Curating doesn't equal curating. It's not a homogenous practice. When I think about the various 'modes of curating' I am more and more drawn to the existential core of a particular person, that is—their modes of 'being' and getting to know (and further arranging/ challenging/ transcending the knowledge about) the world.

I know that my way to envision a future exhibition project mainly stands on two pillars—intuition and space. I trust the occasions. I follow the insights that come to me on the bridge between wakefulness and dream. I believe that random images, thoughts and impressions are having some intercourse in the dark part of my brain and once they are finished they proudly present me with a readymade concept. On the other side, my feeling of a not-yet-existent exhibition is a spatial one. I visualise my body in space, surrounded by triggers of objects, light, density and meaning. I chase away the blur and wait for things to take shape. Sooner or later they're all clearly visible, so I put them on the floor plan and in my curatorial text.

But what I didn't know or didn't reflect upon—is that these entities—space and intuition, would become my ways into the contexts of various post-Yugoslav localities and, not less important, into the complex notions as 'motherland', 'home' and 'myself'.

This narrative is arranged as an expansion of spaces I've engaged with in these three late months of 2022, starting from my rental apartment in Crveny Krst, drifting through Belgrade and Pristina, ending with the borders between states. Within each scale I carry my intuition- and space-driven investigation, outlined by the questions that haunt (and will keep haunting me) throughout my personal and professional life.