Sofia Short Fest has announced the third member of the jury for its next edition in 2026: animator Tanya Bojinova. She is a director, illustrator, lecturer, and tattoo artist with experience in both the film industry and the corporate world. Her graduation film, “Dear You,” is participating in the Sofia-Annecy Animation Lab. Read below to find out what interesting things she shared with us:

How does animation illustrate the world around us literally, letter by letter? What made you fall in love with animation?
Animation illustrates literal problems in the most figurative way possible. It isn’t concerned with what is possible or not; instead, it explores the chosen theme under the most favorable conditions—the technique, the characters, and the physics of the world the author has created all serve solely to convey the film’s message. You can dispense with details that don’t contribute to the narrative, and you can also initiate all manner of transformations. Space is subjective and negligible, just like time. For me, animation is the ultimate form of cinema, because in it the only limitation is how far your imagination extends.

If we draw a parallel with the once-popular newspaper cartoons or illustrations in books, some of which offer a silent snapshot of the era in which they were created, can short animated films serve as their modern counterpart?
Short films, whether animated or not, are a mirror. They explore desires, longings, and pain connected to today, tomorrow, or yesterday. I believe it is a synthesis, though I don’t know how silent, and certainly not as accessible as the illustrations and cartoons accompanying print publications. Short films have a multi-layered impact that engages you beyond a single glance. It is specific, just like its audience. It would be great if it could become a modern substitute for the static commentary we are familiar with, but that would mean the audience possesses a high level of cultural literacy and depth of analysis.

Is it possible for animated film in Bulgaria to be financially viable? What do you think needs to change in our cultural sector—and in the animation sector in particular— so that independent film receives more support and encouragement from the state?
Culture has never been a profitable business, and as long as the state seeks guaranteed revenue and stability, we will never be able to create true, authentic art. Cinema is an investment in people’s tastes and dreams, in the way they process personal or collective trauma. We need to change the sense of insecurity that overwhelms you when you decide to embark on the path of filmmaking. It’s impossible to immerse yourself in your ideas when you’re working full-time in the gambling industry, because that’s your only chance at a decent life in this profession.

How do you view contemporary cinema on a national and global scale, and is there anything that openly annoys you?
I am impressed by the boldness and scope with which films are made abroad. Extremely personal and daring titles are making the rounds on the global stage. Their themes are modern and relevant. The visuals are often polished to perfection, but many also rely on the raw and unadulterated power of various painting techniques. Against this backdrop, Bulgarian films get lost. Undoubtedly, more and more bright stars of active, talented, and progressive Bulgarian directors are shining at international festivals. It seems to me, however, that our national selections continue to be dominated by dramatic narratives based on parables, jokes, and anecdotes. I would like to see more original and profound explorations of the human condition and fate.

Do you think that the best films really do win at festivals? Are there other determining factors, such as politics, current events, or the handling of sensitive topics? How is consensus reached within a jury, and what “pitfalls” lie in wait during this process?
The film that wins is the one that every single member of the jury can stand behind. This is not a compromise, but a consensus that reflects the views of a unique group of people. And thank goodness, because otherwise the same films would win everywhere. In my experience, a film that, for me and other jury members, ranked lower on the list of winners has risen to first place because it was the only film that managed to unite four people.
It is very dangerous to turn festivals from a celebration into a competition. Losing would tarnish even the best selection, and introducing doubts about politics is not a productive analysis. This is particularly true in the world of animated film, where the scene is so small and everyone knows each other.

What criteria will you use when evaluating films?
For me, a film’s logical coherence is its greatest strength. The characters’ motivations, the rhythm of the storytelling, authenticity, sound—and how all of this resonates with the filmmaker’s vision. I don’t have a single criterion for cinema, but there are films that linger in the mind precisely because of the invisible thread that connects every frame.

Animation seems to be one of the first and easiest “victims” of AI. Am I right? Is artificial intelligence for artists?
Animation is far from being one of the first victims of artificial intelligence. Until recently, this illusion was supported mainly by the fact that access to art has almost always been regulated by human capabilities and talents. The newfound proximity to generative art has misled many into believing that the end of the artist is nigh, and while many are still coming to terms with it, sectors that were until recently thriving have sunk into automation. Look at what’s happening in the IT and programming sectors.
No one, I hope, makes films hoping for things to happen in the easiest, fastest, and most trouble-free way. Films are a confession. What could be more human than storytelling? In general, directors’ attitude toward anything related to AI is dismissive. Even at Annecy, which stands out for its commercial appeal, screenings of films featuring artificial intelligence are met with boos. Art isn’t made by lazy creators. I’m not worried about the future of animation.

Do you have a stance on the issues being discussed among colleagues in the cultural sector in Bulgaria?
The cultural sector has been in crisis for years. Instability, non-transparent competitions and programs, poor working conditions. There is a lack of vision for the sector’s long-term development and, most importantly, an audience. Where are we headed without visibility? For whom are films made and funded that vanish into oblivion and cannot be watched?
The public’s encounter with artists should not be in the evening news, discussing the lack of funding or yet another detrimental bill. It should be in cinemas, libraries, and theaters—where we can experience a bit of their vibrant energy. For this, however, we need dialogue and initiative from institutions, which in turn should adopt working practices and models from other countries. We also need partnerships—with other institutions or foreign initiatives—that can endure beyond the fragility of governments.

In mainstream feature films, there is a clear distinction between at least three main categories of films—so-called “commercial,” “arthouse,” and independent productions. Are there such distinctions in animated films, and what implications does this have for the career development of young creators?
Animation is home to a multitude of genres and productions. It spans from cinema to advertising and the gaming industry. Everyone can chart their own path based on their interests—and why not combine several things at once?

Share the latest animated short film that has made a strong impression on you?
“Bunnyhood” by Mansi Maheshwari impressed me back in 2024 when I saw it for the first time at Animafest Zagreb. I also really like “The Night Boots” by Pierre-Luc Granjon, a magical film for children.