[spectre] reviving and reliving and remembering (in) attempts at Understanding the Balkans
Sally Jane NORMAN
norman@wanadoo.fr
Wed, 26 Dec 2001 00:51:52 +0100
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Dear Spectres, dear Misko,
Was in the throes of writing this when Misko's photos arrived on my =
screen. This must be one of Stevan Vukovic's Balkan ghost phenomena!
Anyway, at last a little time today to stir and revisit memories. =
Understanding the Balkans. A region physically totally foreign to me. =
Essentially known via Syndicate exchanges and encounters in the eye of =
the storm, i.e. more or less permanently since the list first emerged in =
96.
Landing at Skopje airport late afternoon, Thursday November 29th : a =
large part of the tarmac traversed after touchdown is invested by =
military air and ground craft, temporary barracks. Black and green =
camouflage vehicles standing out starkly against a cold grey landscape. =
Picked up by my Skopje host from the French Cultural Centre, official =
cultural offshoot of the Embassy. Occasional military presence stationed =
on the road into town. Ghostly reminders surging out of the mist. First =
stop the Cultural Centre, an odd set up : one part of the locale is the =
typical library, reading room, television and classroom encountered in =
any Alliance Fran=E7aise or French Institute, and the office occupied by =
the Centre's dedicated director. Another office, where links with =
Macedonian schools and education activites are upheld, is separated from =
the first by an arms retailer with Smith and Wesson blazoned on his =
window.=20
On my first evening, I'm escorted to a concert at a hall designated " =
Maison des arm=E9es " - that's how my hosts name it ; there seem to be =
lots of relaxed soldiers and many young people hanging out there. A =
wooden auditorium with warm acoustics and a highly attentive public, a =
mixture of apparently relatively well-to-do music lovers and a large =
bunch of younger people who would pass as students anywhere in Europe. =
The French cellist heralded as this century's Rostropovich is applauded =
enthusiastically. We meet later and he explains that he comes as often =
as possible to Skopje and elsewhere in the Balkans, because of the =
quality of the audience. He plays Elgar, the Philharmonic serves the =
usual dose of Mozart, and a short orchestral composition by a young =
Macedonian composer who's name nobody can translate for me. Spectral =
overtones (Giacinto Scelsi, Tristan Murail. any other Spectres into the =
spectral music movement ?), unidentifiable yet disturbingly familiar =
subtleties with timbre. Have to chase the illegible name on my programme =
(Mozart and Elgar are irritatingly easy to make out). One huge regret =
was not getting to a music shop, though purchased music could only =
partially have met my needs. Skopje was a permanent, exhilarating sound =
trip.
Next day, a round of appointments with cultural organisations. Art =
schools and centres, galleries, museums. Everybody seems to know =
everybody. A refurbished hammam in the centre of town, next to the =
bazar, has become a contemporary art gallery. The temporary exhibits are =
works of German and Macedonian artists. Ismet Ramicevic's piece =
overwhelms : an avenue of a dozen or so (sorry, didn't count - they're =
regularly spaced and stake out a walkway of several meters) =
approximately three foot high golden rods sheathed with brown velvet =
tips evocative of reeds, the two lines of these reeds/ rods being spaced =
about a meter or so apart, just the right distance to feel drawn into =
the path (two golden footprints at the outermost point of the walkway =
clearly solicit this incursion). At the innermost extremity of the path =
is a glass box on a pedestal, about a meter from the ground, overtones =
of a reliquary. Within which is ritualistically placed, cover uppermost =
displaying arms and name of state and dispelling all ambiguity, a =
Yugloslavian passport. One of the many points of my journey where =
understanding the Balkans falteringly begins. In this austerely simple, =
finely gauged play of space and symbol and material that grips the =
mind's eye and tugs at foot and heart. It is good to meet Ismet later - =
on Monday - at Melentie's Contemporary Art Centre, his work having =
meanwhile cropped up in several places, including traces of the =
labyrinth piece, tightly coiled newspapers, wrung into randomly =
decorative patterns in a weaving of information to be walked on, a magic =
media carpet (as at the Contemporary Arts Centre display), or exhibited =
vertically like a painting (as at the Modern Art Museum on the hilltop). =
Numerous Macedonian and Balkanian works at the hammam-come-gallery are =
packed into an end room to make space for temporary exhibits. It is good =
to view them under the harsh noon illumination of the domed glass =
skylights. A physicality about many of them, a " hands-on " tactile =
quality exploding powerfully from the surfaces of paintings, relief and =
bas-relief works, a strange interplay and tension between surface and =
volumic protrusion. Encountered again and again. Perhaps partly =
attributable to my own art historical obsessions, but there seems to be =
a grappling with matter and senses here that erupts through the veneer =
of many carefully contained West European pictorial and sculptural =
practices.=20
Another memorable image at the Museum of Contemporary Art, with its huge =
glass walls overlooking the Skopje basin city, and its ghost galleries =
of condemned exhibition space with permanently leaking rooves, is the =
hallucinatory vision of an unbridled horse, dragging its bit, peacefully =
grazing hard up against one of the panorama windows. Roll over Damien =
Hirst. This is for real. The museum director says he doesn't have the =
heart to have the horse taken back to its probable home, down the road, =
where the grass isn't as good.
Friday night convoys of " Understanding the Balkans " attendees gather =
together in a bar. People compare means of transport and durations of =
their journeys, which seem excruciatingly long for such short distances. =
A few hundred kilometers, from Zagreb or Sofia or Belgrade, has in most =
cases taken longer than my trip from Paris. Acrobatics with itineraries, =
interminable waits at borders, bad road conditions. Understanding the =
Balkans begins with trying to understand how tortuous and precarious =
face-to-face communication is for people in the region, in terms of =
sheer logistics. The risk of too easily and systematically looking =
further afield for kinship and collaboration being aggravated, condoned, =
by physical difficulties meeting up with one's neighbours. Though it's =
not that simple either, as the two days of discussion tell us. In the =
bar, there are moments when the entire group converses in what is =
seemingly the same language. It's somehow reassuring to run up against =
these incomprehensible sounds, to listen to the music of words and =
syntax that occasionally my neighbours describe for me as a sort of =
pidgin Balkan language. A relief to escape the all-too dominant =
situation of English as linguistic currency. Perhaps this point hits =
home even harder after a day with my French-Macedonian entourage.=20
Next day I arrive insanely early at the Museum of Macedonia for the 11 =
a.m. start to the conference. Winding up the hill in icy winds that cut =
across the museum esplanade. I wander through rooms full of history that =
spans thousands of years, stone, bronze artefacts and utensils and =
vestiges of architectures that represent several civilisations - =
Hellenic, Roman, Byzantine, Ottoman. Breath-taking for the native of a =
country whose inhabited history barely exceeds a thousand years. =
Upstairs there's a Unesco-patronised exhibition of icons. The museum =
custodian turns on the lights for me and I have the space to myself. =
Once more, centuries of history surge up from retables and portative and =
votive images and early woodcut prints. Centuries marked by pendulum =
swings from hyper-realism to heavily abstract decorativism. Cyril and =
Methodius as Slavic saints feature heavily in the Balkan pantheon. =
Nicephore looms large and invisible. In an adjoining room, less =
prestigious icons deployed across a wide array of formats provide =
insights into narrative graphics, something my school specialises in (we =
call it comics). I try to drink up the visual deambulations, the ocular =
architectures, by proxy, through the eyes of my students. Next door =
again, a room full of photographs and documents from the turn of the =
twentieth century. Images from the first World War hit strangely. I've =
seen them before. My grandfather was a teenager from a little town on =
the West Coast of New Zealand when Commonwealth troops were =
requisitioned. He served in the infantry in Gallipoli. And survived (NZ =
losses in both wars were rated highest per capita of population). Never =
wanted to talk about it much. Particularly to his pacifist grandchildren =
who were regularly demonstrating against involvement in Vietnam, and =
against ANZAC (Australian New Zealand Army Corps) celebrations. Suddenly =
here he is, or others who look very much like him. Blood links. Sullen =
pain of not having really known him and encountering his fantom in this =
unglorious context, viewed from the other side of the trenches. =
Understanding the Balkans?
The conference starts up. Presentations that provide slants on the =
issues of Balkanisation and globalisation, permeated with identities of =
speakers from a host of countries in the region - includingMacedonia, =
Romania, Yugoslavia, Croatia, Bulgaria. Trying to understand the Balkans =
by listening to this crossover of discourse. The conference takes place =
in English, something that distresses me though obviously serves me well =
under the circumstances. But Melentie and others explain that the pidgin =
language of last night's bar suffices for informal exchange at most, and =
that several of the speakers would be unable to follow in-depth =
discussion in this medium. Lines of thought and argument strike the =
total foreigner that I am as unfamiliar and accessible at the same time, =
couched in a mix of "world-culture", of social theoretical and cultural =
and historical references that most of us are familiar with, and yet =
steeped in a heady brew of local references, of more or less voluntarily =
assumed inside stories. Globalisation being discussed against a backdrop =
of insistence on the need for more intense, "up-front" local and =
regional communication. A need the conference illustrates and serves.=20
Certain questions arise again and again: how can motivation and mindsets =
be determined and recognised and valued in their regional, local, =
balkanised specificity, when the reference point(s) remain(s) so =
adamantly westernised? Or, in Ventsislav Zankov's words, how can an =
ideological "underground" be constituted that is not dependent on the =
institutional stamp of the west but doesn't emerge as just another =
mafia, in this region where it's easier to hang out with e.g. one's =
German than with one's Balkan neighbours. Bojan Ivanov plays on words to =
come up with the metaphor of "globulisation", the globule being the =
neoclassical ideal of the sphere as the smallest surface containing the =
largest possible volume. Presented as a state towards which the Balkans =
might aspire, a positively structured state as opposed to the imploded =
chunk of chronically fractal geography that tends to be depicted on the =
world map of conflicts. The metaphor lends itself to all kinds of =
readings and ramifications. Ferid Muhik who begins in French, quoting =
Saint Simon - "savoir pour pr=E9voir et pr=E9voir pour pouvoir", makes a =
plea for positive investment of the wording that today tends to decry =
all things balkanian. Muhik denounces mechanistically determinist =
discourse and the resultant settling into a fatalistic loop, where too =
much focus on causes supposedly beyond one's control leads to neglect of =
such vital factors as human motivation and aspirations. i.e. it leads to =
a state of abnegation, resignation, abandonment, a state that lacks the =
sense of guilt that Muhik considers a prerequisite for the elaboration =
of a project likely to be pertinent both regionally and globally. There =
are many sparks flying, many words and ideas that trigger cascades of =
mental response, that will come through the papers. Stevan Vukovic's =
presentation of Balkan ghosts - an uncanny tack on spectres. Muezzin =
calls regularly punctuate the chilly air, resonating throughout the =
Skopje soundshell, mixed with gunfire from nearby training barracks.=20
It's good to be able to listen in order to try to begin to understand. =
Intimidating at times, the tangible ferocity of this need to speak and =
dialogue, to try to forge the terms of a new parlance, an identity. An =
almost voyeuristic sensation - hovering between feeling immensely =
privileged and illegitimately present. It seems indecent to "prendre la =
parole" other than as a Martian, the only status I can honestly assume =
in this context. "In how many languages can one keep silent?" (a quote =
from Ventsislav Zankov's paper which is worth the re-re-reading). In the =
midst of heated and recurrent debate about how far south and how far =
east the Balkans stretch, my bearings crumble. It happens often. For =
somebody from/ in my country, Aotearoa, in the south Pacific, Asia is =
west and the US is east. Unless one turns one's back on the world to =
align with the vision of the globe too often considered "universal". =
some choice. Perhaps Branislav Sarkanjac can see things from this =
perspective - disconcerting to be holding a copy of his latest book in =
which the one word I can decipher, apart from a few names, is =
"Aotearoa".=20
Misko's idea of a Saturday night on the town is also one that will no =
doubt remain with us all for life - thanks also to Stefan Saskov's =
esoteric address book for making this possible. A "zikir" dervish =
ceremony in an icy room up in the hills (so many experiences were =
somehow up in the hills), where a dozen men gradually work themselves =
into a semi-trance state and in turn transpierce cheeks and various =
parts of the flesh with a long skewer-like needle that is =
ritualistically proferred to the religious leader for benediction before =
and after each such act. Images of turning bodies exhibiting this =
strange appendage which protrudes well beyond the usual morphological =
limits, promiscuity of blood brothers where no blood is shed. The =
ringleader is a "bon vivant", a memorable character with a comfortable =
belly, a sharp eye, a slow laugh, and all the mischievous humour of a =
zen monk. He reminds me of Ueshiba and other martial arts masters. =
Someone you wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of. The icy room with =
its broken window warms up and condensation forms on the remaining panes =
as the initiates pick up speed, energy. Something they do every Saturday =
night, though attendance during Ramadan is apparently not so =
predictable. We are lucky.
Sunday evening is equally memorable for totally different reasons. The =
basketball game on the programme is for real. Sunday afternoon features =
a presentation by Zoran Naskovski and Vesna Pavlovic, describing the =
strategy whereby basketball is being introduced and encouraged in all =
kinds of urban Yugoslavian settings, notably places totally deprived of =
sports facilities. A lively, socially ponderated counterweight to the =
sports spectacle they show as epitomising US TV couch potato culture. =
The presenters are not just there for the rhetoric. They're also =
excellent basketballers. So, it turns out, are most of the regional =
attendees. Walter Van der Cruijsen, as the other "alien" in Skopje, also =
does well with his Dutch build and sports agility. The fact that I have =
no appropriate shoes for the well maintained gymnasium floor is a sort =
of lame excuse for playing spectator sport (actually, even if I had =
brought shoes, I'd have been totally inept). The playfulness, tactics, =
exchange, emergence of team identities, are exhilarating to watch. Body =
language. Misko rushes round like a wild bull, but what's amazing is =
that he is ALSO very effective. It turns out that Zoran is a champion. =
Vesna is unexhaustable. (see Misko's Spectre post of December 5th for =
the full team). Sounds of bouncing balls, finger snapping, whistling, =
calling, clapping, and a lot of good solid gut laughter. Slam dunks =
adroitly administered by players with their backs turned to the goal. =
Ventsislav loping across the terrain like a big Bulgarian bear. =
Alexander Kiossev throwing off his professorial image and shoes turns =
out to have this game in his genes too. A delectable insight into =
Understanding the Balkans.
Monday's visit to the Centre allows discovery of Tanja Lazetic's and =
Dejan Habicht's "Weather Report". Something implacable about these =
totally preformatted images and legends, that are nevertheless twisted =
to fit political meteorology, extending up to the last and recent round =
of Macedonian political negociations that will hopefully hold out, =
remain minimally consensus. A long and encouraging discussion also with =
Violeta Simjanovska at the Performing Arts and Multimedia Center. Shared =
hopes to build links. As with the Fine Arts faculty, a caravanserail in =
the heart of the bazar, where art school activities are housed alongside =
a museum brimming with vestiges and traces of Macedonian craftsmanship. =
A school where Dinka, painter and teacher in the (extremely energetic) =
printing department is a dedicated relay and delightful companion. Funny =
to learn that he very nearly emigrated to New Zealand decades back. =
Monday evening's visit to Nebojsa Vilic's 359=B0 gallery. Discussion =
with him which leads to the unique experience of sitting in on a session =
with a group of his theatre students from the Faculty of Dramatic Arts, =
students he's encouraged to use this space as a venue to thrash out =
ideas and ideals. Compared with the sometimes distressingly blas=E9 =
behaviours of my students (and entourage), it's encouraging to witness =
the motivation that drives others to frank intellectual confrontation, =
to ardent exchange while a large part of the privileged world slumbers =
in front of a TV set. It's strange also how I begin to feel hooks into =
the language, into the issues being debated so hotly, issues of how and =
why and where theatre as an art form might continue to exist =
meaningfully. No doubt this has something to do with the vital, =
transformational motivation that Ferid Muhik talks about.=20
Will wind up the saga here, it should hopefully go on forever anyway, =
will try to build these bridges that this trip was made for, between my =
unruly school and, particularly, a few individual students there, and =
some of the people I've been lucky enough to meet in Skopje. Was =
fortunate in that the French Cultural Institute timed things to allow me =
to try my hand at Understanding the Balkans. A long way to go, but =
Skopje seems like a pretty good starting point. As long as I don't have =
to say where it's east or south of.=20
may 2002 bring spectral rainbow horizons to all
Kia ora, meilleurs voeux
sjn
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<P>Dear Spectres, dear Misko,</P>
<P>Was in the throes of writing this when Misko's photos arrived on my =
screen.=20
This must be one of Stevan Vukovic's Balkan ghost phenomena!</P>
<P>Anyway, at last a little time today to stir and revisit =
memories.=20
Understanding the Balkans. A region physically totally foreign to me.=20
Essentially known via Syndicate exchanges and encounters in the eye of =
the=20
storm, i.e. more or less permanently since the list first emerged in =
96.</P>
<P>Landing at Skopje airport late afternoon, Thursday November 29th =
: a=20
large part of the tarmac traversed after touchdown is invested by =
military air=20
and ground craft, temporary barracks. Black and green camouflage =
vehicles=20
standing out starkly against a cold grey landscape. Picked up by my =
Skopje host=20
from the French Cultural Centre, official cultural offshoot of the =
Embassy.=20
Occasional military presence stationed on the road into town. Ghostly =
reminders=20
surging out of the mist. First stop the Cultural Centre, an odd set =
up :=20
one part of the locale is the typical library, reading room, television =
and=20
classroom encountered in any Alliance Fran=E7aise or French Institute, =
and the=20
office occupied by the Centre’s dedicated director. Another =
office, where links=20
with Macedonian schools and education activites are upheld, is separated =
from=20
the first by an arms retailer with Smith and Wesson blazoned on his =
window. </P>
<P>On my first evening, I’m escorted to a concert at a hall =
designated=20
" Maison des arm=E9es " - that’s how my hosts name =
it ; there seem=20
to be lots of relaxed soldiers and many young people hanging out there. =
A wooden=20
auditorium with warm acoustics and a highly attentive public, a mixture =
of=20
apparently relatively well-to-do music lovers and a large bunch of =
younger=20
people who would pass as students anywhere in Europe. The French cellist =
heralded as this century’s Rostropovich is applauded =
enthusiastically. We=20
meet later and he explains that he comes as often as possible to Skopje =
and=20
elsewhere in the Balkans, because of the quality of the audience. He =
plays=20
Elgar, the Philharmonic serves the usual dose of Mozart, and a short =
orchestral=20
composition by a young Macedonian composer who’s name nobody can =
translate for=20
me. Spectral overtones (Giacinto Scelsi, Tristan Murail… any other =
Spectres into=20
the spectral music movement ?), unidentifiable yet disturbingly =
familiar=20
subtleties with timbre. Have to chase the illegible name on my programme =
(Mozart=20
and Elgar are irritatingly easy to make out). One huge regret was not =
getting to=20
a music shop, though purchased music could only partially have met my =
needs.=20
Skopje was a permanent, exhilarating sound trip.</P>
<P>Next day, a round of appointments with cultural organisations. Art =
schools=20
and centres, galleries, museums. Everybody seems to know everybody. A=20
refurbished hammam in the centre of town, next to the bazar, has become =
a=20
contemporary art gallery. The temporary exhibits are works of German and =
Macedonian artists. Ismet Ramicevic’s piece overwhelms : an =
avenue of a=20
dozen or so (sorry, didn’t count – they’re regularly =
spaced and stake out a=20
walkway of several meters) approximately three foot high golden rods =
sheathed=20
with brown velvet tips evocative of reeds, the two lines of these reeds/ =
rods=20
being spaced about a meter or so apart, just the right distance to feel =
drawn=20
into the path (two golden footprints at the outermost point of the =
walkway=20
clearly solicit this incursion). At the innermost extremity of the path =
is a=20
glass box on a pedestal, about a meter from the ground, overtones of a=20
reliquary. Within which is ritualistically placed, cover uppermost =
displaying=20
arms and name of state and dispelling all ambiguity, a Yugloslavian =
passport.=20
One of the many points of my journey where understanding the Balkans =
falteringly=20
begins. In this austerely simple, finely gauged play of space and symbol =
and=20
material that grips the mind’s eye and tugs at foot and heart. It =
is good to=20
meet Ismet later – on Monday - at Melentie’s Contemporary =
Art Centre, his work=20
having meanwhile cropped up in several places, including traces of the =
labyrinth=20
piece, tightly coiled newspapers, wrung into randomly decorative =
patterns in a=20
weaving of information to be walked on, a magic media carpet (as at the=20
Contemporary Arts Centre display), or exhibited vertically like a =
painting (as=20
at the Modern Art Museum on the hilltop). Numerous Macedonian and =
Balkanian=20
works at the hammam-come-gallery are packed into an end room to make =
space for=20
temporary exhibits. It is good to view them under the harsh noon =
illumination of=20
the domed glass skylights. A physicality about many of them, a=20
" hands-on " tactile quality exploding powerfully from the =
surfaces of=20
paintings, relief and bas-relief works, a strange interplay and tension =
between=20
surface and volumic protrusion. Encountered again and again. Perhaps =
partly=20
attributable to my own art historical obsessions, but there seems to be =
a=20
grappling with matter and senses here that erupts through the veneer of =
many=20
carefully contained West European pictorial and sculptural practices. =
</P>
<P>Another memorable image at the Museum of Contemporary Art, with its =
huge=20
glass walls overlooking the Skopje basin city, and its ghost galleries =
of=20
condemned exhibition space with permanently leaking rooves, is the =
hallucinatory=20
vision of an unbridled horse, dragging its bit, peacefully grazing hard =
up=20
against one of the panorama windows. Roll over Damien Hirst. This is for =
real.=20
The museum director says he doesn’t have the heart to have the =
horse taken back=20
to its probable home, down the road, where the grass isn’t as =
good.</P>
<P>Friday night convoys of " Understanding the Balkans " =
attendees=20
gather together in a bar. People compare means of transport and =
durations of=20
their journeys, which seem excruciatingly long for such short distances. =
A few=20
hundred kilometers, from Zagreb or Sofia or Belgrade, has in most cases =
taken=20
longer than my trip from Paris. Acrobatics with itineraries, =
interminable waits=20
at borders, bad road conditions. Understanding the Balkans begins with =
trying to=20
understand how tortuous and precarious face-to-face communication is for =
people=20
in the region, in terms of sheer logistics. The risk of too easily and=20
systematically looking further afield for kinship and collaboration =
being=20
aggravated, condoned, by physical difficulties meeting up with =
one’s neighbours.=20
Though it’s not that simple either, as the two days of discussion =
tell us. In=20
the bar, there are moments when the entire group converses in what is =
seemingly=20
the same language. It’s somehow reassuring to run up against these =
incomprehensible sounds, to listen to the music of words and syntax that =
occasionally my neighbours describe for me as a sort of pidgin Balkan =
language.=20
A relief to escape the all-too dominant situation of English as =
linguistic=20
currency. Perhaps this point hits home even harder after a day with my=20
French-Macedonian entourage. </P>
<P>Next day I arrive insanely early at the Museum of Macedonia for the =
11 a.m.=20
start to the conference. Winding up the hill in icy winds that cut =
across the=20
museum esplanade. I wander through rooms full of history that spans =
thousands of=20
years, stone, bronze artefacts and utensils and vestiges of =
architectures that=20
represent several civilisations – Hellenic, Roman, Byzantine, =
Ottoman…=20
Breath-taking for the native of a country whose inhabited history barely =
exceeds a thousand years. Upstairs there’s a =
Unesco-patronised exhibition=20
of icons. The museum custodian turns on the lights for me and I have the =
space=20
to myself. Once more, centuries of history surge up from retables and =
portative=20
and votive images and early woodcut prints. Centuries marked by pendulum =
swings=20
from hyper-realism to heavily abstract decorativism. Cyril and Methodius =
as=20
Slavic saints feature heavily in the Balkan pantheon. Nicephore looms =
large and=20
invisible. In an adjoining room, less prestigious icons deployed across =
a wide=20
array of formats provide insights into narrative graphics, something my =
school=20
specialises in (we call it comics). I try to drink up the visual =
deambulations,=20
the ocular architectures, by proxy, through the eyes of my students. =
Next door=20
again, a room full of photographs and documents from the turn of the =
twentieth=20
century. Images from the first World War hit strangely. I’ve seen =
them before.=20
My grandfather was a teenager from a little town on the West Coast of =
New=20
Zealand when Commonwealth troops were requisitioned. He served in the =
infantry=20
in Gallipoli. And survived (NZ losses in both wars were rated highest =
per capita=20
of population). Never wanted to talk about it much. Particularly to his =
pacifist=20
grandchildren who were regularly demonstrating against involvement in =
Vietnam,=20
and against ANZAC (Australian New Zealand Army Corps) celebrations. =
Suddenly=20
here he is, or others who look very much like him. Blood links. Sullen =
pain of=20
not having really known him and encountering his fantom in this =
unglorious=20
context, viewed from the other side of the trenches. Understanding the=20
Balkans?</P>
<P>The conference starts up. Presentations that provide slants on the =
issues of=20
Balkanisation and globalisation, permeated with identities of speakers =
from a=20
host of countries in the region - includingMacedonia, Romania, =
Yugoslavia,=20
Croatia, Bulgaria. Trying to understand the Balkans by listening to this =
crossover of discourse. The conference takes place in English, something =
that=20
distresses me though obviously serves me well under the =
circumstances… But=20
Melentie and others explain that the pidgin language of last =
night’s bar=20
suffices for informal exchange at most, and that several of the speakers =
would=20
be unable to follow in-depth discussion in this medium. Lines of thought =
and=20
argument strike the total foreigner that I am as unfamiliar and =
accessible at=20
the same time, couched in a mix of "world-culture", of social =
theoretical and=20
cultural and historical references that most of us are familiar with, =
and yet=20
steeped in a heady brew of local references, of more or less voluntarily =
assumed=20
inside stories. Globalisation being discussed against a backdrop of =
insistence=20
on the need for more intense, "up-front" local and regional =
communication. A=20
need the conference illustrates and serves. </P>
<P>Certain questions arise again and again: how can motivation and =
mindsets be=20
determined and recognised and valued in their regional, local, =
balkanised=20
specificity, when the reference point(s) remain(s) so adamantly =
westernised? Or,=20
in Ventsislav Zankov’s words, how can an ideological "underground" =
be=20
constituted that is not dependent on the institutional stamp of the west =
but=20
doesn’t emerge as just another mafia, in this region where =
it’s easier to hang=20
out with e.g. one’s German than with one’s Balkan =
neighbours. Bojan Ivanov plays=20
on words to come up with the metaphor of "globulisation", the globule =
being the=20
neoclassical ideal of the sphere as the smallest surface containing the =
largest=20
possible volume. Presented as a state towards which the Balkans might =
aspire, a=20
positively structured state as opposed to the imploded chunk of =
chronically=20
fractal geography that tends to be depicted on the world map of =
conflicts. The=20
metaphor lends itself to all kinds of readings and ramifications. Ferid =
Muhik=20
who begins in French, quoting Saint Simon – "savoir pour pr=E9voir =
et pr=E9voir pour=20
pouvoir", makes a plea for positive investment of the wording that today =
tends=20
to decry all things balkanian. Muhik denounces mechanistically =
determinist=20
discourse and the resultant settling into a fatalistic loop, where too =
much=20
focus on causes supposedly beyond one’s control leads to neglect =
of such vital=20
factors as human motivation and aspirations. i.e. it leads to a state of =
abnegation, resignation, abandonment, a state that lacks the sense of =
guilt that=20
Muhik considers a prerequisite for the elaboration of a project likely =
to=20
be pertinent both regionally and globally. There are many sparks =
flying,=20
many words and ideas that trigger cascades of mental response, that will =
come=20
through the papers. Stevan Vukovic’s presentation of Balkan ghosts =
– an uncanny=20
tack on spectres. Muezzin calls regularly punctuate the chilly air, =
resonating=20
throughout the Skopje soundshell, mixed with gunfire from nearby =
training=20
barracks. </P>
<P>It’s good to be able to listen in order to try to begin to =
understand.=20
Intimidating at times, the tangible ferocity of this need to speak and =
dialogue,=20
to try to forge the terms of a new parlance, an identity. An almost =
voyeuristic=20
sensation – hovering between feeling immensely privileged and =
illegitimately present. It seems indecent to "prendre la parole" other =
than as a=20
Martian, the only status I can honestly assume in this context. "In how =
many=20
languages can one keep silent?" (a quote from Ventsislav Zankov’s =
paper which is=20
worth the re-re-reading). In the midst of heated and recurrent debate =
about how=20
far south and how far east the Balkans stretch, my bearings crumble. It =
happens=20
often. For somebody from/ in my country, Aotearoa, in the south Pacific, =
Asia is=20
west and the US is east. Unless one turns one’s back on the world =
to align with=20
the vision of the globe too often considered "universal"… some =
choice. Perhaps=20
Branislav Sarkanjac can see things from this perspective – =
disconcerting to be=20
holding a copy of his latest book in which the one word I can decipher, =
apart=20
from a few names, is "Aotearoa". </P>
<P>Misko’s idea of a Saturday night on the town is also one that =
will no doubt=20
remain with us all for life – thanks also to Stefan Saskov’s =
esoteric address=20
book for making this possible. A "zikir" dervish ceremony in an icy room =
up in=20
the hills (so many experiences were somehow up in the hills), where a =
dozen men=20
gradually work themselves into a semi-trance state and in turn =
transpierce=20
cheeks and various parts of the flesh with a long skewer-like =
needle that=20
is ritualistically proferred to the religious leader for =
benediction before=20
and after each such act. Images of turning bodies exhibiting this =
strange=20
appendage which protrudes well beyond the usual morphological limits,=20
promiscuity of blood brothers where no blood is shed. The ringleader is =
a "bon=20
vivant", a memorable character with a comfortable belly, a sharp eye, a =
slow=20
laugh, and all the mischievous humour of a zen monk. He reminds me of =
Ueshiba=20
and other martial arts masters. Someone you wouldn’t want to get =
on the wrong=20
side of. The icy room with its broken window warms up and condensation =
forms on=20
the remaining panes as the initiates pick up speed, energy. Something =
they do=20
every Saturday night, though attendance during Ramadan is apparently not =
so=20
predictable. We are lucky.</P>
<P>Sunday evening is equally memorable for totally different reasons. =
The=20
basketball game on the programme is for real. Sunday afternoon features =
a=20
presentation by Zoran Naskovski and Vesna Pavlovic, describing the =
strategy=20
whereby basketball is being introduced and encouraged in all kinds of =
urban=20
Yugoslavian settings, notably places totally deprived of sports =
facilities.=20
A lively, socially ponderated counterweight to the sports spectacle they =
show as=20
epitomising US TV couch potato culture. The presenters are not just =
there for=20
the rhetoric. They’re also excellent basketballers. So, it turns =
out, are most=20
of the regional attendees. Walter Van der Cruijsen, as the other "alien" =
in=20
Skopje, also does well with his Dutch build and sports agility. The fact =
that I=20
have no appropriate shoes for the well maintained gymnasium floor is a =
sort of=20
lame excuse for playing spectator sport (actually, even if I had brought =
shoes,=20
I’d have been totally inept). The playfulness, tactics, exchange, =
emergence of=20
team identities, are exhilarating to watch. Body language. Misko rushes =
round=20
like a wild bull, but what’s amazing is that he is ALSO very =
effective. It turns=20
out that Zoran is a champion. Vesna is unexhaustable. (see Misko’s =
Spectre post=20
of December 5<SUP>th</SUP> for the full team). Sounds of bouncing balls, =
finger=20
snapping, whistling, calling, clapping, and a lot of good solid gut =
laughter.=20
Slam dunks adroitly administered by players with their backs turned to =
the goal.=20
Ventsislav loping across the terrain like a big Bulgarian bear. =
Alexander=20
Kiossev throwing off his professorial image and shoes turns out to have =
this=20
game in his genes too. A delectable insight into Understanding the =
Balkans.</P>
<P>Monday’s visit to the Centre allows discovery of Tanja =
Lazetic’s and Dejan=20
Habicht’s "Weather Report". Something implacable about these =
totally=20
preformatted images and legends, that are nevertheless twisted to fit =
political=20
meteorology, extending up to the last and recent round of Macedonian =
political=20
negociations that will hopefully hold out, remain minimally consensus. A =
long=20
and encouraging discussion also with Violeta Simjanovska at the =
Performing Arts=20
and Multimedia Center. Shared hopes to build links. As with the Fine =
Arts=20
faculty, a caravanserail in the heart of the bazar, where art school =
activities=20
are housed alongside a museum brimming with vestiges and traces of =
Macedonian=20
craftsmanship. A school where Dinka, painter and teacher in the =
(extremely=20
energetic) printing department is a dedicated relay and delightful =
companion.=20
Funny to learn that he very nearly emigrated to New Zealand decades =
back. Monday=20
evening’s visit to Nebojsa Vilic’s 359=B0 gallery. =
Discussion with him which leads=20
to the unique experience of sitting in on a session with a group of his =
theatre=20
students from the Faculty of Dramatic Arts, students he’s =
encouraged to use this=20
space as a venue to thrash out ideas and ideals. Compared with the =
sometimes=20
distressingly blas=E9 behaviours of my students (and entourage), =
it’s encouraging=20
to witness the motivation that drives others to frank intellectual=20
confrontation, to ardent exchange while a large part of the privileged =
world=20
slumbers in front of a TV set. It’s strange also how I begin to =
feel hooks into=20
the language, into the issues being debated so hotly, issues of how and =
why and=20
where theatre as an art form might continue to exist meaningfully. No =
doubt this=20
has something to do with the vital, transformational motivation that =
Ferid Muhik=20
talks about. </P>
<P>Will wind up the saga here, it should hopefully go on forever anyway, =
will=20
try to build these bridges that this trip was made for, between my =
unruly school=20
and, particularly, a few individual students there, and some of the =
people I’ve=20
been lucky enough to meet in Skopje. Was fortunate in that the French =
Cultural=20
Institute timed things to allow me to try my hand at Understanding the =
Balkans.=20
A long way to go, but Skopje seems like a pretty good starting point. As =
long as=20
I don’t have to say where it’s east or south of. </P>
<P>may 2002 bring spectral rainbow horizons to all</P>
<P>Kia ora, meilleurs voeux</P>
<P>sjn</P>
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