K2 0 balkart by van Lennep

KOSOVO 2.0

PEOPLE/POLITICS/SOCIETY/ARTS/CULTURE #6 FALL/WINTER 2013

BALKART A GUIDE TO BEING A BALKAN ARTIST VOICES WE HEAR Senior Editors Photographers Editor-in-chief Joseph Madden Nova Art Academy Besa Luci KOSOVO’S MODERNITY Jesse B. Staniforth Igor Andjelic Ben Timberlake Lucia Babina Photography Editor Thierry Bal Atdhe Mulla YU REVISITED Editorial Assistant Urska Boljkovac Hana Ahmeti Petra Cvelbar Deputy Photography Boris Cvetanjovic Editor LONG LIVE THEStaff ALTERNATIVE Writers Peter Cox Majlinda Hoxha Cristina Mari Nina Durdevic Dardan Zhegrova Dzenat Drekovic Design CULTURESCAPES 2013 Ilgin Erarslan Van Lennep, Amsterdam Contributors Juri Junkov Lum Ceku, Prishtina Jonathan Blackwood Kassner SERVING YOU Jeton THE REGION Gerhard Budima Blerta Kambo Senior Managing Amy Bryzgel Artrit Bytyci Katherine Carl KOSOVO: Û 5,- ELSEWHERE: Û 15,- / $ Haris Dedovic Online Managing Charles Esche Editor Adela Demetja Hana Marku Nenad Georgievski Petja Grafenauer Copy Editors Chelsea Haines Julie Mannell Nela Lazarevic Tim O’Rourke Shkelzen Maliqi Rina Meta Associate Editor Bridget Nurre Jurriaan Cooiman, Zarka Radoja Culturescapes FoundaLala Rascic tion Branimir Stojanovic Danijel Sivinjski Guest Editors Goran Tomcic Alban Muja Ardian Vehbiu Eriola Pira Jonah Westerman Claudia Zini Editor Michael S. Mckenna

20,-

Ivan Kuharic Andre Loyning Borut Petrlin Vladimir Popovic Eliane Rutishauser Christian Schnurer Lorenz Seidler Joze Suhadolnik Andrew Testa Tzvetan Tzvetanov Milica Tomic Srdjan Veljovic Drago Vejnovic Henriette Waal Nemanja Zdravkovic Nikola Zelmanovic Nada Zgank Almin Zrno

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Illustrations Driton Selmani Translators Dren Gjonbalaj Trim Haliti Murlan Jasiqi Sales Manager Sokol Loshi Marketing Manager Lorik Kocani Publisher Kosovo Glocal Webmaster Sprigs The Board Chairman Joan de Boer Members Anna Di Lellio Aliriza Arenliu Cover Majlinda Hoxha Atdhe Mulla

Kosovo 2.0 magazine is available in English, Albanian and Serbian. This edition is also published in German. Online: www. kosovotwopointzero. com E-mail: magazine@ kosovotwopointzero. com Letters to the editor: letters@kosovotwopointzero.com Subscribe to Kosovo 2.0 E-mail us at subscriptions@kosovotwopointzero.com or visit www.kosovotwopointzero.com/en/ magazine. Financial support The content does not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of the donors.

Printing House Raster

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR BESA LUCI

— FROM THE OUTSET, ART HAS BEEN an indispensible part of the Kosovo 2.0 magazine. We have continually ensured it presents a discussion of the way contemporary art examines, provokes, and is a part of intricate societal topics — whether they be image, corruption, religion, sex, or public space (the themes of our previous issues). However, three broader reasons motivated us to publish this arts issue. The first is grounded in the observation that, too often, today’s mainstream media and politics treats art as a private activity, as if it occurs outside of our political and social environment. In such discourses, art is often seen as secondary or irrelevant to understanding societal transformations and political actions. We notice this happening today across European centers, with major cuts in culture funds, a consequence of financial shriveling; here, austerity includes attempts to diminish independent critique. Similarly, in our region, a bidding logic in financing the art system — along with diminished institutional and almost nonexistent private support — is subject to nationalist aesthetic politics. Efforts to set up and maintain alternative art venues are seen as the battle for and of “those others,” while voices of critique and dissent are increasingly channeled through polarized politics. As such, the relationship between art and democracy, the extent to which a sense of free critique can or does exist, and the role of an artist to provoke — also offer compelling entry points to discussion. This is the second reason we focus on arts and why we

choose to focus on the experiences of Albania and the countries that were once part of Yugoslavia. Because in the midst of “uncertain transitions,” we find a generation of artists speaking to and challenging the narratives of how we’ve come to learn and interpret our recent histories, how we understand our ongoing and conflicting change. Whether through theater, film, literature, performance, or visual art, these individuals also document and offer a new analysis of emergence, both local and global. So this magazine collects the experiences and stories of individuals and practices from the region that, through art, shape or challenge political thought and action. We have also cooperated with the Swiss-based foundation Culturescapes and its 2013 Balkan program, which is enabling exchange between Switzerland and the Balkans, but which is also creating a space for further exposure, examination and collaboration among artists in the Balkans. (see “A Different Light,” p. 125). This issue also serves as a contribution to the forms and content this dialogue generates. Thirdly, our take is based not on the assumption that an excavation of the past will reveal in this region some shared cultural sphere or a singular political identity, nor on the idea that it ever existed. With all the indisputable similarities, contentions of all kinds animated the realms of politics and art. We emphasize the need to acknowledge that communist and socialist ideologies encouraged different power relations in these various spaces, and that this was not separate from how the art community organized, from what it produced, from what alternative

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— In fact, we intentionally employ Balkart as a concept in need of confrontation. We challenge the tendencies to locate and define arts from the region as predominantly and exclusively having to be shaped, produced and understood within the constellations of our recent troubled history or our “exotic” present.

movements emerged, and from how these were altered in the 1990s (see “Conceptual Art and Communication Relay,” p. 17, and “Modernization in Kosovo’s Visual Arts,” p. 24). In fact, we intentionally employ Balkart as a concept in need of confrontation. We challenge the tendencies to locate and define arts from the region as predominantly and exclusively having to be shaped, produced and understood within the constellations of our recent troubled history or our “exotic” present — that is, an understanding in which notions of identity, war, ethnicity, and conflict, dominate the discussion of or even determine what art from the region should convey. We do explore the relationship between arts and such notions, but we do it by offering readings and exposing the specific mediums, forms and language of different artists: artists who embody, question and provoke narratives produced within their political contexts, as well as those prescribed to them. Such debates, of course, still occur, but mainly in academic circles and on the platforms of art groups and centers, exhibitions and discussions, journals and catalogs. However, particular to our region, we identify the need for a more encompassing and inclusive discussion, one where our medium plays a firmer role in joining the aspirations of art as an engaged and transformative practice. Without the explicit aim of establishing an opposition, we hope our jar of pickled vegetables — of ready-made, home-made, mass-produced preserves — and the white cube — inscrutable, yet confining — inspires these discussions. — K #6 BALKART FALL/WINTER 2013

KOSOVO 2.0 RELOADED NEVER-ENDING SCROLLS WWW.KOSOVOTWOPOINTZERO.COM

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CONTENT KOSOVOTWOPOINTZERO MAGAZINE BALKART — #6 2013

BALKAN ARTISTRY: THE GUIDE How to become a Balkan artist. By Artrit Bytyci

UNDER-APPRECIATED ARTISTS OF YUGOSLAVIA Artists create in spite of state bans. By Katherine Carl

HOW ART MODERNIZED IN KOSOVO

HOME IS WHERE THE ART IS

PACI'S MOVING IMAGES

NSK State has no borders, but it has so much more. By Jonah Westerman

Video artist from Albania puts a painter’s touch on his work. By Eriola Pira

Artists in search of originality. By Shkelzen Maliqi

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CONTENT KOSOVOTWOPOINTZERO MAGAZINE BALKART — #6 2013

MILICA TOMIC COMBATS NATIONALIST ART INSTITUTION

TRUE TO HIS ROOTS Erzen Shkololli helps the Kosovo art scene forge ahead without forgetting the past. By Charles Esche

Milica Tomic’s work confronts issues excluded from institutionalized art. By Branimir Stojanovic

71 ARTISTS' COMMUNITY REBELS AGAINST ACADEMY How a group of artists created their own space to practice conceptual art when their school was unaccommodating. By Majlinda Hoxha

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CONTENT KOSOVOTWOPOINTZERO MAGAZINE BALKART — #6 2013

THE ARTIST, THE INSPIRATION

'I AM IN CONSTANT MUTATION'

Dunja Blazevic’s life reflects decades of art and has paved the way for countless artists. By Lala Rascic

Albanian artist has wandered globe for his work. By Amy Bryzgel

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108

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ART POST-BIENNIAL

PETRIT HALILAJ IN VENICE

'A DIFFERENT LIGHT'

An artist brings memories of Kosovo to Venice. By Rina Meta

Festival’s goal: Let Western Balkans culture shine for the Swiss. By Bridget Nurre

In the wake of the Tirana Biennial, a new scene emerges. By Eriola Pira

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CONTENT KOSOVOTWOPOINTZERO MAGAZINE BALKART — #6 2013

04 LETTER FROM THE EDITOR Besa Luci explores the conflicts and tensions of arts in the Balkans.

21 LIGHTS, CAMERA, TRUTH

Archival footage ends lies cast as reality. By Ardian Vehbiu

42 REVIVING THE COLLECTIVE

Curatorial group aims to turn art world on its head. By Chelsea Haines

45 ART AS A TOOL FOR CHANGE

The work of Marjetica Potrc gives hope. By Goran Tomcic

THE FESTIVALS 136 DOKUFEST RETURNS TO PRIZREN Film festival draws international attention. By Cristina Mari

141 THE MIKSER MIX Creative platform and festival isn’t following convention in its path to success. By Daniel Sivinjski

144 ICONS OF A JAZZ FESTIVAL The men and women who help define the Skopje event speak out. By Nenad Georgievski

54 INSIGHT FROM A MASTER

Suzana Milevska offers up theories on art and visual culture. By Eriola Pira

60 FROM ARMY TO ARTIST

Bosnian’s work leads the way for his country. By Claudia Zini

63 SINESTEZIJA FESTIVAL REJUVENATES HERCEG NOVI

Festival organizer Vanja “Linnch” Vikalo draws interest to the Herceg Novi art scene. By Nela Lazarevic

66 SAVING A CULTURE

Many problems need to be solved to rescue Bosnia and Herzegovina’s arts scene. By Jonathan Blackwood

151 MLADI LEVI UNITES ARTISTS AND CITIZENS How a humble Arts Festival has grown and evolved. By Cristina Mari

155 THE LJUBLJANA BIENNIAL A history of the Ljubljana Biennial. By Petja Grafenauer

158 THE LITTLE FILM FESTIVAL THAT COULD BE BIG Motovun doesn’t want to be big, but its ideas sure are. By Zarka Radoja

80 ALTERNATIVE ROUNDUP

A look at art spaces, country by country. By Adela Demetja

84 PUTTING ARTISTS FIRST

Gallery rises from small, shaky beginning to fight for creativity. By Haris Dedovic

88 THE SELF-PUBLISHING PLATFORM

Group helps aspiring authors find readers, gain relevance. By Daniel Sivinjski

129 RESIDENCY PROGRAMS FOR ARTISTS

162

116 A NEW GENERATION OF WRITERS

Regardless of medium, these writers are changing Kosovo. By Dardan Zhegrova

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Artist feedback on various residency programs. By Cristina Mari

WOMEN AND DIRECTING Female directors answer industry questions. By Jeton Budima

A GUIDE TO BEING A BALKAN ARTIST V 0.05

TEXT BY ARTRIT BYTYCI

✯✯✯✯✯ “ THE BEST THERE IS!”

JUST 10 STEPS AWAY FROM SUCCESS!

VOTED

No.1 2013

FIRST,

we would like to thank you for choosing the archetype of the Balkan artist to serve as an inspiration for your next art project. You may be contemplating a performance piece, or maybe you are thinking of a multimedia installation; in any case, if you wish your project to succeed, you must be acquainted with an accurate version of the type. To prepare for your performance, you will need to follow method acting techniques. You will need to place yourself in the shoes of the Balkan artist, but you must also live, act, eat, breathe, walk, talk, and create in the same manner as your subject. At this point, our legal department recommends that we provide a note of warning: becoming a Balkan artist isn’t easy. One of the challenges is that there is no set consensus from the experts on what it means to be an artist from the Balkan region. Furthermore, critics often have a tendency to aggregate and lump together a series of themes and characteristics that they like to call Balkan art, or “Balkart.” Because of these difficulties, this guide will focus on Working Definition 375-D from the Institute for Rampant Creativity — an imaginary, non-profit, pseudo-scientific, and faux-cultural organisation that we have just invented for this purpose.

#6 BALKART FALL/WINTER 2013

SO, YOU’VE DECIDED THAT YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW IT IS TO BE A BALKAN ARTIST? CONGRATULATIONS! YOU ARE ALMOST THERE, AND JUST AS ANY LONG JOURNEY STARTS WITH A SINGLE STEP, YOURS STARTS WITH READING THESE LINES. Artrit Bytyci was born in Prishtina and spent (the best years of) his life between Prizren and Tirana. He now resides in New York.

While you might feel inclined to start an interior discussion about to what degree an artist is a product of their environment; how that environment affects their work; and whether a person from the Balkans can ever break free from local influences in order to produce art that transcends space and time and is universal in its portrayal of the human condition. As far as this goes, however, we recommend against such ruminations — they’re only going to hinder you. If you want to be considered a Balkan artist by Western critics, you are expected to act a certain way, look and feel a certain way, and pursue certain themes. This guide will teach you how to best achieve this so that you too may embody your chosen archetype fully in your project.

1. TEAR UP YOUR PASSPORT

2. GET INSIDE OF THE BOX

YOU

cannot be considered a true Balkan artist if you are able to roam freely through the world. You have to experience the isolation associated with the denial of the basic human right that is freedom of movement. All of the Balkan countries have experienced isolation at some point during their existence; some have isolated themselves voluntarily, others were punished with sanctions, and still others simply failed to fulfill the required standards. And then, of course, there is Kosovo, a new state where, for its inhabitants, freedom of movement still seems like a distant dream. You have to experience gruesome waits in long lines at the embassy of your choice. You have to be called a liar, a cheat, and any multitude of other of degrading names. You should experience refusal. You should experience denial. You should be made to feel inferior, worthless, and helpless. If you start getting that suffocating feeling, then you are on the right path. Congratulations, you have successfully completed the first step in your metamorphosis into a Balkan artist.

order to truly make your work match the stereotypical definition of art from the Balkans, you need to forget the idea of “thinking outside the box.” You’re on the inside, and making the best of it. By now, you have probably adjusted to living in isolation and limited freedom of movement. In this step you will focus on exploring the ways in which this isolation affects the evolution of art within your chosen “box,” or Balkan country. You will try to produce original art, and you will experience how the inability to travel influences your ideas. In your attempt to be original, you will try and imitate what you think are current trends, only to fail by producing cheap reproductions. You notice that there are several topics that constantly recur in your attempts: war, nationalism, ethnicity, identity, reconciliation, state building, social collapse, survival, and all the rest. You will start focusing on each (or one) of them.

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3. THE POWDER KEG METHOD

4. WAVE YOUR COLORS

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ONE

of the essential themes for a Balkan artist is the topic of war. They say that the Balkan region is a powder keg. — so what better way to understand this term than through the use of an actual powder keg? Next step? Find a powder keg (or at least some type of a firecracker). Place it neatly inside your room and surround it with your most precious possessions. Light the fuse. Quickly escape to safety and wait for the boom. Then go back into the room and quietly observe the damage. Focus on the state of your most prized possessions: Your favorite book missing its burnt upper half; a picture of your childhood reduced to a crumpled sheet of black plastic; your damaged iPhone leaving you with no way of contacting your loved ones.

the aftermath of the explosion, try to navigate the room through a layer of thick smoke. As you cough, try to figure out what it was that started all this? Why did the keg explode? What caused it? Could it have been prevented? The important thing, though, is that you survived the blast. In the euphoria of this epiphany, you may feel inclined to pick up a flag and start waving it, perhaps hoping to clear some of the smoke with your movements. This movement causes you to have a flashback; it all started with the struggle of “us” versus “them.” Remember reading an anthropological/sociological study suggesting that the way for a tribe to band together was to exhibit hate towards outsiders. Start wondering what makes a tribe? What makes a people? What makes an ethnic group? What makes a nation? Through the same mechanism that provides us our attempts to love, to bond, and to come together, are we inherently wired to hate? Decide that maybe you want to explore the love-hate relationship inspired by nationalism a little further.

5. RECONCILIATION

6. STATEBUILDING

YOU

hate your neighbor’s guts. But you also just received a considerable grant for an art project which says that you must play nice with your neighbors. You would be stupid to allow such a chance to go to waste, and so you must go ring your neighbors doorbell. There is no answer, but you leave them a note. Then they leave you a note (you don’t really discuss anything yet — this is merely a technical note-swapping, intended to resolve the issue of who will apologize to who first). All of a sudden, the whole note-swapping business evolves into an art project of its own. You and your neighbor will agree to a one-time only, non-binding, exclusive photo-op. After the picture is taken, you should both go your own ways, as was previously agreed. But you keep exchanging those love notes. Stranger things have come happened, right?

DESPITE

everything, you probably still believe that art can change the world. You might believe that you can encourage people to participate in their civic duties through art. You may even believe that you can engage them through art. Your idealism is tireless, and it nearly consumes you before your project finally comes to fruition. But something seems wrong. You don’t get the reception that you expected; in fact, you receive the opposite. People will be disgusted, revolted, and irritated. They will say that your art corrupts the youth, and proclaim that they are ready to crucify you. You will be put on trial, and the crowd will find you guilty. You then wonder if you should bother with an apology, or just save yourself the trouble and drink the poison, like Socrates did. But then you have a lightbulb moment: any failure of these proportions is actually a kind of success.

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7. SUFFERING AND MEANING

8. A MATTER OF MONEY

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NOW

you are surrounded by poverty, misery, disease, famine, and class disparity. You must contend with fallen “aristocrats” from the old-school intelligentsia, as well as the rising stars who are now navigating the rough waters of the free market. Just as art tries to imitate life, your projects absorb these social realities. Your subjects will become the poor and the disenfranchised, but you will also explore the upper caste, the newly rich. You’ll find beauty and meaning in people’s struggles and suffering until the day you find yourself as the subject of your works; impoverished and marginal. You desperately need some money. How is an artist to survive in such a place? Through the beneficence of some Ministry of Culture? Through foreign donations?

the next phase of your transformation into an archetypical Balkan artist, you find yourself a beggar. It seems like yesterday that it was you walking the streets wondering how all of the slumped, leaning people with their hands extended in gestures of perpetual request had allowed themselves to sink so far down. But now you understand. You wait for the Ministry of Culture to knock on your door, but then you suddenly remember that Balkan countries are small, poor, and full of problems. Therefore, their Ministries of Culture tend to receive the last and smallest piece of the pie when Government budgets are awarded. You think that maybe there might be some hope of receiving a grant from an international organisation. You read the advertisement in the newspaper, and the rules are simple. You already have enough experience creating art that deals with their favored topics: war, reconciliation, and civic engagement. Maybe this will all work out. Either way you look at it (Ministry of Culture vs. some international NGO), a Faustian contract might be involved: What would you sell for money? Your soul? Your name? Your identity? Your artistic freedom? You re-evaluate the method for survival, i.e. making money. You decide that maybe you should focus on earning your keep on your own, rather than waiting for handouts from others.

9. THE SUPPLY AND DEMAND OF KITSCH 10. THE LANGUAGE OF YOUR DREAMS 16

SURVIVAL

of the fittest is the basic principle of evolution, and if you intend to survive in a hermetically sealed environment where opportunities are disappearing by the minute, we recommend that you start by filling your stomach. To do that, of course, you will need money. And to get money, all you have to do is provide a service that is in demand. The people who decide the demand, unfortunately, tend to be people whose artistic tastes, or lack thereof, are somewhat peculiar. On the other hand, though, the masterpieces of the High Renaissance were the product of free-market forces, so how bad could it be? All you have to do is let the invisible hand decide the course of your art. In the process, you might end up with a collection of kitsch sculptures to your name. You will then try and console yourself. You will consider all of this as a sort of grant thought experiment, where you are trying to figure out if art follows nature, or if nature follows art. As you struggle with the idea of “art for art’s sake,” you have an epiphany: “ars denariis gratia” — art for money’s sake.

AFTER

all of these lengthy trials, you may finally manage to break out of your long isolation. You escape to a place which promises to enable you to pursue your art in a way you couldn’t previously have imagined. You work hard, and are rewarded with achievements. You have now made it: You are now considered a renowned Balkan artist. There is one last step, however, before your metamorphosis is truly final, and this step begins once you start ruminating about your identity. You start with a series of questions to yourself: “Who am I? What is my heritage? What is my identity? Why do I still feel like Europe’s unwanted bastard?” “Who is my audience? Am I original? Or just playing to people’s expectations of what an artist from this part of the world should be? Am I just a con artist?” You suddenly wake up. The monologue and the questions were just a dream. But you couldn’t remember the language of your dream. You feel as if your identity is becoming cleaved in two. You console yourself by saying that this is common, expected — it’s totally natural. Congratulations, you have completed the final step in your quest to become a true Balkan artist. — K

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CONCEPTUAL ART AND COMMUNICA足TION RELAY

YUGOSLAV CONCEPTUAL ARTISTS ENGAGED WITH AND WORKED AGAINST GOVERNMENT RESTRICTIONS ON FREE EXPRESSION TEXT BY KATHERINE CARL

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A FIGUREHEAD OF THE ALTERNATIVE ART SCENE THAT EMERGED FURING THE 2000s IN PRISHTINA, DREN MALIQI’S WORK DEALS WITH ISSUES OF SOCIAL AND ARTISTIC CHANGE, AS WELL AS WITH INSTITUTIONAL REPRESSION. THIS IMAGE, TITLED “HOPE,” WAS FIRST EXHIBITED AT THE NATIONAL MUSEUM IN 2004.

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MODERNIZATION IN KOSOVO’S VISUAL ARTS TEXT BY SHKELZEN MALIQI

THE DIFFICULT PROCESS OF MODERN ARTISTS TRYING TO DISCOVER AND SHOWCASE THEIR ORIGINAL VOICES

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— KOSOVO IN YUGOSLAVIA, especially after World War II, was not simply an oppressed, exploited loser, as it is systematically represented in recent “patriotic” and anti-Tito histories and narratives. During Tito’s regime (1945 to 1980), Kosovo gained political, economic and cultural rights, which greatly aided the emancipation and modernization of Kosovar society. The progress built on these rights later served as an engine for raising awareness and strengthening political resistance, which also enabled the Declaration of Independence in 1991 and the achievement of independence in 2008. Although initially limited, autonomy within Serbia and Yugoslavia ensured Kosovo was a political and territorial subject. The 1974 Constitution expanded Kosovo’s subjectivity to that of a federal unit, equal to constituent republics (though Kosovo lacked the specific denomination of “republic”). Kosovo’s politico-territorial subjectivity was strong enough that, after Tito’s death, it took Serbia ten years of savage campaigning to cancel it out with violence, consequently destroying the Yugoslav federation. For Kosovo, the most important gains during the period of autonomy were ensuring the right to mass education in Albanian (beginning in the 1970s, this also included university education) and developing national culture. Consequently, the foundations of modern culture — literature, visual arts, theater, music, and film — in Kosovo were put in place at the beginning of 1945, and were naturally inf luenced by the schools of Yugoslav modernism. Unlike other socialist countries where culture was enslaved to communist ideology and dogmas, literature and arts were left alone in Yugoslavia. Tito, after he separated himself from Stalin, renounced socialist-realism in literature and arts, and supported the liberal platform of Croatian writer Miroslav Krleza. Writers and artists in Yugoslavia enjoyed broad freedoms of expression, especially including the freedom to engage in various avant-garde experiments. However, in some cases, the regime was willing to engage in campaigns against culture that it viewed as politicized and #6 BALKART FALL/WINTER 2013

— For Kosovo, the most important gains during the period of autonomy were ensuring the right to mass education in Albanian (beginning in the 1970s, this also included university education) and developing national culture. LEFT: GJAKOVA-BORN PAINTER MUSLIM MULLIQI IS ONE OF KOSOVO’S MOST CELEBRATED ARTISTS; MULLIQI’S WORKS WERE INSPIRED BY THE IDENTITY-RELATED CONCERNS THAT ANIMATED KOSOVAR LITERATURE IN THE 1950S AND ‘60S, AND DETAILED EXPRESSIONIST-STYLE THEMES OF SUBJECTIVITY AND ANGST. PHOTOS COURTESY OF KOSOVO NATIONAL GALLERY OF ARTS.

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TOP RIGHT: FAMED SCULPTOR AND ACADEMY OF ARTS AND SCIENCES MEMBER AGIM QAVDERBASHA’S “WOMEN OF LUBENIQ:” QAVDERBASHA’S CAGLAVICA STUDIO, BURNED DURING THE UNREST OF 2004, IS NOW A MUSEUM. BOTTOM RIGHT: ARTIST SIMON SHIROKA’S DRAMATIC FILIGREE WORKS WERE RECENTLY EXHIBITED AT THE KOSOVA ART GALLERY UNDER THE DIRECTION OF CURATOR ERZEN SHKOLLOLI. PHOTOS: ATDHE MULLA X2

— Unlike other socialist countries where culture was enslaved to communist ideology and dogmas, literature and the arts were left alone in Yugoslavia.

attacking the communist system and Tito. Another limitation was the censorship and banning of works considered nationalistic: these threatened the most precious value of the “brotherhood and unity” system. In this respect, there was permanent vigilance against any “nationalist deviation” in Kosovo, especially in the first decades after WWII when writers (such as Adem Demaci, Teki Dervishi) were convicted for “hostile nationalist propaganda.” Fear of aggressive ideological readings pushed Kosovar creators to subject themselves to editorial censorship and self-censorship, and thus they came to prefer forms of hermetic and symbolic expression. Kosovo’s visual arts also developed under the direct inf luence of Yugoslav schools, which were quite up to date with, or lagged only a little behind, international trends and styles. Abstract art, informel, minimalism, pop art, and hyper-realism quickly reached Yugoslavia because it was open to travelers and artists were sent for specializations and study visits to world art centers. In the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, Belgrade, Zagreb and Ljubljana were considered important to the world of conceptual art and so-called body art centers. Most significant as figures among these were Marina Abramovic from Belgrade and Braca Dimitrijevic from Sarajevo, who achieved international fame. In this context of avant-garde styles, an artist from Kosovo, Goran Djordjevic (the son of communist activist from Prizren Didar Dukagjini), is worthy of mention. Though he does not have the fame of a globally renowned artist like Abramovic, he is nonetheless appreciated as a pioneer of the retro-avant-garde, the artistic principle/ style that had an impact on the visual and stage arts of post-communist Eastern Europe (represented by the Neue Slowenishe Kunst collective, featuring IRWIN and Laibach). For that reason, Goran has earned a prominent place in the history of modern avant-garde. Visual arts in Kosovo developed at a slower rate than in Yugoslavia. During the period between the 1950s and the 1970s, artists could not do advanced avant-garde research because the art scene was small. One could count the number of Kosovar artists on one hand, and there was a lack of professional galleries, institutions, criticism, and collectors, as well as a lack of an educated and art-loving public. The art high-school in Peja was at the foundation of Kosovo’s modern art, and almost all of the artists of the older generation graduated there. Afterwards they continued their education at the Yugoslav art academies in Belgrade, Zagreb, Ljubljana and Sarajevo, where they were inf luenced by the professors and the aesthetic currents of the time. But in order to be successful and accepted, they also had to stubbornly search for their own original aesthetics, styles, and trademarks. They took from Yugoslav and global masters of the modern the basic approach and the style they liked — which gave them opportunity for inspired expression — but they always sought KOSOVO 2.0

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their own personal signature that would highlight them as original artists, the ideal of that time. In Yugoslav art there was no dominant style but rather a span of various impulses, from neo-impressionism to neo-expressionism, to the various currents of abstract art, surrealism, informel, minimalism, pop art, and other related movements. In Kosovo too, there was no dominant art style between the 1950s and the 1990s. Style, rather, remained a matter of authorial choice, and the older generation had no tolerance for new artists who did not use classical mediums (paintings, sculptures, graphics) but rather expressed themselves through new mediums (installations, videos, performance) or made art without the artifact, without the work, using concepts only. The freedom to choose one’s own modus operandi, tempered only by the need to find an individual trademark and style, developed among the majority of Kosovar artists the inclination to combine international styles (such as free figuration, symbolism, and abstraction) with figurative local and identity elements, which they understood as part of their individuality and uniqueness within the complex Yugoslav context and beyond. Even Yugoslav visual arts schools ref lected this tendency, since they continued pre-modern and modern figurative Slovenian, Croatian, and Serbian traditions, while the Yugoslav context was just a complex frame that could not press the styles it contained together into a singular whole. What then made Kosovar art unique was its combination of international styles with characteristic identity motifs of Kosovo as a social environment with a specific figurative pre-modern tradition, and with the unique spirit and climate of expectations for rapid transformation and emancipation from centuries of backwardness to a modern and enlightened society. The figurehead of Kosovar painting, Muslim Mulliqi, a first class master who found himself in a figurative expressive style, was inspired by the social and identity themes of Kosovar literature of the 1950s and 1960s (Esat Mekulli, Hivzi Sylejmani, Ali Podrimja). These included the unequal position of Albanians in the Yugoslav Kingdom (ref lected in his famous work “Hamalli – The daylaborer”), and the ominous actions of the State Security Administration, known as the UDBA, in the 1950s, a period known as the time of Aleksandar Rankovic (chief of the Yugoslav secret services). Mulliqi also subtly approached the idea of resistance in a series of paintings about the Albanian towers (kullas) with the Albanian Alps in the background. These works were figuratively powerful and well-realized, calling to mind Albanian stamina, and also represented grief at the grim reality of those mountains dividing the Albanian nation. Xhevdet Xhafa’ opus “Autobiografia” (mostly grim, large format paintings), presents a successful combination of informel as an international style (Alberto Burri, Antoni Tapies, Gabriel Stupica) with different materials drawn from daily life and Albanian folk art, used in an original manner. This approach is clearly visible among many other artists, such as Agim Cavdarbasha, Tahir Emra, Gjelosh Gjokaj, Rexhep Ferri, Engjell Berisha Befre, Simon Shiroka, and Agim Salihu. These artists have their individual and distinctive styles, and their research draws on different sources, from poetic and symbolic figuration to abstraction, but they always find a way of combining it with the forms, nuances and ideas of the Albanian vernacular, without being tripped up in the pitfalls of folklore. The uniqueness and quality of Kosovar visual arts was noted in Yugoslav circles and led to the presentation of Kosovo’s artists in prestigious galleries, as well as in collective exhibitions that Yugoslavia sent out to different countries of the world. In addition, due to the lack of quality artistic criticism in Kosovo, the most substantial evaluations and analyses of Kosovar art were until recently done by Yugoslav critics. In this respect, a very positive assessment of Kosovar art’s place in Yugoslavia was given by Croatian critic Vlado Buzancic in a 1998 monograph, in which he firmly #6 BALKART FALL/WINTER 2013

— Visual arts in Kosovo developed at a slower rate than in Yugoslavia. During the period between the 1950s and the 1970s, artists could not do advanced avantgarde research because the art scene was small. One could count the number of Kosovar artists on one hand, and there was a lack of professional galleries, institutions, criticism, and collectors, as well as a lack of an educated and art-loving public. TOP LEFT: ALBANIAN PAINTER XHEVDET XHAFA’S MAGNUM OPUS, TITLED “AUTOBIOGRAFIA”, RECALLS THE WORK OF ARTISTS LIKE ALBERTO BURRI, ANTONI TAPIES, AND GABRIEL STUPICA; XHAFA USES MATERIALS AND IMAGES DRAWN FROM ALBANIAN FOLK ART AND DAILY LIFE. BOTTOM LEFT: PRISHTINA-BORN GRAPHIC ARTIST AGIM SALIHU’S “RETURN TO THE ACCURSED MOUNTAINS” REFERENCES THE BLEAKLY SUBLIME TERRAIN OF ALBANIA’S PROKLETIJE MOUNTAIN RANGE. PHOTOS COURTESY OF KOSOVO NATIONAL GALLERY OF ARTS.

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— What then made Kosovar art unique was its combination of international styles with characteristic identity motifs of Kosovo as a social environment with a specific figurative pre-modern tradition, and with the unique spirit and climate of expectations for rapid transformation and emancipation from centuries of backwardness to a modern and enlightened society.

TOP RIGHT: PRISHTINA’S ALBERT HETA CAUSED AN UPROAR — AS WELL AS REMINDER OF ART’S SOCIAL POWER — AT THE 2004 CENTINJE BIENNIAL, WHERE HE RENAMED THE CITY’S OLD EMBASSY OF THE KINGDOM OF SERBIA AS “THE EMBASSY OF THE REPUBLIC OF KOSOVO,” AND ADORNING THE BUILDING WITH ALBANIAN FLAGS AND EMBLEMS. BOTTOM RIGHT: MEHMET BEHLULI TOOK PART IN THE “UNITED COLORS OF BENETTON” EXHIBIT, SHOWN IN PEJA IN 1999. THE EXHIBITION TOOK PLACE IN A ROW OF SHOPS FORMERLY OCCUPIED BY LOCAL GOLDSMITHS, WHICH WERE DESTROYED IN THE CONFLICT OF 1999. THE THEME OF THE EXIT- AND BALKAN SUNFLOWERS-SPONSORED SHOW WAS “MAKE ART, NOT WAR.” PHOTOS COURTESY OF THE ARTISTS.

concludes that “Kosovo today gives Yugoslavia (at least) fifteen figurative artists worthy of representation!” He then lists 18 names, of which 16 are Albanian: Xhevdet Xhafa, Engjell Berisha, Muslim Mulliqi, Shyqeri Nimani, Nusret Salihamixhiqi, Agush Beqiri, Matej Rodiqi, Agim Salihu, Tahir Emra, Agim Cavdarbasha, Gjelosh Gjokaj, Fatmir Krypa, Hysni Krasniqi, Daut Berisha, Nebih Muriqi, and Lazer Lumezi, while two are Serb: Slobodan Trajkovic and Svetomir Arsic - Basara (the order of authors is that of V.B.). In the 1970s and 1980s, with the establishment of the Faculty of Arts within the University of Prishtina (1974) and the Art Gallery of Prishtina, Kosovo’s visual arts became more autonomous, since new generations of artists no longer had to go to Yugoslav centers (except for specializations) and had more spaces for exhibitions and promotion without being dependent on the Yugoslav context. Moreover, in those years the desire grew for a nationally determined visual arts school. This was also inf luenced by the establishment of cultural contacts between Kosovo and Albania in the 1970s. Although the social-realist school of Albania had nothing in common with Kosovo’s modernist currents (on the contrary, rejecting the latter as bourgeois decadence), in Kosovo this art was respected if not for the strict subordination to ideological dogmas, then for the ability of the masters to make aesthetically pleasing works. However, uniquely Kosovar art, with all its rapprochement and fusion with Albanian art, did not have the opportunity to develop naturally after the 1980s, when the border between Kosovo and Albania was closed again and Serbian political and cultural repression of Kosovar Albanians returned. In the ‘90s, Serbia revoked Kosovo’s autonomy and closed or took over its cultural and educational institutions, creating circumstances of parallel organization of educational and political activities, under which culture contributed to resisting repression and keeping alive feelings of national and creative dignity. The Prishtina Faculty of Arts worked in private homes, while exhibitions were held in cafés and restaurants. The thrilling resistance of those years brought to Kosovo a new spirit of postmodern art, which reacted both to Serbian oppression and to the conservatism and academization of Kosovar visual arts, where the older generation continued to oppose new forms of expression (such as video, performance, and installation). In the mid 1990s, Sokol Beqiri organized the first exhibitions with objects and installations, and at that time Mehmet Behluli made a similar change from paintings to new mediums. The establishment of the Dodona private gallery in the Kater Llullat neighborhood in Prishtina, where art was exhibited between 1997 and 1999, contributed to the affirmation of the new current. Besides Beqiri and Behluli, Erzeni Shkololli and Albert Heta also thrived during that period. The most important event of the era was the KOSOVO 2.0

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Kosovar art exhibition “Pertej – Beyond,” organized at the Centre for Cultural Decontamination in Belgrade in June 1997, where works of Sokol Beqiri, Mehmet Behluli and Maksut Vezgishi were exhibited, as well as Ilir Bajri’s musical installation “Pertej.” The latter was a provocation for Belgrade, a protest exhibition with figurative language opposing the Serbian regime and violence. This was also experienced as a provocation among the conservative circles in Prishtina, who considered any form of “cooperation” with Belgrade as “treason.” Reactions to “Pertej” resulted in Kosovar conceptual artists being invited to the Cetinje Biennial (1997) and the Tirana Biennial (1998), and afterwards to many other international exhibitions. After the war, new forms of expression in art became attractive for many talented artists who enriched the visual arts scene and made it more dynamic. These included Jakup Ferri, Lulzim Zeqiri, Dren Maliqi, Driton Hajredini, Alban Muja, and Fitore Isufi Koja. Although the University of Prishtina’s Faculty of Arts remains conservative and hardy accepts innovations, the style of new artistic practices has virtually become the mainstream of the post-war art development. This happened thanks to some events that became canonical (Tomorrow’s Artist, International Exhibition Prize Muslim Mulliqi, for example), projects funded by foreign foundations (Missing Identity and Exit gallery in Peja, 2003-2007), and contemporary art courses led by Mehmet Behluli with the occasional participation of other artists, including Sislej Xhafa, who developed his artistic career in the West. Understandably, the Art Gallery has also contributed greatly to the promotion of all forms of contemporary art, especially through providing a space for young artists. — K Shkelzen Maliqi is a philosopher, publicist and art critic. He lives in Prishtina, Kosovo. He was recently appointed regional adviser to Albanian Prime Minister Edi Rama.

TOP LEFT: THE EXHIBITION "PERTEJ" DISPLAYED THE WORKS OF MULTIPLE ARTISTS INCLUDING SOKOL BEQIRI, WHOSE INSTALLATION "FLUTURON, FLUTURON" OR "FLY, FLY" IS SHOWN HERE. BOTTOM LEFT: A VIEW OF THE EXHIBITION-SPACE, AS WELL AS A SELECTION OF THE INCLUDED INSTALLATIONS. PHOTO: VLADIMIR POPOVIC X2

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— Kosovo’s visual arts became more autonomous since new generations of artists no longer had to go to Yugoslav centers (except for specializations) and they had more spaces for exhibitions and promotion without being dependent on the Yugoslav context.

ADRIAN PACI: MOVING IMAGES TEXT BY ERIOLA PIRA / PHOTOS COURTESY OF KAUFMANN REPETTO, MILANO

ALBANIAN ARTIST TRAINED AS A PAINTER USES VIDEO TO TELL HIS STORIES

KOSOVO 2.0

— Through video, painting and performance, Paci’s work has mined and showcased personal stories, social rituals and collective experiences, as well as the history of cinema and art itself.

— THERE IS A PHOTOGRAPH of Albanian artist Adrian Paci that accompanies most writings, interviews and press materials about him — including this article. Do you see it? Adrian is looking straight at you. His left arm is wrapped around an illuminated screen and his palm is opened up. He seems to be waving at you rather than performing any shadow tricks. That’s Adrian: at once in the foreground and the man behind some of the simplest yet most expressive, poignant and iconic images in contemporary art. Leaving Albania in 1992 for Italy, Paci enrolled at the Scuola Beato Angelico in Milan to study art and liturgy, where he was also exposed to abstractionism and expressionism. These were the two dimensions of art that artists in communist Albania were prohibited from practicing: the spiritual and religious, which are at the core of both iconography and the nonrepresentational. Ever since, his work has synthesized the distinction between these two artistic modes as well as that among any media. As a result, his work has emerged as an earnest, poetic and critical engagement with a contemporary human condition marked by displacement, transience and the search for identity and meaning. Through video, painting and performance, Paci’s work has mined and showcased personal stories, social rituals and collective experiences, as well as the history of cinema and art itself. Even though he was trained as a painter, he has gained a reputation as a video artist, especially after the acclaimed “Albanian Stories” in 1997. In this video, his three-year-old daughter tells a fairy tale involving a cow, a rooster and a pig alongside soldiers and “dark” and “international” forces. A child’s #6 BALKART FALL/WINTER 2013

imagination is marred by the harsh reality of the family’s upheaval from civil war-like conditions in Albania to Italy. For Paci, to capture his daughter’s naive yet disturbing narration by any other means but video would have been insufficient and disingenuous. Thus began his relationship with video as a means to not only let stories like that of his daughter be told unfiltered, but also to blur the lines between fiction and reality, capture performances and constructed situations, and ultimately to explore the medium of video itself, especially its painterly qualities and potential. Paci’s recent return to painting — via video — with such renewed interest and intensity invites attention and a review of the relationship between painting and moving images in his oeuvre. While painting has been declared obsolete, demode and irrelevant in our image-saturated visual culture, Paci, like many of his contemporaries, has used video and the cinematic mode as a means of reinvigorating painting in distinct but integral ways. He has tackled head-on what it means to be a painter and to believe in painting as a medium. In these and other videos, he exhibits qualities that can be described as painterly despite the digital brush strokes used to achieve this effect. While his paintings, etchings, and drawings, on the other hand, are often distilled and transfigured from video and film footage. Through his early video work, one can trace his development from a painter (and a traditional one, at that) to a contemporary artist as he contends with the role and fate of the painter — painting not only in the art world, but also in the world at large. For example, after painting passport control stamps ➳ 49

1. A STILL FROM THE 2007 VIDEO “CENTRO DI PERMANENZA TEMPORANEA."

2. STILLS FROM "PER SPECULUM" (2006) ILLUSTRATE PACI'S VISUAL ELEGANCE AND FORMAL COMPOSITION. 3. THE SEQUENTIAL NATURE OF DRAWING SERIES LIKE "PASSAGES" (2007, 2009) SUGGEST THEIR VIDEO FOOTAGE SOURCES.

directly onto his daughter’s shoulder blades (“Exit,” 1999) and being reported to the police by the photo lab developing the pictures that documented the project, Paci restaged his interview with the authorities for his 2000 video “Believe Me I’m an Artist.” And the installation “Piktori” (2002) features a video interview with a fellow Albanian artist who has set up shop as a forger of such varied things as official documents and masterpieces of Western art and who then proceeds to forge a death certificate for Paci. In “Nobody is Romantic Anymore” (2008), Paci returns to the question of the painter through the Albanian artist Ilir Zefi. Living in New York City after a few years in Italy, Zefi is represented as steadfast in his idealism about painting and the artist’s position in society. In all of these works, the irony, introspection and critical sensibility of each artist saves him from becoming impotent and ineffectual. Paci’s video work overall exhibits painterly qualities, techniques and art historical references such as chiaroscuro, color, framing and compositional devices to compelling ends. The effect is often so striking and iconographic that particular frames from his videos come to stand for the whole and can circulate as images on their own right. Videos such as “Turn On” (2004), “Centro di Permanenza temporanea” (2007) and “Per Speculum” (2006) best demonstrate his ability to generate visually elegant and formally composed works. “Britma,” a short 2009 video, shows two children running in slow motion as the image becomes blurred and ever more abstract. One is holding a stone and, almost imperceptibly, his open mouth comes to resemble Edvard Munch’s iconic painting “The

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KOSOVO 2.0

THE ACADEMY VS. THE INDIVIDUAL TEXT BY MAJLINDA HOXHA / PHOTOS COURTESY OF THE ARTISTS

HOW STUDENTS CREATED THE WORK THEIR SCHOOL TAUGHT THEM NOT TO

ARTISTS LULZIM ZEQIRI, JAKUP FERRI AND DRITON HAJREDINAJ CAMP OUTSIDE THE NATIONAL GALLERY IN THE HOPES OF ENCOUNTERING ALBANIAN CURATOR EDI MUKA, AN EFFORT THAT THEY DOCUMENTED TO MAKE “WAITING FOR CURATOR” (2003).

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LULZIM ZEQIRI

Zeqiri recalls the difficult days of studying art immediately after the 1999 war. “We asked for more than just to draw or paint an apple.”

Saturday 27/03/10 13:35 I arrived at Prishtina’s airport. — AFTER A FEW HOURS with relatives, I hit the streets of my hometown. Eleven years had passed since I last explored the city I was born in. In the early hours of Sunday morning, I found myself in a small house in a residential area at Prishtina’s center. When I entered from the back door, the Talking Heads were blaring from the sound system. The location, smell, lights and corridors, combined with my amazement, had somehow blinded me to the amount of people who were in and around the small house. By the time I entered the main room all of my senses were fully awake. I realized that a video of a Talking Heads concert was being projected on one of the walls, and people with beautiful, carefree, and expressive attitudes were occupying the space. A small improvised bar stood in the right-hand corner of the room. I ordered my first beer, and it was served in a big plastic cup. I don’t fully recall if it was the plastic cup or the intense 72

juxtaposition between the place and the surrounding city, but that precise moment marked the beginning of my love affair with Tetris Hapesira Manipuluese. This was no ordinary place, no ordinary club; in the middle of a city full of cafes and bars, it was not like any other venue. People were dancing, talking, drinking, flirting, and a sense of familiarity permeated. I felt at home. Soon, I found myself playing with the idea of having an exhibition there. It was, I thought, the perfect

— These events and this space were unfolding glimpses of a parallel scene, a scene that was more honest and current than the “official” discourse concerning contemporary art.

archetype of an artist-run gallery — though at that point I didn’t even know that this was precisely the case. In the following weeks, I dived into Prishtina’s socalled cultural scene and visited a few exhibitions and shows. On my first visit to the National Gallery, I found myself deep in discussion with a professor from the Prishtina Art Academy, and it was a conversation that clearly conveyed the relationship between the institution and the world of contemporary art. He told me that photography is not art and that, if I wanted to practice art, I had “to grab a brush or sculpt.” The conversation was reminiscent of the early 20th-century debate over photography’s credibility as an art form, and thus it immediately had the effect of placing the Art Academy of Kosova a century in the past. My uneasy interaction with the professor left me with a bad taste in my mouth, as well as with the desire to down one of those plasticcup beers back at Tetris. KOSOVO 2.0

A few months later, Tetris had turned from a vibrant night-hub to an exhibition space full of activity. The first such exhibition was Erzen Shkolloli’s Perspektiva, which showcased a mix of mediums and artists; included were a bunch of Qendresa Deda drawings; Bardh Haliti graphic works; photographs by Astrit Ismaili and Jakup Ferri; paintings by Mehmet Behluli; and Dren Maliqi’s installations. That event marked the start of a series of alluring and thought-provoking shows that were to take part in Tetris. These events and this space were unfolding glimpses of a parallel scene, a scene that was more honest and current than the “official” discourse concerning contemporary art. It didn’t take long until I officially met the owners of Tetris, Vigan Nimani and Alban Nuhiu. Both also happened to be the owners of Tingell Tangell (a cute little cafe/bar in central Prishtina). The latter venue is fully covered with murals and paintings by local artists, 72

XHONI DEPO WAS ONE OF SEVERAL ARTIST HANGOUTS THAT EMERGED AFTER 2006.

STUDIO BY DAY AND PARTY SPOT BY NIGHT, INTERNET DISCO INSPIRED THE CREATION OF OTHER INFORMAL MEETING PLACES FOR YOUNG ARTISTS.

THE BAND CREME DE LA CREME PERFORMS AT INTERNET DISCO, AN EARLY EXAMPLE IN KOSOVO OF A PRIVATE STUDIO BECOMING A COLLECTIVE, ARTIST-RUN PUBLIC SPACE.

THE INTERIOR OF XHONI DEPO. THE SPOT WAS NOT EXACTLY A GALLERY, BUT RATHER A MEETING PLACE FOR YOUNG ARTISTS.

“THE GROUND ON WHICH I STAND” (2011) BY NIR ALON AND GAZMEND EJUPI AND CURATED BY MICHELE ROBECCHI WAS SHOWN AT TETRIS.

THE OWNERS OF TETRIS: A FREE, CREATIVE SPACE INVITED THE FOLK MUSIC GROUP ZIADINIS TO JAM.

ORGANIZERS SET UP THE FIRST EXHIBITION AT TETRIS, PERSPEKTIVA (2010), CURATED BY ERZEN SHKOLOLLI, WHICH FULFILLED THE PLAN TO MAKE TETRIS A LABORATORY AND CREATIVE SPACE.

ARTIST JAKUP FERRI DISPLAYS ONE OF HIS HANDMADE LAMPS IN XHONI DEPO.

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ALBAN NUHIU

Nuhiu, artist and co-owner of Tetris: Space for Manipulation, says the National Gallery is better than ever.

a real treat in the city known for its macchiatos. Through my new found friends, I learned more about this sense of a division between what I will call “institutionalized art” (anything that has to do with the so-called art academy or academia) and the parallel, “alternative” scene. In order to learn more about this divide, I then had to learn more about the 11 years I had been away from my hometown. I sat down with some of the pawns on the board of this ongoing “game of parallels:” Lulzim Zeqiri; Dren Maliqi; Bujar Sylejmani; Alban Muja; Vigan Nimani; and Alban Nuhiu, who helped me decipher some of the different elements and events that made up this dichotomy. What this group has in common is that they were all students at the Art Academy at University of Prishtina in the immediate aftermath of the 1999 war. All eager to study applied art, they had to endure a pedantic application process and acceptance exam which, according to Lulzim 74

Zeqiri, required students to possess drafting and painting skills without any concern for creativity or innovation. These technical aspects of the craft, as Lulzim explains, were the main thrust of the Art Academy; by one’s fourth year of study, perhaps, you could experiment a bit; maybe you could “slightly change the shape of the apple in your still life,” he says. For Alban Nuhiu the academy was “monotone,” and the nature of its system made the experience incredibly boring. Dren Maliqi reflects on academia as a space where only the “technical side was accepted from students”, and as a space “that had and has no [concern with] conceptual ideas.” How is an artist to experiment and explore when they are required to focus solely on their craftsmanship without any focus on critical debate and conceptual thinking? Zeqiri believes that his motivation to remain creative was solely due to the friendships and relationships that students maintained with each other. “What was

essential in this development for me, and I believe for the others as well, was that we asked for more than just to draw or paint an apple,” he says. The space they shared at the Art Academy became their meeting space as well, a place where they would spend most of their time together reflecting, questioning, and creating together. These after-hours sessions were free of the Academy’s stiflingly conservative ideas, and allowed the group to flirt with new ideas, new concepts, and new media. When asked what was the one situation that opened them up to engaging with different mediums in art, the group were quick to point out the 2002 Summer School session in Prishtina University. That year, a course on contemporary art titled Duchamp Effect was held under the supervision of visiting lecturer Sislej Xhafa (a contemporary Kosovar artist based in New York), and organized by Mehmet Behluli (a professor at the academy and one of the key characters in the parallel KOSOVO 2.0

scene that was taking shape at the time). “That rattled the thinking of a majority of the students,” Dren Maliqi remembers. Alban Muja goes as far as to say that “from all the contributions that Xhafa did in Kosovo, that was by far the largest.” The lectures’ goal was to provide an alternative way of thinking about art, an alternative that was different from (and opposed to) the conservative approach of the Art Academy. The effect was almost immediate. The lectures sparked a furor of critical debate amongst the students, and it was all happening after hours at the university’s studios. It was there that the students finally had the luxury to discuss art openly and to create work outside of their “official” school requirements. The studios, it seems, were the only good thing that the academy provided. For Bujar S., his four mundane years at the academy did not stop them from working, but the only works that truly represented their emerging

VIGAN NIMANI

Nimani and other artists found a private refuge from the Art Academy, but later opened it as a public creative space, Internet Disco.

philosophies were the “unofficial” ones — the after-hours works, the collaborative ones. According to Lulzim, “those late nights were like an “extra school, an extra experience that made us infiltrate art in a way that opposed the strictures of the academy.” The lack of conceptual undertaking by the Art Academy, the feeble studentprofessor relationships, and the need for more studio space (among other grievances) ultimately provoked a two-month strike, as well as the drafting of a petition by this group of students. The document outlined 14 requirements and nine admonitions, and gained around 200 signatures. It failed. “Failure was guaranteed, but at that time, it was about the only decent thing to do,” says Bujar. It was this event that lead to Dren Maliqi’s detachment from the Art Academy, from which he abruptly dropped out. His engagement and commitment within the alternative scene, however, continued. The others

endured the divide, working in parallel to the Art Academy while continuing to attend the institution. Other significant events that need to be mentioned here are two exhibitions held (respectively) in 2002 and 2003. These were titled Ne (We) and Ju (You), and were curated by Zeni Ballazhi. These exhibitions marked the start of at least one institution’s solidarity with the young artists, and the institution in question was the National Gallery in Prishtina. The mainstream media treated these events as rifts in the art scene. To illustrate the sense of bifurcation that existed at the time, we can simply look at some the article titles: “Where Are Our Visual Arts Heading” asked Koha Ditore; “The Youths Don’t Recognize The Old Guard” stated Zeri in 2003; at the time, there existed the sense of a changing era. Back then, the word on the street was that Albanian curator Edi Muka was preparing to visit the city. #6 BALKART FALL/WINTER 2013

There was no information regarding when and how this visit was going to take place, so, as Lulzim recalls, he, Jakup Ferri, and Driton Hajredinaj decided to camp out in front of the National Gallery and wait for him. That is how “Waiting For Curator” — one of the most talked-about works at the time — was born. The group documented their actions with a photo, this work ended up breaking a few borders and made its way to

— “Some of the works were so outrageously impudent, cunning, and humorous, that, given the political situation prevailing in the country, I was almost lost for words.”

exhibitions both inside and outside of Kosovo, including Edi Muka’s “the fish doesn't think, coz the fish knows everything”, held in 2003 at the National Gallery. That exhibition was attended by the well-known German curator René Block, who was visiting Kosovo in the hope of discovering new artists from the region. “Some of the works were so outrageously impudent, cunning, and humorous, that — given the political situation prevailing in the country — I was almost lost for words. Yet you realized that they deserved a chance,” said Block in his preface to the catalogue of the In the Gorges of the Balkans: a Report exhibition, held in Kassel in 2003. The exhibition showcased the art and cultural scene of the Balkans and featured, from a total of seven Kosovar artists, three young contemporary artists who were still students: Dren Maliqi, Jakup Ferri and Driton Hajredini. For Block’s next project, at the fifth Cetinje Biennial in 2004, he added Lulzim 75

BUJAR SYLEJMANI

Sylejmani, a student at the Prishtina Art Academy soon after the 1999 war, believes little has changed there.

— This shows how the alternative spaces of the parallel scene have embraced the current art scene in a way the “official” bodies still have not.

Zeqiri’s video work White Map and Alban Muja’s Free Your Mind. Central to the events that followed, say the group, was the involvement of a couple of organizations: The Center for Humanistic Studies “Gani Bobi”, and Exit. “Gani Bobi' was founded by Shkelzen Maliqi, and concentrated on projects to provide alternative education. Meanwhile, Exit was founded by artists Sokol Beqiri and Erzen Shkololli from Peja, and it was committed to promoting and organizing various events on visual contemporary arts, socio-cultural theory, and 76

critical thinking. Exit was also, as Alban Muja recalls, “the epicenter for meetings with international curators,” and it was through these meetings that they were introduced to the art that was happening outside Kosovo. Bujar Sulejmani remembers the workshops, recalling their thirst for information and how crucial the exposure to this information was, considering the Academy’s limit to information. “We had access to a few books [some internet sites] from which we could extract information. It was definitely like an infusion for us,” he says. Both organizations were sharing the same space, and

by 2003 they joined forces for the project “Missing Identity,” which was funded by Germany’s Kulturstiftung des bundes foundation. The goal of “Missing Identity” was to engage young artists in workshops such as The new forms of artistic expression, led by Shkelzen Maliqi and Mehmet Behluli, and the exhibition kurs 03 : koktej enigmatik (Course 03: Enigmatic Cocktails) which was held at the National Museum of Kosovo in 2003, and featured the works created during the previous workshops. This exhibition featured works created in the Academy’s studios, but they were certainly not of the Academy in anyway; shape or form. As Muja says, “these works were not to be shown at the Academy; [they existed] to be shown to friends, and eventually to curators that might happen to pass by the country.” By 2004 “Missing Identity” started publishing the monthly Arta (an addendum to Java Weekly), ultimately printing 13 issues. This KOSOVO 2.0

served as a platform where the issues facing the contemporary scene could be discussed. Considering the division between the Academy and the alternative scene, it is no accident that the cover of the first edition of Arta was a photographic work by Driton Hajredini called “I swear to you I'm a painter.” A self-portrait of the artist wherein he has solemnly lain his right hand on the top of the book Vitamin P (one of a handful of the contemporary international publications that Dren calls the group’s “holy books”), the image is a stark depiction of an art scene desperate to broaden its reach. By 2004-5, the group were all graduates, and they had a few national and international exhibitions under their belts. Having been established, they left the constraints of the Art Academy — but there was one thing that they were going to miss: the studio spaces. As Vigan Nimani recalls, him and Jakup Ferri decided to solve this problem by splitting the

ALBAN MUJA

Muja recalls a ground-shaking course on contemporary art in 2002 by visiting lecturer Sislej Xhafa.

rent on a new, private space. This soon became the gang’s unofficial headquarters, a place where the dialogue, debate and criticism (concerning both their works and art in general) continued. When the rent became unattainable for Jakup and Vigan, some friends had an idea for them: why not start selling drinks and opening up the studio for some events? That’s how a private studio became a collective, artist-run public space: Internet Disco was a studio by day, and a nightlife hub after sundown. The place served as another meeting spot for this collective, as well as for the ever-growing cohort of similarly-inclined young artists in Kosovo. In 2006, across town, Stacion: Center for Contemporary Art Prishtina opened its doors with the exhibition Fainting, by Bujar Sylejmani and Jakup Ferri. It was curated by Albert Heta, who established the institution along with architect Vala Osmani. Stacion was and still is a space whose program is

designed to showcase the next generation of young artists. It offers an exiting program with open debates and workshops, and its mission is to create conditions under which contemporary thought and practices can occur. The years between 2006 and 2009 also saw the arrival of a series of artist hang-outs in the city — not necessary galleries, but cafes and clubs that served as meeting places for young artists. From

THE COVER OF THE FIRST ISSUE OF THE SHORT-LIVED MONTHLY MAGAZINE ARTA SHOWS A SELF-PORTRAIT OF DRITON HAJREDINI TITLED “I SWEAR TO YOU I AM A PAINTER” (2003).

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Internet Disco came Xhoni Depo and then Tingell Tangell, whose walls, as noted, are covered by murals from Jakup Ferri, Bujar Sylejmani, Alban Nuhiu and Vigan Nimani. Within a year of Tingell Tangell’s opening, Alban Nuhiu remembers feeling the need to undertake another project, the need to form another space which could play the role of a studio — a working and exhibiting environment. The gang’s idea was that it could function as a laboratory; a space for the projection of videos and films, and a creative environment for exhibitions and performances. This marked the beginning of Tetris, Space for Manipulation. For Sulejmani, Tetris happened because the group needed a space where they could continue the “groove” they had amongst one another. In the beginning, Tetris functioned as a night hub, and after a year the initial plan came to life with their hosting of Perspektiva 2010, curated by Erzen

Shkololli. Tetris also hosted Dren Maliqi’s first solo show, titled I need a radical change (2010), and Jakup Ferris’ solo exhibition Outside the Circle (2011), and a chain of intriguing shows have taken place in that space ever since. This spring, in particular, saw a fantastic performance, an adaptation of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Directed by a young artist Astrit Ismaili, the play was prepared for an exam at the Art Academy, but the director chose to showcase it at Tetris because of the more intimate atmosphere that the space provided. This shows how the alternative spaces of the parallel scene have embraced the current art scene in a way the “official” bodies still have not. Last year, another artistrun spot began its journey. Zeqiri founded Dudi together with two very young artists, Arbarora Sylaj and Dardan Zhegrova (also a Kosovo 2.0 staff writer). Lulzim calls it “an alternative space where people that have something to say or do, can.” 77

THE OPENING OF DREN MALIQI'S FIRST SHOW, "I NEED A RADICAL CHANGE." TETRIS, 2010.

MUSICIANS JAM AT TETRIS. THE ORIGINAL IDEA FOR THE SPACE WAS TO HOST VIDEOS AND FILMS, AS WELL AS A PLACE FOR EXHIBITIONS AND PERFORMANCES.

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DREN MALIQI

Maliqi was one of the first in his cohort to sever ties to the Prishtina Art Academy.

So far, its garden has been the stage of many explosive performances, video works, installations, and workshops, and it continues to be an experimental playground for young artists. With regards to the Art Academy today, Alban Nuhius’ take was pretty telling. “If anything has changed we would have heard about it,” he says. Sylejmani agrees, saying “the blueprint of the Academy I suspect to be the same.” There has been one positive development in regard to the art and cultural institutions, though: almost two years ago, Erzen Shkololli was appointed as the director of the National Gallery. This, as Alban Muja says, “is the best thing that could have happened in the history of the National Gallery”, an opinion that Alban Nuhiu states even more forcefully: “the National Gallery today is worthier than ever before”. In the last two years, there have been more than a few movements in the city’s art scene; notable efforts include

an exhibition and artists talk by Anri Sala at Stacion: Center for Contemporary Art in June, 2012, as well as Slovenian music group Laibach’s concert at The Youth And Sports Center. This band represents the music wing of the Neue Slowenische Kunts art collective, and their show brought together a wave of alternative generations, young and old alike. Under Shkolloli’s supervision, the National Gallery has exposed Kosovo’s art scene to a great many international curators; so far we have had the likes of Charls Esche and Galit Eliat, who curated the 2012 Muslim Mulliqi exhibition by displaying the works in the gallery and public space around Prishtina, as well as the efforts of Christine Frisinghelli, who curated the Gjon Mili International Photo Exhibition in 2012. Another event worth mentioning is Alban Muja’s solo exhibition “I never knew how to explain,” hosted by the National Gallery in May of 2013. #6 BALKART FALL/WINTER 2013

This show, which was a retrospective of the artist’s paintings, videos and photographs, is testament to the institution’s adoption of the alternative scene. Any alternatives that combine the force of constructive ambition with goals of engagement, creativity, and expression are valuable, and each new space or effort only further underlines the qualities that much of the “official” system still lacks. Even if they are fleeting, or fragile, these efforts are key if Kosovo’s art scene is to make progress in its race against history. — K Majlinda Hoxha is the deputy photo editor for Kosovo 2.0.

~ LONG LIVE ALTERNATIVE ART SPACES!

TEXT BY ADELA DEMETJA / ILLUSTRATION BY DRITON SELMANI

ACROSS THE BALKANS, A NUMBER OF GROUPS AND HOT SPOTS TURN THE SCENE ON ITS HEAD 80

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PR ES ST OE XI T

MACEDONIA PRESS TO EXIT PROJECT SPACE, SKOPJE

— Press to Exit Project Space has become a contemporary rendezvous point for international artists and curators interested in knowing the local scene, as well as a getaway spot for national artists and experts attempting to break out of the country’s difficult contemporary art reality.

— THE PRESS TO EXIT PROJECT SPACE was established in 2004 by artists Hristina Ivanoska and Yane Calovski as a special program-based artist initiative for research and production in the field of visual arts and curatorial practices. The space’s four main programs are the Visiting Curatorial Initiative; the New Project Productions Series; the Lectures, Publications, and Exhibitions initiative; and the Publishing program. “The Visiting Curatorial Initiative” is a residency program for emerging international curators to research and produce new projects in Macedonia, share their knowledge and gain understanding of the local and regional cultural context. This format has encouraged an internationalization of the Macedonian art scene by enabling contact and exchange between local and global actors. “New Project Productions” is a series designed to engage emerging artists, curators, designers and cultural theorists in the production of new content reflecting on social, cultural and political realities. The “Lectures, Publications and Exhibitions” function as a means of generating ideas, projects and collaborations with artists and curators from Macedonia, Europe and beyond. Since 2004, some of the artists and institutions with whom they have worked are: Wolfgang Tillmans, Marjetica Potrc, Kyong Park, NORM, Peet Pienaar, Tadej Pogacar, Jens Hanning, Albert Heta, Anders Kreuger, Maia Damianovic, Barbara Holub, Per Huttner, Linas Jablonskis, Krist Gruijthujsen, Nebojsa Milikic and kuda.org. The “Publishing Program” is the means by which the publication of artistic, curatorial, theoretical and architectural research projects are made possible. Press to Exit Project Space has become a contemporary rendezvous point for international artists and curators interested in knowing the local scene, as well as a getaway spot for national artists and experts attempting to break out of the country’s difficult contemporary art reality. Focusing on artists and processes, building relations and offering the presentation of works in progress, Press to Exit represents the alternative site of Macedonia’s art community. Kontrapunkt in Skopje, Lokomotiva — Centre for New initiatives in Arts and Culture and Centre for Balkan Cooperation and LOJA in Tetovo are some additional alternative spaces in the country. #6 BALKART FALL/WINTER 2013

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ST AC IO N

— Focusing on contemporary art, Stacion is a platform welcoming artists, architects, thinkers, critics, and other socio-political workers ref lecting and responding to challenges raised by contemporary neo-liberal society.

KOSOVO STACION — CENTRE FOR CONTEMPORARY ART, PRISHTINA Stacion — Centre for Contemporary Art Prishtina is an independent art and architecture institution in Kosovo established in 2006 by artist Albert Heta and architect Vala Osmani. Focusing on contemporary art, Stacion is a platform welcoming artists, architects, thinkers, critics and other socio-political workers reflecting and responding to challenges raised by contemporary neo-liberal society. Stacion occupies the premises of an old building in the historical part of Prishtina, which it has refurbished and redesigned, and where it has presented its program since 2006. Aiming to create the conditions necessary for the advancement of both the contemporary art scene and Kosovo’s cultural environment, Stacion has assembled an impressive program of exhibitions, presentations, book launches and workshops with national and international artists, curators, architects and designers. Focusing on solo shows and presenting the work of emerging national artists like Flaka Haliti, Lulzim Zeqiri, Alban Muja, Driton Hajredinaj and Petrit Halilaj, Stacion has contributed directly to the creation of Kosovo’s contemporary scene. Also, showcasing the works of established international artists like Jens Hanning, Milica Tomic, Anri Sala, Ahmet Ogut, Lia Perjovschi and Dan Perjovschi has enabled Stacion to participate in international contemporary discourses. Stacion’s publishing program is based on its exhibition and project schedule. Some of its publications have included: “The Way Between Prishtina and Belgrade has 28,000 Un-proper Build Objects. So, Never It will be an Autobahn!”; “Are You a Tourist? Or are You a Traveler?”; the publication of the project “Politics of Contemporary Art; Back to the Future;” and “You, Me and Everyone We Know,” based on Flaka Haliti’s work of the same name. The public events, discussions and lectures that compose a significant part of the program have been documented, generating a one-of-akind audio and video archive unique in Kosovo. This alternative and independent space has been leading Kosovo’s contemporary scene for the past few years. Other alternative spaces in the country worth mentioning are: Qendra Multimedia Prishtine, Tetris: Space for Manipulation and Dudi. 82

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KU DM RE ZA

— KUD Mreza has developed collaborations with international partners and become one of the country’s key actors in the contemporary field, while advising and supporting emerging and young artists through networking and knowledge-sharing.

SLOVENIA KUD MREZA, LJUBJANA An organization with many faces, KUD Mreza was founded in 1995 and functions as an umbrella structure for some of Slovenia’s most alternative cultural events. Since its inception, KUD Mreza has been developing its own painting, sculpture, video and theater productions in alliance with the Autonomous Cultural Centre Metelkova Mesto, staging events in a former army barracks. KUD Mreza organizes the International Feminist and Queer Festival Red Dawns, operates Alkatraz Gallery (featuring both contemporary art exhibitions and performances), organizes art workshops and manages an archive containing photographic, audio and video materials regarding Metelkova Mesto history. The “Urban Art Projects,” led by KUD Mreza, began in 2004 and are devoted to renovations by Slovene artists and artisans of building facades and public spaces. Together with the Society for the Protection of Atheistic Feelings (DZAC), KUD Mreza converted the Metelkova Mesto into a multipurpose venue for artistic exhibitions and presentations, festivals, concerts, theater and dance performances, video and film screenings, workshops and other events. Since 2010, KUD Mreza has organized the Personal-Collective Festival showcasing improvised music along with theater, performances, dance and visual art, and featuring Slovene and international artists such as Neza Naglic, Julij Borstnik, Ryuzo Fukuhara, Eric Cordier, Seijiro Murayama and Annette Krebs. Through the years, KUD Mreza has developed collaborations with international partners and become one of the country’s key actors in the contemporary field, while advising and supporting emerging and young artists through networking and knowledge-sharing. As an alternative space, KUD Mreza has contributed to creating a community for new and experimental art forms, providing not only a venue but a space for discussion and fostering decentralization and democratization within the contemporary art scene. Other alternative spaces worth mentioning are the well-known SKUC Association in Ljubjana, the multimedia centre KIBLA in Maribor and the P.A.R.A.S.I.T.E. Institute in Ljubljana.

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A 100M SPACE FOR CREATIVITY 2

GALLERY CIRCUMVENTS THE NORM TO HELP ARTISTS FIND THEIR PLACE TEXT BY HARIS DEDOVIC / PHOTOS BY DZENAT DREKOVIC

— GALLERY DUPLEX 100M2 was established in 2004 by Pierre Courtin. As an art student in Paris, he applied for the Erasmus Mundus exchange program and ended up in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Through friends and colleagues he heard complaints about the area’s nonexistent art scene. “I said OK, I am French here, and there are some French institutions and foundations, such as the French Embassy or the Andre Malraux Centre,” he said. “So I will try to talk to these people and we will see.” As a result of this first attempt, Courtin got a small sum of money and immediately found a small space for rent. It was called, early on, 10m2 Gallery — a literal statement of its tiny size. The initial plan was to run the space for a year and then quit. In the end, the gallery existed for eight years before folding, only to be reborn a year later. In 2008, 10m2 Gallery opened another space, this time measuring 50 square meters over two f loors. Its role was to be an extension of the first space, and it was called Duplex. A Shaky History From the beginning, this program, as its creator calls it, was planned to provide exhibition opportunities for artists who had no chance to show their work anywhere else. The only criteria for work to be selected by 10m2 was quality. Once the Duplex space was open, younger artists saw their chances of showing work increase, because pieces by more established artists were shifted to the Duplex space and 10m2 Gallery remained open to those with fewer opportunities. But like the stories of so many art spaces, the history of 10m2 was shaky. Because the gallery was financed through donations from art-oriented foundations, it could only last as long as those donations remained. In December 2011, Courtin lost all of his funding and had to close. “At that point I felt empty, angry — actually furious,” he 84

said, remembering that he felt “if I don’t continue with my work on this, I will have to go back to France and accept any job offer, to work on anything, just to survive.” Fortunately for the art world of Bosnia and Herzegovina, the German artist Ulay saw Courtin’s work as an example of the art scene developing there and suggested the creation of the book collecting, in one publication, all the work that appeared in 10m2 Gallery from 2004 to 2011. Not only did Ulay provide the idea, but he was also eager to fund it almost entirely by himself. The book was unveiled at Paris’s Pompidou Centre, one of the world’s finest modern art museums. Rebirth Immediately after the book was published and promoted, the gallery received funding by France’s Agnes B Foundation and reopened at a new location in Sarajevo (Cobanija 22) in July 2012. In a significant upgrade, the gallery now measured 100 square meters. What sets this gallery apart from others is that, in Duplex 100m2, there is no fee for exhibiting work. Courtin says that the idea of his program is at odds with the practice of charging for exhibitions and performances. “I don’t care if you are 18 or 80 years old,” he said. “I don’t care if you have only one line in your CV. If you have something to say in a form of true art, I want to help and make your work visible. The minimum I can do is promote the work in the media and have a few bottles of wine for the opening. There are numerous places that you can rent and show your work. For me that’s not a right way to work. If you are an institution for art, you have to make a program. You must have a way of choosing who can exhibit or not.” Art, Money and Work While the Agnes B Foundation covers about 50 percent of 100m2’s budget, the gallery needs to cover the other half itself. For that reason, gallery representatives are constantly engaging with art fairs and exhibitions across England, France, Germany, the U.S., and other locations worldwide. “I try to bring Bosnian art to the world, and to be honest, mostly to the buyers,” Courtin said, “because art production needs money. Artists need audio/video equipment. Artists need good colors and good canvas to produce quality art, and that requires money. So I am trying to auction their products all around the world to make that money, and also keep a percentage to maintain the gallery.” “Here we are not talking about art as a hobby,” he says, “we are talking about art as any other job, daily work.” Selling instead of Soliciting The plan is to make Duplex 100m2 the first Bosnian art fair. Based on successful collaborations with other galleries in Europe and beyond, Courtin intends to make the space into an art market showcasing Bosnian or even Balkan works. If the will to make art continues at the same level it enjoys now, such a direction is unavoidable, because even though the public beKOSOVO 2.0

PIERRE COURTIN, FOUNDER AND OWNER OF THE GALLERY DUPLEX 100M2 HAS SEVERAL TIMES INCREASED THE SIZE OF THE SPACE SINCE IT OPENED IN 2004.

COURTIN DOES NOT CHARGE ARTISTS TO DISPLAY IN THE GALLERY IN SUPPORT OF “TRUE ART.”

— “Here we are not talking about art as a hobby,” Courtin says, “we are talking about art as any other job, as daily work.”

lieves that governments will provide funding to support art and culture, that situation no longer exists as it once did. For example, the Pompidou Centre’s budget is financed only 25 percent by the French government. Duplex 100m2 also tried to get support from the Bosnian government; weeks of effort resulted in little support to show. As a result, Courtin decided to focus 100m2’s energy on making sales, rather than soliciting donations. So far, 100m2 Gallery has worked with more than 100 artists during its near-decade of existence. As its general policy is to work with any artists it recognizes as having something to say, it has done exhibitions for anonymous artists as well as for established names on the local and international art scene. These have included Ulay, one of the most famous artists in the world, conceptual artist Claude Leveque, and painter M. Chat. Local artists the gallery has supported have included Milomir Kovacevic (Strasni), Ibro Hasanovic, Adela Jusic, Nebojsa Seric-Shoba, Damir Niksic and many others. — K Haris Dedovic is a young journalist and media worker from Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina. He is a freelance journalist, board member of the European Youth Press, ONAuBiH and editor-in-chief of “Karike,” the largest youth magazine in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

THE MISSION OF DUPLEX 100M2 IS TO BRING BOSNIAN ART TO THE WORLD, AND ALSO TO CONNECT ARTISTS WITH BUYERS, COURTIN SAYS.

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AB AR T

✈ CONTINUED FROM PAGE 83

— Abart uses the format of an open platform to develop research projects and implement artistic interventions encouraging discussion about division and separation, and their impact on the function and values of public space.

BOSNIA AND HERZEGOVINA ABART, MOSTAR Since 2008, Abart (Mela Zuljevic, Anja Bogojevic, Amila Puzic, Giulia Carabelli and Husein Orucevic) has been working as an independent group based in the Abrasevic Youth Cultural Centre in Mostar. Focusing on contemporary visual art, Abart has produced and supported art projects addressing socio-political issues relevant to the post-war condition in Bosnia and Herzegovina as well as in the former Yugoslavia. With the local context of Mostar as its starting point, Abart uses the format of an open platform to develop research projects and implement artistic interventions encouraging discussion about division and separation, and their impact on the function and values of public space. “Art in Divided Cities” (2009/2010) was a research, theoretical and artistic project involving artists, curators, architects and sociologists from Beirut, Belfast, Berlin, Mitrovica and Mostar. “(Re)collecting Mostar,” a collaborative project implemented and coordinated by Abart, was organized with students from the city’s two universities and aimed to critically reflect on issues of public space and public memory. An attempt at collecting a cross-section of the public memory in Mostar before and after the war, the project offered a perspective on concerns of divided cities, directing the attention or research toward quotidian experiences. Abart’s most recent collaborative project, “Amnesion: A Collaborative Course for Rethinking the Public,” aims to establish a platform for sharing knowledge and experience about public space in the region among interested cultural practitioners. The end goal of the project is to elaborate on the ways in which these spaces could be re-appropriated by art practice and cultural activities. With its work, Abart has managed to create an alternative platform from which individuals, including artists, curators, architects and members of the public are encouraged to become active contributors to art-based projects, prompting new perspectives in the discussion of form, function and value in public space and collective memory. Other inf luential alternative spaces contributing to the independent art scene in Bosnia and Herzegovina are the Centre for Contemporary Art Sarajevo SCCA, Centre for Visual Communication Protok in Banja Luka and Duplex Sarajevo. 86

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RE MO NT

— Apart from organizing group and solo exhibitions with contemporary international and national artists, the Remont association engages in a series of activities and actions designed to give contemporary art a more public profile.

SERBIA REMONT ASSOCIACION, BELGRADE The Remont Independent Artists’ Association was founded in 1999, and the Remont Gallery was established a year later. With its basic field of interest lying in contemporary visual art, the Remont association has been one of the leading contributors to the Serbian contemporary and independent art scenes over the past 14 years. The Remont association is constantly seeking new working formats and new ways of presenting to and communicating with the public within the contemporary realm. The main goal of the association is to promote contemporary art and encourage its production in accordance with emerging tendencies in the scene. Apart from organizing group and solo exhibitions with contemporary international and national artists, the Remont association engages in a series of activities and actions designed to give contemporary art a more public profile. These include, for example, publishing Remont Art Magazine, An Annual Catalogue and Remont Art Files. Its organization of New Year Sales Exhibitions has contributed to the development of an art market, and the association has participated in art fairs and cooperated directly with the business sector by providing an advisory capacity in the creation of the Telenor art collection. The Remont association has collaborated with international and regional partners, fostering artistic exchange and promoting Serbian contemporary art by co-organizing significant projects such as MOBILE STUDIO, Balkan Tale and The Aftermath / Changing Cultural Landscape. By offering exhibition opportunities to young artists, showcasing the works of some of Serbia’s most significant artists (such as Sasa MarkovicMikrob, Uros Duric, and Tanja Ostojic) and preserving professional academic education through publications, the Remont association is without doubt one of the best-established agents of contemporary art in Serbia. Nonetheless, its willingness to experiment with new exhibition and presentation formats marks Remont as one of Serbia’s most alternative and flexible art spaces. Similar alternative spaces worth mentioning are Cultural Centre REX Belgrade and New Media Art Kuda in Novi Sad (in the field of performative and media art), and the Centre for Cultural Decontamination Belgrade (in the field of socially engaged and political art).

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— AFTER NOTICING THAT the design and self-publishing scenes in the former Yugoslavia suffer from a lack of visibility and a lack of interconnectedness among their participants, Filip Bojovic decided to start a blog in 2005 featuring his own noncommercial work. At the time, there were few design blogs or festivals in the region — everyone was working in isolation. Vladimir Manovski, Filip’s colleague at the Academy of Arts, was the first person to join him, as he wanted to have his work displayed as well; that’s how they started a group called A3.Formati, which soon extended open invitations to other authors, ultimately issuing their first series of publications in 2009. The name “A3.Formati” arose from the fact that A3 is the largest paper size that can be printed and scanned on a home printer; as Filip says, it’s “the smallest big poster that can be done manually.” The overall development of A3’s publications has been faced with financial difficulties since the beginning — the print format requires resources, and these are not always easy to obtain. In order to decrease expenses, the group soon decided to push up their publishing schedule and diversify their output. Besides the A3 format, now they produce books in the A4 format; photo-brochures in A5, and D.I.Y. ‘zines in A6. One of the most extensive and best-known projects of the A3.Formati group is the “Illustrated Roma Primer.” Of course, everything contained in this work was preceded by an in-depth study of the Roma language, the Roma alphabet, and the so-

cio-cultural surroundings of Roma people living in Serbia and across the region. The project gathered 43 authors who collaborated to illustrate 39 letters of the Roma alphabet. Interestingly, the publication included a letter that is used only by the Roma people living in Banat — a footnote to their inclusion. Most importantly, all of the ideas for the actual illustrations were received from Roma students from three elementary schools in the territory of Vojvodina. Through their teacher, they verbalized their associations with each letter, and then the authors made their illustrations from those responses. Although the Roma people officially use the Latin alphabet, the authors used the Cyrillic script for practical reasons; that which is said on paper is different from the reality on the ground. The case for Cyrillic derives from the fact that Roma children generally abandon primary school in the early years, and therefore learn the Cyrillic alphabet, because it is the first one taught in school. The goal was to create something that the children will save for future generations. The first, 1,000-copy print run was done in an array of golden hues, with a partial gold print. It was given out to Roma children in Vojvodina schools, and it looked magnificent. Another project that Filip regards as being “a cut above” the rest is the “False Truths” workshop, which was held from Nov. 4-6, 2011, in Belgrade, at the 52nd October salon. They were invited to this workshop by Vahida Ramujkic, who has been working for many years on the project “The Library — History in the Debate.” Ramujkic has been collecting history books from primary schools across the former Yugoslavia — since its inception in 1918 to the present. The participants of the previous “History in the Debate” workshops represented a diverse group of students from various fields: historians, political scientists, sociologists, etc. The first iteration of the workshop brought designers from Kosovo and Serbia together in mutual study. During the workshop, they compared the narratives of the history books they had assembled, going through the lessons contained therein and extracting some of the more notable ones. Items such as “The Battle of Kosovo” and “The Kosovo War,” for instance, demonstrated that two sets of “truths” were being disseminated through these educational materials. The publications that arise from the workshops resemble rough student drafts; they often look like collages, or selections of articles cut from books and theses, interspersed with handwritten comments. During the three days of the workshop, participants introduced themselves to one another by creating individual “personal history timelines” and explaining the most important moments of their lives. Presently, the group is working on the project “The Free Exchange Library”; they have been working on it for more than a year. The first phase of the work is the digital phase; it involves creating a website that will serve as a public archive of digital self-publishing. Besides their new publications, the group will focus on the past; their desire is to prevent their older works from sliding into oblivion.

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EMPOWERMENT THROUGH SELF PUBLISHING A3.FORMATI HELPS WRITERS AND DESIGNERS GET THEIR WORK OFF THE GROUND TEXT BY DANIEL SIVINJSKI / PHOTOS COURTESY OF A3.FORMATI

A3.FORMATI HOPES TO PREPARE A SPACE IN WHICH THEIR ARCHIVE OF HISTORIC AND MODERN SELFPUBLISHED DOCUMENTS WILL BE AVAILABLE FOR VIEWING BY THE PUBLIC.

— The name “A3.Formati” arose from the fact that A3 is the largest paper size that can be printed and scanned on a home printer; as Filip says, it’s “the smallest big poster that can be done manually.”

MEMBERS OF THE A3.FORMATI GROUP SHOWCASE THEIR EMPHASIS ON PRINTING AND DESIGN.

#6 BALKART FALL/WINTER 2013

Filip explains that self-publishing started to occur in Yugoslavia as early as the 1970s, perhaps inf luenced by the punk movement and its “do it yourself ” ethic. Unfortunately, many publications from that time are kept in poor conditions and are at risk of deterioration. Another problem is that there remain a large number of publications that never saw mass print runs, and the group wants these to be available as well, believing that is unfair to their authors to allow them to languish unread and unexamined. On the other hand, the group does possess a large number of physical publications, and the second phase of the project is to prepare a space in which these publications can be made physically accessible. The library will be free of charge to all and will represent an “open door” for new releases and other contributions from authors. The development of this particular library is one of the group’s greatest visions, and they emphasize that they want you to contact them; they want to help you share whatever publications you may have, in order to provide an archive and a “knowledge base” for the greater society. — K Danijel Sivinjski a photographer and artist who is passionate about documentary and experimental work. In creating and living he always desires to discover the next level and ask deeper questions.

TR IN ST IT UT E

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— Founded by the collective of artists and curators that organized the Tirana Biennial, TICA has been the first center for contemporary art in Albania to create a forum for discussions and debates about art, politics and power.

ALBANIA TIRANA INSTITUTE OF CONTEMPORARY ART TIRANA ART LAB — CENTER FOR CONTEMPORARY ART Tirana Institute of Contemporary Art was established in 2006 with the aim to support a vital art scene on a more continuous basis through a diverse program of exhibitions, film screenings and performances. Founded by the collective of artists and curators that organized the Tirana Biennial, TICA has been the first center for contemporary art in Albania to create a forum for discussions and debates about art, politics and power. Focusing mainly on the staging of the Tirana Biennial (Albania’s largest international art event), TICA is nonetheless organizing the international Artist in Residency (A.I.R.) program along with other relevant group exhibitions and regional collaborative projects throughout the year. The residency program offers support to promising local artists and enables cross-cultural exchanges in the Balkan region and beyond. One of Albania’s newest alternative spaces is Tirana Art Lab — Center for Contemporary Art, founded in 2010 for the promotion of emerging artists from Albania as well as Southern, Eastern and Central Europe. Tirana Art Lab commissions and supports new on-site productions by national and international artists, as well as providing a venue for a large spectrum of contemporary art events, such as exhibitions and artist residencies, film festivals, workshops, concerts and art publications. Its small office in the center of Tirana serves as a hub for collaborating with a variety of venues and partners across the city. The international residency program hosted by Tirana Art Lab is open to artists, curators and theoreticians from all fields of contemporary culture. The residency gives participants the opportunity to meet and collaborate with artists and experts from the region and encourages the production of new work informed by on-site research. The Tirana Art Lab’s new program “MUSIC/ ART Collaborations” tackles new hybrid formats of contemporary music and visual arts by means of audio-visual productions, concerts, talks and screenings. Currently, Tirana Art Lab is building a laboratory for artistic research and production. It also hosts an open library of English, Albanian and Italian reference books, artists’ catalogs, publications on art theory and criticism and international art magazines. Other relevant alternative spaces are Tirana Ekspres, Art Kontakt, Miza Gallery and Zeta Gallery in Tirana. 90

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MA RI NA AB RA MO

VI C

— ATAK is an organization that gathers artists and culture managers with interest in the field of contemporary art and theater production. Main goals of the NGO are concentrated in the production of theater plays, performance and artistic works, as well as fostering social integration of vulnerable groups through art.

MONTENEGRO WAITING FOR MARINA ABRAMOVIC COMMUNITY CENTER OBOD CETINJE

Marina Abramovic Community Center Obod Cetinje is planned to become a center of production, presentation, distribution and development of different art forms: performance art and visual arts, theater, dance, music and opera, film and video, educational and environmental programs, architecture, science and new technologies. As Abramovic itself pointed out, MACCO Cetinje will be one of the initiators of the process of unfreezing, changing and resuscitating the culture of Montenegro. Representing the Montenegrin pavilion in 2012 at the Venice Biennial Marian, Abramovic informed about the ambitious plans regarding the art center that will be situated in the former Obod refrigerator factory in Cetinje. The center supported by the ministry of culture was supposed to be inaugurated in 2013, aiming to become one of Montenegro’s and the Balkans’ unique multifunctional institutions of this scale. Up to today there is no clear information regarding any inauguration plan of MACCO, and, meanwhile, the alternative and independent art scene of Montenegro remains unfortunately very poor and undeveloped compared with neighboring countries. Contemporary spaces and initiatives in the field of visual arts seem to be completely absent, while there are some worth mentioning in the field of theater and dance. For example, the Festival of International Alternative Theatre (FIAT) in Podgorica or ATAK organization. ATAK is an organization that gathers artists and culture managers with interest in the field of contemporary art and theater production. Main goals of the NGO are concentrated in the production of theater plays, performance and artistic works, as well as fostering social integration of vulnerable groups through art. — K Adela Demetja was born in Tirana, Albania, and holds a master’s degree in curatorial and critical studies from Stadelschule and Goethe University in Frankfurt am Main, Germany. She is director and one of the founders of Tirana Art Lab - Centre for Contemporary Art.

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WHAT I KNOW OF DUNJA BLAZEVIC A FRIEND REFLECTS ON HER MENTOR'S CAREER AND ALL THE TWISTS AND TURNS THAT INSPIRED SO MANY TEXT BY LALA RASCIC

THE CENTER — A BLACK-AND-WHITE PHOTOGRAPH taken in a theater. Joseph Beuys and Marina Abramovic. With them is Dunja Blazevic. This photograph was probably shot between 1972 and 1975, when Blazevic was running the SKC Gallery in Belgrade. Beuys had probably accepted her invitation for a program in the gallery or for the April Meetings, organized in the same cultural center. It’s true, Beuys was hanging around the gallery in those days. Abramovic was starting her career. SKC was the place to be. In the middle of all of the activity was Dunja. When I was a 21-year-old student in 1998, this photograph evoked in me a sense of pride, combined with envy of the past. I was proud because I felt some of those glorious bygone days rubbing off. I got a contact high. At the same time, I was envious, because I was born two decades too late, doomed to a life without a whiff of the avant-garde. Coming of age in the warring and post-war era as a refugee from Bosnia and Herzegovina living in the nationalistic Croatia of the 1990s, I felt like I inhabited an isolated space in which the fabulous never happened. Seeing that photograph inspired me. It prompted one of my first realizations that the former Yugoslavia was more than an evil cul-de-sac, revealing to me that the region we inherited was, and could continue to be, a playground for innovative and progressive tendencies in the art of its day. Dunja had been at the center of it. At the time, I felt starved for information, openness, action, optimism, knowledge and worldliness. Then, suddenly, something was stirring in Sarajevo. There was a new and vibrant

office, staffed by young people — my peers — humming with enthusiasm. I remember being wide-eyed as I observed this energy. In the center, again, there was Dunja. I wanted so badly to be a part of that new scene. Even today, the first post-war generation of artists, cultivated by Dunja’s efforts and the activities of the Sarajevo Center for Contemporary Art (SCCA), retains an aura of glamour and importance. I often think of how many artistic careers, including mine, have been fostered by this one woman.

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AUDIENCE In Sarajevo, being well-connected is a virtue, so I never miss an opportunity to joke that I met Dunja through the help of my Aunt Hajra. Dunja was having work done at my aunt’s dental practice, and my aunt told her about a niece studying in Zagreb, experimenting with video. Often Dunja recalls that event: “I told Hajra: ‘Tell her to get in touch, that’s the kind we’re looking for.’” That was the year I started exhibiting and the year I began my friendship with Dunja. Perhaps that familial connection also got me invited to exhibit in SCCA’s second annual show in 1998, but none of the parties involved seem to regret this introduction — it was precisely my solo show that was chosen to mark the 10th year of SCCA, in 2007. When Dunja began organizing and running the SCCA in 1997, it was her third major career shift. With the SKC in the

1970s, she helped establish a platform that brought together progressive artists and intellectuals. In the 1980s, her position at TV Belgrade was of equal importance. She created a weekly arts show, “TV Gallery,” designed to educate the masses on the emergent local avant-garde as well as contemporary practices in international art. In this position, she had been promoted from an enabler to an enlightener, and she was given free rein. Dunja has since said in interviews that the show enjoyed so much freedom because the censors actually did not understand the language of art or the critique it communicated. With her 1997 appointment to the position of director of the George Soros-funded SCCA in Sarajevo, her role was of even greater stature. As with everything else in Bosnia and Herzegovina, artistic institutions were propped up with both funds and guidance from the international community. The internationals’ plan was to get the country going and then slowly retract, leaving it to fend for itself. In that context, the SCCA was established as an independent institution, setting the standards of contemporary visual culture as a hub for the arts, an influence on what is and what will be. With Dunja, a cultural heavyweight, at its center, the Sarajevo art scene was given new relevance. Dunja was suitably appointed to build the contemporary art scene from the ground up. Because the city scene had been razed, not only in the metaphorical sense, the land was fertile and the audience eager. With successive results, Dunja proved herself a force to be reckoned with, showing influence over a sphere wider than simply art circles. People in influential positions knew who she was and respected her field and her authority. She had an audience. In 2010 she was awarded the Ordre des Arts et des Lettres (Order of Arts and Letters) by the French government for her accomplishments in culture. But by then, the international community and its funding had moved on; she no longer had the ear of Bosnia and Herzegovina’s ruling powers. Individuals of dubious motives gained positions as Dunja’s influence waned — along with the role of culture in society. A minister of culture once told her that he did not return her calls or grant her an audience because he “hated contemporary art.” He did not know who Dunja Blazevic was and did not understand the importance of hearing out a person whose calls Joseph Beuys had answered over 30 years ago. This was and has remained indicative of the prevailing state of the arts and culture in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Dunja had lost her audience.

ing, graciously, that great momentum is a result of collaborative effort. Her stories are legendary. Every time I sit down with her, she offers gifts from her archive of anecdotes, usually featuring some icon of ex-Yugoslavian art. The story of Tomislav Gotovac parading naked around her apartment, for example, or the time Abramovic decided to get a secretary, or the one about Ivan Kozaric’s button-down pajamas. How “October 75” came to be. Though some argue Dunja has lost the analytical edge necessary for today’s contemporary art debate, her voice — rooted in history — is one sought after by younger cultural workers striving to contextualize the present and strategize for the future. Dunja’s edge is that she was there; she was the actor, one of the creators of a legacy upon which we continue to build. The project “Political Practices of (Post-) Yugoslav Art (PPYu Art),” which ran from 2006 to 2010, encouraged the re-actualization of “TV Gallery” and the digitization and cataloging of the numerous television shows that Dunja had worked on in the ’80s. Through this project, her involvement, relevance and importance were again showcased. “PPYu Art” project also shed new light on the film “Cinema Notes (Kino

— “Even today, the first post-war generation of artists, cultivated by Dunja’s efforts and the activities of the Sarajevo Center for Contemporary Art (SCCA), retains an aura of glamour and importance. I often think of how many artistic careers, including mine, have been fostered by this one woman.”

PERSPECTIVE Undaunted by contemporary dismissal, Dunja is undertaking a colossal project: building and sorting the archive of her works. When I hear her talk about the actors in her undertakings, be it in SKC, “TV Gallery” or the SCCA, she always speaks in plural: “We” did this, “we” did that — acknowledg#6 BALKART FALL/WINTER 2013

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MARINA ABRAMOVIC (LEFT), JOSEPH BEUYS AND DUNJA BLAZEVIC AT BELGRADE’S SKC GALLERY SOMETIME IN THE 1970S. BLAZEVIC WAS RUNNING THE GALLERY AROUND THE TIME ABRAMOVIC’S CAREER WAS BEGINNING. PHOTO COURTESY OF DUNJA BLAZEVIC

— Seeing that photograph inspired me. It prompted one of my first realizations that the former Yugoslavia was more than an evil cul-de-sac, revealing to me that the region we inherited was, and could continue to be, a playground for innovative and progressive tendencies in the art of its day.

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Beleske)” shot in 1975 by the German filmmaker Lutz Becker on the occasion of the “October 75” exhibition/event. “October 75” was initiated by Dunja and held at SKC as a response to the annual October Salon in Belgrade, which progressive factions grouped around the gallery deemed “bourgeois.” Recently, art historian Branko Dimitrijevic labeled this film “quintessential.” Jelena Vesic, an art historian and curator who has dedicated a large part her research to the “PPYu Art” project and worked intensely with lecture-performance practices, took “Cinema Notes” as a departure point for a project of her own. A progressive curatorial undertaking in itself, performed in Pancevo in 2012, “October XXX” is a re-enactment of “Cinema Notes” in which Vesic assembled contemporaries, colleagues, artists and thinkers and invited each one to assume a fragment from “Cinema Notes” and reframe it from a new position — weighing in on today. Vesic not only paid homage to the legacy of Dunja’s generation, but emerged as her contemporary counterpart, once more confirming Dunja’s immense influence to the breathing, thinking, living arts. ‘YOU DO IT FOR THE MOMENT’ Last year, I had Dunja over for a studio visit and dinner. We hadn’t seen each other for almost two years, during which Dunja was spending time in Zagreb and thinking about relocating to Belgrade, all the while keeping things going in the Sarajevo SCCA office. We talked about art and health and gossiped about the art world. She gave me advice on marriage. She asked me about my recent project, “Posing Process.” I said I had loved doing it, but I also expressed my disappointment with it having passed almost unnoticed. Her reply gave me immense consolation. “When one does such things that are highly contextual,” she said, “when you do things that are of the moment and in time, you do not calculate. You are not aware — you do it for the moment, for the love of what you do. You never know what you have actually done. One day it could resurface as something very significant — you never know. Look at ‘October 75.’ When Lutz shot ‘Cinema Notes,’ it was at the spur of the moment. He gave us a copy and we lost it. No one thought much of it. I was too embarrassed to tell him that we lost the copy, and it remained lost for 20 years. Look at what it means now — it’s an important document! So you see, you never know.” — K

Lala Rascic was born in Sarajevo. She studied at the Academy of Fine Arts Zagreb and Rijksakademie, Amsterdam. She lives in Sarajevo, Zagreb and New Orleans.

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K2.0: You were born in a place that didn’t exist as an independent country at the time. What is the significance of a place name for you, in terms of giving one a sense of identity? Xhafa: My identity is always in mutation and progressive. Today, national identity implies more to unique products that are produced and are forced to compete. Only this creates a base for exchange and dry competition that will highlight the quality of national distinctiveness. K2.0: Your current home of Brooklyn, New York, is the epitome of the American “melting pot.” How do you maintain your individual artistic identity in such an environment? Xhafa: Engage. K2.0: As an artist moving from East to West, what challenges did you face in your new environments? How did these challenges affect your artistic production? Xhafa: White cube is an invention of the market and space is an invention of freedom. K2.0: Your public sculpture, “Y” (2011), turns a primitive weapon (a slingshot) into a fun game (a swing). What is the role of humor in art? Xhafa: The constitution of physical art objects exposes the viewer to a dilemma between symbol, image, function, and allows each user to define its own meaning based on its own personal experiences. I like to question the attitude of art through my research. The political elements you find in my work are used with an oblique and ironic approach. I want to leave space for the audience to take it further, without formulating an opinion on their behalf.

SISLEJ XHAFA, "Y" 2009-2011 HEIGHT 16 M POLYMETHYLMETHACRYLATE PMMA, LED LIGHTS, STEEL, SWING ROPE. PHOTO: ELIANE RUTISHAUSER

K2.0: How does art communicate beyond borders?

— “Culture is static. Irrationality gives new tendencies and it invents its own time.”

Xhafa: Culture is static. Irrationality gives new tendencies and it invents its own time. — K Amy Bryzgel is lecturer of history of art at the University of Aberdeen (UK). She is the author of two books: “Performing the East: Performance Art in Russia, Latvia and Poland since 1980” (IB Tauris, 2013), and “Miervaldis Polis: Painting as Performance” (Neputns, in press). She is working on a comprehensive monograph on performance art in Central and Eastern Europe.

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WE ARE NOT BERLIN: ALBANIA'S ART SCENE AFTER THE TIRANA BIENNIAL TEXT BY ERIOLA PIRA / PHOTOS BY BLERTA KAMBO

PAINTINGS BY LONDON-BASED ARTIST GAZMEND EJUPI ARE INSTALLED IN A STAIRWELL AT THE 2008 TIRANA BIENNIAL AT THE HOTEL DAJTI.

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AN EXAMINATION OF WHAT HAS HAPPENED AFTER THE EVENT'S CANCELLATION, AND WHAT CAN BE DONE TO HELP THE COUNTRY'S ARTISTS

— IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE FOURTH and final Tirana International Contemporary Art Biannual (known also as the Tirana Biennial) in 2009, I asked an Albanian artist who works with issues of urbanization and architecture in Albania what he thought of the event. This edition, after all, was dedicated to exploring these issues. Excited about some of the artists, urban theorists and events the program listed, I asked him what work Francis Alys had shown, what Teddy Cruz had presented, and whether my artist friend had taken any of the Tirana tours. Needless to say, he hadn’t, and much to my disappointment I’ve had more and more Albanian artists draw blanks when I’ve asked them similar questions about past biennials. One of the first Tino Seghal performances — for which he has since become so well-known — was staged for the first Tirana Biennial in 2001, but no one seems to have taken note of it happening. Thirteen years since its first edition and four years since its last event, the question of what was the Tirana Biennial and what stands in its wake arises as one charts the development of Tirana as a contemporary art locale — a site of artistic production and host of the international art world. Recently, Flash Art magazine Editor Giancarlo Politi proclaimed that Tirana has become the capital of European art and “the next Berlin” now that the artist and former Mayor of Tirana Edi Rama has been elected the country’s 102

A GOVERNMENT CAMPAIGN TO CELEBRATE VISA LIBERALIZATION INCLUDED EYE-CATCHING “EUROPE” STREET SIGNS.

prime minister. Consequently, taking stock of the Tirana Biennial and reviewing the contemporary art scene is both timely and compelling. The Tirana Biennial’s founding myth followed the tried and tested model of economic regeneration through art and cultural industry after a crisis. Following the cataclysmic aftermath in 1997 of the failed pyramid schemes that shook the country to its core, as well as the overall transition out of harsh communist rule, Albania seemed to be a strange place for the contemporary art world to test the biennial model and reinvigorate global art. Masterminded by Edi Rama (then mayor of Tirana) and Giancarlo Politi, the Tirana Biennial, barring its two Albanian coordinators-curators Edi Muka and Gezim Qendro, was an Italian job. For all of its organizers’ good will, the project harbored typical Western and neo-colonial attitudes and approaches to Albania as both in need of Western attention and as a potential saving grace for art. The Tirana Biennial was envisioned to serve as a sign of resurrection from isolation, aberration and provincialism through art. The event heralded a new KOSOVO 2.0

— The Tirana Biennial was envisioned to serve as a sign of resurrection from isolation, aberration and provincialism through art. era of international legitimacy, development viability and cultural solidarity. To attempt such an achievement in Albania, given its economic instability, lack of infrastructure and undersized contemporary art scene, was implausible and risky. But in that risk, the Tirana Biennial offered a retort to other wealthy biennials. The very existence and success of the Tirana Biennial was supposed to prove that art feeds on ideas rather than financial resources. Its founder and great sponsor, Politi, put it thus: “Tirana is a desert and an emergency. Every morning there is a blackout for two to three hours. I want to see how 200 artists and 35 curators will react to such adversity. I don’t have any expectations, but I

— “Tirana is a desert and an emergency. Every morning there is a blackout for two to three hours. I want to see how 200 artists and 35 curators will react to such adversity,” said Politi, Tirana Biennial founder. EXHIBITIONS AT THE 2009 TIRANA BIENNIAL WERE SET UP IN THE HOTEL DAJTI.

would like to compare the quality of work at the Tirana Biennial, which has a budget of just $30,000, to that of shows such as the Kwangju Biennial, which have budgets of more than $10 million.” (Art Review 52, 2001) For Politi, the idea (and therefore the brand) of the Tirana Biennial sufficed, especially to market a high-production catalog, because the show itself was given little priority and the artists were told to bring only pocket-art. This idea and open call proved to be irresistible. Partly out of the morbid curiosity Albania arouses and partly out of a misguided sense of evangelism, the international art world threw its weight behind the project. The sheer number and quality of participant curators and artists put the Tirana Biennial on the international map. But for the FlashArt team the experiment was soon over: Once it proved it could indeed stage a biennial under the most unlikely conditions, they did not feel it merited a repeat performance. At least not in Albania. Instead, they exported the Tirana Biennial (name and all) to Prague. For the Albanian team, however, the event had been more than an experiment. As they prepared for the second Tirana Biennial, they toiled to prove that even without Politi’s backing and influence they could stage something noteworthy. So if the first biennial was the art world proving it could replicate itself in any context and locale, the renewed efforts of subsequent editions set out to prove the context and locale could

generate and hold its own biennial. The Tirana Biennial was held in 2001, 2003, 2005 and 2009, with a break in 2007 due to the same financial limitations that eventually led it to be paused indefinitely. For its last edition, the biennial changed its name to the Tirana International Contemporary Biannual to reflect its precarious working conditions and changing structure. In 2011 it announced it was skipping a year so as not to coincide with local elections, but it did not make an appearance in 2012, either. Local politics and state funding for culture over the past few years have been dismissive of the biennial or any other contemporary art organization. With Rama’s ascendancy to power and his impressive record for supporting and instrumentalizing art and culture, hopes have arisen that the biennial might make yet another comeback. Giancarlo Politi’s enthusiasm for Rama’s victory might be interpreted as another positive omen. Yet given Politi’s record with the Tirana Biennial, the prospect of his returning to suddenly champion it again would be downright insulting. For all the optimism about art and culture associated with the Rama administration, what Tirana does not need is to become the next Berlin. It may not even need the biennial. Despite the undeniable quality of the artists and curators the Tirana Biennial brought to the city, the event’s impact on and exchange with the local artistic community was symbolic at best. This

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“PEDESTRIAN ALBANIAN” BY GERMAN PAINTER FRANZ ACKERMANN OPENED THE 2009 TIRANA BIENNIAL.

WALLS AND FLOORS OF THE HOTEL WERE COVERED WITH ART.

can be chalked up to the nature of biennials: Despite their stated intentions, they are not designed for substantive and sustained engagement between the visiting artists and the local art community and public. Never mind that Tirana’s artistic community, for all its token strides and successes in the international art world, didn’t always speak its language or share common concerns. The relationship between the two, at least as shaped by the Tirana Biennial, was characterized by cognitive dissonance. For local artists (and the public) not initiated into the ways and discourse of international art world, the biennial did little but extend their limited exposure to contemporary art. Visiting curators 103

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DOORS OF THE HOTEL’S ROOMS PUNCTUATED DISPLAYS.

and artists, for their part, did their best to commend their Albanian counterparts on their progress since the days of socialist realism. They also praised the lack of infrastructure as a blessing in disguise, given that Albanian artists make work outside the confines of the global art market. A real consolation prize, if there is any. To this day, there is no real art market in Albania. The infrastructure has not gotten better and, since the Tirana Biennial shut its doors, there has been little interaction between Albanian artists and the international contemporary art scene. In the Biennial’s aftermath, the country’s art scene is far more isolated than it has ever been. Even Onufri, an 104

— Once [the group] proved it could indeed stage a Biennial under the most unlikely conditions, they did not feel it merited a repeat performance. At least not in Albania. Instead, they exported the Tirana Biennial (name and all) to Prague.

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annual international exhibition/prize, has become nationalized, and the National Art Gallery has relegated contemporary art to a place-filler in its nationalist agenda. What can remedy this situation is not as simple as a large-scale international exhibition every two years or so. Instead, it requires a continuous and meaningful exchange that comes from a diverse approach to art and culture. There are some significant attempts at fostering a local contemporary art scene with an international profile that deserve attention. The Tirana Institute of Contemporary Art (TICA), run by the same team as the biennial, has been trying to present itself as a contemporary art organization. Its programming has been international in nature and has included exhibitions, an artist-in-residence program, an award for young Albanian artists and modest public events such as lectures and workshops. However, without its own exhibition space or even full-time staff members — three of its founders, Edi Muka, Joa Ljungberg and Tina Finnas, run the show from Sweden — the program has been patchy. Other contemporary art organizations such as ArtKontakt, Tirana Art Lab: Center for Contemporary Art and Tirana Art Center are afflicted by the same maladies: no physical space of their own and directors, for the most part, running the show from abroad. Limited resources have not only led to intense competition for the few available institutional or private grants, but also to collaboration among many organizations and loosely organized art groups. This working method is inscribed in the mission statements and operating manuals of all of these organizations. Zeta, which might otherwise be considered a commercial gallery, has played host to TICA, Tirana Art Lab and other itinerant projects. Similarly, Tirana Ekspres: The Alternative Art Space of Tirana (notice the Tirana-heavy emphasis in the names of all of these organizations) is a multimedia space that has generally no program of its own but turns itself over to the needs of other organizations, projects, initiatives and in-

THE BAND NAKED AMBASSADORS PERFORM, INCORPORATING MUSIC AND PROJECTIONS.

dividuals. It is a self-described open space for “alternative culture” and has held everything from exhibitions, concerts, film and documentary screenings, and staged plays, to environmental cleanup initiatives and wine tastings. The variety of programming that passes under the rubric of “alternative” should give one pause, as should the fact that Tirana Ekpres’s very existence was celebrated as a novelty as recently as 2011. After just two years, it is slated for demolition to make way for new development as Tirana engorges. The independent art scene has been slow to form and there are no steady signals of an underground arts movement. This vacuity is indeed disconcerting and slightly embarrassing, especially if one harbors delusions of Tirana becoming the next Berlin. Nonetheless, it stands to reason that these organizations and spaces took so long to come about. Under the shadow of the biennial, few could have been generated in a scene satisfied with the large-scale international exhibition model as the only one appropriate for presenting, making and evaluating contemporary art. As the biennial proved too exclusive and elusive for most local young artists and failed to consistently address their needs and concerns, artists began to organize and stage modest, sparse but engaging exhibitions and events. In postbiennial conditions, they managed to

PARTICIPANTS IN TIRANA EXPRESS, THE CITY’S ALTERNATIVE ART SPACE, SET UP FOR A PERFORMANCE OF “PIS FOR PEACE” BY THE NAKED AMBASSADORS.

— With all of the organizations and spaces vying for the same limited funding, the programing and approach to contemporary art has been stagnant.

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secure enough funding to cross-pollinate and bear fruit as organizations. These advancements, late as they may be, are a welcome sign in a country where art and culture, under communism, were subject to the sole ownership and dictate of the state, and in democracy have been at the mercy of both the state and international funding bodies. Under both models, there was little room for new initiatives to emerge organically and respond to the artistic practices and developments on the ground. The latest of these offerings is Miza Gallery, founded by three young artists. In the 10 months since it opened in a relatively small space, it has regularly put up solo and small-group shows composed of primarily young Albanian artists with a sprinkling of international artists for good measure. Moreover, it has produced modest catalogs — a practice that had all but disappeared in recent years. The space has been self-financed and runs on the energy and dedication of its three artist-directors. The impact they have already made on the scene is significant, and their organic, small-scale approach and genuine commitment to providing an exhibition platform to an assortment of artists has garnered a great deal of attention and support. The challenge they face, as do most arts organizations, is sustaining their regular program over the long term, especially as they endeavor to present more international artists. Though they will have to rely on funding bodies such as embassies and national cultural organizations, they can’t allow their programming to be dictated by these funding agencies. The funding problem has plagued most of the arts organizations and initiatives in Albania. It would not be too presumptuous to say that funding bodies such as ProHelvetia, KulturKontakt, the European Cultural Foundation and the German Embassy, among other embassies and organizations, have underwritten and kept alive contemporary art in the country. In fact, many exhibitions and events are conceptualized and presented so as to secure maximum support by antici105

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— To this end, art and culture cannot be written only in the pages of daily newspapers, which at present do little more than directly lifting from press releases and curatorial texts.

pating and responding to the funding missions of these institutions. This has led to an unbalanced representation of international art (to wit: the disproportionately large number of German, Swiss, Italian and Austrian artists exhibiting and participating in residencies in the region, in contrast to artists from the region or beyond) and, what’s worse, programming that conforms to particular ideological and thematic constraints and questionable aesthetic quality. With all of the organizations and spaces vying for the same limited funding, the programing and approach to contemporary art has been stagnant. Here, then, is what the Rama administration and other interested agents can do to commit to strengthening and truly revitalizing the contemporary art scene in Albania — not including the biennial. First off, they must provide TICA with a stable and substantial annual budget to do all of the things that they claim on paper to be doing. This should include providing an exhibition space and a full-time staff that can dedicate time and effort to producing excellent exhibitions, residencies and public programing. Additional support should be afforded to other organizations, so that they can do what they do best and provide a varying range and degree of events, which are necessary for a healthy arts scene. Providing space at preferential rent or subsidizing studio space for artists would have immediate and lasting effects. 106

There are at least three generations of artists making and exhibiting art in Albania, and equal attention and space needs to be dedicated to each. There needs to be a sustained intergenerational dialogue, as many younger artists operate in ignorance of what happened as recently as 10 years ago. A fund for visiting international lecturers should be created, in partnership with the Ministry of Education, so that public and private universities, as well as museums, galleries and art spaces, can afford to bring academics and practitioners to speak to students, artists and the

public. Similarly, Albanian artists, art historians, and cultural professionals should have at their disposal the necessary funds to participate in the leading forums of their field. Artists should travel as much as their work does on the international art circuit. Now that we can no longer blame the lack of travel and cultural exchange on a lack of EU visas, there needs to be economic assistance programs and other incentives in place to allow for the flow of people and ideas. This would do more to spur critical discourse and academic integrity in the country than the isolationist quag-

THE FOUNDERS OF MIZA GALLERY (FROM LEFT), REMIJON PRONJA, OLSON LAMAJ AND ENDRI DANI. IN ITS FIRST YEAR, THE GALLERY HAS SHOWCASED SOLO AND SMALL GROUP SHOWS OF YOUNG ALBANIAN ARTISTS AND SOME INTERNATIONAL ARTISTS.

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ROAD SIGNS IN TIRANA POINT TO NEW DESTINATIONS ALBANIAN CITIZENS COULD SOON TRAVEL TO WITHOUT SCHENGEN VISA IN THE DAYS LEADING UP TO VISA LIBERALIZATION.

A WORK BY ARTIST ADAM LEECH AT THE 2009 TIRANA BIENNIAL.

mire they have been working is doing at present. There must be a direct and considerable investment in developing the professional capacities of the curators, critics, cultural managers and so on. The scene has plenty of people who fulfill these roles on an ad hoc basis, but not many have had the opportunity to further advance their skills, becoming indispensable to the arts community locally or networking internationally. There are few people writing about and documenting contemporary art production and exhibition, to the detriment of critical reception and the understanding of local and regional art history. To this end, art and culture cannot be written only in the pages of daily newspapers, which at present do little more than directly lifting from press releases and

curatorial texts. And more of an effort must be made to translate the critical and art historical texts of the day so Albanian artists, curators and critics do not only observe and copy-paste but truly engage with these discourses. This urgently needs to be done with regard to the region, because the history of art in the rest of the Eastern Bloc and Yugoslavia is relatively unknown in the country. Albania’s experience of communism was unlike any other nation’s (even those in the region), and it has much more to learn and redeem from the region’s modernist trajectory than it does from Western art history. Collaboration and exchange with its immediate neighbors and other nearby regions (such as the Middle East and North Africa) can be as integral if not more conducive to the production of art. These suggestions are by no means exhaustive, nor are they prescriptions that will heal all of what ails the Albanian contemporary art context. They are aimed as much at the incoming administration and those enthusiastic about its prospects as they are intended to address the agents already active and striving to create the semblance of an infrastructure and artistic community. Achieving any of the above suggestions will require not only political will, but a demand from the people who stand to gain the most: the artists, cultural managers and, ultimately, the public. These measures will have to emerge

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and be nurtured organically from the ground up if they are to have any impact and efficacy. Artists have to take things into their own hands and not only make art, but also create the spaces in which to see it, and the audiences who will come out for that purpose. For too long, artists have been dependent on the state, one funding body or another, and the demands of the international art market. This dependency has left them in the odd position of being no different from their communist predecessors, who had to answer to the party’s higher directives. The art, which hasn’t been discussed here at all, sadly, testifies to this condition. Perhaps then can we dream of a Berlin-like Tirana. — K Eriola Pira is a curator, visual culture theorist and art administrator. Hailing from Albania, she lives and works in New York.

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THE LONG ROAD TO VENICE TEXT BY RINA META

PETRIT HALILAJ'S NOSTALGIC SHOWCASE OF KOSOVAR MEMORIES IS BROUGHT TO VENICE

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PETRIT HALILAJ, IN GREEN, LINES UP WITH OTHER REFUGEES FOR FOOD AND HUMANITARIAN AID IN KUKES, NORTHERN ALBANIA, IN 1999. HALILAJ BECAME A PROFESSIONAL ARTIST AND REPRESENTED KOSOVO FOR THE FIRST TIME AT THE VENICE BIENNIAL. PHOTO: ANDREW TESTA

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Petrit draws with both hands. This skill of his was first recognized when he was a refugee at the Kukes camp. Thanks to the attention the international media gave to Petrit’s skill, his family in the Diaspora learned that he and other members of the family were still alive.

— WE SHOULD START with this photo. It is the first photo depicting Kosovo’s long road to Venice and our artist appears safe, protected, and in search of something new. When Petrit Halilaj boarded a tractor with his grandfather, mother, and all of the other children of the Halilaj family, he left his father stuck in the elementary school near Runik, his village. Kosovo refugees’ experiences during the 1999 war were almost always followed separations of this kind. This memory makes me nauseous but it’s a beautiful day. I’m in the shade of Petrit’s house in Runik and the war is more than a decade in the past. Shkurta, Petrit’s mother, opens up her life’s cabinets. From there, a thin sheaf of papers comes out, covered in colorful drawings that reveal impressions of the war. It’s Petrit’s childhood. Among this stack of aging papers, one sees dead bodies and burning houses. Children of long caravans crossing mountains, living in camps and burying their heads in the women’s warm bodies — these are either Petrit’s memories or reflections of the memories of others. As I look at them, I slowly forget myself — I treat them as mine. Though I was never part of a refugee queue, or lived in a camp, what I found in these drawings was our common memories, as well as the vagueness with which we regard them. In Petrit’s papers full of lines and colors there are also other drawings of other times, such as those of Hana, his sister. These mixed references, various contexts, walks in time, remind me of a range of reflections on Petrit’s various works where time, space, the self, the circle of life and those left behind have taken on physical form or have become poetry — details of longings, dreams, memories, and the village. “Just before escaping, in the ground in front of the house I had opened a hole to hide my precious jewels, Petrit’s drawings, and the family’s photo albums” says Shkurta, offering me access to my enigma regarding Petrit’s works in his exhibition in Saint Gallen, Switzerland: Who does the earth belong to while painting the wind? His now established repertoire includes earth, soil, dust, branches, chickens, roosters — the basic structures of big stories that obscure the more intimate stories that are his alone. But the jewels, and especially the restructuring of something so complex, that are but an element not the whole, are nowhere to be found when one examines the minimalist nature of Pe110

PETRIT HALILAJ’S MOTHER, SHKURTE HALILAJ, GOES THROUGH A STASH OF THE ARTIST’S EARLY DRAWINGS. SHE BURIED THE PAPERS IN HER VILLAGE BEFORE FLEEING KOSOVO IN 1999. PHOTO: ATDHE MULLA X7

— From there, a thin sheaf of papers comes out, covered in colorful drawings that reveal impressions of the war. It’s Petrit’s childhood. Among this stack of aging papers, one sees dead bodies and burning houses. KOSOVO 2.0

His first exhibition abroad took place in Italy, in 1999. Psychologist Poli Giacomo took his camp drawings and exhibited them with the aim of gathering funds for him and his family, who had just returned to Kosovo. trit’s earlier work. In my rediscovery of this work, I again find the narrative of the story, and there is Shkurta again, her jewels hidden in the ground, the dust of the foundation stones of his first house, drawings of both the war and carefree, naive chasing after butterflies. It is his childhood, polished with the rag of nostalgia and longing. Not only nostalgia and longing, but also the intention to make these two the foundation of a child’s prediction of the future, are powerful and sentimental elements of Petrit’s works. This is that package of emotions that’s dispersed throughout most of his artistic articulations. He shares this affinity to give a shape and a form to this prediction reflex with Shkurta, who is embodied in the existence of the works themselves. The light at the end of a tunnel, which was used by her as a reference during during one of their Skype conversations, was later used as the foundation to build the entire work that would go on to represent the newest state at the largest Biennial in the world of art, in Venice — for the first time. #6 BALKART FALL/WINTER 2013

DRITON HALILAJ, THE ARTIST’S BROTHER, STANDS ON KOSTERRC HILL, WHERE THEIR FAMILY HOME ONCE STOOD. THEY EXCAVATED SOIL AND TRANSPORTED IT TO ART BASEL IN SWITZERLAND FOR PETRIT’S INSTALLATION “KOSTERRC” (2011).

Shortly after Petrit was invited to represent Kosovo in Venice, we met for coffee. We were talking, trying to imagine the realization of the entire Venice affair, when Petrit said “It is a very interesting time,” referring to Venice, “because I have also been invited to do a personal exhibition at the Weils Contemporary Art Centre, in Brussels. Venice is definitely the destination all artists want to reach, and Brussels is somehow a sort of destination that Kosovo wants to arrive at. It would be very impossible to do both. Rina, I need to choose,” he told me pensively. I didn’t say a word. I was lost in the sad part of being a Kosovar. You’re 26 years old and your small dilemmas concerning individual plans, your individual destiny, are defined by very strange narratives, of the national responsibility kind. Today, though, I save the sadness for other moments, because with time I have thought about how being a young person from this place can be very beautiful as much as challenging. In the country Petrit and I are from, 60% of the population is under 26 years of age and the country itself is less than 10 years old, which is why the official representation of the state by such a young artist came about so naturally. In the Kosovar context, I think, the late 20s are the magical point of being. You’re old enough to remember the past and reflect on it, but also young enough to shake off the weight of pathetic victim- ➳ 111

PETRIT HALILAJ’S VENICE BIENNIAL INSTALLATION “I'M HUNGRY TO KEEP YOU CLOSE. I WANT TO XXXXXXXXX XXX XX XXXXX XXXX XXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XX XXXX FIND THE WORDS TO RESIST BUT IN THE END THERE IS A LOCKED SPHERE. THE FUNNY THING IS XXXX XX. XXXXXXXXX XXX XX XXXXX XXXX X. THAT YOU'RE NOT HERE, NOTHING IS.” (2013).

ization, to be free to move on. With all of the constant drama, one quickly gains enough experience to become prematurely seasoned, to invest all of one’s being in projects such as the Venice Biennial, or the Berlin one. The Berlin Biennial, where Petrit presented himself to the art world, was also the place where we first were introduced to him. Kosovo, Kostrc, Shkurta are his moments of reflection, but none of them share the artist’s merit in being included in impressive projects such as Massimiliano Gionnit’s Ostalgia in New Museum, New York — where Petrit was the youngest participating artist — or SUPER Visions - Drawing And Being curated by Stefanie Heckmann. The list goes on: Reihn Wolfs’ New Public, Bolzano; Marillenhof – DestillerieKausl’s STRUKTUR & ORGANISMUS, Austria; The Institute of Social Hypocrisy, Paris; 30 Künstler 30 Räume, Kunstverein, Nürnberg; or Art Basel Statements, where he repatriated several tons of soil from his Kosovar village to Switzerland, that country of epic neutralities. Kostrc (the name of both the village and of this work) was purchased by an art collector in Germany. The square hole left behind in Kostrc, once an unnatural-looking scar of sharp angles, has now been neutralized. Destined to be adaptive, similarly the mound of earth on someone’s garden in Germany must have been neutralized. In this way, intertwining Kosovo, Kostrc, his family and personal history, Petrit has developed an art and an artistic practice that, after having being introduced in all of these plac-

es, has arrived in Venice in the form of an installation. It exists in a small, 38 square-meter space bordered by Chile on one side and Turkey on the other, but it is no small achievement. It is, instead, the sum total of Kosovo’s history at the globally prestigious event, and marks both the artist and his country’s appearance on the international stage. The nest-like installation has the feel of a dream. In the darkness of a tunnel, two light sources reveal an uncanny and evocative landscape. In the background, you hear the whispers of other visitors waiting in line, who are trying to figure out what the experience will entail. When the eye finds the light, the mind follows. The world hidden by branches contains two clothes hangers, but someone is missing from the dreamy tablueau. Shkurta is again there, elegant as ever, spiritually materialized in a yellow suit which has been tailored to Petrit’s measurements. But someone is really missing. There is an empty wooden hanger, one of two that Petrit received as a gift from his grandfather when he left to study in Italy. “One is for you, the other for your bride,” his grandfather told him. The grandfather’s idealistic wish is replaced by the canaries, which in their dizzying flight give life to the space. Dense branches, the mud that keeps them together, the multi-layered messages of hangers taken in with the surprise of it all and everything is alive. Alive, organic, natural in its own way — the installation

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— Though I was never part of a refugee queue, or lived in a camp, what I found in these drawings was our common memories, as well as the vagueness with which we regard them.

THE VENICE INSTALLATION COMPRISED VARIOUS MATERIALS, INCLUDING BIRDS, BRANCHES, EARTH, METAL AND CLOTHES.

DRITON HALILAJ ASSISTS HIS BROTHER WITH LOGISTICS IN KOSOVO, GATHERING AND TRANSPORTING VARIOUS MATERIALS LIKE BRANCHES, SOIL AND STONES.

Berlin Biennial 2006 could be considered as the exhibition that launched Petrit’s career. Curator Kathrin Rhomberg selected Petrit from around 800 proposed artists to exhibit his works at one of the central spaces of that Biennial. The exhibited work was titled "The places I’m looking for, my dear, are utopian places, they are boring and I don’t know how to make them real," and it included the structure of his family house in Kosovo as well as the family’s chickens.

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contains several levels of experiences for all of the senses. The smell of the mud mixes with that of the branches from Kostrc, which are slowly drying out, evoke Kosovo itself. For anyone else, the constituent elements of the work might bring to mind other reference points, but Petrit’s entire pavilion — which contains in itself familial histories, the history of a country, and the fate of a people — is Kosovo itself. It is inspiring to measure the influence and impact that Petrit’s family has had and continues to have in his artistic work. In our visit to Runik and Kostrc, we are accompanied by Driton, Petrit’s brother, who takes care of the logistics for all of structures and complex operations of Petrit’s work coming from the village. His family’s determination to make our moments in Venice (or the subsequent ones in Brussels) both possible and remarkable is almost unbelievable. In turn Petrit brings them all together, his mother, sisters, brothers, tree branches, the stones of the old house, the chickens, the mud, love, and nostalgia and sends them somewhere far away from the yard whose soil once hid his drawings. And when this package arrives in a different, new, remote habitat, it does not evoke exoticism. It unfolds slowly, in an orderly sequence; it passes through the kindness of Petrit’s conceptual gestures and takes an often abstract, evocative form. All these elements, almost insignificant in their individual levels, preserve not only the privacy that they embody, but also retain the ability to transform themselves in new environments, to ➳ 113

For the installation of the work "Kosterrc", at Basel Art Frieze in 2012, Petrit sent six tons of earth to Switzerland.

mix with other unknown elements to create surprising and novel narratives. A space within a space, a shelter within a shelter, Petrit’s nest brings a piece of Kosovo to Venice. It’s a nest with a spirit. It’s the nest of love. It’s the transcendence that the artist somehow found in that first photo of the tired bodies of women waiting in line. It’s the protection, security, and otherworldliness that was offered to him every time he turned his head sideways to see the lights, no matter how distant. It’s our nest, all of ours, each of ours separately. When your time in our nest comes to an end, the whiteness of it’s interior starts to diminish, the canaries not heard anymore, and a darkness covers your eyes; you leave there with the smell of our branches in your nose, you’ll later understand that you were once in this nest. There were branches, mud, smells, and canaries, and it was welcoming. Meditative. A little crazy, even! This is the how the stories of every visit to Kosovo sound, or to the bits of Kosovo scattered around the world in Petrit’s works. — K Rina Meta holds a degree in Journalism and Mass Communications, and in Interior and Product Design. She has worked as a columnist for weekly Java and a reporter for daily Express. Meta was the cofounder of Dokukids Program, at the Dokufest International Documentary and Short Film Festival. She is a Kosovo 2.0 contributing writer. Currently, Meta works for the creative department of the New Moment Ideas Agency, Prishtina.

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PETRIT HALILAJ AT THE 55TH EDITION OF THE VENICE BIENNIAL .

— For anyone else, the constituent elements of the work might bring to mind other reference points, but Petrit’s entire pavilion, which contains in itself familial histories, the history of a country, and the fate of a people, is Kosovo.

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FROM MOSTLY NATURAL MATERIALS, HALILAJ CREATED A DREAMY, OTHERWORLDLY SPACE.

The branches and earth installed in Kosovo’s pavilion at the Venice Biennial were gathered in Kostrc and Runik, the village where he was born and the one where Petrit’s family lives now. While the title "I'm hungry to keep you close. I want to find the words to resist but in the end there is a locked sphere. The funny thing is that you’re not here, nothing is," is from a poem written by Petrit.

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