Izložbe Archive - Vagon Gallery https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/ Vagon Gallery Banja Luka Mon, 04 May 2026 22:14:49 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 https://vagon.gallery/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/cropped-oie_11054179oJl3NNR-32x32.png Izložbe Archive - Vagon Gallery https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/ 32 32 HomeSickHome https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/homesickhome/ Mon, 04 May 2026 21:58:50 +0000 https://vagon.gallery/?post_type=izlozbe&p=14333 U ovoj izložbi, Lada Ucheva uspostavlja kompleksan vizuelni i politički režim u kojem se motiv doma formira unutar iskustava ratne zone, nasilne migracije i sistemske represije. Prostor koji se pred nama otvara strukturiran je kroz sudar intenziteta: nježni, gotovo sentimentalni vizuelni segmenti koegzistiraju sa grubim, sirovim elementima, proizvodeći ambijent u kojem percepcija stalno oscilira između […]

The post HomeSickHome appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>

In this exhibition, Lada Ucheva establishes a complex visual and political framework in which the motif of home is formed within experiences of a war zone, violent migration, and systemic repression. The space that opens before us is structured through a clash of intensities: gentle, almost sentimental visual segments coexist with rough, raw elements, producing an atmosphere in which perception constantly oscillates between attraction and unease. The iconography of roses, houses, and pink tones functions as a precisely constructed apparatus of visual suggestion. These elements activate deeply rooted images of safety, intimacy, and emotional warmth, guiding the viewer into a space that promises stability and protection. Their formal softness and aesthetic accessibility generate a sense of closeness—an almost automatic identification with the idea of home as a refuge. It is precisely within this register of softness that the unsettling effect intensifies. Rough materials, sharp cuts, disciplined structures, and repetitive systems introduce another layer, carrying the experience of violence, control, and coercion. Their presence does not break the surface but intertwines with it, creating a continuum in which softness and brutality amplify one another. The gentle motifs become carriers of pressure, while the rough elements assume the role of structural frameworks that organize and confine the space. This tension produces a specific form of unease that does not arise from a direct representation of violence, but from its dispersion through form. The visual language functions as a system in which the political is inscribed into rhythm, material, and repetition. Repetition further condenses this experience, transforming individual elements into accumulated structures that insist on duration and exposure. Within this system, home is articulated as a space in which safety and violence continually overlap. War, migration, and political repression act as forces that shape perception and define the boundaries of the possible, while the body and mind remain under their continuous pressure. Silencing, control, and exclusion function as operative principles that shape both the space and the subject’s experience within it. This practice produces a situation in which visual softness intensifies the awareness of the violence that structures it. The viewer is confronted with an environment that demands prolonged engagement, and whose perceptual impact is continually regenerated through the tension between the appealing and the burdensome. 

Text: Isidora Branković

Lada Uchayeva (born 1992 in Saratov, Russia) is a contemporary multidisciplinary artist who lives and works in Montenegro. She graduated from the Stieglitz Academy of Art and Design (2015) and completed the Paideia School of Contemporary Art Interpretation (2016). In her work, she addresses themes of economic inequality, political repression, violence, and labor.

She works with various materials such as textile, metal, glass, and paper, but her practice is fundamentally defined by text and repetition. Through the repetition of words, movements, and forms, she builds works that accumulate meaning, time, and labor, making the creative process visible and amplifying the idea being conveyed.

Her recent solo exhibitions include Antifragility (Cirih, 2026), 99% at SpazioSERRA gallery (Milan, 2025) and White Noise in the European Art Community (Budva, Montenegro, 2024). She is a recipient of the Garage Museum Young Artist Support Program scholarship (2022). Her practice stems from an understanding of art as an inherently political space, open to multiple interpretations.

The post HomeSickHome appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>
she opens herself to thirteen thirty-two ways of looking at a motherland https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/she-opens-herself-to-thirteen-thirty-two-ways-of-looking-at-a-motherland/ Mon, 04 May 2026 21:52:14 +0000 https://vagon.gallery/?post_type=izlozbe&p=14296 obloži riječšpilju: kako pisati bez jezika   svoj rad obično zovem poezijom, ali ono što stvarno radim je da “hodim duplo poput duha”, što znači da prevodim (sebe (i druge)), a kad prevodim (sebe (i druge)), onda je to u jedan jezik koji imam, a koji ne mogu nazvati svojim. kako sablasno!   neko je […]

The post she opens herself to thirteen thirty-two ways of looking at a motherland appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>

Drape the word-cave: how to write without language

 

I usually call my work poetry, but what I'm really doing is "walking double like a ghost," which means I translate (myself (and others)), and when I translate (myself (and others)), then it's in a language I have, but which I cannot call my own. how spectral!

 

someone said that every word is a distillate of history, though I don't remember whose words those were. to write, then, means to be haunted, or more precisely, to allow yourself to be haunted, layer by layer, by parts of all the languages your language has ever wrapped itself around. some hauntings are more pleasant than others, and some of us walk heavily haunted.

 

one of my heavy hauntings is what we affectionately call "ours." "our" haunting cracked "our" language, cracked "our" rivers, "our" cities, "our" lands, "our" people, and in that crack I was born homeless and tongueless, because "our" haunting took my language and left me tongueless, and being without language is a difficult state for a poetess (let alone a poetess newly born). 

 

so what does a poetess do whose language has been taken from her? 

 

she finds a word. 

from that word she makes a word-cave. 

she lays waste to her word-cave. 

she sits in her empty word-cave. 

she sits empty in her empty word-cave. 

 

she rises and drapes the word-cave in panther skins,

spreads the skins, skin-we / skin-them, over her empty word-cave.

she gives chambers to her empty word-cave, she gives it chambers, vestibules, rooms,

she gives chambers, vestibules, cavities, rooms,

she gives chambers, vestibules, valves, rooms.

she gives it wildness,

wildness

 

she gives it wildness

and listens to its other

equally-other other and other

tone.



OBLOŽI RIJEČŠPILJU

panterkožama,

 

proširi ih, kožvamo kožtamo,

čulvamo čultamo,

 

daj im predvorja, komore, klapne

i divljine, parijetalno,

 

i osluškuj njihov drugi

equally-other other and other 

tone.



–––

author: Paul Celan

translated by: Katarina Gotic Damiani

Katarina Gotic Damiani is a poetess whose practice encompasses experimental writing, translation, performance,
and visual art, treating language as a space of experimentation, negotiation, and material encounter.
She is the author of three poetry collections — we need a breathing tongue between (kith books, 2024), where am i in the
world? (2025), and leerlauf (parasitenpresse, 2026) — as well as a series of linguistic projects exploring translinguality,
fragmentation, and the loss of mother tongue. Her practice is supported by numerous scholarships and awards,
including the Scholarship for Non-German Literature (2023), Research Scholarship for Translators (2024), and
Scholarship for Projects and Reading Series (2025) from the Berlin Senate. She is currently a doctoral candidate in
artistic research at the University of Applied Arts Vienna.


The post she opens herself to thirteen thirty-two ways of looking at a motherland appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>
Chameleons https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/kameleoni/ Mon, 04 May 2026 21:34:53 +0000 https://vagon.gallery/?post_type=izlozbe&p=14267 Kameleoni su metafora za prilagođavanje uslovima savremenog sistema. Identitet se formira u odnosu na sistem koji menja pravila i zahteve.Kamuflaža funkcioniše kao strategija opstanka.Kamuflaža je način kretanja kroz promenljive strukture. Savremeni vizuelni kontekst oblikuje percepciju kroz fragmente.Jedan kadar proizvodi čitavu konstrukciju značenja.Sekvenca postaje prostor pretpostavke. Slikom je izdvojen trenutak.Izdvojeni trenutak pokreće mikrosvet.Mikrosvet se gradi iz […]

The post Kameleoni appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>

Chameleons are a metaphor for adapting to the conditions of the contemporary system.

Identity is formed in relation to a system that changes its rules and demands.
Camouflage functions as a survival strategy.
Camouflage is a way of moving through changing structures.

The contemporary visual context shapes perception through fragments.
A single frame produces an entire construction of meaning.
The sequence becomes a space of assumption.

The moment is singled out by the image.
The isolated moment sets a microsystem in motion.
The microsystem is built from personal beliefs.

The nightclub condenses the system.
Light conditions visibility.
Rhythm conditions reaction.
The gaze conditions position.

The body changes color.
The body changes form.
The body disappears and reappears in relation to the environment.

Chameleons examine the contemporary moment through a process of change.
Change shapes the way of survival.
Change shapes the mode of representation.
Change shapes the way of believing in one's own image.

Anđela Kopanja (1998, Novi Sad) completed her undergraduate studies in painting at the Academy of Arts in Novi Sad in 2021, and subsequently earned her master’s degree in painting at the Faculty of Fine Arts in Belgrade in 2023. She is currently in the first year of doctoral academic studies at the same faculty, where she has recently obtained the title of research associate in teaching. She has presented her work in numerous group exhibitions and five solo exhibitions/projects, including the group exhibitions Masterpieces IV at Gallery U10 (2022) and My Name is Quite Ordinary at the Cvijeta Zuzorić Pavilion (2023), as well as the solo exhibitions Imaginary Encounter at Gallery na Štrafti (2024), Just do at KvART BW Gallery (2023), and the solo project (Party) time at the Youth Cultural Center Opens (2023). She was also a member of the organizational team of the Youth Biennial 2022–23.
Anđelina’s practice encompasses a range of media, including painting, photography, video, light installations, objects, and sound. She lives and works in Belgrade.

The post Kameleoni appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>
I would rather die than sin, I would rather die than sin, I would rather die than sin. https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/radije-bih-umerla-nego-zgresila-radije-bih-umrla-nego-zgresila-radije-bih-umrla-nego-zgresila/ Mon, 04 May 2026 20:59:28 +0000 https://vagon.gallery/?post_type=izlozbe&p=14213 „Hoćeš da budeš mučenik?“ upitao je Gejb, podižući obrve. „Valjda. Da, zapravo. Tako nešto.“ „Sajruse,“ reče Gejb uz osmeh, „ti ne umeš ni sopstveni prljav veš da opereš.“ Klimnuo je glavom ka Sajrusovoj majici, izgužvanoj i isprskanoj flekama od kafe oko kragne. „Misliš da ćeš moći da opašeš bombu oko grudi i ušetaš u kafić?“„Mučenik!”, […]

The post Radije bih umerla nego zgrešila, radije bih umrla nego zgrešila, radije bih umrla nego zgrešila appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>

“‘Do you want to be a martyr?’ Gabe asked, raising his eyebrows.”
“‘I guess. Yes, actually. Something like that.’”
“‘Cyrus,’ Gabe said with a smile, ‘you can’t even wash your own dirty laundry.’ He nodded toward Cyrus’s shirt, wrinkled and splattered with coffee stains around the collar. ‘You think you’ll be able to strap a bomb to your chest and walk into a café?’”
“Martyr!”, Kaveh Akbar

A part of the dialogue, taken from the novel “Martyr!”, brought me back to a conversation with an artist who, alluding to her work “I would rather die than sin”, spoke ironically about martyrdom complexes, placing her own face in the context of Joan of Arc. In the discussion about the work, she says: “We turn ourselves into great victims. You are far from Joan of Arc; you are not at the stake, this is a YouTube little fire.”
In an approach full of humor, light execution, irony, and a skillful representation of models of self-contempt, Jana Jovašević raises a multitude of questions about everyday overloads, the martyrdom complex and rumination, as well as about artificial methods of resistance that are also present in our daily lives.
Jovašević operates with self-criticism that is both a tool and a subject of this exhibition. Through a lightness that is not escapism but a conscious strategy of confronting generational rigidities and social conventions in which we participate, often against our own will, the works function as self-portraits that are de-sexualized, exposed, and ridiculed, turning one’s own face into a product of prohibition, an object of contempt, or a heroine whose suffering is comically inadequate.

In the work *“I would rather die than sin”*, the artist situates herself in the context of Joan of Arc, a heroine who made large, dramatic decisions for freedom and rights, in contrast to the contemporary paralysis of micro-decisions that characterizes our society. How frightened are we of ourselves? To what extent do we intellectualize things to the point where it prevents us from acting? Jovašević argues that we turn ourselves into martyrs in situations far removed from the stake; most often, it is a performance of suffering, self-pity wrapped in the aesthetics of resistance. Audre Lorde, in her work *“A Burst of Light”*, introduces something that would today become the concept of self-care, distorted and commodified in relation to its original context. “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence; it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” Today, this idea, originally tied to techniques of resistance for both communities and individuals, and to caring for oneself as an act of defiance against capitalist pressure demanding constant productivity, has become part of a “treat yourself” culture. By buying a face mask and playing AI-generated lo-fi hip hop beats alongside fireplace videos, we try to calm our nervous system, while giving time and money to non-human systems that contributed to that very state.
In her work *“I would rather die than sin”*, Jovašević selects the image of the well-known martyr Joan of Arc and places it in juxtaposition with a fireplace video, creating a dual association with her tragic suffering, but also with the artist’s portrait infiltrated into that situation, where there is no dramatic physical suffering, only an inability shaped by contemporaneity. The artist does not choose calming through lo-fi aesthetics or minimalism, but rather through the artificiality of AI-generated images that suggest tranquility but never actually achieve it. This reveals another layer of irony: even when we seek comfort, we choose simulation over community.

Joan of Arc, as well as other sanctified virgin martyrs—Saint Agatha, Saint Lucy, Saint Barbara—who preferred chastity and death over lives filled with wealth and sex, were paradoxically seen as some of the most sexually alluring women in the Middle Ages, due to their beauty and their resistance to corporeality. This ambiguous position, simultaneously an object of desire and a symbol of renunciation, aligns with the artist’s concept in which she de-sexualizes herself while placing her image in the position of a martyr. However, unlike medieval saints, her “stake” is a digital simulation, and her “martyrdom” is an ironic observational stance toward her own theatre of suffering, culminating in the statement “I would rather die than sin.” This statement, on one hand, validates the archetype of the virgin martyr, and on the other, alludes to today’s fear of error through overthinking, which leads to an inability to act.
In the installation *“Tree of Knowledge,”* the artist continues this dialogue with the female body as a site of sin, temptation, and punishment. Inheriting a long tradition in which beauty was synonymous with virtue, Jovašević constructs an installation that renders this logic meaningless. “As nature was understood as divine, those who were the most sacred and therefore closest to God were also in harmony with nature. Consequently, they were necessarily beautiful.” Within this logic, images of pre-Fall Eve were portraits of the most beautiful woman who could possibly exist.
Jovašević appropriates this iconography but turns it into parody: the apples bear her own face, yet they are not fruits of harmony, but fruits that have fallen on their own and remain unpicked. Instead of an idealized Eve standing on the threshold of sin, we are given multiplied versions of the artist’s face, not as a beauty against which all other forms of beauty can be measured—while, of course, naked—but as discarded fruit.
This desexualization is a political act, precisely because it has almost always been acceptable to depict Eve nude and within a religious context, while control over the female body has always been mediated through aesthetics and religion. By placing her cast, her image, her likeness into the space of the installation instead of her body, she retains control over the narrative, but simultaneously acknowledges that objectification cannot be fully avoided, even in bodily absence. The artist consciously avoids performance in the classical sense, because the presence of the body inevitably leads to objectification. Instead, she places representations of the figure into situations in which a living body would otherwise be, thereby inevitably controlling primary associations and the interpretation of the work. The processual nature of her work does not stem from conceptual rigor, but from the need to materialize what otherwise remains in a zone of discomfort—the pleasant-unpleasant territory where one simultaneously speaks ill of oneself and constructs a narrative about oneself.

The work *“Tree of Knowledge,”* created in collaboration with Katarina Bošković, further complicates these themes through questions of authorship and collective creation. Apples bearing the artist’s face, a snake-phallus as the crown of a monumental parody, and artificial materials that emphasize the context and conditions in which the artist works—all of this speaks to positioning within the contemporary art system, but also to how transgression itself can appear contingent, accidental, even comic.
As part of the exhibition “I Would Rather Die Than Sin,” Jana Jovašević’s works do not offer catharsis; instead, they ask us to what extent our defense mechanisms serve protection, and to what extent they paralyze us. How much does resistance differ from the rigid conventions we are fighting against? And most importantly, are you ready to laugh at yourself, or do you still think you are at the stake?
It is precisely in that uncertainty, in the space between self-contempt and self-irony, between paralysis and action, between Eve before the Fall and Eve after, that Jovašević constructs her work, using cheap materials, visible seams, casts of her own face, and simulations of calm. Because if we cannot avoid suffering, we can at least stop taking it so seriously. We can recognize that our sins are small, our stakes are digital, and our martyrdom voluntary. Jovašević does not offer us refrigerium, but humor as a way of surviving, lightness as resistance, and an apple that is not forbidden, but perhaps… unnecessary.

Text: Jovana Trifuljesko

Jana Jovašević (1995, Ivanjica) completed her undergraduate (2022) and master’s studies (2024) at the Sculpture Department of the Faculty of Fine Arts in Belgrade, where she is currently pursuing doctoral artistic studies. During
2023–2024, she studied at the École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Paris through the Erasmus+ program. She was awarded the Vladeta Petrić Sculptor Prize in early 2025. Her recent exhibitions include *Palimpsests* (Gallery 73, Belgrade, 2024), *Sex and Politics* (BL Art Festival, Banja Luka, 2024), *Pseudoshadows* (U10, Belgrade, 2024), and *Attitudes and Forms* (Museum of Contemporary Art of Vojvodina, Novi Sad, 2023). In 2023, she also presented solo exhibitions *Satisfaction* (Gallery Kornjača, Belgrade) and *Pleasure is All Mine* (Šok Zadruga, Novi Sad), as well as participated in *Playground* (Earl Lu Gallery, Singapore), *Blue Exhibition* (Museum of Contemporary Art, Belgrade), and *Masterpieces V* (U10, Belgrade). She took part in several student exhibitions at the Belgrade Youth Center and exhibited at major events such as Sculptors of Serbia (Cvijeta Zuzorić Pavilion, 2022). Her early exhibitions include *Festum21* (SKC, Belgrade, 2021) and *First Time Exhibiting* (Jevevrem Grujić House, 2021). She participated in the international residency Tropical Lab 17 at LASALLE College of the Arts in Singapore in 2023. Since 2024, she has been a member of the U10 Art Collective in Belgrade. Since 2025, she has been employed as a research trainee at the Sculpture Department of the Faculty of Fine Arts.

The post Radije bih umerla nego zgrešila, radije bih umrla nego zgrešila, radije bih umrla nego zgrešila appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>
Dream Regime https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/rezim-snova/ Mon, 04 May 2026 20:23:51 +0000 https://vagon.gallery/?post_type=izlozbe&p=14141 Režim snova: Pod svojim budnim okom Korišćenje ličnog života kao preteksta za umetničku praksu u radovima Žarka Aleksića ponire duboko u intimu snevača. Otuda i izložba Režim snova obuhvata tri postojeća rada kojima se fenomen sna ispituje u svojim različitim pojavnim oblicima: kroz fizički otisak tela na posteljini (instalacija od 168 fotografija pod nazivom Sanjari), […]

The post Režim snova appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>

Dream regime: Under one’s own watchful eye

The use of personal life as a pretext for artistic practice in the works of Žarko Aleksić delves deeply into the intimacy of the dreamer. Hence, the exhibition *Dream Regime* encompasses three existing works in which the phenomenon of dreams is examined in its different manifestations: through the physical imprint of the body on bedding (an installation of 168 photographs titled *Dreamers*), the influence of mass media information on
(the collective) subconscious (a multi-channel video installation *Dream Regime – REM*), and the metaphorical understanding of dreams as the reverse side of expectations and hopes (video work/film *Bottles for Bread*). While *Dreamers* documents the last six months the artist spends in Serbia before moving abroad for studies, *Bottles for Bread* records the first six months in a new environment, Vienna. *Dream Regime – REM*, however, has a more general starting point and builds its premises about control in cognitive capitalism on the unexpected homonymy of the word REM—referring both to the phase of sleep in which dreams are most intense, and to the Regulatory Body for Electronic Media in Serbia. Two of the three video experiments in this work focus on the face: the one just awakened from sleep, and the one that continuously, for eighteen hours, stares at a screen—drowsy, passive, endlessly receptive… REM can thus in a certain sense also be characterized as documentation of a performance, where the artist examines the limits of mental and physical endurance (since during those eighteen hours he simply sits motionless in front of the screen), literalizing the metaphor of the passive recipient and pushing it into absurdity through the voluntary neglect of basic needs. A dream diary as a mental activity
necessary for human self-preservation here becomes a diary of auto-torture in which the artist is effectively reduced to a mere conduit of mass media content. These contents are not just one of the elements constituting his reality, but during a given period of time become the essence of his reality. Through a stylistically simple choice of filming his face in a single uninterrupted static shot, the artist constructs a specific relationship to the self-portrait; and although self-portrait documentation is not his central focus, the face remains the main visual carrier of the work, indicating how the entire process is reflected in the subject. This is not a representational self-portrait, but an unusual genre reversal of an artist marked by his craft—where instead of the traditional brush and palette, all the insignia of the artistic act consist of a marathon exposure to content from seven channels of…
national frequency—are reflected on the face. The narrative element of the work consists of the sound image of television programming in one installation, and of dreams spoken by the artist at every hour and a half of waking in the other. If the face is an indirect expression, then the TV content, confronted with the content of dreams, becomes the direct carrier of meaning. The intentionally non-scientific methodology—the subject being simultaneously the object—makes this work primarily an attempt to examine, through self-sacrifice on one’s own example, the limits of…
media brainwashing. However, this pseudo-scientific seriousness opens up the question of how capable we are of systematically rendering ourselves passive, and it is precisely the context in which the work is exhibited, in addition to the methodology itself, that makes it profoundly unsettling. A hospital bed with televisions laid upon it becomes a space in which we voluntarily submit to an experiment without any guarantee that it will not be… posledica. 

The third video experiment within the installation presents a series of rapidly changing… screenshots: the content of the TV program is finally revealed, but not in its entirety, rather through isolated… images selected by the artist for display, which, like in a nightmare, flash before our eyes. These images… are so recognizable (personalities, studios, logos, entertainment and news programs…) that it is not… necessary even a full second for the audience to register them; they are so deeply ingrained that they form an iconographic core of our consciousness. And while *Dream Regime – REM* takes the phenomenon of dreams literally, as its central motif and object of inquiry, the remaining two works approach it indirectly.

In *Dreamers* there is no dream content, nor any dreamers of it, but only the physical imprint of unconscious movements of two people over a period of six months, during which one photograph of bedding (from different beds) is produced each morning. Arranged in a group on the gallery wall, they take on an almost abstract character that, at first glance, disregards their documentary nature and any potential meanings in favor of the strong visuality of the photo-installation. As the work was created shortly before the artist, motivated by his artistic calling, moved abroad, the strongly formalist impression these photographs produce in this arrangement in a sense correlates with intense youthful artistic aspirations that treat the work almost as a self-sufficient form. In addition, the methodology itself carries something of Surrealism, even recalling rayography, where the bedding functions as photosensitive paper and the body as the removed object. However, it should be noted that here, unlike in *Dream Regime – REM*, the dream is treated as something that eludes us—something so distant in the realm of spirit that the visual medium can reach it not through the dreaming body, but through the imprint of that body. Thus, in a sense, it can be understood as the exact opposite of *Bottles for Bread*, where the artist, together with his partner—the same person with whom he created *Dreamers*—confronts the objectified dream (nightmare?) of life in Vienna.

*Bottles for Bread*, like *Dreamers*, continues the line of self-recording, but unlike *Dreamers*, it achieves through the film medium a raw image that consciously renounces the formalism and abstraction of the previous work. And although the documentary is not neutral in itself—as evidenced by the fact that the very decision to start filming is already an act of conscious choice—here there is little explicit…
artistic interventions (the image is, as is often said, raw), and all the tragedy of the life infrastructure that leads to the realization of dreams emerges organically from the content itself (as, for example, one of the most effective scenes in the film, where in a long uninterrupted shot bottles rattle in a plastic bag on the way to the supermarket). The artist chooses to film one of the most existentially difficult episodes
of shared life abroad — a moment in which the partner and he are left without financial means and carry bottles for recycling in order to obtain money for food from that transaction. The mediatization of one’s own reality at moments of greatest frustration is read not so much as poverty (auto-)porn, but rather as the only possible solution, as a release from reality, a distancing from it, and
turning everyday life into fiction. This deep intrusion into the private sphere and the consistency of an almost obsessive self-documentation open up a world of a distinctly exhibitionist-voayeristic exhibition. And although there is a significant chronological distance from the moment these works were created, it is telling how static the collective circumstances have remained, starting from the sense of necessity to step out of one’s native artistic environment, through major economic and existential upheavals after succeeding in that endeavor, all the way to the problems which today is perhaps the most symptomatic in a social sense—the place of mass media in the collective dreaming. Nevertheless, *Dream Regime* does not stop there, but instead speaks about dreams comprehensively, from poetic imagery to a dystopian parable.

Curator of the exhibition: Ana Filipović

Žarko Aleksić (1985, Knjaževac) works across different media, integrating experience, photography, video, installation, and performativity. His post-disciplinary artistic practice is based on examining consciousness, mental processing, and artificial intelligence in relation to socio-political issues of cognitive capitalism and the production of knowledge, education, dematerialized labor, and surveillance capitalism, as well as the elaboration of data processing such as biomarkers and correlational data collected through scientific measuring devices and social networks. Žarko has exhibited in numerous solo and group exhibitions in Serbia and abroad. He currently teaches at the Department of New Media at the Faculty of Fine Arts in Belgrade.

Ana Filipović (Belgrade, 1998) completed her master’s studies at the Department of Art History, Faculty of Philosophy in Belgrade, where she is currently pursuing doctoral studies and working as a research trainee at the Institute of Art History. She is a critic for the “Filmoskopija” portal and a collaborator with several national and international film festivals, including the Auteur Film Festival. Over the past several years, she has gained experience in some of the most important cultural institutions in Serbia and has contributed to the realization of a number of contemporary art exhibitions. She is the author of several academic papers and professional texts. She is also a collaborator at the Center for American Studies at the Faculty of Philosophy in Belgrade. Her primary field of interest concerns the multiple relationships between film as a medium and modern art, as well as contemporary artistic practices.

 

The post Režim snova appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>
The Society of Invisible Symptoms: Found in Dialogue https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/drustvo-nevidljivih-simptoma-nadje-u-dijalogu/ Mon, 04 May 2026 16:08:52 +0000 https://vagon.gallery/?post_type=izlozbe&p=14114 Društvo nevidljivih simptoma: Nađe u dijaloguNađa Kračunović, Nađa Stanojević Datum: 11.12. u 19hGalerija Vagon U sklopu aktuelne izložbe „Jednoj ženi gorela glava 12 dana“, pozivamo vas na razgovor posvećen nevidljivim simptomima tela, medicinskim sistemima u regionu, bolu, individualnim i kolektivnim praksama koje se istima bave. Razgovor otvaramo pitanjima koja medicina često propušta da čuje – […]

The post Društvo nevidljivih simptoma: Nađe u dijalogu appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>

The Society of Invisible Symptoms: Found in Dialogue
Nađa Kračunović, Nađa Stanojević

Date: 11/12 at 7 PM
Vagon Gallery

As part of the current exhibition *“A Woman’s Head Burned for 12 Days”*, we invite you to a conversation dedicated to invisible bodily symptoms, medical systems in the region, pain, and individual and collective practices that engage with them.

We open the discussion with questions that medicine often fails to hear—about symptoms without diagnosis, socio-political pressures, self-organization, and strategies of survival, drawing on examples from artistic and activist practices. Starting from the experience of living with multiple sclerosis, we will talk about how a non-normative body can find strength, space, and freedom through community. A self-organized MS support network that originated on Discord and today brings together people from across the region will be presented, along with personal examples and experiences from fellow participants, interlocutors, and the audience.

The evening concludes as a workshop: Nađe reads poems to her own symptoms and to women whose eyelids have kissed the floor, while the audience is invited to join with their own stories and experiences and to map their symptoms through a collective activation of the space.

Nađa Kračunović is an interdisciplinary artist who infuses everyday life with texts written by unruly hands.

Nađa Stanojević was born in Niš, and her roots are spread across the former Yugoslavia. She is an MS activist, entrepreneur, and dog mom.

The post Društvo nevidljivih simptoma: Nađe u dijalogu appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>
A Woman’s Head Burned for 12 Days https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/jednoj-zeni-je-gorela-glava-12-dana/ Mon, 04 May 2026 15:52:33 +0000 https://vagon.gallery/?post_type=izlozbe&p=14072 Mojim utrnulim prstima, karminom, crtam tektonske poremećaje, Planiram distorzije, bojim crne rupe,   Po kojima ce plesati armija žena kao ja.   Čije ruke isto tako trnu, čija tela plaču pesme,   Vodeći ratove u sopstvenim telima.     Umetnica Nađa Kračunović humorom, autoteorijom, performansom i višeglasjem saziva ’’armiju žena kao ja’’ u proces obeležen hroničnim stanjima tela koje […]

The post Jednoj ženi je gorela glava 12 dana appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>

With my numb fingers and lipstick, I draw tectonic disturbances,

I plan distortions, I paint black holes,  

on which an army of women like me will dance.  

whose hands also go numb, whose bodies cry songs,  

waging wars within their own bodies.  

 

Artist Nađa Kračunović, through humor, auto-theory, performance, and polyphony, summons an “army of women like me” into a process marked by chronic bodily conditions shaped over the past three years by multiple sclerosis (MS). This network of artistic notes invites both individual and collective reflection on feminized emotional labor, which has been rendered invisible within everyday relationships, society, and systemic structures. 

 

Often a trivialized question How are you/we? It demands automated responses that, on a daily level, limit our understanding of ourselves and of possible worlds. Becoming both an individual and a multitude is not always welcome, as being molded into roles, singular identities, and positions makes us more accessible to fields of extraction. One of the key roles of art is precisely to shift, question, and provoke these boundaries. In doing so, it does not need to be megalomaniacal, precise, or canonically compliant; on the contrary. Its transformative power emerges in vibrations, neural skips, and confrontations with the sources of resistance to inevitable change.

 

Spider-woman, needle-woman, a woman whose head is burningArtistic methods become strategies of survival and living, centering the body as a wounded storyteller. Nađa uses humor as a key tool for translating symptoms into fictional characters such as fatigue, hysteria, tingling, headaches, and nausea. A body that deviates from normative functionality is declared wrong and inadequate; it becomes a living archive in which “colonial enclaves of power” vibrate. This also opens the question of belonging to or owning the body, and the imposed consent within the relationship between patient, medical worker, and the medical system.   

 

Nađa playfully translates these dynamics in her works. Chronic superpositions and Look at her!. (..She is funded by a German foundation, she enjoys every ovation, doctors can’t tell if it’s ovulation or a nation?) Drawings on specialist referral forms, poetry, interventions on passport photographs used for immigration to Germany, knitted spider sculptures, plaster bones and spine, and speech become a cathartic polyphony of the body in cellular, physical, social, and political transition. 

 

Dehumanized lives, Immigrant wives  

Medical workers, Bodies with a price,  

I stand here for you, speaking my broken tongues.

 

Through repetition, alterations, and the multiplication of roles and positions, the artist dissolves the molds into which patriarchy and capitalism daily compress us. She calls for the transformation of (internal) oppressive voices into curiosity that holds space for deeper listening toward an exit. As Paul B. Preciado (*I Am the Monster That Speaks to You*) also reminds us: “Anyone among you who would dare to dive into the kaleidoscope of their own desire and their own body, into their reservoir of nervous tension, into their own memory, might find within themselves a revitalizing excitement, a free energy that urges us to live differently, to change, to be different, to be, so to speak, radically alive.”

 

Text: Nataša Prljević

Nađa Kračunović (1996, Belgrade, Serbia) is an interdisciplinary artist who lives and works in Berlin. Her artistic practice encompasses voice, performance, drawing, and text through which she explores biopolitical practices of gender, illness, and citizenship, as well as everyday social relations. As strategies of survival, her works emerge from the female throat, personal diaries, intimate encounters, medical reports, and fiction. 

Her international exhibition and performance practice includes the Museum of Contemporary Art in Skopje, Documenta 15 in Kassel, and Kunstsammlungen Chemnitz. She has participated in numerous residencies, including CRL – Central Elétrica (Porto, Portugal), DAAD Heritage for Communities (Luxor, Egypt), and Freie Radikale at Floating University (Berlin, Germany). She is the recipient of several artistic scholarships and mobility programs.

In her pedagogical and mentorship practice, she works in the fields of voice, performance, and artistic strategies; she leads a long-term workshop… How to Perform a Scream?, in which the voice becomes a tool of resistance, liberation, and collective imagination. She is a co-founder of a mobile multimedia institute… Crying Classroom i članica interdisciplinarnog ansambla Don’t Worry, It’s Out of Control.

https://nadjakracunovic.com/

Nataša Prljević is an interdisciplinary artist, cultural worker, and organizer. Through collaborative and collective feminist practice, she focuses on the role of art in developing collective imagination, transformative pedagogy, and justice. She cultivates collage and polyphony, developing various modalities and media in her artistic, curatorial, and mentoring work. 

 

She received her education and work experience in Serbia, the United States, and Mexico. During her master’s studies, she taught at The New School/Parsons School of Art and Design, Brooklyn College, and the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. She worked as executive assistant and curator at the artist residency program Residency Unlimited in New York (2016–2019). She is the initiator of the transnational platform HEKLER, which focuses on collectively questioning hospitality and conflict, and a member of the organizational team of the meeting point Četiri vode in Ljubanje, initiated by Jelena Prljević. 

 

http://www.natasaprljevic.com/



 

 

The post Jednoj ženi je gorela glava 12 dana appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>
Dreams of Debutants https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/snovi-debitanata/ Mon, 04 May 2026 15:27:53 +0000 https://vagon.gallery/?post_type=izlozbe&p=14056 Rad istražuje razmjenu između umjetničkog i neumjetničkog. U galeriji se pojavljuje tijelo koje tu obično ne pripada, dok umjetnica preuzima njegovu svakodnevnu funkciju. Ova intervjencija ispituje kako okruženje mijenja značenje rada i njegovu percepciju. Zamijena uloga stavra napetost između priznatog i nevidljivog rada. Na jednoj slavi srećem Dajanu Čubrilović koja, iz čiste znatiželje, u svojoj […]

The post Snovi debitanata appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>

The work explores the exchange between the artistic and the non-artistic. In the gallery, a body appears that does not usually belong there, while the artist takes over its everyday function. This intervention examines how context alters the meaning of the work and its perception. The exchange of roles creates tension between recognized and invisible labor. At a party, I meet Dajana Čubrilović who, out of pure curiosity, in her dining room repeats all of my performances. This coincidence becomes the central point of my interest. I decide to swap roles: she performs my performance in the gallery, while I take over her work shift. Through this gesture, I explore the boundaries of identity, labor, and representation—where art begins and where everyday life ends.

The post Snovi debitanata appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>
No more “I'm sorry” https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/no-more-im-sorry/ Mon, 04 May 2026 10:37:08 +0000 https://vagon.gallery/?post_type=izlozbe&p=14013 Uplašilo me što si bio toliko zaineteresiran za mene, bilo mi je previše. Vidio si me samo jednom i djelovaloje kao da želiš doslovno sve od mene.Bila sam neugodna jer imam problema sama sa sobom pa mi je fokus na poslu i teško mi je nositi se s tobomu ovom trenutku.Ne želim ti trošiti vrijeme […]

The post No more “I'm sorry” appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>

It frightened me that you were so interested in me; it felt like too much. You had only seen me once and it seemed
as if you wanted everything from me, literally everything.
I felt uncomfortable because I have issues with myself, so I’m focused on work, and it’s hard for me to deal with you.
in this moment.
I don’t want to waste your time because I’m not mentally present.
I need to recharge. I worry a lot.
I feel like a bad person, so I slept and stayed in silence, sewed my work, and watched series. This is
probably my way of healing.
I don’t want to force things in life, so there’s no point in dating anyone right now. You know, when you’re content and in
peace with who you are, all the good things come to you.
I’m okay, but I don’t think we should see each other anymore as lovers; it’s too much for me. I’m sorry if you think that I
wasted your time; that wasn’t my intention. It’s just too hard right now.
I enjoyed your company, and it wouldn’t be fair if I were indecisive with you. Everything is simply
too much to handle, and I feel bad writing this to you, but at the same time I have to be honest about how I feel.
and I feel awful. Please don’t hate me.

*No More “I’m Sorry”* is an introspective exhibition grounded in deep personal experience and a collective narrative of women’s voices, where the artist Marlen Ban, through the medium of embroidery, explores a female perspective on emotional, psychological, and physical harm within romantic relationships. It re-examines concepts of loneliness, the search for partnership, and the social pressures that shape female identity. Starting from a personal story of ending a traumatic relationship, Ban uses embroidery as a medium to convey a strong message of autonomy and resistance. The exhibition challenges the need for women to apologize in situations where they are, in fact, the victims, prompting the audience to reassess socially conditioned narratives.


Words of the curator
*No More “I’m Sorry”* opens the door to the complex theme of romantic relationships interwoven with expectations, hopes, conflicts, disappointments, fear, and rupture. Speaking from her own perspective, the artist Marlen Ban places in focus the female response to harm within romantic relationships—emotional, psychological, and physical. In today’s immediate social reality, a woman is nominally independent from a man, yet the social belief remains strongly present that she can only become a fully realized person once she finds her “other half.” Preoccupied with ideas of unaccepted solitude and the forced search for a partner, the artist questions what these constructs mean to her now, and what they meant in her personal history. How are they embodied in the community around her? What role has social pressure of humility and silencing one’s own voice played in these processes in order to be liked? What are the consequences of this? There is no single answer—apart from general patterns of patriarchal upbringing, traditional understandings of women’s roles in relationships, and consent that ensures survival—Ban turns to the polyvocality of experiences. The work emerges from the embroidery of a text about the artist’s breakup of a traumatic relationship, and through the choice of embroidery as a traditional medium culturally associated with women’s handcraft and togetherness, empathetic communication is intuitively encouraged. By involving women in the process of creating the artwork, the artist creates a safe space for sharing and dialogue. Through exchange, collaborators become co-authors whose, in the words of Sara Ahmed, “...telling the story of pain and injury is not necessarily therapeutic...” but becomes a testimony that demands active listening. Through direct exposure of herself, the artist protects the potential need for anonymity of collaborators, taking into account the layered nature of stories and contexts that no single work could encompass. The central motif of the embroidered text is the very common phenomenon of unnecessary apology—apologizing when injustice has been done to us and taking on blame in order not to disturb the other person and to suffer even more. The artist creates a monochrome environment in which it is impossible to escape words, yet which is paradoxically soft in relation to articulated feelings. Symbolically, the color white evokes both an ending and a new beginning, while the present shadows suggest the indelible presence of experience. Yet already in the title a decision is emphasized: the decision to stop repeating patterns, searching for excuses, and silencing one’s own voice. *More “I’m Sorry”*, in its softness and whiteness, is a subtle yet clear call to resist imposed justifications and painful silences.


Marlen Ban (1999) is a student of New Media at the Department of Animated Film and New Media,
Academy of Fine Arts at the University of Zagreb, and Public Administration studies at the Faculty of Law,
Faculty of the University of Zagreb. Through her artistic practice, she examines social and personal
relationships as well as her own states and fears. She has participated in group and solo exhibitions in
Croatia and abroad.

The post No more “I'm sorry” appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>
Do you know what life in Milan is like? https://vagon.gallery/en/izlozbe/da-li-znate-kakav-je-zivot-u-milanu/ Mon, 04 May 2026 10:24:42 +0000 https://vagon.gallery/?post_type=izlozbe&p=13983 Da li znate kakav je život u Milanu ? Ni ja. Zapravo. A nećemo direktno ni vidjeti gdje je zapravo Milano. Radovi Ksenije Vučićević bave se prostorom, ali to nije prostor grada već prostor možda izgubljenog smisla zajedništva. Milano, kao nominalna referenca, nestaje. A ono što ostaje je enterijer, privatna topografija, zatvorena introspektivna scena. Umjesto […]

The post Da li znate kakav je život u Milanu ? appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>

Do you know what life in Milan is like? I don’t either, actually. And in fact, we won’t directly even see where Milan really is. The works of Ksenija Vučićević deal with space, but this is not the space of the city, rather the space of perhaps a lost sense of togetherness. Milan, as a nominal reference, disappears. What remains is the interior, a private topography, a closed introspective scene. Instead of the city being a place of encounters, conflicting narratives, and public spaces, it is reduced to a shadow. A wall, a sheet of paper, a private introspective map. The works produce intimacy as a simulacrum: paper and pencil suggest authenticity, the “sincerity” of gesture, but the result is neither document nor experience, but a fiction of intimate space. What the viewer recognizes as “their own memory” is in fact a pre-coded visual cliché: tunnel, street, café, bar. The works do not reveal new meanings, but return us to a closed circle of already seen places. The artist is therefore not concerned with the city, but with the phantasm of the city—Milan as a private scenographic prop. The artistic procedure, although seemingly critical, actually produces the opposite effect: instead of destabilizing our understanding of urban space, it reduces it, compressing it into a set of private reminiscences, into narcissistic introspection. While contemporary art attempts to speak about the city as a network of social forces, migrations, economic exploitation, and political conflicts, Ksenija’s works withdraw into nostalgic decoration. Instead of urban conflict, we see private melancholy. Instead of a critical landscape—a archive of introspective fragments. What is most intriguing thematically is precisely that absence: the absence of community, the absence of the other, the absence of the political city. Milan becomes an introspective miniature, and the works, although monumental in form, reveal a fundamental emptiness in content. Ksenija’s art does not speak about the space in which we live, but about the impossibility of articulating that space outside of private memory.

Text: Isidora Branković

Ksenija Vučićević (2000, Gornji Milanovac)
After graduating from the Art School in Čačak in 2018, she enrolled in Painting at the Faculty of Fine Arts in the class of Professor Biljana Đurđević. She completed her undergraduate and master’s academic studies in 2022 and 2023, respectively, in the class of Professor Simonida Rajčević. During her studies, she was a scholarship holder of the Ministry of Education, Science and Technological Development, and during her master’s studies she also became a scholarship holder of the Youth Fund. She is currently enrolled in doctoral artistic studies at the same faculty, under the mentorship of Nemanja Nikolić. She has exhibited in numerous group exhibitions in Serbia and abroad, such as “Masterpieces V” in Belgrade (2023), the international project “Inter/Action 2023” in Belgrade and Banja Luka, and the exhibition “Mind the Gap” (2024) at Šira Gallery in Zagreb. She has realized four solo exhibitions: “In Search of the Great Maybe” (2024) at the Street Gallery in Belgrade, “The Fog is Rising” (2024) at the Gallery of the Belgrade Youth Center, “de:construct/re:construct” (2025) at the Modern Gallery of the Cultural Center in Gornji Milanovac, and “The General in His Labyrinth” (2025) at the U10 art space in Belgrade. She is the recipient of an award at the 4th International Biennial of Small Graphic Forms “Between Black and White” in Poland (2021), and a commendation from the expert jury at the 16th International Biennial of Miniature Art in Gornji Milanovac (2022). She participated in the painting colony “Mina Vukomanović Karadžić 2023” in Savinac.

The post Da li znate kakav je život u Milanu ? appeared first on Vagon Gallery.

]]>