It wouldn’t occur to me to think only of expressive advantage in a search for self, but rather of the visual discovery of a certain reality, a powerful and forceful vision of the world in which the skies are blue in another way, scattered in a different manner with the egg-yolk yellows of windows illuminated with no sky.
And if I were able, I would not speak of the artistic qualities and resources with which Murtić has managed to excite me and convince me, enable me to experience with him his Experience of America and together with him to discover the point and purpose of his choice of motifs and contents of these spaces that gush upwards, conveyed directly, truthfully, freshly, contemporarily and, in spite of an inexhaustible inventiveness, so lyrically cantabile. But these are no ephemeral jottings from a journey. With Murtić’s verticals, scattered with neon shrieks, a start is made on delving into a substance, into a world where so unjustly and preciously the old, fatigued, eroded waters thrown between complexes of thick cables and traverses are dying…
Oskar Davičo
Writer and poet
Borba