Srpski
Napredna pretraga
NAPRPRETRAGA

THROUGHARCHIVE? Da    Ne

 


ministarstvo za kulturu grada novog sada

web dizajn studio skvart

Mikro kuca

MRĐA KUZMANOV Milica

MRĐA KUZMANOV Milica
MRĐA KUZMANOV Milica
MRĐA KUZMANOV Milica
MRĐA KUZMANOV Milica
MRĐA KUZMANOV Milica
Move your mouse over photo to enlarge!


MRĐA KUZMANOV Milica

MRĐA KUZMANOV Milica

Painter, Graphic artist

Born in 1960 in Ruma.
Finished the Secondary School of Art and Design, the Academy of Arts in Novi Sad, and postgraduate studies in Belgrade at the Faculty of Visual Arts-Drawing Department (Class of Prof. Branislav Protić). Member of ULUS since 1984. Works as editor and publisher of international magazine for the production of new reality EX NIHILO and a leader of the performance group Ex nihilo that deals with production of works that belong to "extended media"… (performance, happening, creative reading, gesture and process art…), and has about 50 members, pupils and students from Novi Sad's primary and secondary schools.
Study tours abroad: Greece, Italy, France (1989/1990).
She was involved in the work of the 23rd International Summer University in Marles-le-Roy (Painting Studio of Prof. Jean B. Sire). In addition to teaching (preparation of students for entrance examination at the Academy of Arts), she also held many one-man shows and performances, took part in more than seventy group exhibitions in the country and abroad (Paris, Venice, Moscow, Dortmund, Budapest).
Awards: Award for drawing of the the Academy of Arts, Novi Sad (1983); Award for painting at Nadežda Petrović Memorial, Čačak (1986); Award for tapestry, VI razstava domače in umetne obrti, Slovenj Gradec (1986) and Special Acknowledgement for the development of watercolour, the 6th Biennial of Yugoslav Watercolour,  Karlovac (1989).
Fires, performance, Petrovaradin Fortress, 1988
Rhythmicizing Energies, installation, 1989
 
25. It seemed as if all around her had died out – no wind, no waves. The river looked like huge water well. It seemed that the Sun, if it had moved just a little closer, would disappear in the chasm. Only the colour of water played the phantom game: for a moment, it was black like India ink, and the other moment it would turn white like milk. Apathy seized her as well.  She was lying on the deck, in lethargy, with eyes staring at the sky. The sky looked as if mirroring the changes on the water surface: white water – black sky, black water – white sky.

 

 

 

 

Prethodna strana   UP