a three-part conversation with self by Lamija Halilagic
-b. 1991 in Novi Pazar. She graduated from the Academy of Fine Arts in Sarajevo, specializing in painting. Her practice, deeply rooted in the principles of painting, has expanded to include collage, video, sound, and installation. Her work emerges from the deconstruction of symbolic language and meaning, and consequently, from deconstruction in a narrower sense—where elements such as a forgotten artist’s catalogue transform into an artist’s book and, as such, are returned to the gallery setting. Through this process of recycling, Lamija’s Green Book was created, emphasizing crucial issues such as ownership, inclusivity, and censorship. In 2018, the Collegium Artisticum Gallery awarded her the Grand Prix for the best young artist in Bosnia and Herzegovina. She has exhibited in numerous group and solo shows, and her works have been published in several European art publications. In 2024 she received the Anur Hadžiomerspahić Award. She currently lives and works in Belgrade.
PART 1 // Wounds
Passing away is like slipping for a dream.
The block of colour in from of my eyes.
The black.
And then, red.
The amputated phantom limb.
Or worst.
A feeling that is there,
But not recognised.
I see it all.
It doesn’t matter.
All will be forgotten in the endless rolling of life.
PART 2 // Linguistic lullaby for an insomniac
How to play?
– pick a letter *
– list the words that pop in your mind starting with the letter you picked
– whisper the words gently to yourself
– repeat the process until you fall asleep
* L
* Loss. Longing. Long. Land. Love. Loving. Loveless. Loneliness. Lie. Lust. Lost. Life. Loser.
Leftist. Lunar. Lucid. Linear. Light. Laser. Lapsus. Lingua. Lesson. Lasso. Lightning.
Landscape. Language. Lecture. Lentil. Latency. Lance. Leverage. Linger. Leave. Laugh.
List. Liquid. Liquor. Logic. Lotus. Lucifer. Lexicon. Lotion. Latching. Limping. Lurking.
Lacking. Letting. Lemonade. Lemon. Lilys. Lyrics. Lavish. Late. Long.Lullaby. Loss
PART 3 // Question
Where did I go /or Who does the lighting in our dreams
This was a dream, right?
No, he said.
I was just there with you singing along.
I don’t remember, I said.
You never do, he replied.What time it is?
I ask but could not hear anything.
“Bring me back”.
I whisper to myself.
FOCUS.
Don’t you recognise the world?
Don’t you feel the weight of your heavy flesh?
The body?
Don’t you care about your fellow man?
You are here!!!
It burns my eardrums.
All of it.
Stop it, I beg.
Stop the sounds.
I’ll behave.
He’s smiling back at me.
Displaying that funny little crooked line.
He doesn’t get it.
Sounds are everywhere.
We are in a dream, don’t you know?
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