A private story - based on a suitcase full of letters
Over the course of several generations, one family never made the choice to discard an old suitcase full of dusty letters and documents. It is that simple fact that has now made it possible for that suitcase to be opened, and the formerly unknown papers read and brought to light. The suitcase contained more than 8,000 pages of documents, for the most part dating back to the 19th and early 20th centuries. The papers, letters, photographs, envelopes, notes, newspaper cuttings, recipes, and diplomas found in it can today be seen as a testimony to individual lives lived against the backdrop of a tumultuous Balkan historical fresco.
This book is just one family’s “small”, private historical account. All characters, dates, countries and places, names and surnames, years – be they historical events or “ordinary” days – are real. Not a single fact presented in the book has been invented, changed, or added.
Music Made of Anything
When I say music, I think on many things. I think on one enormously, complex, the overall, cumulative occurrence, without great conceptual split into pieces, groups, types, trends, styles, genres, theory, history, form... I think on the totality of sound and sounding. On harmony and cacophony equally. On the way that nature, city, machines sounds but also on the sound of lonely flute or grand symphony orchestra. I think of something, so to speak, infinitly and boundlessly, something concurrently fabulous and ephemeral.
Music, as I see it, makes multiple and comprehensive sum of the parameters in which only the beginning of enumeration, shall be mentioned: human creativity and knowledge, history and heritage, intuition and courage, moral and curiosity, thoughtfulness and peace of mind, physical and metaphysical spiritual space.
The music is great and inseparable part of human life.
The Road to Damascus
I do not feel a stranger here but, at the same time, I feel my increasing self-integration. I am more and more what I am.
Something akin to a dream emerges from the entwining of the images from my childhood and those of the present.
The world before my eyes now is a shimmering, dancing world of disorder. The image is never still and balanced. This may be due only to the hot air which turns everything into a blurred picture. The desert moves, the sand floats. The air is opaque, saturated with the dust and everything else it carries.
But the world whose image emerges slowly before my inner eye is completely different. It is peaceful, almost without motion. It is an apple orchard in the Serbian countryside in the fall, when the trees are dropping their leaves and their fruit thuds to the ground to rot in the damp grass.
Ljubica Maric and Pavle Stefanovic -
Article written for the International Music Assembly entitled "The spaces of modernism: the work of Ljubica Maric in the context of the music of her time" (Belgrade, November 5-7, 2009). The article will be published in 2010 as part of a compilation of texts from the Assembly