The other day, an event unfolded, capturing my immediate attention with a familiar picture. Having memorized every vintage poster in my collection, it was impossible not to recognize the distinctive illustration of the movie “Razzia”. Surprisingly, it dawned on me just how many posters by the same artist adorned my collection when I visited the exhibition of Božidar Bole Miloradović.

Yugoslav Film Archive Exhibition

Siberian Lady Macbeth (1962)

On Tuesday, January 23, the Yugoslav Film Archive (Jugoslovenska Kinoteka) hosted the opening of an exhibition showcasing an integral part of the artist’s prolific work in the realm of film posters from 1960 to 1970. The exhibited posters, adorned with Bole Miloradović’s unique graphic style, highlighted iconic achievements in both domestic and foreign cinematography.

The event, though small with around 40 posters and attendees, marked the beginning of a series of exhibitions commemorating the 75 years of the Archive’s operation in 2024. Irina Kondić, the Curator of the Yugoslav Film Archive, expressed her satisfaction with featuring the works of such a significant artist.

Curiosity led me to explore these posters, but unfortunately, the accompanying plaques offered no additional insights. I had to do some digging.

Bole Miloradovic: Journey from Protests to Posters

The Long Ships (1964)

Born near Kragujevac in 1934, Miloradović pursued architecture studies in Belgrade. His artistic journey began when he secured a job as an illustrator for movie screenings in the Student City. However, his involvement in student protests against rent and food price increases in 1954 led to imprisonment, expulsion from the University, and job loss. Undeterred, he found employment in the circus, continuing to create attractive posters.

Miloradović’s talents extended beyond posters; he worked on fair stand equipment, suggested window displays, and crafted advertising texts. Renowned for his text layout and topographic play, he became a crucial figure in book decoration, leaving his mark as a painter, graphic artist, calligrapher, and illustrator.

A Raisin in the Sun (1961)

Lazar Trifunović, reflecting on Miloradović’s skill in working with text, remarked, “The layout of the text and the topographic play represent one of the more important characteristics of Miloradović’s graphic handwriting.” With original, witty, and daring solutions, Miloradović became an indispensable name in the field of book decoration, leaving an indelible mark on over a hundred books for various domestic publishers.

A true pioneer in the production of contemporary movie posters, Miloradović’s artistic lucidity and painterly originality garnered him the most important awards in cultural and commemorative posters, as well as in the field of fine art and graphic books. Over a hundred exhibitions celebrated his artistic contributions, and in recognition of his outstanding cultural contribution in the Republic of Serbia, he was honored with a national pension.

Vintage Posters and the Discontinued Cinematic Tradition

Armed with newfound knowledge about Miloradović’s journey, I delved into my personal collection, seeking posters bearing his signature. What unfolded was a fascinating tapestry of styles that showcased the evolution of Miloradović’s artistic expression. From

Dr (1962)

traditional early ’60s portraits on pastel backgrounds to intricate drawings featuring unique typography, and avant-garde collages seamlessly blending photos and graphic design, each poster spoke to the dynamic nature of cinematography during that era.

Miloradović’s diverse stylistic approach seemed to mirror a discontinuity in cinematic production, interrupted by wars. The decade that followed allowed for the revival and reintroduction of cinematic heritage, leaving its mark on artistic trends. The posters, in their varied forms, encapsulated not just the aesthetics of the time but also the resilience and creativity that emerged from a disrupted cultural landscape. Božidar Bole Miloradović, through his posters, painted a vivid picture of an era, inviting us to explore the nuances and intricacies of cinematography’s golden age.

I hope that the Yugoslav Film Archive continues to delve deeper into the rich tapestry of cinematic history. A focus on unraveling the names of artists and exploring the trends of illustration that left a mark on the golden era of cinema would undoubtedly enhance our understanding and appreciation of the artistic contributions that shaped that remarkable period.

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During the 1950s, Yugoslavia and Mexico developed a surprising bond despite having no common language, border, or culture. This unlikely friendship would become known as the Yu Mex craze, which refers to the Yugoslav fascination with Mexican culture through music and film. This cultural craze was a significant cultural phenomenon in Tito’s Yugoslavia, and it grew in popularity in the following decades.

What’s the Yu Mex Craze?

Yugoslav movie poster for the film “Emiliano Zapata” featuring Antonio Aquilar

The YuMex Craze was a cultural phenomenon in Tito’s Yugoslavia, which showcased the Yugoslav fascination with Mexican culture, particularly traditional and pop music. While many Yugoslav music albums featured covers of Mexican hits with singers posing with sombreros on the album cover, the craze itself started with the film industry.

Although this period was known as the Golden Age of Mexican cinema, its popularity was limited to Latin America, Spain, and, curiously enough, Yugoslavia. What’s interesting is, that not only did the Yugoslavs fervently enjoy Mexico’s telenovelas, but they saved some of the cinematographic pieces that would otherwise be lost to the public. The Yugoslav fascination with Mexican cinema was a significant cultural phenomenon that had a lasting impact.

Entertainment for the Non-Aligned

While it was common for a Yugoslav distributor to import Mexican movie posters, the hold it took on the people remains an enigmatic cultural phenomenon.

Presumably, the authorities sought to import entertainment from countries that answered to neither the Western nor Eastern powers. Tito’s opposition to the USSR led to Yugoslavia’s expulsion from the Eastern Bloc. The country found itself isolated amid the Cold War, charting its course as a socialist nation that stood apart from both the Soviet Union and the West. They wanted to soften the imperialistic influence of Western powers while being independent of the Eastern bloc.

The revolutionary topics and sentiments found in Mexican cinema were especially convenient as they appealed to a broader sentiment of the people at the time. These films helped solidify a connection between Mexican culture and Yugoslavia, searching for its own identity in the aftermath of World War II.

Supported by Hollywood, Mexico had the third-largest movie production center. This fact would noticeably set it apart from other Latin American productions. However, it was the pathos of the films and not the quality of their production that seemed to have won over the Yugoslav hearts and minds.

Un dia de vida (1950) by Emilio Fernandez

A Day in Life and a Century of YuMex Friendship

Emilio Fernandez’s film “Un Día De Vida” (1950) surprisingly provoked so many tears in Yugoslavia, despite its never having been released commercially on tape or DVD in its home country. The territory of the former Yugoslavia remained a place of remembrance for this film long forgotten by its home country. The distributors renewed the movie’s rights three times and relaunched it every 2 to 3 years for nearly two decades. Interestingly enough, even now we can see this movie poster in a state-run cinema in Sarajevo.

The movie revolves around revolutionary and patriotic themes, crowned by the sentiments of motherly love and grief. Being no strangers to wars, loss, and sacrifice, the Yugoslav people were especially struck by the movie. In one of the most famous scenes, a revolutionary sentenced to death sings “Las Mañanitas” to his mother. Some say that there are still those who cry over this song today.

Original movie poster for the 1958 Mexican musical comedy “Musica en la Noche” directed by Tito Davidson

Yu Mex in Yugoslavia

While the sentiments haven’t entirely faded, this topic remains scarcely explored. The first attempt at tackling this topic began with Miha Mazzini’s book Paloma Negra (2012). A year later, his short documentary titled YuMex, Jugoslovanska Mehika came out. Mazzini’s novel explores this cultural phenomenon, and his research on the topic led to an overwhelming response from people sharing their memories of Mexican-inspired materials from former Yugoslavia. The abundance of anecdotes proves a precious testament to the widespread nature of this trend:

“A owner of a night club from Sweden wrote me that when they’re totally drunk and closing time is getting near, customers from ex Yugoslav countries start singing Mexican songs.” (Miha Mazzini, YuMex or Yu-Mex: Mexican music in fifties Yugoslavia)

Thanks to his curiosity, we now have more information about the origins of YuMex. As for Mexican cinematography, the Yugoslav Cinema Archive (Jugoslovenska Kinoteka) still preserves these films. The archive was also the major resource for the original movie posters, some of which you can only find in the ExYu edition.

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The 18th century was the great age of satire, which especially flourished on England’s literary scene. However, what many of his contemporaries achieved in literary satire, William Hogarth with equal mastery transposed to visual arts. Thus, he gave rise to what will later become the satirical comic strip.

Print showing William Hogarth, the English painter and printmaker.

Middle-Class Morality

It was no wonder Hogarth was respected by great satirical authors of his time, such as Fielding and Swift. He has, with the same virtuosity, succeeded in portraying the modern moral subjects particular to England of the time. A great example is this is his depiction of the “gin craze”, an early 18th century epidemic of binge drinking symptomatic of the middle class.

While portraying the middle class in less than favorable light, Hogarth still does so sympathetically. His intent was to promote middle-class morality, so his critique served as a cautionary tale rather than a reflection of his opinions on the middle-class. This was not the case with the upper class, which he severely mocked. This he did in an early form of comic strips he named “progresses”, a series of prints telling a narrative, usually of moral decline.

“Gin Lane” by William Hogarth, representing the debauchery during the “gin craze” in 18th century Britain.

The Devil is in the Detail

While it may seem as though his satire is directed toward the middle-class, the actual target of his criticism is much more subtle. The real devil is in the details, and it is in that that Hogarth shows his true artistic talent. His two famous works “Marriage A-la-Mode ” and “A Rake’s Progress”, in a series of images, depict a narrative of moral descent. However, a closer look at the details reveals that the satire is directed at capitalist society’s mercantile and materialistic mentality.

Through subtle hints, Hogarth shows the upper class as motivated purely by material interest. So, young men marry old women, in the hopes of inheriting their wealth, and continue the marriage in adultery. One should read the motives in the painting as he would in a literary work. For example, in “The Rake’s Progress”, we can only follow the motive of the wig. It alone tells us the story of the young man’s descent into debauchery and, finally, madness. The scenes are dynamic, and every element serves to tell a story.

Lithograph 6 from the “Marriage A-la-mode” series by William Hogarth. The print shows a father taking off the ring of his dead daughter’s hand, criticizing the merciless materialism of the upper class.

Engravings over Paintings

The purpose of satirical art is not the artistic value itself, but the message. Of course, the artistic appeal is what helps spread this message to a wider audience – which is the goal of any political commentary. While engravings are undoubtedly easier to reproduce than paintings, there is another reason Hogarth chose this medium for his satire.

What really distinguishes engravings is the beautiful and precise line art. While it brings them closer to cartoons, it also retains a certain seriousness, evoking the appeal to the authority of great masters. Nevertheless, it is no coincidence that engravings would play such a part in satire. It is precisely due to the reasons mentioned that engravings should gain such popularity. Namely, the line naturally exaggerates the details, expressions, and gestures. The lines are also clearer than brush strokes. They are thus easier to discern in a smaller format required for mass distribution. Just like contemporary cartoonists, Hogarth wanted to extend his reach by making his work accessible to all in terms of price. This is why it is not unusual to find many of his, and other works of his time, reproduced as lithographs and distributed widely through books and other media.

Undoubtedly, Hogarth pushed the boundaries of satire, proving that the subtle art of engraving requires reading between the lines!

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