The African Adventure in a Nutshell

When I told my folks I’m going to Senegal, nobody knew exactly where it is, and I assume it’s not very commonly known, so here’s a factsheet. Senegal lies in the westernmost part of Africa. This former French colony has been an independent republic since 1960. Around 14 million people live in Senegal, 5 million in the capital Dakar alone. The official language is French, most people also speak Wolof and I don’t speak either.


I went there just after new year’s. There’s no winter in Europe this year so it wasn’t much of a climate shock, but it was a cultural one. It’s amazing how you can arrive at an airport and spend an hour sorting out formalities, getting your passport checked on every step, and move through biometrical visa chaos at an iceberg pace, and still wait for your luggage to come through for almost an additional hour. Now that’s efficiency.



I joined a Slovenian NGO working on a case and we spent our first week on the road, documenting the issues. That’s the part I’ll talk about later, because the material is still being processed. But after a week, when everybody disappeared – Slovenians went home, locals went on a holiday – and nothing could be arranged in a week that I had left, I decided to explore Dakar.


Being an artist, photographer, writer, whatever, I went to see the Artists village. That was awesome. It’s a compound of artist studios and apartments where these artists actually live and work and the entire place is full of sculptures and paintings. It was peaceful and quiet (a huge contrast to the rest of the city) and I could enter every artist studio to see the painters and sculptors at work. Now, I’m not much of a fan of modern art and paintings, but this was something else. I was totally amazed.


It was my first day of dealing with taxi drivers who are heavily trained in screwing you over for a fare. I was told that as a foreigner you never win. It’s impossible. The system is failsafe. And they had the upper hand because I don’t speak French, but I do know my numbers and I have a good taximeter in my head to estimate the fare according to distance.


I never use a taxi anywhere, but here they are cheap, they are plenty and they’re easy to comprehend. Other public transport services are as chaotic as the entire Senegalese bureaucracy. You got your two kinds of regular buses, mini buses, bush taxis etc. To avoid the headache if you don’t have a week to study the other services just use that black-yellow wreck of a car. They’re everywhere, driving up and down, sometimes three in a row, but most of the time every other car is a taxi. They’re in awful condition and would never pass technical in Europe (you open the door and it almost falls off etc.), but it beats running after a bus and jumping onto a ledge on the back.


So I negotiated a price and visited the most western point in Africa. The Point des Almadies. It was lunchtime when I got there and there are plenty of tourist restaurants by the sea there. Searching for the most western rock on the most western point of the African continent, I met Alex. He’s British and that was really cool in many ways: Language wise, finally someone spoke English. And it was proper English. And I was finally forced to speak the way I was taught. But he’s also a really cool guy and we ended up going for lunch, finding that westernmost rocks and then sat down for a drink and chat until the sun went down.


The next day, I went to downtown Dakar. I’m sure it would be nice if it weren’t for all the swindlers everywhere. But all I needed was to get my Senegalese phone number sorted out and send a couple of postcards. It’s difficult to describe the mess in the city, because there’s nothing to compare it to here. It’s just sand on the road, sidewalks destroyed or none, dust everywhere, plastic and other garbage by the side of the road… And then I find the post office. I walk through the door that was peeling paint and was covered with torn-off labels and posters, the remains of the glue covering the door window. Inside, there was only one room and a counter with several officials, separated from the rest of the room by glass that was also full of poster and sticker remains, while the floor was littered with bits of paper etc. The mailbox was supposed to be outside. I was only half expecting a box of some sort, the kind we have here, so it wasn’t really that much of a surprise when I saw three holes in the post office wall. Above it, the half visible sign read mailbox. So that’s where my postcards went. None have arrived yet. It dawned on me later why they only use holes in the wall. Because if it were a box, it would probably get stolen.:)
I was fairly close to the center point of downtown Dakar – the Independence Square; so I walked a little further to see that supposedly nice and pretty square. Well, by African standards all right, I get it, it’s nice, but like most stuff there it needs renovation. Easier said than done, when money is scarce. I did take a picture of the square. One or two. I didn’t take many pictures in Dakar itself, because people in Senegal are quite sensitive about that. It’s not like where everybody has a camera and is taking pictures everywhere. Nobody has a camera here, nobody is taking pictures, and since people here are money driven, they probably believe every picture I take is worth thousands. I’m not exactly sure why would they be so against taking pictures otherwise.


Anyway, there was no incident with someone running up to me after taking a wide angle picture of the square and yelling at me for taking pictures of him a hundred meters away, but as I walked back across the street, I was approached by a man saying he was a police officer. In plain clothes. I didn’t believe him of course, the square is the capitol of swindlers. Before I reached the other side of the street, there was another guy with him, also claiming to be a police officer. So I did stop and ask them for credentials. One of them showed me his ID. Fake, I thought. It was badly printed, no badge. So I took a few steps further to the security guy of a bank nearby who was already coming towards us, and I simply asked him: “Are they real?” As it turned out they were. Random check I guess. But they were pretty cool about it, they spoke English, told me it was right for me not to believe them at first. So they checked my visa, passport and of course the photos I took (didn’t need to delete any of them), and off I went. Random or not, it’s not very common. I shaved that day. After four days (my beard is in hyper growth). I figured the beard made me suspicious.:)


I also needed to relax a bit so I took a stroll down to the beach (my hotel was in Yoff, a part of the city where there’s a nice beach). The entire long stretch of sandy beach was packed with joggers and locals playing soccer. In fact, so many of them were playing soccer that they had to share goals. What a fitness nation. Every larger area of empty space in the city is used for fitness, push ups, soccer, anything. The next day I decided to see the infamous statue of African Renaissance. The Senegalese don’t like it. Not only because the North Koreans built it and it shows, but also because it’s insulting. It represents a man, dragging a woman behind him and carrying a kid on his arm, all pointing at the horizon. The first thing the Senegalese noticed was that the woman’s skirt is too short. They’re Muslim, what were you thinking?


The first thing I noticed was a separate ticket price for foreigners to see the inside of the statue. Higher of course. Supposedly by some measurements it’s the tallest statue in the world, but definitely the tallest in Africa, built in 2010, and it has 13 floors. The 13th floor is the hat of a man, a circular space with windows that offer an amazing view of Dakar and the bloated face of the woman he’s dragging. I admit I didn’t really see it with such critical eye. I kind of liked it for its uniqueness. And it was probably the only undamaged and clean place of all the sites. It also hosts a gallery of African art and a presidential reception room. And it’s air-conditioned!:)


From there I had this very smart idea to see the Dakar Zoo. Even though I’ve read reviews online and they were … well, let’s just say that the most frequently used word was ‘depressing’. Needless to say that infrastructure was similar to deserted, dilapidated parks, but hey, I was used to it by then. The zoo however, was really an experience. I don’t think you can say the animals had compounds. They had cages. By far too small for them. Again very dirty and smelly (lions were feasting on some big animal), but ok, it’s a zoo. I just couldn’t get over how small the cages were. And how the visitors treated the animals. Yelling at them, teasing them, throwing them stuff, until the chimps freaked out and started throwing empty plastic bottles back at them. It was just light-years away from all the zoo standards.


I took a stroll through the forest (the zoo is actually a part of the Forrest park). People were beginning to congregate on the forest path, jogging mostly. After a few minutes I got to a small lake, circled around a bit, then headed back when the bloodsuckers came out. Wednesday was time for the famous Pink Lake. It’s actually Lake Retba and that is the name more suitable for the lake that we saw, because it wasn’t pink. The timing wasn’t right.


I went there with Alex and we immediately got a shadow when we arrived. Want it or not, you get a guide. He took us across the lake in a boat, not rowing, pushing. The lake is actually 3m deep. Its salinity can be more than that of the Dead Sea. 1,5m is water and the other 1,5m is salt, which is why it is used for collecting salt. So we slowly drifted across to a restaurant for a baobab juice and then walked over the dunes to the sea on the other side.


The lake is actually separated from the Atlantic Ocean only by dunes. That was again awesome. The waves were high and currents strong, but the water was crystal clear and warm once you got past the ball freeze critical point, and the beach was golden sand and empty. We spent a lot of time there, first swimming, then drying, then strolling and collecting some pretty nice seashells, then we walked back over the dunes and took an unofficial taxi back to Dakar.


My week was coming to an end. The only must-see place in Dakar I had left was Goree Island. That’s where the French kept the slaves in the 18th century. It was also a strategic point, a heavily armed fortress defending the city from the British. The island is full of canons that have all been destroyed after the wars. You need to take a ferry to get there. And it’s wise to have a guide on the island to show you around. There are plenty of them jumping you when you set foot on the island. But it’s even more important to have a guide in the House of slaves that is a museum now. You need someone to explain to you the rooms and happenings in the lower part of the house. That’s when the house really gets its value.








After being almost kidnapped by the lovely women selling souvenirs, I headed back to the hotel and spent the next couple of days before leaving on the beach, watching kite surfing (and the washing of sheep and goats in the sea). It wasn’t my plan to be a tourist, but it just so happened.


However, it’s not so easy to leave Senegal. Here’s how they check your passport. When you walk through the entrance of the airport. Before you get in line for check in. At check in. Two meters after check in (beats me why). Border control (passport, finger prints, photo). Before going through x-ray. At x-ray. Then at boarding. And then before getting onto a bus to take you to the plane. And it was quite an experience. Now it’s time to process the images from our first week to raise awareness of some really pressing issues in Senegal.

The Look

Ok, I don’t really want to explain the entire story again, but in short: there’s a joke going around for eight years about why I’m getting constant flirting from Slovenian singer Tanja Žagar. We’ve established finally she has this sort of attitude towards cameras in general. Which doesn’t account for all the times when I wasn’t even taking pictures or didn’t even have my camera with me, but it still explains a lot. For the sake of the joke I compiled some of the photos of her looks. Some of them selects, some crappy ones. This is 50% of all the flirting she did over the years. I documented very few of her concerts, but nevertheless, this is what came out of it. Anyway, this is for “the story”. My megaproject if you will. Joke, on the other hand, is slowly dying. It was fun.:)

Here, knock yourself out:

PAST EVENTS 2005-2011


















Same dress, different show. None of these are FULL concert, but just appearances (two songs).



















In case you’re wondering: no, these aren’t shots from a burst of 7 images per second.😉

This was actually the entire concert not so long ago.

























And that’s all folks….

21 Points of No Return

I don’t sleep. When I do, I dream. When I don’t, I dream. I try to put the pieces together to see the whole picture and I’m throwing stuff around and shuffle the information and trying to make sense of things. It’s bringing up an image that troubles me, but I guess it’s all good. It’s meant to happen if everything happens for a reason. I had it coming.

Sometimes we forget ourselves. If you’re crazy enough it can last for over 15 years and if you’re smart enough you can understand the terrible loss. It’s like being abducted by aliens and dropped down on Earth a decade later into an entirely different world without knowing you were away for any more than a second. It’s not easy to move on… I wrote about living in the past in my previous post. I had it all figured out. I knew where I was going, what I was up against… My plan was clear, but in a project like this, one’s mind changes on a daily basis as new information comes in. New angles on the same story, new understanding of where things went wrong or right. And things have changed drastically since that post. This is not the part where I get to live in the past. It’s the first part that takes me through everything at full conscience. With 15 years of blank space to fill the truth becomes a living organism, a shape shifter living in my head to give me headaches and hopefully soon produce an epic story.

We miss so much as we go along and seeing everything in retrospect can reveal hidden paths and meanings, but also bring up many new questions. Amazingly, the truth can sometimes be far better than fiction. Eventually, you notice parallels, similarities, connections, symbols, the uncanny and unbelievable. It’s like a well-crafted structure that goes beyond what we see. There are mysteries transcending life and all of a sudden you stop ignoring them and start solving them. If novels and films imitate life or vice versa then there’s a possibility that a part of your life is influenced by those uncanny elements and that they lead to a resolve of some sort. Figuring out how is more of a trust and belief thing than anything else. You can’t skip pages to satisfy your curiosity. And you shouldn’t anyway if you believe that you’re always where you need to be at that stage and that everything leads to where you need to be and those elements help you go there. You need that trip, because the story is more about what happens on your way than what waits for you at the end. What if there’s nothing where you’re going?

Easier said than done.

Ok, so maybe we are here on Earth for a purpose. But some of us, I guess, are just cautionary tales. Our destinies aren’t taking us to happiness, but probably to an abrupt end after we’re done showing the world the numerous ways of fucking up our lives. We’re a lesson in failing. Or maybe that one guy on the block who never did anything with his life. A friend of mine in a similar situation said: “When our parents die, we’ll probably have to die, too.” (No chance in hell we can survive on our own…) Maybe we’re the diligent workers who never got a good job. Or that girl whose life hasn’t really started when she fell ill and died. We’re all sorts of bad destinies personified.

Why cautionary tales? Ever heard of the phrase “It’s never too late”? Well… BULLSHIT! Your chances in life are over sooner than you think. It just depends on where your destiny choses to draw the line. You can follow every motivational rule in the book and you won’t get anywhere if your time is up. So listen to yourself, your hearts and minds and bodies. And just open every door that comes your way. Behind one of those doors there will be a path to where you want to go. To happiness, ok, fine! You’ll know it by the way it feels. And if you chose to wait or ignore the doors, then there will be less and less of them until finally you’ll be surrounded by nothing but walls.

Sounds like another crappy motivational speech? It sure does. I know too well that some people are never offered the right door. Regardless of what they do. It’s only when they do everything right, surpass all others and themselves and keep getting nowhere that they realize they’re different. It’s not meant to be. And all you can do then is put your hopes on some of the uncanny stuff and blindly believe they mean something. But it’s just another false hope, because – you know – hope dies last.

Sure, you can see meanings in all kinds of stuff. For example, I produced the majority of my awarded stories on the 21st. One of them even on my birthday, July 21. All the important people in my life are connected to this number in one way or another. It keeps popping up everywhere. And here’s the trouble with uncanny shit. You think it tries to tell you something. I don’t buy it anymore. It’s nothing but superstition coming from hope’s dying breath. Trust me, you go there, and you’ll just crash so hard you’ll end up in more pieces than a box of Legos. Now that’s the real motivational speech.

Be careful what you believe in. Hope is a dangerous thing. It does die, so don’t let it run out of options to survive… But I believe one more thing. I believe sometimes there’s nothing you can do, you just use all your resources. I guess that’s one of the lessons of this project, too. It’s not opening doors, it’s just an insight into all the doors that were there before. It’s a dead end now. No way back, no way forward. There’s no reality hope can cling on to now. The only way to sustain hope when you’re as far gone as I am is through illusions, and that’s even more dangerous than hope itself, so you just doubled your chances to crash irrecoverably. I guess it’s some sort of roulette, a poker game if you like. You go all in, but then you either lose everything or win everything… See, this is why you need to know your life better, because you can figure out when it’s bluffing. You also need to be strong enough to trust your feelings on this bluff and actually quit before you lose. Again, easier said than done, because hope and illusions are a very strong combination.

More likely you’ll end up in some sort of limbo, not acting on feelings, without any investment, no plan, nothing, caught in a bluff. Half knowingly, but not enough to do something about it. Shitty situation. Because the game ends eventually.

Anyway, there comes a time when you cannot run away from yourself anymore. If that’s what you did for 15 years, you have to retrace everything and find out who you really are and where you want to go. At least that’s the theory. I don’t think so anymore. You have to do it, if you need research for a book or a screenplay.😉 The amount of truth you get served along the way and the anxiety it causes is … well, enough to kill an elephant. (Funny fact: elephants never forget!) Who would want to do that?

How about someone who’s got nothing to lose? As I retrace my steps I keep discovering paths I could’ve taken and I didn’t because I simply didn’t listen to myself. I don’t know where they’d take me. Maybe nowhere, because by now it’s obvious I’m not meant to get anywhere. But I’d have options. It’s an important lesson. This is how you learn and start listening. However, I realized that listening now still won’t get me where I want to be, because it’s either not meant to be or too late. Regardless of the 21’s or dreams or whatever. It is what it is. There’s nothing more to it. And when you do a crazy thing like this, going for the truths and the whole picture, regardless of how far you fall and how hard you crash, there’s no turning back. I didn’t start this project to quit when things get critical. I want it to get critical. I want it go beyond critical. I want it to go fatal, because… You know, contrary to popular belief, the writing process of almost all stories doesn’t start with the beginning. It starts with the end.😉

P.S.: Just noticed… If you count the paragraphs in this post, there are 12. And when I published this, wordpress told me this is my 212 post.😉

The Best Time of my Afterlife

As I sat at a table of a local bakery and gelateria in Ankaran I suddenly experienced a dejavu that continued for about a minute. I take it as proof that the entire experience is one of the most valuable in my life, because I don’t have dejavus of unimportant events or periods in life. Only the biggest ones.

It was no doubt a strange time these past few weeks. The choices I made were new to me and to others, but I believed it’s the right thing to do. I didn’t see where it’s all going, but I just let it happen. I guess I tried having some faith or something. And it turned out I was right. I arranged for Nina to go produce a great story in Sarajevo and Geneva, an adventure I followed through her text messages from the places she’s been and things she saw. Although I would really like to see my relatives in those two wonderful cities again, I decided to send Nina on her own, a move I myself had to make years ago. (The other reason was work and budget) It wasn’t to test her, but to provide her with what she needs in terms of being the photographer that she wants to be. It’s not about a break or the story, it’s about believing in yourself, your abilities, and proving to yourself you can do it. Little did I know how happy it would make me to see the girl who questioned her abilities do so well and work so professionally on such a big story. It felt like everything is just right… And it’s just proof. She’s been working independently for at least two years, although we did most of the stuff together, so this came as no surprise.

In the mean time, I started my megaproject and diverted my thoughts away from my own photography. You could say I changed in a matter of weeks. Whether it’s for better or for worse is something others should say, but it works for me. I took living in the past to a whole new level and I’ll even raise the bar later when research turns to actual production. It does give me a lot, but the real value of this whole journey comes from what it would give to others. For me, it’s just the ultimate illusion of life and the only possible move. But it’s always been my mode of operation, I just decided to fully accept it now and let go of the present and future. I like it this way. I can survive and I can even be happy. I can imagine a lifetime of open possibilities and just relax.

While regularly reading news from the adventure in Sarajevo and Geneva and feeling great, I continued my interviews with people that have revealed a great deal of information and observation of the world I live in. Most of what I forgot or even failed to notice. Which also applies to the things about myself. I have yet to figure out exactly what drives me in certain directions, up or down, and focus on going up. But this plan seems to be the right direction. And things just happen on their own. The recent short vacation at the seaside with friends, combined with the happiness knowing that Nina is doing what she wants abroad, was probably the best time of what I call my afterlife. The seaside was a trip down memory lane and my friends did a great job at recreating the past without much effort. I’m pretty sure it’s no biggie for them, but it’s actually quite a big deal. At least now. So yeah, I guess you could say I was happy for more than one day.😀 Happy for Nina and happy for reliving moments I lost so long ago. The exact moments I need to add to my research as well. So I assume this thing might just play out perfectly if everything turns out this way. If I continue like this. And along the way, I might just end up where I need to be.

And you know what? I don’t feel like posting any photos. Later.

Taking The Road Less Trodden

You know me. I can’t get out of my skin.😉 I’ve been busy lately, of course, doing stories for National Geographic Junior, being an official photographer of a few festivals, and it’s clear that I’m not really slowing down. Let’s face it, how much more could I slow down anyway? To someone with a regular job or a lot of freelance work it may seem like I don’t work much. Well, yes and no. A lot is happening off the field. Mostly racking my brain to figure out the future and make sense of the past. And there’s a lot of work that comes with it. There’s more than meets the eye. And on top of it all, are you sure I can’t get out my skin? How do you know I won’t really do something that you thought I would never do? Like quit photography?😀


Don’t worry, I won’t. But the question is whether I’ll hold on to that everlasting dream of working globally, on a big scale. See, seven Slovenia Press Photo awards gave me as much acknowledgment than they gave me sense of reality. I’ve proven that I can make an award-winning story out of every opportunity that I get. I was invited to Istanbul to the Foundry Photojournalism Workshop in 2010 and I produced a story there that won Slovenia Press Photo in 2011. I was given the opportunity to work in the Venetian lagoon last year and the story won in Nature category of the Slovenia Press Photo this year. To just name a couple of them. So yes, I have it, but it’s not enough. I always thought I have reserves that I haven’t used yet. I thought that was the reason things didn’t quite pick up. So years ago I decided to go all out. Now I’ve done all I could and realized that my view of this world is way too romantic. I didn’t stand a chance from the start. I didn’t have rich parents that would pay for my extensive story production in exotic remote corners of the world. My climb was my own. And I could’ve done it. Of course I could. Anyone working as hard and constantly improving, questioning his work and building upon it, building a web of connections and doors to walk through (fair and square! – no dumping!), widening the array of his abilities in photography, would probably have made it by now regardless of any social situation. But we keep forgetting this is photojournalism in an economically failing little country that nobody gives a shit about. (How Slovenians do business – or better yet: corruption – you can read in any of my previous posts).

sum-002Besides, you don’t get anywhere on your own. Everything starts with people deeply involved in the business being interested in your work. And if you fail at that (it’s easy, just don’t work abroad), you’re dead in the water. But don’t get me wrong. I’ve always been a strong supporter of domestic work, believing that you don’t have to go abroad to find good stories. And it’s true. You don’t. But then again you probably won’t succeed in publishing it, nobody would pay for you to produce the story, and the fee for publishing would probably cover some 40% of the expenses. I was lucky to find a magazine that pays quite well, but unfortunately the expenses are going up, too. So the difference is getting smaller. Obviously I didn’t consider all this when I was 14 and starting out as a photographer, also because in the nineties this country was just starting on its abundant path of nepotism, corruption and all the other ways they found to increase unemployment (that includes joining the EU and failing to adapt). Any way I look at it, I’m like the orchestra playing on the Titanic.


However, there’s a silver lining to the dark clouds above the ruins of my life. (wow, that was poetic – and pathetic!) I may not have (my own) money or any other means to travel and do something for my soul, to pursue my goal further, or even to relax somewhere on a beach enjoying the smells and sounds and tastes and feelings of summer like I did so many years ago. But I can and must do something much better.😀 We don’t need reality to be where we want to be. Our own worlds can be richer in every aspect of experience. We can bring back people, old friends, the good old times, sweethearts and enemies. If you consider all that and if you can create a world for yourself that is far better than what you get in reality, then you have the means to travel to a place where others can only dream about.


This is where I was going to explain a very important aspect of what I’m about to do, but I changed my mind. As I have realized all the denial and full life devotion to work won’t pay off I remembered I have tools to create those payoffs. For the first time in my life (amazing, right?) I will stop. Stop pushing myself forward, stop overwhelming my life with work in every way possible, stop occupying my thoughts, stop being blind for myself. I still think I’m not important and I will never adopt even a tiny bit of selfishness, which is why I decided to do this megaproject only after I figured out how I can dedicate it to others.

It’s time. For the truth. For the whole story. For the things that were pushed aside or hidden away. It’s time to see the big picture. I feel I have to do this. I owe it. And I hope the world would play along at least in this endeavor. It’ll be a major tribute not only to people, places and events, but also to imagination, photography, writing etc. It’ll question our notion of reality and fiction, and story telling. It’ll question our entire lives, what we believe is true and what is a lie, what really happened and what was withheld from us. I’ll address some very important issues as well, and since my perception, as anyone’s, is limited, I can’t do it by myself. In the next months I will contact the important players of this project individually. Don’t be surprised if you’re one of them. Everything is a statement now. Even if you decide not to play along – that one is even stronger and it still fits. But it doesn’t mean you won’t be part of the project.😉 It just means the final statement will be different. And the interpretations left to me. I will accept no objections later.😉:)


However, the project will remain a secret for now. Especially during its second part. Not even the people involved will know all the details. Just what it’s all about and that alone is quite a lot. Only all of them together will eventually constitute a concise entity, the entire story. I will not talk about the project, so don’t bother asking me. In fact, don’t. At all. The reason is simple: I don’t want to be influenced in any way. Or deterred which might happen in the first part of the project that will involve important issues. It’s going to be quite a rollercoaster ride, but let me do it. Even if you see something is terribly wrong with me (if I switch from apple juice to orange juice for example😉:) ), don’t ask, don’t do anything, it has to happen. I never said it’d be easy.

There will be changes. My photography continues as before finally enriched with my portfolio website:


But since I’ve realized all that it takes (and that I don’t have), I guess my goals will change a bit. I don’t think anyone will notice. It’ll still be business as usual, but there will be a process running in the background. It’ll be slow and long, and even if it never pays off in reality, it’ll pay off immeasurably as I will be working on it. If you’re reading carefully, you’ll notice that I’m talking about something being wrong with me and big rewards at the same time. A paradox, I know. Well, not exactly but the whole thing is too complex to explain. Just trust me.:)

The Fight

Watching the MMA fights and strongmen competition I photographed a few days ago it is clear how life imitates a fight. Just as in a fight you attack, you defend yourself, you land in a grip that seems unbreakable, you’re helpless and defenseless, you get up, you come back, you turn the table, get out of a deadlock and win or lose at the end. But there’s almost no fight without backing up to reorganize or see your oponent from a distance, no fight without abandoning an attack that proves ineffective or striking when you see a chance. There’s time for an offensive and a time to gather new strength or simply find a new strategy.

It’s not brainless punching around, there’s thinking involved. You adapt to what the oponent is doing. You assess your strategy, see if it’s working or not, and when you know it’s ineffective, you back up, change it and try again. If nothing works, well, sooner or later, you realize you can’t win. And that’s when you stop the offensive.

Everything happens for a reason, they say. Just like in the movies. No word or back story or setting or prop or situation is there for no reason. They play a role, they’re catalysts, game changers, accelerators, turns, twists and supplements. And they all shape the main story. Life in fact is totally the same. With one crucial exception. You can’t predict the end. You do control the main story to some degree. Mostly just points of it that are not neccessarily beats (the most important structural elements of a plot in a screenplay).

You control your decisions based on where you think they’ll take you, and that’s when you imagine the story ahead. Maybe it plays out like you imagined, maybe it doesn’t. In a sense we generate turns and twists, the smaller, but quite important elements of the plot, but beats usually happen independently. You don’t chose to win or lose and have it your way. You make a decision what to fight for, but life will hand you the outcome.

I’ve seen my life go through several beats and twists and turns, produce many side stories, been followed by influential back stories, and I hope they all made sense. That where I am right now is right where I need to be. And that the decision I have practically already made is the right turn. I don’t see the following pages of my screenplay, but I trust the screenwriter.

I think the impossibility of winning four Press Photo awards in one competition is mostly a good script element, a catalyst to emphasize the main theme of the story. Being shortlisted for Best Jobs Australia was another catalyst, generating an enormous support that was again a catalyst. Now, you could think that not getting into the finals for the job was a setback, but you’d only be partially right. The experience of the shortlist gave me the awareness of the support my work has, and how people see me (which is mostly better than I see myself of course), but doing everything in that scale and so good and not getting into the finals didn’t just beat me down. It gave me the contrast between seeing a future and believing in it again after a long time, and falling back into a state of mind where everything is just idle running, time going by, the clocks ticking in silence, life happening outside.

It sounds pretty gloomy, but I had a backup plan. I fight on, but I’m backing off from this offensive and this strategy. I see this setup isn’t working in any way. I am waiting for a chance now. Maybe it comes, maybe it doesn’t. But I now know what chips out and what doesn’t. Well, mostly what doesn’t. And a year or two ago, I’d still be on the offensive, with the same moves, same decisions … Not anymore. I’ve learned my lesson. Nothing works where I am right now. Geographically, politically, socially, economically. It’s time to take a step back and find a different way. Not an easy task when everything has been tested and proved ineffective.

Everything I did in these ten years has lead to here, where I realize I am doing things right, but I live in the most corrupt country in the world and have no chance of making a living with what I do. I’m not quitting, I’m just not on full power. I stepped back and I’m considering my options.

It feels completely pointless to go for new awards, attend new workshops etc. if I remain here in the corruption mekka of the world, the shithole no one ever glances at. And yes, I call it a shithole, but the truth is I love this country for it’s landscapes, its natural beauty, the size, and of course the MINORITY of good people living here. However, since we got our own country, we’ve proven that all we wanted was to steal like Belgrade stole from us under Yugoslavia. Every other person here will rob you of something.

You don’t get anywhere in this country if you don’t know how to steal. The country is overwhelmed with people stealing in a multitude of ways. Of course, because a normal businessman in Slovenia is not looking for ways to gain advantage over its competition, or improve to achieve perfection or quality. Their focus is on finding ways to screw over the workers, tax authority, subcontractors, everybody in the way of maximizing their own profit, so they can buy themselves a profanely expensive car and spend two months on a sail boat somewhere on the coral reef. Bribery is just another form of income, and they don’t compete with competition. They find a way to discredit and destroy it. Shit, if you suck, it’s normal you need to destroy others better than you. They don’t have the brainpower to come up to their level. They’re the lowest they get.


It is this kind of immoral, self-centered scum that’s overrun our country and made us number one in corruption. Can you imagine we’re on top, the very top of corruption scale IN THE WORLD!? Kenya is second! And our arrogant “bussinessmen” can’t get their heads out of their asses! The EU will make them. Everybody is ignoring the fact that European countries hate working with us (yes, because our company fail to do their job (correctly) and screw them over way too often), but they have to, because we’re on the Schengen border. This summer, Croatia is coming in, but our companies are still so arrogant that they don’t anticipate what will happen. If those countries don’t have to work with us anymore, and if they hate it anyway, do you really think they will, when we’re no longer on the Schengen border?!? And it just serves us right!

This country also destroys or ignores everything that stands out of the avarage. Negative selection is the norm. We’ve seen designers being denied work in Slovenia and becoming one of the most desired designers in the automobile industry in the world. Actors not making into our acting school and becoming successful actors in American TV shows and big Hollywood productions. And I’m not talking about the crap part of tv shows and movies! But that’s what we are. Egotistical. If we can’t be better, we’ll make sure they are worse. We won’t employ them, because they might be better than us and they might take our job that we perform carelessly and only to earn money to take care of ourselves. It’s been more than five years ago, when things were still somewhat ok, since I first predicted that this country will be ruined by egotism and relativism. Welcome to the future.

I don’t say this often enough, they tell me. It is quite shameful of the country’s media that there have been no job offers even after so much exposure and seven Slovenia Press Photo awards. I consider it normal. It doesn’t surprise me at all. Jobs are handed out through very different criteria here. (remember where we are on the chart?) And besides, there’s no money. Which is why I had enough and decided the only option for my life to move forward is to go out. We all know the only way to survive in Slovenia is to go abroad. We work here with no prospect for the future, no money, simply because we think we have to work to earn a living. But very few of us realize we’re working, and a lot of times wearing ourselves out, for nothing. We don’t make a living, we’re deadlocked in place. So here’s my point: why work then? Where’s the sense in working for a humiliatingly low fee while your boss makes a living and drives a BMW? Fuck them!

So my only chance was Australia. It didn’t happen. You can imagine what my other option is. And I’m taking it now.

The Australia defeat gave me something else. The power to do the only thing right now that I think makes sense. The only thing that has a purpose. My long awaited, even longer contemplated, for a long time avoided project. It’s been on the agenda for a very long time, but I keep postponing it. It’s not photography. I’ll be working as a photojournalist the way I’ve been working so far, but as it proved, it’s not taking me anywhere. No, this will be something much larger, and in the coming weeks and months, I’ll finally put my words into action. I am working on my website right now. After that, the project will commence with interviews. I owe it to A LOT of people, but mostly my parents.

It’s a project I can’t expect any future from it. It’s not a bread winner, it’s nothing in terms of carreer or making a living. But I let go of those ambitions in this shithole. I’m doing this for a greater purpose. Even if I later decide the project will never go public, it is important that I do this. It is also the only way to make sense of my life. And that’s why I’ve avoided it for so long. Because I know nothing makes sense here. But fortunately that’s just a byproduct. The much larger main objective of the project has very little to do with me and a lot more to do with people around me who need to know they haven’t failed. It’s easy to believe otherwise.


Crazy Times

It’s been a while since I had enough time to write what’s been going on. Here it is. After Slovenia Press Photo record things went heywire. And in the mean time, I actually found time to join my parents on a trip to Corsica and Sardinia, which is where the photos in this blog are from. But anyway, after the awards, I was happy to see all the media coverage regarding Barbara’s story, because it was exactly what I wished for. I knew media exposure would grant the story the success that I wanted. The story needed exposure because I knew it needed massive support for what was to come. In fact, in the best possible scenario that I had for the story, winning Slovenia Press Photo was the stepping stone towards the final goal – helping Barbara and her family. I stuck to the plan and contacted Tednik, the program that frequently arranges help for people in their reports. We filmed it, broadcasted it, and I was surprised at how many people responded.


Eventually, we gathered 20,479 eur! A huge ammount. And I was happy. My plan worked. It was probably one of the happiest times in my life. When we were filming the report for Tednik, I was a part of the story. My friendship with Barbara and my wish to help her family. I’m not yet comfortable being in front of the camera, but this was easy. As long as I know it’s all about someone else, someone who’ll benefit from me being in front of the camera, I can do it. But not long after, the focus shifted. To me. I got shortlisted for the job of a lifestyle photographer at Best Jobs Australia, something I thought couldn’t happen, but it did. And all of a sudden I was the news.

Filitosa historical site
Filitosa historical site

I never speak about myself or my achievements. In fact, I don’t feel comfortable doing that, because I just want to get things done. I want people related to my work, whether through stories or in any other way, achieve something or benefit from it, but I don’t ask anything in return. Of course. So it was kind of strange talking about myself and speaking in first person all the time. The media rushed in and all of a sudden I got overwhelmed with public support, media exposure etc. It was touching to see so many people supporting me. I cannot describe my appreciation. Probably a remnant from my past, when I always felt I was sort of left behind. But it was also as if someone threw me in the water to teach me how to swim. And I’m not talking about communicating with the media. It was talking about myself that was the biggest problem, because I never ever do that.



However, things calmed down right before I left for Corsica and Sardinia. We went by bus, first to Livorno, Italy, where we boarded a ferry and spend five hours trying to stay awake. I am very sensitive about ferries. My brain feels every wave, every motion of the ferry, as gentle as it may be. And it manifests as … well, it’s like I was drunk. Or very sleepy.

We started in Corsica. What a beautiful, mountainous island! It even looked great in rain. But what I loved the most was the air. It had a scent of flowers everywhere. Totally awesome. And weird strokes of luck just kept coming. The first such nice story happened on a terribly rainy day in a small town of Corte in the middle of Corsica. Before leaving we went to a small pub. But first some background. My parents are diehard fans of a German TV show Alarm für Cobra 11. Watching the show is a daily routine. But nevertheless, when my mom tells me the guy sitting at the table in the bar is an actor from the show … well, how am I supposed to believe that? Honestly, come on. What are the chances. I though it was just another case of my 53 year old mother jumping to conclusions. And my dad just said: “Yeah, that’s him.” Typical.

Alghero, Sardinia
Alghero, Sardinia


I did hear the people at that table speak German, and my mom kept insisting long enough that I decided to ask him. It turns out, they were right. It was Niels Kurvin who plays a forensic in the show. He was on a vacation. We spoke some more, I took their picture and off we were. Corsica is probably the wildest, greenest place I’ve ever been to. But what totally blew my mind was Bonifacio. By far the highlight of the trip was this amazing old city built on chalk-white limestone, but it’s on the coast that’s being erroded by the sea. So a great portion of the town is actually situated on an overhang. The soft limestone rock is breaking all the time and it’s only a matter of time when the ground beneath those houses gives way and everything tumbles into the Meditterranean sea.

The old gates of the city of Alghero
The old gates of the city of Alghero

The views are awesome. A scenic harbor, the majestic city walls, the cliffs and sea-filled caves… It’s just amazing. We took a boat tour along the coast. The weather wasn’t very good. Waves were a bit high and the wind was cold, but I loved it. And from there, we took a ferry to Sardinia and spent a few days there. Another beautiful island. I’m kind of a sucker for beautiful beaches and emerald sea, so Sardinia was right up my alley. But amazingly, it wasn’t the Costa Smeralda that impressed me most. It was Alghero, a coastal town with it’s defence walls and narrow streets.

Nuraghi, a rock structure of chambers, the remains of an old civilization that lived in Sardinia.
Nuraghi, a rock structure of chambers, the remains of an old civilization that lived in Sardinia.

The final attraction of the trip was actually a hotel in Olbia. Shaped like a ship’s hull with a hollow inside and rooms arranged elyptically around a common area, sort of like in large prisons where inmates walk out of the cell and overlook the common area below. Incredibly beautifully designed and equpped. Really cool. Although at first it didn’t look good. It’s actually situated next to railroad tracks, surrounded by out-of-use carts and tracks.

A bear rock formation near Palau in Sardinia. Well, only it's head is in the photo. Sort of.
A bear rock formation near Palau in Sardinia. Well, only it’s head is in the photo. Sort of.

When I got home things picked up again. It was time to get some endorsements for my best job application and my Nina helped me with that. It was a pretty busy time, calling around, mailing, driving around, and eventually, we got some really nice personalities to endorse my application. It wasn’t difficult, everybody wants to see me go to Australia.😀 Photographers even more so, because that way, they joke, they would have at least a chance to win any photojournalism award in Slovenia.😀 Anyway, the first referee was my editor at national Geographic Junior, the magazine I love working for (and have been working for for 10 years), because of the highly professional staff. And since every one of them was a bit funny, Irena said the Aussies can only borrow me for six months.😀 The second referee was Alya, a rock singer who I’m a big fan of and she first dedicated a song for me at a concert as an endorsement. I love that song. But we did the official endorsement later in a radio studio. That was funny! She was joined by Denis Avdić, our popular radio host from Radio 1. The third refereee was Benka Pulko, Slovenenian Guinness world record holder for the longest solo motorcycle ride around the world, but most of all, my dear friend. To rephrase her words: she worked with me on two world events no photojournalist would ever want to come close to messing up. Interview with Dalai Lama and her wedding. Damn right! She – like me – does not tolerate sloppiness or incompetence. The final referee was Luka Špik, Sydney 2000 Olympic gold medalist in double sculls with Iztok Čop. What a great guy. We estimated to be done with the endorsement video in less than half an hour and we ended up talking on the pier in Bled for two hours.😀 In the video, he tells Aussies he’s simply goint to bring me to Melbourne and he jumps in a boat, I follow him, we wave and that’s it. Well, we could’ve untied the boat first but then the video would probably end up in the “epic fail” compilation. With my luck I’d probably crash in the cold lake.😀

Costa Smeralda.
Costa Smeralda.

Social media played an enormous role here as well. I’ve never seen so much support for anything that I’ve done before. People really wish me best and it’s an amazing feeling. Like I said, I’m not used to it. So I honestly do not know how to thank everybody enough. I really appreciate their support and their hopes for me getting that job. And even if I don’t get it, this whole experience gave me soooo much!

The hotel in Olbia
The hotel in Olbia

So now we wait. And rest a little. Who knows what the future brings.