DOMINIK WOJCIECHOWSKI

SVIJET: YUGONOSTALGIA AND POST-YUGOSLAV IDENTITY

Yugonostalgia—tell us more about it. How do you perceive it within the context of this project? What is it beyond the definition that we all know? In other words, what does Yugonostalgia mean for your project?

This is a question I get a lot, and for me it is like the final shot from Inception—something that can never be answered objectively. Is it a longing for an entire value system or simply nostalgia for childhood? I try to look at it more as a phenomenon that encompasses the remnants of the Yugoslav mentality and the continuous state of being stuck between the past and the present.

As a Polish artist engaging with this subject matter, what drew you to it in the first place? How did your position as both an outsider and a close observer shape the development of the project?

The main reason I became intrigued by the concept was that I simply could not understand why some people missed the communist era. In Poland, it has always been associated with predominantly negative memories. At the time, I was studying Croatian Philology and had the opportunity to live in Croatia for two years.

It made me realize that my perspective was somewhat different from the one photographers usually take. I am neither a local person who experienced the wars firsthand, nor an excited artist visiting a new, unexplored place and photographing everything that moves. I had great respect for my subjects, but at the same time, because I spoke their language, I could go much deeper into conversations and better understand the true complexity of the topic. It also gave me far greater and easier access to behind-the-scenes perspectives.

What is the connection between the project and Svijet magazine? Could you tell us more about the title itself?

I found an issue of the magazine while I was in Croatia. Since it presented everyday life and culture in Yugoslavia, it became a valuable source for understanding life there. When the magazine ceased publication, it felt like a symbolic end to Yugoslavia itself.

On the other hand, Svijet literally means ‘World,’ and I found that both suggestive and beautifully simple. It is a title that feels explanatory without being overly descriptive.

How would you describe your artistic practice and process in this work? Archival versus newly produced material? Speculative versus documentary approaches? Tell us more about the behind-the-scenes process and how you approached the subject matter.

The project was developed using two methodologies, as I worked on it over a long period of time and under varying circumstances. The first was based on extensive research, which I would conduct before travelling to the Balkans for a few weeks at a time. The second approach was much more spontaneous. While living in the Balkans, I was constantly looking for interesting stories by starting conversations and introducing myself to people in cafés, flea markets, and similar places.

It was arduous and time-consuming work, but after countless conversations, it became clearer to me how to piece together this puzzle, especially since many of the contexts were difficult to translate into a visual language.

I think it is also worth mentioning that the project was photographed primarily on 120 analog film. I could not imagine working any other way, considering the weight and complexity of the story. Analog photography dictates a completely different rhythm and pace of work, and in this case, it was essential because it encouraged a more reflective approach.

Who are the people featured in the series? We have been curious about this ever since an earlier iteration of the project was published in Kajet 02: On Utopias. Who are your subjects, and how did your relationship with them shape the work?

I do not want to reveal everything here, so I will just say a few words about one of the most significant characters. His name is Blaško Gabrić. Years ago, he decided to leave Yugoslavia and move to Canada in order to experience and better understand capitalism. When he eventually returned home, Yugoslavia no longer existed.

Unable to let go of what had been lost, he decided to buy a piece of land and create what he calls Mini Yugoslavia. Since then, he has been developing the site, celebrating Yugoslav holidays together with other Yugonostalgic friends. To this day, he continues to expand it by adding monuments and building a museum on the grounds.

Could you tell us more about the object value of the book itself? How do you see the publication functioning as an artwork?

To be frank, photobooks have always been my favourite medium within the world of photography. I believe there are stories that deserve this form of presentation in order to fully reveal their value. As a member of Rust Publishing and a professional bookbinder, I wanted to celebrate the fact that I began this project exactly ten years ago by creating the book with my own hands. I received tremendous support from my team at Rust regarding the design, sequencing, and editing of the publication. I think our mission is to bring books back to life and make people more aware of the craft behind them. That is why we advocate for handmade books, especially in an AI era when so many things are mass-produced by machines. This is what we bring to the table, and I feel very fortunate to be part of what I believe is a significant shift within the photobook world.

The book as a whole consists of 5 different types of paper and as I have a habit to do, I made my approach to the book very conceptual. I wanted to sneak in Yugoslav colors but in a very non-invasive way and that’s why I played with three colors that remind of white, red, and blue but indirectly: navy font in a text part, creamy paper or dark bordeaux canvas on the cover. As the edition has 380 copies I wasn’t able to stitch them by hand so the blocks were already stitched but then I am taking care of everything else. 

Inside the book we can find 5 additionally put pages with images that are screenshots from a minute of silence after Tito passed away. It was a pretty surreal moment as people were stopping for it literally where they were at, for example in the position of walking in the middle of the streets. I put them irregularly within the whole book to make my own little tribute and respect to my characters and to Tito by making my own minute of silence along the melody of the narrative. 

What’s more, in the middle of the book there is also an additional page with a screenshot of the TV presenter announcing the death of Tito. It is a symbolic reference to the end of Yugoslavia and it’s really special in the sense that when you put the paper against the sky, the photo practically disappears completely but when there’s a background it turns up again. Like the memory of Yugoslavia—slowly disappearing; on the other hand, it is all Yugonostalgic people have left. 

The most effective element of the book, though, are probably the painted edges which also cost me the most of work, physical strength, and precision. But I really wanted to add it, as it is a subtle touch adding to the book as a unique handmade object. I would say it isn’t an easy job to make the whole edition by myself but it’s great practice I wanted to have before going to the next level as a bookbinder.

Dominik Wojciechowski a Polish photographer and a bookbinder. His work was exhibited in Austria, Belarus, Croatia, Czech Republic, Germany, Greece, Poland and Slovenia, and it often explores the definition of identity, one’s relationship with space within different social contexts. He has finished Photography at The Creative Institute of Photography in Opava, Czech Republic and Croatian Philology at the Adam Mickiewicz University in Poznań, Poland. 

Recently he has made a photobook called Svijet which was launched in February 2026 at The Photographers Gallery in London. 

Find more of Dominik’s photography on his website, his Instagram, and in Kajet 02.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Since the Break up of the socialist Yugoslavia, expansion of nationalisms which leaded to bloody conflicts, inhabitants of the nonexistent country of Tito, are trying laboriously to build new identities. For some, it could be a national identity, strong identification with an ethnic group. Others, might not accept multi-national reality, preserving the myth of Yugoslavia caused by feeling of loss. Loss of the once great country, that coexisted happily despite many cultures. The second group is represented by the elders who were growing up in Tito’s country but their stable life was disturbed by war. They are now, living in these seperate,small countries that emerged from balkan humanitarian disaster. What keeps them alive is yugonostalgia, which is a common factor among the old generation. The other group includes people, not entirely sure of what their identity is. They are being recruited from the generation that was born during Balkan Wars or right after it and they have passed on their confusion to their kids. While travelling around Former Yugoslavia, through the countries that are not so similar anymore, sometimes even treating each other like enemies, it is difficult not to see the common factor between these countries. Something far more deep than their shared history. It is the post-yugoslav identity and mentality that appears on different levels – both in private and collective stories. It shows up in daily decisions, in political, social, cultural life as well as collective imagination. In opposition to yugonostalgia, which is emotionally pointed to the past, post-yugoslav identity is a daily practice. It is born inbetween yesterday and today, between historically rich past and the still evolving present.

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Svijet is available via Rust Publishing.

Photography: Dominik Wojciechowski

Design: Jakub Szachnowski

Editing: Daria Izworska

Photo annotations: Dominik Wojciechowski

Text: Maja Pupovac

Translation: Daria Izworska

Color grading: Heiner L. Beisert

Bookbinding: Dominik Wojciechowski