Catalog Resolution 827

Imprint
Co-publishers:
Museum of Contemporary Art, Belgrade
SMBA/Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam
Archive Books
Editors: Jelle Bouwhuis and Zoran Erić
Print run: 1000 copies
ISBN: 978-86-7101-331-4 (MoCAB)
           978-3-943620-50-4 (Archive Books)
English
Pages 150

Exhibition Resolution 827 was set from 18.04. – 31.05. 2015. in Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam.

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I Will Never Talk about the War Again – Jelena Petrović

The work I Will Never Talk about the War Again by Lana Čmajčanin and Adela Jušić was made in 2011, when it was also included in the Perpetuum Mobile collection of Living Archive, during its first edition in Zagreb.[1] As one of the works of art contributed to this archive, which was grounded in contemporary art, feminism and the post-Yugoslav space, the work became its integral part, an attempt and challenge to politically (re)articulate these overlapping, conflicting and rebounding grounds. What the archive and this work had in common was a point of rupture, or at least an attempt at disrupting the linear trajectories of historical violence and identitary/identifying stigmatization, epitomized in expressly brutal yet covert mechanisms of maintaining the social power of different elite groups, be they ethno-nationalistic, militant, class-based, patriarchal, administrative, or of any other kind. During this Zagreb based event, as a member of the Red Min(e)d team and co-initiator of Living Archive, I touched on this video performance many times, always briefly and fleetingly, though with a different sentiment each time, as if mirroring the ebb and flow of emotions evident in the voices and faces of the artists: from anger to some vague pleasure, from an avowed acceptance to utter silence, from wish to reality, until I finally watched the entire performance in order to bend these affective turns towards a complete politically articulated meaning. The video performance at that moment became an image with red background, against which the two artists, whose work had for years already been intensely focused on the war, its traumatic experiences and (in)human forms, now faced one another, faced themselves, faced everyone. It was precisely that frozen and muted image that became the point of rupture or, paradoxically, that which connects and creates what is shared: neither the subject nor the object, but affective engagement and abject confrontation[2] with the war that everlastingly rages among and around us, because of what we, individually or collectively, are or are not, or ultimately (don’t) accept to be.   

This video performance produced in collaboration by Lana Čmajčanin and Adela Jušić has been displayed at numerous exhibitions, and served twice as the source for the very titles of exhibitions: on one occasion the exhibition title was taken from this work verbatim (I Will Never Talk about the War Again, exhibitions in Färgfabriken and Stockholm in 2011, and Maribor in 2012, curator Vladan Jeremić), while on the other it was somewhat altered (I want to speak about the war, Zagreb 2014, from the Voyage to Europe series of exhibitions, curators Mia David and Zorana Đaković Minniti). Positioned in the very focus of an exhibition, and thus politically marked together with the artists who perform and the reasons why they perform, the work itself becomes a trigger for the curators’ positioning in relation to the work, as well as a signifier of the context in which it is presented to the audience, media and the politics of place. The range of these political significations is broad: they could be engaged, passive, observational, identifying, forensic, diagnostic or independent from any meaning the artists had in mind when they created the work; they are in any case ambivalent and not finally determined despite the intention to make them such, as it actually remains unclear on behalf of what the work speaks once placed in the exhibition epicenter. The politics of memory and forgetting, trauma and crime, human empathy and ethics, attempts to overcome everything, pack it up and leave behind – all these possibly explain why the war is spoken about and against, but not on whose behalf it is done. It is a question that still remains open or perhaps rather closed, much like the one preceding it: What do we actually speak about when we speak about “the” war?             

As selector of the 2014 Zagreb Film Mutations: Festival of Invisible Cinema 08 Parallel Film, Marina Gržinić included this video performance in the program, along with several previous works by the same artists, with a view to showing that the war machinery “regulates gaze, affects and life”[3] in its ever more intensive forms of militant colonialism. According to her, this work carries in itself an obsessive performative statement “that exposes the circularity conditioning the social, economic and political texture of Bosnia and Herzegovina today,”[4] the texture which is nearly 20 years after the so-called Dayton Agreement still necropolitically subjected to peace. What Gržinić actually speaks about here is the never-terminated war, the war waged by different means that continuously drags Bosnia and Herzegovina deeper into poverty and oblivion. She also sees the repetition of this performative statement as an answer to all the manifest, governing and arbitrary discourses on the war – an answer produced by means of all the emotions available for resisting this regulatory necropolitical process. Such an answer perhaps best describes what kind of war we speak of today, and against what the reiterated negation of Lana Čmajčanin and Adela Jušić is raised.    

On the other hand, the Resolution 827 exhibition (SMBA, Amsterdam 2015, curators Zoran Erić, Jelle Bouwhuis and Joram Kraaijeveld), which this text is in effect occasioned by, regards the work of these two artists, through the lens of the consequences of the war, as one of the exhibition’s underlying perspectives. According to Zoran Erić, the work is “a metaphor for the position of the traumatized subject that cannot depart from trauma’s need to act by repetition, while it also poignantly depicts the rhetoric of nationalist parties that need to remind citizens of the war in order to maintain their power positions and nurture nationalist feelings towards the ‘other,’ or the enemy.”[5] In other words, the work explores the ambivalence of meaning inherent in the very act of the repetition of the statement in the historically contextualized political reality of the post-Yugoslav space, as well as possibilities to determine the perspectives of the act’s significance from the position of the traumatized subject, which stands in contrast to the positions of power that determine who “the other” actually is. The position of inability to talk about the war outside the given frameworks of nationalistic narratives and simultaneous rejection of the positions of power perhaps open up the space for the discussions with the aim to diagnose the present – the discussions that have occasionally been held in the past on certain margins of society. It also, however, overlooks the affective turn in which this state of abjection becomes pervasive and indicative of a need to politically articulate the demand to “banish” the war and its consequences from our everyday lives, in the most basic existential meaning of social relations and economic state of society on the whole (even if that may merely be a social utopia).    

The mentioned exhibitions named after this work – I Will Never Talk about the War Again – play upon the linguistic potential of this statement, the meaning of which is in both contexts emptied and, if we follow the terminology of semiotics, functions as the signifier. In the case of the first exhibition, an arbitrary meaning is attached to the given signifier, providing an answer to the central question posed by the exhibition: “Can contemporary artistic practice really give innovative form and find a language with which it is possible to speak politically about individual and collective war and post-war experiences?”[6] Thus the work itself is placed within the context of the personal and emotional, in which any talk about the war is rendered pointless precisely due to its shocking brutality: “the two artists promise each other not to talk about the war anymore, repeating the same sentence over and over. The work is an emotional statement on the fact that more than fifteen years after the Dayton Peace Agreement the war remains a central experience in the divided country.”[7] In the second exhibition, the altered statement I want to speak about the war is reduced to an inverted signifier, upon which the same motivational meaning is built, which in this case serves to bring the vicious circle of the wars waged in this region throughout history to the same level, and answer the question posed by the curators in relation to this work: “Why is it important to speak about the war? (Lana Čmajčanin and Adela Jušić’s work).”[8] Talk is thus positioned as a political place of power, the will to truth, social practice and an artistic event which tries to illuminate the great historical (un)truths and unravel them on the Voyage to Europe (title of a series of exhibitions organized to mark the World War I centenary).  

Still, a question remains: what is actually the repetitive statement of this work? It is the speech which, even when refusing to talk about the war, in fact communicates its essence and its symptoms still present today in their various manifestations. Furthermore, what needs to be noted when interpreting this work, and bearing in mind the feminist position of the artists, is that this is the talk which does not accept patriarchal labels of apolitical and private when originating from emotional and personal perspective, or the label of incapability when refusing to be made. Here, the position of the artists is clear: it is one of personal experience which shows that talking about the war, as well as the war itself, are still all around us, permeating our everyday lives. Their reiteration: I will never talk about the war again, reintroduces affect into the political which has been rendered faceless, manipulative and oriented towards administration and economy of war, maintenance of trauma and relativization of crimes, psychologisation of the politics of coping and reconciliation, and all those legal and human rights regulations and scientifically guaranteed remedies which are constitutional for the surviving and renamed national elites and interethnic imaginary communities, rather than for the society and community in which we live our everyday existence. At least, this applies to the society as perceived by the artists, one that serves as a backdrop for talking about the war, liberated and free from all of the above mentioned. The politics of this repetitive speech act: I will never talk about the war again, is simultaneously the politics of affect and politics of hope, not merely the position of the victims unable to face their trauma and the war. Thereby, at this point, the personal becomes political, neither declarative in terms of the decision not to talk about the war anymore, nor confessional in terms of articulating powerlessness, as it might seem at first if one takes into account all the circumstances and usual identifiers, and simultaneously excludes the feminist principle of the personal creating affect and resistance, and demanding a politically articulated answer to the question: On behalf of what do we speak when we speak about the war? Therefore, at the conclusion of the statement accompanying the work by Lana Čmajčanin and Adela Jušić, we read a series of questions, simultaneously provocative, subversive and open:  Is it possible not to talk about the war? Why do we do it and when will it stop? Will we stop? Should we stop?, where these questions underlie the two artists’ performative act of subjectifying repetition.  

Finally, there is a series of questions introduced by the work itself and its perception within different contexts and exhibitions, which forces us to decide on the concrete war we are talking about. What does that war mean or entail today? Does it in fact still go on? Who has the right (not) to talk about the war? What does Dadaistic rebelliousness of this work involve as it reiterates and affects the sentence which opposes everything else just like any other statement containing personal pronoun I? How does the subject that, confronted with the object, rejects itself and wishes to be transformed and through a repetitive pattern comes to resemble the abject, the very thing which in this process of political subjectivization shapes and integrates us into an acting social community through the politics of affect which drives and carries us, not letting us stop, but instead makes us search for the thing which represents this war today, in order to defeat it?[9]  The artists personally and emotionally oppose systematic mechanisms of power, which in turn pacify, regulate and fuel that very war for the benefit of various but always profitable elites. They oppose and at the same time negate, as they articulate their political agenda as a demand, in fact the demand of Antigone as read by Judith Butler and other feminists: the destruction of the violent order of hegemonic and patriarchal power in the name of freedom. Or this is perhaps also, when interpreted more liberally, the rebellion against patriarchal, regulatory, state principles which do not allow the war to be “interred” as a means of establishing social order – the same rebellion in which Antigone persists at any cost, refusing to admit her act as the cause for guilt.  

In any case, the affective drive which in this work propels us towards the red background of the freeze frame concluding the work, the background which undulates before our eyes and makes the impossible possible, is created in this very abject and is characterized by its own dual time: “a time of oblivion and thunder, of veiled infinity and the moment when revelation bursts forth.”[10] It is up to us to choose what we will reach for in this talk which refuses to address the war. Through their repetition, the artists simultaneously oblige and subvert the rules of patriarchy, for they are aware that no one ever even asked women to express their political opinion publically, let alone to politically, socially or economically position themselves in relation to the war and what it meant to them in its utter brutality and criminality. In brief: after the World War II, Yugoslav women fought out their freedom and right to equality, labor and independence, due to the activity of the Women’s Antifascist Front, but soon encountered the oppression of the ideologically adjusted patriarchy embodied in the concept of modern socialist family. It involved the survival of the privatized forms of unpaid and invisible women’s work and patriarchally structured distribution of power, and consequently, violence. At the very same location of this common Yugoslav state, the next (un)named and (un)finished war assumed and still assumes women’s complete and now entirely transparent re-traditionalization within the transitional, neoliberal and ethno-nationalist reproductive processes of the modern society and everyday life. This is precisely the everyday life which Lana and Adela designate in the statement of their work as the locus of political talk, of the need and reasons to claim: I will never talk about the war again. This talk was created to propel the changes in these newly emerged social situations, political circumstances and economic conditions, not to establish peace at any cost; and it was the women who eventually paid the greatest toll for it in these newly created post-Yugoslav states (feminization of poverty, abolishment of social rights, flexibilization of labor, perpetual exploitation, structural and manifold violence, among many things).

Talking about the war therefore does not entail the victim’s testimony, but rather a political act, and the negation in this speech implies refusal to accept the assigned roles and official narratives. Refusal to talk about the war is a lesson in discontent, affective rebellion and return to the beginning, to the phase of taking up the position of (not) speaking about the (non)war, the position which is always one of power, in order to politically rearticulate the questions: Who speaks and on whose behalf? Why are the locations of speaking about the war abolished? By and to whom and were they delegated? This very position of speech which contains nothing bar the mere negation allows for a transgression of the inverse empty signifier into the field of performance art. If we now perceive this work in the context of the artists’ entire oeuvre, it testifies of the engaged action which predominantly involves the demand for an actual change, rather than reaction to the social reality in which we live, as it demonstrates what we in fact talk about when we do (not) talk about the (non)war.  The answer to the crucial question imposed by contextualizing this work within the exhibition lies actually in the politics of affect and politics of hope, presented to us through the works of these artists and feminists as the future loci of the common political articulation. In other words, when the artists attempt to answer the question of whether we can talk about the war, they seem to suggest that revolution maybe the thing that we should rather talk about.

Translated by Tijana Parezanović and Milan Marković

[1] The first edition of Living Archive, a project developed over several years by the feminist curatorial team Red Min(e)d Bring In Take Out, took place in Zagreb between 13 and 16 October 2011. For more information please visit: https://bringintakeout.wordpress.com/la-editions/zagreb/ (Accessed on 10 August 2015)

[2] According to Julia Kristeva, the concept of abjection has a complex meaning which, importantly, still remains undefined. The term abject refers to what is repulsive, liminal and unacceptable to the subject, though at the same time constitutive, and thus bearing emancipatory potential in a political sense. Among other things, Kristeva stresses that all repetitive instances of facing the abject are simultaneously accompanied by the feelings of loss and gain. Performative repetition of abjection causes a series of affects that represent more than mere emotions, since they express both the positive and the negative, interconnected in the process of constituting the subject. Cf. Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection (trans. by Leon S. Roudiez), New York:  Columbia University Press, 1982.

[3] Marina Gržinić, Politicizing and rewriting counter histories: for a new politics of empowerment and interventions, text written for Film mutations: The Festival of Invisible Cinema, 2014 https://adelajusic.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/here.pdf (Accessed on 10 August 2015)


[4] Ibid.


[5] Zoran Erić, Fragments of Resolution, Newsletter No. 141 — Global Collaborations, 2015

 http://www.smba.nl/static/en/exhibitions/resolution-827/smba-nieuwsbrief-141.pdf (Accessed on 12 August 2015)

[6] Vladan Jeremić, from the exhibition catalog: I WILL NEVER TALK ABOUT THE WAR AGAIN, Färgfabriken, Stockholm, 2011.

https://adelajusic.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/catalogue.pdf (Accessed on 12 August 2015)

[7] Ibid.


[8] Zorana Đaković Minitti and Mia David, announcement of the exhibition Voyage to Europe: I want to speak about the war, 2014. http://www.kcb.org.rs/OProgramima/Projekti/Projektinajave/tabid/1092/AnnID/2867/language/sr-Latn-CS/Default.aspx (Accessed on 12 August 2015).


[9]Grupa Spomenik (Monument Group) which has since 2002 dealt with (in)ability of talking about the war, founded a translation platform in 2010 to address this issue, naming it after a text by Catherine Hass: Qu’ appelle t-on une guerre? Enquete sur Ie nom de guerre aujourd’hui. The project was first presented at the first Biennial of Contemporary Art (No Network “Time Machine” Biennial, D0 ARK Underground) held in Konjic, Bosnia and Herzegovina in 2011, which actually uncovered the (administrative) mechanisms of perpetuating the war using different means. The question: What does the name war stand for today?, testifies of this current state of war, its permanence and necessity, the purpose of which, as it is emphasized by Catharina Hass, is not the achievement of peace. Read more in: Catherina Hass: Qu’ appelle t-on une guerre? Enquete sur Ie nom de guerre aujourd’hui, Universite Paris 8, Paris, 2001 (PhD Thesis); The Project Biennial D-0 ARK Underground, Bosnia and Herzegovina, ed. by Başak Şenova, Association Biennial of Contemporary Art, Sarajevo, 2013.


[10] Kristeva, ibid., p. 9

 

Real but not true

Duplex Gallery
Solo exhibition
March 08th – 30th

Guide through by artist on March 14th at 11h, March 18th at 17h and March 28th TBC

poster

Real but not true – Tijana Okić

The First, and especially the Second World War was a turning point for the women of Yugoslavia. In the Kingdom of Yugoslavia women could have only a few roles – they could be wives, mothers (property) and a cheap workforce. Legally, they didn’t even have the status of a person. World War One brought small changes, culminating in the victory of the national liberation. While men were on the fronts of WWI, women took vacant positions which were until then reserved exclusively for men. In WWII, women gave their contributions side by side with their co-fighters, showed superhuman resistance and mobilised against enemy forces in every way possible: through legal and illegal activity, on occupied and liberated territory, in fear and in freedom, women acted in the struggle against the enemy and fascism.

According to Mitra Mitrović, WWII was the war that blurred the lines between the front and the background. Women were in both at the same time; in the army with machine guns and with the laboring force in the background. With their bodies, in combat and in physical labour, women made the revolution possible and greatly influenced the outcome of WWII in Yugoslavia. They fought with guns and paid in blood for the rights we have today. We must never forget the most important rights we inherited from their struggle – women’s suffrage and the right to compulsory education.

As one of the largest women’s organisations in the region and the world, the Antifascist Front of Women counted at the time more than 2 million members, making it the biggest organised women’s movement in the Second World War. 100 000 women fought as Partisans, out of which 2 000 received a military rank. 25 000 partisans were killed, and over 40 000 were wounded in combat. The AFW, with its numbers and its activities, will be memorialized as one of the greatest instances of women’s organising of all time. After WWII the role of the AFŽ moved from the battlefield to the task of rebuilding the country. In 1947, the decision was made to start realizing the first Five-year plan, and AFW became one of the organisations fulfilling their obligation by working diligently on the reconstruction of the country. The realization of the Five-year plan depended heavily on the heroic work of women as a reserve army of labour for the creation of a happier future for the Yugoslav people. Women dug, built railways and railroads, worked in mines and fields, built infrastructure and factories. In addition to their heroic work on reconstruction, they still carried out all their traditional duties. The responsibilities of caring for children, the sick, the elderly, the feeble, and the household all still fell on them. The AFŽ is a phenomenon of a time inscribed with the experience of the witnesses, a time of struggle where women really, but not completely, won their rights, a time when everything changed and stayed the same for women.

How do we treat this past in a time of complete dissolution of the idea of togetherness and collective struggle? On the one hand, for generations who are completely cut off from their past, even comprehending the power and magnitude of the AFŽ would be a genuine step forward in the fight against the dominant ideology of oblivion, the everlasting present, and the historical revisionism of reactionary forces. And on the other hand, radical dehistoricization and mythologization of the AFŽ by the Left has led to a complete misunderstanding of the historical circumstances and causes which ultimately led to AFŽ’s formation, and the original roles envisioned for it. Exactly because of this, now more than ever, we have to think through our past critically and not nostalgically, against the ideology of oblivion, defiantly remembering and collecting experiences from which we can learn a lot – about the past, but also about ourselves.

Translation from Bosnian: Kasja Jerlagić
Proofreading: Eric Gordy


Stvarno, ali ne i istinito – Tijana Okić

Prvi, a osobito Drugi svjetski rat za žene na području Jugoslavije označili su prekretnicu. Žene su u Kraljevini Jugoslaviji imale par uloga. One su mogle biti supruge, majke (vlasništvo) i jeftina radna snaga. Pravno im nije bio zagarantiran niti status osobe.  Već s Prvim svjetskim ratom dolazi do polaganih promjena koje će kulminirati izvojevanom pobjedom u Narodno-oslobodilačkoj borbi. Dok su za vrijeme Prvog svjetskog rata muškarci bili na frontovima, žene su zauzele upražnjena mjesta do tada rezervirana isključivo za muškarce. Za vrijeme Drugog svjetskog rata žene su, dajući svoj obol u Narodno-oslobodilačkoj borbi, podnijele veliku žrtvu zajedno sa suborcima, pružajući nadljudski otpor i mobilizirajući se protiv neprijateljskih snaga na sve moguće načine: legalnim i ilegalnim radom, na okupiranoj i oslobođenoj teritoriji, u strahu i u slobodi žene su radile u borbi za pobjedu nad neprijateljem i fašizmom.

Drugi svjetski rat je, riječima Mitre Mitrović bio rat u kojem se brisala i pomicala granica između fronta i pozadine. Žene su tako bile i front i pozadina; i armija puškomitraljezaca,  ali i armija rada u pozadini. Svojim tijelima, u borbi i fizičkom radu, žene su omogućile revoluciju i dobrim dijelom doprinijele ishodu Drugog svjetskog rata u Jugoslaviji.  Puškom su se borile i u krvi izborile prava koja uživamo još i danas. Kao dvije najvažnije tekovine njihove borbe ne smijemo nikada zaboraviti da su se izborile za pravo glasa i pravo na obavezno osnovno obrazovanje.


Kao jedna od najmasovnijih ženskih organizacija, ne samo na našim prostorima, već uopće, u svijeu, isticao se tada Antifašistički front žena koji je brojao preko 2 miliona članica. “Ta brojka čini najveći ženski organizirani pokret u Drugom svjetskom ratu. Borilo se 100.000 žena (partizanki), njih 2.000 su dobile vojni čin. 25.000 partizanki je ubijeno, a preko 40.000 ranjeno u borbi.” AFŽ svojom brojnošću i svojim djelovanjem ostaje trajno upisan kao jedna od najsjajnijih faza ženskog organiziranja ikada i igdje.  Uloga AFŽ-a po završetku Drugog svjetskog rata sa bojnog polja prelazi u borbu za izgradnju i obnovu zemlje. Kada se 1947. godine donosi odluka o realizaciji prvog petogodišnjeg plana, AFŽ postaje jednom od organizacija koja predanim udarničkim radom izvršava obaveze na obnovi i izgradnji zemlje. Ostvarenje petogodišnjeg plana u velikoj je mjeri ovisilo od udarničkog i herojskog rada žena kao rezervne armije rada kojom je izgrađena sretnija budućnost jugoslavenskih naroda. Žene su tako kopale, gradile pruge i željeznice, radile u rudnicima, na poljima, na podizanju infrastrukture i fabrika. Pored svog udarničkog i herojskog rada na obnovi i zgradnji, nastavile su obavljati i sve tradicionalne dužnosti. Na njih je padala briga o djeci, bolesnima, starima, nemoćnima i kućanstvu. AFŽ je fenomen jednot vremena u koje je upisano vrijeme svjedoka, vrijeme borbe u kojoj su se žene stvarno, ali ne i istinito izborile za svoja prava, vrijeme u kojem se za žene promijenilo sve i u kojem je sve ostalo isto.

Kako se mi odnosimo prema toj prošlosti u vrijeme potpune disolucije bilo kakve ideje o zajedništvu i kolektivnoj borbi? S jedne strane, za generacije koje potpuno odsječene od svoje prošlosti, uopće pojmiti moć i obim AFŽ-a predstavljalo bi pravi i istinski pomak u borbi protiv dominantne ideologije zaborava, vječne sadašnjosti i historijskog revizionizma reakcionarnih snaga. S druge pak strane, radikalna de-historizacija i mitologizacija AFŽ-a na ljevici dovele su do potpunog nerazumijevanja historijskih okolnosti i uzroka koji su na koncu doveli do formiranja AFŽ-a i uloga koje su za AFŽ od početka bile predviđene. Upravo zbog toga, danas više nego ikada našu vlastitu prošlost moramo misliti kritički, a ne nostalgično, protiv ideologije zaborava borbeno se sjećajući i sakupljajući iskustva iz kojih možemo naučiti mnogo. O prošlosti, ali i o nama samima.

Link to photos of opening and set up on Google+

Without enormous support of friends, this exhibition would never be realized: Pierre Courtin, Claudia Zini, Kasja Jerlagić, Elvira Jahić, Soraja Čehić, Ilvana Dizdarević, Danijela Dugandžić, Nardina Zubanović, Igor Šakić, Ervin Prašljivić, Enes Vilić, Jasmin Šehović. Ervin Nevesinjac, Dženan Hadžihasanović, Ferida Duraković and Milan Senić.

Izložba ‘Hero Mother’: Žensko iskustvo političkih mijena

U berlinskoj galeriji Momentum, smještenoj u nekadašnjoj bolnici Bethanien, danas impresivnom prostoru za izložbe, umjetničke rezidencije i ateljee, izložba „Hero Mother“ je oko teme pozicije žena u postkomunističkim zemljama okupila i četiri umjetnice iz Bosne i Hercegovine: Danicu Dakić, Maju Bajević, Adelu Jušić i Selmu Selman.

Piše: Tamara Zablocki za Urban Magazin, decembar 2016

„Majka junakinja“ počasna je titula ustanovljena 1944, za staljinističkog doba u Rusiji, a zajedno s medaljom, novčanom pomoći, plaćenim režijama i brojnim drugim privilegijama dodjeljivana je sovjetskim ženama za odgajanje barem desetoro djece. Ugašeno uslijed raspada Sovjetskog saveza i finansijski neodrživo za vrijeme perestrojke, počasno zvanje kojim je država nagrađivala predano majčinstvo ponijelo je više od 430.000 žena, a njegova inačica postoji i u današnjoj Rusiji u obliku Roditeljskog ordena, koji nagrađuje trud oko podizanja već sedmoro djece, dok titulu sličnu ovoj dobijaju i majke u drugim postkomunističkim zemljama, poput Bjelorusije i Ukrajine.

Praksa osmišljena za podsticanje nataliteta u Drugim svjetskim ratom opustošenoj naciji, kao i za podsjećanje žena, simboličnih „majki nacije“ na njihovu „patriotsku dužnost“ prokreacije poslužila je autorici izložbe „Hero Mother“, feministkinji, profesorici i historičarki umjetnosti Bojani Pejić, koja već četvrt vijeka živi i radi u Berlinu, ali vrlo dobro poznaje društveno-političku stvarnost i umjetničku produkciju cjelokupne centralne i istočne Evrope, kao polazna tačka za propitivanje savremene pozicije žena u postkomunističkim zemljama.

S brojnim pitanjima na umu poput: šta se promijenilo za žene od pada komunizma, jesu li žene koje su za vrijeme socijalizma bile „zaposlene majke“ danas nešto drugo, kako definišemo junaštvo u demokratskim okolnostima, može li junaštvo biti društvena neposlušnost i otpor, Pejić nas navodi na promišljanje o tome šta je načelna demokratija donijela, a šta oduzela ženama na ovim prostorima. Osim toga, ona podsjeća na činjenicu da su se novoformirane demokratske vlade u istočnoj Evropi, ostavljajući po strani ekonomske probleme, politički haos i socijalnu nesigurnost, najprije prihvatile posla poništavanja „komunističke“ emancipacije žena, vraćajući žene u privatnu sferu, zatirući aktivističku i radničku važnost Dana žena i pokušavajući uspostaviti kontrolu nad ženskim tijelom, odnosno predlažući zakone o zabrani abortusa, koji je dotad, s izuzetkom Rumunije, bio legalan širom istočnog bloka. Premda je zakonska „nacionalizacija ženskog tijela“ do danas u potpunosti uspjela jedino u Poljskoj, konzervativni stavovi o „porodičnim vrijednostima“ i povratku žene u privatnu sferu zarad brige o djeci – ali i lakše eksploatacije na tržištu rada putem rada od kuće i drugih nesigurnih oblika zapošljavanja – s jačanjem nacionalističkih političkih stranaka sve su glasniji, te neprestano prijete da nas vrate u prošlost, poništavajući prava za koja su se žene i u ovom dijelu Evrope davno izborile.

Intimno i političko

Samo jedna s dugačke liste primamljivih izložbi umjetnika i umjetnica 20. i 21. vijeka koje su se u Berlinu mogle posjetiti početkom juna – kad je autorica ovih redaka imala sreću da se nađe u tom gradu – poput pregleda stvaralaštva nadrealističke fotografkinje i ratne fotoreporterke Lee Miller, grafičara, skulptora i filmadžije Williama Kentridgea, ili kontroverznog umjetnika Güntera Brusa, izložba „Hero Mother“ okupila je trideset umjetnica iz dvadeset zemalja s iskustvom socijalizma i komunizma, a među njemačkim, ruskim, poljskim, kubanskim, kineskim, bugarskim, vijetnamskim, kazahstanskim umjetnicama, kao i umjetnicama porijeklom iz naše regije, poput Marine Abramović i Sanje Iveković, našle su se četiri iz Bosne i Hercegovine: Maja Bajević, Danica Dakić, Adela Jušić i Selma Selman.

Različitosti socijalnih i političkih prilika zemalja iz kojih dolaze, kao i raznovrsnost medija koje umjetnice biraju za svoj izraz, od performansa, preko instalacije, do videoradova i fotografije, uslovile su da se šarolika izložba, kroz koju se ipak proteže povezujuća nit kontekstualnog pristupa, bavi brojnim podtemama: rodnim ulogama, nacionalizmom, ličnim slobodama, građanskim neposluhom, ličnim i kolektivnim sjećanjem, nasiljem u porodici, ženskim naslijeđem, odnosom majke i kćerke, iskustvom majčinstva pod teretom tradicionalističkih i nacionalističkih ideologija te direktnog uplitanja države u intimne odluke i privatni život. Uz predstavljanje lokalnih političkih specifičnosti zemlje iz kojih dolaze, većina predstavljenih radova, nastalih u posljednjih dvadesetak godina, bavi se sjećanjem i nepostojanom granicom između intimnog i političkog.

Već u atriju i pri penjanju stepenicama koje vode do galerije Momentum posjetioci su mogli čuti nekadašnju jugoslovensku himnu „Hej, Slaveni“ iz videorada Marine Abramović „Heroj“, kojim slavna umjetnica istovremeno odaje počast svom preminulom ocu, čija je smrt bila njegova jedina „predaja“ u životu i državi koje više nema, a u kojoj je taj otac bio nepobjedivi antifašista i komunista. Sanja Iveković u svojevrsnoj antireklami „Lijepa naša“ rađenoj za potrebe kampanje „Zaustavimo nasilje nad ženama“ posuđuje naziv i muziku hrvatske državne himne i dekonstruiše uobičajeni simbol „majke nacije“ predstavljajući je ovog puta licima pretučenih žena. Turska umjetnica Nezaket Ekici radom „Maskiranje“ potcrtava nezavidan položaj žena u islamskim, ali i zapadnjačkim društvima, instalacija ruske umjetnice Gluklye razapetom odjećom daje glas i vidljivost ruskom otporu Vladimiru Putinu, a Elżbieta Jabłońska autoportretima „Supermajke“ ironizira mit o „poljskoj majci“ kojoj je u „prirodi“ da se žrtvuje i trpi. Umjetnice koje su predstavljale Bosnu i Hercegovinu, a od kojih su tri bile junakinje naslovnica nekih od prethodnih izdanja Urban magazina, svojim radovima predstavljenim na izložbi „Hero Mother“ problematizovale su nama dobro poznate posljedice rata na intimu pojedinca i na cijelo društvo.

Od ratnih sjećanja do Drugog

Četvorominutni video Adele Jušić „Snajper“ temelji se na bilježnici njenog oca, snajperiste Armije Republike Bosne i Hercegovine, u kojoj je mjesecima vodio evidenciju o broju vojnika i vozača koje je ubio, sve dok i sam nije izgubio život na isti način. Jušić radom, koristeći fotografiju oca koja datira iz ratnog vremena, propituje koliko su sjećanja na rat isprepletena sa sjećanjima na porodično okruženje i djetinjstvo, te koliko stvarnost rata ide dalje od nacionalističkih, etničkih ili religijskih problema čiji diskurs prevladava u postratnom periodu, potcrtavajući važnost autobiografske vizure u tematizovanju historije i rata.

Maja Bajević je osim videom „How do you want to be governed?“, koji se bavi pozicijama moći, predstavljena radom u kojem se također prožimaju privatno i političko – privatno kao tradicionalna ženska sfera, i političko, u ovom slučaju ratno, kao muška sfera čije su žrtve i žene – „Žene na poslu – Pranje“, videoinstalacijom jednog od tri performansa koje je umjetnica izvela s grupom žena izbjeglih iz Srebrenice nakon genocida u julu 1995. Rad je začet u Sarajevu, gdje je Bajević uz pomoć žena na tkanini izvezla čuvene Titove izjave, poput one koja glasi: „Zemlja koja ima ovakvu omladinu ne mora se bojati za svoju budućnost“, ili: „Živimo kao da će sto godina biti mir, a spremajmo se kao da će sutra izbiti rat.“ Značenje ovih političkih slogana „isprano“ je i potpuno uništeno tokom ratova na prostoru bivše Jugoslavije i danas je teško ne uočiti njihovu ironiju. Tri žene iznova i iznova, danima peru izvezene tkanine, sve dok se one od pranja ne raspadnu – uništavajući vlastitu tvorevinu baš kako to historija često čini. „Političke poruke uvijek imaju privremeno značenje: stavljene u drugo vrijeme one postaju u potpunosti apsurdne. Sapiranje težine historije predstavljene kroz čuvene političke poruke iz bivše Jugoslavije reakcija je na nasilje koje političko može imati nad intimnim“, rekla je Bajević o svom radu.

Uticaj političkog na intimno fokus je i videorada Selme Selman „Slana voda (s 47)“, zasnovanog na ličnoj priči njene majke, koja je s Kosova još kao tinejdžerka bez dokumenata došla u Bosnu i Hercegovinu da bi živjela sa svojim nevjenčanim suprugom, a državljanstvo Bosne i Hercegovine uspjela je dobiti tek godinama nakon raspada zajedničke države i nakon prave birokratske bitke, u dobi od 47 godina. Video Selme Selman dokumentuje trenutak u kojem majci napokon uspijeva ispuniti životnu želju, odvesti je na more kako bi se uvjerila da je morska voda zaista slana, kao što su joj pričali. Na izložbi „Hero Mother“ mjesto je dobio i drugi rad iste umjetnice „Ne gledaj Ciganku u oči“, a koji se bavi stereotipima i predrasudama koje i danas prate Rome, u prvom redu dvostruko diskriminisane Romkinje. „Kao Romkinja, kao žena i umjetnica, izazivam publiku da obrati pažnju na diskriminaciju i komodifikaciju ženskog tijela“, riječi su Selme Selman.

Danica Dakić, predstavljena fotografijom „Rad je svjesna ljudska djelatnost“, što je marksistička definicija rada kojom ju je njena majka Jelica često savjetovala, bavi se odnosom prema radu i zajednici, stavljajući u fokus prožimanje ličnih uspomena i kolektivnog sjećanja. „Umjetnice na našoj izložbi koje su odlučile predstaviti svoj ‘rad sjećanja’, ili svoju dužnost sjećanja revidiraju mnoge događaje i prakse koji su odsutni u ‘bankama kolektivnog sjećanja’, destabilizujući tako institucionalizovane, istinski hegemonijske poglede na nacionalnu prošlost“, istakla je u pratećem tekstu izložbe Bojana Pejić.

Real but not True

Stvarno, ali ne i istinito
Stvarno, a ne tudi resnično

Solo exhibition
Tobačna 001
Ljubljana, Slovenia
Opening 24.02. 19h
24.02. – 24. 03.

The artistic practice of Adela Jušić (Sarajevo, 1982) is permeated with her personal experience and memories as well as politics and feminist discourse. A lot of her work investigates historical violence against women, recent Yugoslav wars and the unpleasant reality rooted in them.

The project Real but not True investigates a relatively short period from the beginning of the Second World War to the middle of 1950s, which was marked by drastic changes in politics concerning the position of women. At the onset of the war, women were massively mobilised to serve both as soldiers on the frontlines and behind the battle lines as part of the Antifascist Front of Women, and thus made their first massive strides into the public and political life in a manner that was previously unthinkable in the patriarchal society. In the post-war years, the political leadership declared the “women’s question” as solved. However, the rapid pace of women’s emancipation posed a direct threat to the patriarchal order and ultimately the AFŽ was dissolved at its Fourth Congress held in 1953. During the 1950s, women were called upon to return to their “natural” roles as mothers, housewives, educators, and nurses.

In her works, Jušić aims to problematize the role of women in the National Liberation Struggle and related politics of memory. Namely, the official versions of remembering turned those women who played an important part in the history of the struggle into idealised, almost allegorical metaphors with which mere mortals can hardly identify. Since the artist feels that the said policy has eroded on an important part of the emancipatory process, she wants to draw attention to the ways of (re-)creating the segment of the politics of memory that concerns the history women during the above mentioned period. Just to note some of the pieces exhibited … White Skirt, Red Skirt is based on the life stories of Rava Janković and Marija Bursać in the book Heroines (1967), which examines women’s characters in the spirit of exalting the Antifascist struggle. Set in a display case, the two pieces are accorded a museum context, thus alerting to the widespread absence of such witnesses in historical institutions. If Needed, We Are All Soldiers represents a series of visual interventions taken from the photographic monograph Sutjeska 1943–73. The drawings, imbued with a monumental charge and a rare vision, and entitled The Five-Year Plan— A Happier Future of Our Nations, shed light on the position of women in the post-war Yugoslavia. The sound piece She Went to War, on the other hand, uses alternating Fascist and revolutionary songs to assert that the women’s incentive for joining the National Liberation Struggle was not only based on their patriotic sentiment but also on the desire to attain equality with men.

Alenka Trebušak, curator

invitation-1

Umjetničku konceptualizaciju i aktivistički rad Adele Jušić (Sarajevo, 1982) određuje prožetost njenim vlastitim iskustvima i sjećanjima, te politikama koje proizlaze iz feminističkog diskursa. Kroz istraživanje ciklusa historijskog nasilja nad ženama usredsređuje se, na jednoj strani, na nedavnu historiju bivše Jugoslavije, a na drugoj na neugodnu sadašnjost koja iz historije proizlazi. Adela Jušić je aktivna članica i jedna od osnivačica Udruženja za kulturu i umjetnost CRVENA, u okviru kojeg je i koautorica Online arhiva Antifašističkog fronta žena Bosne i Hercegovine i Jugoslavije. Jušić je ljubljanskoj javnosti, pored toga, posljednjih godina poznata i po svom učešću na festivalima Mesto žensk (Grad žena) i Rdeče zore (Crvene zore).

Projekat Stvarno, ali ne i istinito, koji obuhvata radove u različitim medijima, bavi se relativno kratkim vremenskim razdobljem od početka Drugog svjetskog rata do sredine pedesetih godina prošlog vijeka, u kojem je došlo do drastične promjene u politici prema ženama. U prvom dijelu tog perioda, žene su bile masovno mobilizovane u vojne redove i u okviru AFŽa uključene u borbu u pozadini – tako su prvi put zakoračile u javni i politički život na način koji im je ranije, zbog patrijarhalnog uređenja društva, bio nedostupan. U drugom dijelu spomenutog perioda, žene su učestvovale u izgradnji nove države i društva. Nakon rata, politički vrh je »žensko pitanje« smatrao riješenim, sve dok brzi proces ženske emancipacije nije postao neposredna prijetnja patrijarhatu. AFŽ je na svom 4. kongresu održanom godine 1953. ukinut. Pedesetih godina 20. vijeka, žene su ponovo pozivane da se vrate svojim »prirodnim« ulogama majke, domaćice, odgajateljice i njegovateljice.

Adela Jušić u svojim radovima nastoji problematizovati učešće žena u NOB-u i s tim povezane politike sjećanja. Naime, žene koje su u toj borbi igrale važnu ulogu, zvanične verzije historijskog sjećanja promijenile su u idealizovanu alegoriju s kojom se ostalim smrtnicama teško poistovjetiti.  Jušić smatra da je time emancipatorski proces umanjen i stoga pažnju želi usmjeriti u načine (re)kreiranja politika sjećanja, povezanih s ulogom žena u spomenutom vremenu. Rad Bijela suknja, crvena suknja nastao je na temelju pripovijesti o Ravijojli Janković i Mariji Bursać iz knjige Žene heroji (1967) u kojoj su ženske ličnosti prikazivane u duhu glorifikacije antifašističke borbe. Postavljen u vitrinu, rad dobija muzejski kontekst i upozorava na nedostatak takvih svjedočanstava u historijskim institucijama. Ako zatreba, svi smo armija predstavlja seriju intervencija na fotomonografiji Sutjeska 1943 – 73. Crteži s monumentalnim nabojem, vizionarskim duhom i naslovom, od kojih valja spomenuti Petogodišnji plan – sretnija budućnost naših naroda otkrivaju šta se sa ženom događalo u postratnom razvoju Jugoslavije. Audio instalacija Ona je otišla u rat, kroz smjenjivanje fašističkih i revolucionarnih pjesama, otkriva motiv žena za pridruživanje NOB-u, koji nije bio samo patriotizam, nego i u želja za ostvarenjem jednakih prava.

Alenka Trebušak, kustosica


Stvarno, ali ne i istinito – Tijana Okić

Prvi, a osobito Drugi svjetski rat za žene na području Jugoslavije označili su prekretnicu. Žene je u Kraljevini Jugoslaviji imale par uloga. One su mogle biti supruge, majke (vlasništvo) i jeftina radna snaga. Pravno im nije bio zagarantiran niti status osobe.  Već s Prvim svjetskim ratom dolazi do polaganih promjena koje će kulminirati izvojevanom pobjedom u Narodno-oslobodilačkoj borbi. Dok su za vrijeme Prvog svjetskog rata muškarci bili na frontovima, žene su zauzele upražnjena mjesta do tada rezervirana isključivo za muškarce. Za vrijeme Drugog svjetskog rata žene su, dajući svoj obol u Narodno-oslobodilačkoj borbi, podnijele veliku žrtvu zajedno sa suborcima, pružajući nadljudski otpor i mobilizirajući se protiv neprijateljskih snaga na sve moguće načine: legalnim i ilegalnim radom, na okupiranoj i oslobođenoj teritoriji, u strahu i u slobodi žene su radile u borbi za pobjedu nad neprijateljem i fašizmom.

Drugi svjetski rat je, riječima Mitre Mitrović bio rat u kojem se brisala i pomicala granica između fronta i pozadine. Žene su tako bile i front i pozadina; i armija puškomitraljezaca, ali i armija rada u pozadini. Svojim tijelima, u borbi i fizičkom radu, žene su omogućile revoluciju i dobrim dijelom doprinijele ishodu Drugog svjetskog rata u Jugoslaviji.  Puškom su se borile i u krvi izborile prava koja uživamo još i danas. Kao dvije najvažnije tekovine njihove borbe ne smijemo nikada zaboraviti da su se izborile za pravo glasa i pravo na obavezno osnovno obrazovanje.

Kao jedna od najmasovnijih ženskih organizacija, ne samo na našim prostorima, već uopće, u svijeu, isticao se tada Antifašistički front žena koji je brojao preko 2 miliona članica. “Ta brojka čini najveći ženski organizirani pokret u Drugom svjetskom ratu. Borilo se 100.000 žena (partizanki), njih 2.000 su dobile vojni čin. 25.000 partizanki je ubijeno, a preko 40.000 ranjeno u borbi.” AFŽ svojom brojnošću i svojim djelovanjem ostaje trajno upisan kao jedna od najsjajnijih faza ženskog organiziranja ikada i igdje.  Uloga AFŽ-a po završetku Drugog svjetskog rata sa bojnog polja prelazi u borbu za izgradnju i obnovu zemlje. Kada se 1947. godine donosi odluka o realizaciji prvog petogodišnjeg plana, AFŽ postaje jednom od organizacija koja predanim udarničkim radom izvršava obaveze na obnovi i izgradnji zemlje. Ostvarenje petogodišnjeg plana u velikoj je mjeri ovisilo od udarničkog i herojskog rada žena kao rezervne armije rada kojom je izgrađena sretnija budućnost jugoslavenskih naroda. Žene su tako kopale, gradile pruge i željeznice, radile u rudnicima, na poljima, na podizanju infrastrukture i fabrika. Pored svog udarničkog i herojskog rada na obnovi i zgradnji, nastavile su obavljati i sve tradicionalne dužnosti. Na njih je padala briga o djeci, bolesnima, starima, nemoćnima i kućanstvu. AFŽ je fenomen jednot vremena u koje je upisano vrijeme svjedoka, vrijeme borbe u kojoj su se žene stvarno, ali ne i istinito izborile za svoja prava, vrijeme u kojem se za žene promijenilo sve i u kojem je sve ostalo isto.

Kako se mi odnosimo prema toj prošlosti u vrijeme potpune disolucije bilo kakve ideje o zajedništvu i kolektivnoj borbi? S jedne strane, za generacije koje potpuno odsječene od svoje prošlosti, uopće pojmiti moć i obim AFŽ-a predstavljalo bi pravi i istinski pomak u borbi protiv dominantne ideologije zaborava, vječne sadašnjosti i historijskog revizionizma reakcionarnih snaga. S druge pak strane, radikalna de-historizacija i mitologizacija AFŽ-a na ljevici dovele su do potpunog nerazumijevanja historijskih okolnosti i uzroka koji su na koncu doveli do formiranja AFŽ-a i uloga koje su za AFŽ od početka bile predviđene. Upravo zbog toga, danas više nego ikada našu vlastitu prošlost moramo misliti kritički, a ne nostalgično, protiv ideologije zaborava borbeno se sjećajući i sakupljajući iskustva iz kojih možemo naučiti mnogo. O prošlosti, ali i o nama samima.

Download PDF invitation
Link to FB event
Link to Tobačna website

 

Tobačna 001 Residency

IMG_0005-700x460

CC Tobačna 001 is hosting Bosnian artist Adela Jušić who has exhibited in around 100 international exhibitions including Manifesta 8, Murcia, Spain; Videonale, Kunstmuseum Bonn, Germany; Image Counter Image, Haus der Kunst, Munich, Germany, Balkan Inisght, Pompidou Center, Paris etc. She has participated in several artists in residence programs (ISCP, New York; Kulturkontakt, Vienna; i.a.a.b. Basel) and in 2013 she won Special award of Belgrade October Salon. Her solo exhibition in CC Tobačna 001 is opening in February.

Tobačna website

Dusseldorf Photo Weekend

Capturing the Moment
Lecture and screening by Darija Šimunović
Haus der Universität, Schadowplatz 14, February 04th, 2017 at 2 p.m.

The lecture by Darija Šimunović will introduce video art works from the imai foundation archive which all refer to photography via their subject, aesthetics or media. The artists use photographs as their source material (Maria Vedder, Adela Jušić), question witnessing of images spread in the media (Thomas Kutschker, Andreas Troeger), create animated films from individual photographic records (Barbara Hlali) or study the subject of photography (George Snow, Róbert Olawuyi).

Link to Imai website

download
The Sniper – Adela Jušić, video, 2007, more about the work here

Inter media art institute – imai foundation archive

Several of my video works entered imai foundation archive:

The Sniper
When I die you can do what you want
Artist’s Statement

The imai – inter media art institute foundation was founded in 2006. It was founded to establish an institution in Germany dedicated to the distribution and preservation of media art and associated activities. The foundation was set up on the initiative of the provincial capital of Duesseldorf and the Cologne media art agency 235 MEDIA. With strong support of the “Kunststiftung NRW” (arts foundation of the state of North Rhine Westphalia), the “Kulturstiftung der Länder” (cultural foundation of the Federal states), and in co operation with the NRW Forum and the foundation “Museum Kunstpalast” the extensive video art collection and the respective distribution structure which 235 MEDIA had built up from the 1980s were transferred over to imai, the independent, non-profit foundation.

More info at the official website:
http://www.stiftung-imai.de/

Artist s Statement-Manifesta 4
Adela Jušić – Artist’s Statement, video installation, Manifesta 8, 2010, more about the work here