A MOVIE THEY WILL NEVER WATCH, A ROCK CONCERT THEY WILL NEVER ATTEND, A MEMORY THEY WILL NEVER HAVE
By Heghinar Melkom Melkomian

Asbarez
Mar 19th, 2010

I have a copper pot which my mother-in-law gave to me; it’s over
a hundred years old. When I first saw it, I fell in love with it. I
wondered how many meals had been prepared in that pot, how many people
had eaten food prepared in it, how many coppersmiths had cleaned it,
and how many hammers had left their marks on it.

My mother-in-law also gave me an old iron, one of those that have a
compartment for coal underneath them, and some other old family bits
and pieces, which she had preserved with love for so many years and
which contained her family’s history. I love these items and deep down
inside felt honored to receive them. I felt honored to be trusted to
preserve her memories and to hopefully pass them on to my children
one day.

I love old things including knickknacks, clothing, photographs,
buildings and monuments. I love things that have stood the test of
time, witnessed many good and bad things, and that hold the memories
of specific people, places, and events. These things are like time
machines that take us to places and moments that we may have never
been before. They allow us to live or relive the past.

We want to travel and see the world in order to feel, in order to
learn, in order to understand. If there was no Notre-Dame or Montmartre
or Opera Garnier, why in the world would we want to go to a country
where no one speaks our language, where there is nothing to see,
and where nothing evokes our sense of things different, things past?

Traveling is a search through time, a search through history, and
various monuments – churches, schools, palaces, buildings – are there
to help us feel, see and understand different times, different people,
different mentalities, and different lifestyles. Without preserved
paintings, songs, buildings, and sculptures, there is nothing before
us save blankness. Things contemporary are our present; old things
are our past, our heritage.

So it is fair to ask and today, I, together with thousands of my
other compatriots, am facing a serious question, "What are we leaving
behind?"

Recently, there was news that the Armenian Apostolic Church has
requested that Moscow Cinema’s amphitheater on 18 Abovian Street be
demolished and the St. Boghos-Bedros Church – which once occupied the
entire territory of today’s Moscow cinema and was demolished during
the Soviet Era – be reconstructed in its place.

Our people never came to terms with the Soviet planners’ rationale
for pulling down a religious monument for the purpose of building a
cultural center. I am sure they will not understand the reasons for
pulling down a cultural monument, albeit only 40 years old, to make
room for a church. Was it not possible to build the center without
destroying the monument? Of course it was. But the Soviet state was
equally as intent on destroying the churches as on building cultural
centers. It was anti-religion. Now that it is gone, why do the same
in reverse? Is it not possible to build a church without pulling down
a cultural monument?

There are many different opinions about the proposal and its
implementation. Visit the "Save Cinema Moscow Open-Air Hall" Facebook
page, and more than 3,500 opinions by Armenians from different walks of
life are displayed. Some consider this to be a restoration of history,
some consider it justice, others consider it a strengthening of the
Armenian Apostolic Church, while others consider this the demolition
of yet another one of our city’s cultural monuments.

Moscow Cinema’s Open-Air amphitheater was included in the Republic
of Armenia’s list of historic-cultural places until March 4, 2010,
when the government approved the decision to remove the amphitheater
from the list of sites that needed to be preserved and protected.

Yes, a structure considered to be worthy of preservation and state
protection all of a sudden turned out to be just pieces of stone
worthy of demolition. I guess I could say that some things are solved
mafia-style in Armenia: "If it’s in your way, get rid of it."

For several days I’ve been following the discussions and debates of
my fellow citizens and my diasporan compatriots, but I have remained
silent until now. Now, I feel as if I’m about to explode with anger
and sadness.

Unless I suffer from Alzheimer’s, I will never forget the first rock
concert I attended with my friends at the Open-Air amphitheater. Years
ago I watched movies there at nights and attended many concerts. These
memories put a smile on my face and make the jukebox in my head sing,
"Memories light the corners of my mind, misty watercolor memories,
of the way we were."

We live our lives remembering various people and events and keep
those events and people alive by remembering. I remember there
was a time when Abovian Street had an air of distinction with its
hexagonal concrete blocks and two-and-three-storied beautiful buildings
constructed in black tuff. During the construction of Northern Avenue
(a section of which converges with Abovian Street), these historic
buildings – instead of being reinforced – were numbered, dismantled
and removed: to be "relocated", later. It was said that a special
neighborhood was to be designated to reconstruct them. To date the
"relocation" has not been implemented. Now, few historic buildings
remain standing on this street.

Today I am angry because apparently heritage and culture mean little
to our Government and even our Church. Yes, I know, the Open-Air
amphitheater is only 40-years-old, but if we preserve, reinforce
and renovate it today, tomorrow it will be over 100-years-old. Over
the years, the amphitheater has stopped serving as a cinema, but has
hosted unforgettable concerts and festivals, including last year’s
very successful Open Music Fest 2009.

Just a block further up, at the intersection of Sayat-Nova and Abovian
streets, there’s the St. Katoghike Chapel. Many years ago, ignoring
the cries and criticisms of experts, the Soviet authorities ordered
the tearing down of the 17th Century Holy Mother of God Katoghike
Church in order to build the Language Institute on its premises. Two
years ago the Church demolished the Language Institute in order to
construct a new church, St. Anna, on the site where the church used
to stand. The Institute was knocked down without delay, but the new
church has not been constructed yet. I don’t know why the church has
not proceeded with the construction of St. Anna yet, but while the
construction work is pending, why not plant some flowers or grass on
that site? My favorite sanctuary now looks abandoned in the middle
of an intersection, surrounded by dust and rocks.

I am not against the construction of churches, but I believe this
needs to be done with more thought. By demolishing the Open-Air
amphitheater and constructing St. Boghos-Bedros, historical justice
will not be done. Firstly the church was massive and occupied the
entire territory of Moscow Cinema and this new structure will merely
resemble the old St. Boghos-Bedros, squashed between other buildings.

Secondly just because the amphitheater does not function as it should,
does not mean that it should be brought down. Something that is
not functioning should be renovated, refurbished, should be given
life and not destroyed. With this same logic, all of those churches
which have long stopped serving as churches – of which there are
many examples throughout Armenia – should be demolished and replaced
by other structures. Thirdly, having a church only a block up makes
the construction of yet another church in downtown Yerevan somehow
unnecessary. There are many other districts which lack a church
altogether.

I want to see restoration and not demolition. I want to see logic
and not obstinacy. I want to see faith and not force. I want to see
the fruits of our voices. I want to live in a city where buildings
and monuments tell the city’s, and its residents’ story. I want the
coming generation to experience this as well. And today I once again
ask myself, "What are we going to leave behind us?"

Will I be able to take my children to the still-standing Open-Air
amphitheater to watch a cartoon or a movie? Will I be able to point
out the building to them one day and tell them I attended several rock
concerts in this amphitheater? Will I be able to watch their amusement
at the thought of their mother loving rock music? Will I be able to
back my stories with the help of the structures that witnessed the
course of my life? Or will I just have to recall a story and then
try to explain what happened to that building, why it was torn down,
and what we did or didn’t do to save the structure?

I want us to be smarter than other cities. We have already made many
mistakes, but it is not too late to stop yet. Instead of cutting
down trees, demolishing architecturally valuable buildings, and
constructing new ones, we should plant more trees and add buildings
next to the already existing ones.

We should build today’s Armenia on yesterday’s foundations, yesterday’s
heritage. Otherwise, just as is happening in many Western countries,
we will have to try to correct today’s mistakes. We should be wise
and look at our situation as a cup that’s half-full instead of
half-empty. We should take advantage of being an under-developed
country by learning from the mistakes more developed countries have
already made and prevent making them ourselves.