Denis Butorac

Epistle, 2019

 

Derived from the Latin word epistol or epistula (message, letter), the word epistle is associated first and foremost with religious texts. However, its definition also encompasses a public, open letter addressed to one person. Besides using photography as a medium of artistic expression, I have employed it to document performative processes with which I reconstruct lived experiences – while simultaneously creating new ones. I use fragments from my past such as family archives, memories and situations that have significantly influenced the formation of my identity, yet which often left me feeling like a stranger. With these, I have built a visual narrative addressed to my father, like a letter never written.

Mother, 2018

 

During one of my visits to my family, my mom asked me if I could dye her hair. Over time, this unusual experience became an activity that we fondly share.

Homesick, 2018

 

I grew up in Slavonia, in an environment where breeding and slaughter of animals for food is a centuries-old tradition. Not only is it acceptable, but it is also expected of children to get involved in the process from an early age in order to pass down the acquired skills to new generations. Since I was a child, I have refused to participate in these events, so I was often met with misunderstanding and outrage. Revolted by the pervasive and deep-rooted belief that the ability to kill an animal might also be interpreted as a confirmation of manhood, I tried to overcome my fear and disgust and I attended an act of slaughter as a passive observer. I witness this imposed duty, which is at the same time a social event where the host and his helpers seek mutual validation based on emotional denial. Like an initiation of sorts, I arrange the consequences of this ritual of masculinity in order to conserve the unpleasant memories and create new ones, thus establishing a new model of connecting with my family and the setting in which I grew up.

Three Brothers of Mine, 2015 –

 

As the oldest child in the family, I have albums full of personal photos. Almost every important moment of my growing up was recorded: my first steps, first day of school, every birthday... By the time my first younger brother was born, our parents’ passion for recording was already starting to wane. Their photo taking was becoming increasingly rare, fading completely with the birth of my youngest brother. Knowing the importance of a family album, I decided to start a long-lasting series of photographs with which I not only want to “save” my family’s archives, but also wish to document the lives of my three younger brothers and their growing up trapped in the rural region of eastern Croatia. Apart from the differences in our ages, interests, and attitudes, our lack of mutual understanding is further heightened by the fact that very early on in life I left our hometown to go to college in another city. I also developed an awareness of my own identity that has always set me apart from them.

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