The New Map of Tbilisi
The New Map of Tbilisi
In the summer of 2010, Fucking Good Art (Rob Hamelijnck and Nienke Terpsma) spent several weeks in Tbilisi, the capital of what, since the fall of the Soviet Union, has been a tormented Georgia. They report on an ambitious art scene rising from the leftovers of the past.
Tbilisi is no Berlin.
No, but why do you say that?
Tbilisi does not have 300 commercial galleries or 60 independent ‘off spaces’. It does not have 20,000 ambitious artists and curators envisioning careers in the arts.
Fortunately not. In his article for Flash Art, ‘Aperto Georgia’, Nathaniel McBride wondered if being so far away from the art world and the lack of a market might also have its advantages.[1]
I suspect that curator Magda Guruli, who has for years been seeking connections with the international art world, would not agree with that. In her article, ‘Georgia’s Quest for a Place on the Contemporary Art Map’, published in Artloop, she wrote that Georgia does not exist on the art maps of the 20th and 21st centuries.[2]
I have difficulty with the entrepreneurial jargon of ‘putting something on the map’. It reminds me of what we in the Netherlands had to learn in the 1990s from the then Secretary of State for Culture, Rick van der Ploeg. Maybe it is compensation for the prohibition of initiative during the Soviet era, but please continue.
Guruli gives several reasons. In Georgia, in the post-Soviet, post-war chaos, and with the total privatization of public life, there is a lack of education and information. The government sees no need to finance contemporary art. There is no infrastructure. There are no international galleries. The museums have been closed for the last five years and art education is conservative and hierarchical.
It is logical that art is not a priority. Seventy percent of the population is desperately poor. Karaman Kutateladze, the founder of Art Villa Garikula, said, ‘Twenty years after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, we still find ourselves in the time-space of post socialist realism.’[3]
In the meantime, investments are being made in new roads, police stations and a presidential palace. In art, it all still comes down to personal initiative. Everything in Georgia is a non-government organization.[4]
Perhaps Magda Guruli is right.[5] But I was curious whether, in Georgia, a different frame of thought might be possible for looking at artistic practice than by way of the usual cultural producers, all doing their own ‘projects’. An article in the NRC Handelsblad newspaper about the Les Promesses du Passé exhibition at Centre Pompidou quoted the dissident Belgrade artist Mladen Stilinovi?, who says that artists in the West are no longer artists. They are busy with such ‘unimportant things as production, promotion, the gallery system, the museum system, the competitions system. All of that keeps them away from idleness, and consequently from art’.[6]
In Soviet Georgia, there was a shortage of everything, except time.
Malevich, the Russian avant-garde artist, wrote, ‘Working is a curse, just as the legends of earthly paradise teach us, and idleness should be the objective towards which people strive.’[7]
Do you know the video Der Geringste Widerstand by Fischli & Weiss? In the fable, a bear and a rat want to earn a lot of money with art. During their search, they find a dead body in a gallery. They take it with them, because they believe that it will give them passage to the cultural world and its money. Then they become entangled in a debate about art and crime, and they are unable to agree. In their desperation, by way of philosophy, they discover a system in the chaos, which gives them new insight.
It is interesting that you make a connection between fleeing the corrupt world of the market and competition and escaping the repressive existence of the Soviet artist. The first real avant-garde movement in Georgia was The 10th Floor, a group that experimented with conceptual art in the 1980s.[8] There was also the semi-illegal studio of Alexander Bandzeladze, who was involved with a form of abstract expressionism. That was nothing new in the West, but in Georgia, it was laden with meaning.[9] It was all about individualism, abstraction and spirituality, all forbidden issues back in those days.[10] The only art that was allowed was socialist realism. That had been determined by decree across the entire Soviet Union back in 1934. [11]
Utopian, populist content in a realistic, traditional form: it is hard to imagine that that was the only art permitted for nearly 70 years.
Those who complied with the decree and became members of the Georgian Artists Union had a privileged position in society.
The artist Levan Chogoshvili said that he never joined the Artists Union and consequently never had a studio or any money. He could never let his work be seen in official galleries, just in his friends’ sitting rooms.
Officially, being an artist was like a kind of job, with a career and a studio at the Artists Union, conformist and in a certain sense even market-oriented, although there was only one customer or client: the state.
‘Socialist realism’ is not the same thing as ‘social realism’. Social realism has more to do with a critical approach, with anthropology, documentary film, research and journalistic influences in art.[12] Socialist realism is directly associated with propaganda and Stalin’s totalitarian regime. Stalin called artists the engineers of the soul.
According to Boris Groys, you can make art in two ways: as a commercial commodity or as political propaganda.[13]
Realism, socialist realism, social realism, neo-realism: the Dutch politician Geert Wilders calls his political party ideology New Realism, and he wants to abolish all subsidies for the arts. That reminds me of our meeting with the young artist Dato Kvantaliani, who was a graduate student at the art academy in Tbilisi. His painting of his studio, with a view of the Radisson Hotel, is in a realistic style, but I experience it as journalism or documentary, multi-layered and critical.[14]
It is a space inside a space inside a space, cleverly painted, the way they still teach painting there at the academy, but it is genuinely disturbing and intelligently applied. You see the interior of a studio, with a romantic landscape on an easel, and through the window is the city and the hotel. It is night-time, and in the reflection you see that there is nobody in the studio. The painting is called Room 303. That is the room where the academy director’s special students have their studio spaces.
I am sure that Dato knows Gustav Courbet’s painting, L’Atelier du peintre! In that painting, in which Courbet is working on a landscape, there are various imposing figures standing around him, symbolizing the different influences on his life as a painter. He has his back turned to a nude model, who represents academic art. Dato is a refugee from Abkhazia, and from his studio window you see the chic Radisson Hotel, where Abkhazian refugees lived for years.[15]
Did you know that Brad Pitt sponsored the renovation of the Radisson Hotel?
No.
The renovation was controversial because the refugees were bought out. It used to be called Hotel Iveria. Abkhazia was still a province of Georgia, and Georgia was a Soviet Union republic. Everything in Georgia is complicated, beginning with the alphabet. Every word can be written in different ways in the Latin alphabet, phonetically improvised. In Georgia itself, Georgia is called Sak’art’velo. Its inhabitants are called Kartvelebi, and their language is Kartuli. Every street has an official Georgian name, but it also has its old Soviet name. The Soviet names are on the minibuses, but written in Georgian. On the houses, the street names are often still written in the Russian alphabet. On Google Maps, Tbilisi is a white spot. Every map that can be found of Georgia is a political statement. It is not strange at all that so many artists have made subjective or alternative maps of the city.[16] If anything becomes clear to you in Georgia, it is that any map you lay eyes on is subjective – and political.
Twenty years since independence seems like a long time, but it does not mean much when there have been four wars in that time. In fact, we need to look at 2004 as the starting point, not 1991.
Why 2004?
That was when Michael Saakashvili came to power and everyone suddenly began to actually believe in it. He called on Georgians to return to the land that was once so productive and to help build it into a modern Western democracy. Many artists responded to his call. In her Mandarins of Tiflis portraits, artist Patricia London Ante Paris waxed lyrical about the Tbilisi art scene at that time.[17]
In 2008, that new confidence received a real blow, with the war with Russia over South Ossetia.
Gio Sumbadze told us that at that point, he did not know if he was should climb up on the roof of his house with his grandfather’s gun or try to get out of the country.[18] Kote Jincharadze’s answer to such paltry questions was, ‘Nobody knows.’ (laughs)[19]
Still, many artists have returned to Tbilisi and stayed. Wato Tsereteli returned after studying in Belgium and set up a new photographic institute.[20] Last October, for the first time, a Centre for Contemporary Art opened in Georgia, also an initiative of Wato Tsereteli. It has exhibition spaces, a graduate school, an art history research department and residencies. Gio Sumbadze is one of its teachers. Kote Jincharadze teaches there, too, as does Koka Ramishvili, a Georgian artist living in Switzerland. That is beginning to look like an infrastructure. Architect Levan Asabashvili,[21] who studied in Delft, is working in Tbilisi again, and the students of the Lott artists’ group, each of whom studied at a different European art school, are now doing their last year together in Berlin, as they had agreed.[22] You never know, of course, but they are planning to continue on in Tbilisi.
The artist and poet Zurab Rtveliashvili escaped Georgia in 2009, and was given political asylum in Sweden.
Why exactly?
Nobody knows, but you do not just happen to get political asylum. Try Googling ‘Egalitarian Institute’, or ‘Human Rights in Georgia’.
Since 2005, the Caucasian countries have been part of the Bologna Process, which means their students can study in the other Bologna Accord countries. That is a good thing, because director Gia Bughadze of the Tbilisi State Academy of Arts is holding back reforms. The entire Tbilisi art scene is frustrated about it. Last summer, he gave all graduating students the highest possible score, inviting them to continue there as graduate students, with the words, ‘Long live the academy!’
Everyone thought that was terrible. The conceptual Multi-Media Studio department, where such artists as George Kevle and Luiza Laferadze were teaching, has been abolished. Luiza Laferadze is now running the Tbilisi Studio,[23] with support from the Swiss curator, Daniel Baumann.[24] Still, I think all this controversy about the academy is a good thing. Everyone feels that it is too important a public place to give up on it. The Artists Union is something no one is fighting for. That is a write-off.
The building across from parliament, the ‘house of the painters’, burned down during the civil war. Rumour has it that dissident artists set it on fire. Seventy years of Soviet art is gone. The site where the building stood is still empty. That hole is a hole in history!
One young artist ironically said, ‘Some problems resolve themselves in Georgia!’ Malevich would have agreed with her – tabula rasa![25]
According to that logic, conditions in Tbilisi would be perfect for a new art: all the museums are closed and nowhere is there a collection to be seen! In order to see anything resembling an overview, we have to go to Yerevan, in Armenia.
Claude Lévi-Strauss says exactly the opposite. He called cultures without museums ‘cold cultures’, which, in order to protect their cultural identity and out of fear of complete loss of memory, have to keep on reproducing their own history. If history can be safeguarded, that repetition is unnecessary.[26]
Could we now say that in the last seven years a new space for art has been created, for art that is not, as Boris Groys put it, propagandist or commercial, and also is not forced into the Western mould?
It is possible. Many people in Georgia are involved in research projects focused on the post-Soviet situation and the East-West relationship. The Tbilisi Contemporary Art Centre has a research department intended to help fill the gaps in the writing of history. It is also studying modernism. Art historian Nana Kipiani and the Arts Interdisciplinary Research Laboratory (AIRL) are researching the 1920s avant-garde.
Artist and curator Ruben Arevshatyan, from Yerevan, investigates and describes ‘different modernisms’. He is also involved in the international project Sweet 60s, which re-examines the writing of history seen from different geographical centres.[27]
The New Map of Tbilisi adds stories to locations about history and politics in the city, and art historian and curator Khatuna Khabuliani is doing her PhD on the 1990s: Transformation of Visual Signs: Artistic Forms and Concepts in Postmodern Georgian Art.[28]
In addition to photographic history, Lali Pertenava is studying the 20/20 generation in art.[29] They are the generation of people who are now 40 years old, and have experienced 20 years before and 20 years after the fall of communism. GeoAIR/Archidrome is establishing a database of artists in the Caucasus, and as far back as 2003, have been organizing international exchanges of artists and curators.
Maybe renewal is what the Brazilian modernist Mário de Andrade describes in his concept of ‘anthropophagia’, a kind of cannibalism. We can never reproduce anything perfectly. We mutate it, consume it and spit it back out. The new arrives on its own, and we never know in advance what the new is going to be.
It is in any case clear that people do make art when there is no market for it and nothing to make propaganda for.
Fucking Good Art has been published by Rob Hamelijnck & Nienke Terpsma, since 2003+Fucking Good Art has been published by Rob Hamelijnck & Nienke Terpsma, since 2003+
Translated from the Dutch by Mari ShieldsTranslated from the Dutch by Mari Shields
Nathaniel McBride, ‘Aperto Georgia’, in Flash Art, November-December, 2006. A journalist, McBride has visited Tbilisi regularly since the early 1990s.Nathaniel McBride, ‘Aperto Georgia’, in Flash Art, November-December, 2006. A journalist, McBride has visited Tbilisi regularly since the early 1990s.
[2][2]
Magda Guruli, ‘Georgia’s Quest for a Place on the Contemporary Art Map’, in Artloop, no. 4, 2009. Georgia currently has no art magazines. loop’A – The International Magazine was founded in 2005, edited by Iliko Zautashvili and Magda Guruli. Two years later, the name was changed to Art Loop – Contemporary Art and Culture Magazine, now published by Artisterium (see note 5). Financially supported by the British Council, the Art Caucasus Association and the Goethe Institute, its final issue appeared in 2009.Magda Guruli, ‘Georgia’s Quest for a Place on the Contemporary Art Map’, in Artloop, no. 4, 2009. Georgia currently has no art magazines. loop’A – The International Magazine was founded in 2005, edited by Iliko Zautashvili and Magda Guruli. Two years later, the name was changed to Art Loop – Contemporary Art and Culture Magazine, now published by Artisterium (see note 5). Financially supported by the British Council, the Art Caucasus Association and the Goethe Institute, its final issue appeared in 2009.
[3][3]
For the last decade, Karaman Kutateladze has run Art Villa Garikula, an informal residency in an enormous building resembling Pippi Longstocking’s fictional Villa Villekulla, in Garikula, on the outskirts of Akhalkalaki, about an hours’ drive from Tbilisi, close to the site where the academy had its en plein air summer school in the Soviet years. Karaman is the grandson of the famous modernist artist and typographer, Iliazd, who was later declared a dissident, and the son of the academy’s director during the Soviet era.For the last decade, Karaman Kutateladze has run Art Villa Garikula, an informal residency in an enormous building resembling Pippi Longstocking’s fictional Villa Villekulla, in Garikula, on the outskirts of Akhalkalaki, about an hours’ drive from Tbilisi, close to the site where the academy had its en plein air summer school in the Soviet years. Karaman is the grandson of the famous modernist artist and typographer, Iliazd, who was later declared a dissident, and the son of the academy’s director during the Soviet era.
[4][4]
There are countless nongovernmental organizations in Tbilisi, as nothing is initiated by the government. In Georgia, every artist initiative is an NGO. The largest NGO is the Hungarian-American billionaire and philanthropist George Soros’s Open Society Institute, which is reputed to have contributed $42 million to the Rose Revolution that brought Michael Saakashvili to power.There are countless nongovernmental organizations in Tbilisi, as nothing is initiated by the government. In Georgia, every artist initiative is an NGO. The largest NGO is the Hungarian-American billionaire and philanthropist George Soros’s Open Society Institute, which is reputed to have contributed $42 million to the Rose Revolution that brought Michael Saakashvili to power.
[5][5]
Since 2008, Magda Guruli and Iliko Zautashvili have organized Artisterium, an annual international art event that began as an art fair. Many emigrant Georgian artists and other regular foreign visitors annually return to Tbilisi for the opening, and other events are clustered around it. This year, the new Tbilisi CCA opened one day before the Artisterium, and a symposium, ‘Does Tbilisi need a Biennial?’, was organized by art historian Nino Chogoshvili.Since 2008, Magda Guruli and Iliko Zautashvili have organized Artisterium, an annual international art event that began as an art fair. Many emigrant Georgian artists and other regular foreign visitors annually return to Tbilisi for the opening, and other events are clustered around it. This year, the new Tbilisi CCA opened one day before the Artisterium, and a symposium, ‘Does Tbilisi need a Biennial?’, was organized by art historian Nino Chogoshvili.
[6][6]
Janneke Wesseling, ‘Lof der Luiheid’, in NRC Handelsblad, 18 June, 2010.Janneke Wesseling, ‘Lof der Luiheid’, in NRC Handelsblad, 18 June, 2010.
[7][7]
Kazimir Malevitsj, Luiheid als levensdoel (‘s-Hertogenbosch, NL: Voltaire Publishers, 2009). Malevich wrote his analysis on the relationship between labour and idleness in 1921, but it was only published (in Russian) in 1978. In the essay, Malevich claims that idleness is not the mother of vice, but the mother of perfection.Kazimir Malevitsj, Luiheid als levensdoel (‘s-Hertogenbosch, NL: Voltaire Publishers, 2009). Malevich wrote his analysis on the relationship between labour and idleness in 1921, but it was only published (in Russian) in 1978. In the essay, Malevich claims that idleness is not the mother of vice, but the mother of perfection.
[8] [8]
The 10th Floor was an artists’ group, including Carlo Kacharava, Mamuka Tsetskhladze , Oleg Timchenko, Mamuka Japharidze, Niko Tsetskhladze, Koka Ramishvili and others. It played an important role in the development of independent art in Georgia.The 10th Floor was an artists’ group, including Carlo Kacharava, Mamuka Tsetskhladze , Oleg Timchenko, Mamuka Japharidze, Niko Tsetskhladze, Koka Ramishvili and others. It played an important role in the development of independent art in Georgia.
[9][9]
It is ironic that in the last decade of the Soviet Union, dissident artists began working in the abstract expressionist style, because abstract expressionism was actively employed by the United States as Cold War propaganda for individualism and the free West.It is ironic that in the last decade of the Soviet Union, dissident artists began working in the abstract expressionist style, because abstract expressionism was actively employed by the United States as Cold War propaganda for individualism and the free West.
[10][10]
When the Soviet Union dissolved, artists lost their identity and their role in society. Members of the Georgian Artists Union had the status of ‘prophets’ and ‘wise men’, and had been supported by the state. Not only did they lose that position, but so too did the nonconformists and dissidents lose their role as opposition artists. When the Soviet Union dissolved, artists lost their identity and their role in society. Members of the Georgian Artists Union had the status of ‘prophets’ and ‘wise men’, and had been supported by the state. Not only did they lose that position, but so too did the nonconformists and dissidents lose their role as opposition artists.
[11][11]
‘The State, after the Congress of 1934, laid down four rules for what became known as “Socialist Realism”. That the work be: 1. Proletarian – art relevant to the workers and understandable to them. 2. Typical – scenes of every day life of the people. 3. Realistic – in the representational sense. 4. Partisan – supportive of the aims of the State and the Party.’‘The State, after the Congress of 1934, laid down four rules for what became known as “Socialist Realism”. That the work be: 1. Proletarian – art relevant to the workers and understandable to them. 2. Typical – scenes of every day life of the people. 3. Realistic – in the representational sense. 4. Partisan – supportive of the aims of the State and the Party.’
source: Wikipediasource: Wikipedia
[12][12]
‘Social realism’ was a well-known movement during the Great Depression in the United States in the 1930s. Artists associated with social realism had a predilection for socialist and sometimes Marxist politics. ‘Socialist realism’ was the official art of the Soviet Union, institutionalized by Stalin (see note 11).‘Social realism’ was a well-known movement during the Great Depression in the United States in the 1930s. Artists associated with social realism had a predilection for socialist and sometimes Marxist politics. ‘Socialist realism’ was the official art of the Soviet Union, institutionalized by Stalin (see note 11).
[13][13]
‘Under the conditions of modernity, the artwork can be produced and brought to the public in two ways: as a commodity or as a tool of political propaganda. The amounts of art produced under these two regimes can be seen as roughly equal. But under the conditions of the contemporary art scene, much more attention is devoted to the history of art as a commodity and much less to art as political propaganda. The official as well as unofficial art of the Soviet Union and other former socialist states remains almost completely out of focus for the contemporary art history and museum system.’ Boris Groys, Art Power (Cambridge MA: MIT Press, 2008), p. 4.‘Under the conditions of modernity, the artwork can be produced and brought to the public in two ways: as a commodity or as a tool of political propaganda. The amounts of art produced under these two regimes can be seen as roughly equal. But under the conditions of the contemporary art scene, much more attention is devoted to the history of art as a commodity and much less to art as political propaganda. The official as well as unofficial art of the Soviet Union and other former socialist states remains almost completely out of focus for the contemporary art history and museum system.’ Boris Groys, Art Power (Cambridge MA: MIT Press, 2008), p. 4.
[14][14]
The Radisson Hotel was built in 1967 as a luxury Soviet hotel, called Hotel Iveria. After the war in Abkhazia, it became home to 800 refugees. They were moved out in 2004, the refugees receiving $7000 for each room. The building was renovated and reopened in 2009 as the Radisson Blu Iveria Hotel. (See also: www.newmapoftbilisi.org)The Radisson Hotel was built in 1967 as a luxury Soviet hotel, called Hotel Iveria. After the war in Abkhazia, it became home to 800 refugees. They were moved out in 2004, the refugees receiving $7000 for each room. The building was renovated and reopened in 2009 as the Radisson Blu Iveria Hotel. (See also: www.newmapoftbilisi.org)
source: Wikipediasource: Wikipedia
[15][15]
Georgia has 4.5 million inhabitants. Since its independence in 1991, about 1 million people have left the country. Internal refugees from Abkhazia and South Ossetia number about 250,000. Georgia has 4.5 million inhabitants. Since its independence in 1991, about 1 million people have left the country. Internal refugees from Abkhazia and South Ossetia number about 250,000.
Sources: Wikipedia and Landenweb.netSources: Wikipedia and Landenweb.net
[16][16]
The New Map of Tbilisi (www.newmapoftbilisi.org) is a project of FAST and One Architecture. It provides historic and political background for locations in Tbilisi, aiming to give information about city planning and its effects on the city’s development. Mashrutka Map, a map for the mashrutka, or minibus routes, was made in 2006 by the artists Lado Darakhvelidze and Rosell Heijmen. The minibuses are an initiative of Georgians themselves, and the map makes this form of public transport more accessible. The bus numbers, their old and new names, the streets where they are no longer allowed to go for aesthetic reasons, are indicated on the map. Cultural Map: Agenda of Tbilisi, by artist Onno Dirker, charts ‘home museums’ and other cultural initiatives. It was produced once, in 2007. See http://geoair.blogspot.com.The New Map of Tbilisi (www.newmapoftbilisi.org) is a project of FAST and One Architecture. It provides historic and political background for locations in Tbilisi, aiming to give information about city planning and its effects on the city’s development. Mashrutka Map, a map for the mashrutka, or minibus routes, was made in 2006 by the artists Lado Darakhvelidze and Rosell Heijmen. The minibuses are an initiative of Georgians themselves, and the map makes this form of public transport more accessible. The bus numbers, their old and new names, the streets where they are no longer allowed to go for aesthetic reasons, are indicated on the map. Cultural Map: Agenda of Tbilisi, by artist Onno Dirker, charts ‘home museums’ and other cultural initiatives. It was produced once, in 2007. See http://geoair.blogspot.com.
[17] [17]
In her 2008 magazine project Tbilisi Deep Art, artist Patricia London Ante Paris wrote from Munich, ‘Is it the thin earth of metaphysical Tiflis, that makes people focus more on the beautiful concepts of human inventions? Or is it the long-ago past of socialist education, where … the aim towards art was less star-oriented than in the West?’In her 2008 magazine project Tbilisi Deep Art, artist Patricia London Ante Paris wrote from Munich, ‘Is it the thin earth of metaphysical Tiflis, that makes people focus more on the beautiful concepts of human inventions? Or is it the long-ago past of socialist education, where … the aim towards art was less star-oriented than in the West?’
[18][18]
Artist Gio Sumbadze is associated with The New Map of Tbilisi Research project. He was invited by curator Jan Hoet to take part in the 2001 LocusFocus exhibition at Sonsbeek, NL. Artist Gio Sumbadze is associated with The New Map of Tbilisi Research project. He was invited by curator Jan Hoet to take part in the 2001 LocusFocus exhibition at Sonsbeek, NL.
[19][19]
Artist Kote Jincharadze organizes Arteli Racha, a residency in the Racha Mountains, a seven hour drive from Tbilisi. It is very informal, organized only in summer in an old family home. It celebrated its fifth anniversary in the fall of 2010. Fucking Good Art spent a week at Arteli Racha together with two of Kote Jincharadze’s students and a very talented, local six-year-old artist. Artist Kote Jincharadze organizes Arteli Racha, a residency in the Racha Mountains, a seven hour drive from Tbilisi. It is very informal, organized only in summer in an old family home. It celebrated its fifth anniversary in the fall of 2010. Fucking Good Art spent a week at Arteli Racha together with two of Kote Jincharadze’s students and a very talented, local six-year-old artist.
[20][20]
Media Art Farm (MAF), formerly Centre for Cultural Development, is an NGO. MAF aims to develop photography, new media and contemporary art, and has a library with more than 3500 books donated by European institutes, as well as a DVD and video collection. MAF has now become the Institute for Optical Imaging, a department of the Tbilisi State Academy of Arts.Media Art Farm (MAF), formerly Centre for Cultural Development, is an NGO. MAF aims to develop photography, new media and contemporary art, and has a library with more than 3500 books donated by European institutes, as well as a DVD and video collection. MAF has now become the Institute for Optical Imaging, a department of the Tbilisi State Academy of Arts.
[21][21]
Levan Asabashvili is a Georgian architect concerned with urban living conditions. He is a member of Urban Reactor, a self-proclaimed group of activists critically opposed to contemporary architectural practices and the socio-spatial reality in which we live. See http://urbanreactor.blogspot.com. Levan Asabashvili is a Georgian architect concerned with urban living conditions. He is a member of Urban Reactor, a self-proclaimed group of activists critically opposed to contemporary architectural practices and the socio-spatial reality in which we live. See http://urbanreactor.blogspot.com.
source: casco.nlsource: casco.nl
[22][22]
Lott originated in the Multi-Media Studio of the Tbilisi State Academy of Arts, a department that no longer exists. In Tbilisi, Lott is known for a controversial spitting performance during an exhibition at the academy. In September, 2009, Lott members published the manifesto ‘New Communist Alternative’. See http://someoneistyping.blogspot.com.Lott originated in the Multi-Media Studio of the Tbilisi State Academy of Arts, a department that no longer exists. In Tbilisi, Lott is known for a controversial spitting performance during an exhibition at the academy. In September, 2009, Lott members published the manifesto ‘New Communist Alternative’. See http://someoneistyping.blogspot.com.
[23][23]
Tbilisi Studio is an open studio founded by Luiza Laperadze, Gela Patashuri and Daniel Baumann. It plays an important role in the emancipation of young artists. Its mission is to bring young artists in contact with ideas on experimental and conceptual art, to convey information and give artists the opportunity to realize projects. See www.tbilisistudio.org.Tbilisi Studio is an open studio founded by Luiza Laperadze, Gela Patashuri and Daniel Baumann. It plays an important role in the emancipation of young artists. Its mission is to bring young artists in contact with ideas on experimental and conceptual art, to convey information and give artists the opportunity to realize projects. See www.tbilisistudio.org.
[24][24]
Daniel Baumann is curator of the Adolf Wölfli Foundation at the Bern Art Museum and founded the New Jerseyy Art Space in Basel. He is a freelance curator and writes for various art magazines. Since 2004, the Arts Interdisciplinary Research Lab (AIRL) has annually invited him to organize exhibitions of Swiss artists in Tbilisi. See www.denver.cx.Daniel Baumann is curator of the Adolf Wölfli Foundation at the Bern Art Museum and founded the New Jerseyy Art Space in Basel. He is a freelance curator and writes for various art magazines. Since 2004, the Arts Interdisciplinary Research Lab (AIRL) has annually invited him to organize exhibitions of Swiss artists in Tbilisi. See www.denver.cx.
[25][25]
After the 1917 Revolution, Moscow’s museums risked being stormed and plundered. The new authorities used the army and police to protect them. Malevich was strongly opposed, and in On the Museum (1919), he wrote that it would be better for all the old art in the museums to be burned, because its destruction would pave the way for new, living art. Boris Groys, Art Power (Cambridge MA: MIT Press, 2008) p. 26.After the 1917 Revolution, Moscow’s museums risked being stormed and plundered. The new authorities used the army and police to protect them. Malevich was strongly opposed, and in On the Museum (1919), he wrote that it would be better for all the old art in the museums to be burned, because its destruction would pave the way for new, living art. Boris Groys, Art Power (Cambridge MA: MIT Press, 2008) p. 26.
[26][26]
‘Only if the past is not collected, if the art of the museum is not secured by the museum, does it make sense – and even become a kind of moral obligation – to remain faithful to the old, to follow the traditions and resist the destructive work of time. Cultures without museums are the “cold cultures”, as Lévi-Strauss defined them, and these cultures try to keep their cultural identity intact by constantly reproducing the past. They do this because they feel the threat of oblivion, of a complete loss of historical memory. Yet if the past is collected and preserved in museums, the replication of old styles, forms, conventions, and traditions becomes unnecessary. Even more, the repetition of the old and traditional becomes a socially forbidden, or at least unrewarding, practice.’ Boris Groys, Art Power (Cambridge MA: MIT Press, 2008) p. 27.‘Only if the past is not collected, if the art of the museum is not secured by the museum, does it make sense – and even become a kind of moral obligation – to remain faithful to the old, to follow the traditions and resist the destructive work of time. Cultures without museums are the “cold cultures”, as Lévi-Strauss defined them, and these cultures try to keep their cultural identity intact by constantly reproducing the past. They do this because they feel the threat of oblivion, of a complete loss of historical memory. Yet if the past is collected and preserved in museums, the replication of old styles, forms, conventions, and traditions becomes unnecessary. Even more, the repetition of the old and traditional becomes a socially forbidden, or at least unrewarding, practice.’ Boris Groys, Art Power (Cambridge MA: MIT Press, 2008) p. 27.
[27][27]
Ruben Arevshatyan is an artist and curator in Yerevan, Armenia. He is an editor for Red Thread, an e-journal that examines the art history of the West in exchanges of information and collaborations between artists, theorists and curators from the Caucasus, the Balkans, the Middle East, North Africa and beyond. Sweet 60s is a long-term experimental and educational research project supported by Red Thread. Sweet 60s investigates hidden aspects of the revolutionary 1960s from a contemporary theoretical perspective. See www.red-thread.org.Ruben Arevshatyan is an artist and curator in Yerevan, Armenia. He is an editor for Red Thread, an e-journal that examines the art history of the West in exchanges of information and collaborations between artists, theorists and curators from the Caucasus, the Balkans, the Middle East, North Africa and beyond. Sweet 60s is a long-term experimental and educational research project supported by Red Thread. Sweet 60s investigates hidden aspects of the revolutionary 1960s from a contemporary theoretical perspective. See www.red-thread.org.
[28][28]
Khatuna Khabuliani is an art historian who heads the Optical Imaging department at the Tbilisi State Academy of Arts and is a researcher at the Tbilisi CCA. In 2009, she curated the Georgia Pavilion at the 53rd Venice Biennial.Khatuna Khabuliani is an art historian who heads the Optical Imaging department at the Tbilisi State Academy of Arts and is a researcher at the Tbilisi CCA. In 2009, she curated the Georgia Pavilion at the 53rd Venice Biennial.
[29][29]
Lali Pertenava is an art historian and critic. As assistant professor, she teaches theory and history of photography at the Institute for Photography and New Media in Tbilisi. In 2002-2003, she was a visiting research professor at George Washington University in Washington D.C..Lali Pertenava is an art historian and critic. As assistant professor, she teaches theory and history of photography at the Institute for Photography and New Media in Tbilisi. In 2002-2003, she was a visiting research professor at George Washington University in Washington D.C..
Fucking Good Art
