UGO VLAISAVLJEVIĆ-Europa Depot

About exhibition EUROPA DEPOT, Museum of Contemporary Art of Republic of Serbs, Banja Luka, Bosnia and Herzegovina, 2011

Europe-Depot as Hadžifejzović’s Depot-Biography

An artist who says “eureka!” in the midst of rubbish heaps


What happens when Jusuf Hadžifejzović chooses to bring his past depot-graphies together and present them in a single place? We are accustomed to seeing retrospective art exhibitions that allow us to take a look back at works and performances produced by an artist in the past. However, depot-graphy, as a specific strategy in pictum (J.-F. Lyotard), poses unusual challenges in that retro-spect.

Retrospective exhibitions often imply creating a large repository in a gallery. If various galleries did not previously exhibit artworks, there would not be retrospective exhibitions in the usual sense of the word. They are presentations covering previously held exhibitions, and galleries hosting them allow us to have a look at the scenes taken from other, quite often numerous gallery display rooms.

Those retrospective exhibitions that deserves their name, exhibitions of ‘collected works’ by renowned artists whose careers span many years, pose a particular problem both for the artists and the curators. It is the question typically faced by a stock keeper troubled with insufficient storage space: what should be stored when there are so many things that need to be preserved? Of course, the response is: the most valuable artworks that deserve, more than others, to be seen.

If an artist has done exceptional work and has traveled long paths of creative exploration, not everything he or she produced can be stored at the same place. Large, ambitious retrospectives (whose goal is to present an artist’s complete opus) raise the issue of tension between proper storage and display of collected works. At a time when there is a need for galleries to be big and large enough, they reveal their affinity with storehouses, depots, repositories, etc. It is also a time when a gallery mostly resembles a museum. When hosting huge retrospectives, galleries appear as repositories of elapsed time. Art exhibitions, in general, may be considered as temporary museum displays. Art galleries typically operate as virtual museums or museums in the synchronic cross section. It suffices to turn an art exhibition into a permanent display, or preserve the exhibits of a number of previous exhibitions and present them in a single gallery space, to realize that a gallery is always apt to turn itself into a museum.

Hadžifejzović’s art is about putting things in stocks (warehouses, depots, repositories, garbage dumps, etc.) and taking them back from there. In his peculiar way, as a stockkeeper artist, he examines storage procedures. Such a devoted stockkeeper is quite a unique artist in contemporary world art. For a long time, his artworks have been publicly presented under the name of depot-graphy.

Actually what was the impressive retrospective hosted by the Museum of Contemporary Art of Republic of Srpska if not an attempt to deposit the numerous depots made by Hadžifejzović across the European continent over a period of 26 years, from 1984 till the present day? Presented was a long time business with depots. Hadžifejzović does his art-making in depots, and what he actually makes are also depots. These are often impressive depots posing serious storage problems even for genuine storage firms. Comments on the complexity and richness of Hadžifejzović’s artwork – retrospectives usually provide a nice opportunity for art critics to speak in these terms – are comments that include words suggesting a huge problem for transport and storage. Through each of his exhibitions, Hadžifejzović examines the storage capacities of galleries and museums.

What originally attracted and inspired him was the hidden treasure of gallery and museum storage (particularly state-gallery and state-museum storage of the real existing socialism). It is from these dark, shadowy places that he decided to intervene in the light and open space of gallery rooms. Each of his exhibitions is an event aimed at disturbing (producing a subversion of) the established order of things galleries are obliged to expose and museums to preserve. Usually, he repays the hospitality offered to him by these institutions by bringing to light piles of things from their cellar storage. The Museum of Contemporary Art turned out to be an ideal host institution for the given purpose: to make the storage of previous storage. It is both: gallery and museum. And more importantly: it is a restored former railway station! What strikes tourists and first-time visitors is that an old railway building was converted into the beautiful Banja Luka gallery-museum. Only slight architectural adjustments were made. As slight as those (adjustments) Hadžifejzović used to consider necessary when transforming trivial objects of ordinary life into his artworks. The exposition was hosted in an old train station building, a link in the traffic network of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy. It is at this small station that Hadžifejzović halted and got off intending to deposit his huge freight carried from one European metropolis to another for last twenty years and more. Thus, there in Banja Luka’s depot (station building), he amassed one of his largest depot-graphy collections ever.

As a distinguished artist to whom the museum-gallery offered to dedicate a comprehensive retrospective, Hadžifejzović was faced with an intriguing question about how to rearrange and deposit his own depot-graphic collections. This does not only concern storage and transport, the problems typically associated with depositing. It seems that time here also poses a serious challenge. The depot-graphy – or depot-logy, as one might call the philosophy inspiring this artistic production, should tackle the problem of indefinite duration implied in every attempt to provide good reasons for a temporary exhibition to become permanent. Can depot-graphy leave its nomadic lifestyle and settle down somewhere for a longer term?  Can it comply with requirements typical for museums? Can these “artistic pieces” undergo the procedures of conservation required by establishing a permanent museum exhibit? What we have here is a temporary “permanent exhibit” created at Banja Luka station during the time interval between the arrival and the departure of a freight train overloaded with artworks. Does this mean that Hadžifejzović cannot leave any durable and genuine artwork behind him, the sort of artwork we find exposed in galleries and carefully guarded in museums? Are there any depot-graphic leftovers that can be preserved?

As an artist passionately interested in depot-searching and depot-setting, Hadžifejzović must have found the idea of depositing his already amassed depot-graphies highly intriguing. Before addressing these meta-depot-graphic questions, let us turn to the art of depot-graphy itself.

Depot-graphy has, for a long time, been the most preferred term for Hadžifejzović’s art. This retrospective, conceived as a plethora of stocks, gives us plenty of reasons to stick to the term. The host institution turned out to be ideal for the purpose. In the very background of the exposition three important institutional metamorphoses could be detected: a train station, a gallery, a museum, all in one place! These are important storage institutions and it is the art of depot-graphy that brings us this insight in a particularly impressive way. Prior to the exposition I couldn’t find an appropriate term or emblematic expression to describe an important aspect of his works or rather deeds, as his artworks are but products of his subversive interventions in gallery display rooms. Now ‘train station’ sounds to me like the right term. For two reasons at least: transport and materials.

The depot-graphies speak about transport: storage implies bringing things from one place to another, extensive operations of putting things in order or reordering them. Material is equally important when it comes to depot-graphies. For such art interventions rely heavily on deposited material. The moment visual art resorted to ready-made objects, sculpting lost its traditional privilege of immediate touch with the harsh and brute matter of the world. The depot-graphies want to be radical in this respect. Hadžifejzović’s installations would not have earned this label if the used material did not reach the degree of materiality typical for freight depots. Watch how massive, heavy and voluminous is the material of the installations on display. Most likely, no other previously hosted exhibition posed such a severe test for the storage capacities of the Banja Luka gallery-museum, although large retrospectives are always rather demanding in that respect. A few freight cars would, most certainly, facilitate the transport of the presented collections including amazing variety of strange and familiar things.

The typical storage capacity of a depot, if we are to stress the cumbersome physicality which characterizes it, is the one required by a pretty large collection of factory-manufactured items. For example, consumer food products (industrial foodstuffs) or industrial garments. Such goods were deposited at the Europe-Depot Exhibition: jars of jam, cartons of juice, bottled beer, clothes on hangers, and the like. The storage capacity of Hadžifejzović’s depot-graphies follows the pattern set by Andy Warhol in the famous 1964 exhibition The American Supermarket. Even the largest single collections of deposited items (depot-collections bearing their own proper names) do not exceed the range of the ‘typical U.S. small supermarket environment’. All these small-scale depository collections gathered together form a large storage depot like those found at shopping centers or railway stations.

However, the typical pattern for ready-made objects is no longer a can of Campbell soup or a Coca-Cola bottle. The obsessive depot-grapher gets interested bulky artifacts such as products of the military and mining industries; at the same time, his magnifying glass looks for bizarre handicraft goods. Thus, those who visited Hadžifejzović’s large Banja Luka depot were able to see, at every few steps, plenty of small shop-like selections (of factory manufactured goods) and of boutique-like selections (of handicrafts and amateur artworks), besides a number of pantries, military shelters and rubbish heaps. A word commonly used by professional stockkeepers may best serve to describe the atypical status of these bizarre collections. Their jargon expression ‘written off’ proves to be the magic word in this case. Hadžifejzović works with written off items from inventory records, the term to be employed if his installations are to be explained to a stockkeeper.Recently, he told me he had found himself in such a situation. In 2003, he brought a truck/lorry full of exhibits from Antwerp to Sarajevo, which he meant to put on display in a retrospective exhibition to be held at the Collegium Artisticum Gallery, and also to take a part of it to the Venice Biennial. He had to declare to the customs officer the value of the ‘worthless things’ he had loaded. In line with the codes of practice, the customs officer insisted that the value of each thing should be specified. He pulled out a crushed plastic bottle from the heap and asked the owner to tell him how much it costs. Hadžifejzović was quick to respond: ‘half an Euro’. The conscientious customs officer next reached for the largest thing he saw, pulling on an iron bed missing a leg. ‘What about this?’ he asked again. He got the same answer: ‘half an Euro’. Looking at the dumbfounded officer, Hadžifejzović tried to explain: ‘Well, I found the bed at a garbage dump.’ ‘You aren’t serious, are you? I can’t work like this!’ the officer shouted crossly. Hadžifejzović told me in confidence: ‘I did not wish to give him any explanations. I wanted him to figure out himself it was art.’

The art of depot-graphy should not be separated from the prosaic reality of depots. It would be wrong to consider Hadžifejzović’s storage skills as by-products of his art business. One cannot enter into the secrets of the depot-graphies if not acquainted with the theory of depots, with the depot-logy. The basic of the theory is to be learned from most experienced stockkeepers. Undoubtedly, the artist who presented himself to the customs officer in Sarajevo as a rubbish collector (and he didn’t say anything untrue) is one of them.

Thus, the important question is how an experienced stockkeeper would have looked at all those piles of things deposited in Banja Luka. Certainly, he would not have missed the difference between the floor and the walls. Of course, the things that could stand or lie were on the floor, and those that could hang were on the walls. Let us first consider the walls. Two kinds of things were deposited on them: things and images of things. It is important to notice that things and their images (in Lacanian vocabulary: entities belonging to the order of the Real and entities belonging to the order of the Imaginary) are often mistaken one for another. At depots, images (photos, drawings, paintings) become mere things, at least for those in charge of the stored material, whereas in depot-graphies, things (ready-made objects) turn into images. Even more importantly: they become pictorial signs (we find them in the Symbolic order).

Besides the things Hadžifejzović hung or put up on the walls of the museum-gallery, there were also pictures. The pictures he had collected as storage material: old photographs and paintings found at garbage dumps or bought at kitsch shops. There were also other sorts of pictures: large-sized photographs taken more recently. They are not the product of Hadžifejzović’s collecting activities; rather, they are images of his own work (on such activities). They are art photographs made by the great masters of photography (among others, Claudio Abate, who took photographs of works by Beuys, Kounellis, Pistolleto, etc., or the well-known Rijeka photographer Aleksandar Sedlak), whose purpose is to document performances and depot-graphies Hadžifejzović made in the past.

However, the testimonies about past depot-graphies were not provided by the recent photographs only, but also by prints made using photo stencils (they were screen printed). When art collectors wish to buy an ‘original artwork’ from Hadžifejzović, these depot-prints usually turn to be the best selling products. With this kind of works, he is at the closest to the traditional type of operating in pictum. But, if in that respect, imitatio is the decisive factor in assessing the value of a work, then these pictures are furthest away from what they are supposed to ‘represent’. If what they “imitate” are photographic images, then they are actually ‘images of images’. However, the photographic image itself is already a reflection of an artwork: of a single installation or a depot-collection.

The photographer, thus, stands with his camera between Hadžifejzović’s two artistic acts, forming a link between them. Only when we realize that the continuous metamorphosis of the form of his works describes a closed circle, within which one cannot discern what is prescribed by each and every imitation: i.e.  original and the copy, will we see why he is able to offer hospitality to a ‘stranger’, to a photographer who does not even need to be an artist at all. If a photographer appears in depot-graphies in his capacity as an artist, he is, first and foremost, an expert in storage technology. An attentive visitor of the exhibition may hear two voices in perfect harmony coming from the documentary photographs. One of them says: ‘Look what I’ve done.’ The other says: ‘Look how I photographed what the first one had done.’ The prints (i.e. depot-graphics) echo a third voice: ‘See what I’ve done with what the other one has re-produced of what I had done previously’.

The last link is crucial, the most important within the entire chain of metamorphoses, and also the least noticeable: it is the act of Hadžifejzović who, in the manner of a stockkeeper, includes everything (whether hanging on the walls or lying on the floor, whether it is a picture or ready-made object) in the deposited collection. The cycle is then complete. It goes like this: a ready-made object (thing); an image of the object (a photograph); an image of the image (a print); and, finally, the print again becomes a ready-made object.

In the end, there are only stored things set up together. The reactivation of the complete cycle is easily imaginable: the prints (stored in a museum collection as ready-made objects) are photographed; these photo-documents of indisputable artistic value are remade into prints and signed by the author; they are inserted into the previous collection or added to a new one. A new cycle can begin again… Since the cycle is made up of links (separate stages in the artistic creation) and is already open to visiting fellows (photographers), it is principally capable of being supplemented by deeds of ‘intruders’. Whatever contribution they may have, the cycle will remain the same, only expanded.

Hadžifejzović was thrilled to tell me about two painters, one from Antwerp and another one from Sarajevo. They took his installations for the themes of their oil paintings. Their works may as well be added to the depot-graphic collections, just like works of photographers. In principle, anything may be added. No matter what kind of thing it is. Especially if it has been written off, excluded from other collections, discarded, crossed out, literally thrown out …

Thus, what is important here are ‘written off items’. Because the most powerful creative act in the art of depot-graphy is the inclusion, incorporation of such items into a collection, i.e. the taking of an inventory! Look at the prints Hadžifejzović used to sign and put into the displayed depots, thus turning them into a sub-set of the collected items. This is perhaps even more evident with the large photographs which, at the retrospective exhibition in Banja Luka, offered a testimony on previously exhibited depot-collections. These are valuable documents preserving the memory of past depot-graphies, sometimes impossible to reconstruct. Since depot-graphies are often stocks of heavy, cumbersome objects difficult to move, the photographic records remain the only testimony of past works. Again, these photo-elements of the depot-graphies may be aptly described in the jargon of transport experts. At the opening of his exhibition, Hadžifejzović confessed to me: ‘these photographs of my earlier works help solve a major problem: just imagine having to bring in all these huge stocks!’ Indeed, one needs here to reason like a stockkeeper: What is the depot-capacity of a photograph? It equals the load capacity of a truck (lorry). Photographs may resolve the issues of both transport and customs clearance.

However, the photographs presenting some earlier exhibitions in this retrospective exhibition were not only images, but collected objects as well. To a stockkeeper attending the exhibition they might look like any other stuff. The art of depot-graphy strongly connects the ontological order of the Imaginary with the order of the Real (and actually tends to reduce the first to the second). All the images included in the depot-graphies appear as objects, image-objects, indeed as ready-made objects. The exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art presented old yellowed photos of everyday life in Austria during National Socialism (social occasions at inns and churches), a complete collection of framed oil paintings by a kitsch artist (Istanbul Depot), alongside with photos of Hadžifejzović’s earlier exhibitions or performance, and signed prints. Some of them bring into presence a particular time or regime, others bring a certain taste or atmosphere, and still others that reconstruct his entire artistic production. And they all appear as nothing but objects in stock. There were so many objects placed next to each other all over the exhibition place, like in warehouses or even garbage dumps. Like a true depot-master, Hadžifejzović insists on this reification. Thus, for instance, he placed next to the depot section containing a complete little gallery of works of the above mentioned Istanbul painter, a collection of underwear by a well-known fashion designer from the same city. Oil paintings and colorful underwear: two assortments, two written off collections! Given the fact that depot-graphies are almost always pretty large collections of objects, it is no wonder why Hadžifejzović is obsessed with handmade collections and industrial products, regardless of whether they are family photographs, oil paintings, sets of underwear or sets of jam.

The transformation of images into objects is something Hadžifejzović learned from his researching and wandering through gallery and museum depots, as well as flea markets and dumps. Photos, paintings and sculptures, no matter how precious they are (which means how capable they are to bring us out of the present), lie there as mere objects. In the depots it is difficult to find any imaginary depth: images evaporate and become image-objects. The artworks in stocks are not supposed to be watched and meditated but to be sorted out properly. This is exactly what Hadžifejzović does in his depot-graphies: he does not expose but only disposes (arrange, set in order) things, or rather, he expose things so disposed. To display deposited objects, precisely as deposited, is to expose something that actually renounce to be exposed, to which testify all these images (pictures, photos, paintings) that obstinately remain ready-made objects.

This art is about rejected and neglected things. When found in depots and repositories, pictures are not referred to as pictures, but rather as things put aside. Yet, they are not thrown away, for we would then have a rubbish heap. Admittedly, garbage dump could be considered as a depot (where waste is deposited), but it would then be a ‘zero depot’, i.e. the place where the things previously put away in depots end up. No matter how much neglected, things in other kinds of depots (that deserve their name) are not abandoned as they are in dump-depots.

It is important to notice the special kind of temporality that characterizes depots: deposited things are those things that have been discarded ‘temporarily’ (although they can be deposited for quite a long time, even for centuries). In fact, they have been put away temporarily. Depots are stocks of temporary unexposed things, discarded things still under protection. Therefore, museums and galleries are not depots: the first are stocks of permanently exposed things (under the scrupulous care of experts) while the second are stocks of temporary exposed things. Precisely because they are the sites of temporary displays, galleries always operate alongside with depots as a system of connected vessels: collections of artworks are first exhibited, and then put away. However, museums also have their depots and actually function as galleries, by periodically replacing their ‘permanent exhibitions’. There is no museum without a depot, i.e. without temporarily removed and undisplayed things. Just as there is no garbage dump without some valuable things that might be brought back to “places of care and protection”. The maneuvering space of Hadžifejzović’s depot-graphies lies between museum and garbage dump, as opposite poles of a broad spectrum of different kinds of storage. So those visitors who get the impression that he makes garbage dumps in galleries and museums are certainly not wrong.

There is a strong political sense behind the depot-graphies: Hadžifejzović releases deposited things from captivity. To offer an exit from depots is to acknowledge the worth of things previously removed from the public eye. By taking them from the dark shadows of depots and putting them under the bright light of exhibition rooms, he restores their lost dignity, as if they were amnestied prisoners. When watching the anew deposited objects in the space of freedom and careful protection one may hear the artist’s voice in his mind: ‘You thought these things were worthless (or still of some modest value, as a customs officer may appraise them), and now I present them to you as exceptionally valuable, as masterpieces of a world famous artist.’

What kind of artistic creation is involved in this art form, if any? Its very important segment is undoubtedly scavenging depots. It is precisely gallery and museum depots that are the privileged targets of this ‘archaeology’ or ‘detective investigation’. Hadžifejzović frequently responds to invitations from prestigious galleries by arriving there empty-handed, after which he spends a few days scavenging through their depots, and eventually brings a bizarre collection to the light of day. This kind of search often extends to other depots in the same town or city, to small shops with cheap industrial goods or to bargain handicraft markets, or even to junk yards. It may be conducted anywhere and it may involve anything, in the assembly hall of a prestigious university or in a suburban inn, at a street, square or dark alley. Somewhere, at one spot or another, the watchful eye of experienced depot-graphic artist will suddenly discover a neglected, dusty and damaged thing, an ornament, a gadget, a tool, equipment… It is important to notice that Hadžifejzović browses through gallery depots as if he is scavenging a garbage dump for reusable things, and he also scavenges garbage dumps as if he is browsing through gallery depots. The depot-graphies would not have such a strong political meaning if Hadžifejzović grants amnesty only to things found at museum and gallery depots, as these things already wait there to be brought one day to the sacrosanct space of exhibitions rooms.

By putting in circulation things at least temporarily excluded from the economy of artworks, the depot-politics reveals its emancipatory character. The limited circle of the artworks economy, from which deposited things are excluded, thus becomes supplemented by the largest circle of the economy of a given society, from which refuse is excluded. Hadžifejzović’s depot-graphies are subversive to the logic and axiology of both these two established economies: to the limited, ‘aesthetic’ one as much as to the general one. His strategy is to bring discarded items back into the circulation by infusing them with unexpected sense and value. He may not have been so successful in his work on expanding the limited economy, this reduced circulation of displayed and undisplayed works of art, if that economy were not already connected by an open channel with the general economy of precious and worthless goods. On the one hand, there are works of art, profitable commodity exhibited with pride; on the other, there are long term stored pieces, whose sale price would be as low as of the cheapest commodity. For the art of depot-graphies, the preferred targets are not those depots in which are stored recently displayed art pieces and collections, but those whose content is better not to be seen in the present social moment. Hadžifejzović is interested in deposited things of uncertain fate. In their dark places an attentive listener as him may hear the words: ‘One never knows what each day is going to bring’. The very next day they may end up ‘up there’, in an exhibition room, or ‘down there’, in a garbage heap. If a particularly important political trait of Hadžifejzović’s creative work needs to be emphasized, then the best thing may be to call him ‘waste collector’, which he really is, not only when his exhibits are found at garbage dumps, but also when they are found in depots of state galleries and museums. If the political meaning of depot-graphies is to be found in the reference to economy, since the artist’s main strategy consists in re-ascribing and re-establishing value to things of suspect value, then waste has a privileged status. Through his art, Hadžifejzović infuse sense and value into waste. He manage to do this even when dealing with things to which the smallest value cannot be return within the real economy (in contrast to, say, recycled paper or re-cast scrap iron)

However, if this whole art is about metamorphoses of stored things, then the most important role nevertheless belong to things stored in museum and gallery depots. The transition from trash to precious art exhibit is ensured precisely by this way of depositing things. Hadžifejzović has to rely primarily on their ability to metamorphose themselves: whether into objects of high art value (and thus to end up as permanent museum exhibits) or into utterly worthless objects (whose final destination is garbage dump).

Everyone who is searching through refuse at dump sites is hoping to find something useful and of value, that should not have been discarded. Such findings do not reveal the person throwing things of value in the trash to be imprudent or stupid. What often makes the discarded things reusable is their finder who is able to give them a new sense and purpose. To put an object back into market circulation by restoring its value implies to put it back into use by ascribing it a new purpose. Given that the large majority of items found at dump sites are there because considered useless, the most successful scavengers/collectors are those who are, in their search, guided by the idea that a different purpose may be given to things which have served out their originally intended purpose. No doubt, Hadžifejzović is one of them. However, his search is guided by very special ideas, for no one would take the things he chooses to take. Among the garbage collectors we may discern those who search with hope and those who search with intention. To search with hope is to believe that there are goods which are carelessly thrown in the trash, and which can still serve their purpose. To search with intention is to assess the worth of thrown things as to their possible new uses and purposes. The things are discovered as pieces of certain sets, within which they will get a sense and use they have never had before. The creation of such sets, i.e. depot-graphic collections, is the artist’s business. What he is doing with his depot findings amounts to taking them to pieces and piecing them together, following his own design. We can easily imagine that the exclamation ‘Eureka!’ at some storage facilities preceded the creation of each of his depot-graphic collections.

Claude Lévi-Strauss called this way of reusing ‘whatever is at hand’ ‘bricolage’. According to his definition bricoleur is ‘someone who works with his hands and uses devious means compared to those of a craftsman’. It is, therefore, a person lacking both appropriate tools and appropriate raw materials, but still copes well with what is at hand. Lévi-Strauss taught us about the importance of intellectual bricolage, at work in mythical thought and artistic creation. It is ‘the mytho-poetical nature of bricolage’, as explained by the French anthropologist, that comes to fore in the depot-graphies. For those who are familiar with the art of depot-graphies, Lévi-Strauss’s account of an imaginative and resourceful person at work immediately evokes the image of Hadžifejzović rummaging through a depot, absorbed in his thoughts.

Let us now finally open the third register, that of the Symbolic, within which the graphic dimension of the depot-graphies, the dimension of meaning and writing becomes open to our insight. If new unexpected purposes and uses are being ascribed to discarded items, in relation to a whole conceived in the mind of the artist, then what is actually at stake here is a meaning-endowing or sense-giving act (Husserl’s Sinngebung). Precisely because an object found at a depot is damaged or broken, because it no longer serves its purpose, it can function as a sign and get a different meaning. If signs are defined as entities which are not simply what they are, but instead refer to something else, to absent things, then this evident loss of literal meaning on the part of deposited items can serve well the depot-graphic purpose of ascribing a ‘figurative meaning’. The art of depot-graphy works as metaphor: Hadžifejzović conveys things (transports them from depots to exhibit rooms) as if he conveys meanings. Lévi-Strauss describes the collections of things in front of which a bricoleur stands, and ponders what to do, as a répertoire hétéroclite (‘heterogeneous repertoire’ in the English translation). Indeed, Hadžifejzović manipulates such objets hétéroclites (“heterogeneous objects”) like a carton of juice, a bra, an iron bed, etc., and includes them in a new meaningful and functional whole. Larousse dictionary Lexis gives, at the entry for the word hétéroclite, the following example surprisingly illustrative of the depot-graphic art: On trouvait chez le marchand d’occasions des objets hétéroclites dont l’usage était parfois obscur. This word proves to be an equally important linguistic term; it is used to define the property of nouns irregular in declension. A number of quotations that aptly describes what Hadžifejzović does at depots may be borrowed from Lévi-Strauss. For instance: He /bricoleur/ interrogates all the heterogeneous objects of which his treasury is composed to discover what each of them could ‘signify’ and so contribute to the definition of a set which has yet to materialize… However, if we wish to elucidate the semiotic dimension of the dealing with deposited items, then Ferdinand de Saussure is, of course, a crucial witness as he defines, in his Course in General Linguistics, language (langue) as ‘a storehouse of sound images’, whereas writing as ‘the tangible form of those images’.

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Now, it seems, we have good enough tools to offer an account of the depot-graphic artworks. Each peace is produced as if it is an utterance. The artist has at his disposal a repertoire of signs (langue), a depot as the resource of his own vocabulary, and it is there that his expression originates, his ‘individual act of speaking’ (parole). The meanings that figure in the displayed depot-graphies are metaphorical, transposed and remote from exhausted common and literal meanings (it is helpful to recall here the term ‘usure’ Derrida borrowed from Nietzsche). Sets of re-deposited objects in the depot-graphic collections compose picturesque scenes with multiple stratified meanings, enigmatic allegories that need to be deciphered in the manner of the psychoanalyst who deals with the scenes from a dream. With regard to the above quoted Saussure’s definition, we may say that the depot-graphies are actually forms of graphism (letters, records, written messages), with signs inscribed as pictograms, pictorial things. Each depot-graphic exhibit invites the visitors to pause at it and wonder about the story it tells. This may seem as a quite difficult task, as the artist gives us only hieroglyphs, not a key to decode them. Yet, Hadžifejzović counts on our ability to decipher our own dreams: in dealing with the dream images, we use our own glossary and apply our own grammar.

Perhaps the whole retrospective exhibition was nothing but a fascinating dream book: a collection of scenes from the artist’s recurring obsessive dreams. And yet, Hadžifejzović is certainly very far from cherishing an intimist kind of art. His dreams are most often visions of political nightmares from Europe’s recent history, and if his works do have something from his dreams, these are the dreams many people have, and have fear of. In the art of depot-graphies the artist is rummaging through dark zones, where suppressed contents of the current social consciousness are stored: the removed and discarded objects are symbols or images which Hadžifejzović uses to express fears and desires that are not only his own, and he does it in the manner of the autistic children that Melanie Klein worked with. One of his obsessive themes is, certainly, the threat of the rebirth of fascism or of the totalitarian consciousness in general. This is the subject of one of his most recent depot-graphies, Roma-Depot, presented at the retrospective as a photo-depot-graphy of the assembly hall of La Sapienza University, showing a dusty, damaged bust of Mussolini, which the artist dragged into from a dark basement corner.

It should not be ignored that, in the depot-graphies, depots are not only disarranged but also rearranged. Each exhibition presents a new and unique depot. The retrospective is, in fact, a depot serving to deposit the contents of his earlier depots. In each depot-graphy are to be found items previously not included in any other depot, and now, for the first time, deposited in the exhibition room whose aim, in the light of this art, is precisely in ‘being outside of depot’. In the last years of the Yugoslav communist regime, Hadžifejzović demonstrated, in a particularly striking manner, subversive political implications of not only taking things from a depot, but also of putting things into them. His Zenica-Depot, created in the Bosnian center of mining metallurgy, brought to the daylight a quasi-archaeological collection of objects of high symbolic value (‘communist relics’ such as red flags, posters, miners’ overalls, rostrums, etc.), presenting thus Tito’s regime still in power as a collection of remnants from a distant past.

If depot-graphies actually re-deposit all the items displayed in gallery rooms, then it is an intriguing question whether the visitors themselves are part of an exhibited depot. At the opening of the retrospective in Banja Luka, among the piles of exhibits, appeared many people. The huge crowd strengthened the impression that everything and everybody is but a piece in Hadžifejzović’s collection.

And yet, everybody could find himself in the position of the depot-artist as he is doing his everyday job of rummaging through stored things. Visitors to Hadžifejzović’s exhibitions who really profit from his art are only those capable of repeating, each of them in his own way, what the artist initially did at a depot while conceiving his depot-graphy. No wonder if many discovered that this job was not different from rummaging through one’s own minds, from turning up side down evoked inner images and seeking to give a meaning and purpose to them. For those who just stood there, astonished and stupefied, there was a risk to be considered as a piece in the collection. Either you do what artist does or you may appear as a part of his artwork. Still, for the latter, you need to be photographed. Perhaps, only photographed people may indeed enter a depot-graphy. If they were too vivid and too much in motion, then it would sufficed to get them photographed, but Hadžifejzović has challenged even this evident need for a metamorphosis from the animate into the inanimate. Some photo-depot-graphics in the retrospective testified to this. During the past fifteen years, at different occasions, he exhibited his close relatives. Initially, they were gathered together as ‘human exhibits’ in a depot-graphy made in the time of war. This human depot-graphy is one of his most brilliant works. It is a work that revealed in a particularly striking way that, in the art of depot-graphy, prison sets the mold for all other conceptions of depot (Hadžifejzović treats things as human beings, storage as prisons, depots with things as depots with human beings).

We come across people in Hadžifejzović’s depots when he exhibits in galleries, but in some of his works he also rescued them from ‘depots’ to include them in his depot-graphies. Of course, a project like that requires captives. This is exactly what Hadžifejzović did when, at the 1994 Cetinje Biennial, he once again implemented his idea of creating site-specific installations. The war in Bosnia and Herzegovina raged that year, and the artist came from Belgium, where he lived as a refugee, to Montenegro, where he was invited as an eminent artist. Instead of looking for material in depots in Cetinje, he asked the Biennial organizers to invite to the exhibition all members of his large family who had, for years, been living there, in a ‘hostile territory’, as second-class citizens. What else could Hadžifejzović do in Cetinje but exhibit his ‘deposited kith and kin’, which was so much in tune with the spirit of his art?

*   *   *

The steam train stopped briefly at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Banja Luka, at its ‘railway depot’ (I assume G. Deleuze would have something to say about the ‘depot-graphic machine’ in connection with what has been said above). Hadžifejzović has crossed the length and the breath of the continent, from one metropolis to another, collecting and transporting heavy freights (collections and assortments, even complete families). One of the greatest retrospective exhibitions of this artist to date, Europe-Depot is also an amazing depot-bio-graphy. Incomplete and uncertain: perhaps it has already been supplemented (got an extra load) at some next station, a far-away depot.

O izložbi EUROPA DEPOT, Muzej savremene umjetnosti Republike Srpske, Banja Luka, Bosna i Hercegovina, 2011

Evropa-depo kao Hadžifejzovićeva depo-biografija

Kada umjetnik uzvikuje „Eureka!“ na skladištu

Šta se dešava kada Jusuf Hadžifejzović odluči da svoje depografije sabere i predstavi na jednom mjestu? Navikli smo se da prisustvujemo retrospektivnim izložbama nekog umjetnika, da imamo priliku da „unazad“ osmotrimo njegovo djelo. Međutim, depografija kao izvjesna strategija u pictumu (J.-F. Lyotard) postavlja neobične izazove u tom pogledu.

Velika retrospektivna izložba uvijek pretpostavlja pravljenje skladišta u galeriji. Da nije već bilo izložbi u različitim galerijama, ne bi bilo retrospektive u uobičajenom smislu riječi. To je izložba o već upriličenim izložbama, tako da nam galerija nudi pogled na scene iz drugih, često brojnih galerija.

Retrospektive koje zaslužuju svoje ime, izložbe „sabranih djela“ glasovitih umjetnika nakon prilično dugog stvaralačkog puta, postavljaju specifičan problem pred samog umjetnika i kustose. To je tipično pitanje skladištara koji muku muči sa oskudicom prostora: šta uskladištiti kada ima toliko stvari koje to zaslužuju? Dakako, odgovor je: najuspjelija djela; ona koja više nego neka druga zaslužuju da ponovo bude viđena.

Nakon velikih poslova i dugog puta, nipošto se ne može sve uskladištiti na jednome mjestu. Velike i ambiciozne  retrospektivne izložbe (u kojima je stalo do predstavljanja čitavog opusa nekog umjetnika) pokreću pitanje privremenog i prigodnog uskladištenja umjetničkih djela. Kada je neophodno da budu dovoljno velike, prostrane i raskošne, galerije odaju svoju srodničku vezu sa skladištima. Međutim, uprava tada kada se dimenzija galerijskog prostora pred našim očima otvara kroz figuru skladišta, galerija nam se također ukazuje – i kao muzej. Prilikom  retrospektivnih izložbi galerije se ukazuju kao skladišta proteklog vremena.

Svaka izložba je privremena postavka jednog muzeja. Galerija uvijek funkcionira kao virtualni muzej ili muzej u sinhronijskom presjeku. Dovoljno je neku izložbu pretvoriti u stalnu postavku ili eksponate većeg broja izložbi učiniti trajnim u galerijskom prostoru, pa da se uvidi da metamorfoza galerije u muzej uvijek već lebdi kao imanentna mogućnost ove institucije.

O skladištima i postupcima uskladištenja govori Hadžifejzovićevo djelo. Možda više nego ijedno drugo na mapi savremene umjetnosti. Odavno se djelo ovog umjetnika javno predstavlja kroz jedno jedino vlastito ime: depografije. O skladištima je riječ, na ovaj ili onaj način u svakom radu ovog umjetnika: umjetnika u skladištenju, umjetnika-skladištara.

Šta je drugo bila velika retrospektiva u Muzeju savremene umjetnosti Republike Srpske nego pokušaj uskladištenja brojnih skladišta koje je diljem evropskog kontinenta tokom 26 godina, od 1984. godine do danas, napravio Hadžifejzović? O skladištima govori ovaj bogati umjetnički opus. I to čini tako da pravi skladišta, često impresivna skladišta koja mogu predstavljati problem i za prave pravcate firme koje se bave skladištenjem. Ako se neki likovni kritičar odvaži da govori o „bogatstvo ovog opusa“, a o tome se uvijek govori prilikom velikih retrospektiva, onda ova sintagma ima i jedno dodatno značenje: tu se često krije istinski problem uskladištenja. Sa svakom svojom izložbom Hadžifejzović je preispitivao kapacitete uskladištenja galerija i muzeja.

Svoje djelo i svoje djelovanje je ovaj umjetnik prvobitno i  skrojio prema modelu muzejskih i galerijskih (pogotovo ako je riječ o velikim državnim galerijama) depoa, da bi odatle intervenirao u izložbenom prostoru, u stvari na posve subverzivan način atakovao na poredak ustoličen u njemu. Možda je institucija koja je ukazala gostoprimstvo ovome umjetniku u doba kada je došlo vrijeme da izloži cjelokupno svoje djelo, najbolja kuća za ovakvu svrhu. Teško je zamisliti da je Hadžifejzović u Bosni i Hercegovini mogao naći toliko adekvatan prostor za naknadno skladištenje svoga djela: galerija kao muzej, muzej kao galerija.

Ali ima tu u igri još nešto daleko važnije: željeznička stanica. Čak i stranom posjetiocu to odmah bode oči: prelijepi prostor ove banjalučke galerije-muzeja nastao je preuređivanjem stare stanične zgrade. Bez velikih intervencija! Moglo bi se reći: ne krupnijih od onih kojima Hadžifejzović podvrgava najbanalnije predmete iz svakodnevne upotrebe da bi im dodijelio status umjetničkog djela. Zgrada nekadašnjeg željezničkog saobraćaja, čvorište u transportnoj mreži austrougarske imperije, kao mjesto na kojem se zaustavio i sam Hadžifejzović da bi uskladištio predmete koje stalno prevozi sa jednoga mjesta na drugo, na svojim putešestvijima od jedne do druge evropske metropole. Na stanici Banja Luka se skupilo najviše prtljaga, u zgradi koja je nekada bila željeznički depo, a danas je to galerijsko-muzejski depo. (U rječnicima je jedno od osnovnih značenja riječi depo gotovo neizostavno navedeno kao „skladište za lokomotive“.)

Nakon što su Hadžifejzoviću, kao priznanje za njegovo životno djelo, otvorena vrata muzeja, pojavljuje se pred njime kao autorom nešto što bismo mogli nazvati problemom deponovanja njegovih vlastitih depografskih zbirki. To nije tek problem smještaja i transporta, nekakav tipični problem deponovanja. Čini se da je za depografiju – ili depologiju, ako tako možemo nazvati i samu filozofiju ovog umjetničkog djelovanja – problem vremena, kao problem vremenskog kontinuiteta kakav se javlja u osiguravanju razloga za neku izložbenu postavku da bude stalna, ozbiljan problem. Može li se depografija otrgnuti od svoje privremenosti i svoga nomadskoga lutanja? Može li se oteti zahtjevima koje muzej postavlja pred svaku zbirku koja uđe u njega? Može li Hadžifejzovićevo djelo uopšte biti podvrgnuto procedurama konzerviranja kakve nalažu stalne muzejske postavke, makar to bila i privremena „stalna postavka“, onakva kakva je upriličena u banjalučkoj stanici između odlaska i dolaska dva teretna voza krcata umjetninama? Znači li to da  Hadžifejzović i ne može za sobom ostaviti djelo, onako kako to djelo definišu galerije u kojima se prave izložbe (djela) i muzeji kao institucije za čuvanje (djela) umjetničke zaostavštine? Da li iza depografija uopšte ostaju ostaci koji se mogu konzervirati?

Ako je svaki depo izazov za Hadžifejzovića, onda je posve zanimljiva stvar deponovanje sačinjenih depografija: svih odgovora ovog umjetnika na takve izazove. Ali prije nego što otvorima ova meta-depografska pitanja koja je pokrenula upravo ova najnovija i najveća Hadžifejzovićeva izložba, osvrnimo se na samu umjetnost depografije.

Zašto je „depografija“ već odavno najprimjereniji naziv za Hadžifejzovićevu umjetnost? Nikada nismo imali bolju priliku da to uvidimo nego na ovoj izložbi na kojoj je deponovano toliko puno radova ovoga umjetnika. Pritom nam puno može pomoći i sam izložbeni prostor u koji su upisane najmanje tri važne institucionalne metamorfoze: galerija, muzej i željeznička stanica. To su tri važne institucije deponovanja, a upravo ih Hadžifejzovićevo djelo na posebno upečatljiv način otkriva kao takve. Prije ove velike retrospektivne izložbe u Muzeju savremene umjetnosti RS-a nisam mogao pronaći pravo ime ili figuru u čijem ključu bih protumačio jedan važan aspekt Hadžifejzovićevih umjetničkih djela kao intervencija u galerijskom prostoru. A sada mi se čini da je to upravo „željeznička stanica“. Zbog najmanje dvije stvari: transporta i materijala.

U depografijama je o transportu riječ: nema deponovanja u pravom smislu riječi bez prenošenja s jednog mjesta na drugo, bez velikih akcija smještanja i razmještanja. Materijal takođe ima veliku važnost u depografijama. Jer takve umjetničke intervencije računaju sa deponovanim materijalom. Onoga časa kada je vizualna umjetnost posegnula za ready-made predmetima kiparstvo je izgubilo svoju tradicionalnu privilegiju neposrednog dodira i susretanja sa oporom materijom svijeta. Upravo depografije ne prezaju pred takvim susretanjima. Ne bi Hadžifejzovićeve instalacije zaslužile svoje ime da u njima materijalnost upotrijebljenog materijala nema mjeru tipičnu za depo. Pogledajte masivnost, težinu i obim materijala u izloženim instalacijama. Vjerovatno nikada nijedna izložba prije nije toliko opteretila i zapremila ovu banjalučku galeriju-muzej, iako se velike retrospektive uvijek veoma zahtjevne u tome pogledu. Nekoliko vagona teretnog voza zasigurno bi olakšali transport izloženih zbirki svakovrsnih predmeta.

Tipična mjera depoa, ako već ističemo masivnu materijalnost koja ga karakterizira, jeste kolekcija industrijskih proizvoda. Na primjer, prehrambenih proizvoda široke potrošnje ili standardnih proizvoda tekstilne industrije. Na izložbi Evropa-depo naći ćemo takvu uskladištenu robu: tegle sa džemom, sokove u tetrapacima, pivo u flašama, odjeću na vješalicama i slično. Razmjer uskladištenja s kojim barataju Hadžifejzovićeve depografije slijedi obrazac koji je Andy Warhol postavio na čuvenoj izložbi The American Supermarket iz 1964. I najveće pojedinačne zbirke uskladištenih predmeta (depo-zbirke obilježene posebnim nazivima) ne prelaze razmjer „tipičnog okruženja malog američkog supermarketa“. Međutim, svi izloženi radovi uzeti zajedno sabiru ova uskladištenja na maloj skali u veliki depo kakvim raspolažu prodajni centri  ili važniji željezničko-transportni čvorovi.

Međutim, tipičan kalup za pojedinačni ready-made predmet nije više konzerva Campbell supe ili boca Coca-Cole. S jedne strane će Hadžifejzović posegnuti za glomaznijim artefaktima, poput onih iz vojne i rudarske proizvodnje, a s duge strane će sa svojom lupom opsesivnog depografa tragati za bizarnim produktima ručnoga rada. Tako su posjetioci velikog Hadžifejzovićevog banjalučkog depoa mogli primijetiti, na svakih par koraka, mnoštvo malih radnjica (sa asortimanom industrijskih proizvoda) i butika (sa asortimanom zanatskih i umjetničkih proizvoda), ostave i skloništa, odlagališta za otpad. Naravno, riječ je o asocijacijama koje u svijesti promatrača bude ove zbirke, pa ispred svake ove tipske institucije uskladištenja treba dodati prefiks: kvazi. Neobični status ovih zbirki predmeta možda najbolje pogađa riječ kojom se služe profesionalni skladištari. Njihov stručni termin se ovdje pokazuje kao čarobna riječ: „rashodovan“.  Hadžifejzović radi sa „rashodovanim asortimanima“, upravo tako bi njegove instalacije trebalo objasniti nekom magacioneru.

Nedavno mi je ispričao da je i sam bio u takvoj prilici „objašnjavanja“ kada je 2003. godine iz Antverpena dovezao u Sarajevo pun šleper svojih eksponata koje je planirao izložiti na svojoj retrospektivnoj izložbi u galeriji „Collegium artisticum“, a jedan dio dalje odvesti na Venecijansko bijenale. Trebalo je cariniku objasniti vrijednost „bezvrijednih stvari“ koje je natovario. Shodno pravilima svoje službe, carinik je insistirao da svaka stvar mora imati svoju cijenu. Ovaj je najprije iz gomile izvadio zgnječenu plastičnu bocu i zahtijevao od vlasnika šlepera da kaže njenu cijenu. Hadžifejzović je brže-bolje prihvatio svoju ulogu i rekao: „jedna marka“. Onda se revnosni službenik dočepao najveće stvari koju je spazio i počeo da izvlači gvozdeni krevet bez jedne noge. „A koliko košta ovo?“ – upitao je ponovo. Opet je dobio isti odgovor: „Jedna marka.“ Gledajući preneraženog carinika, Hadžifejzović je pokušao objasniti: „Pa našao sam taj krevet na otpadu.“ „Vi ste neozbiljni! S Vama se ne može raditi!“ – uzviknuo je carinik ljutito. Povjerio mi se Hadžifejzović: „Nisam mu htio objasniti, trebao je sam zaključiti da je riječ o umjetnosti.“

Velika je greška odvojiti umjetnost depografija od prozaične stvarnosti depoa. Suviše dugo Hadžifejzović boravi u depoima da bi skladištenje bilo neka uzgredna vještina u njegovom poslu. Ne može se ući u tajne njegovih depografija, a da se makar ne odškrinu vrata teorije depoa, depologije. Abeceda te teorije svakako pripada iskusnim skladištarima. Nema sumnje da se u takve ubraja Hadžifejzović, onaj Hadžifejzović koji se sarajevskom cariniku predstavio (nimalo lažno) kao skupljač otpada.

Stoga je važno pitanje kako bi iskusni skladištar promatrao sve one hrpe stvari koje su u Banja Luci bile uskladištene. Njemu zasigurno ne bi promaknulo da tu postoji razlika između poda i zidova. Na podu su, dakako, stvari koje mogu da leže ili stoje, a na zidovima su uglavnom one koje vise. Zadržimo se sada na zidovima. Dvije vrste stvari su na njima deponovane: stvari i slike stvari. Važno je primijetiti ovo brkanje razlike između slika i stvari, entiteta koji pripadaju, Lacanovim riječima, registru Imaginarnog i onih koji pripadaju registru Realnog. U depoima su, bar za one koji brinu o stvarima koje su u njima pohranjene, slike postale puke stvari. A u depografijama su stvari (ready-made objekti) slike. I još više: slikovni znaci (zatičemo ih u registru Simboličkog).

Osim stvari koje je Hadžifejzović objesio ili okačio na zidove galerije, nalazimo slike. Tu su slike koje je on skupio kao predmete skladištenja: stare fotografije i „umjetničke slike“ koje je pronašao na otpadu ili otkupio u radnjama jeftine kič-produkcije. U drugu klasu slika spadaju novije fotografije većeg formata: umjesto da budu predmeti Hadžifejzovićevog skupljačkog rada, to su slike njegovoga rada. Riječ je o umjetničkim fotografijama koje su sačinili majstori fotografije (poput Claudia Abatea, koji je snimio radove Beuysa, Kounellisa, Pistolleta itd., ili poznatog riječkog slikara Aleksandra Sedlaka) čija je zadaća bila da dokumentuju performanse i depografije koje je Hadžifejzović napravio u prošlosti.

Međutim, o minulim depografijama ne svjedoče samo fotografije nego i grafike koje je Hadžifejzović napravio po fotografskim predlošcima (tretirajući ih kroz sito-štampu). Traži li neki galerista „originalno umjetničko djelo“ od Hadžifejzovića, ovaj će mu možda najlakše prodati neku od ovih njegovih depo-grafika. S tim radovima je najbliži klasičnom obliku poslovanja u pictumu. Ali ako u tom domenu o vrijednosti djela odlučuje imitatio, onda su ove slike najudaljenije od onoga što treba da „predstavljaju“. Ako već imitiraju fotografsku sliku, onda su one „slika slike“. Međutim, fotografska slika već odražava umjetničko djelo: instalaciju, tj. depo-zbirku kao depografiju.

Fotograf sa svojim aparatom tako stoji između dva umjetnička čina Hadžifejzovića i samo predstavlja kariku u metamorfozama njegovog djela. Samo ako uvidimo da postoji zatvoren krug u metamorfozama ovoga djela, unutar kojeg se ne može jasno razlučiti ono što nalaže svaki imitatio, a to je izvor i odraz, onda ćemo vidjeti zašto je ovaj umjetnik sposoban da u svome djelu ugosti „stranca“, fotografa koji čak i ne mora biti umjetnik. Ako se i pojavljuje fotograf u depografijama kao umjetnik, onda je on prije svega umjetnik u skladištenju stvarnosti jedne umjetnosti. Sa dokumentarnih fotografija se čuju dva autorska glasa koja se lijepo slažu. Jedan kaže: „Vidite šta sam uradio“. Drugi kaže: „Vidite kako sam fotografisao to što je ovaj prvi uradio“. U grafikama se čuje i treći glas: „Pogledajte šta sam uradio od onoga što je onaj drugi re-produkovao od onoga što sam uradio“.

Najvažnija je pritom posljednja karika, glavna kopča čitavoga lanca metamorfoza, a ona se najmanje vidi: to je čin Hadžifejzovića kao skladištara koji sve što visi na zidovima (kao i ono što leži i stoji po podovima) uvrštava u uskladištenu zbirku. Krug je zatvoren: predmet, slika predmeta (fotografija), slika slike (grafika), grafika kao predmet. Na kraju: samo uskladišteni predmeti pokraj predmeta. Možemo zamisliti ponovno pokretanje ovog već zatvorenog kruga: grafike-predmeti uskladišteni kao muzejska zbirka bivaju fotografirane, a potom je taj foto-dokument nesumnjive umjetničke vrijednosti prerađen u grafiku i potpisan, a ona je opet vraćena u istu zbirku ili u neku novu. Novi krug bi se opet mogao otvoriti… S obzirom da je krug sačinjen od karika (posebnih faza umjetničke kreacije) i da je već otvoren za gostujućeg autora (fotografa), on se u načelu može otvoriti i za ulančavanja sa novim „uljezima“, a da to opet ostane jedan isti, samo prošireni (Hadžifejzovićev!) depografski ciklus.

Hadžifejzović mi je s ushićenjem pričao o dvojici slikara, jednom iz Antverpena i drugom iz Sarajeva, koji su njegove instalacije uzeli za motive svojih uljanih slika. I njihovi radovi mogu biti uključeni u depografske zbirke jednako kao i radovi fotografa. U načelu bilo šta tu može biti uključeno… Pogotovo ako je rashodovano, ako je isključeno iz nekih drugih zbirki, ako je odbačeno, otpisano, doslovno bačeno…

Otuda tolika važnost „rashodovanih asortimana“. Zato što je najvažniji kreativni čin depografija uključivanje, uvrštavanja u zbirku, inventura! To se vidi kod grafika čije listove Hadžifejzović potpisuje, ali ih takođe stavlja u svoje izložbene depoe, i tako pretvara u primjerke iz zbirki predmeta. Možda se to još bolje vidi kod fotografija koje su na retrospektivnoj izložbi u Banja Luci imale funkciju svjedočanstava o velikim depo-zbirkama upriličenim na prošlim izložbama. To su vrijedni dokumenti koji čuvaju sjećanje na depografije koje je često nemoguće ponovo rekonstruisati. Pošto su depografije uglavnom skladišta glomaznih i teško pokretnih stvari, to su onda jedini tragovi djela iz prošlosti fotografski zapisi. Opet se i ovi foto-elementi depografija mogu opisati u vokabularu eksperata za transport. Na otvaranju svoje izložbe Hadžifejzović mi priznaje: „Ove fotografije mojih ranijih radova su rješenje velikog problema: zamisli da sam morao dopremiti sva ova velika skladišta!“ Upravo treba razmišljati kao skladištar: depo-kapacitet jedne fotografije je najmanje kapacitet jednog šlepera. Fotografije rješavaju problem transporta, pa tako i carinske kontrole.

Međutim, ove fotografije sa prethodnih izložbi, koje su visile na zidovima ove retrospektivne izložbe, iako kroz vizualni dokument obnavljaju stvarnost minulih izložbi, nisu samo slike nego i predmeti. Upravo bi ih neki skladištar na izložbi vidio kao predmete poput drugih predmeta. Umjetnost depografije ontološki registar Imaginarnog, kojem pripadaju slike, čvrsto vezuje uz (pa čak u izvjesnom smislu i reducira na) registar Realnog (pukih predmeta). Sve slike uvrštene u depografije se ukazuju kao predmeti, kao slike-predmeti, dakako kao ready-made predmeti. Na izložbi u Muzeju savremene umjetnosti su se našle požutjele fotografije iz austrijske svakodnevnice u doba nacionalsocijalizma (slike sa vjenčanja, iz crkve i kafane), čitava jedna zbirka uramljenih uljanih slika nekog kič-majstora (Istambul depo), fotografije prošlih izložbi ili performansa, ali i grafike sa Hadžifejzovićevim (autorskim) potpisom. Putem svoje neuklonjive imaginarne dimenzije, ove slike upućuju preko sebe. Jedne dovode u prisustvo/sadašnjost jedno vrijeme ili jednu vlast, druge jedan izvjestan ukus ili podneblje, treće rekonstruišu sam Hadžifejzovićev opus, ali sve se one pojavljuju kao uskladišteni predmeti. Posvuda nalazimo predmete pored predmeta, kao u skladištima. Kao pravi depo-majstor Hadžifejzović insistira na ovom opredmećenju. Tako je, na primjer, uz depo odjeljak čitave male galerije spomenutog istambulskog slikara postavio drugi odjeljak kolekcije donjeg veša poznatog modnog kreatora iz istoga grada. Uljane slike i šareno rublje: dva asortimana, rashodovana asortimana! Ako su depografije gotovo uvijek zbirke predmeta, onda nam je razumljiva Hadžifejzovićeva obuzetost proizvodnim kolekcijama i serijskom proizvodnjom, svejedno da li je ona manufakturna ili industrijska, da li je riječ o kolekcijama porodičnih fotografija, uljanih slika, donjeg rublja ili džemova.

Preobrazba slika u predmete jeste nešto što je Hadžifejzović naučio iz svojih istraživanja i lutanja po depoima galerija i muzeja, ali i po buvljacima i smetljištima. Slike i skulpture, koliko god bile vrijedne i zanosne (a to znači imale moć da odvraćaju naš pogled od aktuelne stvarnosti ka nekoj drugoj, odsutnoj stvarnosti), tamo leže kao puki predmeti. U depoima slikovitost slike ugasne kao televizijski ekran (umjesto televizije imamo televizor, umjesto slike imamo sliku-predmet). Umjetnička djela koja stoje u spremištima ne stoje tako da bi se gledala nego da bi bila što bolje složena. Ona nisu izložena nego su složena. To je ono što upravo čini Hadžifejzović u svojim depografijama: on ne izlaže nego slaže predmete, pa i predmete-slike, ili, radije, on ih izlaže tako složene (deponovane). Izlaganje deponovanih predmeta, upravo kao deponovanih, ukazuje da se ti predmeti na suštinski način uskraćuju izlaganju, kao što to pokazuju sve slike koje tvrdoglavo ostaju slike-predmeti.

O odbačenim predmetima je riječ. Kada ih nalazimo u depoima, ne govorimo o slikama kao slikama nego o odbačenim predmetima. Ipak nisu posve odbačeni, jer bi onda pred sobom imali otpad ili smetljište. Doduše, može se govoriti i o smetljištu kao o depou (na kojem se deponuje otpad), ali to bi bio „nulti depo“, onaj na koji se odbacuju stvari koje su se čuvale ili mogle čuvati u svim drugim tipovima depoa. Upravo je u čuvanju bitna razlika. Ako se u drugim depoima čuvaju odbačene stvari, na smetljištu se nalaze stvari koje više niko neće da čuva: uistinu odbačene stvari.

Važno je uočiti specifičnu temporalnost depoa: deponovane stvari su one stvari koje su privremeno odbačene (iako mogu biti posve dugo deponovane). U stvari, one privremeno nisu izložene. Depo je skladište privremeno neizloženih stvari, odbačenih stvari koje se čuvaju. Otuda muzeji i galerije nisu depoi: ovi prvi su skladišta stalno izloženih stvari koje se brižljivo čuvaju, a ove druge su skladišta privremeno izloženih stvari. Upravo zbog toga što su prostori privremene izloženosti, galerije uvijek funkcionišu u sistemu spojenih posuda sa depoima: kolekcije umjetnina bivaju izložene, pa sklonjene. Međutim, i muzeji imaju svoje depoe i u stvarnosti funkcionišu kao galerije, periodičnim mijenjanjem svojih stalnih postavki. Nijedan muzej nije bez depoa, a to znači bez privremeno odbačenih i neizloženih stvari. Kao što nijedno smetljište nije bez vrijednih stvari koje bi se ponovo mogle vratiti na čuvanje. Manevarski prostor Hadžifejzovićevih depografije nalazi se negdje između muzeja i smetljišta kao dva pola unutar svih postojećih tipova skladišta. Nisu u krivu oni posjetioci njegovih izložbi koji sa zaprepaštenjem primijete da ovaj umjetnik pravi smetljišta usred muzeja i galerija.

Postoji jak politički smisao depografija: Hadžifejzović oslobađa deponovane stvari njihovog zatočeništva. Izlazak iz depoa jeste svojevrsni akt priznanja vrijednosti stvarima koje su bile odbačene, a to znači da je njihova vrijednost bila sumnjiva ili čak posve negirana. Kada pod jakim svjetlom izložbenih salona izlaže stvari koje su sklonjene u mračni prostor depoa, Hadžifejzović im vraća izgubljeno dostojanstvo, kao da je riječ o amnestiranim zatvorenicima. Nad nanovo uskladištenim predmetima u prostoru slobode i brižnoga čuvanja uvijek lebdi njegov glas: „Mislili ste da ove stvari ništa ne vrijede (ili da vrijede onoliko koliko bi ih jedan carinik procijenio), a sada vam ih ja predstavljam kao izuzetno vrijedne, kao dragulje umjetnosti umjetnika svjetskoga glasa.“

O kakvom stvaralačkom postupku se kod depografija zapravo radi? Veoma važan segment ovog postupka zasigurno je „kopanje“ po depoima. Povlašten prostor takve „arheologije“ ili „detektivske istrage“ su upravo depoi galerija i muzeja. Na poziv neke ugledne galerije za gostovanje Hadžifejzović često odgovori tako da tamo doputuje praznih ruku, pa onda par dana prekopava po njenom depou, da bi na kraju na svjetlo dana iznio kakvu neobičnu zbirku. Često se takvo traganje obavi i u drugim depoima u istome gradu, radnjama sa jeftinom industrijskom robom ili dućanima sa kolekcijama bagatelnih ručnih radova, na buvljacima ili čak smetljištima. Može to biti bilo gdje i bilo šta. U auli nekog uglednog univerziteta ili u nekoj krčmi u predgrađu, na ulici, trgu ili mračnom prolazu. Negdje u nekom kutu će oko depografa (kao da govorimo o detektoru za otkrivanje vrijednih stvari na depoima!) iznenada otkriti neku zanemarenu stvar, prašnjavu i oštećenu, kakav ukras, spravicu, pribor… Važno je primijetiti da Hadžifejzović kopa po depoima galerija kao da kopa po smetljištu i kopa po smetljištu kao da kopa po depoima galerija. Depografije ne bi imale tako radikalan politički smisao kada bi Hadžifejzović „rehabilitirao“ samo stvari iz depoa muzeja i galerija, jer one se ionako tamo čuvaju da bi jednog dana možda izašle u posvećeni izložbeni prostor.

Uključivanjem u opticaj stvari iz skladišta koja su daleko od ekonomije umjetničkih djela, emancipatorski karakter depo-politike dolazi do punog izražaja. Uski krug ekonomije umjetničkih djela, iz čijeg opticaja su privremeno izašle stvari uskladištene u depoima muzeja i galerija, proširen je najširim krugom ekonomije čitavog jednog društva, iz čijeg opticaja su izašle stvari-otpaci. Hadžifejzovićeve depografije vrše subverziju logike i aksiologije obiju ovih etabliranih ekonomija: i ove ograničene, „estetske“, i ove generalne, tako što u njihov opticaj vraća odbačene stvari, a to postiže tako što im ubrizga neočekivanu vrijednost. On ne bi mogao raditi na proširenju ove ograničene ekonomije ili ove reducirane cirkulacije izloženih i neizloženih umjetničkih djela, da sama ta ekonomije nema uvijek već otvoren kanal ka generalnoj ekonomiji vrijednih i bezvrijednih roba. Na jednoj strani su umjetnička djela koja se sa ponosom izlažu i vrijedna su roba na tržištu, a na drugoj strani su deponovana umjetnička djela koja ponekad ne mogu da prođu niti kao najjeftinija roba. Pravi smisao depoa s kojim računa umjetnost depografije nije skladište u koji su privremeno sklonjena nedavno izložena djela i kolekcije djela, nego ona djela i kolekcija za koje ne bi bilo nikako dobro da ih u sadašnjem „društvenom trenutku“ vidi javnost. Prema tome, autentično mjesto takvog depoa jeste između galerije i smetljišta. Ako kažemo da nad depoom umjetničkih djela uvijek lebdi ono: „Nikad se ne zna!“, onda imamo u vidu da njegov sadržaj može završiti tamo „gore“, u izložbenom salonu, ali i tamo „dole“, na smetljištu. Kada želimo da istaknemo važnu političku crtu Hadžifejzovićevog stvaralaštva, možda je najbolje da ga nazovemo „skupljačem otpada“, jer on je takav ne samo kada izlaže stvari sa smetljišta nego i kada izlaže stvari iz depoa državnih galerija i muzeja. Ako je politički smisao depografija vezan uz ekonomiju, i to tako što je riječ o strategiji vraćanja ili dodjeljivanja vrijednosti stvarima sumnjive vrijednosti, onda tu otpaci ipak imaju povlašćen status. Kroz svoju umjetnost Hadžifejzović vraća vrijednost čak i otpacima. Njemu to uspijeva i onda kada se takvim stvarima ne može povratiti čak ni najmanja vrijednost unutar realne ekonomije (recimo, kao reciklirani papir ili pretopljeno staro željezo).

Međutim, ako se već toliko računa na metamorfoze deponovanih stvari, ključna karika su ipak stvari pohranjene u depoima galerija i muzeja. Jer put od otpatka do dragocjenog umjetničkog eksponata osiguran je upravo preko njih. Hadžifejzović se mora prije svega oslanjati na sposobnost metamorfoze ove klase uskladištenih predmeta: naime na to da se mogu preobraziti u djela izuzetne umjetničke vrijednosti (završiti u stalnim postavkama muzeja) ili u posve bezvrijedna djela (završiti na otpadu).

Kada kopate po odbačenim stvarima na otpadu ili buvljaku, to činite s nadom da ćete pronaći nešto vrijedno, nešto što nije trebalo baciti. To ne znači uvijek da ste nekadašnjeg vlasnika te stvari uhvatili u grešci, otkrili njegovu nesmotrenost ili glupost. Prije će biti da ste u stanju da dodijelite drugu svrhu odbačenome predmetu. Vraćanje u opticaj preko obnovljene vrijednosti pretpostavlja vraćanje u upotrebu preko vezivanja predmeta za neku novu svrhu. Ako je ogromna većina predmeta bačena na otpad zbog toga što su postali neupotrebljivi, najuspješniji su oni tragači koji rove po otpada sa idejom o nekoj drugačijoj svrsi koja se može dodijeliti predmetima koji su odslužili svoju predviđenu svrhu. Takav tragač je zasigurno Hadžifejzović. Njega vode posebne tragalačke svrhe, jer niko ne bi uzeo baš ono što on uzima. Među tragačima po otpadu možemo razlikovati one koji tragaju s nadom i one koji tragaju s namjerom. Tragati s nadom znači vjerovati da ima stvari koje su nesmotreno bačene, koje još mogu ispuniti svoju svrhu. Tragati s namjerom znači odmjeravati odbačene predmete prema nekim novim, za njih nepredviđenim svrhama i funkcijama. Ti predmeti se pronalaze kao „dijelovi“ koji se sklapaju u cjeline unutar kojih dobijaju smisao i funkcije koje nikad nisu ni imali. Stvaranje takvih cjelina, depografskih zbirki, jeste posao Hadžifejzovića: umjetnika koji zatečene „dijelove“ razvrstava i svrstava, demontira i uklapa prema nacrtu svoga projekta. Lako možemo zamisliti da je svakoj depografiji negdje na nekom skladištu prethodio uzvik: „Eureka!“

Claude Lévi-Strauss je ovakav vid korištenja „priručnog materijala“ nazvao „kućno majstorisanje“ (bricolage). Prema njegovoj definiciji bricoleur je „osoba koja se bavi ručnim radom koristeći se sredstvima zaobilaznim u odnosu na sredstva kojima se služi čovjek od zanata.“. Riječ je, dakle, o osobi koja nema niti odgovarajući alat niti materijal, ali se snalazi sa onim što ima na raspolaganju. Lévi-Strauss nas je poučio o važnosti „intelekualnog domaćeg majstorisanja“ kakvo je na djelu u mitskom i umjetničkom stvaralaštvu. Upravo u depografijama dolazi do izražaja „mito-poetski karakter domaćeg majstorisanja“ o kojem je govorio ovaj francuski antropolog. Kada opisuje takvog jednog majstora na djelu Levi-Strauss kao da opisuje Hadžifejzovića dok vršlja po nekom depou obuzet svojim idejama.

Sada je prilika da napokon otvorimo treći registar: registar Simboličkog, u kojem se grafička dimenzija depografija, dimenzija značenja i pisma, otvara našem uvidu. Ako se odbačenim predmetima dodjeljuju nove i nepredviđene svrhe i funkcije, a s obzirom na neku cjelinu koja je zacrtana projektom kojeg je koncipirao umjetnik, onda je tu u stvari na djelu proces osmišljavanja, davanja smisla ili značenja (Husserlov Sinngebung). Upravo zato što je neki predmet u depou zatečen kao oštećen ili pokvaren, zato što više ne služi svojoj svrsi, on može funkcionisati kao znak i dobiti drugo značenje. Ako je definicija znaka, da je to predmet koji nije naprosto to što jeste nego upućuje na nešto drugo, na odsutni predmet, onda ovaj očevidni gubitak doslovnog značenja deponovanih predmeta može dobro poslužiti depografskim svrhama dodjeljivanja „prenesenih značenja“. Bit depografija je ista kao i bit metafore: najvažniji Hadžifejzovićev čin jeste prenošenje stvari (njihov transport iz depoa u izložbeni prostor) kao prenošenje značenja. Zbirke stvari pred kojima stoji kućni majstor razmišljajući šta i kako da učini, Lévi-Strauss opisuje kao „heteroklitni repertoar“. To da su „heteroklitni predmeti“ (u Hadžifejzovićevom slučaju: tetrapak soka, grudnjak, ležaljka, itd.) uključeni u novu značenjsku i funkcionalnu sredinu, opisano je dakle riječju koja u francuskom jeziku ima upravo značenje koje nam treba. Larousseov Lexis nam tako daje sljedeći primjer: „Nađosmo kod trgovca polovnom robom heteroklitne predmete čija je upotreba ponekad posve nejasna.“ Ova riječ se pokazuje i kao važan termin u lingvistici; naime njome se imenuje svojstvo nekih imenica da se dekliniraju prema različitim pravilima deklinacije. Od Lévi-Straussa bi se mogli posuditi brojni citati koji na najbolji način opisuju ono što Hadžifejzović čini na depou. Na primjer: „On (kućni majstor) ispituje sve te heteroklitne predmete iz svoje riznice da bi shvatio šta bi svaki od njih mogao da ‘označi’, doprinoseći na taj način definisanju celine koju tek treba napraviti…“ (Divlja misao, Nolit, Beograd, 1978, str. 59) Ali ako već želimo osvijetliti semiotičku dimenziju rada sa deponovanim predmetima, onda je zasigurno važan svjedok Ferdinand de Saussure koji jezik (langue) definiše kao „depo akustičkih slika, a pismo (écriture) kao opipljivu formu tih slika.“ (Cours de linguistique générale, Editions Payot, 1972, str. 32 )

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Sada imamo dovoljno sredstava da opišemo depografsko umjetničko djelo. Ono funkcionira kao jezički iskaz. Kao i u jeziku, umjetnik raspolaže sa repertoarom znakova (langue), sa depoom kao svojim vokabularom, polazeći od kojeg stvara svoj izraz, svoju „govornu riječ“  (parole). Značenja koja se pojavljuju u izloženim depografijama su metaforična, udaljena od istrošenih, prvobitnih i doslovnih značenja (treba se prisjetiti figure „istrošenosti“ (usure) koju je Derrida posudio od Nietzschea). Zbirke re-deponovanih predmeta u depografskim zbirkama grade čitave scene slojevitih značenja, tako da posjetilac Hadžifejzovićeve izložbe ima pred sobom alegorije koje treba tumačiti u maniru psihoanalitičara koji se bavi scenama iz sna. Vraćajući se na upravo spomenutu de Saussureovo definiciju, možemo reći da se depografije upravo grafizmi (pisma, zapisi, pisane poruke) u kojima su znakovi ispisani kao piktogrami, slike-predmeti. Pred svakom depografijom posjetilac izložbe treba stati i zapitati se koja priča je u njoj ispričana, kakva poruka je poslata. Može se učiniti da to predstavlja veliku teškoću, jer nam umjetnik nudi hijeroglife bez ključa kako da ih odgonetamo. Ali Hadžifejzović računa na našu sposobnost tumačenja vlastitih snova: pred slikama iz sna svako otvara svoj rječnik i svoju gramatiku.

Možda čitava ova retrospektivna izložba nije ništa drugo nego jedan veličanstven sanovnik: zbirka scena iz umjetnikovih najvažnijih snova. Ali Hadžifejzović bi bio posljednji umjetnik kojeg mi mogli svrstati u nekakav tip intimističke umjetnosti. Njegova snoviđenja su najčešće vizije političkih mora iz novije evropske istorije, a ako u njegovim radovima uistinu ima nešto od njegovih snova, to su snovi koje mnogi sanjaju i od kojih strepe. U depografijama se prekopava po mračnim zonama u kojima leže potisnuti sadržaji tekuće društvene svijesti: sklonjeni i odbačeni predmeti su simboli ili slike s kojima Hadžifejzović pokušava iskazati strahove i želje koji nisu samo njegovi, a to čini poput autistične djece s kojima je radila Melanie Klein. Jedna od opsesivnih Hadžifejzovićevih tema svakako je prijetnja ponovnog buđenja fašizma ili totalitarne svijesti uopšte. O tome govori jedna od njegovih najnovijih depografija, Roma-depo, koja je na izložbi predstavljena kao foto-depografija aule univerziteta „La Sapienza“, gdje je ovaj umjetnik iz neke mračne niše dovukao Mussolinijevu prašnjavu i oštećenu bistu.

Ne treba previdjeti da u depografijama nisu depoi samo raščinjeni nego i da su nanovo sačinjeni. Svaka Hadžifejzovićeva izložba predstavlja njegov novi, „autorski“ depo. Retrospektivna izložba njegovih radova u stvari je depo u koji su ponovo deponovani njegovi prethodni depoi. U svakoj depografiji se mogu naći i oni predmeti koji nikada nisu bili niti u jednome depou, ali su sada po prvi put deponovani u izložbenom prostoru čiji smisao je, u svjetlu ove umjetnosti, upravo u „biti izvan depoa“. Na posebno upečatljiv način Hadžifejzović je u posljednjim godinama jugoslovenskog socijalističkog poretka pokazao subverzivni politički smisao ne samo vađenja stvari iz depoa nego njihovog stavljanja u depo. Zenica-depo, napravljen u ovome poznatom centru rudarske metalurgije, iznio je na svjetlo dana kvazi-arheološku zbirku predmeta jake simboličke vrijednosti („socijalističkih relikvija“ poput zastava, rudarskih mantila, transparenata, itd.), koja je još vladajući poredak radničke klase predstavila kao nalaz iz daleke prošlosti.

Ako depografije u izložbenom prostoru u stvari re-deponuju sve predmete koji se tu nađu izloženi, onda se možemo zapitati nisu li i posjetioci uključeni u izložbeni depo. Na otvaranju retrospektivne izložbe u Banja Luci se među masom izloženih predmeta pojavila masa ljudi. Ova velika masa svijeta je još više osnažila onaj karakteristični utisak materijalnosti kojeg izazivaju velike depo zbirke. Ako je sve što se nađe na depou, i živo i neživo, ma koliko privremeno tu bilo, u stvari deponovano, onda doista možemo govoriti o „deponovanim posjetiocima“. Pa ipak je neophodno razlikovati subjekte od objekata depoa. Subjekt je onaj koji traga ili kopa po objektima depoa. Istinski akter takvog traganja je onda usamljenik. Hadžifejzović dovodi posjetioce njegovih izložbi u svoju vlastitu situaciju depo-arheologa: roviti po depou znači takođe roviti po svojoj glavi, premetati slike u svijesti, tražiti svrhu i smisao predmetima koji privuku naš pogled. Na Hadžifejzovićevim izložbama samo će oni posjetioci ubrati neki plod njegove umjetnosti koji budu u stanju ponoviti, svako na svoj način, ono što je ovaj umjetnik prvobitno učinio na nekom depou dok je smišljao svoju depografiju.

Međutim, ako već spominjemo mogućnost uključivanja ljudi u depografije, te u tumačenju Hadžifejzovićeve umjetnosti idemo od modela depo-zbirke ka modelu depo-događaja u kojem je i traganje za smislom među deponovanim predmetima takođe  sastavni dio izloženih depografija, onda izbavljenje iz zatočeništva u nekom depou ne mora imati samo metaforično značenje (predmeti kao iznenada oslobođeni zatvorenici). Zatičemo ljude u Hadžifejzovićevim depoima kada on ima izložbe u galerijama, ali u nekim svojim radovima on ih je takođe izbavio iz depoa da bi ih uključio u svoje depografije. Dakako, za takav projekt su mu potrebni zatočenici. Upravo to je napravio Hadžifejzović u jednom od najbriljantnijih radova u svojoj karijeri: kada je učestvujući na Cetinjskom bijenalu 1994. godine na neočekivan način realizirao svoju koncepciju stvaranja instalacija na licu mjesta. Te godine je plamtio rat u Bosni i Hercegovini, a ovaj umjetnik je iz Belgije, gdje je živio kao izbjeglica, došao u Crnu Goru, kao gost svjetskog ugleda. Umjesto da traži materijal u nekom cetinjskom depou, zamolio je organizatore Bijenala da pozovu na izložbu sve članove njegove mnogobrojne rodbine koja je tamo, na „neprijateljskoj teritoriji“, već godinama živjela u strahu i iskušavala sve nedaće građana drugoga reda. Šta je drugo mogao učiniti Hadžifejzović na Cetinju osim da izloži svoje „deponovane srodnike“, kao što mu je to nalagao duh njegove umjetnosti?

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U Muzeju savremene umjetnosti u Banja Luci, u njegovom „željezničkom depou“, zastala je nakratko zahuktala transportna mašina (G. Deleuze bi, pretpostavljam, ovim povodom govorio o „depografskoj mašini“). Čitav kontinent je Hadžifejzović uzduž i poprijeko prešao, skupljajući i prenoseći velike terete (kolekcije i asortimane, pa i čitave familije), od jedne metropole do druge. Kao najveća do sada retrospektivna izložba ovog umjetnika, Evropa-depo je takođe jedna zadivljujuća depo-bio-grafija. Nezavršena i neizvjesna: možda već negdje nadopisana (dodatno natovarena) na nekoj novoj postaji, u nekom dal

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