Communal dining, terraces and one enriched neighbourhood

Communal dining, terraces, and a revitalised neighbourhood

It is no secret that communal dining is deeply woven into humanity as an important ritual, and that the table represents much more than simply a place to eat. Plato himself recognised communal dining, or syssitia, as an important part of everyday life, and the DUK Festival found its own place for communal dining very early on at Mladost Tavern, which over the course of the festival's 11 years has welcomed artists from all over the world and showcased the famous Balkan hospitality in the best possible light.

It is also common knowledge that important deals are made in taverns here, so it comes as no surprise that Mladost Tavern, together with Republic Café, is this year sponsoring a long mural located directly opposite their establishments. This is where we find ourselves at the intersection of two sides, both of which face a problem: the residents of the building, who have given up repainting their terraces because they are repeatedly covered in layers of graffiti, and the owners and guests of the establishments, who look at these graffiti-covered terraces every day, wishing to see something different. The problem is there, but fortunately, so is the solution, which, through the lens of the DUK Festival, seems like the only logical one – painting a mural. And not just any mural, but one that would offer something more to both sides through the symbolism of the Pirot kilim.

Before we go on to explore this symbolism, let us tell you a little about the entire process of painting what we then called “the terraces”. After knocking on every door and presenting the idea of painting the residents’ terraces to the apartment owners, we were greeted with expressions of both relief and enthusiasm. Each of them also had a story to tell about how they had tried to solve the problem themselves, how they had eventually given up repainting their terraces, as well as one particularly creative solution from a neighbour who had painted a shape resembling a graffiti tag in green and white, making sure that the canvas would not remain blank and that any graffiti artist would think someone had already got there first. The location between the tavern and the café, both supporting the creation of the mural, with so many neighbours delighted by our presence, a grocery store on the left and the city's most famous fruit and vegetable shop on the right, proved to be exceptionally favourable for painting a mural. To put it mildly, there was no shortage of food and refreshments, gratitude was expressed all around, and by the end of the painting process, we had completely mastered a particular conversation that kept coming up.

“It's really lovely that you're painting this, but they'll cover it up again very soon” was a sentence we heard through the noise of the busy Nemanjina Street more times than we could count (and we did try keeping a tally). Our responses ranged from brief “No, they won't, they won't” to longer explanations for those who stopped to listen: this is already a long-standing tradition, and we have 130 murals as proof that the artwork will remain untouched. As is often the case, sceptical expressions turned into optimistic ones after just a few days, when people noticed that the work had successfully survived several nights and days in Čačak. By the time we were nearing completion, it was already clear that everyone could breathe a sigh of relief and that our collective effort had truly paid off.

Now, there is one more thing we kept calling out to passers-by who stopped to ask questions above the rumble of this very busy street: the meaning behind the mural itself. Remember the communal dining from the beginning of this story, the taverns and the table, and how all of this contributed to the creation of the mural? Then the fact that the elongated motif painted across these terraces is the sovra from the Pirot kilim should come as no surprise. The sovra is, in fact, a symbol of communal dining and togetherness around the table. It encourages the art of conversation and wisdom, while attracting peace and harmony. What better wish could there be for the establishments on one side and the neighbours on the other? For the former, to preserve their tradition, and for the latter, to invite harmony and new agreements. Our neighbour Vera has already set this in motion, as the final brushstrokes were being applied to her terrace, and she continues to encourage her neighbours to work together to improve their shared surroundings.

And finally, here is what Sofija, a waitress at Republic Café, had to say about the days of painting:

“Honestly, it feels so nice now when I look across from the café and, instead of those ugly graffiti, swear words and scribbles, I see something tangible, something meaningful that represents art. The Pirot kilim has brought a special warmth to the space and completely transformed its appearance. It was really interesting for us to watch them paint, to follow the process and see how the wall gradually turned into something beautiful. They often came over for coffee, so we gradually got to know each other, which made the whole experience even more special. It is wonderful when people leave something behind through their hard work and creativity that makes everyday life more beautiful for everyone who passes by. Now it is truly a pleasure to look out the window and see something beautiful.”