Knjiga ‘Jarun’

 

JARUN

 

Počelo je još jedno dugo toplo ljeto u državi koja se poput utopljenika koprca u beznađu i depresiji moralne, ekonomske i društvene krize. Lijepa zemlja bogate povijesti, ali ozbiljno nagrižena lošom politikom, korupcijom i ljudskom pohlepom. Posljednja godina prije pridruživanja Europskoj Uniji, valjda.

 

Jutro je na obližnjem zagrebačkom jezeru Jarun. Sjedim u baru bezlična imena koji se nalazi u blizini Velikoga jezera i pijem jutarnju kavu po happy hour-cijeni prelistavajući dnevne novine u kojima su i naslovi dovoljni da vam pokvare dan. Promatram onako usput mladića na obližnjoj plaži, svega nekoliko metara udaljenoj od terase bara, kako namješta plastične ležaljke za sunčanje. Novost ove sezone na plažama Jaruna. Nada se da će, usprkos pomalo oblačnu vremenu, barem nešto zaraditi njihovim iznajmljivanjem. Zapažam i starijega gospodina, čini se jednog od onih jezerskih starosjedilaca koji su mnoga ljeta proveli na ovoj šoderici, kako zamišljeno sjedi na plaži zauzimajući mjesto za jednu ležaljku i ne dopuštajući svojom prisutnošću mladiću koji ih slaže da popuni red. Možda neki oblik unutarnjega prosvjeda protiv sveopće privatizacije i profitiranja na svemu i svačemu. Pretpostavljam.

 

Dva filma u džepu i mali 35-milimetarski rangerfinder s kojim sam se već odavno srodio nešto je bez čega rijetko izlazim van. Otvaram kutijicu crno-bijelog filma i punim fotoaparat njime. Volim taj analogni ritual, reset misli i priliku za nove fotografije. Namještam prvi snimak i procjenjujem gdje bih mogao stati i napraviti fotografiju, a da ostanem neprimijećen, da ne poremetim auru fotografskog fluida u prizoru na plaži. Objektiv 28-milimetarski, moj omiljeni i zapravo jedini koji imam. Ustajem od stola i praveći se nezainteresiran prelazim tih nekoliko metara do plaže držeći fotoaparat diskretno uz bedro. Stojim iza leđa starijega gospodina koji sjedi, na poziciji s koje mislim načiniti snimak onako kako sam ga doživio sjedeći za kavom. Malo čekam. Mladić uzima još jednu ležaljku s uredno složene hrpe i počinje je nositi. Prinosim tražilo fotoaparata oku i kadriram u hipu, oblačno je, loše svjetlo. Nekako imam osjećaj da se loše osjećamo sva trojica. Okidam. Jedan snimak. Dovoljno. Je li mi pobjegao horizont? Vjerojatno. Jebeš horizont.

 

Promatram još malo situaciju te se okrećem svojoj nedovršenoj kavi i depresivnim novinskim člancima. U tom trenutku sunce se počinje sramežljivo probijati između tankih oblaka. Poželim ponoviti snimak, no maloprijašnja je scena nestala. Stari gospodin odlučio je otići. Uzima svoj mali ruksak i prepušta mjesto mladiću, koji sada može postaviti i tu preostalu ležaljku te u potpunosti ispuniti red.

 

Sunce se konačno odvažilo punom snagom obasjati jezero, pretvorivši donedavna otužnu scenu u egzotičnu plažu čudesne ljepote i tirkiznoplave vode, istu onakvu kakvu je većina nas negdje vidjela u kojekakvim prospektima ili na internetu, a na njima nikada nije bila. Mladić koji je slagao ležaljke za sunčanje nabacio je veseo osmijeh te u ritmu nekakve chill-out glazbe, koja se čula iz bara, nastavio s poslom. Dan kreće ka usijanju, a građani ovoga grada polako počinju popunjavati plaže Zagrebačkoga mora. Ljeto je počelo… unatoč tome što je i dalje oblačno vrijeme, loše za fotografiju i loše za sve nas.

… … …

 

Dokumentarno-fotografski projekt Jarun nastao je u ljeto 2012. na istoimenom jezeru nedaleko kojeg autor stanuje. Godina velike ekonomske krize i nezaposlenosti u kojoj su mnogi stanovnici grada Zagreba uobičajeni ljetni odlazak na godišnji odmor i Jadransko more zamijenili redovitim posjetima obližnjem jezeru.

 

 

JARUN

 

Another long hot summer begun in a country which, like a drowning man, struggles in hopelessness and depression of a moral, economic and social crisis. A beautiful country with a rich history, but seriously eroded by bad leadership and human greed. The last year before joining the European Union, I guess.

 

A morning at the Jarun lake near Zagreb. I’m sitting in an inanely named bar, close to the Great lake, sipping my morning coffee at the “Happy Hour” price, leafing through the daily newspapers, in which just the headlines are enough to ruin your day. I’m idly watching the young man at the nearby beach, just a few yards from the bar terrace, setting up the plastic beach chairs. A new thing this season on the Jarun beaches. He must be hoping to make some money today by renting those chairs, despite the slightly overcast weather. I also see an older gentleman, who looks like one of those old-timers who spent many summers on these pebbly beaches, sitting pensively at the beach, taking up room for another beach chair and by his presence there preventing the young man to fill the row full of chairs. Perhaps it’s some kind of inner protest against the total privatization and profiteering off everything. I guess.

 

Two films in my pocket and a small 35-millimeter rangefinder camera, which has become an extension of me, are something that I rarely leave home without. I open the box of black and white film and load it in the camera. I love this analog ritual, a reset of thought process and a chance for new photos. I’m winding to the first shot and estimating my viewpoint for the first photo, the place where I could stand and take the first shot without being noticed, so as not to disrupt the aura of photographic fluid of the scene at the beach. The lens is 28 mm, my favorite, and actually the only one I have. I rise from the table and, feigning indifference, I cross those few yards to the beach, holding my camera discreetly by my side. I’m standing behind the back of the seated older gentleman, at the position from which I intend to take the shot as I saw it sitting at the table. I wait a while. The young man takes another beach chair from the neat pile and starts to carry it. I raise the camera to my eye and frame the shot instantly: it is cloudy, the light is bad. Somehow it seems that all three of us feel bad. I press the shutter. A single shot. Enough. Did I get the horizon straight? Probably not. Screw the horizon.

 

I continue to watch the scene for a while and then return to my unfinished morning coffee and the depressing newspapers. At that moment the thin clouds start to disperse, and the sun appears.

I wish to take another shot in the better light, but the scene from the few moments ago is gone. The older gentleman decided to leave. He takes his small backpack and leaves, and the young man can now place the missing beach chair at his spot, thus filling the row completely.

 

The sun finally decided to show itself fully, turning the previously gloomy scene into the exotic beach of astounding beauty, with turquoise waters, just like those tourist posters of exotic places which all of us have seen somewhere, but have never visited. The young man with the beach chairs begins to smile and continues his work in the rhythm of some chill-out music form the bar. The day begins to warm up, and the city people slowly begin to fill up the beaches of the “Zagreb sea”. The summer has begun… despite the fact that it’s still cloudy, bad for photography and for all of us.

… … …

 

The documentary photography project “Jarun” was done in the summer of 2012 at the Jarun lake, near the author’s residence. The year of the great economic depression and unemployment, in which many of the Zagreb residents substituted their customary seaside summer holidays on the Adriatic coast with the regular visits to the nearby lake.

 

 

 

 

  • meki uvez / 20 x 22,5 cm
  • offset print / 170 g/m²
  • 132 stranice / 120 fotografija
  • edicija od 500 numeriranih i potpisanih primjeraka
  • text hrvatski / engleski
  • izdavač KADAR 36
  • ISBN: 978-953-57655-0-9
  • 120 kn

 

Slideshow JARUN: http://youtu.be/m1UrseDaMHw

 

  • soft binding / 20 x 22,5 cm
  • offset printing / 170 g/m²
  • pages 132 / 120 photos
  • edition of 500 signed and numbered copies
  • text croatian / english
  • publisher KADAR 36
  • ISBN: 978-953-57655-0-9
  • 20 EUR (+ shipping)