
One of the attractions of this year’s Salon is the location itself - the disused Military Academy at Resavska 40b. The organisers have used the environment to good effect in presenting the works, largely video installations, of 20 artists from around the world.
As you walk in, dusty, damaged stairs and bare ceiling welcome you. In the reception hall, two spiral staircases wind their way upwards, the one on the left, filled with dried mud, so thick that grass and even a sapling or two are sprouting from it. The stairwell was taken from a long-abandoned part of the basement, which gave itself up to nature.
Uncovered, it was brought from the depths and made into an installation. As I climbed up the stairs, security guards shot by me. They were running after a bat, something I first thought was also an installation. As they passed one shouted “uhvati Betmena” - catch the Batman.
Until five years ago, the Salon showcased the best in Yugoslavia, later Serbia and Montenergro, and in most years works have been on display in exhibition spaces across town. This is the first time in recent years that all exhibitors have been in the same space.
Inside, many of the spaces have been converted into projection rooms. The very first, which marks a passage from a strongly-lit hall into an atmosphere of intimacy, image and sound, is a video installation by this year’s only laurete – Ana Adamovic.
Some 4 minute-long, the work,called Canzona, shows an old woman, listening to her own performance of an Italian song, something she first heard in 1940’s. It was written by a soldier to his mother, when he was on the front line, imagining his return to her. During the performance, we see sorrow, memories and nostalgia in the woman’s eyes.
Her lips tremble, but no tears come. This video is a small masterpiece and is shown in one of the three rooms you must go through in order to proceed.
Close by is a projection room with my pick of the Salon - Death in Dallas by Zoran Naskovski. Black and white footage of the time immediately before and after the assassination of JFK is combined with the trembling voice of gusle artist Jozo Karamatic. In the best of traditions of Herzegovinan and Montenegrin folk ballads, he weeps as he plays his instrument, uttering long-forgotten grammatical constructions which exist only in the folk heritage of the Balkans.
This contrast between the unpleasant images, and someone who could not be less affected by this event, is truly ingenious. There are five newspapers discretely placed in the projection room which show American and Yugoslav reports following the Dallas events.
The first one is Life, published days after the assassination, where you notice an uncomfortable resemblance between the cloyingly romantic song you are listening to and the florid prose of 1960’s Life which in the Kennedy article uses turns of phrase such as “sunshine that lit the still-green grass”. The last newspaper is Danas, dating from March 16th 2003, showing the widow of Zoran Djindjic at his funeral.
As you enter the main hallway, there are seven projection rooms, one after another. Some even have carpet and cosy seats, others are minimalist with bare walls and towards the end of the hallway there is a free-standing large screen, showing an 8-minute film of a deserted Utah race-track from an old projector placed behind it.
The video by Italian artist Rosa Barba combines long air shots of the circular track in the sand and then takes us on a fast ride along it. This part is particularly well-shot with the almost white desert sun constantly hitting the lens, creating moments of empty space, accompanied by electro tunes of Jan St. Werner.
Further on, a blue neon sign, which, different to the bat, really is a part of the exhibition, points you downstairs where the signs are red. Different to the intimate message on the blue sign, the red neons carry big messages on big subjects, life and eternity.
A favourite down here was the Divine Comedy by Eva Koch, showing a group of people who can not hear or speak, attempting to convey the verses of Dante.
The exhibition closes with cartoons by William Kentridge. In the very last room, there is a round glass table.
Images are projected onto it while it rotates, so both perceptions of movement and depth are taken to new dimensions.
The October Salon runs until November the 21st. There are two special tours this weekend. On Friday, November 5th, renowned theatre critic Jovan Cirilov will take you around the exhibition starting at 7pm and this year’s laureate, Ana Adamovic, will be your guide on Saturday, November 6th.
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