This delicate balance between the depressing, shocking daily news in Georgia, and the daily foraging for art in the details to pull me back to joy.
Frost has come. Great for me, as I head off towards the Mtkvari River in search of ice in both puddles and calm inlets. The pond reeds I shot with their reflections are giving way to this new subject; the reflections will temporarily vanish as surface water solidifies, inch by inch.
I am joined by several local stray dogs; none of whom are ferocious, just inquisitive. Some bark a bit as I approach or pass by, but a few stay with me on this jaunt, and aren’t threatening. I wish they wouldn’t hang around: I’m not a dog person much, although neither do I fear them. But they happily, nonchalantly dash through the delicate ice I am trying to capture with my camera; or they just intrude into the frame. I can’t shoo them off, so I resign myself to having them along.
Meanwhile, the thousands of protesters have to put up with this cold plunge, some of them out on Rustaveli Avenue and other locations all night. I sympathize. My ice-seeking expeditions are limited to mornings, before the sun can melt the unbelievable artistry wrought by cold, wind or lack of it, water, and leaves. Those trying to out-wait the so-far implacable government have a much longer, harder slog.
Miraculously, the dogs don’t crash their uncaring paws through the very best ice find of the day, some puddles down at the river’s edge. I shoot away as fast as I can, not believing the small spectacles displayed in a foot or two of frozen water, 1 mm or less thick, some of it so delicate that a single breath would dissolve it. Chaos and order mingle with uninhibited abandon, each a foil for the other. Is there a metaphor here too?
I think I’ve got it all, and am satisfied. Next morning, however, as the temperature has remained below freezing and the wind has dropped, I find new jackpots of ice glory, again where water’s and wind’s motion are absent, letting the ice do its thing and transform everything into landscapes unimaginable, unearthly. This day the dogs are mercifully quite absent, and I relish the opportunity to work unhindered.
A new president is chosen. The previous one refuses to concede. The standoff continues. The tension is high.
As I walk back home in a daze of visions, I revisit some of the puddles closer to “civilization”. Here, autumn-hued leaves of the surrounding trees lie captures in bubbly layers of ice; and I realize that some of my finished frames will have to be in color, not the monochrome I’ve been using up to now to bring the eye to view only form and contrast.
Out there, on the streets, a silent or furious war is waging between police/unidentified masked men and protesters/onlookers. Tactics change. Lasers and fireworks are outlawed, as are protests wearing any kind of mask. Arrests, beatings and simple torture are employed. Presidential medals are also given to some of the beleaguered journalists. New apps identify trouble spots in real-time. Tech is available to both sides in ways unheard of just a few years ago. Drones overhead capture this unique viewpoint.
Now, as I write this, the temperature has risen a bit again (it was -25 in our Svan village of Etseri a few days ago, a cold we never saw there!). I have time to process and finish the several hundred ice images I shot recently.
The protests continue, as do the refusals to back down. We wait, and pray, and hope, for what needs to happen. I’ve been in Georgia long enough to remember the end of the Shevardnadze era (though not its worst point): dark, dangerous city, long power outages, kerosene heaters, corrupt police. Please, no return to that; or to something much worse.
Merry (western) Christmas, Georgia. Peace on earth, goodwill to all.
Tony Hanmer has lived in Georgia since 1999, in Svaneti since 2007, and been a weekly writer and photographer for GT since early 2011. He runs the “Svaneti Renaissance” Facebook group, now with over 2000 members, at www.facebook.com/groups/SvanetiRenaissance/
He and his wife also run their own guest house in Etseri: www.facebook.com/hanmer.house.svaneti
Blog by Tony Hanmer
