From a hidden corner of the times past, a smile of the Good Old World – nameless and faceless, however, strangely familiar. Unsurprisingly dear.
The question begs for an answer… the whole world is… Green?
A collage of memories.
A hot and humid Sunday afternoon. A fair has come to a remote village somewhere in the plain. An accordion creaking in tune with the carousel. Hubbub and the smell of cotton candy in the air. Muddy feet running around the scoarching, cracked asphalt.
Middle-aged ladies in grey and brown coats celebrating some graduation anniversary. Soot-stained snow. A workers canteen. A blue jacket and a roll before class. A field trip. A group photo before departure. A picnic by the river. Harvest.
‘Time is just memory mixed in with desire’ – which is the part you throw away?
Misplaced letters full of old dreams, illuminated faces of forgotten lovers. We are all sometimes lost at the bottom of the world. Gray. Brown. Green.
What was the name of that kid who was sitting at the second desk by the window?
Washed-out colors of spring dresses. The piercing sound of a train disappearing in the distance.
Face contours. Which is the part that disappears first?
Ivan says: ‘My inspiration for every piece is an old photo.’ It is on that very edge of oblivion and memory that he builds his story and makes us restless. He is taking us the long way home. Ivan’s previous work is still fresh in my mind: the black and white portraits blending in sharp strokes, like stern head shakes. In his latest show ‘The Good Old World’, the portraits display the same kind of irreconcibility. This time, he’s moved on from the individual to a group level, again so painfully personal.
Down the disappearing trail. Behind the frame which is invisible, but is still there. Like a reflection in the mirror.
Marija Stanojcic
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