Sandra Križić Roban on work of Mirjana Vodopija

What happens to the moment after it’s gone?

Does it still exist somewhere on an imaginary conveyor belt which unites all that was seen, experienced and lived through, transforming into a part of reality’s whole which is difficult to comprehend, on which thousands of words have been spoken and written, without a final (joint) conclusion? Or does it disappear, becoming a part of oblivion from which it shall rise again, albeit sometimes, thanks to some unforeseen forces?

"I’m interested in what’s happening with this moment, where does it remain in relation to our whole reality, and how it is possible to translate this reality, and this moment into a spatial installation”, said Mirjana Vodopija in an interview. I’ve tried to call to consciousness the expectation of something which I sensed looking at her latest work Breath, an inkjet print of a panorama nature scene, whose lower right angle she overexposed and turned into a white space, onto which she then projected a recording of this same (or similar) scene. This time she wasn’t recording the flow of time like in the Old Drava River, she didn’t try to go back to a certain place – this isolated space of experience, counting in advance on the fact of its uncertainty. She tried to use the media of photography and video to present a collision of microcosmos and macrocosmos, inspired by the Upanishads she had recently read; she tried to portray what happens when a human breath is compared to the wind, trying to answer the question of what happens to the movement when it is stopped by the moment of recording. Isn’t it written in these very ancient Hindu texts that there is no such a thing as movement?

Really, is there something simpler than the portrait of nature, an isolated part of the scenery which she caught behind her house in Zagorje, where an unusual bunch of plants grows together in some sort of harmonious, although seemingly chaotic community? What is so special and attractive in the scene where sorrel, nettle, wild figs, grass and lovely yellow flowers turn their leaves towards the light, and some remain unseen because they gave up their place in the composition to some other plants? The plants in question being the plants from the video which bear witness to the fact that movement does in fact exist, although they tried to briefly convince us that it’s an illusion.

The principle of Vodopija’s work with other smaller format photographs is very similar. They are all scenes captured right behind this specific house, some at dawn, when drops of dew descend on the leaves of grass, while some are additionally “reworked”, with aid of color and light effects which interested the artist. The change of view is interesting, and we notice a difference is relation to the former view from the height of normal human sight. Because the is camera placed by the ground (sometimes even on the ground itself), there is a change in understanding relationships in nature – the human measure is reduced to something insignificant, it is full of awe, a gaze directed towards the “colossal” leaves, which transfer the message on what we already know. Even though we often forget.
In the White Space, the largest part of the frame is dominated by a non-linear structure of wide flat leaves, lying down in some unusual position in the direction of the surrounding plants. In the background, an overexposed part where the scene disappears is the representation of “emptiness”, which is the place occupied by the reality which Mirjana is exploring in this cycle. This is a part of the scene where you notice the loss of everything, even those illusions the author would sometimes turn to. Of course we’ll recall Alice and her experiences which come from the change of traditional relationships, but apart from that, we’ll notice the body’s engagement during shooting, when the relationship between the gaze and the hand (the awareness and the finger on the trigger) is becoming additionally defined by the body’s (in)ability to participate in this, almost linear, quick capture of thought which ends up being recorded on film (in this case, the camera’s memory card).

“Time has turned into dust, and shattered into images”, wrote Carlos Fuentes. Gone is the voice and breath, and sight, and hearing and the body with all its parts. What remains? Actually, it’s not surprising that it was the Upanishads which influenced Vodopija. It’s really necessary to sit down close to this imaginary teacher  - some higher level of consciousness which we aspire to, and from which we can learn so much. Mirjana Vodopija has long since rejected ignorance (actually, I doubt she there was ever a time when she wasn’t informed about what surrounds her and so greatly defines her). With the help of certain unusual positions and methods of camera placement, in the moments of discreet encouragement of nature to show itself in its “true” light (with the help of, say, additional lighting), Vodopija has accepted the possibility of gaining additional insight into the world she inhabits. Where everything she can see is worth remembering, because the universal spirit consist of a vast amount of individual souls – human, animal, and even mineral. Learning from great forests, which the artist favors, has resulted in “verses” on physical reality and life, which at the same time comprises all places and all time.

Devoid of content, the scenes which she records act like a beacon  which always sends out the same message in almost identical rhythm. Regardless whether it is a result of chance, or a series of precisely archived visual information, its purpose is ultimately simple. You only need to – see it.