POLITIK: "Die Ausstellung 1915-2015: Armenische Architektur und Genozid" vorzeitig beendet. Von Alfrant Bedros‎

Nach großen Protesten seitens der Türkischen Botschaft aus Zagrep und der Androhung, alle Flüge der Turkish Airlines nach Dubrovnik zu streichen, hat die Stadtverwaltung von Dubrovnik beschlossen, die Ausstellung "1915-2015: Armenische Architektur und Genozid" der Deutsch-Armenischen Gesellschaft (DAG), vorzeitig zu beenden.

Bereits Ende Januar wurde in Aachen auf die Ausstellung ein Angriff ausgeübt. 

SOUNDCLOUD: Anush & Inga Arshakyan - Nazani (Sayat Nova)

4th track from the album of Anush & Inga Arshakyans "Sketches" 2013
arranged by Miq's Art Projects & Anush Arshakyan

Miqayel Voskanyan-tar
Arman Peshtmaljyan-piano
Eduard harutyunyan-percussion
David Melkonyan-sax

twitter.com/ingaanush
www.ingaanush.am 

PHOTOREPORTAGE: Post-Crimea, Phantom of Armenian Separatism Haunts Georgia. By Paul Rimple and Photography by Justyna Mielnikiewicz (eurasianet.org)

Amarcum Arakyan, an ethnic Armenian, cuts the hair of Josif Petriashvili, a Georgian, in the city of Akhaltsikhe.

Slideshow with Photos are here >>>

(eurasianet.org) For many in Georgia, Russia’s annexation Crimea is reigniting fears about separatism rooted in ethnic conflict and Kremlin meddling. But now Georgians aren’t just worrying about the breakaway entities of Abkhazia and South Ossetia, they also are concerned about the loyalty of the predominantly ethnic-Armenian region of Samtskhe-Javakheti.

  While locals dismiss separatism concerns as nonsense, some say the speculation on the issue is indicative of a failure on the Georgian central government’s part to address complaints of the country’s Armenian-speaking minority in Samtskhe-Javakheti, which is roughly a three-hour drive south of the Georgian capital, Tbilisi. Officials contend progress has been made, but concede more can be done on the inclusivity issue.

A mountainous, ragtag region bordering both Turkey and Armenia, Samtskhe‐Javakheti contains roughly 250,000 ethnic Armenians; 55 percent of the region’s total population, according to Georgia’s latest census, compiled in 2002. Knowledge of the Georgian language here can run thin. At the same time, in the view of some outsiders, sympathy for Russia, which, until 2007, operated a 15,000-man base in the regional town of Akhalkalaki, can run strong.

Over the past few weeks, suspicions among Georgians about the country’s Armenian minority have risen, fueled by memories of Tbilisi’s 2008 conflict with Russia, as well as the Kremlin’s recent land-grab in Crimea. Underscoring those suspicions was the appearance of unconfirmed media reports about ethnic Armenians from Samtskhe-Javakheti allegedly applying, en masse, to receive Russian passports.

Senior Georgian government officials have denied categorically these reports, but, as Russia-Ukraine tension threatens to boil over, such media coverage, condemned as sensationalism by three local watchdog groups, could well continue. “Somebody is interested in stirring up the water,” commented Seda Melkumian, the Samtskhe‐Javakheti representative for the Ombudsman’s Office. “So far, I haven’t met one person with a Russian passport.”

Interethnic suspicion stems from a long-time tug-of-war over greater language rights for the region’s Armenian speakers; for some Georgians, it’s a campaign reminiscent of ethnic Russians’ complaints in Crimea.

But residents adamantly deny that such a struggle could encourage them to break with Tbilisi. “We aren’t separatists,” asserted Melik Raisian, a former member of the ruling Georgian Dream coalition from Akhalkalaki. “We are Georgian citizens. Why do we always have to prove we’re not separatists for wanting our rights?”

The separatist perception is generally connected to the United Javakh Democratic Alliance (“Javakh”), a nationalist movement that has called for political autonomy in the past. Many of the movements’ key members, including leader Vahag Chakhalian, were arrested in 2008 following a fatal bombing near the home of a police chief in the town of Akhalkalaki. Chakhalian was released in 2013 as part of Georgia’s mass amnesty of prisoners.

Javakh has little influence today, although many can identify with its grievances. The 2007 closure of Akhalkalaki’s Russian army base left many locals unemployed; as of 2012, the official unemployment rate stood at 7.5 percent. Many had hoped to find work on the Kars–Tbilisi–Baku railway, which goes through Javakheti, yet few have been employed.

The lack of economic opportunities drives many residents to Russia for work. Melkumian estimates that about half of Javakheti’s families have some family member in Russia. “In the villages, every family has somebody there,” she said.

That situation, though, is no different from elsewhere in Georgia, noted Ewa Chylinski, director of the European Center for Minority Issues in Tbilisi. As of this January, the Russian Federation ranked as the largest source of Georgia’s remittances, roughly $46.6 million in 2013, according to the National Bank of Georgia.

Nonetheless, the money trail does not mean a desire for independence. Chylinski rejected the notion of a separatist threat in Javakheti as “groundless.” The main problem is not autonomy, but language, she said. People cannot participate in Georgian society if they do not speak Georgian.

But for many in Samtskhe-Javakheti, that does not affect their identification with Georgia. “I’m Armenian, but I was born in Georgia. My father was born in Georgia. His father was born in Georgia and I will live in Georgia,” declared octogenarian Artush Artkopian, speaking via a teenage translator in Armenian since his knowledge of Georgian and Russian is limited.

Last year, Akhalkalaki's local council announced plans to petition the Georgian parliament to ratify the European Charter for Regional of Minority Languages, a Council of Europe convention that would make Armenian an official local language for Samtskhe-Javakheti. Getting no support in Tbilisi, where opposition from the Georgian Orthodox Church and politicians runs strong, the matter was soon dropped.

The central government, though, has taken some concrete steps to increase knowledge of Georgian. In 2010, the Ministry of Education established a program, called the “4 + 1” system,” which established a 5-percent quota for ethnic minorities in Georgian universities. Minority applicants to four-year higher educational facilities take an entrance exam in their own language, as well as an intensive one-year Georgian-language course.

Shorena Tetvadze, director of the Akhalkalaki branch of the Zurab Zhvania School of Public Administration, deems the program a success. After six years of 4 + 1, 130 ethnic Armenians graduated from Georgian universities in 2013, compared with only two in 2006, she said.

Akhalkalaki’s five grammar schools all teach Georgian, a policy the State Ministry for Reconciliation and Civic Equality calls a relative success. Three are Armenian-language schools, one is Russian and the other a Georgian school, with an enrollment of 120. Tetvadze, who is half ethnic Armenian, thinks more parents would enroll their children in the Georgian school if they did not fear assimilation. But 45 kilometers north of Akhalkalaki, in the ethnically mixed regional seat of Akhaltsikhe, 68-year-old barber Ambarcum Arakian dismissed that concern.

“Here, we’re all natives. The Georgians know Armenian and the Armenians know Georgian,” Arakian emphasized. He added that his grandson is attending university via the 4+1 program, and his granddaughter is going to a Georgian-language kindergarten “so she will know Georgian better.”

“I’m not afraid of assimilation,” he said. “We won’t lose our culture.” 

Editor's Note: Paul Rimple is a freelance reporter based in Tbilisi. Justyna Mielnikiewicz is a freelance photojournalist also based in Tbilisi.

ART: Colours of the Soul - Minas Avetisyan (youtube.com)

(youtube.com) Armenian painter (1928-1975), studied in Yerevan and Leningrad (Saint Petersburg), had been exhibiting fro 1956. Avetisyan is one of those Armenian artists who put the color back into painting. "Put the color back into painting"-such an expression might seem strange, but if you go into the Matenadaran and look through the yellowed pages of the ancient manuscripts there, you will understand what is meant: there on the parchment, in all their splendor, shine the bright, sonorous colors- blue, yellow, green, red... Color plays an enormous role in the work of Avetisyan. In the night of the January 1, 1972, while the artist was in Djadjur with his family, his Yerevan studio was burnt down together with a large portion of his best canvases selected for a one-man show. Music by Mychael Danna from Atom Egoyan's film 'The Adjuster' (1991). Piano: Eve Egoyan, violin: Mark Fewer, duduk: Djivan Gasparyan.

KUNST: Minas und Narek Avetisyan - Moderne und Avantgarde in Armenien (stiftung-moritzburg.de)

Stiftung Moritzburg, Halle
Vom 21. Februar bis zum 4. Mai. 2014 

Stiftung Moritzburg - Kunstmuseum des Landes Sachsen-Anhalt
Friedemann-Bach-Platz 5
D-06108 Halle (Saale)
Deutschland
Website

Die neue Ausstellung im Kunstmuseum Moritzburg ist ein wichtiger Schritt, die zeitgenössische Kunst Armeniens hierzulande bekannter zu machen. Mit den Werken der Künstler Minas und Narek Avetisyan - Vater und Sohn - entsteht ein dichtes Bild von nahezu fünfzig Jahren Geschichte der Malerei in Armenien.

Minas Avetisyan (1928-1975) zählt zu den herausragenden Künstlern der armenischen Moderne. Während seines kurzen Lebens - er starb im Alter von 47 Jahren - hat er ein beachtliches Œuvre geschaffen. Als einer der ersten Künstler in der Sowjetunion wandte sich Minas Avestisyan vom propagierten "Sozialistischen Realismus" ab. Er gilt als der Begründer der "neuen Kunst" der 1960er-Jahre.

Narek Avetisyan (*1969) ist der jüngste Sohn Minas Avetisyans. Anlässlich der 48. Biennale in Venedig 1999 vertrat er die Republik Armenien mit einer multimedialen Installation. Mit seinen großformatigen, durch leuchtende Farbgebung ausgezeichneten Gemälden, steht Narek Avetisyan integriert im internationalen Kontext.

Von Vater Minas Avetisyan zeigt die Stiftung Moritzburg 20 ausgewählte Arbeiten, von Narek Avetisyan zwölf Gemälde. Am Ende der Ausstellung wird es ein armenisches Fest geben, zu dem die Armenische Gemeinde in Sachsen-Anhalt einlädt.

+++ 
 
Minas und Narek Avetisyan. Moderne und Avantgarde in Armenien 
 
(stiftung-moritzburg.de) Ein Kooperationsprojekt der Stiftung Moritzburg Halle (Saale) und der Stiftung KulturDialog ARMENIEN, gefördert aus Mitteln des Landes Sachsen-Anhalt.

Verfügen wir auch über ein allgemeines Wissen über die Geschichte und Kultur Armeniens, so ist unsere Kenntnis über die zeitgenössische Kunst in dem Land sehr mangelhaft.

Die Ausstellung im Kunstmuseum Moritzburg ist der erste Schritt auf dem Weg, dies zu ändern. Mit den Werken der beiden ausgewählten Künstler Minas und Narek Avetisyan – Vater und Sohn – entsteht ein fokussiertes Bild von nahezu fünfzig Jahren Geschichte der Malerei in Armenien.

Minas, dem Vater, gelang in seiner Malerei unter Rückbesinnung auf traditionelle Farbkonzeptionen und auf inhaltlich wie formal in der armenischen Kultur wurzelnde Vorstellungen die Herausbildung einer ganz eigenen Bildsprache, die bis an die Ungegenständlichkeit heranreicht. Damit gelang es ihm, der Vereinnahmung durch einen sozialistischen Realismus sowjetischer Prägung zu begegnen.

Der Sohn Narek setzte dort an und ging konsequent den Weg zum Anschluss an die internationalen Kunstbewegungen. In seinen großformatigen, durch leuchtende Farbgebung ausgezeichneten Gemälden steht er voll integriert im internationalen Kontext.

DOK-FILM: Armin T. Wegner-Lyriker, Reiseschriftsteller, "Gerechter der Völker". Ein unbeugsamer Geist.

Dokumentarfilmvorführung und Diskussionsabend in Bochum

Sehr geehrte Damen und Herren,

der Freundeskreis der Bücherei Querenburg e.V., die Armin T. Wegner Gesellschaft e.V. und der Armenisch-Akademische Verein 1860 e.V. laden Sie zu einer Dokumentarfilmvorführung "Armin T. Wegner. Der Fotograf des Genozids" ein.

Aus diesem Anlass wird der Filmregisseur, Drehbuchbuchautor und Produzent TIGRAN KHZMALYAN aus Jerevan nach Bochum kommen und nach der Vorführung für Fragen und Diskussionen zur Verfügung stehen.

Mittwoch, 25. September 2013, 19:00 Uhr,

Stadtarchiv - Bochumer Zentrum für Stadtgeschichte, Wittener Straße 47, 44789 Bochum

Einleitung: Ulrich Klan, Vorsitzender der Armin T. Wegner Gesellschaft e.V.

Der deutsche expressionistische Dichter, Schriftsteller und Sanitätsoffizier Armin T. Wegner wurde 1915/16 Zeuge des Völkermordes an den Armeniern im Osmanischen Reich. Trotz des von den türkischen Behörden verhängten Fotografie-Verbots gelang es ihm Aufnahmen zu machen, die das Verbrechen dokumentieren. In seinen Schriften hat Armin T. Wegner die Vernichtung des armenischen Volkes mehrfach geschildert.

Der Film wurde englisch, französisch, spanisch, polnisch, türkisch, persisch und russisch synchronisiert und 2012 bzw. 2013 in den USA, Niederlande, Frankreich, Spanien, Iran und in vielen anderen Ländern vorgeführt.

Die deutsche Fassung dieses Dokumentarfilms wurde durch die "Assembly of Armenians of Europe", Sektion Deutschland, synchronisiert und Ende April 2012 zum ersten Mal in Köln und in Frankfurt am Main gezeigt.

Eintritt frei

Für weitere organisatorische Fragen:

Dr. Elmar Linnemann eelinnemann@t-online.de 
Ulrich Klan 0202-4936507 
Azat Ordukhanyan Tel: 0175-9631556

Die Veranstaltung in Bochum wird von "Assembly of Armenians of Europe", Sektion Deutschland, unterstützt.

Mit freundlichen Grüßen

Freundeskreis der Bücherei Querenburg e.V.
Armin T. Wegner Gesellschaft e.V.
Armenisch-Akademischer Verein 1860 e.V.

VIDEO: Edward Sinanyan: The Famous Apiarist from Syunik (hetq.am)

(hetq.am) Edward Sinanyan, a resident of the Syunik village of Karahoundj, has been a beekeeper since the age of sixteen.

He only had three beehives when he started and now tends 130.

During the past few years Edward has begun to domesticate wild bee populations by bringing them home, as it were.

The 37 year-old beekeeper also harvests wild honey from the cliff side as seen in the video. He says that wild honey fetches three times the price of regular honey.

Everyone in the area knows Edward and many buy honey from him.

PRESS RELEASE: The Armenian Diocese in Georgia - Joint campaign in Shaumyan village

The Armenian Diocese in Georgia
18, Armazi Street, 0103, Tbilisi, Georgia
Phone: +995322546411
Cell: +995593397170
Fax: +995322751790
Email: contact@armenianchurch.ge
Website: www.armenianchurch.ge
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/officialhayartun

Joint campaign in Shaumyan village conducted by Armenian youth from Tbilisi and from Armenian-inhabited villages of Marneuli district

On 5 August 2013 a group of young Georgian Armenians from Tbilisi, under the leadership of deacon Gevorg Antonyan, the Head of the Youth Department of the Armenian Diocese in Georgia and the Spiritual supervisor of the `Hayartun' Centre, and Levon Isakhanyan, Adviser to the Head of the Diocese and the Head of the Legal Department of the Diocese, joined by young Armenians from Armenian-inhabited villages of Marneuli district, visited Shaumyan village where they conducted gathering of statistic data about local Armenian community and information gathering about problems faced by the community. In the meantime donations were collected for restoration of Shaumyan's Surb Astvatsatsin Church.

The information gathering campaign ascertained that main problems faced by the local community are the following: inadequate supply of potable water, gas supply, and lack of information about various State programs.

In order to facilitate solution of the identified problems Armenian Diocese in Georgia has sent letters to relevant ministries.

Photo reportage is available at: facebook.com/media/set

ART: Armenian-American Artist Wins Posthumous Fame. By Richard Solash (rferl.org)

(rferl.org) A landscape dissolves into reds, yellows, and greens. A mountain in New York State is filtered through an artist's imagination, rendered on canvas in angular patches.

These were among the visions of Arthur Pinajian, an unknown Armenian-American painter whose death would prompt little more than the rental of a Dumpster. The Dumpster was to be filled with decades' worth of his writings and pencil sketches and a garage-full of paintings that numbered close to 6,000.

Today, Pinajian's work hangs on the well-lit walls of a SoHo gallery. Leading art historians say that, at his best, he ranks among the United States' finest abstract expressionists. His estate has been appraised at $30 million. After several kind twists of fates, Pinajian has been vaulted out of obscurity and is now gaining improbable posthumous fame.

The first twist came with a real estate venture by a man named Thomas Schultz. It was 2005 when Schultz stumbled upon the cottage in Bellport, New York that was the longtime home of Pinajian and his sister. She had recently died. The artist had died six years prior, at age 85.

"I came into the house to look at it with the purpose of figuring out if it was a good house to flip [to buy and resell for profit] and I walked among all of this art. I was intrigued by it because it was so vast," said Schultz.

"I knew what I was looking at was someone's life's work."

Cousins apologized to Schultz for the mess left inside -- thousands of canvases, some badly decaying, that were stuffed into the attic and piled in the garage. They said the artist, who had never been recognized in his lifetime, had left instructions for all of his work to be thrown away. A Dumpster was ready out back.

In The Right Hands
    
  

Schultz's business partner put up $300,000 for the house and offered an additional $2,500 for the entire body of artwork.

The enormous collection had not only been spared, but had fallen into the right hands. It turned out that Schultz knew a relative of the late William Innes Homer, at that time one of the most respected scholars of contemporary American art.

After several months of study, Homer made an excited call to noted American art historian and appraiser Peter Hastings Falk. In an interview with RFE/RL, Falk maintained that some of Pinajian's work ranks with the masters of American abstract expressionism.

"If you look at the history of abstraction in America, certainly the headlines are given to [Jackson] Pollock and Franz Kline and [Willem] de Kooning and all of the stars of that period who are now ensconced in the pantheon of American art history," he said.

"And it's long been thought that no one else could ever crack into that elite rank because, of course, everyone has been discovered and art historians already know everything. The really fun thing about this is here is the dean of American art historians who is just simply astonished -- and I was, too. That's what makes this such an extraordinary story."
Falk is now the exhibitions director and chief curator of Pinajian's estate.

Pinajian was born in 1914 in New Jersey. His parents had fled the mass killings of ethnic Armenians by Ottoman Turks.

He worked as a comic-book illustrator in the 1930s, creating "Madam Fatal," a character considered the first cross-dressing super hero.

He earned a Bronze Star for valor for his service in World War II before training at the Art Students League in New York. Falk says that Pinajian likely came into contact with the well-known American abstract expressionists of the day.

Painting 'Morning, Noon, And Night'

Falk says Pinajian had "some sort of breakdown" in 1948, a year in which he wrote a lengthy manifesto on what it means to be a great artist.

The art historian notes that 1948 was also the year that Arshile Gorky, the most famous Armenian-American artist, committed suicide. Some speculate that Pinajian may have met Gorky in the years before his death.

From then on, Pinajian led a near-hermetic existence, depending on his sister for financial support. Art consumed nearly every waking hour until his death.

"When we went to the house, he was always laughing and joking and talking about the old times," recalls Aram Aramian, one of Pinajian's cousins. "He had a good nature about him. But all he wanted to do was paint -- paint, paint, paint. Morning, noon, and night. Every day. Three-hundred and sixty-five days out of the year."
 
While Pinajian tried everything from erotica to realism, Falk says he achieved his best results in "lyric, rhythmic, abstract landscapes."

While living in the upstate New York town of Woodstock, Pinajian found his muse in  Overlook Mountain. The image of the double-peaked mountain became a recurring theme in his work, progressing from a recognizable portrayal to near complete abstraction.

Falk says the mountain may have reminded Pinajian of Mount Ararat in present-day Turkey, the site where Noah’s Ark was said to have come to rest and an important symbol of Armenia.

He puts the total value of Pinajian's work at $30 million, a figure that was recently revealed to the public.

Pinajian's first New York City showing in March generated significant interest. That was the site of the highest price paid so far for one of his paintings, $100,000. "I still feel that the elevator is on the ground floor in terms of value," Falk says.

Thomas Schultz, who helped save the collection, has given up his day job to become its full-time registrar. He says "a major Los Angeles-area museum" recently acquired a piece. But he insists his work is about inspiration far more than money.

"I bought the Pinajian cottage from my partner," he says. "I'm currently living in it. I look at the trees here on the property that he captured in some of the beautiful landscapes that we now see. So it's almost like I'm on sacred ground. It's been life-changing. [My life is] all things Pinajian, basically. I wake up every day and I think of Pinajian and what I could do to bring the recognition to him that he deserves. I feel like he's finally getting that."

Armenian-American Artist Arthur Pinajian
Published 2 April 2013 
Throughout his long career, artist Arthur Pinajian created thousands of vivid, abstract canvases, including landscapes, figure studies, and expressionist works. He received little recognition during his lifetime and worked mostly in obscurity. Now, however, he is gaining improbable posthumous fame with leading art historians saying that, at his best, he ranks among America's finest abstract expressionists. His estate is currently valued at $30 million. (13 PHOTOS)

DOKUMENTATION: Diaspurk - Der Film über die armenische Diaspora in Deutschland

Der Dokumentarfilm diaspurk ist ein Portrait der armenischen Diaspora in Deutschland. Wir haben in mehrerer Hinsicht eine besondere Ausgangssituation für ein solches Portrait: Das christliche Armenien und Deutschland verbindet eine lange Freundschaft und einen, durch die gemeinsame christliche Prägung, regen kulturellen Austausch. Zudem sind die Berührungspunkte zu der großen türkischen Minderheit in Deutschland häufiger als in vielen anderen Ländern gegeben, was für viel Konfrontation und Konfliktpotential sorgt.

Auch die teilweise Verschmelzung beider Kulturen, der armenischen und der deutschen, ist bei diesem Fokus interessant. Da in jeder Generation der Diaspora Elemente der armenischen Kultur weitergetragen werden, bleibt die kulturelle Identität auch fernab des Ursprungslandes bestehen.

Identitätsstiftende Faktoren der armenischen Gemeinschaft sind unter anderem der traumatisch nachwirkende Genozid von 1915-1918 und das fortführen armenischen Lebens im Exil. Außerdem können Armenier auf eine lange Geschichte, die das frühe Christentum einschließt und von einer Hochkultur geprägt ist, zurückgreifen. Des Weiteren sind ein frühes Alphabet, eine eigene Schrift, besondere Musikinstrumente – wie der Duduk – und Musikgrößen, symbolgewordene Elemente wie der Granatapfel, wie auch mündlich überlieferte Erinnerungen und Erzählungen identitätsstiftend und vereinen die Armenier weltweit. Die Identität einer Diaspora begründet sich vorwiegend in grundlegenden Bereichen wie der Sprache, traditionellen Festen und religiöser Zugehörigkeit. Diese Elemente zu vergegenwärtigen und auszuleben macht das Leben der Diasporagemeinschaft aus, die sich in lokalen Gemeindezentren zusammen findet. Doch worin besteht die armenische Identität und das starke Bindungsgefühl, wenn die Sprache und die Bräuche der Heimat der Vorfahren unbekannt geblieben sind, wenn kein Kontakt zu etwaigen Gemeinden besteht? Woher kommt in der Fremde das Gefühl armenisch zu sein? Woher die Sehnsucht nach dem Ararat und des einstigen Armeniens?

Ein umfassendes Bild der armenischen Kultur wird mit den Mitteln des Interviews, sowie mit szenischen Darstellungen in diaspurk gezeichnet. Dabei verzichtet der Film auf das natürliche Umfeld der Protagonisten.

Der Fokus liegt in den Interviews ganz klar auf dem Sprachlichen, denn nur die Sprache belegt die armenische Geschichte, nur in Erzählungen stiftet sich Identität. Zusätzlich werden Episoden welche für die Armenier symbolstarken Charakter haben in Szene gesetzt. Armenische Kultur in Form von Musik, Tanz, Geschichte. Durch die hohe ästhetische Umsetzung der Szenen, sollen auch potentielle Interessenten, die sonst keinen Bezug zum Filmthema hätten, angesprochen werden. Dem Film ist an einer breiten Öffentlichkeit gelegen. In einem gewissen Maße steht das Projekt im Sinne der Aufklärung zum Thema selbst.

Die Idee zu einem Dokumentarfilm über die Armenier und ihre Geschichte entstand bereits 2010. Knapp 100 Jahre nach dem Genozid soll sich dieser Film mit der Frage auseinandersetzen, welche Auswirkungen eine so traumatische Erfahrung auf ein Volk der Überlebenden und deren Nachkommen haben kann. Vor allem wenn kaum über die Vorfälle in der Öffentlichkeit geredet wurde, werden kann und der Genozid selbst als historische Tatsache nicht anerkannt ist. Wie entfaltete sich die transgene rationelle Weitergabe von Traumata im armenischen Volk bis in unsere Zeit?

Mit diesen Fragen starteten Jessica Mirjam Angstenberger und Linda Meier – selbst armenischer Abstammung – das Dokumentarfilmprojekt diaspurk. Anfang 2011 wurde zunächst zu diesem Zwecke die Filmproduktionsfirma mittwochabend produktion gegründet. Nach dem Teaserdreh für diaspurk im September 2011 ist die mittwochabend produktion mittlerweile zu einem kleinen Team von engagierten Mitarbeitern herangewachsen.

Mehr hier: diaspurk.de

EXKURSION: Auf den Spuren der Armenier in Wien (orient-gesellschaft.at)

Mittwoch, 07.11.2012, 16:00 Uhr - 18:00 Uhr

Stephansdom 

Sehr geehrte Damen und Herren,

ich möchte Sie gerne zu der nächste Woche stattfindenden Führung einladen:

Die apostolischen Armenier

Univ.-Doz.in DDr.in Jasmine Dum-Tragut

Anmeldung bis 5.11. unter silvia.carvalho@orient-gesellschaft.at

 

Beschränkte Teilnehmerzahl!

Teilnahmegebühr € 6,- (€ 4,-)

Ich freu mich auf Ihre Anmeldung!

Liebe Grüße

Ihre Silvia de Carvalho

 +++

Mag.a Silvia de Carvalho

Leiterin des Informationszentrums für Zentralasien und Südkaukasien

Österreichische Orient-Gesellschaft Hammer-Purgstall

Orient-Akademie

A-1010 Wien

Dominikanerbastei 6/6

www.orient-gesellschaft.at

ANALYSIS: Capital of South Caucasus. By Georgy Kalatozishvili (vestnikkavkaza.net)

Tbilisi – Tekali. Exclusively for VK (vestnikkavkaza.net)

The Tekali Village on the crossing of Georgian, Armenian and Azerbaijani borders has held public hearings within the framework of the Tekali process to discuss mechanisms of affecting the situation on the contact line. The meeting was organized by several NGOs and National Endowment for Democracy (NED), a global structure operating all over the world.

Guests arrived from Baku, Akstafa, Gyumri, Ganja, Yerevan, Injevan, Marneuli, Noemberyan, Tovuz, Kazakh. They discussed trans-border problems, situation in nearby villages, pastures, mine-clearing at roads, frontline situation. In other words, they talked about fundamental issues of Armenian-Azerbaijani conflict, situation around Nagorno-Karabakh, global role in the Caucasus Region and interests of superpowers.

The conference hall was set at the vineyard of an Azerbaijani local’s two-storey house. All speeches were constructive and honest. The Azerbaijanis and Armenians who arrived in Tekali wanted to find common grounds. They started recalling the times of good-neighbourhood and mutual understanding, bringing in examples, simple stories of people, without histrionics and contrivedness.

People in Tekali speaks in Azerbaijani, Armenian, Georgian and Russian. Their accent cannot does not allow to distinguish the three Caucasus peoples. The local minibus driver who took us to Tekali spoke with Armenians and Azerbaijanis in their language, yet he turned out to be a Georgian. However, an Armenian writer rouses in pure Azerbaijani.

At times, it seemed as though there were no inter-ethnic conflicts. Regardless of diplomatic skills, it is impossible to play such benevolence or desire to understand others. Even the most edgy topics were discussed without hatred or aggression. “We used to fight with our Armenian neighbours when we were kids, but we became friends again. When one of our Armenian guys invited me to his place, I heard that his mother started telling him off and kept repeating “Turk”. But I am grateful to her, because I started thinking that I am really a Turk and proud of it”, Zaur Dargali from Marneuli said.

Russia still has mixed Armenian-Azerbaijani villages and schools. The Kvemo Kartli (Borchaly) Region has Armenian and Azerbaijani villages located in a checkboard order. You cannot move from one Armenian village to the other without passing an Azerbaijani one and vice versa. There are no conflicts thanks to Georgian authorities and local communities.

The case is more complicated with villages on the border of two states. Nonetheless, attendants found common grounds with the help of the Tekali process. They withdrew snipers during harvesting and mine-clearing. “Each subdivision has a sniper and if he shoots, he shoots according to an order, not own will. The same happens in Armenia: the military are ordered by politicians and we need to make our politicians stop giving such orders”, political analyst from Baku Zardusht Alizade said.

An Armenian film director called the Armenian authorities a “criminal group”. Yet, Tekali obviously lacked opposition mood. Rare invectives against Armenian and Azerbaijani authorities were neglected. The forum was organized for consolidation of opposition in Armenia and Azerbaijan. But they seemed more like episodes.

Armenians criticized the OSCE Minsk Group working on settling the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict: “A mediator is always promoting own interests that cannot coincide with interests of process-involved sides”.

Special attention was paid to cooperation of rural administrations on opposite sides of the Armenian-Azerbaijani border and violations of the cease-fire regime on the frontline around Nagorno-Karabakh. Speakers avoided accusations. They joked about requesting governments to give a square kilometer of Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia to form the so-called South Caucasus Republic with the capital in Tekali. Georgian organizers presented designs of the Tekali Palace, a place where attendants of the talks could meet for further development of dialogue.

At the end of the official part of hearings, organizers offered all people to speak out at the forum. There were many volunteers with all speeches constructive. The inter-ethnic dialogue continued at a joint dinner. The only thing that spoiled the Tekali hearings was the incident after their conclusion. A member of the Armenian delegation, calling himself the head of the Noemberyan District, did not return to Armenia and went to Tbilisi instead. He was making rude jokes and frivolous comments to foreigners. He insulted a member of the international organization with diplomatic immunity (threatening to “make a corpse out of him”) and was about to start a brawl. It is surprising how such a man could be part of the Armenian delegation where most participants arrived to Tekali not for insults, drunk fights, abuses of foreign guests or encouragement of incidents, but for the sake of mutual respect and dialogue on complicated and sensitive problems of South Caucasus.

More: araratmagazine.org

PUBLIC LECTURE: Disintegrating Progress: On the Emergence of Contemporary Art Practices in Armenia. By Vardan Azatyan. (geoairresidency.blogspot.de)

 
(geoairresidency.blogspot.de) 5 Tabukashvilis st. (behind Qashveti church), Tbilisi state academy of art. department of restoration, art history and theory. 2 fl.main hall. 24.07.2012 14.00

In his lecture art historian Vardan Azatyan intends to discuss the conditions and dynamics of the emergence of contemporary art practices in Armenia in 1970s. He considers contemporary art practices in Armenia as a last spark in the long history of the disintegration of the Bolshevik cultural policies introduced by the Sovietization of Armenia in 1920. He argues that precisely because of being the final point of the breakdown of those policies, contemporary art practices in Armenia are in structural opposition to, and therefore haunted by the cultural policies of Bolshevism.

Vardan Azatyan is an art historian and translator specialized in the history of contemporary art and art historiography. He is Associate Professor in art history at Yerevan State Academy of Fine Arts, Armenia. He was a Visiting Professor at Columbia University and a Guest Teacher at Dutch Art Institute. His recent publications include articles in Oxford Art Journal, Human Affairs, Springerin, The Internationaler. He is a member of International Association of Art Critics and a co-editor, with Malcolm Miles, of the volume Cultural Memory (University of Plymouth Press, 2010). He is the translator of major works by George Berkeley and David Hume into Armenian. 

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06.20.2011 23:16 epress.am
Art and the State: Why the Conversation is Failing. Interview with Vardan Azatyan

Art critic and curator Vardan Azatyan left the curatorial team responsible for Armenia’s Pavilion at the 54th International Art Exhibition of la Biennale di Venezia (the Venice Art Biennial) due to the lack of a budget for the project. Azatyan said this himself in an interview with Epress.am.

Why did you leave the curatorial team?

As you know, the Pavilion’s commissioner has two functions: to appoint curators and to secure a budget. The second function, due to various reasons, became impossible to ensure — even during the critical period in implementing the project, about 20 days before the Pavilion’s official opening. From that point on, the project did not have a budget, but financial assistance from the commissioner, who, through local leverage available to him, had to save the project and with it, his reputation as commissioner.

This put the implementation of the project before unpredictable risks and our had to enter emergency mode; that is, the curators were no longer going to supervise the project implementation process at least to the extent necessary for the project not to fail. And I’m convinced, the calling of any intellectual (be that an artist or curator) is to be able to perceive that unacceptable point when his involvement in a process passes the divide when the vicious social relations within society become more powerful than the possibilities of changing them. In this case, the last option in such change is to resign from one’s own involvement.

Indeed, the project could’ve failed at every step purely due to time or technical difficulties. The project’s being or not being was dependent on the companies preparing the works to be exhibited, the people packaging the works, the workers shipping them, the catalogue printers and so on and so on. Any … or delay during their work (circumstances from which no one is ensured) could’ve overthrown the project. Moreover, let’s say it wouldn’t have been possible to get the works from the company preparing them since the necessary invoice wasn’t paid. And in the absence of a budget, this payment process itself has unpredictable consequences. The project being partially displayed during the exhibit was one of the consequences of this uncontrollable and emergency situation: as you know, it was not possible to display Astghik Melkonyan’s work on the official opening day.

Could that have been a cause of the problems that arose in Armenia’s Pavilion?

I think it’s clear from what I’ve said that my resigning [from the curatorial team] was not the reason for the problems that arose during the process of implementing the Pavilion, but the move that was made as a result of the existence of these problems. My curator colleagues and I worked together in full harmony. In truth, one of the greatest achievements of this year’s Armenian Pavilion was this: people very different from one another were able to work together for the greater good. This fact, in a way, valued also the commissioner, but it seems he didn’t wholly realize the full importance of this reality.

As a result, it became so that he preferred the option of placing the project under risk instead of (taking on) the risk of ensuring a necessary budget. It’s odd, but from what I can judge, as a result, a much greater expense was made for implementing a project that was partial and for me unacceptable in terms of the human cost than that minimum budget which was needed for implementing the project successfully. I have to say, as a result of the harmonious cooperation among us three curators, all of our decisions were approved and carried out with agreement on all sides. It might sound surprising, but in the absence of a budget, the decision to resign from the project was approved together. At a regular working meeting with the commissioner, we gave him a deadline, for ensuring the minimum budget we agreed to, and we said if there was still no budget by that date, us — the three of us — would resign from our curatorial duties. Regretfully, it was only I who stayed true to this decision that the three of us jointly agreed to. Thus, the decision to resign from the curatorial team was not my personal decision. But, the truth is perceived as such that it was a decision I made alone.


How do you assess Armenia’s participation in the festival generally and compare it to previous years?

I’ve always been of the conviction that the success of national pavilions is not the success of its representation, no matter how that is, but first and foremost, it is the possibility of bringing positive changes to art and cultural policies inside the country. The latter should be the subject or topic of the conversation that the pavilion offers to foreign audiences.

The success of any national pavilion depends on whether the given country, without fears of appearing bad to others, is able to formulate its internal issues and propose in such a way that their not being “purely internal” is revealed — this way becoming a subject of overall dialogue and debate.

We, the curators, conceived our Pavilion particularly from this view, and the project conception is excellent evidence of this. The beneficial difference of this year’s project from previous years was in that fact. The curators hadn’t adopted a so-called sports approach. Contemporary art is neither football, with its corresponding diplomacy, nor an ethnographic ensemble, with its success depending on representation. A discursive and participatory approach was adopted this year (which was repeatedly stated during the press conference and in our speeches preceding the start of the project). As one of the curators, Nazareth Karoyan, often says, “We don’t want to present; we want to talk.” The project was envisaged in such a way that the exhibited works were not representative, but were rather a physical and conceptual platform for dialogue. The project was to include a number of international conferences on issues of concern to us today.

I particularly want to emphasize that this wasn’t simply a component of the project, but a constructive aspect of it. As a result of problems I have noted, it didn’t become possible to successfully implement even the exhibit part of the project. And I have to say that this pains me greatly, when I see that my colleagues found themselves in a situation in which they are forced to see the success of what was done not in “speaking” but in “presenting.”

What impact did the precedent of state support and involvement in the organizing of Armenia’s participation in the Venice Biennale have on the final result and preliminary work? Can this be considered a new page in relations between the state and contemporary art?

One of the most important features of this year’s Armenian Pavilion was the state assistance you refer to. Though there has been state support before, past pavilions and no individual was fully dependent on local financial resources. In this sense, this year’s pavilion was a new page for the Republic of Armenia in the Venice Biennale. And this was the reason that my two colleagues and I became involved in implementing the project. As you can assume from what I said before, for none of us was curating the pavilion an end to itself; rather, it was a means, an opportunity to lay the foundation for local sponsorship of contemporary art in Armenia, to establish such working relationships which would be the foundation for consistent and effective activities in this issue.

It truly pains me that those who were officially responsible for these changes — the RA Ministry of Culture and the commissioner — for various reasons, were unable to successfully fulfill their functions. As a result, the vicious work method common in Armenia was again employed — based on sacrifice, or as the people say, on the principal of “tearing the flesh to give.” This testifies to the fact that the institutionalization of society in Armenia (ministries, establishments, departments, plenipotentiaries and so on) are essentially fictitious by nature. Instead of carrying out their direct duties, they act as symbolic bureaus, which in the name of the “homeland,” in the name of “the nation’s honor,” are “authorized” to exploit and decimate the country’s most expensive resource — human energy. If this was taking place in a disguised or concealed fashion in previous Armenian pavilions, then the unprecedented significance of this year’s Armenian Pavilion was these social relations common in Armenia coming to Yerevan at the contemporary art project level.

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On the Ruins of the Soviet Past

Some Thoughts on Religion, Nationalism and Artistic Avant-Gardes in Armenia

By Vardan Azatyan

PODCAST: Der Schachgroßmeister Levón Arónian. Verschmelzung von Talent und Faulheit. Von Vera Block (dradio.de)

 Podcast zum Hören >>>

(dradio.de) Levón Arónian ist 29 Jahre alt - und der zweitbeste Schachspieler der Welt. Geboren ist er in Jerevan, zur Wahlheimat wurde ihm Berlin. Kenner bewundern Arónians "kaukasischen" Spielstil - überraschend und draufgängerisch. Doch der Armenier hat noch eine Leidenschaft: Kickboxen.

Nein, das wird er nicht tun. Levon Aronian weigert sich vorzuführen, wie er im Garten am Sandsack Kickboxen trainiert. Stattdessen geht er zurück ins Haus. Zieht seine blauen Hauslatschen mit Homer-Simpson-Motiv an und nimmt die Treppe in den ersten Stock - in sein Arbeitszimmer."

"Aber ich arbeite hier selten. Ich sitze hier meist herum und tue so als ob ... In Wirklichkeit quäle ich mich - stelle etwas aufs Brett und versuche, irgendwas Passables aus den Tiefen meines Verstandes herauszuholen."

Es ist ein schlichtes Zimmer. Ein Sofa. Ein Bücherregal. Ein Schachbrett mit kippendem König - in Öl gemalt. In der Ecke eine Glasvitrine mit Pokalen und Medaillen, die Levon Aronian von Turnieren mitgebracht hat. Auf dem Schreibtisch - Papierstapel und eine Dockingstation. Aronian steckt den MP3-Player ein.

"Wenn du plötzlich den Wunsch spürst, mitzustampfen, mitzuswingen - das gleiche Gefühl hat man bei manchen Schachpartien. Es überkommt dich plötzlich, du siehst eine Angriffssituation und bekommst Lust, einzusteigen."

Am Tisch nimmt Levon Aronian sofort die typische Schachspieler-Haltung ein: beide Ellbogen aufgestützt, das Gesicht liegt in den Handflächen. Levon Aronian hat ein kantiges Profil, eine Knubbelnase, ein markantes Kinn und ein schalkhaftes Blitzen in den Augen. Er ist 29 und der zweitstärkste Schachspieler der Welt. Kenner bewundern seinen "kaukasischen" Spielstil - überraschend und draufgängerisch.

"Es ist schwierig, so etwas einen Stil zu nennen - es ist eher eine Verschmelzung von Talent und Faulheit. Daher kommt der Wunsch, möglichst bald den Kanon, die Norm zu verlassen und schnell etwas auf dem Brett zu schaffen, was der Gegner nicht kennt. Es ist immer ein Versuch, durch das naturgegebene Talent zu gewinnen."

Sein Talent hat Levon Aronian dank seiner großen Schwester entdeckt. Damals war er neun.

"Ich habe meine Schwester ziemlich genervt, wollte immer mit ins Kino oder zum Spielen. Also hat sie überlegt, womit sie mich ablenken könnte. Schach war eine Möglichkeit - es hätte aber alles Mögliche sein können ... "

Levon Aronian ist in der armenischen Hauptstadt Jerevan geboren. Vater - Physiker, Mutter - Bergbauingenieurin. In den schlechten Jahren nach dem Ende der Sowjetunion verkauft sie ihren Schmuck und Teile der Bibliothek, um Schachlehrbücher für ihren Sohn zu besorgen.

"Wenn du als Kind den Zusammenbruch eines Systems erlebst und mitkriegst, wie die Eltern ihre Jobs verlieren - das stärkt. Durch ihren Optimismus haben meine Eltern es geschafft, meinen Weg zum Schach zu ebnen. Und das hat mit das Grundvertrauen gegeben."

Lange Zeit bleibt Levon Aronian unbesiegt: Jugendweltmeister mit zwölf und mit 14, Großmeister mit 16. Weltmeister in Schnellschach, Blitzschach und Mannschaftsschach. 2003 entschließt Aronian sich, für den Deutschen Schachbund zu spielen und zieht mit der Familie nach Berlin um. Wobei er gut 200 Tage im Jahr unterwegs ist - zu Turnieren, zur Freundin nach Australien, zur Nationalmannschaft nach Armenien, wo Levon Aronian wie ein Volksheld gefeiert wird. Aber mit Mitte Zwanzig hat er vom Schachspielen genug.

Der Schachgroßmeister Levón Arónian (Bild: Vera Block / privat)

"Irgendwann erreichte ich ein Niveau, auf dem auch ich hin und wieder geschlagen wurde. Das gefiel mir nicht ... Und es kamen Fragen nach dem Sinn des Ganzen auf. Denn es ist schwierig zu behaupten, Schachspiel hätte einen tieferen größeren Sinn. Es ist eine Beschäftigung, die mir sehr gefällt. Erst als ich begriffen habe, dass in der Welt nicht alles begründet und auseinander genommen werden kann, fang ich an, Schach mehr zu lieben und mich weniger dafür zu schämen. Und dann fragt man sich selbst - soll ich entspannen, mir unter den ersten Zehn ein schönes Leben machen, allein durch das Talent. Oder soll ich vielleicht anfangen, ernsthaft zu arbeiten und versuchen, ganz nach oben zu kommen."

Levon Aronian will nach ganz oben. Obwohl er Schach inzwischen für eine brutale Angelegenheit hält.

"Es gibt Momente im Schachspiel, wenn du spürst, dass du besiegt, vernichtet wurdest. Da bricht alles in einem zusammen. Jemanden wiederum am Brett deinem Willen zu unterwerfen ist ein schönes Gefühl. Wenn du es schaffst, deinen Gegner emotional zu besiegen - das ist ziemlich heftig."

Levon Aronian rutscht auf dem Stuhl hin und her, lehnt sich zurück, wippt mit dem Kopf zur Musik. Ähnlich wie Jazz hält er auch Schach für eine Kunstform.

"Diese beiden Kunstformen befinden sich auf einem Niveau, das für die Mehrheit nicht erreichbar ist. Aber sobald du das Geheimnis dieses Spiels oder dieser Musik entdeckst, fängst du an, diese Kunst vom ganzen Herzen zu lieben."