Leonardo Losciale je svoj rad (kolaborativna praksa, 2025.), realiziran na stubištu i u atriju Etnografskog muzeja, kreirao na temelju iskustva radionica s devet ukrajinskih izbjeglica: Hrvatom – suprugom jedne od izbjeglica i Hrvaticom – koja s izbjeglicama radi. Rezultati radionice uključivali su kratak video u kojem su sudionici/ ice radionice opisali svoj intimni prostor, te skulpture i reljefi nastali nakon trodnevnog rada s glinom, koji za sudionike/ice formaliziraju sam intimni prostor (odnosno reprezentiraju ga). Da bih mogao kontekstualizirati Loscialeov rad, moram se prisjetiti jednog ranijeg rata.
Prije nego što je započela agresija na Ukrajinu pozorno sam pratio vijesti koje dolaze s obje strane. Iskustvo se ponavlja, pomislio sam tad. Rat dolazi preko noći. Ovdje ću precizirati: Loscialeov rad polazi od iskustva triju trauma – kolonizacije, rata i izbjeglištva. Traumu rata, svakako najstrašniju od ove tri, mogu potpuno razumjeti iz vlastitog iskustva, i ne samo to, ukrajinsko je iskustvo istovjetno onome hrvatskom. Dobro sam se sjećao početka devedesetih, najprije je sve izgledalo da do rata nikad neće doći jer su nas uvjeravali da smo svi mi ipak susjedi/komšije, onda je retorika bratskog agresora u pripremi rata bila sve isključivija, javile su se majke – jer su djeca ono što sve spaja, pa su Jugoslaviju posjećivali političari mirotvorci i na kraju su svi oni koji su se samo htjeli braniti postali nacisti. I onda je došao rat, preko noći, a da u stvari nismo ni vidjeli da je on ravno tri godine, od bankarevog govora na Kosovu 1988., neumoljivo puzao prema nama.
Kad sam uvidio kako ruska strana koristi termine denacifikacija i zaštita rusofonskog stanovništva moj je deja vu bio potpun. Još mračnije od početka rata je njegovo beskonačno trajanje. Rat je spor. Rat uvijek naglašava vlastito buduće samoukidanje (rat će prestati mirovnim sporazumom), baš kao komunistički dogmatici koji su tvrdili da će do ukidanja države doći jačanjem institucija države, tako i rat projicira da će do kraja rata doći pojačavanjem ratnih aktivnosti. U gradu Zadru, u Domovinskom ratu nikad nije svirao kraj uzbune, rat je završio a da to nismo ni znali. Nastavili smo živjeti u neprekinutom miru koji je započeo bez formaliziranog kraja rata.
Ukrajinska je ratna trauma puno kompleksnija; je li rat počeo aneksijom Krima 2014., borbama u Donbasu, sveobuhvatnom agresijom u veljači 2022., ili puno prije – monstruoznom kolonizacijom
ruskog carstva, sovjetskom nacionalizacijom zemlje koja je dovela do Gladomora, i užasom Gulaga. Zvukovi smrti u ukrajinskom ratu potpuno su drugačiji od svega viđenog; to nije samo zvižduk granate, već nezemaljsko zujanje drona.1 Duboko svjestan svih tih trauma, Losciale nije u komunikaciji koristio jezik kolonizacije i traume, ruski jezik, kojim on govori, baš kao i sve ukrajinske izbjeglice. Koliko je jezik najbolje oruđe kolonizacije vidimo na primjeru Irske, i činjenice da je stotinama godina engleske dominacije gaelski jezik opstajao samo u izoliranim dijelovima zapadne obale. Roger Casement, Irac koji je odigrao odlučujuću ulogu u osvještavanju zločina kolonizatora u Kongu i Amazoniji nikad nije uspio naučiti gaelski jezik, iako je svoj život posvetio nezavisnosti Irske. Da bizarnost bude veća, radio je za britansku vladu i svojim je izvještajima doprinio da ta ista Vlada osvijesti svijet o okrutnom izrabljivanju drugih kolonizatora (Belgije u slučaju Konga i Perua u slučaju Amazonije), za vrijeme dok su britanske kolonije zauzimale velik dio svijeta i nisu imale ništa više empatije prema koloniziranima (uključujući Irsku, naravno).2
U predgovoru za izložbu Prostor kao /moj/ teritorij (postavljena u Galeriji Bačva 2022.; prva izložba nastala kao odgovor hrvatskih umjetnika/ica na rusku agresiju) naveo sam kako prostor jedne kulture, naroda i pojedinca postaje samo običan teritorij koji treba zauzeti. To je čin moći, u kojem od kuća, livada, drveća i ljudskih sudbina nakon prolaska tenkova ostaje hrpa sastavnih dijelova, organskih otpadaka, građevinskog materijala i fraktalnog sjećanja.3 Nakon uništavanja prostora, jedino što preostaje je progonstvo. Izmještanje iz životne sredine, najčešće bez tragova prošlosti, s ponekom fotografijom ili predmetom događa se naglo, to je potpuni rez u kojemu povratak više nije moguć. Odlazak je beskonačan, romantiziran, opraštamo se kao dijete Harold,4 znajući da će nas u isti čas svi zaboraviti. Reprezentacije intimnog prostora sudionika/ ica Loscialovih radionica su različite, uključuju definirani prostor bilo da je riječ o prostoru unutar dlanova ruku, zamišljenih vrtova do
1 Vidi rad Repeat after Me II autora Open Group (Yuriy Biley, Pavlo Kovach i Anton Varga) izložen na Venecijanskom bijenalu 2024.
2 Usp. Mario Vargas Lossa, San jednog Kelta (Zagreb: Vuković & Runjić, 2013).
3 Josip Zanki, “Stvaranje prostora, zauzimanje teritorija i oprostorenje sjećanja”, Hrvatsko društvo likovnih umjetnika, pristup 22. travnja 2025. https://www.hdlu. hr/2022/03/izlozba-prostor-kao-moj-teritorij/
4 Usp. Lord Byron, Childe Harold (Zagreb: Znanje, 1988.).
malenih figura koje prizivaju duh ukrajinskog folklora. Ono što im je zajedničko jest bajkoviti svijet istočnog slavenstva, koji se u radovima manifestira, od magičnih bića i prikaza ukrajinskog sela Marije Oksentijeve Primančenko do duha Maričke, čarobnjaka – moljfara (ukr. мольфа́р) i karpatskog bića čugajstira (ukr. чугайстер) u Sjenama zaboravljenih predaka Mihajla Kocjubinskog.5
Taj se svijet najljepše očituje u kratkom videu gdje sudionica projekta zviždi koristeći jednu od glinenih figura ptice – svistuljku (ukr. cвистулька), koju je sama oblikovala kao predmet svojeg intimnog predmeta svakodnevnice. Zviždanje znači zaštitu, prizivanje dobrih duhova prirode, onih koji štite od većeg zla. Po Loscialevom kazivanju svi su sudionici/ice radionice u jednom trenutku započeli učiti zviždanje, te mu nije preostalo ništa drugo nego da odustane od daljnjeg rada. Izbjeglice koje žive u Hrvatskoj moraju pronaći novi prostor intime, i svoju ukrajinsku Arkadiju izmjestiti u prostor unutarnjeg, prostor koji im nitko ne može oduzeti. Leonardo Losciale ovim radom preispituje ulogu umjetnika kao etnografa, terapijsku ulogu umjetnosti u odnosu na proživljenu traumu i poziciju medija u odnosu na umjetničko istraživanje.
Loscialeova umjetnička strategija nije dovršena, ona otvara put za nove radionice/participacije i postavlja pitanje reakcije na različite manifestacije hegemonije. Umjetnost ne može razbiti imperijalnu moć, ali je može poniziti do neslućenih visina. U epilogu svoje priče o Rogeru Casementu, Mario Vargas Llosa navodi kako je britanska vlast naložila da se liječničkim pregledom Casementova tijela nakon smaknuća, a prije pokopa, utvrde perverzne sklonosti. 6 Imperijalistički monstrumi, bez obzira na prostor i vrijeme, istinskim borcima za slobodu mogu samo pregledavati dijelove tijela i optuživati ih sukladno društvenim predrasudama u svom vremenu za perverziju i nemoral, ali im njihovu volju za slobodom od kolonijalizma ne mogu nikada oduzeti. Loscialeov rad predstavlja jedinstveno dekolonijalno oruđe, jedino koje je izbjeglicama i autoru preostalo, oruđe izniklo iz mašte. Ona dolazi iz drugih svjetova, prolazi kroz naš stvarni – svijet krvi i čelika, da bi se vratila u druge svjetove.
Josip Zanki
5 Mihajlo Kocjubinski, Sjene zaboravljenih predaka (Zagreb: Disput, 2023.), str. 63–76.
6 Mario Vargas Lossa, San jednog Kelta, str. 440.
Leonardo Losciale’s work (collaborative practice, 2025), presented on the staircase and in the atrium of the Ethnographic Museum, was developed through workshops with nine Ukrainian refugees, a Croatian man – husband of one of the refugees – and a Croatian woman working with refugees. The outcomes of the workshop include a short video in which the workshop participants describe their intimate spaces, as well as sculptures and reliefs created over three days of working with clay that formalise (i.e. represent) those intimate spaces for the participants. To contextualize Losciale’s work, I must recall an earlier war.
Before the aggression against Ukraine began, I was closely following the news from both sides. History is repeating itself, I thought at the time. War comes overnight. Let me be more specific; Losciale’s work stems from the experience of three traumas: colonisation, war, and displacement. The trauma of war, undoubtedly the most harrowing of the three, is one I can fully comprehend from my own experience. Moreover, the Ukrainian experience is identical to the Croatian one. I remember the early 1990s vividly, at first it seemed that war would never come because we were reassured that we were all neighbours after all. Then the rhetoric of the fraternal aggressor became increasingly exclusionary as war preparations unfolded. Mothers came forward – because children unite us all, then peace-seeking politicians came to visit Yugoslavia, and in the end, all those who simply wanted to defend themselves became Nazis. And then the war came, overnight, though in truth, we had failed to see that it had been creeping up on us relentlessly for three years, ever since the banker’s speech in Kosovo in 1988. When I saw how the Russian side used terms such as denazification and protection of the Russian-speaking population, my sense of déjà vu was complete. Even darker than the outbreak of war is its endless duration. War is slow. War always emphasises its own future self-abolition (the war will end with a peace treaty), just as the communist dogmatists who claimed that the abolition of the state would come about by strengthening state institutions, so the war projects that the end of the war will come through the intensification of war activities. In the city of Zadar, during the Homeland War, the all-clear siren never sounded, the war ended without us even knowing it. Life simply continued in an uninterrupted peace
that had begun without the formal declaration of war’s end.
The trauma of war in Ukraine is far more complex; did the war begin with the annexation of Crimea in 2014, with the fighting in Donbas, with the full-scale aggression in February 2022, or much earlier – with the monstrous colonisation under the Russian Empire, the Soviet nationalisation of the country that led to the Holodomor, and the horrors of the Gulag. The sounds of death in the Ukrainian war are unlike anything previously encountered; not merely the whistle of a shell, but the otherworldly buzz of a drone.1 Deeply aware of all these traumas, Losciale did not use the language of colonisation and trauma – Russian - in his communication, even though he speaks it, just like all Ukrainian refugees. The example of Ireland demonstrates how language can be the most effective tool of colonisation: after centuries of English domination, the Gaelic language survived only in isolated areas along the western coast. Roger Casement, the Irishman who played a crucial role in exposing the crimes of the colonisers in the Congo and the Amazon, never managed to learn Gaelic, despite having dedicated his life to Irish independence. Adding to the irony, he worked for the British government, and through his reports helped to make the same government aware of the cruel exploitation by other colonial powers (Belgium in the Congo and Peru in the Amazon), at a time when the British colonies occupied a large part of the world and showed no greater empathy for the colonised (including Ireland, of course).2
In the foreword to the exhibition Prostor kao /moj/ teritorij (Space as /My/ Territory), presented at Bačva Gallery in 2022, the first exhibition by Croatian artists in response to the Russian aggression), I wrote that the space of a culture, a nation and an individual becomes merely a territory to be seized. It is an act of power in which, once the tanks have passed, what remains of homes, meadows, trees, and human destinies is a pile of fragments, organic remnants, construction rubble, and fractal memory.3 After the destruction of
1 See the work Repeat After Me II by the Open Group (Yuriy Biley, Pavlo Kovach, and Anton Varga), exhibited at the Venice Biennale, 2024.
2 Cf. Mario Vargas Llosa, San jednog Kelta [The Dream of the Celt] (Zagreb: Vuković & Runjić, 2013).
3 Josip Zanki, “Stvaranje prostora, zauzimanje teritorija i oprostorenje sjećanja” [Creating Space, Occupying Territory, and the Spatialisation of Memory], Hrvatsko društvo likovnih umjetnika [Croatian Association of Visual Artists], accessed April 22, 2025, https://www.hdlu.hr/2022/03/izlozba-prostor-kao-moj-teritorij/.
space, only exile remains. Displacement from one’s environment, usually without traces of the past, with some photograph or object, happens abruptly. It is a total rupture, after which return is no longer possible. The departure is endless, romanticised, we bid farewell like Childe Harold,4 knowing we will be forgotten the moment we are gone. The participants’ representations of intimate space in Losciale’s workshops are diverse, they include clearly defined spaces, from the hollows of cupped hands and imagined gardens to small figures evoking the spirit of Ukrainian folklore. What they have in common is the fairytale world of Eastern Slavdom, which is manifested in their works. From magical creatures and depictions of the Ukrainian village by Maria Oksentiyivna Prymachenko to the ghost of Marichka, a wizard – molphar (Ukr. мольфа́р) and the Carpathian creature Chuhaister (Ukr. чугайстер) in Mykhailo Kotsiubynsky’s Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors. 5
This world is most beautifully embodied in a short video where one of the project’s participants whistles using one of the clay bird figures – a svystulka (Ukr. cвистулька), which she designed as an object of her intimate everyday world. Whistling signifies protection, a summons to the benevolent spirits of nature, those who protect against greater evil. According to Losciale, all the participants of the workshop at some point began to learn whistling, and he had no choice but to halt further work. Refugees living in Croatia must find a new space of intimacy, transposing their Ukrainian Arcadia into an inner space, a space no one can take away from them. With this work, Leonardo Losciale explores the role of the artist as an ethnographer, the therapeutic role of art in relation to the trauma experienced, and the position of the media in relation to artistic research.
Losciale’s artistic strategy remains open-ended, it paves the way for new workshops/participatory processes and raises the question of how to respond to different manifestations of hegemony. Art cannot shatter imperial power, but it can humiliate it to unimaginable depths. In the epilogue to his narrative on Roger Casement, Mario Vargas Llosa writes that British authorities ordered a medical examination of Casement’s body following his execution,
4 Cf. Lord Byron, Childe Harold (Zagreb: Znanje, 1988).
5 Mykhailo Kotsiubynsky, Sjene zaboravljenih predaka [Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors] (Zagreb: Disput, 2023), 63–76.
and before his burial, to confirm perverse tendencies. 6 Imperialist monsters, regardless of place and time, can only scrutinise the body parts of true freedom fighters and accuse them of perversion and immorality in accordance with the social prejudices of their time, but they can never take away their will to resist colonial oppression. Losciale’s work represents a unique decolonial tool, the only one that refugees and the artist have left, a tool that emerged from the imagination. It comes from other worlds, passes through our real world – the world of blood and steel, only to return once more to those other worlds.
Josip Zanki
6 Mario Vargas Llosa, San jednog Kelta [The Dream of the Celt], 440.
LEONARDO LOSCIALE (rođen u Italiji, 1985.) upisao je Akademiju likovnih umjetnosti Sveučilišta u Zagrebu 2018., smjer kiparstvo, gdje je diplomirao u rujnu 2024. Izlagao je na više skupnih i samostalnih izložbi, uključujući Salon mladih 2022. i 14. hrvatski trijenale kiparstva, obje u Meštrovićevu paviljonu u Zagrebu. U 2024. godini održao je tri samostalne izložbe: u Galeriji Šira (Zagreb), Galeriji Augustinčić (Klanjec) i u Garaži Kamba (Zagreb). Također, početkom 2025. godine održao je dvije samostalne izložbe u Galeriji SC u Zagrebu i u Dioklecijanovim podrumima u Splitu s radom „Plesni Peristil“. Sudjelovao je na međunarodnoj kiparskoj školi u Brtonigli i Vrsaru za izradu kamenih skulptura za javni prostor te na kiparskoj školi “Svjetle pruge” za izradu drvenih skulptura velikog formata za javni prostor. Nadalje, sudjelovao je na raznim radionicama na temu participativnog/kolektivnog umjetničkog rada, likovne kritike i kreativnih procesa, te intervencija u prostoru (Grožnjan, Graz, Ljubljana, Trst, Gorizia, Zagreb, itd.). U svom radu uglavnom se bavi novim materijalima, ambijentalnim instalacijama, procesualnošću i interakcijom. Također se bavi eksperimentalnom glazbom i istraživanjem novih zvučnih diskursa. Magistar je klasične glazbe i radi kao timpanist u Zagrebačkoj filharmoniji. Kao glazbeni solist nastupao je u Parizu, Strasbourgu, Milanu, Rimu, Dresdenu, Zagrebu itd. Dobitnik je prve nagrade na 17. međunarodnom natjecanju “Società Umanitaria” 2007. u Milanu, pod predsjedanjem prof. Abbada. Nadalje, surađuje s nekoliko orkestara i suvremenih ansambala u Europi. Živi i radi u Zagrebu.
LEONARDO LOSCIALE (born in Italy, 1985) enrolled at the Academy of Fine Arts of the University of Zagreb in 2018, majoring in sculpture, and graduated in September 2024. He has exhibited in several group and solo exhibitions, including the Youth Salon 2022 and the 14th Croatian Sculpture Triennial, both held at the Meštrović Pavilion in Zagreb. In 2024, he held three solo exhibitions: at Gallery Šira (Zagreb), the Augustinčić Gallery (Klanjec), and Garage Kamba (Zagreb). At the beginning of 2025, he presented two more solo exhibitions at the SC Gallery in Zagreb and in the Diocletian’s Cellars in Split, featuring the work Dance of the Peristyle.He participated in the international sculpture schools in Brtonigla and Vrsar, focused on creating stone sculptures for public spaces, as well as the “Light Lines” sculpture school for the production of large-scale wooden sculptures for public environments. In addition, he took part in various workshops dealing with participatory/collective artistic work, art criticism, creative processes, and spatial interventions (Grožnjan, Graz, Ljubljana, Trieste, Gorizia, Zagreb, etc.). His artistic practice mainly explores new materials, ambient installations, processuality, and interaction. He is also involved in experimental music and the exploration of new sonic discourses. He holds a master’s degree in classical music and works as a timpanist with the Zagreb Philharmonic Orchestra. As a soloist, he has performed in Paris, Strasbourg, Milan, Rome, Dresden, Zagreb, and elsewhere. In 2007, he won first prize at the 17th international competition “Società Umanitaria” in Milan, presided over by Prof. Abbado. He also collaborates with several orchestras and contemporary music ensembles across Europe. He lives and works in Zagreb.