Lisa Jahovic
Lisa Jahovic looks at the world the way you might have as a kid — curious, ready to imagine a play in anything.
For her, objects are not the same: a chair isn’t just for sitting; a spoon holds more. Waiting to be noticed, the static becomes full of life, shifting and twisting, almost like they’ve been waiting for someone to pay attention. Through her work, they connect, collide, and even fall apart. Suddenly, the every day feels alive.
Her 16mm film Dialogues, for example, plays like a quiet ballet, but the dancers are tools, furniture, and other household things. Set to Debussy’s Arabesque No.01, these objects sway and stumble, their movements shifting between tension and release. A pillow collapses, soft and resigned. A chair wobbles, as if deciding whether to stand or fall. It’s fragile, funny, and maybe a little chaotic — like life itself.
What makes Jahovic’s practice compelling is its subtlety. She doesn’t force meaning onto objects; instead, she teases out what’s already there — the traces of use and the potential hidden in their form. Her analog techniques give her work a tactile immediacy, grounding these moments in a sense of time and place.
Her take suggests that the ordinary deserves a second glance — not because it’s extraordinary, but because it’s been waiting to surprise you.
