It seems as if, in an environment drastically facing the extinction of any kind of (self-) criticism, meaningful criteria for evaluating and promoting authentic values, or, in an environment facing up to the consequences of this erosion that has been eating away at more and more areas of cultural production, Damir Fabijanić has no choice but to get “in the midst of things”.
Due to lack of other means of communication, the artist chose first person narrative. Fabijanić is a sharp judge and an uncompromising critic of the phenomena he encounters in his daily life, both of the public media and cultural institutions of which no mention is being made by common consent. He is equally convincing as the author of photographic representations, when ironizing the pseudo-civilisational legacy of the newly formulated Croatian culture, in documenting his own vision of reality, opening up a debate about the commercialisation of art, in questioning the division into art photography and other genre categories.
The exhibition combines several individual sections, with each theme consisting of photographs and texts: rather than the usual exhibit interpretations that accompany an exhibition, the artist uses written statements, comments, or descriptions to further highlight the context in which the works were created. The layout of the exhibition is devised as an installation that establishes communication codes on the basis of experience of conceptual practices, or the starting point for the dematerialisation of a work of art as an aesthetic object. At the same time, these texts allow us to follow the chronicle of a photographic pursuit that reveals several constants in this artistic output, both at the level of themes and content and artistic approach. Instead of an objective, neutral observer, Fabijanić opted for a less comfortable position of an engaged participant, which further underlines the self-referential dimension of his works and their distinctive interpellate power.
Damir Fabijanić (born in 1955 in Zagreb) has been a freelance artist-photographer since 1987. He specialised in architecture and landscape at the very beginning of his career. During the Croatian Homeland War, he photographed damaged cultural heritage sites, especially Dubrovnik and its environs. Photographic material addressing this subject was published in the book Dubrovnik… An eponymous exhibition, along with several others, has toured Europe and South America – and was on view at CD’s Small Gallery in 1997.
In 1992, as the only Croatian photographer to date, Fabijanić took part in the most prominent European photography festival in Arles. Throughout his professional career he has held numerous solo exhibitions and received prestigious awards and distinctions. He is the chief photographer and photography editor of Croatia/Croatia Airlines (since 1993), Oris (from 1999 to 2008) and Iće&piće (since 2007). He has published photographs in reputable newspapers and magazines, including Abitare, Architektur aktuell, Architektur und Bauforum, Architectural Review, Baumeister, Casa Vogue, El croquis, Detail, Diseno interior, Domus, Piranesi, Topos, Werk, Bauen+Wohnen, Japan Architect.
Sunčan Stone has gained renown as an accomplished photographer, known for his photographic studies of movement – dance, dancers and dance shows –, as well as for his vibrant images of music and theatre performances. After a three-year stay in his native England, Stone is presenting a new project – Grenfell Tower Silent Walks – in CD’s Small Gallery. These are silent walks taken with a view to admonishing the authorities and paying respect to the memory of all the people who died when this tower caught fire (14 June 2017). The artist shares his thoughts on the series:
“A 24-storey tower block in Northington caught fire on 14 June 2017 – 72 people were killed in the fire. ... A month later, on 14 June 2017, survivors and relatives of the deceased took part in the Grenfell Tower Silent Walk, a memorial procession winding its way through the neighbourhood in honour of the victims. The marchers were joined by firefighters who fought for the victims that night, people from the neighbourhood and random passers-by. Silent walks have been held in the neighbourhood on the 14th of every month since the fire, attracting hundreds of people – as a reminder to the authorities to identify the culprits and introduce changes as early as possible. I joined in the third march with my camera, accompanying and supporting the marchers throughout my stay in London (until October 2019). The exhibition constitutes a series of portraits of people whose lives have changed irrevocably in a matter of a few hours. Here, my definition of a portrait is somewhat loose, given that all the photographs were taken during the walk, so I first focused on one person, and then on two people or a small group. Other times I just did a group portrait. The photographs depict a person in a deep emotional state, whilst reflecting a strong sense of human dignity, capturing a moment when the circumstances and memories weigh one down, while at the same time clearly reflecting this person’s upright posture, their feelings of empathy and solidarity – as we have repeatedly taken part in the march to remember the deceased, to support the survivors and make sure that this never happens again.”
Born in London, UK, in 1971, Sunčan Patrick Stone has adopted Ljubljana as his new home. He took up translating (mostly into English) during his studies (sociology of culture and art history at Ljubljana’s Faculty of Arts) and has so far translated a large series of books (from scientific publications to poetry, children's books, novels and what have you), as well as specialist articles. A professional photographer since 2009, Stone is particularly interested in the ways in which people express their creative side. He therefore almost exclusively focuses on dance (especially contemporary), theatre (especially independent), as well as concerts and art exhibitions. Believing that photography can help raise people's awareness of current social movements, Sunčan always takes his camera with him to demonstrations. He has held more than 20 solo photography exhibitions (Belgium, Slovenia and the UK, almost half of which were dedicated to contemporary dance) and took part in more than 25 group showcases (Australia, Austria, Slovenia and Serbia), as well as in various art projects presented in Croatia, Italy, South Korea, Macedonia and the United Kingdom. He teaches various photography workshops covering a range of subjects – from introduction to digital photography to dance photography and theatre photography.
In accordance with the measures adopted to contain the spread of COVID-19 epidemic Cankarjev dom has cancelled or rescheduled all events, exhibitions reopened.
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Franci Virant’s series of exquisite, spontaneous but at the same time well-considered photographs depicts a week's stay in the Italian metropolis. The holiday takes place in October 2008. In the photographs, the artist toys with the story of people, architecture, art, a story condensed into a recognizable genius loci of a mighty and ancient monument-city. He traces his impression of people's attitudes to things and reveals the core of his own experience of the place. At the same time, Virant captures the rapture of people who do not actually realize what they are looking at. The superficiality of mobile-phone photography raises the question: Does this prove that one has really been there? While some pictures take on new meanings, becoming completely updated, and others carry sophisticated, inscrutable symbolism, the common thread of exceptional emotional intensity runs through all of them.
Art critic Brane Kovič about Virant’s work: Virant's photographs may therefore also be read as a spontaneous, unpretentious, anthropological essay that encapsulates an aspect of today’s state of mind with a playful, occasionally humorous tone. The dominant line of Virant’s narrative emerges from the Italian capital’s extraordinary artistic richness, which is the most common reason for the vast crowds that flock to its streets and markets, thronging around architectural achievements, the many museums, art collections and archaeological remains, with occasional detours to more trivial segments of daily life faced by both the locals and visitors. … A reliable witness to the reality into which he is drawn, Franci Virant is aware of the privileged position from which he is able to interpret it, because in putting on view what was in front of his camera in a certain moment his standpoints and understanding of the world transcend the bounds of haphazardness and blend together to form a mosaic of creative freedom as self-cognition."
Franci Virant (b. 1958) has gained renown as a brilliant fashion photographer – photographing women is part of his daily routine. He broadened his experience in photography as member of the famous ŠOLT photo group, and later by working for the Delo daily's in-house photography department. Since 1988, he has worked as a freelance cultural professional. Contributing to projects by the IRWIN group, Virant has been involved in the NSK (Neue Slowenische Kunst) group since 1987. He works with Slovenian artists and fashion designers. Virant's photographs feature on numerous theatre posters, and in many publications. He has held several high-profile solo exhibitions, including a 1996 showcase in Cankarjev dom's Small Gallery (at a time when this exhibition space emerged as Ljubljana's/Slovenia's new photography gallery) and took part in various group exhibitions locally and internationally. Virant's photos have been used for a series of outstanding calendars, as well as marketing campaigns, and appeared in numerous Slovenian newspapers and magazines (including ARS VIVENDI, Stop, Pepita, Moda, Focus, etc.). He is recipient of several international photography awards (e.g. in Poland, Japan and Hungary).
We need stories. We need stories to understand ourselves.
The forest paths lead past places of death, Fritz was killed here by a falling branch, Grandmother knew, here three men were charred by lightning, in the Devil’s Clearing next to the Death Beech by the creek, the screeching girls in the stream on the Poset farm, where the dead wander and wail, the Wild Ravine where they found a skull. These are stories told by Maja Haderlap in Angel of Oblivion, a book that inspired Andrej Blatnik to take photographs of the writer’s valley – the Valley of Lepena (Leppen) that wends its way through the Austrian state of Carinthia – creating a series to which he could give no other title but Angel of Oblivion. Having read the book, the photographer decided to try to visualize all the dramas that happen there, he said. He wanted the pictures to be dramatic, to display the tenacity, the will to survive, perseverance, the struggle of man with nature. Also the partisans and conflicts. Joy, he added. The spectators thus see Lepena in the photos. And we also see ourselves. The sun's rays filter through the trees, mists drift down steep pastures, the words of Maja Haderlap, turning into reality, are tumbling over the meadows. The photographs convey the narratives of the writer and the people to whom this part of the world belongs. They whisper the photographer's story to us, the viewers, very carefully, unobtrusively, thus opening up space that allows us to listen to ourselves.
But let us go back to the Lepena Valley or ravine, as the locals call it, which runs from Eisenkappel to the foothills of Mount Peca (Petzen). It is only about ten kilometres long. It is caught between Mount Peca, soaring to well over two thousand metres, and the slightly lower Topica/Topitza and Olševa/ Ouschewa mountains. These secluded places, where no freshness seems to penetrate through the high peaks to the ravine, nor the mustiness of the outer world, have a history of resistance all of their own, a history that the official historical records would prefer to omit. If only possible, these records seek to blot out the partisan resistance movement joined by many Carinthian Slovenes, which took a heavy death toll on their families during WWII whilst also stigmatizing them after the war for their resistance against the Nazis and the German army. One can also write about trees politically and there are many trees in my book, read the words of Maja Haderlap. Stories lost in the woods – the forests that used to be dense in this part of the world until just a few years ago when natural disasters devastated the landscape and stripped clean the thickly wooded terrain – were found and preserved.
A black-and-white photograph shows a tree. Who knows how and, indeed, why here of all places, it has grown out of rocks on a steeply rising slope. The tree is straight, no sense of bending is felt. A nice photo. An idyllic shot of nature one could add and move over to the next photo. But, no. The moment we place it in a historical context we feel the drama of the Lepena Valley. That is why we stop. It stands for total resistance to gravity and everything. It stands for a crazy will to survive, says Andrej Blatnik about this unyielding tree.
In telling stories, Andrej Blatnik skilfully blends writing and photography; his photographs have been used in designing monographs, textbooks, manuals, anthologies, fiction books. Over the past decade he has been increasingly interested in Slovenian ethnic minorities, especially the remote places in the Raba region, the valley of Zilja/Gail, the Rabelj Valley (Val Rio di Lago), on the Croatian side of the Čabranka River. In the series of pictures featuring places that in Slovenia are little-known, almost disregarded, the photographer moves between creativity and reality, between aesthetics, knowledgeability and feelings. Especially his own, of course. It is also Blatnik’s Angel of Oblivion photographs that hover between self-expression and documentation, between relating information and conveying the photographer’s exceptional feel for the beautiful. His photographs often feature bold colours, but this time he thought them superfluous. He skilfully took advantage of the narrative force of grey tones, light fading into darkness, blackness dissolving into whiteness. And at times one can even sense a very, very gentle vibrancy that has slipped stealthily into this solemn environment.
In another photo, we see a roof, atop of which rises a tree canopy with the sky spreading above. The roof is dilapidated, the treetop ragged, the sky is disappearing into darkness. There are no people. And yet it is immediately clear that Andrej Blatnik is talking precisely about them, the extraordinary people in whose stories he found great fascination.
Andrej Blatnik (b. 1963 Ljubljana) studied design and modern art at UK’s Open University between 1991 and 1994. A professional photographer since 1991, he has worked independently, as a self-employed professional in culture, since 1994. Actively pursuing a career in photojournalism since 2000, Blatnik is member of the Slovenian Association of Journalists. His photos have been published in numerous newspapers and magazines: Ambient, Viva, Albert, Cosmopolitan, Playboy, Elle, Gea, Atelje, Adria Airways In-Flight Magazine, Pri nas doma, Jana, Mama, Otrok in družina, Vrtnar, Rože in vrt, Kmečki glas, Življenje in tehnika, Zvon, as well as the supplements Objektiv, Polet, Ona… He has held a series of solo exhibitions in Slovenia and abroad. His previous shows at Cankarjev dom include: the 2009 Knapovske marionete (Marionettes from a Mining Town) solo exhibition, a series that has since formed part of Hrastnik Museum’s permanent collection, and the 2010 photo series Sečoveljske soline (Sečovlje Salt Pans) within the context of a museum exhibition.
*How am I to know. I love you. I don’t know what's happened.
Another person’s misfortune is a widespread motif in engaged photography and visual art. In the worlds of documentary, press and (also) art photography, questions are thus repeatedly raised about the ethics and decency of photographers in relation to their subjects, that is, people whose stories are made public by their works. Documenting or representing human misery can easily degenerate into media or artistic aesthetisation of social problems, whilst turning the subjects of these narratives into objects. Or, in plain terms, photographers or artists can boost their careers at the expense of other people’s misery, while leaving their subjects/objects caught in the clutches of their own adversity. That is why in different conflict zones photographers or artists are in a privileged position, and excluded from the situation, as they can, generally, choose to enter or leave freely, whereas the subjects/objects of their artworks usually do not have that option.
In Regarding the Pain of Others, philosopher and publicist Susan Sontag discusses, among other things, the apathy of the modern consumers of media content, who, due to the huge quantities of absorbed material, become more and more impassive and indifferent to the images of trauma and atrocities poured into their homes via the visual culture. Sontag also notes that, despite its overabundance, the visual image affects a spectator much more directly than, for example, a text will – although, in principle, words are (known to be) much more descriptive and explicit. Regardless of all these misgivings, discourse on social injustice and abuse in the public sphere is an indispensable and urgent necessity.
Considering that mass media devote less and less attention to unpleasant and complex issues, subjects of marginal interest are thus often raised by various alternative domains, including art. While here – in comparison to mass media – such narratives reach and address a much smaller circle of people, significantly greater freedom of artistic expression and creativity can nevertheless be exercised. In the absence of political or market pressures in treating particular social phenomena, the language of (engaged) art can indulge in an approach that is much more honest, consistent, contemplative, critical and complex.
Photographer and artist Jošt Franko is well aware of this fact and, as a result, consciously opts for a subtle and complex treatment of various social phenomena, including war and its far-reaching consequences. These repercussions often manifest themselves in tectonic economic, political, and demographic shifts, as well as in the resilient ideological, ethnic or religious disputes that survive the war basically intact. Franko focuses on the (too) quickly forgotten stories of Bosnia and Herzegovina, a country still coping with the aftermath of the bloody civil war whose end in 1995 did little to alleviate the situation of countless people continuing to bear, to this very day, the consequences on various levels of their daily lives.
Today, more than twenty years after the war's end, there are still thousands of internally displaced persons in BiH, living in squalid conditions and with no socio-economic or legal status to speak of. While unable to return home because their former places of residence fell outside the new ethnic demarcation, their 'temporary' shelters lack the basic conditions for a dignified life. These people, coming from both entities of an ethnically divided country, are thus condemned to live below the poverty line and beyond civil rights. The authorities of both entities, however, simply ignore this problem with equal degree of obduracy.
Franko has therefore brought into our living rooms, or displayed on gallery walls, these long-forgotten but still vividly present stories of long-term refugees in their own country. However, his method was not one of mere documentary reporting, but a non-linear representation of fragments of these complex phenomena. Perceiving photography and moving image as sociological categories, he always grounds his projects in subject matter, thereupon adjusting form and method of implementation in line with the addressed theme. In following this method, he gives a wide berth to any kind of illustration. On the contrary, he constructs distinctly metaphorical visual narratives based on the principle of 'pars pro toto'. He deals with particular personal stories of real people and, in the process, creates alternative micro-histories of sorts, histories ordinarily excluded from the prevalent media and public discourse – and therefore invisible. To this end, he avails himself of complete visual reduction, thus avoiding formulaic representations of misery.
One might suggest that his research and working methods bear a slight resemblance to the approach of Alfredo Jaar, an artist who, in his infamous Rwanda project from 1994, immediately after the end of this brutal conflict, followed a course that resisted the spectacle of action images and first-hand reports. Instead of photographs of the immediate aftermath of violence – at a time when dead bodies were still piled up on the ground – he created a small series of carefully selected pictures depicting this (invisible) violence in some sort of photographic and design vignettes. If with his series of prints, The Disasters of War (1810–1820), painter Francisco Goya sought to shock the public with explicit scenes of wartime violence against civilians, and succeeded in achieving this in an era preceding the development of mass visual culture, Jaar surmised that in the Information Age such a direct address would quickly become ineffective. We have grown all too accustomed to violence in remote areas, which we consume through mediated images, and our amnesia – like a self-defence mechanism against trauma – is swift. That is why the artist decided to address his viewership with a handful of select symbols, which, with only a few strokes, succeed in conveying the gist of the story and perhaps touching a spectator’s sensibilities.
Completely abandoning the principles of documentary photography and linear visual narrative, Franko’s latest works – realised consistently and continuously mainly over the past two years – stem from a similar concept. In this day and age, the classic documentary approach would most likely not have worked – given that, to most people, the Bosnian war is a resolved matter from the 1990s. It would also not be able to override the impression created by the brutal images of the bloodshed that took place between 1992 and 1995 – considering that due to the accessibility of battlefields the civil war in BiH was one of the most explicitly documented conflicts in recent history, and consequently provided many masters of modern warfare photo-safari with an opportunity to polish their skills. On the other hand, Franko aims to convey to the public the very silence and void left in its wake by the maelstrom of war. Particularly horrifying are the normalcy of the pictured situations and the resignation of people to their inevitable fate. And it is the people that are placed at the forefront of Franko’s work. The people with first-hand experience of the long-standing grey zone governing an administratively, politically and ethnically segregated country, a country whose grossly ineffective government tolerates rampant corruption and fuels unprocessed collective trauma.
Thus, people are at the heart of Franko's images, people whose mien is imprinted with the trauma of helplessness, loss, marginalisation, and homesickness. Many of the refugees he encountered, and with whom he communicated over longer periods of time, are still living in temporary housing, their minds wholly taken up by reminiscences, trying to cope with the past and the present, yet unable to think about the future. However, it is extremely difficult to visualise all these situations and phenomena, as an image will not suffice to fully reflect their overall subjective experience. How is a photographer, filmmaker or artist to portray the fate of people affected first by a devastating war, dispossessed of their homes and property, and then deprived of the opportunity to build a sound foundation for a dignified life by the processes of a brutal transition to neoliberal society? Franko uses fragments of their stories to construct a lapidary narrative that seeks to reach out to the spectator, not with the aim of pitying the plight and misfortune of people from distant areas, but of primarily encouraging reflection on the enduring repercussions of radical acts that lead to conflict. All this can happen – and has happened – anywhere.
Jošt Franko (1993) has been practising documentary and art photography over a number of years and has achieved both national and international recognition. Over the recent years, Franko has created several high-profile series and works, and has regularly exhibited at various photo/art showcases and festivals (New York Photo Festival, New York; Format Festival, Derby; Finnish Museum of Photography, Helsinki; Museum of Contemporary Art Metelkova +MSUM, Ljubljana), while his photos have appeared in distinguished print and online media, including The New Yorker, TIME Magazine, Newsweek, The Washington Post, Le Monde, and Delo. Franko lives and works in Ljubljana.
Art historian Miha Colner (1978) is a curator at GBJ – Božidar Jakac Art Museum in Kostanjevica na Krki. He is also active as a lecturer and publicist, specialising in the fields of photography, graphic arts, moving image and various forms of (new) media art. Between 2017 and 2020, he curated the programme of the Švicarija Creative Centre, an arts venue managed by MGLC – International Centre of Graphic Arts, Ljubljana. He worked as a curator, between 2006 and 2016, at the Photon – Centre for Contemporary Photography in Ljubljana. Since 2005, he has been publishing articles in newspapers, magazines, and professional publications, as well as posting them in his blog. He lives and works in Ljubljana and Kostanjevica na Krki.
Biennial of Slovenian Independent Illustration – Independent Biennial is presenting an international selection for the first time. The selection took place through an open call and via invitation, which was initially prepared by Biennial partners in Croatia and Serbia.
With the presentation of an international ensemble of predominantly newcomers, the platform of the Independent Biennial is systemically expanding outside the borders of Slovenia with this ground-breaking exhibition. With the latter, we want to ignite a spark of interest in both the domestic and foreign audiences, which we are continuously growing through our initiatives.
Since its inception in 2007, the Biennial of Slovenian Independent Illustration - Independent Biennial has managed to prove the exceptional quality of Slovenian visual production, the recognition of which was slowly built through academic circles and design and art institutions. The authors of the previous edition of the Independent Biennial, who inherit the selection and choose their successors, in that way mark the exposed production of the next generation and its authors. Through this specific horizontal participatory selection process, the initiator Saša Kerkoš and the Tretaroka Association excluded the classical curatorial element and returned the voice to the creatives themselves. More than 14 years of existence in the Slovenian visual illustration environment, the two-year editions have been widely accepted by professionals who work at the crossroads of various visual practices and managed to map and archive them through more than a hundred public events of educational, promotional and connecting nature.
With the internationalization, the Independent Biennial puts itself in the broader context of the Eastern, Balkan theritory, where it wants to highlight a generation of authors who are often overlooked outside their local contexts and bring it into the focus with the Slovenian audiences and the creative scene.
The Indepenent Biennial continues its mission of mapping this exceptional visual scene, which often creates in difficult conditions and which deserves more recognition and support at all levels. The first international exhibition in Cankarjev dom is therefore its first step towards connecting and mapping authors and audiences on a wider, global context.
Parallel to the exhibition at Cankarjev Dom, the online exhibition of both invited and selected authors will be displayed until June 20th via www.independentplatform.net/exhibitions/an-international-selection/.
The list of authors:
Aleksandar Petković, Aleksandar Spasić, Ana Brumat, Ana Đapović, Ana Marguš, Ana Salopek, Anka Arsenić, Apolonija Lučić, Barbara Tomečak, Chenipe, Damir Stojnić-Ktonsky, Darija Stipanić, Dorian Šiško, Draga Nikolić, Dragan Kordić, Goran Radošević, Hana Tintor, Irena Jukić Pranjić, Iva Kordic, Ivana Mrčela, Ivana Ognjanovac, Ivana Ognjanovac i Mare Šuljak, Jelena Micić, Jelena Vezmar, Josip Knežević, Josipa Krolo, Jovana Banjanac, Jovana Ćubović , Jovanka Mladenović , Juraj Živković, Karla Čurčinski, Kolja Božović, Korina Hunjak, Lara Badurina, Lea Čeč, Lucija Marin, Lucija Mitar, Magdalena Vukalović, Margareta Peršić, Marina Krištofić -Marinsky, Mia Matijević, Milica Lazarevic, Mirela Srabović, Miron Milić, Mojca Janželj Tomažič, Nana Wolke, Nataša Mihailović , Nika Bilandžić, Nikola Kosić, Nina Mihaljinac, Omar Lović, Pavle Goljanin, Primož Zorko, Radomir Djukanović, Renata Ladović Meštrović, Rina Barbarić, Robyn Field, Ružica Dobranić, Šejma Fere, Snježana Boyd Žana, Stefan Lukić, Stepan Myannik, Tara Rodić, Tina Danilović, Vedrana Cah, Vuk Ćuk, Željka Fuderer Levak.
Co-production: Cankarjev dom (SI), APURI – Akademija primijenjenih umjetnosti Sveučilišta Rijeka (HR), Kino Šiška (SI), Galerija Zvono (SR)
Special thanks: Lara Badurina, Ines Krasić, Ljiljana Tadić (Galerija Zvono), Vuk Ćuk, Nikola Božović – Kolja, Dunja Kukovec, Nina Pirnat Spahić (Cankarjev dom), Maša P. Žmitek (Vodnikova domačija), Primož Zorko, Danica Jovović Prodanović, Piera Ravnikar, Barbara Poček
Independent Biennial’s team and support: Saša Kerkoš, Irena Silić, Lucija Podbrežnik and Rok Avbar, Boštjan Hren
An exhibition of jazz posters by graphic designer Ajna Zlatar is on view within the framework of the 61st Jazz Festival Ljubljana.
Over the past several years, Zlatar has developed a successful creative partnership with the international music festival Jazz Fest Sarajevo and the Gramofon label. The exhibition gives an overview of Zlatar’s graphic solutions for festival posters and design concepts for album covers by Amira Medunjanin (“Zumra” and “Amira Live”), Sikter and Validna Legitimacija, to name but a few.
“Music evokes special feelings that I seek to visualise by creating occasionally somewhat romantic and other times multifaceted designs that must at the same time correspond to the festival’s or album’s programme concept, but their common denominator is invariably – the joy of great music,” explains Ajna.
The Jazz Fest Sarajevo posters – designed mostly by Ajna – have been attracting public attention for over two decades. Several of these works have won prestigious international awards recognizing professional achievement.
Ajna Zlatar obtained education in Sarajevo and Milan. Since the 1990s she has made a name for herself as an art director and freelance graphic designer. She is recipient of numerous awards for her advertising campaigns and an Epica Award for design – Europe's prize rewarding outstanding creativity. Zlatar has exhibited in Italy and Bosnia and Herzegovina. She lives in Sarajevo.
In compliance with the restrictive measures taken by the Government of RS to limit the second wave of the Coronavirus pandemic, Cankarjev dom has cancelled or rescheduled all events. All exhibitions are temporarily closed.
In collaboration with the Stolp Photo Gallery Maribor