20/20 passion
This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2005, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

Vojko Rizvanovic's paintings, mostly realistic portraits of friends and neighbors, don't betray anything unusual about the artist who made them. Nor do they suggest the painstaking way he assembles his works, piece by tiny piece.

Rizvanovic is legally blind. Even with his eyeglasses, he sees only blurry, borderless shapes and colors. When working, he brings his nose within an inch of his canvas and uses a variety of special lenses, scopes and magnifiers.

"Making art is hard enough, let alone when you have to look through a scope that's about this big," says University of Utah art professor Kim Martinez, one of Rizvanovic's former instructors, making a small circle with her fingers. "It takes him about eight times longer than a non-visually impaired person. His tenacity is incredible."

This determination helped the Serbian immigrant, whose eyesight was damaged in the civil war that tore apart the former Yugoslavia, land a current two-person show at Art Access gallery in downtown Salt Lake City. Rizvanovic's art will hang side by side through Friday with paintings by his mentor, Sam Wilson, who also taught him at the U.

As a gallery devoted to minority or marginalized artists, Art Access has displayed works by people with almost every conceivable disability. But director Ruth Lubbers cannot recall devoting space to another painter who is legally blind.

"He's one of the most unique artists who ever came out of the University of Utah," she says. "And he paints very well."

A poor student as a boy in Yugoslavia, Rizvanovic was 7 or 8 when he realized he might have artistic talent. In school one day, his teacher handed out colored pencils and asked the class to draw something. Little Vojko (pronounced "Voyko") sketched a portrait of his mother that so impressed his teacher that she summoned the principal.

But the war derailed, at least for a while, any dreams Rizvanovic had of becoming an artist. Shot in 1992 while serving in the Yugoslav Army, he lay unconscious for days. The injuries almost destroyed his left leg and damaged his optic nerve, severely blurring his vision.

Rizvanovic, his wife, Sabira, and their infant daughter sought refuge in Germany, where they remained for five years. In 1999 they were relocated to the United States, settling in Salt Lake City.

Life in Utah was tough. Rizvanovic spoke almost no English, and his limited vision and permanent limp -- he walks with a cane -- made it hard to find work. But he qualified for disability checks from the federal government and enrolled in art classes at the U.

At first, Rizvanovic's professors tried to steer him toward abstract art, figuring his poor vision would make it difficult to capture the realistic images he liked. Some even suggested he take up sculpture. But Rizvanovic, who earned a bachelor's degree in 2004, would not be deterred.

"I like to be real," he says in fast, thickly accented English. "I like to prove that I can do it. Painting is not just vision. It's hard work. It's passion. Art is what I am. For me, art is everything."

As Wilson and most other art teachers will tell you, sight and vision are two different things.

It's one thing to produce realistic-looking images on canvas. It's another to imbue them with soul, with life. Wilson believes Rizvanovic's unusual perspective makes his carefully detailed paintings distinctive.

"He functions in this little myopic world, one little piece on the canvas at a time," says the Salt Lake City painter and educator. "He has to bring the tubes of paint up to his nose to see the colors. Everything gets completely slowed down. He can't see the forest, he can only see a tree."

Although he sees less than 10 percent of what most people see, Rizvanovic, 36, hopes to get a master's in art education and become a teacher. He paints in a modest downtown Salt Lake City apartment he shares with Sabira and their three daughters, ages 15, 3 and 10 months. Because he cannot see well enough to paint live models, he works mostly from photographs.

His paintings reflect his impairment in subtle ways. Many of his human subjects are disabled friends who hold canes or sit in wheelchairs. Rizvanovic paints these people because he identifies with them and because the disabled are rarely chosen as subjects for art. He also likes to paint stairways, which serve as metaphors for the obstacles people like him must overcome.

But Rizvanovic doesn't want to be defined only by his disability.

"I don't like to be known for being a blind artist," he says. To make his point, he tells a story about encountering a woman at the Oct. 21 opening for his Art Access show. After studying his art, the woman was surprised to learn that he was blind.

"She said, 'I don't see that in the paintings.' " It was perhaps the best compliment Rizvanovic could have received. "That made me happy," he says.

griggs@sltrib.com

At Art Access

"Partners Redux," a two-person show by Vojko Rizvanovic & Sam Wilson, will remain through Thursday at Art Access Gallery, 339 W. Pierpont Ave. in Salt Lake City. Regular gallery hours are 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. For more information, call 801-328-0703.

Vojko Rizvanovic is legally blind, but his artistic vision comes through in his portraits, produced one bit at a time
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