A red deer2006 - 2007 | Berlin, Germany“I will be your sun. Ich will deine Sonne sein. Yo quiero ser tu sol. Those were the words of my Peruvian husband. Several months after the wedding, I found out that he never loved me. We bought the deer for our first and only Christmas — also known as the day of love. It stood under our Christmas tree. Now it will travel around the world searching for true love.”
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A red deer
2006 - 2007 | Berlin, Germany

“I will be your sun. Ich will deine Sonne sein. Yo quiero ser tu sol. Those were the words of my Peruvian husband. Several months after the wedding, I found out that he never loved me. We bought the deer for our first and only Christmas — also known as the day of love. It stood under our Christmas tree. Now it will travel around the world searching for true love.”

Life is better somehow… if it’s a story2006-… | Zagreb, Croatia“He was a middle-aged gentleman, with greyish hair, reserved, somewhat distant. If you secretly watched him sit and drink a glass of wine, you would soon realize that in his case aloofness was neither a mask, nor a repulsive attitude. Quite the contrary. It gave him a touch of mysterious and attractive elegance. As if the reservedness itself knew it became him and simply attached to him because of excessive use. He spoke very little and rarely gestured, but his best silences revealed the idea that he would, for instance, be capable of killing a dragon for a noble cause. In fact, details about him remained completely unknown. The knowledge of the toothbrush brand he used and the fact that he liked the word fantastic was utterly useless, both for his biography and the blurry outcome of this story – although today only they seem reliable, accurate and certain. She, on the other hand, was prone to reserved men, often separated by miles, borders, oceans or lives. The distance guaranteed that she would feel safe in her state of elegant depression, not fearing that some accessible and transient happiness might be lurking just around the corner. It was as clear as day that she would trip over his mysterious elegance. The way he drank his wine was fraught with suggestions of long, unfulfilled desire. She simply noticed them carefully, paying attention never to come too close to him. Therefore, she could use the shortage of the meetings to attribute them an abundance of meanings. The rhythm of their missed encounters was regular, almost flawless. As if it were driven by a higher force, a natural atmospheric mechanism which made rainy days his days off, and sunny days her days off. She knew that a true encounter was possible only if something interfered with the forces of nature, if the mechanism simply crashed for an unknown reason, which did not seem likely. And then they ran into each other on a plane. At a few thousand feet of elevation she realized that the mechanism broke down for a second, that there were dragons all over the place, and that she could finally admit to herself that she had wanted it to happen for some time now. Whether it was their repressed desire or quite simply an unexpected climatic collapse that invoked snow in that warm fall, it will never be completely clear. At that point, they should have crossed the boundaries, they should have grasped that flickering moment so they could at least once fall asleep and wake up together, guided by a meteorological miracle or a simple twist of fate. That night he killed the dragon for her. Even today she is not completely certain if that actually happened. But does it matter? For some time she kept talking of the surreal, and quite frequently. She exhausted herself on story-telling, without realizing if she wanted to create some distance between them, or remain close to him. However, she felt that she need not bother with that, since it was nothing more than a story.”
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Life is better somehow… if it’s a story
2006-… | Zagreb, Croatia

“He was a middle-aged gentleman, with greyish hair, reserved, somewhat distant. If you secretly watched him sit and drink a glass of wine, you would soon realize that in his case aloofness was neither a mask, nor a repulsive attitude. Quite the contrary. It gave him a touch of mysterious and attractive elegance. As if the reservedness itself knew it became him and simply attached to him because of excessive use. He spoke very little and rarely gestured, but his best silences revealed the idea that he would, for instance, be capable of killing a dragon for a noble cause. In fact, details about him remained completely unknown. The knowledge of the toothbrush brand he used and the fact that he liked the word fantastic was utterly useless, both for his biography and the blurry outcome of this story – although today only they seem reliable, accurate and certain. She, on the other hand, was prone to reserved men, often separated by miles, borders, oceans or lives. The distance guaranteed that she would feel safe in her state of elegant depression, not fearing that some accessible and transient happiness might be lurking just around the corner. It was as clear as day that she would trip over his mysterious elegance. The way he drank his wine was fraught with suggestions of long, unfulfilled desire. She simply noticed them carefully, paying attention never to come too close to him. Therefore, she could use the shortage of the meetings to attribute them an abundance of meanings. The rhythm of their missed encounters was regular, almost flawless. As if it were driven by a higher force, a natural atmospheric mechanism which made rainy days his days off, and sunny days her days off. She knew that a true encounter was possible only if something interfered with the forces of nature, if the mechanism simply crashed for an unknown reason, which did not seem likely. And then they ran into each other on a plane. At a few thousand feet of elevation she realized that the mechanism broke down for a second, that there were dragons all over the place, and that she could finally admit to herself that she had wanted it to happen for some time now. Whether it was their repressed desire or quite simply an unexpected climatic collapse that invoked snow in that warm fall, it will never be completely clear. At that point, they should have crossed the boundaries, they should have grasped that flickering moment so they could at least once fall asleep and wake up together, guided by a meteorological miracle or a simple twist of fate. That night he killed the dragon for her. Even today she is not completely certain if that actually happened. But does it matter? For some time she kept talking of the surreal, and quite frequently. She exhausted herself on story-telling, without realizing if she wanted to create some distance between them, or remain close to him. However, she felt that she need not bother with that, since it was nothing more than a story.”

Air sickness bags2004 - 2006 | Zagreb, Croatia“A range of air sickness bags as a memento of a long-distance relationship. One Croatia Airlines, one Lufthansa, one Hapag Lloyd Express and three GermanWings. I think I still have those illustrated safety instructions as well, showing what to do when the airplane begins to fall apart. I have never found any instructions on what to do when a relationship begins to fall apart, but at least I’ve still got these bags.”
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Air sickness bags
2004 - 2006 | Zagreb, Croatia

“A range of air sickness bags as a memento of a long-distance relationship. One Croatia Airlines, one Lufthansa, one Hapag Lloyd Express and three GermanWings. I think I still have those illustrated safety instructions as well, showing what to do when the airplane begins to fall apart. I have never found any instructions on what to do when a relationship begins to fall apart, but at least I’ve still got these bags.”

A glass horse1982 - 1997 | Maribor, Slovenia“One day I was tidying up the bedroom. I opened the closet and found a small cash-box. I opened it. At the bottom of it I saw my wedding ring, and next to it a little glass horse. I took it in my hand. It was made in a workshop on the island of Murano, Venice. Old memories… If I remember correctly, my husband and I took a trip to Venice. It was a splendid day, the sun was shining. I was young, I was in love. I had wonderful dreams about our future. Venice is a city of people in love. We walked slowly along the streets, across the squares and stone bridges. The streets were full of people, full of tourists. Young people were walking hand in hand. Everyone seemed happy. We soon arrived at the Grand Canal, a long narrow street full of beautiful palaces. The facades were bathing in the sun. We stopped at the place called Café Gondoliere and went in. Inside there was a group of tourists, older men reading newspapers, and smartly-dressed women eating cakes. We sat down to enjoy the scene. After some time I went to the women’s washroom and when I came back, my husband was paying the bill. We made a quick decision. We went to visit the glass-works of Murano. I was admiring an artist who was making beautiful sculptures in glass. In front of us he was sculpting a beautiful horse. I said: Oh, I would be very happy if I had it. Then we returned to the city. It was a long walk back to our hotel.We didn’t talk a lot, but it was a peaceful time which both of us enjoyed. I was very happy. Just before we reached the hotel my husband kissed me on the cheek and gave me a small package. He said: Darling, I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. You are my life. I answered: Me too, dear. When we entered the room, I opened my gift and saw the little glass horse. 20 years later, I am divorced. His love disappeared like the wind. I put the glass horse into the box beside the wedding ring and shut it. I say to myself: Don’t cry! Tomorrow is a new day.”
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A glass horse
1982 - 1997 | Maribor, Slovenia

“One day I was tidying up the bedroom. I opened the closet and found a small cash-box. I opened it. At the bottom of it I saw my wedding ring, and next to it a little glass horse. I took it in my hand. It was made in a workshop on the island of Murano, Venice. Old memories… If I remember correctly, my husband and I took a trip to Venice. It was a splendid day, the sun was shining. I was young, I was in love. I had wonderful dreams about our future. Venice is a city of people in love. We walked slowly along the streets, across the squares and stone bridges. The streets were full of people, full of tourists. Young people were walking hand in hand. Everyone seemed happy. We soon arrived at the Grand Canal, a long narrow street full of beautiful palaces. The facades were bathing in the sun. We stopped at the place called Café Gondoliere and went in. Inside there was a group of tourists, older men reading newspapers, and smartly-dressed women eating cakes. We sat down to enjoy the scene. After some time I went to the women’s washroom and when I came back, my husband was paying the bill. We made a quick decision. We went to visit the glass-works of Murano. I was admiring an artist who was making beautiful sculptures in glass. In front of us he was sculpting a beautiful horse. I said: Oh, I would be very happy if I had it. Then we returned to the city. It was a long walk back to our hotel.We didn’t talk a lot, but it was a peaceful time which both of us enjoyed. I was very happy. Just before we reached the hotel my husband kissed me on the cheek and gave me a small package. He said: Darling, I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. You are my life. I answered: Me too, dear. When we entered the room, I opened my gift and saw the little glass horse. 20 years later, I am divorced. His love disappeared like the wind. I put the glass horse into the box beside the wedding ring and shut it. I say to myself: Don’t cry! Tomorrow is a new day.”