El ser humano lleva siglos tratando de encontrar una respuesta al misterio de la vida y ha ido intentando encontrarla acercándose a ella desde diferentes puntos de vista o enfoques. Para algunos la vida es la fuerza que sostiene al universo y su naturaleza es tan grande que se nos hace imposible comprenderla. También hay quienes definen la vida como la capacidad de nacer, respirar, desarrollarse, procrear, evolucionar y morir.
Otros entienden que la vida está constituida por un sistema de objetivos y propósitos que justifican la existencia de un individuo, por lo que su sentido es totalmente individual y exclusivo. Sin embargo me gusta la idea de Erich Fromm cuando dice que la vida no es más que el acto de vivir en uno mismo y de experimentar cada una de las horas, los días, los meses y los años.
Nos guste o no somos prisioneros del tiempo, un tiempo que en el sistema de vida actual nos obliga a llevar una existencia absolutamente acelerada que se mide en fracciones de segundo y en donde se acumulan los mensajes, los likes, la información, las noticias , los bulos, las mentiras. Todo en un bucle en el que pareciera como si la vida misma fuera a acabarse en el instante siguiente al que parpadeamos. En verdad hoy vivimos un tiempo de vértigo que nos impide darnos cuenta de que en esa precipitada existencia lo único cierto es que nos perdemos la experiencia misma de vivir la vida.
La serie 8th Floor de la fotógrafa Jelena Jankovic (1985, Belgrado, Serbia) es un proyecto sobre la vida, la exploración del tiempo, la fugacidad, la presencia y la ausencia cotidiana de nuestra existencia. La autora ha desarrollado la serie durante 8 años de su vida y le pondrá fin el próximo mes de junio del presente año, cuando abandone el piso en el que ha vivido durante todo este tiempo.
Sus imágenes, a las que acompaña de textos de su propio diario personal, son una exploración de la naturaleza humana, de su propia situación personal, así como de sus propios sentimientos vitales. A través de ellas nos transporta a una existencia cotidiana que muy bien podría ser la nuestra. Una existencia en la que deberíamos percibir que somos nosotros mismos quienes podemos moldearla, quienes podemos construirla de manera diferente, distinta y personal a como nos viene dada.
Por amor, decidí vivir en otro país. Sin embargo, el tiempo trajo algo completamente diferente. La soledad se convirtió en mi vida cotidiana. El tiempo libre me hacía mirar a menudo por la ventana de forma vacía, buscándole sentido a todo. A medida que pasaban los días, escribía mis pensamientos y notaba que las cosas cambiaban delante de mí; una nueva historia cada dos horas. Todas esas preguntas que tenía, se presentaban frente a mí. Esperaba que mi vida sucediera, y estaba sucediendo, todos los días, pero no me estaba dando cuenta. Empecé a observar y a darme cuenta de lo mucho que se nos ha dado pero, debido a la vida apresurada, no tenemos tiempo de darnos cuenta del tiempo que nos rodea. Este paisaje es una abstracción de nuestras vidas, es nuestro, pero cada fotograma representa la diversidad de nuestra edad y nuestro tiempo. Cada día conlleva sus propias emociones y un contenido diferente y, aun así, estamos en el mismo fotograma, en nuestra vida.- Jelena Jankovic.
Fotos: de la serie 8th Floor de Jelena Jankovic Copyright © Jelena Jankovic. All Rights Reserved.
Website: https://www.jelenajankovic.photography/ Instagram: @bitefzena
The human being has been trying for centuries to find an answer to the mystery of life and has been trying to find it by approaching it from different points of view or perspectives. For some, life is the force that sustains the universe and its nature is so great that it is impossible for us to understand it. There are also those who define life as the capacity to be born, to breathe, to develop, to procreate, to evolve and to die.
Others understand that life is constituted by a system of objectives and purposes that justify the existence of an individual, so its meaning is totally individual and exclusive. However, I like Erich Fromm’s idea when he says that life is nothing more than the act of living in oneself and experiencing each of the hours, days, months and years.
Whether we like it or not we are prisoners of time, a time that in the current system of life forces us to lead an absolutely accelerated existence that is measured in fractions of a second and where messages, likes, information, news, hoaxes, lies accumulate. Everything in a loop in which it seems as if life itself is going to end the instant after we blink our eyes. In truth, today we live in a time of vertigo that prevents us from realizing that in this hurried existence the only certainty is that we miss the very experience of living life.
The 8th Floor series by photographer Jelena Jankovic (1985, Belgrade, Serbia) is a project about life, the exploration of time, the fleetingness, presence and absence of our daily existence. The author has developed the series during 8 years of her life and will end it next June of this year, when she leaves the apartment where she has lived during all this time.
Her images, accompanied by texts from her own personal diary, are an exploration of human nature, her own personal situation, as well as her own vital feelings. Through them he transports us to an everyday existence that could very well be our own. An existence in which we should perceive that it is we ourselves who can shape it, who can build it in a different, distinct and personal way from the way it is given to us.
“Out of love, I decided to live in another country. However, time brought something completely different. Loneliness became my daily life. Free time often made me look out of the window in an empty way, searching for meaning in everything. As the days went by, I would write down my thoughts and notice things changing in front of me; a new story every couple of hours. All those questions I had, they would present themselves in front of me. I expected my life to happen, and it was happening, every day, but I wasn’t noticing it. I began to observe and realize how much we have been given but, because of hurried living, we don’t have time to notice the time around us. This landscape is an abstraction of our lives, it is ours, but each frame represents the diversity of our age and our time. Each day carries its own emotions and different content, and yet we are in the same frame, in our life”.- Jelena Jankovic.
ATENCIÓN: Para ver adecuadamente la serie haga clic en la imagen. PLEASE NOTE: To view the series properly click on the image.
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- A hill, a dog, a house and a tree. The hill is ME. The dog is our DAY. The house is YOU. The tree will be the NIGHT. The hill is crumbling, the dog picks up its peaces and the house is being built. The tree can be heard, the tree is there. It grows and covers the hill, it takes the dog and it covers the house. I’ve got the chance to choose between the hill, the dog, the house and the tree. I choose the TREE. It’s the only one that leads me. I see the darkness, peace and scent. I see you. There is no house. The tree is our only reflection.
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- Now if I had to choose, I would choose to free myself from myself. To make it happen, it would take a whole eternity.
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- I’ve gotten used to your presence. Your presence in your absence. I’ve gotten used to your disgusting emptiness of air, people and emotions. The emptiness of the hour because it swallows the time in which we aren’t. We are, but we aren’t. I’ve gotten used to the unrest, to the fog, to the thoughts in which you sign unconditional existence. I’m used to it. I only didn’t use the fact that the habit is like a disease.
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- Two views, each inside the returning time. I would delete all the ire, all the thoughts, all the fear. I would be there. I’ve shared and I gave, without calculations. The time is carrying us. Just hug me, somewhere far away. Far away from myself.
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- On the count of three let’s close our eyes and tell each other what we think. I’ll start first! 1, 2, 3! I see a giraffe, she sits at a table, smoking a cigarette and looking at the melting ice cubes in her scotch. I enter and sit right next to her. I order a scotch. I never drink scotch, but the sound of those ice cubes draws me to just say «one scotch please»! We’re playing poker. I can hear the door opening as you’re entering the bar. I take a cigarette, light it up, get up and slap you. A slap which is not given out of anger but out of pleasure. The snow is falling intensively. I would slap you once again. I don’t even have to count to three. Now you! Open your eyes, then close them. 1, 2, 3…
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- The birds roar again like they are lions. It’s fine. While they are roaring, everything is fine. They’re wearing their mane and they’re my queens now. It’s fine today. We are free.
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- A sense of acceptance. Sometimes you know it’s just a thought. You can’t really accept the reality. This feeling is different. It’s bringing me a deep breath and a look forward. New days, new us with the old burden. Sometimes I feel sorry. Sometimes not so much. There you go, a new age.
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- Sometimes selfishness is good. I feel good about it. I realize that it’s a collective state of mind. Selfishness is OK. Being selfish is equal to being present, to exist and to live. To live this life on earth, to have a job, to have energized vampires, a boss, to be a boss, to boss around yourself and others. Being selfish is OK. Being selfish means hurting others and yourself. Being selfish means success. Let’s live! Cheers!
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- My address is your address. I look at that street, I look at that number and all I can sense is a scent. I’m standing, you’re sitting. Traffic lights are screaming.
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- When we were little we used to fly kites imagining how we will ride a real dragon. When he turned 20, on this day, a real dragon came to his floor. His floor was number 11. Instead of riding the dragon, he let it go and at the same time himself also. They both flew. The dragon flew up, he flew down. From that day onward I never looked down again. My brother, a field of dragons and some other, new world for him.
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- Apartment threshold, street, rain, black, blue, yellow and night. Both there and here. You, me, and taste. The taste is always individual.
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- Would you like to sit next to me? Don’t say hello.
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- A new day, me as a loser in my own life, a winner in other people’s views. Flamingos aren’t colored in pink, it’s just a trip.
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- Without words, feelings. Only this view. Nothin’ scares me anymore.
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- As much as it’s beautiful, love is painful. If you have love you will feel the pain. If you don’t have it you’ll still feel the pain. I feel it and I’m feeling it. It keeps changing intermittently. I’m feeling it and I feel it.
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- In this beautiful ambience of my own sorrow, I will perform a special dance. The rhythm dictates a beginning and an end. My end and your beginning. I leave myself and spill myself all over this floor. I dance over myself. I leave all the love and all hope. I collect my stuff or they collect me. I still don’t know the answer to that question. I know that the rhythm can give meaning, even to my own stupidity. I leave this space but without myself. Without you a long time ago. You will never see me again. Maybe you will recognize me somewhere, by rhythm. Rhythm is a tricky thing.
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- Accessibility inside inaccessibility
Jelena Jankovic
