Project author: Luka Knežević Strika
June 17th – July 9th
Exhibitors: Ana Vuković, Jovan Jović, Nemanja Knežević, Isidora Popović, Viktor Vejvoda, Tadej Vaukman, Ivana Bogićević Leko, Gavrilo Petrović, Miloš Janjić, Ilir Gaši, Aleksandar Denić, Branko Milisković, Maja Žuža, Nemanja Nikolić Prika, Mia Ćuk
idle wandering, aimless ramble (tur.)
I got onto the wrong night bus, I’ve mistaken number 33 for number 31 so I found myself in Kumodraž, in the middle of the night. I looked out the window and saw a bus stop that I didn’t recognize. I thought at first that I had just passed Dušanovac, and then the ticket-validation machine announced “… something Kumodraž”. I got off and decided to walk back home. The city was quiet and empty and unfamiliar. After a long period of time I felt curious. The buildings, the trees, some street signs, some passers-by… A group of dogs started to follow me, escorting me while I was descending, saying goodbye at the outer limit of their turf, staying above me on the green-market bridge.
The photograph has some iconicity to it, it belongs to Belgrade, but it is also placeless. Its quality is poor. Someone wants a print. I start a dialogue with Denić, who paints it within an hour. Somebody else complains about some detail, Denić repaints it, one wants a print of it, other wants a painting, Denić is up for everything.
The whole time you’re in my face. You intrude me, you take up my personal space. You’re breathing down my neck. I am suffocated by our relationship. It’s my fault it’s like that for us. Somehow, we have reached the moment when we need distance and a break. And I can’t let go off you. I have nowhere else to go, yet I feel smothered being here. And then we suffer, we don’t understand and we don’t appreciate each other enough for a happy coexistance.
You don’t care, though. What is that you are able to provide to me that I can’t find anywhere else.
What makes you so special?
Lump in the throat. I bite my tongue. You are unique, I would never trade you for anything. But I have no room, and I’m suffocating, yet I’ll never leave you.
Let’s take a break. I see nothing at this moment, everything is so dense, if we are in the woods, I can only see a tree.
How long does it take to rebuild a relationship that has fallen into a drooping monotony.
Politika, 21. 2. 1921.
Belgrade last night
Suddenly, last night, the first cold autumn wind blew. Dust clouds rose. In a town where there is no water to wash down the streets, the hell broke loose in a flash. All of a sudden, the streets got emptied, deserted. The wind ruled and raged over them. It hurled dust, leaves, paper and straws in the faces of those rare passers-by. Only those who were forced to do so took to the streets. And if any of them uttered any words outside, in the streets, those were compliments of a special kind, on the account of Belgrade municipality.
Politika, October 5, 1920 (unknown author)
I would like you to see the exhibition bazanja primarily as an initiation and an invitation. While it lasts, you are welcome to use the free space of the gallery to share your own bazanja, exchanges, dialogues, your stays or departures about Belgrade. Especially if it stings you somewhere, as well as if it doesn’t, why not. Since the space is limited and I can’t be certain about the volume of responses, I ask you to contact me in order to settle the way you want to do it – there are no restrictions or selections, but the agreement will be set.
Thanks to Ivan Šuletić, Marko Milić, Jelena Mijić, Mia Ćuk, Jana Milenković, Luka Ivanović, Marko Aksentijević and Isidora Nikolić for agreeing to start the talks, which I hope will continue during this exhibition and beyond.
Photo: Luka Knežević Strika