One Person Crying: Women and War

The Exhibition ‘One Person Crying: Women and War’ will open as part of the Fortress of Peacе programme arch on 18 June in front of the Svilara Cultural Station at 1 p.m., and will be open until June 24, every weekday from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m.

‘One Person Crying: Women and War’ is an international travelling exhibition, a 35-year personal photo essay by

‘One Person Crying: Women and War’ is an international travelling exhibition, a 35-year personal photo essay by Marisa Roth, an internationally acclaimed freelance photojournalist, documentary and art photographer, born and raised in Los Angeles. She has been working with prestigious publications such as The New York Times all around the world. Roth was part of The Los Angeles Times photographic staff that won the Pulitzer Prize for Best Spot News, for coverage of the 1992 Los Angeles riots.

The exhibition deals with the immediate and long-lasting impact of war on women in different countries and cultures around the world. It’s inspired by a personal family tragedy, which is related to Novi Sad, considering that her great-grandmother, grandmother and grandfather died in the so-called Novi Sad raid in 1942. The photos were taken over a period of over thirty years, covering more than ten war conflicts. This global photo essay deals with the immediate and long-lasting effects of war on women. The exhibition, which toured the world, was shown for the first time at the Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles.

This is how Marisa described her feelings after visiting Novi Sad:

‘My grandmother left the light on for me. I know this in my heart even though I never met her. She was murdered on the doorstep of her home in Novi Sad, Yugoslavia, along with her husband, her mother, and her brother, on a freezing January day in 1942, because they were Jewish. The light came through a window that had opium poppies etched delicately into the glass, on one side of a set of double doors leading into a salon. Its partner in the other door was plain, an obvious replacement for something that was lost. The first time I saw this window was in the summer of 1984 on a day-long family pilgrimage to Novi Sad, which bore my father back to his childhood home for the first time since he had fled Yugoslavia in October of 1938, at the age of 26. Though I didn’t know it, a 35-year odyssey began for me that same day.’

The event is accessible to persons with physical disabilities.

Photo: Marissa Roth