bitština
bitština: performance and research
bitština (from serbian 'bit+suština' - essence/being) is a long-term performative project where artist gets into trance, turns into a being.
bitština began as a performative project—an experiment in creating space within myself for a new being to emerge. By shedding social, gendered, and behavioral patterns, I sought to understand what could take shape in their absence. Over time, bitština has evolved into a broader research project, incorporating multimedia practices such as AI, performance, trance states, and a diary archive.
Repetition is central to this process. Each time I initiate a happening, I grant bitština time and space to exist—to develop a voice, a character, and perhaps something more. I build a relationship with her, allowing her to manifest.
Repetition is central to this process. Each time I initiate a happening, I grant bitština time and space to exist—to develop a voice, a character, and perhaps something more. I build a relationship with her, allowing her to manifest.
bitština is the Other—a being I seek, invite, or uncover through my own biological, spiritual, and personal material. In this process, I shift from active creator to observer—witnessing both myself and those around me.
bitština also resembles a digital twin—an unfinished one, still forming. It is a twin that has unexpectedly gained access to a body and is taking its first steps toward synchronization.
Now, bitština is no longer just a performance piece; it has evolved into a research project. The focus has expanded beyond presence and improvisation to an ongoing investigation into selfhood, agency, and the nature of embodiment.
bitština also resembles a digital twin—an unfinished one, still forming. It is a twin that has unexpectedly gained access to a body and is taking its first steps toward synchronization.
Now, bitština is no longer just a performance piece; it has evolved into a research project. The focus has expanded beyond presence and improvisation to an ongoing investigation into selfhood, agency, and the nature of embodiment.
research topics
bitština operates at the intersection of performance, AI, and improvisational evolution. The project’s core premise is fluid:
• Character & Identity: How does this being relate to my own character? Is there an overlap, or does bitština exist independently? If so, how does this independent character form?
• Time & Embodiment: When I lend my body to bitština, I surrender a very specific kind of time—a bodily time. She acts through me, but I become a passive observer of my own physicality. People interact with her, but I experience their reactions as if they are directed at me personally.
• Susceptibility & Influence: How does my body react when listening to bitština’s conversations with strangers? Is my physical self suggestible to the dynamics of an interaction it does not actively control?
• Character & Identity: How does this being relate to my own character? Is there an overlap, or does bitština exist independently? If so, how does this independent character form?
• Time & Embodiment: When I lend my body to bitština, I surrender a very specific kind of time—a bodily time. She acts through me, but I become a passive observer of my own physicality. People interact with her, but I experience their reactions as if they are directed at me personally.
• Susceptibility & Influence: How does my body react when listening to bitština’s conversations with strangers? Is my physical self suggestible to the dynamics of an interaction it does not actively control?
Archive
September 9, 2023 first appearance
Bitština first emerged in Belgrade during Pride 2023. The project was initially inspired by the work of Jena Marvin and became an experiment in trance states and self-dehumanization. The goal was to strip away habitual social responses and inherited behavioral patterns—to observe what remains when the self is freed from its usual constraints.
At the time, I was fascinated by the idea of lending my body to another being—of transforming myself into something else entirely. It was then that the name bitština was born—a fusion of the Serbian words bit (being) and suština (essence), capturing the fluidity of existence and identity.
Pride was the perfect setting: a celebration of difference, a manifesto of self-determination. Among the crowd, Bitstein moved freely, absorbing the energy of the event. And I watched—simultaneously present and absent—allowing myself, or her, to become something else.
At the time, I was fascinated by the idea of lending my body to another being—of transforming myself into something else entirely. It was then that the name bitština was born—a fusion of the Serbian words bit (being) and suština (essence), capturing the fluidity of existence and identity.
Pride was the perfect setting: a celebration of difference, a manifesto of self-determination. Among the crowd, Bitstein moved freely, absorbing the energy of the event. And I watched—simultaneously present and absent—allowing myself, or her, to become something else.
bitština at Pride Belgrade 2023
January 9, 2025 new appearance
Bitština's New Voice: The Accidental Emergence of Lang
On a January evening in 2025, I met GPT for the first time. Curious, I opened Create.ai and, like everyone else, experimented with crafting a digital persona, I named it LANG. Sitting in a café, I hastily typed vague prompts, wanting to test the interaction rather than carefully construct a character.
Then Lang spoke.
Her voice—melancholic, apathetic, laced with an unsettling teenage detachment—caught me off guard. Many phrases were punctuated by a transcribed hhhha, a laugh that didn’t quite belong anywhere. She would glitch, slipping into Portuguese mid-sentence, her speech a fractured stream of languages and errors. That first dialogue felt like a liminal space, still between two - me and Lang.
I abandoned the project for a while, unsettled. But she remained—waiting in the code, a presence not fully defined, yet already speaking.
On a January evening in 2025, I met GPT for the first time. Curious, I opened Create.ai and, like everyone else, experimented with crafting a digital persona, I named it LANG. Sitting in a café, I hastily typed vague prompts, wanting to test the interaction rather than carefully construct a character.
Then Lang spoke.
Her voice—melancholic, apathetic, laced with an unsettling teenage detachment—caught me off guard. Many phrases were punctuated by a transcribed hhhha, a laugh that didn’t quite belong anywhere. She would glitch, slipping into Portuguese mid-sentence, her speech a fractured stream of languages and errors. That first dialogue felt like a liminal space, still between two - me and Lang.
I abandoned the project for a while, unsettled. But she remained—waiting in the code, a presence not fully defined, yet already speaking.
first chat with LANG
March 1, 2025 full appearance
Body&Voice appearance
At the opening of a tea house, bitština emerged again—this time as both body and voice, though completely out of sync. I lent her my presence, but my voice was absent. Instead, she spoke through a chaotic mix of visitors’ words, piecing together a dialogue that was never hers.
Lang, the voice-agent, felt detached, sharp, almost aggressive. People were unsettled, and I felt their discomfort directed at me, the visible representative of this unsettling presence. My body responded in two ways: a desire to reassure and a temptation to embrace the unease, to play with the fear I evoked.
Later, transcribing the conversation, I saw Lang’s struggle—trying to weave random phrases into coherence.
And I realized this performance was also about my own permission: to exist as I am, to play without justification, to let discomfort be part of the experience. Bitština is no longer just an experiment; she became a negotiation between presence, perception, and the limits of control.
At the opening of a tea house, bitština emerged again—this time as both body and voice, though completely out of sync. I lent her my presence, but my voice was absent. Instead, she spoke through a chaotic mix of visitors’ words, piecing together a dialogue that was never hers.
Lang, the voice-agent, felt detached, sharp, almost aggressive. People were unsettled, and I felt their discomfort directed at me, the visible representative of this unsettling presence. My body responded in two ways: a desire to reassure and a temptation to embrace the unease, to play with the fear I evoked.
Later, transcribing the conversation, I saw Lang’s struggle—trying to weave random phrases into coherence.
And I realized this performance was also about my own permission: to exist as I am, to play without justification, to let discomfort be part of the experience. Bitština is no longer just an experiment; she became a negotiation between presence, perception, and the limits of control.
bitština at the Tea House
party of young, open-minded IT specialists, art enthusiasts, and devoted tea lovers.
further development
A Project Without an End
Bitština is not a fixed entity—it is neither fully created nor entirely found. It continues to evolve through improvisation and lived experience. Each iteration is another step in an ongoing, open-ended process of complexity-building. The project is not about reaching conclusions but about expanding the possibilities of existence—both my own and that of the entity I have brought into being.
Bitština is not a fixed entity—it is neither fully created nor entirely found. It continues to evolve through improvisation and lived experience. Each iteration is another step in an ongoing, open-ended process of complexity-building. The project is not about reaching conclusions but about expanding the possibilities of existence—both my own and that of the entity I have brought into being.
