Milan Marinkovic was born on the 25 th of January in1947, in Belgrade. He graduated from the Faculty of Fine Arts in Belgrade in 1972. He stayed in Paris from 1977 to 1980 because of the advanced training. He is a member of ULUS (Association of Serbian Fine Artists) and Maison des Artistes in Paris.
He has had over 70 solo exhibitions from 1966 and he has taken part in 200 group exhibitions in France, Yugoslavia, Belgium, SAD, Italy, Russia, Sweeden… He has been living and working in France since 1992.
“Milan Marinkovic-Cile”, authors: Nikola Kusovac i Tatjana Bosnjak, ULUS, Belgrade, 1989
“Cile”, authors: Djordje Kadijevic, Milan Markovic, Ljubica Miljkovic i Zoran Markus, SVETLOKOMERC, Belgrade, 1996
Awards: He received many awards in Yugoslavia and abroad from 1975 to 1995 among witch the October award of the city of Belgrade.
“The Devil, as you all know, is a great colorist.”
In Cile’s work the color is tearing our skin. Artistry and rules are needed for such an operation. Sacrificial enthusiasm and sacrilegious rage require a skilful stroke.
Drawings and sketches are piling up on the floor and walls as a proof of a constant game of a tamed stroke in the quest for shapes. The artist should be observed closely as he quickly uses his pencil to draw surfaces revealing all sorts of processions and bodies, faces and masks that are lining up.
This way the color reaches its maximum carried by the vibration of drawings and almost automatic, interwoven strokes. The color is brought to the verge of destruction which condemns to catastrophe and to solid, perfect shapes.
I have the impression that Cile’s work is based on an always possible threat of destruction, decay and regression. Preoccupation with broken, torn and cracked painting matter as well as gaping snarls, black mouths, round shapes and wide gaps presents a sign of rebellion against the tragic sense of life and against grotesque and finicky moralists’ lessons.
It is a parade of sluts with ponds of make-up, one-eyed dolls and blank masks.
We are also greeted by the figures of an indefinite sex, swollen faces which bear the traces of bad habits as well as the members of lowlife with the look if wild beasts.
The artist is obviously leading us to the late and bluish moment of the stormy and tiring night when parties are brought to an end. Those are fancy sprees with the prevailing sense of disappointment where stabbed masks, lost faces and ghosts of one dubious world meet.
Cile’s work is a chaos transformed into a matter and melancholy transferred into color. Have you noticed that these ghosts that are imperfectly torn from the night are looking at us contemptuously on their way to the world of painting?
Art can save us from nothing but instead it uses its power to warn us about everything that may bear our destruction.
Jean Rodolph Loth