Jelena Belikj

Jelena Belikj graduated from the Faculty of Architecture in Skopje, North Macedonia and works as an architect. She is engaged in photography and drawing. She is a member of the collectives Partizan print and the Center for Depth Art (SRB).

She has held two solo photography exhibitions (“S(o)gledavanje” at Bukva and “Do You Exist, Alice?” at the Museum of Macedonia) and several group exhibitions. She is currently working on a new solo drawing exhibition and an art book - Blueness.

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Lines have been part of my life as long as I can remember. The act of drawing has always been a way of triggering my intrapersonal communication - a need, emotional discharge, even a form of meditation and self discovery. In my earliest childhood I was trying to draw pictures while tagging along with my older brother, who was relentlessly exploring the world of animals. Moving forward in my school days, I was continuously copying pictures of anything that seemed to spark my interest, drifting haphazardly through a variety of aesthetics. During my architecture studies, I embarked on relearning the ways of observing and drawing, but this time by employing structure and discipline. Simultaneously, this ubiquitous presence of lines in my life ushered me in the world of ink on the skin. I started earning money as a tattoo artist. That's also how I got my spondylosis. The physical exhaustion and just having enough of it pushed me out of that scene. After receiving my Bachelor's degree, I've been working as an architect in a studio, where the creative process kicks off by getting the first lines on the endless white screen.

Finally, over the past decade or so, I've been actively pursuing photography. As to the subject matter, I am especially drawn by people and architecture, shadows and light, spatial and atmospheric dimensions. I've been able to find a great deal of inspiration in the process of silkscreen printing in addition to personal support of the art collective "Partizanska Shtampa", having been a part of it for four years. All these routes are interlocked, influencing each other and shapeshifting, mirroring the lines of the drawings. Every individual urge to create something usually folds over and complements another, switching forms and engendering a new meaning.

About a year ago, while "walking the thin lines", I got acquainted with the "depth drawing" technique at the artist Goran Stojčetović's workshop in Skopje. I found myself instantly falling in love with the process, which begins by dropping planning ahead and intention to make a particular drawing. The forms are appearing and unveiling by themselves as I'm making the lines, taking me often to unconscious places. The small format, a plain piece of paper and pen allow for creating a drawing anywhere and requires no big preparations or much time. Even though I do the drawings while wide awake, what comes out usually looks like something right out of a dream. The creatures are revealing themselves through a multitude of lines akin to tangled threads, which I'm trying to unravel for quite some time. Eventually, it all makes sense (or it does even less). These drawings unveil emotions which I wasn't able to explain by using words. At first glance, the creatures are spooky, but to me they look more puzzled, scared, sad, lost, lonely or even childishly helpless. The process itself calms me down as I am discovering parts of my being that I didn't dare to intimate. And now I am able to face them.

The act of drawing helps me to cope with my doubts, insecurities and the feeling of not belonging. I also think it helps in alleviating physical ailments - those that I believe are of a psychosomatic nature - and encourages me to believe in the healing power of art. It's about coming to terms with my thoughts, dealing with my inner demons and a quest into the deeper layers of the unconscious at the same time.

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