TU ZNOTRAJ NI ZAME NIČESAR SLABEGA DIH premiere predstav v DUM v Ljubljani: 3., 8., 14. in 16. junija 2026 ob 20h English below Kadar začne kamen rasti, rase najprej hudo počasi. Ne zapaziš ga, da rase, stopaš nanj, pa misliš nase. – Gregor Strniša, Pesem o kamnitem pragu GVR Nobenih reflektorjev, nobenih projekcij, nobenih mikrofonov, nobenih ojačevalcev, nobenih novih medijev, nobenih mobilnih telefonov, nobene umetne inteligence, nobenega listanja časopisov, nobenega lastninjenja, nobenega striženja las ali nohtov in predvsem nobenega prinašanja lastne hrane. Ni prostora v dihu za dva vonja obenem. Projekt izhaja iz petja kot najbolj intimne oblike prisotnosti – glasu, ki ne nastopa, ampak razpira prostor. Tu znotraj zame ni ničesar slabega je vokalno performativna raziskava prostora kot zatočišča, vibracije telesnega spomina in Pozabe. V času nenehne zunanje izpostavljenosti delo obrača pozornost navznoter – v mehke, ranljive dele telesa, kjer zvok nastaja pred besedo, pomenom in razlago. Dih je medij, biološki loop in kolektivni metronom, ki v permutaciji fragmentov glasu, šumov in melodij odpira vprašanje, koliko bližine še prenesemo in koliko tišine še znamo slišati. Petje nas katapultira v paradoksalno pokrajino neskončne samoprisotnosti vseh in vsega, kjer ni več nobene potrebe po razumevanju. Vokalna postavitev obiskovalca vabi, da za trenutek upočasni tempo in se poveže z ritmom biti. Poudarja pomen prisotnosti, tišine in zavestnega doživljanja trenutka. Vsak ton je poskus bližine in vsak vdih dejstvo obstoja. Armenija. Blazina. Cimet. Dežnik. Drevo. Galeb. Harmonika. Igla. Jakna. Kamen. Knjiga. Kolo. Kozarec. Kurac. Ladja. List. Megla. Miza. Oblak. Ogenj. Okno. Palac. Paprika. Pesem. Pismo. Planina. Polje. Potok. Pristan. Računalnik. Reka. Svetilka. Sonce. Stol. Šola. Šotor. Trava. Veter. Voda. Vrt. Zavesa. Zima. Zlato. Zob. Zvonec. Žaba. Žep. Žlica. Žoga. Življenje. Maori Haka. Od časa do brezčasnega. Čim prej. Čim počasneje. Čim nežneje. Čim bolj čustveno. Čim bolj trajnostno. Čim bolj iskreno. Iskrivo, stabilno in krhko. A cappella za jok na smeh. Tu znotraj zame ni ničesar slabega ni afirmacija. Je vaja poslušanja. Za mešanico predzadnjega vagabunda in prvega slepega potnika v potovanju na Venero. Na glavi pol melone, proge srajce naslikane na koži, dva usnjena podplata pribita na stopalih. Zdi se, da ga edino jaz vidim; ker on gre mimo ljudi in lutke mu mežikajo, semaforji mu dajo tri svetlo modre luči in pomaranče z vogalnega sadnega drevesa mu mečejo svoje cvetove. Bila sem ženska, ki je pela tako tiho, da si moral utihniti z menoj. Njen glas ni hotel zmagati nad svetom. Hotel ga je samo za trenutek omehčati. In morda je to vse, kar iščemo v petju – da nam za nekaj minut uredi dihanje v tem utrujenem svetu. Rada bi govorila s teboj kot komunistka s komunistko. V tvojem dihu je junija lepo videti pol decembra v tihoti, uro hoda dolgi in dve uri hoda široki. trajanje: 43 minut GVR · režija: GVR · performans: Irena Preda · dramaturgija: Nina Meško · take one: Tatiana Kocmur, Jurij Podgoršek · a=tF²: !gor #352; · fotografija: Sunčan Patric Stone · hvala Roberti Flack, Astorju Piazzolli in Jang Manu · produkcija: GVR Zavod za umetniško produkcijo · soprodukcija: DUM, KIBLA Maribor, Cirkulacija² · predstava je sofinancirana s sredstvi Mestne občine Ljubljana GVR THERE IS NOTHING BAD FOR ME IN HERE BREATH When a stone begins to grow, it grows at first so dreadfully slow. You do not notice it has grown, you step on it, with thoughts your own. – Gregor Strniša, Poem of the Stone Threshold (prevod: Joško Bohunsky) GVR No spotlights, no projections, no microphones, no amplifiers, no new media, no mobile phones, no artificial intelligence, no leafing through newspapers, no privatization, no cutting hair or nails, and above all, no bringing outside food. There is no room in the breath for two smells at the same time. The project stems from singing as the most intimate form of presence: a voice that does not perform, but opens up space. There Is Nothing Bad For Me In Here is a vocal performative exploration of space as a refuge, a vibration of bodily memory and Oblivion. In a time of constant external exposure, the work turns attention inward, to the soft, vulnerable parts of the body where sound is created before words, meaning, and interpretation. Breath is a medium, a biological loop, and a collective metronome, which, in the permutation of fragments of voice, noises, and melodies, raises the question of how much closeness we can still tolerate and how much silence we can still hear. Singing catapults us into a paradoxical landscape of the infinite self-presence of everyone and everything, where there is no longer any need for understanding. The vocal arrangement invites the visitor to slow down for a moment and connect with the rhythm of being. It emphasizes the importance of presence, silence, and the conscious experience of the moment. Every tone is an attempt at closeness, and every inhale is a fact of existence. Accordion. Armenia. Ball. Bell. Bicycle. Book. Chair. Cinnamon. Cloud. Computer. Curtain. Dick. Field. Fire. Fog. Frog. Garden. Glass. Gold. Grass. Jacket. Lamp. Leaf. Letter. Life. Mountain. Needle. Pepper. Pier. Pillow. Pocket. River. School. Seagull. Ship. Song. Spoon. Stone. Stream. Sun. Table. Tent. Thumb. Tooth. Tree. Umbrella. Water. Wind. Window. Winter. Maori Haka. From time to timelessness. As soon as possible. As slowly as possible. As gently as possible. As emotional as possible. As sustainable as possible. As sincere as possible. Sparkling, stable, and fragile. A cappella for crying atop a smile. There is nothing bad for me in here is not an affirmation. It is an exercise in listening. For a mixture of the penultimate vagabond and the first stowaway on a journey to Venus. Half a melon on his head, stripes of a shirt painted on his skin, and two leather soles nailed to his feet. It seems that only I see him. As he passes people, dolls wink at him, the traffic lights give him three bright blue lights, and the oranges from the corner fruit tree throw their blossoms at him. I was a woman who sang so quietly that you had to be quiet with me. My voice did not want to conquer the world. It wanted only to soften it for a moment. And perhaps that is all we seek in singing: to arrange our breathing for a few minutes in this tired world. I would like to speak to you as a communist to a communist. In your breath in June, it is beautiful to see half of December in silence, an hour's walk long and a two-hour walk wide. Duration: 43 minutes · direction: GVR · performance: Irena Preda · dramaturgy: Nina Meško · take one: Tatiana Kocmur, Jurij Podgoršek · a=tF²: !gor #352; · photographer: Sunčan Patric Stone · special thanks to Roberta Flack, Astor Piazzolla and Jang Man · produkction: GVR Zavod za umetniško produkcijo · co-production: DUM, KIBLA Maribor, Cirkulacija² · the performance is co-financed by the Municipality of Ljubljana NM GVR babaLAN www.babalan.org gvr[at]babalan.org +386 31 589 877