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Kronologija jednoga fotografskog početka

I danas se jasno sjećam staroga obiteljskog fotoaparata, 35-milimetarskog Voigtländera s optičkim tražilom koji je otac, još prije mojega rođenja, kupio u Njemačkoj, u doba odlazaka Jugoslavena na privremeni rad u tu zemlju. Najviše se njime koristila majka, koja je tim fotoaparatom marljivo bilježila sve važne stvari i događaje u našoj obitelji. Iako me fotografiranje nije osobito zanimalo dok sam bio dječak, predmet mog interesa bila je velika kutija s obiteljskim fotografijama. Volio sam te fotografije, uživao sam ih gledati, prebirati po njima i slagati ih u samo meni logične grupe.Bili su to moji prvi fotografski koraci.

Zagreb me osvojio još 1984, kada sam se prvi put iskrcao iz vlaka Vinkovci–Zagreb, vlaka kojim sam često putovao u sljedećih nekoliko godina. Započelo je dvogodišnje razdoblje života u učeničkom domu na školovanju za profesionalnog vatrogasca, a stipendiju sam primao od javne gradske vatrogasne postrojbe u vlasništvu socijalističkoga privrednog giganta, Tvornice gume i obuće Borovo. Bio sam mladi provincijalac željan života, uzbuđenja velikoga grada i s nekom kintom u džepu. Sjajni preduvjeti za kršenje domskih pravila i iskradanje kroz prozor spavaonice kako bi se zakoračilo u zagrebačku noć.

Godine 1986-89. – intermezzo. Ozbiljan posao u profesionalnoj vatrogasnoj postrojbi, odlazak na služenje obaveznoga jednogodišnjeg vojnog roka u bivšoj Jugoslovenskoj narodnoj armiji, zapravo ratnoj mornarici. Mediterraneo na malenom raketnom čamcu. Mnoštvo otoka, mnogo mora i previše bure za mladića odrasla na rijeci Dunavu.

Projekt Urbani trenuci sasvim je osobna slika Zagreba u razdoblju 1991–2013. Svojevrsna kronika grada sastavljena od fotografskih skica načinjenih malom 35-milimetarskom kamerom, prizora uhvaćenih na ulici, maglovitih gradskih jutara i lijenih pasjih popodneva. Katkad i nesvjesno snimljenih komentara ili vlastitih stajališta, naknadno iščitanih u stvarnosti koju živim i spremnosti da prihvatim ono što u trenutku okidanja možda nisam u potpunosti vidio.

Godine 1989. povratak u Zagreb. Unutarnji nemir, učmalost provincijskog gradića i ljubav vukli su me u Zagreb i ženi koju volim. Napuštam rodni grad, roditelje i brata, posao, i s jednom torbom te nešto siće u džepu krećem u samostalan život. Mlad, zaljubljen, opijen životom i gledajući svijet kroz ružičaste naočale koje su, premda ponešto izgrebene i ofucane, i danas na mojem nosu.

Godina 1991, rana jesen, jutro je, sviće. Jedva dvadesetak kilometara zračne linije udaljena, čuje se potmula grmljavina nad Vukovarom, nad glavama mojih roditelja, brata, rođaka i starih prijatelja. Stojim negdje u orošenoj slavonskoj ravnici, prijavljen u igru s najvrednijim ulogom koji posjedujem. Napola odlučan, napola uplašen, baš kao i ostali većinom golobradi mladići oko mene. Razabirem riječi hrabri... časno... braniti... neki od vas... svoj život... domovinu..., u daljini grmi, a već sutradan grmjelo je iznad nas. U tom sablasnom jutru, dok smo onako postrojeni slušali muklu kanonadu nad Vukovarom i govor zapovjednika, iskrsnula je odnekud nekakva stara srebrna Minolta i vrećica puna kojekakvih filmova.– Zna li netko fotografirati? Ima li možda netko da je fotograf među vama? – doprlo je pitanje zapovjednika do mene.– Ja! – odgovorio sam, premda sam u to doba pročitao samo priručnik Živojina Jeremića Popularni kurs fotografije, knjižicu koju sam dobio na dar od djevojke, sadašnje supruge. Nova Praktica kupljena na njezin nagovor u zagrebačkoj Nami, nekoliko tjedana prije orošene slavonske ravnice, i tek jedan potrošen film, bilo je moje sveukupno fotografsko iskustvo. I tako je počelo. Na ramenu automatska M70, a oko vrata fotoaparat Minolta. Taj mali komad metala, plastike i stakla između mene i prizora koje sam imao prilike zabilježiti kao dokumentarist-kroničar za potrebe svoje postrojbe spasio me od ružnih snova i loših sjećanja. Bili su to moji drugi fotografski koraci.

Godina poslije Zagreb, sada moj grad, i neki drugi fotoaparat oko vrata, one ružičaste naočale dobile su nekoliko dubokih ogrebotina... negdje sam na početku svoga fotografskog sna.

A Chronology of a Photographic Beginning

To this day I clearly remember the old family camera, a 35mm Voigtländer with an optical viewfinder, which my father had bought in Germany before I was even born, during the time when he, like many Yugoslavs, used to work there as a migrant worker. It was mostly used by my mother, who diligently used it to capture all the important things and events in our family. Although photography didn’t interest me particularly as a boy, what did interest me was a large box with family photos. I loved those photos, I enjoyed browsing through them, and loved sorting them into groups that made sense only to me.Those were my first photography steps.

Zagreb won me over way back in 1984, when I first got off the Vinkovci–Zagreb train, which is the train ride I often took in the following few years. I begun the two years of living in a student dormitory, while attending school for a professional firefighter, while I was living on a student stipend from the fire department run by a socialist economy giant, Footwear and Rubber Factory Borovo. I was a young provincial boy, eager and lusting for the big city thrills, and even had some pocket change to spend. Those were great prerequisites for breaking the dorm rules and for sneaking out the dorm window in order to step into the Zagreb night.

From 1986 to 1989 – intermezzo. A serious job in a professional firefighting department, and then leaving to do my one-year stint in the former Yugoslav People’s Army, actually in the Navy. Mediterraneo on a small missile boat. Many islands, lots of sea and too much icy wind for a young man who grew up on the banks of the Danube river.

The project “Urban Moments” is quite a personal image of Zagreb during the period from 1991 to 2013. A kind of a chronicle of the city, consisting of photographic sketches taken with a small 35mm camera, scenes caught in the street, foggy city mornings and lazy dog afternoons. Sometimes unconsciously captured commentaries or my own attitudes, subsequently read in the reality I live and the willingness to accept something I have perhaps not seen completely and immediately at the moment the shutter was triggered.

The return to Zagreb in 1989. The internal turmoil, the backwater stuffy provincial town, and love pulled me to Zagreb to the woman I love. I left my hometown, my parents and my brother, my job, and with a bag strung over my shoulder and some small change in my pocket I left to live on my own. Young, in love, intoxicated by life, looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses, which are, although somewhat scratched and worn out, still on my nose today.

The year is 1991, early autumn, a morning with the first rays of a new day. Barely twenty kilometres away, a low rumble of cannon fire is heard above Vukovar, above the heads of my parents, brother, relatives, old friends. I am standing somewhere in the dewy plains of Slavonia, joining the game with the highest stake I can offer. Half determined, half scared, just like the other, mostly youngsters around me. I can hear the words brave... honourable... defend... some of you... your life... homeland..., there is thunder far away, and the next day the thunder envelops us, too. In that ghostly morning, while we were lined up and listening to that cannonade over Vukovar and our commander’s speech, someone appeared with an old silver Minolta and a plastic bag full of various rolls of film.– Is there someone who knows how to take photos? Are there any photographers among you? – the commander asked.– I am! – I replied, although at that time my only contact with photography was a popular manual, “Popular Photography Course”, by Živojin Jeremić, a booklet I got as a present from my then girlfriend, now wife. A new Praktica bought upon her insistence in the Zagreb Nama department store, just a few weeks before that morning on the dewy Slavonian plains, and only one film shot with it, was the sum of my photographic experience. And so that is how it begun. The automatic rifle M70 over my shoulder, and a Minolta around my neck. That little piece of metal, plastic and glass between me and the sights I was able to record as a documentarist - chronicler for my unit saved me from the bad dreams and bad memories. Those were my second photographic steps.

A year later, again Zagreb, now my city, and some other camera around my neck, those rose-tinted glasses got some deep gouges... I am somewhere at the beginning of my photographic dream.

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mojoj supruzi / to my wife

nakladnik / publisher

KADAR 36, Zagreb

www.kadar36.hr

za nakladnika / official representative

Mario Rozić

uredništvo / editing

Max Juhasz, Janko Belaj,

Stanko Abadžić, Zoran Đorđević

lektura i korektura / language editing and proofreading

Saša Vagner

prijevod na engleski / English translation

Denis Pleić

likovno i grafičko oblikovanje / layout

Donald Debeljak

tisak / printed by

PRINTERA GRUPA d. o. o., Sveta Nedelja

godina izdanja / year of publication 2017.prvo izdanje / first edition

copyright © Max Juhasz & KADAR 36

knjiga je objavljena uz financijsku potporu / the book was published with financial support from

Gradski ured za obrazovanje, kulturu i sport Grada Zagreba / City office for education, culture and sports of Zagreb city

ISBN 978-953-57655-8-5CIP zapis dostupan u računalnome katalogu Nacionalne i sveučilišne knjižnice u Zagrebu pod brojem 000962149