
Razgovor sa Milicom Popović
Izložba slika i crteža doktorskog umetničkog projekta Milice Popović realizovana je u periodu od 23. do 31. januara 2024. godine u Galeriji Fakulteta likovnih umetnosti. Tim povodom, prenosimo vam razgovor koji je sa umetnicom vodila Sara Maričić.
Sara Maričić: Izložbom Zapisi nevidljivog u Galeriji FLU napravila si svojevrstan presek i kao što sam naziv sugeriše zapisom posvedočila jedan period svog stvaranja. Šta beležiš kao promenu u odnosu na prethodnu seriju radova?
Milica Popović: Radovi izloženi na ovoj izložbi nastavak su radova sa pre-doktorskih studija. Smatram da je promena ključna u umetničkom stvaralaštvu. Iako je ponavljanje, možda, važno za produbljivanje rada, smatram da je suočavanje sa promenama i preuzimanje rizika neophodno kako bi se umetnik izmestio iz zone komfora.
Konkretno, primetila sam značajnu promenu u mom pristupu radu. Iako nije došlo do radikalnih promena, svaka promena lično mi je bila bitna. U poslednje vreme primećujem da sve više krećem u proces slikanja akcijom, koja zatim pokreće misao i novu aktivnost. Ono što se dogadja u meni je više potreba, a ne ideja; odluka da se nešto uradi; postoji delovanje gde nema razmisljanja.
SM: Kada se setiš svojih početaka, da li prepoznaješ nit koja te vodila ka apstraktnom izrazu koji u tvom radu svakako ne proističe iz čistog bavljenja formom, već je natopljen iskustvom, opažanjem prirode i čini mi se, razmišljanju o stvarnosti koju zaista živiš?
MP: Upravo tako. Sve počinje posmatranjem, opažanjem… Tako sam jednom opazila muve zalepljene na plastičnoj flaši. Krenula sam od trivijalnog. Kod mene tada nastaje osecaj čudjenja kao i serija crteža Čvorovi (Zalepljene muve). Radeći crteže dosla sam do saznanja da me muve kao motiv, odnosno tema, ne zanimaju – zato ih ni ne bi trebalo tumačiti u simbolici raspadanja. Muve su mi poslužile kao vizuelna referenca, bio mi je interesantan njihov raspored, kretanje. Doživela sam ih kao tačke, zvezde na nebu – mogu poslužiti kao metafora. Bilo mi je interesantno kako tačke (muve) formiraju linije kao i prostor između njih. To su bili topografski crteži koji predstavljaju razne vrste mreža. Imaju vrednosti kao što su smer, kretanje, bogatstvo linija, izazivaju osecaj treperenja i pulsiranja. Ovaj period dosta je povezan sa kaligrafskim slikarstvom i predstavlja prvi korak ka apstraktnijem izrazu.
SM: Šta misliš zašto i dalje dolazi do šuma u komunikaciji između posmatrača i apstraktne slike, šta je to što sprečava savremenog čoveka da se u potpunosti osloni na apstrakciju? Da li smatraš da je reč o pogrešnom pristupu, smanjenom kapacitetu da osetimo ili o nečemu trećem?
MP: Mislim da je ključ upravo u pristupu. Ljudi kad vide apstraktnu sliku, uplaše se. Misle da moraju da je razumeju, spoznaju intelektom. Čini mi se da joj prilazimo kao da je u pitanju renesansna slika; renesansnog shvatanja sveta kao objektivne realnosti. U prošlosti apstrakcija je upravo takvu strukturu htela da izmeni. Oslonila bih se ovde na britansko–irskog umetnika Šona Skalija. On smatra da bi pristup apstrakciji trebalo da bude srodan muzici. Dok slušamo muziku, sigurno se ne pitamo šta znači svaki akord. Jednostavno slušamo. Zato i koristim gest kao sredstvo da se slika doživi fizički. To je stvar osetljivosti, emocionalnog kapaciteta.
SM: Zanimljivo mi je u kojoj meri filozofija prožima tvoj rad. Koristiš se njom kao praktičnim sredstvom kojim pojednostavljuješ koncepte koje smo vremenom zakomplikovali. Osećam jednostavnost u tvom radu koja nikakada ne zadobija stalnu formu, jer je neprestano brusiš postavljanjem, paradoksalno, sve jednostavnijih pitanja. U kojoj meri ta zapitanost utiče na tvoj kreativni čin?
MP: To je pogled na svet gde stvarnost nije tako poznata i razumljiva kao što bismo želeli da verujemo. Sumnja i čuđenje kao emocije predstavljaju prvi korak ka apstraktnom jeziku u mom radu. Stoga, smatram da je apstrakcija jednako filozofija. Filozofija takođe proističe iz sumnje. Sokrat je smatran kvariocem raspoloženja, jer je pitanjima unosio sumnju. Mislim da i jednu i drugu karakteriše rušilačka snaga. U mom radu, to je pokušaj da se slomi iluzija materijalnog sveta, pokušaj rušenja površnosti. Postavljanjem pitanja, sumnjom, tražim novu perspektivu.
SM: Izazovno je govoriti o tvojim slikama, jer ih je razumom zaista nemoguće obuhvatiti, uprkos tome pitam, šta za tebe predstavlja slika?
MP: Slika nema narativ, nema priču, nema devojke sa šeširom koja gleda u more. Slika za mene predstavlja događaj na platnu. Evocira kosmičko dešavanje, eksploziju, vatromet. Radnje na platnu; sudari, dodirivanja, prepleti podsećaju me na ples kao metaforu. Jato ptica koje prave transformacije raznih oblika jeste ples, a ples je vrsta komunikacije.
Na slici je prikazana istorija same slike, moj način razmišljanja. Oblici na slici jesu oblici koje srećemo u životu. Oni sadrže pejzažne karakteristike (strukturu pejzaža, vegetaciju, tragove u snegu, magli). To je figurativni elementi slike. Apstrakcija se odnosi na jezik.
SM: S obzirom na to da je u fokusu tvog umetničkog istraživanja pre svega proces izgradnje slike, možeš li nam detaljnije objasniti kako on zapravo teče?
MP: Mnogo toga se desi upravo u procesu rada. On je za mene vrlo bitan. Mislim da je moj pristup crtanju/slikanju fizički i emocionalno proizašao iz iskustva baleta koji sam učila. Crtam celim telom. Ponekad je pokret vrlo sofisticiran, a onda postaje i brutalan. Ponekad idem vrlo fragmentarno, uzimam jedan specifican, konkretan element sa vizuelne reference i igram se sa njim. Mreže koje su se desile na papiru ili platnu, u ranijem periodu, polako su me uvodile u masu. Slikam široko, iznutra ka spolja, gde slika nastaje kroz mase, a ivice slike postaju nosioci informacija o njoj. Ono sto se dešava na platnu jeste rezultat sistema građenja i brisanja. To je i Sezan radio. Započinjem opisivanjem, ali prelazim u transformaciju, menjanje stvarnosti. U toku procesa slikanja dolazim do preklapanja masa, sudara masa, njihovih razlicitih rasporeda. Brisanje postaje sve bitnije u mom radu. To me je dovelo i do upotrebe bele boje u vidu ejr spreja. Ona u mom radu ima ulogu vela, evocira na sneg, maglu. Ona mi je poslužila za zamagljivanje, “stišavanje” situacije na platnu. U procesu slikanja, igram se sa belom, stalno joj menjam uloge. Nekada mi služi za skrivanje (veo), a nekada za otkrivanje, otvaranje rada. U radu postoji dosta poigravanja sa otvaranjem i zatvaranjem. Odnosno poigravanjem sa osećajem neodređenosti (otvorena forma) i strukture (zatvorena forma).
SM: Česta upotreba crne boje je vrlo karakteristična za tvoj rad, međutim interesantno je da za tebe ona ima jedno drugo značenje u odnosu na ono negativno koje se crnoj neretko pripsuje. Odakle potiče tvoja crna?
MP: Što se tiče crne boje, ona je povezana sa kaligrafskim slikarstvom. U emocionalnom efektu, povezana je sa jezgrovitošću, omotanošću. U mojim radovima crna boja nastala je iz mreža, iz prepleta linija, iz zgusnutosti. Crnu boju na platnu ne bih povezala sa negativnim ili sa teškim psihološkim stanjem. Crna za mene jeste trag, evocira na zimske pejzaze u kojima postoji takav crno-beli odnos. Zato svoje poslednje radove mogu uporediti sa svojim lirskim pejzažima iz prve godine osnovnih studija…
SM: Zanima me da li ti je teško da prepoznaš kada je kraj? Kada nastupa trenutak u kojem se prekida dinamičan i zapravo izrazito intiman odnos sa slikom ?
MP: Primetila sam da izbegavam čitanje poslednje stranice knjige. Ne volim kraj i verujem da on u suštini i ne postoji. Verujem u beskrajan tok stvari, a to je možda nešto što bi se moglo nazvati romantičarskim razmišljanjem. Nikad ne znam krajnji rezultat slike, niti o tome razmišljam. U tom neznanju kako će slika izgledati, pronalazim čar. Sve više se prepuštam toku slike, puštajući da ona vodi. Ključ je u tome koliko ću joj dozvoliti da se slobodno razvija. Zbog toga, ponekad osećam se preplavljeno. Možda bih taj osećaj mogla opisati kao hodanje u mraku, osećaj lebdenja, gde se čini da nemam čvrst oslonac pod nogama.
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The exhibition of paintings and drawings from Milica Popović’s doctoral artistic project was held from January 23 to 31, 2024, at the Gallery of the Faculty of Fine Arts. On this occasion, we present a conversation between the artist and art historian Sara Maričić.
Sara Maričić: With the exhibition Records of the Invisible at the FLU Gallery, you’ve made a sort of cross-section, and as the title suggests, you’ve documented a period of your creative work. What do you perceive as a change compared to your previous series of works?
Milica Popović: The works presented in this exhibition are a continuation of the pieces from my pre-doctoral studies. I believe that change is crucial in artistic creation. Although repetition may be important for deepening one’s work, facing change and taking risks is necessary for the artist to step out of their comfort zone. Specifically, I’ve noticed a significant change in my approach to work. While there haven’t been radical shifts, each change has been personally important. Lately, I’ve noticed that I’m increasingly moving into the process of painting through action, which then stimulates thought and new activity. What happens within me is more of a need than an idea; it’s a decision to do something; it’s action without thinking.
SM: When you think back to your beginnings, do you recognize a thread that led you to the abstract expression that, in your work, clearly doesn’t arise purely from an engagement with form but is soaked in experience, the observation of nature, and, it seems to me, a reflection on the reality you truly live in?
MP: Exactly. Everything begins with observation, perception… Once, I noticed flies stuck to a plastic bottle. I started with the trivial. At that moment, I experienced a sense of wonder, which led to the series of drawings Knots (Stuck Flies). In creating the drawings, I realized that flies as a motif, or subject, didn’t interest me – so they shouldn’t be interpreted symbolically as decay. The flies served as a visual reference, I was interested in their arrangement and movement. I saw them as points, stars in the sky – they can serve as a metaphor. I found it interesting how these points (flies) form lines and the space between them. These were topographical drawings that represented various types of networks. They had values such as direction, movement, richness of lines, evoking a sense of flickering and pulsating. This period is closely connected to calligraphic painting and represents the first step towards a more abstract expression.
SM: What do you think is the reason there is still a gap in communication between the viewer and abstract art? What prevents the contemporary person from fully embracing abstraction? Do you think it’s a result of a misguided approach, a reduced capacity to feel, or something else?
MP: I believe the key lies in the approach. When people see an abstract painting, they become frightened. They think they need to understand it, grasp it intellectually. It seems to me that we approach it as if it were a Renaissance painting, in the Renaissance understanding of the world as objective reality. In the past, abstraction aimed to change this very structure. I would rely here on the British-Irish artist Sean Scully. He believes that the approach to abstraction should be similar to music. When we listen to music, we don’t ask ourselves what each chord means. We simply listen. That’s why I use gesture as a means for the painting to be experienced physically. It’s a matter of sensitivity, emotional capacity.
SM: I find it interesting how philosophy permeates your work. You use it as a practical tool to simplify concepts that over time we’ve complicated. I sense a simplicity in your work that never assumes a fixed form, because you constantly refine it by asking, paradoxically, simpler questions. To what extent does this questioning influence your creative act?
MP: It’s a worldview where reality is not as known or understandable as we would like to believe. Doubt and wonder as emotions represent the first step toward the abstract language in my work. Therefore, I consider abstraction to be philosophy as well. Philosophy also emerges from doubt. Socrates was considered a corrupter of minds because he introduced doubt with his questions. I think both are characterized by a destructive force. In my work, it’s an attempt to break the illusion of the material world, an attempt to dismantle superficiality. By asking questions, through doubt, I seek a new perspective.
SM: It’s challenging to talk about your paintings because it’s truly impossible to grasp them with reason alone. Still, I ask, what does a painting represent for you?
MP: A painting doesn’t have a narrative, it doesn’t tell a story, it doesn’t depict a girl with a hat looking at the sea. For me, a painting represents an event on the canvas. It evokes a cosmic occurrence, an explosion, a fireworks display. The actions on the canvas—collisions, touches, entanglements—remind me of dance as a metaphor. A flock of birds making transformations of various forms is dance, and dance is a form of communication. The painting shows the history of the painting itself, my way of thinking. The shapes on the canvas are the shapes we encounter in life. They contain landscape characteristics (the structure of the landscape, vegetation, tracks in the snow, mist). These are the figurative elements of the painting. Abstraction relates to language.
SM: Given that the focus of your artistic research is primarily the process of creating a painting, can you explain in more detail how this process unfolds?
MP: A lot happens in the process of working itself. For me, it’s very important. I think my approach to drawing/painting, both physically and emotionally, stems from my experience with ballet that I studied. I draw with my whole body. Sometimes the movement is very sophisticated, and then it becomes brutal. Sometimes I go very fragmentarily, picking a specific, concrete element from a visual reference and playing with it. The networks that appeared on paper or canvas in the earlier period gradually led me to mass. I paint broadly, from the inside out, where the painting arises through masses, and the edges of the painting become carriers of information about it. What happens on the canvas is the result of a system of building and erasing. That’s what Cézanne did too. I begin with description, but then I move into transformation, changing reality. During the painting process, I come to overlapping masses, collisions of masses, their different arrangements. Erasing becomes more and more significant in my work. This led me to the use of white paint in the form of air spray. It has the role of a veil, evoking snow, fog. It serves me for blurring, “calming” the situation on the canvas. In the painting process, I play with white, constantly changing its roles. Sometimes it serves to conceal (veil), and other times to reveal, to open up the work. There is a lot of playing with opening and closing in my work, that is, playing with the sense of indeterminacy (open form) and structure (closed form).
SM: The frequent use of black is very characteristic of your work, but it’s interesting that for you it carries a different meaning compared to the negative connotations typically attributed to black. Where does your black come from?
MP: As for black, it’s related to calligraphic painting. In terms of emotional effect, it’s connected to compactness, wrapping. In my works, black comes from the networks, the intertwining of lines, from density. I wouldn’t associate the black on the canvas with negativity or with a heavy psychological state. For me, black is a trace, it evokes winter landscapes where there is such a black-and-white relationship. That’s why I can compare my latest works with my lyrical landscapes from my first year of undergraduate studies.
SM: I’m curious whether it’s difficult for you to recognize when it’s time to stop? When does the moment come to break the dynamic and actually quite intimate relationship with the painting?
MP: I’ve noticed that I avoid reading the last page of a book. I don’t like endings, and I believe that, in essence, they don’t even exist. I believe in the endless flow of things, and maybe that’s something that could be considered romantic thinking. I never know the final result of a painting, nor do I think about it. In this not-knowing of how the painting will turn out, I find the magic. I increasingly let the painting guide me, allowing it to develop freely. The key is how much I will let it evolve on its own. That’s why, at times, I feel overwhelmed. Perhaps I could describe that feeling as walking in the dark, a sense of floating, where it seems like I have no firm ground beneath my feet.