Images from this and the previous set are from the Etno Begovo Selo, “an authentic Bosnian Village”, located some 40km (25mi.) from Sarajevo. It is newly built and still in construction, aiming to capture the old look and feel of Bosnia’s cultural past. Visitors can stay in the little cabins and indulge in freshly made local meals, daily. In fact, eating is “required” if you wish to visit the Village. I can vouch for their ustipci, they were heavenly.
What I loved about the interior of this space was how it contrasted the serene woods of the outside. It was a near perfect metaphor for the region.
The following few sets from the former Hotel Igman aren’t supposed to be sad, depressing, nor a socio-political commentary. I find ruins, wherever I am, fascinatingly beautiful and tend to spend hours photographing them. There’s something about the quiet and the abandoned textures of these shells of buildings that is uniquely charming. You can feel the stories that have passed through these walls, the history pulsating from the decay. The collision of both the building’s permanence and impermanence becomes a poetic reflection of our very own lives.
It’s not that every morning one would wake up and think, “Yea, today seems like a good day to climb up a Olympic ski-jumping hill.” I was always curious as to what it felt like to look down from here, and now I know: sweaty and amazing. I can only imagine what it was like back in '84.
There’s nothing that humbles me more than taking nature shots, mostly because the beauty is so overwhelmingly powerful and moving that often I end up just standing there looking for a good while, holding my camera, smiling and zenning out. Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, among other brilliant things, that “…in the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows…” Nature is truly the one place where everything starts making sense to me, and the autobahn of my life freeze-frames there, allowing me for at least a moment, to feel truly grateful.
"We’re always thinking of eternity as an idea that cannot be understood, something immense. But why must it be? What if, instead of all this, you suddenly find just a little room there, something like a village bath-house, grimy, and spiders in every corner, and that’s all eternity is. Sometimes, you know, I can’t help feeling that that’s what it is."
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Punch in the Throat
- Cab Driver: So, where are you from? I mean, your accent...
- Me: What? I'm from here! Born and raised!
- Cab Driver: I only ask because your accent...it doesn't sound Sarajevan.
- Me: [Left speechless with heart tearing off, crumbling and sinking like centuries-old rock that has bathed in the glory of the sun and the wind, tumbling towards the dark belly of the ocean, never to see light again.]
- I officially belong nowhere.
Don’t adjust your speakers. There’s no sound until the end.
Zato letin visoko iznad napaćenog tla
Daleko iznad poimanja dobra i zla
Visoko gore, ka suncu, u nebesa
(di se gužvaju poruke sms-sa)
Iz ovog vrimena izlazin van
I zaranjan u neki davni, zaboravljeni san
U neki bolji dan, pun smija i vica
Di su sritni ljudi i njihova dica
I gledaju u sutra ozarena lica
Puni nade, u tom svitu pravde
Jednakosti, bratstva i slobode
(u svit ljubavi me misli vode)
I još uvik virujen da će na ovoj planeti
Jednog dana svi ljudi moć živit sretni
Razum, ljubav i znanje izgradit će raj
I znaj, neće bit ironije za kraj
TBF (The Beat Fleet), Nostalgicna