Rooms of Dictatorship

Villa 31: The Home of Albanian Dictator Enver Hoxha

The modest three-storey building known as Villa 31 was for decades the home of Albanian dictator Enver Hoxha. Even after his death in 1985, his wife continued to live there for several more years. When I photographed Villa 31 in 2017, the interior remained largely unchanged from when the Hoxha family left the house in the early 1990s.

I felt a strong need to take these photographs in order to preserve the interiors—moving the objects to a museum would have destroyed the unique atmosphere of the place. The energy of the past enveloped me, creating an intense and unsettling experience.

Over the 30 years I have spent photographing in Albania, I have met and even come to know many descendants of the country’s former communist elite. I have also witnessed Albania’s transformation from the first days of democracy to the present. My perspective has always been that of an outsider—one quite different from someone who grew up under the regime or experienced the before and after firsthand.

Behind the colorful and—by the standards of the time—stylish interior lies a darkness stemming from the people who once lived there—a darkness that still sends shivers down my spine. I also recalled that the villa was, at times, used for official dinners with foreign politicians without any changes being made to the interior—a telling example of how the legacy of the Hoxha family was dealt with.

My sense of unease deepened in 2010 when I met Enver Hoxha’s wife, Nexhmije Hoxha, and took her portrait. That image became part of Albanian history—I was the first to capture her true character and the dark story of which she was a central figure. Even after the fall of communism, this woman was often portrayed in the media as a sweet old lady, capable of calmly explaining, justifying, and even excusing her role in the murderous tyranny of her husband’s regime.

After years of debate about what the future of the villa should be, it was eventually decided to convert it into an artist residency. The building was renovated—in the hope that its dark past could be transformed into something positive through the power of art.

This gives my photographs of the villa—untouched and unchanged since the time its former residents lived there—an even deeper meaning: they are part of history, a silent yet powerful testimony to an entire era.