(Or, a significant journey of an insignificant person)
Well, there we go…
I am afraid I might disappoint you, dear reader, but I can’t help it. A man must do what a man must do! For “the world is his playground, and his mirror!”
Start of the Journey
It was 5th of August 1965, 10 minutes past 5 o’clock in the morning, when a little pile of flesh and bone, as pink as a piglet, drew its first breath in order to release its first scream, announcing a new arrival to this colorful world. As I was told later on, there has been no new star born in the skies on that early summer morning. Neither there were three old man with long white beards, dressed in exotic garments , holding strange objects in their hands and wandering on their camels outside the Novi Sad main hospital, at the time of my birth. 99 000 000 souls were born that day in the world – 91 000 000 have left it. There was no significance, whatsoever, in being born on that particular day and on that particular place.
Life has thrown yet another dice, and they named it Petar.
|The Exit, 2005, detail|
My parents were poor, but young, enthusiastic and full of hope that Life will be generous to them and let them fulfill their dreams. They lived in a basement, when I arrived. Although they did their best to make it as cozy and as warm as possible, it was still a cold, wet basement. During his first visit at the beginning of the winter, and upon seeing these poor life conditions, my grandfather said: “This child is going to die here. I am taking him with me to the grandmother. She will take good care of him, until you two are able to afford a proper living space”. Realizing that he was right, my parents agreed, fortunately.
The next few years, for most of the time, I lived in the village with my grandmother and grandfather, though my parents visited me every weekend. Growing up in the countryside was a blessing that shaped the first contours of the future artist within. I spent the first years of my life barefooted, absorbing all that love and generosity Mother Earth has to offer. I tasted her directly through her elements, and I found that she was delicious!
Krčedin summer 2, 2007
Just around the corner of the village, there was (still is) the mighty Danube, the King of all European rivers, flowing slowly and self-confidently and taking the parts of the hills of Fruška Gora mountain with him, on its long journey to the Black Sea. One day I got a few drops of its summer waters in my blood, and it never left me since. It is still in my veins acting as a medium - connecting me to the epic dimensions of the soil I was born on, and helping me to reflect the beats of its pulse through my humble art.
Novi Sad, Petrovaradin Fortress and the Danube river, gravure, Mid 19th century
To be continued…