Table Talk

February 14, 2018



The openings of Schinkel Pavilion are always nerve-racking. They're more like a party for twenty-year olds and if you're around forty, you just have to avoid going. My table companion told me that he went to the latest opening of Jordon Wolfson. Since he's a forty +, it was a miserable experience. Not only the art scene, but also the art itself got on his nerves. The problem is, so he told me, that people look at it only once and then it has this kind of effect galleries are going for nowadays. But if you watch it a few times, as he managed to do, then the effect is gone: "Das Effekt verbraucht sich."  

Julia Stoschek goes with what is trending in the art world. It's a fact that she will never discover anything. You show Nancy Holt at the museum, so I said to my neighbour while munching spring roles dipped in peanut sauce, and two months later Julia Stoschek has bought the videos and is also showing Nancy Holt. I know this from own experience. It's not a bad thing. It's just a bit of a pity when you have so much money that you only play it safe. I'm excited to see Arthur Jafa's show though, so I concluded my lamentation. It's just a bit off-putting that it's curated by Hans-Ulrich Obrist. 

I just came upon the 2017 McDonalds add that promotes its coffee at McCafé. I was in Kreuzberg at the hipster coffee place with friends and discussing why Berlin didn't manage to have a good coffee culture like Helsinki, Tirana, Pristina, etc. At least one has to admit that hipsters brought good coffee to Berlin. We had to laugh when looking at the McCafé add. Hipster coffee culture has gone so far that McDonalds can now promote its coffee as traditional. 




The openings of Schinkel Pavilion are always nerve-racking. They're more like a party for twenty-year olds and if you're around forty, you just have to avoid going. My table companion told me that he went to the latest opening of Jordon Wolfson. Since he's a forty +, it was a miserable experience. Not only the art scene, but also the art itself got on his nerves. The problem is, so he told me, that people look at it only once and the…


The openings of Schinkel Pavilion are always nerve-racking. They're more like a party for twenty-year olds and if you're around forty, you just have to avoid going. My table companion told me that he went to the latest opening of Jordon Wolfson. Since he's a forty +, it was a miserable experience. Not only the art scene, but also the art itself got on his nerves. The problem is, so he told me, that people look at it only once and then it has this kind of effect galleries are going for nowadays. But if you watch it a few times, as he managed to do, then the effect is gone: "Das Effekt verbraucht sich."  

Julia Stoschek goes with what is trending in the art world. It's a fact that she will never discover anything. You show Nancy Holt at the museum, so I said to my neighbour while munching spring roles dipped in peanut sauce, and two months later Julia Stoschek has bought the videos and is also showing Nancy Holt. I know this from own experience. It's not a bad thing. It's just a bit of a pity when you have so much money that you only play it safe. I'm excited to see Arthur Jafa's show though, so I concluded my lamentation. It's just a bit off-putting that it's curated by Hans-Ulrich Obrist. 

I just came upon the 2017 McDonalds add that promotes its coffee at McCafé. I was in Kreuzberg at the hipster coffee place with friends and discussing why Berlin didn't manage to have a good coffee culture like Helsinki, Tirana, Pristina, etc. At least one has to admit that hipsters brought good coffee to Berlin. We had to laugh when looking at the McCafé add. Hipster coffee culture has gone so far that McDonalds can now promote its coffee as traditional. 




Gallery Hopping

February 3, 2018



6pm: The exhibition of CTM - Festival for Adventurous Art and Music opens at Kunstraum Kreuzberg/Bethanien. Upon entering Bethanien I always get sidetracked by the smell of waffles. This time I resist the temptation. For once, the CTM exhibition is not cluttered, which is a change for the better. There is red carpet and black walls. I don't understand the art and have no access to it.  I don't get the aesthetics. But my friend i. does, and she says she will come back to see the show without me speeding through it. I consider going up to Momentum but i. tells me it's the worst art place in town. I believe her. 

7pm: Left Performance Histories at nGbK is a good exhibition. It's showing performances from Eastern Europe from the 1970s onwards. It's elegantly curated and managed to dig up great material. The emphasis is a lot on the 70s and 80s, less on the contemporary. It features also many women performers. The only minor point is that after a while everything starts to turn into the same: naked women, vagina, dressing up. My favourite is the work by Mladen Stilinovic, Dictionary of Pain, (Letter A), 2011, with pages from the Oxford Dictionary. I like its minimalism. Of course, I might be biased because I just changed the title of this blog to AAAAA. 

8pm: Esther Schipper shows Brazilian minimalist artists. Although I'm a minimalist this work is too minimalist for me. I've never thought so much about Esther Schipper as a blue chip gallery but the new white cube spaces are just screaming it.

8:30pm: At Kunstsaele there's a show curated by Philipp Bollmann from the collection of Wemhöner. It's titled Satisfy Me, and although the art in itself is not as such sexist, it's a sexist show, clearly based on the collection of some rich guy. All the women I meet are turning their eyes in disbelief. Were the curator and collector living in some separate universe for the last months?  

9pm: At Exile there's a hint of the interesting in Martin Kohaut's show but then the video breaks down. The textile shrines in the other space are strange - if it's a good kind of strange I don't know. Pinky gin tonic is served and empty boxes of pizza are on the table. I'm wondering if Exile is trending up. 

We finish the night with a rum at Lena Braun's Bar Babiche on Potsdamer Straße. I'm debating to go to the Transmediale exhibition during the weekend. My friend P. tells me he thinks I won't like it because "it's mostly cubicles filled with the same sort of video/installation/social practice accoutrement that we see all the time." He recommends me to go to one of the panel discussions like the "the weaponization of language" at 2:30pm on Saturday. 

6pm: The exhibition of CTM - Festival for Adventurous Art and Music opens at Kunstraum Kreuzberg/Bethanien. Upon entering Bethanien I always get sidetracked by the smell of waffles. This time I resist the temptation. For once, the CTM exhibition is not cluttered, which is a change for the better. There is red carpet and black walls. I don't understand the art and have no access to it.  I don't get the aesthetics. But my friend i. does, a…


6pm: The exhibition of CTM - Festival for Adventurous Art and Music opens at Kunstraum Kreuzberg/Bethanien. Upon entering Bethanien I always get sidetracked by the smell of waffles. This time I resist the temptation. For once, the CTM exhibition is not cluttered, which is a change for the better. There is red carpet and black walls. I don't understand the art and have no access to it.  I don't get the aesthetics. But my friend i. does, and she says she will come back to see the show without me speeding through it. I consider going up to Momentum but i. tells me it's the worst art place in town. I believe her. 

7pm: Left Performance Histories at nGbK is a good exhibition. It's showing performances from Eastern Europe from the 1970s onwards. It's elegantly curated and managed to dig up great material. The emphasis is a lot on the 70s and 80s, less on the contemporary. It features also many women performers. The only minor point is that after a while everything starts to turn into the same: naked women, vagina, dressing up. My favourite is the work by Mladen Stilinovic, Dictionary of Pain, (Letter A), 2011, with pages from the Oxford Dictionary. I like its minimalism. Of course, I might be biased because I just changed the title of this blog to AAAAA. 

8pm: Esther Schipper shows Brazilian minimalist artists. Although I'm a minimalist this work is too minimalist for me. I've never thought so much about Esther Schipper as a blue chip gallery but the new white cube spaces are just screaming it.

8:30pm: At Kunstsaele there's a show curated by Philipp Bollmann from the collection of Wemhöner. It's titled Satisfy Me, and although the art in itself is not as such sexist, it's a sexist show, clearly based on the collection of some rich guy. All the women I meet are turning their eyes in disbelief. Were the curator and collector living in some separate universe for the last months?  

9pm: At Exile there's a hint of the interesting in Martin Kohaut's show but then the video breaks down. The textile shrines in the other space are strange - if it's a good kind of strange I don't know. Pinky gin tonic is served and empty boxes of pizza are on the table. I'm wondering if Exile is trending up. 

We finish the night with a rum at Lena Braun's Bar Babiche on Potsdamer Straße. I'm debating to go to the Transmediale exhibition during the weekend. My friend P. tells me he thinks I won't like it because "it's mostly cubicles filled with the same sort of video/installation/social practice accoutrement that we see all the time." He recommends me to go to one of the panel discussions like the "the weaponization of language" at 2:30pm on Saturday. 

Some Topics of Conversation

January 30, 2018

New autograph card by Tabea Blumenschein

My friend P. writes me to say that an accident happened at the opening of König Gallery.  One of the giant, steel I-beam sculptures by Jose Dávila was knocked over while he was there. P. says it made the loudest noise. Then he heard someone say that "all art is dangerous" and someone else refer to the near fatal accident as "a performance." 

At Peres Projects I talk with Javier Peres. I like him. He can talk about the old masters in front of graffiti sprayed canvases depicting tulips without blinking an eye. 

"Do you want to go outside to smoke?" the gallerist asks me. "I don't smoke," I say. I'm a bit "dur de comprenure" so she has to wink and then I finally get it. Outside she sighs, "How come these two mediocre, boring men are directors of museums?" Later I talk to my friend W. about this. He says that first we have to have two boring men and two boring women in power. Then, after equality, we can start talking about quality. 

"I can't sing." the dancer tells me. She says that people are always surprised about this. She is supposed to know how to use her body to produce a good sound. 

I'm at the New Year party of the queer magazine Siegessäule. It's in the new Bar Babiche of Lena Braun at the Potsdamer Straße. There's loud music and a man is talking in my ear. He's the music critic of the magazine. "What is the last record you bought?" he asks me. I wonder if that is his pick-up line. It kind of puts me in a bad position because I've never bought a record in my life. "What is the last art work you bought?" I counter. 

My friend P. writes me to say that an accident happened at the opening of König Gallery.   One of the giant, steel I-beam sculptures by Jose Dávila was knocked over while he was there. P. says it made the loudest noise. Then he heard someone say that "all art is dangerous" and someone else refer to the near fatal accident as "a performance."  At Peres Projects I talk with Javier Peres. I like him. He can talk about the old mast…
New autograph card by Tabea Blumenschein

My friend P. writes me to say that an accident happened at the opening of König Gallery.  One of the giant, steel I-beam sculptures by Jose Dávila was knocked over while he was there. P. says it made the loudest noise. Then he heard someone say that "all art is dangerous" and someone else refer to the near fatal accident as "a performance." 

At Peres Projects I talk with Javier Peres. I like him. He can talk about the old masters in front of graffiti sprayed canvases depicting tulips without blinking an eye. 

"Do you want to go outside to smoke?" the gallerist asks me. "I don't smoke," I say. I'm a bit "dur de comprenure" so she has to wink and then I finally get it. Outside she sighs, "How come these two mediocre, boring men are directors of museums?" Later I talk to my friend W. about this. He says that first we have to have two boring men and two boring women in power. Then, after equality, we can start talking about quality. 

"I can't sing." the dancer tells me. She says that people are always surprised about this. She is supposed to know how to use her body to produce a good sound. 

I'm at the New Year party of the queer magazine Siegessäule. It's in the new Bar Babiche of Lena Braun at the Potsdamer Straße. There's loud music and a man is talking in my ear. He's the music critic of the magazine. "What is the last record you bought?" he asks me. I wonder if that is his pick-up line. It kind of puts me in a bad position because I've never bought a record in my life. "What is the last art work you bought?" I counter. 

Visiting Pristina: Coffee Culture and More

January 15, 2018

Main avenue with a picture of the president Ibrahim Rugova, strolling amicably along

Pristina has a big coffee culture so the first thing I’m offered upon arrival at the National Gallery of Kosovo is coffee. “You have to stay on a caffeinated level here,” Arta Bunjaku Agani, director of the National Gallery, tells me. Later, while driving me around in the car, she also points out there’s a thing like the “Science of Burek” in Kosovo. 


Drinking coffee with Arta Bunjaku Agani

It's cold in Pristina and the air smells of the coals that are used for heating. In spite of the cold, the main avenue is always crowded in the evenings, even on weekdays. The Christmas lighting looks fantastic. I’ve never seen a road being lit like that before and as a Belgian I know a thing or two about lighting.  





Visiting the neighboring Albania a few months before, I heard good things about Pristina’s art life. Unlike Tirana, they told me, things are happening in Pristina. But in Pristina, when I ask people about the art scene, they rather sigh: “I don’t know what to say.” 




After a few days in Pristina, I decide that the neighbors are right: Pristina has something going on. It’s a Wednesday evening and I’m at the Klubi I Boksit, a former boxing club turned into an art space.  It’s run by a a few organizations and one of them has an exhibition opening that night called Memories on the Wheel. It’s a documentary display about the cultural heritage and collective memory of Roma, Ashkali and Egyptian communities in Kosovo. Klubi I Boksit is not in the best architectural state, so the art works are displayed on mobile walls. The place is packed. There’s live music, people are dancing and singing along, and delicious appetizers are being served. When I half close my eyes, I imagine being back in 1990s Berlin when events used to have this particular vibe. Except then for the good food; that never happened in Berlin.


Astrit Ismaili

At the opening party, a man with shiny earrings catches my attention. His name is Astrit Ismaili, who lives, he tells me, between Amsterdam and Pristina. A rarity in Kosovo, it seems, because most artists have a hard time getting a visa for traveling abroad. “Where can I find your art?” I ask him. “On Instagram,” he says - very much 21st century. So I post his picture on my Instagram and start to “follow” @astritismaili


Three of four: Haveit

I also take a picture of the three artists of the collective Haveit. The fourth one arrives later. Earlier that afternoon I visited their show at Motrat, a design office that leaves its ground floor to artists. Naim Spahiu, an artist who also works at the National Gallery, took me there. The show consists of four shopping carts filled with broken glass. They’re the leftovers of a performance. The exhibition is called Baby Blues, which can mean several things in the country of the Newborn. The accompanying press text starts with: “At first wash your hair but don’t let your head’s filth fall on your body because eyes and legs don’t become one.” I’m positively intrigued. 


Baby Blues

Naim gives Lulzim Zeqiri, the author of the text and the curator of the show, a call, asking him to come around. The day before, at the Rosemarie Trockel opening, the German ambassador Christian Heldt mentioned to me that Pristina is a small city: one can be asked to hop by at any moment. Naim gets tea and biscuits and takes me to his studio to meet Lulzim. He also shows me around to his collection of paintings, which are not only his own but also those of other artists working in his studio. Naim likes to share. He tells me about his former residency program, for which he managed to make a deal with the fancy hotel around the corner. He’s thinking of starting it up again, maybe in the summer. Naim gives me a present when I leave: it’s a cup picturing two ragged tooth brushes painted by artist J. Muja. It says “Two Ugly Sisters.” 

After the opening of the Rosemarie Trockel exhibition at the National Gallery, we go for a restaurant with Kosovo specialities on the menu. Next to us sits Vladislav Stevanovic of the German embassy. He speaks fluently German. “We’re the ‘Fernsehkinder’ (television children),” Vladislav explains about how he learnt the language. He also introduces us to the “caviar of Kosovo," which consists of a pasta of red peppers. It tastes at its best, Vladislav says, when made by mother. So my Berlin colleague tries to make a deal, exchanging the mother’s caviar with something German like pickles. In the end, it’s the Schwarzwalder Schinken that closes the deal.

Half of the participants in my feminist art workshop at the Kosova National Art Gallery are male. In Germany, no man would think of visiting a feminist workshop. Graphic designers Jeton Krasniqi and Berat Bajrami tell me that they’re interested because “they haven’t looked yet at things from that perspective.” 



Feminist workshop

The National Gallery is located in a historical building that has small windows. I’m told that in former times of vendettas those small windows were ideal to peek out without being seen. In front of the National Gallery is another historical building that definitely steals the thunder. The National Library is an amazing example of brutalist architecture, built in 1982. Imagine a huge concrete slab combined with 99 domes resembling the white hats of the national outfit, and all this covered by a metal fishing net. There’s a running joke about the building. A politician was asked at the inauguration if he liked the building. He said he’d like it if they would take down the scaffolding.  


National Library in Pristina

I discover that Arta is an unusual museum director: she doesn’t do in art speak and she does’t beat around the bush. I love her directness. She already worked for the National Gallery in the 2000s but because of contract problems she left, promising only to come back in the position of a director. And so she did. Right on!


Arta and I sharing the floor at the opening of Rosemarie Trockel show

At the National Gallery I also meet the artist Vlora Hajrullahu, who is an art educator. Vlora runs also an art craft shop and paints on things that can be used, like boxes and bags. Some of them have a fish painted on them. She tells me it’s inspired by the tattoos that women used to have on their wrists when their husbands were at sea. It promised a safe homecoming for the sailors.

The National Library is not the only contemporary art institute in Pristina. There’s also Stacion - Center for Contemporary Art Prishtina, which was started in 2006 by the artist and designer Albert Heta and the architect Vala Osmani. Stacion is located at the entrance of the Emin Gjiku Complex, dating from the 18th century, which houses also the ethnological museum. Albert and Vala show me the flyer of their 2017 summer school that included presentations of international artists and theoreticians such as Mark Wigley and Beatriz Colomina. Albert and Vala give me a book: The way between Prishtina and Belgrade has 28000 un-proper build objects. So, never it will be an autobahn! It’s the literal translation into English from a quote by Borka Pavićeć, a Belgrad cultural activist. I like the mindfuck title, and upon opening the book I also like what I read: “Transcripts go first. By doing so we want to stress the importance in investing in transcripts of events as we think that they are crucial in capturing time and thoughts and document what cannot be altered in a text written post-festum on the event. In this way we intend to create a new factual history in a scene that has no history.”




I’ve come upon the “autobahn” before. It's relatively easy nowadays to go from Pristina and Tirana on the new highway A1. But also Leutrim Leo Fi's new biennale in Prizren is called Autostrade Biennale. It’s the first biennale to take place in Kosovo and, as far as I know, the only one happening at the moment in the Balkan region (Tirana used to have a biennale a few years ago). The happy initiator tells me that the Autostrade Biennale, which took place in a castle, a bus station, and some private apartments, was a success that will be repeated in 2019. 


Leutrim Leo Fi, proud owner of a NSK passport - Neue Slowenische Kunst
It seems only logical to end my stay in Pristina with coffee. I do so in the bookstore café Dit e nat. Some zines are pictured on the wall. One of them reads: “I’m excited of a thought.”



Pristina has a big coffee culture so the first thing I’m offered upon arrival at the  National Gallery of Kosovo is coffee. “You have to stay on a caffeinated level here,” Arta Bunjaku Agani, director of the National Gallery, tells me. Later, while driving me around in the car, she also points out there’s a thing like the “Science of Burek” in Kosovo.  It's cold in Pristina and the air smells of the coals that are used for heating. In spite of…
Main avenue with a picture of the president Ibrahim Rugova, strolling amicably along

Pristina has a big coffee culture so the first thing I’m offered upon arrival at the National Gallery of Kosovo is coffee. “You have to stay on a caffeinated level here,” Arta Bunjaku Agani, director of the National Gallery, tells me. Later, while driving me around in the car, she also points out there’s a thing like the “Science of Burek” in Kosovo. 


Drinking coffee with Arta Bunjaku Agani

It's cold in Pristina and the air smells of the coals that are used for heating. In spite of the cold, the main avenue is always crowded in the evenings, even on weekdays. The Christmas lighting looks fantastic. I’ve never seen a road being lit like that before and as a Belgian I know a thing or two about lighting.  





Visiting the neighboring Albania a few months before, I heard good things about Pristina’s art life. Unlike Tirana, they told me, things are happening in Pristina. But in Pristina, when I ask people about the art scene, they rather sigh: “I don’t know what to say.” 




After a few days in Pristina, I decide that the neighbors are right: Pristina has something going on. It’s a Wednesday evening and I’m at the Klubi I Boksit, a former boxing club turned into an art space.  It’s run by a a few organizations and one of them has an exhibition opening that night called Memories on the Wheel. It’s a documentary display about the cultural heritage and collective memory of Roma, Ashkali and Egyptian communities in Kosovo. Klubi I Boksit is not in the best architectural state, so the art works are displayed on mobile walls. The place is packed. There’s live music, people are dancing and singing along, and delicious appetizers are being served. When I half close my eyes, I imagine being back in 1990s Berlin when events used to have this particular vibe. Except then for the good food; that never happened in Berlin.


Astrit Ismaili

At the opening party, a man with shiny earrings catches my attention. His name is Astrit Ismaili, who lives, he tells me, between Amsterdam and Pristina. A rarity in Kosovo, it seems, because most artists have a hard time getting a visa for traveling abroad. “Where can I find your art?” I ask him. “On Instagram,” he says - very much 21st century. So I post his picture on my Instagram and start to “follow” @astritismaili


Three of four: Haveit

I also take a picture of the three artists of the collective Haveit. The fourth one arrives later. Earlier that afternoon I visited their show at Motrat, a design office that leaves its ground floor to artists. Naim Spahiu, an artist who also works at the National Gallery, took me there. The show consists of four shopping carts filled with broken glass. They’re the leftovers of a performance. The exhibition is called Baby Blues, which can mean several things in the country of the Newborn. The accompanying press text starts with: “At first wash your hair but don’t let your head’s filth fall on your body because eyes and legs don’t become one.” I’m positively intrigued. 


Baby Blues

Naim gives Lulzim Zeqiri, the author of the text and the curator of the show, a call, asking him to come around. The day before, at the Rosemarie Trockel opening, the German ambassador Christian Heldt mentioned to me that Pristina is a small city: one can be asked to hop by at any moment. Naim gets tea and biscuits and takes me to his studio to meet Lulzim. He also shows me around to his collection of paintings, which are not only his own but also those of other artists working in his studio. Naim likes to share. He tells me about his former residency program, for which he managed to make a deal with the fancy hotel around the corner. He’s thinking of starting it up again, maybe in the summer. Naim gives me a present when I leave: it’s a cup picturing two ragged tooth brushes painted by artist J. Muja. It says “Two Ugly Sisters.” 

After the opening of the Rosemarie Trockel exhibition at the National Gallery, we go for a restaurant with Kosovo specialities on the menu. Next to us sits Vladislav Stevanovic of the German embassy. He speaks fluently German. “We’re the ‘Fernsehkinder’ (television children),” Vladislav explains about how he learnt the language. He also introduces us to the “caviar of Kosovo," which consists of a pasta of red peppers. It tastes at its best, Vladislav says, when made by mother. So my Berlin colleague tries to make a deal, exchanging the mother’s caviar with something German like pickles. In the end, it’s the Schwarzwalder Schinken that closes the deal.

Half of the participants in my feminist art workshop at the Kosova National Art Gallery are male. In Germany, no man would think of visiting a feminist workshop. Graphic designers Jeton Krasniqi and Berat Bajrami tell me that they’re interested because “they haven’t looked yet at things from that perspective.” 



Feminist workshop

The National Gallery is located in a historical building that has small windows. I’m told that in former times of vendettas those small windows were ideal to peek out without being seen. In front of the National Gallery is another historical building that definitely steals the thunder. The National Library is an amazing example of brutalist architecture, built in 1982. Imagine a huge concrete slab combined with 99 domes resembling the white hats of the national outfit, and all this covered by a metal fishing net. There’s a running joke about the building. A politician was asked at the inauguration if he liked the building. He said he’d like it if they would take down the scaffolding.  


National Library in Pristina

I discover that Arta is an unusual museum director: she doesn’t do in art speak and she does’t beat around the bush. I love her directness. She already worked for the National Gallery in the 2000s but because of contract problems she left, promising only to come back in the position of a director. And so she did. Right on!


Arta and I sharing the floor at the opening of Rosemarie Trockel show

At the National Gallery I also meet the artist Vlora Hajrullahu, who is an art educator. Vlora runs also an art craft shop and paints on things that can be used, like boxes and bags. Some of them have a fish painted on them. She tells me it’s inspired by the tattoos that women used to have on their wrists when their husbands were at sea. It promised a safe homecoming for the sailors.

The National Library is not the only contemporary art institute in Pristina. There’s also Stacion - Center for Contemporary Art Prishtina, which was started in 2006 by the artist and designer Albert Heta and the architect Vala Osmani. Stacion is located at the entrance of the Emin Gjiku Complex, dating from the 18th century, which houses also the ethnological museum. Albert and Vala show me the flyer of their 2017 summer school that included presentations of international artists and theoreticians such as Mark Wigley and Beatriz Colomina. Albert and Vala give me a book: The way between Prishtina and Belgrade has 28000 un-proper build objects. So, never it will be an autobahn! It’s the literal translation into English from a quote by Borka Pavićeć, a Belgrad cultural activist. I like the mindfuck title, and upon opening the book I also like what I read: “Transcripts go first. By doing so we want to stress the importance in investing in transcripts of events as we think that they are crucial in capturing time and thoughts and document what cannot be altered in a text written post-festum on the event. In this way we intend to create a new factual history in a scene that has no history.”




I’ve come upon the “autobahn” before. It's relatively easy nowadays to go from Pristina and Tirana on the new highway A1. But also Leutrim Leo Fi's new biennale in Prizren is called Autostrade Biennale. It’s the first biennale to take place in Kosovo and, as far as I know, the only one happening at the moment in the Balkan region (Tirana used to have a biennale a few years ago). The happy initiator tells me that the Autostrade Biennale, which took place in a castle, a bus station, and some private apartments, was a success that will be repeated in 2019. 


Leutrim Leo Fi, proud owner of a NSK passport - Neue Slowenische Kunst
It seems only logical to end my stay in Pristina with coffee. I do so in the bookstore café Dit e nat. Some zines are pictured on the wall. One of them reads: “I’m excited of a thought.”