On our way to one of our favorite restaurants in central Zagreb this evening, my beloved stopped in front of a gallery where a new show was being prepared. She called me back, and I peeped through the curtains together with her. I could not believe my eyes, but my paintings were all over the walls. I could immediately recognize at least a dozen of them. After a closer look, it was clear that the format was a bit different, for the paintings were square, whereas mine are rectangular. Some of my compositions were placed upside down, and some were hung sideways. But it was amazing to see so much of my own work getting ready for the opening. My beloved even quipped that she thought at first that I was trying to surprise her with the show.

When we ordered our dinner, my beloved took out her mobile phone and started searching for the artist. It took her only a few minutes to find out that the opening would take place in a few days. Sebastijan Vojvoda was the artist’s name. Born in Pula in 1976, he serves as a custodian of some educational establishment in Poreč. She also found a piece introducing the upcoming exhibition, as well as his own words about it. Not surprisingly, my name does not appear anywhere in spite of so much that is borrowed from me. Given all the givens, this is a straight case of plagiarism. There is no other word for it. I have long heard of an Istrian artist lifting my work, but this was my first encounter with his work (“Continuity, Originality,” May 5, 2005).

I am doing my best to record my astonishment this evening not because I intend to make trouble for Vojvoda. Far from it. In fact, I am worried that he might take me to court for plagiarism in turn. This is Croatia, after all. If he has good connections in any of the Istrian courts, he may even get ahead in the legal game. Although I would win in the end, for there is no question about Vojvoda’s plagiarism in this case, I would have another harrowing experience with the court system in this godforsaken country. Once burned, one blows on cold, too. At any rate, I am so sorry that he has not had the brains to get in touch with me ahead of time. I would even endorse our, as it were, collaborative venture with an open heart. After all, authorship is not my cup of tea, as I have made clear time and again.

Addendum I (February 3, 2015)

Over the last few days, my feelings have changed quite a bit. As time went by, I became more and more angry with Vojvoda on account of his mindboggling plagiarism. Seeing one’s work paraded under someone else’s name is harrowing, to be sure. The paintings I saw through the gallery window kept pulsating in my mind. I can see them as I write, as a matter of fact. After a few sleepless nights, this morning I sent an electronic-mail message to the director of the gallery, which is a part of a cultural outfit associated with the administration of the Croatian capital. I introduced myself by providing a link to the website of my gallery in Motovun, which harbors several pictures of my paintings taken in Reading in 2001. I added a link to the EAST International show in Norwich in 1998, where at least two-hundred of my paintings were exhibited. To top it off, I included a link to this piece of writing and its precursor from 2005. And then I warned the gallery director of Vojvoda’s unabashed plagiarism on the opening day of his show. A perfect day for the all-out assault, no doubt. By way of a conclusion, I asked for Vojvoda’s public apology together with an articulate explanation of his artistic pursuit, if that is what his plagiarism amounts to. For good measure, I copied the message to many of the key people associated with the gallery, as well as a good number of leading newspapers in Croatia. It is anyone’s guess what will happen next. Many hours later, not a peep from anyone. A message like mine typically goes unnoticed in this corrupt country. It is all about connections and nothing but connections. Surprises are few and far between. Plagiarism, what plagiarism?

Addendum II (February 4, 2015)

Not long before the vaunted opening, Vojvoda responded to my electronic mail, and in kind. He started by saying that he was very sorry that I thought that my work had been plagiarized. This was definitely not the case, he pleaded. He had heard of me, and he wanted to get in touch with me, but… He did not explain why he had never managed to send me a few words over the intervening decade or so. The best he could say in his defense was that we both had discovered the same symbolic language, the same geometry that underlies much of the world around us. Although the common ground was allegedly only a small part of his opus, he did acknowledge incredible similarity between my work and his.

The best he could offer by way of an explanation was that we were connected by a Jungian archetype of some kind. Many other artists were also connected, and he listed quite a few of them. The only one I would agree to would be Malevich, though. He also added that it would be outright crazy for him to plagiarize my work given that we lived but a few kilometers apart in Istria. He concluded by repeating that he was sorry about everything, but that he hoped that we would have a chance to meet soon and talk about our work.

My response was predictably cold. Archetypes are fine, but way too many of his paintings are exactly the same as mine. I am not exaggerating, either. Walking past the gallery, I spotted at least ten of them, and there were about twenty paintings on view all told. Any art critic would be quite suspicious about Vojvoda’s argument, I was pretty sure. I closed my reply by telling him that I had already engaged my lawyer, which was indeed the case. The lawyer now has the full correspondence with the gallery, as well. The long silence separating our messages today drove me nuts, I must admit. To sue or not to sue, that is the question. In this case, both Vojvoda and his gallery are liable. Although I am weary of the Croatian courts, some wrongdoings do deserve to be punished. The sooner, the better.

Addendum III (February 5, 2015)

Either Vojvoda has persuaded the key people in the gallery of his innocence, or they had cunningly accepted his story so as to avoid my charges of plagiarism, but they offered me a show together with him. And no kidding. According to one of the gallery bosses, the similarity of our “geometries” is so stunning that they are prepared to celebrate it with a special show. In short, we are dealing with a miracle, no less. Even though I responded that I was far from convinced of Vojvoda’s Jungian archetypes, for there were too many of his paintings that were nearly identical to my own, I thanked him for the offer and invited him to see my paintings in my own gallery in Motovun. That was their house and home, I explained in my last electronic-mail message. Once again, I copied my lawyer for all to see. My anger is receding, heaven be praised, but a lawsuit is still ricocheting through my mind whenever I remember my paintings on show in the center of Zagreb. And under Vojvoda’s name.

Addendum IV (February 6, 2015)

On our way to the same restaurant this evening, my beloved and I passed by the same gallery once again. We were quite astonished to see a large number of Vojvoda’s paintings wrapped in black cloth. Twelve of them, to be exact. The postcard I sent to one of the gallery bosses a couple of days ago was persuasive enough, I gather (“The Fucking Postcard,” February 4, 2015). Indeed, the plagiarism was perfectly obvious. The funny thing is that I felt kind of sorry for Vojvoda out of the blue. And I missed seeing my paintings even under someone else’s name.