Bogdan Tirnanic's work proves that the
best journalism always becomes a literature in
action. He was a film buff, the critic and a lucid
interpreter of phenomenons of culture, politics
and street. He was a hero for many and probably
the only film critic who was as important for his
national cinema (Yugoslav and Serbian) as its
best directors. If he wrote about soccer team
Red Star or some seemingly odd character from
margin of society, it would instantly turn into
brilliant cultural analysis that never self-indulged
in its own depth. Humour was his escape route.
His writings had smell of bars, rebellion and his
beloved Belgrade. It was jazzy, it was bluesy and
always worldly and always local.
Bogdan Tirnanic was a self-made man
who decidedly never graduated from high school
to became one of the brightest thinkers of
culture that South Slavs ever had.
Bogdan Tirnanic (1941 - 2009)
|
There was a Holden Caulfield in him who was giving a voice to all other Holden
Caulfields of Yugoslavia and later Serbia. His mind was always young, non-dogmatic.
Obviously, this was a man who chose not to climb any kind of social ladder, but rather
ladders of intellectual adventure, friendship and some kind of highly noble and highly
ethical shipwreck. When he wrote - it spoke volumes from limited newspaper space.
When he decided to stay quiet - it spoke volumes, too. Reading Tirke, which was his
nick-name, you always had a feeling that you have a big privilege to read an article by
an author who is normally a great writer with several masterpieces under his belt,
except that those books were never published or written. The thing is, they were.
This gentle critic who made us laugh at and from our sadness, modest as he was,
played a perfect trick on all of us.
His journalism was a literature and he was an artist.
Z.M.