One Can Be a Successful Painter Even in the Provinces

Ifirst saw Aldemar Ibrahimović’s paintings in Paris, at a solo exhibition at the Cité Internationale des Arts. His landscapes captivated me for two reasons.

The first was that they were painted with a “mental” brush and in an entirely modern manner—he was not merely copying reality, as is customary in this kind of work, but rather depicting the “psyche” of the landscape, that is to say, its soul. The second reason was that, looking at Aldemar’s paintings, I was transported back to my native land, something that makes us very sensitive and partial.

Ibrahimović graduated from the Academy of Fine Arts in Sarajevo in 1986, in the class of Professor Radoslav Tadić. He has held a series of notable solo exhibitions in Pljevlja, Kolašin, Priboj, and Podgorica. Equally significant was his participation in the group exhibition “Contemporary Montenegrin Painting” in Vienna, Graz, and Linz. Since 1987, he has participated in all exhibitions of the Association of Fine Artists of Montenegro (ULUCG).

The fact that he lives and works in Rožaje has in no way diminished his presence in contemporary Montenegrin painting, nor has it affected the quality of his artistic work, which I consider, without hesitation, a remarkable achievement.

Branka Bogavac: Aldemar, you are one of the few contemporary artists who did not rush towards the capital. In doing so, you have proven that one can be a good and successful painter even in the so-called provinces. You have a reputation as a Neo-Romantic in art. Was the choice of your homeland—Rožaje—also a Neo-Romantic one? I would like you to tell me what difficulties such a choice entails, and how great they are. No country in the Balkans has yet achieved sufficient cultural decentralisation to reduce the disparities between the capital and provincial cultural and artistic life. Montenegro has not succeeded in this either. Your example is a solitary one—though that does not mean your painterly work is solitary.

Ibrahimović: I believe that nowadays, visual artists can create successfully and achieve recognition even in smaller communities. This is due, above all, to general globalisation in all spheres of life, as well as to the means of mass communication. I even think that, in a certain sense, there is an advantage in being removed from large urban centres and from the pace of life they impose. The Neo-Romantic overtone in my work is mostly noted by art critics, but I do not consciously pursue that direction—though I believe there is some truth in it. Indeed, the very environment in which I live carries something of that quality, although even that has changed considerably today. I would not agree that Montenegro has failed to decentralise its cultural, and especially its visual arts, scene. In support of this view, I would remind you of the esteemed Vojo Stanić, and more recently, the successes of our sculptor Miodrag Šćepanović have confirmed this as well. This gives me reason to say that, in this respect, Montenegro has an advantage over other countries in the region. Of course, shortcomings exist—above all, a lack of major cultural manifestations and events, which creates the risk of becoming distanced from the currents of contemporary art.

Branka Bogavac: Looking at your paintings, what one notices first is the power of the land. Your landscape is one of the rare ones in which the land has a soul—something of our own, dear and warm. At your Paris exhibition, I had the urge to reach out and gather that earth in my hand. How did you arrive at infusing your landscape with the soul of the earth? This is particularly interesting given that your painting, in both structure and expression, is very modern.

Ibrahimović: What shaped my childhood I explored some ten years ago in a cycle of paintings depicting the old urban landscapes of my homeland, as well as through certain portraits of people I remember, or who were still alive at that time. That is a theme to which I can gladly return at any moment and treat it in an even more accomplished way, for it seems to me that the older I grow, the clearer the images of childhood become, and the more frequently they “surface” in daily life.

Branka Bogavac: Mladen Lompar says that, for you, the landscape is merely a pretext. I understood it in that way: as an opportunity to say through the landscape something that might not be said so effectively without it. What is your true motive, your true reason for choosing the landscape? How and when did you come to that decision?

Ibrahimović: Indeed, that is something academician Mladen Lompar captured brilliantly in just a few words—“landscape as pretext.” Precisely so: I endeavour to transpose the natural structures and textures that surround me into an engaging and modern visual expression, which only, in certain segments, evokes the environment in which I live or in which I once stayed. Landscape became, in a sense, my preoccupation already during my studies in Sarajevo. At that time, it was the urban landscape that I approached differently. I would select or frame urban settings and fragments of those settings that were, to me at the time, visually compelling. I believe this was above all the result of the education I received during my studies, and then of the work and experience I accumulated and absorbed, consciously or subconsciously. This is how one arrives at one’s own distinctive visual expression.

Branka Bogavac: I have passed through Rožaje, but I do not really know it. I am, however, somewhat familiar with Bihor (my village is Bor). The literary image of this region has been given to us by Ćamil Sijarić, Risto Ratković, and Miodrag Bulatović. You, as a visual artist, naturally offer naturally a different image. Was this region of ours a reason you chose art? Tell me about your childhood: what left its mark on you? Can what marked you be painted, if it has not already been painted?

Ibrahimović: The writers you mentioned described these regions of ours, and the people who inhabit them, in the best possible way, so I think it is very delicate and difficult to draw certain parallels—but let me try. The place I come from is, of course, impressive and unique, and to a good extent it has been the reason I do what I do. However, I believe the decisive factor was talent, which was recognised very early on—first and foremost by my father, who was a well-known woodworker and carpenter, and then by my teachers and others, who very early noticed my chalk drawings on the timber walls of the houses and stables that lined the lanes and streets in which I grew up. That “noticing” on the part of others—especially elders and people in positions of authority—that “recognition” of my gift was especially important to me.

Branka Bogavac: You are also recognised as a portrait painter. Tell me—is there anything in common between painting the face of the land and the human face?

Ibrahimović: Portraits are one of my important artistic preoccupations. I have created a great many of them in various techniques—from drawing, through dry pastel, to oil. It is often said that a person’s face is a unity of spirit and body, so I think portraiture is inseparable from the landscape. Our appearance, our face, often tells exactly where we come from, and from which land or region. I think it is one indivisible whole.

Branka Bogavac: You had a solo exhibition in Paris. You visited many galleries and museums in this great old city of culture. What impressions do you carry from France? What particularly appealed to you? Is there any meaningful comparison to be drawn between what you saw in Vienna, during the group exhibition, and what you saw in Paris?

Ibrahimović: Paris is an eternal inspiration for any artist; it is something that must be experienced before one can even attempt to take a position or form a judgment. What it has in common with Vienna is, above all, the old urban core, marked by magnificent Gothic cathedrals, which speak of the fascinating cultural heritage these cities possess. And then there are all those countless museums and galleries which can only fascinate and leave breathless an artist from the provinces. Yet I felt that “Parisian impression” while staying in other European and world metropolises as well, particularly in Moscow and what was then Leningrad, now St. Petersburg.

Branka Bogavac: If you were once again faced with the choice—Rožaje or Podgorica, Belgrade, even Paris—would you stand by your old, original decision? Has your decision to remain in your homeland ever fallen into crisis?

Ibrahimović: Of course. A small community contains much of what Radomir Konstantinović speaks of in his exceptional work “The Philosophy of Parochialism”. It often leads one to wonder whether one ought to move to a larger centre, particularly Podgorica, which has an exceptional position and which has, in recent years, acquired the features of a truly modern European city. A person from these regions is always faced with the dilemma of whether to leave or stay, and such thoughts overcome me from time to time. But the provinces more often reside—or do not reside—within the person rather than the other way round.

Branka Bogavac Pariz, 29. 3. 2007.