ABASTAN

Art in Exile

In the Armenian village of Tumanyan, a foreign artists' community has taken root in an abandoned building - once the village's first school in the 1950s, later a textile factory in the 1980s. This depopulated industrial settlement, haunted by its Soviet past, now bears witness to the ripple effects of international conflicts and regional upheaval. Artists, predominantly fleeing from Russia and Iran, have sought sanctuary here from various forms of oppression and the suffocating atmosphere of their homelands. The factory that towers over the village is gradually transforming into an artistic haven where diverse cultures converge and interweave. "Abastan," Armenian for "refuge," has become the chosen name for these displaced artists seeking respite, breathing space, or simply freedom from neighboring tyrannies.

Born in the early post-war USSR years, this village evolved in lockstep with Soviet industrialization. Its transformation was marked by the establishment of a massive fireproof materials factory on its flank, which became instrumental in the empire's construction. This industrial development testifies to the territory's complete metamorphosis under Soviet rule, with the factory director's statue still presiding over the central square. During this period, the village was named after the renowned Armenian poet, Hovhannes Tumanyan. Responding to a growing, predominantly working-class population, a large school was built alongside various amenities still visible today, including the "bania" (Soviet bathhouse) where residents could unwind. The 1960s and 70s saw Tumanyan flourishing with over 3,000 inhabitants. "There was tremendous solidarity among people. I cherish memories of my youth before everyone departed," recalls Yermonia, a village native. Decline followed with the Soviet Union's dissolution in the 1980s. The school's conversion to a textile factory marked the last economic gasp of a vanishing world before its complete collapse in the early 90s, leading to three decades of abandonment.

It was against this backdrop that an artist couple, Polina (Russian) and Mehdi (Iranian), established Abastan, responding to the artistic exodus triggered by the Ukrainian war, forced conscription, and prevailing authoritarianism. 

Regional conflicts extend beyond Ukraine: Armenia itself was deeply scarred by the 2020 Second Nagorno-Karabakh War with Azerbaijan. Kolya, an Armenian but born in Moscow who lost his legs in this conflict, now finds sanctuary at Abastan, where he's chronicling his story in a book. In Iran, following the 2022 revolutionary movements sparked by Mahsa Amini's death for "improper hijab wearing," an ongoing feminist struggle emerged under the banner "Woman, Life, Freedom." Despite violent government suppression through its morality police, resistance persists through various means, particularly art.

Armenia remains one of the few countries easily accessible to Iranian passport holders. This accessibility extends to Russian citizens, thanks to deep historical connections between the nations. Russian integration is further facilitated by its widespread use as a secondary language in Armenia.

With the enthusiastic backing of the factory's new owner, the first artists settled in Tumanyan between 2022-2023 and initiated residency programs. After a year of basic renovations, the factory, though still rudimentary, became sufficiently habitable to nurture community life and began hosting resident creators. Artists, artisans, and visitors seeking emancipation converge here. They are painters, musicians, dancers, writers, fashion designers, engineers, and sculptors, employing methods focused on salvage and recycling. Traditional crafts intersect with new technologies, from musical instrument-making tutorials to puppet creation for animation films. These artists, ranging from their twenties to their fifties, each carry unique stories but share a common quest for peace and freedom.

Abastan's vitality enables the village's younger generation to explore artistic activities, learn fashion design, attend concerts, watch theater performances in the village square, or simply visit the revived Sunday market - absent since the 1990s - where local products and artistic creations are showcased. These activities bridge generational and cultural gaps, facilitating the artists' integration.

In Tumanyan, time appears suspended. The local demographics reflect a common pattern: men, having left for cities or abroad, leave behind a village primarily populated by women, children, and the elderly. The predominantly urban artists immerse themselves in rural village life. Retirees gather for daily card games, tend to gardens, some focusing on beekeeping or pig farming. Seyran, 64, has operated his marshrutka line for four decades, connecting Tumanyan to Alaverdi through the Debed canyon each morning. Like many villagers, he distills spirits from abundant street-fallen fruit. Tumanyan's residents, like Seyran, welcome the artists, seeing in them renewed vitality for their village. This openness partly stems from nostalgia for the Soviet era, remembered as the village's golden age.

With numerous vacant or abandoned homes, some have begun renting houses and sharing accommodations, as harsh winters make factory living challenging. These dwellings become spaces where time refracts and eras overlap - traces of former occupants, evident in period furniture and forgotten photo albums, now coexist with new exiled residents.

At the intersection of past, geopolitics, and human narratives, Tumanyan breathes anew. It's a brief chapter in the political turbulence of surrounding autocracies where art, solidarity, and cultural exchange emerge as natural forms of resistance.