Bad Back, Sarajevo, Zagreb

Apologies for the lack of updates in the last fortnight. I'm afraid that, out of nowhere, my back has really started playing up. I woke up this Saturday with an *excruciating* agony in the right hand side of my back; it took me nearly two and a half hours to crawl out of bed. Today is the first day I have managed to shuffle further than the little bakery next door to the hostel where I have been staying. It would be nice to regale you with tales of having wrenched it during wild partying or some such, but the honest truth is that I have absolutely no idea where it has come from. It's not from a bad posture, as normally I stand as straight as a guardsman. It must have happened during some very weird sleeping maneouvre.

All that seems to be likely to cure it is time, and this steroid gel that the hostel staff very helpfully got for me, which seems to be working, very slowly. I can safely say that it's the most intense pain that I have ever felt in my life: white hot flashes of all-consuming livid agony from shoulder blade to just above my kidneys, when I try and stand. Today has been slightly better- I was able to get the tram into town, and have dinner at my favourite place in Zagreb (the wonderful Nokturno), which has been more than enough adventure for one day- the damn thing was beginning to twang alarmingly again, on the way home. I have to be careful and not overdo it, as I drive to Ljubljana on Saturday. That would simply have been an impossible task in any of the last four days. However, with proper rest, my adapted wartime slogan (The Art Historian Will Always Get Through) should hold true enough.

Hopefully, tomorrow, I'll be fit enough to make it back to the library. It's been a frustrating few days in the hostel, although it has given me the time to review the material that I have gathered so far, plan my journey in between here and Calais on the 20th December (Zagreb-Ljubljana-Brno-Leipzig-Cologne-Antwerp-Calais, in case you're wondering) and give serious thought to how the year 2012 is going to pan out in this small corner of the Yugoslav historical industry. 

Sarajevo Take Two

Josef Beuys at ARS AEVI, Sarajevo

I had an interesting second spell in Sarajevo, and was finally able to get to see two of the spaces that had eluded me in my first visit there. The first of these was the ARS AEVI collection, based at the Skenderija cultural centre / shopping mall. ARS AEVI, an anagram of "Sarajevo" meaning "art of the epoch" in Latin, is an internationally ambitious project, born out of the years of the siege (1992-95); the headquarters of the organisaton are in Sarajevo, although branches of the collection also exist in Ljubljana, Venice, Vienna, Bologna, and Prato. The aim is to build up a representative collection of international contemporary art and to use that collection to intervene wherever it is possible in Sarajevo. At present, the ARS AEVI collection is itinerant, and shown in various locations around the city as time and circumstance permit.

However, a permanent site has been identified for the collection, which is currently scheduled to open in 2014. At the point that the new museum opens, the plan is to re-patriate all the elements of the collection that are currently housed abroad, and unite it for the first time under one new roof. Some of the problems of the Sarajevo art world noted in my previous entry below, may yet see this timetable slip somewhat, but the project seems well advanced, and driven with an impressively ruthless focus by a small, extremely hard working team of curators and administrators.

The collection itself is extensive. I was able to see only a small fragment during my visit, as the space was at that stage closed to the public (it has now re-opened with two exhibitions of different groups of artists in two different sites in Sarajevo). Works by Cindy Sherman, Joseph Beuys and Jusuf Hadžifejzović are amongst those currently on display, and I was able to glance through the collection quickly, before my meeting began.

When ARS AEVI opens, there is the potential for it to help transform Sarajevo's international image. This was unfortunately set back a couple of years by the recent incident of a Muslim fundamentalist taking pot shots at the American embassy in downtown Sarajevo, with an AK47, before the police shot and disarmed him. This has given rise to much ill informed hyper-ventilation in the international press, about Bosnia being the solitary hotbed of Islamic radicalism in Europe. This is patent nonsense; wannabe jihadis are in a vanishingly small minority in the country, and the individual in question was actually from Serbia. The incident was disturbing and frightening, for sure, but more than a sceptically raised eyebrown should be offered at any interpretation suggesting that such action has widespread support in Bosnia; it simply doesn't.

ARS AEVI has the potential to challenge such negative images, as it is calibrated explicitly not as a collection of contemporary art calibrated for Bosnians by Bosnians; rather, it explicitly states that the collection is a collective expression of the international community, ranged in opposition against isolationist, ethnically-based, exclusivist narratives that dominate in Bosnian politics. It seeks to provide an outlet for international creativity in Sarajevo, in a manner not seen since the "Yugoslav Dokumenta" exhibitions in the city in 1987 and 1989: thereby fully connecting Sarajevo once again with other centres of contemporary art both in and beyond the Balkan region.

Problems there may be in the Sarajevo art world at the moment, but, much in the manner of the duplex 10m2 "DEAL WITH IT" show, the team at ARS AEVI see these difficulties as unfortunate factors to be overcome in time, rather than using them as an excuse to do nothing. Sadly, during my second stay in Sarajevo, another serious problem for local culture emerged; duplex 10m2, which for years has put on a challenging and wide-ranging visual programme, will close at the end of this year, as it's major backer, the French government, has decided to withdraw funding from contemporary art in Bosnia-Hercegovina. So, come 2012, ARS AEVI will be soldiering on almost alone.

League of Yugoslav Communists membership card. Part of the popular cultural detritus kept by the Čarlama collection

 I say "almost" advisedly, as another collective of artists are trying to re-invigorate the arts scene in Sarajevo. Jusuf Hadžifejzović, one of the prime movers behind the Yugoslav Dokumenta series at the end of the 80s, now runs a loose federation of empty spaces in Skenderija, under the umbrella title "Galerija Čarlama". Čarlama features the work of many varied contemporary artists from around the world, who have donated pieces to the collection, and the space functions as part art gallery, part meeting space for the contemporary scene in the city.

Piece by Neue Slowenische Kunst at Čarlama

Čarlama has the potential to be a living centre of contemporary art in Sarajevo. Jusuf is the remarkable focal point in the place, holding court with a shifting audience of artists, art historians, curators and casual passers-by. The gallery also functions as a space where work is made as well as exhibited; the sculptor Gordana Andjelic-Galic was busy working on a new piece whilst I was there. Across the passageway, si the Gradska Galerija- the oldest contemporary art space in Sarajevo, with an ever shifting programme of events and exhibitions.

Old adversaries: two relief carvings of Tito and Stalin, dating from c. 1945-48, at Čarlama

An example of the kind of project emerging at the moment were the two relief carvings of Tito and Stalin, found by Jusuf during a visit to Banja Luka. Monumentally heavy, the artist somehow lugged these back to Sarajevo in a heavy duty plastic bag, and intends to make some future work with them. These carvings are rare and from a very specific historical period (probably between the end of World War Two and the beginning of the Informbiro period in summer 1948) so they seem likely to form part of a very striking new installation.

I must admit that it took time for Sarajevo to grow on me, but after my last week there, it has emerged as a genuine possibility for my base in 2012. The arts scene is nascent, and so inclusive; outsiders are welcomed with open arms. The city is shortly planning a bid to become European capital of culture (sometime after 2014) and the ingredients are all there for the visual arts to play a very strong role in these coming developments. The next few years could be an exciting time to be in the city.

Sarajevo or Skopje, then? Lots to think about on the way home.

Zagreb

I pitched up in the Croatian capital last Sunday. Unlike the other cities that I have visited so far on my journey, I already knew Zagreb reasonably well- this is my fifth or sixth time in the city since I first visited in late 2007. Alongside Ljubljana and Berlin, Zagreb is amongst my favourite places anywhere in Europe. There is a lively jazz scene, an art world which chugs along despite some of the obstacles and indifference it has to surmount from officialdom, a fascinating mixture of Habsburg and Yugoslav architecture (the Habsburg style dominates the centre, with the suburbs largely featuring Yugo-era sprawl) and a laid back, generous, warm set of locals, who for some reason instinctively warm to Scots and Irish visitors.

The Museum of Contemporary Art, Zagreb

The major difference for this visit, however, is that the new Museum of Contemporary Art has opened, a little bit out of the city centre on Dubrovnik Avenue. The museum itself is not well signposted, and half hearted visitors may be put off by the lack of clear signage and rather vague directions on the official website. However, it is worth persisting with the quest, as, once there, the museum proves to be interesting architecturally, generously spaced inside, and provides a comprehensive overview of modern and contemporary art in Croatia in the last sixty years.

Šelja Kamerić Bosnia Girl 1996

The opening space is dominated by a large scale version of Šelja Kamerić's famous Bosnia Girl, a disturbing self portrait overlaid with some revolting racist graffiti daubed by a Dutch UN "peacekeeper" at Srebrenica, during the Bosnian civil war. This stark portrait quickly focuses the mind on the collection, and is a very effective grabber of the attention. The collection, "themed" in various not-always watertight categories, works through the familiar moments of post-war Yugoslav and Croat art history: EXAT '51, Nove Tendencije, conceptual, performance and installation art, particularly featuring the late Tomas Gotovac, and a very wide ranging look at the work of the influential Slovene reist grouping OHO.

Tomislav Gotovac I Love Zagreb performance, 1971. The street is Ilica, just off the main Ban. Jelačić square

The display stretches over three floors, and there is more than enough work to convincingly fill such a large space. Those already very familiar with the story of Croatian art may chafe at what they might see as a conservative presentation, but I thought it functioned as a very good introduction to the subject. There are also temporary spaces for the exhibition of the work of younger artists; one of these was closed, the other devoted to the recent work of Igor Eškinja, who has his hands full at the moment, with an exhibition in Milan concurrent with his showing here in his home capital city.

Mladen Stilinović, An Artist Who Cannot Speak English Is No Artist, 1993

Zagreb, with the Mestrović studio, the Gallery of Naive Art, the Moderna Galerija, and the Stossmayer, had been well served anyway during the period when the Contemporary Art space was being built, but this new gallery is a very worthy addition to the city's cultural brand. The challenge now is to get all these disparate spaces working together for the city with a particualr aim in mind- which will require further investment.

******
So, I have three days left here before heading north west to Slovenia, back permitting. I'll write more about Zagreb in my next entry, from Ljubljana. Right now though, I'm going to get up and walk about, before it seizes profoundly.

FK Željezničar 1, FK Sarajevo 0

The calm before the storm. Grbavica stadium before kick-off

Oddly, it's warmer now in Sarajevo than it was in October, when I first came here. The weekend was clear, sunny, and calm, and it is still tolerably warm even when the sun has gone done. Which was useful, as Saturday's derby match between bitter Sarajevo rivals Željezničar and FK Sarajevo, at "Željo"'s home ground, Grbavica, didn't kick off until five in the evening, with daylight a recent memory.

This, after the Partizan-Red Star rivalry in Belgrade, and maybe the Dinamo Zagreb-Hajduk Split game in Croatia, is probably the biggest derby anywhere in the Balkans. "Željo" are the older of the two teams, founded in 1921, and probably have the biggest support of any team in the country. They are a railway workers' team (Željezničar literally means "railway workers") and their blue shirt derives from the colour of a railwayman's uniform. Their opponents, FK Sarajevo, were founded just after world war two and have had a similar amount of success as their old foes in a shorter period of time. They play in maroon, so given my long experience of derby matches between teams in blue and maroon (Montrose v Arbroath), I quickly found myself rooting for Željo. These two sides, together with the "Red Army" of Velez Mostar, are the three biggest and best established clubs in BiH. At kick off, Željo lay second in the league table, just ahead of their city rivals, who lay third with an inferior goal difference.

Thunderflash smoke hangs over the Željo end

There the comparisons with the Angus derby end, though. A good crowd for a Montrose-Arbroath game is 1,500 these days; twelve thousand were packed into this rather bitty little stadium for the match, and generated quite an unbelievable atmosphere. It's meant to be a friendly rivalry this, more Liverpool-Everton than Rangers-Celtic, though apparently in recent times some young nuggets on both sides have been desperately trying to act out Green Street. As a result, the ground was ringed with Robocops in full riot gear, together with barking Alsatians, and with truncheons and pistols on prominent display. It was a show of force, as inside the ground they refused to be provoked by a seemingly endless stream of thunderflashes, echoing with a loud bang, fireworks and bog roll being thrown onto the pitch. On more than one occasion the referee had to stop the game and ask that smouldering fireworks be removed from the pitch, presumably so that the players could actually see through the thick clouds of smoke, that hung over the arena like a dead jellyfish on the surface of the sea. The astonishing noise and display was much more worthy of the 10 mark entrance fee (£4.70) than the actual game itself.

Željo try and mount an attack early in the game

Grbavica is a strange, quite unique ground. Like many former Communist stadia the playing surface is a giant, open bowl; the main stands (visible in the picture above) are small, hole and corner affairs. The lungs of the ground are the singing terraces at either end; Željo's fans gather on an open terrace at the North End of the ground, which was absolutely rammed full, and also take part of the Southern stand, which is the only modern part of the ground; Sarajevo's fans, as the away team, were penned into the opposite corner of this structure. There was also the dramatic jagged outline of the mountain behind the goal to look at, with a minaret, lit up for the coming festival of Eid, prominent.

Crowds are rather different here. In an Angus derby, there is of course lots of singing, but it is spontaneous and largely dependent on the (usually large) quantities of alcohol imbibed before hand. The singing is broken up by absolutely murderous abuse directed at opposition players, and vitriolic character assassinations of the match officials, usually involving unflattering comparisons with traffic wardens, blind men and cuckolds. In this derby, there is very little abuse of opponents, and the singing is much more orchestrated; a gigantic chorus, spurred on by two or three bellowing alpha males, continues unabated throughout the game, regardless of what's actually happening on the pitch. The only time the singing actually stops is when there is an attempt at goal, paradoxically.

Overall, it was a poor spectacle on the park. Derby games of course are notorious for being nervous, error-ridden, scrappy affairs and this was a very good example of the genre. Sarajevo had a couple of early chances, forcing the Željo keeper to save smartly on one occasion, the other being hit wide of the post. The home team seemed consumed with the occasion and struggled to string two passes together for the first fifteen minutes. However, as the game wore on, the roles reversed; Sarajevo began to really struggle, particularly in midfield, whereas Željo found some sort of rhythm. The game's only goal arrived just after the half hour, when a retreating Sarajevo defender, under pressure from an opponent, turned a cross high into the net past his own goalkeeper.

Željo's fans celebrate their team's goal. Good grief. Such displays in the UK would be met with an instant declaration of martial law.

The North terrace immediately erupted in an absolute frenzy. A gigantic roar pummeled the ears. A massive red flare was immediately sparked in the South stand, causing punters to scramble away from the thick, choking white smoke that billowed upwards. To the north, the terrace lit up like the warning lights on a Lada's dashboard. From one end to the other, brilliant yellow and red flares popped up, with the silhouettes of fans dancing and jumping about dementedly in their light, like a dubstep video on a youtube. Smoke rifted across the ground and it wasn't possible to see the goal at the far end for a good few minutes. Sarajevo's fans answered the gloating of their rivals with non stop chanting that lasted until half-time. Some cretin amongst the Sarajevo fans set fire to a Željo scarf, producing another dense cloud of white smoke, and was met with armour-piercing stares from the gathered riot cops.

In the second half, Željo largely dominated, mounting wave after inconclusive wave of attack on the Sarajevo goal. Sarajevo were reduced to the odd hit and run raid on the Željo goal, and utterly lacked penetration; their two forwards looked as menacing as the infamous non-scoring Graeme Sharp-Andy Gray Scotland front line c. 1986. Eventually, Željo were awarded a penalty after one of the maroon centre halfs clumsily entangled with a forward right under the referee's nose, and was red-carded for his pains. However, Sarajevo goalkeeper Adi Adolivić, whose brother Eldin plays in midfield for Željo, made a terrific save low to his right, and the score stayed the same. The Sarajevo fans celebrated their reprieve with a ferocious cannonade of thunderflashes and fireworks, some of which landed alarmingly close to the police contingent.

In the last ten minutes, the game rather petered out. Sarajevo clearly could have played until 6.30 on Sunday and not scored; Željo had done enough. At the final whistle, an enormous roar once again echoed around the ground as the players celebrated with the home fans, and the defeated maroon hordes scuttled for the exits (with a cheery "See you later Bitches" from the Željo fans echoing in their ears). All told, this was a pretty poor game with no real individual standing out from either team, though it wouldn't surprise me if both Adilovićs moved onto bigger things in the next few years. Overall, the standard of the match was maybe the same as something like St. Mirren against Dunfermline in the lower reaches of the SPL. The atmosphere, however, was crackling and I'll remember that long after the details of this scrappy affair have slipped my mind.

Art in BiH

Writing

"...the general current social environment in Bosnia and Hercegovina, a country which a press article by Clemens Ruther has described as 'the last yet undead living part of the corpse of Yugoslavia' and as 'being kept alive in an international intensive care unit', a country where post war trauma, everyday nationalist political madness, corruption, a catastrophic economic situation with an average unemployment rate of 50%, demonstrations of power instrumentalising religious confessions, homophobia and macho structures meet, where a feeling of powerlessness, demoralisation and disatisfaction prevails and which seems to be trapped in a dead-end street of depression, lethargy and complaining, without a critical mass believing itself ready to actively address these conditions..."

This stark quote forms part of the exhibition guide to the DEAL WITH IT show, made by members of the German Porschismus collective, at Duplex 10m2 in Sarajevo. This little space, alongside the ARS AEVI collection, is one of two main spaces covering contemporary art in the Bosnian capital. 10m2 was established by two French curators at the end of 2004. The gallery claims an international perspective, with an obvious focus on contemporary Bosnian art. The current show features nine artists who have some connection with BiH, even if they don't actually live there. There is no sense of self-pity or introspection about this show; rather, it seeks to present the creative response of artists dealing with a virtually impossible set of cultural circumstances, yet still managing to keep making work and have it discussed and seen.

DEAL WITH IT group exhibition, gallery 10m2

Across Europe, since the beginning of the credit crunch in October 2008,there has been a deepening gloom about the status of the arts and arts funding. In the UK, the I Value the Arts campaign has used a mixture of public advocacy by well known creative figures, and a relentless social media campaign, to raise awareness of the challenges that the arts face in a climate of dramatically reduced public funding. Newly graduated students have had to adapt to a changed cultural climate where the money that may have been available before 2008 has suddenly gone; they have had to be far more resourceful, ingenious, and co-operative in developing careers. Across Europe, governments have selected the creative arts as an easy early casualty of a supposedly necessary "austerity" package in response to a fiscal crisis entirely the making of incompetent bankers, venal speculators and spineless, regulation-averse politicians.

Serious though the problems facing arts and arts education funding in the UK may be, they seem frankly trivial compared to the problems facing the various sectors of the shrunken Bosnian art world. This is a country where the government currently does not put a fenig towards the National Gallery and its serious collection of BiH, Yugoslav and European paintings, sculptures and photographs; this is the principal reason for the current indefinite closure of the facility. Shockingly, the new BiH government failed to take on the responsibility of maintaining the National Gallery after 1995, and this major collection has had to subsist on money from abroad for the last sixteen years. That the institution was open and maintained a reasonable programme, until recently, is in itself something of a minor miracle and a great tribute to the hard pressed staff there. Only once since independence- with Braco Dimitrijević's show in 2009- has Bosnia-Hercegovina been represented at the Venice bienale, a miserable record by comparison with all the other former Yugoslav republics.

On top of this institutional paralysis, BiH is home to no fewer than four art schools- churning out graduates into a domestic art market which only barely exists. Those who do manage to fashion some sort of career for themselves usually do so by either selling their work abroad, or by moving away from the country altogether. The well developed art world in BiH prior to 1992 was a casualty of the civil war, along with so many other aspects of society; many artists simply left, and the few that remained have had to cope with a catastrophic collapse in both government patronage of the arts, in the private art market, and indeed in the audiences for art; so many Bosnians now have to focus on sheer survival, that the leisure time available to go to an exhibition is a rare, luxurious commodity that not many can afford. Add to the permanent ethnic division of the territory of Bosnia-Hercegovina-Republika Srpska has its own art academy and national gallery based in Banja Luka- and the small crumb of the Bosnian art world is atomised even further.

Jusuf Hadžifejzović, Trophy's Depotgraphy, 1995

 One artist still based for most of his time, in Sarajevo, is Jusuf Hadžifejzović. His contribution to the show, along the back wall, is intriguing; he presents a series of prints, each of which have a disquieting effect on the viewer; a coat hanging from an AK47; a deer's head; a stark bottle opener. Each of these objects provoke individual responses within each viewer, from imagining the role that these may play in the artist's life, to the contemplation of them as purely aesthetic objects. The Italian artist Diana Righini intervenes in a sensitive piece about Macedonian national identity; she has framed a 1978 academic magazine, featuring an essay discussing the nature and origins of Macedonian identity; of course, these are key issues which form a fault-line down the middle of contemporary Macedonian (and, more broadly, Balkan) society. Skopje's Edo Vesjselović contributes a floor installation, with the floor of the gallery transformed into a cityy map of the world, underlining the display's universal as well as local appeal.

Diana Righini, 1978-2011

This is a really thought provoking and interesting exhibition. Contemporary art either from or dealing with Bosnia-Hercegovina is, in spite of the absolutely abysmal circumstances in which it has to be made, is challenging to the viewer and contains many interesting insights into present day creative life. Together with the rich and well curated exhibitions, based on colour, in the National Gallery, both should form key parts of the face that Bosnia-Hercegovina presents to the outside world. After all, cultural tourism- in spite of the economic difficulties faced by the arts Europe-wide- should be a key facet of BiH's attempts to re-build for the future. That is is not, and indeed seems to occupy a marginalised and near-subterranean position in the stagnating, ethnically divided society, is one of many national tragedies. Sadly, until things are fixed at the level of high politics- and there is no end in sight to the permanent state of deferred crisis which has choked Bosnian re-development since Dayton- nothing will be fixed for Bosnia-Hercegovina and its artists, either.

Bosnian Gobbets

The word gobbet is usually a terrifying one for undergraduate historians. They are a staple diet of modern history exams, where one is presented with a text that can be as short as six words, and on that basis write a 1, 500 word critical essay, in exam conditions. A brutally exact and contextualised knowledge is needed to be successful; the text can be something as feeble as " I saw Chamberlain today. PM very gloomy". No flannel or padding is possible with such scant material.

It's the historical equivalent of 20-20 cricket, where one has to go in and immediately start biffing the historical white ball all over the park, or get out quickly and hope that someone else can do better. So gobbets here is meant in the gentler sense, in just being short observations about this week, viz.

1. Why are French sporting teams so damned lucky? Sarajevo went very quiet on Wednesday night, as the BiH football team took to the field at the Stade de France, knowing that a win would see them qualify for a major football tournament for the first time. And, for an hour, the Bosnians dominated a shockingly poor home side, who did a good impression of having met for the first time in a Métro carriage half an hour before kick off. Dynamo Moscow's Misimović, surely the most under-rated attacking midfielder in Europe, passed the French off the park and was the electricity in the Bosnian dynamo.

Sadly, much of the ammunition he provided fell to Manchester City forward Edin Džeko. The big no. 9 was doing a very good impression of Tony Cascarino on Wednesday. He was absolutely terrible, missing two or three really easy chances, before, in typically mercurial fashion, making and scoring the brilliant goal which saw Bosnia lead at half time. Džeko has terrific upper body strength and is quick, but in terms of skill and temperament he's still a bit of an unguided missile in my view, and is very, very frustrating to watch.

Sadly, France equalised with about twelve minutes to go through a penalty, and the Bosnians had run out of steam by then, leaving them to rue their profiligacy in the first half. With typical abysmal luck, they have now been drawn with Portugal in the play-offs, the worst draw possible, as this is the team that eliminated BiH at the same stage before the 2010 World Cup. If only Bosnia could have a bit of self belief, they could gain revenge, but it seems unlikely. The spirit of the old Yugoslavia team hangs around this current BiH team; they are wonderful to watch, very gifted technically, and flatter to deceive, never quite prevailing in games where it matters. Sarajevo was twelve minutes away from an amazing party on Wednesday night; instead, the pubs had emptied half an hour after the full time whistle, as folk dissipated away in bitterly disappointed silence.

France are better organised under Laurent Blanc, after the utter shambles and scandal of the Domenech era, but they are still a deeply mediocre side who won't make it beyond the group stages of Euro 2012 next year; a side extremely fortunate not to be facing a play off. I can think of only two of the current French group of players, who would have got near their all-conquering squads of 1998-2000.

Let's not even start on the rugby world cup semi-final today. I heartily detest rugby union for reasons for too numerous to mention, and will loathe it to my dying day, but I really wanted Wales to win today- and it sounds like, yet again, France were extremely lucky to progress to the final. Almost certainly, however, a righteous vaporising awaits them at the hands of the Kiwis or the Australians. Nonetheless, no one has heard of rugby here in Bosnia, so it's been bliss to be spared the egg-chasing "world cup" (British Commonwealth plus one or two exotic others, more like) in its entirety.

2. It's been largely poor stuff from the ex-Yugoslav countries in qualification. Alongside BiH, Montenegro have been the team to really stand out, qualifying from a difficult group behind England. The doughty Montenegrins- lacking a genuine goalscorer, but very, very determined and hard to break down, particularly in Podgorica- face a winnable tie, against a poor Czech side, for a place in Poland and Ukraine next year. Croatia face the Turks in another difficult to call tie, the men in the red and white chessboard shirts have had a very quiet time, since the heyday of Slaven Bilić's team leaving Steve McLaren cowering under his umbrella, in a Wembley monsoon. Both sides seem to be in transition although I think the Croats are marginal favourites.

Serbia and Slovenia cancelled one another out in a very bizarre qualifying group, won easily by Italy but, surreally, seeing Estonia make the play offs. Having spent some time in Estonia in the last 3-4 years and seen them play on many occasions, I am absolutely astonished at their transformation. This was a team that went winless for over a year in 2007-8; the last time I watched an Estonia international, they were a sorry, dis-spirited shambles, routed 7-1 in Sarajevo by the Bosnians. However, their unsmiling head coach Tarmo Rüütli, who nearly lost his job after that humiliation, has transformed them into a hard working team much greater than the sum of its little-known parts. Back to back wins against an ageing Northern Ireland team for the Estonians, left Serbia needing to beat Slovenia in Maribor; Slovenia prevailed 1-0, being cheered on not only by their home fans but by a capacity crowd of cornflower-blue clad loons at the A le Coq. stadium in Tallinn, watching on a giant screen.  In the three days that followed, both Vladimir Petrović, the deeply unpopular Serb head coach, and Noerthern Ireland's Nigel Worthington, have paid with their jobs for Estonia's success.

It was such a strange group: Estonia won in Belgrade last October, and suffered a catastrophe in Torshavn at the hands of the Faroe Islands just three months before this high point of their footballing history. Their qualification is a wonderful story, but I suspect it will end before Euro 2012 begins; I really cannot, even with my most optimistic glasses on, see them beating the Republic of Ireland over two legs in the play off.

Finally, to no one's surprise, Macedonia's John Toshack has the biggest job on his hands. After his promising start against the Russians in Moscow, Toshack has subsequently overseen an excruciatingly dull 1-0 win over the mighty Andorra in Skopje, followed by a tumble down the slippery slope to a 1-4 disaster in Yerevan. Tuesday's home draw with Slovakia restored some deeply wounded pride, but worryingly for the Macedonian FA, the stadium was virtually empty for this meaningless final game. Toshack needs to unearth some new young players from somewhere, and improve their morale, if they are to make an impact in the 2014 world cup qualifying group.

As for Scotland? It would have bee typical if we had gone over to Spain and won, but the reality is that the damage was done by abysmal, negative, fear-filled showings away in Kaunas and Prague. Craig Levein has failed to convince a significant minority of Scottish fans that he has the necessary attributes to make Scotland competitive and challenging seriously for qualification again. The 2014 group- featuring the Croats, Serbs, Belgians, Gary Speed's resurgent Wales, and Macedonia, looks very difficult for us again.

3. I've finally got some research underway at the faculty of fine art here in Sarajevo. Nonetheless, in terms of art, there's been slim pickings. The National Gallery, supposedly re-opening on 11 October, remains absolutely closed, and the question as to when it will re-open usually just produces a shrug of the shoulders. The reality is, however, that since the 1992-95 conflict here, art has been a mobile and temporary phenomenon in terms of its display; initiatives like the small duplex 10m2, run by two French curators, are one of the few still points in a continuously changing small scene. 10m2 has been closed all week, but there is an opening of the contemporary Porschism collective there tonight, so I think I shall be sneaking along to that. Other then 10m2 and the extremely itinerant SCCA, which I have yet to find, there is not really much other than the Fine Art academy, constituted as such in 1972, and a few small commercial galleries of very varying quality. It will take time to uncover what seems to be a very fragmented and ephemeral contemporary arts scene.

4. I think I'll have another week of pretty intensive work in Sarajevo, then will spend the week after next travelling to a few places outwith the capital. I need to go to Konjic, a small town which was home of Tito's bunker, now a major exhibition of contemporary art; Mostar; and Jajce, home to a Museum of the Partisan struggle. So there should be quite a lot on here in the next couple of weeks.

5. Google Maps for Macedonia, Serbia and Bosnia is pathetic. Seriously, the information is so scant, poor, and misleading, they might as well not bother.

I live in a cloud on the mountain

I open my front door and see all this.

No, I haven't gone guru, it's actually true. Since pitching up in the Bosnian capital last Thursday, I've been billeted in a house, about a half hour walk from the Baščaršija, the old Ottoman market and tourist magnet just to the east of the city centre. And, almost as soon as I got here, winter suddenly turned up. Two weekends ago it was 23 degrees in Skopje, even as the autumn leaves were beginning to fall from the trees; this weekend, it fell to three degrees here, without even an acknowledgement of autumn. Locals are expecting snow on the mountain anyday, and, until today, when the sun re-appeared sheepishly and dramatically lit up the craggy ravine stretching below my place, I was literally living in clouds and mist. 

Tara National Park, just before the BiH border

Some of you are probably getting a bit bored of my sub- Revd. WS Gilpin discourses on the landscape, but to hell with it; the drive to here from Kraljevo last Thursday was nothing short of amazing; from the man made lake in between Čačak and Užice; the former hero city itself, emerging from the deep valley that surrounds it like a clenched fist imagined by El Greco; then, tumbling down the twenty miles or so of narrow road, through Tara National Park, that last part of Serbia before the geographical territory of Bosnia-Hercegovina begins. Whilst not quite matching Mavrovo in terms of wilderness, there was still enough to make me stop several times and take photos which only give an approximation of just how beautiful the place is.

The Bridge over the Drina at Višegrad

 If the use of the words "geographical territory" seem a little bit odd, there, then, welcome to this incredibly complex and nuanced part of the Balkans. The territory of Bosnia-Hercegovina, along with eastern Croatia and, later, Kosovo, were the main battlefields during 1991-95 and 1999, as the old Yugoslav federation clawed its own face off. The current state of BiH preserves in aspic the state of play as the conflict here ended in 1995, according to the dictates of the Dayton agreement; a treaty aimed at ending, at almost any price, the horrific conflict that devastated this land for three and a half years. 

The result, whilst welcome in the short term, has in the medium term ensured a situation of permanent instability. The territory of Bosnia-Hercegovina is now split between two entirely separate political entities; the Bosnian-Croat federation, which controls 51% of the territory, including the vast majority of Sarajevo; and Republika Srpska, the Serb entity, which controls the remaining 49%, together with a small corner in south-eatern Sarajevo. Whilst there is no Berlin Wall-style situation, and it is possible to move from the Federation to Republika Srpska and back, without noticing, the current outcome is one of political deadlock. Bosnia has a colossally bloated political class and attendant bureaucracy; it has three presidents, one each from Bosnian, Croat and Serb ethnicities; those presidents have been unable to agree on anything for the last year, resulting in damaging paralysis. Effectively, at present, BiH has no functioning or recognisable government and looks unlikely to have one for the foreseeable future.

Then, the layer of EU oversight has to be added, with the EU high representative in BiH effectively acting as some kind of viceroy, with wide ranging powers to intervene in political disputes, and to make decisions in the current absence of government. In the absence of a working government, BiH becomes, more than ever, a de facto EU protectorate. The future, with constant to-ing and fro-ing between separate political classes still bitterly divided and resentful, appears very uncertain, sadly. This in a country where the unemployment rate is estimated at 42%, with most of those in work reliant one one of the BiH political states for employment.

Entrance to the Sarajevo tunnels

So far, so dry, but the disfigurations of the war are much more obvious here than in any other part of the Balkans. 100 yards from my front door stands an abandoned house, windowless, with tall grass growing all around, slowly going back to nature, riddled with heavy machine gun fire. It's probably been empty for the last twenty years. Such houses can be seen all over the country; whole villages lie empty in the territory of Republika Srpska, like rotting teeth in a beautiful mouth. In Višegrad- the city made famous by perhaps the best known work of Yugoslav fiction, Ivo Andrić's Bridge over the Drina, the bridge is still there, but the city itself now something of a ghost town, populated only by Serbs; the rich mix of Serbs, Croats, Bosnians, Turks and Habsburgs in that novel, is nothing more than a fantastical memory now.


I'm using this as an example, and I'm not meaning to take one side or another. There are as many stories of what happened here, all of them contradictory, some overlapping. If one is determined to pass judgement on one community or another for what happened here and elsewhere, then one is doomed to only ever understand partially the course of events; and quite likely to end up hating everybody. 

However, in BiH more than anywhere else, the shadows of events in the last fifteen years continue to blot out many hopes for future stability. The current impasse also humiliatingly reminds international political institutions, and western governments, of their abject failure here; of their shaming and disgraceful misunderstanding of this part of the world, based on books written 70-100 years previously; and the loathsome mix of self-interest, doublespeak and hypocrisy which has perpetuated the situation of 1995 here. The embarrassing shambles that was the UN / EC response to the Bosnian crisis during the 90s stands alongside the pitiful, supine hand-wringing concerning the Rwandan genocide in 1995, as events that to this day have undermined, perhaps fatally, confidence in the integrity and capability of supranational political institutions to intervene meaningfully in situations of civil war and ethnic conflict. Ironically, these very tainted institutions are still the ultimate guarantors of security here.

For more detailed discussion of the current situation in BiH from a legal and political point of view, see Matthew Parish's blog.


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Habsburg fragments in downtown Sarajevo

Sarajevo is a long, narrow city, ringed by mountains. West of the tight warren of streets, stalls, hans, mosques and minarets that make up the Baščaršija, is the rectilinear centre, built by the Austro-Hungarians during their period of rule in this part of the world, forty years from 1878. More recent Titoist additions have sprung up in war damaged spaces, and along the former "Snipers Alley" of  densely packed towerblocks towards Ilidža and the airport. The lasting legacy of the Habsburgs, other than their trademark ornament-heavy apartment blocks and churches, is the tram system, which runs from Baščaršija to Ilidža, a stretch of about 11kms. On a guided tour on Saturday, our guide explained that the trams were tested out in Sarajevo; this city had the first functioning tram network in Europe; their success here saw them rolled out across the Habsburg lands around the turn of the twentieth century. It's as well the city is enjoyable to walk around and has good trams, as it's a pretty hair raising experience driving here; not in terms of psycho drivers (see entries passim.), but in terms of very steep, narrow streets that can barely accommodate tow cars in places. From Baščaršija, it's about a 2 mile stretch up a 1-in-5 hill; two long miles of whiny low gear cobblestoned struggle. 

I'll write more from here once I've seen some art to tell you about.  

Skopje again and 9. Biennial of young Macedonian artists

Installation view of the Biennial at MoCA

So, today's my last day of another very busy short spell here in Skopje. I have had good meetings and discussions every day since I've been here, and new possibilities do appear to be opening out ahead of next year.

I wound up my affairs in Belgrade last Thursday. The week flashed by very quickly after my lecture: I met some interesting private collectors in the Serb capital last Tuesday, who have a really representative and very broad collection of Yugoslav art from the 60s through to the 80s. I also had meetings with a couple of artists from that period.

Having bunkered down in Belgrade for three weeks, it felt a little odd to be leaving, but I was impatient to be back in Skopje again. As well as meeting various artists and pals in the last few days, there was also the opportunity to catch the Biennial of Young Macedonian Artists at the Museum of Contemporary Art, which was a varied exhibition of work around the politically neutral theme of still life.

Kristina Božurska, Zoomed Still Life, 2010 / 11

Two or three individual pieces really stood out in this show. Kristina Božurska's Zoomed Still Life was reminiscent of a late 80s Christian Boltanski, featuring over 300 little metallic cubes, arranged into a rectangle on the wall. Each individual cube is rusted away and is part of some crushed-up industrial debris; this piece, then, functions as the ultimate recycling of material in a post-object state; the rehabilitation of practical objects at the end of their lives, into a new and unexpected art-object phase: a kind of discarded readymade.

Filip Jovanovski, Still Life: The Cabinet of Professor Velimir Veličkovski: 24 Allegories to Explain the World, 2011

 Filip Jovanovski, whose work in progress I had seen on my last visit to the gallery,has made a real success of his "living still life", above. The installation is really well put together and has an intriguing range of objects, from a black and white portrait of Tito, through several of the professor's own paintings and books, to ephemera and tat from the 1970s and 1980s. It raises the question not only of the still life as object, but of the role of the still-life object in helping to build up a portrait of an individual. Of course, using the object to convey an aspect of the sitter's character, that cannot be conveyed by the image of the face and hands etc, has long been a tool of the portraitist's trade; this merging of portrait and still life throws up many interesting questions.

Sofia Grabuloska, Black/White Still Life, 2011

So, after meeting up with some friends later I have to pack up my stuff again tomorrow morning and set the co-ordinates for Sarajevo. It's about a ten hour drive so I'm stopping somewhere in central Serbia tomorrow night, as driving in the dark on unfamiliar Bosnian mountain roads would be an insane strategy. I hope to be in Sarajevo early Thursday afternoon, so my next update, with first impressions, will be from BiH probably early next week. It's the part of the trip I have most been looking forward to, as I have never been to Sarajevo before, and I also have plans to take in Jajce, Mostar, and Tito's bunker, now an art gallery, about 20kms south of the capital. As for Skopje? Well, it's a little bit sad to have to do a city I really enjoy in such short bursts, so I am very much looking forward to being a resident here next year, and writing up the great tome from a towerblock somewhere.

Crumbling Yugoslav-era "AutoMakedonija" sign in the city centre. Don't think the neon has worked since the mid 80s

I largely wrote this in Skopje, but never got around to finishing it so am putting it up now. Next update from SJ (where I am now) soon.