Only God knows how much we miss...

We simply miss being together and seeing one another.

We miss smiles and greetings, seeing each other's faces in the light – be these faces sad or tired, it does not matter, because they are so dear to us...

We miss meetings with strangers and making friends with them. We miss chance meetings and hearing: "Have you come to see Godart?", "There is going to be an exhibition"…

We miss giving the gift to our nearest and dearest ones and we miss being silently happy only because of their presence...

We miss demonstrating a new hairstyle and being quietly proud of a Fere hat discovered in a "second hand" shop, we miss hearing the words like "What a wonderful hat you're wearing?''... "It suits you so much!"

We miss watching a good movie or looking through an album or a catalogue together.

We miss reciting and listening to poems together.

We miss a big "samovar" or simply a water boiler, we miss getting together, drinking tea and talking at length about art.

What is the name for all this?

Probably, the "Cellar"...

The first time the "Cellar" became "ours", was when we went down the underground to watch entirely different performances... Both explicitly and implicitly this word coincided with the aspirations of a generation created by the soul and not by age.

This is how we came to love the underground thus perceived and termed ...

And then, then even a club was opened in the cellar...

Perhaps, this is how "Rotonda" used to look, or "Kimerion" might have looked because it was also a cellar...

Please don't be angry with me and don't start talking about blasphemy, for Picasso, Eluar, Paolo Iashvili and Titian Tabidze used to visit them.
Today, what we say and do here, in the cellar, is drink tea or, perhaps, even something stronger...

Only time will make the final judgement. Time will distribute on the shelves the guests that have come here. Nobody really knows how time will price the memoirs to be written later at such meetings.

I realise that my speech tends to resemble a verse and now I'm going to switch to the prose:

This is how it all happened: some time ago I went to the editorial office where a letter was waiting for me. It said: "Was here. Wanted to invite you to the cellar... We've opened a club in the cellar, drop in and see us... Dato Janelidze".

So I went... and after that visit, the cellar came into my life accompanied by a strange feeling of happiness even when I knew that the evening’s gathering would be a good one but I wouldn't be able to attend...

The cellar club was born as it normally does. First, there was a desire to do something new. This was followed by a concrete idea and then film producers Dato Janelidze and Otar Shamatava decided to realise it.

Dato Janelidze recalls: "There was no club in Tbilisi where a movie could be shown, a literary evening arranged, or an exhibition held".

Here, in the cellar, everything is possible and everything can be arranged.

Here you can listen to the poems of your favourite poet read by the author himself, while you are sitting and sipping coffee.

Here you can quietly enjoy an exhibition of your favourite painter and hear the author's comments. Or you might come across Dato Evgenidze but instead of listening to his new music, hear a poem written yesterday.

Here you will have a chance to watch various movies and then engage in heated debates about them.

Here you can merely drop in and see the friends you’ve missed.

Here you may come across famous painters, writers and theatre-lovers sitting around the table next to yours and you can offer them a drink.
As for drink, it is very cheap here. I don't understand how they manage this. Anyway, it costs just as much as the visitor can afford to pay.

"If, say, coffee or beer were not cheap enough here, then the people for whom this club exists wouldn’t be able to come", Dato Janelidze says. "We're having a hard time keeping going, but..."

But they also keep trying. Sometimes they make special arrangements. For instance, they've recently introduced an entrance fee.

First we feared that this would make things difficult, particularly for the students keen to attend Ana Kalandadze's evening of poetry or watch Gia Bugadze's performance... Such people, however, are never left standing outside. And why shouldn't those who can afford two laris contribute to their favourite "cellar"?
For permanent club members, special cards that only cost ten laris have been introduced. The inscription on the card says: "To the attention of the club guards! For the holders of these cards all doors are always open and all locks unlocked".

At the rear of the spacious and differently illuminated hall, there is a screen for movie shows. In the middle - a stage-like elevation, where low chairs are placed in rows when there is a movie show or a meeting and the stage is turned into a theatre circle.

There is a bar at one side  - very cosy and cheap (as I've already told you). And, most importantly, no one will bellow at you here if you've only ordered a cup of tea.

Well, in a word, you can sit here on your own, help yourself to tea, forget that it's chilly outdoors, that it's snowing and the wind is blowing. The power cuts won't trouble your mind and you won't think of who’s to blame for that. For two hours you'll let time take care of all your problems, leaving only eternal things to yourself.
On Thursdays Dato Turashvili introduces selected guests. The guest is selected not because of his achievement or because his first book is indeed very promising, but solely because he has something to say and, irrespective of the age, is a carrier of innovative spirit and love ...

Then the Friday event will follow, next will be Saturday and then Sunday, to be followed by the Thursday gathering...

The turn of the great cinema will come, followed by painting. High art of photography will also be there, various performances, getting together and then parting. There are going to be plenty of likes and dislikes, a great deal of ideas - sometimes indisputable and sometimes disputable. There will be disagreements - sometimes ambitious and sometimes poetic... And regret and love will always be there...

Someone will again hang his paintings on the walls and someone might bring only one painting for display. Someone will dedicate his favourite book to the club and later this book and the painting will help someone’s  development.

I want this someone to be the son or daughter of one of us.

I want our children to come to the cellar too, and get to know everyone there. I am not going to name anyone here, because I’m afraid to omit someone’s name. I want our children to get to know all: those who have written "the twentieth century" for them and those who intend to write about the twenty first century; those who have shown them new faces and made them listen to "different" music, and those who have put up unusual and odorous tents for them.

And when the years go by, I also want my child to take Tsibakhashvili’s worn out photograph in his hands and tell his friends: "This man is… and this painter is… this poet is… and that’s me… Uncle Guram took this photograph in the "Cellar Club".

 MARINA VASHAKMADZE