Deities whose temple is invisible, and yet the believers continuously perform rituals, unaware of its actual presence. This God has neither icon nor image. Well—perhaps a manifestation. Its existence is predicated on faith, on the unwavering need to believe in its power. Sounds familiar? The phenomenon commonly known as artistic success. It is not the transcendence of achievement, but the immanence of a system that exists only through its own rituals. In this sense, belief in success becomes an epistemological act—one that is inseparable from the ignorance it presupposes. An ignorance that is not a failure, but a condition of survival in the field of art. To endure, one must believe in a system whose criteria remain opaque, elusive, almost mythical. Doubt simmers constantly, but it survives in the exile of consciousness—as a complex and necessary paradox. The rituals surrounding the aura of so-called artistic success—from selection and evaluation to recognition—are not merely formal acts, but performative rites that reaffirm the believer’s position in the hierarchy of sanctity. By inviting the viewer to cast spells, the artist exposes the inner architecture of belief that sustains the system. It is a diagnosis of the collective religiosity of the artistic field. Hope, in this context, is not an optimistic impulse but a fundamental ontological condition. It is not the light at the end of the tunnel, but a state of being that keeps the ritual alive. Like faith, whose presence is never confirmed but whose absence is unthinkable. In that sense, hope is a continuous performance of belief—and a refusal to believe in absence.
No. Let’s try again.
In the contemporary art field, where success remains an elusive deity, the performance Patience is Key Zoran Stevanović takes on the task of unveiling the ritual practice of faith. Everyone believes, but few have truly found it. Success does not manifest as a direct emanation of artistic talent or work, but as a sanctity whose power is sustained by collective devotion. Faith. Strong, brave, and quiet! Only within one’s four walls. And I pray for more walls to sit among. In this light, waiting is not passivity but an active liturgical act. Patience becomes a sacred practice, a pilgrimage into uncertainty, where every ritual movement, every gesture, is not a magical trick but a performance of dedication. Faith in that which cannot be proven.
Patience is Key draws attention to the complexity of the relationship between the subject and the deity of success. The artist invites conscious participation in a ceremony where presence is more significant than outcome. Participants in the performance, with their magic wands, enter a world of ritual belief, becoming metaphorical actors of invisible forces that determine artistic fate: gallery owners, professors, curators, grants, critics, algorithms, institutions. This collective prayer is not merely a call for support but a diagnosis of a system that exists solely through shared faith.
The paradox of faith in success lies in its functioning as an autoimmune mechanism. A system that demands belief is often itself immune to doubt. A deity whose true face remains unknown, and whose power is not given as a gift but as a condition of survival. The artist participating in this ritual is neither victim nor prophet, but a priest who, despite the awareness of the absence of a definite answer, persistently sustains the sanctity of faith through the repetition of rites.
The performance thus becomes a diagnostic tool—an exorcism of the belief that success can be the result of individual effort or the truth of an artwork. It reveals the deeply entrenched dogmatism in contemporary art, where hope and faith merge into a singular existential paradigm. Faith in the uncertain remains the only reality.
In this context, Patience is Key deconstruct the entire system of values and power within which art operates. The performance demonstrates how faith in success is performed, how it becomes institutionalized, and ultimately how it turns into a means of commodification and control.
In the end, this prayer is not a call for help but a radical reflection on the artist's position in a world where every act of faith and hope is also an act of political subversion. Patience is a dynamic practice of survival. Patient — saved, my dear ones.
