Interview with Issue #6 Cover Art’s Artist Levon Fljyan
March, 2025
At the crosswalk of the Baghramyan and Moskovyan, people are waiting for the walk signal to turn green so we can cross the street. I have a notebook and pencil and am writing what I see and feel which I hope to render into poetry at some point today. The time is 11:02AM on a sunny day around 60 degrees Fahrenheit or 15 degrees Celcius. I’m a little late. Levon Fljyan and I are meeting at Common Ground to have the artist’s interview for Issue #6. The gate is open to the café. Levon just arrived and is happy to see the outside’s natural aesthetics. Each table in the courtyard has space where we can talk without having to quiet our voices. So if we laugh, we can let it out. We grab a table in the sun to enjoy the warming air. I order an Eastern Coffee normal, he does too but decides on darre, but then changes his mind to have an Americano.
Levon Fljyan accepted ThisThatLit’s invitation to share his art for Issue #6’s cover art. Issue #6 is the second issue of my and Russ Thorburn’s re-beginning to the poetry lit mag, founded in Ishpeming, Michigan in 2019, then moved to Marquette, then it went on hiatus after I left the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for work down in Dearborn, Michigan near Detroit. We have started up the lit mag again. I have moved to Yerevan, Armenia while Russ Thorburn is in Marquette, Michigan. For Issue #6, with the help of Arevik Ashkharoyan at ARI Literature Foundation, ThisThatLit recruited some Armenian poets, from Armenia, composing poetry in Armenian about the 2020 war in Artsakh.
The order for the coffees are in, but we begin before caffeine.
The particular piece he shared with ThisThatLit was initially shared with me by Vahag Hamalbashyan, the cover artist from Issue #5. I told Vahag ThisThatLit was doing an issue on the war. He read the poems and immediately directed me to Levon’s art. The moment I looked at it, I understood why Vahag wanted me to view the piece.
Levon, when I look at the specific art you shared with us, I found a relationship in feeling between the readings of the poems and looking at your artwork. What is this work about?
I was going through a time in my life where I had been living in Yerevan for a few years, but I still felt strongly towards my hometown, Gyumri. The work is an image transfer and acrylic paint. I used two mediums to express what I was feeling and thinking. The work is of a corner in Gyumri at Kerov Steet, which has been renamed, but in Gyumri even when a street name changes we still call it the old name. Actually, I was born in Leninakan, and I grew up in both Leninakan and Gyumri, after the city’s name changed after the Soviet Union ended. I made an image transfer of that corner in the city, which people refer to as the Northern Avenue of Gyumri, then I took yellow and red and made brush strokes in the air because feelings do not only remain in our bodies, but they enter the air.
Do you find a relationship then between Artsakh and Gyumri in existence now?
I am always using the old names of Gyumri. That’s part of what makes it Gyumri. When I go there to visit, I only use the old names. It is the way I remember and recall the past. I remember experiences like playing football on the street when I was little in Leninakan. Like that, but certainly not the same, I imagine the Artsakh people can recall their streets, their towns, their experiences. However, they cannot go back physically to that land at this time. But, I guess, in a way, we were both born in places that we cannot return to.
What was the war like for you as an artist?
During, there was actually a type of positive energy, like we all just kept it positive. We believed in our souls, like even though we were losing ground we thought it would turn around like the first one. Of course, we weren’t being told everything, and that was the difficulty after the war.
What happened at that time after the war?
I felt numb. I was introduced to the word timbeer, թմբիր. I realized I felt that. I would gather with friends, and we talked about everything. As artists, we needed to talk and think together. During that numbness, I started to feel the need to be more professional, to do everything I do beyond the best of my abilities.
So you made a choice?
I did not make a deliberate choice, like a decisive moment, but over time I came to this realization. It became an everyday yearning, working harder, thinking smarter, being with friends and family with love, living in the moment.
Were you creating art at that time?
We were more discussing. You need to live with the changes. You cannot ignore it, you cannot cut it. Ignoring it will not help you move forward. It is healthy to come face to face with it. It touched every Armenian in every corner of the world. We all as an Armenian society had to accept the new reality and then move forward from there.
What came after the numbness period?
What organically grew from that time was reflection. I began a period of reflection about everything, and now reflection has become part of my process. This table right here, I am reflecting on it right now. The coffee itself, that which you are drinking, I am drinking, the coffee and the cup holding it are part of the experience we’re having, and I’m now reflecting on it. I enjoy this reflection because a sense of bringing all my life together into a single feeling of experience. When I return to Gyumri, I return too to Leninakan because I make reflection part of my process, my living. I think about what I am doing, how I am doing it, what I and my body and my mind are getting from the experience. It is necessary to reflect, analyze, think about yourself and the world around you, and then come back to your person to think about what else you can and are becoming.
Thank you, Levon, for allowing ThisThatLit to showcase your work alongside the great poetry.
I am glad you reached out. The conversation has been good and gave me an opportunity to get these ideas out there in the real world.
I’ll get the coffee today. You came down the hill. I only had to walk 10 minutes.
Okay, you got the coffee this time. Next time, I’ll get the beer.
Lav axper!
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Interview with Issue #5 Cover Art’s Artist Vahag Hamalbashyan
October, 2024
I’m sitting down with Vahag Hamalbashyan, Armenian artist, who was born in Gyumri but moved to Yerevan shortly after the 1988 Earthquake. We’re at the Irish Pub on Ghazar Parpetsi Street. The last time I was here five years ago, 2019, was before the government decided to seriously enforce the smoking ban. Armenia had outlawed smoking in restaurants but never truly enforced the ban until after I moved back to the US. Now, I can actually smell the pub’s wood, like the classic Irish pubs in Ireland.
Vahag accepted ThisThatLit’s invitation to share his art for Issue #5’s cover art. Issue #5 is a re-beginning of my and Russ Thorburn’s literary magazine, founded in Ishpeming, Michigan in 2019, then moved to Marquette, then the lit mag went on hiatus after I left the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for work down in Dearborn, Michigan near Detroit. We have started up the lit mag again. I have moved to Yerevan, Armenia while Russ Thorburn is in Marquette, Michigan. For Issue #5, Russ recruited some of his fellow poets from the Detroit area, where Russ is from, to collaborate on the topic of Big Pink, a house where Bob Dylan recorded back in the 1970’s. Issue #5 shows what ThisThatLit is about: a space to collaborate with friends or other poets with common ground or over a common experience. Our past issues, also, show this concept of collaboration. Check out the archive.
After our beers arrive, I ask Vahag a few questions about the new movement on optimism among a group of Armenian artists in Armenia. Do enjoy the interview.
Why optimism? How does the war influence this movement towards optimism?
Vahag Hamalbashyan: In Armenia, after the war of 2020, there was a huge epidemic of pessimism. The thing I was, I was thinking, that we have to consider our lessons from what happened in the war. And the thing is that we need to do something positive. Because, the way it was going in the country, the level of optimism and positivity, was depleting. I decided that if I started to think in the way that everyone was thinking, getting upset at almost everything, I would be hurt psychologically, so I decided to go the other direction. I did not want to lie to people about my own worries, but I wanted to make them, even the smallest percentage, to think about the future, instead of all those terrible things that happened to us, it would not be the end of us. You see, the Armenian people, in general, can have a mentality that we love to think about dead people. In my way, I started to think about living people. Living people need positivity, optimism. That is why I was thinking that if I give some small, small, small percent of positivity to all people to look at my art and get even a tiny, tiny drop of positive, there could be an ounce of change to shift things. So, in this way, I am getting a tiny drop back. And, also, I was thinking that my mental health would be good for me and my family. In Yerevan, Armenia, the world surrounding us was overrun with too much negativity. The thing I learned is that you need to look at the future and go further.
Tell me about your process in creating art. What is that like? Please share.
Vahag Hamalbashyan: Usually, my studio day starts with a coffee, which I buy on the way to my studio. And when I am going to my studio, I sit and ruminate about things. It’s not about politics or the state of the country. I usually listen to the news about football or some artistic news or I play something on Youtube about world history. And during that time, through these shows and podcasts, I feel myself ready to get up, stand up, start my work. At some point, I am not controlling the process. It goes on its own.
What artists influence you and your art?
Vahag Hamalbashyan: I am getting inspiration from everywhere. I could say some names, but I do not want to say them because all artists – it sounds strange – but I like all periods of art, starting with cave art. I cannot say because it would be unfair to others.
Is there anything else you want to say about the world?
Vahag Hamalbashyan: Maybe, I am too romantic, but I hope that kindness, positive things will win out, like they won after WWI, like after WWII, and now as it is the WWIII hopefully after this it will be a long time, long time of having peace and happiness all around the world. Maybe it is very simple, but that is – I think – maybe the largest percentage of humanity wants peace. I want it too. And, of course, the most important thing that I really, really want, is that my kids live in a peaceful country, a safe country. I want Armenia to become exemplar for all the world for democracy, independence to be looked at. I want my children to live in that country.
What is the painting title? What is it about?
Vahag Hamalbashyan: The painting is just the simply, very simply about Yerevan. I painted it about a year ago, 2023. I call it Yerevan Renovation. It’s about the city I live in; it’s about good things; it’s about giving everyone positive things, all around me, my friends, all.
I thank you for allowing ThisThatLit to use your art and share your thoughts to our readers.
Vahag Hamalbashyan: It warms my heart that I have my artwork on ThisThatLit.
Mersi axpers (Thank you, Bro).
Vahag Hamalbashyan: Kez em mersi (And thank you). Finally, we are out for a drink!
The interviewer is me, Alex Vartan Gubbins, the founder and managing editor of ThisThatLit.