Andro Dadiani / Purgatorio / 10-13 April 2021 / Open Space Gallery, Tbilisi

Feeling on edge in the taxi out of the city to the suburb of Isani, I stepped out into the deserted street
and the newly warm spring air. A storm was forecast and huge white clouds billowed at roof-level like
the familiar snowy peaks beyond Tbilisi. My friend Lorraine and I wandered the perimeter of a building
which looked for all the world like it had been bombed heavily in circa 1999 and left as it was. No sign
of the gallery. Entering the courtyard we began to climb a staircase of heavily eroded concrete. It was
a feeling with its own character to be in such a heavily-built structure in seeming danger of imminent
collapse. There were no windows. At each turn in the stairwell a view of Tbilisi and a balmy spring
lunchtime was framed in concrete. Reaching the top floor we found the gallery. The rooms of this final
corridor included various things; amongst which I came across one old pine tree, brown-grey and listless
on the floor, prostrate before the acid green new poplar leaf exploding in the concrete tv-set vista
beyond the room. The air was warm in a lovely way you notice more when it hasn’t been that way for a
long time.

We entered the gallery and pulled aside a curtain. A huge bright space opened up, lined with windows
beneath a ceiling of concrete which appeared fossilized. A pale pink satin curtain freely stood at the
back centre of the room. In front of it was the rear half of a shiny black plastic horse. Astride, facing us
and the horse’s tail was a masked figure, black bob wig, arms and stilettoed feet hanging limp, chin
down, having its black PVC bodysuit adjusted by the gallery assistants. The presence was immediate
and commanded an instant quietude. I felt the Valium kick in gently. After a few minutes, the figure’s
arms slowly lifted towards Lorraine. She walked slowly towards the artist and they embraced. As I
watched I felt the immense calm of that embrace. I could see their hands very slightly squeeze and
stroke, the tenderest embellishment. After what seemed a long time and no time at all she walked slowly
away and we all stood again in the room. It felt natural. The figure raised its arms towards me. I
approached with a sort of deference and gave them my hand to hold in theirs, covered in lace. I laid my
head against their PVC chest and listened to the Georgian recording emanating from their heart. It was
entirely disarming. The spring day, the tranquilizer and the anonymous intimacy. I felt gratitude towards
the artist, a novel feeling. I felt the intimate gratitude one can feel towards a poet, which Andro Dadiani
is. We left feeling that something had happened. Which happens – to me at least – very infrequently at
galleries.

PH. – kerosene_on_ice

 

 

 

 

 

I was so impressed that I went home and translated the press release from the Georgian. It is testament
to the strength of the performance and Dadiani’s practice that the content of the press release didn’t tell
me much that I didn’t get from the experience of the work itself. The piece is titled Purgatorio, so images
from the Divine Comedy were already in mind during our embrace. The prospect of spending days in

PVC astride half a horse has a punishing aspect. The manner of dress communicated an engagement
with queer identity, reminiscent of Arca and others. So when the press release described how Dadiani
seeks to engage with the emotions of those sometimes ‘doomed to silence and disappearance’, with
humour, homoeroticism and spiritual language, it was not a surprise. The press release uses the word
ცხებული – those ‘anointed ones’ doomed silence. I would be interested to know if this is my
mistranslation or a deliberate invocation of religious language.
Dadiani perfomed this piece to coincide with Dante’s journey into Purgatory with Virgil, from April 10 at
04.00 until 16.00 on April 13.

The press release refers to a განსაწმენდელი სამოგზაუროდ – which seems to me to mean
something along the lines of a ‘purifying adventure,’ a ‘cleansing trip.’ There was a gentle, urban,
inclusive spirituality to this piece which involved no God. As the Divine Comedy was a breath of
refreshing humanism after the stifling totality of Dark Ages Christianity, so Dadiani’s piece offered a sort
of solace independent of a deity, or judgement.
I deeply respect Dadiani’s choice to reference the Divine Comedy and his skill in doing so. As one of
the world’s most important texts, it can withstand endless interpretation and reinvention. Certain
contemporary poets on the scene today who repudiate the poetry of the past (in one case – all of it) are
missing the point.

Art is not therapy. We should not need it to tell us that it is all going to be ok. This is not what Dadiani
was doing. Far from this, Dadiani’s piece – for all its apparent exhibitionism – was deeply selfless. He
placed the viewer? participant? at the centre of his work the way some poets regard their reader. The
way Dante speaks to his. I look forward to reading more in English translation.
I haven’t been to many shows in the last year for obvious reasons. But I can count the number of times
I have been profoundly affected in a gallery setting (rather than a museum) on one hand. Perhaps the
idea of charisma and charismatic power has something to do with it (think – perhaps ironically in the
context – of the early Christian holy men). The last thing I will say is that I was grateful to be moved.
Often I feel as though I have to ‘give’ to contemporary art; to summon the energy and interest necessary
in order to engage, to understand, to read the artist’s biographical details. This piece stood alone.

დაუცველობითა შიშით სავსე ჩურჩული – ჩამეხუტე, უფრო ჩამეხუტე
Whisper full of fear of insecurity – hug me, hug me more.

 

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