HOME, THE REAL THING OF AN IMAGE
Presented here are images of the apartment building nicknamed Šibica (Matchbox) which dominates the view from the home of my previous self. The photographs were taken during my numerous visits to Sarajevo, the city that had been my home for some thirty years, before my wife, our son and I left in 1998.
We resettled in Montreal, which quickly became our new home. It took five years before I went back to Sarajevo, and another three before I visited again. Since 2008, I have returned at least once every year. With each visit, bewilderment overwhelms me, for what I foresee there, in Sarajevo and Bosnia, is what I remember.
We learn at a young age that photographs are images of real things. But real things of images continue to live on, for some time, at least. In Montreal, I live with images of Sarajevo at all times: some are just a tap away on my phone, some stare back at me from prints I have scattered around our home and in my studio, and some are neatly arranged in family photo albums. Some pretend to be memories, and some have nested themselves deep in my subliminal self only to awaken and take hold at unexpected moments.
So when I disembark from a plane that has carried me across the ocean, and find myself in Sarajevo, I feel as if I’ve just inserted myself into the real thing of those images that haunt me when in Montreal. And with each visit that feeling gets more agreeable and thoughts of living, once again, in the real thing become increasingly seductive.