Sasha Aleksa Perišić
b. 1986, Sarajevo, Bosnia
Whenever loading my brush with paint, I never aim for definite realism, but rather want to give the appearance of reality: to shoot beyond the natural, but not outside nature. Whether it’s executed under cold-blooded compulsion or rigged discreetly over a few weeks, etched with repetitious marks or daintily applied through slow-burned sfumato, all my works tend to focus on the silhouette of man – the most noble subject for art, in my eyes. I then remind myself that I can’t truly see further than what I already know. Every work is just one step toward further broadening my horizon of human understanding. So, I make and stack myself wooden blank slates like ammunition and let my scrutiny spill onto them and wrap and coil whichever way it sees fit, like a grapevine without a brace, and recall that which keeps me coming back: that intoxicating feeling of raw creation and letting the sensation wash over me in an awesome wave.