Atelier & Gallery Ostrman
When I first encountered the paintings of Tomislav Ostrman a few years ago, I wasn’t ready for them. I was in a completely different sensibility at the time. However, I remembered his art—those playful and joyful scenes, his boldly fearless style that, in a way, challenged serious critics and even many artists.
I remember telling myself then that this wasn’t just colorful and thematically cheerful painting with numerous stylistic nods to abstraction, a dolce far niente story—there had to be something more beneath the surface. In any case, I remembered him and tucked his work into a mental folder for the future.
It took me some time to fully decipher the narrative and intent behind Ostrman’s paintings. At times, I was convinced he was joking, being "intentionally unserious." But now, it seems more and more that he is searching for a balance between the parallel realities we all live in today, seamlessly switching from one to another.
He appears to be unserious, yet in a theoretical context, he suggests that perhaps everything has already been painted and that the only way to face the crisis of artistic invention is with a bold, defiant grin. Our everyday lives constantly teeter on the edge of comedy, grotesque, vaudeville, and parody. But amidst it all, there are also moments of genuine seriousness, nostalgia, melancholy, and the looming threat of forgetting—the quiet moments of happiness, beauty, and peace at sea and on holiday.
I was quietly drawn to the painter’s Mediterranean, to scenes that come together effortlessly, without classical perspective, arranged in a flat composition. The rhythm of his work is positive, free of chaos and turbulence. There’s something about Ostrman that connects him to the symbolism of a clown who laughs and cries at the same time, skillfully masking sorrow and melancholy with a palette of charming motifs and playful scenes.
I wouldn't completely rule out the possibility that the painter is also touching on the theme of summer vacations as a form of kitsch culture, where the tyranny of tourist décor and props threatens to destroy the views of our small coastal towns and the open sea from the beach. That’s why Ostrman often enlarges and exaggerates motifs—flowers, fish, and people in relation to boats—creating hallucinatory scenes with elements of so-called dream painting, occasionally filtered through the poetics of children's drawings or illustrations.
The sailors in his paintings belong to the micro-myths of Dalmatian culture and the maritime world in general. Soon, they too will disappear—ocean voyages have already turned sailors into technocratic clerks who formally sail, primarily for profit rather than the exotic adventures of the past.
The figure of the sailor "Whistler" (Fućkalica), which continuously appears in his paintings, is a metaphor for all the sailors we knew as children on our islands and in fishing villages. This character symbolically merges an idyllic, carefree past with a longing for a utopian society of happy individuals. According to the artist, the sailor represents *homo ludens*—the modern person who plays and is playfully engaged in a positive way, calm and relaxed.
Many of Ostrman’s paintings are compositionally presented like a sailor’s diary, viewing the open sea through the *oculus* of his cabin. This compositional framing enhances the intensity of the scene and deepens the viewer’s focus. However, behind the perspective of the *oculus*, there lies an undefined longing for freedom—both metaphorical and literal.
Ostrman plays with the idea of "great painting" and serious artwork, entering the realm of traditional craftsmanship with a touch of self-irony through playful motifs. By combining different techniques and painting methods, he creates an intriguing stylistic pastiche.
Beneath his playful and colorfully dynamic paintings, Ostrman raises serious questions, though he does so in an intentionally lighthearted and seemingly superficial way, critiquing the pseudo-intellectual debates on contemporary art. We shouldn't underestimate the impact of a scene where a confused sailor asks, "What is art?" with an empty speech bubble above his head. In this context, his whistling sailor becomes a kind of whistleblower, drawing attention to societal and artistic phenomena—without pretentiousness or theoretical lecturing.
"In some strange condensations of reality, it may be possible to sense something mythical. These are the moments when the profane everyday life coagulates into a lump of myth, revealing itself as a celebration on a higher, more thrilling level." (Igor Mandić)
It is precisely along these lines that I see Ostrman’s painting. He questions whether painting today is obsolete or merely an established communication channel. And yet, how can one deny its emotional charge and the ambiance of the Mediterranean, whose myth is far from exhausted? His painting skillfully confronts the clichés and stylistic tricks of the 20th century—with a smile on his face, beyond the web of prejudices.