upcoming exhibition

* digital work for the upcoming exhibition

i’m currently on vacation on an little island where my mum and stepdad spend other half of the year. it’s my first time here, definitely not the last. the island is in the middle of the sea so horizon is immense. turquoise is all around me, as well as lush greenery. they also have a boat. 2 days ago i swam with eagle ray and i saw a whale. i free dive (but thinking of doing professional course for the sake of safety).

there are no cars here. there are millions of stars and silence.

regarding creativity & profession, i avoided the notion of comfort zone as much as i could coz this is how you ‘grow’. now i’ll finally dive into it. i’m doing new series in my old/new hand-writing and loving it.

note: in the absence of atelier, digital medium is perfectly fine

i, as idiots


“Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.”   Aldous Huxley 

“There is nothing more frightful than ignorance in action.” J.W. Goethe

“We kill all the caterpillars, then complain there are no butterflies.” John Mardsen  


i was wishing them hell for 16 years

for that reason

i’m not writing down the name of the party

i’m not writing down the name of the party’s ex chief / croatia’s ex prime minister

i will state the obvious:

their supporters  should also be considered collectively responsible for enabling the biggest ‘legitimate’ heist in europe since ww2

i’m still crouching the numbers

i’m not giving in to pessimists

croatia, start seeing clearly


dan žena, as 8th of march

IWD, as 8th of march

“I Want Her”, 100 x 70 cm, oil on canvas

“A ship is called a she because there is always a great deal of bustle around her; there is usually a gang of men about; she has a waist and stays; it takes a lot of paint to keep her good-looking; it is not the initial expense that breaks you, it is the upkeep; she can be all decked out; it takes an experienced man to handle her correctly; and without a man at the helm, she is absolutely uncontrollable. She shows her topsides, hiders her bottom and, when coming into port, always heads for the boys.”

long walk to freedom: Nelson Mandela

long way to freedom: Nelson Mandela

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.”

“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”

st, as story telling

team brave

“team brave”, 21×18 cm, pencil&white chalk (sketch for oil painting)

team wise

“team wise”, 21×18 cm, pencil&white chalk (sketch for oil painting)

“Human beings are story tellers by nature.”  Jerome Bruner

“The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story.”  Ursula K. Le Guin

The story appears in every human culture in a multitude of colors: myths, legends, folktale, zen, joke, personal anecdote, novel, biography, tv, motion picture… Stories keep us motivated, uplift us, inspire, teach us. They are great source of collective knowledge and wisdom. Not all stories are good. But I guess the truly good ones easily transcend the notion of time and literally, pass over from one generation to another.

In the realm of good stories, this evening I’ll be attending a biography book presentation by Stipe Božić about Mate Šimunović. Mate was the first Croatian world traveler who, together with his dog Globus, traveled around the world from 1928 to 1947. They traveled by bike, horse, on foot and small sailing boat and thus crossed over 360.000 km and visited 70 countries in 5 continents.

I wish (read ‘working on it’) my paintings in the future can tell a good story. I’m not talking about illustrations, rather something else – a story that could be told using only colors, tones and lines.

I’ll be now finishing this story telling post with the words of beloved writer Ursula K. Le Guin: “The creative adult is the child who has survived.”

o, as orange day

o, as orange day

International day for the elimination of violence against woman

“Break the silence. When you witness violence against woman and girls, do not sit back. Act.”   Ban Ki – Moon

This man also proclaimed every 25th of the month as Orange Day .

I run marathon. I’ve started to write. Most importantly, I paint.

I wear orange running watch, orange earrings, my mobile is orange and basket of oranges saved my life when 7. Yet, till yesterday I didn’t know that ‘color day’ exists.

For those who do not know why is this day unfortunately extremely important, a 2 page glimpse is here.

All those who have birthday on 25th, hope you sleep well.

l, as love

l, as love

“a capella”, 25×35,3cm, pencil&aquarelle

One of the first news I’ve read today were these news. And I couldn’t agree more. I’ve been doing that since I decided to ‘reinvent’ myself. Somehow, only good memories from my past life started to nurture my heart&mind. Long term memory is a valuable thing, especially when used for ‘good things’. And what could be better than pushing the play button in your head and watching a new some great movie that actually happened to you. No cinema can beat that.

For couple of months or so I’ve been watching my movie about my stray dog Žućo (meaning ‘yellow/ish’). He was my 1st dog when I was about 4-5. My granny&mum didn’t allow me to bring Žućo home so he would wait in front of the building every morning or afternoon. I would bring bread and cheese to feed him and green comb to brush his coat to make him even prettier. I’ve also taken mum’s red scarf and tied it around his neck: I saw that dogs have some ‘things’ around their necks so my Žućo also needed something like that. He was mine.

Mum and granny didn’t like the idea that girly is playing with some ‘filthy dog from the street’. Whenever they would see us 2gether, they would start yelling as if I’m doing something bad. So the two of us would hide and enjoy our time: I would be brushing his coat, cuddle him and ‘we would talk’ for hours…at least the notion of time appeared so in a life of a 4-5 year old.

Then suddenly, Žućo went missing. I don’t know how long it was. I was constantly very sad that he’s not there where he used to be. I wasn’t worried cause small kids don’t worry > at young age one has no sense of what a worry is. Time passed and after a while I finally saw him from my window. I screamed “Žućo!”, garbed piece of bread and run out as fast as I could to hug him. While I was approaching the road in haste, Žućo was standing on the other side watching me and waiting kinda nervously >> stray dogs know very well ”you just don’t run onto a road filled with cars!!”. And then, in a split of a second, I heard scary truck breaks and some awful bump sound…All I remember is a man (driver) screaming at me and Žućo lying below my feet, both of us in front of the white truck. He was still breathing, heavily and very slowly. He looked as if nothing hurts him. But looking at him lying on the road, a 4-5 year old learned in a split of a second what ‘life worry’ is. I keeled down, gently touching him trying to convince him to eat some bread…I thought that with some magic a bread will make everything better. Lots of people gathered around us but I remember just one old man who bend down, gently took my hand and said; “you can’t do anything more for him now. he’ll be ok, don’t worry. and you, where are you parents, where do you live?”. He brought me home and guess told my granny and mum what happened.  Žućo saved my life.

This movie is not a sad one for me anymore. Quite opposite >> I feel in awe that super special dog, who had no one but me, saved my life. And maybe more than once 😉

Later on in ‘ex life’ we had Kiko (hunting dog), than Moro (rotweiller). But more than 4 years ago I finally got my own dog, funny havanese bichon. I call it ‘my economical & goofy dog’ 🙂 I named him Moro cause he’s cool as my rotweiler was. When he was just one year old, he also tried to save my life: though he saw the sea for the first time, he jumped into it off the cliff! People on the beach, who took care of him while I was taking a swim, started to scream like crazy. I got their attention and saw a tiny white thing swimming towards me. My Moro looks tiny but has an enormous heart and isn’t afraid of anything…except inflatable balloons.

Just recently I discovered that Moro (which was name of my grandpa’s first dog) is the coolest character in cartoon “Princess Mononoke”. Funny how things turn out in a ‘new life’.

Why people love dogs? …cause they freely give tons of joy, warm feelings, solace, peace, companionship, true friendship, loyalty, respect, understanding, happiness…all ‘for nothing’, without conditions. I would say that dogs are far better living creatures than most people. They can surely teach us a lot about love and how to love in life.

Long live our dogs!

v, as vanishing

v, as vanishing

photo: Maori, New Zeland

Stunning Portraits Of The World’s Remotest Tribes Before They Pass Away

I’m not gonna blabla about the article. Photos are gorgeous document by itself.

I’m gonna blabla a bit about people of 21st century, limiting myself to ‘Wests’. I’ve noticed that individuals are turning into manyviduals. Each person is becoming more and more like each other. The quest is on for being visually super-special for no reason and this hypnosis is especially celebrated on social networks > the new word is ‘selfies’. Yet, paradoxically, a person is turning to be less and less special. That visually funny, empty, less than sincere quest is sadly robing each person of its true character potential, own free will, mental strength, carefree feeling…happiness at the bottom of it all. I guess now it’s a bit easier to understand why a lot of indigenous people perceive taking their photographs equivalent to robing off their souls. But, people of 21st century have their ‘free will’, so let them have it.

Good documentary photography is a beautiful art by itself. It’s honest, at least tries to be.

My grand grand mother Ivana Noršić (from father’s side) was the first photographer in Sisak, Croatia (at that time, Kingdom of Yugoslavia; States of Slovenes, Croats and Serbs). She had her studio in the center and besides taking portrait photos, she was a true artist in coloring b/w photos. Museum of Arts and Crafts in Zagreb hold some of her photographs in permanent exhibition.

My grand grand mother and I share the same birth date. And love for photography. I fell in love with documentary photography since my first subscription to National Geographic, all the way back in the 80s. That fresh print smelling NG would arrive all the way from USA and in the time of no Internet made little girl very very happy. Dear mum, thanks a lot for that 🙂