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BU T IF YOU TA K E
MY VOICE ,
W H AT W I LL BE LEF T
TO M E?
—
K ATA R I NA
Z DJEL A R
BU T I F YOU TA K E
MY VOICE ,
W H AT W I LL BE LEF T
TO M E?
The Serbian Pavilion at the 53rd Biennale di Venezia(Paviljon Srbije na 53. Bijenalu u Veneciji)
—
K ATA R I NA
Z DJ EL A R
(katarinazdjelar.wordpress.com)
4
-9-
T H E SER BI A N PAV I LION ATT H E 53rd BI EN NA LE DI V EN EZ I A
(PAV IL JON SRBIJE NA 53 . B I JENALU U VENECIJ I )
Branislav Dimitrijević
-21-
VOICE E X ERCISES:A N I N T RODUC T ION
(GL A SOVNE VE ŽBE : UVOD)
Anke Bangma
-33-
MOV E YOU R LI PS TO T H IS(I N PR A ISE OF ACCEN TS)
(POKREĆITE USNE UZ OVO (POHVAL A AKCENT IMA))
Jan Verwoert
-47-
T H E PER FEC T SOU N D(SAVRŠENI Z VUK )
Mladen Dolar
-63-
I T H I N KT H AT H ER E I H AV E H E A R D
MY OW N VOICE COM I NG TO M EF ROM SOM E W H ER E ELSE
(M ISL IM DA SAM OVDE ČUO SVOJ SOPST VENI GL A S ,
K AKO DOPIRE DO MENE SA NEKOG DRUGOG MESTA)
Katarina Zdjelar
-86-
S E L E C T E D WOR K S
( I Z ABR ANI R ADOV I )
-119-
CR NO NA BELO( “ BL ACK ON WHITE” )
Branimir Stojanović
-137-
E V ERY T H I NG IS G ON NA BE:T R AGEDY & T H E SCR I P T OF H ISTORY
(SVE ĆE B IT I : TR AGEDIJA I SCENARIO ISTORIJE )
Frans-Willem Korsten
-155-
L I S T OF WOR K S
(L ISTA R ADOVA)
-159-
B IO G R A PH Y K ATA R I N A Z DJ E L A R
(B IOGR AFIJA K ATARINA ZDJEL AR)
-165-
B IO G R A PH I E S OF T H E AU T HOR S
(B IOGR AFIJE AUTOR A)
-173-
C R E DI T S
(PODACI O AUTORIMA I DEL IMA)
-177-
AC K NOW L E D G E M E N T S
( I Z JAVE Z AHVALNOST I )
-181-
C OLOPHON
( IMPRESUM)
8
Sa dva zasebna ali zajednički izložena projekta, Paviljon Srbije na 53. Bijenalu u Veneciji zamišljen je kao prostor dijaloga između dve različite ali podjednako relevantne umetničke filozofije. Dvoje umetnika različitih generacija i umetničkih stavova, Zoran Todorović i Katarina Zdjelar, Stručni savet odabrao je da „predstavljaju“ Srbiju u Veneciji.
With two separate, yet jointly exhibited projects, the Serbian pavilion at the 53rd Biennale di Venezia is envisaged as a “life-space” of dialogue between two distinct but equally relevant artistic philosophies. Two artists of different generations and artistic attitudes, Zoran Todorović and Katarina Zdjelar, were selected by an advisory board to “represent” Serbia in Venice.
T H E SER BI A N PAV I LION AT T H E 53rd BI EN NA LE DI V EN EZ I A
(PAV IL JON SRBI JE NA 53 . B I JENALU U VENECIJ I )
10 11
Smatramo aksiomatskim da umetničke izložbe nisu neutralni prikazi akumuliranih predmeta već upisani stavovi, dokumenti, iskazi, čak i sam život u određenom prostoru i kao singularan događaj. Kada se priprema izložba u prostoru „predstavljanja nacije“ koji nosi visok naboj, taj prostor i taj događaj ni u kom smislu se ne mogu posmatrati kao neutralni. Ostaje, međutim, pitanje šta se zapravo „predstavlja“ pojmom „nacionalnog predstavljanja“? Da li to podrazumeva samo učestvovanje u dominantnoj „kulturi brendiranja“, ili pak, tradicionalno i ceremonijalno priznavanje poslovične „veličine“ svake države u koju su svi njeni građani primorani da veruju? Kao što je jasno zaključio Žil Delez: „Ne postoji demokratska država koja nije do srži kompromitovana svojim udelom u stvaranju ljudske bede.“(1) U svojoj novijoj istoriji srpska država imala je znatnog udela u stvaranju bede svojih sopstvenih građana i prouzrokovanju ljudskih tragedija u čitavom regionu. Posle jugoslovenske tragedije, zvanična politika uglavnom izjavljuje da smo svi mi sada „okrenuti ne ka prošlosti već ka budućnosti“. Ostaje, međutim, pitanje kako je tu budućnost moguće zamisliti „dekretom“ i van ispitivanja neuspeha ideologija i sistema verovanja iz prošlosti. Kao posledica toga, „goli život“ stvara barijeru u odnosu na bilo koje politički i institucionalno namentnute vidove predstavljanja.
We regard as axiomatic that art exhibitions are not neutral displays of accumulated objects but inscriptions of attitudes, documents, statements and even life itself in a specific space and as a singular event. When preparing an exhibition in the highly charged space of “national representation”, this space and this event cannot be in any sense observed as neutral. Yet the question remains: what is actually “represented” by the notion of “national representation”? Does this imply merely partaking in the dominating “culture of branding” or, traditionally, a ceremonial acknowledgement of the proverbial “greatness” of each state in which all of its citizens are compelled to believe? As plainly concluded in the words of Gilles Deleuze: ‘There’s no democratic state that’s not compromised to the very core by its part in generating human misery.’(1) In recent history the Serbian state took a considerable part in generating misery for its own citizens and human tragedy throughout the whole region. In the aftermath of the Yugoslav tragedy, official politics tends to state that we are all now ‘focused not towards the past but towards the future.’ However, the question remains how this future can be envisaged by “decree” and outside of the scope of the failure of past ideologies and belief systems. Consequently, it is “bare life” which creates a barrier towards any politically and institutionally imposed forms of representation.
Uprkos razlika koje postoje među njima, ovo dvoje umetnika polaze od istog stanovišta kada tvrde da je umetnik slobodni posrednik unutar prostora društvenih odnosa, te da se umetnički subjektivitet pojavljuje samo ako je pozicioniran u trvenjima sveta konstruisanog od društvene materije. Oni sudeluju u raspravama koje se vode u svetu određenim kontrolom i nadzorom kao posledicama tehnološkog napretka i modernih društvenih regulativa. Pored ovoga, ovde se radi i o razumevanjima procesa emancipacije i „postajanja“ u smislu da na njih ne utiču samo postojeći modeli političke i umetničke kontra-akcije, već se promena shvata kako proističe iz nekog događaja kao „singularnosti“ u suprotstavljanju pojmovima večnog i istorijskog: događaja koji se ne može objasniti pomoću situacija koje dovode do njega ili situacijama do kojih on dovodi.
Despite their differences the two artists have a common point of departure in arguing that an artist is a free mediator within the space of social relations, and that artistic subjectivity emerges only if situated in the frictions of a world constructed from social matter. They participate in a contesting debate in a world defined by control and surveillance, as outcomes of technological progress and modern social regulations. Alongside this there is an understanding that the process of emancipation and “becoming” is not only influenced by existing models of political and artistic opposition, but that change also emerges through an event as a “singularity”, opposing notions of the eternal and the historical – an event that can’t be explained by the situations that give rise to it, or into which it leads.
(1) “Control and Becoming”, Gilles Deleuze in conversation with Antonio Negri/Žil Delez u razgovoru sa Antoniom Negrijem, Futur Anterieur 1 (1990), translated by/preveo Martin Joughin.
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Kao umetnik čiji je rad dospeo pred oči javnosti zajedno sa političkom metastazom srpskog društva devedesetih godina prošlog veka, Zoran Todorović artikuliše svoj skepticizam prema utešnim idejama društvenog progresa, emancipacije i naizgled benevolentnih društvenih regulacija. Njegovi projekti su opservacije i izvođenja biopolitičke kontole koji istražuju načine na koje se telo i njegovi „proizvodi“ mogu koristiti kao „sirovine“ za uznemirujuće protivakcije. U mnogim od svojih ranijih projekata, Todorović je upućivao izazov granicama predstavljanja i participacije, kao i etičkim normama i estetskim standardima. Među njegovim projektima su: Asimilacija (1998, traje i dalje), događaji javnog konzumiranja hrane načinjene od ostataka ljudskog tela posle plastične operacije; Agalma (2004, traje i dalje), događaji javnog pranja sapunom načinjenim od masnoće odstranjene iz umetnikovog tela tokom operacije; i Smeh (2001), za koji je koristio azot-oksid, gas koji deluje na nervni sistem (izazivajući smeh, ili ako se pretera sa dozom i nastup histerije), koji je oslobodio tokom jedne izložbe u Muzeju savremene umetnosti u Beogradu. Kao što je Miško Šuvaković primetio u vezi sa ovim projektima, Todorovića „zanima(ju) potencijalni ili stvarni afekat/afekti koji/koje događaj izvođenja umetničkog dela, u njegovoj singularnosti, ovde i tada, proizvodi u ljudskim životima i među njima: činjenica da je neko progutao parče ljudskog mesa, ili se nasapunjao sapunom načinjenim od ljudske masti
As an artist whose work came into view along with the political metastasis of Serbian society in the 1990s, Zoran Todorović articulates his scepticism towards comforting ideas of social progress, emancipation and seemingly benevolent regulations. His projects are observations and enactments of biopolitical control, which explore the ways in which institutional spaces of control and punishment are inscribed in the body, as well as the ways in which this body and its “products” may be used as “raw material” for distressing counter-actions. In many of his previous projects, Todorović challenged the limits both of representation and participation, as well as ethical norms and aesthetical standards. His projects include: Assimilation (1998-ongoing), events in which the public consumption of food made of leftovers of the human body after plastic surgery took place; Agalma (2004-ongoing), events of public bathing with soap made from the fat taken from the artist’s body during surgery; and Laughter (2001) for which he used nitrous oxide gas affecting the nervous system (by causing laughter or, if overdosed, an hysterical attack) and released it at an exhibition in the Museum of Contemporary Art in Belgrade. As Miško Šuvaković has observed in relation to these projects, Todorović is ‘interested in potential or real affect/affects that the event of performing the work of art, in its singularity, here and now, produces within and among human lives: the fact that someone swallowed a piece of human flesh, or soaped
Projekti Zorana Todorovića i Katarine Zdjelar duboko su uključeni u mnogostruke aspekte ljudskih odnosa i njihovih ograničenja. Njihov rad uključuje „upise života“, kao i „upise u život“, ali to nisu nepristrasna viđenja života: to su intervencije u onome što se doima kao uređeni društveni poredak sa svojim uslovima, zahtevima i ciljevima. Zajednička im je preka potreba da lociraju ono što se identifikuje kao savremena umetnost u mreži koja se sastoji od društvenih struktura i pojedinačnih otpora, ali oni tu zajedničku preku potrebu odvode u različitim pravcima.
The projects of Zoran Todorović and Katarina Zdjelar are deeply involved in manifold aspects of human relations and their constraints. Their work involves “life-inscriptions” as well as “inscriptions in life”, but not some dispassionate observations of life: they are interventions in what seems to be a regulated social order with its conditions, demands and objectives. They share an urgency to locate what is identified as contemporary art in the web consisting of social structures and individual resistances, yet they are taking this shared urgency in different directions.
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Njegov projekat za ovo Bijenale naslovljen Toplina uključuje sistematsko gomilanje ljudske kose (do 3 tone), prikupljane mesecima u frizerskim salonima, gde se kosa odseca dobrovoljno, na osnovu ličnih želja, kao i u vojnim kasarnama, gde je odsecanje kose norma u okruženju discipline, kontrole ili „društvenog staranja“. Uslovi pod kojima se ovaj proces odvija u jednom zatvorenom sistemu detaljno su dokumentovani, i ovaj bio-otpad biva „recikliran“ kao materijal za ćebad neobičnog izgleda koja se gomilaju i daju na izlaganje, korišćenje i ispitivanje. Krajnji rezultat, „neželjeni proizvod“ ovog procesa, može se shvatiti kao DNK mapa „srpske nacije“, u koju je upisano svako telo koje učestvuje i koje bi se potencijalno moglo identifikovati. Nagomilana ćebad su predmeti na granici između funkcionalizma (da li je dobijanje toplote od ćebeta načinjenog od ljudske kose ekvivalent „funkcionalizma“ kanibalizma?) i simbolizma (pošto je neizbežna aluzija na prakse nacističkih koncentracionih logora). Međutim, ona fatalno podrivaju oba ta vida predstavljanja i proizvođenja značenja.
His project for the Biennial, Warmth, involves the systematic stockpiling of human hair (up to 3 tons) collected for months in hairdressing salons, where cutting hair is voluntary and motivated by personal desires, and in prisons and military barracks where it is a norm in an environment of discipline, control or “social care”. The conditions in which this process is carried out in a closed system are thoroughly documented, and this bio-waste, is “recycled” as the material for curious looking blankets which are amassed and made available for exhibition, utilization and inspection. The end result, the “unwanted product” of this process, may be understood as a DNA map of the “Serbian nation”, in which each participating body is inscribed and could be potentially identified. The amassed blankets are objects at the borderline between functionalism (is getting warmth from a human hair blanket an equivalent to the “functionalism” of cannibalism?) and symbolism (as the allusion to the procedures within concentration-camps is unavoidable). Yet, they fatally undermine both of these forms of representation and meaning-production.
tokom otvaranja izložbe, ostaje bez simboličkog opravdanja, to se desilo u jednoj singularnoj situaciji, među nekim ljudima i za neke ljude“. (2)
their own body with soap made of human fat during the opening of the exhibition, remains without symbolic justification, it happened in a singular situation among some people and for some people.’ (2)
(2) Miško Šuvaković, „Kritički efekat & intenzitet afekta“ (“Critical Effect & Intensity of Affect”), Intenzitet afekta. Performansi, akcije, instalacije: retrospektiva Zorana Todorovića. Novi Sad: Muzej savremene umetnosti Vojvodine, 2009.
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Na izložbi u Veneciji Zdjelarova će prikazati četiri video rada – pod zajedničkim naslovom Ali ako mi oduzmeš glas, šta mi ostaje? – koji predstavljaju upise organizovanih prostora komunikacije utemeljene na istraživanju, a sada pak upisane unutar konteksta „nacionalnog predstavljanja“, i sučeljene sa pitanjima koja je pokrenuo Todorovićev projekat lociran na istom mestu. Ovo ponovno upisivanje konstruisanih događaja snimljenih u Holandiji, Albaniji, Velikoj Britaniji i Norveškoj ne samo da prikazuje paradoks „nacionalnog predstavljanja“, već i sadrži predlog kako da izađemo na kraj sa našim razlikama i mnogostrukim modalitetima artikulacije. Njeni video radovi su pokrenuti normama uspostavljanja osnovnih ličnih odnosa kroz pokušavanje (neuspešno) da se izgovori nečije ime (u video radu Nema tu „iz“), ali se okreću situacijama u kojima se čini izvestan grupni napor da se povrate ili poboljšaju određene sposobnosti koje nisu motivisane dominantnim vrednostima uspeha i konkurencije, i uzimaju u obzir strukturno neželjeni višak nedoraslosti zadatku, nesigurnosti i nedelotvornosti (u radovima Sve će biti i Devojka, sunce i avion avion).
For the exhibition in Venice, Zdjelar will be showing four videos – under the joint title But if you take my voice, what will be left to me? – which are research-based inscriptions of organized spaces of communication, now re-inscribed within the context of “national representation”, and juxtaposed with the issues raised by the other project situated in the same space. This re-inscription of constructed events filmed in the Netherlands, Albania, the UK and Norway shows not only a paradox of “national representation” but also a proposition for coping with our own differences and manifold modes of articulation. Her videos are initialized by norms of establishing basic personal relations through trying (and failing) to pronounce someone’s name (in the video There Is No Is) but turn to situations in which a certain group effort is made to recover or improve certain abilities which are not motivated by dominant values of success and competition but rather take into consideration an unwanted surplus of inadequacy, insecurity and ineffectiveness (in Everything Is Gonna Be and A Girl, the Sun and an Airplane Airplane).
(4) Katarina Zdjelar in conversation with Taru Elfving for/u konverzaciji sa Taru Elfving za LIAF 08, Lofoten, www.liaf.no
(3) Steve Rushton, ‘The spoken word is an object exploding into space at the speed of sound’, Wherein certain persons, induced to meet for the purpose of conversing together, each speak on the subject they f ind most congenial. Rotterdam: Piet Zwart Institute, 2006.
Nasuprot Todoroviću, skorašnji opus Katarine Zdjelar istražuje procese samorealizacije, sa svim njihovim paradoksima, obećanjima i neuspesima. Kao strana umetnica koja živi u Holandiji, ona nalazi načina da situira sopstveno iskustvo dislociranosti istražujući forme regulisanih sistema komunikacije i učenja, umesto da se usredsredi na gubitak koji ta dislociranost proizvodi. Učenje jezika je od posebnog značaja za Zdjelarovu, pošto je to kodifikovan metod kulturne integracije koji uključuje ne samo simbolički „obred prelaza“ za pojedinca lišenog korena, već i same materijalne i telesne afekte koji oblikuju ovo „telo koje govori“. Njeno zanimanje za jezik prvobitno nije proisteklo iz nekakvih teorijskih lingvističkih preokupacija već iz praktičnih primena „starateljske kontrole“ koju nameću regulisani sistemi društvenog usvajanja i inkluzije u razvijenim, liberalnim društvima sveta. Poslednjih godina, njen rad postao je visoko artikulisano istraživanje mnogostrukih načina na koje se mogu uspostavljati odnosi „između jezičkog koda i fizikalnosti govora“, kao i istraživanje načina na koje nas jezik „spaja u zajednice i kako stvara prostor i raščišćava prostor“, kako je to rekao Stiv Rašton. (3) Analizirajući procese u kojima se stiču verbalne i druge komunikacione veštine, Zdjelarova se, prema sopstvenim rečima, bavi „potencijalima koje donose procesi postajanja i ponovnog izmišljanja, sa svim svojim fizički manifestovanim neizvesnostima i ranjivostima“. (4)
On the other side of the pavilion, opposing Todorović, Katarina Zdjelar’s recent work explores processes of self-realization with all their paradoxes, promises and failures. As a foreign artist based in the Netherlands, she finds a way to situate her own experience of dislocation by investigating forms of regulated systems of communication and learning, rather than focus on the loss churned out by this dislocation. Language learning is of particular significance for Zdjelar as this is a codified method of cultural integration not only involving a symbolic “rite of passage” of the uprooted individual, but also the very material and corporeal affects shaping this “speaking body”. Her interest in language did not initially arise from some theoretical linguistic concerns but out of practical applications of a “caring control” imposed by regulated systems of social adoption and inclusion in the developed, liberal societies of the world. In recent years, her work has become a highly articulated investigation of the manifold ways in which to negotiate ‘between the code of language and the physicality of speech’, as well as an investigation into the ways in which language ‘draws us together into communities and how it makes space and clears space away’, as Steve Rushton put it. (3) Analyzing the processes in which verbal and other skills of communication are acquired Zdjelar, in her own words, works ‘with the potentials that the processes of becoming and re-invention bring, with all of their physically manifest uncertainties and vulnerabilities.’ (4)
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—
Sučeljavajući ova dva umetnička stava, naša namera nije da stvorimo prostor besprekorne celovitosti i harmonije. Upravo suprotno: želimo da suprotstavljene zone savremene umetnosti označimo kao karakteristične za određenog umetnika (artist-specific) kao što su odredjene i lokacijom (site-specific). Možda je naša namera ipak i da predstavimo ono što shvatamo kao značajne teme, vezane kako za srpsko društvo tako i, šire uzev, za svet koji potresa kriza. Želimo da podelimo određene suprotstavljene poglede na svet artikulisane različitim umetničkim pristupima; jedan od njih energično i metodično razrađuje sopstveni prostor fatalizma i otvoreno se poistovećuje sa njim, a drugi, ciljajući istovremeno na našu empatiju i kritičko nepoverenje, uobličava sopstveni prostor angažovanja.
By juxtaposing these two artistic positions, our intention is not to create a seamless space of cohesion and harmony. It is rather the opposite: to mark the contesting zones of contemporary art as artist-specific (as well as site-specific) but to gain something out of this relation/confrontation. It may still be our intention to represent what we understand as major concerns, as both specific to Serbian society but also to the larger world-in-crisis. We want to share certain opposing worldviews articulated by different artistic approaches, one which energetically and methodically acts out and overtly identifies with its own space of fatalism, and one which by aiming simultaneously to our empathy and critical distrust shapes its own space of engagement.
Branislav Dimitrijević
20
Sve što je rečeno o vežbanju glasa – što govore instruktori, stručnjaci, podučavaoci i profesionalci svih vrsta – podrazumeva da ono treba da bude lako i relaksirano, da bude proizvod daha koji ne iziskuje nikakav napor. Glas se mora proizvoditi bez preteranog napora, koji će mu naškoditi ili ga izobličiti.
Everything that is said about the exercise of the voice – by coaches, experts, trainers and voice professionals of all kinds – implies that it should be easy and relaxed, an effortless effect of the breath. The voice must be produced without inordinate stress, which will damage or distort it.
VOICE E X ERCISES:A N I N T RODUC T ION
(GL A SOVNE VE ŽBE : U VOD)
Anke Bangma
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Glas, tvrdi Stiven Konor, može delovati prirodno i kao da ne iziskuje napor, ali istina je suprotna: nema glasa bez napora, bez primene sile, pritiska, naglašavanja. Dela Katarine Zdjelar vizuelizuju ovo nastojanje, ovaj napor, koji može proći neprimećeno kada se tečno govori maternjim jezikom, ali koji, primera radi, izlazi na videlo kada pokušamo da se nastanimo u nekom drugom jeziku. Pohađajući školu jezika za strance u Holandiji i prateći grupu imigranata kroz proces učenja holandskog jezika, Zdjelarova je počela da zapaža kako se pri ulasku na teritoriju nekog stranog jezika stvara jaz između čina vokalizacije i prenošenja poruke. Pojedinci koje je snimila u školi jezika za potrebe svoga video rada Would that be alright with you if I bring my cat along? (Imaš li nešto protiv da ponesem svoju mačku?) (2006) ne bave se prevođenjem svojim misli na novostečeni vokabular, niti čak reprodukovanjem značenja i vrednosti već upisanih u standardne rečenice koje moraju da ponavljaju. Oni obitavaju u zoni gde jezik još uvek nije postao komunikacija i još uvek ništa ne označava.
Ali nema glasa bez napora; bez sputavanja zvuka, generalno uzev, određenim navikama i slučajnostima koje zajedno čine neki glas, i sputavanja tela da bi se proizveo glas. (1)
(1) Steven Connor, ‘The Strains of the Voice’ (2004), www.stevenconnor.com/strains/
Voice, Steven Connor argues, may seem natural and effortless, but it involves the opposite: there is no voice without effort, without the application of force, pressure, stress. Katarina Zdjelar’s works visualize this effort, this strain, which may go unnoticed in the fluency of our mother tongue but which, for instance, becomes apparent when we try to inhabit another language. Attending a language school for foreigners in the Netherlands, and following a group of immigrants in the process of learning Dutch, Zdjelar began to observe how in entering the territory of a foreign language a gap opens up between the act of vocalization and the communication of a message. The individuals she filmed at the language school for her video piece Would that be alright with you if I bring my cat along? (2006) are not engaged in translating their thoughts into a newly acquired vocabulary, not even in reproducing the meanings and values already inscribed in the standard sentences they have to repeat. They inhabit a zone where language is not yet communication and does not yet denote anything.
But there is no voice without strain; without the constraining of sound in general by the particular habits and accidents that, taken collectively, constitute a voice, and the constraining of the body to produce voice. (1)
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Snimljen za potrebe video rada Zdjelarove, napor uložen u govor ispostavlja se, pre svega, kao fizički tour de force. Nenaviknuti na izgovor stranih reči i njihove nepoznate zvuke, jezici se uvijaju i muče, zubi škljocaju i škrguću, usne se izvijaju, lica se grče u grimasu, zapravo čitavo telo se unosi u napor upražnjavanja govora – leđa su izvijena u luk, ramena napeta, vrat se izdužuje kako bi grlu omogućio maksimum vazduha, glava se trza napred kao da želi da još malo pogura grkljan koji se tvrdoglavo opire. Ruke se grče ili nesvesno masiraju mišiće lica i uši. Pogledom se traži potvrda ispravnosti ili se izražava zbunjenost, zamor, pokazuje se da je to zabavno ili se upućuje izvinjenje. Svi ti elementi čine telesni aparat koji proizvodi glas. A sa svoje strane, telo je materijalni efekat toga glasa, uobličeno i manupulisano naporom uloženim u govor.
Jezičke vežbe sadržane u radu Imaš li nešto protiv da ponesem svoju mačku? kao da nisu usredsređene samo na konkretne fraze (Kao prvo – drugo – takođe – konačno; juče – nedelja – protekle nedelje – ikada) već se naročito koncentrišu na uvežbavanje pravilne intonacije. „Mag ik de radio wat zachter zetten? ” – Mogu li malo da utišam radio?, mrmlja neki glas nenametljivo, ponavljajući snimljeno uputsvo, sa onom tipičnom modulacijom kojom se ton povisuje u reči „radio”, tako da zvuči veoma skrušeno i učtivo, bez trunke iritirianosti i autoritativnosti koje bi se nametnule ako bi naglasak bio stavljen na „malo utišam”. Stalno se iznova ponavljajući tokon izgovaranja naizgled neutralnih rečenica, intonacija kao da stranog govornika na jedan suptilan ali istrajan način stavlja u jedan specifičan društveni položaj. Međutim, ova akustična oblast prozodije – gde se značenje nalazi u deliću glasa, u visini tona, melodiji, ritmu i fluktuiranju glasnosti u govoru, a ne u značenjima reči koje se izgovaraju (upotreba glasa koja, prema Darvinu, čak karakteriše društvenu interakciju među životinjama) –samo je jedan aspekt rada Zdjelarove o glasu.
Captured in Zdjelar’s video registrations, the effort to speak presents itself first of all as a physical tour de force. Not accustomed to the pronunciation of the foreign words and their unfamiliar sounds, tongues twist and struggle, teeth click and grind, lips curl, faces contort into a grimace, in fact the entire body is consumed in the effort of speech: the back arched, shoulders tensed, the neck stretching up to allow the throat maximum breathing space, the head jerking forward as if to give the obstinate larynx an extra push. Hands are wrenched or unwittingly massage the facial muscles and the ears. Eyes search for confirmation, or express confusion, fatigue, self-amusement or apology. All these elements form the bodily apparatus that produces voice. And in turn, this body is the material effect of that voice, moulded and manipulated by the strain and struggle of speech.
The language exercises in Would that be alright with you seem to evolve not only around specific turns of phrase (Firstly – secondly – also – f inally; Yesterday – Sunday – the past weeks – ever) but focus especially on practicing proper intonation. ‘Mag ik de radio wat zachter zetten? ’ – May I turn the radio a little lower? a voice mutters modestly, repeating the audio instruction, with that typical modulation that moves up at “radio”, thus sounding exceedingly humble and polite, with none of the irritation and authority that would impose itself if the emphasis would be laid on having the radio “a little lower”. Recurring again and again throughout the seemingly neutral example sentences, the intonation seems to put the non-native speaker in a subtle yet persistent way in a specific social position. But this acoustic domain of prosody – where signification is found in the grain of the voice, in the pitch, melody, rhythm and fluctuation of loudness within speech rather than in the meanings of the words that are being spoken (a use of voice that, according to Darwin, even characterizes the social interaction between animals) – is only one aspect of Zdjelar’s work on voice.
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dvosmisleni način bivstvovanja na teritoriji stranog jezika; njen je glas koliko automat koji papagajski ponavlja toliko i maska. U radu Imaš li nešto protiv da
ponesem svoju mačku? fizikalnost glasa manifestuje se na posebno upečatljiv način kod jednog od polaznika kursa, jedne Azijatkinje. Isprva bi čovek mogao pomisliti da je Zdjelarova razdvojia zvuk i sliku kada se ta žena pojavi na ekranu, kao što ova umetnica i čini na drugim mestima u ovom radu kako bi nam omogućila da pažnju prenesemo sa onoga što čujemo na ono što vidimo. Ali dok čujemo glas instruktorke i studenata oko nje, i dok gledamo kako se njena usta pomeraju, shvatamo da ta žena govori a da nikada zapravo ne izgovara reči. Tiho ali intenzivno, ona upija i reprodukuje sve što se govori – baš sve : pitanja nastavnice, uključujući tu i njena objašnjenja na engleskom i druge napomene; odgovore drugih polaznika kursa, uz sve njihove greške i nervozni smeh; reči i rečenice, njihov ton i modulaciju, poštapalice i iskaze tipa „uuuu”, kao i prateće izraze lica. Čini se da se ta žena potpuno stopila sa svojim fonetskim okruženjem, kao kada mala deca oponašaju sve zvuke koji se čuju oko njih: fraze, nakašljavanje i štucanje, ali i zvuke koje ispušta mačka, zveket činija koji dopire iz kuhinje i zvuk kola koja prolaze pored zgrade – smeju se samo zato što se čuje smeh, uzvikuju samo zato što se čuju uzvici. Ova scena mogla bi se čitati kao egzemplarni primer funkcionisanja ideološkog prilikom našeg uvođenja u jezik, budući da se jezik ovde reprodukuje gotovo po telesnom automatizmu pre nego što se uopšte razmotri šta se to reprodukuje. A istovremeno, ne možemo biti sigurni u takvo upisivanje ideologije u subjektivitet. Tiha mimikrija ove žene je krajnje
And at the same time, we cannot be sure of such inscription of ideology into subjectivity. The woman’s silent mimicry is a highly ambiguous way of inhabiting the territory of foreign language; her voice is as much a parroting automaton as a deceptive cover.
In Would that be alright with you the physicality of voice manifests itself in a most remarkable way in one of the students, an Asian woman. At first one might think that Zdjelar has disconnected image and sound when the woman appears in view, like the artist does at other moments in the video to allow us to shift our attention from what we hear to what we see. But as we hear the voices of the instructor and other students around her, and see her mouth move along, we realize that this woman is speaking without ever actually voicing her speech. Silently but intensely, she absorbs and reproduces everything that is being said – all of it: the teacher’s questions, including her English explanations and other cues; the answers by her fellow students, with all their mistakes and their nervous laughter; the words and sentences, their tone and modulation, the fillers and “oooh’s”, as well as the accompanying facial expressions. The woman seems to be completely one with her phonetic environment, not unlike the way young children can imitate all the sounds that occur around them: phrases, coughs and hiccups, but also the sound of the cat, the clanking of bowls in the kitchen, and the car passing by outside – laughing just because there is laughter, crying just because there are cries. This scene could be read as an exemplary image of the operations of the ideological in our initiation into language, since language is reproduced here almost as a bodily automatism before there is any consideration of what it is that is being reproduced.
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Radovi Zdjelarove nude ovakva pažljiva posmatranja. Situacije zabeležene u njenim radovima veoma su različite. Na primer, rad Don’t Do It Wrong (Nemoj da pogrešiš) (2007) prikazuje grupu školske dece kako, kao i svakog dana, izvode državnu himnu, reagujući, ali ipak ni u jednom trenutku ne učestvujući sasvim u kolektivnom činu koji ovaj otvoreno politički čin zajedničkog pevanja pokušava da nametne. Postoji, međutim, i rad In Unison (U jednom glasnu) (2009), nemi film u kome jedna žena peva, a jezik njenog tela – način na koji pokreće usne, njene oči, uši, izraz lica, način na koji se ljulja napred-nazad – prikazuje glas kao otelotvorenje zajedništva, kao stalno posezanje za nekom društvenim vezom i vraćanje te veze. Ono što je delima Zdjelarove zajedničko jeste insistiranje na glasu i jeziku, ne kao nečemu što posedujemo ili što u potpunosti poseduje nas, već kao događajima. Njena dela odbijaju da donose ishitrene zaključke ili da potvrđuju unapred zauzete stavove o jezičkoj politici; umesto toga, ona traže od nas da pažljivo gledamo i slušamo, i da razmišljamo, ne posredstvom veoma uopštenih iskaza već na osnovu detalja svakog konkretnog snimljenog primera, šta to glas proizvodi.
U kulturi Zapada, glas je blisko povezan sa pojmom namere, volje i prisustva. Ulažući napor da se oglasim, pokazujem da sam tu, kao biće koje je prisutno u svetu i deluje u njemu. Snaga glasa je snaga samousmeravanja. Posedovanje glasa uzima se kao glavni uslov ličnog i političkog delovanja, a naš politički rečnik je stoga prožet glasovnim metaforama: posedovanje glasa podrazumeva glasanje – pravo na predstavljanje i razmatranje nečije volje i stavova, a glas je neposredni zastupnik toga. U tom režimu glasa, kada neko nije u stanju da govori, to podrazumeva obespravljenost. Stoga se veliki značaj pridaje obespravljenosti onih koji nemaju glas, i etičkom imperativu davanja glasa onima koji su ućutkani. Ali u radu Zdjelarove, nesposobnost govora ne znači nužno i odsustvo glasa. U stvari, što je paradoksalno, tamo gde glas zastaje ili ne uspeva da se čuje, gde je odvojen od volje i prisustva govornika, gde nije jasno šta taj glas zapravo predstavlja, tu se taj glas manifestuje i možemo ga pažljivo posmatrati.
Zdjelar’s works offer such attentive observations. The situations captured in her work vary widely. Don’t Do It Wrong (2007), for example, shows a group of Turkish schoolchildren in their daily practice of performing the national anthem, responding to and yet never quite contained within the collective body that their overtly political ritual of communal singing tries to impose. But there is also In Unison (2009), a silent film of a singing woman, whose body language – the way she directs her mouth, her eyes, her ears, her face; her rocking back and forth – shows the voice as an embodiment of communality, as a constant reaching for and returning of a social bond. What Zdjelar’s works share is their insistence on voice and language not as something that we possess or that takes full possession of us, but as events. They refuse to jump to conclusions or confirm preconceptions about language politics, and ask us instead to look and listen closely and to consider, not in general sweeping statements but in the minutiae of each specific instance filmed, what it is that voice produces.
Voice, in Western culture, is intimately entwined with the idea of intention, of willpower and presence. By exerting my voice, I manifest myself out there, as a being that is present in, and acting upon the world. Vocal power is the power to self-direct. The possession of a voice is taken as the main condition for personal and political agency, and our political vocabulary is therefore infused with vocal metaphors: having a voice implies having a vote – having the right to present and receive consideration of one’s will and views, of which the voice acts as a direct representative. In this regime of voice, not being able to speak implies disempowerment. Much is therefore made of the disenfranchised position of those who have no voice, and of the ethical imperative to give a voice to those who are silenced. But in Zdjelar’s work, the inability to speak is not necessarily the absence of voice. In fact, paradoxically, it is there where voice halts or fails, where it is disconnected from the will and presence of its speaker, where it is unclear what voice actually represents, that voice manifests itself, and that we can observe it with attention.
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Eseji predstavljeni u ovoj publikaciji mogu se čitati kao reagovanja na događanja glasa i jezika u delima Zdjelarove. Značajno je što se njena dela razlikuju po tome kako se odnose prema posmatranim glasovima i telima, i kako se poistovećuju sa psihološkim, društvenim i političkim uslovima koji su u njima odraženi. Jan Fervert, Katarina Zdjelar, Branimir Stojanović i Frans-Vilem Korsten svi eksplicitno prizivaju jedan subjekat – jedno „mi” – čije napore i borbu oni uviđaju. Ali taj subjekat – to „mi” – radikalno je drugačiji od jednog teksta do drugog, od građanina sveta do stranca, od ljubavnika koji preuzima akcenat voljene osobe do kolonijalnog subjekta jezičke politike, od objekta do posmatrača istorije. Njihovi tekstovi su stoga koliko tumačenja radova Zdjelarove toliko i razrade njihovog sopstvenog bivstvovanja na teritoriji glasa i jezika.
The essays presented in this publication can be read as responses to the events of voice and language in Zdjelar’s works. Significantly, they diverge in how they relate to the voices and bodies observed, and how they identify with the psychological, social and political conditions they see reflected in them. Jan Verwoert, Katarina Zdjelar, Branimir Stojanović and Frans-Willem Korsten all explicitly invoke a subject – a “we” – whose effort and struggle they recognize. But this subject – this “we” – is radically different from one text to the next, from the world citizen to the foreigner, from the lover taking on the accent of his loved one to the colonial subject of language politics, from the object to the observer of history. Their texts are thus as much interpretations of Zdjelar’s works as elaborations on their own inhabitation of the complex territory of voice and language.
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Mi govorimo sa akcentom. Zato razmišljamo sa akcentom. Naša iskustva su takođe uvek na neki način akcentovana . Time što živimo na određeni način, akcenat naših života je na određenim stvarima, a ne na nekim drugim stvarima. Možda je to pomalo nalik mirisu naših tela.
We speak with an accent. This is why we think with an accent. Our experiences are also always in some way accentuated. By virtue of living in a particular way the accent of our lives is on certain things rather than others. So we live with an accent.
MOV E YOU R LI PS TO T H IS(I N PR A ISE OF ACC E N T S)
(POKREĆITE USNE UZ OVO (POHVAL A AKCENT IMA))
Jan Verwoert
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No, mimo toga, izvan granica eksplicitne verbalne komunikacije, postoji još jedan, egzistencijalniji vid razgovora koji možda samo počinje granicama i na granicama koje određuju akcenti. To je razgovor koji započinje kada ste dirnuti zvukom nečijeg glasa, kada vas određeni način na koji ta osoba izgovara reči pokrene, kada vas navede da poželite da odgovorite – i uđete u razgovor – na zvuk njihovog glasa zvukom svoga glasa. Reagovanje na akcenat drugog vašim akcentom može postati način deljenja životnog iskustva koje se ne može izraziti rečima, ali koje ipak izlazi na videlo kroz vaš akcenat, ako mu vi to dozvolite. Jedan način reagovanja je da imitirate akcenat drugoga pokrećući usne kada i on ili ona. To je fizička reakcija. Ona se dešava nesvesno kada preuzmete neki akcenat, akcenat osobe sa kojom živite, na primer, i uhvatite sebe da izgovarate reči koje ta osoba koristi na način na koji ih ona izgovara. Osećate njeno prisustvo na vrhu jezika. To se dešava kada se granica akcenta pretvori u prag na kome srećete drugoga, u liminalnu zonu u kojoj možete boraviti zajedno posredstvom mimikrije.
But beyond that, beyond the limits of explicit verbal communication, there is another, more existential form of exchange that perhaps only begins with, and on, the limits set by accents. It’s an exchange that starts when you are touched by the sound of someone’s voice, when the particular way in which that person pronounces words moves you, when it makes you want to reply – and chime in – to the sound of their voice with the sound of your voice. Responding to the accent of the other with yours can then become a way of sharing an experience of life which cannot be put into words, but which nevertheless comes through in your accent, if you allow it to. One way of responding is to mimic the other’s accent by moving your lips as he or she does. It’s physical. It happens unconsciously when you pick up an accent, the accent of the person you are living with, for instance, as you find yourself pronouncing the words they use in the way they pronounce them. You feel their presence on the tip of your tongue. This is when the limit of the accent turns into a threshold on which you encounter the other, a liminal zone, which you may inhabit together through mimicry.
Možda poželimo da ga sakrijemo pred drugima, ali on često izbija na površinu kada smo uzbuđeni ili iscrpljeni, ili već nekako nemamo potpunu kontrolu nad sobom. Ovim ne pokušavam da kažem da je to biološki uslovljeno. To je više od toga. To je egzistencijalno. I divno je. Akcenti su uslov da budemo kakvi jesmo jedni prema drugima. U svakom slučaju, oni omeđuju našu sposobnost da jedni druge razumemo. Mnogo toga što bismo poželeli da kažemo nikada ne dopire do drugih zato što biva zamagljeno, učinjeno nerazumljivim zbog konkretnog zvuka naših glasova, naše intonacije ili izgovora. Šta rekoste? Molim? A?
It might be a little like the smell of our bodies. We may want to hide it in front of others but often enough it comes through when we are agitated or exhausted or somehow not fully in control of ourselves. I’m not trying to say that this is biological. It’s more than that. It’s existential. And it’s beautiful. Accents are a condition for us being how we are towards each other. Surely, they delimit our abilities to understand one another. Many things that we might want to say never come across because they are obscured, made incomprehensible, by that particular sound of our voices, our intonation or our pronunciation. What was that? Pardon? Ey?
The lipsshould tingle!
Speech therapist Robin S. Wooldridge instructing one of his pupils at The Wooldridge School of Speech and Voice, Birmingham, 2008
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Protiv njih se bori ili oni ostaju kao podsetnici neuspeha da se približi normi.
respective society, is confronted by and subjected to. Accents present obstacles in this process. They are fought or remain as reminders of a failure to approximate the norm.
Imagine a balland glide over it!
Ako je, međutim, prilagođavanje akcentima drugih zapravo način da se stvori jedan drugačiji vid dobrodošlice, onda surovost društvenih struktura koje potiskuju akcente – ili sprečavaju da se oni mešaju putem mimikrije – postaje tim očiglednija u svetlu mogućnosti zajedništva koju te strukture ukidaju. Klasna društva (Britanija je očigledan primer za to) štite svoje hijerarhije pomoću akcenata koji razdvajaju pripadnike različitih klasa poput jezičkih belega koji se dobijaju rođenjem. Bilo kakav nesavršen pokušaj oponašanja akcenta vladajućih klasa razotkriće onoga ko se uspinje uz društvenu lestvicu kao varalicu. Sa prodorom modernosti, ovaj društveni poredak nedodirljivih jezičkih razlika dopunjen je (a ne prevaziđen, jer su klasne strukture ostale na svom mestu) režimom nametnute jezičke uniformnosti. Konstrukt moderne nacije blisko je povezan sa verovanjem da ljudi jedne nacije govore jednim jezikom. Od devetnaestog veka naovamo, stvaranje modernih nacija je stoga bilo – i nastavlja da bude – neodvojivo od napora usmerenih na to da se iznađu, uspostave i sprovode određene konvencije u pogledu toga kako govoriti neki jezik kao društvenu normu koja čini nacionalni identitet (čemu su paralelni napori da se potisnu jezici manjina kojima se govori u istoj toj zemlji). Sa tom jezičkom normom suočava se i podvrgava joj se svako ko pokušava ili je nateran da nauči standardni jezik, često u okviru nastojanja ili zato što je nateran da postane član tog društva. Akcenti predstavljaju prepreke u tom procesu.
If attuning oneself to each other’s accents should then actually be a way of creating a different form of conviviality, however, the cruelty of social structures that suppress accents – or prevent them from mixing through mimicry – becomes all the more glaring in the light of the possibilities of being together that they foreclose. Class-based societies (Britain being the obvious example) protect their hierarchies through accents that segregate members of different classes like linguistic birthmarks. Any imperfect attempt to emulate the accent of the ruling classes will expose the social climber as an impostor. With the break of modernity, this social order of untouchable linguistic difference became complemented (rather than surpassed, where class structures stayed in place) by a regime of imposed linguistic uniformity. The construct of the modern nation is closely linked to the belief that the people of one nation speak one language. From the nineteenth century onwards, the creation of modern nations therefore was – and continues to be – inseparable from orchestrated efforts to invent, establish and enforce particular conventions of how to speak a language as a social norm constitutive of national identity (paralleled by attempts to repress minority languages spoken in the same country). It is this linguistic norm that anyone seeking or being forced to learn a standard language, often in the process of seeking or being forced to become a member of the
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In Would that be alright with you if I bring my cat along? (2006) Zdjelar scans such a scene of schooling. The video is composed of a series of shots taken in a language school class for immigrants in Holland: studies of the facial play of people performing pronunciation exercises, repeating words, over and over. Assuming neither the perspective of the teacher nor the student, the gaze of Zdjelar’s camera hovers in an in between space, it wanders across the room, freed from the duty to pay attention to the lessons, like the gaze of someone whose mind slips would drift to maybe attach themselves to the features of a fellow student sitting nearby. From the vantage point of this fascinated gaze, drifting, distanced, yet at the same time fully dedicated to detail, Zdjelar captures precisely those minute facial movements that testify to similar ambivalences in the participants’ attitude towards the instruction procedures. Even if people should dutifully lip-synch the instructor’s discourse, signs of a certain uncooperativeness may be equally tangible in expressions of hesitation, scepticism, shyness or general reserve. The conflict between compliance and resistance is traced in the sometimes ever so slight tension in the facial play and body language. Zdjelar thereby pointedly describes a particular zone of indeterminacy that people create in relation to power, when they neither fully comply with, nor openly resist its impositions, but rather keep it at a certain distance to protect their own space, the space of the body, the space created in the rhythm of opening and closing one’s mouth.
U radu Would that be alright with you if I bring my cat along? (Imaš li nešto protiv da ponesem svoju mačku?) (2006), Zdjelarova se bavi jednim takvim prizorom učenja jezika. Ovaj video rad sastoji se od niza snimaka načinjenih tokom časa jezika u školi za imigrante u Holandiji: to su studije izraza lica ljudi koji rade vežbe izgovora, stalno iznova ponavljaju reči. Ne zauzimajući ni perspektivu nastavnika niti perspektivu studenta, pogled kamere Zdjelarove lebdi u prostoru između njih, luta po učionici osobođen dužnosti da prati predavanje, kao što bi se pogled nekoga kome misli lutaju možda zaustavio na crtama lica nekog drugog studenta koji sedi u blizini. Iz perspektive ovog fasciniranog pogleda, koji luta, distanciran, a ipak u potpunosti posvećen detaljima, Zdjelarova hvata upravo one sićušne pokrete lica koji svedoče o sličnoj ambivalentnosti u stavovima učesnika prema procesu nastave. Čak i kada ti ljudi sa dužnom pažnjom ponavljaju diskurs nastavnika, mogu biti opipljivo prisutni i znaci izvesne nevoljnosti da sarađuju, vidljivi u izrazima oklevanja, skepticizma, stidljivosti ili opšte rezervisanosti. Taj sukob između saradnje i otpora vidljiv je i u katkada gotovo neprimetnoj tenziji u izrazu lica i jezika tela. Zdjelarova na taj način naglašeno opisuje zonu neodređenosti koju ljudi stvaraju u odnosu na moć, kada niti potpuno sarađuju niti se otvoreno suprotstavljaju njenim nalozima, već zadržavaju izvesnu distancu kako bi zaštitili sopstveni prostor, prostor tela, prostor stvoren u ritmu otvaranja i zatvaranja usta.
U svome radu Katarina Zdjelar ulazi u ovu oblast politike akcenta i kreće se njome. U svojim video radovima i performansima, ona beleži i stvara egzemplarne situacije u kojima se pojavljuje prag između jezika – zonu u kojoj se akcenti pojavljuju, sukobljavaju, stapaju, suočavaju sa represijom ili se potvrđuju, nesvesno, prkosno ili naprosto po zadatom režimu. Sve je u detaljima. Zdjelarova se usredsređuje upravo na trenutke kada među glasovima dođe do rezonance, jezici prave omaške a usne se pokreću sinhronizovano ili ne sa usnama nastavnika jezika. Na sopstveno zaprepašćenje, može se desiti da uhvatite sebe kako pokrećete usne dok posmatrate ovaj video, intuitivno, čak automatski, učestvujući u ovom obredu učenja. Odlazeći dalje od pukog dokumentovanja, dalje od pukog predstavljanja, Zdjelarova time dotiče telesnu dimenziju jezičke politike, te koliko društvene toliko i fizičke prakse mimikrije i disciplinarnog učenja koje ta politike uključuje.
It is this field of the politics of the accent that Katarina Zdjelar enters and traverses in her work. In her videos and performances she records and creates exemplary situations in which the threshold between languages appears – the zone in which accents emerge, clash, merge, face repression or reassert themselves, unconsciously, defiantly or simply by default. It’s all in the details. Zdjelar homes in on precisely the moments when voices resonate with each other, tongues slip and lips move in or out of synch with those of a language instructor. Stunned, you might in fact find yourself moving your lips too, while watching the video, intuitively, automatically even, participating in this rite of instruction. Going beyond documentation, beyond mere representation, Zdjelar thus touches on the bodily dimension of language politics and the social as much as physical practices of mimicry and disciplinary schooling that it involves.
Bend!
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Rad Everything Is Gonna Be (Sve će biti) (2008) takođe je u potpunosti posvećen glasovima koji se prilagođavaju jedni drugima, ali u ovom slučaju zaista se radi o muzičkoj probi koja se snima. U domaćem okruženju (sa skandinasvskom atmosferom) jedna grupa sredovečnih muškaraca i žena horski izvodi pesmu Bitlsa „Revolution“ („Revolucija“) (1968) uz pratnju klavira. Pevaju sasvim dobro. Ipak, čuje se – i vidi – da oni još uvek uče tu pesmu. Svi su manje-više usklađeni sa drugima, ali kako da intoniraju pesmu, to jest, gde da stave akcenat i da dodaju emocionalni naglasak očito im nije još uvek jasno dok se smenjuju pasaži koji odišu entuzijazmom i oni u kojima pevači ulažu manje energije, a više su koncentrisani na to da otpevaju prave note. Otuda se u promenljivom intenzitetu različitih glasova oseća društvena dinamika koja je karakteristična za probe: dok pevate, osluškujete glasove oko vas i pokušavate da se usaglasite sa njima, tako da se, dok se pesma stalno iznova peva, odnosi među glasovima postepeno uravnotežuju a različiti izvođači iznalaze način da se uklope u opšti zvuk. Posmatrajući jezik telesnih gestova pevača, vidite da se oni nalaze u tom ambivalentnom stanju: sede uspravno dok pevaju a naslone se dok slušaju sebe, opuštaju se dok pevaju a pokazuju nesigurnost dok donose sud o tome i prilagođavaju svoje pevanje. Na egzemplaran način, nesigurnost koja se oseća u procesu formiranja kolektivnog glasa odražava pažljivo, čak rezervisano prihvatanje revolucionarne sile izraženo u tekstu Lenonove pesme (priziva se duh
Everything Is Gonna Be (2008) is also all about voices adapting to each other, yet in this case it is indeed a music rehearsal that is being filmed. In a domestic environment (with a Scandinavian touch) a group of middle-aged men and women perform, as a choir, accompanied by a piano, the song ‘Revolution’ (1968) by The Beatles. They sing quite well. Nonetheless, you hear – and see – that they are still in the process of learning the song. Everybody is more or less in tune with the others but how to intonate, that is, where to put the accent and add emotional emphasis, is apparently still unclear as passages in which a surge of enthusiasm is felt interchange with passages in which the singers invest less energy, concentrating more on hitting the right notes. In the changing intensity of the different voices one thus senses the social dynamics characteristic of a rehearsal: while singing, you listen to the voices around you and try out ways of relating to them, so that, as the song is sung repeatedly, the relation between the voices gradually balances itself out and the different performers find ways to chime in with the overall sound. Looking at the body language of the singers you can see that they are in this ambivalent state: sitting up while singing and sitting back while listening to themselves, relaxing as they perform and showing insecurity as they judge and adjust their performance. In an exemplary way, the tentative quality of this gradual formation of a collective voice then mirrors the cautious,
The Perfect Sound (2008) emphasizes this physical momentum further. The video portrays a session with a British speech therapist who conducts accent removal exercises with a client. Taking the rhythm with which therapist and client repeat the sounds of vowels and consonants as a cue for the timing of the cuts in her video, Zdjelar produces an experience that has the intensity of a piece of music. Time and again the soundtrack in fact is accompanied by no images, just a black frame, whereupon the next take will again be image and sound. With a pace that is steady but tense, somewhat edgy, the rhythm of the sequence could be written out: Silence Sound Sound Cut Image Sound Silence Sound Cut Sound Sound Image Cut …What you hear and see – mostly in close-ups on the two faces, yet often also in the therapist’s hands mimicking the motions of the mouth through gestures – are exercises in intonation so physical that they remind you, not just of a singing lesson, but in fact more of a gymnastics class. Zdjelar makes it clear that accent removal is literally about retraining your facial muscles. At times the disciplining character of the exercises is so strong, much like a military drill, that it begins to border on the absurd. At other times, a peculiar form of complicity – something conspiretional – comes through in the therapist’s gentle insistence, as if he were preparing a spy for infiltrating a hostile country, or, given that the pronunciation taught is that of the Queen’s English: a different class.
The Perfect Sound (Savršeni zvuk) (2008) dodatno naglašava ovaj fizički zamah. Ovaj video rad prikazuje sesiju sa jednim britanskim terapeutom za govor koji radi vežbe otklanjanja akcenta sa jednim klijentom. Preuzimajući ritam kojim terapeut i klijent ponavljaju samoglasnike i suglasnike kao signal za pravljenje rezova u svom video radu, Zdjelarova stvara doživljaj koji poseduje intenzitet jedne muzičke kompozicije. Ovaj zvučni snimak zapravo se u određenim intervalima stalno kombinuje sa odsustvom slike, vidi se samo crni kvadrat, a sledeći kadar opet sadrži sliku i ton. Tempom koji je postojan ali napet, pomalo nervozan, ritam ove sekvence mogao bi se predstaviti na sledeći način: tišina - zvuk - zvuk - rez - slika - zvuk - tišina - zvuk - rez - zvuk - zvuk - slika - rez… Ono što čujete i vidite – uglavnom u krupnim kadrovima dva lica, a ipak često i u rukama terapeuta koje gestovima oponašaju pokrete usta – jesu vežbe intonacije toliko fizičke da vas podsećaju ne samo na čas pevanja već, zapravo, više na čas gimnastike: Zdjelarova jasno stavlja do znanja da uklanjanje akcenta doslovno znači učiti da drugačije pokrećete mišiće lica. Disciplinujući karakter vežbi katkada je tako snažan, mnogo više nalik vojničkom drilu, da počinje da se graniči sa apsurdnim. U drugim momentima, jedan osoben oblik spremnosti na saradnju – nešto konspiratorno pomalja se iz blagog insistiranja terapeuta, kao da priprema nekog špijuna da se infiltrira u neku neprijateljsku zemlju, ili, imajući u vidu da izgovor koji se uči karakteriše otmeni engleski: da se infiltrira u drugu klasu.
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Pažljivo slušajući i posmatrajući šta se dešava na pragu gde se glasovi sa različitim akcentima sreću i oponašaju jedni druge, Zdjelarova dolazi do duboke fenomenološke spoznaje modaliteta stvaranja, nametanja ili izbegavanja različitih društvenih odnosa posredstvom različitih načina zvučanja glasa: prećutni vidovi otpora ili trenuci rezervisanosti pred nametnutim standardima govora, konspitatorni vid mimikrije koji modulira identitet govornika, ili najzad, jedan vid nesigurnog prilagođavanja drugima, koji svojim nagoveštajima mogućeg uspostavljanja muzičkog kolektiva, čak i sasvim malim gestom, donekle unosi element utopijskog. „Dodir“ ovde možda nije čak ni metafora. Jer, upravo na nivou kada nas dotaknu – to jest, na nivou kada na nas fizički utiču – efekti mimetičkih refleksa dok gledamo ljude kako su zaokupljeni nečim u video radovima Zdjelarove, uočavamo kako nas zaokupljaju ti radovi pošto njihovo plastično prikazivanje borbe sa intonacijom gotovo neizbežno u nekom trenutku natera i naše usne da se mimetički pokreću. U etičkom smislu, ovaj element mimikrije možda zapravo predstavlja vid empatije.
By carefully listening to and looking at what happens on the threshold where voices with different accents meet and mimic each other, Zdjelar thus arrives at profound phenomenological insights into the modalities of how different social relations are created, imposed or shunned through particular ways of sounding one’s voice: tacit modes of non-compliance or moments of reserve in the face of imposed standards of speaking; a conspiratorial mode of mimicry that modulates the identity of the speaker; or finally, a mode of tentatively attuning oneself to one another, which in its implications for the possible formation of a musical collective, even as a very small gesture, has a somewhat utopian touch to it. “Touch” is here perhaps not even a metaphor. For it is precisely on the level of being touched – that is physically affected – by the effects of mimetic reflexes that we witness people engage in Zdjelar’s videos and find ourselves engaged by the videos as their visceral rendering of the struggles with intonation almost inevitably at some point will make our lips move mimetically. In ethical terms, this touch of mimicry might actually be a form of empathy.
promene, a ipak se insistira na tome da, kada dođe do nasilja, na njega ne treba računati).
even reserved embrace of collective revolutionary force expressed in Lennon’s lyrics (invoking the spirit of change, yet insisting that, when it comes to violence, one should count him out).
Stretch itjust a bit more!
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A kada je već reč o elementu utopijskog, pre neki dan me je jedan prijatelj sa Novog Zelanda upitao da li ću ovog leta ići na Bijenale na Veneri. Sasvim zbunjen, a opet istinski uzbuđen iznenandnim nagoveštajem mogućnosti, moj um se u jednom trenutku sreće vinuo do zvezda, a onda sam se prisetio kako novozelandski akcenat tretira samoglasnike „i“ i „e“. Ipak, taj akcenat je na trenutak otvorio jedan drugačiji univerzum. Činio se stvarnim. Znači, to mora da je moguće. Čovek mora samo pažljivo slušati, naučiti da mimetički pokreće usne i malo pustiti mašti na volju. Da završim u tom tonu: prijatno provedite leto, i nadam se, vidimo se na Veneri!
Apropos utopian touch: coincidentally, the other day a friend from New Zealand asked me whether I was going to the Venus Biennial this summer. Utterly dumbfounded, yet genuinely thrilled by a sudden sense of possibility, my mind took off on a trip to the stars for one happy second, before it came back to me how the New Zealand accent affects the vowels “i” and “e”. Still, for an instant the accent opened up a different universe. It felt real. So it must be possible. One has to just listen closely, learn to mimetically move one’s lips and stretch the imagination a bit. On this note: have a good summer and, hopefully, si yu en Venus!
* igra reči u originalu: touch (engl. –dodir) može da znači i „primesa, dodatak, element“, prim. prev.
** tako da se u izgovoru čuje Venus (Venera) umesto Venice (Venecija), prim. prev.
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Glas je sada. Ništa nam ne daje tako jasno i bolno osećanje prisustva kao kada se čuje ili ispušta glas. On se urezuje u našu nutrinu, zrači iz naše nutrine i čini da budemo prisutni u trenutku kada ga čujemo ili emitujemo, on povlači za sobom uranjanje u tajne glasa drugog i iznenađenost rezonantnošću našeg sopstvenog glasa; i jedan i drugi su intenzivno prisutni a istovremeno neuhvatljivi, ističu onog trenutka kada se pojave.
Voice is now. Nothing gives us such an incisive and poignant sense of presence as hearing and emitting a voice. It cuts into our interior, it emanates from our interior and makes us be present at the moment of its hearing and emission, it entails being immersed in the secrets of the voice of the other and being amazed by the resonance of our own voice; both are intensely there and at the same time elusive, elapsing the moment they arise.
T H E PER FEC T SOU N D
(SAVRŠENI Z V UK )
Mladen Dolar
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Glas je priroda . Čovek dolazi na ovaj svet plačući sa prvim svojim dahom, gonjen prvim neodoljivim nagonom. Ali istovremeno, glas je implantat , on može da funkcioniše samo kada je podvrgnut strogim pravilima, disciplinarnom ukalupljivanju, ugrađivanju. On je strano telo u nečijem telu, nešto najprirodnije pretvoreno u protetičko pomagalo.
Voice is nature. One comes into this world crying along with the very first breath, propelled by the first irresistible impulse. Yet, voice is an implant, it can only function when submitted to a rigorous regimentation, disciplinary moulding, incrustation. It is a foreign body within one’s body, the most natural thing turned into prosthesis.
Ipak, premda je sada, glas je istorija . Ne možemo čuti glas a da on ne nosi sa sobom i neku priču, istoriju, ukazujuci na mrežu tragova, ogromno obilje iskustva. On nosi sa sobom tragove svoga telesnog porekla, pljuvačke, grla, disanja, pluća, želuca, pokreta jezika, uskog prolaza kroz glasne žice – sve to ima svoj produžetak u glasu, koji kao da je nematerijalno izašao iz njih i ostavio ih za sobom. On razglašava tajne nečijeg emocionalnog stanja, samopouzdanje ili njegovo pomanjkanje, uznemirenost, patnju, uzbuđenost, ljutnju, zadovoljstvo, blaženost, on otkriva namere, zavođenje, zastrašivanje, molbu za milost, poziv za pomoć. A pored toga, kroz sve to on odaje ličnu istoriju i konstituciju, pol, starosno doba, region, obrazovanje, detinjstvo, kulturu, obučenost, društveni status, životno iskustvo i društvenu praksu – sve se to krišom uvuče u glas, obeleži ga, umrlja ga, usmerava ga, kontaminira ga, infiltrira se u njega. Ne postoji čist glas, ne postoji savršen zvuk, čim se začuje, on negde naginje i obojen je. Glas je mrlja i ljaga, uvek smo već izbačeni iz raja glasovne čistote, padamo zbog svog glasa, naš je glas uvek obeležen grehom naše jedinstvenosti. Glas je ljudska mrlja , a ljudsko je ono što ostavlja za sobom mrlju, da se podsetimo naslova romana Filipa Rota.
Yet, while being now, voice is history. We cannot hear a voice without it carrying a story along with it, a history, a telltale web of traces, a vast panoply of experience. It brings forth marks of its bodily emission: saliva, throat, breathing, lungs, stomach, tongue movements, the narrow passage through the vocal cords, all extend themselves in the voice, which seems to have immaterially departed from them and left them behind. It divulges the secrets of one’s emotional state: self-confidence or the lack of it, distress, anguish, arousal, anger, contentment or bliss. It discloses intentions, seduction, intimidation, a plea for mercy, a cry for help. And further, through all of that, it betrays the personal history and habitus, gender, age, region, education, childhood, culture, training, social status, a lifetime of experience and social practice – they all sneak into the voice, they taint it, they stain it, they slant it, they contaminate, they infiltrate. There is no pure voice, there is no perfect sound, and the moment it sounds it is tilted and tinged. The voice is a blot and a stigma, one has always already been expelled from the paradise of vocal purity, one has fallen by means of one’s own voice, and one’s voice is always marked by the sin of one’s singularity. Voice is a human stain, and the human, to recall Philip Roth, is what leaves a stain.
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Glas odaje, otkriva da li bi čovek nešto želeo ili ne, otkriva telesno, emotivno, društveno, a pošto otkriva ono što bi čovek radije ostavio skrivenim, u njemu je lociran napor da se drži pod kontrolom i sakrije. On emituje i maskira, on je nešto najličnije i njegova maska. Glas maskira ono što otkriva, on istovremeno maskira i demaskira.
Voice gives away, it reveals whether or not one would want to, it discloses the corporeal, the emotional, the social, and since it unveils what one would rather keep veiled, it is the locus of the effort of control and concealment. It broadcasts and it disguises, it is one’s most proper and its masquerade. Voice masks what it discloses, it masks and unmasks at the same time.
The Woman PedlarThe Coster Girl
The Laundry WomanThe Char Woman,
etc.
Speak in a loud harsh voice, without any thought of grammar.
Some notes as to the personation of woman characters from Arthur Prince, ‘Humming and the Female Voice’, The Whole Art of Ventriloquism, 1915.
Glas je jedinstven. Izgleda da je to nešto najličnije moje, on ima svojstvo otiska prsta koje ga čini smesta prepoznatljivim, nečim što se odnosi samo na mene, čini svaki glas drugačijim od bilo kog drugog glasa, čime svedoči o neopisivosti lične jedinstvenosti, individualnosti i neuporedivosti. Međutim, čini se da ne postoji ništa što je u većoj meri društveno određeno nego što je to glas. Glas je oličenje društvenog. U okviru svoje jedinstvenosti, on predstavlja primer neke vrste, klase – klase kako u njenom naizgled neutralnom klasifikatorskom smislu, kao kategorije, grupe kojoj se pripada, tako i u njenom antagonističkom društvenom otelotvorenju u klasnom društvu. On odaje „primesu klase“, kako u onom uobičajenom pozitivnom značenju, tako i u onom negativnom. Glas je klasna borba .
Voice is unique. It seems to be most personally mine, it has the quality of a fingerprint that makes it instantly recognizable, pertaining to me alone, each voice different from any other, testifying to the ineffability of personal uniqueness, individuality and inimitability. Yet, there seems to be nothing more socially determined than the voice. Voice is the epitome of the social. Within its very uniqueness it exemplifies a type, a class – a class both in its seemingly neutral classificatory sense, a category, a group one belongs to, and in its antagonistic social embodiment within a class society. It betrays “the touch of class”, both in its usual elevated sense and in its lowly counterpart. Voice is class struggle.
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U ovom komadu odigrava se drama svakog glasa najjednostavnijim sredstvima. Tu se iznova odvija prvobitna drama bebe koja se nosi sa glasom drugog, sa majčinim glasom, glasom odrasle osobe, koji nastoji da usadi normu u neobuzdani glas pretpostavljene prirode, da usmeri prirodno svojstvo, da manipuliše nečim što se ne može manipulisati. To je permanentna drama, čovek nikada nije sasvim kompetentan govornik, njegov glas nikada nije sasvim ukroćen i stavljen pod kontrolu.
The piece enacts the drama of every voice by the simplest of means. It re-enacts the initial drama of a baby grappling with the voice of the other, the mother’s voice, the voice of the adult, which tries to inculcate the norm into the unruly voice of nature, to bend the natural inclination to ply the un-pliable. It is a permanent drama, one is never quite a competent speaker, and one’s voice is never quite tamed and brought under control.
Ovaj veoma kratak prikaz jedne veoma duge priče, apstraktan kakav već jeste u svojoj kratkoći, čini samu suštinu izuzetnog i suptilnog rada Katarine Zdjelar. Ovaj rad iznosi ga na scenu i čini snažno opipljivim, on deluje kroz kontradiktorno polje sila na kome počiva glas, ukratko skicirane kontradikcije na kojima počiva svaki glas. Situacija koju razmatra je naizgled bezazlena. Glas je dvostruk . Onog trenutka kada izgovorimo glas, mi izgovaramo dva glasa, jedan koji usmerava i uobličava, i jedan koji je usmeravan i uobličen. Imamo nastavnika i đaka, koji se očigledno razlikuju po starosnom dobu i društvenom položaju. Nije nam data informacija o postavci, ali sve nam govori glas, u sazvučju, saglasju i kakofoniji dva glasa, njihovoj borbi, njihovom duetu, njihovoj antifoniji. Ovo je jezička škola, ne škola u kojoj se uči jezik već škola u kojoj se uči pravilan zvuk, kako da se glas očisti od bilo kakvog akcenta. Postoji glas koji vodi igru i glas koji mu odgovara, a glas koji odgovara nikada ne može biti sasvim ravan onom prvom. Vodeći glas je standard, kalup, mera, glas koji odgovara pokušava da ga oponaša, kopira, nikada sasvim uspevajući u tome.
This very brief outline of a very long story, abstract as it is in its brevity, forms the very substance of Katarina Zdjelar’s remarkable and subtle work. This work stages it and makes it forcefully palpable; it works through the contradictory field of forces that sustains the voice, the briefly sketched contradictions which uphold every voice.The situation it scrutinizes is seemingly innocuous. Voice is two. The moment we say voice we say two voices, the one that directs and moulds and the one that is directed and moulded. We have a teacher and a pupil, who obviously differ in their age and social status. We are not informed about the set-up, but the voice says it all, in the co-sounding, the harmony and cacophony of the two voices, their strife, their duet, their antiphony. This is a language school, not a school teaching language, but a school teaching the proper sound, teaching how to purify the voice of any accent. There is the voice that leads the game and the voice that responds, and the responding voice can never quite measure up to the first. The leading voice is the standard, the mould, the measure that the responding voice tries to emulate and copy, never quite succeeding.
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Staljin je nekoliko godina pre smrti napisao jedan notorni rad o lingvistici, od svih mogućih tema, u kome je tvrdio da jezik „služi društvu u svome totalitetu kao instrument komunikacije među ljudima“, da je „zajedničko svojstvo svih članova društva i da ujedinjuje društvo kao celinu“, da „podjednako služi svim članovima društva bez obzira na njihov klasni položaj“, budući da je, uistinu, „indiferentan spram klasa“. Ništa nije dalje od istine, a bolna istina o klasi, koja prožima svaki iskaz i svaki zvuk, ovde je demonstrirana u laboratorijskim uslovima. Ishod toga je jasan: nema ničeg neutralnog u jeziku, a to ne važi samo za rečnik, sintaksu i značenje, to je bolno istinito za svaki zvuk, pre nego što uopšte počnemo da sastavljamo reči i značenja. Ono čega smo svedoci je proizvođenje neutralnosti, teški rad na proizvođenju neutralnog zvuka – što je kontradikcija samo po sebi.
A few years before his death, Stalin wrote a notorious paper on linguistics, of all things, arguing that language ‘serves society in its totality as an instrument of communication between people’, that it is ‘common for all members of society and unitary for the society as the whole’, that ‘it equally serves all members of society regardless of their class position’, being indeed ‘indifferent to class’. Nothing could be further from the truth, and the painful truth of class, permeating language through every utterance and each sound, is demonstrated here in a laboratory situation. Its upshot is clear: there is nothing neutral in language, and this holds not merely for vocabulary, syntax and meaning, it is most poignantly true of each sound, before we ever start composing words and meanings. What we witness is the manufacturing of neutrality, the hard labour of producing neutral sound – a contradiction in terms.
Dva glasa su strukturno nejednaka. To je poprište ovladavanja, socijalna drama. Vodeći glas predstavlja društveno prihvatljivo, navodno neutralno, uzor, ali uzor koji je to postao izbrisavši borbu kojom je došao na tu poziciju. Vladajući akcenat je akcenat koji se proglašava odsustvom akcenta; on je očišćen od svoje posebnosti, to je dekontaminirani glas, glas koji zamagljuje proces kojim je njegova posebnost uspostavljena kao univerzalna. Jedan glas je glas univerzalnosti, drugi je sputan i ograničen svojom posebnošću, svojim poreklom, on pokazuje neizbrisane tragove svoga porekla. Njegovi koreni moraju biti iščupani, izmešteni.
The two voices are in structural inequality. This is a scene of mastery, a social drama. The leading voice presents the socially accepted, the supposedly neutral, the model, but which has become a model by erasing the strife that has placed it in its position. The ruling accent is an accent that is proclaimed to be a non-accent; it is cleansed of its particularity, the decontaminated voice, obfuscating the process by which its particularity has been installed as universal. One voice is the voice of universality, the other is confined and limited by its particularity, its origin, it shows the un-erased traces of where it comes from. Its roots have to be uprooted, deracinated.
The Bazaar LadyThe Duchess
The Would-be Society Ladyand all educated Women
Close the pharynx. This is done by allowing no air to pass through or out of the nose. Speak in a slow, modulated voice, precise and very correctly as though you were bored.
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Glas je koreografija . Čini se da je glas sav u ruci koja kao da je njegov prirodni produžetak, u sugestivnim gestovima, koji pokušavaju da glasovno pretvore u vidljivo i telesno. Ruka daje ritam i pokušava da označi visinu tona, tok melodije. Ona oponaša korišćenje jezika, deluje kao kopija glasovnog aparata. Pokret ruke je kao pokret dirigenta koji takođe pokušava da saopšti i prenese muziku prevodeći je u gestove. Nisu u igri samo ruke, već i celokupni položaj tela, ne radi se tu samo o pitanju glasa, telo mora da zauzme odgovarajući položaj. Glas je ples, on uključuje čitavo telo, on povlači za sobom vidljivost na društvenoj sceni i njene brižljivo propisane baletske figure.
Voice is choreography. The voice seems to be all in the hand as its natural elongation, in the suggestive gestures, which try to translate the vocal into the visible and the corporeal. The hand gives the rhythm and tries to delineate the pitch, the movement of the melody. It emulates the deployment of the tongue; it acts as a replica of the vocal apparatus. The movement of hands is like that of the conductor who also tries to convey and transmit music by means of its translation into gestures. It is not only the hands but also the whole bodily posture that is brought into play; this is not merely the affair of the vocal, the body also has to take the appropriate stance. Voice is dance, it involves the whole body; it entails visibility on the social stage and its meticulously prescribed ballet figures.
Da bi to postigao, jezik mora biti rastavljen na zvuke, na sopstvene elemente, proznačavanja. To je u osnovi rad ne na rečima već na njihovim komponentama i konstituentima, muzika fonema. To je muzička kompozicija; ona se može slušati samo u domenu zvukova, čiste vokalnosti. Međutim, estetsko zadovoljstvo koje bi ovo moglo pružiti stalno se dovodi u pitanje, to je nemirno zadovoljstvo koje izaziva nelagodnost, jer se stalno i neizbežno čuje socijalna drama na kojoj ono počiva i koja se snažno demonstrira u svakom njegovom trenu, učinjena opipljivom putem antifonije koja podseća na drevne postupke rane srednjevekovne muzike.
In order to do this the language has to be decomposed into sounds, into its elements prior to signification. This is basically not the work on words but on their components and constituents, the music of the phonemes. This is a musical piece that can be listened to in the sphere of sound alone, of pure vocality. But the aesthetic pleasure this might provide is constantly put into question; it is a troubled pleasure provoking unease, for one can constantly and overwhelmingly hear the social drama which underpins it and which is forcefully demonstrated through every second of it, made tangible in the antiphony which recalls the ancient procedures of early mediaeval music.
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Nastavnik je veoma finih manira, dobronameran, uglađen, pokazuje mnogo dobre volje i strpljenja prema đaku, očito je vešt i ima za sobom dugu praksu, mnogo godina iskustva na koje se oslanja njegov metod. Mladi čovek je poslušan, dobar je i vredan đak, veoma motivisan da uči, da se podvrgne svemu što je neophodno za društvenu glazuru. Može se nagađati da je on imigrant željan društvene promocije, da se izbrišu ostaci njegovog porekla, sa velikim nadama za budućnost. Idealni imigrant, željan da se adaptira, i nastavnik željan da pomogne. To je slika savršenog nastavnika i savršenog učenika koji teže savršenom zvuku. Sve je besprekorno.
The teacher is very well mannered, well intentioned, urbane, displaying a great deal of good will and patience toward the pupil. He is obviously skilled and has a long practice behind him. Many years of experience support his moves. The young man is docile, he is an apt and eager pupil, with a great motivation to learn, to submit himself to everything necessary for the social dressage. One can surmise that he is an immigrant eager for social promotion, for the erasure of the vestiges of his origin, with great hopes for his future prospects. The ideal immigrant so eager to adapt, and the teacher ever so eager to help. This is a scene of a perfect teacher and a perfect pupil in pursuit of a perfect sound. Everything is flawless.
The FlapperThe Lady in LoveThe Seaside GirlThe School Girl
The Sporting Girl
Speak rather quickly and clip the words sharply at the end.
Jedan od najzanimljivijih delovaovog poučavanja ispoljava se vezano za reč „mjau“, ako je to uistinu reč. To je onomatopejsko oponašanje jednog životinjskog zvuka, životinjskog glasa pretvorenog u jezik, koga se dočepao označitelj navodno imitirajući zvuk iz prirode, ali čineći to na upadljivo kodifikovan način. Dovoljno je samo pogledati glasove koje životinje navodno ispuštaju na raznim jezicima, ispostavlja se da su životinje neverovatni poligloti. Sosir je, uzgred rečeno, morao u jednom trenutku da se pozabavi argumentom da onomatopejski zvuci naizgled opovrgavaju njegovo osnovno učenje o jezičkom znaku, i ukratko je demonstrirao da ga zapravo ništa ne potkrepljuje više od toga. Zvuk „mjau“, koji nastavnik pedantno predaje, predstavlja spoj prirode i kulture, stvar pukog reprodukovanja zvuka izvan okvira kulturnog kalupa, a ipak kodiran strogom normom koja funkcioniše kao alegorija, ili karikatura, kroćenja. Mačka se briše, poput nasmejane Češirske mačke iz Alise u zemlji čuda , tako da ostaje samo osmeh bez mačke.
One of the most remarkable parts of this tuition is displayed around the word “miaow”, if this is indeed a word. It is an onomatopoetic emulation of an animal sound, the animal voice turned into language, seized by the signifier, supposedly imitating a sound of nature, but imitating it in a strikingly codified manner. One only needs to look at the alleged voices the animals make in different languages, they turn out to be amazing polyglots. Saussure, by the way, at some point had to tackle the argument that the onomatopoetic sounds seem to disprove his basic tenet about the arbitrary nature of the linguistic sign, and in reply he briefly demonstrated that actually nothing supports it more. The “miaow” sound, pedantically taught by the teacher, is the very conflation of nature and culture, a matter of mere replication of a sound beyond the cultural mould, yet encoded by the strict norm that acts as an allegory, or a caricature, of taming. The cat is erased, like the grinning Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland, with only the grin remaining, the grin without the cat.
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Na kraju valja reći jednu ključnu stvar. Ovo je scena klasne borbe koja se vodi na bojnom polju jezika i glasa, tačno na preseku ovo dvoje. Na mestu gde se jedno useca u drugo ulazi klasa; ona vas zgrabi za glas pre nego što on uopšte stigne do značenja. Ipak, bilo bi pogrešno posmatrati kulturni kod kao nešto naprosto usađeno kao sredstvo ugnjetavanja, a glas kao sredstvo izražavanja i otpora; bilo bi romantično glorifikovati raznolikost glasova i akcenata u njihovom mnogostrukom sazvučju, a žaliti zbog nametanja društvenog. Nema načina da se naprosto vratimo podržavanju shvatanja o glasu kao mestu gde je locirana sloboda nasuprot ugnjetavanju zagušujućeg kalupa, i nema jednostavnog načina da se odustane od ovladavanja društvenim i kulturnim kodovima uprkos njihovog dubokog saučesništva sa klasom. Nema glasa bez kalupa, bez kontradikcija, i nema jednostavnog načina da se izbegne ova muka, ova borba koja spaja individualno i društveno, pojedinačno i univerzalno, telo i kulturu, uživanje i kod, pljuvačku i foneme, a sve to u surovom svetlu klasnih podela. Strpljivo istraživanje ovog čvorišta sa oštroumnošću, duhovitošću i suptilnošću, kao što to čini Zdjelarova, predstavlja prvi korak ka osmišljavanju novih vidova politike emancipacije.
There is a crucial point to be made in conclusion. This is a scene of class struggle fought on the battleground of language and voice, precisely at the intersection of the two. It is where the one cuts into the other that class comes in; it grabs you by your voice before it ever comes into meaning. Yet, it would be wrong to see the cultural code incrusted simply as the means of oppression, and the voice as the means of expression and resistance; it would be romantic to glorify the diversity of voices and accents in their plural co-sounding, and regret the impositions of the social. There is no way of simply going back to espousing the voice as the locus of freedom against the repression of the suffocating mould, and no simple way of giving up on mastering social and cultural codes despite their profound complicity with class. There is no voice without a mould, without contradiction, and there is no simple way of getting out of this predicament, this strife which brings together the individual and the social, singular and universal, body and culture, enjoyment and code, saliva and phonemes, all these in the harsh light of class division. To scrutinize this nexus with patience, perspicacity, wit and subtlety, as Zdjelar does, is the first step towards conceiving new ways of a politics of emancipation.
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Pošto je ovo engleska škola jezika, smišljena ne da bi se tu učio jezik već pravilan akcenat, u engleskoj sredini tako pomno svesnoj klasnih razlika i onoga što se naziva „Kraljičin engleski“, dok na obzorju lebdi duh Oksforda i Kembridža, to neizbežno podseća na iskušenja Ilajze Dulitl i oholost profesora Higinsa, prenete u aseptičnu sredinu jednog rafiniranog apstraktnog prostora, gde je živopisna prodavačica cveća iz Kovent gardena zamenjena mnoštvom bezimenih imigranata. To je kao da sliku i priliku Odri Hepbern muče mašina za reprodukovanje zvuka i uglađena nadmenost Reksa Harisona, a ipak, što je detalj koji najviše govori, bez pokazivanja prkosa sa njene strane, dok se nastavnik pridržava najviših standarda profesionalne smirenosti, samopouzdano ne pokazujući ni tračak nadmenosti. Poređenje ove dve scene, koje razdvaja gotovo čitavo stoleće, govori mnogo toga o društvenom napretku i njegovim pretpostavkama.
Since this is an English language school, designed not to teach language but the proper accent, in the English environment so meticulously conscious of class distinction and of what is called the Queen’s English, with the spectre of Oxbridge on the horizon, it inevitably brings to mind the tribulations of Eliza Doolittle and the haughtiness of Professor Higgins, now transposed into the aseptic environment of a rarefied abstract space, with the colourful Covent Garden flower girl replaced by a host of nameless immigrants. It is like a new avatar of Audrey Hepburn tortured by the sound machine and by the suave condescension of Rex Harrison, yet, most tellingly, without her display of defiance and frustrated pride and with the teacher abiding by the high standards of professional composure, staying confidently clear of any display of hauteur. The comparison of the two scenes, almost a century apart, speaks volumes about social progress and its assumptions.
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Mogu smesta da izgovorim svaku reč francuskog ili italijanskog jezika koja se preda mnom izgovori, ali neka reč na nemačkom iziskuje napor i tek retko se može jasno izgovoriti. Mogu da izgovorim samo nekoliko kratkih fraza zato što meh nije dovoljno veliki da proizvede dovoljno jako strujanje vazduha. (1)
I can speak each and every French or Italian word spoken to me on the spot, but a German word requires effort and only seldom comes out clearly. I can only utter a few, short, phrases because the bellows is not large enough to produce the required wind. (1)
I T H I N K T H AT H ER E I H AV E H E A R D
MY OW N VOICE COM I NG TO M EF ROM SOM E W H ER E ELSE
(M ISL IM DA SAM OVDE ČUO SVOJ SOPST VENI GL A S K AKODOPIRE DO MENE SA NEKOG DRUGOG MESTA)
Katarina Zdjelar
(1) Wolfgang von Kempelen, Mechanismus der menschlichen Sprache nebst Beschreibung einer sprechenden Machine. Vienna/Beč: Degen, 1791.
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Kempelen je ostavio drugima u nasleđe da usavrše njegovu mašinu koja govori. Kako bi samo bio oduševljen da je saznao kako je taj projekat bio uspešan i da danas imamo mnogo različitih mašina koje govore u naše ime. Najistaknutije mesto među njima zauzima elektronski sintetizator glasa, a najistaknutiji korisnik ovog naslednika Kempelenove mašine je britanski naučnik Stiven Hoking. Hoking je izgubio moć govora zbog amiotrofne lateralne skleroze, tako da za komunikaciju koristi sintetizator glasa. Premda postoje savršenije verzije ovog uređaja u odnosu na onu koju koristi Hoking, on svoj uređaj nije zamenio jer se vremenom poistovetio (i drugi su ga poistovetili) sa glasom koji ta mašina proizvodi. Međutim, ta mašina izrađena je u Sjedinjenim Američkim Državama, tako da ona govori američkom varijantom engleskog jezika, nasuprot Hokingovom maternjem britanskom akcentu. On stoga govori sa stranim akcentom. Što će reći, ta mašina ima sopstveni maternji jezik koji se razlikuje od maternjeg jezika njenog operatera. Hoking nam pruža primer različitih načina na koje mašina može biti nezavisna od tela svoga korisnika. Glas mašine i ljudski glas slični su po tome što stiču „samostalnost“ posredstvom aparata koji samim svojim funkcionisanjem razdvaja govornika od glasa koji govori u njegovo ime. Neki izvori tvrde da bi Hoking više voleo da njegova mašina govori sa britanskim akcentom, ali proces identifikacije i samopredstavljanja već je učinio svoje, te je njegovo zvučno sopstvo već definisano. Kada bi sada promenio svoj glas, time bi na neki način promenio i svoje biće.
Kempelen left the legacy of his speaking machine to seek its perfection in the hands of others. How delighted he would be to learn that the project succeeded and that today we have many different machines that speak on our behalf. Pre-eminent among them is the electronic voice synthesizer and this heir to the Kempelen machine’s most prominent user is the British scientist Stephen W. Hawking. Hawking lost the ability to speak through amiotrofic lateral sclerosis and uses the voice synthesizer to communicate. Although there are more advanced versions of the device than the one used by Hawking, he has not replaced it because he has come to identify (and be identified) with the voice the machine provides. However, the machine was developed in the United States and speaks American-English as opposed to the accent of his native Britain. Hawking, therefore, speaks with a foreign accent. Which is to say: the machine has its own mother tongue that is different from that of its operator. Hawking provides us with one example of the different autonomies that the machine may have over the body of its user. The voice machine and the human voice are similar in the way that they gain “autonomy” via an apparatus that through its very operation separates the speaker from the voice that speaks on its behalf. Some sources suggest that Hawking would prefer his machine to have a British accent, however, the processes of identification and self-presentation have already exerted their influence and his acoustic selfhood is already defined. To change his voice now would somehow change his being.
Godine 1791. Volfgang fon Kempelen priveo je kraju svoj istraživački rad na konstruisanju mašine koja govori. Njegov je cilj bio da stvori organ koji će pomoći gluvonemima da govore. Da bi govorio posredstvom ove mašine, korisnik bi morao da je prisloni uz svoje telo i da desnom rukom pokreće poluge i upravlja ventilima na komori za strujanje vazduha. Sam glas proizvodila bi leva ruka operatera rukujući jednom savitljivom cevi. Taj postupak bio bi nalik sviranju harmonike: govoriti bi bilo nalik sviranju muzičkog instrumenta. Nemi operater, obaveštava nas Kempelen, ne samo da bi dobio priliku da govori već bi takođe bio u stanju da to čini na nekoliko jezika, budući da je mašina konstruisana da bude poliglota. Međutim, kako sama mašina priznaje u napred navedenom citatu, njena sposbnost da izgovara glasove italijanskog ili francuskog jezika razlikovala se od njene sposobnosti da izgovara glasove nemačkog jezika. Izgleda da je ova mašina, premda je bila konstruisana da bude poliglota, bila ograničena time što nije bila u stanju da proizvede svaki glas, kao što to nije u stanju da čini glasovni aparat ljudskog bića.
In 1791 Wolfgang von Kempelen concluded his research on the construction of a speaking machine. He aimed to produce an organ to help deaf-mutes speak. To speak via this machine the user would have to attach it to their body and use their right hand to manipulate the levers and valves on the wind chamber. The actual voice would be produced by the operator’s left hand through the manipulation of a flexible pipe. The procedure would have been a little like playing an accordion: to speak would be akin to playing a musical instrument. The mute operator, Kempelen informs us, would not only be given the chance to speak but would also be able to do so in several languages, because the machine was designed as a polyglot. However, as the machine confesses in the citation above, its ability to pronounce sounds in Italian or French differed from its ability to enunciate German. It seems that this speaking machine, though polyglot by design, had the limitation of being unable to produce every sound, as does the vocal apparatus of human beings.
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Nasuprot ovoj mašini, elektronski sintetizator glasa je sistem zasnovan na rečima. Govornik nije uključen u proizvođenje glasova već se ponaša kao disk-džokej, remiksujući prethodno snimljene reči u smislene rečenice. Jezik ovde funkcioniše kao logika, a ne kao muzika, što je razlog zašto ova sprava ne dopušta svome korisniku da prenosi emocije kada govori, baš kao što ne muca i ne izmišlja reči. Sintetizator, naravno, omogućava korisniku da govori drugim jezikom, ili čak više drugih jezika, ali ne uvek istim glasom. Njegov bi korisnik morao da izabere neki drugi glas koji bi umesto njega govorio nekim stranim jezikom. Pored promene jezika i glasa, korisnik bi mogao da promeni akcenat, pol, starosno doba ili etničku pripadnost – bila bi to druga ličnost koja bi se slagala sa drugim jezikom. Na taj način, govornikovo telo postaje mesto gde se proizvode i sukobljavaju različite ideologije. Korisnik bi mogao da menja akcenat, jezike, starosno doba i same strukture govora koje nas u potpunosti određuju. Naš glas je ono što nas obeležava i identifikuje, mašinski govor omogućava korisniku da otputuje iz svoje ličnosti. Ali ljudski glas može nenamerno poprimiti sličnu nezavisnost kada izađe iz bezbedne zone maternjeg jezika i pokuša da govori nekim stranim jezikom.
An electronic voice synthesizer, by contrast, is a word-based system. The speaker isn’t involved in producing the sounds but acts like a DJ, re-mixing prerecorded words into meaningful sentences. Language appears here as logic rather than as music, which is why this device doesn’t allow its user to communicate emotion when speaking, just as it does not stammer or invent words. The synthesizer, of course, does allow its user to speak a second language, or even more languages, but not with the same voice. Its user would have to choose yet another voice which would speak for him in a foreign language. In addition to changing language and voice the user could change accent, gender, age or ethnicity – a second self to go with his second language. In this way the speaker’s body becomes the site on which different ideologies are produced and conflict. The user could shift accents, languages, gender, age, and the very textures within speech that utterly mark us. If it is our voice that marks us and identifies us, machine-talk allows its user to take a journey from the self. But the human voice can inadvertently take on a similar autonomy when it leaves the safe zone of the mother tongue and tries to speak a foreign language.
Kempelenova mašina pružala je govorniku mogućnost da govori na različitim jezicima, ne nužno zato što je njen korisnik bio poliglota, već zato što je ta mašina bila zasnovana na principu proizvođenja apstraktnih zvukova (muzikalnosti govora), od kojih bi se formirale smislene celine u vidu reči (logika govora) na određenom jeziku. Ta mašina stoga nije bila usmerena na neku konkretnu porodicu jezika, niti je njena ciljna grupa korisnika bila neka određena jezička zajednica. Govornik/operater bio bi u mogućnosti da na njoj svira bilo kojim jezikom. Kempelenova mašina bila je zasnovana na jednom demokratskom idealu, i možda je zato bilo iznenađujuće što je ona imala svoje preferencije i ograničenja, kako jasno kaže u napred navedenom citatu. Taj ideal nije zakazao izvan tela, već unutar samog tela mašine. Njen je neodstatak počivao u njenoj anatomiji.
Kempelen’s machine provided its speaker with an opportunity to speak in different languages, not because its user was necessarily a polyglot, but because the machine was based on the production of abstract sounds (the musicality of speech), which would be strung into meaningful word-units (the logic of speech) in a particular language. The machine therefore, wasn’t directed to a particular language family and didn’t target any particular language community as its users. The speaker/operator would rather be able to play language in any tongue. Kempelen’s machine was founded on a democratic ideal, and perhaps that is why it came as a surprise that the machine had its own preferences and limitations, as it makes clear in the quotation above. This ideal didn’t fail outside of the body, but within the very body of the machine. Its failure was in its anatomy.
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Wolfgang von Kempelen, The natural production of the sound “l” and its mechanical reproduction / Prirodan izgovor glasa „l“ i njegova mehanička reprodukcija, 1791
Wolfgang von Kempelen’sSpeaking Machine / Volfgang von Kempelenova mašina koja govori, 1790
Edgar Bergen with dummy Charlie McCarthy / Edgar Bergen sa lutanom Čarlijem Mekartijem, 1939
‘Many sounds like “ooo” do not exist in other languages” / „Mnogi glasovi poput ’ooo’ ne postoje u drugim jezicima. Society Guide by the Swedish Immigration Office / Vodič kroz društvo švedskog ureda za imigraciju, 1987
Reconstruction of Wolfgang von Kempelen’s Speaking Machine / Rekonstrukcija Volfgang von Kempelenove mašine koja govori, 2002
Wolfgang von Kempelen / Volfganga von Kempelena, date unknown / datum nepoznat
Spiritual materialization / Duhovna materijalizacija, 1913
Ventriloquist Edgar Bergen and his dummy Charlie McCarthy / Trbuhozborac Edgar Bergen i njegov lutan Čarli Mekarti, 1939
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We are at home with our mother tongue and develop a particular loyalty to it, but while it protects us there it reveals us elsewhere. The imprint of our mother tongue stays with us when we enter a foreign language. The minute we open our mouth the motherness of our tongue makes itself apparent and undermines any efforts to become neutral, colourless or to blend in. We are marked by our accent, our grammar, syntax, rhythm, pitch, our choice of words. When I speak a language other than my mother tongue my speech falls between me speaking language and language speaking me. My effort to speak may enable me to communicate, but it also exposes me, identifying me as a member of a particular (language) community.
U okviru našeg maternjeg jezika mi smo kao kod kuće i postajemo posebno odani tom jeziku, ali dok nas on štiti tamo, razotkriva nas drugde. Pečat našeg maternjeg jezika zadržavamo kada uđemo u neki strani jezik. Čim otvorimo usta, maternost našeg jezika izbija na površinu i podriva bilo kakve napore da postanemo neutralni, bezbojni ili da se uklopimo u okolinu. Obeleženi smo našim akcentom, našom gramatikom, sintaksom, ritmom, visinom tona, izborom reči. Kada govorim nekim jezikom koji nije moj maternji jezik, moj se govor nalazi između mene koja govorim jezik i jezika koji govori mene. Moj napor da govorim može mi omogućiti da komuniciram, ali me i razotkriva, identifikuje me kao pripadnika određene (jezičke) zajednice.
We all enter into language with the same vocal apparatus, the same language ability. This ability holds the promise that any language can become ours. But as we grow up and learn to speak our mother tongue, our ability is shaped in specific ways and adjusts to successful communication within the particular community we inhabit. We become trained to hear and utter certain sounds, but perfecting our mastery of the proper sounds of our language (or their suitable variations) is to the detriment of other sounds that have no currency in it. No single person would therefore be able to utter the different sounds of all languages.
Svi mi ulazimo u jezik sa istim glasovnim aparatom, istom jezičkom sposobnošću. Ta sposobnost sadrži mogućnost da svaki jezik može postati naš. Ali dok rastemo i učimo da govorimo maternjim jezikom, naša se sposobnost uobličava na specifične načine i prilagođava uspešnoj komunikaciji unutar određene zajednice kojoj pripadamo. Postajemo obučeni da čujemo i izgovaramo određene glasove, ali usavršavanje naše sposobnosti da pravilno ovladamo glasovima našeg jezika (ili njihovim odgovarajućim varijacijama) ide na uštrb drugih glasova koji se u njemu ne koriste. Otuda nijedna osoba ne bi bila u stanju da izgovara različite glasove svih jezika.
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misplaced “the” that betrays us, it is exactly the modulation of “sun” that locates us, the pitch of “is” will always linger. We hit the wrong notes and play to a different rhythm. A foreign word appears counterfeit, never completely articulated, never completely in its proper place, but constantly hovering between an approved and denied modulation. Is this the space in which we become our counterfeit selves?
pogrešne note i sviramo drugačijim ritmom. Strana reč deluje krivotvoreno, nikada sasvim artikulisano, nikada sasvim na svom pravom mestu, već stalno lebdi između dozvoljene i uskraćene modulacije. Da li je to prostor u kome postajemo falsifikat svoje ličnosti?
Govoriti nekim stranim jezikom, naravno, znači govoriti nečijim tuđim jezikom. Ono strano u jeziku je ono što izvorni govornici tog jezika percipiraju kao tuđe u načinu na koji strani govornici govore njihovim jezikom. To je čin u kome obe strane postaju svesne vezanosti i odanosti koje su se razvile slušanjem i govorenjem maternjeg jezika. Kada izgovaramo ili čujemo strane reči ili glasove, izgovaramo i čujemo nešto nalik određenoj reči ili glasu, nešto nalik tome, ali mi to ne možemo izgovoriti ili čuti na isti način. Upravo ga ta sličnost čini stranim, tuđim. Strana reč doima se donekle kao lažna patika marke „Adidas“ koja se potura kao originalni „Abidas“. Dizajn možda i odgovara, ali struktura materijala deluje drugačije, možda ima još nešto – nit koja nije odsečena, landara sa svakim korakom i ukazuje na razliku. Činimo sve što možemo da bismo izgovorili strane reči ili glasove, zapravo izgovaramo nešto što nama možda zvuči tačno, ali izvornom govorniku to ne deluje verno. Ne radi se samo o tome da možda imamo problema da tačno izgovorimo strane glasove; možda čak, pre svega, nismo u stanju da ih tačno percipiramo – tako da izoštravanje naše sposobnosti da čujemo konkretne glasove našeg maternjeg jezika može postati dodatna prepreka našem pokušaju da se nastanimo u drugom jeziku. Jednostavnom rečenicom kao što je „Sun is shining!“ [Sun iz šajning/Sunce sija] otkrivmo dosta toga o sebi. Ta rečenica odmah saopštava da ja nisam odavde. Obeležiće nas glas „š“ u shining, izdaje nas nedostatak određenog člana „the“, locira nas upravo modulacija reči „sun“, visina tona reči „is“ uvek će zaparati uvo. Pevamo
Speaking a foreign language is, of course, about speaking someone else’s language. The foreign in language is what native speakers detect as strange about the way non-native speakers speak their language. It is an act in which both parties become aware of the attachment and loyalty that has developed through listening to and speaking a mother tongue. When we speak or hear foreign words or sounds, we speak and hear something similar to the particular word or sound, something like it but we cannot hear or speak it the same. It is exactly this similarity that makes it foreign, strange. A foreign word appears somewhat like a fake Adidas trainer presenting itself as an original “Abidas”. The cut might be just right but maybe the texture of the material feels different, maybe there is something extra – an uncut thread, waving with each step, signaling difference. We do our best to produce foreign words or sounds, we actually utter something that, to us, may sound right but to the native speaker does not “ring true”. It is not only that we may have difficulty articulating the foreign sounds accurately; we may not even be able to perceive them properly in the first place – the attuning of our hearing to the specific sounds of our mother tongue becoming an additional obstacle to our attempt to inhabit another language. With a simple sentence such as ‘sun is shining!’ we reveal a great deal about ourselves. The sentence simultaneously communicates that I am not from here. It is the “sh” in “shining” that will mark us, it is the
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When speaking in our mother tongue the sound of the words vaporize. By which I mean, the meaning, the message emerges as foreground. Here, voice is elusive. It is hidden, enveloped by the message it carries. But when we speak a foreign language, the sounds of the words resonate with a kind of musical quality before becoming meaningful. As Don Ihde notes, they are first pregnant with meaning before meaning is delivered. (2) It is when nothing is shown through the music, that pure voice presents itself. It is exactly this dense embodied presence of voice that can reveal itself in foreign language. Imagine we are on a bus in the middle of a foreign country. To us, the language we hear around us appears like music. The bus transforms into a concert hall and the passengers into singers. Because we don’t understand it, the foreign tongue seems to gain freedom and the speaking body shows itself as a musical instrument.
Kada govorimo našim maternjim jezikom, zvuk reči isparava. Hoću da kažem, smisao, poruka, pojavjuje se kao prvi plan. Glas tu izmiče. Skriven je, obavijen velom, porukom koju nosi. Ali kada govorimo stranim jezikom, zvuci reči odzvanjaju svojevrsnim muzičkim svojstvima pre nego što postanu smisleni. Kako zapaža Don Ajdi, oni su prvo nabijeni smislom pre nego što smisao bude prenesen. (2) Tek kada se ništa ne prikaže tim muzičkim svojstvima, onda do izražaja dolazi čisti glas. Upravo se to zgusnuto, otelotvoreno prisustvo glasa može otkriti u stranom jeziku. Zamislimo da smo u autobusu u nekoj stranoj zemlji. Nama jezik koji čujemo oko sebe deluje kao muzika. Autobus se pretvara koncertnu dvoranu, a putnici u pevače. Pošto ga mi ne razumemo, strani jezik kao da stiče slobodu, a telo koje govori prikazuje se kao muzički instrument.
Te suptilnosti jezika koji govorimo mogu nas, dakle, kako sjedinjavati tako i razlikovati. Naš maternji jezik, zajedno sa našim akcentom (koji mi smatramo neutralnim, premda on to nikada nije) takođe govori mnogo toga o nama. Bilo kojim glasom, rečju ili rečenicom koje izgovorimo, mi istovremeno kažemo „Ja sam odavde“, čime se uspostavlja određena pozicija prema našem sagovorniku u dijalogu. Iskaz „Ja sam odavde“ takođe osnažuje poruku „Ja ovde pripadam“, „Moja pozicija je čvrsta“, „Ja imam autoritet“, koja nas održava u bezbednoj zoni, neutralnoj zoni. Između bilo kojih sagovornika u dijalogu uvek postoji takva dodatna komunikacija, ali čini se da toga postajemo naglašeno svesni tek kada čujemo nekog stranca da govori našim jezikom. Međutim, dodatna komunikacija ne mora se tumačiti samo kao manjkavost ili oznaka različitosti. Ona se takođe može vrednovati na osnovu toga kako stvara različite načine da se bude u jeziku.
These subtleties in the language we speak can thus unite us as well as distinguish us. Our mother tongue, along with our accent (which we consider neutral, although it never is) also tells a lot about ourselves. With any sound, word or sentence we utter, we simultaneously say ‘I am from here’, which creates a definite position toward our partner in dialogue. ‘I am from here’ also reinforces the point, ‘I belong here’, ‘my position is firm’, ‘I have authority’, which keeps us in the safe zone, the neutral zone. There is always such extra-communication, between any partners in dialogue, but it seems that it is only when we hear a foreigner speak our language that we become acutely aware of it. But extra-communication does not only have to be interpreted as a failing or marking of difference. It can also be valued for how it produces different ways of inhabiting a language.
(2) Don Idhe, Listening and Voice: Phenomenologies of Sound. Albany, NY: SUNY Press (2007).
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Razlika između parapoetike i lošeg engleskog (u ovom slučaju) svodi se na tačku gledišta: u prvom slučaju ceni se potencijal jezika, a u drugom se zapažaju njegove nesavršenosti. Tradicija nekonvencionalne upotrebe jezika često se povezuje sa piscima i umetnicima, a njihovo zanemarivanje konvencija je namerno. Međutim, parapoetički pisac nije zainteresovan za kreativnost niti za ispoljavanje jezičke virtuoznosti bilo koje vrste. Parapoetika se stvara kao rezultat toga što govornik ne vlada jezikom. On je nesvestan jezičkog sistema koji sa sobom nosi moć izazova, destabilizacije, obogaćivanja ili stvaranja nekakve dubine u sistemu.
The difference between para-poetics and broken English (in this case) is a matter of one’s point of view: the first appreciates the potential of language whilst the second notices its imperfections. The tradition of using language in unconventional ways is often related to writers and artists, whose disregard for convention is intentional. However, the para-poetic writer is disinterested in creativity or displaying linguistic virtuosity of any kind. Para-poetics is produced through the speaker’s lack of language. He is oblivious to the linguistic system that carries with it the force to challenge, destabilize, enrich, or create some depth in the system.
Klark Lanberi, Amerikanac koji predaje engleski jezik u Japanu, skovao je termin „parapoetika“ da bi opisao poetsku snagu kojom zrači manjkavi engleski njegovih učenika Japanaca. (3) Parapoetika je upotreba jezika kojom se slučajno ili nesvesno koriste reči ili rečenice u neočekivanim sklopovima. Kod parapoetskog, jezička pravila često se narušavaju, što rezultira neobičnim gramatičkim sklopovima, izborom reči, sintaksom, interpunkcijom ili pravopisom. On primećuje da ta narušavanja pravila nisu namerni prekršaji već nenamerno prelaženje granica koje se ne vide. Ovo što sledi je tekst koji je napisao jedan Japanac, student engleskog jezika koji je dobio zadatak da opiše zvuke koje čuje.
Zvuci ja čuje iz prozor je mnogi zvuci svaki dani. Zvuci kišenja, to me čini tužno usamljeno i postaje željen da vidi neko. Zvuci vetra, daje mi lepo i postaje sveže i postaje željen da izaći. Zvuci pesama ptica ustajem kao da budilnik.Moja osećanja je jednostavno kao da biti pod uticajom zvuk.
Clark Lunberry, an American teaching English in Japan, coined the term “para-poetics” to describe the poetic force conveyed by the broken English of his Japanese students. (3) Para-poetics is a use of language that accidentally or unconsciously employs words or sentences in unexpected arrangements. With the para-poetic, rules of correct language use are often violated resulting in unusual formations of grammar, word-choice, syntax, punctuation or spelling. Lunberry notes that these violations are not deliberate transgressions but an unintentional straying beyond unseen boundaries. Below is a text written by a Japanese student of English who was charged with the task of describing the sounds he hears:
Sounds me hear from a window is many sounds every days. Sounds of raining, it makes me melancholy lonely and become wanted to see someone. Sounds of wind, it gives me fine and become a fresh and become wanted to go out. Sounds of songs of birds I get up as if alarm clock.My feelings is simple as if be inf luenced by sound.
(3) Clark Lunberry, ‘Broken English: Deviant Language and the Para-Poetic’, Kyoto Journal, No. 29 (1995).
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Greške u prevodu daju iste rezultate. Omaška u govoru može sankcionisati čin pobune. Prevođenje nije naprosto transkribovanje jednog jezika na drugi jezik, niti se, kada je već o tome reč, radi o pokušaju da se prenesu narativi i pojmovi; tu se radi o tome da se logika jednog jezika prenese u logiku drugog jezika. Primetila sam, tokom svog boravka u Holandiji, da neki govornici kojima holandski nije maternji jezik prave sopstvene konstrukcije reči na za njih novom jeziku, zadržavajući zvuk i značenje izvorne reči na holandskom: vliegtuig (avion) pretvaraju u vliegtuit (to što poleće), gasfornuis (gas za šporet) u gas voor huis (gas za kuću), itd. Nivo kreativnosti, narušavanja pravila, lutanja, interiorizovanja i usvajanja jezika zavisi, naravno, od toga koliko tečno govornik vlada njime. Da bi čovek mogao da prevede vliegtuig u vliegt uit, neophodno je da ima barem osnovna znanja o holandskom jeziku, baš kao što don’t joke me [nemoj zezas mene] zamenjuje are you serious? [ti to ozbiljno?] kao jedan mogući prevod koji logiku engleskog jezika prenosi u logiku hrvatskog. Kada nismo sasvim sigurni šta čujemo, kada ne govorimo jezik koji čujemo i pokušamo da prenesemo naš doživljaj onoga što čujemo u govor, ulazimo u sferu provizornog i improvizatorskog proizvođenja glasova i značenja.
Failings in translation yield the same results. A slip of the tongue may sanction a rebellious act. Translation is not simply about transcribing one language into another, nor for that matter is it about trying to transfer narratives and concepts; it is also concerned with transporting the logic of one language into that of another. I have noticed during my time in the Netherlands that some non-native Dutch speakers would make their own word constructions in their new language, keeping the sound and meaning of the original Dutch word: vliegtuig (airplane) into vliegtuit (it f lies out), gasfornuis (gas stove) into gas voor huis (gas for house) etc. The level of creativity, violation, straying, internalization and appropriation of language is dependent on the speakers’ f luency, of course. To be able to translate vliegtuig into vliegt uit requires at least a basic command of Dutch, just as, don’t joke me substitutes are you serious? as one possible translation which appropriates the English language into the logic of Croatian. When we are not quite sure what we hear, when we don’t speak the language we hear and try to translate our experience of listening into speech, we enter the sphere of a provisional and improvisational production of sounds and meanings.
Stvaranje parapoetičke dimenzije jezika nije samo privilegija onih koji uče neki strani jezik, već se takođe može manifestovati u procesu zaboravljanja jezika kojim se više ne služimo. Hvatamo sebe kako izgovaramo izolovane reči, iskrivljujemo gramatička pravila, pravimo nepotrebno duge pauze između reči, ne samo zato da bismo dozvolili rečima da nađu svoje mesto već dok ne iskopamo neku reč, razmotrimo je, a ako omanemo, proizvodimo tišinu.
The production of a para-poetic dimension to language is not only a privilege for those learning a foreign language, but it can also manifest itself in the process of forgetting language we no longer use. We find ourselves uttering isolated words, twisting grammar, allowing for unnecessarily long gaps between words to let them find their place, but if we fail to find the right words, we produce silence.
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U stranom jeziku, međutim, logika i muzika jezika ne sarađuju u istoj meri kao u maternjem jeziku, i još uvek nisu združene u saopštavanju značenja. Valentina Hasan, učesnica TV takmičenja Bugarski idol 2008. godine, podseća nas na mogućnost da jezik može biti čisto muzičkog karaktera svojom verzijom hita Maraje Keri „I Can’t Live (If Living Is Without You)” na jeziku za koji je ona verovala da je engleski. Njeno „Ken Lee“ nenamerno uvodi jedan sasvim novi fonetski jezik, koji je postao predmet podrugljivih reagovanja, ali je i hvaljen i doneo joj je popularnost.
In a foreign language, however, the logical and musical of language do not collaborate to the same degrees as in our mother tongue, and are not yet joined together in the communication of meaning. Valentina Hassan, a candidate for the 2008 TV talent competition Bulgarian Idol, reminds us of the possibility that language can be purely musical with her version of Mariah Carey’s hit ‘I Can’t Live (If Living Is Without You)’ in (what she believed to be) the English language. Her ‘Ken Lee’, inadvertently, inaugurates a completely new phonetic language, which has become the subject of derogatory responses as well as celebration and following.
No one ken to ken to sivmen,Nor yon clees toju maliveh,
When I gez aju zavateh na nalechoo more
New yonooz tonight molinightYon sorra shooo
Yes ee shooo, ooo
Ken Lee,Tulibu dibu douchoo
Ken leeeTulibu dibu douchoo
Ken LeeeKen lee meju more
I can’t liveIf living is without you
I can’t liveIf living is without you
Can’t giveI can’t give anymore
Razvijajući jezik i interiorizujući repertoar glasova, svako dete prolazi kroz fazu savladavanja i istovremenog eksperimentisanja glasovima i rečima kroz igru. To je verovatno jedina situacija kada je maternji jezik još uvek provizoran i podložan improvizaciji. Međutim, kada se jezik formira, mi kolektivno potvrđujemo naše usađeno razumevanje.
In the course of developing language and internalizing a repertoire of sounds, every child goes through a phase of struggling and simultaneously playfully experimenting with sounds and words. This is probably the only occasion at which the mother tongue is still provisional and improvisational. Once language is formed, however, we collectively confirm our ingrained understanding.
Text of Valentina Hassan’s ‘Ken Lee’, her version of Mariah Carrey’s song ‘I can’t Live’ / Tekst pesme Valentine Hasan „Ken Lee“, njene verzije pesme Maraje Keri „I Can’t Live“, Bulgarian Idol, 2008,www.youtube.com/watch?v=_RgL2MKfWTo
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No, I can’t forget this eveningOr your face as you were leaving
But I guess that’s just the way this story goes
You always smile… But in you eyes your sorrow shows
Yes it shows
No I can’t forget tomorrowWhen I think of all my sorrows
And now it’s only fair that I should let you know
What you should know
I can’t liveIf living is without you
I can’t liveIf living is without you
Can’t giveI can’t give anymore
Well, I can’t forget this eveningOr your face as you were leaving
But I guess that’s just the way this story goes,
You always smile, But in you eyes your sorrow shows
Yes it shows
I cant liveIf living is without you…
I can’t liveI can’t give anymore
Can’t live If living is without you
can’t give,I can’t give anymore
—
No one ken to ken to sivmen,Nor yon clees toju maliveh,
When I gez aju zavateh na nalechoo more
New yonooz tonight molinightYon sorra shooo
Yes ee shooo, ooo
Ohhhhhh (No can’t live) No no no (No I can’t live)I can’t live (No can’t live)
If living is without (No I can’t live)I can’t live (No can’t live)
I can’t give anymore (No I can’t live)
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The Perfect Sound 2009
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Would that be alright with you if I bring my cat along?2006
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There Is No Is2006
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One or Two Songs on Someone or Something in Particular2007
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In Unison2009
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Taking Place2008
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106 107
Don’t Do It Wrong2007
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Everything Is Gonna Be2008
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114 115
A Girl, the Sun and an Airplane Airplane2007
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Karl Marks — u svom kratkom novinskom tekstu, posvećenom pompeznoj najavi osnivanja panslovenske političke organizacije u Pragu, a čiji je politički cilj bilo ujedinjenje svih Slovena — kroz duhoviti komentar otvara pitanje politike i jezika.
Karl Marx – in a short newspaper article concerning the pompous announcement of the founding of a pan-Slavic political organization in Prague in 1848, the political goal of which was unification of all Slavs – raises the question of politics and language by way of witty commentary.
CR NO NA BELO
( “ BL ACK ON WHITE” )
Branimir Stojanović
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Staljinova definicija nacije, koju iznosi u svom posebno značajnom tekstu iz 1913, Marksizam i nacionalno–kolonijalno pitanje, kao ključni predikat određenja nacije uvodi jezik , kao neprekoračiv horizont kolonijalnih politika njegovog vremena. Za Staljina nema politike koja je u stanju da reši nerešiv ostatak nacionalnog pitanja — jezik. Pravo naroda na samoopredeljenje je neporecivo i generisano iz nevsodivog ostatka imperijalističkog kolonijalizma ― jezika; jezik–nacija je produkt savremenog kapitalizma i antiimperijalna politika ima saveznika u naciji-jeziku; drugim rečima, to što imperijalni kapitalizam ne može da prekorači, a što je ujedno njegov vlastiti produkt, jeste jezik–nacija. Nacija–jezik je sredstvo anti-iperijalnog pokreta masa, saveznik politici koja se čeono sukobljava sa imperijalizmom.
Stalin’s definition of nation, which he expounds in his especially significant text from 1913, Marxism and the National Colonial Question, introduces language as the key predicate for determining a nation, as the unreachable horizon of the colonial policies of his time. For Stalin there is no policy capable of solving the unsolvable remainder of the national question – language. People’s right to self-determination is undeniable and generated from the irreducible remainder of imperial colonialism – language. The language-nation is a product of contemporary capitalism and something anti-imperial policy has an alliance with; in other words, the very thing that imperial capitalism cannot surmount, and that is at the same time its own product, is the language-nation. The language-nation constitutes an anti-imperial mass movement, an ally to any policy that confronts imperialism head-on.
И с п о л ь з у й ,к т о б ы л б е з ъ я з ы к и г о л ,
с в о б о д у C о в е т с к о й в л а с т и .И щ и т е с в о й к о р е н ь и с в о й г л а г о л ,
в о т ь м у ф и л о л о г и и в л а з ь т е .
Владимир ВладимировичМаяковский, “НашемуЮношеству”, 1927
Naime, Marks konstatuje komični nesklad između želje za geopolitičkim i organskim ujedinjenjem svih Slovena i aktualne snage političke deklaracije o ujedinjenju: da bi se među sobom razumeli, pošto ne postoji zajednički jezik Slovena, pan-Sloveni moraju da koriste jezik najvećeg geopolotičkog rivala pangermana; dakle, oni moraju da govore i sporazumevaju se na nemačkom jeziku. Da zabuna bude veća, nemački jezik je oksimoron za fantazmatski skup — SVI SLOVENI. Naime, nekog ko govori nemački jezik slovenska plemena (a i do danas u svim nacionalnim jezicima naroda koji govore slovenske jezike sačuvano je sećanje na ovo imanovanje) imenovala su nemim, i time konstruisala subjekta koji je za njih — nem. Drugim rečima, za Marksa, rasno jedinstvo je politička iluzija, a zahtev za jedinstvom rase stavlja subjekt koji pokušava da ga konstruiše u situaciju da se već na nivou iskazivanja tog zahteva zaplete u niz paradoksa, tako da već u iskazivanju zahteva proizvede neposrednu suprotnost od nameravanog: dakle, u ovom konkretnom slučaju, stavlja ga u situaciju da govori jezik ljudi koje je imenovanjem postavio kao subjekt za koga se pretpostavlja da ne govori, to jest, nekog ko nema jezičku kompetentnost, nekog ko je ne-čovek.
Marx observes a comical disproportionate relation between the desire for the geopolitical and organic unification of all Slavs and the actual strength of the political declaration of such unification. Because the common language of Slavs doesn’t exist, in order to understand each other the Pan-Slavs are forced to use the language of their greatest geopolitical rivals, the Pan-Germans: they have to communicate in German. While “nem” means “mute”, the name for “German” in Serbo-Croatian and other Slavic languages is “Nemac”, which makes a German speaking person literally a mute person (and the memory of this naming, has been kept in all the national languages of the Slavic speaking people to this day). The German language then becomes an oxymoron for this phantasmal group – all Slavs – thereby constructing a collective subject who is for them mute. In other words, for Marx, racial unity is a political illusion, while the demand for unity of race immerses those who try to construct it into a series of paradoxical tangles. Even as such a demand is expressed the speaker produces the direct opposite to what he intended: so, in this particular case, he is being placed in a situation to speak the language of people who, by the very name given to them, are established as a subject that supposedly cannot speak, that is, someone with no language ability, someone who is non-human.
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univerzalnim jezikom svih, jer bi se time samo ponovila istorija konstrukcije nacionalnih jezika evropskih drzava, dakle logika konstrukcije jezika kolonizatora, nego upravo suprotno, zalaže se za kreativnu asimilicaju francuskog jezika, jezika kolonizatora. Nadam se da ne treba posebno pominjati da je Davičo, politički, na strani antikolonijalnih pokreta, odnosno da je razlog njegovog dolaska u Afriku da „crno na belo” podrži antikolonijalnu revoluciju afričkih masa koje trijumfuju i koje su sklone da jezik kolonizatora izbace iz upotrebe. Davičovo rešenje politike jezika antikolonijalizma upravo je suprotno od ideje da se jezik kolonizatora izbaci iz upotrebe; on se zalaže za to da se jezik kolonizatora zadrži, kreativno aproprijatiše, te učini oruđem antikolonijalne borbe. Jednostavno rečeno: kada na jeziku kolonizatora napišeš poeziju, tada si pobedio kolonijalizam.
and great-grandchildren, because these languages had not developed as national languages. Although similar to each other, they were a dispersed multitude of similar languages that were for the most part incomprehensible to one another. Davičo advocates the idea that the new language being born on the national level should not simply be the language of one ethnic group declared by state decree to be the universal language of all, because this would only repeat the history of constructing the national languages of European countries. Instead he advocates the exact opposite: creative assimilation of the French language, the language of the colonists. Needless to say, Davičo’s political position is on the side of anti-colonial movements; he went to Africa to support the anti-colonial revolution of the triumphant African masses who were inclined to stop using the language of the colonists. Davičo’s solution to the policy of anti-colonial language is the exact opposite of the idea that the colonist’s language should be excluded; he argues that the colonist’s language should be kept but appropriated creatively, fashioning it into a weapon of the anti-colonial struggle. Simply put: you defeat colonialism when you are able to write poetry in the language of the colonialists.
Davičo’s Crno na belo deals with anti-colonialism in Africa through testimonies from and interviews with African people. In Serbian “black on white” also implies a request to testify and tell the truth about the complex situation of anti-colonial politics, which means that for the first time in history the African population were attributed the status of a political subject.
* The English translation of “crno na bello” – “black on white” – cannot do full justice to the layered meanings the phrase assumes in Oskar Davičo’s book, which are appropriated in this essay.
Ranih šezdesetih godina, jugoslovenski pisac–nadrealista, Oskar Davičo, posetio je jednu afričku zemlju gde je, kao gost nacionalnog udruženja pisaca, razgovarao s književnicima, političarima, šamanima, običnim ljudima, nešto uz pomoć prevodioca, nešto na francuskom, Davičovom drugom materenjem jeziku, koji je istovremeno bio i kolonijalni jezik zemlje njegovih domaćina. O tome je napisao knjigu pod nazivom Crno na belo (1963) sintagma koja na maternjem jeziku pisca znači imperativni zahtev: govori istinu! ili, svedoči o istini!; bila je to knjiga-putopis koja se bavila savremenošću afričkih postkolonijalnih društava. Međutim, za jednog pisca i jezičkog genija kakav je morao da bude svaki nadrealista dostojan tog imena, posebno za nadrealistu posebnog kova kakav je bio Davičo, najveći izazov predstavljala je konstrukcija novog jezika koji se rađao iz pokreta masa antikolonijalnih politika, koje su se našle na ničijoj zemlji između jezika doskorašnjeg kolonizatora i jezika svojih praotaca. Mada se kao pisac i pesnik držao na rastojanju od svakog jezika ponaosob i jezika kao jezika, da bi proizveo prostor oslobođen od onoga što jezik kao ključni operator kastracije nosi sa sobom, Davičo se u ovoj knjizi upušta u analizu jezika kao političkog sredstva: jezik praotaca, analizira on, niko osim unuka i praunuka nije razumeo, najviše zato što ti jezici nisu bili konstruisani kao nacionalni jezici; iako među sobom slični, bili su disperzno mnoštvo sličnih jezika koji su jedni drugima najčešće nerazumljivi. Davičo se zalaže da novi jezik koji se rađa na nivou nacije ne bude naprosto jezik jedne etničke grupe koji se aktom države proglašava
During the early 1960s, Yugoslav surrealist writer Oskar Davičo visited a certain African country, where, as a guest of the National Writers’ Association, he spoke to men of letters, politicians, shaman, and ordinary people, sometimes with the help of an interpreter and sometimes in his second mother tongue, French, which was also the colonial language of his hosts’ country. He wrote a book about it called Crno na belo (1963) – literally translated “black on white”, a Serbian syntagm to which the English phrase “in black and white” comes closest, which demands: speak the truth! or testify to the truth!.* The book was a travelogue dealing with the contemporaneous African post-colonial societies. However, as a writer and linguistic genius, as every surrealist worthy of that name must be, especially for a special sort of surrealist such as Davičo, the greatest challenge was to construct a new language born from the movement of anti-colonial policies, which found itself in a no-man’s-land between the language of the recent colonists and the language of its forefathers. Although as a writer and a poet he kept his distance from any specific language – inventing his own language in order to create a space liberated from the colonizing language, and all that it carries with it as the agent of castration – Davičo analyzed language in Crno na belo as a political means. The language of our forefathers, he posits, was only understood by a circle of direct relatives, and only carried through to grandchildren
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Uzmimo današnju situaciju koja je postala deo procesa „normalizacije” nakon ratova, genocida i etničkog čišćenja u bivšoj Jugoslaviji, kada mi kao građani jedne od nacionalnih država izraslih iz Jugoslavije dođemo u susednu državu. Ono što se zbiva u unutrašnjosti svakog subjekta je dramatičan proces, koji često ostaje van uvida svakog od nas, parališuća panika sa kojom se teško izlazi na kraj i iza koje stoji pitanje: Kojim jezikom da govorim? Drugim rečima, bilo da se nađemo u bivšim jugoslovenskim republikama u kojima se nikad nije govorio „srpskohrvatski” kao maternji jezik, ili ako se nađemo u jeziku koji je napravio vehementnu separaciju od srpskohrvatskog, dakle jeziku hiperosetljivom na različite varijatne jednog te istog jezika, iskustvo je zajedničko: onaj ko govori „srpskohrvatski” iskazuje ne samo svoje naivno verovanje da je postojao jugoslovenski jezik, nego će ubrzo shvatiti, po reakciji sagovornika: da je u pitanju samo deo njegove dugo negovane rasističke iluzije koja nije razlikovala druge jezike i nacije, odnosno, da srpskohrvatski nije maternji jezik niti jedne novostvorene nacije države, a da njegova nevina naivnost o postojanju zajedničkog jezika ipak nije više dopustiva za bilo kog građanina bivših jugoslovenskih zemalja. Međutim, postoji jedna podjednako neprijatna situacija, a to je trenutak kada se subjekt odluči da govori engleskim jezikom, univerzalnim jezikom sveta, jezikom sporazumevanja i nesporazuma svih ljudi, dakle politički korektnim jezikom svih neprijatelja, jezikom koji prividno lišava briga oko prethodne parališuće panike: rezultat je potpuno isti,
Let’s take the current situation, and consider something that has become a part of the process of “normalization” after the wars, genocide and ethnic cleansing in former Yugoslavia. When we as citizens of one of the national states of Yugoslavia go to a neighbouring state each one of us undergoes a dramatic experience, which we often overlook – a paralyzing panic that is hard to cope with and behind which stands the question: which language should I speak? In other words, whether we find ourselves in the former Yugoslav republics in which “Serbo-Croatian” was never spoken as the mother tongue, or we find ourselves in the language that has made a vehement separation from Serbo-Croatian (which is consequently hypersensitive to different variants of one and the same language), the experience is the same: the person who speaks “Serbo-Croatian” exhibits not only his naïve belief that such a thing as a Yugoslav language ever existed, but will soon realize, from his interlocutor’s reaction, that this is part of his long nurtured racist illusion that didn’t distinguish different languages and nations. That is to say, he comes to realize that Serbo-Croatian is not the mother tongue of a single newly created nation state, and that his innocent naiveté concerning the existence of a common language is impermissible to a citizen of any of the former Yugoslav countries. However, there is one equally embarrassing situation, and that is the moment when the subject decides to speak English,
Iz današnje persepktive jasno je da Davičo osim ovog kreativnog doprinosa politici jezika antikolonijalizma, ponajviše govorio o nama, jugoslovenima šezdesetih godina, upravo u momentu kada je srpskohrtvatski, odnosno hrvatskosrpski, novosadskom deklaracijom 1960. godine ozvaničen kao administrativni jezik SFRJ. Novosadskom deklaracijom, jedan jezik, državnom proklamacijom izgubio je upravo ono što je bila njegova politička funkcija, da bude jezik masa, jezik svih, izrasrastao iz narodnog i popularnog pokreta Narodno oslobodilačke borbe. Preko noći, državnom proklamacijom jezik svih proglašen je zvaničnim jezikom ideoloških aparata države, s tim da je aktom proglašenja u državni jezik on perspektivistički skraćen na jezike dve nacije: srpske i hrvatske. Ovom dvonacionalnom aproprijacijom jezika svih, srpskohrvatski postaje jezik, instrument, unitarističke državne politike, često i kolonijalnijalne politike jezika u odnosu na druge jugoslovenske narode (posebno one narode čiji maternji nije ni srpski ni hrvatski), ali ništa manje i za mnogobrojne varijante jednog i istog jezika drugih nacija-naroda, i najzad, paradoksalno, i za narode čija su imena u nazivu novog jezika.
From today’s perspective it is clear that Davičo, besides making this creative contribution to the policy of the language of anti-colonialism, was principally talking about us, the Yugoslavs of the 1960s exactly at the moment when Serbo-Croatian, that is to say Croatian-Serbian, was officially declared the administrative language of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia by the 1960 Declaration of Novi Sad. Through this declaration one language, by way of state proclamation, lost the very thing that had been its political function: to be the language of the masses, the language for all, which sprung from the people and the popular movement of the People’s Liberation Struggle. Over night, by means of state proclamation, the language of all was declared the official language of the state’s ideological apparatus, and by the same act of proclamation into the state language, the language of all was reduced to the languages of only two of the nations: Serbian and Croatian. By this bi-national appropriation of the language of all, Serbo-Croatian became the instrument of unitarian government policy – a colonial policy of language in relation to the other Yugoslav nations (especially those nations whose mother tongue was neither Serbian nor Croatian), but no less in relation to the numerous variants that exist of each of these languages, and finally, paradoxically, even in relation to the two nations whose names form the name of the new language.
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Iz svih ovih primera jasno je da je jezik politički strukturisan, ali da ne postoji uspela politika jezika. Drugim rečima, jezik jeste sredstvo politike, ali uvek se ispostavlja da je jezik politički nenaseljiv; u jeziku postoji otpor kada politika interveniše u njega, odnosno nemoguće je ne videti da jezik proizvodi političke učinke. Drugim rečima, kad-god politika uzme jezik kao sredstvo, on politici koja ga je uzela kao sredstvo vraća poruku u istinitom, obrnutom obliku: hteo si zajednički jezik svih — srpskohrvatski… ne, ti si aproprijatisao jezik svih i od njega napravio jezik koji je sve ugnjetavao. Odnosno, kao u primeru Marksove intervencije: hoćes jedinstvo rase … ne, ti nećes jedinstvo rase, ti hoćes okupaciju tuđim jezikom!
From these examples it is clear that language may be politically structured, but that a successful language policy doesn’t exist. In other words, language is a political means, but it is always uninhabitable; there is resistance in language when politics intervenes and thus it is impossible not to see that language has political effects. In other words, whenever politics takes language as a means, language returns the message to politics in a reversed form: You wanted a common language of all – Serbo-Croatian… No, you appropriated the language of all and made it a language that suppressed all. This echoes Marx’s point: You want racial unity… No, you don’t want racial unity, but occupation by a foreign language!
Н о н е т у м е с т а з л о б ы м а з к у ,н е м а ж ь т е к р а с н ы е д у ш и !
То в а р и щ и ю н о ш и , в з г л я д — н а М о с к в у ,н а р у с с к и й в о с т р и т е у ш и !
čak jos dramatičniji, budući da se tada definitivno suočavamo s tim da ni univerzalistički potencijal engleskog jezika ovde ne važi: ili vas većina ljudi ne razume, pošto narodne mase i dalje ne govore engleski i radije se odlučuju da u ovakvoj situaciji počnu spontano da govore srpskohrvatski, ili nakon nekog vremena kad nas srpskoengleski, hrvatskoengleski, albanskoengleski ili bosanskoengleski počinje polako, ili jako brzo, u zavisnosti od jezičke kompetencije sagovornika da „izdaje” i nacionalno locira.
the world’s lingua franca, the language of understanding and misunderstanding for all people, and therefore the politically correct language of all enemies – the language that seemingly removes the anxiety of the previous paralyzing panic. The result is exactly the same, even more dramatic, bearing in mind that we are now facing the fact that even the universalizing potential of the English language doesn’t apply here: either people don’t understand you, since the majority still do not speak English and start speaking Serbo-Croatian spontaneously, or our Serbian-English, Croatian-English, Albanian-English or Bosnian-English slowly, or quickly (depending of our interlocutor’s linguistic competence) begins to “give us away” and expose our nationality.
С м о т р и т е н а ж и з н ь б е з о ч к о в и ш о р ,г л а з а м и ж а д н ы м и ц а п а й т е
в с ё т о , ч т о у в а ш е й з е м л и х о р о ш ои ч т о х о р о ш о н а З а п а д е .
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Rad Devojka, sunce i avion avion zapravo je video rad u kome ovaj niz nepovezanih reči pred nepokretnom kamerom u ćosku studija za zvučno snimanje izgovaraju nasumično pozvani građani Tirane, kojima je umetnica stavila u zadatak da se prisete svih ruskih reči koje im padaju na pamet u momentu dok ih snima. Dakle, Djevuška… solnce… samaljot… samaljot izgovaraju ljudi stavljeni u ćosak ispred nepomične kamere u gluvoj sobi studija za snimanje zvuka. Ovaj artificijelni seting u kome su snimani protagonisti na bitan način opisuje situaciju građana Tirane: oni su podjednako udaljeni od istorijske prošlosti socijalizma koje više ne mogu da se sete, ili je se pak sećaju kao niz nepovezanih reči između kojih zjapi tišina kao vrištući otpor sećanju na socijalizam, pred kamerom koja beleži napredak zaboravljanja, i isto toliko udaljeni od evropske budućnosti koju ne mogu da zamisle u gluvoj sobi bez prozora, sabijeni u ćošak, bokserskim rečnikom rečeno, saterani u ugao, dakle potpuno defanzivni. Osim eksplicitnog zahteva za zaboravljanjem socijalizma, na delu je mučno prisutna materijalnost sloma koji zjapi u sudaru Staljina ideologa, ideološkog kolonijalnizma čiji je sastavni deo bio sovjetskoruski jezik i Staljina teoretičara jezika-nacije. Dakle, ne samo da imperijalni kapitalizan nije uspeo da reši pitanje entiteta koji je sam proizveo — jezika nacije, njega nije uspeo da reši ni ideološki kolonijalizam ideologije „socijalizma u jednoj zemlji” koji je zagovarao princip prava naroda
A Girl, the Sun and an Airplane Airplane is a video piece in which a sequence of disconnected words are pronounced by randomly invited citizens of Tirana, to whom the artist has given the task of remembering all the Russian words that come to mind at the moment of recording. Devuska… solnce… samolet… samolet are pronounced in front of a static camera in the isolation of a sound recording studio. The artificial setting in which the protagonists are recorded describes the situation of the citizens of Tirana well. They are all so removed from the historical past that they no longer remember, or remember only a sequence of disconnected words separated by a gaping silence as a screaming resistance to the memory of socialism. In the gaze of the camera that records the progress of forgetting, they are equally removed from the European future that they cannot imagine in this room without windows, pushed against the wall, into a corner, in a totally defensive position. A well as the explicit request to forget socialism, a painfully present materiality of the present breakdown is also at work, which gapes between Stalin the ideologist – an integral part of his ideological colonialism being the Soviet-Russian language – and Stalin the theoretician of the language-nation. Not only did imperial capitalism fail to solve the question of identity that it itself had given rise to – that of the language nation – but neither was it solved by the ideological
Rad Katarine Zdjelar A Girl, The Sun and an Airplane Airplane, (Devojka, sunce i avion avion) bavi se jednom zaboravljenom politikom jezika, ishodom pokušaja da ruski bude jezik svih onih koji se suprostavljaju kapitalizmu, jezik čije je govorenje dugo bilo znak i sredstvo politički drugog par excellence; rad se dakle bavi sudbinom sovjetskoruskog. Već sama činjenica da je rad koji govori o ruskosovjetskom jeziku autor Katarina Zdjelar imenovala engleskim jezikom, govori da je projekat sovjetskoruskog danas potuno mrtav, a da bi bio razumljiv mora da bude preveden na engleski jezik, jezik koji je preko pedeset godina bio jezik najvećeg antagona sovjetskoruskog ― dakle jezik demokratskog engleskog. Uopšte, govorenje engleskog za one koji dolaze iza „gvozdene zavese”, postao je legitimacijski akt par excellence. Naime, ako na „zapadu” nekadašnji građanin socijalističkih država ne govori engleski, to izaziva dve vrste predrasuda: takav građanin je ili nacionalista, ili komunista, ili oba zajedno; u tom smislu, genijalni slogan-rad umetnika Mladena Stilinovića iz sedamdesetih: Umetnik koji ne govori engleski nije umetnik, danas je moguće preformulisti, univerzalizovati: Čovek (iz Istočne Evrope) koji ne govori engleski nije čovek, ili bar ne čovek svog vremena.
Katarina Zdjelar’s video piece A Girl, the Sun and an Airplane Airplane (2007), deals with a forgotten language policy: the attempt to make Russian the language of all those who oppose capitalism, the speaking of which had long been a sign and a means of the politically Other par excellence: so the video piece deals with the fate of the language of Soviet-Russian. The very fact that Zdjelar has chosen to give a work dealing with the Soviet-Russian language an English title, tells us that the Soviet-Russian project is dead today. In order for it to be understandable it has to be translated into English, which for over fifty years has been the language of Soviet-Russian’s greatest antagonist – the language of democratic English. On the whole, for those coming from behind the Iron Curtain, speaking English became an act of identification par excellence. If a former citizen of one of the socialist states doesn’t speak English in the “West”, this provokes two kinds of prejudice: this citizen is either a nationalist, or a communist, or both.In that sense, the ingenious slogan-piece of the artist Mladen Stilinović from the 1970s, An Artist Who Cannot Speak English Is No Artist, can be rephrased today, universalized: A man (from Eastern Europe) who doesn’t speak English is not a man, at least not a man of his time.
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I da sam ostareli crnac učio bih ruski, jer je njim govorio drug Lenjin, što je u imaginariju vremena u kome je napisan značilo: da sam neko ko je indeks apsolutne obespravljenosti, učio bih ruski, pošto je tim jezikom govorila revolucija, koji iz današnje perspektive može da se čita kao politički nekorektan, čak rasistički jezički kalambur, dakle, najeksplicitniji promotivni slogan sovjetskogruskog, u slučaju protagonista video rada Katarine Zdjelar, koji su svedoci istorije, on se raspao u niz fonetskih nizova koji nisu više nikom, pa ni onima koji ih izgovaraju, razumljivi.
Even if I were an elderly negro I would learn to speak Russian, since that’s the language comrade Lenin spoke. In the collective imagination of the time this meant: if I were someone who is an index of absolute deprivation, I would learn to speak Russian, since that was the language of the revolution. From today’s perspective this could be read as a politically incorrect, even racist slight, so in the case of the protagonists of Zdjelar’s video piece, who are witnesses of history, the most explicit promotional slogan of Soviet-Russian dissolves into a series of phonetic sequences that no one, not even those that pronounce them, understands.
na samoopredeljenje. Ako je Majakovski, pesnik revolucije, svojim stihom:
colonialism of “socialism in one country”, which advocated the principle of the people’s right to self-determination. Vladimir Mayakovski, the poet of the revolution, wrote:
Д а б у д ь я и н е г р о м п р е к л о н н ы х г о д о в и т о , б е з у н ы н ь я и л е н и ,
я р у с с к и й б ы в ы у ч и л т о л ь к о з а т о ,ч т о и м р а з г о в а р и в а л Л е н и н .
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Rad Zdjelarove dramatizuje ono što je odavno dedramatizovano — aktom govorenja. Ona otvara prostor u kome je vidljiva muka subjekta koji se kroz akt govorenja istovremeno uspostavlja i briše kao subjekt, što zapravo pokazuje da uslov njegove mogućnosti da bude subjekt, dakle da govori, jeste istovremeno i mesto njegovog brisanja; ona dakle dramatizuje, i čini vidljivim nevidljivo sveprisutno kretanje u aktu svakidašnjeg govorenja: akt govorenja najpre sam subjekt dislocira izvan njega samog i prikači ga na mesto iskazivanja, na mesto odakle govori. Tim aktom dislokacije i evakuacije on gubi čitav identitet i pre nego što je počeo da govori; međutim, u momentu kad je nešto izgovorio već je izbrisan u sadržaju iskaza. Sadržaj i forma iskazanog materijalizuju se u telu onoga koji govori i koji mora na sebe da preuzme sve ono sto je obećano iskazom. A jednim najobičnijim iskazom je obećano mnogo, hteo to subjekt koji govori da zna ili ne. Subjekt je najpre pred dilemom: govoriti ili ne govoriti, što je lažna dilemma; jer, ako odluči da ne govori, on je već isključen iz sveta; s druge strane, time što ne govori, on ipak govori, dakle govori da je izabrao neljudski svet; da bi izbegao poziciju da se upiše u neljudski svet, on počinje da govori, ali tada je već uhvaćen u sve muke govorećeg subjekta: pošto ne postoji univerzalni jezik, on mora da bira jedan jezik, dok ga govorenje tog jezika stavlja u odnos nerazumevanja sa svim ostalim jezicima; osim toga, to što govori baš taj jezik retroaktivno ga konstituiše kao pripadnika neke nacije, nerešivim ostatkom našeg sveta; takođe, način na koji govori maternji jezik segregira ga, i stavlja u poziciju da zauzme svoju klasnu i socijalnu
Zdjelar’s piece dramatizes what has long been dedramatized – through the act of speaking. She opens up a space in which we can see the agony of the subject who through the act of speaking is simultaneously being established and erased as the subject, which shows that the condition of his possibility to be a subject, and therefore to speak, is at the same time the place of his erasure. Zdjelar dramatizes, and makes visible the invisible ubiquitous movement in the act of everyday speech: the act of speaking is first of all dislocated by the subject outside of himself and pinned to the place of enunciation, the place from which he speaks. By this act of dislocation and evacuation the subject loses his whole identity before he has even started speaking; at the moment of speaking, he has already been erased in the contents of that statement. The contents and the form of the statement materialize in the body of the person who speaks and who must take everything that has been promised by the statement upon himself. And a simple statement promises a great deal, whether the subject that speaks wants to know it or not. First of all, the subject is faced with a dilemma: to speak or not to speak, which is a false dilemma, because if he decides not to speak, he has already been excluded from the world. On the other hand, by not speaking, he still makes the silent statement that he has chosen the inhuman world. In order to escape the position of being enlisted into the inhuman world, he starts to speak, but then he has already
Ljudi koji se pojavljuju u ćosku jako puno svedoče: Najstariji se najviše sećaju sovjetskoruskog; mladi se uopšte ne sećaju jezika socijalizma; siromašnije obučeni se bolje sećaju od onih koji su skuplje obučeni; lokalno obučeni se bolje sećaju od onih koji su evropski obučeni; niže obrazovani se trude da se sete; više obrazovani se ironično distanciraju od onog što govore… Drugim rečima, svi su podjendako zaboravili jezik socijalizma, ali su ga zaboravili na različite načine, akt snimanja sećanja na jezik postaje poprište politike sećanja, odnosno odnos prema zaboravljenom jeziku je indeks njihove aktuelne situacije. Štaviše, sećanje na jezik proizvodi fonemski materijal koji se upisuje u njihove aktualne ideologije: evropejske, lokalne, narodnjačke i istovremeno u klasnu i socijalnu poziciju, odnosno lifestyle ; drugim rečima, što više socijalizma u sećanju, to niža klasna, socijalna, obrazovna pozicija: fonemsko sećanje na socijalizam je poslednje materijalno utočiste socijalizma i ono proizvodi segregaciju, deklasiranost.
When cornered, people testify to many things. The elderly remember Soviet-Russian most vividly; the young do not remember the language of socialism at all; those poorly dressed remember better than those dressed more expensively; those wearing clothes typical of the region remember better than those in more European clothes; those with a lower education level try to remember whilst those with a higher education take an ironic distance… In other words, they have all equally forgotten the language of socialism, but they have forgotten it in different ways. Here the act of recording the memory of the language becomes the scene of the politics of memory, the relationship to the forgotten language being an indicator of their current situation. Indeed, the memory of the language produces phonemic material that is inscribed into their current ideologies – European, local, populist – and at the same time into their class and social position, that is to say their lifestyle. In other words, the more socialism in memory, the lower the class, social, educational position: the phonemic memory of socialism is the last material refuge of socialism and it manufactures segregation, outclassing.
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Zdjelarova svojim radom uočava mnoštvo jezika i bavi se otkrivanjem i beleženjem potencijalnog beskonačnog mnoštva jezika, pošto jezik ima bezbroj tela u kojima prebiva, ali istovremeno je od svih njih i distanciran. Međutim, ono što ostaje konstanta njenog rada jeste sledeće: jezik se uvek hvata u trenutku kada ga neko govori. U tom smislu, ovaj rad predstavlja stalno režiranje drame akta iskazivanja. Zdjelarova neprestano inscenira dramu govorećeg subjekta uhvaćenog i snimljenog u aktu govora, unutar koga večno ostaje upisana dilema iz koje se generiše njen rad, a koja glasi: Zašto postoji mnoštvo jezika a ne samo jedan, kada smo i inače osuđeni na učinke jezika koji su identični, ma kojim jezikom govorili?
Zdjelar’s piece notes the multiple nature of language and deals with the discovery and recording of a potentially infinite number of languages, since language dwells in an infinite number of bodies but is at the same time removed from them all. However, the following remains constant in the piece: language is always being caught in the moment when someone speaks it. In that sense, this piece represents the constant directing of the drama of the act of speaking. Zdjelar repeatedly stages the drama of the speaking subject caught and recorded in the act of speaking, inside of which the inscribed dilemma out of which her piece is generated eternally remains, which reads: Why is there a multitude of languages instead of just one, when we are anyway condemned to the effects of language, which are identical, irrespective of which language we speak?
—
poziciju za koju mora politički da se bori, a time što govori automatski je odgovoran prema pravu i to sve u ime onog praznog mesta s početka — mesta iskazivanja u kome je on najmanje on, masta koje je čista i prazna simbolička konstrukcija praznine koja nam omogućava da govorimo.
been caught in all the anguishes of the speaking subject: since a universal language doesn’t exist, he is forced to choose a single language, while speaking this language places him in a relation of misunderstanding with all the other languages; besides, the fact that he speaks that very language retroactively constitutes him as a member of a nation, the insolvable remainder of our world. Likewise, the way in which he speaks his mother tongue segregates him, and puts him in a position to take a class and social position for which he has to struggle politically, and through what he speaks he is automatically responsible towards the law and all this in the name of that empty place from the beginning – the place of enunciation in which he is least himself, the place that is a pure and empty symbolic construction of an emptiness that enables us to speak.
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Čujemo akorde odsvirane na klaviru. Kao da nešto najavljuju.
Najavljuju šta?
Ne znamo.
Vidimo kvadrat ispunjen sivom bojom: amorfno polje mogućnosti.
We hear chords played on a piano. They seem to introduce something.
Introduce what?
We don’t know.
We see a square filled with grey: the amorphous field of possibilities.
E V ERY T H I NG IS G ON NA BE:T R AGEDY & T H E SCR I P T OF H ISTORY
(SVE ĆE B IT I : TR AGEDIJA I SCENARIO ISTORIJE )
Frans-Willem Korsten
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You Say You Want A RevolutionWell, You Know
We All Want To Change The World.
You Tell Me That It’s Evolution,Well, You Know
We All Want To Change The World.
Čujemo hor kako peva tu pesmu, ali vidimo pojedine članove hora kako, čini se, prave prve pokušaje da ovladaju tekstom. Da li je ovo nekakva alegorija, koja nam predstavlja odabranu grupu ljudi veoma nalik vama i meni? U ovom slučaju, ti ljudi su sa norveškog poluostrva Lofoten, a isto tako mogli su biti iz bilo kog evropskog sela udaljenog od, ali ne i van vidokruga centra, bilo kog sela u nekom napola zaboravljenom kutku gde, pomislio bi čovek, život ne dotiču niti mu prete globalne sile. Iz mesta kao što je Burg-Hamstede, skrivenog iza dina u Holandiji; Dornšteten, na rubu Švarcvalda u Nemačkoj; San Domeniko, u Italiji, odakle se lepo vidi Firenca; ili Erikur, u Francuskoj, pored koga bilo koji autostoper može proći a da ne zna da je to seoce nekada bilo poprište velike bitke. Uistinu, taj hor mogao je biti bilo koji hor na nekom sličnom mestu. Međutim, ovo nije alegorija, jer u svojoj briljantnoj jednostavnosti, rad Zdjelarove predstavlja izuzetno dirljivu razradu onoga što predstavlja moderna istorija, konkretnije: moderna tragedija.
We hear a choir singing the song, but we see individual members of the choir making what seem to be first attempts to master the text.Is this an allegory, presenting us with a select company of people very like you and me? In this case they are from the Norwegian peninsula of Lofoten, which might as well have been any European village removed from, but not out of sight of, the centre, any hamlet in some half-forgotten corner in which one may think that life has not been touched or threatened by global forces. Places such as Burgh-Haamstede, hiding behind the dunes in the Netherlands; Dornstetten, on the rim of Germany’s Black Forest; San Domenico, Italy, providing a secure vantage point of Florence; or Héricourt, France, which any hitchhiker may pass unaware that this tiny village was once the site of a great battle. Indeed, the choir could have been any choir in a comparable place. But this is not allegorical, for in its brilliant simplicity Zdjelar’s work is an extremely touching elaboration of what modern history is, and more specifically: modern tragedy.
Zatim ulazimo u istoriju. Siva boja postaje pozadina za grupu ljudi koji pevaju jednu poznatu pesmu: „Revoluciju“ („Revolution“) Bitlsa. Kada je Džon Lenon napisao ovu pesmu, to je za njega bio jedan očito politički zaokret, koji je uznemirio Pola Mekartnija, sa kojim je nekada zajedno komponovao. Ta pesma pojavila se na njihovom albumu The Beatles (poznatom kao „Beli album“ ), objavljenom 1968. godine. Na ovom albumu, priznao je Lenon, saradnja među članovima grupe već je bila stvar prošlosti: svaku od pesama napisao je neki od članova grupe kao pojedinac, a ostali su predstavljali muzičku pratnju. Jedinstvenog zvuka više nije bilo. Rascep je bio očigledan. Bio je to početak nostalgije za obožavaoce grupe.
Then we enter history. The grey becomes a background for a group of people singing a well-known song: The Beatles’ ‘Revolution’. When John Lennon wrote it, he made a distinctly political turn, which upset his erstwhile co-writer Paul McCartney. The song appeared on the 1968 album The Beatles, (commonly known as “The White Album”). With this album, Lennon conceded, cooperation between the band members had already fallen apart: each song was a song by an individual band member with the other members providing accompaniment. The unified sound was lost. Fragmentation was evident. It was the beginning of nostalgia for the fans.
Lennon/McCartney, ‘Revolution 1’, 1968
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Zapravo, u pesmi se sudaraju dva istorijska scenarija, oba utopijska, jedan nasilan a drugi nenasilan. Sasvim je jasno kakav je scenario govornik-pevač namenio sebi, dok on ponavlja argumente koji su nam poznati iz velikih revolucija s kraja osamnaestog, iz sredine devetnaestog i iz ranog dvadestog veka, ili reprodukuje jedan vid religijske vere u budućnost u kojoj će nam svima biti dobro ako samo „uradimo ono što možemo“.
Actually, within the song there is a collision between two historical scripts, both utopian, one violent and the other non-violent. It is quite clear how the speaker-singer is himself being scripted, re-iterating arguments that we know from the great revolutions of the late eighteenth, mid-nineteenth, and early twentieth centuries, or reproducing a form of religious faith in the future in which we are all going to be fine if we just ‘do what we can’.
Don’t You Know It’s Going To Be All Right, All Right, All Right.
But When You Talk About Destruction, Don’t You Know That You Can Count Me Out. In.
ISTORIJA I SCENARIO
Pesma „Revolucija“ je o scenariju za istoriju, ili o želji za nekakvim istorijskim scenariom. Sama ideja revolucije pretpostavlja da je čoveku dosta statusa kvo i da hoće da ga svrgne, da okrene novu stranicu i počne iz početka. Ustav treba promeniti, ili ga treba spaliti i napisati novi. U pesmi, pevač-govornik odbacuje takvu želju za istorijom po modelu scenarija („svi bismo voleli da vidimo taj plan“). On ne želi da učestvuje u bilo kakvom ogavnom razaranju („ne računajte na mene“), ali ne želi ni da prihvati status kvo. On uverava slušaoce (i one koji priželjkuju revoluciju) da će sve „biti u redu“. Ovo teško da je opis, ali se ipak uklapa u nekakav scenario.
H I S TORY A N D S C R I P T
The song ‘Revolution’ is about a script for history, or the desire for an historical script. The very idea of a revolution presupposes that one has had enough of the status quo and wants to overthrow it, to turn the page of the past and make a new start. The constitution needs changing, or to be committed to the flames and written again. In the song the singer-speaker rejects such a desire for a scripted history (‘we’d all love to see the plan’). He doesn’t want to be party to any nasty destruction (‘count me out’), but neither does he accept the status quo. He assures his listeners (and those desiring a revolution) that everything is ‘gonna be all right’. This is hardly a description but it still fits a script.
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Pojedinci iz hora često deluju izgubljeno dok se bore sa rečima pesme. Intenzivno zagledani u nešto što mi ne vidimo, traže nešto čemu ne nalaze parnjaka. To nešto je tekst, scenario. To je scenario koji svi ti pojedinci isprva pokušavaju da slede, zatim da usvoje, a najzad da se stope s njim. Ovde se radi o statusu istorije. Istorija je ili ono što se dešava između pokušaja da se pročita šta se dešava i onoga što se zaista dešava – ili je pak istorija ono što dešavajući se nalazi svoje mesto tako što ga upisuju ljudi koji nisu sigurni šta taj scenario zapravo predstavlja. U oba slučaja, ljudska bića ne stvaraju istoriju, niti istorija stvara njih. Međutim, istorija nije isto što i scenario. Drhtava, nesigurna izvedba scenarija ne govori o istoriji; to je sama istorija, odnosno, bolje rečeno, jedan njen modalitet.
Often, the individuals singing with the choir appear lost, struggling with the words. Intensely looking at something that we cannot see, searching for something for which they cannot find a match. This something is the text, scripted. This is the script that all these individual characters are trying firstly to follow, then to incorporate, and finally to become one with. What is at stake is the status of history. History is either that which takes place between the attempt to read what is happening, and what is actually happening – or history is that which in happening finds its place through the inscription of people who are unsure about what the script actually is. In both cases human beings do not make history, nor does history make them. But history does not equate with script either. The wavering, stumbling performance of the script is not about history; it is history itself, or rather, one modality of it.
Kada hor počne da peva, „ja“ pesme se umnožava. Oni kojima je poznata „Revolucija“, kao i vrisak kojim pesma počinje, i dalje će čuti Lenonov glas iza smirene harmonije hora. Ovim se naglašava scenarističnost glasova. Shodno tome, ima mnogo prostora za ironiju. Međutim, Zdjelarova unosi jedan obrat kojim se ovaj rad pretvara u razradu scenarističnosti koja uopšte nije ironično intonirana.
As the choir starts to sing, the ‘I’ of the song is multiplied. Those familiar with ‘Revolution’, and the scream with which it starts, will still hear Lennon’s voice through the choir’s harmonious tranquillity. This highlights the scripted-ness of the voices. Consequently, there is plenty of room for irony. But Zdjelar adds a twist that makes the piece into an elaboration on scripted-ness itself that is not at all ironic.
You Say You Got A Real SolutionWell, You Know
We’d All Love To See The Plan.
You Ask Me For A Contribution, Well, You Know
We All Do What We Can.
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IRONIJA ISTORIJE
Zašto se stvari dešavaju nije toliko zagonetka istorije, ono što je istinski zbunjujuće je zašto su se uopšte desile. Suočen sa radiklanom uslovnošću istorije, Đerđ Lukač, čuveni mađarski filozof, razmatrao je fundamentalnu ironiju istorije. Fundamentalna je ironija da se za svakoga od nas, od beskrajnog broja mogućnosti, ostvaruje neko konkretno delovanje. Zašto se jaje izleglo? Zašto je jajna ćelija privukla baš taj spermatozoid koji nije imao predstavu o tome kuda se zaputio? Samo jedno sićušno skretanje, samo jedna mala prepreka, i ja bih bio druga osoba sa drugim telom. Šire istorijski gledano, može se razmišljati o početku Prvog svetskog rata (što nam, uzgred budi rečeno, pruža model i za Drugi svetski rat). Da je neko u pekari gde je Gavrilo Princip kupio sendvič bio malo sporije uslužen, i da nadvojvoda Franc Ferdinand nije iznenada odlučio da promeni pravac kretanja, do neverovatne koincidencije susreta nadvojvode i vojvotkinje Sofije sa njihovim ubicom ne bi ni došlo.Zbog ove fundamentalne ironije, ima nečeg neobičnog, neverovatno smešnog u istoriji. To jest, ako ste jedan od posmatrača. Ako ste vi deo koincidencije koja određuje kakva će istorija biti, stvari mogu dobiti tragičan ishod.
H I S TORY ’ S I RON Y
Why things happen is not so much the riddle of history, what is genuinely puzzling is why they should have happened at all. Confronted with the radical contingency of history, George Lukács, the famous Hungarianphilosopher, considered history’s fundamental irony. It is fundamentally ironic that for each of us, given an infinite number of possibilities, a particular action should materialize. Why did the egg hatch? Why did the ovum attract this particular little seed with no clue where it was headed? One tiny little detour, one little obstacle, and I would have been another person with another body. On the broader scale of history one can think of the beginnings of the First World War (which, incidentally, provides us with the model for the Second World War.) If there had been someone a little slow ahead of Gavrilo Princip at the bakery where he bought his sandwich, and if the Archduke Franz Ferdinand had not suddenly decided to change his route the incredible coincidence of the Archduke and Duchess Sophia meeting their assassin would not have occurred. Because of this fundamental irony there is something strangely, uncannily funny in history. That is, if you are one of the onlookers. If you are part of the coincidence that determines what history is going to be, things may take a tragic turn.
Kada se, na kraju, pesma završava poznatim stihom „sve će biti u redu“, jedan od članova hora još uvek peva, bezglasno, „u redu“, „u redu“, zagledan očima koje su istovremeno prazne i fokusirane na oblik onoga što peva: reči koje ga uveravaju da je sve „u redu“, „u redu“. To je kao da on nesvesno dešifruje nekakav tekst koji do njega dopire odnekud iz daljine, i još uvek nije došao do nekakvog rešenja. On nema pojma šta se sa njim zbiva dok, kako izgleda, kao akter proizvodi upravo ono što se dešava.
When at the end, the song fades out with the famous line ‘everything is gonna be all right’ one of the members of the choir is still singing, without sound, ‘all right’, ‘all right’, whilst looking with eyes that are both empty and focused on the shape of what he is singing: the words that reassure him ‘all right’, ‘all right’. It is as if he is unconsciously deciphering a text that comes through him from some distant place, and has not yet reached any conclusion. He has no clue as to what is happening to him whilst he seems to be the actor that produces the very happening.
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Posle holokausta, tragedija je proglašena zastarelom, zajedno sa genocidima koji su se odigrali posle toga. Posle takvih događaja, ništa se ne može nazvati pravom tragedijom. Kako čovek da nađe načina da predstavi užase i tragični završetak holokausta? To se pitanje pokazalo izuzetno složenim, jer kada bi tako nešto bilo moguće, tragedija bi prevashodno postojala na nivou predstavljanja. Mi bismo tada bili posmatrači u domenu predstavljanja, što posmatrače u stvarnosti (a to smo takođe) briše. Bilo kakva istinska tragedija, naravno, materijalizuje se u stvarnosti. Naravno, predstavljanje je vid stvarnosti. Međutim, ono je odvojeno od onoga što se dešava i što se dešavalo u stvarnosti, koja, kao takva, postaje iluzorna trenutak pošto se materijalizuje. Na nivou predstavljanja, tragedija postaje, svesno ili nesvesno, stvar ponavljanja ili odražavanja: vid ponovnog insceniranja kojim se stvara kvazitragedija ili retrotragedija.
After the holocaust tragedy has been declared obsolete, along with genocides that have occurred since. After such events nothing can qualify as tragedy proper. How could one find ways to represent the horrors and tragic ending of a holocaust? The issue has proven to be extremely complicated, because if it were possible to do so, tragedy would exist predominantly on the level of representation. We would then be onlookers in the field of representation, which puts the onlookers in reality (who we also are) under erasure. Any true tragedy, of course, materializes in reality. To be sure, representation is a form of reality. But it is distinct from what happens and happened in reality, which, as such, becomes illusive the moment after it has materialized. On the level of representation tragedy becomes, consciously or subconsciously, a matter of repetition or reflection: a form of re-staging that creates quasi-tragedy or retro-tragedy.
Na pitanje šta je tragedija može se, naravno, odgovoriti samo vezano za jasno određene kulturno-istorijske kontekste. Ne postoji univerzalno „tragično“. Ipak, tragedija je uglavnom čitana kroz razumevanje „klasične tragedije“. Ovo čitanje je i samo zamagljeno nemogućnošću hrišćanske tragedije, budući da hrišćanstvo ima scenario sa srećnim završetkom za one koji su pravedno spašeni ili sa zasluženim krajem za one koji su kažnjeni po zasluzi.
The question of what tragedy is can only be answered in relation to distinct cultural-historical contexts, of course. There is no such thing as the universal “tragic”. Tragedy has nevertheless been read largely through an understanding of “classical tragedy”. This reading has itself been muddled by the impossibility of Christian tragedy, because Christianity has a script with a happy ending for those who are justly saved or an appropriate end for those who are deservedly punished.
If You Want Money For People With Minds That Hate, All I Can Tell You Is Brother You Have To Wait.
Don’t You Know It’s Going To Be All Right, All Right, All Right.
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ISTORIJSK A SVEST K AO TR AGEDIJA
Poznata je fraza vezana za traumatizovane ljude koji su preživeli holokaust – zapravo, za sve traumatizovane ljude – da su oni „uhvaćeni u zamku istorije“. Oni to nikada ne prebole, niti ostave za sobom, nisu u stanju da razmišljaju o tome, ne mogu to nikada progutati ili svariti. Trauma se sastoji u tome što užasni događaji iz prošlosti zadržavaju karakter sadašnjosti, koji se zbog njihove večite sadašnjosti ne može istorizovati. Subjekti Zdjelarove, međutim, na drugačiji, gotovo suprotan način, uhvaćeni su u zamku istorije. Oni kao da nisu traumatizovani, niti izgleda da su počinioci ma kakvog zločina. U najboljem slučaju, oni su sitni kriminalci. Eto ih: ljudi kao vi i ja na bogatom Zapadu; žive u lepo nameštenim kućama, dobro su obučeni, dobro uhranjenih, zdravih (ili dovoljno zdravih), uvežbanih tela, i u proseku, u prilično odmakloj starosti. Pevaju pesme zajedno u horu koji se sastaje jednom nedeljno. Pevaju o razaranjima koja ne žele, izražavaju nadu da će sve biti u redu, dok su zapravo savim irelevantni za tok istorije. Oni znaju da imaju mesto u njoj, negde, nekako. Ali oni je istovremeno samo posmatraju, naslućujući jaz između istorije i njihove nesposobnosti da stvaraju istoriju.
H I S TOR IC A L C ON S C IOUS N E S S A S T R AG E DY
The famous phrase in relation to traumatized holocaust survivors – in fact all traumatized people – is that they are “caught in history”. They are never over it, or past it, they are incapable of reflecting upon it, they can never swallow or digest it. The trauma consists in the remaining presentness of horrific past events, which because of their perpetual presence cannot be historicized.Zdjelar’s subjects are being caught differently in history, however, almost in an opposite way. They do not seem to be traumatized, nor do they appear as perpetrators of any crime. At best they are little criminals. There they are: people just like you and me in the prosperous West; living in well furnished houses, well-dressed, with well-fed, healthy (or healthy enough), trained bodies, and, on average, well on their way to a ripe old age. They sing songs together in a choir that meets once a week. They sing about a destruction they do not want, they express their hopes that everything is gonna be all right, while in actual fact they are completely irrelevant to the unfolding of history. They know they have a place in it, somewhere, somehow. But at the same time they are just looking at it, sensing the split between what history is and their inability to make history.
To nije ono što nam govori rad Zdjelarove Sve će biti. Moderna refleksivna istorijska svest (naš status posmatrača) je ta koja otvara nove modalitete tragedije.
This all is not what Zdjelar’s Everything Is Gonna Be is telling us. It is the modern reflexive consciousness of history (our status as onlookers) that opens up new modes of tragedy.
You Say You’ll Change A ConstitutionWell, You Know
We’d All Love To Change Your Head.
You Tell Me It’s The Institution,Well, You Know
You Better Free Your Mind Instead.F
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Izloženi istoriji, ti ljudi pate jer nisu u stanju da postanu subjekti istorije. Oni žude za tim da se istorija desi, a boje se upravo te mogućnosti. Način na koji su oni uhvaćeni u zamku istorije vezan je za to što nisu u stanju da izbegnu da budu istorizovani pre nego što su uopšte postali prisutni.
Subjected to history these are people who suffer being unable to become the subjects of history. They long for history to take place, whilst fearing the very possibility of it. Their way of being caught in history consists in their inability to escape the position of being historicized before even having become present.
Poenta tragedije je u tome što čovek biva, ne svojom voljom, uhvaćen u zamku jednog konkretnog sleda akcija i događanja, jedne istorije, dok se istovremeno mogu naslututi mogućnosti drugih akcija i drugih istorija. Ali te druge mogućnosti, što je tragično, ne materijalizuju se. Dok ljudi koji su preživeli holokaust mogu biti uhvaćeni u zamku istorije, Zdjelarova nam pokazuje jedan vid tragedije u kome čovek biva uhvaćen u zamku sadašnjice, a istovremeno je na neki način svestan da prisustvuje „pogrešnoj“ istoriji.
The point of tragedy is that one is involuntarily caught in a specific sequence of actions and events, in one history, whilst at the same time the possibilities of other actions and other histories can be sensed. But these other possibilities, tragically, do not materialize. Whereas holocaust survivors may be caught in history Zdjelar shows us a form of tragedy in which one is caught in the present, whilst at the same time being somehow aware that one is witnessing the “wrong” history.
But If You Go Carrying Pictures Of Chairman Mao, You Ain’t Gonna Make It With Anyone Anyhow.
Don’t You Know It’s Going To Be All Right, All Right, All Right.
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Ne zaboravite, oni jesu prisutni kao likovi, bore se da nađu mesto, da nađu sklad između onoga što čine i govore, ili onoga što osećaju i pevaju. Možda će čak dosegnuti nekakvu harmoniju. Ali na neki način, u osnovi, njihove su oči fokusirane na ono što nikada neće biti istinski njihovo. Njihova će tela pokušati da se pokrenu, ali će ostati nepokretna. Oni nisu izgubljeni. To su fini ljudi kojima je istorija priredila neslanu šalu. Pevaju o revoluciji, a nemaju pojma o tome kakva je, nedostaju im prave reči. Baš neprijatno. Zauzimaju pozu, prerano, prekasno. Gutaju ono što treba da kažu. Pitaju šta se od njih traži. Znaju da delaju a ne delaju, i da stvaraju istoriju ne stvarajući je. Da li su to ispravni postupci? Da li je ovo prava istorija?
Bolno mi je da ih vidim takve.
Bolno nam je da sebe vidimo takve.
Ko li nam je ovo smestio? Ko nas je sprečio da pobegnemo? Ko nas je uhvatio u zamku našeg sopstvenog odraza? Treba li mi da pevamo? Što da ne? Pevaćemo čak i kada muzika utihne, kada naš glas zamukne. Naša će usta izražavati ono što niko ne čuje.
Onda ćemo prestati.
U redu?
Mind you, they are present as characters, struggling to find a place, to find a match between what they do and say, or what they feel and sing. They may even reach some kind of harmony. But somehow, fundamentally, their eyes are fixed on what will never become truly theirs. Their bodies will try to rouse themselves, but will remain still. They are not lost. They are nice people on whom history played a nasty trick. Singing about a revolution without a clue of what it is, they miss the right words. Embarrassing. They strike a pose, too early, too late. They swallow what they need to say. They ask what is being asked of them. They know they are acting whilst not-acting and making history whilst not making it. Are these the right actions? Is this the right history?
It pains me to see them like that.
It pains us to see us like this.
Who tricked us into this? Who blocked the escape? Who caught us in our own reflection? Should we sing? Why not? We’ll even sing when the music has stopped, when our voice has disappeared. Our mouths will express what nobody can hear.
Then we’ll stop.
All right?
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The Perfect Sound (Savršeni zvuk), 2009A speech therapist and his pupil were filmed at an accent reduction course in the UK. / Govorni terapeut i njegov učenik, snimljeni u toku jednog tečaja uklanjanja akcenta u Velikoj Britaniji.Video, 14’30’’
Would that be alright with you if I bring my cat along? (Imaš li nešto protiv da ponesem svoju mačku), 2006This video was made at a language course for immigrants in the Netherlands, and captures the participants’ efforts to reproduce and practice what they hear in the audio instruction. / Ovaj video snimljen je u okviru jednog tečaja jezika za doseljenike u Holandiji, i na njemu su zabeležena nastojanja polaznika da reprodukuju i uvežbaju ono što čuju tokom audio obuke.Video, 6’23’’
L I S T OF WOR K S
(L ISTA R ADOVA)
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There Is No Is (Nema tu „iz”), 2006This short video shows the numerous attempts of a young Japanese woman to pronounce the name “Katarina Zdjelar”. / Ovaj kratki video prikazuje brojne pokušaje jedne mlade Japanke da izgovori ime „Katarina Zdjelar”.Video, 1’50’’
One or Two Songs, on Someone or Something in Particular ( Jedna ili dve pesme, o nekom ili nečem), 2007A young girl is exploring a new instrument, the electric guitar, while she develops an, as yet, wordless song. / Jedna devojka snimljena je dok otkriva jedan novi instrument, električnu gitaru, na kojoj stvara pesmu koja je, za sada, bez reči.Video, 4’46’’
In Unison (U jednom glasu), 2009This silent film of a woman singing focuses on voice as a physical and social event. / Ovo je nemi film koji prikazuje jednu ženu koja peva, usredsređujući se na glas kao fizički i društveni događaj.Video, 5’28’’
Taking Place (Održavati se), 2008This video was shot at a community space in Rotterdam and captures a self-developed social ritual of a group of locals. / Ovaj video snimljen je u prostorijama jedne zajednice u Roterdamu i prikazuje jedan društveni ritual grupe lokalnih žitelja koji su oni sami stvorili.Video, 7’16’’
Don’t Do It Wrong (Ne čini to pogrešno), 2007Filmed at a primary school in Istanbul, this video captures how a group of children relates to their daily ritual of performing the national anthem. / Snimljen u jednoj osnovnoj školi u Istanbulu, ovaj video pokazuje kako se jedna grupa dece odnosi prema svakodnevnom ritualu izvođenja nacionalne himne. Collection / Kolekcija: MACBA, Museum of Contemporary Art Barcelona; Isabelle & Jean-Conrad Lemaître Video, 10’13’’
Everything Is Gonna Be (Sve će biti), 2008A chorus is filmed in the process of practicing The Beatles’ song ‘Revolution’. / Jedan hor snimljen je dok uvežbava izvođenje presme Bitlsa „Revolucija”.Video, 3’35’’
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A Girl, the Sun and an Airplane Airplane (Devojka, sunce i avion avion), 2007A number of individuals from post-communist Albania are asked to say what they remember from the Russian language they once had to learn./Od izvesnog broja žitelja postkomunističke Albanije zatraženo je da kažu čega se sećaju iz ruskog jezika, koji su nekada morali da uče.Video, 9’50’’
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B IO G R A PH Y K ATA R I N A Z DJ E L A R
(B IOGR AFIJA K ATARINA ZDJEL AR)
Born in 1979 in Belgrade; based in Rotterdam / Rodjena 1979. godine u Beogradu; živi i radi u Roterdamu.
Education (Obrazovanje)
2006 MA Fine Art, Piet Zwart Institute, Willem de Kooning Academy, Rotterdam;2004 BA, Faculty of Applied Arts, University of Arts Belgrade; 2001 - 2002 Art Theory, CENPI, Centre for New Theatre and Dance, Belgrade.
Selected group exhibitions, projects and screenings (Izabrane grupne izložbe, projekti i projekcije)
2009 Resonant Bodies, Voices, Memories, screening / projekcija, Etablissement d’en Face, Brussels; Soft Manipulation or Who Is Afraid of the New Now?, Stiftelsen 3,14, Bergen; Farewell Lemaitre, screening / projekcija, Artprojx Space, London; Keep It to Yourself, screening / projekcija, De Appel, Amsterdam; Vidéos Europa, Le Fresnoy, Lille; Expanded Box, ARCO 09, Madrid; Happy Together – Critical Ref lections on Collective Identities, Tallinn Art Hall, Tallinn; Soft Manipulation or Who Is Afraid of the New Now?, Casino Luxembourg, Luxembourg; Resonant Bodies, Voices, Memories, screening / projekcija, Piet Zwart Institute, Rotterdam.
2008 LOOP at Art Forum Berlin 08, Berlin; Kunst for barn og unge – i voksnses (selv) bilde, screening / projekcija, Arts Council Norway / Kunstløftet, Oslo; Between a Rock and a Hard Place, screening in conjunction with / projekcija u okviru projekta PhotoCairo4, Rawabet Theatre, Cairo; LOOP 08 (Mirta Demare Gallery), Barcelona; Subjective Events, Sometimes Recorded, Art Laboratory Berlin; Dobre, hrabre, slavne, screening / projekcija, Privremena Zenska Mjesna Zajednica ELEKTRA, Zagreb; Artist-Citizen: Contextual Art Practices, 49th October Salon, Belgrade; TINA B: The Prague Contemporary Art Festival: Forms of Engagement, Prague; It’s raining outside but I don’t believe that it is, SPAPORT, Banja Luka; Musée des rencontres, Galerie Cortex Athlético, Bordeaux; Some Things Never Change, screening / projekcija, Halle für Kunst, Lüneburg; Young Visual Art Award, Magacin, Belgrade; LIAF 08: Towards a Future Present, Lofoten; The Promised Land, Chelsea Art Museum, New York; Visibility Works, Hungarian University of Fine Arts, Budapest.
2007 If I can’t dance I don’t want to be part of your revolution, MuHKA, Antwerp; The Nature of Evil, Finnish Museum of Photography, Helsinki; Coexistence, ABC No Rio, New York; Parallax: A View from a Different Angle, New Visual Tendencies Festival, Dom Omladine, Belgrade; Black Magic Women Award, CBK Zuidoost, Amsterdam; Wolkom yn it Heitelân, Fries Museum, Buro Leeuwarden, Leeuwarden; Mangelos Award, Kontekst Gallery, Belgrade;
Residencies
(Rezidencijalni boravci)
2008 VIVID, Birmingham; 2007 ISCP, International Studio and Curatorial Program, New York; 2007 Platform Garanti Centre for Contemporary Art, Istanbul; 2007 TICA, Tirana Institute for Contemporary Art, Tirana.
Selected stipends and awards
(Izabrane stipendije i nagrade)
2008 Starter Stipend, The Netherlands Foundation for Visual Arts, Design and Architecture, Amsterdam; 2008 Research Grant, dienst Kunst en Cultuur, Rotterdam; 2007 Dimitrije Banisevic Mangelos Award, Belgrade; 2006 Promotieprijs award for the advancement of practice, Rotterdam; 2005 HSP Huygens Scholarship, Nuffic & Ministry for Education, Culture and Science, The Netherlands; 2005 Fund for Young Talents, Serbian Ministry of Education; 2004 Aleksandar Tomašević Award, University of Arts Belgrade.
Solo exhibitions and projects
( Samostalne izložbe i projekti)
2009 The Precarious State #3: Taking Place, De Inkijk / SKOR Foundation Art and Public Space, Amsterdam; Katarina Zdjelar: Speaking through Each Other’s Mouth, Salon of the Museum of Contemporary Art Belgrade, Belgrade.
2008 The Perfect Sound, Vivid, Birmingham; Katarina Zdjelar: Everything Is Gonna Be, Ellen de Bruijne Projects, Amsterdam; Everything Is Gonna Be, Anne de Villepoix Gallery, Paris.
2007 India Song, performance / performans, If I can’t dance & CASCO Office for Art, Theory and Design, Utrecht; Bez prevoda, Gallery for Contemporary Art, Pancevo;
2006 Back to Back by Heart, Mirta Demare Gallery, Rotterdam; Would that be alright with you if I bring my cat along, Hedah, Maastricht.
Writing, lectures, discursive projects (Tekstovi, predavanja, diskurzivni projekti)
2008 ‘When Language Starts Speaking Us’, text for / text za Resonant Bodies, Voices, Memories (edited by / uredila sa Anke Bangma, Deirdre M. Donogue, Lina Issa, Katarina Zdjelar). Rotterdam: Piet Zwart Institute & Frankfurt: Revolver Publishing by Vice Versa. ‘Para-practices of Tongue, or When Language Starts Speaking Us’, lecture for / predavanje za Monte Verità, Gerrit Rietveld Academie, Amsterdam; ‘Residue Department’, lecture and workshop / predavanje i radionica, Hungarian University of Fine Arts, Budapest.
2007 ‘If I can’t dance…’, video dialogue with / video dijalog sa Mounira Al Solh for the symposium / za simpozijum Feminist Legacies and Potentials in Contemporary Art Practice, If I can’t dance & De Balie, Amsterdam; You can’t judge a book by its cover, symposium organized in collaboration with/ simpozijum organizovan zajedno sa Renée Ridgway, CASCO, Utrecht; ‘Die ethnologische Falle’, Zurich University of the Arts, Zurich; ‘Workin’Progress. Open Call for a Closed Meeting III’, discussion piece / diskusija, Platform Garanti Centre for Contemporary Art, Istanbul.
2005 ‘Workin’Progress. Open Call for a Closed Meeting II’, discussion piece / diskusija, Salon of the Museum of Contemporary Art Belgrade; ‘Workin’Progress. Open Call for a Closed Meeting I’, discussion piece / diskusija, Het Wilde Weten & Piet Zwart Institute, Rotterdam.
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Upgrade International: Audio.lab, SAT Gallery, Montreal (catalogue / katalog); Albania Today: The Time of Ironic Optimism, video programme in conjunction with the / projekcija u okviru 52. Biennale di Venezia, PS1 & PAN boat / brod, Venice; Centrifugal, Galerija SC, Zagreb; Art Athina 2007 (Mirta Demare Gallery), Athens; Everything We Want to Know but Didn’t Dare to Ask, TICA Tirana Institute for Contemporary Art, Tirana; Tijdelijk Museum, SMART Project Space, Amsterdam; Art Rotterdam 2007 (Mirta Demare Gallery), Rotterdam; Paranoia, Freud Museum, London (catalogue / katalog).
2006 Paranoia, Leeds City Art Gallery, Leeds & Focal Point Gallery, Southend (catalogue / katalog); Upgrade International: Audio lab, IAO Gallery, Oklahoma City (catalogue / katalog); Wherein certain persons…, Piet Zwart Institute & TENT., Rotterdam; The Peekskill Project, HVCCA, Hudson Valley Center for Contemporary Art, Peekskill, New York; Rotterdam (inter)nationaal, Artstore – Kunstambassade Rotterdam, Rotterdam (catalogue / katalog).
2005 Radiodays, De Appel, Amsterdam (catalogue/ katalog); Belgrade in the Past and the Present, Prodajna galerija Beograd, Belgrade (catalogue / katalog); How to Send a Message, Piet Zwart Institute & Het Wilde Weten, Rotterdam; Relocated Identities I: Overexposure, Public Space with a Roof (PSWAR), Amsterdam; Stage Theory = Applied Arts, with / sa TkH: Walking Theory, Museum of Applied Arts, Belgrade (catalogue / katalog); Thuiskomen / Homecoming, performance-installation with / performans i instalacija sa Anne Karin ten Bosch, Rotterdamse Schouwburg, Rotterdam.
Book projects (Knjige)
2009 Resonant Bodies, Voices, Memories, edited with / uredila sa Anke Bangma, Deirdre M. Donoghue, Lina Issa. Rotterdam: Piet Zwart Institute & Frankfurt: Revolver Publishing by Vice Versa.
2007 Another Publication, edited with / uredila sa Renée Ridgway. Rotterdam: Piet Zwart Institute & Frankfurt: Revolver.
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Anke Bangma (The Netherlands) is an independent curator and editor based in Rotterdam. She is Associate Professor in Cultural Theory at the Bergen National Academy of the Arts, Norway. Between 1998-2007 she was Course Director of the MA Fine Art at the Piet Zwart Institute, Rotterdam. She was the editor of, amongst others, Resonant Bodies, Voices, Memories (with Deirdre M. Donoghue, Lina Issa and Katarina Zdjelar. Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver Publishing, 2008); Experience, Memory, Reenactment (with Steve
Anke Bangma (Holandija) je nezavisna kustoskinja i urednica koja živi i radi u Roterdamu. Vanredna je profesorka teorije kulture na Nacionalnoj umetničkoj akademiji Bergen u Norveškoj. Od 1998. do 2007. bila je direktorka postiplomskih studija likovne umetnoti na Institutu Piet Zwart u Roterdamu. Priredila je, između ostalog, Resonant Bodies, Voices, Memories (sa Deirdre M. Donohju, Linom Isa i Katarinom Zdjelar. Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver Publishing, 2008); Experience, Memory, Reenactment (sa Stivom Raštonom i Florijanom Vustom (Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver, 2005);
B IO G R A PH I E S OF T H E AU T HOR S
(B IOGR AFIJE AUTOR A)
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Rushton and Florian Wüst (Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver, 2005); Looking, Encountering, Staging (Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver, 2005); and The Projection (BAK Basis voor Aktuele Kunst, 2003). Her curatorial projects include the exhibition Performing Evidence (SMART Project Space, Amsterdam, 2009); and the lecture and screening programmes Body Language and Embodied Meaning (TENT., Rotterdam, 2005), and Constructing Visions (TENT., Rotterdam, 2004).
Branislav Dimitrijević (Belgrade) is a lecturer in Art History as well as a writer and curator based in Belgrade. He is Senior Lecturer at the School for Art and Design (VSLPUb) in Belgrade and Associate Curator at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Belgrade. With Branislava Andjelković and Branimir Stojanović he co-founded and coordinated the School for the History and Theory of Images, an independent educational project in Belgrade (1999-2003). He has published essays on contemporary art and the theory of art, film and visual culture, and he edited numerous publications and exhibition catalogues including On Normality: Art in Serbia 1989-2001 (MOCA, Belgrade, 2005). His curatorial projects include: Murder1 (CKZD, Belgrade, 1997); Konverzacija (MOCA, Belgrade, 2001); Pavilion “Jugoslavia” (Biennale di Venezia, 2003); Situated Self: Confused, Compassionate, Conf lictual (Helsinki City Museum & MOCA, Belgrade, 2005); Americans in Belgrade: Two Exhibitions and Post-war Modernism (MOCA, Belgrade & Galerija Nova, Zagreb, 2006); Breaking Step – Displacement, Compassion and
Humour in Recent Art from Britain (MOCA, Belgrade, 2007). He is currently working on a PhD thesis on ‘Consumer Culture in Socialist Yugoslavia’ at the University of Arts in Belgrade.
Mladen Dolar (Slovenia) is a philosopher based in Ljubljana. He was Associate Professor in Philosophy and Psychoanalysis at the University of Ljubljana from 1996-2002, where he now works as a Senior Research Fellow. Recent publications include A Voice and Nothing More (MIT Press, 2005); and Opera’s Second Death (coauthored with Slavoj Žižek, Routledge, 2002). Recent essays were included in, amongst others, Resonant Bodies, Voices, Memories (edited by Anke Bangma, Deirdre M. Donoghue, Lina Issa and Katarina Zdjelar. Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver Publishing, 2008); Jacques Lacan and the Other Side of Psychoanalysis (edited by Justin Clemens & Russell Grigg, Duke University Press, 2006); Phonorama: Eine Kulturgeschichte der Stimme als Medium (edited by Brigitte Felderer, Matthes & Seitz, 2004); and Interpassivität. Studien über delegiertes Geniessen (edited by Robert Pfaller, Springer, 2002). He is a member of the editorial boards of the magazine Problemi and of the book collection Analecta, and also one of the founders of the Society for Theoretical Psychoanalysis and the Society for Cultural Studies.
Frans-Willem Korsten (The Netherlands) is a cultural theorist based in Utrecht. He is Professor in Literary Studies at the University of Leiden, and holder of the Chair
Looking, Encountering, Staging (Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver, 2005); i The Projection (BAK Basis voor Aktuele Kunst, 2003). Među njenim kustoskim projektima su izložba Performing Evidence (SMART Project Space, Amsterdam, 2009), kao i programi predavanja i projekcija Body Language and Embodied Meaning (TENT., Rotterdam, 2005), i Constructing Visions (TENT., Rotterdam, 2004).
Branislav Dimitrijević (Beograd) je profesor istorije umetnosti i kustos koji živi i radi u Beogradu. Viši je predavač na Višoj školi za likovu i primenjenu umetnost u Beogradu, kustos saradnik Muzeja savremene umetnosti u Beogradu. U saradnji sa Branislavom Andjelković i Branimirom Stojanovićem, osnovao je Školu za istoriju i teoriju slike u Beogradu i koordinirao njen rad (1999-2003). Objavljivao je eseje o savremenoj umetnosti i teoriji umetnosti, filmu i vizuelnoj kulturi, i priredio je brojne publikacije i izložbene kataloge, među njima O normalnosti: Umetnost u Srbiji 1989-2001 (Muzej savremene umetnosti, Beograd, 2005). Među njegove kustoske projekte spadaju: Murder1 (CKZD, Beograd, 1997); Konverzacija (MSU, Beograd, 2001); Paviljon “Jugoslavija” (Bijenale u Veneciji, 2003); Situated Self: Confused, Compassionate, Conflictual (Helsinki City Museum & MSU, Beograd, 2005); Americans in Belgrade: Two Exhibitions and Post-war Modernism (MSU, Beograd & Galerija Nova, Zagreb, 2006); U raskoraku – Izmeštanje, saosećanje i humor u savremenoj britanskoj umetnosti (MSU, Beograd, 2007). Trenutno radi
na doktorskoj disertaciji ‘Potrošačka kultura u socijalističkoj Jugoslaviji’ na Univerzitetu umetnosti u Beogradu.
Mladen Dolar (Slovenija) je filozof koji živi i radi u Ljubljani. Bio je vanredni profesor filozofije i psihoanalize na Univerzitetu u Ljubljani od 1996. do 2002. godine; sada tamo radi kao viši istraživač. Među njegovim skorašnjim publikacijama su A Voice and Nothing More (MIT Press, 2005); i Opera’s Second Death (sa Slavojem Žižekom, Routledge, 2002). Njegovi skorašnji eseji objavljeni su, između ostalog, u Resonant Bodies, Voices, Memories (prir. Anke Bangma, Deirdre M. Donoghue, Lina Issa & Katarina Zdjelar. Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver Publishing, 2008); Jacques Lacan and the Other Side of Psychoanalysis (prir. Justin Clemens & Russell Grigg, Duke University Press, 2006); Phonorama: Eine Kulturgeschichte der Stimme als Medium (prir. Brigitte Felderer, Matthes & Seitz, 2004); i Interpassivität. Studien über delegiertes Geniessen (prir. Robert Pfaller, Springer, 2002). Član je uredništva časopisa Problemi i edicije Analecta , a takođe je i jedan od osnivača Društva za teorijsku psihoanalizu i Društva za izučavanje kulture.
Frans-Vilem Korsten (Holandija) je teoretičar kulture koji živi i radi u Utrehtu. Profesor je književnosti na Univerzitetu u Lajdenu i rukovodi Katedrom za književnost i društvo na
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Prag Biennale, 2005). Njegovi eseji su objavljeni u zbornicima: Šta je savremeno u savremenoj umetnosti? (urednik Dejan Sretenović, izdavač Muzej savremene umetnosti Beograd, 2009); Romanian Pavillion at the 52nd Venice Biennial , 2007 (edited by Mihnea Mircan and Meta Haven); Žene, slike, izmišljaji (urednik Branka Arsić, izdavač Ženske studije, 2001), Novo čitanje ikone (urednik Dejan Sretenović, CSUB, 1998); Ubistvo (urednici Branka Andjelković, Branko Dimitrijević, Dejan Sretenović, izdavač CSUB, 1997). Urednik je zbirke knjiga savremene teorije ‘Vesela nauka’. Osnivač časopisa Prelom.
Jan Fervert (Nemačka) je umetnički kritičar koji živi i radi u Berlinu. On je urednik-saradnik časopisa Frieze a takođe piše o savremenoj umetnosti za časopise kao što su Afterall i Metropolis M , kao i za izložbene kataloge. Njegova knjiga Bas-Jan Ader – In Search of the Miraculous objavljena je u izdanju Afterall Books/MIT Press 2006. godine. U skorije vreme objavio je eseje u Toma Abts (Phaidon Press, 2008); Florian Pumhosl (Walther König , 2008); Romantic Conceptualism (Kerber 2008); Cerith Wyn Evans (Walther König, 2007); Jeroen de Rijke & Willem de Rooij ( JRP|Ringier/Kunsthalle Zurich, 2007); Sean Snyder (Walther König, 2007); Monika Sosnowska (Walther König, 2007); i Another Publication (prir. Renée Ridgway & Katarina Zdjelar, Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver, 2006). Predaje na Institutu Piet Zwart Roterdamu,
(1999-2003), where he lectured in Art and Psychoanalysis. He has published the book Politics of Memory (coauthored with Nebojša Milikić and Milica Tomić, Prague Biennial, 2005). His essays have been published in What Is Contemporary in Contemporary Art? (edited by Dejan Sretenović, Museum of Contemporary Art, Belgrade, 2009); The Romanian Pavilion at the 52nd Venice Biennial, 2007 (edited by Mihnea Mircan and Meta Haven); Women, Images, Fabrications (edited by Branka Arsić, Ženske studije, 2001); A New Reading of the Icon (edited by Dejan Sretenović, CSUB, 1998); and Murder (edited by Branislava Andjelković, Branko Dimitrijević and Dejan Sretenović, CSUB, 1997). He is the editor of the Gay Science series of publications on contemporary theory and a founder of the Prelom periodical.
Jan Verwoert (Germany) is an art critic based in Berlin. He is a contributing editor to Frieze magazine and also writes about contemporary art for journals and magazines such as Afterall and Metropolis M, and for exhibition catalogues. His book Bas-Jan Ader – In Search of the Miraculous was published by Afterall Books/MIT Press in 2006. Recent essays were included in Toma Abts (Phaidon Press, 2008); Florian Pumhosl (Walther König , 2008); Romantic Conceptualism (Kerber, 2008); Cerith Wyn Evans (Walther König, 2007); Jeroen de Rijke & Willem de Rooij ( JRP|Ringier & Kunsthalle Zurich, 2007); Sean Snyder (Walther König, 2007); Monika Sosnowska (Walther König, 2007); and Another Publication (edited by Renée Ridgway
Univerzitetu Erasmus u Roterdamu. Takođe je predavao na Institutu Piet Zwart u Roterdamu od 2003. do 2008. Predsedavajući je sekcije za književnost u okviru Nacionalnog saveta za kulturu Holandije, i član je uređivačkog odbora izdavačke kuće Boom-Onderwijs iz Amsterdama, gde rukovodi izdavanjem nove serije publikacija o filozofiji nauke. Među njegove publikacije spadaju Vondel: Dutch Playwright in the Golden Age (sa Janom Blumendalom, Brill, 2009); Sovereignty as Inviolability (Verloren, 2009); All Inclusive! The Poetic and Capitalism (Douane, 2007); Vondel belicht: voorstellingen van soevereiniteit (Verloren, 2007); i Lessen in literatuur (Vantilt, 2005). Među njegovim esejima objavljenim u skorije vreme su ‘The Irreconcilability of Hypocrisy and Sincerity’, The Rhetoric of Sincerity (prir. Ernst van Alphen et al., Stanford University Press, 2008); i ‘Loss of Face or The Next Sentence’, Another Publication (prir. Renée Ridgway i Katarina Zdjelar, Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver, 2006). Trenutno radi na knjizi u kojoj se predlaže radikalna rekonceptualizacija našeg političkog sistema.
Branimir Stojanović (Srbija) je psihoanalitičar po edukaciji i filozofski pisac koji živi i radi u Beogradu. Glavni urednik časopisa Bilten biblioteke Beogradskog psihoanalitičkog društva. Osnivač i član umetničko-teorijske Grupe Spomenik. Od 1999-2003 osnivač Škole za istoriju i teoriju slike, gde je predavao na predmetu Umetnost i psihoanaliza. Objavio je knjigu Politics of Memory (koautor sa Nebojšom Milikićem i Milicom Tomić,
for Literature and Society at the Erasmus University Rotterdam. He also taught at the Piet Zwart Institute in Rotterdam from 2003-2008. He is Chairman of the section of Letters in the Dutch National Council of Culture, and a member of the Editorial Board of Boom-Onderwijs, Amsterdam, where he is responsible for a new publication series about the philosophy of science. His publications include Vondel: Dutch Playwright in the Golden Age (coauthored with Jan Bloemendal, Brill, 2009); Sovereignty as Inviolability (Verloren, 2009); All Inclusive! The Poetic and Capitalism (Douane, 2007); Vondel belicht: voorstellingen van soevereiniteit (Verloren, 2007); and Lessen in literatuur (revised edition, Vantilt, 2005). Recent essays include ‘The Irreconcilability of Hypocrisy and Sincerity’, The Rhetoric of Sincerity (edited by Ernst van Alphen et al., Stanford University Press, 2008); and ‘Loss of Face or The Next Sentence’, Another Publication (edited by Renée Ridgway and Katarina Zdjelar, Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver, 2006). He is currently working on a book that proposes a radical re-conceptualization of our political system.
Branimir Stojanović (Serbia) is a psychoanalyst by education and a philosophical writer based in Belgrade. He is the Editor-in-Chief of Bulletin, a periodical published by the Library of the Belgrade Psychoanalytical Society, IPA. He is one of the founders and members of the artistic-theoretical Group Spomenik (Monument), and was co-founder of the School for the History and Theory of Images
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and Katarina Zdjelar, Piet Zwart Institute & Revolver, 2006). He teaches at the Piet Zwart Institute in Rotterdam, and lectures regularly at art institutions and events, most recently involving a year-long series of talks around the notion of legitimacy in art (The Building, Berlin, 2009).
i redovno drži predavanja u okviru umetničkih institucija i događanja; u skorije vreme vodio je jednogodišnju seriju razgovora o pojmu legitimnosti u umetnosti (The Building, Berlin, 2009).
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All efforts have been made to contact the rightful owners with regards to copyrights and permissions. Please contact the Museum of Contemporary Art, Belgrade, with any requests or queries. / Potrudili smo se da stupimo u kontakt sa svim zakonitim vlasnicima u vezi sa autorskim pravima i dobijanjem dozvole za korišćenje. U slučaju bilo kakvih zahteva ili pitanja, molimo da kontaktirate Muzej savremene umetnosti u Beogradu.
(Catalogue title/Naslov kataloga)The title ‘But if you take my voice, what will be left to me?’ is a quotation from Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale ‘The Little Mermaid’/ Naslov kataloga „Ali ako mi oduzmeš glas, šta mi ostaje?” je citat preuzet iz bajke „Mala sirena” Hans Kristian Andersena, 1837.
C R E DI T S
(PODACI O AUTORIMA I DEL IMA)
(Cover image/Korice)Katarina Zdjelar, still from the video Everything Is Gonna Be/ Katarina Zdjelar, Everything Is Gonna Be (Sve će biti), frejm iz video rada, 2008.
(pp./str. 34, 37, 38, 42)Speech therapist Robin S. Wooldridge instructing one of his pupils at / Govorni terapeut Robin S. Vuldridž daje uputstva jednom od svojih učenika u The Wooldridge School of Speech and Voice, Birmingham, 2008. Instructions taken from Katarina Zdjelar’s recordings for The Perfect Sound/ Uputstva preuzeta iz snimaka Katarine Zdjelar za Savršeni zvuk, 2009.
(p./str. 51, 54, 59)Some notes as to the personation of woman characters by/ Beleške o predstavljanju ženskih likova Arthur Prince, ‘Humming and the Female Voice’, The Whole Art of Ventriloquism, 1915.
(p./str. 63)The essay title ‘I think that here I have heard my voice coming to me fromsomewhere else’ is a quotation from Isak Dinesen’s story ‘Echoes’/ Nasloveseja „Mislim da sam ovde čuo svoj sopstveni glas kako dopire do mene sa nekog drugog mesta” je citat preuzet iz priće Isak Dinesen „Echoes”. Isak Dinesen, Last Tales. Vintage Books, 1991.
(p./str. 68)Jakob Scheid. Reconstruction of Wolfgang Von Kempelen’s Speaking Machine/ Rekonstrukcija Kempelenove Mašine koja govori, 2002. Photo/Fotografija: Manfred Rahs.
(p./str. 68)Drawing of Wolfgang von Kempelen, date unknow. / Portret Volfganga von Kempelena, datum nepoznat.
(p./str. 68)Ventriloquist Edgar Bergen and his dummy Charlie McCarthy performing for guests at a costume party/ Trbuhozborac Edgar Bergen i njegov lutan Čarli Mekarti izvode tačku za goste na jednom maskenbalu, 1939. © Time Inc.
(p./str. 68)Albert von Schrenck-Notzing. Spiritual materialization with Stanislawa P./ Duhovna materijalizacija sa Stanislavom P., 1913. © Institut für Grenzgebiete der Psychologie und Psychohygiene e.V., Freiburg.
(p./str. 69)Edgar Bergen with dummy Charlie McCarthy in the film Charlie McCarthy, Detective / Edgar Bergen sa lutanom Čarlijem Mekartijem u filmu Čarli Mekarti, detektiv, 1939. © Universal Pictures Company, Inc.
(p./str. 69)The natural production of the sound “l” and its mechanical reproduction/ Prirodan izgovor glasa „l“ i njegova mehanička reprodukcija. Plate from / grafika preuzeta iz Wolfgang von Kempelen, Mechanismus der menschlichen Sprache nebst der Beschreibung seiner Sprechenden Maschine, Degen, Vienna/ Beč, 1791. © Kempelen Archiv Wien, Akademie für angewandte Kunst, Vienna/ Beč.
(p./str. 69)‘Many sounds like “ooo” do not exist in other languages’/ „Mnogi glasovi poput ’ooo’ ne postoje u drugim jezicima“. Page 43 from Svec Toplum Kılavuzu (Swedish Society Guide)/ strana 43 iz Vodiča kroz švedsko društvo published by the Swedish Immigration Office/ izdavač: Ured za imigraciju Švedske, 1987.
(p./str. 69)Wolfgang von Kempelen, Speaking Machine/ Mašina koja govori, 1790. Collection/ Kolekcija: Deutsches Museum, Munich / Minhen. © Deutsches Museum, Munich / Minhen.
(pp./str. 81-82)Text of Valentina Hassan’s ‘Ken Lee’, her version of Mariah Carrey’s song ‘I Can’t Live’/ Tekst pesme Valentine Hasan „Ken Lee“, njene verzije pesme Maraje Keri „I Can’t Live“, Bulgarian Idol, 2008, www.youtube.com / watch?v=_RgL2MKf WTo
(pp./str. 121, 126, 127, 130)Влади́ мир Влади́ мирович Маякóвский, Нашему Юношеству / Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovski, poem ‘To Youth’/ Vladimir Vladimirovič Majakovski, pesma ‘Mladosti’, 1927.
(pp./str. 138, 141, 142, 147, 148, 151)Lennon / McCartney, Lyrics of ‘Revolution 1’/tekst presme „Revoluciju 1“, 1968.
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Branislav DimitrijevićAnke BangmaMladen DolarFrans-Willem KorstenBranimir StojanovićJan VerwoertGérard KoningsBorut VildNovica PetrovićSteve RushtonMaziar AfrassiabiRoel MeelkopTaru ElfvingMaria BustnesJanne LeitheNon Troppo chorus
T HE A RT IST WOULD LIK E TO T H A NK
(UMETNICA SE ZAHVALJUJE)
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Thomas Simonsen BalmbraOlaf T. SolaEivind LarssenSakaris StoraTriosaMarian HallRobin WooldridgeRui RibeiroYu KuramotoJelena MihajlovićMarc MeermansFonds BKVB, AmsterdamVIVID, BirminghamEMARE European Media Artists in Residence Exchange 2008TICA Tirana Institute of Contemporary ArtLIAF Lofoten International Arts FestivalTENT., RotterdamSilent Disco RotterdamA.B. Geluidstechniek, Rotterdam
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T HE SER BI A N PAV ILION AT T HE 53rd BIENNA LE DI V ENEZI A , JUNE 6th – NOV EM BER 22nd, 2009
PAVILJON SRBIJE NA 53 . BIJENALU U VENECIJI , 6 . JUN – 22. NOVEMBAR 2009
E X HIBIT ION / IZLOŽBA
Zoran Todorović: Warmth / ToplinaKatarina Zdjelar: But if you take my voice, what will be left to me? / Ali ako mi oduzmeš glas, šta mi ostaje?
Commissioner and Curator / Komesar i kustosBranislav Dimitrijević
C OLOPHON
( IMPRESUM)
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Publisher / IzdavačMuseum of Contemporary Art / Muzej savremene umetnosti Ušće 10, blok 1511070 Novi BeogradSerbia / Srbijatel. +381 (0)11 3115 713fax +381 (0)11 3112 955email [email protected]
Print / ŠtampaPublikum, Belgrade / Beograd
Print run / Tiraž1000 copies / 1000 primeraka
© Katarina Zdjelar, the authors and Museum of Contemporary Art, Belgrade © Katarina Zdjelar, autori i autorke tekstova i Muzej savremene umetnosti Beograd
Assistant Commissioner / Asistentkinja komesaraJagoda Stamenković
Architectural Consultant / Konsultantkinja za arhitekturu postavkeMilica Topalović
Advisory Board / Stručni savetBranislav Dimitrijević, Zoran Erić, Milica Petronijević,Milica Tomić, Stevan Vuković
Project co-ordinators / Koordinatorke projektaMaja Gavrić, Vesna Milić
Production and organization / Produkcija i organizacijaMuseum of Contemporary Art, Belgrade / Muzej savremene umetnostu, Beograd
Supported by / PokroviteljMinistry of Culture of the Republic of Serbia / Ministarstvo kulture Republike Srbije
PUBLIC AT ION / PUBLIK ACIJA
Katarina Zdjelar: But if you take my voice, what will be left to me? / Ali ako mi oduzmeš glas, šta mi ostaje?
Editors / UredniceAnke Bangma, Katarina Zdjelar
Authors / Autori i autorke tekstovaAnke Bangma, Branislav Dimitrijević, Mladen Dolar, Frans-Willem Korsten, Branimir Stojanović, Jan Verwoert, Katarina Zdjelar
Text editing / Lektura i korekturaAnke Bangma, Steve Rushton, Katarina Zdjelar
Translations / PrevodNovica Petrović, Marko Mladenović (Branimir Stojanović)
Design / DizajnGérard Konings, (www.pulpe.nl)
