Mini Interview with Myself
Who is OK Goleš?
Kwaya is Kwaya, an inexplicable phenomenon—just like all of us are, after all.
Who is really an artist today?
There are artists, and then there are artists. Long ago—almost a century ago—the era of the craftsman-artist passed. Of course, I still value skill, but ideas and personal imprint definitely take precedence. Mastery without content is an empty shell.
Take cooking, for example—it’s now elevated to a level higher than art (though that “artwork” is immediately eaten and turned into useless waste). The same with design. Sales-artists fare much better today than creative-artists, and whoever happens to be both is in luck. Artists are chosen specimens with strong egos. Then there’s AI. Seriously—without joking or elitism—that’s where the boundaries blur today.
In the broader sense, artists are all those who devote themselves to something with pleasure and find joy in everyday things, regardless of formal education or whether they shape that pursuit into something lasting and tangible (yes, including the cooks and restaurant-goers I mentioned :)). Art is indeed all around us, and we ourselves are works of art. Art is also recognizing art on a mental and emotional level. Meaning—artists are all who have spirit.
In a stricter, more classical sense, an artist is someone who has an idea and a feeling, and then expresses them in some tangible or perceivable way. In a way, the artist is a medium who uses different media—a kind of intermediary.
Is K. more an engineer or an artist?
An artist. Fairly scattered, but sometimes with an overly strong rigid engineering streak—neatness, analytical thinking—that I wish were less dominant. But hey, you can’t choose your left and right brain. Still, technological literacy sometimes comes in handy, especially earlier with video, photography, or website creation, though with AI that’s losing significance.
What does K. think about art education?
A true artist is born and only shaped—no school can create one. Art schools have always been there to master technique, to learn about material and medium, to channel talent, to discover or deepen affinities, and to profile and define in some way. With conceptual art this has changed somewhat, but not too much.
Our K. took the harder path: she has a surplus of ideas that somehow need to be released and shaped. The school she attended partly helped with that, but without the restrictions that classical training inevitably brings, which was good—because in school, whether you like it or not, you get boxed in a little. That’s where my talent for drawing and painting crystallized, and that’s it. The problem is, everything else you have to figure out yourself, and in the pre-internet era that wasn’t easy. It’s also difficult without a mentor’s support or without living and interacting with other artistic and less artistic souls—exchanging interests, creative processes, ideas—which our faculty had. Not to mention the connections and acquaintances necessary for further work, exhibiting, and presenting…
How does an artist reach the audience today?
Never easier, and never harder. When galleries were the only place for exhibiting and presenting, it wasn’t exactly easy. Especially here, in this very closed environment where guild rules still apply—“this way or no way”—and where the hierarchy was known: university, then ULUS membership, state-funded positions, and everyone else—out. Diplomas were valued more than actual ability, knowledge, or experience in every sphere. In the West, results and sales potential are valued more than formal education.
There are mostly two types of galleries: commercial (“pay and play”—exhibit, and we split the money from potential sales) and co-op (a group rents a space together, and each exhibits—again for a smaller circle of people). With virtual space and social networks, new opportunities opened, but it seems harder for everyone to navigate such an abundance.
So how do you reach a wider audience?
Ah, if only I knew. That’s one of the reasons I once gave up and took a long break from creating. Poor K. still hasn’t found the right way to institutionally reach people, despite such beginnings (SKC, Belgrade Cultural Center, Student Cultural Center, International Cultural Center, OSA–Ontario Society of Artists…). I preferred alternative and smaller galleries like Out/Aut, or Barutana (even Remont here was closed-type). That’s why informal places like Poetum Central are so necessary. In the West, on the other hand, you get lost among all those artists, galleries, and mini-galleries… Of course, much of the fault is mine—this fragile soul couldn’t handle all the door-knocking and rejections :). Also, I didn’t use (though I could have) the possibilities of the internet (e.g., not responding to Saatchi’s invitation for online showcasing, only recently joining social media)…
Let’s drop the complaints and get back to the beginning. Is that “surplus of ideas” a blessing or a curse?
Both. I love having them, but they’re also a burden. The frustration of them scattering and not all being realized or presented—don’t even get me started.
Where does such variety come from? Isn’t it better to focus on one thing?
It is—but it is what it is. Everyone has their own path, this is mine, and I’ve made peace with it. Experiments, different uses of different materials—in short, variety in expression—follow my personality and ideas. Hence all these media: writing, photography, video, drawing, painting, mixed media, and installations.
What do you think about “male and female writing,” i.e., creativity? Is there a difference?
There is, though not a strict one. For me—as a woman—female expression fits me better. I don’t mean explicit feminism, or softness or mushiness, but rather a subtle sensitivity on the level of feeling. My impression is that women in art (unfortunately, only there) have an advantage—they can, in their work, combine (project) both their male and female side (like me, for instance), while men in art (with exceptions) are always men.
What does K. think about socially engaged art?
Believe it or not, I vaguely remember a high school lesson—something like Chernyshevsky vs. L’art pour l’art… Back then, I liked the idea of art for art’s sake. Or my first visit to the freshly opened Museum of Contemporary Art back in elementary school, when I snapped back at classmates mocking some abstractions: “Why does it have to represent something? What matters is whether you like it.”
Even today I carry a kind of duality: on the one hand, I love and lean toward abstraction, which by itself is practically devoid of engagement. My works and writing are often very personal, sometimes even hermetic. On the other hand, my art is often highly engaged—to the point that it’s actually the expression of attitudes in some artistic form (e.g., installations of babies and heads, parts of prose and poetry…). You can’t live in this world and not be touched by it. The trouble is that the world has gone so “off the rails” that criticism can’t even catch up anymore, so engagement almost seems meaningless…
Plans for the future?
I’m still “chasing the wind with a hat.” I create what and how I want, when I want. I work on old and new ideas. The day is too short, and I shorten it further with games and nonsense. I’ll try to exhibit here and there, collaborate with Poetum, and attempt abroad despite bureaucratic tangles… Recently I joined the painting group “Tuscany”—a diverse, positive group creating very interesting works and exhibiting them. My dream is to have my own studio-gallery where I could freely exhibit both my own and others’ works as they’re being created—but that’s a long way off…
Tell us something to close with?
I recently came across the philosophical term “Qualia” (like my nickname Kva-li-ja, just with “li” inserted), and I told myself—that’s it! That’s what I am and what my art is. That almost futile yet desperately needed attempt to transfer qualia—that personal and incommunicable experience (though always transformed one way or another into a propositional statement)—into someone else’s direct personal experience (or at least the attempt :).