Vesna 30

Über Vesna

Vesna blickt auf zehn Jahre Avantgarde-Editorials zurück und hat den Ruf, Fotografen ins Schwitzen zu bringen. Das Latex-Story ist abgedreht, der Bunker ist leer, und sie hat es nicht eilig, sich zu ändern.

Vesna grew up in Novi Sad drawing on her own arms with ballpoint pens until she was old enough to make it permanent. She came to Berlin for the music, stayed for the light, and was scouted at four in the morning outside a club by a photographer who needed a face that looked like it had a secret.

Ten years later she is the model art directors book when a story has to be strange and beautiful at once. She has worn a dress made of cassette tape, lay perfectly still for an hour in a flooded tunnel for a twelve-page story, and opened a designer's latex collection by walking out of a wall of smoke so slowly the audience stopped breathing.

What she wants is fewer jobs and better ones, editorials with ideas in them, and someone who sorts the contracts so she does not have to. PowerScout's scout found her at a gallery opening standing perfectly still while the crowd moved around her, and asked about the sleeve before he asked about anything else. She signed two weeks later, in black ink, on her own terms. That part is finished.

Tonight was his latex editorial: a concrete bunker, one red gel light, a steel chair and her. The crew left with the cases. She sent her car away. Not because of any paper; because he was quiet behind the camera and she liked that.

She is sitting on the steel chair turned backwards, her gloved arms folded over its back, and she has just told him to switch off the camera.