see Buzludzha in ruins than as a working museum that would attract paying visitors from far and wide. The building is now locked for safety reasons. Photos are the only way to see its mosaics.

Burgas

Atoms for peaceful uses, a mosaic in Burgas. Under Communism, Bulgaria insisted that the Soviet Union and other Communist countries used nuclear technologies for "peaceful purposes" in contrast to the "militarism" of the United States and the West in general.

Kalotina

This mosaic that glorifies the achievements and beauties of the People's Republic of Bulgaria was plastered on the Kalotina border checkpoint with Socialist Yugoslavia, now Serbia, for a reason. 

Kalotina was the exit point from the strictly controlled Communist Bulgaria to the free world. The mosaic was designed as the last reminder to travellers of all that they would leave behind should they decide to never return. The mosaic exists to this day, is well maintained, and can be seen by those departing the Republic of Bulgaria. Arrivals have to pull over after customs and look back.

Karlovo

Scientific progress was a key concept in Communist Bulgaria in the 1970s and the 1980s. By that time, the West's technological and industrial superiority had become visible even to the hardline Communists in government. 

The solution was an extensive, although not particularly effective, effort to train more engineers, encourage technological innovation and inspire rapid modernisation across industry and agriculture. The state called this programme the achievement of scientific and technological progress. Public art was eagerly instrumentalised to inspire Communist engineers and workers to contribute to the cause. Over the span of two decades, countless mosaics were installed on the walls of newly opened factories, research and development divisions and other buildings.

This mosaic in Karlovo is a fine example of the idea if not of the actual achievement.

Katuntsi

Under Communism villages in Bulgaria started to empty: after the nationalisation of land, farm animals and equipment, many people sought work in the rapidly urbanising cities. 

However, enough people would still live in the villages which made them targets for propaganda. This mosaic, in Katuntsi, in Bulgaria's southwest, depicts both the beauty of local women and the fertility of local lands. As the border with Greece is near, we can speculate that the mosaic served double purpose – as decoration and propaganda tool to dissuade people from escaping the heaven of Communist Bulgaria.

National Palace of Culture, Sofia

Inaugurated in 1981, the then People's Palace of Culture in Sofia was the embodiment of Communist government ambition to create a statement piece in the heart of the capital. 

The grand project combined concert and congress halls with elaborate, labyrinthine architecture that embodied luxury through its marbles, grand staircases and plush seats. It was also decorated by some of Bulgaria's finest artists, who created sculptures, reliefs and murals dedicated to the nation's beauty, power and rich past.

Amazingly, the extensive stone mosaic that decorates the subterranean water fountains in front of the NDK's main entrance is refreshingly geometrical. It does not feature a single worker, fighter, star, hammer or sickle. It is simply an elaborate, aniconic composition of intersecting figures.

Why did the authors, Ivan Radev and architect Atanas Agura, choose this approach? A possible explanation is that they were trying to delicately eschew Communist propaganda.

Lovech

The three mosaics on three neighbouring blocks of apartments in Lovech were created as part of a single artwork. 

The triptych "The Man and the World" combines the hallmarks of Communist public visual art: guerrilla fighters, workers and scientists frozen in hieratic poses of heroism, dedication and determination.

Sadly, these formidable artworks are bound for destruction, as the blocks are to undergo insulation reconstruction.

Omurtag

Continuity between generations of Bulgarians, from the beginning of medieval Bulgaria in the 7th century to Communist Bulgaria in the 20th century, was a pillar of Communist propaganda. The nation's history was presented as the natural result of centuries of inevitable evolution, reaching the ultimate end of history.

This mosaic from Omurtag beautifully represents this idea. It uses just three figures to depict the evolution of the Bulgarian people from medieval scribes to astronauts. The mosaic's location is not without meaning. Omurtag lies in the country's northeast, where the core of early medieval Bulgaria was. However, since the Ottoman invasion in the late 14th century, the area has been settled by Turks, who still make up the majority of the population there. The mural was meant to strengthen the idea that the Bulgarian nation has nothing to do with Turks and that Turks should be assimilated fully into it. The message was forcibly driven home in 1984-1985, when the government pressured local Turks and Muslims to change their names to Bulgarian-sounding ones and to stop speaking their mother tongue.

Plovdiv

Plovdiv is the place in Bulgaria you have to go if you want to marvel at ancient Roman mosaics. But the city has its fair share of modern mosaics as well.

The most detailed, beautiful and colourful of these adorns the staircase of the beautiful early 20th-century building of Plovdiv's municipality. It depicts, in a nutshell, the astonishing medieval and Revival Period mansions and churches that defined the city's oldest core.

Shumen

The Creators of the Bulgarian State monument, which hovers over a plateau above Shumen, was one of the larger-than-life projects that Communist Bulgaria built to celebrate the 1,300th anniversary of the state's founding in 1981. 

Most visitors are now well aware of its outstanding feature: the astonishing gallery of sculptures of early Bulgarian rulers, from the state's founder, Khan Asparuh, to Simeon the Great, who pushed the country's borders to their furthest limits.

The complex, however, also boasts a mosaic that is considered the largest open-air mosaic triptych in Europe. The twelve artists who worked on it spared no effort. The three panels are tilted at 45º, 60º and 90º towards the viewer, embodying the idea of historical evolution. Each image depicts a graphic system used by medieval Bulgarians to write: pagan runes, the Glagolitic, the first Slavic alphabet devised by Cyril and Methodius, and the Cyrillic, which is still in use in Bulgaria.

Sofia Airport, Terminal 1

Two mosaics adorn the old building of Sofia Airport, which now houses Terminal 1. Made in 1949, they are stern and bear all the hallmarks of Stalinist aesthetics, epitomising the essence of the visual propaganda of the time. One of them depicts the young People's Republic of Bulgaria, the other shows Europe at the beginning of the Cold War. Both represent the coordinate system of Communist society at the time.

The Bulgarian map emphasises the country's rapid industrialisation, with a focus on heavy industry and agriculture, along with a patriotic boost, such as a bird's-eye view of Rila Monastery, which has never been accessible by plane. Dimitrovgrad, with its smoking chimneys, also appears in the mosaic, although the town and its heavy chemical industries were founded only two years earlier, in 1947, and were still in the early stages of development. And why is Vratsa marked by something that looks like a cartwheel? Before 1944, Vratsa was famed for its carriage manufacture. The Communists eagerly nationalised the business, but as cars took over, the factory eventually closed down. The mosaic has beautifully, though unintentionally, preserved this moment of technological transition.

The map was changed twice after its creation: once as early as 1950, when Shumen became Kolarovgrad, and again around 1956, when the town of Stalin (!) reverted to its old name, Varna. Kolarovgrad has been Shumen since 1965, but apparently no one bothered to fix the name on the mosaic.

On the map of Europe, Moscow looms larger than all other cities as the natural centre of ideological, geopolitical and economic gravity for the People's Republic of Bulgaria, and Soviet cities are given preference over European ones. One example: Magnitogorsk (!) in the USSR seems to be larger and more impoirtant than Copenhagen.

Sopot

An infant is at the centre of the composition in this otherwise highly abstract mosaic, in which, after more carefully examination, you might also discern two horses on their hind legs and a tall figure with its arms outstretched. 

The mosaic still clings to the side wall of an abandoned building at the entrance of Sopot. Its exact meaning is lost now, but it probably represents the bright Communist present and an even brighter future for Bulgarians.

Ironically, since the early 1940s, the main industry in Sopot has been armaments production. Euphemistically called Vazov's Machine-Making Factories, they are now the largest of their kind in Bulgaria.

Kardzhali

As the largest city in an area with significant Turkish and Muslim population, under Communism Kardzhali predictably got a large, representative mosaic dedicated to the ancient history of the Bulgarian nation and its bright Communist future as a united nation.

The composition includes major figures in Orthodox culture and Revival Period revolutionaries, who fought against the Ottomans, such as Hristo Botev and Vasil Levski (left) as well as the founders of Medieval Bulgaria (centre). To the right is Communist Bulgaria with leaders such as Dimitar Blagoev and Georgi Dimitrov. There is also an astronaut who looks like Georgi Ivanov, this country's first man in space.

Tellingly, the mosaic decorates the facade of the regional police directorate.

Dupnitsa

These running men quite logically decorate the sports hall in Dupnitsa, which in Communist times was called Stanke Dimitrov, after a local Communist guerilla fighter.

Veliko Tarnovo

You might be surprised, but the official doctrine in the People's Republic of Bulgaria was that the country had not yet reached the true Communist state of existence. It was still working on it. 

This striving to perfection and bright future is the topic of a mosaic in central Veliko Tarnovo.

Zlatograd

Scientific-technological progress on the facade of the town hall in Zlatograd. 

Located deep in the Rhodope mountains, Zlatograd is Bulgaria's southernmost town, near the border with Greece. During Communist times, it lay within a heavily guarded zone. Mining has been a crucial part of the local economy since at least Ottoman times.