We have another 12 hours – Artists Concepts

Bujar Bacaj

(born 1980 in Peja, lives in Prishtina)

Stop and go, 2004

Bujar Bacaj’s contribution to I kemi 12 orë consisted of a set of pedestrian lights, mounted at the entrance to the shopping arcade at the Palace of Youth and Sports, and a large black-and-white-striped mat, laid out in front of the lights like a zebra crossing. For 12 hours the lights changed from green to red and back again: walk, don’t walk; walk, don’t walk. Viewers of Bacaj’s installation were confronted with the question of whether to wait at the lights when they were told to, or to keep walking. Should they adhere to the rules made by others – ostensibly for their own safety and the common good? Or should they decide for themselves when and how to move forwards, even at the risk of an accident? The set of pedestrian traffic lights used in the original installation at the Palace of Youth and Sports back in 2004 is no longer in the artist’s possession. For the reconstruction of his work, Bacaj opted to use lights sourced in Berlin due to the scarcity of second-hand traffic signals in Prishtina, thereby raising a whole new set of questions. 

Reconstruction; pedestrian traffic light, remote control, plug, cord, 68 x 26.5 x 39 cm

Courtesy of the artist

Alisa Gojani Berisha

(born 1979 in Prishtina, lives in Prishtina)

Seeds of Hope, 2003

Among the first generation of artists to graduate after the war in 1999, Alisa Gojani chose to present a large-format floor painting as part of I kemi 12 orë. It was a work she had first exhibited the previous year in the 3rd International Student Triennial at the Marmara University, Faculty of Fine Arts in Turkey. Created using acrylic, soil and seeds, the artist’s sparse composition establishes a strong material and physical connection with the earth. Gojani sought to heighten the connection between art and life by encouraging viewers to walk upon and thus become part of the painting. At the centre of the composition is a row of women. Painted schematically with broad brushstrokes in black paint, the faceless beings are partially smattered with red, which, given the recent experience of war, seems evocative of violence. Is it one and the same woman adopting various poses and tasks, or are they many different women engaged in some form of collective task? Are they dead or alive? Subjects or objects? Agents or victims? Downtrodden or resilient, or both?

Acrylic, seeds, soil on canvas, 350 x 140 cm

Courtesy of the artist

Burim Berisha

(born 1980 in Peja, lives in Prishtina)

TARGET Memory, 2002

Burim Berisha was in the final stages of his studies in fine arts when he took part in I kemi 12 orë both as an artist and a producer. Having been involved in running a bar called 8 with fellow artist Zake Prelvukaj, a place where many artists and intellectuals hung out and showed their work, he was chosen to assist Prelvukaj in coordinating the happening at the Palace of Youth and Sports. Like many of his later works, the kinetic sculpture Berisha exhibited was constructed from found materials. Reminiscent of an alien warrior from a science-fiction movie, it incorporates lasers whose piercing red lights point in many directions like the red-dot sights used by snipers taking aim. Despite its futuristic aesthetic, the object draws heavily on the artist’s firsthand experience of actual violence and war and the scars they have left on society. Berisha’s work explores the psychological effects of the transformation of technology from a tool of mortal danger to an object of play.

Sculpture, found objects, 175 x 45 x 45 cm

Courtesy of the artist

Fahredin Spahija

(born 1960 in Dvorce, North Macedonia, lives in Prishtina)

Muza ime, engjelli im (My muse, my angel), 2004

Whereas some artists specifically addressed either the past, the present or the future with their works in I kemi 12 orë, photographer Fahredin Spahija was among those who chose to present a work in all three sections. After the war Spahija was predominantly focusing on the subject of the family. The vast majority of the photographs he took during that period were of his daughters. Yet he also spent considerable time photographing the families of missing people. In the section dedicated to the past Spahija exhibited a photograph of a mother holding and comforting her small child. In the section on the present he showed a photograph of a mother huddling with a group of women, masking her face with a snapshot of her missing child. And in the section on the future he recalls having exhibited the triptych displayed here: a portrait of one of his young daughters, Drenica, flanked by wings like an angel. Yet much like the people of Kosovo, stifled in their newly found liberty by endless visa restrictions, her wings are taped down, limiting her potential to fly.  

Black-and-white photographs, mounted on Alucobond®, 60 x 80 cm; 80 x 60 cm; 60 x 80 cm

Courtesy of the artist

Eshref Qahili

(born 1960 in Oraovica, Preševo, lives in Prishtina)

Untitled, 1998

Untitled, 1998

Painted in the year before the outbreak of the Kosovo war, these two dreamlike compositions were chosen for I kemi 12 orë by artist Eshref Qahili for their invocation of the “turmoil, gloom, love and hope” characteristic of this period. The paintings each portray what appears to be the same nude female body in shades of bluish black and white, the one image the inverse of the other. Behind the exposed curves of her torso, draped over the rail of a shower curtain, lie barely discernible traces of landscape and architecture. In each of the two paintings, gloved hands reach up towards the woman’s body in a gesture of exploration and examination, perhaps even of violation. Differing only slightly, the two scenes appear equally disquieting and uncomfortable, strangely suspended between eroticism and violence. Is the figure alive or dead? An object of desire or pity? How does her fate as an individual relate to the context in which she finds herself? Can she be considered an invocation of memory or an embodiment of brutality yet to come? 

Mixed technique on paper, 100 x 70 cm

Qahili Family Collection;

Mixed technique on paper, 100 x 70 cm

Qahili Family Collection

Sead Rama

(born 1977 in Prishtina, lives in Prishtina)

Identity?, 2004 

The installation that Sead Rama developed for I kemi 12 orë is comprised of eleven cobblestones, each bearing one letter of the word “identity” with a question mark at the end. Typically, you would find cobblestones arranged side by side on the ground in an uneven grid of almost identical squares in the older parts of the city. Yet here they are presented on eye level, as individual stones not to be walked upon but to be looked at one by one. Now, as at the time of its creation, the work poses the question of what might constitute identity, whether individual or collective. It highlights people’s tendency to look to the past, to elements of history, religion and culture to forge – or imagine – their identity. At the same time, it brings to the fore the inherently fragmentary, fragile nature of any identity, irrespective of social, political and historical context. 

Reconstruction; Installation; 11 cobblestones, each approx. 10 x 9 x 10 cm, wire, rod, overall dimensions variable

Courtesy of the artist

Burim Myftiu

(born 1961 in Prizren, lives in Prishtina and Oakville, Connecticut)

HELL NO, 2004

Renowned for his arresting photographic series such as Kosova Mon Amour (1999), Remembrance (2009) and Monuments (2013), photographer Burim Myftiu chose to present a two-part work in I kemi 12 orë. Entitled Hell No, the work consisted of some 100 black-and-white, time-sequence photographs pegged to a rope in two rows. Beside the rows of photographs a stop-motion video, assembled from the same photographs, was projected onto a portable screen. Shown here on a flatscreen, this video shows conceptual artist Tahar Alemdar creating what seems to be a protest banner. Spelled out in block letters across the banner are the words “HELL NO”. The emphatic refusal conveyed by these two short words can be read as an overt display of resistance. By showing the video in a loop, Myftiu portrays this performance of defiance as worthy – or in need – of repetition. 

Stop-motion video, black-and white, sound, 2:40 min.

Courtesy of the artist

Rrezeart Galica

(born 1981 in Prishtina, lives in Prishtina)

t U N g, 2003

The work most consistently remembered by visitors to I kemi 12 orë is graphic designer and artist Rrezeart Galica’s banner, t U N g, bidding a clear and unemotional farewell to the United Nations Mission in Kosovo (UNMIK). With its overt referencing – and rebranding – of the once ubiquitous blue logo of the UN, the artist’s banner was the contribution that people felt most poignantly captured the spirit of the moment. It reflected the country’s yearning for true independence and self-determination – and its frustration at the continuing rule by foreign powers and agencies. At the time he conceived the banner, which was also used in protest marches and rallies, Galica was actively involved in a movement known as “Tjeterqysh” (Otherwise), which later joined forces with Kosovo Action Network (KAN), to form the movement and subsequent political party Vetëvendosje (Self-Determination). 

Offset print on paper, 120 x 180 cm

Courtesy of the artist

Orhan Kerkezi

Tre hapat e shpëtimit (Three Steps to Salvation), 2004


This confronting documentary by playwright, filmmaker and lecturer Orhan Kerkezi was released just in time to be shown as part of I kemi 12 orë at the Palace of Youth and Sports. The film investigates the massacre committed by Serb paramilitaries in the Kosovar village of Suhareka on 26 March 1999. 48 people lost their lives as a result of this atrocity. Most of the victims were from the same family; 14 of them were children. The documentary tells the story from the point of view of the three people who managed to survive the massacre by pretending to be dead: Vjollca Berisha with her nine-year-old son, Gramozi, and her sister-in-law, Shyhrete Berisha. The three were forced to jump from a moving truck carrying the victims to a mass grave. Even in their darkest hours, the survivors found meaning in their capacity to bear witness. The documentary not only won numerous awards but also served as crucial evidence of war crimes at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia in The Hague.

Film, colour, sound, 59:50 min.

Courtesy of the artist

Zake Prelvukaj

(born 1961 in Martinovići, Gusinje, Montenegro, lives in Prishtina)

Democracy and Modern Art (fuck), 2004

Together with Albin Kurti, artist and professor Zake Prelvukaj played a leading role in developing and organising I kemi 12 orë. At the time when Kurti initiated the project, Prelvukaj was one of very few artists pushing the boundaries of art and its institutions. Inspired by artists such as Marina Abramović, she turned her attention from painting towards more socially engaged and performance-based forms of art – both in her artistic and teaching practices. The two large-scale photographs shown here depict the artist’s left and right hand respectively. On each hand the middle finger is raised in a gesture of provocation. On one hand the word “democracy” is written in red paint, lipstick or nail polish, on the other “modern art”. The photographs convey the spirit of the challenge Prelvukaj issued to the artistic and political establishments of the post-war era. These she believed to be posing as something they were not and – for all their aspirations to openness and equality – to be perpetuating practices of oppression and violence. 

2 C-Prints, mounted on wood, each 200 x 120 cm

Courtesy of the artist

Driton Hajredini

(born 1970 in Prishtina, lives in Prishtina)

Somewhere in Prishtina, 2003

This concise work was one of painter, photographer, video and installation artist Driton Hajredini’s earliest forays into the realm of video. Already bearing the hallmark signs of Hajredini’s satirical, ostentatiously amateur approach to the medium, it was developed for Video Art Festival initiated and organised by Visar Mulliqi in 2002. It was subsequently shown in I kemi 12 orë as a commentary on the anarchic tendencies of cultural life in the aftermath of the war. The video tells a simple, everyday story about the best – and more or less only – way to encounter global contemporary art in Prishtina around the turn of the millennium: on pirated videos. Here, the artist is shown walking into an unidentified video store somewhere in Prishtina, looking to rent a video for an evening. He is offered many different works to look at, among them Matthew Barney’s famous Cremaster Cycle. In the quasi-utopia of the video store, neither the economic clout of the art market nor commercial success holds much sway. What counts is what you can get your hands on.

Video, colour, sound, 3:44 min.

Courtesy of the artist

Liridona Gjuka

(born 1983 in Peja, lives in Prishtina)

E fundit (The Last), 2004

Liridona Gjuka was among the students who met regularly with Albin Kurti and Zake Prelvukaj in the lead-up to I kemi 12 orë. The purpose of their meetings was to workshop the concept for the happening and to develop works addressing one or all of the three themes of the show. Gjuka found the environment at these meetings creative, inclusive and encouraging. The ongoing discourse motivated her to produce the work shown here. Divided into three distinct yet interwoven sections, the composition hovers between figuration and abstraction, clarity and obscurity. The face of the figure at the centre of this dark, erotically charged image is partially covered. Sitting on what looks like the side of a bed, she appears as a fragment and a shadow. Is she present or absent, the observer or the observed, in the process of disappearing or becoming? 

Acrylic on paper, 120 x 100 cm

Courtesy of the artist

Gjyljan Fetaj

(born 1977 in Peja, lives in Prishtina)

Lufta per te qene i kundert / The war to be the opposite, 2004

In this photomontage, painter and photographer Gjyuljan Fetaj depicts a torso merging two very different bodies into one. The right-hand side of the body is reminiscent of the classical figure of Venus, who modestly covers her breast with her hand. With its masculine physique and hand on hip, the left-hand side of the body could be a reference to Mars, the god of war, who is occasionally depicted in this posture. In its merging of opposites, the figure appears to invoke the ancient Chinese philosophy of Yin and Yang, which presumes that contrary forces such as male and female, light and dark, or activity and passivity inevitably make up all aspects of life and existence. In contrast to the symbol of Yin and Yang, however, which consists of two distinct halves, the two halves making up the figure at the centre of Fetaj’s work are linked by delicate light-green markings resembling plants. Like the fragile shoots of grass and shrubs that emerge after a bushfire, they evoke new life, a sense of balance and beauty. 

Photomontage, 70 x 100 cm (Original size: 140 x 180 cm)

Courtesy of the artist

Balkan Sunflowers

(founded 1999 in Prishtina, based in Prishtina)

Laches ajen ani Plemetina (Welcome to Plemetina), 2003


One of the few works explicitly mentioned by Albin Kurti in the concept outline he developed for I kemi 12 orë was the internationally acclaimed documentary Welcome to Plemetina. Mentored by Australian filmmaker Kieran D’Arcy, the documentary was the first of many short films produced by a group of young Roma people with the support of Balkan Sunflowers, an NGO founded to assist refugees during the Kosovo War in 1999. Tired of being defined only by their war-torn past, the participants decided to create a film that would showcase their culture, traditions and dreams for the future. Through their journey of self-discovery and creative expression the young filmmakers overcame personal obstacles and learned to appreciate each other’s perspectives. As the production progressed, they captured moments of joy, resilience and unity within their community. Their film can be seen as a testament to their strength and determination to shape their own narrative, revealing the richness of Roma culture that transcends the scars of war. Many of the creators of this documentary went on to make a career in film, television or radio. While no one is altogether certain whether the film was shown at the happening, it clearly played an important part in the conception process.

Film, colour, sound, 15:00 min.

Authors: Sami Mustafa, Avdyl Mustafa, Driton Berisa, Avni Mustafa, Faton Mustafa, Kence Alili 

Production: Balkan Sunflowers, Rand Engel, Project Coordinator: Kiaren D’Arcy

Featuring: Avdulj Mustafa, Sami Mustafa, Vezir Skenderi, Faton Mustafa, Alili Kence, Avni Mustafa, Seljvija Emini, Afrodita Berisa, Driton Berisa, Seljvija Aljija, Avdula Mustafa, Emin Mustafa, Ramiza Kurta, Faton Aljija, Ersana Kurta

Courtesy of the creators and Balkan Sunflowers, Kosovo

Charlie’s Angels

(founded 2003 in Prishtina, disbanded 2005)

Mission, 2004

Charlie’s Angels was the pioneering female contemporary art collective in Kosovo. Comprised of Erodita Klaiqi Kasumi, Fitore Isufi Shukriu I KOJA and Sabina Tmava, it was named after the popular US crime series featuring three female private investigators, each of them sexy and smart. With their satirical works, born of what they perceived to be the dystopian spirit of post-war society, the Angels sought to examine the experience of collective trauma and its impact on politics and culture. For I kemi 12 orë they developed an endurance performance called Mission. Throughout the 12-hour happening the three women could be seen pedalling away on stationary racing bicycles, the acronyms of the country’s three major political parties pinned to their backs: LDK – Democratic League of Kosovo, PDK – Democratic Party of Kosovo and AAK – Alliance for the Future of Kosovo. Spread over all three sections of the exhibition – past, present and future –, their political race to nowhere also incorporated the three short videos shown here in which the Angels enact – and parody – highly stylised rituals of conflict and conciliation, conviviality and communication. As part of I kemi edhe 12 orë të tjera the performance will be reenacted by the contemporary performance collective Haveit at the Palace of Youth and Sports on 6 July 2024. 

3 videos (part of 12-hour performance of the same name), colour, sound, each 1:00 min, 

looped; videos: Pixel Productions

Courtesy of the artists

Berat Hasani

(born 1982 in Mitrovica, lives in Prishtina and Berlin)

Fle: A kena flejt boll? (Sleep: Have we done enough sleeping?), 2004

The banner displayed here was part of Berat Hasani’s contribution to I kemi 12 orë. Posing the question of whether people had done enough sleeping, the hand-written sign was mounted on the wall at the intersection of the three corridors representing past, present and future. It was accompanied by a questionnaire which required participants to fill in their first name, last name, gender and to answer the question on the banner. Over 100 questionnaires were completed. This performative work, of which only the banner has survived, presented the artist with a means of exploring – and provoking a discussion around – the overriding sense of inertia and stagnation that had taken hold of political and social life at the time. Certainly people needed time to recover and heal after all they had been thrrough during the war and its aftermath. Yet five years on, Hasani felt it was time to wake up from the deep and heavy sleep the leaders of the country and its citizens seemed to have fallen into. As part of I kemi edhe 12 orë të tjera Hasani’s work will be reenacted at the Palace of Youth and Sports on 6 July 2024. 

Acrylic on canvas, 160 x 400 cm

Courtesy of the artist

Do you remember this work?

The work Flaka Haliti (born 1982 in Prishtina, lives in Frankfurt) contributed to I kemi 12 orë no longer exists anywhere but within people’s memories. Even for the artist herself, the contours of what she considers her earliest installation are somewhat hazy. Haliti recalls that the work, which was displayed in the section of the exhibition dedicated to the present, consisted of a headless figure draped in a sheet and wearing yellow Doc Martens on its feet. The figure was seated on the ground with its knees drawn in towards its chest. Inside its neck was a mirror reflecting the faces of all who dared to look inside. On the wall behind the figure was a handwritten sign saying Do you know this person? Of the many works shown in the exhibition, Haliti’s is among those most often remembered by the people who attended the event, although their descriptions of what they saw are wildly divergent. In the absence of the physical object, viewers of the present exhibition are invited to take turns at either reconstructing or reimagining the work on the paper provided here. Each completed drawing goes to the bottom of the pile, within which lies the artist’s own attempt at sketching her work of twenty years ago. 

Curatorial Intervention; A3 paper on plinth, 95 x 29,7 x 42 cm

Courtesy of Shtatëmbëdhjetë