Poslano, primljeno, spremljeno

 

Svoju zaokupljenost problemom komunikacije, kako u umjetnosti tako i u kulturi općenito, Nika Radić je prije nekoliko godina proširila primjenom hipnoze. Premda je riječ o fenomenu s dugom poviješću, hipnoza je tek 50-ih godina 20. stoljeća dobila status psihoterapijske prakse i postala dio medicinske znanosti. Široj javnosti je hipnoza možda

najpoznatija preko pojave tzv. hipnotičkog stanja. Oko točnog opisa hipnotičkog stanja nema konsenzusa: jedna psihoterapijska škola tvrdi da se hipnotizirani nalazi u nekoj vrsti sna (lucidni san, trans), dok druga tvrdi da su sve fiziološke funkcije hipnotizirane osobe – puls, disanje, refleksi – nalik onima u budnom stanju, pa je prije riječ o (auto)sugestiji, nego o nekom posebnom, „zaumnom“ stanju.

Postoje ipak stvari oko kojih se većina praktičara slaže: hipnotizirani se, naime, mora senzorno odvojiti od okoline. Zatvaranje očiju, onemogućavanje gledanja najčešće je prvi korak koji se koristi u hipnozi. S obzirom na činjenicu da je primarno polje rada Nike Radić umjetnost, smanjivanje važnosti gledanja, te posljedično, vizualnog prikazivanja, može se na prvi utisak činiti neobičnim, ali Nika Radić je i prije izbjegavala prikazivačke potencijale umjetnosti. Umjesto skulptura ili objekata radije je izvodila instalacije kojima je usmjeravala kretanje publike ili se pak okretala „neutralnim“ prosedeima prikazivanja, kao kada bi, snimajući videointervjue, dopuštala drugima da umjesto nje govore i predstavljaju.

U knjigama o psihoterapiji, uz tekst se – radi zornijeg objašnjenja – često može naći shematizirana slika ljudske glave prikazane u profilu. Sliku posebnom ne čini toliko crtež glave, koliko dva trokuta koji podsjećaju na lijevak. Jedan je postavljen u prostor ispred, a drugi iza oka. Onaj ispred oka ima širi otvor lijevka okrenut prema prostoru koji čovjek gleda; onaj iza pak širi otvor lijevka smješta na površinu koju zauzima mozak. Uže se strane dvaju lijevaka, dakle, dodiruju na mjestu oka, omogućujući da ono što je čovjeku „izvana“ (stvarnost) prodre u ono „unutra“ (um, psiha). Piktogram je nedvosmislen: ono što se događa oko nas izravno utječe na naše misli i osjećaje i obratno (ono što osjećamo ili mislimo utječe na to kako gledamo). Ako, dakle, i zatvorimo oči, vidjet ćemo slike, pa je jedan od zadataka hipnoze da se one osvijeste, da se iz podsvijesti, pomoću jezika, „iznesu na svjetlo dana“ (nakon završetka seanse, naime, hipnotizirani ili hipnotizirana govore o onome što su vidjeli i osjetili).

Umjetnica, međutim, ne tumači niti komentira slike koje hipnotizandi proizvode. „Nisam psihoterapeut“, naglasit će svaki put kada joj se ukaže prilika. Čak i kada „stvara“ fotografije ili videofilmove povezane s hipnotičkom praksom, umjetnica – posve u skladu s tradicijom zaokupljenom društvenošću umjetnosti, materijalnim uvjetima u kojima se ona stvara, distribuira i tumači – suspreže one aspekte osobnosti koji se kolokvijalno povezuju s umjetnicima (ego, imaginacija, hipersenzibilnost itd.) i ponaša se poput dokumentaristice. Ako hipnotizirani vidi sobu punu biljaka ili vatru, Nika Radić će ih prikazati. Čini se da ju umjetnički artefakt zanima samo do trenutka u kojem je on u stanju ući u proces elementarne simboličke komunikacije i upravo je ta komunikacija ono što u hipnozi umjetnicu najviše zanima. U hipnozi je, naime, riječ o osobitom obliku interpersonalnog odnosa, koji od sudionika (hipnotizera i hipnotizanda) traži snažno međusobno povjerenje, koji drugačije konfigurira odnose između moći i podčinjavanja, kreiranja i čitanja, davanja i primanja. Hipnoza, također, radikalno mijenja horizonte očekivanja. Hipnotizer ne zna s čim se suočava. Mora biti spreman na improvizaciju i rizik; u suprotnom kontakt se neće uspostaviti. Hipnotizand ne zna što će vidjeti i osjetiti; krajnje je responzivan na zvuk i dodir, ali senzorne informacije više nije u stanju klasificirati i objasniti.

Na već opisanom piktogramu lijevak postavljen ispred oka zapravo prikazuje radijus pogleda. Budući da se od oka naglo širi prema prostoru, slika može podsjećati na čovjeka koji viri kroz ključanicu brave (na vid ovdje treba gledati kao na simbol ljudskih osjetila općenito; kao i samo oko – osjetljivo, nepouzdano, ranjivo – i naša su osjetila doslovne ili figurativne opne). Osim što u sjećanje priziva niz umjetničinih radova koji se bave odnosom između privatnog i javnog, metafora pogleda kroz ključanicu skreće pozornost i na fenomen granice, odnosno zone u kojoj se odvija susret različitih pojava, ali i proces njihovog prožimanja.

S tim u vezi, zanimljiva je pojava čahurastih oblika u umjetničinom radu. Pojedine čahure izgledaju kao da im je porijeklo u organskom svijetu, dok druge podsjećaju na arhitektonske kupole. U oba slučaja čahure prisvajaju dio prostora i tako omogućavaju nekom drugom redu zbivanja da se odvije unutar galerije. Kroz membranu do posjetitelja izložbe često dopiru zvukovi ili svjetlo, ali nejasno i nerazumljivo. Kako je često riječ o zvuku ljudskog žamora, posjetitelj je suočen s dvama različitim zbivanjima: onim unutar čahure i onim izvan čahure. Istodobno je privučen i odbijen; privlači ga zvuk žamora, ali odbija izostanak njegovog značenja; privlači ga svjetlo, ali odbija opna čahure. Na kraju ostaje sam, suočen s enigmom umjetničkog djela ispred sebe.

U intervjuu koji je 2007. vodila s urednikom časopisa „15 dana“ Tomislavom Brlekom, umjetnica na jednom mjestu kaže: „Izgleda da se već godinama samo bavim time kako se stalno razgovaramo, a baš ne razumijemo (…) Ne mislim da je komunikacija sasvim nemoguća, ali zato jer mislim da su i nesporazumi komunikacija.“ Ako univerzalni jezik umjetnosti ne postoji, kako sugeriraju Brlek i Radić, ako je svatko slobodan koristiti svoj vlastiti jezik, onda umjetnici ne preostaje drugo nego da krene u susret publici, da takorekuć uči različite dijalekte i prilagođava se okolnostima: galerijskom prostoru, životu lokalne zajednice, mentalnom stanju suradnika itd. I doista, kao malo tko u hrvatskoj umjetnosti, Nika Radić je posvećena recepciji umjetnosti, odnosno onima koji su s druge strane komunikacijskog kanala, a koje, primjerice, književnost – prizivajući niz socijalno znakovitih situacija kao što je samotni čin čitanja ili mikrozajednica čitateljskih klubova – tako prisno adresira kao čitatelja i čitateljicu.

Izložba „Poruka“ (2013.) stoga može biti ogledni primjer umjetničine poetike. Ovdje je umjetničko djelo oblikovano znanjem i željama promatrača, no ono, čini mi se, nije toliko primjer nemoći umjetnosti da dopre do publike – interaktivna umjetnost je također oblikovana od strane publike na temelju unaprijed zadanih parametara – koliko je primjer odricanja umjetnice od dodijeljene joj stvaralačke i kulturne moći. U stručnom žargonu taj bi se postupak mogao opisati kao davanje prvenstva svakodnevnom životu, a ne umjetnosti. Primjeri nezadovoljstva komunikacijskim mogućnostima umjetnosti nisu malobrojni; primjerice, zamjena umjetnosti političkim djelovanjem ili duhovnošću nije rijetkost u povijesti moderne umjetnosti. U slučaju Nike Radić moglo bi se reći da se ta zamjena odvija na polju interpersonalne komunikacije. U društvu premreženom medijima, to naravno ne iznenađuje, ali privlači pozornost način na koji umjetnica artikulira taj problem. Psihosomatske reakcije na okoliš ili pak niz znakova i signala koje čovjek proizvodi automatski, to je „jezik“ koji je u centru umjetničine pažnje. Za Niku Radić jezik kao Logos možda i jest najsofisticiraniji oblik komunikacije, možda i dopire do najvećeg broja ljudi, ali u njega, osobito unutar institucije umjetnosti, ona nema veliko povjerenje. Nika Radić, kao i njezina publika, naravno, zna da se i predlingvistički oblici komunikacije mogu naučiti, da se mogu falsificirati (glumac uči plakati), ali ju, čini mi se, privlači elementarnost tog jezika i snaga kojom može djelovati na adresata (gledatelj plače zajedno s glumcem). Ljudska su bića od najranijeg života strukturalno opremljena komunikacijskim vještinama, koje im prije svega jamče biološki opstanak. Niz fenomena, kao što su opasnost, zadovoljstvo, nelagoda, bol, tuga, suosjećanje, pripadnost itd. moguće je izraziti i razmijeniti na jednostavan i učinkovit način: pokretnom ruke, izrazom lica, stavom tijela, glasom i slično.

Bez stalne razmjene informacija moderno je društvo nezamislivo. Digitalna tehnologija nije samo višestruko ubrzala taj proces nego je društvenu reprodukciju kapitala proširila na dotada nedirnuta područja privatnog života. Kao kreatori i distributeri novog sadržaja, u javnosti su se pojavili novi subjekti i oni su pravila komunikacije organizirali oko moći koju afekti, emocije i žudnje imaju na svakodnevni život pojedinca. Čini se da metafora Babilonske kule nikad nije bila aktualnija. Ono što je još krajem prošlog stoljeća bilo moguće kontrolirati pomoću obrazovnog sistema društva, naime sredstva i učinke javne komunikacije, sada se čini kao utopija. Istoj se informaciji danas pridaju posve suprotna značenja, ali ne zbog toga što se u kulturi pojavio novi jezik, nego zato što se u jednom od kanala komunikacije formirala grupa govornika koji dijele iste društvene vrijednosti i konstituiraju nova značenja. Ako je lingvistika nakon de Saussurea u pravu kada kaže da nema značenja bez razmjene znakova (Vološinov, Bahtin itd.), onda „prokletstvo“ suvremenog Babilona nije u mnoštvu jezika (kodova), nego u količini komunikacije, koja neprestano širi polje značenja. Cinik bi mogao reći: to što se ne razumijemo, to je zbog toga što previše komuniciramo.

Možda niti na jednom području društva polisemija nema takvu važnost kakvu ima u modernoj umjetnosti. Ako se formirala grupa ljudi koja dijeli iste vrijednosti, umjetnički

je čin u 19. stoljeću mogao biti bilo što, kao što to može biti i danas. Ono što je danas tako šokantno – to da se ista činjenica može tumačiti na potpuno suprotne načine – s tim umjetnost, naime, već duže vrijeme živi (i radi). Nedvojbeno je da se zbog toga gubi određeni osjećaj za stvarnost, što je podjednako pogubno i za društvo i za umjetnost. Možda je stoga krajnji referent umjetničkog rada Nike Radić upravo taj osjećaj za stvarnost. U isto vrijeme u kojem ukazuje na strukturalne greške u umjetničkoj komunikaciji, nedvosmisleno ih povezujući sa sličnim problemima u društvu, umjetnica naglašava i situacije u kojima vjerojatnost međusobnog sporazumijevanja može biti veća. To su situacije – ukazuje na njih i ova izložba – u kojima dominira bihevioralna komunikacija, bilo da je riječ o psihoterapijskom transferu, gestualnim znakovima, psihosomatskim procesima i slično. Tijelo, tvrdi nemali broj psihoterapijskih škola, sjajno pamti. Ako je to istina, onda možda bolje i komunicira.

„Kad sam prvi put ušla u rimski Panteon, zaključila sam da je to najljepši prostor na svijetu i da bih tamo htjela živjeti (nisam se dala smesti ni kad mi je moja majka arhitektica govorila da je to jako glupo jer da to nije stambena arhitektura i da gdje bih stavila zahod). Sjedila sam tamo jako dugo i gledala oko sebe, a onda sam počela gledati druge ljude. Shvatila sam nešto fascinantno: svi, ali zaista svi, koji uđu prvo pogledaju u visinu u okruglu svijetlu rupu u kupoli“, izjavila je jednom prilikom umjetnica, i dodala: „Meni se čini da, ukoliko se uspije unutar nekog prostora postići da čovjek izazove nekakav način kretanja, da je to već jako puno, da je to nešto što mi se čini da treba postići.“

* Izložba: Nika Radić, Brojat ću od deset do jedan, Galerija Josip Račić, Zagreb, 10.11. - 4.12. 2022. 

 

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Several years ago, Nika Radić expanded her preoccupation with the problem of communication in art, and culture in general, by employing hypnosis. Although a phenomenon with a long history, it was not until the 1950s that hypnosis was granted the status of a psycho-therapeutic practice and became part of medical science. Hypnosis is perhaps best known to the general public through the act of inducing the so-called hypnotic state. There is no consensus as to the exact description of the hypnotic state: one school of psychotherapy claims that the hypnotised person is in some kind of a dream state (lucid dream, trance), while another school claims that all physiological functions of the hypnotised person – pulse, breathing, reflexes – are similar to those in the waking state, so it is more a case of (auto)suggestion.

There are, however, things that most practitioners agree on: the hypnotised person, in fact, must turn off their senses to the environment. The first step used in hypnosis is usually the subject closing their eyes and not being able to see. Considering the fact that art is Nika Radić’s primary field of work, minimising the importance of seeing, and consequently, visual presentation, can at first seem unusual, but Radić has avoided the representational potentials of art before. Instead of sculptures or objects, she preferred to stage installations that directed the movement of the audience or, in turn, she looked towards “neutral” presentation styles, as when recording video interviews, she would allow others to speak and present instead of her.

In books on psychotherapy one often finds, along with the text, a schematic image of the human head shown in profile – for the purpose of illustration. What makes the image special is not so much the drawing of the head, but the two triangles that resemble a funnel. One of which is placed in the space in front, and the other behind the eye. The wider funnel opening of the one in front of the eye is facing the space that the person is looking at; while the one behind positions the wider funnel opening on the surface occupied by the brain. The narrow sides of the two funnels, therefore, touch at the point of the eye, enabling what is ‘outside’ (reality) to penetrate what is ‘inside’ (mind, psyche). The pictogram is unambiguous: what is happening around us directly affects our thoughts and feelings and vice versa (wat we feel or think affects our perception). Therefore, even if we close our eyes, we will still see images, so one of the tasks of hypnosis is to make them conscious, to bring them from the subconscious “into the light of day”, with the help of language (after the session ends, in fact, the hypnotised persons describe what they saw and felt).

The artist, however, does not interpret or comment on the images produced by the hypnotised persons. “I am not a psychotherapist”, she will point out every chance she gets. Even when she “creates” photographs or videos related to the hypnotic practice, the artist – fully in line with the art preoccupied with social conditions in which it is created, distributed and interpreted – suppresses those aspects of personality that are colloquially associated with artists (ego, imagination, hypersensitivity, etc.) and behaves as a documentarian. If the hypnotised person sees a room full of plants or a fire, Radić will show them. It seems she is interested in the artefact only insofar as it’s able to enter into the process of elementary symbolic communication, and it is precisely this communication that interests the artist the most when it comes to hypnosis. As a matter of fact, hypnosis is a special form of an interpersonal relationship, which requires a great deal of mutual trust between the participants (the hypnotist and the hypnotised person), as it reconfigures the relationship between power and submission, creating and reading, giving and receiving. Hypnosis also radically changes the horizons of expectations. The hypnotist does not know what he will be confronted with. He must be prepared to improvise and take risks; the contact will otherwise not be established. The hypnotised person does not know what they will see and feel; they are highly responsive to sound and touch, but are no longer able to classify and explain sensory information.

In the previously described pictogram, the funnel placed in front of the eye actually illustrates the radius of the view. Since it expands suddenly from the eye towards the space, the picture might resemble a man peering through the keyhole (sight here should be seen as a symbol of human senses overall; like the eye itself – sensitive, unreliable, vulnerable – our senses are also literal or figurative membranes). Besides calling to mind a series of the artist’s works dealing with the relationship between private and public, the metaphor of looking through the keyhole also draws attention to the phenomenon of the boundary, that is, the zone where different phenomena meet, but also the process of their intersection.

In this regard, the appearance of cocoon shapes in the artist’s work is intriguing. Individual cocoons look as if they originated in the organic world, while others resemble architectural domes. In both cases, the cocoons appropriate part of the space and thus enable a different order of events to take place inside the gallery. Light or sounds, albeit muffled and unintelligible, often reach the visitors through the membrane. As it is often the sound of human murmuration, the visitor is faced with two different events: the one inside the cocoon and the one outside the cocoon. He is attracted and repelled at the same time; attracted by the murmuring sounds, and repelled by the absence of its meaning; attracted by the light, repelled by the cocoon’s membrane. In the end, he is left alone, faced with the enigma of the artwork in front of him.

In an interview conducted by the “15 dana” magazine editor Tomislav Brlek in 2007, the artist at one point says: “It seems that for years I have only been dealing with the fact that we constantly talk, and yet fail to understand each other (…) I don’t think that communication is completely impossible, but only because I think that misunderstandings are also a form of communication.” If the universal language of art does not exist, as suggested by Brlek and Radić, if everyone is free to use their own language, then the artist has no choice but to move towards the audience, to learn to speak in different dialects, as it were, and adapt to the circumstances: the gallery space, life of the local community, mental state of collaborators, etc. And indeed, like few others in Croatian art, Radić is dedicated to the reception of art, that is, to those who are on the other side of the communication channel, and who are, by literature for example, addressed so intimately as readers – by evoking a series of socially telling situations such as the solitary act of reading or the microcommunity of book clubs.

“The Message” (2013) exhibition can therefore be considered a prime example of the artist’s style. Herein the observers’ knowledge and desires shape the artwork, however it seems not so much an example of art’s impotence to reach the audience – interactive art is also shaped by the audience on the basis of predetermined parameters – as it is an example of the artist’s renunciation of her assigned creative and cultural power. In professional jargon, this procedure could be described as prioritising everyday life over art. Examples of dissatisfaction with the communicative possibilities of art are not few; for instance, replacing art with political activity or spirituality is not rare in the history of modern art. In Nika Radić’s case, it could be said that this replacement takes place in the field of interpersonal communication. This is of course not surprising in a society that is hyper-connected, but the way in which the artist articulates this problem attracts attention. Psychosomatic reactions to the environment or, in turn, a series of signs and signals that an individual produces automatically, is the “language” that is at the centre of the artist’s attention. For Nika Radić, language as Logos may be and is the most sophisticated form of communication that reaches the largest number of people, but she thinks it does not warrant a great deal of trust, especially within the institution of art. Radić, as well as her audience of course, know that even prelinguistic forms of communication can be learned, they can be falsified (an actor learns to cry), but she seems to be attracted to the elementary nature of that language and the power it has over the addressee (the viewer cries together with the actor). From early on in life, human beings are structurally equipped with communication skills, which first and foremost guarantee their biological survival. A series of phenomena, such as danger, pleasure, discomfort, pain, sadness, compassion, belonging, etc., can be expressed and exchanged in a simple and effective way: with hand gestures, facial expressions, body language, voice and the like.

Modern society is inconceivable without a constant exchange of information. Digital technology has not only accelerated that process many times over, but has also extended the social reproduction of capital to hitherto untouched areas of private life. As creators and distributors of new content, new subjects appeared in public, which organised the rules of communication around the power that uncontrolled emotions and desires have on an individual’s daily life. It seems that the metaphor of the Tower of Babel has never been more apt. What was once controllable not that far back at the end of the 20^th century, that is, the means and effects of public communication, with the help of the society’s education system, now seems like a utopia. The same information is today given completely opposite meanings, not because a new language appeared in the culture, but because a group of speakers who share the same social values has formed new meanings in one of the channels of communication. If linguistics after de Saussure is correct in claiming that there is no meaning without the sign exchange (Voloshinov, Bakhtin, etc.), then the “curse” of the contemporary Babylon is not the multitude of languages (codes), but the amount of communication, which constantly expands the field of meaning. A cynic would say: the fact that we do not understand each other is because we communicate too much.

Perhaps in no other area of society does polysemy have carry importance as it does in modern art. If a group of people who share the same values were to be formed, in the 19^th century anything could have been an artistic act, just as it can be today. What is seen as so shocking today – the same fact being interpreted in completely opposite ways – art has, in fact, been living (and working) with for a long time. This is undeniably why a certain sense of reality is lost, which is equally detrimental to both society and art. Perhaps it is the reason why the ultimate reference point in Nika Radić’s artistic work is precisely this sense of reality. As she points to the structural errors in artistic communication, expressly linking them to similar problems in society, the artist also emphasises situations in which the likelihood of mutual understanding could be greater. These situations – this exhibition also points to them – are dominated by behavioural communication, whether it is the case of psychotherapeutic transfer, gestural signs, psychosomatic processes and the like. The body, claim a considerable number of psychotherapy schools, has excellent memory. If this is true, then maybe it communicates better as well.

“When I entered the Roman Pantheon for the first time, I decided it was the most beautiful space in the world and one I would like to live in (I was not deterred even when my mother, an architect, told me this was silly because it is not residential architecture and where would the toilet go). I sat there for the longest of time and looked around, and then I started looking at other people. I realised something fascinating: everyone, but literally everyone, upon entering first looks upwards into the circular bright opening in the dome”, said the artist on one occasion, adding: “It seems to me that if a space succeeds in causing people to move in a certain way, it is already a lot, it is something I think we should strive to achieve.”

* Exhibition, Nika Radić, I will count from ten to one, Josip Račić Gallery, Zagreb, November 11 – December 4, 2022

 

Skulpturalne formacije Kristijana Kožula

Masom koja podliježe gravitaciji, volumenom čije površine privlače ili odbijaju ruku, približavaju ili odguruju promatrača od sebe, skulptura uvijek podsjeća na tijelo. Čak i kada ne prikazuje ljudsku ili životinjsku figuru, kada se, dakle, umjesto oponašanja fizičkog svijeta bavi apstraktnim formama, skulptura je određena tijelom. Otkada se nakon suradnje s Damirom Žižićem Kožul vratio samostalnim nastupima, tijelo je opet u centru njegove pažnje.

Evokacija tog tijela ne odvija se, međutim, posve u skladu s načelima modernističke skulpture. Tijelo je tu – Kožul od njega ne odustaje ni u svojim najambicioznijim instalacijama – ali ono više nije cjelovito, jedva ga prepoznajemo. Primjerice, u svjetlu naslova izložbe (Forensic Perpetuity), pet biomorfnih oblika izloženih u Galeriji Galženica 2017. moguće je interpretirati kao ostatke nekog tijela. Na tu mogućnost ne upućuje samo naslov izložbe, nego i određeni senzibilitet za modernističku skulpturu. Umjetnicima modernizma ljudsko tijelo nije bilo samo koristan reper u svijetu predmeta, nego i idealan oblik. U odnosu na njega svi drugi oblici stjecali su svoj smisao. Uspostavivši novu vezu između unutarnje strukture skulpture i njezine površine, prve je korake prema drugačijem prikazivanju tijela napravio Rodin. U njegovim su skulpturama forma i materijal bili toliko međuovisni da se niz strukturnih elemenata, kao što su silueta, površina ili masa, pojavljivao kao nešto nedovršeno, nešto što se neprestano mijenja i ovisi o osvjetljenju, okolišu, promatraču itd. Stereotipni opis skulptorskog umijeća, onaj koji kaže da umjetnik u materijalu treba otkriti unaprijed postojeću formu, samo je popularni izraz za zadatak koji si je Rodin bio postavio. U svakoj skulpturi postoji nešto što joj iznutra daje život, čak i kada se volumen rastvara, a masa komàda – tako bi se, između ostalog, mogao sažeti Rodinov pogled na modernu skulpturu.

Nakon izložbe u Galeriji Galženica, biomorfni oblici što se opiru u potpunosti po­istovjetiti s ljudskom ili životinjskom anatomijom – kao da pripadaju nekoj drugoj vrsti tijela, nekom drugoj vrsti života! – ostali su u središtu Kožulove pažnje na izložbama u HDLU-u (2018.), MSU-u (2019.) i sada u Galeriji Josip Račić (2021.). Njihov je organski karakter Kožul dodatno istaknuo uporabom industrijski proizvedenih predmeta i materijala kao što su metalne šipke, samostojeći metalni stalci, kugle različitih veličina, podne gumene prostirke, utezi, gumena crijeva, izolacijska spužva i slično. Primarna funkcija ovih predmeta leži u povezivanju biomorfnih oblika. Bez njih, oblici bi bez vidljivog reda bili razbacani po prostoru galerije. Time Kožul otvara mogućnost da sve što vidimo u galerijskom prostoru doživimo kao objekte koji pripadaju nekom višem formalnom redu. Ono što je modernistička skulptura činila na planu svakog pojedinog skulpturalnog objekta – uspostavljala odnos između skeleta skulpture i njegove površine ili između volumena i siluete – to je Kožul izveo u okviru ambijentalne instalacije. Stoga, na tri izložbene instalacije – u HDLU-u, MSU-u i u Galeriji Josip Račić – možemo gledati i kao na tri jedinstvene skulpture.

Prikazuje li autor skulpturalno tijelo u trenutku dezintegracije ili integracije? To je teško utvrditi, jer Kožul voli ambivalenciju, ali najprecizniji odgovor bi obuhvatio i jednu i drugu mogućnost. Ukoliko je riječ o procesu integracije, može se konstatirati da skelet Kožulove skulpture – šipke, gumena crijeva, gumene prostirke itd. – ne uspijeva okupiti svoje dijelove, dovesti biomorfne oblike u međuodnos koji bi formirao kontinuirani volumen tijela. U odnosu na izložbu u Galeriji Galženica, na kojoj biomorfne oblike nije povezivalo ništa doli pogled promatrača, Kožul je napravio korak dalje. Sada to više nije samo tijelo koje se raspalo – niz međusobno izoliranih oblika, svaki sa svojim pseudopostamentom – nego i tijelo koje se nekako pokušava oformiti. Ako je u Galeriji Galženica Kožul prikazao jednu post festum situaciju – mirovanje dijelova tijela nakon dezintegracije i smrti – moglo bi se reći da je na kasnijim izložbama pokušao prikazati post post festum situaciju, to jest u galerijski ambijent uvesti još jedan događaj – proces oformljenja (postajanje). Naime, naglašavajući suprotnost između vertikalne i horizontalne organizacije elemenata, računajući na učinak koji na promatrača ostavlja jukstapozicija mekih i tvrdih materijala, na odnos između pravocrtnih i krivocrtnih formi, Kožul je proizveo efekt gibanja. Ono što izgleda kao dezintegracija (razlijevanje, rastakanje, topljenje) oblika, može izgledati i kao proces konsolidacije ili uspravljanja, odnosno može predstavljati i odumiranje i oživljavanje. Skulpturalno tijelo tako nije ni (potpuno) mrtvo, ni (potpuno) živo. Mrtvo je, jer je raskomadano; živo, jer se giba. Kožulova obrada biomorfnih oblika, također, na neki način ukazuje na tragove života. Naime, njihova površina sugerira da je u unutrašnjosti nešto od posebne važnosti što traži posebnu brigu, kao da forma nikada nije dovoljno zaštićena pa iziskuje neprestano oblaganje novim slojevima.

Što je preneseno značenje ovih instalacija – skulptura? Na što nam autor pokušava skrenuti pažnju, birajući naslove s višestrukim značenjima (Forensic Perpetuity, Forensic Folklore: Archipelago, Sisyphus Exalted: Excersing Repetitions i Intercisus) i izlažući ove enigmatične forme? Kožul je sklon odgovornost za značenje prebaciti na promatračeva leđa, ali jasno je da ove izložbe nisu nastale zbog formalističkih razloga, iako je formalna inovacija ono što prvo zamjećujemo i ono čemu s razlogom dajemo prednost u interpretaciji. Značenje Kožulovih instalacija nemoguće je iscrpiti na području umjetničke referencijalnosti. Ova bizarna tijela nisu tu samo zbog podsjećanja na, primjerice, raskomadana ljudska tijela iz Goyina ciklusa Užasi rata ili na citat istoga motiva braće Chapman. Neće nam u potrazi za odnosom ovih radova prema suvremenosti puno pomoći ni reference na kojima sâm Kožul inzistira, spominjući radove Raula Goldonija i Louise Bourgeois, kao nadahnuće u najnovijem radu.

U središtu su Kožulove pažnje, naime, kompleksni i nepovezani društveni fenomeni. Dovesti u blisku vezu međusobno udaljene i suprotstavljene pojave metoda je koju Kožul baštini iz tradicije umjetničke avangarde i koju koristi u svim svojim javnim nastupima. Rat i masovna ubojstva s jedne i tehnološke utopije s druge strane; ideologija krvi i tla s jedne i fantazije o umjetnoj inteligenciji s druge strane; nostalgično prizivanje industrijskog društva s jedne i ubrzanje društvenih promjena (globalno zatopljenje, rodna teorija i politika, infotainment itd.) s druge strane. Iako širina referenci i asocijacija na koje Kožul računa, promatrača mogu zbuniti, pa i odvesti u krivom smjeru, izazove koje njegovi radovi postavljaju pred publiku ne treba odbaciti kao primjer postmodernističke igre. Proturječja obilježavaju suvremeno doba i upravo ona stoje u korijenu Kožulovog pokušaja da prikaže svijet oko sebe.

Oduzeti skulpturi pravo na predstavljanje kompleksnih društvenih pojava ne čini se odviše dalekovidnim, osobito danas kada monumentalne spomeničke forme ponovno stječu i umjetničku i društvenu popularnost. Nije potrebno posezati za slavnim svjetskim primjerima, kao primjerice za Davidom Smithom, koji je svoje skulpture – toteme – oblikovao imajući na umu Drugi svjetski rat u kojem je i sâm sudjelovao (skulpture su nosile naslove Sablast rata, Silovanje, Ratni pejzaž i slično). Dovoljno je prizvati u sjećanje apstraktne volumene Dušana Džamonje, Vojina Bakića, Ksenije Kantoci i drugih koji su, što kroz galerijsku, što kroz spomeničku plastiku pokušali izraziti svoje povijesno iskustvo. Na pola puta između figure i znaka, ti oblici nisu prikazivali nešto arhaično ili fantastično, nego su izražavali osobna i društvena stajališta u mjeri u kojoj je, nakon Drugog svjetskog rata, ekspresionistička apstrakcija to činila i na drugim područjima umjetnosti.

Kožulova osobita interpretacija modernističke skulpture – transpozicija skulptu­ralnog tijela u medij instalacije, te njegova razgradnja – podrazumijevala je i promjenu svjetonazora. Pišući o Henryju Mooreu, Herbert Read je primijetio da njegovu umjetnost određuje integrirajući vitalizam. Moore je, naime, jednaku važnost pridavao ljudskom tijelu (ležeći akt, motivi obitelji ili majke i djeteta) i kamenim oblucima s plaže. Organske i anorganske fenomene (kamenje, kristali itd.) promatrao je s nepodijeljenom pažnjom, jer je u njima pronalazio iste zakone. Sličnu pažnju prema živom i neživom primjećujemo i kod Kožula, ali njegov integrirajući princip, za razliku od Mooreova, u središtu nema čovjeka, barem ne čovjeka kakvog je zamišljao moderni humanizam. Umjesto obgrljujuće prisutnosti ljudskog tijela koju prepoznajemo u poetikama Rodina, Moorea, Brancusija i drugih, kod Kožula prije otkrivamo nešto kao informaciju o tijelu (kodiranu i sekvencioniranu sad ovako, sad onako).

Što znači imati tijelo u modernom dobu, odnosno, kako se život tog tijela može prikazati u skulpturi, treba zahvaliti modernoj umjetnosti. Ništa s modernim svijetom više nisu imala tijela Michelangelovih skulptura ili tijela koja su prikazivali neoklasicistički umjetnici. To su bila idealizirana tijela i pripadala su prije bogovima nego ljudima koje su moderni umjetnici sretali na ulicama i čija su tijela voljeli, ljubili ili gubili u ratovima. U središtu Kožulovog bizarnog vitalizma, međutim, nije ljudsko tijelo, nego jedan oblik materije koji je u neprestanom toku, u stalnoj metamorfozi. Kožulov izokrenuti gestalt ne počiva samo na integraciji živog i neživog svijeta – primjerice, ljudskog tijela i kamena u slučaju Moorea, ili ljudskog tijela i mita kao u slučaju Brancusija – nego uključuje i društvene procese (znanost, ekonomiju, tehnologiju itd.). Ono što nam na njegovim izložbama zaokuplja pažnju nije dakle tradicionalna skulpturalna forma, nego određena materijalna formacija. Ona simbolizira procese koji se odvijaju na razini prirodnih i društvenih entiteta nad kojima kao čovječanstvo nemamo nikakvu kontrolu. Prikazati ne­izvjesnost uzrokovanu tim saznanjem, a ne posegnuti za arhetipskom simbolikom i metafizikom, predstavlja Kožulovo osobito postignuće.

* Izložba: Kristian Kožul, Intercisus, Galerija Josip Račić, Zagreb, 7.10 – 31.10. 2021.

 

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With a mass that is subject to gravity, and volume whose surfaces attract or repel the hand, pull the observer closer or push him away, the sculpture is always reminiscent of a body. Even when it does not depict a human or animal figure, when it, therefore, deals with abstract forms instead of imitating the physical world, the sculpture is determined by the body. Ever since Kožul, after his collaboration with Damir Žižić, went back to staging solo exhibitions, the body has once again become the centre of his attention.

The evocation of this body, however, does not take place entirely in accordance with the principles of modernist sculpture. The body is there – Kožul does not give up on it even in his most ambitious installations – but, it is no longer whole and is barely recognizable. For example, the five biomorphic forms showcased at the Galženica Gallery in 2017 can be interpreted, in light of the exhibition title (Forensic Perpetuity), as the remains of a body. It is not only the title of the exhibition that suggests this possibility, but also a certain sensibility for modernist sculpture. For modernist artists, human body has not only been a useful point of reference in the world of objects, but also an ideal form. All other forms acquired meaning in relation to it. Having established a new connection between the inner structure of the sculpture and its surface, Rodin took first steps towards a different representation of the body. In his sculptures, form and material were so interdependent that a number of structural elements, like the silhouette, surface or mass, appeared as something unfinished, something that is constantly changing and depends on lighting, environment, the observer, etc. Stereotypical description of sculptural skill, which says that the artist should discover a pre-existing form in the material, is just a popular term for a task that Rodin had set for himself. There is something in every sculpture that gives it life from the inside, even when the volume is opened up, and the mass is broken into pieces – this is how, among other things, one could sum up Rodin’s view of modern sculpture.

After the exhibition in the Galženica Gallery, biomorphic forms that refuse to be fully identified with human or animal anatomy – as if they were parts of some other type of body, some other lifeform! – remained the focus of Kožul’s attention in exhibitions at the Croatian Association of Artists (2018), the Museum of Contemporary Art (2019) and now in the Josip Račić Gallery (2021). Kožul further emphasized their organic character, by using the industrially produced objects and materials such as: metal rods, freestanding metal stands, balls of different sizes, rubber floor mats, weights, rubber hoses, insulation sponge and the like. The primary function of these objects is to connect the biomorphic forms. Without them, the forms would be scattered without any apparent order throughout the gallery space. Thus, Kožul opens the possibility to experience everything we see in the gallery space as objects that belong to some higher formal order. What modernist sculpture did in terms of each individual sculptural object – establishing a relationship between the skeleton of the sculpture and its surface or between volume and silhouette – is what Kožul did in the framework of an ambient installation. We can, therefore, view the three exhibition installations – in the Croatian Association of Artists, the Museum of Contemporary Art and the Josip Račić Gallery – as three unique sculptures.

Does the artist show the sculptural body at the moment of disintegration or integration? It is difficult to ascertain, because Kožul likes ambivalence, but the most precise answer would include both possibilities. If it is a process of integration, it can be concluded that the skeleton of Kožul’s sculpture – rods, rubber hoses, rubber mats etc. – fails to bring its parts together, to bring the biomorphic forms into an interrelationship that would form a continuous volume of the body. In relation to the exhibition at the Galženica Gallery, where the only thing that connected the biomorphic forms was the observer’s gaze, Kožul takes a step further. Now, it is no longer just a body that has disintegrated – a series of mutually isolated forms, each with their own pseudo-pedestal – but a body that is somehow trying to form itself. If Kožul has shown a post-festum situation in the Galženica Gallery – stillness of body parts after disintegration and death – it could be said that in later exhibitions he tried to show a post-post-festum situation, that is, to introduce another event in the ambient of the gallery – the process of formation (becoming). Specifically, with an emphasis on the contrast between the vertical and horizontal organization of elements, and counting on the effect that juxtaposition of soft and hard materials has on the observer, on the relationship between rectilinear and curvilinear forms, Kožul has produced the effect of motion. What seems like a disintegration (overflowing, dissolving, liquifying) of forms, may also appear as a process of consolidation or erection, that is, it can represent both extinction and revival. The sculptural body is thus neither (completely) dead, nor (completely) alive. It is dead, because it is dismembered; it is alive, because it moves. Kožul’s treatment of biomorphic forms also, in a way, points to traces of life. Their surface actually suggests there is something particularly important in the interior that requires special care, as if the form is never sufficiently protected, so it warrants constant incrustation with new layers.

In a figurative sense, what is the meaning of these installations-sculptures? What is the artist trying to draw our attention to, by selecting titles with multiple meanings (Forensic Perpetuity, Forensic Folklore: Archipelago, Sisyphus Exalted: Exercising Repetitions and Intercisus) and exhibiting these enigmatic forms? Kožul is inclined to shift the responsibility of meaning onto the observer’s shoulders, but it is clear that these exhibitions were not created for formalistic reasons, although formal innovation is what we first notice and what we, rightly, prefer in interpretation. The meaning of Kožul’s installations cannot be exhausted in the field of artistic referentiality. These bizarre bodies are not here only to remind us of, for example, the dismembered human bodies from Goya’s series “The Disasters of War” or the Chapman brothers and their quotation of the same motif. The references that Kožul himself insists on, by mentioning the works of Raul Goldoni and Louise Bourgeois, as inspiration for his latest work, are not going to be of much help in our quest for the relationship between these works and contemporaneity.

Specifically, Kožul’s attention is focused on the complex and unrelated social phenomena. Bringing mutually distant and contradictory phenomena into close contact, is a method Kožul inherits from the tradition of the artistic avant-garde, and he uses it in all his public appearances. War and mass murder, on the one hand, and technological utopias, on the other; the ideology of blood and soil, on one side, and the fantasy of artificial intelligence, on the other; a nostalgic invocation of industrial society, on one hand, and acceleration of social change (global warming, gender theory and politics, infotainment, etc.), on the other. Although the breadth of references and associations that Kožul counts on may confuse the observer, even lead him in the wrong direction, the challenges that his works pose to the audience should not be dismissed as an example of a postmodernist game. Contradictions are a feature of contemporary age and they are precisely what is at the root of Kožul’s attempt to portray the world around him.

To deprive the sculpture of the right to present complex social phenomena, does not seem particularly far-sighted, especially today when monumental forms are regaining both artistic and social popularity. It is not necessary to resort to famous examples from around the world, such as the case of David Smith, for example, who created his sculptures-totems with World War II in mind, which he had himself participated in (the sculptures are titled “War Spectre”, “Rape”, “War Landscape” and the like) – it is enough to recall the abstract volumes of Dušan Džamonja, Vojin Bakić, Ksenija Kantoci and others, who, both through gallery and monumental sculpture tried to express their historical experience. Midway between the figure and the sign, these forms did not depict anything archaic or fantastic, instead, they expressed personal and social viewpoints to the extent that, after World War II, Abstract Expressionism has done in other fields of art.

Kožul’s particular interpretation of modernist sculpture – the transposition of the sculptural body into the installation medium, and its deconstruction – also meant a change in worldview. Writing about Henry Moore, Herbert Read noted that his art is determined by an integrated vitality. Specifically, Moore attached equal importance to the human body (reclining nude, motifs of the family or mother and child) and beach pebbles. He observed both organic and inorganic phenomena (stones, crystals, etc.) with undivided attention, because he found in them the same laws. We notice, with Kožul, a similar attention to the living and inanimate, but his integrating principle, unlike Moore’s, does not have a man at the centre, at least not a man as imagined by modern humanism. Instead of the overarching presence of the human body that we recognize in the poetics of Rodin, Moore, Brancusi and others, in Kožul we discover something like information about the body (encoded and sequenced first this way, then the other).

We should thank modern art for the knowledge of what it means to have a body in the modern age, that is, how the life of that body can be depicted in sculpture. Michelangelo’s sculptural bodies or those depicted by neoclassical artists no longer had anything to do with the modern world. These were idealized bodies that belonged to the gods rather than to people whom modern artists encountered in the streets and whose bodies they loved, cherished or lost in wars. At the core of Kožul’s bizarre vitality, however, is not the human body, but rather a form of matter that is in constant flow, in permanent metamorphosis. Kožul’s inverted gestalt rests not only on the integration of the living and inanimate worlds –in Moore’s case, the human body and stone, or in Brancusi’s case, the human body and myth – but it also includes social processes (science, economy, technology, etc.). What occupies our attention in his exhibitions is therefore not the traditional sculptural form, but a particular material formation. It symbolizes processes that take place at the level of natural and social entities that we as humanity have no control over. To show uncertainty caused by this knowledge, without resorting to archetypal symbolism and metaphysics is Kožul’s singular achievement.

* Exhibition: Kristian Kožul, Intercisus, Josip Račić Gallery, Zagreb, October 7 – October 31, 2021