We belong together. Marijana Radovic öffnet den Ausstellungsbesucher*innen die Türen zu ihrem privatesten Ort – ihrem Laptop, ihrem virtuellen Raum und imaginären Zuhause. Persönliche Inhalte wie Urlaubsfotos, Videos, einem Tagebuch und Notizen, die wir alle auf unseren Laptops haben, sind bisher versteckte Artefakte ihres virtuellen Ausstellungsraums, die nun im analogen Ausstellungsraum für die Öffentlichkeit sichtbar werden. Auch die Künstlerin selbst ist hier anzutreffen, als Kosmopolitin und Flaneurin in digitalen Räumen, in die sie sich hineinprojiziert und –imaginiert. Marijana Radovic hebt gänzlich die Grenze zwischen Privatem und Öffentlichem auf und folgt ihrem Wunsch überall hin- und dazuzugehören, zu einem Club, einer Beziehung, einer WG.
A part of me is somewhere in there. Lay down, sit down and click. (Marijana Radovic)
We belong together. Marijana Radovic invites the visitors to enter what she considers her most private place – her laptop, a virtual space and her imaginary home. Personal content such as holiday snapshots, videos, a diary and personal no- tes, items we all store on our laptops, are here presen- ted to the public as obscure artefacts in a virtual exhi- bition space. The artist is present, too – as a woman of the world and a flaneur in digital spaces, into which she projects and imagines herself. Marijana Radovic removes the border between private and public and pursues her desire to belong and be part of everything and everywhere, to a club, a relationship, a flat share.
A part of me is somewhere in there. Lay down, sit down and click. (M. Radovic)
06.06.2016 Last night in my dream there was a robust silver plate of plump ripe shells laid before me and I was gnawing on them like a tsunami. At times I had more than three in my big mouth. Their flesh was orange and I was chewing on it, crushing the shells and shedding the nacre dust all over. At some point I wondered ‘what am I doing and why am i doing it??’ The answer flashed back at me as a reflection on a tray, in places where there was no more food left. My own reflection was a walrus. I remember thinking ‘What is this animal doing in my mind?, but still continued eating away the orangey flesh. I looked at the pile of empty shells, it was approx 2 meters high and I thought ‘Ok, it’s still 2 meters o’clock’. Although I thought ‘alright, alright, alright’, a silent kind of panic started crawling in and swelling up like a wall of thick wet skin. I swelled up and turned inside out (or outside in?), it felt like waking up in a dream. This was an end of a walrus being a walrus. THEN a gigantic butterfly flew by and thought it saw a FLOWER! You know how in a dream you get to switch perspectives? So now I am a butterfly. Or maybe a person in an airplane? Or a speck of dust flying by? A splash of sea foam on the wind maybe? How would I know, anyway? I was flying as anything else that flies, might as well been a wedding drone. There I saw a fleshy flower on the ground. I saw myself inside out, but I felt a body – a decaying, digested body, hard and still. The butterfly on a plane told me that I was a pearl in a shell within an inside-out walrus (or a splatter of sea foam felt me as a pearl in a flesh flower)…?:/ But I knew I was a pearl because the outside was a misty fleshy rosé world. All I knew was what was not me, so it must have been soft and blue, like the sea. …. I was sedimenting there, layering the hours on my body, hardening, hard and impenetrable. ‘Patience will free me…….’, I thought. Time takes patience. I wanted to make the time flow faster, so I tried to do it by pretending that I AM time, and time is a perl eaten by a bird, or washed ashore on sea foam, rolling over sand grains, moving somewhere. But moving, that was important. I started growing bigger and bigger, pressing against the thick skin of a walrus. And then I woke up, but I thought that I died? Everything felt warm and white, then yellow and finally orange to red, and I was Marijana again. I made some oat meal and tea. Wrote down a dream on my laptop. Bis morgen!
Marjana Radovic Hi, welcome to my crib! This is where the magic happens. Our most intimate place in the world. We become one as images disperse into noise, words weave fabrics, the liquid crystals on a display blush like baby cheeks. Walls and floors flash memories, mine are yours. Nothing here is a man, nothing a woman; nothing hangs on to a border, nothing is liquid nor solid, nothing belongs to no one. Nothing is there. Nothing is everywhere, it’s everything. Belonging is slowly dissolving and belonging is dissolving slowly. The borders are getting thinner, categories getting older, merging together and dispersing into new ones. A part of me is somewhere in there. Lay down, sit down and click.