For instance, one of the films being screened was shot by two Turks in Gyumri, with an all-Armenian cast, while another by an Armenian director is set in [...]]]> When scanning the screening schedule of the 2011 Golden Apricot Film Festival, currently taking place in Yerevan, I noticed that several  joint Turkish and Armenian productions were to be shown.

For instance, one of the films being screened was shot by two Turks in Gyumri, with an all-Armenian cast, while another by an Armenian director is set in Istanbul. There’s even a French production made by an Armenian director about the perils of street dogs in Istanbul (he could easily have made that same film in Yerevan). I counted five co-productions altogether and just as many if not more Turkish films. There are still other films set in Turkey being screened made by European directors. It seems the Golden Apricot Festival has become a venue for promoting Turkey and its artists.

So why is this so peculiar? It’s an international film festival, and naturally films from around the world are going to be screened, including those made by Armenia’s historic foe. What’s wrong with that?

The screenings of such Turkish/Armenian joint productions — most if not all of which are produced by both the Golden Apricot FCD and the Turkish foundation Anadolu Kultur —  insinuate that all is getting well between the two neighbors, when in fact that is the farthest from the truth. The Golden Apricot Film Festival, being one that craves foreign submissions, attracts both local Armenians and filmbuffs from around the world alike. So when you see a film that has been produced by artists from countries that have deep-rooted animosity toward one another, it’s natural for someone to think that some barriers between the two peoples are being broken. Why?

Professional filmgoers pay attention to several criteria when viewing a film, and even beforehand. They want to know first of all where the film was produced, the year it was made, and the nationality of the filmmaker. They look for actors that the filmmaker uses repeatedly in other films and reoccurring themes that are being employed for settings and situations. And filmmakers, amateur or professional, are paying attention to other nuances, like the effects rendered from the use of lighting, camera angles, the representation of the actors, even the positioning of the camera in relation to the ground. When a filmgoer sees a modern film that impressed him made by a Japanese director, he is more apt to seek out movies made by that filmmaker’s contemporaries in his own country in order to compare cinematic styles, plots, and so forth. The nation the filmmaker represents has relevance to the overall impact the film conveys, because the impressed filmgoer will want to naturally seek out the works of other directors from the same country.

The filmmaker therefore is a representative of his own country, whether he wants to be or not. Even a filmmaker who isn’t making films in his home nation any longer  is still considered to be a representative of his own people. This doesn’t apply to painters for instance, where the viewer is captivated by the use of color, shape and design, then associates the artist’s name to it, with his or nationality being an afterthought. A filmmaker is an unofficial spokesman of his country’s artistic development and even tolerance of such development. He makes it obvious to the world where he’s from and is proud to represent his country and its bold achievements in the international community of the arts.

So when you have Turks and Armenians coming together to make films as joint productions you have to wonder what that’s all about. It’s obvious that these artists are trying to show the world that the two peoples can indeed live peacefully side by side, using the spellbinding medium of film. Thus, in doing so they are making social and political statements, whether intentionally or not.

And their efforts, whether they realize it or not, could be viewed as being a method for persuade people to forget the past, to ignore issues that have yet to be reconciled and are still fuming to this day, even almost a century later, and to look ahead. They chose to ignore the glaring fact that Turkey restricts Armenia’s economic growth and trading potential by refusing to open their mutual border. That Turkey refrains from unconditionally developing diplomatic relations by making specific demands of Armenia’s foreign policy is also to be overlooked. Turkey’s utter rejection of the Armenian Genocide is certainly another giant obstacle to overcome. These filmmakers, along with their producers, are essentially alluding that art knows no hate and antagonism — it can only bring harmony and admiration, even between enemies. That notion applied to Armenian-Turkish relations is not only credulous, it is downright negligent as well.

These Turkish/Armenian film productions are all fine and good — by all means, let people from the two countries get together and use the magic of filmmaking to promote brotherly peace. But make no mistake — their collaborations cannot dispel the lingering, obstinate Turkish antagonism that persists and is thwarting any hopes of reconciliation between the two nations. The hostile policies on Armenia set by Turkey’s leadership and lawmakers need to change before the two sides can earnestly talk about meaningful artistic collaborations.

There needs to be mutual trust; nevertheless I don’t believe that the forum of a film festival can be used to develop reconciliation between the two peoples that are steadfastly at odds. Ultimately I think it’s Turkish society that needs to pressure its government to open the border and instill a peaceful coexistence with Armenians.

That certainly can’t done by a few film producers, and the unabashed promotion of Turkish culture and values by the Armenian side seems over the top and unnecessary. It’s relatively obvious that Armenia has long been ready for an open border.

Before long, most of them will undoubtedly come down [...]]]> There is a great photo story (although there doesn’t seem to be accompanying text) on Hetq Online of historical buildings in Yerevan. Many of these marvelous structures are located in what remains of the district known as Old Yerevan in the areas around and behind Republic Square.

Before long, most of them will undoubtedly come down completely; in some cases only the facades are left, propped up with wooden studs. Nowadays there’s this “out with the old, in with the new” sentiment being fostered that future generations will likely resent. A few historic buildings have been restored or else have mutated into horrific, monolithic structures — the Escada building near the Vernissage is a prime example of that — see below. It’s been transformed into a heartbreaking abomination.

The Escada building in Yerevan, near the Vernissage. Ararat Davtyan photo.

Then there’s the Tashir Pizza building on Tigran Medz Street, which if I am not mistaken housed parliament during the first republic, and from the balcony on the corner independence was declared. Now it’s a restaurant serving mediocre, overrated food. Disgraceful. The Armenian Assembly of America was responsible for the renovations and the additional upper floors with their bland, pale exterior that doesn’t come close to matching the original architectural design. If only they had restored it more tastefully and chosen its tenants wisely. They’ve managed to mock modern Armenia’s brief history rather than preserve it.

The Tashir Pizza Building on Tigran Medz Street in Yerevan. Ararat Davtyan photo.

The building where I live on Hanrabedutyan Street, which was not photographed, dates back to the 1930s, when they still knew how to erect solid buildings with integrity. The walls were made from huge chunks of rock, whereas now they use cheap cement blocks riddled with air holes that start to crumble when you touch them to construct high-rise apartment buildings. Two years ago the Yerevan municipality wanted to do the tenants a favor by repairing the unique half-circle balconies. My landlord, who is a all-around nice guy, foolishly agreed, while others opted out. His concern was a crack that was found on the inside wall, which only needed to be closed up with some cement to repair it. They had to use a jackhammer to take the concrete apart, the process of which took a couple of hours. The balcony wall was at least six, perhaps eight inches thick, and it served as a convenient table as well for drinks and an ashtray. Now it is about an inch or two thin, and the cement that was poured unevenly and sloppily of course is already disintegrating, with air pockets clearly visible from the inside.  After a rainstorm there’s always cement dust on the balcony floor. No one cares about quality any more.

You can see the photos on Hetq Online by clicking this link. There’s also an NGO called Old Yerevan: Gone But Not Forgotten, which has a Facebook page.

BBC News reports that the oldest facilities used to produce wine were found in an Armenian cave. I used  to hear from people that Armenians–or their ancestors–were the first people to make wine but I never took it very seriously, believing the credit was due to the ancient Greeks or Romans.  But evidence [...]]]>

Armenian wine

BBC News reports that the oldest facilities used to produce wine were found in an Armenian cave. I used  to hear from people that Armenians–or their ancestors–were the first people to make wine but I never took it very seriously, believing the credit was due to the ancient Greeks or Romans.  But evidence shows that Armenians know wine.

Here’s an excerpt:

The world’s earliest known wine-making facility has been discovered in Armenia, archaeologists say.

A wine press and fermentation jars from about 6,000 years ago were found in a cave in the south Caucasus country.

Co-director of the excavation Gregory Areshian, of the University of California, Los Angeles, said it was the earliest example of complete wine production.

The findings were announced by the National Geographic Society.

They have been published in the online edition of the Journal of Archaeological Science.

The facility was uncovered in the mountains of south-east Armenia. The same area was the site of the discovery of the oldest known leather shoe, dated to about 5,500 years ago.

Inside the cave, the international team of archaeologists found a shallow basin, measuring about 1m (3ft) across, that was positioned to drain into a deep vat.

The basin could have served as a wine press where people stomped the grapes with their feet, Mr Areshian said.

The team also found grape seeds, the remains of pressed grapes and dozens of dried vines.

This is very interesting, considering the generally poor state the Armenian wine industry is in today. Most Areni wines that I have appreciated are either no longer to be had or now have a sour, vinegar-like aftertaste. There are no quality control standards in place it seems in these factories, judging from the flavor of the wines.

Although I should say that the Karmin wines produced by the Vozkevaz winery are very good, although hard to find, and most recently another wine from a factory with the clever, one-of-a-kind name “Armenia” is also producing a nice, full-bodied Areni, with a black peppery finish, at least for now.

The worst wines are produced by Vedi Alco–the Areni and Getap Vernashen–and they are everywhere. They seem to be the biggest sellers simply because they have such a strong presence on the market, and the company advertises the wines heavily on TV. The dubious, semi-sweet Getap Vernashen always gave me a headache within minutes after drinking even a few sips, and the Areni gives off an aroma that is faintly reminiscent of the scent of turpentine. Whatever you do, stay away from those “wines.”

I used to like the Armenian wines produced by Maran Winery, but the last couple of times I was put off by the uncommon, vinegary taste of their 2006 vintage. I haven’t tried more recent ones lately. Quite honestly, these days when I do buy wine it’s usually the mass produced stuff from Chile that you find for as low as $5 a bottle in some Yerevan shops. It tastes much better than most Armenian wines and costs about the same. That’s cold comfort to me as I’d prefer to drink excellent, locally produced Armenian wine.

This is even more big publicity for the evidence of advanced prehistoric civilization in Armenia, as a follow-up to the oldest shoe found last year. Now all Armenian wine companies have to do is live up to the illustrious legend.

And the city has [...]]]> Yesterday Yerevan celebrated its 2792th birthday.  I’m not sure how exactly they came up with that age, but it’s a noteworthy milestone nevertheless. Yerevan dates back to pre-Armenian times, back when the Uratu civilization flourished in this region. At some point along the way the city became known as Erebuni, then Yerevan.

And the city has come a long way, from a multi-ethnic small town a century ago in which Armenians were practically a minority to a thriving city of a million people taking pride in promoting the arts. Last night there were five concerts being held at the exact same time. I attended four of them–there was a rock venue at Cinema Moscow, jazz at the Cascade, folk near the Dramatic Theater on Isakahyan Street, behind the Poplovok cafe, and classical music at the park on Place de France, beside the Komidas statue. I didn’t make it to Republic Square, which featured a “gala” performance, I imagine probably consisting of various pop stars lip syncing to their own songs. The evening did not mark the first time that such events have taken place throughout the downtown area, however. If I am not mistaken such simultaneous programs were held at least twice before.

There is one thing I admire about Yerevan and that’s dedication to music and theater in particular. Nearly every day there’s an opportunity to see a stage play, and ballet, opera and classical performances are always being given. For only a few dollars you can hear spectacular music performed by the Armenian Philharmonic. Jazz and rock concerts are also being held more and more regularly every passing year.

The diversity of the arts is just as notable. Cascade park has become a showcase of sculptures made by artists around the world, and the collection always seems to be expanding. The Cafesjian Museum, which is housed beneath the Cascade steps, offers an amazing array of figurines and larger, standing pieces of work made from glass. The National Art Gallery also has amazing permanent exhibits documenting Armenian history and showcasing artifacts thousands of years old that have been unearthed throughout Armenia. The famous oldest shoe in the world is also there, although I’ve heard that it is already deteriorating at a rapid pace due to careless handling. Then there are the museum’s painting galleries that I am ashamed to confess I have yet to explore after all these years of being here. Also, new Armenian films are also popping up in the theaters, which is just fantastic. There will be a festival taking place in the next few weeks showcasing classic Armenian films from the Soviet era, something cannot be passed up. Actual film prints will apparently be screened at Cinema Moscow, probably for the first time in decades.

Anyway, here’s to Yerevan’s birthday and just as important, its enthusiastic, much appreciated promotion of the arts.

Liberty Square [...]]]> The summer is upon us, which means that things will begin slowing down in Yerevan politically and socially, but not necessarily culturally. There’s always plenty to do for social butterflies in the summer months, plenty of cafes to visit, concerts to attend and distractions to take your attention away from things that really matter.

Liberty Square has become a giant playground for preschoolers–the authorities are doing everything possible to prevent peaceful political demonstrations from happening there. In the meantime, cafes galore where you can watch the World Cup soccer games while drinking a beer or two and even place bets with the “international bookmakers” doing business here. We have another few weeks of that to go.

In the meantime, political life will begin to drop off for the summer, on both ends of the spectrum. The entire government even shuts down during late summer for a couple of weeks, something that really perplexes me. Even the press takes a break–all newspapers and even online news sources stop working because there’s nothing apparently to report. That is of course absurd but that’s the way things work in a tiny country of barely 3 million people.

The Karabagh peace process will not go anywhere this year after the Azerbaijani-initiated skirmishes on the border on Saturday, half a day after both Presidents Serge Sarkisian and Illham Aliev met with Dmitry Medvedev in St. Petersburg. Yet on a positive note, I’ve been reading about conferences being held where Armenian and Azerbaijani university students meet to get to know one another and share experiences, in an effort to reach out and find some kind of solution to the conflict through the channels of civil society. Based on what they have written, in other words their own personal accounts, their efforts are naive and impractical at best.

Indeed, there should be discussion between the two societies, but at the end of the day, the Azerbaijanis expect things to go back to the status quo of the Soviet era–in other words for Karabagh to once again be placed under Azerbaijani control (naturally with the Armenian-occupied lands returned) in exchange for “the highest level of autonomy,” and I am pretty sure that the younger Azerbaijani generation expects the same, having been thoroughly brainwashed. So don’t necessarily understand what the Armenian and Azerbaijani youth groups are aiming to achieve through casual dialogue and partying (again, according to what I read).

Having said that, I really have no grounds for criticizing the youth because there needs to be discussion, the two sides must talk to one another through unofficial channels, now more than ever. My concern is–to what end?

I couldn’t find any more news about Gohar’s case. If anyone reading this blog has, please leave a comment with a link to the article you’ve found.

In early March the Armenian government revealed plans to build a new church on the site where the massive St. Poghos-Petros once [...]]]> There has been a lot of controversy over the proposed building of a new church where the Cinema Moscow amphitheater is located on the corner of Abovyan and Tumanyan Streets. Here’s what we know.

In early March the Armenian government revealed plans to build a new church on the site where the massive St. Poghos-Petros once stood before it was destroyed in the 1930s to make way for a new movie house. Rather than tearing down Cinema Moscow, which would cause mass havoc, the amphitheater—built in the 1960s—will be removed instead. That way, everyone would be happy, or so someone behind this bad idea initially thought.

What’s the problem? The amphitheater is the only one of its kind in Yerevan, where spring and summer concerts are held, albeit infrequently. Last year, however, it was the venue of a classical music festival, and some jazz performances were held there as well. Rock fests have also taken place there in the past. So it clearly serves a beneficial purpose as an inviting open stage to promote the music and arts.

But there seems to be mainly negative connotations associated with this proposal. The restoration of the grounds where Katoghike Church stands on the corner of Abovyan and Sayat Nova Streets has yet to get under way. It’s been nearly two years since demolition of the Linguistics Institute first began. That building constructed by the Soviets was the site of a 17th century cathedral. Katoghike itself was essentially a church within a church dating from the 13th century—the cathedral had been built around it four centuries later. The Soviets apparently decided to preserve Katoghike and simply built the institute around it, which also served as a protective barrier. Now Katoghike stands alone and vulnerable on an empty lot with no signs of construction of a new church and a Yerevan residence for the Catholicos, as was originally intended. (The distance from the Holy See to Yerevan is at most 14 kilometers, by the way.) So given that this plan has still yet to be commenced—apparently when is anyone’s guess—and since it’s virtually one block north from Cinema Moscow, there doesn’t seem to be a need for another church, or rather the expectation of two new ones being built.

There is another fact to consider—there are simply not enough churchgoers to justify the construction of another church. Religious education in Armenia is poor. The first indicator of this is when you visit any church outside of the city—like Khor Virab, one of the most sacred sites in Armenia–on a Sunday afternoon and observe teenagers stomp across the grounds shouting after one another. Inside the church you hear people talking loudly and misbehaving, like they’re in their own living rooms. It makes no difference if the church is working or not, you encounter the same puzzling situation wherever you go. People, especially the younger generations, simply don’t know better because the education is not there.

And that responsibility falls directly on the shoulders of the Catholicos. Sending an SMS message reading “Christ is risen from the dead” on Easter is not enough to actively spread the word of Christ. You can’t build a church and simply expect people to attend and worship, especially on a site where many do not want one to be built at all. Ejmiadzin has been transmitting aggressive messages through a few priests on television who look and sound more like thugs than devout servants of God. The outcry against this project has been regularly publicized in press conferences, talk shows and newspaper articles. The Catholicos himself has remained silent on this issue.

Furthermore, Armenian citizens are generally unhappy with the Armenian Apostolic Church. When you hear people tell you, “We don’t have a Catholicos” or “This guy is a Mafioso,” about the head of the Armenian Church and “All Armenians,” there is something dreadfully wrong. I don’t know a single person who has anything positive to say about Catholicos Karekin II—he is believed by many to be a businessman first and foremost. The “Nor Zovk” chain of supermarkets in Yerevan purportedly belongs to him, as just one example of his enterprise. In reality, Vasken I is still revered and respected as The Catholicos, while his two successors have questionable reputations.

Most of the activism against this project has been initiated by a group called SAVE Cinema Moscow Open-Air Hall, which has as of today 5,862 Facebook members. According to a March 25 article published by EurasiaNet.org, the group collected over 18,000 signatures so far for its petition to stop the project. Last week, Hetq claimed that the number had reached 23,400.

If Karekin II has any intention of saving face, he would resign from this idea altogether. With each passing day he is becoming exceedingly unpopular. The destruction of the amphitheater will earn him a cult status in Armenia, and he will no longer be remotely taken seriously by anyone who comprehends the sublime divinity he is supposed to uphold but is perceived to misrepresent.