Lidija Nikčević: Stanica

Great Britain

Exhibition in Podgorica

On this canvas the colours slowly start to assume

the contours of the unreal. Some time ago,

before entering this space,

amidst the autumn landscape,

it seemed to me that I could see

irregularly written letters.

That is the retreat of hues,

inside the semicircle the yellow leaves are curling themselves into.

 

With my hand I covered

the remains of the light.

(When for a long time you write about the darkness

you become slightly intimate with the elemental powers.)

The noise gradually disappears,

even the frames of the exhibited paintings

deviate from their purpose.

 

No one can consciously reach

the atmosphere of the closed senses.

And, for months, I have been

detached from the noisy flows,

trying to accomplish

the desire for impassiveness.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

FRANCE

Exhibition in Podgorica

On this canvas the colours slowly start to assume

the contours of the unreal. Some time ago,

before entering this space,

amidst the autumn landscape,

it seemed to me that I could see

irregularly written letters.

That is the retreat of hues,

inside the semicircle the yellow leaves are curling themselves into.

 

With my hand I covered

the remains of the light.

(When for a long time you write about the darkness

you become slightly intimate with the elemental powers.)

The noise gradually disappears,

even the frames of the exhibited paintings

deviate from their purpose.

 

No one can consciously reach

the atmosphere of the closed senses.

And, for months, I have been

detached from the noisy flows,

trying to accomplish

the desire for impassiveness.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Germany

Exhibition in Podgorica

On this canvas the colours slowly start to assume

the contours of the unreal. Some time ago,

before entering this space,

amidst the autumn landscape,

it seemed to me that I could see

irregularly written letters.

That is the retreat of hues,

inside the semicircle the yellow leaves are curling themselves into.

 

With my hand I covered

the remains of the light.

(When for a long time you write about the darkness

you become slightly intimate with the elemental powers.)

The noise gradually disappears,

even the frames of the exhibited paintings

deviate from their purpose.

 

No one can consciously reach

the atmosphere of the closed senses.

And, for months, I have been

detached from the noisy flows,

trying to accomplish

the desire for impassiveness.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Italia

Exhibition in Podgorica

On this canvas the colours slowly start to assume

the contours of the unreal. Some time ago,

before entering this space,

amidst the autumn landscape,

it seemed to me that I could see

irregularly written letters.

That is the retreat of hues,

inside the semicircle the yellow leaves are curling themselves into.

 

With my hand I covered

the remains of the light.

(When for a long time you write about the darkness

you become slightly intimate with the elemental powers.)

The noise gradually disappears,

even the frames of the exhibited paintings

deviate from their purpose.

 

No one can consciously reach

the atmosphere of the closed senses.

And, for months, I have been

detached from the noisy flows,

trying to accomplish

the desire for impassiveness.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Albania

Exhibition in Podgorica

On this canvas the colours slowly start to assume

the contours of the unreal. Some time ago,

before entering this space,

amidst the autumn landscape,

it seemed to me that I could see

irregularly written letters.

That is the retreat of hues,

inside the semicircle the yellow leaves are curling themselves into.

 

With my hand I covered

the remains of the light.

(When for a long time you write about the darkness

you become slightly intimate with the elemental powers.)

The noise gradually disappears,

even the frames of the exhibited paintings

deviate from their purpose.

 

No one can consciously reach

the atmosphere of the closed senses.

And, for months, I have been

detached from the noisy flows,

trying to accomplish

the desire for impassiveness.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Poland

Exhibition in Podgorica

On this canvas the colours slowly start to assume

the contours of the unreal. Some time ago,

before entering this space,

amidst the autumn landscape,

it seemed to me that I could see

irregularly written letters.

That is the retreat of hues,

inside the semicircle the yellow leaves are curling themselves into.

 

With my hand I covered

the remains of the light.

(When for a long time you write about the darkness

you become slightly intimate with the elemental powers.)

The noise gradually disappears,

even the frames of the exhibited paintings

deviate from their purpose.

 

No one can consciously reach

the atmosphere of the closed senses.

And, for months, I have been

detached from the noisy flows,

trying to accomplish

the desire for impassiveness.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Russia

Exhibition in Podgorica

On this canvas the colours slowly start to assume

the contours of the unreal. Some time ago,

before entering this space,

amidst the autumn landscape,

it seemed to me that I could see

irregularly written letters.

That is the retreat of hues,

inside the semicircle the yellow leaves are curling themselves into.

 

With my hand I covered

the remains of the light.

(When for a long time you write about the darkness

you become slightly intimate with the elemental powers.)

The noise gradually disappears,

even the frames of the exhibited paintings

deviate from their purpose.

 

No one can consciously reach

the atmosphere of the closed senses.

And, for months, I have been

detached from the noisy flows,

trying to accomplish

the desire for impassiveness.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Slovakia

Exhibition in Podgorica

On this canvas the colours slowly start to assume

the contours of the unreal. Some time ago,

before entering this space,

amidst the autumn landscape,

it seemed to me that I could see

irregularly written letters.

That is the retreat of hues,

inside the semicircle the yellow leaves are curling themselves into.

 

With my hand I covered

the remains of the light.

(When for a long time you write about the darkness

you become slightly intimate with the elemental powers.)

The noise gradually disappears,

even the frames of the exhibited paintings

deviate from their purpose.

 

No one can consciously reach

the atmosphere of the closed senses.

And, for months, I have been

detached from the noisy flows,

trying to accomplish

the desire for impassiveness.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Sweden

Exhibition in Podgorica

On this canvas the colours slowly start to assume

the contours of the unreal. Some time ago,

before entering this space,

amidst the autumn landscape,

it seemed to me that I could see

irregularly written letters.

That is the retreat of hues,

inside the semicircle the yellow leaves are curling themselves into.

 

With my hand I covered

the remains of the light.

(When for a long time you write about the darkness

you become slightly intimate with the elemental powers.)

The noise gradually disappears,

even the frames of the exhibited paintings

deviate from their purpose.

 

No one can consciously reach

the atmosphere of the closed senses.

And, for months, I have been

detached from the noisy flows,

trying to accomplish

the desire for impassiveness.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

Slovenija

Exhibition in Podgorica

On this canvas the colours slowly start to assume

the contours of the unreal. Some time ago,

before entering this space,

amidst the autumn landscape,

it seemed to me that I could see

irregularly written letters.

That is the retreat of hues,

inside the semicircle the yellow leaves are curling themselves into.

 

With my hand I covered

the remains of the light.

(When for a long time you write about the darkness

you become slightly intimate with the elemental powers.)

The noise gradually disappears,

even the frames of the exhibited paintings

deviate from their purpose.

 

No one can consciously reach

the atmosphere of the closed senses.

And, for months, I have been

detached from the noisy flows,

trying to accomplish

the desire for impassiveness.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević

North Macedonia

Exhibition in Podgorica

On this canvas the colours slowly start to assume

the contours of the unreal. Some time ago,

before entering this space,

amidst the autumn landscape,

it seemed to me that I could see

irregularly written letters.

That is the retreat of hues,

inside the semicircle the yellow leaves are curling themselves into.

 

With my hand I covered

the remains of the light.

(When for a long time you write about the darkness

you become slightly intimate with the elemental powers.)

The noise gradually disappears,

even the frames of the exhibited paintings

deviate from their purpose.

 

No one can consciously reach

the atmosphere of the closed senses.

And, for months, I have been

detached from the noisy flows,

trying to accomplish

the desire for impassiveness.

Translated by Aleksandra Nikčević Batrićević