"Lelos Shemobruneba" is the Documentary film about the tradition of playing Lelo in Georgia. Georgians are preparing whole year to play Lelo for the Easter day in the Shukhuti village. Ball making process is very sacred. The number of players isn't limited. All the people are divided into two groups and all of them are willing to score a Lelo, which is the Georgian synonym of try. After the match, the winner should place the ball on the grave of a glorious person from his village.
Showing posts with label Tradition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tradition. Show all posts
Friday, September 13, 2019
Wednesday, April 03, 2019
SHORTFILM: Dinola - film which are based on a true story in Georgia Svaneti. By Mariam Khatchvani
Director Mariam Khatchvani
Film Producer Vladimer Kacharava
In the cold mountains of Georgia, a widow is forced to marry another man and leave her life and child behind.
Dinola is a child living in the village of Ushguli, in Georgia. Her father has just died, and the whole village is taking part in the funeral ceremonies. Her little friend asks if her mother has already left, but the girl says no, and doesn’t even understand why she would do such a thing. In fact, though, that’s the cruel fate that awaits her: as per the local tradition, the first man to forcibly impose his will to marry the widow, will have every right to take her away – and the child will be left behind, alone and abandoned.
Based on the true experience of director Mariam-Bakacho Khatchvani (მარიამ ხაჭვანი)’s grandmother, this short film wants to give a voice to the lives of thousands of women in the region of Svaneti, Georgia, one of the remotest parts of the continent, where, until only fifty years ago, this cycle of abandonment was repeated continuously. In addition to being an act of social protest, Dinola also opens a window onto places unknown to most people, uncovering traditions and customs that have hardly ever been narrated to an international audience.
This foray into a new world is unsettling and fascinating at the same time: the blinding white of the snow-covered landscape and the stark contrast of the medieval houses that stand dark upon it are visually striking. It takes just a few frames to feel the atmosphere of this hard and traditional people, witnessed in a solemn moment of mourning, all wearing dark clothes and accepting their inescapable reality in a dignified silence.
It’s the personal and participated yet highly stylized direction that raises this short above the usual account of social issues. It ‘s rare to find this kind of careful historical and social reconstruction combined with such a unique aesthetic. We take part in the excruciating pain of the mother, we are moved by the despair of the abandoned child who tries to follow in the footsteps of her mother in the midst of the snow, but we are also overwhelmed by the beauty of the place that’s presented before our eye, an almost alien land that appears to be suspended in time.
Dinola, presented in competition in many international festivals, was recently nominated for Best Short Film at the European Film Awards. This film is another example of the power that lies in the short film medium, managing to convey information about traditions and showing remote places almost completely unknown to most people.
We interviewed the director to find out more about this world and what inspired her to tell this story.
Hi Mariam, can you tell us more about the ‘Svanish Law’ you mention at the end of the film? Is it still in effect?
There used to be a tradition that if a woman became a widow, she had to get married to whatever man asked to marry her, regardless of love or her free will, because had she refused to, the man would threaten to kill her family. If the woman got married for a second time against her will, the dead husband’s family would not allow her to take her child with her, because they didn’t want their grandchild to grow up with another family, as it was considered absolutely shameful in the village. Dinola takes place about 80 years ago, when my grandmother was a child, but this ‘law’ was still in effect until about 40-50 years ago, and now things have changed – but not so much.
So the story portrayed in Dinola is very personal to you, is it exactly what happened to your grandmother? Yes, this story is about my grandmother. When she was a child, her mother left her and when she woke up and was looking for her mother, she went outside barefoot on the snow and followed her mother’s footprints crying. When she told me her story, it was so shocking to me that I decided to make a film as close to an actual documentary as possible, to show the real difficulties in the mother-children relationship that time, because it was the same for everyone living in that area…That’s why when I was a shooting the short I did my best to put real emotions into the film. My grandmother is 90 years old now and when she saw Dinola, she told me that she found it very funny that the child in the film is wearing socks, as she was barefoot…
What are your motivations as a filmmaker?
I wanted to show the world how interesting my culture is, because no one knows about Svaneti, where I was born, even some Georgians…
What are your plans for the future? Are you gonna make a feature film inspired by Dinola?
I am working on the feature film project, DEDE, it will be focused on the woman’s life. It’ll be like a counterpart to Dinola, and the main character will be the mother of the child. The movie will be about love, traditions and the crazy, interesting and difficult life in Ushguli. Located in Svaneti, the mountainous area of Georgia, Ushguli is called the hat of Europe, because it’s the highest settlement in this continent, you can feel like touching the sky, winter lasts eight months and at during that time roads are blocked, and people became ruthless because of this strict environment and extreme conditions. I will start shooting in August, I’ll cover four seasons in the film, I want to make it like a documentary, with regular people from the area, not actors, to achieve more realism as possible. My village is the so beautiful, it is a paradise for me and this is why I think the Ushgulians never leave the area despite the hard life.
Flavia Ferrucci (Source: goodshortfilms.it/dinola)
In deutsch: filmfestivalcottbus.de
Thursday, November 08, 2018
PERSPEKTIVEN: Der Tourismus erhält und bedroht Georgiens Leben im Hochgebirge. Ein visueller Kommentar von Stefan Applis. via @EurasiaNet
[in english: eurasianet.org] Erzählungen einer authentischen Gesellschaft, die am Rande der Zeit lebt, können den höheren Lebensstandard in der sowjetischen Blütezeit nicht erklären.
Seit Ende der achtziger Jahre hat die georgische Region Svaneti mit Schwierigkeiten zu kämpfen. Weit entfernt von den politischen Machtzentren haben die Menschen in der rauen Bergregion mit einer weit verbreiteten Armut zu kämpfen. Mit dem Ende der sowjetischen Subventionen verließen viele Einheimische dieses Gebiet.
Aber eine zweite Chance hat sich in den letzten zehn Jahren mit der Einnahme von Touristendollars gezeigt. Dieser Tourismus bringt eine Reihe moderner Herausforderungen mit sich, die die Zukunft der Region bestimmen werden.
In der Sowjetzeit ermutigten die Moskauer Kulturbeamten die Svanen, sich von den benachbarten Gruppen im Sowjetischen Georgien zu unterscheiden und ihr ethnisches Bewusstsein zu stärken. Gleichzeitig haben die Behörden die lokalen Traditionen, die von Moskau als illegal eingestuft wurden, nicht aufhalten können: die Rolle der Ältestenräte bei der Verteilung von Land, der Vermittlung von Vendetten und der Entscheidung über Brautentführungen.
Heutzutage dominieren Geschichten über eine authentische Gesellschaft, die am Rande der Zeit lebt, in der sich im Laufe der Jahrhunderte wenig verändert hat - in der Tat kann man in alten Steintürmen ein märchenhaftes Leben finden - Orte wie Wikitravel, TripAdvisor, Facebook und Booking.com. Dies sind jedoch begrenzte Erzählungen mit wenig Verständnis für die Lebenswirklichkeit in Dörfern wie Ushguli, die oft wochenlang im Winter von der Außenwelt abgeschnitten und ohne Strom sind.
Diese Geschichten erklären auch nicht den höheren Lebensstandard der sowjetischen Blütezeit, als Ushguli - eine Ansammlung von vier Weilern mit 150 ständigen Einwohnern auf 2200 Metern Höhe im Schatten des höchsten Gipfels Georgiens - täglich durch Hubschrauberflüge mit Tbilisi verbunden. Als die lokale Sekundarschule eine große Anzahl von Kindern befähigte, einen Hochschulabschluss zu erlangen.
Nach verheerenden Lawinen im Winter 1986-1987 wurden Dutzende getötet, und die sowjetischen Behörden begannen, die Bewohner von Ushguli ins Tiefland umzusiedeln.
Einige kehrten in den 1990er Jahren zurück, als das unabhängige Georgien durch Krieg und Wirtschaftskrise zerrüttet wurde. Eine andere Welle kehrte vor einem Jahrzehnt, zumindest für eine gewisse Zeit zurück, als Georgien sich auf der internationalen Szene des Abenteuertourismus etablierte. Heute, neben den von der UNESCO anerkannten Wehrturmhäusern, gibt es zahlreiche Gästehäuser, die oft miteinander konkurrieren und in der Hochsaison von Juli bis September die Preise drücken.
Die Bergbewohner haben Erfahrung mit Tourismus. In den 70er Jahren kamen Besucher aus der gesamten Sowjetunion, um einige der höchsten Gipfel des Imperiums zu erklimmen.
Damals "beherbergten wir Touristen kostenlos, weil die Gastfreundschaft Teil unserer Kultur ist. Das Tal war voller Zelte mit Bergsteigern, Historikern, Geologen und Archäologen. Heute können wir uns das nicht mehr leisten", sagte Aysir Nizharadze, der im Sommer Kartoffeln anbaut.
Heute ist Tourismus der einzige Weg, um eine Familie zu ernähren, und es zieht die Bewohner Ushgulis an, zumindest für einen Teil des Jahres zurückzukehren. Während frühere Härten dazu beigetragen haben, das Gemeinschaftsgefühl, die gemeinsame Identität und die gegenseitige Verantwortung zu festigen, zerreißt die Konkurrenz heute die Gemeinschaft.
Aufgrund der hohen Subsistenzwirtschaft in der Landwirtschaft in Georgien sind die Preise für Fleisch, Milchprodukte und Produkte niedrig. Um eine Farm in einer Region mit einem so kurzen Sommer am Laufen zu halten, muss eine Familie Touristen als zahlende Gäste anziehen.
Trotzdem führt die Verzweiflung zu Spannungen. Die Familien in Ushguli, die sich früher auf harte Zeiten verlassen mussten, konkurrieren nun darum, die Erwartungen der Touristen zu erfüllen - niedrige Preise, eine "authentische" Atmosphäre, entsprechenden Komfort und Essen. Auf diese Weise gefährdet der Tourismus bestehende Bindungen der Gemeinschaft.
"Ushguli ist nichts ohne die Menschen in Ushguli", sagte Roland Dzelidze, ein Einwohner, der sein ganzes Leben lang in Ushguli verbracht hat, ohne seinen Dienst beim sowjetischen Militär zu leisten. "Nur einige von uns sind noch übrig - es gibt also nicht genug, um einander zu helfen, wenn etwas Schwieriges getan werden muss, wie etwa die Reparatur eines Daches. Und wenn Sie Ihrem Nachbarn nicht helfen, wird er Ihnen nicht helfen. Am Ende wohnen wir wie Konkurrenten nebeneinander.“
Stefan Applis ist Professor für Geographie an der Justus-Liebig-Universität Gießen in Deutschland.
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Fotogallerie von Stefan Applies: Klick auf das Bild
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Aber eine zweite Chance hat sich in den letzten zehn Jahren mit der Einnahme von Touristendollars gezeigt. Dieser Tourismus bringt eine Reihe moderner Herausforderungen mit sich, die die Zukunft der Region bestimmen werden.
In der Sowjetzeit ermutigten die Moskauer Kulturbeamten die Svanen, sich von den benachbarten Gruppen im Sowjetischen Georgien zu unterscheiden und ihr ethnisches Bewusstsein zu stärken. Gleichzeitig haben die Behörden die lokalen Traditionen, die von Moskau als illegal eingestuft wurden, nicht aufhalten können: die Rolle der Ältestenräte bei der Verteilung von Land, der Vermittlung von Vendetten und der Entscheidung über Brautentführungen.
Heutzutage dominieren Geschichten über eine authentische Gesellschaft, die am Rande der Zeit lebt, in der sich im Laufe der Jahrhunderte wenig verändert hat - in der Tat kann man in alten Steintürmen ein märchenhaftes Leben finden - Orte wie Wikitravel, TripAdvisor, Facebook und Booking.com. Dies sind jedoch begrenzte Erzählungen mit wenig Verständnis für die Lebenswirklichkeit in Dörfern wie Ushguli, die oft wochenlang im Winter von der Außenwelt abgeschnitten und ohne Strom sind.
Diese Geschichten erklären auch nicht den höheren Lebensstandard der sowjetischen Blütezeit, als Ushguli - eine Ansammlung von vier Weilern mit 150 ständigen Einwohnern auf 2200 Metern Höhe im Schatten des höchsten Gipfels Georgiens - täglich durch Hubschrauberflüge mit Tbilisi verbunden. Als die lokale Sekundarschule eine große Anzahl von Kindern befähigte, einen Hochschulabschluss zu erlangen.
Nach verheerenden Lawinen im Winter 1986-1987 wurden Dutzende getötet, und die sowjetischen Behörden begannen, die Bewohner von Ushguli ins Tiefland umzusiedeln.
Einige kehrten in den 1990er Jahren zurück, als das unabhängige Georgien durch Krieg und Wirtschaftskrise zerrüttet wurde. Eine andere Welle kehrte vor einem Jahrzehnt, zumindest für eine gewisse Zeit zurück, als Georgien sich auf der internationalen Szene des Abenteuertourismus etablierte. Heute, neben den von der UNESCO anerkannten Wehrturmhäusern, gibt es zahlreiche Gästehäuser, die oft miteinander konkurrieren und in der Hochsaison von Juli bis September die Preise drücken.
Die Bergbewohner haben Erfahrung mit Tourismus. In den 70er Jahren kamen Besucher aus der gesamten Sowjetunion, um einige der höchsten Gipfel des Imperiums zu erklimmen.
Damals "beherbergten wir Touristen kostenlos, weil die Gastfreundschaft Teil unserer Kultur ist. Das Tal war voller Zelte mit Bergsteigern, Historikern, Geologen und Archäologen. Heute können wir uns das nicht mehr leisten", sagte Aysir Nizharadze, der im Sommer Kartoffeln anbaut.
Heute ist Tourismus der einzige Weg, um eine Familie zu ernähren, und es zieht die Bewohner Ushgulis an, zumindest für einen Teil des Jahres zurückzukehren. Während frühere Härten dazu beigetragen haben, das Gemeinschaftsgefühl, die gemeinsame Identität und die gegenseitige Verantwortung zu festigen, zerreißt die Konkurrenz heute die Gemeinschaft.
Aufgrund der hohen Subsistenzwirtschaft in der Landwirtschaft in Georgien sind die Preise für Fleisch, Milchprodukte und Produkte niedrig. Um eine Farm in einer Region mit einem so kurzen Sommer am Laufen zu halten, muss eine Familie Touristen als zahlende Gäste anziehen.
Trotzdem führt die Verzweiflung zu Spannungen. Die Familien in Ushguli, die sich früher auf harte Zeiten verlassen mussten, konkurrieren nun darum, die Erwartungen der Touristen zu erfüllen - niedrige Preise, eine "authentische" Atmosphäre, entsprechenden Komfort und Essen. Auf diese Weise gefährdet der Tourismus bestehende Bindungen der Gemeinschaft.
"Ushguli ist nichts ohne die Menschen in Ushguli", sagte Roland Dzelidze, ein Einwohner, der sein ganzes Leben lang in Ushguli verbracht hat, ohne seinen Dienst beim sowjetischen Militär zu leisten. "Nur einige von uns sind noch übrig - es gibt also nicht genug, um einander zu helfen, wenn etwas Schwieriges getan werden muss, wie etwa die Reparatur eines Daches. Und wenn Sie Ihrem Nachbarn nicht helfen, wird er Ihnen nicht helfen. Am Ende wohnen wir wie Konkurrenten nebeneinander.“
Stefan Applis ist Professor für Geographie an der Justus-Liebig-Universität Gießen in Deutschland.
Sunday, September 10, 2017
DOCUMENTARY: "Wie Luft Zum Atmen" - Film von Ruth Olshan (Traditional Georgian Music Documentary) @salzgeberfilm
WIE LUFT ZUM ATMEN ist eine Reise in ein kleines Land zwischen Asien und Europa, das zu unrecht zwischen den Grenzen der Kulturen vergessen wird: Georgien, das hier in seiner ganzen Schönheit, seinem Zauber und seiner Vielfältigkeit eingefangen ist.
Der Dokumentarfilm von Ruth Olshan entdeckt vor allem die beeindruckende Musik Georgiens, in der die kulturelle Identität seiner Bewohner tief verwurzelt ist.
In den fast verloren gegangenen und wieder entdeckten Gesängen und Tänzen, die die UNESCO auf die Liste des Weltkulturerbes gesetzt hat, meint man Stimmen und Lieder aus einer vergangenen Zeit zu hören. Musik sei für sie so wichtig wie die Luft zum Atmen, erzählt eine Protagonistin im Film und man versteht sie sofort. #
Ruth Olshans vielschichtiges Porträt eines Landes, seiner Menschen und ihrer Musik zeigt, was das Besondere an der georgischen Musik ist: die Lebendigkeit der Folklore im Alltag, die aufrecht erhaltene Tradition, die in den Texten gespeicherten Mythen, das soziale Erleben der Musik, die regionale Unterschiedlichkeit der Kultur, und die Musiker, die die Musik heute auch in Pop- und Jazzbereiche weiterführen.
"Großartige Bilder, sympathische Protagonisten und schöne, unvertraute Musik!" (filmdienst) "Ruth Olshan hat einen sehr feinen Musikfilm gemacht, der einen Ort 90 Minuten zum Klingen bringt" (zitty) "Eine berückende Hommage an ein Volk, dessen große Kultur durchströmt wird von Gesang" (Rheinischer Merkur) "Folklore kann ganz schön cool sein!" (Die Welt) "Ein ‚Hit’ für musikbegeisterte Weltreisende im Kino!" (programmkino.de)
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Ruth Olshan in her film portrays musicians who work with different approaches: a male choir searching and cultivating old folk songs in the Caucasus region, a female choir, a school dance company and musicians who enhance Georgian folk music. There is a common denominator that links the diverse protagonists in Olshan’s film: Singing, dancing and music are crucial elements of their lifestyle. Music is as important as “air to breath,” explains the director of the female choir . The subtle camera work discreetly catches moments and spontaneous encounters, showing that the rehearsals and the singing brings moments to these women where they are taken away from their normal course of life. For life in Rustavi, a small town near Tiflis, seems bleak. The industry is dead, the unemployment rate is enormous. You ask yourself how people can live. The choir women’s beauty and positive energy exude an affirmative sign of life, even in mournful moments. Men and women sing and dance both joy and sorrow off their chest. In Georgia, music seems to be omnipresent, almost existential. Even if a young singer does not think folk music is “sexy”, he still gets hooked. It gets under his skin. The film pays tribute to this fascination, vitality, and spiritedness.
twitter.com/salzgeberfilm
www.salzgeber.de
Tuesday, July 01, 2014
KONZERT: Musiker der "New Masters of Mugam" aus Aserbaidschan treten am Donnerstag - 3. Juli - in Erfurt auf. Von Lavinia Meier-Ewert (thueringer-allgemeine.de)
(thueringer-allgemeine.de) Lange Nacht der Musikkulturen: Jahrhundertealte Lieder über die Liebe erklingen im Kaisersaal Erfurt
Lange Nacht der Musikkulturen: Musikerinnen und Musiker aus Südkorea, Aserbaidschan, Tansania und Brasilien im Kaisersaal Erfurt [pdf]
Pressemappe [pdf]
Weimar. Die Musiker der "New Masters of Mugam" aus Aserbaidschan treten am Donnerstag in Erfurt auf. Ihre Kompositionen aus Aserbaidschan spielen, sind jahrhundertealt, und doch hat sie nie jemand aufgeschrieben. Sie werden mündlich weitergegeben, von einer Generation zur nächsten, so ist es Tradition.
Und so ist zugleich gesichert, dass die Tradition immer lebendig bleibt, erklärt Philip Küppers vom Lehrstuhl für "Transcultural Music Studies" der Weimarer Liszt-Hochschule. "Die Musik muss sich erneuern - sonst wird sie etwas fürs Museum."
Dieser Weiterentwicklung der alten Musiktradition des Mugam widmen sich die vierzehn Musiker des Ensembles "New Masters of Mugam", die am Donnerstag in Erfurt auftreten. Sie kommen vom Nationalkonservatorium in der aserbaidschanischen Hauptstadt Baku. 300 Studenten erlernen dort ausschließlich Mugam und ihm verwandte Musikstile.
Die Traditionen in die Moderne holen
Der Mugam ist als musikalischer Zyklus verfasst und lässt sich in etwa mit einer mehrsätzigen Suite vergleichen. Bei jedem der Teile wird improvisiert - allerdings nach vorgegebenen musikalischen Gesetzmäßigkeiten. Die Melodielinie wird in einer höheren Tonlage gesungen, der darunter laufende Instrumentalton mit einem kleinen Rohrblattblasinstrument erzeugt.
Die "New Masters of Mugam" sind Dozenten und Meisterschüler am Konservatorium, unter ihnen der Tar-Spieler Shahriar Imanov, der 2013 beim "International Mugam Festival" ausgezeichnet wurde, ebenso wie Sänger Miralam Miralamov. "Mugam ist das Zentrum", sagen sie über ihre Musik. "Von hier aus können wir in jede Richtung Neues schaffen." Das Ensemble verknüpfe Moderne und Erneuerung, ein traditionelles Repertoire mit virtuoser Ausgestaltung, sagt Philip Küppers, der die Musiker vor wenigen Wochen in Baku besucht hat.
Die Texte indes sind seit Jahrhunderten dieselben: Gedichte über das Schicksal und die Liebe, meist verfasst von berühmten Dichtern des Landes.
Donnerstag um 19.30 Uhr im Erfurter Kaisersaal. Es spielen Ensembles aus Tansania, Südkorea und Brasilien. Karten: 16-19 Euro, Tourist-Information und Abendkasse
+++
Konzert auch beim tff-rudolstadt.de
Muğam ist die aserbaidschanische Bezeichnung für eine Musikform, die von den Uiguren im Nordwesten Chinas durch ganz Zentralasien bis in die Türkei verbreitet ist. Je nach Ort und Sprache heißt sie Maqam, Muqam oder auch Shahmaqam. „Seiner Form nach ist der Mugham ein Zyklus im Charakter einer Suite oder Rhapsodie. Jeder der Mughamteile ist eine Improvisation, die sich im Rahmen der jeweiligen Tonart, in der der Mugham steht, bewegt und sich auf die freie Nutzung von melodischen Wendungen, wie sie für diese Tonart charakteristisch sind, gründet. Jeder folgende Mughamteil hat einen anderen Stützton und entfaltet sich in einem höheren Klangbereich. Die Sätze werden durch Intermedien – Tasnif (ein begleitendes Lied) und Rjang (eine tänzerische Instrumentalepisode) – unterteilt. Die komplizierten Regeln dieser Kunstform werden von den Interpreten streng befolgt. Doch wie die ganze Folklore gehören auch die Mughame zur mündlich überlieferten Musiktradition. Dadurch werden die Mugham-Intonationen auch ständig erneuert.“ (Alexandra Tichanowa)
Für diese ständige Erneuerung sorgt in Baku das Nationalkonservatorium; seit 2009 begleitet die Heydar Aliyev Foundation diese Bemühungen durch ein jährliches Festival International World of Mugham, das passenderweise im International Mugham Center of Azerbaijan stattfindet. Aus diesem Umfeld kommt auch die von Tiago de Oliveira Pinto von der Musikhochschule Weimar handverlesene Gruppe junger Meister: „Dass die Musiker aus dem Nationalkonservatorium stammen, ist gut, denn an dieser Ausbildungsstätte wird die Mugham-Tradition bereits seit vielen Jahrzehnten vermittelt und gepflegt. Es handelt sich dabei nicht um eine westlich orientierte und daher artifizielle traditionelle Musik. Ich habe dieses Konservatorium besucht und war erstaunt, wie viele junge und talentierte Musiker hier von großen Meistern unterrichtet werden. Bei dieser Gruppe handelt es sich um die Vertreter der jüngeren Generation des Mugham.“
Lange Nacht der Musikkulturen: Musikerinnen und Musiker aus Südkorea, Aserbaidschan, Tansania und Brasilien im Kaisersaal Erfurt [pdf]
Pressemappe [pdf]
Und so ist zugleich gesichert, dass die Tradition immer lebendig bleibt, erklärt Philip Küppers vom Lehrstuhl für "Transcultural Music Studies" der Weimarer Liszt-Hochschule. "Die Musik muss sich erneuern - sonst wird sie etwas fürs Museum."
Dieser Weiterentwicklung der alten Musiktradition des Mugam widmen sich die vierzehn Musiker des Ensembles "New Masters of Mugam", die am Donnerstag in Erfurt auftreten. Sie kommen vom Nationalkonservatorium in der aserbaidschanischen Hauptstadt Baku. 300 Studenten erlernen dort ausschließlich Mugam und ihm verwandte Musikstile.
Die Traditionen in die Moderne holen
Der Mugam ist als musikalischer Zyklus verfasst und lässt sich in etwa mit einer mehrsätzigen Suite vergleichen. Bei jedem der Teile wird improvisiert - allerdings nach vorgegebenen musikalischen Gesetzmäßigkeiten. Die Melodielinie wird in einer höheren Tonlage gesungen, der darunter laufende Instrumentalton mit einem kleinen Rohrblattblasinstrument erzeugt.
Die "New Masters of Mugam" sind Dozenten und Meisterschüler am Konservatorium, unter ihnen der Tar-Spieler Shahriar Imanov, der 2013 beim "International Mugam Festival" ausgezeichnet wurde, ebenso wie Sänger Miralam Miralamov. "Mugam ist das Zentrum", sagen sie über ihre Musik. "Von hier aus können wir in jede Richtung Neues schaffen." Das Ensemble verknüpfe Moderne und Erneuerung, ein traditionelles Repertoire mit virtuoser Ausgestaltung, sagt Philip Küppers, der die Musiker vor wenigen Wochen in Baku besucht hat.
Die Texte indes sind seit Jahrhunderten dieselben: Gedichte über das Schicksal und die Liebe, meist verfasst von berühmten Dichtern des Landes.
Donnerstag um 19.30 Uhr im Erfurter Kaisersaal. Es spielen Ensembles aus Tansania, Südkorea und Brasilien. Karten: 16-19 Euro, Tourist-Information und Abendkasse
+++
Konzert auch beim tff-rudolstadt.de
Muğam ist die aserbaidschanische Bezeichnung für eine Musikform, die von den Uiguren im Nordwesten Chinas durch ganz Zentralasien bis in die Türkei verbreitet ist. Je nach Ort und Sprache heißt sie Maqam, Muqam oder auch Shahmaqam. „Seiner Form nach ist der Mugham ein Zyklus im Charakter einer Suite oder Rhapsodie. Jeder der Mughamteile ist eine Improvisation, die sich im Rahmen der jeweiligen Tonart, in der der Mugham steht, bewegt und sich auf die freie Nutzung von melodischen Wendungen, wie sie für diese Tonart charakteristisch sind, gründet. Jeder folgende Mughamteil hat einen anderen Stützton und entfaltet sich in einem höheren Klangbereich. Die Sätze werden durch Intermedien – Tasnif (ein begleitendes Lied) und Rjang (eine tänzerische Instrumentalepisode) – unterteilt. Die komplizierten Regeln dieser Kunstform werden von den Interpreten streng befolgt. Doch wie die ganze Folklore gehören auch die Mughame zur mündlich überlieferten Musiktradition. Dadurch werden die Mugham-Intonationen auch ständig erneuert.“ (Alexandra Tichanowa)
Für diese ständige Erneuerung sorgt in Baku das Nationalkonservatorium; seit 2009 begleitet die Heydar Aliyev Foundation diese Bemühungen durch ein jährliches Festival International World of Mugham, das passenderweise im International Mugham Center of Azerbaijan stattfindet. Aus diesem Umfeld kommt auch die von Tiago de Oliveira Pinto von der Musikhochschule Weimar handverlesene Gruppe junger Meister: „Dass die Musiker aus dem Nationalkonservatorium stammen, ist gut, denn an dieser Ausbildungsstätte wird die Mugham-Tradition bereits seit vielen Jahrzehnten vermittelt und gepflegt. Es handelt sich dabei nicht um eine westlich orientierte und daher artifizielle traditionelle Musik. Ich habe dieses Konservatorium besucht und war erstaunt, wie viele junge und talentierte Musiker hier von großen Meistern unterrichtet werden. Bei dieser Gruppe handelt es sich um die Vertreter der jüngeren Generation des Mugham.“
Thursday, June 05, 2014
VIDEO: Wild Horse Race in the Georgian mountians. By David Adams (youtube.com)
(davidadamsfilms.com.au) David Adams joins in a back-country horse race through rivers and trees in Tu Chete Georgia, on his journey to follow in the footsteps of Jason and the Argonauts.
more here: davidadamsfilms.com.au/georgia in search of jason and the argonaut
Thursday, April 24, 2014
KUNST: Taus Makhacheva: „A Walk, A Dance, A Ritual“ - in der GfZK Leipzig (gfzk-leipzig.de)
(gfzk-leipzig.de) Kunstpreis "Europas Zukunft" 2014
kuratiert von Ilina Koralova
12. April – 29. Juni 2014, Galerie für Zeitgenössische Kunst Leipzig
Die Ausstellung "A Walk, A Dance, A Ritual" zeigt zum ersten Mal in Deutschland eine umfangreiche Auswahl von Arbeiten Taus Makhachevas, der Preisträgerin des Kunstpreises "Europas Zukunft" 2014.
Taus Makhacheva stammt aus der russischen Republik Dagestan im Kaukasus. Ihr Interesse für die komplexe Beziehung zwischen Geschichte, Gegenwart und Erinnerungspolitik hängt mit der Geschichte des Landes zusammen und bildet den Ausgangspunkt der meisten ihrer in der GfZK präsentierten Werke. Mittels ihres bevorzugten Mediums Video, aber auch in Fotografien, Installationen und Objekten, untersucht und reflektiert sie Motive und Begriffe der Kunstgeschichte, der Anthropologie und Kulturwissenschaften. Die Aufmerksamkeit der Künstlerin richtet sich immer wieder auf Traditionen, wie sie vor der Sowjetisierung der multi-ethnischen Regionen des Kaukasus existierten. Sie beschäftigt sich mit den Fragen: Was ist von dieser Vergangenheit übrig geblieben? In welcher Weise werden die Überbleibsel dieser Zeit und ihrer Traditionen in den heutigen Alltag integriert? – wo sie den Zweck erfüllen sollen, zur Konsolidierung der postsowjetischen Gesellschaft Dagestans beizutragen.
Die Perspektive der Künstlerin ist keineswegs eine nostalgische, vielmehr erfasst sie den Prozess des Verschmelzens, der Aneignung und Einverleibung und der Interaktion zwischen dem Altvertrauten und dem Fremden. In diesem Sinne setzt Makhacheva mit ihrer Arbeit der offiziellen ideologischen Behauptung einer authentischen kulturellen Identität etwas entgegen. Sie nimmt die „wiedererfundenen“ Traditionen, etwa die inzwischen durch und durch kommerzialisierten und überaus üppigen Hochzeitsfeiern (in „A Space of Celebration“, 2009) oder das neue Initiationsritual illegaler Autorennen (in „The Fast and The Furious“, 2011) gleichsam unter die Lupe.
Der Titel der Ausstellung „A Walk, A Dance, A Ritual“ verweist auf die Handlungen und Motive, die in Makhachevas Werk immer wieder eine Rolle spielen. In der Neubelebung vergessener Rituale und Gesten erkundet der Mensch mit seinem Körper – in vielen Fällen agiert die Künstlerin selbst in ihren Videos – sein unmittelbares (soziales) Umfeld in dem Bestreben, seine Umgebung zu erfassen, eine Verbindung zu ihr herzustellen und von ihr akzeptiert zu werden. So lotet Makhachevas künstlerische Praxis eine soziale Erfahrung aus, wie man sie nicht nur in den Gesellschaften des Kaukasus machen kann: den scheinbar unauflöslichen Widerspruch, zu einer bestimmten Gesellschaft oder Gemeinschaft zu gehören und sie gleichzeitig wie ein Außenstehender zu beobachten.
Taus Makhacheva wurde 1983 in Moskau geboren. 2012 erhielt sie den "Innovation Prize", den russischen Staatspreis für zeitgenössische Kunst, in der Kategorie "New Generation", (mit dem Projekt "The Fast and The Furious"), 2011 wurde sie für den Kandinsky-Preis, Kategorie "Media Project of the Year", nominiert. Ihren Bachelor der bildenden Künste hat sie am Goldsmiths College, London, gemacht und ihren Master of Arts am Royal College of Art, London.
Ausstellungen (Auswahl): Story Demands to be Continued (2013, Ausstellungshalle der Künstlervereinigung der Republik Dagestan, Makhachkala), Love me, Love me not (2013, 55. Biennale von Venedig, Collateral Event), Re: emerge – Towards a New Cultural Cartography (2013, 11 Sharjah Biennial), Liverpool Biennial 2012: City States – Makhachkala, Topography of Masculinity (LJMU Copperas Hill Building), Rewriting Worlds (2011, The Fourth Moscow Biennale of Contemporary Art, Main Project, ArtPlay Сentre), Greater Caucasus (2011, PERMM Museum of Contemporary Art, Perm); Affirmative Action (Mimesis) (2011, Laura Bulian Gallery, Mailand), Practice for Everyday Life (2011, Calvert 22, London), History of Russian Video Art, Volume 3 (2010, Moscow Museum of Modern Art)
Der Kunstpreis >Europas Zukunft< wurde 2003 von Matthias Brühl und Dietmar Schulz in Zusammenarbeit mit der GfZK aus dem Wunsch heraus ins Leben gerufen, europäische Künstler und Künstlerinnen für ihre Arbeit auszuzeichnen. Der mit 5000 Euro dotierte Preis ist inzwischen eine wichtige Auszeichnung im Bereich der gegenwärtigen Kunst. Er ist nicht an ein konkretes künstlerisches Projekt gebunden und beinhaltet nicht den Ankauf eines Werkes, sondern ist als eine Ermutigung für Künstlerinnen und Künstler gedacht, ihren Weg fortzusetzen. Dank seiner Stifter ist der Preis zu einem Beispiel für die langfristige Verbindung zwischen Kunst und privatem Engagement geworden.
"Heute gibt es viele Konzepte darüber, was Europa ist oder sein sollte. Deutschland könnte im besten Fall eine wichtige Mittlerrolle spielen und ein friedliches Miteinander fördern. Es ist wichtig, den Austausch zu unterstützen, und in der Kunst sehen wir ein geeignetes Mittel, um sich miteinander zu beschäftigen, ohne sich gleich politisch oder wirtschaftlich zu binden." Matthias Brühl, Dietmar Schulz, Preisstifter
Mit der freundlichen Unterstützung von peri foundation.
E n d e a v o u r HD video / 9.00 min., colour, sound / Tsada mountain village, Dagestan, 2010 from Taus Makhacheva on Vimeo.
more: vimeo.com/tausmakhacheva
more links:
Her Dagestan Taus Makhacheva Profiles BY Stephanie Baile [artasiapacific.com]
Taus Makhacheva Hall of the Artists’ Union, Makhachkala, Russia [frieze.com]
At the Crossroads: Conversation with Taus Makhacheva
kuratiert von Ilina Koralova
12. April – 29. Juni 2014, Galerie für Zeitgenössische Kunst Leipzig
 |
| Taus Makhacheva, Gamsutl, HD video, 16.01 min, colour, sound, Dagestan, 2012 |
Die Ausstellung "A Walk, A Dance, A Ritual" zeigt zum ersten Mal in Deutschland eine umfangreiche Auswahl von Arbeiten Taus Makhachevas, der Preisträgerin des Kunstpreises "Europas Zukunft" 2014.
Taus Makhacheva stammt aus der russischen Republik Dagestan im Kaukasus. Ihr Interesse für die komplexe Beziehung zwischen Geschichte, Gegenwart und Erinnerungspolitik hängt mit der Geschichte des Landes zusammen und bildet den Ausgangspunkt der meisten ihrer in der GfZK präsentierten Werke. Mittels ihres bevorzugten Mediums Video, aber auch in Fotografien, Installationen und Objekten, untersucht und reflektiert sie Motive und Begriffe der Kunstgeschichte, der Anthropologie und Kulturwissenschaften. Die Aufmerksamkeit der Künstlerin richtet sich immer wieder auf Traditionen, wie sie vor der Sowjetisierung der multi-ethnischen Regionen des Kaukasus existierten. Sie beschäftigt sich mit den Fragen: Was ist von dieser Vergangenheit übrig geblieben? In welcher Weise werden die Überbleibsel dieser Zeit und ihrer Traditionen in den heutigen Alltag integriert? – wo sie den Zweck erfüllen sollen, zur Konsolidierung der postsowjetischen Gesellschaft Dagestans beizutragen.
Die Perspektive der Künstlerin ist keineswegs eine nostalgische, vielmehr erfasst sie den Prozess des Verschmelzens, der Aneignung und Einverleibung und der Interaktion zwischen dem Altvertrauten und dem Fremden. In diesem Sinne setzt Makhacheva mit ihrer Arbeit der offiziellen ideologischen Behauptung einer authentischen kulturellen Identität etwas entgegen. Sie nimmt die „wiedererfundenen“ Traditionen, etwa die inzwischen durch und durch kommerzialisierten und überaus üppigen Hochzeitsfeiern (in „A Space of Celebration“, 2009) oder das neue Initiationsritual illegaler Autorennen (in „The Fast and The Furious“, 2011) gleichsam unter die Lupe.
Der Titel der Ausstellung „A Walk, A Dance, A Ritual“ verweist auf die Handlungen und Motive, die in Makhachevas Werk immer wieder eine Rolle spielen. In der Neubelebung vergessener Rituale und Gesten erkundet der Mensch mit seinem Körper – in vielen Fällen agiert die Künstlerin selbst in ihren Videos – sein unmittelbares (soziales) Umfeld in dem Bestreben, seine Umgebung zu erfassen, eine Verbindung zu ihr herzustellen und von ihr akzeptiert zu werden. So lotet Makhachevas künstlerische Praxis eine soziale Erfahrung aus, wie man sie nicht nur in den Gesellschaften des Kaukasus machen kann: den scheinbar unauflöslichen Widerspruch, zu einer bestimmten Gesellschaft oder Gemeinschaft zu gehören und sie gleichzeitig wie ein Außenstehender zu beobachten.
Taus Makhacheva wurde 1983 in Moskau geboren. 2012 erhielt sie den "Innovation Prize", den russischen Staatspreis für zeitgenössische Kunst, in der Kategorie "New Generation", (mit dem Projekt "The Fast and The Furious"), 2011 wurde sie für den Kandinsky-Preis, Kategorie "Media Project of the Year", nominiert. Ihren Bachelor der bildenden Künste hat sie am Goldsmiths College, London, gemacht und ihren Master of Arts am Royal College of Art, London.
Ausstellungen (Auswahl): Story Demands to be Continued (2013, Ausstellungshalle der Künstlervereinigung der Republik Dagestan, Makhachkala), Love me, Love me not (2013, 55. Biennale von Venedig, Collateral Event), Re: emerge – Towards a New Cultural Cartography (2013, 11 Sharjah Biennial), Liverpool Biennial 2012: City States – Makhachkala, Topography of Masculinity (LJMU Copperas Hill Building), Rewriting Worlds (2011, The Fourth Moscow Biennale of Contemporary Art, Main Project, ArtPlay Сentre), Greater Caucasus (2011, PERMM Museum of Contemporary Art, Perm); Affirmative Action (Mimesis) (2011, Laura Bulian Gallery, Mailand), Practice for Everyday Life (2011, Calvert 22, London), History of Russian Video Art, Volume 3 (2010, Moscow Museum of Modern Art)
Der Kunstpreis >Europas Zukunft< wurde 2003 von Matthias Brühl und Dietmar Schulz in Zusammenarbeit mit der GfZK aus dem Wunsch heraus ins Leben gerufen, europäische Künstler und Künstlerinnen für ihre Arbeit auszuzeichnen. Der mit 5000 Euro dotierte Preis ist inzwischen eine wichtige Auszeichnung im Bereich der gegenwärtigen Kunst. Er ist nicht an ein konkretes künstlerisches Projekt gebunden und beinhaltet nicht den Ankauf eines Werkes, sondern ist als eine Ermutigung für Künstlerinnen und Künstler gedacht, ihren Weg fortzusetzen. Dank seiner Stifter ist der Preis zu einem Beispiel für die langfristige Verbindung zwischen Kunst und privatem Engagement geworden.
"Heute gibt es viele Konzepte darüber, was Europa ist oder sein sollte. Deutschland könnte im besten Fall eine wichtige Mittlerrolle spielen und ein friedliches Miteinander fördern. Es ist wichtig, den Austausch zu unterstützen, und in der Kunst sehen wir ein geeignetes Mittel, um sich miteinander zu beschäftigen, ohne sich gleich politisch oder wirtschaftlich zu binden." Matthias Brühl, Dietmar Schulz, Preisstifter
Mit der freundlichen Unterstützung von peri foundation.
E n d e a v o u r HD video / 9.00 min., colour, sound / Tsada mountain village, Dagestan, 2010 from Taus Makhacheva on Vimeo.
more: vimeo.com/tausmakhacheva
more links:
Her Dagestan Taus Makhacheva Profiles BY Stephanie Baile [artasiapacific.com]
Taus Makhacheva Hall of the Artists’ Union, Makhachkala, Russia [frieze.com]
At the Crossroads: Conversation with Taus Makhacheva
Monday, April 21, 2014
PHOTOGRAPHY: Easter Celebration in Georgia. By Temo Bardzimashvili (temobardzimashvili.com)
Last year's celebration of Easter in Shukhuti, Georgia, with the traditional (and a bit violent) game of Lelo Burti.
more about Temo Bardzimashvili here: temobardzimashvili.com
more about Temo Bardzimashvili here: temobardzimashvili.com
Saturday, January 25, 2014
SCIENCE: Being A State and States Of Being in Highland Georgia. By Florian Mühlfried (berghahnbooks.com)
“It is an important contribution to the anthropology of the state, the Caucasus and it especially helps to conceptualise a group of people without falling in the trap of ethnic ‘groupism’, so present in many writings on the Caucasus.” · Stephane Voell, Philipps University Marburg
“This is an exceptionally ambitious study… it is highly original – no one else has written about these mountains before!” · Chris Hann, Max Planck Institute Halle
“I found this to be a delightful manuscript on a badly needed subject.” · Bruce Grant, New York University
“This book … will point the way to promising avenues for future research on the cultural and religious practices of the peoples of the Caucasus (and doubtless elsewhere).” · Kevin Tuite, University of Montréal
(berghahnbooks.com) The highlands region of the republic of Georgia, one of the former Soviet Socialist Republics, has long been legendary for its beauty. It is often assumed that the state has only made partial inroads into this region, and is mostly perceived as alien. Taking a fresh look at the Georgian highlands allows the author to consider perennial questions of citizenship, belonging, and mobility in a context that has otherwise been known only for its folkloric dimensions. Scrutinizing forms of identification with the state at its margins, as well as local encounters with the erratic Soviet and post-Soviet state, the author argues that citizenship is both a sought-after means of entitlement and a way of guarding against the state. This book not only challenges theories in the study of citizenship but also the axioms of integration in Western social sciences in general.
Florian Mühlfried teaches in the Caucasus Studies Program at the Friedrich Schiller University of Jena. Previously, he was a research assistant at the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology and a visiting professor at the University of Campinas, Brazil. He is he author of Post-Soviet Feasting: The Georgian Banquet in Transition (2006, in German) and co-edited Exploring the Edge of Empire: Soviet Era Anthropology in the Caucasus and Central Asia with Sergey Sokolovskiy (2012).
Series: Volume 24, EASA Series
+++
Contents
Illustrations
Acknowledgments
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Chapter 1. Of a Mobile Field
Chapter 2. Of Hidden Treasures in the Mountains and a State that Comes and Goes
Chapter 3. Of Reborn Citizens in a Post-Soviet Landscape
Chapter 4. Of Three Ways to Be a State
Chapter 5. Of Triple Winning and Simple Losing
Chapter 2. Of Hidden Treasures in the Mountains and a State that Comes and Goes
Chapter 3. Of Reborn Citizens in a Post-Soviet Landscape
Chapter 4. Of Three Ways to Be a State
Chapter 5. Of Triple Winning and Simple Losing
Conclusion
Appendix
Bibliography
Index
Bibliography
Index
Wednesday, January 08, 2014
MUSICIAN: Teona Kumsiashvili from Georgia
listen music by Teona Kumsiashvili:
soundcloud.com - Teona Qumsiashvili
more in facebook: facebook.com/ Teona Qumsiashvili
Tuesday, January 07, 2014
MUSIC: ანა მალაზონია და გელა დაიაური - მე შენთვის ვწერდი / Ana Malazonia & Gela Daiauri -Me Shentvis Vcerdi (youtube.com)
GEORGIAN POLYPHONY: Tutarchela in Concert (youtube.com)
More to Tutarchela here: georgien.blogspot.de/Tutarchela
Sunday, November 10, 2013
DIE WELT: Eine 5000 Jahre alte Welt für sich (welt.de)
(welt.de) Khinalig ist ein altes Dorf. Es befindet sich im kaukasischen Gebirge
von Aserbaidschan, an der Grenze zu Dagestan. Die Geschichte von Khinalig geht 5000 Jahre zurück. Khinalig ist ein einer der ältesten bewohnten Orte der Welt. Außerdem ist Khinalig das höchstgelegene und abgeschiedenste Dörfchen in Aserbaidschan. Um die 63 Kilometer von der Stadt Quba nach Khinalig zurückzulegen, braucht man fast drei Stunden.
Die Straße ist holprig und liegt mitten zwischen Bergen, Flüssen und Wasserfällen. Gerade im Winter ist das Dorf nicht zugänglich, der Schnee und die Wetterbedingungen isolieren es vom Rest der Welt. Das hat Khinalig über die Jahrtausende hinweg vor Eindringlingen und Besetzungen bewahrt. Die rund 2000 Bewohner sprechen ihre eigene Sprache und kleiden sich noch immer traditionell.
Mehr: boergen.de
Travelling to Khinalig: shekiazerbaijan.blogspot.com
Mehr: boergen.de
Travelling to Khinalig: shekiazerbaijan.blogspot.com
Saturday, November 02, 2013
FOOD & WINE: Georgia is famed for its traditional home cooking, but watch your weight. By Mischa Moselle (news.hvino.com)
(news.hvino.com) The Quiet Woman pub, in Georgia's Black Sea resort of Batumi, was celebrating its recent reopening. A strong smell of fresh paint was cloaked by thick cigarette smoke. From behind the bar, a teenage girl in a tartan miniskirt yelled "free beer" over the din of a cover band warbling Angels by Robbie Williams into a scratchy microphone.
Tables of chain-smoking men swayed with their pints in hand, as a Spanish football match played on big screens overhead. If there was a place to try authentic Georgian food, this pub, with its menu of burgers and chips, probably wasn't it. I left the inappropriately named pub behind, and headed out onto the deserted Piazza, Batumi's newly built town square. Its 10-storey clock tower, which doubles as a boutique hotel, was lit up and shone centre stage, but all the tables and chairs of the cafes had been moved inside until a fierce storm blew over.
Opposite the pub, freshly painted in wave-crest white, was a modern Georgian restaurant called Mimino, offering a beacon of light. Inside, cheery waitresses, this time in turquoise airline-style uniforms, stood ready to serve traditional food.
The port city of Batumi is the capital of Ajara, an autonomous corner of southwestern Georgia, which proudly has its own culinary heritage. At first glance, the menu did not appear easy on the hips. I pointed and ordered a selection, not knowing what to expect, except inevitable weight gain.
First up was a steaming hot plate of Ajarian khachapuri, perfect wet-weather food. A cross between a canoe-shaped pizza and naan bread, it arrived awash with cheese and on the top wobbled an almost raw egg, swimming in a pool of butter.
Finger-thin sulguni rolls filled with cottage cheese and mint arrived on plain white plates and were moist and light, like fresh spring rolls. Still at the appetiser stage, the airline waitresses next delivered small plates of pkhali, vegetarian meatball-shaped patties, which were made of spinach, beetroot and leek. This was accompanied by plump tomatoes, balsamic glaze and lashings of dill.
Main courses were meat-centric, with signature dishes of veal chakapuli (braised chops, although usually lamb), pork odjakhuri (pork with potatoes and tomatoes, baked in a clay pot) and fried lambs' brains. I opted for filleted trout, which was flaky and filled with finely chopped walnuts and herbs.
Lakes, rivers, mountain valleys and fertile land provide a year-round bounty for Georgia and the fruits of this natural abundance can be seen daily at every meal time. During Soviet times, Georgia (the republic declared independence in 1991, shortly before the collapse of the Soviet Union) was famed for its home cooking and it remains the most foodie destination in the region.
Georgia is also famous as one of the world's oldest wine-producing countries and is known as "wine's Jerusalem" for good reason.
Georgia's viticulture methods were developed 8,000 years ago and, of about 1,500 or so original and historical grape varieties, a whopping 525 still survive.
Wine plays an almost constant role in Georgian culture. Christian icons, including vine motifs, can be spotted around the country, and in many households home-made wine is drunk with abandon.
On my next stop, in Tbilisi, a city devoid of decent, affordable hotels, a friend suggested I stay with a woman by the name of Manana Skhirtladze, who occasionally takes in guests. Amid a flurry of unpacking on arrival, the telephone in my bedroom rang.
"Come downstairs, I want you to try this sturgeon."
Following Manana's cheery, but firm order, I tracked the smell of garlicky cooking down the stairs. On the kitchen table - large and centre-stage - lay skewers of fatty, chargrilled sturgeon, alongside stuffed peppers, lavash flatbread, freshly fried chips and traditional Georgian clay ketsi dishes full of chopped salads. I bit off chunks of sturgeon, surely the most "fishy" fish I've ever tried, and we raised tiny but full glasses of red wine, toasting guests and Georgia.
I finished this warm welcome - and significant mid-afternoon snack - with thin slices of pickled and dimpled sulguni cheese, which with its sour, salty, and incredibly moreish taste, a bit like fine feta, combined perfectly with sliced gherkins.
Inevitably, we ended with a glass of chacha. Manana, a formidable character and cook, stopped me as I was about to take a sip, and warned "this is not for taste, this is medicinal".
It was so strong it almost blew my head off.
As I retired, Manana was already thinking about breakfast. "Tomorrow, I'll make for you special pancakes. When people eat these, they say 'Oh my God, these are fantastic', so I shortened the name to 'Manana's oh-my-God pancakes'." She said all this very quickly, gently shoved a bottle of home-made wine into my hand, and sent me back upstairs.
Breakfast was predictably tasty. The pancakes, dusted with sugar, loaded with grated, cooked apples and topped with a long grape the shape of a bullet, were delicious. The melon, which was the size of a football, was sliced, while pickled green walnuts - doused in brown sugar, allspice, cloves and cinnamon - tasted like Christmas.
Manana spoke about her special rustic honey, which she bought from a man "who only once came to the city, 30 years ago", before adding that she considers it so good, that she "bought 70 kilograms of it" in a huge vat.
On the breakfast table, sour cherry and blackberry jam in glass jars were placed next to a big helping of this special aged honey. Georgian television news flickered in the background, and out the window I could see the famous Radisson Blu hotel.
Serving as a centre-point for the city, in the 1960s the then Iveria Hotel was a favourite for well-heeled families from the USSR who'd travel there to soak in the city's thermal baths.
Russians stopped coming when Georgia became independent, and occupancy dropped at the hotel. Then, shortly after, the hotel found a new, somewhat darker purpose.
During the Abkhazia war, ethnic Georgians found refuge in Tbilisi, and specifically in the Iveria, which became a vertical city centre refugee camp housing about 800 people.
Later, in 2004, the refugees were rehoused and, after a major refurbishment in 2008, the hotel reopened as luxury accommodation. Today, it shows little of its gritty past.
In modern day Tbilisi, the streets are mainly peaceful. By tumbledown buildings fat green figs fall from the trees onto streets where children play on roller skates and shiny, red pomegranates hang heavy from branches.
Through good times and bad, the carefully strung-up vines of age-old grape varieties that circle residential houses have remained - a perfect reminder to the visitor of Georgia's devotion to food and wine.
Rich and full-bodied Georgian wine claims an 8,000-year-old heritage
Kevin Ho, one of three co-founders of GHVino ghvinohk.com once lived in France, and used the country as a base for exploring Eastern Europe. That's why, although Ho likes French wine, the company specialises in wine from Georgia and Moldova.
Ho says Georgian food is almost impossible to get in Hong Kong, but there is an overlap with some dishes from neighbouring Turkey - the Georgian khatchapuri is similar to some forms of Turkish pide (a type of flatbread pizza), for example.
Georgia's key grapes are saperavi for red wine and rkatsiteli for white or "amber" wine. In her book Wine Grapes, Jancis Robinson says that saperavi comes from a Georgian word meaning "dye", due to its dark black skin and pinkish juice. The grape produces wines that are "high in colour, acidity, and tannin, full-bodied, rich in dark fruit". GHVino's Mukuzani, dry red 2010 from Teliani Valley is certainly dark and high in tannins, with a plum flavour. This is a good match for roast meats, although it would probably overpower a Peking duck.
Robinson says that DNA testing shows that rkatsiteli might be related to local wild vines, which could back up the claim that vines were first domesticated in Georgia 8,000 years ago. But she says more work needs to be done to prove the theory.
GHVino's Samshvenisi Kvevris 2010, also from Teliani Valley, is made by an ancient technique of fermentation in an amphora.
The must is in contact with the skins for six weeks, leaving the wine amber rather than white, and fairly tannic. This example has an apple-like flavour when cold but when warm tastes almost sherry-like. In fact, the grape can be used to make a fortified wine.
Tables of chain-smoking men swayed with their pints in hand, as a Spanish football match played on big screens overhead. If there was a place to try authentic Georgian food, this pub, with its menu of burgers and chips, probably wasn't it. I left the inappropriately named pub behind, and headed out onto the deserted Piazza, Batumi's newly built town square. Its 10-storey clock tower, which doubles as a boutique hotel, was lit up and shone centre stage, but all the tables and chairs of the cafes had been moved inside until a fierce storm blew over.
Opposite the pub, freshly painted in wave-crest white, was a modern Georgian restaurant called Mimino, offering a beacon of light. Inside, cheery waitresses, this time in turquoise airline-style uniforms, stood ready to serve traditional food.
The port city of Batumi is the capital of Ajara, an autonomous corner of southwestern Georgia, which proudly has its own culinary heritage. At first glance, the menu did not appear easy on the hips. I pointed and ordered a selection, not knowing what to expect, except inevitable weight gain.
First up was a steaming hot plate of Ajarian khachapuri, perfect wet-weather food. A cross between a canoe-shaped pizza and naan bread, it arrived awash with cheese and on the top wobbled an almost raw egg, swimming in a pool of butter.
Finger-thin sulguni rolls filled with cottage cheese and mint arrived on plain white plates and were moist and light, like fresh spring rolls. Still at the appetiser stage, the airline waitresses next delivered small plates of pkhali, vegetarian meatball-shaped patties, which were made of spinach, beetroot and leek. This was accompanied by plump tomatoes, balsamic glaze and lashings of dill.
Main courses were meat-centric, with signature dishes of veal chakapuli (braised chops, although usually lamb), pork odjakhuri (pork with potatoes and tomatoes, baked in a clay pot) and fried lambs' brains. I opted for filleted trout, which was flaky and filled with finely chopped walnuts and herbs.
Lakes, rivers, mountain valleys and fertile land provide a year-round bounty for Georgia and the fruits of this natural abundance can be seen daily at every meal time. During Soviet times, Georgia (the republic declared independence in 1991, shortly before the collapse of the Soviet Union) was famed for its home cooking and it remains the most foodie destination in the region.
Georgia is also famous as one of the world's oldest wine-producing countries and is known as "wine's Jerusalem" for good reason.
Georgia's viticulture methods were developed 8,000 years ago and, of about 1,500 or so original and historical grape varieties, a whopping 525 still survive.
Wine plays an almost constant role in Georgian culture. Christian icons, including vine motifs, can be spotted around the country, and in many households home-made wine is drunk with abandon.
On my next stop, in Tbilisi, a city devoid of decent, affordable hotels, a friend suggested I stay with a woman by the name of Manana Skhirtladze, who occasionally takes in guests. Amid a flurry of unpacking on arrival, the telephone in my bedroom rang.
"Come downstairs, I want you to try this sturgeon."
Following Manana's cheery, but firm order, I tracked the smell of garlicky cooking down the stairs. On the kitchen table - large and centre-stage - lay skewers of fatty, chargrilled sturgeon, alongside stuffed peppers, lavash flatbread, freshly fried chips and traditional Georgian clay ketsi dishes full of chopped salads. I bit off chunks of sturgeon, surely the most "fishy" fish I've ever tried, and we raised tiny but full glasses of red wine, toasting guests and Georgia.
I finished this warm welcome - and significant mid-afternoon snack - with thin slices of pickled and dimpled sulguni cheese, which with its sour, salty, and incredibly moreish taste, a bit like fine feta, combined perfectly with sliced gherkins.
Inevitably, we ended with a glass of chacha. Manana, a formidable character and cook, stopped me as I was about to take a sip, and warned "this is not for taste, this is medicinal".
It was so strong it almost blew my head off.
As I retired, Manana was already thinking about breakfast. "Tomorrow, I'll make for you special pancakes. When people eat these, they say 'Oh my God, these are fantastic', so I shortened the name to 'Manana's oh-my-God pancakes'." She said all this very quickly, gently shoved a bottle of home-made wine into my hand, and sent me back upstairs.
Breakfast was predictably tasty. The pancakes, dusted with sugar, loaded with grated, cooked apples and topped with a long grape the shape of a bullet, were delicious. The melon, which was the size of a football, was sliced, while pickled green walnuts - doused in brown sugar, allspice, cloves and cinnamon - tasted like Christmas.
Manana spoke about her special rustic honey, which she bought from a man "who only once came to the city, 30 years ago", before adding that she considers it so good, that she "bought 70 kilograms of it" in a huge vat.
On the breakfast table, sour cherry and blackberry jam in glass jars were placed next to a big helping of this special aged honey. Georgian television news flickered in the background, and out the window I could see the famous Radisson Blu hotel.
Serving as a centre-point for the city, in the 1960s the then Iveria Hotel was a favourite for well-heeled families from the USSR who'd travel there to soak in the city's thermal baths.
Russians stopped coming when Georgia became independent, and occupancy dropped at the hotel. Then, shortly after, the hotel found a new, somewhat darker purpose.
During the Abkhazia war, ethnic Georgians found refuge in Tbilisi, and specifically in the Iveria, which became a vertical city centre refugee camp housing about 800 people.
Later, in 2004, the refugees were rehoused and, after a major refurbishment in 2008, the hotel reopened as luxury accommodation. Today, it shows little of its gritty past.
In modern day Tbilisi, the streets are mainly peaceful. By tumbledown buildings fat green figs fall from the trees onto streets where children play on roller skates and shiny, red pomegranates hang heavy from branches.
Through good times and bad, the carefully strung-up vines of age-old grape varieties that circle residential houses have remained - a perfect reminder to the visitor of Georgia's devotion to food and wine.
Rich and full-bodied Georgian wine claims an 8,000-year-old heritage
Kevin Ho, one of three co-founders of GHVino ghvinohk.com once lived in France, and used the country as a base for exploring Eastern Europe. That's why, although Ho likes French wine, the company specialises in wine from Georgia and Moldova.
Ho says Georgian food is almost impossible to get in Hong Kong, but there is an overlap with some dishes from neighbouring Turkey - the Georgian khatchapuri is similar to some forms of Turkish pide (a type of flatbread pizza), for example.
Georgia's key grapes are saperavi for red wine and rkatsiteli for white or "amber" wine. In her book Wine Grapes, Jancis Robinson says that saperavi comes from a Georgian word meaning "dye", due to its dark black skin and pinkish juice. The grape produces wines that are "high in colour, acidity, and tannin, full-bodied, rich in dark fruit". GHVino's Mukuzani, dry red 2010 from Teliani Valley is certainly dark and high in tannins, with a plum flavour. This is a good match for roast meats, although it would probably overpower a Peking duck.
Robinson says that DNA testing shows that rkatsiteli might be related to local wild vines, which could back up the claim that vines were first domesticated in Georgia 8,000 years ago. But she says more work needs to be done to prove the theory.
GHVino's Samshvenisi Kvevris 2010, also from Teliani Valley, is made by an ancient technique of fermentation in an amphora.
The must is in contact with the skins for six weeks, leaving the wine amber rather than white, and fairly tannic. This example has an apple-like flavour when cold but when warm tastes almost sherry-like. In fact, the grape can be used to make a fortified wine.
Friday, September 27, 2013
VIDEO: Chermen - Karlo Kelekhsashvili
Karlo Kelekhsashvili from Pichkhovan - Georgia, sing an traditional Ossetian song, which is nearly 80 years old. This song is a very famous song in Ossetia.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
VIDEO: Madina Tsaloeva and Alan Guchmazov - Circassian & Georgian tunes (youtube.com)
Video by Ruslan Kazievallow
Special for GeoMartial
More here: soundcloud.com/usergeomartial
Facebook: facebook.com/Geo-Martial
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
CULTURE: Sacred chants make a comeback as Georgia's cultural history resurfaces. By Caitlan Carroll (globalpost.com)
(globalpost.com) A movement is underway to reintroduce traditional religious chants to Georgian youth.
TBILISI, Georgia — With her gray hair tucked into a black knit cap and a grin stretched from ear to ear, Lia Salakaia stands with a group of children inside the entrance of a Tbilisi church. As the Georgian Orthodox service finishes, Salakaia raises her hands and the children begin to sing slow, mournful chants, their eyes closely following Salakaia's every direction. The harmonies these children struggle to sing are notable both for their complexity and their rarity.
Georgian sacred chants, with their unusual three-part harmonies and minimal vibrato, date back to the 10th century. But the sounds are relatively new to modern Georgia. Georgian religious traditions like sacred chant were suppressed under Soviet rule. Only since Georgia regained its independence in 1991 have the old songs been resurrected.
Now a movement is underway to reintroduce traditional religious chants to Georgian youth, hungry for a deeper connection to their country's cultural past.
Salakaia is the first stop for many children eager to learn the music. The petite 66-year-old earned the title “godmother of Georgian chant," for her passionate teaching and the gentle way she coaxes children to learn these difficult, often dissonant-sounding harmonies.
“I say to them, 'No one taught you how to speak. You just listened to your parents, and you started to speak. So you can listen to me sing, and step by step you will learn how to sing,'” she says. “And most of them do.”
Salakaia travels constantly, bringing these chants almost single-handedly back to Georgia's network of small towns and rural villages. “I don't want to miss any child,” she says.
After graduating from Salakaia's introductory choirs, some students continue their studies with Malkhaz Erkvanidze, director of the Sakhioba Ensemble and one of the chief scholars of the sacred music movement.
Following Georgia's independence from Soviet rule in the 1990s, Erkvanidze was one of the music scholars who pushed to bring sacred chant from obscurity back to church services. He and others unearthed a small cache of sacred chant recordings from the state archive. It was an important find, given most of the chants had only been passed down orally.
He says the last recordings were made in 1966 by an 80-year-old master chanter who sang all three parts by himself to demonstrate how the voices work together. “He was the last master who was still alive,” Erkvanidze says, adding that the man died a few months after the 1966 recordings were made.
Erkvanidze transcribed the chants into songbooks and opened Tbilisi's first chant school where young men, most sporting trim dark beards, attend classes Monday through Friday. Only a few students have completed the new program, but those who have already plan to teach.
“It's become a debt that we've studied, and now it's important for us to teach the next generation,” says recent chant school graduate Giga Jalaghonia.
Since Erkvanidze's chant school only allows men to enroll, the young women like Baia Zhuzhunadze who want to pursue sacred music head to Tbilisi's conservatory. Zhuzhunadze is studying cultural musicology at the conservatory. She says that at first, European classical music was easier for her ears. But when she and her friends began listening to Georgian traditional music, they felt as though they rediscovered their identity.
“We think European music is great,” Zhuzhunadze says. “But Germans and French can research their own culture's music. We Georgians, we are too few, we must do something to preserve this music.”
This hunger to connect with their country's roots is common among young Georgians, says Timothy Blauvelt, country director for American Councils in Georgia and a professor of Soviet studies at Ilia State University. He says Zhuzhunadze's generation has the time and opportunity to explore their Georgian identity because, although the unemployment rate is high, times are better than during her parents' or grandparents' youth.
“You have the parents who grew up at the tail end of the Soviet period or the bad years of the 1990s, when there was a civil war and no electricity. That generation wanted very material things—food on the table and a car in the garage," says Blauvelt. “This generation has grown up with more stability. They have less materialistic values, and their interests are expanding beyond basic survival.”
Zhuzhunadze says the communism and atheism of Soviet times prevented many elder Georgians from passing on cultural traditions to the younger generation. “Now the younger generation, my generation, are discovering it on our own. And we are getting our parents interested in it too,” she says.
At least one elder Georgian is sharing her knowledge of old traditions. The gray-haired Lia Salakaia continues to make her rounds through Georgia's small towns, with no cell phone, just “a pair of iron shoes,” she says.
“It's like if Georgians couldn't speak the Georgian language without going to classes. I want to help children understand their country's music,” she says. “My job is to unfreeze their ears.”
Research for this report was supported by a 2012 Knight Luce Fellowship for Reporting on Global Religion. The fellowship is a program of the University of Southern California's Knight Chair in Media and Religion.
TBILISI, Georgia — With her gray hair tucked into a black knit cap and a grin stretched from ear to ear, Lia Salakaia stands with a group of children inside the entrance of a Tbilisi church. As the Georgian Orthodox service finishes, Salakaia raises her hands and the children begin to sing slow, mournful chants, their eyes closely following Salakaia's every direction. The harmonies these children struggle to sing are notable both for their complexity and their rarity.
Georgian sacred chants, with their unusual three-part harmonies and minimal vibrato, date back to the 10th century. But the sounds are relatively new to modern Georgia. Georgian religious traditions like sacred chant were suppressed under Soviet rule. Only since Georgia regained its independence in 1991 have the old songs been resurrected.
Now a movement is underway to reintroduce traditional religious chants to Georgian youth, hungry for a deeper connection to their country's cultural past.
Salakaia is the first stop for many children eager to learn the music. The petite 66-year-old earned the title “godmother of Georgian chant," for her passionate teaching and the gentle way she coaxes children to learn these difficult, often dissonant-sounding harmonies.
“I say to them, 'No one taught you how to speak. You just listened to your parents, and you started to speak. So you can listen to me sing, and step by step you will learn how to sing,'” she says. “And most of them do.”
Salakaia travels constantly, bringing these chants almost single-handedly back to Georgia's network of small towns and rural villages. “I don't want to miss any child,” she says.
After graduating from Salakaia's introductory choirs, some students continue their studies with Malkhaz Erkvanidze, director of the Sakhioba Ensemble and one of the chief scholars of the sacred music movement.
Following Georgia's independence from Soviet rule in the 1990s, Erkvanidze was one of the music scholars who pushed to bring sacred chant from obscurity back to church services. He and others unearthed a small cache of sacred chant recordings from the state archive. It was an important find, given most of the chants had only been passed down orally.
He says the last recordings were made in 1966 by an 80-year-old master chanter who sang all three parts by himself to demonstrate how the voices work together. “He was the last master who was still alive,” Erkvanidze says, adding that the man died a few months after the 1966 recordings were made.
Erkvanidze transcribed the chants into songbooks and opened Tbilisi's first chant school where young men, most sporting trim dark beards, attend classes Monday through Friday. Only a few students have completed the new program, but those who have already plan to teach.
“It's become a debt that we've studied, and now it's important for us to teach the next generation,” says recent chant school graduate Giga Jalaghonia.
Since Erkvanidze's chant school only allows men to enroll, the young women like Baia Zhuzhunadze who want to pursue sacred music head to Tbilisi's conservatory. Zhuzhunadze is studying cultural musicology at the conservatory. She says that at first, European classical music was easier for her ears. But when she and her friends began listening to Georgian traditional music, they felt as though they rediscovered their identity.
“We think European music is great,” Zhuzhunadze says. “But Germans and French can research their own culture's music. We Georgians, we are too few, we must do something to preserve this music.”
This hunger to connect with their country's roots is common among young Georgians, says Timothy Blauvelt, country director for American Councils in Georgia and a professor of Soviet studies at Ilia State University. He says Zhuzhunadze's generation has the time and opportunity to explore their Georgian identity because, although the unemployment rate is high, times are better than during her parents' or grandparents' youth.
“You have the parents who grew up at the tail end of the Soviet period or the bad years of the 1990s, when there was a civil war and no electricity. That generation wanted very material things—food on the table and a car in the garage," says Blauvelt. “This generation has grown up with more stability. They have less materialistic values, and their interests are expanding beyond basic survival.”
Zhuzhunadze says the communism and atheism of Soviet times prevented many elder Georgians from passing on cultural traditions to the younger generation. “Now the younger generation, my generation, are discovering it on our own. And we are getting our parents interested in it too,” she says.
At least one elder Georgian is sharing her knowledge of old traditions. The gray-haired Lia Salakaia continues to make her rounds through Georgia's small towns, with no cell phone, just “a pair of iron shoes,” she says.
“It's like if Georgians couldn't speak the Georgian language without going to classes. I want to help children understand their country's music,” she says. “My job is to unfreeze their ears.”
Research for this report was supported by a 2012 Knight Luce Fellowship for Reporting on Global Religion. The fellowship is a program of the University of Southern California's Knight Chair in Media and Religion.
Wednesday, July 03, 2013
BBC: Georgia's mighty Orthodox Church . By Paul Rimple (bbc.co.uk)
(bbc.co.uk) When several dozen Georgian Orthodox priests led tens of thousands of
people on a violent attack against a small group of gay rights activists
in Tbilisi earlier this year, much of the rest of the country was
horrified, writes journalist Paul Rimple, who has been based in the
country for 10 years.
Georgians pride themselves on their reputation for being hospitable and tolerant, and most consider themselves Christian.
And yet, what happened clearly illustrates the importance of the Church in Georgia.
Georgia was an early adopter of Christianity making it a state religion in 337AD. Georgians maintained their faith over the centuries despite the waves of invading hordes, including the armies of Ghengis Khan and Tamerlane.
"During communism, the church was outdated, something for old ladies," says political analyst Ghia Nodia.
That attitude quickly changed after independence in 1991, when the elected president, Zviad Gamsakhurdia, espoused a philosophy of ethnic nationalism, which the Church embraced.
"During the (Gamsakhurdia) national movement, the concept that real Georgians are Orthodox Christians spread really fast," Mr Nodia says.
Over 80% of Georgia's 4.5 million people say they belong to the Georgian Orthodox Church, however, experts claim only about 15% - 25% actively participate in rituals.
Nevertheless, the Orthodox Church remains the most trusted institution in Georgia. In a February survey carried out by the Caucasus Resource Research Center (CRRC), 95% of respondents had a favourable opinion of its work.
Beka Mindiashvili, a former theologian who is now head of the Tolerance Center at the public defender's office, attributes such high confidence in the Church to the 80-year-old Patriarch, Ilia II.
"He possesses all the right attributes. He is charismatic, he speaks slowly and each word is regarded saintly, holy," Mr Mindiashvili says.
"He is a person for everybody. To a simple person, he speaks simply; to a politician, he speaks politically; to an intellectual, he speaks of Umberto Eco and of classical music. And he acquired absolute power in the Church all by himself."
There were only about 50 priests when Ilia II became patriarch in 1977. Today there are approximately 1,700.
His first major test in power was in 1997, when a number of anti-ecumenical abbots threatened to break communion with him for being too liberal. He avoided a schism by breaking off ecumenical activities and pursuing what philosopher Zaza Piralishvili calls an "imitation of medieval rhetoric".
The Church is recognised for maintaining a neutral political
stance and Ilia II is renowned for playing a significant role as
mediator in political confrontations, which in Georgia can easily turn
violent.
Professor Iago Kachkachishvili, head of the sociology department at Tbilisi State University, says the Church's political neutrality is a myth.
"The Church's influence comes from public opinion," he says. "It uses the trust of the people as a source of strength. And every government and politician uses the Georgian Orthodox Church as a source of legitimacy."
While the constitution stipulates a separation between church and state, a 2002 concordat defined this relationship by granting the Church official recognition in Georgia and a special consultative role in the government, particularly in education.
In 2009, Mikheil Saakashvili's government awarded the Church a $15m (£10m) grant - three times the amount of the previous year - and presented luxury sports utility vehicles to each of the 10 archbishops.
Despite the lavish gifts, many conservative elements within the Church, who are pro-Russian, openly voiced their displeasure with the president. They saw his pro-Western orientation as a threat to Georgian traditions and the Church's influence on the people.
The clash of ideologies came to head in July 2011, when parliament passed a law allowing religious minority groups in Georgia to be registered as legal entities in public law giving them legal protection previously only enjoyed by the Orthodox Church.
The move was applauded in the West, but the Georgian Orthodox Church saw this as an infringement on its special status.
Although Ilia II requested the clergy to maintain neutrality in the 2012 parliamentary elections, many priests broke ranks and openly supported the coalition of billionaire Bidzina Ivanishvili, who had provided the funds to build Tbilisi's Sameba Cathedral, the largest church in Georgia.
But on 13 May, Bidzina Ivanishvili who by now was prime minister, took an independent stance and became the first Georgian politician to declare openly that sexual minorities were equal citizens of this country.
Three days later, Ilia II called on the authorities to ban the 17 May demonstration. This marked the first open confrontation between church and state and culminated in expletive-shouting priests chasing gay activists down the main streets of the capital.
Protesters broke through barricades and police were forced to bus the small number of activists out of the area for their protection.
The day after the attacks, Tbilisi artist Magda Guruli joined some 100 people who rallied in the city centre to call for justice.
She believes the response to the protest was a manifestation of the patriarch's power over the state.
"I'm here to say give me back my religion," she said. "Orthodoxy is part of our culture, but who are these people who try to influence society and try to influence their thoughts and try to cultivate blind faith?"
Georgians pride themselves on their reputation for being hospitable and tolerant, and most consider themselves Christian.
While the notion of homosexuality is not
widely understood or accepted in this deeply traditional Caucasus
nation, most Georgians were appalled by the scenes that unfolded in
Tbilisi on 17 May.
Georgia was an early adopter of Christianity making it a state religion in 337AD. Georgians maintained their faith over the centuries despite the waves of invading hordes, including the armies of Ghengis Khan and Tamerlane.
Although the Soviets permitted religion to be
practised, its reach was severely limited. In 1917, there were 2,455
working churches in Georgia, but by the mid-1980s there were only 80,
along with a few monasteries and a seminary.
That attitude quickly changed after independence in 1991, when the elected president, Zviad Gamsakhurdia, espoused a philosophy of ethnic nationalism, which the Church embraced.
"During the (Gamsakhurdia) national movement, the concept that real Georgians are Orthodox Christians spread really fast," Mr Nodia says.
Over 80% of Georgia's 4.5 million people say they belong to the Georgian Orthodox Church, however, experts claim only about 15% - 25% actively participate in rituals.
Nevertheless, the Orthodox Church remains the most trusted institution in Georgia. In a February survey carried out by the Caucasus Resource Research Center (CRRC), 95% of respondents had a favourable opinion of its work.
Beka Mindiashvili, a former theologian who is now head of the Tolerance Center at the public defender's office, attributes such high confidence in the Church to the 80-year-old Patriarch, Ilia II.
"He possesses all the right attributes. He is charismatic, he speaks slowly and each word is regarded saintly, holy," Mr Mindiashvili says.
"He is a person for everybody. To a simple person, he speaks simply; to a politician, he speaks politically; to an intellectual, he speaks of Umberto Eco and of classical music. And he acquired absolute power in the Church all by himself."
There were only about 50 priests when Ilia II became patriarch in 1977. Today there are approximately 1,700.
His first major test in power was in 1997, when a number of anti-ecumenical abbots threatened to break communion with him for being too liberal. He avoided a schism by breaking off ecumenical activities and pursuing what philosopher Zaza Piralishvili calls an "imitation of medieval rhetoric".
Examples of the Church's ultra-conservative
interventions included warnings that yoga was full of false "charms"
that lured people away from God as well as a recent mass mobilisation
against ID cards after some Georgian Orthodox leaders claimed the cards
bore the mark of the anti-Christ.
Professor Iago Kachkachishvili, head of the sociology department at Tbilisi State University, says the Church's political neutrality is a myth.
"The Church's influence comes from public opinion," he says. "It uses the trust of the people as a source of strength. And every government and politician uses the Georgian Orthodox Church as a source of legitimacy."
While the constitution stipulates a separation between church and state, a 2002 concordat defined this relationship by granting the Church official recognition in Georgia and a special consultative role in the government, particularly in education.
In 2009, Mikheil Saakashvili's government awarded the Church a $15m (£10m) grant - three times the amount of the previous year - and presented luxury sports utility vehicles to each of the 10 archbishops.
Despite the lavish gifts, many conservative elements within the Church, who are pro-Russian, openly voiced their displeasure with the president. They saw his pro-Western orientation as a threat to Georgian traditions and the Church's influence on the people.
The clash of ideologies came to head in July 2011, when parliament passed a law allowing religious minority groups in Georgia to be registered as legal entities in public law giving them legal protection previously only enjoyed by the Orthodox Church.
The move was applauded in the West, but the Georgian Orthodox Church saw this as an infringement on its special status.
Although Ilia II requested the clergy to maintain neutrality in the 2012 parliamentary elections, many priests broke ranks and openly supported the coalition of billionaire Bidzina Ivanishvili, who had provided the funds to build Tbilisi's Sameba Cathedral, the largest church in Georgia.
But on 13 May, Bidzina Ivanishvili who by now was prime minister, took an independent stance and became the first Georgian politician to declare openly that sexual minorities were equal citizens of this country.
Three days later, Ilia II called on the authorities to ban the 17 May demonstration. This marked the first open confrontation between church and state and culminated in expletive-shouting priests chasing gay activists down the main streets of the capital.
Protesters broke through barricades and police were forced to bus the small number of activists out of the area for their protection.
The day after the attacks, Tbilisi artist Magda Guruli joined some 100 people who rallied in the city centre to call for justice.
She believes the response to the protest was a manifestation of the patriarch's power over the state.
"I'm here to say give me back my religion," she said. "Orthodoxy is part of our culture, but who are these people who try to influence society and try to influence their thoughts and try to cultivate blind faith?"
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