Dulović didn’t suggest there was much art to look at in Belgrade. Perhaps he wasn’t interested; internet searches throw up a number of galleries, although in all honesty, I wasn’t overly inspired.
The numerous galleries in the city’s main commercial centre looked the sort of places whose sole purpose is to sell. What right thinking people call “shops”. The one shining light which might have provided a relaxing half-day’s meditative mooch was the Museum of Contemporary Art, although my lackadaisical preparation allowed me to overlook the fact it had been closed for repairs since 2007. Around it, the rampant commercialism of Novi (New) Belgrade felt crass - especially the UŠĆE Shopping Centre - though again, having not got off the bus on my way through, I can’t claim to have explored the area. Either way, on the plus side, all the crap western outlets concentrated here weren’t scattered downtown as they might otherwise have been.
So, Belgrade scored roughly ‘nil points’ for art. I did however, muse on Dragoslav Arambašić’s The Awakening, a sculpted nude curiously surrounded by a retinue of sculptured pigeons vomiting at her feet outside the Cvijeta Zuzoric Art Pavilion, which, unlike most places in and around the Fortress, opened on Mondays. I wasn’t, however, lured in, as works in the entrance weren’t particularly arresting, nor was there any information about the pieces or the artists. Nor was there anyone to welcome or sell tickets. I nipped out and got a coffee instead.
No comments:
Post a Comment