Izložba kolaža "Mitom do Istine"

Sa velikim zadovoljstvom objavljujem da će moja prva samostalna izložba kolaža biti otvorena 11. februara 2019, u 17:30. Mesto održavanja događaja je svečana sala Univerzitetske biblioteke "Nikola Tesla" (Banovina) u Nišu. Dobrodošli!

Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms (Mari Okada, 2018)

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ out of 10☼

Part unusual coming-of-age story whose heroine actually can't grow old, and part elaborate, highly poetic fantasy with some politics (and endangered dragons) thrown in for a good measure, Mari Okada's emotionally potent directorial debut is also a haunting, deeply personal meditation on motherly love, solitude, loss and transience of human life (inter alia), with the carefully nuanced and skillfully voiced characters, simplistic yet beautiful visuals informed by the aesthetics of medieval Europe, and Kenji Kawai's unobtrusive, gently sweeping score delicately woven into the soft fabric of narrative - the author's own 'Hibiol' that will surely stand the test of time.

Suspiria (Luca Guadagnino, 2018)

 ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼(☼) out of 10☼

Set against the politically charged backdrop which echoes with the WWII evils, Luca Guadagnino’s daring, hypnotizing and extremely polarizing reimagination of Dario Argento's Suspiria appears like a deviant, coolly dispassionate step-daughter of the original film and plays out like a twisted ode to motherhood whose forte lays in well-rounded performances by the entire cast, especially by the mysteriously beautiful Dakota Johnson and always reliable Tilda Swinton (in a triple role), as well as in the sinister, ostensibly composed atmosphere punctuated by the carefully timed moments of macabre delights, and established via the breathy, melancholic score by the Radiohead singer Tom Yorke and the wintry, austerely beautiful cinematography by Sayombhu Mukdeeprom whose camera frequently dances along the bewitched ballerinas.

Nainsukh (Amit Dutta, 2010)

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ out of 10☼

Channeling the spirits of two great poets of cinema, Sergei Parajanov and Mani Kaul, Nainsukh - as unconventional as a docu-biopic can be - traces the life of the eponymous 18th century Pahari painter through his own works, by bringing the artist's brilliant miniatures to life as a series of contemplative, often breathtaking, meticulously composed tableaux vivants. Almost wordless (it's a shame that those few lines weren't scrapped) and gently draped in the ambient gauze embroidered by the sublimely beautiful traditional music (composed by Dishari Chakraborty), the entrancing images (many kudos to DP Mrinal Desai) tend to defy the rules of our (three-dimensional) reality, slowly moving to the rhythms of a dream...

Krysař / The Pied Piper (F.A. Brabec, 2003)

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ out of 10☼

 

Shot in only 24 hours around the New Year's Eve, as reported in the opening epigraph, Krysař marks F.A. Brabec's return to folk legends, following his visually inspired fairy tale omnibus Kytice (Wild Flowers). It shares the title with Jirí Barta's expressionistic stop-motion masterpiece (from which it is only a few minutes longer), whereas its raw, anarchic energy and New Wave-ish attitude make it somewhat comparable to Juraj Jakubisko's then-controversial film Vtáckovia, siroty a blázni (Birds, Orphans and Fools, 1969).

 

Relatively simple in narrative terms, it revolves around the bet between the titular hero (Petr Jákl, bringing stoic physicality to his role) and the Devil (portrayed with manic theatricality by Karel Dobrý). The former is supposed to purify the city (of Prague) from the sinful ones before the stroke of midnight, when the latter plots to reclaim the stained souls of citizens who are completely gripped by the festive mood. However, the beefy musician falls for a lovely (not to mention pregnant) bride-to-be, Agnes (Ester Geislerová, painting her heroine with subtle melancholy and naive saintliness), with her overly possessive, increasingly drunk betrothed Kristián (a commendable performance by Richard Krajco) unwillingly swept into a romantic triangle.

Through the wintry streets of the beautiful, yet deglamorized Czech capital, these archetypal characters are followed by a jovial bunch of masquerading youths (credited as DAMU group and looking as if they walked away from the set of some Jodorowsky's feature) whose costumes are dominated by the foreboding red. Their childlike, or rather utterly infantile behavior has the impish, improvisational qualities attached to it, whereby Brabec directs his rascally 'flash mob' with the playfulness of a jester. Given that his camera is in constant, feverish, disorienting motion, the cinematography comes off as (deliberately?) chaotic or in other words, not as arresting as in Kytice, but the slightly experimental tone of the entire enterprise renders it acceptable, even poetic in a certain way. One prominent (some might say, gimmicky) trait of the 'panicked' visuals is the use of stage spotlight in addition to the available light, which often unnaturally encircles the action and feels like an attempt to break the fourth wall. The restless imagery is accompanied by the eclectic score taken from the musical of the same name written by Daniel Landa, the tracks ranging from accordion ballads to rock anthems which establish a peculiar atmosphere.

A Year Shrouded in Collages!

Intended as a Dada-esque joke or rather, a well-intentioned parody, A Composition with Skeletor (originally, Kompozicija sa Skeletorom) turned out to be the spark that would trigger my on-going collage obsession. And on this day a year ago, I published an experimental, balloon-free comic / quadriptych of sorts titled O (Of Lights and Parasites) which marked my first serious approach to the aforementioned technique. Since then, I created more than three hundred collages and the latest twelve are presented below, showing a wide variety of influences, ranging from the Serbian folk tradition to Bauhaus art to movies.

If you appreciate my work, you can support me @ Ko-Fi, make an order @ Fiverr, purchase a product with my design @ Society6, or some of my PDF art-books @ Itch (Glum Glamour, The Grain of Ultimate Silence, The Instructional Manual for the Superstitious and Mythomachia EX). And don't forget to follow me on Facebook.

Svet(l)ost

Tma

Right in the Eye of the Universe

The Answer Was Stopped at the Doorstep

The Audacious Reconfiguration of Memories

Nostalgia, Version 1.9

(dedicated to Sergei Parajanov)

The Oracle

Demiourgos

On the Edge of the Chasm

Supernova Migraine

In Heaven, Everything Is Fine

 (... which is why Adam and Eve decide to treat themselves to an exotic journey)

Pleasant Coversations With the Unknown

(click to enlarge)

12 Favorite Oldies of 2018

The following list includes some (precisely, twelve) of the best 20th century films that I watched for the first time last year, with the emphasis being on cultish and lesser known titles, rather than the critically acclaimed ones. According to the most entries' production years, the 70s appear to be my favorite era when it comes to the cinema.
 

1. Paskutinė atostogų diena (Arūnas Žebriūnas, 1965)
2. Touha zvaná Anada (Ján Kadár & Elmar Klos, 1971)
3. Deux Fois (Jackie Raynal, 1968)
4. Salomé (Téo Hernandez, 1976)
5. Catch-22 (Mike Nichols, 1970)
6. Pink Narcissus (James Bidgood, 1971)

7. Bérénice (Raúl Ruiz, 1983)
8. Spirits of the Air, Gremlins of the Clouds (Alex Proyas, 1989)
9. Radio On (Christopher Petit, 1979)
10. Jaune le soleil (Marguerite Duras, 1971)
11. Zoo zéro (Alain Fleischer, 1979)
12. Quick Billy (Bruce Baillie, 1971)