Elene Rakviashvili is a Georgian visual artist, working in the art, often in interdisciplinary spheres. For many years now, she has been participating in a wide variety of international exhibitions: drawing, filming video art, and creating performances and diverse environments. Elena plans to realise her dream: to create an environment on the Red Bridge, where three countries—Georgia, Azerbaijan, and Armenia—intersect; she dreams of peace prevailing everywhere.
What does art mean to you?
For me, art is one of life’s vital necessities; it helps me live and affirm myself, it helps me express and protect myself. To me, art is life.
Where did you study?
During my childhood, I attended a specialised art school where they taught us everything: how to draw, how to work with almost any available materials—even metals—and how to create both cold and hot batik. I remember watching my teacher paint; he did it with such pleasure that he would actually salivate, as if he were eating something incredibly delicious. Perhaps it is the memory of that scene that helps me approach painting with a kind of reverence. That school played a massive, vital role in my life and supported me throughout. I have used all the skills I gained there for my entire life. In the 90s, when there was no work, and it seemed there was no way to survive, I created and sold tapestries and did batik. Later, I studied at the Iakob Nikoladze Art School, and after that, I entered the Academy of Arts.
Are there specific themes in your work where you find it absolutely necessary to turn to art?
Undoubtedly, art helps me survive. When seemingly insurmountable problems arise in my life, art is what helps me resolve them.
How did the idea of using wine as a creative medium for painting come about?
To me, wine is a magical substance. There was a time when I specifically studied its miraculous properties, and later I began to draw and paint with it, much like one uses ink. Wine and writing are two sacred concepts for Georgians, and I decided to merge them; I started creating a sort of Georgian calligraphy written with grape wine. The word “ghvino” in Georgian means wine. There are 525 varieties of Georgian grapes, and I want to find the specific characters or letters that correspond to each one. This has become my primary focus now through my performances. The event you witnessed in 2019 during the “Artisterium” festival is one of those performances; people really enjoy them because wine always helps them feel liberated. Technically, wine is very similar to watercolour, but while watercolour has distinct colours, wine—being an organic material—is “colourless,” or rather, it possesses an indeterminate hue that evaporates over time. It creates the feeling that a drawing made with wine lives and ages alongside you. That is the core concept of these performances.
What is Georgian art like?
Georgia is a small, peripheral country, but despite all the historical, social, and economic challenges it faces, its art is significant. Georgian art is always interesting and contemporary; it possesses wisdom and good taste, and it pulses with a modern relevance, reacting to everything happening in the world. If Georgia didn’t have so many social and economic hurdles, and if there were the opportunity to give Georgian art more attention, it would hold a prominent place on the world stage.
How relevant is it for you to incorporate Georgian motifs into your work?
It is very important. I cannot and do not wish to be detached from my own roots, because they reflect my entire essence. Art in the world is becoming increasingly flat and banal, taking on more and more glamorous features, but Georgian art does not succumb to such influences, preserving its originality. Across the globe, more and more attention is being paid to the technically flawless execution of a work rather than its content, concept, or composition.
Should art have a distinct national character?
I don’t think so. There are so many problems in the world that nations need to resolve together that art is more concerned with addressing broader, universal human issues. In cases where politicians fail to reach an agreement, art can do more to bring differing opinions to a common denominator. Art is capable of resolving even those problems that politicians simply cannot.
Wine as an interactive performance. Can you tell us what that means?
During my performances, I try to involve everyone present in the process. I want to loosen people up and free them from their general tasks; the goal is to use the performance to create a single, favourable atmosphere for bringing people together. In the Georgian tradition, when a feast is organised, people gather and drink wine, conversing freely and listening to the toasts of the tamada (toastmaster).
Where have you held your exhibitions?
I have held exhibitions in many cities: New York, Venice, Dresden. I particularly remember an exhibition in Germany, at the exact spot where the borders of three countries meet: Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands. I created a work of land art there, and I have a vision to organise a similar project in the South Caucasus, involving Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan, to perform on the Red Bridge, where all three countries meet.
Actually, Armenia and Azerbaijan are currently at war with each other.
I hope that this performance will help bring about peace.
In which country do you enjoy exhibiting the most?
I love holding exhibitions in Tbilisi most of all. Of course, it is very prestigious to exhibit in places like the Guggenheim in Bilbao or White Cube in London, but I truly love Tbilisi.
Tell us about the genres you work in.
While I have recently begun to focus more on painting, I previously spent more time filming video art and creating short films. I enjoy making photo installations and creating environments. Environments can absorb me so deeply that I can work on them while forgetting everything else.
Which artists do you look up to as your idols?
There are quite a few. I really love the Georgian artists of the 1920s. I also like listening to what the greats have to say about art, and I pay very close attention to the critiques and recommendations others give me. For example, in Venice, I went up and spoke with Anish Kapoor.
And does Anish Kapoor like to communicate?
No, he generally doesn’t like to talk. But he gave me a few pieces of advice that have stayed with me forever.
What do you do in your time away from art?
I love spending all my free time with my family. When I was younger, I thought more about travelling, but now I understand the full importance and necessity of family connection, so I dedicate all my spare time to my children.
Have you participated in the Venice Biennale?
Not in the official Venice Biennale, but there was an alternative festival organised called “Beyond the Venice Biennale” that I took part in. It was positioned in opposition to the Biennale’s concept. The Venice Biennale has long been implementing institutional politics, bypassing the participation of truly interesting artists. I presented a performance there.
What specifically inspires your creativity?
I am greatly inspired by the nature surrounding us, and I am driven toward art by social issues, which I prefer to address and resolve through my creative work.
You had a project called “Why Should You Visit Georgia?”
I have been working as a guide for over 20 years, and I pay close attention to how much the perception of Georgia varies among visitors from different countries. I held exhibitions where I showed how tourists from various places see Georgia, looking at my own homeland through their eyes. Living inside the country, we have stopped feeling how we appear to guests; I demonstrate this through installations and staged productions.
Tell us about your work as a curator.
I love communication and have managed many curatorial projects. There are several collaborative projects I did with my German partner that were organised in Germany. I helped him invite artists from the South Caucasus to participate. But now, as a curator, I would prefer to organise several small projects with a limited number of participants. By and large, I regret that we don’t have professional training for curators or producers, as this is not taught in our country. Being a curator is a distinct and very responsible profession.
What is your credo?
My creative credo is to be yourself, which is very difficult and not always successful.
What will the art of the future be like?
In my opinion, all the “isms” will soon merge, and eclecticism and kitsch will prevail.
Harutyun Zulumyan