by Mia Butter // Apr. 18, 2025
This article is part of our feature topic Public.
My gateway into activist and artist Igor Grubić’s practice was equal parts jarring and cathartic. Croatian and Serbian voices shouting, gunfire and Missy Elliot’s 2001 hit ‘Get Ur Freak On’ blared across Berlin’s Nome gallery before I could see the source of the commotion. Grubić’s two-channel video ‘East Side Story’ (2006-08) portrays the violence that took place in Belgrade and Zagreb at their respective Pride protests, in 2001 and 2002. Referencing Leonard Bernstein’s musical ‘West Side Story,’ the title Grubić chose attempts to include other Eastern European countries, beyond the Balkans, where queerphobia prevails. Juxtaposing documentary footage from both events and a dance choreography performed in the same public space years later, Grubić isn’t “tackling” or “discussing” the violence. He is promoting a collective healing through protest and reconstruction.
Based in Zagreb, Grubić initiated his practice in the 1990s, a transitional and violent period in former Yugoslavian history, informing his critical lens on the region and the aftermath of the wars that took place from 1991 until 2001. In conversation with Grubić, we discussed his piece ‘East Side Story,’ the cyclical nature of politics and the work’s newfound context with current student-led protests in Serbia spreading across the region.
Igor Grubić: ‘East Side Story,’ 2006-08, multimedia project, 2 channel video 14’, 11, photographs, performance // Courtesy of the artist
Mia Butter: Your practice, at its core, is social and political. Some examples include public interventions, like your work ‘Black Peristyle’ (1998) and daily political activations, as in ‘366 Liberation Rituals’ (2008-09) or ‘Another Green World’ (2021). What roles does a public art practice have, and what responsibility does the artist carry?
Igor Grubić: Art in public space and activism are not a spectacle for me. It’s about care. It’s about standing together, not apart. Whether I’m marking acts of resistance or quietly commemorating the absence of those who have been erased, my work seeks to hold space for grief, for hope, for empowerment, for the possibility of transformation, as well as the right to reclaim public space, to invite dialogue or provoke action, encouraging civic participation and engagement in political, ecological or social issues.
When I work in public space, I carry a responsibility, not only to the space, but also to the people moving through it. I strive to create works that also open up space for others to speak, feel, remember, imagine and develop empathy. Creating public art also means making oneself vulnerable, because to expose yourself is to potentially face misunderstanding, even hostility. But I accept that risk. Because I believe that art, when rooted in tenderness and courage, can be a catalyst for change.
Generally, I try to create conditions for exchange. For witnessing. For us to see each other more clearly. And in that space between us, that fragile yet powerful space, I believe something essential can happen through the act of creative play. A gesture. Recognition. A quiet act of resistance. The beginning of confronting ourselves, as well as the other. A true encounter without masks or roles.
Igor Grubić: ‘East Side Story,’ 2006-08, multimedia project, 2 channel video 14’, 11, photographs, performance // Courtesy of the artist
MB: Your video ‘East Side Story’ documents and interprets early Pride protests in the Balkans, namely in Belgrade and Zagreb in 2001 and 2002, respectively. This was shortly after the wars had ended, and tensions were still high. Was there a reason the works were created a few years after the fact?
IG: In 2005, the Museum of Contemporary Art in Belgrade invited me for a solo exhibition and to create a new site-specific work. I was guided by the idea of responding to the context I found myself in, and to speak about issues specific to our region, about existing prejudices and intolerance towards minorities and those who go against the norm in society. ‘East Side Story’ is particularly focused on the current issues of “right-wing political schizophrenia,” viewed through the lens of the Pride parades in Zagreb and Belgrade.
MB: I am interested in the two, almost opposing, styles of footage you used for this film. How did you decide to juxtapose, or even compare, these two components?
IG: This two-channel film installation consists, on one screen, of documentary footage showing scenes of brutal violence endured by the participants of the Pride parades in Belgrade (2001) and Zagreb (2002), and on the other screen, a reconstruction of these events through contemporary dance.
This choreographed dance performance, in which the language of movement imitates violent actions, since the dancers take on both the roles of victim and aggressor, carries a strong critical approach. Because choreographed violence implies a conscious, channeled and controlled bodily energy, it directly opposes the uncontrolled, chaotic energy of an unconscious aggressive mob.
By placing raw documentary footage on one screen and, on the other, a poetic reading of such absurd brutality through a staged dance of strong gestures and movements, a powerful dramatic effect is achieved. This dance mirroring serves as a commentary that makes the brutal attack on a human rights parade even sadder and more tragic. Ultimately, it turned out that this combination of two opposing screens acts as a trigger—wherever I show it, people are deeply emotionally affected.
Igor Grubić: ‘East Side Story,’ 2006-08, multimedia project, 2 channel video 14’, 11, photographs, performance // Courtesy of the artist
MB: Being Croatian myself, much of the footage you use in your film is familiar to me. I recognize some of the Pride footage from popular culture references, even the comedy/drama ‘Parada’ from 2011. How is this imagery being viewed in the region now, over 20 years later?
IG: We live in a patriarchal, conservative and traditional environment where Catholic dogmatism is still quite strong, and that situation shapes the attitude toward various minorities: national, religious, sexual. The discriminatory attitude that prevailed for centuries can’t be changed overnight, and it requires long-term work. If many individuals from political and church circles were to come out, it could help dismantle prejudices more quickly. Their courage would be inspiring to others and would help raise awareness that LGBTQ+ people are well-known public figures, our neighbors, friends, family. Only then will things truly change.
On the other hand, unlike the (wartime and postwar) 1990s when most intellectuals were silent, some things are indeed changing. As an active participant in NGOs dealing with human rights, I’ve witnessed the growth and strengthening of the non-governmental scene, as well as major changes in the independent cultural scene. Awareness of the fight for freedom of expression and civil rights has grown, along with the understanding that united efforts can lead to real change.
MB: The dancers in the film are performing their own public intervention by dancing in the streets of Zagreb, including the iconic Ban Jelačić Square. Why did dance feel like the right medium to accompany the footage from Belgrade and Zagreb Pride? How did your collaboration with the dancers come to be?
IG: At first, I planned to do interviews with both the hooligans and the human rights activists who were on opposite sides of the parade. But while reviewing the documentary footage, I realized that my disbelief in the brutality and cruelty of people was accompanied by a strong physical reaction. Every time, I experienced a distressing physical response. So I decided to work with the body: with dancers.
I reached out to choreographer Irma Omerzo and the dancers (the two Zrinkas, Pravdan and Darko). I decided that we would hold all our rehearsals in public space, from parks and squares to streets, and we practiced for two months until we arrived at the final choreography. Through the act of dance, we wanted to publicly protest and, in a symbolic and metaphorical way, begin to heal the sore spots, where these violent events occurred. And, of course, once you’re in public space, interaction and communication with passersby becomes inevitable. With that, I wanted to point to the still-present creative forces in society, a kind of resistance movement that’s trying to change this deeply conservative society for the better.
Igor Grubić: ‘East Side Story,’ 2006-08, multimedia project, 2 channel video 14’, 11, photographs, performance // Courtesy of the artist
MB: Having seen this film during the current ongoing protests in Belgrade and across Serbia, how do you see a work like ‘East Side Story’ reflecting the crisis in Serbia?
IG: The film ‘East Side Story’ deeply resonates with the current protests in Serbia, reflecting the cyclical nature of political manipulation and civic resistance. However, for me, an even more direct connection is my earlier work ‘Angels with Dirty Faces’ (2004-06), which I created in the Kolubara coal mine near Belgrade. That piece was inspired by the mass protests of the year 2000, which led to the overthrow of Milošević and his regime. I witnessed that moment firsthand.
The solidarity of thousands of people who supported the striking miners left a lasting impression on me. The Kolubara miners, aware of their key role in supplying half of Serbia’s electricity, decisively used their power, symbolizing the potential of united civic action. In ‘Angels with Dirty Faces,’ I wanted to celebrate precisely those workers who became aware of the strength they possessed and showed that, united, we can be a force for social change.
Since that event also marked the end of socialism in this region, I decided to create photographs in a monumental socialist-realist style, glorifying the role of the worker. I contrasted their honest labor with the corrupt privatization and looting of public property that followed the breakup of Yugoslavia. This work pays tribute to those who remain true to themselves and resist systems rooted in injustice. Unlike political elites who manipulate nationalism for personal gain, these “dirty angels” carry their integrity, symbolizing the moral strength of the working class.
Igor Grubic: ‘Angels With Dirty Faces,’ 2004-06, multimedia project, 2 photo series, short film 17’ 30″ // Courtesy of the artist
MB: You began your artistic career during a transitional period in the region’s history, amid the Yugoslav Wars in the 1990s. How did that public and political climate define your work? How does the current social unrest define your work now?
IG: The atmosphere in Croatia during the dark 90s, throughout the war and its aftermath, was quite exclusionary, nationalistic and repressive. Like in all the former Yugoslav republics, the right-wing government controlled all the media, treating any intellectual or human rights activist who criticized them as a traitor or enemy.
Most of the state budget designated for cultural programs was spent on folkloric events aimed at reinforcing national identity. Contemporary art wasn’t supported. To some extent, I understand why intellectuals and cultural workers were more silent during the 90s. They feared being labeled and worried about their own livelihood. I don’t blame anyone, we all need security, and most people only act when they’ve experienced injustice firsthand. In that sense, I too reacted out of personal war trauma, and I decided to treat art as my method of resistance.
As an active member of the art scene, I noticed that the audience was limited to a small group of people who went to all the exhibitions and mostly shared the same interests and opinions. So I decided to move beyond gallery and museum spaces and act in public space, where you can communicate with random people and reach a broader audience. This led to a series of protest actions. That’s when I established some core principles of my artistic practice: entering public space, acting for the benefit of the local community, including others in the creative process and fighting for social justice and social democracy.
