THOSE TWO ON THE STREETS

Mariam:
'There is the two of us- Mariam Natroshvili and Detu Jincharadze, so the name Those Two comes from here. We’ve been living and working together for over two years. The first project we did together was the ‘Poetry on concrete’- a stencil of the poem by Karlo Kacharava. We wanted to bring the Georgian contemporary poetry to the streets- the city as a book.

In the spring of 2013 we started a project http (Hyper Text transfer protocol). We have transferred the words and phrases we encounter daily in the social networks, mail, different sites or computer desktop on the walls of the streets. These words and phrases have mutated and have adopted a completely different meanings due to the new technology and this is a fascinating material. Bringing back these words from the virtual to our actual reality is a game of its own. Playing with the definitions. When these words are taken out of the context of virtual reality and brought to the urban settings they lose their adopted significance; they return their primary meanings and at the same time they attach new implications.

Words and phrases which have changed their meanings in world wide web and social pages, find new definitions in various urban spaces.

SLEEP -

1. A condition of body and mind such as that which typically re­curs for several hours every night, in which the nervous system is inactive.

2.An energy-saving mode of operation in which all unnecessary components are shut down.

3. Within the project http definition of the phrases and words are individual, depending on the emotional and physical conditions of a person.

Choosing the locations and words happens involuntarily. First we find the place and it dictates the phrase. Sometimes these words are connected to the biography or the emotional vibe of the space. Sometimes it personifies our attitude towards it. We prompted for the easiest font, not thinking about the form at all. Generally, I find the form secondary- the content is always more important for me. However, secondary does not mean insignificant.

It is far more responsible to create street art than the white cube gallery art.  When you do something on the street- a drawing, text or performance, you start a dialogue with the part of the society that might not be interested in art at all. I think the content is more important in here too. A painting or graffiti on its own is not exciting for me if there is no message in it. Generally, I am for the conceptual art be it in the open or closed space; and conceptual terrorism, I think art has to be terroristic. It has to hurt you, astonish and wake you up. Poetic terrorism as one used to say. The street is a free zone for me and art in the streets is a contrast to the consumerist and commercial culture.

The museum of Superstitions is our latest project, created as a part of the Batumi Backyard stories. This is the second year for the project with the author and initiator Levan Khujadze and the curator Magda Guruli. One of the exhibition spaces this year was the abandoned building of a bathhouse. It was built in 1910, a synthesis of Eastern and European architecture; the ceramic tiles were brought from Venice, with the Islamic domes. The cheap Soviet tiles also appear on the walls.

According to the legend, evil souls and Jinni dwell in the abandoned bathhouses- they love water. Thus we decided to conduct a research and to present the collected information in this bathhouse. The bathhouse itself is for cleansing the body, for getting rid of the negative energy, a space for rituals; it was transformed into a ghost museum for remembering and comprehending the superstitions and old sayings; some sort of an archive.  

The two rooms that were dedicated to the ghost museum showcased the superstitions, wisdom and beliefs collected from the locals that nowadays have lost their resonance. The process itself was very engaging-collecting the materials and meeting new people. We’ve met Joha that makes talismans and spells, the fishermen who taught us the magic of guessing the weather, the fortunetellers who read hieroglyphs off the coffee-stained cups. Some of the information was new to us, some we already knew of.  ‘If you go through a rainbow a boy becomes a girl and vice versa’- is my favourite.

Learning the signs of nature, predicting the future, learning the languages of rain, wind and sea; the spells for better luck, to protect from an evil eye- all of these were the part of daily life that has now disappeared. The archeology and achieving of this information should be fascinating even for the anthropologists.

The other artwork created for the Batumi Backyard Stories is the stencil on a transformer in one of the yards. The text in this case is Georgian- ‘Today or Tomorrow’. It was the phrase we’ve heard the most in those two weeks; from the neighbours, friends, fishermen, waiters, fortunetellers. ‘Today or tomorrow’ is the uncertainty, waiting for something that will ultimately change everything.

So be it the streets, bridges, unknown cities, abandoned stations, absurd buildings, ghost bathhouses, derelict army bases or the non-existent factories, art for us is a game-without permission, magical and ephemeral; that something to change all.'

Vajiko Chachkhiani with the Public Principle at the Museum of Literature

VAJIKO CHACHKHIANI:

The museum of Literature is hosting a solo exhibition of one of the promising Georgian artists, Vajiko Chachkhiani. Now based in Berlin, Vajiko has presented an artwork Public Principle. Indeed, the exhibited sculptures or the remains of once public monuments cannot be analysed separately, but the unity these fragments create.  Already unlikely for the typical Georgian art, the presentation is unusual too. The exposition itself is not lit so the audience is to observe these objects in natural light creeping into the space, often resulting in half darkness. However, limited vision intensifies the hearing sensors and the walking noises act as soundtracks to the show.

The graveyard for sculpture, as the artist calls it, is a relevant depiction of the Post-Soviet countries, which literary got stuck with thousands of monuments deprived of any symbolical importance. The 90s, when Vajiko was growing up, was filled with the imagery of the sculptures being blown up, taken down or diminished, which probably condensed in the subconscious of the artist.

However, the physical waste of the ideology is just a tip of the iceberg- you can blow up a monument in a day, but you cannot erase the mentality that saw the need for these monuments. The exposition can’t help but make one think of the remains of any kind; things, concepts, contexts and ideology don’t just stop existing, sometimes they just lie around like these firmly clasped hands and vigorous legs- inadequate, helpless, meaningless yet still present.

Nevertheless, it is peculiar that these sculptures became worthy of attention only after being demolished and destroyed. In their previous lives when being the signifiers of squares and the personifications of the father figures for the nation, they were not even considered as art. Chachkhiani on his part puts these remnants into the museum space, elevating their status and true to conceptual art, granting them new meaning/concept. The exhibition plays with other conventions too; the objects were chosen and placed by the ‘ordinary people’ as the press release names them. Vajiko let the non-gallery goers, the ‘non-privileged’ (again from the press release) to participate in the process and become responsible for the exposition. An attempt to raise awareness about art and possibly to democratise it, is so much needed in Georgian reality.

Stalin as the naughty child

Nadia Tsulukidze sees herself as a performance artist even though throughout her career she has been a violin player, experimented with video art- had collaboration Khinkali juice. Her most recent performance is named Me and Stalin that was the focus of her talk, held couple of weeks ago in Tbilisi, in the format of the Street Academy (series of lectures organized by the Artarea, online Television about culture). The talk focused on the research and the thought process that preceded the performance. As unfortunate as it may seem that the audience did not get to experience the performance, it was still a valuable lesson for the future artists to see the depth of the study and the vitality of critical analysis from the artist’s side.

The performance as Nadia described it starts with the funeral of Stalin hinting at the inspiration for the work. It was after the artist found out her grandmother, despite being an anti-communist, had cried on Stalin's funeral and then Nadia herself feeling tears while watching a documentary about Stalin's death, it occurred to her that this sentiment had to be investigated. What comes across as acutely felt nostalgia for the red and carefree past is actually a deep, scrupulous investigation of the regime. It is only when the artist starts talking and telling the story of her family, of exiled relatives one realises maybe the tears were shed for the millions of people who actually believed and facilitated the regime to exist, maybe these tears are of disappointment rather than of loss.

The solo spectacle is a result of the 2-year research. As Nadia describes it is more of the search for her identity rather than of the dictator, the performance starts with her declaring she is to play herself. The initial interest with the subject was provoked by the concept of being born in USSR, a country and ideology that does not exist anymore, something so specific, quite incomparable and alien to the rest of the world. Nevertheless, the focus of the performance was the intimate relationship of 'Me and Stalin'-of an individual and of the public figure, a dictator, the one that had already been long dead when the artist was born- the influence and  the 'mythological fear' of a historical figure by an ordinary individual. Such attitude points to the deep strings and links these people leave even when long gone. 

The talk was accompanied by the images conducted throughout the research of the systems that Stalin employed for controlling the population. Some of the striking ones were the prison tattoos. The composition of the most unites the communist, Christian and criminal ideologies under singular images. This offers only one conclusion: every social structure is based on an ideology. Stalin aware of the vitality and the potential of the group believing in the same ideals controlled it carefully that the lawful thieves were always apolitical with the KGB acting as the diplomatic corpus between them and the government- the mastermind plan of Stalin for controlling such a vast Empire.

Communism in itself can be seen as the religion and Tsulukidze drawing parallels with Christianity, sees Stalin as the prototype of the Christ. The religious society changed its deities, with Lenin as the God, the ideological father and Stalin as the Christ. Christianity and religion in general is based on the authority of an individual and the sacrifice of a private body. The prime Christian idea of a paradise- as the motive for all the good deeds and obedience of the rules was translated in Communism promising the greater and prosperous future.

The performance has a nature of a fight- the artist is fighting against the dictator- in avid desire to define power and establish one’s dominance. In the power relations and the competition over supremacy as artist describes it, she is fighting against the leader. 

At some point Tsulukidze caressing the bust of Stalin recreates the iconography of the Virgin Mary and the Child Christ.  True to the Christian iconography, in the posed image ‘baby Stalin’ does not look like a child as often baby Jesus looks much wiser than an ordinary infant. Apart from religious connotations, Tsulukidze subverts the mother-child relationship in itself. By nurturing the leader, she demonstrates her dominance over the baby Stalin, who being transformed into a child adopts the implied vulnerability. Being a mother becomes associated with being a tyrant- in absolute control over body and therefore life, the flip side of being a mother- the life-giver, nurturing and affectionate similarly in control and capable of taking the life away. Nadia settles the fight with the leader by becoming his mother. And she has every right to claim her parenthood over the revived concept of the ruthless leader. The other day she bore her Stalin to the younger generation of Georgia, for whom the lecture was educational.

Her research of Stalin took a surprising turn when touching the figure of Djaba Iosseliani- a very particular person in the newest history of Georgia, who the artist sees as the prototype of Stalin and lastly, President Saakashvili. The latter can be seen as being in a direct dialogue with Stalin. One of the very first reforms of Saakashvili was the destruction of criminal authorities. Zero tolerance towards these people and the institute of authorities got some of the famous names such as Bondo Shalikiani and the likes in prison. However, as the most recent events have exposed, the result of these reforms was that government officials adopted the criminal mentality and behaved in a same way as the criminal authorities.

As cleverly noted by Tsulukidze, art cannot exist outside a discourse and art cannot exist outside politics and be apolitical- that in itself is a political stance, which unfortunately a lot of Georgian artists struggle to come to terms with.

See the full performance:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2bQDxX6bzU

Statement by Nadia Tsulukidze: http://www.boris.be/Producties/Me%20and%20Stalin.html