Roaming Through Old Soviet Streets in Tbilisi

I've grown deeply fascinated with the Soviet Union after spending over a year in two former Soviet republics. From Armenia to Georgia, both of these nations have truly changed me. And I find myself captivated by their Soviet pasts to the point in which I aimlessly roam, constantly in search of discovery and constantly wanting to capture signs of the past before the more globalist mentality pursues total destruction of it all. In Georgia's case, much of the Soviet symbolism throughout the nation was already destroyed under a law that was passed that stated it shouldn't remain. I hate that mentality. I fundamentally disagree with destroying the past out of spite. As our nations live on the fast-forward button with endless development, the destruction of historical buildings only grows more rapid and frequent. From industrial locations to residential and commercial spaces. No space is truly free from the modern developer. Being from England, it already feels as if much of the history has been replaced and buried, particularly in London. Though these two nations are still incredibly reliant on their historic architecture and infrastructure, and it's something that is riddled with stories and beauty ready to be told and captured, but it really isn't being done. 

I find I'm most excited and at peace when I'm running through the streets in search of something. I don't really think of much but the things that are around me. The environment I'm in will cause a genuine emotional reaction that has me deep in my own mind while in a state of observation. Constantly noticing the little details, the people walking by, the cracks in the walls. The textures. The smells from bakeries nearby or the heavy smell of metals being forcefully put together. I was never always this way, but photography certainly sparked something within that encouraged me to get outside and get excited for the world around me. Tbilisi's Soviet past is met with constant decay, a result of neglect as the buildings went from communist ideology to the capitalist mentality. Now people own their apartments and the buildings they're within, but they don't have the funds nor the interest to maintain them. Rundown stairways, cracked steps and missing concrete. Windows smashed and elevators that haven't worked in years. It shows a past that once thrived but a present that is now on its dying breath. In many cases, these buildings are ticking time bomb. I type this from within one that feels very much like that. 

I spent the majority of yesterday running around an industrial part of the city. I stumbled into such odd spaces. Incredible architecture surrounded by industrial Hell. Modern playgrounds riddled with children next to factories and coal mining operations that had been abandoned for decades. Rustic, wood rotten. Just forgotten in time with nobody else even paying attention to its presence, as if it was never even there. It was so odd to see. I imagined how things would've been in the past. How people would've interacted with such a space. I pressed on into the residential area in which apartment buildings stood tall with old, decayed courtyards in the middle. Far too many cars parked within a small space, rustic garage doors and a river that ran right behind them. The smell wasn't particularly welcoming. Behind it was a series of Soviet factories that had been abandoned for decades. A few of the nearby buildings were already in the process of demolition. I found it tragic. I threw up my drone and flew around, noticing one of the buildings nearby having an art installation on the side that displayed the map of the world. I thought of how only those in the past would've seen this. Those who worked at the factory, to see the connection from the communist ideology due to the art. The people that would've once thrived on the opportunities it provided. 

Nearby were other buildings that showed a different purpose. One of which said it was a prosecutor's office. It was tall and blue. A strange grand design. Next to it another odd building, tall and next to a church. The church empty and silent, next to even older buildings that had old trains idle. Nobody had been there for a while, it seemed. Though the larger building's interior was empty, it had some life and seemed to be repurposed in some way for a more important purpose. I wanted to play dumb tourist and walk in and figure out what it was, but a guard noticed me and tried to ask me something in Georgian. I had no idea what was being said and had no way to communicate back. I'll have to try again. To add to the historical oddities of this environment, a Soviet nuclear bunker sits hidden in plain sight nearby. The locals with no idea of its existence, but its very existence speaking of an anxiety within the Soviets that expected the worst of all outcomes to unfold due to their poor relations with the west. While, coming from the west, we feared escalation on their part. At the same time this anxiety was felt by both parties, the Soviets had built hundreds of these hidden bunkers throughout the city. Anxiety of nuclear war, industrial might and connectivity, and religion all kept within one tight space. Much of the environment living on borrowed time.

This was no particular district, no particular place of major importance, especially these days with the area's factories being nothing but what most would consider an eyesore and location for the city's rampant drug problems. Scattered around the apartments are needles and the ends of cigarettes. One would think stray dogs are a problem with their disease and distant barks, but it's also the threat of a rogue needle in the shoe. It speaks of the decay, the loss of importance in the area as people seek out other ways of dealing with their issues. Economic downturn was inevitable with the industrial collapse and introduction of capitalism leading to costs so few could adapt to. Inevitable that substance abuse remains a problem to this day with no real solution to the problems faced as costs rocket higher by the year and opportunities remain thin. Travel is often something people do to feel excitement and admire the beauty, but often ignore the negatives. Perhaps even feel oblivious to them. I'd say it's hard to ignore them in Tbilisi. Every sight is one of sadness. Neglect. Poverty. Signs of hate and anger, blame shifted all over, written on the walls in the streets. But those same streets do speak of another era. One that certainly had more prosperity to it. Cable car stations that are now derelict that once bridged people together over the tough terrain. 

Anyway, this wasn't meant to be a post on fancy travels and cool explorations, but more a general roaming through a space that had me thinking of the past and how we engage with our surroundings. The influence buildings and environments have on us, the way they make us feel. And how these reactions shift in time as our interests and ideologies do. Now these areas hold beautiful buildings coated in mould, mosaics in celebration of a people no longer present or acknowledged. Monuments and icons on buildings that no longer hold their meanings, no longer with the weight on the people. Emotional reactions tied to bills and money rather than the connection they have with the space. I feel the two sides of it all: the greatness that the architecture holds, but also the present's pains and struggles. The stories of life that are demolished with each new building and factory gone. Replaced with something new that will one day hold its own stories and suffer the same fate. As a photographer I do feel the need to document as much of the present and the past as I can, to hold some signs of what once was with the world. Before we all forget what stood around us and have little else to connect with as it's all too new and shiny for us to remember a life before it.