A Taste of Armenian and Georgian Culture Through Art and Wine

I haven't really explored the more artistic side of Georgia despite being here for almost half a year now. Tbilisi has been a relatively underwhelming city for the most part, riddled with crime, drugs, and a generally unwelcoming people. I'd be lying if I said I had enjoyed every moment here. But I'd also be lying if I said I hadn't found the odd thing that brings some joy and exceeds any expectations I may have had here and there. Finding good art galleries has been a bit of a difficulty, and it's something that I ended up not really putting much research into. Many were either quite politically themed and didn't interest me, and the larger ones were riddled with negative reviews on how they either attempt to milk foreigners with higher prices (for the few locations that would otherwise require a ticket) and were often met with rude staff that would either ask if a person was done viewing or simply be uninviting. The Georgian atmosphere often feels this way, and it's a rarity when a place is visited and it has that polar opposite feeling to it. I don't mind differences in culture, in fact, I very much welcome it, but Georgia certainly isn't the sort of place I would recommend visiting for the people. I'd definitely suggest its lesser-known neighbour Armenia for that side of things.

Yesterday we attempted to visit an art gallery that also had various events related to art alongside a bar in an underground cellar. It's located on the other side of the river in Tbilisi, which is riddled with Soviet and pre-Soviet architecture that has definitely seen better days. It's a location that is a bit sad compared to its Old Tbilisi counterpart which tends to have a bit more focus and attention for the purpose of tourism. Though that too is riddled with its decay and neglect over the many decades once you roam off the more beaten paths. I haven't ventured too much onto the right side of the city due to the neglect it holds. It's a generally quieter, more narrow set of streets riddled with residential space. A few other areas of interest are found a little more north. This underground cellar we visited unfortunately was between showings, and there were no events or art exhibitions to see on Saturday. It was disappointing, and totally empty.  A man with his eyes dyed completely black, with his earlobes stretched was behind the bar, prior to this he was smoking just outside of the building. He was an incredibly "metal" looking person, but was actually incredibly kind. We grabbed an expensive bottle of wine there, but I'll mention this place another time as I want to revisit it. The wine though: one of the best glasses I've ever had.

Pressing on as the day went by, we chose another nearby gallery called IArt, an interesting name compared to the place we had just left: UArt. I chose the underground exhibition due to the wine side of things, but had already expressed some interest in visiting the other another date. But since we hadn't seen the art side of things, we decided to head over there while we had half of the day left to enjoy. Little did we know: we were heading into one of the best art exhibition experiences we had ever had. An old home in a very old building that once sat by the side of the river (a new and much louder road now exists there). It had arched doors and doorways, many rooms that felt cluttered and lived in. One man was found within the space: a small man that asked for either English or Russian language. He told us he was a Tbilisi Armenian, which is quite common in Tbilisi given Armenians had settled there many centuries ago, and there's still an Armenian quarter of the city not too far away called Avlabari. Now, my little rant about the unwelcoming nature of Georgia comes in with some relation here: it was of no surprise that one of the most hospitable experiences at an art gallery came from a host with Armenian roots. Such kindness is almost engraved into the culture.

For an art gallery, our interest initially started with the building itself, we actually ignored the art for the most part of our visit, just in awe at how beautiful the building was. Initially owned by three old Armenian women who he claimed weren't that friendly, the building was then sold to the current owner, his friend, for something around the price of $150,000. I'd say that's a steal. Incredibly beautiful and spacious rooms, riddled with former architectural designs of different eras: pre-Soviet, Soviet, and from other cultures around the world. It held a balcony that overlooked the river, which would've been far more beautiful in the past when the roads of Tbilisi weren't such a loud nightmare. And a courtyard in the back featuring incredibly old chests, a seating area, and a lot of cats. It's a shared courtyard that those in the other buildings and floors still owned and lived in. An old piano stood in the largest room. Want to play it? Go ahead. Do whatever you want. He didn't mind, and trusted you'd take care of it by even just leaving the room after granting permission. We asked about events in the building, and he stated that many artists come and go for various talks, music events, and art related happenings. We took his little business card with immediate interest in returning for future events. We talked with the man, named Sergey, for a while. From the art, the building, his own life, and the current situation in the city.

For a very art focused individual, it was really refreshing to see him having a more politically neutral stance on things. Realistically, many in the art space tend to be leaning more on the heavier left side of things, he stood directly in the middle. It felt so natural to be there, to talk with someone about everything, to the point in which he suggested that we return whenever for coffee. This brings me to another aspect of the hospitality: I noticed a cased bottle of Ararat whisky in a cabinet, something I don't think you can easily find here in Georgia. It's an Armenian alcoholic drink and generally aged from 3 years and upward. Incredibly good with diverse flavours. This sprung him to his question for us: do we want to try some wine? We initially said no, but his Armenian side refused to accept it, and off he went into one of the rooms, returning with a Georgian bottle of white wine and a wine glass. I accepted with little choice to say otherwise. It was incredibly good! And I proceeded to walk around looking at individual art pieces while my girlfriend talked with him in Russian. Sometimes translating things to me. Around the same time he showed us that some of the furniture was made by him, repurposed Soviet coat hangers turned into tables, repainted chairs and faked-to-look-old cabinets of sorts. This man just loved to talk about creativity, as well as art. A great thing was that so did we. He showed me a British item from the 1800s that was used for making soup easier to drink, telling us how he had obtained it from when he would collect various historical items.

But let's get to the art! Some rooms had a bit more curation than others. The main one was full of children's art and they had been doing exhibitions and events on children's artwork. Some were actually quite impressive. The next rooms were where the chaos began: paintings from various painters throughout time just sat piled up or next to each other. You could spend hours there just looking and finding new things, moving one piece to find another. Large and small canvases of various styles, little organisation to them. One piece would stand out, I'd look at it, he'd take it out and place it somewhere to discuss it, and that would lead to more art. I loved his side of things, it was like entering an archive more than an art gallery, each piece was next to something totally different. And some artists had such diverse styles that you wouldn't even notice they were done by the same people. It was an entire labyrinth of art through different time periods. One of which was an old wooden frame that looked like it had been pulled from a window. It just sat on the floor leaning against the wall in another room. He told us that it was a really experimental piece that was done during the Soviet Union when there was a brief lift on who could create and display art, to which such pieces ended up creating so much disgust in the person that approved such practice that he immediately regretted it and wanted much of it destroyed. Next to it would be still life paintings of flowers, studies of human anatomy. Some on paper with sketches and graphite, others paintings that approached the human figure, capturing normal poses and shapes. 

It never felt like the art wasn't taken care of despite being so cluttered around, the rooms were kept clean and tidy despite some paintings being leaned against each other, piles of them forming in one room. Little elements of culture from Armenia and Georgia just sitting around. I could've easily spent hours there, constantly roaming between rooms, constantly discussing the art and life. It felt like the kind of place that you could actually just visit and spend some time at for fun, to be inspired and just in that environment that holds artistic intent. For a Saturday it was a surprise to see the whole place empty at 5PM, but the hours ticked on with it closing at 8PM. With that time approaching, we figured it was time to leave. Knowing we probably could've continued looking at art, talking about it together, even as the closing time approached for more hours to come. Sergey's hospitality reminded me deeply of the culture I loved from Armenia. The open nature of its people, the kindness held to just talk and share life with total strangers. It felt like walking into a random person's home almost, but being totally welcomed. Mixed with it was the history and culture of Georgia that the city felt like it had abandoned for the most part. Evident by endless paintings of pomegranates and old Georgian women. I'll definitely be going back there, not just for the events, but for the art and the good people. If you're ever in Tbilisi, the address is 13 Dimitri Uznadze St, Tbilisi. You won't regret going.

That's my little story of a Saturday that went wrong but ended up becoming much better than I could've imagined. I hope you had fun reading it! And found that variety in the gallery's art as interesting as I did. It's the best I've been to; who knew a well-curated-but-almost-messy-to-look-not-curated exhibition could be so good?