October 2025. Culture is feeling its way towards a state of provisional existence. It’s beta version to be presented at JAMA 79.
Stopping is not an option. But when we disagree with the way the world works, all that’s left is to show our disagreement. To refuse participation when things start to feel irreversibly toxic. To go on strike, into a state of boycott, to press opt-out.
JAMA 79 pressed opt-out in the spring of 2025 by rejecting a grant from the Slovak Arts Council—a grant that would have carried the signature, on paper, of the fund’s new morally and professionally questionable leadership.
Opting out of one thing opens new possibilities for something else. One of those possibilities is something we’ve never done before, but perhaps should have: to equalize everyone and everything that makes JAMA what it is. This principle was present in JAMA’s code from the very beginning, so—why not?
And so finally this year:
JAMA 79 is everyone who responded to a semi-public call we sent out at the end of summer—to artists and friends involved in previous editions, which then spread on its own momentum. Different people and organisations offered their presence, their support—hosting, spaces, hands-on or other help.
Likewise, the dramaturgy of this year emerged from the environment itself—a substrate cultivated over many years and many JAMAs. It formed at the intersection of what was offered and what was, under the circumstances, possible. It’s the result of a non-intervention process that began with the first JAMA (73rd Year) in October 2019 and has been fermenting ever since.
Everyone who has contributed—or will contribute—to JAMA 79 is shaping it and becoming part of its fabric. The list is far from complete. It will continue to grow until the very end of JAMA 79. Things are happening.
JAMA 79 is being realised on an unpaid basis. We are covering the (minimal) costs through voluntary contributions, small donations beyond the Slovak Arts Council, and out of pocket.
We’re sketching a feasibility study for what’s still possible—what culture and arts can look like in the near future. We’re not trying to fix what’s broken. We acknowledge that something has failed, and we’re thinking about a time when it will be necessary to build something new out of nothing. Someone will have to do it. Maybe us, maybe you—if we make it that far.
In times of crisis, imagination means thinking about ways to survive—about temporary parallel worlds. JAMA is one such possibility.
How many safe worlds can we create? Where? With whom? How?
Survival has become the number one task for an (un)defined period of time.
It doesn’t have to be hard labour.
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If you feel you need something a little more structured to enjoy your stay at JAMA 79, here’s a rough timetable.