Art, politics, and everything in between: “Nijolė” at the 2025 goEast Festival of Central and Eastern European Film

In Nijolė (2019), mother and son, both burdened by life’s experiences, shed their hard outer shells  when confronted by the camera’s lens, and reveal a kaleidoscope of delicate emotions with a beautiful, fragile authenticity.

At first glance, Nijolė seems to be an intergenerational story that reflects on the relationship between a son and his mother, with a rather unique historical and geographical twist, first crossing countries and seas, traversing parallels and meridians, and finally stretching across oceans and continents. A closer look, however, reveals that Sandro Bozzolo’s story is both a testimony and a tribute to the life and work of extraordinarily strong personalities representing two intersecting fields: art and politics. 

Colombia is not the first Latin American country to be associated with European immigrants, unlike Argentina, Uruguay, Chile, and Brazil, which automatically come to mind. But the curiosity and unparalleled scholarly acumen of Italian migration researcher and documentary filmmaker Sandro Bozzolo led him in his early academic explorations to the remarkable figure of Antanas Mockus, a renaissance man, philosopher, mathematician, university lecturer, social iconoclast, two-time mayor of Bogotá, presidential candidate, and even winner of the 2004 Lithuanian of the Year award. A fascination with Mockus and his character led to the writing of a book, which Mockus has helped to promote by travelling with Bozzolo to readings and other press events. A closer relationship with a politician meant widening the field of acquaintances to include other people associated with him, and so the figure of Nijolė Šivickas, the politician’s mother, naturally appeared in Bozzolo’s orbit, immediately catching his interest. 

A graduate of the State Academy of Fine Arts in Stuttgart, Nijolė moved to Colombia in 1950 with her husband, Alfonsas Mockus, a mechanical engineer. Originally a painter, she held her first exhibition at the Colombian National Library in Bogota in 1955. In her later years, she plunged into the field of sculpture. Deeply fascinated by the Art Brut, or “raw art,” style, she left her mark on the Colombian art scene permanently, together with her husband, whose contributions to development and innovation in the metalworking sector were likewise widely acknowledged.

But it is not the achievements of the Lithuanian family that Bozzolo’s film deals with, although they are indeed admirable. It is about the vivisection of family ties, a subtle but revealing observation of how mother and son circle, side-step, or permeate each other. How much of Nijolė is really in her son, Antanas? 

But for the viewer to answer such a question, it was essential to shed more light on Nijolė, who, although celebrated for her work, was an independent maverick who never wanted to be put on a pedestal — and is therefore difficult to decipher. She resisted categorisation and scoffed at hierarchies, whether in art or in life. While she captivated Colombian society and even appeared on national television, her skepticism was evident in her wry dismissal of the host’s comment that “people are interested in lives like yours.” Her life has not been consumed by the “stereotypical” image of the artist; it has remained her own. For her, art was a refuge, a silent language in which she could freely express her feelings.

Her son Antanas, on the other hand, seems far removed from the world of manual creation, existing beyond the sanctity of Nijolė’s workshop. And yet the two are drawn together — physically and emotionally. Antanas calls her by name, not out of distance but out of deep familiarity. In a tender scene, as they walk through a street interview, Nijolė, visibly uncomfortable in crowds, nevertheless gives her son a gentle, almost imperceptible smile, perhaps filled with pride, a pride articulated by glances and gestures, never spoken aloud. They end up in the workshop, operating side by side, in silence.

Bozzolo’s film resists the temptation to monumentalise its subjects. Instead, it tends towards a minimalist, impressionist narrative — spare in its means, suggestive rather than declarative. It is not a grand ambitious project, but rather an intimate tapestry of glances, pauses, and unfinished sentences. What we are offered are the unobtrusive fragments of a deeper story that the audience must piece together with care and attention. At its heart is mutual observation: a son observing his mother, a mother observing her son, and we, the viewers, silent witnesses.

Nijolė (2019) was screened on 26 April as part of the 2025 goEast Festival of Central and Eastern European Film.