Nikola Radić Lucati


Like four Seasons In One Day

Tracing a path with one's works through times of war, presents a constant wear on the ability to speak in the first person, and the constraints of censorship of the attempt to speak for others. As the victims are just being uncovered, but are not yet named, in the decade-long moment between the atrocities and the forensics, in that timespan when history still only underscores the lines of the struggle, the one medium that can not associate an emotion is that elusive, usually never-taken image documenting the event itself. Even when it exists, it is bound by being the part of the political process, (either by being recorded by perpetrators, or by the allowed journalists), enabling the political affirmation and validation of the event by the image.

In that interregnum, the images that were not part of the political process need no names and bear no guilt themselves, may form the atrocity's emotional "representative", the evocative "equivalent" to the shadow cast by the appropriated images or censorship. In the attempt to speak of the unspeakable, the found images of the forensic examiner's first contact with the mass grave at Crni Vrh, in Bosnia, are interwoven between the images of the penetrating, irradiating roentgen, and the unprotected, broken trust of an animal. The fragility of the body does not allow the soul to survive either of the invasive imaging processes, political or forensic.

"...Blood dries up
Like rain, like rain
Fills my cup
Like four seasons in one day

It doesn't pay to make predictions
Sleeping on an unmade bed
Finding out wherever there is comfort
There is pain
Only one step away
Like four seasons in one day..."

Crowded House (Neil & Tim Finn)