published on Mloki.sk
Journey to the Miracles
Michal Belej, September 25, 2023
My perspective on spirituality stems from my Catholic upbringing during childhood. As I grew older, I became a lapsed Catholic, but a certain belief in a higher principle remained within me. For me, Divadlo Pôtoň represents a place intertwined with spirituality. Although it doesn’t explicitly define itself as such, its creations and overall functioning exude a search for deeper meaning, which serves as a form of therapy for my spiritual void. While some people seek answers in the Bible, I find them in the theater. Driven by a desire to search for something intangible, I attended the Into the Miracles festival. During the pre-election summer, I, too, needed to believe in miracles.
I learned about the preparation for the Into the Miracles festival during a residency in Bátovce. While working on my own projects, I sought relaxation in nature and took several trips around Bátovce. At the same time, as a resident, I was part of the theater’s activities and had a glimpse into the behind-the-scenes preparations. On my own initiative, I explored the Hont region, and the Into the Miracles project seemed like an activity aligned with my preferences—hiking combined with art.
The Into the Miracles festival was conceived as a four-day pilgrimage from Dudince to Bátovce. Along the route, artworks by various artists, predominantly visual in nature, were installed. Performative and musical pieces were concentrated mainly in areas where participants camped. We spent the first night in Dudince, journeyed on the second day to the wine settlement of Stará Hora above the village of Sebechleby, settled in the village of Baďan on the third day, and concluded the festival at Divadlo Pôtoň in Bátovce.
Religious Motifs Intertwined with Art
The format of Into the Miracles draws heavily from religious motifs. In Christian tradition, a pilgrimage is associated with spiritual experiences during journeys to sacred places. Similarly, the festival evokes the Stations of the Cross, which comprises fourteen stops where believers pause to reflect on Jesus Christ’s path to crucifixion. The festival’s map followed a route of stops, with each day culminating in a grand finale at designated stations.
Through art, rural elements transformed into “pilgrimage sites,” and the artworks themselves became akin to “Stations of the Cross.” Observing nature inherently carries a spiritual dimension, and art added further value to this experience. For instance, the series of installations titled Shelters and Sanctuaries by Divadlo Pôtoň’s resident scenographer Katarína Caková (Katanari) elevated hunting stands to metaphorical chapels adorned with art. At the first stand, an intriguing ritual unfolded as pilgrims had to kneel before an oversized egg to peer through a peephole embedded in the shell.
Beyond the village of Hontianske Tesáre, Ukrainian artist Oleksandra Melnychuk installed “innards” inside hollow trees, symbolizing the connection between humans and nature. The placement of this installation also evoked the tradition of roadside saints scattered across the countryside as reminders of higher principles.
The festival collaborated with local churches for several installations. Michal Paľko created compositions from the sounds of church bells, inspired by the story of a stolen bell. Meanwhile, Liechtenstein artist Karin Ospelt used lights, projections, and recordings to transform the atmosphere of an evangelical church into a spiritual space infused with contemporary art.
Ecology as a Higher Principle
Spirituality, in this context, is subjectively perceived. A prominent theme of the Into the Miracles festival was ecology and the relationship with nature. From the outset, the organization emphasized environmentally conscious solutions, such as using ecological hygiene products, serving food in personal mess kits, and making participants responsible for waste management at camping sites. However, the ecological theme extended beyond these measures.
On the festival’s first day in Dudince, performances were held in socially neglected buildings. The eco-oratorio Terra Apathy took place at a train station, while the Norwegian Company B. Valiente’s performance Call of the Terrace was conceptually and spatially tied to a dilapidated spa terrace.
In previous projects, Divadlo Pôtoň demonstrated how to tackle cultural heritage issues with its revitalization of the House of Culture in Bátovce. Slovakia’s obsession with new developments often leads to the neglect and eventual demolition of older structures to make way for new buildings. Seeking solutions without demolition remains a key challenge in addressing the climate crisis. Thanks to the festival, these buildings temporarily regained social function and attracted attention. Their long-term use, however, remains a question for local governments and railway authorities.
The connection with nature also had a philosophical dimension. Walking through forests encouraged participants to observe the surrounding landscape, while the limited food and water supplies in their backpacks prompted reflection on finite resources. Refreshment stations were placed at comfortable distances, but on certain stretches, participants, myself included, occasionally ran out of water and eagerly checked maps for the next supply station.
One notable example was the village of Beluj, where the festival organizers faced challenges securing potable water. The village lacks a water supply network, its wells are contaminated from mining activities, and the last grocery store in the village has been closed. This is the reality in some Slovak villages, where access to drinking water is not guaranteed.
In many cases, the natural scenery or environmental phenomena completed the artistic works. Poet Mila Haugová collaborated with scenographer Markéta Plachá in installations that reflected the landscape. For instance, poetry on milk cartons was paired with views of a meadow full of grazing cows, with the cartons serving as a reminder of the products derived from rural idylls.
The glowing moon and drifting clouds provided a stunning backdrop for a concert by Martin “Majlo” Štefánik and Jonatan Pastirčák. The Icelandic duo Acquaintances utilized the pilgrimage format as a storytelling device for their performance Settlers. Set within the environment, the performance required the audience to follow clues along the route, leading to a grand finale.
On the path from Jabloňovce, participants encountered a sign about local fauna, specifically beavers, followed by scattered household appliances in the forest—first part of a blender, then an electric kettle. Initially perplexed at the sight of discarded appliances, the journey culminated at the Jabloňovka stream, where two Icelandic performers dressed as beavers were apathetically building a dam while clearing trash from their territory. A group of elderly women, mistaking the appliances for litter, began collecting them before realizing they were part of the installation.
While most installations carried a degree of seriousness, David Demjanovič’s works stood out with their humor and playful absurdity. His installation The Smell of the Universe was placed in a chapel in Sebechleby, where a jar of cotton soaked with an unpleasant scent was meant to answer the question: “What does the universe smell like?” Meanwhile, his wooden sculpture Homage to the Bread Roll, located at the Borovica viewpoint, honored this staple Slovak hiking snack. Left in place after the festival, the sculpture serves as a lasting reminder of the event, inviting new explorations of the area.
Peter Kollár’s installation 365 featured 365 pairs of red trousers arranged in poses of kneeling and bowing. Each day, the trousers moved to a new location, with the changing terrain giving the installation fresh meanings. On the first day, the trousers faced a church, evoking images of a religious sect in uniform. On the second day, scattered across green hills, they resembled poppies in a meadow.
Humor and lightheartedness gave certain works a unique resonance amidst the serious tone of other pieces, highlighting the diversity of artistic expression within the festival.
Stops at Scenic Performances
While visual installations were conceived as individual stops, scenic works, due to their length, offered space for deeper contemplation and relaxation, gathering participants at one location, much like a congregation at mass.
Crescendo by Debris Company reverberated with sound and movement, creating an intriguing contrast with the tranquil atmosphere of the Stará Hora wine settlement. Compared to previous works by Debris Company, a notable innovation was the use of costumes, which were not merely aesthetic but central to the performance. Three-dimensional structures on the costume, designed by Andrea Pojezdálová, gave performer Stanka Vlčeková an otherworldly appearance, evoking a giant insect. At one point, I even began counting legs, unable to believe only one person was inside the costume. Later, Pojezdálová directly assisted in transforming the costume, disassembling and rearranging it for Vlčeková to crawl into a dug hole like a caterpillar.
My favorite production by Divadlo Pôtoň remains Pastoral Symphony, primarily for its humor. However, I was disappointed to have missed half of its festival performance, set in the wine settlement of Stará Hora. (Mornings were not my strong suit, and I struggled with packing up my tent.) Pôtoň presented a shortened, minimalist version of the piece, consisting of musical and visual motifs from the original production. While I regretted my tardiness, I reflected on the solution offered by this adaptation. Restrictions by the Slovak Arts Council regarding repeat performances often impose an expiration date on productions. Updating older works into minimalist forms could preserve them in a live format.
During the performance Help Beyond the Line in front of a chapel in Pečenice, I experienced an unexpected moment. As the sun beat down, I began applying sunscreen. At that moment, a van delivering humanitarian aid for Ukraine arrived, and out stepped Katka Koščová. Wearing a straw hat and a T-shirt with the word Hope, she started hugging audience members. With sunscreen still smeared on my shoulders, I silently hoped she wouldn’t approach me—but, of course, she did. Soon after, musician Daniel Špiner joined, playing an accordion to provide music tailored to the audience’s needs. Koščová read excerpts from books, speaking of pain that should truly hurt and tears that should genuinely be shed. At that moment, I began to cry and continued until the performance ended.
Other audience members described similar experiences, leading me to consider the idea of collective consciousness among spectators. At this festival, I was no longer just an anonymous viewer hidden in the darkness of a theater. Instead, I became part of a community that, after days and nights spent together, seemed to align on a shared wavelength. Perhaps this was due to the performers’ direction, which emphasized their authentic selves. While the performance exuded a certain naivety, it felt genuine rather than calculated, presenting music and poetry as a counterpoint to war.
I watched Divadlo Pôtoň’s concluding performance, Chronicles of Light, twice to better grasp its depth. The piece explored the dual nature of light, juxtaposing its scientific dimension as a physical phenomenon with its spiritual significance.
At the start, performers Mária Danadová, Filip Jekkel, and Ela Lehotská brought a giant egg onstage, inside which was a black sphere. Upon its discovery, black fitness balls began to rain onto the stage. The performers wrestled with these balls, attempting to arrange them into a cohesive structure, only for it to repeatedly collapse. These motifs symbolized the tension between spirituality, which historically explained the workings of the world, and science, which has since taken its place.
The giant egg evoked mythical origins, while the black balls represented elemental particles. These contrasts embodied the struggle between rationality and irrationality within the two dimensions of light. However, the conclusion failed to deliver artistic catharsis for me. It felt akin to being at a lively party where the lights suddenly come on, signaling an abrupt end.
The Path Ahead
The festival demonstrated that art, nature, and community can coexist in transformative ways, opening doors to untapped creative possibilities. However, maintaining this momentum will hinge on balancing visionary ideals with practical sustainability. While its first iteration was a bold and innovative step, establishing Into the Miracles as a recurring tradition will require a combined effort from cultural institutions, local authorities, and international partnerships.
Until then, the festival stands as both a testament to what is possible and a challenge to imagine what could come next. Whether it remains a one-time marvel or evolves into a lasting tradition, Into the Miracles has undeniably left an indelible mark on the cultural landscape of Slovakia.
