Every great space possesses a heart, a sacred centre that gives it meaning, much in the way the Louvre is unimaginable without I.M. Pei’s glass pyramid, or Barcelona without Gaudí’s surrealist spires. It is a kind of genetic code, an architectural soul from which all else radiates. I was reminded of this axiom on a recent afternoon, finding myself in the serene expanse of AYA Estate Vineyards. From the moment one crosses the threshold into its gallery, the estate’s heartbeat is palpable – and it has taken the form of a piercing, all-seeing Eye.
This hypnotic object is the work of Bulgarian artist Stoyan Dechev, a creator whose pieces elegantly straddle the line between monumental sculpture and philosophical installation. His ‘Eye’ for AYA is no mere ornament, no casual acquisition intended to fill a void. It is, rather, the artistic centre of gravity for the entire building – a masterpiece devoid of pretence, possessing a cool, almost glacial certainty in its own necessity. The sculpture dictates the trajectory of one’s movement, the play of light across the room, and, I dare say, even the rhythm of conversation among guests. It is the axis around which an entire microcosm gracefully turns: the architecture, the wine, and the people who have come to appreciate it.
One’s mind drifts, almost inevitably, to the giants of site-specific art: the massive, rusting steel curves of Richard Serra that command the Guggenheim Bilbao, or the mirror-vortices of Anish Kapoor that pull the viewer into a dialogue with infinity. Dechev’s ‘Eye’ enters this rarefied conversation, playing with the mass of its polished metal and its profound reflectivity. Yet, where Western masters often position their work in confrontation with the space, here the sculpture has become kin to its surroundings. It is not a guest; it is the host. Not a decoration, but a guardian.
The eye itself is one of humanity’s most ancient archetypes. The Eye of Horus, the Byzantine all-seeing oculus, the Mediterranean ‘nazar’ – universally, it is a symbol of protection, wisdom, and an invisible connection between worlds. Dechev animates this tradition, endowing it with a distinctly contemporary resonance. His creation is a hospitable yet vigilant master of ceremonies. As you enter the gallery, you are met with its unwavering gaze, which seems to pose a silent, Socratic question: With what thoughts do you cross this threshold? Are you prepared to slow down, to see the truth hidden behind the transparency of a wine glass?
View this post on Instagram
And what of the wine? At AYA, it is far more than a beverage. It is a concentrated memory of the terroir, of the sun distilled into a berry, of the winemaker’s quiet craft. It is the bridge between the material and the symbolic. In this sense, the ‘Eye’ becomes the estate’s perfect emblem. It is the key that unlocks the door to a world of complex bouquets; the guardian of the vineyard’s secrets; the protector of a philosophy where every action is considered and precise.
Standing before the sculpture, catching one’s own slightly distorted reflection in its impossibly smooth surface, a realisation dawns: true luxury in our time is not solely the silent sweep of a Patek Philippe complication on the wrist or the scent of Connolly leather in a Rolls-Royce cabin. It is the privilege of finding oneself in a place where art is not merely present, but active. Where it looks back at you, protects you, and fills the silence between words with an almost tangible meaning.
AYA Estate Vineyards has secured its enduring gaze. And that gaze will accompany you long after the last drop of their elite cuvée has been savoured. For genuine art, like a truly great wine, is never merely a backdrop. It is the most compelling interlocutor of all.
