In Bosnia and Herzegovina, the artist rarely becomes a professional in the full sense of the word \u2014 not because they lack knowledge, courage, or capacity, but because the system was never designed to recognize them, let alone support them. The artist becomes everything: logistician, spokesperson, financial strategist, technician, media worker, and occasionally \u2014 if there\u2019s energy left \u2014 a creator.<\/p>\n
In a country where cultural institutions function as extensions of political arbitrariness, and contemporary art is merely an occasional incident in public discourse, the artist is forced to constantly reinvent themselves. Every exhibition is an act of resistance, every collaboration a guerrilla endeavor, and every attempt at structural work a dangerous affair with invisible bureaucracy.<\/p>\n
This is not due to a lack of enthusiasm. On the contrary \u2014 there\u2019s too much of it, and precisely for that reason, it burns out. Young artists become exhausted before they even have the chance to become naive. Art academies, instead of nurturing autonomous thought, often function as social mechanisms for postponing reality.<\/p>\n
Kolekcionari su rijetkost, a kada i postoje, rijetko razumiju da kupovina rada nije \u010din milosr\u0111a, nego oblik politi\u010dkog djelovanja. U me\u0111uvremenu, tr\u017ei\u0161te \u2014 ako ga uop\u0161te mo\u017eemo tako nazvati \u2014 oslanja se na povremene grantove, me\u0111usobne usluge i kult li\u010dnosti koji hrani mikroelite.<\/p>\n
Collectors are rare, and when they do exist, they rarely understand that purchasing a work is not an act of charity, but a form of political agency. Meanwhile, the \"market\" \u2014 if we can call it that \u2014 relies on occasional grants, mutual favors, and a cult of personality that fuels micro-elites.<\/p>\n
Bosnia and Herzegovina suffers from too much silence. Artistic work here does not live within a system of support but in a constant state of improvisation \u2014 in the illegality of meaning. Culture here is protocol, not process. A product for export, crafted to promote a zen-like image of positivity. Ironically, this image often comes without real infrastructure \u2014 without support for production, without residency programs, acquisitions, curatorial networks, or opportunities for professional development.<\/p>\n
What remains? Styrofoam art.<\/p>\n
Institutions prioritize self-preservation over art. Art councils are preservationist circles. \u201cYoung\u201d artists stay \u201cyoung\u201d for a decade. Ministries are hostages of daily politics, while the independent scene endlessly juggles between enthusiasm and burnout.<\/p>\n
The educational system produces graduates, not thinkers. Students rarely travel, rarely exhibit, rarely read \u2014 but they often wait. They wait for calls, grants, approvals, permissions.<\/p>\n
Here, art is not a space of freedom \u2014 it is a space of constant testing of the permissible. It does not belong in protocols, nor among subjects of aesthetic correctness. Its rightful place is at the edge. Disturbing, unwanted, and painfully precise.<\/p>\n
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