Then the picture was taken where the mountain ridges surround the

Then
the picture was taken
where the mountain ridges
surround the resort
at the relaxed side
The picture was taken
of the red Sky
descending
One man said to another:
no gunfire is heard
it is hard to hear anything
the mountain is too high.
I keep the future in the freezer
preserved in the shape
of ice cubes
Until the first hot day
I'll keep it there
No gunfire heard.
The sunset was great
The picture was taken
of an ice cube
melting
Damir Očko
Marc Bembekoff
Reversed interview
DO
There is a kind of “taking off the skin” process in the works
I am developing right now. Trying to question the internal
structures of how and why particular works are made. In
The Third Degree, I express the role of the camera differently,
and the way I am doing it is by making it perform itself, inte­
grated in the subject of the film. So while I carry on with the
subject, at the same time, I make us, the crew and the camera
a symbiotic part of it. You see, there is an idea of together­
ness that I am interested in. Togetherness that evolves from
the violent “together” in the last sections of TK, towards The
Third Degree in which another idea of togetherness is cre­
ated through kaleidoscopic images and reflections. This idea
embeds the questions of guilt and collective responsibility
by taking off the skin of the film as well. A new film could
simply open and a question might pop up: Shall we now burn
together?
him an actor, actively involved in the project. That is what
Jacques Rancière analyses in The Emancipated Spectator.
DO
Of course, it is not about pessimism at all. In fact the collec­
tive pyre I am imagining is something necessary – a moment
we could induce and sustain as a society. It is very interesting
what you are saying in relation to The Third Degree and the
merging moment of the two sides of the film: the seen and
the unseen. However, I feel that we could scratch the surface
even further. Besides the obvious exposure of the act of film­
ing/seeing in relation to the act of what is filmed as a kind
of a representation for the audience in the contemporary
world, what I aim for is more of a meltdown. The process of
filming becomes the film itself. We, the crew merge with the
subject and become a single body. This body further reflects
ethical concerns if you think about the particular subject
of The Third Degree, but on a wider scale it is also concerned
with the role of art as a political protagonist. The reason
behind this is a troubling filming of TK, where I have expe­
rienced more moral dilemmas on how the film was made.
The filming took place in harsh conditions and our subjects
were standing naked, surrounded by the crew who were well
dressed for the winter. It was like making a film about vio­
lence in a very violent way. It got me thinking about whether
reflecting on this could somehow resonate on the wider
social mechanisms that work in the same way. The actions
and movements we take to come to a certain point. Does it
all matter, or do we only hide behind opinions?
MB
We are all going to burn together –in one way or another. It is
not a pessimistic vision, but a rather practical and respon­
sible positioning. The world in which we live gets carried
away, and this process has continued to intensify. We are
both actors and spectators of the mutations of the contem­
porary world. Such an observation is not new and has been
haunting the Art History iconography for centuries, for
example in the apocalyptic representations of Hieronymus
Bosch or Pieter Bruegel the Elder. This lucid vision of the
world and our positioning as a spectator facing a representa­
tion appears also in the theatre of Bertolt Brecht. It seems
to me that The Third Degree, with the inclusion of the team
filming and the production process is part of this dynamic:
the distinction between the acts of seeing and doing gives
rise to a critical and artistic construction, which undermines
the relationship of subordination of the viewer and makes
MB
We are all the transmitters of an opinion. Through his works,
the artist presents a point of view – so does the curator: from
the moment that we – I mean, each individual – express our­
selves, we inscribe ourselves into a rhetoric; we launch the
26
27
lines of approach and other angles to see the world diffe­
rently either by magnifying or criticizing its excesses. In
The Third Degree, you can clearly feel those moments where
everything blends and melts, creating hybrid zones where
the body is fragmented. This visual sedimentation – which
is also a layering of senses – becomes sometimes abstract,
which also mirrors the abstraction of a world we have more
and more difficulty understanding.
DO
I have become more interested in reaching a kind of a tip­
ping point with my works, as I said earlier to embed more
than just an opinion. Even though it is very difficult to sort
of “live-stream” the rhetoric, I go for it as a combination of
an intellectual and emotional experience for the audience.
There should be a sense of an adventure in the way one goes
through my works. The Third Degree grows as a kaleidoscope;
it questions not only the means of making things, but also the
means of engaging an audience. Reflections are filmed, and
everything within is bouncing back to the film itself as a cam­
era-subject loop. I do wonder however, how one makes a tool
that could also reflect the audience and their real life experi­
ence of the film: a camera-subject-audience loop if possible.
Where might we find the tipping point in which the togeth­
erness I spoke of earlier might also include the audience?
From a curatorial point of view this must be an interesting
challenge, right?
takes their consciousness onto another level. An immersive
installation, I think that the display of the Pavilion of Croatia
plays an important role in such awareness: the spatial path
leads to this, especially the reflection of the body and space
(as well as the roofs of Venice) in broken mirrors that give
rhythm to the space, like different stations. The mirrors are
very important in this project, first and foremost in The Third
Degree film. Even during the shooting… I was both uncom­
fortable and fascinated by the device you conceived: it was
really intense to see the set and to be included in it at the
same time. The kaleidoscope really works, it repositions us.
All the images in the text are a documentation
of the shooting of The Third Degree.
MB
Well, yes, obviously. The exhibition format itself could be the
tool that serves as a shifting point. From a curatorial point
of view, including the viewer is always central. The visitors
are actually at the very heart of the exhibition device, they
become the receiver or the target. If they see and/or feel
things, at one point, if they recognize their own image, it
DO
The kaleidoscope is a device of disembodiment. It gives an
analytical image with its fragmented, accidental reflections.
I am interested in the analytical. First and foremost, I would
like to dissect and open up the way the works are made. This
is not just apparent in The Third Degree, but in the other works
as well. Poetry scattered throughout the rooms of Palazzo
Pisani S. Marina show discreet instructions on how it should
be read out loud. Constellations of objects that are more of a
placeholder for ideas rather than art itself are there to reflect
the state of my works in stages between the production
28
29
and reception. There is, of course, the way the exhibition is
conceived and that is more as an analytical curve than a clas­
sical display of works. Managing the space with more analyt­
ical approach is one thing, but there is also a need to manage
the time of the exhibition. Like a film, an exhibition has its
duration. I don't mean the actual duration of the Biennale,
but a time the exhibition itself holds the viewer within. So
before we set the imaginary clock I wonder if we could con­
sider the path between the two films, The Third Degree and
TK, to be a third film as well?
the moving body of the visitor into the exhibition space, new
forms that take account of the roles of the viewer and the
object created can be generated. From stillness, sitting in
front of a projection, the body of the viewer starts moving.
Initially physical, this visual relationship also summons up
our mental resources and sets us thinking about what is on
display: tangible objects, yes, but also visions of the world
falling between subjectivity and externality – between the
closed world and the infinite universe (to quote a fascinating
book by philosopher-historian Alexandre Koyré).
MB
What you mention here is really stimulating. I’m inter­
ested in Expanded Film and how objects displayed inside a
space can produce a cinematic experience. To me, Expanded
Cinema is not only a film material or a projection, but it
can also be diverse objects, giving a material quality back to
Time and Space. It’s like being on a train and watching the
landscape unfold before your eyes. This is a moment of tran­
sition, of passage from one place to another – but what hap­
pens in between those two physical points is full of different
scale moments, thoughts and vision. Actually, I like this shift
reversing the role and the position of the body: by break­
ing out of the traditional movie theatre and by integrating
DO
It is rather a delicate procedure to expand the film through­
out the exhibition. Aware of all the traps that could make it
banal, I have put a lot of thought into what kind of a mate­
rialization must happen in the rooms between the TK and
The Third Degree films. The main concerns were not to use
objects such as props or straight-forward derivates from
the films themselves and to find a way to expand the poet­
ics of the films throughout maybe even completely different
works. But then there was a question of how the objects that
come from the films behave in the context of the exhibition.
So I have decided to include objects such as the poems and
the mirror installation, which directly derive from the films.
What turned my thought around was that for example the
filmed mirror installation in The Third Degree has a different
role that the one exhibited. It is acting as a different tool. In
the film it bounces back to the screen the internal organs of
the film, peeling its skin off, and in the exhibition it embraces
the audience. Conceptually speaking this completes a full
circle, signifying the keywords such as togetherness in the
idea of what the exhibition can be. I am justifying the fact
I have turned the traps into a conceptual necessity but we
have worked together on many occasions, and I know that
you understand the problem of “traps” very well. We do what
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31
is necessary and we try to avoid the excess for the sake of
making a clear experience. A photography of the set becom­
ing a collage, a mirror set becoming an installation, poetry
scripting the path through the exhibition… How do you
see this particular material changing place from the film
towards the exhibition?
MB
What you say about the changing role of the elements from
the film set to the exhibition space is inevitable. To me, their
function on the film set is totally different, even if, obviously,
there are some evident links with their display on site. While
being filmed, they are part of a device that generates an illu­
sion, but in the Palazzo Pisani S. Marina, their physical quality
is more than tangible. It is also crucial that they remind us
of the meaning of “being here”, right now, in a specific venue.
The standing broken mirrors, for instance, reflect the roofs
of Venice and bring us back to a certain kind of reality – even
if I have sometimes the feeling that Venice is a city out of
reality, like frozen in time... From a curatorial point of view,
this material has a direct relation to the visitor, without the
filter of the film: the devices are there to be experienced one
by one, and by everyone.
there is a path connecting TK back to The Third Degree
screening rooms, a kind of a shortcut one can discover at
the very end of the exhibition. Fragments connected into a
circle. This interview, being reversed, is also a circle...
However, TK and The Third Degree offer two different expe­
riences. First one being a rather complete experience with
various scenes, poetry recital and music locked into precisely
scored motion. The Third Degree on the other hand is more
open, organic. At the very moment while we are making
this interview I am editing the film and have been thinking
if my idea to include a poetry recital within it makes sense.
There is an adjunct poetry: fragmented, open, reflective,
but seems to me that the work anticipates a no-spoken-lan­
guage approach. Now I am strongly thinking to externalize
the poetry far from the film. This might create even more
discrepancy between two films. How do you see them still
completing each other?
DO
I refer to the mirror installation as a device of fragmenta­
tion but also as a unifying object. In The third Degree it cuts
through the image, disembodying it, opening it up in a kind
of a cinematic autopsy. It allows the camera to simultane­
ously retract and move forward, in an illusory circle. I am
interested in this kind of motion and would like to create
it within the exhibition. The audience moving in a circle.
Starting from The Third Degree, which is rather an organic
film, loop, somehow more cryptic than TK, moving through
expended studies, towards the TK. But this is no dead end,
MB
While being on the set of The Third Degree, I felt like you were
being more spontaneous – perhaps adventurous – on how to
film, less structured in a way. For TK, as well as for the films
before, I guess you knew the structure from the beginning,
or at least, how the material could end as an edited result. To
me, The Third Degree brings this other dimension, an abstract
one, non-narrative or not poem related, which drives us
to something more self-reflecting. If TK is a classical film,
a visual and sound path to follow for the viewer, The Third
Degree, on the other hand, looks much more like a chunk,
a part of the cycle developed by the current project on how
to question the artistic process and the involvement of the
viewer. These two films seem to function as two main poles,
maybe opposite ones but complementary. Each of them leads
us to two types of action, two different ways of the act of
seeing, the deed/need for analyzing.
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33
DO
Even if The Third Degree withdraws from the structure of TK,
there is still some sort of poetry happening. In both cases,
I sourced some of the references later made into poems from
different documents and reports about violence. I made
sources very vague, dispersed through descriptions of images
in which people “gather” to make action, often a violent one.
What interests me now is, if the decision not to directly place
poems in The Third Degree, the film in the exhibition layout as
planned for Venice, would become an accidental placeholder
for re-reading the TK poems in a different light. “Gathered
around we are of a reasonable distance,” reads a line from TK.
DO
There was one poem I removed from TK. This particular
poem described a way the human skin could be treated to
become a sort of a white flag. I was interested in how fragile
and resilient the human skin is. Not really from an aspect of
biology, but as a political boundary between self and society. I removed the poem from TK because it felt as it was a new
kind of material, a subject on its own. It turned to be a start­
ing point for The Third Degree. But the project evolved and
the poem was again removed from The Third Degree, along
with all the other poems I attempted to place in the new
film. There was neither more place nor necessity for a spoken
word. Everything but the organic flow of images would be an
exercise of excess. I write poems in a very particular way, by
compressing the text and the language so it becomes an act
of removing rather than adding to it.
That said, The Third Degree is a total poem for me. Com­
pressed to the point from where nothing else could be fur­
ther removed. It goes along the spines of my works. Poetry,
music, films and other tools I use and will shown in Venice
have something in common: sort of the skin of the time. But
let me get back to the idea of a white flag. For me, it was
an image of a defeat. Wave to surrender, to achieve peace on
others terms. Your revolution has just failed. How do you see
the relation between the white flag and the skin scars I show
in The Third Degree? Is that a hope?
MB
I feel that this project is also an opportunity for you to
re-configure the poems that you have already composed
differently, as a new way to get out of the framework. In a
way, it is an opportunity to understand the poetry through
an exploded way, leaving standards. I sometimes wonder if
words are not some kind of a handicap, an obstacle to sur­
pass. This distance can be beneficial, a way to mark images
which can also be a form of poetry. Do poems become the
inner part of the images, or vice versa?
MB
I could say that every white flag is a failure. Once again,
it’s not about being pessimistic but rather stating that the
constant pressure of the world has an effect on us. Tradi­
tionally, a white flag is a symbol of peace, yes, but also a
will to surrender during war time. In a way, both white flag
and skin scars are the signs of a defeat of our subjectivities
towards the global world, but an underlying, quiet and daily
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35
disappointment… But there’s a difference between these two
types of surrender: the holder of a white flag tends to nego­
tiate something with his oppressors. The subject is still aware
of a possible peaceful rendition or resignation. Skin scars, on
the other hand, are the traces of a violent submission, with
no space for negotiation. Does it mean that without media­
tion, the body becomes irremediably damaged and endures
the violence..? I don’t know, but for sure we have to deal on
a daily basis with this surrounding violence…
DO
Let me get back to the origins of the project, which really grew
from a simple thing. Not sure if you share the same memory
as I do, but few years ago, we took a long walk after a posh
art-party in Paris. It was in a middle of the night and the city
was strangely quiet. You know it was kind of a silent tension
that makes you walk faster because the air feels dangerously
empty. We walked and didn’t really talk much. But what hap­
pened then, is that there was a scream followed by shouting
in the distance. It broke the city in half. And you said in a very
calm and quiet voice: “Well, we live in a violent world.”
It got me thinking about how quiet and calm a social con­
struction is, how society with all its control and order is
a construction, and how there is this organic scream sup­
pressed under the layers of our society. Later on, when
I started to develop my thoughts, I imagined this kind of con­
cept of tranquility and I asked an old man with Parkinson to
write it for me on paper. He wrote the word “tranquility”, but
while doing so, he also wrote this scream hidden within the
lines of the letters.
The whole project emerged from this simple point. Another
poem from TK refers to a picture I saw on Facebook: a simple
sunset picture taken by a tourist. On the picture one could
see the red sky closing down the bare mountains. It was beau­
tiful and raw, a bit kitschy too. What struck me was that the
36
picture was taken on the border between Turkey and Syria
and behind those mountains there was a violence happening
in silence of the sunset. The more I looked into the photo,
the more the red sky turned into blood dripping down the
mountains. I made a poem about the precariousness of the
future by describing this picture. It had the same simple ori­
gin. This is how I see poetry and its political strength. It is
not about one direction and one precision, but more about
making it alive, organic, able to shiver on its own, through
simple things.
MB
I wish I could be this person screaming in the middle of the
night... Sometimes, I feel this urgent need to get out of me
and shout as loud as possible to the face of the world. We
all should do that to remind ourselves that we are part of
this madness – witnesses and actors of this global stage. This
could be considered as a rebellious act, a way of being part
of this dramaturgy of the world, but very quietly and at a
reasonable scale. Quoting the melancholy traveler Jaques in
William Shakespeare’s As You Like It: “All the world’s a stage,
/ And all the men and women merely players / […] That
ends this strange eventful history, / Is second childishness
and mere oblivion, / Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans
everything.” We should maybe add “Sans skin”…
Simple things, like an apparent quiet sunset, or a loud shout
in the still of the night, can reveal so much of the ugliness
of the beauty, and of the fate of the world. These are like
small signs reminiscent of our condition. Like this red sky
approaching, it says so much about living collectively. We are
all aware of the violence, and all subjects of it, knowing the
final outcome – then, the question should simply be: “shall
we now burn together?”
37
In morning
we praise
the Sun
In the name of...
the rotation and the return
In the name of...
“honey, did you put the sweetener in my coffee”
“I never drink my coffee black and bitter”
“honey, it is bitter”
The world is black and bitter,
but about to be stirred with a spoon
in the name of the returnable Sun
and the metal spoon that clings
until the evening returns.
Withdrawn...
as the glow of two red rubies
blinking in the deep.
Numb and Silent,
Numb and Silent,
Gathered around, we are
of a reasonable distance
to stone the stone, numb and silent.
Mouths kept shut,
in heavy grip
hands hold lips cold
and inside are teeth
chattering in tranquillity
where silence is a vertue
Tranquillity is an empty space between fingers
but here
there are no fingers
and where there are no fingers,
heads are turning
like an answer into a question
Is it?
Is it stuck?
Why is it stuck?
Why is it?
Is it?
The crystal, heavy and black
does not reflect the sorrow back
Numb and silent
Numb and silent
Together
we step into the cold day
where the core is chilled
and the frostbitten tongue
pushing the fumes through
the cool blue lips
the shivering word is spoken
(In Tranquillity the word is shivering
Tranquillity is the shivering word)
Shivering warm white,
The word of kindness in these cold times
The dim of transparent features,
shape-shifting, the empty one,
that is not returning like a returnable Sun,
The word that once out there assumes its lasting place
among the warm white fumes
dissolving in ears over and over again
Repercussive but heard not
In Tranquillity each stone has a purpose
each has a purposed size,
volume, mass, determination
and every size is political
Tear-stone
Spit-stone
Candy-stone
all wrapped in nice paper
Useless stone too small to be called a stone
Silent-stone standing
Thrown-stone understanding
The circle meets at the top
The Sun broke his teeth
The mob
all dressed up
in battleship grey
no makeup,
rumble as they go:
Bring me a brick
Bring me a brick
Bring me a brick
This is not a rehearsal
This is not a rehearsal
This is not a rehearsal for a piss in the wind
This is
This is
This is the unrehearsed run: a spontaneous piss
We are
We are
Troublemakers we are
and troublemakers are unpredictable
Burden is stuck in the throat
like a starfish on the sea floor
five fingers to climb up the deep
advancing
gradually
for ages
to reach a shore,
and there
the Sun dries it in instant
and next wave slips it
back to the sea floor
in the same slow fall
Burden is stuck in the throat
Attempt to spit what is stuck
Attempt to cough out
what separates saying and
swallowing, said in blood
and keep your mouths shut!
Stuck voices, leftovers,
half-eaten-half-deserted
other voices, bloody voices
quiet voices at Sunset
This is where we met
We met
in love
to kiss
with teeth
...and knives
curved
with heavy virtues,
to dance
naked
around the dark
crystal
that never looked back
we danced
naked
all night long
bodies
that flicker
around the pyre
protecting, penetrating, purifying,
unbelievable gestures,
all night long
Damir Očko
Marc Bembekoff
Obrnuti intervju
DO
U radovima kojima se trenutno bavim na djelu je svojevr­
stan proces „skidanja kože“. Pokušavam propitivati unutar­
nje strukture toga kako i zašto određeni radovi nastaju. U
Trećem stupnju kameri dajem drugačiju ulogu, i to tako što i
nju pretvaram u izvođača, integriranoga u predmet filma. Pa
tako dok ga razvijam, istovremeno činim nas, filmsku ekipu
i kameru, njegovim simbiotskim dijelom. Znaš, zanima me
ideja zajedništva. Zajedništva koje evoluira iz onoga nasilnog
„zajedno“ u posljednjim sekvencama filma TK prema Trećem
stupnju, u kojemu se druga ideja zajedništva gradi kroz kale­
idoskopske slike i zrcaljenja. Ta ideja ujedinjuje pitanja kriv­
nje i kolektivne odgovornosti tako što kožu skida i samom
filmu. Tu bi se jednostavno mogao otvoriti novi film, s ovim
pitanjem: Hoćemo li sad gorjeti zajedno?
sve više intenzivira. Obojica smo akteri i promatrači muta­
cija suvremenoga svijeta. Nema u tom zapažanju ništa novo,
ono se provlači kroz ikonografiju povijesti umjetnosti već
stoljećima, primjerice u apokaliptičnim reprezentacijama
Hieronymusa Boscha ili Pietera Bruegela Starijeg. Ta lucidna
vizija svijeta i naše pozicioniranje kao promatrača suočenoga
s reprezentacijom pojavljuje se i u kazalištu Bertolta Brechta.
Čini mi se da je Treći stupanj, koji prikazuje filmsku ekipu i sam
proces nastajanja filma, dio te dinamike: distinkcija između
postupaka gledanja i činjenja dovodi do kritičke i umjetničke
konstrukcije, koja pak podriva odnos podložnosti gledatelja i
pretvara ga u sudionika, aktivno uključenoga u projekt. Time
se Jacques Rancière bavi u Emancipiranom gledatelju.
MB
Svi ćemo mi gorjeti zajedno – na ovaj ili onaj način. Nije to
pesimistična vizija, već praktično i odgovorno pozicionira­
nje. Svijet u kojemu živimo stalno se urušava i taj se proces
DO
Naravno, uopće se ne radi o pesimizmu. Ustvari, ta kolek­
tivna lomača koju zamišljam nešto je nužno – trenutak koji
bismo kao društvo mogli potaknuti i održavati. Vrlo je zani­
mljivo to što kažeš o Trećem stupnju i trenutku spajanja dvaju
naličja filma: viđenoga i neviđenoga. No mislim da bismo
tu površinu mogli još malo jače zagrepsti. Osim što, očito,
razotkrivam postupak snimanja filma/gledanja u odnosu na
ono što se snima kao neku vrstu reprezentacije za publiku
u suvremenome svijetu, ono čemu zapravo težim prije bi se
moglo opisati kao totalno stapanje. Proces snimanja filma
pretvara se u film. Mi, filmska ekipa, spajamo se sa subjektom
i postajemo jedno tijelo. To tijelo još snažnije odražava etička
pitanja ako se uzme u obzir konkretna tema Trećega stupnja,
ali u širem kontekstu također se bavi ulogom umjetnosti kao
političkoga protagonista. Razlog tomu je neugodno snima­
nje TK-a i moralne dileme koje su me mučile zbog načina
nastanka toga filma. Snimanje se odvijalo u teškim uvjetima
i naši su izvođači stajali goli, okruženi ekipom odjevenom
u zimsku odjeću. Kao da smo radili film o nasilju na veoma
nasilan način. Tu sam se zapitao bi li refleksija o tome mogla
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51
Sve fotografije u tekstu dokumentacija
su snimanja Trećeg stupnja.
naći svoj odjek u širim društvenim mehanizmima koji funk­
cioniraju na isti način. Postupci i kretanja koja poduzimamo
dolaze do određene točke. Ima li sve to smisla ili se naprosto
skrivamo iza različitih stavova?
MP
Svi smo mi odašiljači stavova. Umjetnik svojim djelima nudi
određenu perspektivu – kao, uostalom, i kustos: od trenutka
kad mi – time mislim na svaku pojedinu osobu – izrazimo
svoj stav, upisujemo se u retoriku; otvaramo nove pristupe i
druge kutove kako bismo svijet promotrili na drugačiji način,
bilo tako da njegove ekscese stavljamo pod povećalo, bilo da
ih podvrgavamo kritici. U Trećem stupnju jasno se mogu osje­
titi oni trenuci kad se sve prožima i otapa, stvarajući hibridne
zone u kojima je tijelo fragmentirano. Ta vizualna sedimenta­
cija – ujedno taloženje osjeta – katkad postaje apstraktna, što
ujedno zrcali apstrakciju ovoga sve manje razumljivog svijeta.
MB
Da, jasno. Sam format izložbe može biti instrument koji služi
kao točka pomaka. S kustoske točke gledišta, angažman gle­
datelja uvijek je ključan. Posjetitelji su zapravo u samome sre­
dištu izložbenoga postupka, oni postaju prijemnik ili meta.
Ako u određenoj točki vide i/ili osjećaju, ako prepoznaju
svoj vlastiti lik, to njihovu svijest podiže na drugu razinu.
Kao imerzivna instalacija, mislim da izložba u Hrvatskome
paviljonu igra važnu ulogu u takvom osvješćivanju: prostorni
plan vodi prema tome, osobito odrazi tijela i prostora (a i
venecijanskih krovova) u razbijenim zrcalima koja prostoru
daju ritam, kao različite postaje. Zrcala su u ovome projektu
iznimno važna, osobito u filmu Treći stupanj. Pa čak i tijekom
snimanja… taj postupak koji si osmislio u meni je pobuđivao
i nelagodu i fascinaciju: iskustvo gledanja scenografije i isto­
vremene uključenosti u nju bilo je doista intenzivno. Kalei­
doskop zbilja funkcionira, stavlja nas u novu poziciju.
DO
Sve me više zanima da u svojim radovima dosegnem svojevr­
snu točku preokreta, kao što sam ranije rekao, da inkorpo­
riram nešto više od stava. I premda je vrlo teško postići live
streaming retoriku, ipak to nastojim kako bih publici pružio
spoj intelektualnoga i emocionalnog iskustva. Prolazak kroz
moje radove trebao bi pobuditi određeni osjećaj pustolovine.
Treći stupanj razvija se kao kaleidoskop; on ne propituje samo
načine stvaranja, nego i načine angažiranja publike. Odrazi
se snimaju i sve u njima reflektira se natrag u film kao loop
između kamere i subjekta. Pitam se, doduše, kako napraviti
neki instrument koji bi zrcalio publiku i njezin stvarni, živući
doživljaj filma: loop između kamere, subjekta i publike, ako je
to moguće. Gdje bismo mogli pronaći tu točku preokreta u
kojoj bi ono zajedništvo koje sam ranije spominjao uključilo
i publiku? S kustoske točke gledišta, to mora biti zanimljiv
izazov, zar ne?
DO
Taj je kaleidoskop sredstvo obestjelovljenja. Svojim fra­
gmentiranim, nasumičnim odrazima pruža analitičku sliku.
Zanima me analitičko. Prije svega, volio bih secirati i raščla­
niti način na koji djela nastaju. To nije očito samo u Trećem
stupnju, nego i u drugim radovima. Poezija rasuta kroz prosto­
rije Palače Pisani S. Marina sadrži diskretne upute da je treba
čitati naglas. Konstelacije objekata, koji su više nositelji ideja
nego umjetnička djela sama po sebi, ondje su da odraze stanje
mojih radova u fazama između nastajanja i recepcije. Tu je i
način na koji je izložba koncipirana, više kao analitička krivu­
lja nego kao klasično izlaganje radova. Upravljanje prostorom
koji ima primarno analitičku svrhu je jedno, ali podjednako
je važno upravljati vremenom izložbe. Baš kao film, i izložba
ima svoje trajanje. Ne mislim pritom na trajanje Bijenala,
nego na vrijeme u kojem sama izložba zaokuplja gledatelja. A
prije nego što navijemo taj imaginarni sat, pitam se bismo li
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mogli o stazi između dva filma, Treći stupanj i TK, razmišljati
kao o trećem filmu?
MB
To je doista poticajna tema. Zanima me prošireni film i kako
objekti izloženi u nekom prostoru mogu stvoriti kinematsko
iskustvo. Za mene prošireni film nije samo filmski materijal
ili projekcija, nego to mogu biti i različiti objekti koji vraćaju
materijalnu kvalitetu Vremenu i Prostoru. Kao kad si u vlaku
i promatraš kako se krajolik razmotava pred tvojim očima. To
je trenutak tranzicije, prolaska iz jednoga mjesta u drugo – ali
ono što se događa između tih dviju fizičkih točaka obiluje tre­
nucima, mislima i vizijama različitih razmjera. Zapravo, sviđa
mi se taj pomak koji izokreće ulogu i poziciju tijela: probo­
jem iz tradicionalne kinodvorane i integriranjem pokretnoga
tijela posjetitelja u izložbeni prostor mogu se generirati nove
forme koje propituju uloge gledatelja i kreiranog objekta.
Umjesto nepomičnosti, sjedenja pred projekcijskim platnom,
tijelo gledatelja počinje se gibati. Premda je isprva fizički,
taj vizualni odnos ujedno mobilizira naše mentalne resurse
i potiče nas da razmišljamo o tome što je izloženo: opipljivi
predmeti, da, ali također vizije svijeta na pola puta između
subjektivnosti i eksternalnosti – između zatvorenoga svijeta i
beskonačnoga svemira (da citiram fascinantnu knjigu filozofa
povjesničara Alexandrea Koyréa).
ponašanju predmeta iz filmova u kontekstu izložbe. Zato
sam odlučio uvrstiti predmete kao što su pjesme i instalacija
sa zrcalima, direktno preuzete iz filmova. Predomislio sam
se zato što, primjera radi, snimljena instalacija sa zrcalima u
Trećem stupnju ima drugačiju ulogu od instalacije na izložbi.
Funkcionira kao druga vrsta alata. U filmu se vraća prema
ekranu, odražavajući unutarnje organe filma, guleći mu kožu,
dok u izložbi obuhvaća publiku. Konceptualno gledano, time
se zatvara krug, simbolizirajući ključne riječi poput zajedniš­
tva u ideji onoga što izložba može biti. Nižem opravdanja za
to što sam zamke pretvorio u konceptualnu nužnost, ali ti i ja
smo često surađivali pa znam da odlično razumiješ problem
„zamki“. Činimo što je nužno i nastojimo izbjeći pretjerivanja
kako bismo postigli jasno iskustvo. Fotografija filmskoga seta
postaje kolaž, scenografija sastavljena od zrcala pretvara se u
instalaciju, poezija bilježi put kroz izložbu… Kako ti gledaš na
izmještanje ovoga materijala iz filma na izložbu?
DO
Proširenje filma kroz izložbu dosta je delikatan postupak. Bio
sam svjestan svih zamki koje bi nas mogle odvesti u banal­
nost pa sam dosta razmišljao o tome kakva se vrsta materija­
lizacije mora dogoditi u izložbenim dvoranama između filma
TK i filma Treći stupanj. Najvažnije mi je bilo da ne koristim
rekvizite ili predmete doslovno prenesene iz samih filmova
te da nađem način da proširim poetiku filmova u možda čak
sasvim drugačijim radovima. Ali tu se nametnulo pitanje o
MB
To što govoriš o izmijenjenoj ulozi elemenata s filmskoga
seta u izložbenome prostoru jest neizbježno. Za mene je nji­
hova funkcija na filmskome setu sasvim drugačija, premda,
naravno, postoje neke očigledne poveznice s njihovim posta­
vom u izložbenome prostoru. Kad ih snima kamera, dio su
postupka koji generira iluziju, ali u Palači Pisani S. Marina
54
55
njihov fizički aspekt više je nego opipljiv. Također je kruci­
jalno što nas podsjećaju na značenje „prisutnosti“, baš sad,
tu, na konkretnome mjestu. Primjera radi, stojeća razbijena
zrcala odražavaju krovove Venecije i vraćaju nas u određenu
vrstu zbilje – iako ponekad imam osjećaj da je Venecija grad
izvan zbilje, zamrznut u vremenu… Što se tiče kustoske točke
gledišta, ovaj materijal ima neposredan odnos s posjetiteljem,
bez filtra filma: sve što je izloženo može se doživjeti individu­
alno ili zajednički.
MB
Na setu Trećega stupnja činilo mi se da si bio spontaniji –
možda otvoreniji avanturi – u smislu toga kako snimati, na
neki način manje strukturiran. Za TK, kao i za ranije filmove,
pretpostavljam da si otpočetka znao strukturu ili bar kako
bi materijal mogao izgledati u završnoj montaži. Za mene,
Treći stupanj donosi jednu drugu dimenziju, apstraktnu, nena­
rativnu ili nevezanu uz poeziju, što nas tjera prema većoj
autorefleksiji. Ako je TK klasični film, vizualni i zvukovni put
koji gledatelj slijedi, Treći stupanj više nalikuje na odsječak,
dio kruga proistekao iz čitavog ovog sadašnjega projekta o
načinima propitivanja umjetničkoga procesa i gledateljskoga
sudjelovanja. Ova dva filma kao da funkcioniraju poput dvaju
glavnih polova, možda oprečnih, ali i komplementarnih.
Svaki od njih dovodi nas do dvaju tipova radnji, dvaju različi­
tih načina gledanja, do čina/potrebe za analiziranjem.
DO
O instalaciji sa zrcalima govorim kao o sredstvu fragmenta­
cije, ali to je i ujedinjujući objekt. U Trećem stupnju on siječe
sliku, obestjelovljuje ju, rastvara u svojevrsnoj kinematskoj
obdukciji. Omogućuje kameri da se istovremeno povlači i
kreće naprijed u prividnome krugu. Zanima me ta vrsta kre­
tanja i volio bih je postići unutar izložbe. Da se publika kreće
u krug. Počevši od Trećega stupnja, koji je dosta organski film,
loop, nekako kriptičniji od TK-a, i koji kroz proširene studije
putuje prema TK-u. Ali to nije slijepa ulica; postoji putanja
koja TK opet povezuje s prostorijama u kojima se projicira
Treći stupanj, svojevrstan prečac koji je moguće otkriti na
samome kraju izložbe. Fragmenti povezani u krug. Ovaj
intervju, ovako izokrenut, također je krug…
Ipak, TK i Treći stupanj nude dva različita iskustva. Prvo je dosta
zaokruženo iskustvo s različitim scenama, poetskim recitalom
i glazbom usađenom u precizno komponirano kretanje. Treći
stupanj je, naprotiv, otvoreniji, organskiji. Upravo dok radimo
ovaj intervju, ja montiram film i razmišljam ima li moja ideja
da u nj uvrstim poetski recital smisla. Poezija je dopuna: fra­
gmentirana, otvorena, refleksivna, ali čini mi se da ovaj rad
zaziva pristup neizgovorena jezika. Sad ozbiljno razmišljam da
poeziju eksternaliziram daleko od filma. To bi moglo dovesti
do još većega raskoraka između dvaju filmova. Kako ti vidiš
mogućnost njihova međusobnoga nadopunjavanja?
MB
Mislim da je ovaj projekt ujedno za tebe prilika da promijeniš
konfiguraciju pjesama koje si već sastavio drugačije, kao nov
način da izađeš iz okvira. Na neki način to je prilika da se poe­
zija razumije kroz raščlanjenost, izvan standarda. Ponekad se
56
57
DO
Čak i ako se Treći stupanj udaljuje od strukture TK-a, ipak se
tu događa neka vrsta poezije. U oba slučaja neke od referenca
koje se kasnije spominju u pjesmama izvukao sam iz različitih
dokumenata i izvještaja o nasilju. Te sam izvore jako zama­
glio, raspršio kroz opise slika u kojima se ljudi „okupljaju“
kako bi djelovali, često nasilno. Ono što me sad zanima jest
hoće li odluka da ne prenosimo pjesme iz filma Treći stupanj
direktno u izložbeni postav planiran za Veneciju nehotice
postati osnovom za novo čitanje poezije iz TK-a u drugome
svjetlu. „Ovako okupljeni stojimo na razumnoj udaljenosti“,
kaže stih iz TK-a.
pitam nisu li riječi neka vrsta hendikepa, prepreka koju treba
svladati. Ta distanca može biti korisna, način da se obilježe
slike, što također može biti oblik poezije. Postaju li pjesme
integralni dio slika ili obrnuto?
DO
Ima jedna pjesma koju sam izbacio iz TK-a. Pjesma je opisivala
kako bi se ljudska koža mogla obraditi u bijelu zastavu. Zani­
malo me koliko je ljudska koža krhka i izdržljiva. Ne toliko
s biološkoga stajališta, koliko kao politička granica između
pojedinca i društva.
Izbacio sam tu pjesmu iz TK-a jer mi se činilo da je to nova
vrsta materijala, tema za sebe. Ona je poslužila kao ishodište
Trećega stupnja. Ali projekt se nastavio razvijati i ista ta pjesma
izbačena je i iz Trećega stupnja, zajedno s ostalim pjesmama
koje sam pokušao uvrstiti u novi film. Nije više bilo ni pro­
stora ni potrebe za izgovorenom riječju. Sve osim organskoga
protoka slika bilo bi pretjerivanje. Poeziju pišem na vrlo spe­
cifičan način, komprimirajući tekst i jezik tako da to postaje
postupak uklanjanja, a ne dodavanja.
Unatoč tomu Treći stupanj za mene je totalna poema. Kom­
primirana do točke gdje se više ništa ne može odstraniti. To
je okosnica mojih radova. Poezija, glazba, filmovi i ostali alati
koje koristim i koje ću pokazati u Veneciji imaju nešto zajed­
ničko: svojevrsnu kožu vremena. No da se vratim na ideju
bijele zastave. Za mene je to bila slika poraza. Zamahni zasta­
vom u znak predaje, da dogovoriš mir po tuđim uvjetima.
Tvoja revolucija upravo je propala. Kako vidiš odnos između
bijele zastave i ožiljaka na koži koje prikazujem u Trećem stupnju? Je li to nada?
Tradicionalno je bijela zastava simbol mira, da, ali i volja za
predajom u razdoblju rata. Na neki način i bijela zastava i oži­
ljci na koži znakovi su poraza naših subjektiviteta pred glo­
balnim svijetom, ali to je pritajeno, tiho, svakodnevno razo­
čaranje… Ali postoji razlika između tih dvaju tipova predaje:
nositelj bijele zastave u pravilu o nečemu pregovara sa svojim
opresorima. Subjekt je još svjestan moguće mirne predaje ili
povlačenja. Ožiljci na koži, s druge strane, tragovi su prisilne
podložnosti, bez prostora za pregovaranje. Znači li to da bez
medijacije tijelo postaje nepopravljivo oštećeno i da trpi nasi­
lje…? Ne znam, ali nema sumnje da se svakoga dana moramo
nositi s nasiljem koje nas okružuje…
MB
Mogao bih reći da je svaka bijela zastava neuspjeh. Opet
ponavljam, nije to pesimizam, nego jednostavno tvrdnja
da neprestani pritisak svijeta ostavlja svoj trag na nama.
DO
Dopusti da se vratim na početke ovoga projekta, koji je
zapravo izrastao iz nečega jednostavnog. Nisam siguran sje­
ćaš li se i ti toga, ali prije nekoliko godina otišli smo u dugu
šetnju nakon nekakvog elegantnog umjetničkog domjenka
u Parizu. Bilo je gluho doba noći i grad je bio neobično tih.
Osjećala se ona nečujna napetost od koje ti se korak ubrzava
jer imaš osjećaj da je zrak opasno prazan. Hodali smo gotovo
i ne govoreći. A onda se začuo vrisak za kojim je uslijedilo
vikanje u daljini. Raskolio je grad na pola. A ti si rekao, vrlo
staloženim i tihim glasom: „Pa, živimo u nasilnome svijetu.“
58
59
Pomislio sam da je društvena konstrukcija jedna tako tiha
i staložena stvar, da je društvo, sa svom svojom kontrolom
i redom, konstrukcija, da ovdje imamo taj organski vrisak
potisnut ispod slojeva našega društva. Poslije, kad sam se tim
mislima počeo ozbiljnije baviti, zamislio sam jedan koncept
spokoja i zamolio starca koji boluje od Parkinsonove bolesti
da mi to napiše na papir. Ispisujući riječ „spokoj“ istovremeno
je ispisivao i vrisak skriven u potezima slova.
Čitav projekt iznikao je iz toga jednostavnog zapažanja.
Jedna druga pjesma iz TK-a aludira na sliku koju sam vidio
na Facebooku: jednostavna slika zalaska sunca koju je snimio
neki turist. Na prvoj slici vidjelo se crveno nebo nadvijeno
iznad ogoljenih planina. Slika je bila lijepa, neposredna, ali
pomalo i kičasta. Ponajviše me se dojmilo što je snimljena
na granici između Turske i Sirije, a iza tih planina, u tišini
sutona, događalo se nasilje. Što sam više gledao tu fotogra­
fiju, to se više ono crveno nebo pretvaralo u krv što kaplje
po planinama. Napisao sam pjesmu o neizvjesnosti budućno­
sti opisujući tu sliku. Imala je isto to jednostavno ishodište.
Tako ja vidim poeziju i njezinu političku snagu. Nije riječ o
jednome smjeru, o jednoj vrsti preciznosti, nego o tome da
oživi, da bude organska, sposobna da sama drhti, kroz jedno­
stavne stvari.
MB
Volio bih da mogu biti ta osoba koja vrišti usred noći… Pone­
kad osjećam neodoljivu potrebu da izađem iz sebe i što je
moguće glasnije vrištim u lice svijeta. Svi bismo to trebali uči­
niti da se podsjetimo da smo dio ovoga ludila – svjedoci i sudi­
onici na globalnoj pozornici. To bi mogao biti čin pobune,
način da budemo dijelom te dramaturgije svijeta, ali tiho, u
razumnim razmjerima. Da citiram melankoličnoga putnika
Jaquesa u Kako vam drago Williama Shakespearea: „Sav svi­
jet je pozornica;/A ljudi, žene u njoj glumci samo/ […] Tako
zadnji prizor stiže,/Toj šarenoj historiji je konac;/ Djetinjstvo
60
drugo, zaborav i propast,/ Bez zubi, vida, okusa, bez svega.1”
Možda bismo trebali dodati i „Bez kože“…
Obične stvari, kao prividno miran suton ili glasan uzvik u
tišini noći, mogu toliko toga otkriti o ružnoći, o ljepoti, o
sudbini svijeta. Sve su to mali simptomi našega stanja. Baš
kao to crveno nebo koje nam se primiče i koje nam štošta
govori o životu u kolektivu. Svi smo mi svjesni nasilja i svi
smo mu podložni, znajući konačan ishod – i tu nam onda
preostaje samo još ovo jednostavno pitanje: „Hoćemo li sad
svi gorjeti zajedno?“
1. Preveo Slavko Ježić, Izdanje Matice hrvatske, Zagreb, 1951., str. 56.-57.
61
Credits:
Impressum
Cover, back, pages 40-45:
Damir Očko
TK, 2014
Poems from TK
Page 46 [down]:
Damir Očko
Untitled, 2013
Collage, 98,5 x 50 cm
Pages 1, 4-5, 7-11, 14-15, 17-20:
Damir Očko
TK, 2014
Film stills, 4K transferred
to HD video, color, sound,
19’48’’
Page 47 [up]:
Damir Očko
Untitled, 2015
Collage, 120 cm x 80 cm
Pages 2-3, 6, 12-13,
16, 21-23:
Damir Očko
Untitled (writings of
Giuseppe Ianuzzi), 2013
Pencil on paper
Pages 29, 30, 34, 47, 50, 55:
Damir Očko
The Third Degree, 2015
Pictures from the film set
Courtesy the artist
Page 47 [down]:
Damir Očko
Untitled, 2013
Photo print on archival paper,
140 x 105 cm
Pages 63-88:
Damir Očko
The Third Degree, 2015
Film still, 4K transferred
to HD video, color, sound,
11’
Page 38 [up]:
Damir Očko
Untitled, 2014
Collage, 94 x 64 cm
Printed by:
Kerschoffset Zagreb d.o.o.
Croatian translation:
Dubravka Petrović
Graphic design:
Müesli
Croatian language editor:
Ana Vraneša
English language editor:
Chris Osborne
Proofreading:
Tihana Puc
Financed by:
Additional support:
Page 38 [down]:
Damir Očko
Untitled, 2014
Collage, 104 x 70,6 cm
Page 39:
Damir Očko
Untitled, 2013
Collage, 73 x 50 cm
Page 46 [up]:
Damir Očko
Untitled (dismissed parts),
2013-2014
Detail, snake skin with writings,
variable dimension
Editors:
Marc Bembekoff, Damir Očko
All images courtesy
the artist and Tiziana
Di Caro Gallery, Naples.
This book is published as part
of the Pavilion of Croatia at the
56th International Art Exhibition
- la Biennale di Venezia.
70
71
Numb and Silent let me see,
what lurks under the tree
with no shadow behind it
A deaf mouse perhaps?
Numb and silent, there might be
a blind owl on that tree
pale and either with no shadow
but its ears turned toward the sound
and the whisper without the lips
that carries over the dead grass
that call both flat and crisp:
A deaf mouse! A deaf mouse!
Where? The Owl asked, but
not a fraction of tone
there is against the stars
Just give it back to its source
back to the quiet beginning
thinks the hungry owl
and I'll feed myself with force
until quiet again no ringing