Tornike Bratchuli

“- ო, ქალწულო მარიამ, - ხმადაბლა თქვა შვარცნეგერმა.”
― მიხეილ ანთაძე, Buddha's Little Finger

“Every relation between forms in a painting is to some degree adaptable to the painter's purpose. This is not the case with photography. Composition in the profound, formative sense of the word cannot enter into photography. The true content of a photograph is invisible, for it derives from a play, not with form, but with time. One might argue that photography is as close to music as to painting. I have said that a photograph bears witness to a human choice being exercised. The choice is not between photographing X and Y: but between photographing at X moment or at Y moment. The objects recorded in any photograph (from the most effective to the most commonplace) carry approximately the same weight, the same conviction. What varies is the intensity with which we are made aware of the poles of absence and presence. A photograph, while recording what has been seen, always and by its nature refers to what is not seen. It isolates, preserves, and presents a moment taken from a continuum. The only decision (the still photographer) can take is as regards the moment he chooses to isolate. Yet this apparent limitation gives the photograph its unique power. The immediate relation between what is present and what is absent is particular to each photograph: it may be that of ice to sun, of grief to tragedy, of a smile to a pleasure, of a body to love, of a winning race-horse to the race it has run.”
― John Berger, Understanding a Photograph

“– ამ დრონის მაგივრად მინდა, ტერმინატორი მყავდეს, – ამბობს ანანო.
თვალები ცისფერი აქვს, როგორც Windows 10 და ადრეული შემოდგომის ცა, სულ რო გინდა გადააყენო, ან დაგასველოს.
რასაც ყველაზე მეტად ვაფასებ ანანოში, ისაა, რომ მას რობოტების ყველაზე სწორი კლასიფიკაცია აქვს ჩამოყალი­ბებული. მისი აზრით, არიან რობოტი პოლიციელები, რობოტი პატრიოტები და რობოტი გასხივოსნებულები. ერთხელ მითხრა, ჩვენც რობოტები ვართო, ოღონდ მთხოვა, არ გა­აბაზროო.”
― Zura Jishkariani, საღეჭი განთიადები: Sugar Free

“Reification implies that man is capable of forgetting his own authorship of the human world, and further, that the dialectic between man, the producer, and his products is lost to consciousness. The reified world is, by definition, a dehumanized world. It is experienced by man as a strange facticity, an opus alienum over which he has no control rather than as the opus proprium of his own productive activity. It will be clear from our previous discussion of objectivation that, as soon as an objective social world is established, the possibility of reification is never far away.59 The objectivity of the social world means that it confronts man as something outside of himself. The decisive question is whether he still retains the awareness that, however objectivated, the social world was made by men—and, therefore, can be remade by them. In other words, reification can be described as an extreme step in the process of objectivation, whereby the objectivated world loses its comprehensibility as a human enterprise and becomes fixated as a non-human, non-humanizable, inert facticity.60 Typically, the real relationship between man and his world is reversed in consciousness. Man, the producer of a world, is apprehended as its product, and human activity as an epiphenomenon of non-human processes. Human meanings are no longer understood as world-producing but as being, in their turn, products of the “nature of things.” It must be emphasized that reification is a modality of consciousness, more precisely, a modality of man’s objectification of the human world. Even while apprehending the world in reified terms, man continues to produce it. That is, man is capable paradoxically of producing a reality that denies him.61”
― Peter L. Berger, The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge