Sommer-Story

Die Autorin Adisa Bašić spürt während eines langen, heißen Sommers zwischen Natur, Kunst und Architektur im Hansaviertel verschiedenen Stimmungen nach

Adisa Bašić

[Text nur in englischer Sprache]

The summer I spent in the building of the Academy of Arts was lonely and hot. Like most institutions in the holiday season, Werner Düttmann’s building was almost empty and unusually quiet. There is some special beauty in places that suddenly become deserted. I love this post-apocalyptic atmosphere. I can imagine that I am alone in the world. It is at the same time both intimidating and consoling. The building without people has shown its intimate, bare side. Salons with empty chairs on which no one is sitting, a kitchen in which nobody prepares food and drinks, a garden in which you can’t hear the chatting of guests gathered with a glass of wine. A powerful feeling of a former human presence was everywhere together with the unusual and deep quietness.

I behaved as if the Academy building was my private villa, and I was an aged lonely weirdo from whom everyone escaped. I walked around in my pyjamas and my robe like some kind of an old haunt. The building opened to me. For the first time in my life, I sincerely paid attention to the space in which I was staying. The boundary between inside and outside was deceptive and unstable. Privately and publicly was mixed, nature and art were fused. The stone dared me to walk on it with barefoot and there was something seductively impropriate in it. Public space was becoming my private beach. Wood, brick and grass interfered with concrete and glass. I began to notice the regular geometric patterns, I had fun watching the shadows and caching unusual shapes and colours.

This series of photos is a game, but also a bit of a love statement to a building in which I’ve spent a nice lonely summer. Even though the building was full of people when I came next time in spring, I felt that we had shared some intimacy and that we had a small common past that binds us permanently.

Ljeto koje sam provela u zgradi Akademije Umjetnosti bilo je usamljeno i vrelo. Kao i većina institucija u sezoni odmora, i zgrada Wernera Düttmanna bila je skoro prazna i neobično tiha. Postoji neka posebna ljepota u mjestima koja iznenada opuste. Volim tu postapokaliptičnu atmosferu. Mogu da zamišljam da sam sama na svijetu. To je u isto vrijeme i zastrašujće i utješno. Zgrada se bez ljudi pokazuje u intimnom, ogoljenom izdanju. Saloni sa praznim stolicama na kojima niko ne sjedi, kuhinja u kojoj niko ne priprema hranu i pića, vrt u kojem se navečer ne čuje žamor gostiju okupljenih uz čašu vina. Posvuda snažan osjećaj nekadašnjeg ljudskog prisustva i neobični tajac.

Ponašala sam se kao da je zgrada Akademije moja privatna vila, a ja ostarjela čudakinja od koje su svi pobjegli. Hodala sam okolo u pidžami i kućnom ogrtaču kao kakva utvara.

Zgrada mi se otvarala. Prvi put u životu sam obraćala pažnju na prostor u kojem boravim. Granica između unutrašnjosti i spoljašnjosti bila je varljiva i nestalna. Miješalo se privatno i javno, priroda i umjetnost su se nadopunjavali. Kamen je mamio da po njemu hodam bosa, bilo je u tome neke zavodljive nepriličnosti. Javni prostor postajao je moja privatna plaža. Drvo, cigla i trava smjenjivali su se sa betonom i staklom. Počela sam uočavati pravilne geometrijske obrasce, zabavljati se posmatrajući sjene, loveći neobične oblike i boje.

Ova serija fotografija je igra, a pomalo i ljubavna izjava zgradi u kojoj sam provela jedno lijepo samotno ljeto. Čak i kada sam se u nju vratila narednog proljeća i zatekla je punu ljudi, osjećala sam da smo nas dvije podijelile neku intimu i da imamo malu zajedničku prošlost koja nas trajno vezuje.

*1979 in Sarajevo, lebt in Sarajevo

Adisa Bašić hat bislang vier Lyrikbände und ein Buch mit Prosa veröffentlicht. Unterrichtet an der philosophischen Fakultät in Sarajevo Lyrik und Kreatives Schreiben. Ihr Buch Promotivni spot za moju domovinu (2011) wurde mit dem internationalen Preis Bank Austria Literaris ausgezeichnet und ins Deutsche übersetzt [Ein Werbespot für meine Heimat].

Berlin-Stipendium

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