Summary
Antej Jelenić: Centaur in the neighborhood
"My gun is cheaper by two grams of bilog, haha. Let's treat ourselves," he said. It seemed that a stone had fallen from his heart. Still, he snorted, smoked and drank alone, and we slowly dragged him into the world of art. Irma read him a couple of Neruda's poems. We talked to him about conceptual art. They showed him the upside-down toilet bowl/sphinx I have on the balcony. I inserted an incense stick into it, placed a speaker underneath and played the song Smeće, which I once recorded, so that smoke and lyrics came out of the pipe pointing towards the sky. Duchamp would be proud. (...) "Garbage is the last form of human expression. It tirelessly reminds us of neglected languages, the hierarchy of cowardice, the priorities of the eye, of everything discarded that by its volume many times exceeds what we consider useful. Supergarbage is a being of symbiosis and poetry, a new mythology that takes place on the growing landfill of people, ideas and instincts. We who do not belong to any class and do not fall into any recycling option are more and more..."
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