There is no guarantee that we will succeed in this endeavour, at least not in the foreseeable future, especially when it comes to breaking the SANU Gallery’s impressive attendance record that has stood since 1984. However, we could at least state with a clear conscience that we have exerted efforts to leave behind a better world for our children than the one we inherited from our parents – adds SANU President Zoran Knežević in this interview for CorD Magazine.

Mr Knežević, SANU is currently commemorating the centenary of the birth of great painter, writer, filmmaker and Academy member Miodrag ‘Mića’ Popović. Apart from the two exhibitions that have already been unveiled – a smaller one at the SANU Library and a larger retrospective exhibition at the SANU Gallery – how else is the Academy celebrating the legacy of this distinguished former member?

– Permit me to remind your readers that the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts is this year commemorating the centenary of the births of two important academics and painters: Miodrag ‘Mića’ Popović and Milorad ‘Bata’ Mihailović. To mark this exceptionally special occasion, large retrospective exhibitions have been arranged at the SANU Gallery to present the works of these two great artists and friends, rebels against the dogma of socialist realism in art, who were connected, among other ways, by havreing both belonged to the famous “Zadar Group”, which they co-founded with a group of their fellow students.

The exhibitions are accompanied by outstanding catalogues that have been published by the Academy, with the one representing Popović’s work having been prepared by art historian Dr Vesna Kruljac, assistant professor at the University of Belgrade Faculty of Applied Arts. Throughout the exhibition’s run, visitors are able to watch excerpts from Popović’s films, while lectures by Dr Kruljac and other experts have also been organised, dedicated to researching and interpreting Popović’s creative work. Apart from the exhibitions, the central event with which SANU is commemorating the legacy of its prominent members is a scientific conference under the working title “Polemic Aspects of Post-1945 Serbian Modernism With A Particular Focus on the Actions of Zadar Group Members”, which will take place at the Academy on 17th and 18th October and will focus on shedding light on Serbian modernism from a new perspective and re-evaluating the Zadar Group’s contribution to our fine art scene. You have already mentioned the smaller, chamber exhibition dedicated to Mića Popović at the Library of the Academy, while SANU has also used the Popović works preserved in its collection to participate in exhibitions at other galleries in Belgrade, Kikinda and elsewhere.

The title of the Popović retrospective exhibition includes the wording “The Art of Permanent Rebellion”. In the case of this academic and painter, that rebellion wasn’t merely artistic, but rather also implied an engaged, critical perspective on events occurring in society. This brings us neatly on to the unavoidable and eternal question of determining the correct relationship between the Academy and politics?

— I think this question needs to be observed in the context of the position of the Academy, as defined by the Law on SANU and the Statute of the Academy, as “the highest scientific and artistic institution of the Republic of Serbia”, and then for such a designation to determine its appropriate role in society. In a broader sense, this position is also determined by the dual nature of the Academy, i.e., its operational and honorary roles.

It could be stated that SANU’s authority is unquestionable in our scientific and artistic milieu, that what the Academy does and says is highly reingspected; beyond its own framework, in the political sphere, the Academy – in accordance with the aforementioned definition – rarely speaks out, and particularly not with regard to daily political issues, because it isn’t organisationally structured like a political party that formulates an opinion or common stance that it then promotes publicly.

I would remind your readers that SANU is this year commemorating the centenary of the births of two important academics and painters: Miodrag ‘Mića’ Popović and Milorad ‘Bata’ Mihailović

In accordance with its structure, the Academy is an assemblage of independent individuals, intellectuals who can, and often do, have completely contradictory political views and opinions, with which they appear in public of their own accord, independent of the Academy, individually or in groups, on the basis of their own feelings and needs. In this regard, a question arises as to the extent to which decisionmakers in society are prepared to listen to the well-intentioned and science-based assessments and advice of their own top scientists that have been formed through, among other things, national academies, but also the responsibility of academies for the advice that they offer.

The Academy maintains its relations with the state and its executive bodies primarily via an open and constructive dialogue, but also through collaboration with every opportunity for the competences of the Academy to be beneficial to the state and society. In so doing, the Academy acknowledges and appreciates the various social frameworks in which we operate, with the essential political distancing that results from the requirement for the Academy to be independent and to operate primarily in the service of the general good, and not any particular interest.

You were elected SANU president this March. In accepting to take on the position, you promised continuity and to direct SANU “towards safe harbours”. What would you single out as your priorities?

– The leadership of the Academy is confronted by many obligations and responsibilities, alongside the performing of daily tasks. I would use this opportunity to single out just a few of the most important activities that marked the first months of my mandate to a large extent.

Partly due to circumstance, in the first few months of its mandate, alongside its regular work related to providing the institution with the conditions required to operate and function, the new SANU leadership devoted the greatest attention to advancing our Academy’s international cooperation with academies across the region, but also in a broader European and global context, as well as improving SANU’s cooperation with international academic associations, universities and the like. Numerous contacts were established, multiple meetings were held, and we had several visits and encounters. So, it could be said that we renewed some important collaborations and improved some others, and – together with what we inherited from the previous period on this front – SANU can now boast of having very wide international cooperation and visibility.

Numerous activities that are in the focus of the attention and engagement of the leadership unfold constantly at the Academy, including the holding of numerous scientific gatherings, lectures, panel debates and roundtable events, exhibitions and concerts. All these activities are progressing at full steam, and let me note with satisfaction that they are also prepared in a very high-quality way and are well attended.

We are awaited in the year ahead by elections for new regular, correspondent and foreign members, so at this moment the Academy and its leadership are already somewhat turning – through a series of preparatory activities – towards that challenge and the important work that lies ahead of us.

Work is also continuing on capital national projects, such as the compiling of the SANU Dictionary and the Serbian Encyclopaedia, which require the constant attention and engagement of the SANU leadership and members. New volumes and books are expected soon, constant care of the Serbian language and script is taken etc.

SANU has responded to numerous existing challenges over the previous period. Its scientific summits have contributed to discussions regarding healthcare (during the Covid-19 pandemic) and energy sources (with reference to smallscale hydro power plants and mining practises), as well as declaring its position on Kosovo. Should the Academy continue down that path?

— I am able to state unreservedly that SANU has – with the work and activities it has carried out over the previous period, coupled with the values it promotes and the standards it applies – achieved significant results and become an exemplary, well-organised, functional institution and a centre of cultural, scientific, artistic and intellectual life generally in our neighbourhood. It is thus completely self-evident that the central pillar of the work programme of the new SANU leadership is “rational and realistically achievable continuity in the work and activities of the Academy, or in the managing of its affairs in accordance with the highest standards appropriate to our house”.

We are awaited in the year ahead by elections for new regular, correspondent and foreign members, so at this moment the Academy and its leadership are already somewhat turning – through a series of preparatory activities – towards that challenge and the important work that lies ahead of us

The answer to your question is therefore a simple ‘yes’: the Academy should, and is, continuing along the same path and responding to current challenges, with an additional essential clarification: that it does so wherever it possesses the required competences to address a given problem and wherever it is able to contribute realistically and constructively to resolving said problem.

The tragic shooting at Belgrade’s Vladislav Ribnikar Primary School has led to talk across Serbia about a crisis of education and the disruption of the system of values that largely develops during the school education process. What would you say about the current state of Serbia’s education system?

— The Academy devotes a lot of attention to education, as evidenced – among other things – by the fact that operating actively under its auspices are the SANU Board for Education and the SANU Board for Higher Education. In the context of your question, the best answer – to which I have nothing to add personally – was provided two years ago, when a large scientific conference was held at SANU under the title “Education: status, perspectives and role in the development of Serbia”.

This conference included the presentation of a voluminous publication containing key data points on the state of education in Serbia, as well as the defining of recommendations for improving education in Serbia, which were then submitted to the public and all relevant state bodies and national educational organisations and institutions, while the conference ‘Proceedings’, representing a collection of works presenting transcripts of authorised discussions from the conference, were also published. I would also mention the fact that multiple lectures and panel debates held at SANU in recent times have also addressed various relevant topics related to education, while several exhibitions covering the topic of education have been organised at the SANU Gallery of Science and Technology.

Returning to the exhibition of Popović’s paintings, it has been stated that half a million people saw his 1984 exhibition, which set a SANU Gallery record. At this time when there is plenty of talk of the need to redefine the model of culture, particularly among young people, what needs to be done to break that 1984 exhibition attendance record?

— It could probably be stated that SANU’s raison d’etre, at least to a certain extent, is identified with its permanent active participation in the ambitious endeavour of creating a modern, more humane and more tolerant society, within that framework of social and political awareness, and many view this as a natural and implied obligation of the Academy. Many people will probably also agree with the ascertain that our society needs a radical change to the predominant model of culture, if not “conceptualising a completely new world” – to paraphrase the words of my esteemed predecessor as SANU president, academic Vladimir S. Kostić.

I couldn’t say that I know for certain what needs to be done and how in this sense, but I am certain that this must be the goal, at least in principle, that we all strive to achieve, including the Academy. There is no guarantee that we will succeed in this endeavour, at least not in the foreseeable future, especially when it comes to breaking the SANU Gallery’s impressive attendance record that you mention. However, we could then at least state with a clear conscience that we have exerted efforts to leave behind a better world for our children than the one we inherited from our parents.

The post Radical Change to the Dominant Model of Culture Required appeared first on CorD Magazine.

Nikita Milivojević (62) was born in Vojvodina, in Inđija, which he describes as his own Ithaca, his personal Yasnaya Polyana, or Bergman’s Island of Fårö. His ancestors hailed originally from Montenegro, which they departed bound for Dalmatia. Nikita believes that he has forever imprinted within him, like two strongly contrasting elements, the wintry scenes of the Srem plain and the baking stone of Dalmatia. As Andrić stated: ‘every man is indebted to his homeland’.

“In my case, ‘homeland’ refers to two locations: Inđija, where I was born; and Dalmatia, or more precisely the village of Polača near Knin, form where my parents hailed and where I spent most of my summer and winter school holidays. When I recently found myself back in those parts of Dalmatia after many years, I was surprised by how many of the different sights, smells and sounds have lived on in my memory. To me, my parents’ village was something like Macondo for Márquez: a place filled with mythical, unbelievable stories, events, characters… The story of my roots has always been important to me. The first documentary film that I made was inspired by an event linked to life in those lands.”

A happy childhood in a small town implies, first and foremost, unbridled freedom. As a child, Nikita would spend all day on the street, playing, only heading home when he felt hungry.

“Spreading in front of my house, like some sort of huge carpet, were gardens (they are still there today) that were always full of people, who were planting something, digging, watering plants etc. Through the middle of those gardens ran a stream, and everything was somewhat reminiscent of an idyllic landscape created by a painter. As I’m a ‘winter child’, winter and snow hold a special place in my memory. That’s probably why snow often falls in my plays.” Fleeing from the Turks who’d invaded Montenegro, Nikita’s ancestors settled in Dalmatia, in the lea of Dinara mountain.

“That’s why my mother’s maiden name was Crnogorac [Montenegrin]. When listening to countless stories about life in those lands, I always wondered how people could live in that rocky, harsh environment. Due to their life being a struggle in the true sense of the word, many of them naturally departed in search of better living conditions, and that’s how my father ended up in Vojvodina. The Dalmatian folk were known as good builders, who were particularly renowned for their ability to work with stone. And with lots of construction going on in Belgrade and the surrounding area at the time, they very quickly managed to cope. My mother went to Pula to attend school very early on, with her oldest brother having lived there, and to this day she still remembers how to speak a little Italian. It was from her that I inherited my kind of ‘artistic streak’, curiosity, energy, tenacity… and particularly the passion for reading. I find it amazing that she’s still constantly reading something, has an interest in various things, is constantly planning something…”

When the son of a friend of mine, who was then 12 years old, told me that he’d never been to a cinema, I decided to reopen the cinema in Inđija… I consider that one of the best things I’ve done in my life

His father was often away from home due to his work. Nikita was 11 when his brother was born, and he spent most of his time with his mother. As a very hardworking and curious woman, she determined some of the most important life principles that formed his character. He summarises the essence of his upbringing with the phrase ‘less is more’. Cinema left an indelible mark on Nikita’s childhood.

“My friend received a small children’s film projector as a New Year’s present, and that’s how, at his place, I first discovered film. That’s among the strongest and most important experiences of my childhood. A white sheet was spread out in a darkened room and, when the projector was turned on, a magical line of light appeared, which turned into moving images projected on the whiteness of the canvas… Miraculous! Returning from a trip later, my uncle brought me as a gift a small ‘optical box’ [slide viewer light box], in which I could place photo slides, which enlarged in the box thanks to the ‘lens’, which was actually a magnifying glass, creating a kind of ‘magic lantern’ illusion for me. That was one of those experiences that remains imprinted in the deepest part of our unconscious. 

Bergman devoted an autobiographical book to that and even made a film. I belong to the generation for which cinema represented one of the most important institutions in life. Later on, during the time of my studies, my ‘best man’ Živko Popović and I literally went to the cinema every night, which was a special experience for me. And then, in the 1990s, the cinema in Inđija closed down, like so many others across the country. During one of my ever-rarer visits home, the son of a friend of mine, who was then 12 years old, told me that he’d never been to a cinema!? That was totally unbelievable to me. That’s why I decided to reopen the cinema of my childhood in Inđija. I named it Stalker, after the film by Tarkovsky. I consider that one of the best things I’ve done in my life.”

He’d wanted to study literature, but it was more for the sake of socialising that he sat the entrance exam for directing, which he completed at the Academy of Arts in Novi Sad. Although he’d spent that summer preparing well, he thought it unlikely that he’d pass, and that he’d subsequently enrol in what he’d planned: literature.

What I remember in particular about that entrance exam was the smell of the stage. I could say that I actually fell in love with the theatre because of that smell! The stage has a special aroma: the curtains, costumes, lights… incredibly exciting

“What I remember in particular about that entrance exam was the smell of the stage. I could say that I actually fell in love with the theatre because of that smell! The stage has a special aroma: the curtains, costumes, lights… For someone who was feeling all that for the first time, it was something incredibly exciting. The only other things that had smelt like that to me were new books for obligatory reading when I received them at the start of the school year.”

A story exists about how Nikita prepared for his first directing exam at an army barracks with soldiers, and how his professor, Boro Drašković, had come to the barracks in Niš for that exam.

“It just so happened that I had to do my military service after the entrance exam at the Academy, and then a law was introduced that meant 18-year-olds had to go to the army immediately after finishing high school. In my case, this meant that, by the time I returned from the army, my peers with whom I’d been admitted to study directing would already be in the second year of their studies, while I would have to start with the first-year students and the professor who was taking the class that year. In order for me to remain in his class, Boro Drašković set an almost impossible precedent. He suggested that I take my first-year exam from the army. And so it was that I didn’t attend the first year of directing studies, but rather I ‘served’ it and entered the second year of directing studies directly. I carried out a dramatic adaptation of Chekhov’s short story The Chameleon, dividing the roles among my fellow soldiers. We snatched time for rehearsals during various breaks and somehow succeeded in creating a play that we performed in the empty auditorium of the military club in Niš, exclusively for professor Boro Drašković. That’s how I passed, and the stage of the Niš barracks’ military club was my first theatre.”

Nikita’s first direction job was on Eugène Ionesco’s play ‘Jack, or The Submission’, in the Salon of the Yugoslav Drama Theatre, and it became famous for the beans that were served to the audience. The audience had actually been invited to a wedding, which is how they were seated, at wedding tables that had been placed along the walls of the Salon. And then, at one point in the proceedings, real homemade beans were served, which arrived for each performance from a tavern located across the street from the theatre, together with live music. It appeared as though reality was entering the play, directly from the street.

“What I will certainly remember forever is the first criticism that I then received, in NIN. Vlada Stamenković praised the play exceptionally, under the headline ‘Victorious Imagination’.

During the 1990s, Nikita’s plays – In the Hold, Banović Strahinja, A Midsummer Night’s Dream etc. – found themselves at the centre of the attention of the domestic theatre scene. At that juncture, Yannis Houvardas, director and owner of Amore, the most prestigious off-Athens theatre, was on the hunt for a young director from Serbia and got in touch with Nikita. When he staged his first play, Chekhov’s Ivanov, which proved to be a huge success, Nikita was invited to direct the following season at Yannis’s theatre. That had been the play Crime and Punishment, and – together with an exhibition of Goya’s paintings – it was declared the cultural event of the year in Athens! From that moment, the doors of many theatres were opened to him.

There were more than 100 theatres in Athens when I arrived, while today there are nearly 200! At that time, for me, Greece meant, among other things, a new maturing. My horizons broadened and I discovered many new things

“I’d arrived in an environment that was much richer than ours in every sense. There were more than 100 theatres in Athens at that time, while today there are nearly 200! One of the first big surprises for me was the very well-developed and interesting alternative scene. The Amore Theatre, for example, was a famous summer cinema, with a wonderful open rooftop terrace. At that time for me, Greece meant, among other things, a new maturing. My horizons broadened, I discovered many new things, met numerous interesting people. Unfortunately, in our country so much has been changing for the worse for many years, and so it was that the theatre hasn’t been spared either. Time and concentration are required for serious work… It is impossible to create a serious play without discipline, dedication, research, normal time for rehearsals. Whenever I talk about this, I know that I prompt indignation among many of my colleagues, while I simultaneously know that many of them share my opinion. The essential problem is our theatre system. One director recently told me that he didn’t have all the actors together for a single rehearsal, not even for the pre-premiere rehearsal!?” Since 2014, when he established the Shakespeare Festival in Čortanovci, this summer theatre event has become an inextricable part of this director’s life.

“The notion that a Shakespeare festival would be born in Čortanovci, and that it would even be opened by Shakespeare’s own Globe Theatre from London (with nothing less than Hamlet itself!?) – I don’t believe anyone could have imagined that even in their wildest dreams. Over the course of ten years, Villa Stanković has become an incredibly positive and exciting place, a genuine world stage. Our guests have included theatres from Iran, the U.S., Finland, Georgia, the UK, Belarus, Turkey, Germany, Armenia, India, China, Greece, Slovenia, North Macedonia, Croatia… Approximately 25,000 people have attended the Shakespeare Festival throughout all these years. and have to date watched more than 60 plays.”

At this year’s edition of the festival, we watched the great play Twelfth Night, directed by Nikita’s student Ivan Vanja Alač. We asked Professor Milivojević if he finds it easy to recognise the talent of a future artist during their studies.

“There is that saying in Bosnia that coughing and poverty can’t be hidden. I also believe that talent can’t be hidden. Of course, talent is something that must be developed; if it doesn’t progress – it regresses. Vanja Alač is precisely one of those talented people whose talent is developing continuously. When I see that they are talented and diligent, I feel an obligation to support them. As a rule, my students always perform in my plays, and the directors are regularly my assistants on plays. If you are teaching them something, you should somehow also show that you believe in them, in what we’ve gone through together during the studies.”

Nikita was this year appointed artistic director of the Bitef festival. When asked how much that is a source of joy for him, but also a source of fear, he responses by noting that Bitef is one of our country’s most important cultural institutions, firmly entrenched in the identity of Belgrade and Serbia.

The essential problem is our theatre system. One director recently told me that he didn’t have all the actors together for a single rehearsal, not even for the pre-premiere rehearsal!?

“That is, of course, a source of serious motivation for any person of the theatre; to be part of such a great story. However, considering that this is a kind of ‘return’ to Bitef for me, a very special, personal reason also exists. Specifically, I consider the four years – between 2005 and 2009 – that I spent at Bitef as being a very important and creative period of my theatre life, so I now view my arrival in the position of artistic director of Bitef as a kind of return home. I once spoke about the fact that one of the most beautiful things that’s ever happened to me in all the years that I’ve been in the theatre is connected to that time specifically, or more precisely to the moment when I was leaving Bitef, in 2009, and the entire collective signed a petition for me to stay for another four years. Of course, that shouldn’t have any special meaning to anyone but me, but it’s still worth mentioning because it isn’t commonplace in our country. This invitation to return to Bitef, given that it came from Bitef itself, could represent a kind of continuation of that story. Regardless, it’s always nice to go where you know you’re welcome.”

When it comes to the history of Bitef, Nikita recalls in particular – apart from numerous plays – his meeting with Otomar Krejča (1921-2009) following the premiere performance of his play In The Hold. Krejča was a big name of European theatre and many still fondly remember his adaptation of the play Three Sisters, for which he also won the main prize at Bitef.

“That meeting and conversation with Otomar Krejča was something important for me. Then there was everything that he said the next day at the Roundtable; the way he spoke. That all left a powerful impression on me at the time. In his assessment of the Festival following the culmination of that edition of Bitef, the critic from Politika [newspaper] wrote that the greatest event for him was ‘what Krejča said about the play In The Holdʻ. Apart from commending the play, that was also an interesting consideration of the great director regarding contemporary theatre and how he saw it.”

In his capacity as artistic director, Nikita believes that this year’s Bitef will, first and foremost, be extremely diverse, with an abundance of varying forms.

Photos: Jelena Ivanović

The post The Stage Has a Special Aroma appeared first on CorD Magazine.

It was just a few months ago that Archbishop Santo Gangemi arrived in Serbia to take on his new post as Apostolic Nuncio of the Holy See to Serbia. Originally from Messina, Italy, Archbishop Santo Gangemi has previously served in various countries, including the Solomon Islands, Papua New Guinea, Mali and El Salvador. Currently resident in Belgrade, his wealth of knowledge and experience provides more than enough reason for an in-depth interview.

The numerous topics we discussed include the position of the Catholic Church in Serbia, diplomatic relations between Serbia and the Vatican, as well as the potential role of churches and religious communities in achieving peace in Ukraine. We additionally touched upon the call for reforms within the Catholic Church.

What initially crossed your mind when you first found out that you would be coming to Serbia, and what have your impressions been since arriving? 

First, a warm greeting to all CorD readers. The appointment in Serbia was a surprise! I didn’t expect to be changed from El Salvador, nor to come to a part of Europe that is unknown to me, though at the same time I had no valid reasons to refuse such an assignment, so I accepted.

There is no doubt that it is always pleasant for a European to return to Europe after an absence of many years. Therefore, discovering Belgrade is like rediscovering this historic part of the old European continent; it is rediscovering, in a certain sense through a fraternal embrace, this crossroads of peoples and cultures, thinking of the junction of its history, through which the East has approached the West since ancient times. This is a country with lights and shadows, like all human realities, but, above all, with its desire to live, grow and keep up with the times.

What is your opinion regarding the position of the Catholic Church in Serbia and its relations with the majority Serbian Orthodox Church? 

I am gradually getting to know the reality of the Catholic Church in Serbia. A first meeting took place on 11th December, on the occasion of the beginning of the pastoral ministry of His Grace Archbishop László Nemet as Metropolitan Archbishop of Belgrade, and then, last 25th January, I went to Subotica for the feast of the Patron of the Diocese. Again, I spent the days of the Easter Triduum in Subotica and touched with my own hands the religious vitality of that city and that diocese. Brief and circumstantial contacts allowed me to experience the enthusiasm of a community that does not complain about being a minority, nor does it feel marginalised, even though it has to face many problems.

Discovering Belgrade is like rediscovering this historic part of the old European continent; it is rediscovering, in a certain sense through a fraternal embrace, this crossroads of peoples and cultures

I am pleased to see it solicitous in the pastoral, social and ecumenical fields and committed to the synodal path, thus giving priority to the request of Pope Francis. I also find the relationship with the Orthodox Church very constructive. For my part, the meeting with His Holiness Patriarch Porfirije was a moment of grace and emotion. After the initial pleasantries, and after bringing  the fraternal greetings of Pope Francis, an intense exchange of views followed, during which the will to continue on the path of dialogue and understanding was emphasised. I am personally convinced that, on the ecumenical level, due to its long history, the Serbian Orthodox Church can offer much.

What priorities have you set for yourself during your tenure in Serbia? What do you want to work on in particular? 

The Motu Proprio Sollicitudo omnium Ecclesiarum of 24th June 1969, and cannas 362 and 363 of the Code of Canon Law, illustrate and regulate the task of the Pope’s Legates (Nuncios), to whom “is entrusted the office of permanently representing the Roman Pontiff himself with particular Churches or even with States and Public Authorities to which they have been sent”.

These few lines contain the entire service of the Nuncio, who strives, in this way, to become, where he is, the face, the voice, the hand of the Holy Father; in short, he is a bridge between the Holy Father and the State, as well as a bridge between the Holy Father and the particular Church.

We’re fast approaching the 1700th anniversary of the First Ecumenical Council (2025), which has long been seen as an opportunity to bring together the various Christian churches. Given that this great celebration is now just two years away, and that a tragic war is still raging in Europe, do you think we will even be in a position to take advantage of this opportunity, and, if so, how? 

The anniversary of the first Ecumenical Council, the Council of Nicaea in 325, is undoubtedly a milestone to look back on and from which to draw inspiration to continue to mend the rift that occurred in the Church in the centuries that followed that important event.

I am fully convinced that religious faiths can play an important role in bringing an end to this terrible conflict between Russia and Ukraine. Everyone is aware of Pope Francis’s calls for peace

There is no doubt that its preparation is clouded by the news of war. A conflict that confronts two Christian peoples, two Christian civilisations. Nicaea also offers today’s world a message that is not obsolete: ideas may oppose each other, but understanding deserves every effort and commitment.

Could churches and religious communities contribute to the achieving of peace in Ukraine, and, if so, in which way? How do you see the role of the Roman Catholic Church and Pope Francis in this regard?

I am fully convinced that religious faiths can play an important role in bringing an end to this terrible conflict between Russia and Ukraine. Everyone is aware of Pope Francis’s calls for peace, and also of his full willingness to create a roundtable for dialogue. Of course, the role of the Catholic Church is limited by the acceptance of mediation by the conflicting parties and, above all, by the full willingness to follow up on the agreements reached.

What role do Christian have to play during times of war? 

It is not easy to answer this question, or rather the answer is so easy in the light of Gospel teaching, but so difficult when it comes to putting it into practice. Christians cannot deviate from the teaching that comes to them from the Gospel: to be peaceful and peacemakers.

It is more difficult to understand how. I do not believe that there is a pre-established formula, but certainly a commitment to let oneself be guided by the Spirit who, in unexpected ways, makes one find suitable words and gestures. In any case, it is clear that, for the Christian, war is always a failure and never a conquest.

You were born and raised in Italy, while you’ve lived in countries with completely different traditions. What’s your view regarding good and healthy relations between the Church and the State? In which fields should they act together and what boundaries should never be crossed? Where do you see the greatest temptations?

The years of my diplomatic service have taken me to work in different countries with different sensitivities in Church-State relations. In all of them, however, I seemed to perceive a common denominator: the State looks at the Church with attention and interest. Why is this so? Perhaps because the Church has always shown itself to be more inclined to what unites than to what divides; using an evangelical image, I would say that the Church is always careful not to let the flickering flame die out.

There is an element that I then consider important in relations between the Church and states – that of never allowing oneself to be overwhelmed by pessimism or to think that one is always right. Rather, it is a relation of together trying to clarify misunderstandings. I think this is the work of diplomacy.

Diplomatic relations between Serbia and the Vatican were established more than a century ago. How do you see the current juncture and the future of those relations?

Diplomatic relations between Serbia and the Holy See date back to 1920; they were interrupted in 1952 and normalisation returned only 18 years later, on 13th August 1970, with the appointment of two respective Diplomatic Representatives – Ambassador and Nuncio. The history of this century of relations is undoubtedly an interesting story with many facets, and a few lines are not enough to summarise it.

The anniversary of the first Ecumenical Council is undoubtedly a milestone to look back on and from which to draw inspiration to continue to mend the rift that occurred in the Church in the centuries that followed that important event

The presentation of the Letters of Credence, on 12th December 2022, gave me the opportunity to have a brief meeting with the President of the Republic and the political and military figures accompanying him. Beyond the purely ceremonial aspect, it was an opportunity to take stock, albeit briefly, of the good bilateral relations between the Holy See and Serbia, which have been established in past years and which I will be committed to continuing and, as far as possible, consolidating.

There are vocal calls for the reform of the Roman Catholic Church in certain countries, for example in Germany, while Rome generally responds to such calls with restraint, to put it mildly. What is the higher view on that, does the Roman Catholic Church need to be reformed and, if so, how?

Instances of reform in the Church are nothing new; I have no doubt that the verb ‘to reform’ has been the most overused of all time. What does a reform consist of and how can it be realised? The answer to this question can only be given if one has a clear idea of what the Church is: a human and divine reality! It is founded by Christ, who entrusted men (apostles and their successors) with the task of carrying it forward, to the ends of the earth. It is clear, in this sense, that there is a foundation that cannot be changed and elements that instead need to be ‘modernised’ for a greater understanding of its being, bearing in mind that such modernisation in no way means distancing or misrepresenting the Gospel doctrine or the perennial tradition of the Church.

Now, in my humble opinion, we seem to be witnessing a distorted understanding of this reality, applying exclusively human categories to it. Hence the misunderstanding of reform at any cost, thus aligning it with purely earthly realities. One question remains open, and it is always difficult to answer: are these calls for reform made in good faith? The truthful answer to this question can certainly pave the way for a reform that helps us to understand the mystery of the Church more fully, but without distancing her from the will of her Founder and enabling her, as the Second Vatican Council’s Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium, reminds us, to “…overcome with patience and love her internal and external afflictions and difficulties and to reveal to the world, faithfully, even if under shadows, the mystery of the Lord” (8:307).

By Jelena Jorgačević

The post Striving To Clarify Misunderstandings Together appeared first on CorD Magazine.

Dušan Otašević (83) explains simply and succinctly why he chose the motif of a grain of wheat and developed it in various techniques – from collage, via terracotta, to paintings in a combined technique of three-dimensional installations. “A grain of wheat carries within it both dying and the shifting of life cycles. A seed dies when it is sown, but from it emerges new life.”

The imagination and originality of this artist in his works is only equalled by his appeal as a precious interlocutor and reliable witness to events that have shaped the cultural map of Serbia. He was born in Belgrade just a few months prior to World War II reaching these lands, which condemned his parents to great struggles raising him. Fear of bombing compelled them to flee the city with the infant Dušan and find shelter in the surrounding villages, struggling to survive. Dušan’s mother was born, as Ana Krunoslava, in the Croatian city of Slavonski Brod.

“When she married my father, Milan, in 1938, the wedding took place in a church, as was the custom in the then Kingdom of Yugoslavia, and – as a Catholic – she’d had to convert. She also changed her first name and was married as Slavka. Never in my hood was a question posed as to who belonged to which religion or nationality. Right up until the 1990s, I didn’t know the national identities of some of my friends. And we all know what happened in the ‘90s and the results of all that counting of blood cells.”

Dušan was an only child for ten years, until the arrival of his brother. He had a harmonious, pleasant and happy childhood. His parents got on well until the end of their lives and the family functioned well. He remembers socialising meaningfully with his parents, playing a kind of game that brought them pleasure.

Never in my childhood was a question posed as to who belonged to which religion or nationality

“We liked to draw and we drew each other, drew animals… My mother drew beautifully, but father not so much. I remember the two of us laughing at his drawings. I saw the first reproductions in the magazine Graphic Review that my father used to bring home. For the possibilities of that time, they were extremely high-quality reproductions. Mother was a tailor for women’s lingerie  childwho had a great sense for art. She stopped working after I was born, but she continued using her skills throughout her life. I remember how, in the miserable years after the war, she would turn over the collars and cuffs of mine and my father’s shirts. That was a special ability to turn over the frayed edges of the collar and cuffs, place them on the inside and you end up with a shirt looking like new that you can continue to wear. She had a ‘singer’ sewing machine that she did that on, and I later used that same machine for one of my works. She also had tailoring patterns, and many years later I found on one of them one of the sketches I’d done as a child, which I exhibited at an exhibition as my first work.

My father was also a craftsman, a typographer, which today is also a forgotten profession. His job was oriented towards the printing of books and our house was full of books. There are valuable examples from the library of the Serbian Literary Association that I still have today, because he brought home every book he worked on. That was a time when books were read and I grew up on books. If there hadn’t been books, I don’t know what I would have done as a boy and a young man during the summer holidays. I still use literature in my work to this day.”

In order to develop an understanding for Otašević’s work, it is necessary to know that he ventured into the waters of painting while he was still a student of the Academy of Fine Arts, during the years when the world scene was dominated by a movement with a somewhat forgotten name: pop-art.

“It was a new outlook with new expressive possibilities and I leaned into it somehow naturally. It was dear to me as a liberated form of expression, in contrast to what museum exhibits then represented. Pop-art was similar to what I’d loved as a child. They were wonderful works by typographers in numerous shops, particularly in Balkanska Street, advertisements for craft workshops, barbershops, hairdressers, when these advertisements were painted by anonymous… let’s call them artists. There were scenes linked to the profession and I always found that interesting. Just like the ‘cookbooks’ hanging in kitchens. When I started to paint, I tried, as far as I could, to connect that naïve expression with the realisation of a top artist. My artistic preoccupation was represented by that combination of something that wasn’t even acknowledged as an art form, but that nonetheless existed, and the recognised art of those years.”

Dušan’s father was tolerant in his relations with people, tolerant in his relationship towards faith, nation, everything different, and this artist’s entire life and all his actions show that he inherited that tolerance to a great extent.

“The understanding that he had is clear to me in my memory, particularly today, when everything is moving more towards closing up, towards some narrowing, which is calamitous for an artist, but also for the life of man as a whole. I said long ago that it is very important for a person to open the windows and doors of their studio, because something must enter from the outside. If you just close yourself off in your own world, that’s not good. It’s useful up to a level, but it doesn’t have a great future. My father had another good quality – he wasn’t bitter over injustices or adversity that would befall him. Let’s just say that prior to the war, he’d had a house that served for renting out. When the new government confiscated that house after the war, he took it relatively calmly and that never caused him to instil either hatred or rage in me, as a child.”

That breadth of perspective and sense of freedom formed the basis of Dušan’s upbringing in the home. After completing his sixth year of ‘gymnasium’ high school, he knew that he would deal with painting, and his father, who recalled the poor bohemian painters, thought that it would be a better idea for him to enrol in an academy of applied arts instead of an art school. He calculated that it would provide him with a more secure occupation. Dušan heeded his advice, but failed to pass the entrance exam. It was a year later that he applied for the Academy of Fine Arts, and did so with the great support of his mother, who was full of understanding for his choice, and was accepted.

Recall just how much of a percentage had been allocated for culture when Nada Popović Perišić was minister? If I’m not mistaken, it was four per cent of the total budget, while today it isn’t even one per cent

During his studies, and even subsequently, Dušan hung out with his colleagues, but mostly socialised with people from other professions, especially writers and directors. They shared a common language. He had his first solo exhibition while he was still a student, in 1965, at Atelje 212. He graduated a year later. It was also while he was a student that he met famous artist Leonid Šejka (1932-1970), one of the founders of the art group Mediala. 

“We met in the reading room of the Academy of Fine Arts. He spoke about his views on art, about the idea behind Mediala, and he later also wrote the book A Treatise on Painting. That was very interesting and important to me at the time. It was also during my studies that I met the interesting Peđa Ristić, an architect who we called Peđa Jesus and who built a tree house on the Sava. I also had precious acquaintances with writer Boro Ćosić and his wife Lola Vlatković, film director Ljubomir ‘Muci’ Draškić and his wife Maja Čučković, painter Stojan Ćelić and his wife Ivana Simeunović Ćelić, and later we also socialised as families. I was delighted, but also slightly scared, when Muca offered me my first chance to work on set design for Bora Ćosić’s play My Family’s Role in the World Revolution, which he directed at Atelje 212. He was easy to develop an understanding with because he knew exactly what he wanted and what it was possible to implement on stage.”

Interestingly, it was back then, in early 1971, that Otašević first made a model representing the apartment that was the setting for Ćosić’s play. And that model served to shape the  afscenography for the stage. Many years later, Muci’s daughter, Iva Draškić Vićanovič, today’s dean of the Faculty of Philology in Belgrade, testified that at some point that model had been found in the apartment of her parents, with her mother having played one of the nasty characters in that play. “It was my most favourite toy,” admitted Iva.

CorD’s interlocuter explains that friends were recognised according to the structure of their personality, in the way they understood one another without many words. He had friendships that lasted decades and only ended when that friend died.

“I have never been a member of any party. Throughout my life, I’ve tried to avoid succumbing to any ideology, because a person is limited by every ideology. By accepting one ideology, a person condemns those who ascribe to another, because they think it’s worse than their own ideology. I would say that was my lack of interest in the ruling ideology, but also among most of my friends. We were united by our artistic work, by the desire for each of us to achieve something in our work, or more precisely to show the best of our ability. I today recall pleasant socialising, content rich and meaningful.”

The current president of Serbia hasn’t visited SANU once. And that is a kind of sign and signal from that side. Restraint – I would say that it is mutual

The time of the single-party system of the former country is today often spoken of as a time of the “firm hand”, in which the League of Communists decided on everything and questioned everything. As aware as he was about the mistakes and bad moves of Tito’s government, Otašević insists that “uneducated and unprofessional people didn’t reach leadership positions”. And he cites an example:

“Even after Broz, during the time of Slobodan Milošević, more care was taken over culture than is the case today. Recall just how much of a percentage had been allocated for culture when Nada Popović Perišić was minister? If I’m not mistaken, it was four per cent of the total budget, while today it isn’t even one per cent. I have no doubt that this high percentage was also a result of the knowledge and skills of Minister Popović-Perišić herself, who was capable of fighting for a better position for culture, much more than the ministers that came after her. And it didn’t cross anyone’s mind to contest her for being part of the then ruling party.”

On the other hand, many artists didn’t fear showing a kind of deviation from the ruling ideology with their works during the time of the socialist Yugoslavia. And our interlocutor was among them.

“I had several works, one of which spent a long time in the exhibition of the Museum of Contemporary Art and it’s called Druže Tito ljubičice bela… [Comrade Tito white violet]. Of course, it clearly wasn’t in honour of Broz. But back then, in the second half of the 1960s, it wasn’t advisable to make fun of ruling attitudes and personalities. That work was large, 5×3 metres, and I created it for the first solo exhibition of the newly admitted members of ULUS [The Association of Fine Artists of Serbia], which was held at the Cvijeta Zuzorić Art Pavilion. They rejected me, the explanation being that the work was abnormally large, which is not collegial with regard to other exhibitors. I think that was an incomprehensible justification. Two or three years later, I exhibited that work at the university’s Kolarac Gallery. It all went without any consequences, but also without any reactions. I had other similar works with the figure of Lenin or ‘Mao Tse-Tung Swims in Communism’, and I was never called in for talks or reprimanded for those works. However, on the other hand, I never received a studio, unlike the majority of my colleagues, and I never went on a single study trip; and I didn’t get a job that I was more qualified for than the colleague who got it, but he had a party membership card and I didn’t.”

Dušan’s status was, and remains, that of a ‘free artist’, which implied great freedom and even greater financial insecurity. He created his own studio, in the attic of his father’s house, where he still resides to this day. He didn’t belong to any institution until 20 years ago, when he became a member of the most significant national institution: the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts, SANU. He has been successfully serving as the administrator of the SANU Gallery for more than ten years. He is among those academics whose word is highly respected, although he rarely advertises that fact. Tactical and restrained, he supported the positive changes initiated by Vladimir Kostić in his capacity as SANU president until recently, but he has a hard time understanding the fact that nearly four decades after the Memorandum marked the work of this house, its shadow still looms over SANU.

“Meetings and discussions on this topic were organised at the Academy, and I’d thought that it was a topic that had long since been dealt with. For some reason, that topic is still rolled out today. I never understood the actual aim of those manipulations and always appeal for the need to be restrained, not to allow the use of the Memorandum for the purposes of everyday politics. The Academy is an institution that’s comprised of individuals who have their own views. Simultaneously, the Academy is an institution in which new members are chosen according to clearly established rules, and here it isn’t possible for some godfather to get you into SANU – at least I know of no such case. But I do know that the ceremonial sessions commemorating SANU Day, which numerous guests and the state leadership, headed by the President of Serbia, are invited to attend, have only been attended by presidents Boris Tadić and Tomislav Nikolić since I’ve been at SANU. The current president of Serbia hasn’t been once. And that is a kind of sign and signal from that side. Restraint – I would say that it is mutual.

Even after Broz, during the time of Slobodan Milošević, more care was taken over culture than is the case today

“The Academy is a conservative institution in accordance with its organisational structure, but in recent years it has been taking steps towards opening up. I don’t think it should be avant-garde, but it must have an appreciation for reality. If film has existed as an art form for 100 years, isn’t it time to open up the possibility for a top film director to become a SANU academic?”

Dušan Otašević spent almost half a century married to Mira Otašević, who departed in 2019. An exceptionally interesting and talented individual, she graduated in literature and dramaturgy and worked as an editor at Television Belgrade. With her novel Gorgone [The Gorgons], Mira Otašević, who went by the nickname of Miruška, was shortlisted for the 2017 NIN Award. Together they have a son, Uroš, and a grandson.

“We didn’t succeed in celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary because Mira passed away that year. She left suddenly; there was no illness to prepare me for it. We had a good life together, and it’s very fortunate to live with someone all your life and to have understanding for one another and to be able to discuss what you do for a living. I created the exhibition that’s currently running at the Zepter Gallery in loving memory of Mira. I promised her during her lifetime that I would make it, but I never got around to it. When Mira went to that better place, as they say, I prescribed working therapy for myself and I think she would be happy with what I did.”

The post Man is Limited By Every Ideology appeared first on CorD Magazine.

Together with his then colleagues at the Ministry of Culture, he succeeded in finalising the reconstruction of the National Library of Serbia and the Yugoslav Cinematheque Film Archives. As a personal challenge, he arranged a marathon television broadcast of Belgian playwright Jan Fabre’s famous play Mount Olympus, which opened the 2017 Bitef and lasted as long as the play itself: 24 hours! And so it was that the theatre of antiquity, recounted in the most modern way, entered 220,000 homes throughout Serbia. It was a feat previously unrecorded in the history of Yugoslav and Serbian television, and an endeavour that wowed the world’s theatre public. He staged the musical Les Misérables at Madlenianum Opera & Theatre, which went on to be performed for 15 years as this theatre’s most successful production, while the version of the musical Fiddler on the Roof that he directed for Sofia’s Muzikalen Theatre was declared 2021’s best play in Bulgaria!

Whatever he’s done, Nebojša Bradić (1956) has done as a man of culture; culture represents his most enduring point of reference. For him, culture is ’standing on the shoulders of previous generations, continuity and the establishing of public awareness’. He knows how the system of funding culture works, has high criteria when it comes to artistic scope, and is precise when locating the right address to resolve problems in this area.

“As long as prime ministers and finance ministers view culture as an expense, and not as an opportunity to provide the basis for the country’s success and good reputation, this trend that’s leading to the country’s decline will not change. Culture is not and can never be degraded. The degradation of culture can only be a projection of powerful people who are unworthy of that culture.”

The premiere performance of his interpretation of the opera Falstaff was recently staged at the National Theatre in Belgrade. This work by Giuseppe Verdi, which is again being performed in Belgrade after a break of 45 years, enjoyed unprecedented success at its early June premiere. And Bradić is today already rehearsBeling at Terazije Theatre for the musical Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, based on Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar’s 1998 film of the same name.

The position of minister is always a challenge, it’s like being Vuk’s monument. You are raised on a pedestal and actually become the best target for pigeons

When they do have free time, Nebojša and his wife Zaga, a renowned psychiatrist and psychoanalytic psychotherapist, plan holidays, but also tours of some important museums and exhibitions, in order to watch shows in some European countries. They have been married for more than 30 years.

“Zaga and I provide each other with unquestionable support when it comes to the work we do. Our life is serene in these years, and oriented towards our shared interests. Our jobs are each inspiring in their own way. Her work is particularly interesting to me in that part in which she offers complex understanding of the human soul and the human situation today. But we have a clear agreement not to discuss topics that are strictly professional. Her patients are her problem, my ‘patients’ are my problem. Zaga loves the theatre and art, and particularly literature.”

CorD’s interlocutor had an exciting upbringing in the house of his father Momir, an actor and theatre manager in Kruševac, and his mother Milica, a teacher of mathematics who accompanied her husband on his journey. He was often left alone in the company of books and his own fantasies, and he believes that this was a good way to form the basis of what would be his future steps.

“I was nevertheless most profoundly determined by the close proximity of art and people who belonged to that world. On the other hand, I was interested in sport, music and literature, but also the natural sciences. In line with my mathematical mind, I defended my graduation thesis in the field of atomic physics.”

Divided in such a way, after completing high school he moved to Belgrade and enrolled in three colleges: one in the field of technical sciences, a second covering the subject of language, and a third in theatre direction at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts.

“Compared to all my previous interests, I made the decision to deal with the theatre rather late and slightly unexpectedly, because I’d never previously been involved in the theatre and wasn’t even a member of the drama club. And it was because I wasn’t sure if I would pass the entrance exam for directing that I also enrolled in two other colleges.”

He succeeded at the first attempt and enrolled in the class of Professor Borjana Prodanović, the granddaughter of famous Serbian politician, writer and academic Jaša Prodanović (1867- 1948), who was a special character in her own right.

“Interestingly, one of her students in the generation before me was my colleague and longtime friend Branislav ‘Žaga’ Mićunović, who also served as minister of culture of Montenegro, while Jagoš Marković was later also a student in her class. Three people with totally different sensibilities who were all her students.”

For Nebojša the student, socialising with Belgrade actually meant socialising with the theatre.

“It was as a student that I saw the best plays at Bitef; it was then that I watched the directing work of Robert Wilson, Grotowski, Eugenio Barba, Peter Brook and others. Belgrade was a centre of world theatre, and I unfortunately never again had an opportunity to experience that in Serbia. However, thanks to that initiation, I continued my personal and professional development in London, the theatrical magic of which still motivates me.”

The success of the opera Cinderella in 1998 was all the greater because the very process of working on it was marred by threats that we were to be bombed

Nebojša still remembers the fascination he felt when he watched his first play in Belgrade, Radovan III, starring Zoran Radmilović in the title role. He also recalls theatre director Jovan Bata Putnik (1914-1983), who just happens to be one of those deserving of the credit for Nebojša having entered the world of theatre in the first place, and whose plays impacted on him viewing theatre as art. As a second-year student of theatre direction, he was an assistant to Dejan Mijač (1934-2022) on the Yugoslav Drama Theatre’s adaptation of the play Pučina [The High Sea], which remains remembered as being ‘revolutionary’ because of the way Mijač interpreted Nušić’s melodrama. Just as he interpreted other Serbian classics, which is why Nebojša rated him so highly.

Another great of Serbian culture, writer Borislav Pekić (1930-1992), had a deep impact on Bradić’s memory. When he decided to stage an adaptation of Pekić’s book The Golden Fleece, Nebojša approached the writer in the club of the National Theatre on one occasion in 1979.

“After that first meeting, we had several ‘sessions’ at the then City Tavern, where we discussed his work. He listened carefully to what I intended to do with the Fleece. That instilled a sense of self-confidence in me and I believe it influenced my future attitude towards art and artists. Pekić was then already a successful writer, and he spoke so seriously with a student of theatre direction. And did so totally openly, filled with understanding. We later saw each other occasionally; he invited me to be his guest when I came to London. I directed his plays and was impugned for that, but also rewarded. I am proud that I was one of his friends.”

Nebojša had his first independent directing assignment while he was still a student, while he graduated with the Henrik Ibsen play Nora at the National Theatre in Niš. He has since gone on to put his name to around a hundred plays, musicals and operas that he’s staged in the theatre and opera houses of Serbia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Croatia, Greece, Turkey, Bulgaria and elsewhere. He’s received positive and even outstanding reviews, won the Sterija Award and numerous others, but he approaches his work on each new play as if it were the most important, or, as he says, ‘every play is the last’.

Encompassing a significant and successful part of this artist’s work have been his terms as an administrator of several theatres. His first such management role was at the Kruševac Theatre, where he spent 15 years as a theatre director, artistic director and manager. It was under his tenure, during the late 1980s and the first half of the ‘90s, that it became the most respected theatre in the Serbian provinces.

“I was 30 years old when, based on the incentive of the actors, I first became acting manager and then administrator of the theatre. I accepted that duty with the precondition that the first job be the reconstruction of the theatre. The new theatre was open to guest actors, who included the likes of Đuza Stojiljković, Branislav ‘Ciga’ Jerinić, Tanja Bošković and many others. That was the impetus to launch the theatre and create successful and authentic plays.”

The triumph of the play The Damned Yard [based on Ivo Andrić’s book] at the Sterijino Pozorje festival in the year 2000 marked the crowning of Bradić’s ‘Kruševac cycle’. He both dramatically adapted and directed this famous Andrić novel, receiving the Sterija Award for his efforts, with the play declared the best of the entire festival. The cast comprised the then young Vojin Ćetković, Sergej Trifunović, Nebojša Milovanović, Nebojša Dugalić et al.

Nebojša would subsequently spend a short period as manager of Belgrade’s Atelje 212 theatre, a position he took on at the suggestion of fellow director and then outgoing manager Ljubomir Muci Draškić (1937-2004). It was from there, based on the suggestion of then Minister of Culture Nada Popović Perišić, that he moved to the helm of the National Theatre, where during the following two and a half years of isolation he would break the blockades by realising international cooperation at this theatre. It will remain recorded that in the building of the National Theatre on Republic Square, on the eve of the launch of the 1999 bombing campaign, he succeeded in staging the premiere performance of a Jagoš Marković directed version Rossini’s opera La Cenerentola, aka Cinderella. The costumes for the play were created by famous Italian fashion designer Renato Balestra.

Culture doesn’t belong exclusively to any one party or convocation of the Ministry; it should not be preyed on by political interest groups

“Cinderella signalled the return of our theatre scene to the world. Its premiere came in the time following the signing of the Dayton Agreement, after the lifting of sanctions. It was a stride forward for the theatre in difficult years. The staging was supported by the Serbian Ministry of Culture and the Italian Embassy in Belgrade. You should know that this success was all the greater because the very process of working on it was marred by threats that we were to be bombed. We ignored that a little, but that kind of uncertainty and tension was present.”

The Belgrade Drama Theatre also recorded years of great success during the two mandates when Nebojša was at the helm. He also founded the international Dance Festival, which today – after Bitef and Bemus – is undoubtedly a top national cultural treasure. He arrived at the BDT at the invitation of its actors. And he once again began his tenure time by seeking that the building undergo reconstruction.

“We quickly reached agreement that it was first necessary to work on the infrastructure, then to deal with the programme, followed by the ensemble, and in the meantime to work on bringing back the audience. We had to come up with a code for the way we could attract the audience and re-establish the theatre on the map of Serbia’s important institutions of culture. There were successful plays, but also those others. Successful plays can be soothing, but you can draw better conclusions when a play fails than when you achieve success. Our artists and theatres are mistaken when they try to create success. Success isn’t created! Rather one creates a good repertoire, a good division of duties and a good show.”

His successes led to him being qualified to be nominated for the position of Serbian culture minister by then political party G17 Plus, and he subsequently spent three years in that ministerial role (2008-2011) and showed how it could be possible to start solving some problems. However, political games took other turns. He described the situation well, saying: “The position of minister is always a challenge, it’s like being Vuk’s monument. You are raised on a pedestal and actually become the best target for pigeons.”

He had a lot of ideas that would have proved useful during the times that we were then in, but that wasn’t to be.

“That was the moment of the world economic crisis and that was the biggest handicap for the then Government, and for the Ministry of Culture in particular. It wasn’t possible to implement many of the ideas that we had. One of the things we finalised was Serbia’s presentation at the Book Fair in Leipzig, where we were the guest of honour.”

Bradić showed what he was capable of doing in his time as minister. Famous actor Velimir Bata Živojinović (1933- 2016), a long-time MP of the then ruling Socialist Party of Serbia, praised their exceptional collaboration during the years when he was in opposition and Nebojša was minister. And the author of this article once testified about him in an interview for NIN.

“I was in all government bodies, and film bodies, in all film funds, where I could influence things for the better, to solve problems. Of course, without the help of some minister, especially Minister Nebojša Bradić, who did plenty to resurrect the film industry, while we film workers wouldn’t have been able to do much either. He deserves credit for the fact that Serbian cinematography is in a much better situation today than it was yesterday, though he didn’t have the understanding of many relevant people. If there were any stoppages, they weren’t his fault. Serbian film progressed so strongly that it began very successfully presenting our cinematography worldwide. It’s a shame that Bradić left.”

Today, when people from the domain of culture are dissatisfied with the government’s attitude towards them, Nebojša’s stance during his time as minister represents a rare, bright example of desirable conduct.

“Both back then and today, I considered cultural clashes as not being needed by culture, that they are not good for culture, no matter how ‘attractive’ they sometimes seem to the media sphere. Someone in the position of a minister shouldn’t be someone who judges or adjudicates in a way that belittles someone or assassinates their character. The decisions made at the Ministry actually determine the policy that will be led by that Ministry. It is beyond my sense of civilised conduct when a minister clashes with a writer, director or actor. Culture doesn’t belong exclusively to any one party or convocation of the Ministry; it should not be preyed on by interest groups. The tone and manner in which individuals are discussed in the National Assembly, whether actors or someone else, is particularly insulting. This only causes the further escalation of violence in society, fear and insecurity. I’m proud of the dialogue I had with people who don’t belong to the same aggregation of political ideas or stances, because in that way we were able to collaborate with the aim of developing culture and the arts.”

The post Culture Is Standing On The Shoulders Of Previous Generations appeared first on CorD Magazine.

Predrag J. Marković (1965) was born and raised in Belgrade, where he grew up as the middle child of three (he has an older sister, Danica, a professor at the Faculty of Veterinary Medicine in Belgrade, and a younger sister, Milena, a playwright who lectures at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts and won the NIN award for the novel Children, which the jury declared as being the best novel in Serbia in 2021).

Predrag J. Marković (1965) was born and raised in Belgrade, where he grew up as the middle child of three (he has an older sister, Danica, a professor at the Faculty of Veterinary Medicine in Belgrade, and a younger sister, Milena, a playwright who lectures at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts and won the NIN award for the novel Children, which the jury declared as being the best novel in Serbia in 2021).

“My family and childhood are among the best known imaginable. That’s because my sister Milena described our childhood in painful detail. She exposed the life of my family so much with that unusual novel that she wrote that I don’t know what I would add.”

He describes his family as having belonged to the new socialist middle class. His father, Jovan, hails from a rural family, while his mother, Milka, was born into ‘the most terrible Lumpenproletariat family’, as he describes himself. His mother had a career as a Russian language teacher, while his father was, and remains, a devoted cinephile, screenwriter and the first private producer in Yugoslavia.

“I grew up in New Belgrade. None of my friends’ parents were from Belgrade. They were mostly lower ranked officers or employees in culture and various federal institutions… New Belgrade was no ghetto, which is also a lie. New Belgrade was a fortress of the socialist middle class. I only met upper echelon urban families for the first time when I married in old Belgrade, and they were really something different. There were several different types of middle class at that time, and I would divide them into at least two: the old middle class, as remnants of the pre-World War II period; and the new middle class raised under socialism.”

I went through the best course in modesty, because I was in big cities where nobody knew me. All budding youngsters should go to some bigger city to slightly temper their selfadoration

This historian cites numerous examples and scientific knowledge to show how much socialism created opportunities for education. He also exposes some misconceptions that still exist today when people talk about ‘old Belgrade families.’

“Only the elites leave tracks behind. What we know about those families we know from the books of Stevan Jakovljević, Svetlana Velmar Janković or Slobodan Selenić, and that is the very cream of the crop of several hundred families of the society of that time. And yet we know nothing about those families that lived in hovels, with an outdoor squat toilet behind their house. Most Belgraders lived in courtyard houses, with a drinking fountain in the yard and a squat toilet in the middle. And alongside it was obligatory to plant geraniums that would neutralise the stench.”

When it comes to the great fortunes made in the interwar period, and generally after every war, Marković says that they are war profiteers and that there hadn’t been many very wealthy people in the Kingdom of Serbia, as can be seen in the buildings erected at that time.

“Belgrade only ‘exploded’ in the 1920s and ‘30s, when a lot of money came into the city and many people got rich. And it seems that the most common investment was in buildings that yielded a return on the investment in five or six years, which was an incredible opportunity to generate wealth. The real boom began in 1918, with people constructing building after building, and Belgrade grew much more in the interwar period than it did after World War II.”

Predrag lectures in several subjects at Singidunum University’s Faculty of Media and Communications, and the ‘History of Family’ subject is one that also implies students talk to their grandmothers about their youth and life. And, according to him, grandmothers mostly lie. They describe what was not. They create an idyll that people want to believe in retroactively. Of course, there are families that raise children with better manners than others.

I increasingly believe that stupidity is one of the greatest forces in history; stupidity that is greater than any conspiracy. The problem with drawing lessons from history is that you don’t know which lesson to draw

“You also have that which psychologists call resilience, hardiness. Some children are like kittens – no matter how you throw them, they will land on their feet. Some children can survive any trauma and remain decent people. And some end up broken, like this demon child at Ribnikar” [in reference to the recent mass school shooting at Belgrade’s Vladislav Ribnikar Primary School].

He describes himself as having been an unhappy, frustrated teenager who resorted to the useful tactic of ‘fleeing upwards’. And that meant enrolling in college at the tender age of 15, after completing just the first year of high school. He insists that it wasn’t difficult. He figured that Lenin and some guy from Kopaonik who tended sheep had enrolled in university without having completed secondary school. He explains that it’s easy to pass entrance exams, but you have to try, which people don’t tend to do. He took seven subjects, which he found much easier than if he’d had to spent three more years sitting around in secondary school. He doesn’t see that as being something special, but rather considers himself as representing a continuation of the Marković family tradition.

“My father, like every rural child, was left to his own devices, so he wandered around the village and sat down at a school desk at the age of five. Sitting in the classroom together were children from the first to the fourth grades, and he knew the answers to every question. He is thus the initiator of that schooling ahead of schedule, because he was a year and a half younger than his generation. And I perfected that method.”

Predrag is nine years older than his younger sister Milena, while Danica is 12 years her senior. The two elder siblings were thus like Milena’s second parents, even attending her school parents’ meetings and taking care of her.

“It seems that we underestimated her somewhat, as she was the youngest. When that great talent of hers manifested itself, things changed. My older sister and I now believe in Milena’s authority. She is actually the wisest of us. You see how a dynamic system it is; how relationships between people change constantly.”

Yugoslavia was an incredibly complicated country. More complicated than the Soviet Union. Not to mention Czechoslovakia. In Yugoslavia there were many similar sized nations, with terrible shared wounds. The Soviets didn’t have a tradition of fratricidal war like us

Women were the key to everything in the Marković family. Predrag was born as the lightest baby to survive at the time. He weighed just 900 grams. And he had hemiparesis, the partial loss of movement in one part of the body. His cousin, famous writer Dobrica Ćosić, managed to get hold of an incubator that wasn’t in Belgrade at the time and had to be brought from Zagreb. The doctors told his mother: ‘let go, you are a young woman, you’ll bear another child’. But Milka ignored them all, deciding that her son wouldn’t only survive, but that all his functions would also restore themselves. She was helped by Cvetko Brajović, a former Goli Otok inmate and one of the first speech therapists. It was Cvetko that gave him the name Predrag. The long and often torturous exercises that his mother took him for every day helped.

“I pulled through. Some consequences remained, but I lived a more or less normal life thanks to my mother’s fierce efforts. My mother was like a Šarplaninac [a devoted and stubborn mountain dog]. She would have jumped out of the window at a nod from my father. And she might even have asked if she was allowed to open it first. When you look at the stories of various successful people, you see the great importance of the role of mothers. Those were mothers in staunchly patriarchal societies who sacrificed everything for their children. Many successful children were raised on the sacrifice of their mothers.

“Fathers are today much better for their children than they once were. That was also noted, for example, by my favourite writer, Norwegian Karl Ove Knausgård, who – just like my sister Milena – described his life down to the most unpleasant details. He is a true Scandinavian father, looking after the children, feeding them, preparing their lunch and dinner. When he comes across Japanese tourists they take pictures of him, because that kind of emancipation has yet to arrive in Japan. You have that witty remark about Scandinavian crime shows, when the inspector comes home in the evening exhausted and has a glass of wine, while her husband has prepared dinner. Fortunately, that trend of caring fathers is expanding and today’s fathers are much more dedicated than father used to be. For instance, today you don’t have the model of a father who relaxes after work, after lunch, but rather one that takes care equal of the children as the mother.”

Vukan and Miona are the son and daughter of Predrag and Sara, and they are rightly proud of their children. Miona is a successful 27-year-old actress who is due to get married in a few months. Vukan is 29 and is completing his Ph.D. at Cambridge University. He didn’t want to be his daddy’s boy, so instead took the more difficult route of making his own way in a world where no one could help him in any way. And he succeeded in being true to himself, in dealing with what could be called the philosophy of history, something between philosophy and history. He works at the Institute for Philosophy and Social Theory.

“My children grew up in a patriarchal cooperative. I was a lodger residing with my in-laws, and that turned out well for the children. If anyone suffered, that was my wife. I lived like a student; my mother-in-law was a strict teacher of maths and my father-in-law was an extremely industrious man. They helped in raising the children to an incredible extent. The grandparents took them to school and waited for them afterwards, prepared lunch for them, and what was a frustrating situation turned out to be very good. When you are lucky enough to have grandparents who are interested in learning and are ambitious, that extended family doesn’t have to be a miserable solution. Thanks to some circumstances that were initially unfortunate, my family was more efficient in terms of educating the children than it would have been if I’d had a better living standard.

“Many cultures have shown extended families to be pretty effective. The middle generation goes to work and the older generation looks after the children. It can be seen in many cases that this network of grandparents doesn’t have a negative impact. You have the Chinese and the Vietnamese, among whom this principle of raising children functions well, and they are known as being the most successful people on the planet. In America, many of them are even more successful than the Jews!”

It was around a year ago that actress Miona Marković wrote a social media post dedicated to her mother Vladislava, who goes by the nickname of Sara, has been married to her father for three decades, works at the Belgrade City Library and successfully avoids the limelight. Her statements are touching: “My mum is a better parent to her parents than they ever were, and I won’t even mention us. My mother’s greatest success is us, her children, but she was never an ambitious parent. The success of her children was never a primary priority for her, and I guess that’s precisely why we wanted it. So, young parents, be like my mum, don’t pressure yourself or your children, they will find their own way to that which interests them.”

German diplomatic documents that have now been published show that Germany actually only broke when the war spread to the areas around Vukovar and Dubrovnik. Prior to that, both Germany and America were actually in favour of somehow preserving Yugoslavia. Attacking Dubrovnik and Vukovar was an unbelievably stupid decision

Our interlocutor says that its fortunate that everyone close to him does what they love.

“We are privileged people, several generations in the family do what they love. That is a combination of fortunate circumstances. Of course, in that there is also some work, talent, energy…”

There is one interesting detail from the biography of CorD’s interlocutor that is remembered by multiple generations. As a student, he was a winner in the most successful and popular Yugoslav TV quiz, “Kviskoteka”, which was broadcast by Television Zagreb. Speaking in 2017, the man who came up with that show concept and some other television quizzes, the late Lazo Goluža (1936-2020) said in 2017: “The greatest class in Kviskoteka was Belgrade history student Predrag Marković. May none of our people get angry, but that is the truth. He was phenomenal.”

Predrag gained enormous popularity across Yugoslavia during his time participating in this quiz, proving more popular even than the most famous stars of film and music of that time. He today talks about that time as a fond memory of Mr Goluža and presenter Oliver Mlakar (1935), with an explanation that’s seemingly inherent in him to provide justification whenever his successes are mentioned.

“That was in 1990, on the very eve of the war, and everything that happened prior to the war acquired an aura of nostalgia. You should know that that was a big country with just two television channels and so few programmes that everyone watched everything that was broadcast. The prize for Kviskoteka was a language course in Washington. And I also received a scholarship for England and was in London. So, I basically disappeared at the peak of my media popularity, spending more than six months in countries where I was nothing and nobody. I went through the best course in modesty, because I was in big cities where nobody knew me. All budding youngsters should go to some bigger city to temper their self-adoration.”

He recalls where he was when war broke out in Yugoslavia, and responds in the affirmative when asked if Yugoslavia really had to disintegrate.

“It probably did have to, but it didn’t have to happen like that. Yugoslavia was an incredibly complicated country. More complicated than the Soviet Union. Not to mention Czechoslovakia. In Yugoslavia there were many similar sized nations, with terrible shared wounds. The Soviets didn’t have a tradition of fratricidal war like us. As a Srbijanac [meaning a Serb from Serbia], I knew nothing of the traumas that the Bosnian Serbs have. I saw that when the war erupted, because they couldn’t bear to live in a new NDH [a reference to the WWII Nazi puppet state of the Independent State of Croatia]. And that was obvious. Slavko Goldstein wrote about that in his book 1941: The Year That Keeps Returning. They restored the former name of the currency, restored the name of the army from the era of the Ustaše [WWII Croatian fascist and ultranationalist organisation], and the Croatian regime did nothing to appease the Serbs. Their ideal was obviously ‘Croatia without Serbs’, and that’s what they ultimately achieved.”

Many experts are of the opinion that Germany undoubtedly played a role in the collapse of the then Yugoslavia, which Marković explains in his capacity as a historian.

“That doesn’t seem to be entirely true. German diplomatic documents that have now been published show that Germany actually only broke when the war spread to the areas around Vukovar and Dubrovnik. Prior to that, both Germany and America were actually in favour of somehow preserving Yugoslavia. Attacking Dubrovnik and Vukovar was an unbelievably stupid decision. So many stupid moves were made that only the attack on Ukraine is stupider. You attack Dubrovnik, one of the world’s most beautiful cities, for no reason and that is unfortunately attributed to the Serbs, although it was assaulted by Montenegrins and the future darling of the Americans and the European Union, Milo Đukanović. And then you also attack Vukovar, that’s like Mariupol in Ukraine. You destroy a city with a national composition that’s actually predominantly Serbian.

Computer-based writing has made writing easier for various scribomaniacs. That is a worldwide trend. Something that was once mandatory isn’t any longer. You can now complete literature studies without reading Chekhov

“I increasingly believe that stupidity is one of the greatest forces in history; stupidity that is greater than any conspiracy. The problem with drawing lessons from history is that you don’t know which lesson to draw.”

As a professor at the Faculty of Media and Communications, he has the rare privilege and satisfaction of receiving the highest ratings among students year after year, and they enjoy attending his classes. He lectures on Media History, the History of Family, the History of Propaganda and Intercultural Communication. He says that he makes an effort around his students, because students love enthusiasts.

“I’ve had various experiences in teaching. I spent a long time going to Petnica [the Petnica Science Centre], which is attended by the best possible students, and I taught at the Teacher Education Faculty when the dean was Aleksandar Jovanović, a wonderful man. It was delightful to lecture at Petnica. Those are inquisitive children who write papers better than the majority of much older researchers. The most important pedagogical experience for me was represented by the lady teachers. Those are girls who don’t really have much love for history, because history is still preferred by men. I taught them in the evening slot, when they could hardly wait to go home, or to the dormitory, because most of them are from the heartlands. There I practiced all my skills to arouse interest among an audience that was completely indifferent to the subject.

“The practise is very different at the Faculty of Media and Communications. There is an overabundance of information on offer today and there are multiple canons. On the other hand, some canons that were valid for a long time have since been destroyed. For instance, the literary canon has been destroyed, the hierarchy of writers, and the fact is that more books are being sold than ever before. Today there are more copies in circulations and more titles. You could say that this is scribomania, as is the case in historiography. Computer-based writing has made writing easier for various scribomaniacs. That is a worldwide trend. Something that was once mandatory isn’t any longer. You can now complete literature studies without reading Chekhov.”

When it comes to his position as a vice president of the Socialist Party of Serbia, he says that party president Ivica Dačić utilised him very intelligently.

“He is a very wise man who allowed me to be a more or less independent intellectual, because it is better for people to simultaneously recognise the socialist and independent intellectual in me than for me to be some party soldier. And that gives me ample opportunity to primarily speak and interpret as a historian.

“My son taught me that, in history, the best story wins; the best told story leaves the strongest mark. The only problem is that there are a lot of stories.”

The post In History, The Best Told Story Wins appeared first on CorD Magazine.

When she was just a little girl, her singing tutor predicted that she would emulate the career of then famous opera singer Zinke Kunc, because she had such a wondrous voice that it was somehow natural for her to become an opera singer. That’s also what her mother and sister thought, but Bisera quickly fell in love with jazz and soul music and soon discovered American jazz singer Sarah Vaughn, who she never stopped loving and listening to. And it was all over for Verdi, Puccini and the rest. She had discovered music as love, as passion, as the only direction to determine her life.

“Music was, for me, a replacement for imagination; the notes carried me to a world of the most beautiful colours, to the blueness of the sea and the greenery of the grass. What I would give to be able to paint what I feel in music!”

She says that she was a poor pupil in school, in contrast to her older sister Senka, who was an excellent student who’d been exempted from taking the matriculation exam and completed her studies in economics. Bisera, in the meantime, was just looking to ensure she achieved a passing grade to advance to the next year.

“Since the time I first became aware of myself, only music existed for me. It still means everything to me today.”

The Veletanlić sisters inherited their talent from both parents.

“Both my mum and my dad sang beautifully. They sang Bosnian songs in the house, because my dad, Mehmed, who we nicknamed Meho, was originally from Bosnia, and they also sang Slovenian songs, because my mum, Rozalija, was originally Slovenian. We called her Rozika. I remembered how the four of us all sang my mother’s favourite song: ’A stone, another stone, turns in the water, only youth is mine, never to return.’”

Bisera is humorous, sometimes cynical in a refined way, and well intentioned, but she is above all an emotional person. You will struggle to coax her into talking about her own successes. And instead of her, it was one of her acquaintances from Belgrade who testified to me that, at the very beginning of her career, Bisera had sung in Germany, primarily in the clubs of American officers, where she wonderfully mastered her craft while working with exceptional musicians. One evening, that same Belgrader, who had been listening to Bisera and enjoying her song, was addressed by a black man, who said: “I hate her. I hate her because she sings and moves like a black woman!” And that was one of the greatest compliments she ever received.

Bisera has long been ranked among the best vocalists in the former Yugoslavia and across Europe. She’s also a distinctive individual whose career has been led by a choice of certain hit songs, setting high criteria for herself. Born in Zagreb, she grew up in Sarajevo and Sisak, then forged her career in Germany and Belgrade. That which she acquired in the home became enduring values.

Both my mum and my dad sang beautifully. They sang Bosnian songs in the house, because my dad, Mehmed, who was nicknamed Meho, was originally from Bosnia, and they also sang Slovenian songs, because my mum, Rozalija, was originally Slovenian

“The way I was raised in the home is also reflected in my life today. It was a classic upbringing that my parents instilled in me and my sister Senka. There are moments from our shared life that I will always remember: on Sundays, we all sat together at the table for lunch and to talk. My parents were pure people, and I mean pure on the inside, because it’s a given that they were clean on the outside. That was passed on to us and we thank them for that. Regardless of how much that doesn’t matter today, sounding dull and naïve to some, sometimes even ridiculous, I’m delighted that I was raised by such pure and honest people, and that I am the way I am. I’m a happy and wealthy person who had parents of differing religions who loved each other in Zagreb, had two daughters, and gave them wonderful names. I am proud of them and of the upbringing I received from them. No matter how difficult it has been to live in accordance with my own principles over recent decades, I haven’t abandoned that which represented my life and artistic choice. Fortunately, I have wonderful friends in Belgrade with whom I have great mutual understanding and with whom I share similar emotions.”

Just as she remembers Sunday lunches, so she also recalls summer holidays with her parents. And one holiday in particular:

“I went to the seaside with my mother, who took her pupils to Zaostrog [a Dalmatian resort town].

A seamstress made me a new bathing suit. In that same Zaostrog, at the same time, my sister was also having her summer holiday. On one occasion, my mother and I sat on the shore and watched Senka surrounded by friends, she was beautiful. The boys were teased her and at one point pushed her from the jetty into the water. I ran, leapt over the jetty and jumped in to save my sister, who actually knew how to swim. But I didn’t know how to swim. I slammed into the water like a stone, sank to the bottom and floated back to the surface. And that was how I learnt to swim.”

Her parents didn’t make announcements about what vocations they wanted their daughters to choose, though Bisera assumes that, like most other parents, they wanted their children to be doctors or something similar in the domain of secure professions. They didn’t remonstrate later, but at the time they weren’t exactly thrilled that both of their daughters had chosen to be singers. Bisera knew immediately after completing economics secondary school that she wouldn’t go on to study at university, because that would just mean wasting time when she was someone who had already chosen her life’s calling.

“I’m surprised I even completed school, given how much I used to skip classes. I would flee school, go to the banks of the river Kupa, play a small transistor radio that I got, blaring music, lying on the grass, with no one to see me… The whole world was mine!

“There was a popular radio show during those years called ‘Mikrofon je vaš’ [the microphone is yours], which provided talented young singers throughout the then Yugoslavia with a chance. When they arrived in Sisak, I signed up and sang, and choose nothing less than the Lullaby of Birdland [a jazz standard]. I was only capable of singing the chorus in English, but beyond that it was difficult to understand what I wanted to say. Listening to me was famous composer and conductor Miljenko Prohaska, who praised my musicality, but the language in which I’d sung was unclear to him!”

Despite her English then being ‘a little strange’, Bisera nonetheless won!

She opted for the more difficult path from the very start of her artistic career, belonging to a strong minority without whom top musical values would not have been created.

“I simply wasn’t interested in anything other than music. I was, and remain, a lover of sound, of music, and for me there was no pursuit of monetary wealth, trucks, houses… I wouldn’t have known what to do with all that. Of course, I have nothing against money, on the contrary, but I’m not one of those who will do anything to get money. While I remain alive, may things stay as they are today. For me to live with mental and spiritual wealth. That is the only wealth that makes a person truly diligent and eminent.”

The borders of Yugoslavia used to be illustratively described as extending from Triglav [the Slovenian mountain] to Đevđelija [the North Macedonian town of Gevgelija]. When Bisera became a measure of value in the domain of popular music from Triglav to Đevđelija, one TV Belgrade director wittily composed the success formula for every programme on domestic television, stating: “You must have Bisera, a cartoon and a BBC broadcast.”

Bisera was highly rated as a vocal soloist from the earliest days of her career, but not as much as she deserved. It was only after applying for a fourth time that she received the national recognition awarded when worthy artists become eligible for a state pension, with that additional monthly income popularly referred to as the national pension. She received a lifetime achievement award at the 2017 Nišville jazz festival in the Serbian city of Niš, while she’s also received two major awards over the last year: the lifetime achievement award of the Association of Jazz, Pop and Rock Musicians of Serbia, which was presented to her by jazz musician Jovan Maljković, the award’s previous laureate. Speaking at the time, he said that Bisera was the greatest singer he’d ever met.

No matter how difficult it has been to live in accordance with my own principles over recent decades, I haven’t abandoned that which represented my life and artistic choice

The second recent accolade is the Special Award of the Ilija M. Kolarac Endowment for her enduring contribution to the musical life of Belgrade. She received the award from new director of Kolarac Aleksandar Peković, who noted that Bisera is an outstanding artist who has had an extraordinary and lengthy career and has done a lot for the city and country with her music, especially for the temple of music and art that is Kolarac.

“I didn’t receive anything for 20 years, then I got two awards in one year. And I got scared. I thought about how they might be expecting me to depart soon, so they did something nice for me. These kinds of accolades would have meant much more to me if I had received them when I was at the peak of my career, when there was no end to my creativity. That would then have served as proof that my time and work were valued. No matter how much a lot of people didn’t understand what I was doing, they nonetheless felt what I wanted to say. But awards were lacking when I really deserved them.”

Bisera’s concerts and music tours are for musical gourmets, for connoisseurs, and they are worth remembering. She first learnt her craft in Germany and made three guest appearances in the countries of the former USSR, where singers from Yugoslavia would go to earn money, but in order to do so they would also try to butter up the audience to the max by singing songs that were originally in English or Serbian in the Russian language. However, Bisera didn’t butter up the audiences.

“I sang for them what I would ordinarily sing; I sang English, sang songs by Elton John and domestic compositions. And I went down exceptionally well.”

Still, a special illustration of her emotional charge was provided by the 2007 concerts that were held in honour of formerly very popular and beloved Yugoslav rock band Indexi. Those concerts were first held in Sarajevo and Zagreb, then in Novi Sad and Belgrade. Just remembering that time presents the danger that her blood pressure will spike and her eyes will water.

“After the war, that 2007 was the first time that I found myself in Sarajevo again. I arrived with terrible jitters, with images from 20 years earlier combining, emotions, scenes from the ‘90s passing through my head, I encountered some people who I hadn’t seen for such a long time. Accompanied by Bata Kovač on the piano, on the bass was Fadil, who had been in Indexi, and I sang Jutro će promijeniti sve [Morning Will Change Everything], which was a favourite song that was originally sung by Davorin Popović. While we were rehearsing that day for the evening’s concert at Zetra [an arena in Sarajevo], the music of Indexi was playing constantly. At one point, all of us, as many as there were of us, all hugged and started crying because we were hurting to heaven. And Davorin was looking down on us from heaven and his voice resounded. When the time came for me to head out on stage that evening, I filled myself up with all the necessary pills – for pressure, for nerves, for the heart… I appeared, bowed to the audience, and a shriek arose. I didn’t raise my head, keeping it bowed to the floor, because I felt myself starting to cry. And I start swearing at myself in the ghastliest way, to calm myself, and the applause didn’t stop. I somehow pull myself together and start singing. And when I sang, chaos erupted.”

With Vasil on stage, my blood cells work, I enjoy myself with him and his band. They are talented, educated, hardworking and I say they are gentlemen musicians

The Belgrade audience also presented a great sense of trepidation for Bisera for many years. She’d previously never had a solo concert in the city where she spent most of her life, and she especially had never performed at the Sava Centre, as she did that evening when she sang in honour of Indexi. And it ended up better than she could have even imagined. The audience gave her a standing ovation that seemed to never end. It was then that composer Kornelija Bata Kovač, who represented the integral spirit of Indexi, testified to me that, of all the concerts on that unforgettable tour, Bisera gave her best performance at that Sava Centre concert.

Today, less than a year after the death of this composer who left Bisera with some of her most beautiful and popular songs – Milo moje, Zlatni dan [My Dear, Golden Day] – Bisera can’t hold back the tears at the very mention of Bata Kovač’s name.

“It was tough for me to get over his parting. Very tough. He was a beautiful being. People like Bata are inimitable. Everything I would say about him is insufficient. I loved him like a brother, and he loved me, he was married to his wonderful wife Snežana, who pampered and looked after him like a baby. Unfortunately, he is no longer with us, and I will sing his songs for as long as I continue singing.”

Bisera also appeared as an actress in famous TV series Grlom u jagode [The Unpicked Strawberries]. Director Srđan Karanović had imagined her specifically playing the role of the girl with whom the main character, Bane Bumbar, would lose his virginity! And later again, when shooting the film Sjaj u očima [Loving Glances], precisely twenty years ago, Karanović invited Bisera to sing the film’s title composition and to act in one episode, as charmingly as only she can.

People forget about you even when you live here, and especially if you don’t. When you reach an age at which you’re less active, they simply strike you off. But that’s who we are: we aren’t capable of appreciating what we have, or of cultivating values

“The reason this exceptional Điđa film didn’t go down as well as it deserved among audiences was due to the fact that it is so beautiful, humane, tender, so pleasant and made with such high art, devoid of swear words and cheap stunts and gags. That film is a precise illustration of what I’ve said about the music that I love and that I don’t abandon.”

Her concerts over the last twenty years would have been unimaginable without the accompaniment of her nephew, composer and pianist Vasil Hadžimanov, and his band.

“He is my nephew without whom everything would be empty. When I say empty, I mean my singing accompanied by someone else who would be correct, but that wouldn’t be “it”. With Vasil on stage, my blood cells work, I enjoy myself with him and his band. They are talented, educated, hardworking and I say they are gentlemen musicians. Vasil will have a Kolarac concert with the RTS big band in June.”

There was a spot in Belgrade during the 1990s called ‘Plato’ [Plateau], in the area between the Faculty of Philosophy and the Faculty of Philology, where audience would come to listen to Bisera and Vasil’s band. Those were evenings that were awaited eagerly, with all spots filled, tickets having sold out in advance.

“There’s that slogan that something is attractive to audiences from the ages of seven to seventy-seven. Those evenings at the Plateau were intended for audiences aged from seven to ninety-seven. Every time when I would sing, some young people would come and beg me to go to the foyer of the college so that they could show me how they sing; for me to listen to them and tell them what to do. During the concert’s break, they would approach my table and overwhelm me with questions. They wanted to talk about music. I also recall some young female professors from the faculty also came, and we would socialise and chat. That was the dark ‘90s and yet we somehow held ourselves together, actually we were held together by the music.”

It is interesting to listen to Bisera talking about the world music scene, when she, for instance, describes the greatness of Stevie Wonder or so wisely interprets how Madonna gained worldwide fame.

“She is an example of someone who had had a wondrous career and didn’t deserve it. I knew she was a bad singer, but I only realised how bad a singer she really is after the Wembley concert where she sang live with Sting and the backing vocalists accompanying her. She really didn’t know where she was or what she was singing, and these people were playing and singing, masterfully of course, which only served to emphasise her ignorance even more. But I take my hat off to her for creating an institution out of nothing. She is proof that, in this business, when you’re capable, you don’t even need to know how.”

It was tough for me to get over the parting of Bata Kovač. Very tough. He was a beautiful being. People like Bata are inimitable. Everything I would say about him is insufficient. I loved him like a brother, and he loved me

Bisera has spent her entire life avoiding public places and scandals of any kind. She has only spoken to the media when she’s had a good professional reason to do so. She jokingly calls herself a free and prominent artist without a job.

Many people, even journalists, thought for years that she was somewhere else in the world; that she no longer lived here.

“People forget about you even when you live here, and especially if you don’t. When you reach an age at which you’re less active, they simply strike you off. I read how they wrote about great jazz musician Duško Gojković. I knew him personally and worked with him. He was a big name in the world of music, he performed with the best, but nobody cared about that while he was alive, and he didn’t live here but rather in Germany. Now that he has left this world, they write about him and seem to marvel in wonder at his biography. As if they are wondering whether it was really true. But that’s who we are: we aren’t capable of appreciating what we have, or of cultivating values.”

With an awareness of how uncertain a stake in life emotions are, Bisera doesn’t abandon hers, because they are the most secure link that she has with the music to which she has become attached. She shows them with her family and close friends, and once also showed emotions towards an unknown man, as was the case with assassinated Prime Minister Zoran Đinđić:

“I was invited to sing at some ceremony when he was already prime minister. We said our farewells and I gave him a big hug because I felt like he was one of my own. That was my only closer encounter with politics, with a politician. Zoran Đinđić was unique and special.”

Apart from music, Bisera has had another affinity for the past few decades: painting. She has had several solo exhibitions, and her paintings have been reviewed by writer and translator Silvija Monros Stojaković, who wrote: “Bisera is the only one who still endures from the bygone times of the pioneers of local music that is neither literally folk music nor the subsequent sociological phenomenon of turbo-folk. She is an original artist who is consistent to herself. That, among other things, is why she sometimes doesn’t sing… Periods without singing can sometimes last an eternity with this resplendent and enduring artist of ours, meaning she also resists…And when she can’t pour her colours into a song, Bisera will grab a canvas.”

Whatever she turns her hand to, Bisera turns it into a work of art. Just as her name is of Arabic origin, she is a synonym for something that’s the brightest, the most precious, the most beautiful.

The post Everything She Touches Turns To Art appeared first on CorD Magazine.

In 2021 came an announcement that was sad news for many in the world of music and culture: Helga Rabl-Stadler, president of the Salzburg Festival since 1995, declared that this would be her final summer in the role. Rabl-Stadler, who hails from a prominent Austrian family and has a wealth of experience in journalism, politics and business, had become synonymous with the festival over the past 27 years, running the operation successfully with a budget of approximately 65 million euros for about 200 opera, concert and drama performances. As the New York Times wrote that year, her amiable but no-nonsense presence has served as a reassuring sign of stability, and many would have been happy for her to stay on.

However, Rabl-Stadler felt that it was time to step down and seek new venues of engagement. After all, she had proven equally successful in many different occupations prior to taking on the presidency of the Salzburg Festival. We used this CorD Magazine interview to discuss Helga’s long and distinguished career, but also to gauge her thoughts on her new role as a special adviser for foreign culture at the Austrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

There is a great danger that quick, simplified answers to complex problems are offered by populists from all countries, so it is essential to get people to think for themselves, to get out of their bubble and ask the right questions. Art can do that

Discussing her plans to strengthen Austria’s cultural presence abroad, including by focusing on human dignity and the role of art in solving complex problems, Rabl-Stadler also talks about her visit to Belgrade, during which she hopes to build a culture for the future together with artists and scientists from both Austria and Serbia. She also shares her views on the imaginative thinking required for new solutions, emphasising the importance of flexibility and togetherness, and the desire to help shape the future. She believes that art can offer orientation in a world that has become disjointed, and that it can help people think for themselves and ask the right questions.

You presided over the Salzburg Festival for 27 years. What was your motivation in joining the Austrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs as a special adviser for foreign culture and how does it feel to take on this new role?

Foreign Minister Schallenberg is aware that cultural policy is just as important for foreign policy as security policy. My mission is to make his attitude even more visible and effective. And that’s especially so in these times of war, when we want to, and must, strengthen the non-military tools of diplomacy.

How do you envisage the further development of Austria’s cultural presence abroad? What fresh perspectives do you intend to bring?

Hand in glove with the new Director General for cultural affairs at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Christoph Thun- Hohenstein, I want to make it clear that our great cultural past is not limited to musealisation, but can and should be the basis for overcoming today’s problems.

The title of our activities is “Imagine: Dignity” and includes human dignity, but also the dignity of nature as a whole. In connection with this concept, we have to rethink the future of our economic model.

Your responsibilities range from maintaining a dialogue with the science, art and culture scenes and civil society, to international cultural mediation in a traditional and innovative sense. Considering all of this, what should we expect to see during your visit to Belgrade?

At the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, we wholeheartedly support the EU accession of the Western Balkan countries. Belgrade, this lively city in which technology and digitalisation are not seen as a danger, but rightly as an opportunity, is a particularly important partner for our plans to together build a culture for the future.

“Together” is a word of utmost importance here: artists from Austria and Serbia, but also scientists from both countries, will show how much can be achieved through this cooperation. We will together prepare exhibitions of architecture, design and urban planning, and highlight the role of art for our times. We will together organise workshops in which outstanding representatives from all disciplines of art and science will come up with solutions for the future. It is important to us to motivate creative people in both countries to get involved in the design of the new models of life.

You have been quoted as saying that “art can and must offer orientation in our world that has become disjointed”. In that respect, how does the ailing of this world manifest itself and how could art provide a cure?

We live in a time of helplessness and aimlessness. Artists are often seismographs, because they feel the problems earlier than many others. There is a great danger that quick, simplified answers to complex problems are offered by populists from all countries, so it is essential to get people to think for themselves, to get out of their bubble and ask the right questions.

We are facing huge challenges, such as climate change and everything that follows, but also challenges to our democratic system, and many people have the dangerous impression that getting involved is pointless. We want to counteract this with a new generation of exhibitions designed to be participatory and consistently involving civil society

Art can do that. For example, when you watch the opera Elektra, you are confronted by all the great problems of our world: love and hate, loyalty and betrayal, war and peace, revenge and forgiveness.

And suddenly the question arises: is revenge strength or does true strength lie in the ability to forgive, in forgiveness? As festival president, I’ve seen hundreds of people discuss things for hours after an opera or a theatrical performance. Great Austrian conductor Nikolaus Harnoncourt said: ‘If we, the artists, are good, then people will be transformed when they go home from a performance’.

What makes Austria a suitable country to bring such change?

During its best times, Austria peacefully united different cultures, ethnic groups and religions under one roof. After World War I, the huge empire shrank to “the rest that remained”, as French Prime Minister Clemenceau put it, not charmingly, but unfortunately correctly. However, Austria has remained a great power culturally, which is no reason for us to rest on our laurels, but rather provides motivation to do new things. Cultural ties to the Balkans are particularly important to us in this regard.

Who or what are main sources of the imaginative thinking required today for new solutions? Is this still a human task or one that’s being taken over by the broad introduction of AI?

Flexibility, togetherness, the desire not to suffer the future, but to help shape it – these are the attitudes with which we can find new solutions. We are facing huge challenges, such as climate change and everything that follows, but also challenges to our democratic system, and many people have the dangerous impression that getting involved is pointless.

Belgrade, this lively city in which technology and digitalisation are not seen as a danger, but rather rightly as an opportunity, is a particularly important partner for our plans to together build a culture for the future

We want to counteract this with a new generation of exhibitions designed to be participatory and consistently involving civil society. Artificial Intelligence can help us with this, but it must be controlled by humans. The open questions here are: how do we deal with technologies; how can we merge technology, people and nature into a dignified life plan within a new digital humanism?

Austrian Foreign Minister Schallenberg praised you for showing “ground-breaking will to implement things”. What would you like to change first in your new role?

It is very important to me that art is not just decoration for everyday life. Great power lies within art – it can strengthen self-confidence and identity not just among individuals, but among entire countries. That is why culture and science must also play an even more important role in our diplomacy – I will not let up on that.

The post Navigating A World In Flux appeared first on CorD Magazine.

His birth village is called Lještansko and is located in the municipality of Bajina Bašta, and it today boasts Gojko’s birth house, which he restored as an example of early 20th-century rural architecture. Alongside this home is also another house, which was built by Gojko’s father. All the Tešićs hail from there, including father Milenko, mother Milenija, sisters Milesa and Milena. Their names all start with the letter M, while his name is Gojko. Doctor of Literary Sciences Gojko Tešić (1951), an invaluable archivist of Serbian literary heritage, who read the first two books in his birth house, both simultaneously representing the family heritage: the Holy Bible and Dositej Obradović’s Fables. And that was enough for books to take over his life.

And that which he took away from his home continues to shape him to this day:

“We were raised to greet everyone you encounter on the road. Whether you see them only once, or never again, which is most common, you must greet them politely. I remember the poverty we lived in and that I could almost recreate like a film. And that’s certainly a code for understanding everything that would follow in my life. In my early school years, I didn’t know what shoes were. It was known that I wore rubber sandshoes in the summer and rubber boots in the winter. The most important thing is that I learnt in my parents’ home what morality, integrity, fairness, audacity, courage and gratitude are.”

Poverty has been a common companion of great minds throughout human history. Few among them were born with a silver spoon in their mouths.

“Poverty is a kind of incentive, not in order for me to prove myself, not to forget that part of life, because that cannot be forgotten. I realised that I set out in life from nothing and that I had have some goal. I had one from my childhood days.

“My parents were caring and gentle people. Mother fell ill with severe rheumatism early on and that stayed with her until her death. My paternal grandmother, who lived with them, was unpleasantly strict. Wednesdays and Fridays were Lenten days in the house. On one of those two days, I went to the shed and took some cheese, because I was hungry. My evil grandmother punished me harshly for that. She was a dictator against whom neither my father nor mother dare say a word. While my mother was ill, her mother came to watch over us. She was gentle, looked after us and pampered us, with her I was privileged.”

Gojko’s mother was ill and wanted her son to study medicine. Gojko’s father was a lover of technology who thought his son should study technology. He today says that he tricked both his parents. His father enrolled him in secondary technical school and informed him that he had to take the entrance exam the next day, to which Gojko replied: ‘You enrolled me, you take the exam. I want to attend a gymnasium secondary school!’ His father had no option but to collect the documents from the technical secondary school and enrol his son in the gymnasium school in Užice. And back then Gojko already knew that he would study literature; that books were his life choice.

With the end of his schooldays approaching, he wanted his graduation thesis to be on literature. The lady professor, who only had a few years of experience, didn’t permit Gojko to write on any of the topics he’d proposed, and he’d wanted to write about Branko Miljković, Momčilo Nastasijević or Vasko Popa. She didn’t allow him to write about any of those poets, nor even Vladislav Petković Dis.

“I asked professor Stanko Jovančićević, a wonderful man and a brilliant professor, whose face is still etched in my memory, why my professor wouldn’t allow me to do anything that I’d proposed, and he replied: ‘You know, Gojko, if she allowed you to do that, she’d have to learn it too’. That was the truth, and because of it I unfortunately had to do a topic from philosophy: Necessity and Freedom.”

The real ‘culprit’ for me having continued to deal with Vinaver was Radomir Konstantinović. He first edited Nadgramatika, which I read as a high school pupil, and I think that’s when I flew into a channel, into a labyrinth that I didn’t want to find my way out of. More precisely, I had to go all the way to the end

Among the general public, Gojko Tešić is known as a modern literary historian who has, above all, dedicated himself to the works of writers who didn’t enter the canon. It was clear that this would be the case already during his days as a high school pupil, when he spent his free time in the Užice Library discovering Stanislav Vinaver, Stanislav Krakov, Dragiša Vasić and other writers who were not include in school reading lists and textbooks.

“In a way, that determined that I embark on a literary-historical quest to find writers who’d been marginalised for purely ideological reasons. The most terrifying thing is that this marginalisation remains a valid paradigm to this day. And what I was doing was on the cutting edge of the knife of ideological condemnation. In seeking data from the lives of those writers and presenting their works, I didn’t neglect a single piece of information for a single moment. I didn’t comment, evaluate, offer flattering platitudes about their ideological and political orientation. I just dealt primarily with their work.

“When I today consider what the most important thing I did in this half a century of work was, I think it is my editorial work. For an anthology about me, my daughter Iva compiled a bibliography of books that I edited. For me, that’s an I.D. card. And it clearly show what I’ve done and what my intellectual orientation is.”

This editorial work also includes the command position he held at the head of the magazine Književna reč [The Literary Word] from 1980 to 1984. That was a time when communication with writers was conducted via letters, postcards and other correspondences, and Gojko preserved it all, as solid evidence of the times in which he worked, and the people he met who forged the literary scene of Yugoslavia, but also the world. He is thankful to everyone who helped him in his career, from Radovan Popović, Jovica Aćin and Aleksandar Petrov, to Radomir Konstantinović and Vasko Popa, who showed understanding for this graduate of an Užice high school, this dishevelled young man with long hair, as he was at the time, in the spring of 1970, when he would ring their doorbells day after day.

At the very end of that Dnevnik, the newsreader, Ljiljana Marković, read a news item: ‘The Palulula Municipal Committee of the Union of Communists today expelled Gojko Tešič, editor-in-chief of The Literary Word, from the Union of Communists, despite him having tendered his resignation.’ At that moment, my mother hit herself in the head with both fists and moaned: ‘Kuku, my black son, what have you done?’

“Haša, the wife of Vasko Popa, came out and said: ‘Vasko, a boy is looking for you!’ The poet appeared, two heads taller than his wife, and I told him my name, that I’d come from Užice and that I wanted to talk with him. He welcomed me into his house and we remained in contact constantly from then until the end of his life. He helped me to come to the Institute of Literature, by recommending me to Aleksandar Saša Petrov.”

As would happen during those times, in the fourth year of high school, Gojko – as a good student and an intelligent young man – was nominated for membership in the League of Communists of Yugoslavia. He didn’t consider that a very serious matter. However, during his studies he ended up at the centre of a row over the election of a student vice dean. A person who he considered unworthy of that position was chosen. Out of rage and a sense of helplessness, he headed to tender his resignation from the League of Communists. While on his way, he encountered professor Đorđe Trifunović, who was even known among the students for being a staunch anti-communist, just like his famous brother, art historian and university professor Lazar Trifunović. He ‘boasted’ to him that he was going to clear his hands of the Party, but the professor stopped him.

“He told me not to accidentally do such a stupid thing. He told me that I would thus close every door that was open to me, that I would destroy my future. I remember his sentence: ‘You know I’m an anti-communist, but I don’t want you to destroy yourselves’. I listened to him, and only later realised that this was the smart thing to do, regardless of how much I’d already been marked as a freethinker by then, as someone who rejected the Party’s rigid discipline. Some years later, Radovan Popović recommended to Jovica Aćin that I become a member of the editorial department of The Literary Word. I was later also Aćin’s choice to become chief editor of that journal. That’s the most precious period of my life, representing a kind of creative storm with different fractures and misunderstandings, but with experience that’s totally unrepeatable. I made up my mind to allow every writer who I believed was worthy to enter The Literary Word. I had a concept that was distinctly Yugoslav in a literary sense, but also a much broader, European orientation. That was then a magazine that made it to a large number of university departments around the world and had an international reputation, while those passing through its editorial department included the likes of Novica Tadić, Aleksandar Jovanović, Svetislav Basara, David Albahari, Mihajlo Pantić et al. And it was written by an exceptional array of creators, from the youngest to the oldest across the whole of Yugoslavia. The years that I spent at The Literary Word represent the most exciting period of my life.”

Gojko was a subeditor at The Literary Word from 1977 to 1980, and its editor-in-chief from 1980 to 1984. And as would often happen in countries with a one-party system, the harshest punishment for the head of an institution was expulsion from the Party, which happened to Gojko while he was at home with his parents, watching the ‘Dnevnik’ news bulleting that was then obligatory viewing.

I made up my mind to allow every writer who I believed was worthy to enter The Literary Word. I had a concept that was distinctly Yugoslav in a literary sense, but also a much broader, European orientation. That was then a magazine that made it to a large number of university departments around the world and had an international reputation, while those passing through its editorial department included the likes of Novica Tadić, Aleksandar Jovanović, Svetislav Basara, David Albahari, Mihajlo Pantić et al

“At the very end of that Dnevnik, the newsreader, Ljiljana Marković, read a news item: ‘The Palulula Municipal Committee of the Union of Communists today expelled Gojko Tešič, editorin- chief of The Literary Word, from the Union of Communists, despite him having tendered his resignation.’ At that moment, my mother hit herself in the head with both fists and moaned: ‘Kuku, my black son, what have you done?’ That’s a scene I can never forget. I calmed her down, telling her that I’m alive, healthy, that everything will be fine, but she couldn’t stop. I consoled myself with how fortunate I was to have been there, beside her, because who knows how she would have felt if she’d only heard the news and didn’t know what had happened to me.”

That’s how the Party broke up with Gojko, and when the multi-party system emerged in Serbia, he was again joined a political party, this time the Democratic Party. He became close friends with Prime Minister Zoran Đinđić.

“I met Zoran in 1972, as a student at the protests that he organised in the Hall of Heroes at the Faculty of Philology. He was a contributor to The Literary Word; I published his texts from Germany that were critical, interesting, sometimes translations. Later, in the Democratic Party, he asked me to tour Serbia and talk about the importance of culture. Politics didn’t interest me, but I respected him greatly.”

I also met another politician while I was editor of The Literary Word, in the form of Koča Popović.

That was an unbelievable, exciting and surprising encounter. That wonderful cynic received me with friendliness. He was important to me as a surrealist – who had been marginalised by apologists for surrealism. When I told him that I wanted to rehabilitate him, as a very important avant-garde creator, with a thematic edition of The Literary Word about his surrealist poetic and philosophical work, he had certain reservations. However, when that famous, disputed triple edition was published, he provided me with insight into his entire handwritten legacy and allowed me to photocopy it, which was a great start to our friendship and cooperation. For Belgrade-based publishing house Prosveta, I prepared two books from his surrealist oeuvre – he was delighted, happy, and surprised. Those are two beautiful books. We agreed for Ivan Lovrenović and Gavrilo Grahovac to prepare his memoirs for Sarajevo-based publisher Svjetlost under the title Zapisi iz pokojne prošlosti [Notes from a deceased past] in eight books, using material that covers in excess of 17,000 pages. The contract was signed in Dubrovnik in 1989… That’s a project I’m persevering with. I guess I’ll also bring that story to an end… Hanging out and becoming friends with Koča Popović is an exciting part of my life story…”

For many literature connoisseurs, Gojko’s efforts on publishing the works of one of the most important creators in Serbian literature, Stanislav Vinaver (1891-1955), represents his lifetime achievement. It was while he was still a gymnasium pupil that Gojko discovered Vinaver and his Beogradsko ogledalo [Belgrade Mirror] and Nadgramatika [Overgrammar]… And he never again parted from him. It was during his student days that he studied the life and works of this great writer and translator, and he remained with him only to complete his grandiose undertaking – or editorially preparing 18 books – that represent collected works of Stanislav Vinaver and a book of essays and articles about him.

My conversation with Krleža was very unusual and exciting. I first spoke to him about why I’d chosen to do the dissertation, explaining that bibliography is the foundation of any serious literary science. If you don’t have all the information in one place, you can’t know the context, the dynamics, both literary and cultural…

“The real ‘culprit’ for me having continued to deal with Vinaver was Radomir Konstantinović. He first edited Nadgramatika, which I read as a high school pupil, and I think that’s when I flew into a channel, into a labyrinth that I didn’t want to find my way out of. More precisely, I had to go all the way to the end. When I spoke to Konstantinović about Vinaver, he liked that a lot and insisted that I continue working on it. After a few years socialising together, he somehow imposed on me the obligation to prepare Vinaver for print. That was like a kind of will, a testament, that I had to do. I offered it to various publishers, but they didn’t want to print it, and that went on and on, and I persevered to madness. I believed in a miracle. And then it happened. The publishing credit belongs to the then director of Službeni glasnik [the Official Gazette], Slobodan Gavrilović, great editor Milka Zjačić Avramović and the Institute for Publishing Textbooks, or its director Miloljub Albijanić. When everything was published, I felt a kind of serenity. And that despite the fact that this publishing endeavour was not noticed in the media in the way it deserved. But I didn’t tug anyone by the sleeve to write about it.”

It should be mentioned that the main reason for the marginalisation of Stanislav Vinaver’s work was ideological. Branded as someone who belonged to the old, right-wing, reactionary period, drastic efforts were taken to prevent him from working. One of the few people from the then political structures to help Vinaver find a job was Tanjug founder Moša Pijade, who dealt with painting and writing. He demanded that Vinaver be accepted at Tanjug [a national news agency] as a translator, given that he spoke six or seven languages. He worked night shifts and translated books when he had nothing else to do. He translated Gargantua and Pantagruel by François Rabelais, The Good Soldier Schweik, One Thousand and One Nights, the poetry of Edgar Allan Poe and Paul Valéry, the books of Mark Twain etc. Of course, there was no shortage of comments that he’d only received help along his Jewish lineage.

As a professor, Gojko was loved by students in Novi Sad because he gave them the freedom to discuss everything that interested them with him. He sought that they freely express their thoughts and was capable of easily recognising the special ones among them. He liked to give good grades, because he considered that a stimulating way of instilling in them a desire to dedicate themselves to literature more and better. He had a positive influence on many of them finding themselves after completing their studies.

He didn’t influence his daughter Iva when she chose to follow in his footsteps. She completed the same studies as her father, earned her doctorate and today works at the Institute of Literature, where he also began his working life. She fell in love with some writers that she was introduced to by her father, but she has a special affinity for the likes of Miroslav Krleža, Tin Ujević, Matoš et al. She is scientifically preoccupied with the study of Serbian-Croatian literary relations.

Poverty is a kind of incentive, not in order for me to prove myself, not to forget that part of life, because that cannot be forgotten. I realised that I set out in life from nothing and that I had have some goal. I had one from my childhood days

“Krleža is her choice, and I met this writer in 1974, at the Institute of Lexicography in Zagreb. I had previously worked on Krleža’s bibliography, from 1968 to 1973, as my graduate dissertation assigned to me by Croatian literature professor Mate Lončar. I received the October Award, then the highest recognition for student work, for that 150-page dissertation. The work was published, Krleža read it and wanted to meet the young man who dealt with such complicated and important work for culture. A meeting with him was scheduled by Enes Čengić, who was then his closest associate. Since 1972 and until today, I’ve travelled to Zagreb to work at the University and National Library, which is a cult library for me. I would claim that it is also the most important national library for Serbian culture.

My conversation with Krleža was very unusual and exciting. I first spoke to him about why I’d chosen to do the dissertation, explaining that bibliography is the foundation of any serious literary science. If you don’t have all the information in one place, you can’t know the context, the dynamics, both literary and cultural… He liked my story, and then started recounting his own story of literature, explaining to me why Jakov Ignjatović is the greatest Serbian novelist, why Vojislav Ilić is the greatest Serbian poet, why he is repulsed by Skerlić… He spoke to me about what he read in the newspapers, described New Belgrade and New Zagreb as inhumane cities, as ‘boxes thrown from the air and left to fall where they will, that’s how they built the high-rises’.

When the time for discussion at his office elapsed, we walked together to the bookshop Oslobođenja [Liberation], located in an underpass near the train station… He walked slowly because he had problems with his joints. That was a casual, endless, wondrous monologue on various topics. That was one of those days that you always remember.”

The post Necessity And Freedom appeared first on CorD Magazine.

He attended the same Sarajevo gymasium high school as two of the most famous natives of Bosnia: revolutionary member of the Young Bosnia movement Gavrilo Princip and Nobel-prize winning author Ivo Andrić. He went on to graduate in philosophy and sociology, prior to which he’d already started writing. Bornin 1966, Miljenko Jergović was a Yugoslav before the wars of the ’90s, while today he is known as a Bosnia-Herzegovinian and Croatian writer. An even more amusing illustration of the times that we lived through is the fact that his wife enrolled to study Yugoslav literature in Zagreb and Yugoslavia disintegrated while she was still studying, which meant that she ended up graduating in Croatian literature. An editor and proofreader by profession, Ana is the only proofreader and editor of Miljenko’s books.

“That’s a very important and fundamentally delicate matter. It was extremely difficult before her, just as it would be very difficult with someone else today, because I would have to explain too many things to those people. I reached my wits’ end explaining to people that the language in which I write does not appear in Croatian dictionaries. That’s my language; I have the right to my own language. Ana is my protector against the terror of standardised dictionaries and standardised grammar.” He was just over 20 when he wrote the poetry collection The Warsaw Observatory [Opservatorija Varšava], for which he received the Ivan Goran Kovačić Award, Yugoslavia’s top award for poetry. He has since written around 50 books in various genres, which have been translated into 20-odd languages. These works are partly fiction and partly autobiographical, and for 1994’s Sarajevo Marlboro collection of stories he received the Erich Maria Remarque Peace Prize. Representing Jergović’s personal testimony to life in wartorn Bosnia-Herzegovina, it is still discussed to this day. Thanks to the persuasive argument of his translator to Polish, but also his own desire to see how Sarajevo Marlboro, which he wrote when he was 27, would look when written by a man of 54, he penned the book Three for Kartal [Trojica za Kartal], with the subtitle Sarajevo Marlboro Remastered. Inspired by the stories from the book that made him famous, Three for Kartal was published by Booka in Belgrade last year.

I reached my wits’ end explaining to people that the language in which I write does not appear in Croatian dictionaries. That’s my language

He lived in his native Sarajevo until 1993, when he moved to Zagreb. Nowadays he spends his winters in the Croatian capital, spending the rest of the year living in the Turopolje region, around 20 kilometres from Zagreb. Together with his wife Ana, he visits Belgrade relatively regularly to relax and see friends. This time around, when we used the opportunity to record this interview for CorD Magazine, he had come to the Serbian capital to attend the premiere of TheIdiot, under the production of director Ivica Buljan, at the Belgrade Drama Theatre.

There are numerous books in which Jergović discusses his family. His long-divorced parents, but also his close relatives on both his father’s and mother’s sides. And when asked how he would describe the upbringing he received at home, or what is referred to as home education, this writer answers:

“I’m actually the child of my Nono and Nona, or my maternal grandparents. So, I have no experience of home education from my parents. When I recall them today, it is both completely unimaginable and terrifying that they could have brought me up, because who knows what would have come of that and how that would have looked. I am really a child of my previous ancestors, or my grandparents. In that sense, the world of my upbringing and maturing process also somewhat reflects a kind of previous civic world. I suppose I was brought up in the way kids had been raised in the 1930s. In a way I thus belong to the generation of Bora Ćosić. [writer Bora Ćosić turns 91 on 5th April this year]. And I don’t say this by accident. That’s because when I read his book My Family’s Role in the World Revolution, I somehow actually see the world of my own home in the most intimate possible sense. And that isn’t really normal, given that he was raised 35 years before me.”

Miljenko’s grandfather Nono was actually called Franjo Rejc. He lived as a Bosnian, but had Slovenian origins and self-identified as an ardent Slovene. Grandma Nona, Olga Rejc, was the daughter of an ethnic German from the Banat region. And everything else in her family was equally complicated and mixed, such that it could be said that she was a typical child of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy.

“From the upbringing I received from them, I was left with a kind of detachment, withdrawn nature and non-aggressiveness. And some learned sense that this is not my city and this is not my world, and these aren’t my people. That’s something I’ve carried with me from an early age, and which has often caused me all sorts of social problems, but, unfortunately, that’s ultimately exactly how it turned out. In the end, both my life and my world turned out just as Nono and Nona told me they would.”

Responding to the observation that his literary work, particularly the vivisection of his family relationships, is capable of irritating the public, he offers a simple explanation:

“Literature is actually writing about something that is either impossible to write about or shouldn’t be written about. That’s because it’s actually meaningless to write about something that’s easy to write about, can be written about and everyone recommends as a topic to write about. One writes about what should not be written about or discussed.”

It was almost thirteen years ago that he published the novel The Father, which is actually a story about his own father that received very fierce public reactions.

It’s actually meaningless to write about something that’s easy to write about, can be written about and everyone recommends as a topic to write about. One writes about what should not be written about or discussed

“That had a slightly scandalous effect, but to me there was nothing scandalous about it. I didn’t intend to cause any scandals; I had no intention of provoking anyone. That was a story about my father, about my life, about the times I lived through. In an attempt to hide it from people who might take it the wrong way, I published the book in Belgrade [published by Rende]. That was a targeted move, as I counted on it going unnoticed among some malicious and ill-intentioned people in Zagreb. However, that just made it even worse.”

Miljenko’s father, Dobro, was a respected, highly-rated and beloved doctor in Sarajevo, and in his son’s eyes, he was “a great doctor, and that fact made up for everything that he was incapable of being in life. For him, medicine and his mission compensated fully for everything else. And that’s generally not an uncommon human trait.”

His mother, Javorka, was the most beloved character at the Academy of Performing Arts in Sarajevo, where she worked as head of the accounting department.

“Unlike my father, she was extremely sociable, and all beyond the confines of the home. It was decidedly glooming in the house, which was a combination of being unfulfilled in life and emotionally, due to the huge burden of her poor relationship with her parents. She lived as though life had betrayed all her expectations and she was annoyed with her own life and all those who she felt stood in her way in that life. She was essentially an extremely problematic mother. There were moments and periods in her life when she didn’t shy away from showing me that I’d ruined her life’s journey in a certain way.”

As an educated and intelligent woman, Miljenko’s mother understood the way literature functions perfectly. She also understood her own role as a character in literature: “It is interesting how much could be written about her without her taking it personally.”

Jergović’s many stories, novels, essays and columns have been subjected to numerous comments, from shows of admiration to the casting of aspersions. His spiritual path, often teetering on the brink of the abyss, has prompted emotionally intoned judgements among readers and critics alike, but he didn’t reflect on them too much. Is that an integral part of his personality, or did he try a little harder to publicly communicate things that most would prefer not to mention?

“I think that’s a combination; that it relates very strongly to the certain kind of ‘outsiderness’ from which I emerged. Outsider in the broadest possible sense. For instance, you live in a multi-ethnic community like Sarajevo, while at the same time your origins are extremely complicated compared to that multi-ethnic community, and even extremely problematic in a political identity, ideological sense. And that was particularly so in Sarajevo, which was a pretty dark corner of Yugoslavia at that time, because various services were very fond of using such things to blackmail people. And I was, in a way, a child of enemies of the people. My parents weren’t enemies of the people, but rather loyal Party members, but my paternal grandmother had been a member of the fascist Ustasha Youth, and my mother’s much older brother had served as a German soldier in World War II. That knowledge had been present in the house and discourse with the external world was adjusted according to it, firstly towards the first neighbourhood, and then towards everything. There was fear over what someone would say, who would report whom, what that information could mean somewhere.”

I was, in a way, a child of enemies of the people. My parents weren’t enemies of the people, but rather loyal Party members, but my paternal grandmother had been a member of the fascist Ustasha Youth, and my mother’s much older brother had served as a German soldier in World War II

Miljenko developed an aware of this early on. He belonged to the ‘lucky generation’ of children who were left home alone by their parents and grandparents.

“Nona would go to the market, I would somehow get out of having to go with her, and as soon as she’s was out of the door, I would start rummaging through their drawers in search of documents, in search of secrets. I started doing that when I was eight or nine years old. Before the age of ten, I’d discovered the dark secret of my elder uncle. It is today impossible to explain what a shocking thing that was for me. It’s like finding out that your uncle was a salamander, that he didn’t belong to the human race. I think that was the moment that marked the start of my great interest in such things.

“As for my paternal grandmother, she has been the ultimate villain since I was born. A very dark woman who I quickly learnt was actually an Ustasha woman. That was somehow perfectly logical to me, given all the other negatives about her. That remained a reflex of mine as an adult. For example, today, as an older man, I often wonder whether my deep-rooted intolerance of the Ustasha and domestic traitors contains something completely personal that’s much more intimate than nationalism and historical facts.”

Survivors always have a right. And that marks the emergence of deep injustice, which is blind to its victims. Since the war, Sarajevo has been a city where the survivors often suffered more than those who took the bullets. While everything resembled an idyllic place unstained by blood, Miljenko grew up in Mejtaška Mahala, or the Mejtaš Quarter, with this toponym also finding its place in his literature.

“Mejtaš is a small crossroads in Sarajevo that’s slightly elevated above the city. A steep street leads up t it, and extending from there is a series of steep and very steep streets. These are some of the sunny slopes of the city. There was a Muslim cemetery and mosque there until about eighty years ago, when they disappeared. Those graveside monuments, or tombstones, were carried off somewhere, the plateau was asphalted and covered by streets. The mosque burned down during the 1920s, with a grocery shop built on the site later, after World War II.

“The word mejtaš itself refers to the stone on which the deceased is placed before the funeral, or Islamic burial. It’s a kind of stone catafalque. Mejt means corpse and taš means stone. The neighbourhood itself consists of a square and a dozen surrounding streets and alleys. This was the place where I grew up in Sarajevo. At the same time, I also had the privilege, or misfortune, of having two parallel upbringings. I grew up as a little Bosnian and Sarajevo native in Mejtaš, and as a Dalmatian at Nono and Nona’s place in Drvenik, where I’d spent eight months of each year until starting school. So, as a kid I changed identities on a seasonal basis, which seems bizarre, but it was a huge difference. I was both identities, but actually neither.”

What is certain is that, in Sarajevo, he lived and grew up in a passionately traditionalist urban environment. This awakened in him a lifelong preference for those parts of cities that preserve something a little older, from a little earlier. That’s also why, in Belgrade, he and Ana have been staying with the same landlord for about fifteen years, in the same flat, in the same place on the corner of the former Đura Đakovića and Budimska streets, where it still smells like old Dorćol.

During the siege of Sarajevo, Miljenko spent a year and a half in his hometown, before abandoning it.

“That experience split my life in half, forming two separate and completely different lives. I wouldn’t say that I’ve changed, but I would have been someone completely different if it hadn’t been for that war. I would be writing something else, thinking about something else, living a completely different life. And I would live somewhere else. However, I didn’t leave of my own free will, but rather of the will of the war. And when you don’t leave of your own free will, you leave in a different way and the whole thing is experienced and lived differently. After such a departure, a person never feels the way they did before. One feels like someone who has been banished in one way or another; like someone who is a migrant, to use that modern word. In the meantime, between those two lives, those pre- and post-war lives, there is an entire decade that doesn’t belong to either, but rather marks a decade of waiting for things to be normal again.

I often wonder whether my deep-rooted intolerance of the Ustasha and domestic traitors contains something completely personal that’s much more intimate than nationalism and historical facts

“That’s because it takes a lot for a person to understand one terribly simple and selfexplanatory thing. And that is that things will never be normal again. I realised that around the year 2000 ago and developed the insight that I needed to live a different life.”

Prior to embarking on that quest for a new life, he was hit by the feeling of the impossibility of returning to Sarajevo. He hadn’t been to the city for almost five years, which was a longer period than the entire duration of the war. It is also a much longer period than when he didn’t come to Sarajevo during the ‘90s.

“There are naturally reasons why I would go to Sarajevo, but there are obviously much stronger reasons why I would not go to Sarajevo. And those reasons are of a very private and very intimate nature. A man simply doesn’t have to do certain things; he doesn’t have to participate in certain things, and he doesn’t have to attempt to turn back time by force and contrive his spaces and his cities where they no longer exist.”

Miljenko and Ana have long been living their second life. Their winter address has long been in Zagreb, while from April to October they reside in the countryside of Turopolje.

“At some point while living in our flat on the 16th floor of a Zagreb high-rise, around 15 years ago, we began fantasising about life in the countryside. I then realised that the last moment had arrived, because that could become too expensive in the next episode. Then Zagreb natives would also realise what Westerners have also been discovering: that it is better to live 20-odd kilometres from the city than in the city, and our fantasy would perish. Prices would then skyrocket and we’d have no chance. We then very ambitiously started searching for a house on the outskirts of the city until we found one. Partly with credit and partly with cash, we bought the weekend cottage of a socialist director 20 kilometres from Zagreb, from a gentleman who actually was a socialist director. We started living there and it was something sensational. That’s an excellent opportunity for a person to try to move out of their default context.”

There are few writers who write in the language of Ivo Andrić, and whose name is mentioned alongside Andrić’s as often as Miljenko’s. It is thus somehow normal to conclude this interview by asking him what Andrić means to him, apart from the fact, mentioned a the beginning of this article, that they attended the same Sarajevo secondary school.

“Ivo Andrić is our language’s most accomplished writer. And the greatest writer of our languages, whatever anyone might think of that. And the world of Ivo Andrić, his geographical world, the world of his cities, the world of his different religious-tribal and religious-national identities, actually aligns very precisely with my world. This isn’t something that’s crucial for literature, nor for the reader, but it is something that’s actually a big deal when it happens, a big deal in the most intimate sense. That gymnasium high school that Gavrilo Princip, Ivo Andrić and I attended, was solidly built, never subjected to interior renovation, and those same stairs and handrails that we all walked on have remained. We were schoolmates with a difference of over 60 years.

“Andrić is the writer of my world, and Andrić is the writer who wrote my world.”

The post The Will Of War Compelled Me To Leave Sarajevo appeared first on CorD Magazine.

She is a Ph.D., a professor of aesthetics at the University of Belgrade Faculty of Philology and one of the most highly rated and beloved lecturers among students. She is also the daughter of two artists: Ljubomir ’Muci’ Draškić, one of the most significant Yugoslav and Serbian film and theatre directors; and actress Maja Čučković, the alluring partner of Zoran Radmilović in the famous play King Ubu [Ubu Roi] and as Rumenka in the anthology Radovan III. Both plays were staged by her father at Belgrade’s Atelier 212 theatre and both form part of the glittering pages of this theatre’s rich history.

She is also the great-granddaughter of Panta Draškić, a brigadier general who served in the Army of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, and the granddaughter of Sreten Draškić, a diplomat of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, with whom she spent the salad days of her childhood.

She is the wife of Ljubiša Vićanović, a graduate of law and a playwright by vocation, who received the 2014 Sterija Award for his drama Nečiste Sile (Impure Forces). Their marriage resulted in the births of Sara (35), Pavle (34) and Aleksa (25). Sara graduated in Italian language and literature and today lives and works in the Italian city of Ravenna; Pavle is a lawyer; while Aleksa, like his brother, is a graduate of the Faculty of Law currently interning with the court.

Despite the Vuk Karadžić School being the closest to their home, Iva’s mother Maja decided to enrol Iva, who started school a year early, in the Drinka Pavlović School. The reason for this was that “Drinka” provided the option of so-called extended stay, which meant that she remained in school from early morning until late into the afternoon.

“That was well organised. You do all your homework tasks, have various activities to which you can devote yourself – singing, dancing, fine art, rhythmic gymnastics etc. When I later analysed what impacts on the formation of personality in the education process, I concluded that that extended stay had been very important; it provided a kind of boarding school life. As children at school, we grew accustomed to living together, and we developed true friendships. When we talk about it today, those of us from ‘Drinka’ are like a special section of the population that was raised in the spirit of togetherness. There was no chance of eating your packed lunch unless you shared it with someone else. Our teachers also directed us to not only be good students, but also good people. That was a good, healthy atmosphere in a good school. I think my mother made a good choice.”

My father, Muci Draškić, was a bona fide artist. He was highly educated, in parallel with his directing studies, he also studied art history, just like my mother, who studied literature in parallel with acting

She was such a good pupil at secondary school – initially at the First Belgrade Gymnasium and subsequently at the Fifth Belgrade Gymnasium – that her father considered he “too good”. She excelled at everything, found her studies easy, wasn’t a swot and struggled to decide what she would go on to study.

“I considered studying psychology, acting, directing and opera singing, only to focus on medicine during my third year of high school, on the social studies course. I thus began preparing for the entrance examination for medical studies. Medicine continues to interest to this day, when it comes to immunology, for instance. The philosophical aspect of the question of why a person gets sick. However, we gained philosophy as a subject for the fourth year of high school and that was something I found to be fantastic, extremely interesting. Realising that gave me wings, and that was also influenced by the fact that I was the best of my generation in that subject – and that’s how I ended up enrolling to study philosophy.”

Iva Draškić Vićanović (57) grew up knowing that her house was unlike others; with actors and artists gathering there regularly, frequent gettogethers and interesting conversations. She loved that lifestyle and felt that what her parents did was valued in the company of friends and their parents. And her second home was the theatre.

Her parents took her with them whenever they didn’t have anywhere to leave her, which was a regular occurrence. Iva felt good there and handled the environment well. She would sit beside the theatre prompter, buzz around, hang out in dressing room. The first play that she recalls clearly, and that her mother performed in and her father directed, was My Family’s Role in the World Revolution.

“The second one, which was very dear to me and which I watched many times, was my father’s play Molière [aka The Cabal of Hypocrites] by Bulgakov. Zoran Radmilović played Molière, my mother played Madeleine Béjart, Đuza Stojiljković played Louis XIV, and I think Milutin Butković, our family friend, played the role of his life. He portrayed Bouton, Molière’s servant. That was a powerful play that didn’t prove as popular as it deserved to be, because the people prefer comedies.”

Studying philosophy in the 1980s was difficult and very demanding. She fondly recalls Professor Zdravko Kučinar, who lectured on classical German philosophy and with whom she maintains contact to this day. He introduced her to the philosophy of Immanuel Kant, which is a serious and difficult undertaking for any professor.

I’m not among those who think that we were better than today’s generations. I think every generation has its own ways of expressing its own shortcomings

“I must mention an event here that happened during an exam with Professor Kučinar in June 1986. He was a very demanding but fair professor who lectured on classical German philosophy, which is one of the most difficult subjects during those studies and required months of preparation, even years. I remember that there were about 15 of us in the classroom for the exam – all boys and me as the only girl. Three of us extracted questions and started writing the concept. The exam for classical German philosophy always had a tense atmosphere, with the students feeling scared and anxious. In an attempt to relax us a little, and given that the football world cup was being played at the time, the professor asked: “Boys, does anyone remember which players scored goals in the final of the 1974 world cup?” He wasn’t addressing me, as he expected an answer from the male team. I answered that question matter-of-factly, blurting out without thinking or raising my head from the concept: “Breitner, Müller and Neeskens”. The room fell silent. After a few moments, Professor Kučinar asked, somewhat cautiously and through disbelief: “Excuse me, colleague, but how old were you when that world cup was held?”. “Nine”, I again blurted out while writing my concept. That caused everyone to burst out laughing, led by the professor. We continued working, but in a completely changed atmosphere. To this day, Professor Kučinar and I still joyfully recall that scene from the exam and discuss football. The puzzle of my knowledge actually has a simple solution: my dad loved to watch football and loved me to watch with him. That’s how I spent my days with him watching and commenting on every football match, and of course world cups had a special status, which is how I also remembered that famous 1974 final.”

Another professor that Iva hasn’t forgotten is Mirko Zurovac, her mentor, who taught her aesthetics and under whom she received her doctorate. Jovan Babić taught her ethics, while she attended lectures on logic by Aleksandar Kron (1937–2000), who she describes as being a very interesting person. She also remembers the excellent professor Branko Pavlović (1928–1986), who was her lecturer on ancient philosophy.

“I was the fastest student, if I may say so myself. I graduated in four years, which wasn’t the norm with philosophy. I always met the first deadline, I liked to “clean up” the year in June. I didn’t chase ‘tens’ and never returned an ‘eight’. It happened in my first year of studies that I transferred psychology to the September and spent the whole summer stalling with that psychology book. I carried it around the beaches, I took that book with me wherever I went. That ruined my summer holidays, which I otherwise love not as a holiday, but rather as a lifestyle. I grew up at my maternal grandparents’ place in Dubrovnik, and when I matured a little, we would head regularly to Omišalj on Krk; we had a house there that my father inherited from his maternal grandfather.”

Iva got married prior to graduating and gave birth to a daughter, Sara. She met Ljubiša Vićanović, her future husband, when she was just 18. He is a lawyer by training, but he never practiced law. Her early choice was a freelance artist and playwright, but they “recognised” each other and already knew during the years that they dated that their love was something that would endure.

It’s important to have patience when raising your children, and not to directly forbid anything. The best way to raise children is through the example of their parents

They spent one period of their student life and after Iva’s graduation living at Ljubisa’s parents’ summer house near Bijeljina. Iva was engaged in post-graduate studies when she gave birth to a son, Pavle, less than two years after Sara’s arrival. And they then moved to Belgrade, and subsequently to Petrovac on the Montenegrin coast.

“We left Bosnia when war broke out. That was a terribly tormenting experience. We came to Belgrade and spent the next two years there. I taught philosophy at the Fifth Belgrade Gymnasium, Ljubiša worked for the famous Radio Belgrade programme “Zabavnik” [Entertainer]. It was tough; we didn’t feel good during those years and we deliberated over whether to emigrate or stay here. There were good reasons to do both. Many of our friends and relatives, members of my husband’s family, who is a Sarajevo native, emigrated en masse during those 1990s. An opportunity emerged for us to rent a house for a year in Petrovac on Sea, to take a little break and see what we would do next. Sara was already attending school, it was still one country, so the same school curriculum applied. We wanted to collect ourselves a little, to spend a year down there, and we ended up staying for seven years. It was during this time that I received my doctorate.”

Iva started her professorial activities at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts, after which is lectured on the Philosophy of Art at the Faculty of Fine Arts, as well as the Aesthetics and Hermeneutics of Fine Arts at the Academy of Arts. She then received an invitation from Faculty of Philology to teach An Introduction to Philosophy at the Seminar for Social Sciences and Aesthetics in the Department of General Literature.

Iva explains what it was like to raise three children while permanently working fulltime.

“Those were specific times, specific circumstances. We moved often and were alone, without any kind of help from our parents. It was hard, but it’s somehow easy to handle because you’re young, because you believe in yourself and your lucky star. What’s most important is that the children were healthy, so complications of daily life weren’t so terrible. And they were good kids. Puberty brought turmoil; we had a proper little war in the house against erroneous values, which had a tendency to sneak into the house.”

When she was appointed dean of the University of Belgrade Faculty of Philology two years ago, Iva won over the affections of not only the academic public, because she beat her opponent in a secret ballot conducted among the Teaching and Research Council with a large majority, and did so in the first round. That hadn’t been her ambition, but she wanted to do something for her College.

“My ambition was to be a good professor, to be good in my profession and to leave a good mark; to teach students what I know best. And I became dean under very specific circumstances. The Faculty of Philology began collapsing dramatically long before my election. Several previous administrations had proven susceptible to both financial and legal wrongdoing, as well as nepotism, which depleted the institution. The last regularly elected dean resorted to a bizarre fraud – he cancelled the electing of the dean by way of a secret ballot among members of the Teaching and Research Council. The two previous lady deans were never elected through a secret ballot of the Teaching and Research Council. It was clear to me that this was a front for something hidden, because it’s impossible for everything to be in order if there is an avoiding of the electing of the dean in accordance with the law, via secret ballot.

Students, just like children, soak up the qualities of a person who enters their classroom. They feel them very well, and what’s fascinating is that they’re very well aware of whether or not you really know the subject you’re teaching

A lot of bad things accumulated at the Faculty, and this led to the coming together of a team of people with full integrity who were dissatisfied with the state that we’d languished in for a long time. We simply spoke up loudly against all of that, because we’d witnessed the demolishing of a serious institution that we really care about strongly. After more than a year of that struggle to introduce some kind of legal framework in which this Faculty would function without the possibility of the administration appropriating money that belongs to all of us, I was recognised on the part of the collective as a person with the necessary strength and ability to restore the reputation that the Faculty has lost. I didn’t feel that it would be right to refuse the request of the large number of people who wanted me in the position of dean and so I accepted the candidacy; the result of this choice was that I had to set aside my personal life and completely step out of my comfort zone. That is demanded by the function of dean at this Faculty and under these conditions.”

She has done, and continues to do, everything she can to bring order to this institution. She says that there’s lots of work to be done in a house that has around eight thousand students and nearly 500 employees. She’s mastered and improved upon the complicated and outdated administration, and is satisfied with the way she’s overcome the financial problems she encountered and established financial control. She works with her associates to establish legal procedures that haven’t existed for years. Everything started with the Statute of the Faculty, via various other acts that didn’t exist and were essential to even imagine the work of the faculty.

The students asked Iva to continue holding classes for them even after being elected dean.

“I realised why it isn’t easy for a dean to hold classes. Your mind is torn when you’re primarily dealing with finances and accounting positions, pipes and electricity, and then you run to the classroom to talk about Kant’s Critique of Judgement. That’s gruelling; it splits one’s mind down the middle. However, I’m the only philosopher in my department and there’s no one to lead Aesthetics instead of me; there’s no one to replace me. On the other hand, that wouldn’t be fair towards the students, because I would leave them without a lecturer for a subject that’s compulsory and one of the most complicated subjects that they have. They asked me to stay.

I promised that I would, with the request that they wait for me in the classroom until I arrive, because I will certainly be running late. And so, they wait for me, I arrive late, but I arrive. I hold classes in basic undergraduate studies, but I’ve given up on doctoral studies. I’ve frozen them until further notice, because I can’t manage it.”

When you hail from a famous family like the Draškićs, you personally carry part of that burden. Iva read a lot as a girl, and when she read The Forsyte Saga, her own Draškićs reminded her of the Forsytes a lot.

“One of the key figures in my life was my wonderful grandfather, Sreten Draškić, who was the kind of grandfather one could only wish to have. I was his only granddaughter and he so adored and devoted himself to me that it’s tough to even imagine. He came to collect me every Friday in his car, a beat-up Citroen ‘frog’, picking me up after school. He would take me home and I would spend time with him until Sunday evening, when my dad would pick me up to take me home. Granddad would devise a programme every time, in order for the two of us to be able to hang out and have as much quality fun as possible. He taught me to play chess, cards, and it was from him that I acquired my first knowledge on Greek mythology and foreign languages. We always knew what we would be doing. We walked, went to the Olimp sports centre, and had Sunday lunch at Aca Devetka. That was a well-planned two-and-a-halfday programme. I travelled around the world with my grandfather a lot. At least two or three times a year, we would tour some important cultural monuments in Europe: Rome, Paris, Vienna, Madrid, London… Granddad Sreten invested a lot of love and energy in my upbringing, which is why his image is among the central pillars of my childhood and youth.”

All the Draškićs achieved something with their lives. Iva’s great-grandfather was the famous general Panta Draškić, her grandfather Sreten was a pre-war diplomat who completed law studies in Belgrade and political science studies in Paris, Sreten’s brother Mladen Draškić was a professor at the Faculty of Economics, his sister Ljubinka was university-educated and worked as the director of the University Library, uncle Dragiša Draškić was a professor at the Faculty of Mining. The entire family lived up to its reputation in society and maintained a very strong family ethic – achieving reputation and status comes by way of one’s personal efforts and personal value.

A professor must, as a person, be and remain worthy of the quality of the content they’re conveying to younger generations

“The Draškićs looked up to their ancestors, but each of them fought independently to express themselves in the best possible way and provide their own contribution to society. My father was also well aware of who his ancestors were, and he appreciated that, but he wasn’t one of those who base their identity on their origins, rather his identity was primarily based on his own work and his personal values. Muci Draškić was a bona fide artist. He was highly educated, in parallel with his directing studies, he also studied art history, just like my mother, who studied literature in parallel with acting.”

Iva is clear about what she believes are the best things she inherited from her parents.

“It seems to me that I have mental stability from the Čučkovićs, from my mother. I handle stress and challenges well. I have that healthy Dubrovnik-Herzegovinian awareness of who I am. It’s somehow clear to me what and how much I’m worth, but I can’t ‘get water in my ears’. I’m not vain and am grateful to God, or to nature, that this is the case.

“From the Draškićs, or more precisely from my grandfather and father, I think I inherited a sense of ease, or the skill of communication. I’m not prone to pretentiousness, and nor were my grandfather and father. Nothing can make me lose my tact and cause me to go ‘crazy’ and say or do something I would later regret. My mum really wasn’t adept on that front, with her it was often the case that ‘what’s on the mind is on the tongue’. That can be entertaining, but it’s not very convenient when you need to communicate with large numbers of people.”

When someone lectures on aesthetics, it’s somehow desirable for them to conduct themselves in a way that says they inherited their behaviour from Draškić. What’s for certain – as confirmed by her students – is that the value system she teaches them succeeds in being ‘adopted’, just as she and her husband succeeded in doing with their own children.

“I’m not among those who think that we were better than today’s generations. I think every generation has its own ways of expressing its own shortcomings. It’s important to have patience when raising your children, and not to directly forbid anything. The best way to raise children is through the example of their parents. And it’s also similar with students. Students, just like children, soak up the qualities of a person who enters their classroom. They feel them very well, and what’s fascinating is that they’re very well aware of whether or not you really know the subject you’re teaching.

I don’t know what tentacles they use to reach that conclusion, but they can clearly see if you have sovereignty and can very easily – particularly in our fields of the humanities – reach the essence of a professor’s personality.

“It’s very important to preserve the possibility of entering the classroom with your head held high and to be able to be calm, collected and true to yourself in front of your students. A professor must, as a person, be and remain worthy of the quality of the content they’re conveying to younger generations.”

The post Being And Remaining Worthy appeared first on CorD Magazine.

Of all the roles she’s played, she loved Tatyana from Eugene Onegin the most, and has even performed the role in four languages: Russian, German, Italian and Serbian. She also sang it at St. Petersburg’s Mariinsky Theatre, receiving critical acclaim with the statement that “such a Tatyana has never previously passed through Mariinsky Theatre”. Famous Russian opera diva and Bolshoi Theatre soloist Galina Vishnevskaya told her: “You know, Radmila, I never received such a critique!”

Francesco Siciliani, who spent 20 years as artistic director of Milan’s La Scala and is credited with having done the most to further the fame and repute of the likes of Maria Callas, Mario Del Monaco and Renata Tebaldi, once told Radmila, but also stated of her publicly in an interview, that she “most wisely managed her career”.

She could have gone abroad, with major opera houses having invited her to join them, but she only ever made guest appearances overseas and never considered remaining resident somewhere else:

“Wherever I went, I could hardly wait to return home. I couldn’t live without my Belgrade, without my neighbourhood that I’d departed from to go out into the world, and to which I always returned.”

Radmila turns 90 this January, and her appearance, demeanour and level of interest in everything occurring in the world of opera, and in her students, ensure that she remains greatly respected. This CorD Magazine interview also provides an opportunity for us to record some of the more important and interesting moments from her rich life.

Radmila’s father, Đorđe, who completed his secondary school studies at the agricultural high school and specialised in vine grafting, managed a nursery in Guča, the small Serbian town that would become famous 30 years after Radmila’s birth, with the establishing of the trumpet festival that is still held remains famous to this day. As the head of the family, he ensured that the members of the household didn’t lack basic things, while her mother, Darinka, cut short her studies at home economics school due to love, wed, and birthed and raised three children. The children were raised from an early age to work in and around the house.

When winter would come and all three of them would gather around their mother, she would sing to them with her divine voice, and Radmila’s older brother, Srećko, would also sing and had an exceptional voice, while Radmila would just open her mouth. She had her first concert in Guča, under the organisation of the Circle of Serbian Sisters, singing to the accompaniment of an accordion. She would also sing for Saint Sava shows at school.

Her father, who originally hailed from the village of Dučalovići in the foothills of Ovčar mountain, was a diligent and wise man whose words of advice have remained with her throughout her life.

“He would tell us never to ignore another person because of the work they do, because by doing so we will only degrade ourselves.” Then, ‘it is far easier to vanquish than to apologise’. And one more that’s worth remembering and sticking to: ‘before uttering a sentence, imagine that you have water in your mouth, so wait to swallow it and only then speak’. We spent the summers with our grandparents on the mountain, while we also had our own plot of land near Čačak, which we would work, and we also had a cow, so I dealt with all the work in the house and on the farm from early childhood. I only had my first proper summer holiday, and saw the sea for the first time, when I married Aleksandar and we went on holiday together.

Wherever I went, I could hardly wait to return home. I couldn’t live without my Belgrade, without my neighbourhood that I’d departed from to go out into the world, and to which I always returned

“I was eight or nine when I learnt to cook. My mother or maternal grandmother would start, explaining to me what to do next, and I would cook and take lunch to them in the fields where they were working. My mother had learnt to sew in home economics school and she sewed for us, and I also learnt to sew as a youngster. I was capable of sewing a costume for myself. Today I still have a sewing machine at home. My younger brother once said that we were ‘privileged children, because we had wonderful parents’. That is the greatest truth and the greatest fortune that we had.”

Among the many photos on the walls of Radmila’s apartment showing her playing various roles, one wall is also adorned with a large tapestry that represents an excellent artwork that she created herself.

“I mostly created that tapestry abroad, while doing guest appearances, working on it during breaks between performances. I also learnt to knit and crochet, while I even spun wool… My upbringing required that a woman know everything that needs to be done in the home. And even today, in these later years, I still do everything around the house, except that a woman comes once a week to wash the windows and doors, and to vacuum. I’m no longer able to do those rough jobs, but I’m accustomed to spending my whole life not being idle.”

Her father’s idea was for his daughter to complete teacher training college, as he was convinced that this was enough education for a girl. He also thought that she should immediately find employment and assist her brothers. Her elder brother graduated from the forestry faculty, while the younger one graduated in electrical engineering and worked as director of the power plant in Čačak.

I only had my first proper summer holiday, and saw the sea for the first time, when I married Aleksandar and we went on holiday together

“I got along wonderfully with my brothers. Unfortunately, during the time of the COVID pandemic, I lost them both in a short period of time. Dad struggled to come to terms with the fact that I’d chosen a different career than the one he’d intended for me, he was constantly afraid about that. He used to say: ‘When are you going to stop spinning in the sky? I’m always worried’. He didn’t like that I was flying by plane so much.”

Radmila Vasović (her maiden name) completed teacher training college in Užice. During the time of her schooling, in 1949, Belgrade hosted a major competition of cultural and artistic societies from across Yugoslavia. Radmila sang as a solo, in a duet and in an octet comprising teachers and pupils. And she won! She was then in her third year of studies, and one Professor Vasiljević, who already knew about her, offered her the chance to move to Belgrade to finish teacher training college and simultaneously become literate in music. That wasn’t possible, as she had a scholarship as a good student, and upon completing her studies she was supposed to move to Tutin to work as a teacher, because a large percentage of the Sandžak population was illiterate. That was a time when the state would decree where the people would work. And yet, given that she was already known as a rare singing talent, the prevailing attitude was that anyone who graduated in teacher training could become a good young teacher, while a talent like Radmila should receive additional schooling.

“Those who decided on my future nevertheless assessed that, instead of Tutin, it would be better for me to go to Belgrade and enrol in secondary music school, as I knew nothing other than how to sing, and only folk songs. Over the next four years, I completed both secondary music school and the Music Academy. And I almost abandoned my studies. I arrived for the enrolment exam, and while climbing the stairs I heard other candidates singing opera arias, and I had absolutely no idea how to do that. I’d heard about opera music in secondary school, but I didn’t know the notes and I didn’t know a single aria. I was heading for the exit when I bumped into a friend from Užice, who nagged me to go back and sing what I knew, and who advised me that when they ask me who I want to learn singing under I should say Nikola Cvejić. And that’s how it was. When I sang what I knew, a member of the committee told the pianist to give me octaves. And they immediately realised how far I was capable of going. They told me immediately that I was accepted and asked me which professor I wanted to be placed with. I of course gave the name of Nikola Cvejić (1896-1987), and that was the pedagogue who helped me the most and meant the most in my career. He and his wife Marija were my second parents. And in my later learning the most precious help to me was provided by pianist Zdenko Marasović (1925-1987).

The Belgrade period of her schooling began in 1951. She sang Mozart’s Requiem with the Academy in 1953, then entered the National Theatre in 1955. It was three years later that Radmila married Aleksandar Bakočević (1928- 2007), the then secretary of the Society for Culture and Education, and in 1959 she gave birth to a daughter, Margareta. She continued singing her roles until the seventh month of pregnancy. Margareta proved to be an excellent pupil. She’d wanted to study acting for a short time, but that was a phase that passed quickly. She graduated, then continued her studies and earned a doctorate in Spanish while she was in Switzerland, where she lived there with her husband, opera singer Slobodan Bane Stanković, with whom she has a daughter, Ksenija, who is also completing language studies. As Radmila’s husband forged his political career and spent many years serving successfully as the mayor of Belgrade, rumours could be heard suggesting he had also been responsible for her successes and accolades.

I learnt to make tapestries, to sew, knit and crochet. My upbringing required that a woman know everything that needs to be done in the home. And even today, in these later years, I still do everything around the house, except the rougher jobs

“He deserves the greatest credit for being always by my side. It sometimes happened that I wanted to withdraw from some contract, to take a little break and spend more time at home with the two of them. However, he always encouraged me to continue. He would say how I’d exerted a lot of effort, that I’d tormented myself a lot, and that was why I mustn’t quit. Perhaps I’d one day regret having missed out on something, and perhaps I’d blame him for having not supported me. I was lucky that my mother was always there to take care of Margareta. My dad once said: ‘I didn’t know that I married both a daughter and a wife! He’d wanted to say that mum was out of the house because of her granddaughter, but he didn’t get angry.”

Radmila and Aleksandar’s daughter was named after the character of Marguerite from the opera Faust, who Radmila portrayed. Her father had given her the name when he went to the municipality to register her birth. The young father had had another meaning for that name in mind. That’s because one of the most beautiful common flowers is known in French as ‘marguerite, and in Serbian as ‘white [white] Rada’, and in English as the common daisy.

She called her husband by the nickname Ale. She loved him dearly and appreciated his exceptional conduct and education.

“We were married for almost 50 years, until he departed, and we never fought. And when he was in the wrong, I would remain silent, and wait for some better opportunity to tell him that he was wrong. I’ve actually never had an argument with a single person. I’ve endured various lies, insults… One of my female colleagues claimed, speaking in front of 10,000 people during one of the Belgrade protests of the ‘90s, that my husband had arranged contracts for me over the phone! I didn’t react. After so many years, she contacted me around ten days ago to tell me that she’d been hugely mistaken about me. What was I supposed to say? To explain to anyone what this job that I dedicated my life to is like, how much time I invested in every premiere, every show, every guest appearance. That story about my husband being a politician and supposedly helping me was so nonsensical that I never wanted to comment on it. I remember on one occasion, in San Francisco, that a critic there wrote that he’d attended my show ‘The Troubadour’ just to see for himself how I’d got there, because it is known that my husband is a prominent Yugoslav politician. And he concluded the article by writing that he’d stayed until the end of the show solely because of me. That was the only time that any critic even mentioned my husband in the context of my work.

“And when it comes to the awards that I received, you should know that I began my career as Radmila Vasović and received my first awards as a young artist with that surname. At the end of the day, do you think it’s possible to influence people in a world ruled by such strict criteria?”

She was a recipient of all the most important awards in Yugoslavia: the October award, the 7th July award, the AVNOJ award, Vuk’s award… In the 1976-77 season. her Norma was proclaimed Italy’s best opera production. She also received awards in Spain, Japan and other countries.

My husband Aleksandar was always by my side, encouraging me to continue. He would say how I’d exerted a lot of effort, that I’d tormented myself a lot, and that was why I mustn’t quit. We were married for almost 50 years, until he departed, and we never fought

The first world opera great with whom she sang was Mario Del Monaco (1915-1982), who made his first guest appearance in Belgrade, in the opera Carmen, back in 1960. Radmila sang the role of Micaëla just a month after giving birth. Later, at the invitation of the Ministry of Culture, the Belgrade Opera was visited by the management of Milan’s La Scala, who awarded Radmila a one-year scholarship.

“I also sang with other greats and had only one goal – to give my all. Several of those foreign colleagues told me that I’d brought tranquillity to the piece. And it was important for me that we understood each other well, that we performed to the best of our ability. Friendships were born of that shared desire. I became friends with most of my colleagues and was accepted in their homes, by their wives. It’s generally the case in that world that if the husband is a singer, the wife goes with him. And vice versa. Together with Franco Corelli (1921-2003), who was the biggest opera star during those years, I sang Norma at La Scala, and that just happened to be for one New Year celebration. My husband came from Belgrade and we welcomed the New Year together, at Corelli’s house.”

When on one occasion she sang Norma in Lisbon, the audience had included the sister of a famous manager called Bingo, who told her brother that she was listening to a singer whom she thought belonged at the Metropolitan. Bingo authorised his agent in Europe to listen to Radmila sing, and that’s how she received an engagement at the world ‘temple of opera’.

It was while she was in America that she met famous Spanish tenor Placido Domingo (1941) for the first time. His wife, Marta, was also an opera singer, but she retired after becoming a mother because she didn’t want ‘other people to raise her children’. Radmila remained on friendly terms with him, and she would often say that he was her favourite partner. When he performed a concert in Belgrade in 2014, this ‘king of the opera’, as he’s dubbed for having performed more than 140 singing roles in his career, he’d looked around the crowded Arena and called out: “Rada, where are you?” And Radmila stood up and declared ‘here I am’, greeting him but remaining in her place. The audience applauded for her to go on stage, but she stayed in her place. She made her last appearance on the opera stage in 2004. She served as a professor at the Faculty of Music Arts in Belgrade, then became rector of the University of Arts. Together with Dr Branko Radović, the then dean of the Faculty of Philology and Arts in Kragujevac, she formed the Department of Musical Arts and the Department of Solo Singing, where she taught and was selected as an emeritus professor. She speaks about her students with pride, to whom she says she was ‘both a parent and a teacher’. She is also grateful to her collaborator at the Academy, pianist Mirjana Tumpej.

At a time when Yugoslav President Josip Broz Tito showed great respect and appreciation in receiving top artists from various fields, Radmila was a welcome guest at receptions hosted by his and his wife Jovanka.

Tito would introduce me to his guests and would always say: ‘My comrade Radmila has never disappointed me, neither as an artist nor as a person!’ He liked to occasionally sit at the piano, to accompany me as I sang

“They both showed great interest in cultural events in our country and around the world. Jovanka prepared very carefully for every foreign visit and wanted to learn as much as possible about the history, tradition and culture of the country she would be visiting. Tito would introduce me to his guests at every reception and would always say: ‘My comrade Radmila has never disappointed me, neither as an artist nor as a person!’ He liked to occasionally sit at the piano, to accompany me as I sang. When I saw him at a reception for the first time after I’d given birth, he said to me: ‘Congratulations, I hope your son won’t be called Faust!’ I was proud that we had such a president.”

The Bakočević family received a gift from President Tito for New Year every year, in the form of a basket of drinks and a basket of tangerines.

Nonetheless, this great artist’s most beautiful and precious memories are linked to the opera scene. She spent a full 14 years singing as a guest performer at the Vienna State Opera. She spent a full 25 years making guest appearances at all Italian opera houses – from Milan’s La Scala to Bari in the south of Italy. She sang at Moscow’s Bolshoi Theatre for an entire month, while the temperature outside remained 37 below. She was healthy and didn’t even get the sniffles. She returned to Belgrade, spent one night at home and then travelled with the Belgrade Opera to make a guest performance in Cairo, where the temperature was 26 above.

When talking about the Belgrade Opera, which was among Europe’s four largest opera houses during that ‘golden age’, she notes with great respect that the greatest credit for that belonged to famous Yugoslav conductor and composer Oskar Danon (1913-2009). Fond memories connect her to world-renowned baritone Željko Lučić, who made his debut for the Opera of the National Theatre while she was celebrating 40 years working on that stage. As she herself says, “Željko is a wonderful man, humble, and I’m very happy for his success”. She also has wonderful memories of one incarnation of Norma that she sang in Paris, when she received a call in Belgrade one morning to travel immediately to Paris and replace Montserrat Caballé, who she was scheduled to sing that evening, but had fallen sick. The singer’s costumes were too big for her, so they brought the costumes of Maria Callas from the museum and she sang in them.

She never liked to see the word diva written alongside her name. She liked to boast about how she sang in factory halls, accompanied by accordion master Dušan Radetić (1923-1967), first singing for the workers a folk song, then a Canzone Napoletana, and finally an opera aria. And they rewarded her with unceasing applause.

“I’m an artist who had a job that she loved. I was lucky that my career was successful, that I had a wonderful family from which I emerged, a wonderful husband, that I have a great daughter and granddaughter, that I was a self-realised and satisfied woman.”

The post Woman Who Wisely Directed Her Own Career appeared first on CorD Magazine.

The ancestors of Aleksandar Denić (59) were educated, dedicated to sport and the arts, mighty in their work and wealthy. The first mayor of Belgrade, Pavle Denić, was the uncle of Aleksandar’s grandfather and a civil engineer by profession. His granddad’s brother, Miomir Denić, was a set designer for theatre and film. His Granddad Jezdimir and father Miroslav were both architects. Together with famous Russian-Serbian architect Nikolay Petrovich Krasnov, Jezdimir did the work on a large part of the interior of the National Assembly, which served as the Federal Assembly for decades. Aleksandar’s mother, Mira, worked at the Faculty of Medicine, though she was extraordinarily gifted in drawing. CorD’s interlocutor describes them as a family of people who expressed themselves within the framework of ‘three-dimensional action’. And actually, his wife, Bojana, is also a great artist when it comes to translating from the German language to Serbian. She is editor of publishing company ‘Radni sto’ [work desk], which deals exclusively with the publishing of translations of literature from the former East Germany.

His upbringing in the home adhered to the standards of what represented the basis of a traditional civic upbringing. That “good upbringing in the home” implied freedom of choice, but also respect for norms that he never renounced. However, as he himself notes, “the older I get, the more often I conclude with my friends that today’s in-home upbringing is what makes us inferior compared to the ruling system of education. A good upbringing is today a handicap. I received an upbringing that was a mix of deeply rooted values from what used to be a civic stronghold, a street upbringing, a military upbringing…onto which self-governing socialism was grafted. In that socialism, decorations and adornments were removed from pre-war façades, in order to ensure they didn’t serve to remind of the past, just as they cancelled the excessive decorum that interfered with the new value system. Nonetheless, everything that then seemed to negate many of the virtues of civil society represented something of a swan song and honey and milk compared to what we’re seeing today.”

In the house of the Denić family (Aleksandar grew up with his brother Ivan), the basic principle of social life demanded that you show solidarity with your friends, with other people. That wasn’t a socialist principle, which the then government promoted equally, but rather an obligatory part of domestic upbringing from the youngest days:

Das Opernglas: if an Oscar existed for opera scenographers, it would undoubtedly have gone to Denić four times. It is also a powerful demonstration of the strength of the drive of Bayreuth Festival

“I don’t know how to separate the rage of helplessness today when I see how people focus rapaciously on themselves, almost exclusively. These are people for whom the only important thing is to satisfy their own desires, which can be reduced down to designer clothing, luxury cars, houses etc. They don’t look to see what’s happening around them, they don’t look to see if some talented young man close to them needs help.”

Aleksandar started playing ice hockey at a very young age and that love has stayed with him to this day. The ice rink at Tašmajdan is only around 50 metres from his house and he still loves the sport. He has long been playing it as a veteran.

“Even today, I plan my obligations around the schedule for our matches. And the days we play are Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays… at Belgrade’s Pionir Hall. I’m always here and always there, in Germany or wherever I’m doing a play. I spend half the week there and half the week here. In the neighbourhood where I grew up, ice hockey was more appreciated than any other sport. I also play football sometimes, but I find it kind of tedious. Hockey is closest to my being, to what I do for a living. Hockey taught me to take hits, but also to hit back. Frank once said when explaining why he works with me that I’m good because I’m a hockey player!”

His collaboration with Frank Castorf (71), which has lasted for the past ten years or so, represents a special period and the most successful chapter in Aleksandar’s artistic work. Running in Belgrade throughout this October and November was an exceptional exhibition called Dekada [Decade], held on several levels of the space of the former Balkan cinema, in which our famous set designer presented his wondrous solutions for the plays that he’s worked on with this director. Castorf, who has an old acquaintance with Belgrade thanks to BITEF – the Belgrade International Theatre Festival, is today undoubtedly one of Europe’s greatest theatre directors. He spent a quarter of a century heading Berlin’s Volksbühne Theatre, the People’s Theatre, and during those years he turned it into the world’s best theatre house. Thanks to Denić, his friend and closest collaborator, he accepted an invitation from Jug Radivojević, manager of the Belgrade Drama Theatre, and made his directorial debut in a theatre not located in Western Europe. At the end of October, Belgraders watched the premiere performance of Dante’s Divine Comedy, complete with additional touches from Goethe, Dostoevsky, Peter Handke et al.

Castorf was born and raised in the former East Germany, and when Denić talks about him, he finds numerous similarities between the two of them that are a result of the similar way of life in the former Yugoslavia and East Germany.

There are thousands of sets produced every year in Germany that are in a similar key, technically perfect, but without enough spice. And I, as a cook from the Balkans, like hot and spicy. It seems they like my recipes

“The two of us recognised each other at first glance. We didn’t talk either about art or work, but rather were unified by us both having grown up in a socialist and post-socialist society. He was funny when he said while giving an interview at the beginning of the pandemic: “Well, Angela Merkel isn’t going to teach me to wash my hands. That insults my elementary upbringing”. That’s also how I would have reacted, because we generally react and comment in a similar way, because we had a similar upbringing in the homes and countries we hailed from. We once surprised and regaled the team working on the opera The Ring of the Nibelung. The main character was supposed to disassemble a Kalashnikov while singing. I took it upon myself to show him how to disassemble a Kaleshnikov, and did the work quickly and efficiently. The members of the team, all of them West Germans, were shocked when they saw how adeptly I disassembled the rifle and ask me where I learnt to do it and whether that was in the war? I explained to them that I’d practised it while in the Yugoslav army on the same kind of rifle that was made at Kragujevac’s Zastava factory. Frank laughed and added: “I can also do that with my eyes closed! I was in the same kind of army in East Germany”. The two of us listened to similar music, watched similar films, and lived in similar ways. Perhaps we were slightly more privileged in Yugoslavia, but that was essentially the same life.”

Given his mentioning of The Ring of the Nibelungen, it is worth recalling that Castorf and Denić marked the 200th anniversary of Richard Wagner’s birth at the Bayreuth Festival by creating a fantastic setting of the opus the four operas of the Ring of the Nibelungen cycle. In response to this work, German magazine Das Opernglas, which is considered the bible in the opera world, wrote:

“One massive wooden barn, with a churchlike tower and all the necessary checklist, is on a wisely utilised moving stage with another of the four different sets that set designer Aleksandar Denić created for this Ring and which, in its impressively monumental size, infatuation with details and functional beauty, probably represent the most magnificent thing that has been visible on any German stage in recent times, but without a shred of doubt represent the most sumptuous and appreciated thing in front of which the Bayreuth curtain has raised in the last 30 years. If an Oscar existed for opera scenographers, it would undoubtedly have gone to Denić four times. It is also a powerful demonstration of the strength of the drive of Bayreuth Festival.”

The last play in the Kastorf-Denić settings done prior to the Divine Comedy in Belgrade is Zdeněk Adamec and is being performed at the Burgtheater, while the play’s author is Peter Handke. The Burgtheater, the Austrian national theatre in Vienna, is the second oldest active theatre in Europe (after Paris’s Comédie-Française) and one of the most important theatres in the German-speaking world. The story of the hero of this play, Zdeněk Adamec, is a tragic one. He set himself on fire in Prague in 2003, similar to the self-immolation of fellow Czech Jan Palach in 1969. The play premiered in September 2021. At the very start of the performance, the iconic music of Yugoslav new wave band Šarlo Akrobata’s song Niko kao ja [No One Like Me], resonates with full force for five minutes. And is followed by a tempestuous and very disturbing story that lasts for four hours.

“Jan Palach set himself on fire in protest against the entry of the armed forces of the Warsaw Pact into Czechoslovakia, and at the time he was celebrated by all the representatives of the free world. Adamec set himself ablaze because of capitalism, banks, Coca-Cola, Louis Vuitton, McDonalds… he set himself on fire because of all that shit. Adamec couldn’t handle this system. He expected something better to come after Soviet domination, and instead came the domination of neoliberalism, which is unbearable for a democratically oriented man. Handke understood that tragic fate, just as Castorf and I understand each other when we consider today’s times. We are bound together by our shared post-socialist worldview.”

Everything that once seemed to negate many of the virtues of civil society represented something of a swan song and honey and milk compared to what we’re seeing today

Castorf and Denić’s latest new production – as we discover from our interlocutor – is being prepared in Greece, where Heiner Müller’s MedeaMaterial will be performed next summer in Epidaurus, near Athens. And immediately afterwards they will travel to Hamburg, where they are working on the opera Boris Godunov. He is delighted that the conductor is Kent Nagano, music director of the Hamburg State Opera, who he refers to as a dear friend and one of his favourite conductors.

In his rich career, Aleksandar has been the set designer for 29 feature films by the most successful domestic and international directors and has prepared stages for more than 70 drama performances and operas, while he is also the author of numerous architectural and interior design solutions for dozens of restaurants and cafes.

“Srđan Karanović hired me already during my studies as a set designer for the film A Film With No Name [Za sada bez dobrog naslova]… His choice was more than brave at that juncture, but it turned out that he was right. That was my first set, and thus also the most important.”

He is a recipient of numerous awards for scenography and his contribution to stage design: the Award of German monthly theatre magazine Theater heute for stage designer of the year in Germany, for the play Journey to the End of the Night (Munich’s Residence Theatre, 2014) and for the play Baal (Residence Theatre, 2015); German opera magazine Opernwelt’s award for scenography of the year 2014 for The Ring of the Nibelung (Bayreuth Festival); the Faust Award (Der Faust preis) for the best stage designer of 2014, for the sets of The Ring of the Nibelung (presented by the German Theatre Association (Deutsche Bühnenverein) and the Federal Office and Representation for Culture and Media, in cooperation with the German Academy of Performing Arts and the Cultural Foundation of the German Federal States); the annual award of theatre magazine Die Deutsche Bühne for the 2013/2014 season, in the category of outstanding contributions to the current development of scenography/ costumes/spatial theatrical situation, while he has also been nominated for the International Opera Awards, 2014 and 2022, in the category of designer of the year, as well as for the 2022 Nestroy Theatre Prize. He is also a recipient of all the highest awards in Serbia for the category of the arts in which he works, including the Sterija Award for the stage design for the play Constantine, directed by Jug Radivojević. He served two terms as president of ULUPUDUS, the Applied Artists and Designers Association of Serbia, and is today a professor at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade, while he already knows everything that he’ll be doing over the next two years. He also takes 150-200 flights a year.

“I have been doing scenography work for four decades. That is ample time for a man to learn what he can do and his limits. An artist knows best whether he has done something well or poorly. It’s nice when someone compliments your work, but I try not to pay attention to critiques. I saw a critic writing in the title of her text after The Divine Comedy: ‘When will it end?’ Let me ask her such a question: do you want us to reduce Guernica, why should it be such a big picture, it’s stupid? Or to reduce the size of the Diego Rivera painting at Rockefeller Center? Why should he paint in the lobby what he didn’t do in his notebook? That’s the logic of looking at a work of art that individuals consider legitimate and use as the basis to value that work. It mustn’t run for too long, or it mustn’t be large. I always respond to that by saying: anyone who doesn’t like watching a play that lasts five hours shouldn’t come to the theatre or the opera.

The point isn’t where you come from, but rather what you are capable of and ready for. I’ve never been limited in anything by the fact that I’m from Serbia. I did my job, which would get me certain qualifications or accolades, and I would move on

“German theatre aesthetics has its own peculiarities, but I push my own story. I don’t compromise and that obviously has an effect. There are thousands of sets produced every year in Germany that are in a similar key, technically perfect, but without enough spice. And I, as a cook from the Balkans, like hot and spicy. It seems they like my recipes.

Elementary courage is to work and not whinge and thresh empty straw. It is easiest to justify a lack of ideas and quality by blaming a poor financial situation. I would claim that there is always money for a good idea. Every normal producer – whether they’re working on a state, a city or a private production – is benefitted by a good idea, which he will later exploit and pay really well for. Intellectual laziness, the enjoyment of failure, endemic pessimism and excuses like ‘the past hinders the present, and the future is impossible because there’s no money’, have become a formula for the behaviour of the cultural elite and should be called by their real names: cowardice and selfishness. The state of affairs is presented as being worse, there is a forcing of pessimism and apathy, with which new people are discouraged and endlessly certify their own status as undisputed queens and kings of dinosaurs. An important question imposes itself: where are the talented and how ready are they; and what kind of clashes should they throw themselves into or abandon?”

Aleksandar’s success in Germany serves to prove that an artist from Serbia who is great and serious in their work can also work on the biggest theatre productions, which have been produced in Germany over the last few decades. This Serb worked on the most German opera productions at the Bayreuth Festival. But did that bother anyone?

“The point isn’t where you come from, but rather what you are capable of and ready for. I’ve never been limited in anything by the fact that I’m from Serbia. I did my job, which would get me certain qualifications or accolades, and I would move on.

“I’m sorry that here we compare between ourselves without a desire and need to look at what’s happening around the world, what’s being done by some of those that are better, more developed. But this has been our problem throughout history. As a rule, in history, through wars, we have always been on the side of the victors, so we always equated ourselves with those great victors. And we never had time to leaf through the code of civilisation. It seems to me that sometimes, because of our poor behaviour in many situations, we are still in the age before we were conquered by the Ottoman Empire. Our behaviour often manifests as uncivilised.”

I’m sorry that here we compare between ourselves without a desire and need to look at what’s happening around the world, what’s being done by some of those that are better, more developed. But this has been our problem throughout history

For Aleksandar, success is reflected in longevity. He says that the Rolling Stones aren’t the greatest because they play the best music, but because they endure. And that’s why he’s irritated by people who claim that the Rolling Stones always play the same:

“That’s not true! The Rolling Stones always play their own music. Just as I do my own work. Whoever doesn’t like that can listen to and watch something else. The artist has his own personal handwriting style and it is logical that this is recognised about him. I’m not a jukebox that someone can stick a coin in and tell to play something. This doesn’t happen with those who stick to their own writing style. The greatest satisfaction of success that you can do what you love. All that’s needed is for you to also be brave.”

This artist feels sorry that the satisfaction of life has been lost among people; that inclusion has become more important than everything else in the world of the arts.

“You must no longer say that you don’t like women’s football, because you’ll be branded. I don’t like either women’s or men’s football, but I don’t see what the problem is in that.”

Those who loved his film sets, especially in Srđan Dragojević’s We Are Not Angels and The Wounds, miss his big screen solutions that are original and often very humorous. He doesn’t regret turning down film jobs, including an offer to do the set design for one of the sequels to worldwide hit The Bourne Identity. He agreed a long time ago to work with Fatih Akin, one of Germany’s most interesting film directors of Turkish descent. Akin is a great admirer of his masterful work.

After having spent the last ten years on the German theatre and opera scene, or the European scene, Aleksandar wears the halo of a darling of the critics.

“Often in the beginning, depending on the editorial policy of the magazine in question, it would be written in one of them ‘Set designer Aleksandar Denić made a piece of crap, or made something ingenious’, while in another magazine or newspaper it would be written ‘Serb Aleksandar Denić has made a piece of crap or something excellent. That’s how I discovered the editorial policies of those newspapers towards Serbia. If I were to get annoyed by that, I would consider that I actually am a Serb and that fact doesn’t bother me. It just seemed to me that it sometimes bothered them a little. That got lost along the way after a certain amount of time, no one mentions that I’m a Serb anymore, so I end up feeling sorry that they don’t mention it at least sometimes!”

The post Courage Is To Work, And Not To Whine appeared first on CorD Magazine.

By decree of French President Emmanuel Macron, the medal of the National Order of the Legion of Honour in the rank of knight was recently pinned on the chest of Sneška Quaedvlieg-Mihailović. She thus received recognition for her many decades of commitment “in the service of European integration through culture”.

“With you, dear Sneška, the Seine has never been so close to the Sava and the Danube. Your life’s path is the path of a convinced European,” said French Ambassador Pierre Cochard when presenting this great accolade to her.

A native Belgrader, Mrs Quaedvlieg-Mihailović says that she grew up listening to lullabies that her mother Radmila (née Petronijević) would sing to her in French. The relationship between the Mihailovićs and France dates back to 1914, when the grandfather of CorD’s interlocutor was a teenager evacuated from the war-torn Serbia to France, only to return years later as a lawyer. Sneška Mihailović herself arrived in France many years later, where – after having completed her studies at the Faculty of Law in Belgrade – she enrolled in specialist studies in European law and politics in the city of Nancy. A fateful encounter with a Dutchman would take her to The Hague, where she would devote herself passionately not only to her family – her son and daughter – but also to her work at Europa Nostra, a pan-European Federation for Cultural Heritage. She says that this civil society organisation is a “wonderful European multi-cultural space without frontiers which – in a certain way – has taken the place of Yugoslavia in her soul”.

Sneška recalls that her first task at Europa Nostra was to write a resolution condemning the bombing of Dubrovnik. Four years ago, at the invitation of French President Macron, she participated in a working group tasked with defining the cultural dimension of the European project. Three years ago, on behalf of Europa Nostra, she raised her voice against the threats to the integrity and authenticity of the Belgrade Fortress, while last year this organisation placed the Kosovo’s Visoki Dečani Monastery in Kosovo on the list of Europe’s seven most endangered cultural monuments.

In late October you were presented with the medal of the Legion of Honor, a major French distinction, in recognition of your dedication to European values and the nurturing of culture as a fundamental value. What does this accolade mean to you?

Of course, it is a source of pride and a great honour, but also it gives me a huge sense of responsibility. I am particularly proud that I received the Legion d’Honneur from President Macron, a leader I appreciate greatly and have also had the honour and great pleasure of meeting in person several times. President Macron is a strong advocate of culture and cultural heritage, both in France and across Europe. His first major speech on Europe was given in September 2017 in Athens, when he spoke very inspirationally, with the Acropolis as the backdrop, about our common cultural heritage as something that represents the foundation of the entire European integration process. Five years on, the slogan of this year’s French Presidency of the EU was “relance, puissance, appartenance” (revival, power, belonging). The term “belonging” actually implies a significantly greater investment in culture, cultural heritage and education, as the most important levers for strengthening links between citizens across the wider European community.

I believe in the beauty and richness of multiple identities. I am a proud native of the city of Belgrade, one of Europe’s great, historic cities. I was brought up in a country that no longer exists – Yugoslavia, but the good memory of my Yugoslav youth will always be part of me

I perceive this Legion d’Honneur as a recognition of my life-long engagement for cultural heritage and for Europe, and this in the framework of a leading European civil society organisation, Europa Nostra, in close collaboration with French organisations, both public and private, that are active in the field of cultural heritage. It confirms that France, as a leading EU country, attaches great importance to these values. Given my love for the French language and culture, dating back to the earliest days of my youth, receiving such a high distinction from France means a lot to me.

You’ve spent more than 30 years dedicated to your work at the Europa Nostra organisation, which is said to be “the European voice of civil society committed to cultural heritage”, and have served as its secretary general for more than two decades. Do you generally believe in the power of the voice of citizens? How powerful is Europa Nostra?

I believe passionately in the power of citizens and civil society organisations to move mountains and successfully defend common causes and the public interest. We are always stronger and better together. That is why I have dedicated my whole life to building bridges between people, organisations, cultures, communities, countries. If we are fragmented, we are weak, but if we join forces, we become more impactful and influential. All over Europe, I have seen so many examples of successful campaigns led by visionary and generous personalities, supported by imaginative and effective civil society organisations: associations or foundations.

The greatest achievements with regard to the safeguarding of cultural heritage have been initiated by civil society organisations, and subsequently embraced and supported by public authorities at all levels of governance. The power of Europa Nostra lies precisely in the “power of example” of our members, partners and supporters. We will next year celebrate the 60th anniversary of our joint action for a common cause. Over the years, the voice of Europa Nostra has become very influential and very well respected. Most people and authorities seek to be praised and applauded by Europa Nostra rather than criticised over erroneous policies and actions that are detrimental to our cultural or natural heritage.

We live at a time that is often described as a period in which the interests of the individual have precedence over those of the collective, when people live for the present moment without attaching value to our past. In this context, from the perspective of Europa Nostra, how strong is the awareness of the importance of preserving Europe’s cultural heritage? In which countries is it imperilled and where is it most carefully preserved; and on whom does that depend decisively?

Over the last 60 years, public awareness of the importance of cultural heritage – not only for experts, but for citizens and their communities in particular – has increased immensely across Europe. And Europa Nostra has contributed to this vital process. During the last 30 years, together with other European networks that have joined forces to form a European Heritage Alliance, itself founded in 2011, we have been successful in placing cultural heritage higher on the political agenda of the European Union and other European and international organisations.

We are extremely proud that such world-renowned opera stars have accepted to place their fame and reputation at the service of promoting the mission and action of Europa Nostra. For us, both Plácido Domingo and Cecilia Bartoli are true personifications of the spirit of Europa Nostra

The European Year of Cultural Heritage in 2018 was a particularly important milestone that culminated with the adoption of a very ambitious European Framework for Action for Cultural Heritage, which promotes a holistic approach to cultural heritage; a future-oriented approach that recognises cultural heritage not as a burden or merely a cost, but rather as a vital resource for enhancing quality of life and living for citizens of Europe, while promoting truly sustainable forms of development of our society and economy. Of course, so much more needs to be done, especially today – when Europe and the world are facing so many threats and emergencies: from the sanitary barrier caused by the pandemic to the climate emergency. The threats to democracies and the rule of law are also posing a significant threat to the protection of cultural heritage. Last but not least, the brutal Russian aggression in Ukraine is also targeting cultural heritage sites; this has triggered a large solidarity movement from our members and the European Union.

A delegation of Europa Nostra went to Kosovo this summer, where you visited the Visoki Dečani Monastery complex, which features on Europa Nostra’s list – for 2021 – as one of the seven most endangered sites of Europe’s cultural heritage. Following this visit, your delegation concluded that all the reasons that led you to consider Dečani as being endangered are still valid. What contributed the most to such a conclusion being drawn?

Europa Nostra decided to include Visoki Dečani Monastery on our 2021 List of the seven most endangered monuments and sites in Europe. In addition to security issues and the legal problem regarding the failure to implement the Constitutional Court Decision on the return of 24 hectars of land to the monastery, the trigger for this inclusion was the increasing pressure on the monastery with regard to the planned construction of an International road that would inevitably increase (heavy) traffic that passes very close to its walls.

According to the usual procedure, following the inclusion of any site on our 7 ME list, experts of Europa Nostra and EIBI visited Dečani and are currently preparing a comprehensive report with findings and recommendations. During this visit, we held many talks with representatives of the international community, including the Commander of KFOR, representatives of the Serbian Orthodox Church, the Mayor of the Municipality of Dečani, the Kosovo Minister responsible for the Environment, Spatial Planning and Infrastructure and the Kosovo Minister for Culture, Youth and Sport. Following these talks, we confirmed that, the reasons for the inclusion of Visoki Dečani Monastery on our List remained valid.

From the moment your concerns over Visoki Dečani Monastery were first announced, your organisation has been the target of criticism from the government in Pristina. You also visited Pristina this summer, but it seems that there was no rapprochement of stances on the issue of relations towards this monastery complex of the Serbian Orthodox Church?

Indeed, the Kosovo authorities criticised our decision to include Visoki Dečani Monastery on our 7 Most Endangered List. We have listened to their arguments and shall refer to them in our report, but we could not accept their appeal to remove the monastery from our list without prior substantial improvement of the situation.

We shall continue to deal with this case as long as we believe that this site is endangered. We, of course, retain hope that open issues will be solved in the foreseeable future. If there is good political will, these issues can be resolved easily.

Did you manage, either as an organisation or personally, to establish cooperation with someone responsible for the protection of cultural heritage in Serbia, with the government, the Ministry of Culture, the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts?

We have established a fruitful dialogue with the National Institute for the Protection of Cultural Monuments and its director and experts. We have heard their views and shall also refer to them in our report. We look forward to continuing this dialogue, and also to expanding it to other relevant bodies, from the government to the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts.

Given your familiarity with European institutions, where you worked at one time, do you think the EU can help when it comes to protecting Visoki Dečani Monastery?

All international and European players, including the European Union, are fully aware of the fact that, for many years already, Visoki Dečani Monastery has been held hostage by the ongoing political tensions and the unresolved status of Kosovo. They would all like to see a breakthrough in the current deadlock. Concerning the EU, we had good and open talks with the EU Ambassador in Pristina and also with Miroslav Lajčak in Brussels.

It is a source of pride and a great honour, but also it gives me a huge sense of responsibility. I am particularly proud that I received the Legion d’Honneur from President Macron, a leader I appreciate greatly and have also had the honour and great pleasure of meeting in person several times

They are keen to read our recommendations. We firmly believe that the EU could, and should, do more as a mediator and key international player in the region to broker some encouraging progress in the much-needed constructive dialogue between all parties concerned, including the Serbian Orthodox Church and the Kosovo authorities.

This is an opportunity to note that major names in European culture also participate in the work of Europa Nostra. The current president is Italian opera diva Cecilia Bartoli. Could you tell us something about your cooperation and friendship with famous tenor Plácido Domingo, who is today your honorary president?

We are extremely proud that such worldrenowned opera stars have accepted to place their fame and reputation at the service of promoting the mission and action of Europa Nostra. For us, both Plácido Domingo and Cecilia Bartoli are true personifications of the spirit of Europa Nostra. They sing our cultural heritage in extraordinary, historic, opera theatres, concert halls or heritage sites. I have had the great honour and joy of working with Maestro Plácido Domingo as President of Europa Nostra during a ten-year period. He is a great artist, a living legend, a force of nature, but he is also a wonderful and generous human being. His annual attendance at our European Heritage Awards Ceremonies across Europe has left a mark on us all.

As soon as he comes on stage, you feel very special vibes of a true giant and genius of European opera. I was very happy that, during these 10 years, I was able to hear my president singing in my native Belgrade twice, in 2014 and also last year. After two mandates as president, Plácido Domingo decided to pass the torch to a worthy younger successor. We could not have found a better person than the fabulous Cecilia Bartoli to become our new president. She was appointed last May and we organised a memorable inauguration event on 6th June in Salzburg, following a fantastic concert at which Bartoli invited Domingo to perform as her special guest. We now look forward to promoting the cause of Europa Nostra under her inspiring leadership.

Displayed beside your name and surnames on the website of Europa Nostra stand markings of two countries: Serbia and the Netherlands. You come from Serbia and your family lives in the Netherlands. How important is it for you that they both be known?

I believe in the beauty and richness of multiple identities. I am a proud native of the city of Belgrade, one of Europe’s great, historic cities. I was brought up in a country that no longer exists – Yugoslavia, but the good memories of my Yugoslav youth will always be part of me. I am a convinced and passionate European who has dedicated my life to the cause of Europa Nostra, a wonderful European multicultural space and family without boundaries. In my soul and in my spirit it is Europa Nostra that has taken the place of my country of origin, Yugoslavia.

Indeed, the Kosovo authorities criticised our decision to include Visoki Dečani Monastery on our 7 Most Endangered List for 2021. We have listened to their arguments and shall refer to them in our report, but we could not accept their appeal to remove the monastery from our list without prior substantial improvement of the situation

Today I hold two nationalities, Dutch and Serbian, and I am an equally proud citizen of these two European countries. I always insist on indicating these two allegiances in any public communication. How I wish I could be equally proud of the level of respect of fundamental values and the rule of law, as well as the quality of care for cultural and natural heritage both in the Netherlands and in Serbia today…

Visiting Kalemegdan this summer, you gave support to activists who are drawing attention to the fact that announced urban projects fail to respect the specificities and importance of preserving the Belgrade Fortress as a historic ensemble. And Europa Nostra has also spoken out, calling for the abandoning of the plan to instal a cable car connecting Kalemegdan and the Ušće confluence of the rivers Sava and Danube.

As you know, Europa Nostra published a thorough report back in July 2019 clearly stating that the proposed cable car project was incompatible with the law and also incompatible with the aspiration of the inscription of the Belgrade Fortress on the World Heritage List, as part of the large transnational nomination related to the Roman Limes. We have communicated this report to all relevant authorities, including the Prime Minister of Serbia. Since we have not received any response, we have included the Belgrade Fortress on our 2020 List of the 7 Most Endangered Sites. Time is passing and we have not yet received any clear sign from the authorities that this harmful and meaningless project has been abandoned. On the contrary, the new Mayor of Belgrade still does not rule out that the cable car will be constructed. Fortunately, very recently, the Anti-corruption Council published a very serious and detailed report demonstrating a series of irregularities related to this controversial project and clearly concluding that it has to be cancelled.

The report duly refers to the campaign against the cable car project led by Europa Nostra, through the decisive leadership of our country representation in Serbia. The current director of the National Institute for the Protection of Cultural Monuments also shares our view that giving the permission to build the cable car on the Belgrade Fortress would be a mistake. In light of all the aforementioned, I remain strongly convinced that the cable car project will not be constructed. However, our “battle” to defend the Belgrade Fortress cannot stop there. We are facing other serious threats to the integrity and authenticity of the unique built and natural heritage ensemble of the Belgrade Fortress, together with the Kalemegdan Park. As you know, while we were campaigning against the cable car project, behind our back the K-District was built in the protective zone of the Belgrade Fortress.

Call me an idealist and an optimist, but I am strongly convinced that if we join local, national and European voices and forces to save the integrity of Belgrade Fortress and revitalise it, we will soon also be able to together celebrate an important victory of citizens for citizens: the proud inscription of the Belgrade Fortress on the UNESCO World Heritage List.

The construction of the K-District on that location is simply a crime. Permission should never have been given to construct such a large and invasive real-estate development in such a prominent location, between the fortress and the Danube. No one serious and honest can claim the contrary. The K-District will be remembered as a “monument” of the negative consequences of the so-called “investitorski urbanizam” and of the deplorable lack of respect for the rule of law in Serbia today.

We must therefore exert further efforts in advocating for the need for a holistic and integrated plan for the revitalisation of the Belgrade Fortress, to be implemented on the bases of high-quality principles, hopefully with the invaluable help of EU funds, with the aim of enhancing the priceless cultural heritage of Belgrade Fortress and safeguarding its historical memory, as well as its outstanding natural location.

All this is in the interest of present and future generations of all citizens and visitors of Belgrade, and also of all citizens of Serbia and Europe as a whole. No further sacrifice or compromise can be made on that front. Any further real-estate development, including sports terrains, should find another appropriate location. Our love for sport, and especially tennis, cannot prevail over such an important public interest and common good as the safeguard of the Belgrade Fortress.

Let us never forget and be inspired by the legendary words pronounced by Major Dragutin Gavrilović, 100 years ago, when he spoke to the defenders of Belgrade: “Obraz Beograda, naše prestonice, ima da bude svetao!” (The honour of Belgrade, our capital city must not be stained!) I hope to have the opportunity to meet the new Mayor of Belgrade in the near future, in order to convey this vital message to him. Call me an idealist and an optimist, but I am strongly convinced that if we join local, national and European voices and forces to save the integrity of Belgrade Fortress and revitalise it, we will soon also be able to together celebrate an important victory of citizens for citizens: the proud inscription of the Belgrade Fortress on the UNESCO World Heritage List.

The post Together We Can Move Mountains appeared first on CorD Magazine.