AYA Estate Vineyards is not just about wine; it is about continuity. A place where art is rooted in terroir, and where a bottle is more than a drink – it is a keepsake of beauty, passed forward.
In the far southwest corner of Bulgaria, where sandstone hills melt into dusty golden light and the Struma winds whisper across ancient vines, AYA Estate emerges not merely as a winery – but as a meditation on legacy. Visiting AYA is not like tasting wine alone; it is like entering a cathedral of senses, where every detail – architecture, art, oak, terroir – is calibrated for beauty, for meaning, for something that outlives the fleeting. AYA Estate Vineyards emerges as a unique fusion of viticulture and contemporary art.
Irena Gergova-Spasova
AYA Estate Vineyards, officially opened on 27 September 2025, is the fruit of over ten years of vision and steadfast labor. Founded by two families – Stanimir & Dilyana Vasilevi and Nedelcho & Irena Spasovi – its purpose has never been modest: to speak in a language where art and wine share syntax. We sat down with Irena Gergova-Spasova one of the estate’s founders, to discuss the decade-long journey behind AYA, the intertwining of art and wine, and the promise of building something meant to outlive its creators.
When did the idea for AYA Estate first take root?
Nearly ten years ago. At first, it was just a hobby – my husband and his partner purchased vineyards, and we produced our first harvest at a nearby winery. But it quickly became clear that if we wanted to do this properly, it had to be in our own space, on our own terms. That was the turning point: either remain casual winemakers or create something meaningful, a place that embodied our values. AYA was born from that decision.
From right: Stanimir & Dilyana Vasilevi and Nedelcho & Irena
The building itself is remarkable. What was your architectural vision?
We wanted harmony with the landscape, not a monument that shouts at nature. WhATA, our architects, designed what many call an “invisible building”– the façade mirrors the vertical cut of the surrounding sandstone, blending seamlessly into the hills. Inside, the journey unfolds across three levels, from the Zen garden to the barrel room, which has the light and stillness of a cathedral. It’s not just functional; it’s meant as an emotional experience.
You also plan to add hospitality to the mix. What can we expect?
Yes, we dream of building a hotel in the same architectural style, but we’re careful. We are not hoteliers ourselves, so we’d need a specialized partner – ideally someone who understands how to marry luxury with authenticity. Six Senses or Four Seasons have not yet discovered this corner of Bulgaria, but we hope the region will eventually attract that level of interest.
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Your vineyards are both historic and experimental. How do you balance tradition and innovation?
We inherited old vines, including French varieties, but over time we realized our mission is to honour what is native here. Bulgaria doesn’t need another Pinot Noir – it needs ambassadors for its indigenous grapes. That’s why we focus on Shiroka Melnishka Loza, a grape with an extraordinary personality: late-ripening, complex, with notes that range from cherry and herbs in youth to leather and tobacco with age. It carries the voice of Melnik like nothing else.
Art seems central to AYA’s philosophy. Why was it so important for you to make it part of the estate?
For us, art and wine are inseparable – they both speak to the senses, they both create memory. From the beginning, we wanted AYA to be more than a winery; it had to be a cultural center. Today, we have around twenty artists represented, with eight site-specific commissions. Each piece belongs to this landscape: Marianne Lang’s monumental drawing of vines envelops a wall in our bistro, while Gabriela von Habsburg’s stainless-steel sculptures live in the vineyards, reflecting sun, sky, and even the trellising wires of our vines. Stainless steel is not just symbolic; it’s part of our vineyard’s DNA, since it holds up our vines. Gabriela’s works are both resilient and poetic, designed to withstand seasons just as the vines do. They don’t dominate the landscape – they converse with it.
How do you curate such a collection? Do you see yourself as a collector?
I wouldn’t call myself a collector in the traditional sense. For us, each work must be integral to AYA, not just an acquisition. We move slowly, deliberately. I rely on curators for expertise, but I also bring my own background – my father was an artist, and I studied art myself. That helps me connect with artists and understand processes. In the end, it’s passion that guides us.
What’s next for the art program?
We want to keep growing, but always with precision. Bulgaria is full of talent, and supporting local artists is a priority. But we also need international names to attract visitors and create resonance. We’re looking at Greece and Turkey, and even South America – it’s fascinating what I see from there. But again: slowly, carefully, only when the piece feels truly at home here.
One piece feels particularly central: Stoyan Dechev’s “Eye.” How do you see it?
For me, it’s like a typhoon, energy funnelled from the sky into one point, then radiating through the building like roots. It’s our axis, our heart. Every great space needs one masterpiece that holds everything together. For us, that is the “Eye.”
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You’ve travelled widely. Which place most inspired you?
Japan. Their mastery of detail is extraordinary. At the Hakone Open-Air Museum, I discovered a book that changed my perspective: they rotate their collection with the seasons. Snow, autumn, spring – each transforms the art completely. That kind of sensitivity is what I admire and aspire to.
What ultimately drives you in such uncertain times?
Legacy. This is not only for us, not even necessarily for our children – it’s for future generations. People here don’t have easy access to major museums. If even one child from this region grows up inspired by what we’ve built, it will be worth it. Who knows? Perhaps Melnik will one day become a hub for creative industries, like Emilia-Romagna in Italy. The seeds are here – you just have to plant them.
