Written by Anđa Stanojković, Young European Ambassador from Serbia

“Theatre has the power to make someone vulnerable…” – we heard these words from director Tara Manić during our visit to the Heartefact Fund House as Young European Ambassadors. As a non-governmental organization, Heartefact operates through project-based funding, with the European Union standing as one of its most significant partners.

Although Serbia has a long and beautifully developed theatrical tradition, Heartefact is a space that places special emphasis on what we might call, in everyday terms, difficult social themes. The play we had the chance to see “How I Learned to Drive”, is a powerful example of the socially delicate issues explored on this stage. It is based on the autobiographical work of Paula Vogel, which earned her the Pulitzer Prize.

The story follows the coming of age of a young girl, Li’l Bit, through her complex and deeply unsettling relationship with her uncle. Their dynamic unfolds through driving lessons, which he uses over the years to subtly manipulate and exploit her. Without taking away from the magic of the performance, we’ll leave it there. Spoiler alert: some of us walked out with a lump in our throat and tears in our eyes.

At its core, the mission of this theatre, and the people behind it, is to remind us that we do not all live the same reality. Everyone carries their own struggles, their own silent battles. And perhaps that is the true purpose of theatre: to reach you, to make you think, to change you. What makes Heartefact truly special is how it does this. Through its space. When you step inside, you’re not entering a theatre. You’re entering a home. You become one with the actors, one with the story. Suddenly, this is no longer something happening to someone else, somewhere far away. For that hour, you are living it. In the dimness of the house (I won’t call it a hall, because Heartefact is so much more than that), as you watch other people’s lives unfold, you are actually learning how to feel again.

You learn that your pain is not isolated, that your fears are universal, and that every tear is, in a way, a return to yourself. Theatre teaches empathy, that rare, almost forgotten ability to step into someone else’s shoes, to live another life for ninety minutes, and walk out just a little softer, a little kinder, a little more human. It reminds you that you are not alone.

Another thread we explored in conversation with the people working there was the relationship between theatre and democracy. Theatre teaches you to think critically. It shows you that there are no taboos, no fixed boundaries. It is the driving force behind both personal and societal change – a light at the end of the tunnel, a quiet promise of a better tomorrow. Perhaps that is why it endures through history. Because even when it seems like an escape from a harsh reality, theatre is, in truth, its reflection. A mirror held up to society. It doesn’t give you answers , it teaches you how to find them within yourself, instead.

And in the end, we must remember, the “earth” without “art” is just “eh.”