The Diary of Balkman
Fingerpaintings on Screen by Vladan Jeremić
Curated by Ivor A Stodolsky
After decades of the deafening horror of turbo-folk-charged regressive nationalist narratives, Balkman balked. Among the Unbribables, he balked at the bribability of Balkanic institutions.
The purgatory of art institutions in particular. Following ten years of dubious delays, corrupted to the core by enlightened embezzlement, the Serbian Museum of Contemporary Art opened. The President personally wanted a culture cult, and the institutions institututed… Baked bribability bubbled.
What was there to do but balk? Balkman simply let the Horrorkatze out of the bag.
Arrests followed, and following their release, a new flame of fear was fanned… intimidation, ostracization, isolation…to guarantee the temperature of the reaction. Greased by greenbacks and sanguine memories, all safe pairs of hands tipped and toed the bidding of the big, brooking no break in their bribability.
Lost on the Autobahn between Berlin and Istanbul, at the corner of Peter, Fatma, Isi and Basil’s, a dilapidated jailhouse rots. There is life in it still, though. Balkman balks.
Immigrating into his pan-digital diary, daily, he tears his fingers on the window of his smooth little screen…