Water vedute: Vis, 24th of January, 2014.

I have been thinking for quite some time how to continue with "Construction of Reality" in this year. Namely, many activities which were not present in previous years appeared in my life and they take time which would otherwise go to "Construction".

So I've been thinking, thinking, and I came to conclusion in the end: this year of "Construction of Reality" will be dedicated to watercolor vedute showing place which I had the fortune to visit. I will publish watercolors of small dimensions, made either on the basis of my photographs or sketches of the places in question, or even worked on the spot. This is also the activity that I want to pursue in my watercolor education, as I rarely painted vedute and landscapes.

Vedute will be supplemented by my short reminiscences of the place in question. It will be some sort of a "stream of consciousness" rather than the attempt to "really" describe the place. So let's start.

Vis. I cut myself while peeling grapefruit. Goga is going mad, and I am somehow perfectly calm, although the blood is pouring. There is no one in the city infirmary. Locked up. A few old men on a stone bench disinterestedly look toward me and a handkerchief I rolled up around my finger. It is becoming redder. They speak in some, at moments fast, and at moments completely lazy language which I understand only superficially. There is noone there. Locked up. I cannot sit here anymore, in spite of Goga's protests, we leave. There is no one there. Locked up. And bleeding almost stopped. It's nothing.

Vis. I jump and swim across. There is a submarine shelter there. I am scared that I would cut myself, everything is rusty. I climbed up and I enter the deepness. It's getting darker. When I scream it echoes.

Vis. I would like to swim here, but the waves are gigantic. I don't want to generate so much anxiety to the one I love, so that she waits for me anxiously while I enjoy fighting the sea. It cannot hurt me, but OK. Some other time.

Vis. We drink Coca-Cola with limoncello. Goga never before tasted limoncello. It phenomenally agrees with this heat. A dog under the table next to ours looks dead.

Vis. From the island dump we look toward Komiža. I never saw a sunset more spectacular. A red ball melting in the waves as it submerges in the sea. Too bad it stinks, but I promised myself that I will come here once more before I die. We descend to Komiža, we eat "komiška pogača", a local specialty. It's not much.

Vis. There is a place on Vis called Žena Glava (Woman Head). We ascend toward the highest peak. Antenna. Here, in the cave allegedly, was Josip Broz hiding during the war. Here one can feel healing wind. I imagine myself sleeping in the cave, waking up in the morning, drinking coffee outside and smoking.

Vis. Never forget to take with you a hat or an umbrella to the ferry which takes you to Vis.

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Last updated on 24th of January 2014.