Eastern U.S. edition - Armenian Reporter

Kilikia on the
high seas with
its calm-weather
mast. In Creation,
the unusual
setup of the
mast is discussed
and placed
in historical
context. Photos:
Areg Nazaryan,
Samvel Babasyan,
Alexandr
Margaryan.
Creation tells the story of a passion fulfilled
by Vincent Lima
YEREVAN – The documentary
film Creation, directed and narrated
(in the Armenian version)
by Areg Nazaryan, starts in 1985
with a group of men with a passion
for naval lore. They live in a
landlocked republic of the Soviet
Union, Armenia. But they know
Armenia was not always landlocked.
They remember the Cilician
kingdom of Armenia, on the
Mediterranean coast, and they
are studying its ship building and
navigation practices, as well as
sea routes, old flags, and the like.
They have formed a club, the
Ayas Nautical Research Club,
and they have big dreams. They
will build a full-scale replica of
a 13th-century Armenian ship
and sail it on the high seas.
Why not? Why can’t a group
of dedicated enthusiasts do
what they set their minds and
hearts at doing?
I am watching the film standing
up in a crowded screening
room at Yerevan’s Moscow
Theater. It’s the Golden Apricot
International Film Festival,
and though I have paid for my
ticket and have arrived 15 minutes
early, I am one of perhaps
20 people with no seats. I have
been to the festival in its third,
fourth, fifth, and now sixth
years, and have always been
struck by how poorly organized
it is every year.
Felling a tree
I consider leaving. The narration
at this point is impersonal, and
the film has not yet grabbed me. I
know they built the ship – Kilikia,
or Cilicia – and sailed it. I even saw
Kilikia on display in central Yerevan
a few weeks ago. So there’s no
suspense as to the outcome.
But, still, I wonder: How can
they pursue this hobby when
the decade that follows 1985 is
the decade in which the Soviet
Union collapses, the Karabakh
war rages, there’s no work, no
light, no water?
So I stay. And I am very glad
I did. The narrator warms to
his task. It turns out that he is
one of the group, and he is telling
his own story as well as the
story of the group.
We hardly hear about the crises
in the world they occupy.
Rather, we see them in a forest,
selecting an enormous tree
to fell. We see them moving
the tree to a clearing, where it
has to dry out for a whole year.
Then we see the men – they are
all men – split the tree into long,
long planks that will be the hull
of their ship.
Nothing high-tech
All the while, I am waiting for
someone to come, make off with
the wood to burn for heat and
light in the difficult winter of
1993. But no such thing is even
hinted at.
The Ayas members are using
13th-century techniques. Nothing
high-tech. Imagine smoothing
and sanding down and entire
ship, inside and out, by
hand, without power tools. The
ship is 20 meters, or 22 yards,
long.
Slowly, but surely, before our
Above left, Ayas
club members
prepare to fell an
enormous tree to
provide very long
planks for the
hull of the ship.
Left: Building
Kilikia took 11
years. On the left
is Karen Balayan.
eyes, a ship is built. It takes 11
years.
Continued on page 15
14 Armenian Reporter Arts & Culture | July 18, 2009