Croatian photographer Mirna Pavlovic is pulled inexorably to the clandestine corners of the world, to the since-forgotten places where people once lived, worked, and probably died. She’s infected by a wanderlust that cuts to the bone, driven to concealed and guaranteed areas throughout the continent where few souls dare travel.
Sneaking into delicate and crumbling buildings brings with it an element of fear— a dread of getting lost, of being buried and entombed within the rubble— but it’s precisely this danger that Pavlovic finds so intoxicating. She’s transported from her own universe and into someone else’s, ruled not by law and common sense but by imagined whispers in the dark.
Time, suggests the artist, runs differently in forsaken rooms; as her watch ticks forward, her psyche is pulled backwards, into the abyss of all things lost. This is Europe, where history means as much as the present moment. Although she often brings along an accomplice for safety’s sake, she’s given entirely to the silence, what has since passed and cannot be retrieved.
All images © Mirna Pavlovic
via f11 Magazine