Art without borders

Georgian goldsmith Gotscha Lagidze is one of those artists who believe that art does not have borders.

By Nino Kopaleishvili

Having worked on traditional Georgian weapons and armor since he was a teenager, Lagidze reproduced a suit of armor that belonged to Prince Maurits of Nassau in 1998 for the Delft Royal Netherlands Army and Arms Museum.

Calling it his “favorite work,” Lagidze keeps another masterpiece of Prince Maurits at his delightful Dutch-style house in Roosendaal, in the south of the Netherlands.

Lagidze has been living in the Netherlands since 1994 with his wife Lela and three children Giorgi, 17, Lasha, 15, and Sophia, 9.

Lagidze has been cooperating with different museums in the Netherlands over the years and in 2003 he made a reproduction of the chain mail of Jan van Schaffelaar, Holland’s national hero from the 15th century.

“The work on it continued for three-four years. To help raise funds, it was decided to make the armor in the style that St. George dressed. It was important not to violate historical rules,” he states.

In 1999 Lagidze received first prize at the international forum in Luxembourg for modern art in steel. “I took my miniature to the forum before it was completed. The event was really important,” he said.

In addition to working on different projects Lagidze also teaches at Amsterdam State University. However, he admits there are not many students who are interested in work on steel, mainly for commercial reasons.

“Such things are difficult to do and this art is disappearing gradually,” he says. “But it is such an intellectual discipline.”

Now he plans to try his hand in other fields more available to public. “Now I am designing street lamps which are for the public. The first ten copies will be produced soon,” he says.

Chain mail of the famous Georgian King

Earlier this year, Lagidze received an offer from the Georgian playwright Dato Turashvili to design chain mail for a film about Georgia’s famous king Davit Aghmashenebeli.

“Probably I will travel to Tbilisi. It is important to do it in Tbilisi,” he says. “The chain mail of Davit Aghmashenebeli is not on a fresco. That is why I want to do it not only for the movie, but for a museum.”

His love for designing old war equipment exists hand in hand with his love of Georgian history. He was particularly interested in Khevsurian armor and often traveled to the region to study this equipment in the years 1985-88.

“Everything started from my teacher Juansher Jurkhadze, who taught me history,” he says.

“Once I had a knife that I made myself. He took it and said it was no good. The next day he presented me with a little sword,” he said.

Later, Lagidze happened to visit his teacher’s home and was amazed at the collection of old Georgian equipments.

“I decided to do steel chain mail and I did it ... probably this man got me on the right track,” he adds.

Looking back to his home country

“Georgia is my home country and nothing can change that,” says Lagidze, adding, however, that there are many things in Dutch society that he would like to see transferred to Georgia.

Lagidze and his family often watch Georgian television channels and search for news on the internet about Georgia. “I am sympathetically disposed to the events taking place in the country now. We are happy about all the good changes happening in my country,” he declares.

Lagidze, who participated in the two civil wars in the 1990s in Abkhazia and South Ossetia, says that the defeat was the final straw which drove him to leave the country.

“Defeat in Abkhazia was a great disappointment and this became one of the reasons why I left Georgia,” he says.

“In my opinion there was certainly a mistake as this should not have happened but I do not know how it started.”

Several months ago, Lagidze, who is now a citizen of the Netherlands, applied for dual citizenship and hopes to become a citizen of Georgia again.
“I really want to get it, but I am trying not to think what the answer will be,” he said.

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The worst disability in life is a negative attitude

A contribution from kenyan journalist Olive Munyi
Carol Nderitu the famous poet has a competitor in Janet Wawira. At five years only, Janet has a deep clear voice especially when she is on stage doing what she loves best-to recite poems and read aloud to an audience.
She doesn’t know what audience. Or how many they are; neither does she know if they are frowning or smiling back at her; because she is blind.
On this particular occasion, Janet has waited a whole day, to entertain an audience that by now seem to know her by name. An audience she only trusts exists. She is a nursery school pupil at St Lucy’s School for the Blind in Igoji- Meru.
It is minutes to 5pm, patiently she seats on a bench outside room 4 where the adjudicators are busy listening to the ongoing category of public speaking. Amazed by her determination and patience, I slowly find my way and take the seat next to her and hold her tiny almost fragile hand. She smiles and asks my name, of which I remind her that we had met earlier.
There is a wise saying which states that the worst disability in life is a negative attitude. Looking at Janet one could be a fool to dispute.
She seems pensive as if in deep thought, so I try to inquire whether she is cold since the weather was rather chilly. She shakes her head, signaling that she is okay. After a few moments of silence she asks me where her teachers are, and I assure her that she is in safe hands and has absolutely nothing to worry about.
I try explaining to her that they were inside the room pleading with the adjudicators on her behalf so that she would be allowed to perform as soon as possible.
In this category Janet had only one competitor, both of whom were reciting poems.
Janet’s poem, ‘Lazy Lucy’, talks about a house help who likes to eat a lot and as a result, has grown so fat like a pig, yet continues to eat more food, doing no work and waiting to be paid.
“…she eats like a pig and she is just as big, she is very big, big like a pig…” she narrated, stretching her little arms.
She shifts on her seat and I notice that she is nervous and somewhat no longer certain of her surroundings. As if she read my mind, I feel her squeeze my hand in order to gain my attention and whispers, “Nashindana na nani?” (With whom am I competing?) She asks me. “Unaona kama nitashinda?” (Do you think I will win?) She asks with a giggle and I feel as if she is testing me.
For a moment am afraid, fearing that perhaps she knows more than she is willing to reveal. Because just next to her stood her sole competitor, a Meru Junior Nursery school pupil in tears and determined to go home tired of the long wait, the sooner the better her gestures seem to say.
After waiting for quite a while it was finally her turn to perform and her teacher aided her to the front. The room was already getting dark, but the silence was almost deafening as all waited to hear what Janet had for them this time round.
A little while later the signal to start goes and Janet turns to face the adjudicators and the audience. Unknowingly this time she turns away from them and faces sideways. Nobody, attempts to guide her, which was a good thing because she was enjoying herself immensely, telling the story of lazy Lucy.
Gesturing with her little hands, loud and clear she was pronouncing every vowel as if her life depended on it and before the adjudicator would digest what Janet was saying a loud clap of applause engulfed the room. It was the end and Janet was off the stage.