Stricken by
misfortune, a Jewish
man had decided to flee. He had disposed of his few belongings, bid
farewell to relatives and friends, and had gone to the rabbi to receive
the final blessing and a word of comfort.
"So, your decision is
made?" asked the kind rabbi. And after a moment, "And tell me, are you
going far?"
"Far from where?"
replied the Jewish man.
There are territories that, despite being geographically close, appear
so distant as to belong to a completely different world. This is the
case with the former Yugoslavia and its architectures, which are the
focus of this issue curated by Marina Tornatora, Blagoja Bajkovski, and
Ottavio Amaro. Morphological reasons, such as the presence of the
Adriatic as an isolating element, are not sufficient justification for
this perception. The reality is that we are victims of our own cultural
heritage, which steers us north rather than south and west rather than
east. However, in response to this distance, we could pose the metaphor
used as the title of Claudio Magris's book, Far from where? (Lontano da dove?)
As well illustrated by the curators, the liminal condition of being on
the border between the West and the East has triggered a process of
self-definition, both decisive and interesting, that has characterized
the architecture of these territories. It's important to remember that
these territories have recently undergone division.
When we reflect on a topic, we place ourselves at the center and
measure the conceptual distance from a condition that constitutes our
benchmark. If in the past, Yugoslavia struggled to emancipate itself
from architectural imperialism, one that imposed standards in the name
of a political ideology, the division into autonomous entities only
encourages an architectural diversity to be understood as enrichment
rather than impoverishment.
Multiplicity has always been synonymous with choice and freedom.
Construction (architecture) is always a testament to culture, and the
resulting city is a palimpsest of cultures that succeed one another
over time.
Although focused on a specific historical period of the 20th century,
the articles presented here reflect an
attempt to draw the attention of architecture scholars to a context
that is both unrecognized and close.
In an article published in this magazine a decade ago, I reflected on
the concept of European architectural identity and, in particular, on
the existence of a set of characteristics (or the prevalence of common
characteristics) that better define architecture. I realize that a
decade in this century, which seems to proceed at an accelerated pace
compared to previous ones, is a sufficiently long period for many
reflections to appear outdated or even anachronistic. I wondered then
if it would be possible, by analogy, to apply the question to the
Balkan region. In other words, is there a Balkan architecture, and if
so, what are its prevalent characteristics?
We believe that the role of a magazine like FAM is to continue asking
questions rather than providing certainties, and the issue on Balkan
Architecture aligns precisely with this direction.