Dejan Klincov was born in 1963 and he spent his childhood in the carefree society of the SFRY Belgrade. He was a student of the Academy of Fine Arts in Novi Sad and the Faculty of Fine Arts in Belgrade and then furthered his studies at the Royal Institute of Art in Stockholm, at the University College of Film, Radio, Television and Theatre, as well as at the Department of Philosophy at the Stockholm University. He likes to say that he “lives and travels in harmony with Tellusian’s rhythm”.
Dejan participated with his artwork in the exhibition “Staying Here with You” at the Balkan Cinema. His work was described with the following words: “To the intimate spaces of stillness and sleep, Dejan Klincov introduces elements that disturb, disrupt and constantly upset by the flickering content of the video work projected from the ceiling. With the aim of being present in the space during the exhibition, the artist points to the possibility of sharing – one bed remains empty and ready to let into the artist’s aura anyone who dares.”
Dejan, how are you? How do you spend your time? Do you follow the news? Do you read or draw…?
I’m doing fine. As a visual artist, I am quite used to solitude and isolation – it’s part of the profession. When I was drawing waves on Mljet trying to understand their movement so as to understand matter, I would do it for 6 hours on end without going for a swim. My vacation actually started one month later. I adhere to medical experts’ recommendations and I don’t underestimate the virus; human health is frail and we need to take care of each other. Infectious diseases require a great level of personal responsibility.
At the moment, I am drawing and painting. I discovered a new way of doing it – I use my finger to paint on glass and I really enjoy doing it. When I am not working, I become doubtful and ask myself questions about purposefulness, which is really bothering me. It is getting harder and harder for me to let myself work and be satisfied with the result. Am I doing it properly?
In the past, I would use oil colour to paint with my finger on linen canvas. My fingertips would tingle for the whole week.
I don’t have a TV. I miss listening to traditional folk music on the radio. I really like Radio Belgrade 3, especially the “Sound Workshop” programme that plays various forms of experimental music.
I am reading three books at the moment: The Closed Commercial State by Johann Gottlieb Fichte, the book of poetry Enough by Wisława Szymborska, a present from my professor Milica Stevanović, and Folk Literature – Poems and Stories (selection) edited by Miljana Jelovac and published by Nolit.
I mull over various subject matters and then browse the internet in Serbian, English and Scandinavian languages.
I fight my fears and demons “ed è subito sera” (and suddenly it’s evening). The older I get, the faster the time passes.
I talk on the phone. My phone calls are long – I like to talk things out.
I haven’t been devoted to my physical health lately, but I do like swimming, sauna and walking: from the Republic Square to Zemun; to block 71 and the end of Yuri Gagarin Street, behind the last row of the buildings where wide Srem stretches out before your eyes; across the old bridge, as a tram shakes it; three walks around Lake Sava; from Skadarlija to the Eastern City Gate, on a morning stroll along the Branko’s bridge while Belgrade is still sleeping and slowly awakening.
jutarnje šetnje Brankovim mostom dok Beograd spava i kad se budi.
In one of our conversations, when we were preparing the exhibition Staying Here with You, you mentioned Harald Szeemann. Could you tell us about your experience of personally knowing one of the most notable curators, artists and art historians?
In the time of self-governing socialism, I would spend my summers on the Adriatic coast, visiting Serbian monasteries and Western (occupied) Europe; I wanted to see it before proletarian countries emerged and capitalism ended up in the ash heap oh history (laughs).
On the return from “Dokumenta 7” in Kassel, the road took us to Monte Verità. The Mountain of Truth (1900 -1926) was an anarchist commune whose inhabitants promoted vegetarianism and nudism in an attempt to develop the alternative way of life by rejecting the ruling party’s policies and civil society. In the mid-1930s, a great deal of the commune members moved to South America and USA. In Calihornia, they established a new commune that, after WW2, grew into the hippy movement. One time, when I was in London, I bought an art directory, and under Switzerland/Others I saw Harald’s phone and address. Later he will tell me how he was irritated by being ditched there. On my insistence, Milica approached him and shortly after we shook hands. We went on a sightseeing tour of the houses as we observed and discussed art and life. The opportunity to see Harald Szeemann’s create his work/exhibition before my eyes was truly fascinating. This was the first time I saw Philipp Otto Runge’s works.
Gesamtkunstwerk. Anthroposophy. Touching invisible worlds with your soul.
As the day went on, my respect for Harald only grew bigger. I realized that he, as an artist-curator, was able to build concepts from ideas, artworks and non-art objects which resulted in meta-work: an exhibition as another form of theatre.
Harald laughed at my intentional malapropisms: Calihornia, Geistarbeiter…
Pleasantly tired, we parted and headed towards the hotel.
It was always me who called Harald.
If he wasn’t there I would leave a message to Gina at the Pink Factory, and she would invariably pass them on to him.
We would have lengthy phone calls. Mysticism in art. Individual mythologies. An artist lives his obsession. Mind over matter. No reproduction can truly convey the yearning and spirituality of an artwork and this is why it must be seen in person. Live in Your head: When Attitudes Become Form. Studio-gallery-museum. An artist is a discourse. The institutionalisation of the avant garde.
It’s 1998 – I have been editing Slavia for several months now. 157 minutes. I began making it just after Easter 1991. This is the twelfth version. My phone is ringing and I go to the kitchen to pick it up. It is Harald. He has never called me before and I am so surprised that I miss the chair as I try to sit down. He wants to come and visit me. We are watching my video and talk: Russian avant garde. Intertwining strategies, poetics and disciplines. An uncompromised impresario devoted to the artist. Kropotkin, Trotsky, Lenin, Malevich…
A couple of days later I attend his lecture at the Moderna Museet. He finds it funny that I don’t drink alcohol, whereas his drinking capacity is impressive. A Catholic among Lutheran Protestants. Artistic director of the visual program Stockholm – Cultural Capital of Europe 1998. I send Harald the VHS tape with the version of Slavia I am satisfied with at the moment.
Harald calls and tells me to prepare the work for Brussels.
It’s 2005 – Luša and Una invite me to attend Harald’s funeral.
As I was writing this, I realized that my memory does not serve me very well. I seems like I feel Harald better than I can talk about him. His lessons are rooted so deeply in me that now I think his knowledge is my experience.
Artistic activism?
Artistic activism is talking to children in Stockholm, New York and Dubai in Serbian language.
Wearing a šajkača and čakšire, or traditional Chinese clothes over a Pierre Cardin suit.
Being a member of an anthroposophic cooperative and buying their eco-friendly and Demeter products.
Owners of the rainforests in Amazon and fighters against multi-national companies.
I am friends with Claes Nordenhake and Robert Weil but I do not belong in their stable.
With the organisation Bela ruža (White rose) we help and hide refugees.
I organise the Filmagore platform for experimental movie and video projections in their original formats.
Multi-confessional families.
Thora Maria Theresia Alexandra Axelsdotter Dardel, now Hamilton, maiden name, Klinckowström, born on 24 May 1899.
She told me a lot about Paris in the 1910s and 1920s; Susan Wail about Black Mountain College and New York between 1950s and ‘90s and Peđa about Paris in the 1930s and Madrid and London in the ‘40s.
A relative of Thora’ sister’s husband hired Göring as his personal chauffeur and pilot. It was his fireplace where Göring first saw the swastika emblem, set there as the count’s personal badge.
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