Tomorrow Hotel

If a hotel can become home, and home transient: what does this mean for the identities we carry, and the utopias we long for? In confronting liminality, Tomorrow Hotel offers refuge for mourning—where hard identities crumble—reaching beyond identity.

Dear reader,

Tomorrow Hotel unfolds inside a hotel room in Taiwan during a period of mandatory quarantine in 2021. Trapped between departure and arrival, the hotel becomes a liminal waiting room — reflecting on the liminality of a Yugoslav identity that no longer exists, while drawing parallels with Taiwan's own journey toward independence. Here, the hotel room becomes a space where one resides when neither their identity nor homeland is no longer here, nor there.

Exploring Taiwan's cities, the project expands on how a temporary place can feel like home, while a home can become transient; questioning the identities we carry and the utopias we long for in our deepest fantasies. It addresses the universal struggle of a world trying to move on, but finds itself trapped: haunted by ghosts of its unresolved pasts and lost futures. A struggle between the ‘‘no longer’’ and the ‘‘not yet’’, which Mark Fisher would have defined as: ‘‘A past that cannot disappear is the equivalent of a future that will never arrive.’’

Facing these ghosts, Tomorrow Hotel transforms its liminality into a space for mourning and reconsolidation — where hard identities crumble. Through the poetics of in-betweenness, it challenges structures and histories once thought solid, ultimately offering a refuge in which we, despite our ideals, are challenged to face the question of how to move ourselves along in an ever-changing world.

I wish you a warm welcome,

Dragan Sarić

This project is a candidate for PhMuseum Days 2026 Photography Festival Open Call

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© Dragan Saric - The spirit of liminality covers the homes I've visited, and the hotel rooms that later became a home to me.
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The spirit of liminality covers the homes I've visited, and the hotel rooms that later became a home to me.

© Dragan Saric - Graves
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Graves

© Dragan Saric - After a rising sun, a new sun started shining in Taiwan.
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After a rising sun, a new sun started shining in Taiwan.

© Dragan Saric - Change of guard at the National Revolutionary Martyrs' Shrine.
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Change of guard at the National Revolutionary Martyrs' Shrine.

© Dragan Saric - The Taiwan and Yugoslavia are the past are physically gone, but people still carry them.
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The Taiwan and Yugoslavia are the past are physically gone, but people still carry them.

© Dragan Saric - That which people cannot express, often boils underneath the surface.
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That which people cannot express, often boils underneath the surface.

© Dragan Saric - Absorbing projection equals getting a second-hand experience of the world.
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Absorbing projection equals getting a second-hand experience of the world.

© Dragan Saric - Change of guard at the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall.
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Change of guard at the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall.

© Dragan Saric - Chiang-Kai Shek Statue.
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Chiang-Kai Shek Statue.

© Dragan Saric - White Terror.
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White Terror.

© Dragan Saric - Change of guard at the Sun Yat-Sen Memorial Hall.
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Change of guard at the Sun Yat-Sen Memorial Hall.

© Dragan Saric - Utopias do not exist in the land of the living.
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Utopias do not exist in the land of the living.

© Dragan Saric - As space disappears, memory lingers.
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As space disappears, memory lingers.

© Dragan Saric - Fear of losing history, makes memory hauntological.
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Fear of losing history, makes memory hauntological.

© Dragan Saric - Old house with Japanese room.
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Old house with Japanese room.

© Dragan Saric - Old clinic that became a scooter shop.
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Old clinic that became a scooter shop.

© Dragan Saric - Because the past occupies us, we cannot imagine new futures.
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Because the past occupies us, we cannot imagine new futures.

© Dragan Saric - My room in Tomorrow Hotel.
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My room in Tomorrow Hotel.

© Dragan Saric - Searching for something that is no longer there—or perhaps never was—ultimately becomes our confinement.
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Searching for something that is no longer there—or perhaps never was—ultimately becomes our confinement.

© Dragan Saric - Does an identity still stand when many disagree with it? Or is it's presence being defined by it's negation?
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Does an identity still stand when many disagree with it? Or is it's presence being defined by it's negation?