Peter Semolič
Razmišljam o sanjah. Ne o katerihkoli sanjah, ampak o sanjah, ki jim rečemo »budne sanje«. Torej takšne, ki jih sanjamo sredi belega dne in z odprtimi očmi. Takšne, ki gradijo alternativne interpretacije resničnosti, ki gradijo alternativne svetove temu, v katerem živimo in o katerem nas oblastniki prepričujejo, da je najboljši izmed možnih svetov … da je edini možni svet.
Imel sem to srečo in čast, da sem bil tri dni del dogajanja, ki nosi več kot pomenljivo ime Sanje v Medani, festivala, ki se ne ustavi le pri imenu, ampak to ime udejanja na vsakem koraku in tako iz skrbno orkestrirane, a tudi spontane mešanice drobcev glasbe, poezije, likovnosti, igre … tke sanje, budne sanje.
Ernesto Sabato je nekoč rekel, da je umetnost za človeštvo isto, kot so sanje za posameznika. In da vemo, kaj se zgodi, če človek preneha sanjati. Ko me kdo vpraša, kaj smo počeli tiste tri dni v Goriških Brdih, odgovorim, da smo sanjali. In mislim, da s tem povem vse.
Sofya-Agnessa Yakuntsova
Ozračje se zamaje od ganjenosti.
V opoju Poezije smo v gosti temi visokostropne sobane Vile Vipolže in Viteške dvorane Gradu Dobrovo trepetali od kozmično silnih sunkov Lepote.
Prvi večer — čarni spoj orientalske melizmatike in slovanskega pathosa.
Drugi večer — performerski vzgib pod oboki žametnih vek nikdar zapoznelega klica minulega časa.
Tretji večer — trepetajoča žila mesečniških strun, ki izgovarjajo jasno, brezkompromisno, na veke vekov doneče, pozivno, pristno človeško.
Tkiva prepreda Zvok.
To je naš glas, ki se razrašča.
Glas Pesmi, ki ne bo nikdar pustila,
da ji stopiš na vrat.
Foto: Jernej Humar
Jani Kovačič
Svet je poln čudes! In nedvomno je eno od teh sanjski festival v Medani.
Foto: Jernej Humar
Ivan Peternelj
Sanje v Medani je festival človečnosti, umetnosti in čudovite pokrajine. Preplet domačnosti, spontanosti, sonca in vetra ter preseganje meja v vseh ozirih je tisto, kar festival povzdiguje na raven, kjer se rojeva upanje za svet. Kot zapiše A. Cassar v zaključnem delu svoje pesnitve Potni list:
» Tvoj je ta potni list za vse ljudi in vse dežele, …
… če želiš ga lahko vržeš v zrak in gledaš, kako prhuta in leti v vetru,
in te ponese, če želiš,
s seboj.«
Vsak človek ima pravico do Sanj, pravico do Upanja, sveto pravico do ŽIVLJENJA.
Foto: Nataša Porenta
Matimatimati
"Včasih je treba čakati in časovati. Časovanje ni spanje, časovanje je čas, ko se tkejo sanje. Ko jih je dovolj natkanih, se prej ali slej kaj zgodi."
Foto: Mili Arapović
Sanja Fidler & Brane Solce
Z veseljem sva "zasanjala" prostore, lepo nama je bilo spoznati nove pesniške duše, lepo zopet videti briške griče, in z lepim občutkom sva se vozila mimo balkona, kjer ni več petelina Srečka v kletki. :)
Foto: Jernej Humar
Vesna Bukovec
Sanje v Medani so angažiran festival s srčnimi ljudmi, zaljubljenimi v poezijo in glasbo, ki si upajo sanjati boljši svet. S festivalom sodelujem že četrto leto in vedno znova so ti dnevi v Brdih nekaj čarobnega. Letošnje Pesniško potovanje z branjem poezije v temni dvorani bo še dolgo odzvanjalo v mojem spominu.
Milena Mileva Blažič
Nekajkrat sem se udeležila literarnih dogodkov v organizaciji založbe Sanje. Na (slovensko mladinsko) književnost gledam razvojno, razmišljam, kateri avtorji, besedila, dogodki … poganjajo razvoj književnosti in imajo humanistične vrednote. Založba Sanje je ena izmed redkih založb, ki poskuša ohraniti samoumevno ravnovesje med ekonomskim in socialnim razvojem, med prizemljenostjo in milnim mehurčkom iluzije, med morati in hoteti.
Interpretirala bi Shakespearjev Vihar ali socialni upor, ko videc Prospero napove Freudov arhetip “dnevnega sanjarjenja”; že v renesansi se zasliši misel: “Iz take smo snovi kot Sanje …”.
Etični Človek vizionarja Kosovela spregovarja:
“Ne pišem, da učim,
marveč da vzbujam tudi Vam misli.”
Tudi Sanje ne organizirajo literarnih dogodkov z namenom poučevanja, temveč spodbujanja razmišljanja.
Antoine Cassar
On the journey from Ljubljana to the Sanje festival in Brda, I was feeling rather tense, a little cynical, and helpless. We crossed the Slovenian-Italian border twice, as freely as the breeze, carrying hundreds of passports we did not need to show. But it would take me a little time to tune in to the soft green pleasance of the Brda hills and the collective excitement of the festival. If the Mediterranean Sea is shaped like a stork with outstretched wings, we were driving close to the tip of its elongated beak, but I was present and absent at once, following developments 2,000 km to the south, at home in Malta, closer to the bird’s flaming tail.
After six nights stranded at sea, the voluntary rescue vessel MV Lifeline, with 233 refugees on board, had finally been permitted to disembark, yet the captain Claus-Peter Reisch was appearing in court accused of 'registration irregularities'. He had bravely disobeyed orders to return the rescued people to Libya, and the institutional intimidation was shamelessly evident. Emboldened by the new fascist government in Italy, the Maltese authorities are actively persecuting NGO rescue ships: after a number of years operating from the island, the Seawatch3 had suddenly been forbidden from leaving the Marsa port, whilst the Astral of Proactiva Open Arms was now no longer permitted to resupply in Malta. The message being channelled is clear - solidarity, compassion, putting human life before the 'national' or 'European interest', are not only to be discouraged, but considered criminal activities. "Let them dream, let them drown" is now officially declared government policy. That morning, my body was travelling in the car, but my spirit was among friends and fellow activists showing support for captain Reisch, with banners and lifejackets in front of the courthouse in Valletta.
Rather than a shroud and graveyard, or worse still, a genocidal weapon, the Mediterranean can be a bridge of optimism and social justice across continents. In the current climate of trial runs for a hyperconnected fascism, it is becoming ever more strenuous to maintain a stance in favour of universal freedom of movement (as opposed to privilege of travel or elite expat experience). In my case at least, the sensual positivity and hopeful impetus which, back in 2009 whilst walking in Chliean Patagonia, breathed life into the Passport poem, risk petering out completely if I allow cynicism to control my thoughts and emotions.
My tension soon dissipated once we arrived at Vila Vipolze. Sanja Fidler and Brane Solce, tasked with setting the scene, had improvised a ‘Kontrola’ checkpoint just inside the entrance to the palace, transforming two tall display cabinets of old books into an airport security body scanner. Cue the simple yet exhilarating idea we had been seeking, after 24 hours circling in vain. The ‘scanner’, the two columns of open books, could also be a portal to the realm of literature and utopia. This installation would be an ‘anti-passport checkpoint’. After collecting their poetic ‘Potni list’ from reception, each visitor passes through the portal. Once through, they are greeted by a no-border guard (actors Miha Razdrih, dressed ironically as a blackshirt, and Ivan Peternelj as a Bedouin), who asks them for their passport, flicks through it silently, then reads out a random line from the poem. "No need to be blinded by a retinal scan...", "No need to cross the Rio Grande...", "No one to squint or glare at you...", etc. In Slovenian, as generously adapted by Vera Pejović & Peter Semolič for Sanje. The no-border guard then returns the passport, and invites the visitor to continue towards the performance hall.
This soft bolt of lightning set the tone of my experience of the Sanje v Medani festival over the following three nights. The humble sense of welcome. The quiet boldness of being open. The courage of imagination we so badly need. We should unabashedly dare to dream, to believe in humanity’s capacity to overcome its inner demons and co-exist in creative peace. Poetry, music, and of course, a little shared wine (and long walks in a Brda landscape), can help us cultivate the faculties we need to be invidually and collectively humble, open, and imaginative.
One evening two years ago under the tent of Kavarna Sem in Ljubljana, my backpack was stolen, together with my real Maltese passport. I am deeply grateful to the Sanje team, and to Vera and Peter, for now handing me a much better replacement, a trusty multilingual companion to be filled not with visa stamps, but with dreams.
