The artist is the creator of good. Art aims to reveal art and conceal the artist. A critic is one the impression that it has acquired the fine work can not express in new ways and new material.
The highest and lowest form of criticism is a kind of autobiography.
Who works in a lovely sense-is bad is bad? Chosen are those which are beautiful works fine expression.
So I do, I think, and I feel collage. This is the strongest expression of my morals and emotions.
My collage is my admiration for the existence of the globe, and people on it. My collage is a concern for the globe and its history.
My collages are my last name, which is a personal thing. State of mind, that is not inherited, does not carry the unconscious as someone else's medals. My name is my collages awe and fear of Dora Mar, Tamara Lempicka, Gary Raubal, Milena Pavlovic, Lisa Križanić, Nikola Tesla, for Michelangelo, Tintoretto, Velazquez, Botičelija, Kuzoa, Zamorovskog, Elder Zosimus, Haldiram, Arargorna, my fear of vetrovai storm Allende, Lenin, Broz Tito, Milosevic, ...
My collages are a legacy of crumb, beat between the time devoted to Apatin, my collages are the devil's crayon marks printed heavenly and earthly Mihail Sebastian, Gabriel-Gabriel, Rafael, Rekelu, Sarakelu, Zotielu, Faniello.
They are my expression of music, Garbarek and my silk scarf freedom, happiness and sadness you feel when they do. I do my collages as belonging to something eternal admiration as something unpredictable.
As the crystal space that you are given a set of tired, old pieces, a huge mess beneath which is the purest diamond-drops of rain, desert small bright stars, which are not seen, you come and you go out more, deeper and deeper into it uranjaš .
My collages are the gateway to Geronimo, the passage to decipherment unlined breath issues that would be done by the Maori people sail uu moribund.
My collages allows me to Mahne and see more, and then we do no good. Izgužvam more, a little dry, mingle, roast in the sun and get Ninjiu, Pinto and Santa Maria, and we run out of breath from the knowledge that this man came from my ribs, and I am one of the key bones of Picasa, or maybe Teneuesa little finger Ravatija ...
Someone to start, someone's not tired, and someone to say, someone that smiles, someone to build, to save someone, someone to be born, one's not dead, and mine is to make it all together, creating magic , the challenge of cataclysm, that I hear when zazuji evil, the worship Brankovic, Petrovic, Karadjordjevic, Obrenovic, Lazarus, Mary, Isidora promise that I will definitely talk to Jovan Ducic, a Lorki sure preplivavanje Bay kotorskeda order to see my darling. Geli Raubal convince that he did not kill in vain, and William Wallace is the only breath of freedom that is breathable, and the only possibility, that is the Banat as nice as just sagneš and uzbereš star, and Durmitor where only propneš and uzbereš star.
Enter into and admire the earth looking at them from below, carrying them on their hands, listening to Mahler, Bruckner, Di Banga, Sebastian umotavajući silk scarf, knowing that I am free to admire them, their glory, and have a modest gift to them to their collages show, although no longer with whom or against whom, I have the globe and the neo!
Natasa Marinkovic
January 25th 2004
PRICA O KOLAZU
Umetnik je tvorac lepog. Umetnost je cilj, da otkrije umetnost , a da sakrije umetnika. A kritičar jeste onaj koji utisak što ga je stekao od lepih dela može da izrazi na nov način i novim gradivom.
Najviši i najniži oblik kritike jeste jedna vrsta autobiografije.
Ko u lepim delima nalazi loš smisao-pokvaren je! Izabranici su oni kojima su lepa dela izraz lepog.
Tako radim, mislim, i osećam kolaž. To je najjači izraz mog morala i emocija.
Moj kolaž je moje divljenje postojanju zemljine kugle, i ljudi na njoj. Moj kolaž je bojazan za zemljinu kuglu i njenu istoriju.
Moji kolaži su moje prezime, koje je lična stvar. Stanje duha, ono se ne nasleđuje, ne nosi se nesvesno kao tuđa medalja. Moje prezime su moji kolaži divljenja i straha za Doru Mar, Tamaru Lempicku, Geri Raubal, Milenu Pavlović, Lizu Križanić, Nikolu Teslu, za Mikelanđela, Tintoreta, Velaskeza, Botičelija, Kuzoa, Zamorovskog, Starca Zosimu, Haldira, Arargorna, moj strah od vetrovai oluja Aljendea, Lenjina, Broza, Miloševiča, ...
Moji kolaži su zaveštanje Mrvici, otkucajima između vremena posvećeno Apatinu, moji kolaži su đavoljom kredom ispisani bodovi nebeskom Sebastijanu i zemaljskom Mihailu, Gavrilu-Gabrielu, Rafaelu, Rekelu, Sarakelu, Zotielu, Fanielu.
Oni su moj izraz muzici Garbareka i moj šal od svile slobode, sreće i tuge koju osećam kad ih radim. Radim svoje kolaže kao pripadnost nečem neprolaznom kao divljenje nečem nesagledivom.
Kao kristalni prostor koji ti se pruža sa nizom umornih, starih delića, kao ogromni nered ispod koga se nalazi najčistiji dijamant- kapljica kiše, pustinja sitnih sjajnih zvezda, koje se ne vide, i ti ulaziš i što više izlaziš, sve dublje uranjaš u njega.
Moji kolaži su prolaz do Džeronima, prolaz do odgonetanja nepostavljena pitanja dah koji bi da udahnem u u jedra naroda Maora na umoru.
Moji kolaži mi omogučavaju da mahnem i vidim more, a onda mi to nije dobro. Izgužvam more, malo osušim, izmesim, ispečem na suncu i dobijem Ninjiu, Pintu i Santa Mariju, i ponestane mi daha od saznanja da je to čovek nastao od mog rebra , a ja od ključne kosti jednog Picasa, ili Teneuesa a možda malog prsta Ravatija, ...
Nečije je da započne, nečije da se ne umori, i nečije da kaže, nečije da se osmehne, nečije da sagradi, nečije da sačuva, nečije da se rodi, nečije da ne umre, a moje je da to sve zajedno sklopim, stvorim čaroliju, izazovem kataklizmu, da čujem kad zazuji zlo, poklonim se Brankovićima, Petrovićima, Karađorđevićima, Obrenovićima, Lazaru, Mariji, obećam Isidori da ću sigurno razgovarati sa Jovanom Dučićem, a Lorki osiguram preplivavanje Boke kotorskeda bi video svoju dragu. Geli Raubal ubedim da se nije zalud ubila, a Vilijemu Volasu da je sloboda jedini dah koji se diše, i jedina mogućnost, da je i Banat jednako lep jer samo se sagneš i uzbereš zvezdu, kao i Durmitor gde se samo propneš i uzbereš zvezdu.
Sklapam i divim se Zemljanima gledajući ih odozdo, noseći ih na rukama, slušajući Malera, Bruknera, Di Banga, Sebastijana umotavajući šal od svile, znajući da sam slobodna da se divim njima, njihovom sjaju, i da imam skroman dar da im to svojim kolažima pokažem, iako nemam više s kim ili protiv koga, imam zemljinu kuglu i neo!
Nataša Marinković
Januar 25. 2004
