Sarah Marshall
Finds a Serbian city beating with new life and hope
Pinned to the wall of Studio M gallery, a collection of human hearts pulses with metronomic precision. Disturbingly realistic, the artificial aortas belong to an exhibition exploring Time and Universe, where bees dance around darkened rooms, analogue phones ring with messages from beyond, and mirrors reflect a world that exists in our sleep.
“Dreaming is the only time no clock can measure,” whispers one of the gallery curators, cryptically. “We can spend our entire lives dreaming.”
The show, which runs until September, is part of a creative programme of events organised in honour of Novi Sad’s Capital of Culture status for 2022 (delayed from last year due to the pandemic). But the notion of nurturing hope for a better tomorrow is as old as the 17th century foundations of Serbia’s second city.
Located at a geographical crossroads of mainland Europe, Novi Sad has frequently found itself on the frontline between east and west. It was even conceived as a defensive city. Built on top of a former monastery, the Petrovaradin Fortress protected the AustroHungarian empire from Ottoman attack.
It was flattened in the world wars and bombed during the 1999 NATO campaign at the height of the Balkan crisis and fragmentation of Yugoslavia. But each time, Novi Sad
has risen like a phoenix.
Walking through the tiny city, which can easily be explored in a weekend, I stumble into upbeat bars and lively cafes tucked into shadowy passageways. Decaying spaces have been reinvigorated – a former silk factory has been converted into a cultural centre, while artist workshops occupy the grounds of the demilitarised fortress.
In Novi Sad, the younger generation is focused on building bridges – both physically and metaphorically. Immortalised by a gallery of posters along the banks of the River Danube, structures past and present have always been cherished as links to an outside world.
Every July, electronic music festival Exit is held in the Petrovaradin Fortress, uniting cultures regardless of political borders. One morning, I climbed to the ramparts – one of the few hills in the city – and scanned a skyline shared by onion-domed orthodox churches, cathedral spires and a synagogue – testimony to the tolerance of Novi Sad’s residents.
Recent events may have stirred difficult memories from the past, but they are a reminder of paths to be followed in the future.
The European Capital of Culture programme is often derided for being highfalutin and low performing. But this time round, a tiny Eastern European city has a lot to talk about.