Ghosts of BIGZ, Belgrade

After the collapse and privatization of the publishing company in 2007, the building found its new purpose and tenants in a whole range of different groups of artists — musicians, photographers, sculptors, painters – and other groups, likes sports clubs, who rented affordable space in the building in which they were absolutely free to create.

The last two floors housed the famous rock and jazz clubs — the Waiting Room was one of Belgrade’s most spectacular venues. One would fall in love with the beautiful and relaxed space hosting phenomenal live performances throughout the week, with a terrace on the roof the size of a small square with a view of Belgrade as it was then — alive and diverse, before embarking on a process of gentrification.

Everything started to change from 2014. Clubs were closing down rapidly, due to more and more complaints about noise and false allegations about a building that has been occupied by homeless people and drug addicts.

This story was perpetuated through the media, selling the idea that BIGZ was closing long before it did. It’s important to note that, in parallel and by no means accidental flow, work on the controversial next-door project Belgrade Waterfront began in early 2015, after the conclusion of a contract that was against the will of the people and without having any civic goodwill in mind.

It was only a matter of time before that misleadingly painted image of BIGZ would reach its climax — its sale to Marera Properties in February 2021. The building, in addition to its invaluable artistic and urbanistic value, is also placed on very desirable land.

The time has come for BIGZ to close at the worst moment: during the Covid-19 pandemic, when, for over a year, the income opportunities for artists and performers are virtually abolished. A group of hundreds of people, including most of the musicians from the Belgrade’s alternative music scene (about 70 bands as well as at least 10 art studios) are left without one of a place where they can create undisturbed and, just as importantly — a home for the community.

The corridors of BIGZ were a unique commune of people bound by love for the work they do; spontaneously created, nurtured and embraced by at least three generations of artists for whom this was truly a second home.

Over the years, hundreds of artists have rented space there and passed through it. In addition to the damage in the form of the loss of such a great building for social, cultural and artistic activities and connections, it’s a very clear and problematic fact that no one from the institutions addressed the issue of resolving this situation for this specific part of society and its networked creativity.

Unfortunately, we are witnessing more and more similar situations in other places in the region, and it is clear that the urban planning of the infrastructure of cities is not on the side of its citizens and their needs, but growing big businesses. It’s a sad picture of the coming future, and if there is no official and practical support, things must be taken into our own hands, because it has long been clear that no one else will fight for our space, voice and art. 

Translation by Staša Bukumirović

Duhovi BIGZa
Priča o BIGZu, Jugoslovenskom izdavačkom gigantu i jednom od najlepših simbola moderne arhitekture Beograda, sagrađenom u sred Drugog svetskog rata — iz ugla srpske muzičke i umetničke scene počinje pre petnaestak godina. 

Nakon propadanja i privatizacije preduzeća, zgrada je svoju novu namenu i stanare pronašla u čitavoj lepezi najrazličitijih grupa kako umetnika — muzičara, fotografa, vajara, slikara itd — tako i drugih grupacija, poput sportskih klubova, koji su iznajmljivali pristupačne prostore u zgradi u kojima su bili potpuno slobodni da stvaraju. Neko vreme, pre nego što su stvari u okolini počele da se menjaju, na poslednja dva sprata bili su smešteni čuveni rok i džez klubovi — Čekaonica je svakako jedno od najspektakularnijih mesta koje je Beograd imao u novijoj istoriji. Bilo je dovoljno jednom kročiti u taj pogled i zaljubiti se — jedan od najlepših i najopuštenjih prostora, sa fenomenalnim živim nastupima kroz celu sedmicu, sa terasom na krovu veličine omanjeg trga i pogledom na Beograd kakav je, tada, još uvek bio — živ i svoj, raznolik, pre nego što je krenuo u tužni i u svetu već normalizovani proces džentrifikacije.

Sve počinje da se menja od neke 2014 — klubovi se tragično i rapidno zatvaraju, zbog sve češćih naprasnih “žalbi na buku” i klasičnih podmetanja tvrdnji o zgradi koja je volšebno zaposednuta beskućnicima i narkomanima. Ta priča se kroz medije godinama plasirala i lagano gradila, toliko da su ljudi — iako su lako mogli da kroče tamo i sami se i uvere u pravo stanje stvari, počeli da u nju veruju, kao i u to da je Bigz već odavno zatvoren, prodat, van funkcije. Važno je napomenuti i da, paralelno i nimalo slučajno, radovi na kontroverznom projektu Beograd na vodi počinju početkom 2015, nakon sklapanja ugovora koji je bio mimo volje naroda i uopšte imanja javnog, građanskog dobra u vidu.

U tom smislu, bilo je samo pitanje vremena kada će se slika građena o Bigzu dovesti vrhuncu i scenario konačne prodaje zaista odigrati — jer se zgrada, uz samu svoju neprocenjivu umetničko-urbanističku vrednost — takođe nalazi na veoma poželjnom zemljištu.

Vreme je došlo, kako to obično biva, za umetnike i sve ljude koji se bave sličnim i inače neizvesnim delatnostima  — u najgorem trenutku: u vreme paandemije Kovida-19, kada su, tokom već godinu dana, mogućnosti prihoda svim ovim ljudima praktično ukinute, što se pogotovo i najviše odrazilo na muzičare zbog nemogućnosti nastupanja. U takvoj atmosferi: skupina od više stotina ljudi, koja uključuje vecinu muzičara sa alternativne muzičke scene Beograda – ukupno oko sedamdeset bendova, kao i desetak umetničkih ateljea, ostaje bez jednog od retkih preostalih mesta na kojima mogu neometano i, takođe veoma bitno — povezano da stvaraju — jer su hodnici Bigza bili jedinstvena komuna ljudi vezanih ljubavlju prema poslu kojim se bave; spontano nastala, negovana i obuhvaćena sa najmanje tri generacije stvaralaca kojima je ovo zaista bio drugi dom. 

Kroz njega je tokom svih godina prošlo najmanje duplo više od nabrojanog broja ljudi koji su u nekom trenutku tu iznajmljivali prostor. Pored same nesagledive štete u vidu gubitka ovakve zgrade za društveno, kulturno i umetničko delovanje i povezivanje, vrlo je jasna i problematična činjenica da se niko iz nadležnih institucija na vreme nije niti koliko zapitao, a kamoli bavio pitanjem rešenja situacije ovolikog broja ljudi i njihovog umreženog stvaralaštva. 

Nažalost, svesni smo, i već dugo svedočimo sve češćim sličnim situacijama i u drugim mestima u regionu, i svima je jasno da planiranje i menjanje infrastrukture gradova odavno nije na strani njegovih gradjana i njihovih potreba, vec rastućih velikih biznisa, i to je tužna slika i prognoza budućnosti o kojoj se na vreme treba zapitati, a zadnje vreme je, reklo bi se, uveliko došlo. Ukoliko zvanična — i realna podrška izostane, stvari bi se što pre morale uzeti u sopstvene ruke, jer je odavno jasno da se za naš prostor, umetnost i reč niko drugi neće izboriti.