RIP
Dejan Dukic
OCT 14 — DEZ 20, 2021
…it is about the body acoustics
Now I really have to show you something…
the failure in the machine — the broken transistors
[The mysterious heart of the Roland TR-8081]
…It is about magic!
[The Rip by Portishead]
You have to leave me a song!
Everyone that comes and visits has to leave me one
Let’s try this one…
[Sea Within A Sea by The Horrors2]
Studio visits have these strange polyvalence between formalities, pleasantries, and curiosity. All the characters involved transit among these states—or even more—depending on the direction the conversation takes. It is all about this unspoken exchange of signs shown in the postures, the tone, and the affinities that can turn that visit into a memorable and joyous encounter, or into a rigid visit. However, one does not always find such a coherent atmosphere as in the case of Dejan Dukic. Le fabuleux destin monde de Dejan Dukic as Cornelis rightly pointed out.
When I entered into Dejan’s studio, all the pieces I had previously either heard or read about him, fit together into perfect sense. The colors and the tactility of his paintings are present both in his clothes, his hair color, his beard; in the multiple experimentations he regularly makes on his appearance, as well as the variety of textures and materials that invade the space:
His plush jackets / Reversible sequin fabrics / A fluffy, grey, carpeted floor that extends to the stairs / The visible pink spray insulation foam from the loft wall coming out as cake frosting.
Our conversation started walking across the space with a coconut sugar-coated cappuccino. It is important to mention Dejan’s care in every detail. Despite an apparent chaos, every object and its arrangement has a value and a logic in that universe: for example, the coconut sugar crust that crowns the surface of the coffee to detonate an experience beyond the sole taste by combining the crunch of the sugar grain with the mixture of the smell of coffee and coconut.
A deep rumble roared through the room. “The Thunder” said Dejan referring to the tremor of the U6 train of the Viennese subway passing over the studio at intervals of 2' and 5'.
We then continued to the next room, where the atelier and storage of his paintings are. A display of oil-produced lichens, fiddleheads, embroiled yarn, mold or filaments, even a ripped (torn) muscle were on view. Each and every canvas, regardless of its size, possess a microcosm of it own. Dejan explained how he chooses the pores of the canvas, which works more like an epidermis. His process of painting entails a barehanded massaging of the pigments from the back of the porous surface, blindly yielding the control to chance. He spoke of the liberating feeling of stripping painting of distancing tools like the brushes, being able instead to use the stroke of the fingers. Dukic places a paper underneath the canvas, which registers the movements of the painting process, functioning, thus, as a relict and as a drawing. There is a sort of magic happening whilst this intimate moment of “kneading” the materials onto the canvas grid.
There is a visible sensuality and erotism of the tactile in the massage. It is the awareness of the sensitive parts, of the permeable surface, of its textures; the re/cognition of the body and the matter.
Touching is an effective electromagnetic repulsion
When thinking about the production process that Dejan carries out in his paintings, I couldn't help but remember the 2018 conference that Karen Barad gave at the Stedelijk Museum, where, among other topics, she explained how the act of touching, according to physics, involves everything but touch. Such a basic act in our life is nothing more than the electromagnetic repulsion between the electrons of our fingers and those of the other, regardless of the materiality of that other. So touch is nothing more than an electromagnetic illusion. All we really feel is the electromagnetic force, not the other whose touch we are looking for (Barad, 2018).
It is important to mention that in the core of Dejan’s universe, sound plays a very important role. But although sound stimulates and interacts with various senses, the basis of this interaction lies in the tactile. Let us remember that the aural phenomenon is nothing more than a vibratory one and its sonic perception is, once again, illusory, since it depends on its source, on its receiver, on its diffusion in the distance, and on the accidents in-between. So more than aural, it is tactile. Hence, Dejan Dukic’s works become the complex result of an electromagnetic choreography performed by haptic cues. Like playing a Theremin on canvas.