I would like to return to the past, and fine out if what I had written in my book 20 years ago really happened or if it was just a dream. But everything that had happened was false; with time it became a legend. I am referring to my suitcase full of paintings which I hid before I illegally crossed the border from Yugoslavia to Italy. Every year I wanted to return to that place, and find out what had happened to the suitcase. However, every time something happened, and the trip never became a reality. This year, my wife Valentina and I, decided to travel to Croatia. We rented a car in the city and drove. 20 years ago, I lived near the Opatija and the Rijeka .During that time, I walked a lot, and therefore I easily found it.  We arrived at around 9:00 in the evening; it was already dark and we decided to stop at the same camp where I had a conflict with the Germans. Unfortunately, everything unusual that happened had not been a dream; the camp, the mountain, the ocean, the café, and the shelter in which I had lived were real. Night passed. In the morning, I decided to go swimming. The water was phenomenal, clear as crystal. In the morning, when the first breeze arrived, people went windsurfing in the bay, just as they had in times past.  I was impatient to climb the mountain. We packed up the tent, and then we went to a café to drink coffee. Here I found that they cut the mountain, and were building a 3-story house in the place where the trail to the ascent began. The landscape changed in 20 years. Before, 1 pine grew in the middle of a thicket, and now there grew caprices and a few pines within those 20 years. After we drank coffee, I decided to climb the mountain on the other side, so that there wouldn’t be any more talk about the suitcase: whether it was still there or not. On the other side, the mountain was steep, but I had managed to reach the trail, and began to search among the trees. I understood that the suitcase couldn’t be there, but I had to be certain of it. I looked around all the trees, and then I descended, and told Valentina that the suitcase was gone. I don’t regret not finding it; it would’ve deteriorated in those 20 years anyway. I’d like to think that a good person found the suitcase, and the paintings are hanging in his home. It was nice to be in those places, to remember how things used to be, but I will never return there. There remains a feeling of melancholy, but I’d rather go forward, and focus on the future.

New York is the capital of the world and it is known as the city that never sleeps. This is true, but city life is different for everyone. Some people hate it, others embrace it, but some are indifferent to it.

I arrived in New York on December 10, 1992. I attempted to draw New York for the three years while I was working for a gallery. I think that at that time I couldn’t find the image that I was looking for because I only saw the surface; I didn’t understand the essence of the city.

Since 1995, I didn’t draw another representation of New York, but I had often thought of doing it again. About half a year ago, I decided to make a collection of paintings about how the city looks through my eyes. Since then, I’ve been thinking of doing it everyday, and I’ve been waiting for an idea to appear to me, tempting me to draw it.

I’m starting a series depicting New York, and I don’t know how it’ll turn out, but I’d still like to show the city from my point of view.

P.S. The paintings won’t be shown in any gallery, but they can be seen in my online shop.