Art festivals possess the power to revitalize forgotten spaces, breathing new life into abandoned structures, or conversely, pave the way for property developers. The Anozero festival in Coimbra is exploring a more audacious, confrontational strategy.
Should you find yourself spending a night at Coimbra’s Monastery of Santa Clara-a-Nova in the not-too-distant future, be forewarned: the location is almost certainly haunted. Disembodied children’s voices reverberate through the first floor of the 17th-century convent, majestically situated atop a hill in Portugal’s university city, offering a panoramic view of the medieval center from across the Mondego River. Within the garages, dry foliage has been meticulously arranged into geometric patterns, evoking the atmosphere of a wicca ritual. One requires the fortitude of a ghost hunter to traverse the pitch-black ground-floor corridor of the dormitory wing. Illuminated solely by a neon strip at either extremity, tormented wails ambush unsuspecting visitors emerging from the monastic cells. These laments, sung in Albanian, Chinese, Kurdish, Kyrgyz, and Turkish, are an integral part of an installation by American artist Taryn Simon, yet they resonate as spectral echoes of the nuns who inhabited these quarters for two centuries.
Anozero Festival: An Anarchist Approach to Art
In a bid to counter the potential ennui surrounding traditional art biennials, Coimbra’s Anozero festival has embraced an anarchistic and confrontational ethos. The festival aims to infuse abandoned structures with vitality, steering clear of the typical trajectory that often leads to gentrification and property development.
An Immersive and Eerie Experience
Visitors to the Monastery of Santa Clara-a-Nova are met with an intensely atmospheric experience. The haunting echoes of children’s voices and the eerie arrangements of foliage contribute to a sense of spectral presence. The dormitory wing corridor, shrouded in darkness and punctuated by disembodied wails from Taryn Simon’s installation, creates a visceral encounter that seems to invoke the spirits of the former inhabitants. The multilingual laments, sung in languages such as Albanian, Chinese, Kurdish, Kyrgyz, and Turkish, further amplify this haunting ambiance, serving as a powerful reminder of the monastery’s rich and spectral history.