Deep in the cradle of the world’s oldest wine-making region, the Tsinandali Estate is enveloped by a courtyard of abstract face fountains, cloud-scattered skies, and the symphonic sounds of violin, cello, and piano bursting from every corner. Since 2019, this winery estate in Georgia’s Kakheti region has been the home ground of the Tsinandali Festival — a classical music event that has swiftly risen through the ranks to become a global contender in the philharmonic landscape.
Founded by George Ramishvili, Chairman of the Silk Road Group, along with Martin Engstroem and Avi Shoshani, co-founders of Switzerland’s legendary Verbier Festival, the Tsinandali Festival is a point of confluence for some of the world’s most celebrated classical musicians. It’s also meant to be a deliberate exercise in cultural diplomacy, bringing together artists from conflict-ridden Caucasus regions for a luminous celebration of music and merry-making.
Now in its seventh edition, this year’s lineup was no exception, featuring the likes of Chinese cellist Jing Zhao, French pianist Julien Quentin, Israeli string quartet Jerusalem Quartet, Belgian violinist Marc Bouchkov, Spanish cellist Pablo Ferrandez, Hungarian-British pianist and conductor András Schiff, and Russian piano prodigy Alexandra Dovgan.
But perhaps the beating heart of the festival is its 80-plus–member Pan Caucasian Youth Orchestra (PCYO), a commendable effort that brings together and mentors young talents from eight countries fractured by political unrest. It’s a reminder of how, here, music becomes a shared language to navigate divisions and foster dialogue.
“I think we are above the politics,” David Sakvarelidze, the festival’s General Director, tells Rolling Stone India. “We are spreading a message of peace by showing that people from so many nationalities can come together, on stage and in the audience.”
As I wander through the sprawling grounds, it’s hard to disagree with this hypothesis. In the 19th century, this was the home of Prince Alexander Chavchavadze, a poet, diplomat, and founder of Georgian Romanticism. Under his patronage, the estate emerged as a crossroads of Georgian and European art and intellect, hosting figures like French writer Alexandre Dumas and Russian poet Alexander Pushkin. As Georgia grapples with potential democratic erosions and uncertainty over its ascension into the European Union under the ruling Georgian Dream Party, the festival becomes a fitting stage to carry forward that diplomatic legacy.
Today, medieval Georgian brick architecture, a luminescent amphitheatre, and rolling greens cascade into warmly lit chambers that cocoon you like a cave. The conversations flow freely, and so does the locally made wine. Soft instrumental sounds seep out of the walls. It’s a place that stirs something within you, dissolving the distance between the senses and the soul.
The performances, too, are an impressive feat of emotional kindling and cultural immersion. The amphitheatre, drenched in a deep red glow that shifted with the night, set the stage for my first taste of the festival’s programming — a mesmerising display by the Sukhishvili National Ballet of Georgia. The performance told the story of Georgia through a series of folk dances and instruments, complete with ornate headdresses, blades glinting against traditional garb, dancers gliding on the tips of their toes, and skyward leaps that drew gasps and claps before ending in reverent bows. The pacing was unlike what you might expect at a typical ballet, powered by percussive beats and accordion strains, the clash of swords and shields adding an entirely new sensory layer.
Another standout performance came from a duet by Jing Zhao and Julien Quentin, who performed Claude Debussy’s Sonata for Cello and Piano in D Minor, selections from Felix Mendelssohn’s Songs Without Words arranged by Alfredo Piatti, and Dmitri Shostakovich’s Sonata for Cello and Piano in D Minor. Their show vibrated with a nimble energy, moving fluidly between playful inflections and staccato bursts. A few days later, Jing Zhao — who commanded four different chamber performances — joined Marc Bouchkov and Uzbekistani pianist Behzod Abduraimov for a powerfully expressive performance that unfolded like a divine arc. Their rendition of Antonín Dvořák’s Piano Trio No. 4 in E Minor, “Dumky,” moved from melancholia and a sense of futility to an anguish that soared heavenward, the final note whispering like a last breath.
Then there was the 18-year-old Alexandra Dovgan, who claimed the stage with a poise far beyond her years. In a striking solo performance, she played Frédéric Chopin’s Andante spianato et grande polonaise brillante in E-flat Major — a piece composed by Chopin as an assertion of his Polish identity during the height of tensions between Poland and Russia, giving her rendition a poignantly political edge.
What made the festival’s curation especially compelling was its commitment to showcasing the next generation of classical musicians, mixing legacy with new perspectives. This was perhaps most evident in a solo recital by 15-year-old Tsotne Zedginidze, a piano prodigy who hails from one of Georgia’s most illustrious musical lineages. Playing Johannes Brahms’ Piano Sonata No. 3 and Ludwig van Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 28 alongside his original compositions, his technique embodied a kind of breathlessness that felt spunky yet respectful.
Speaking about what drew him to these particular pieces right after his performance, the young pianist explained that the abstract nature of Beethoven’s Sonata No. 28 made it feel “very modernistic, back then and even today.” He also reflected on Brahms’ Sonata No. 3, written when the composer was just 18, a connection that perhaps mirrors Zedginidze’s own ambitions at 15.
The PCYO’s performances carried forward that same spirit of restless ambition. Hailing from countries like Armenia, Azerbaijan, Ukraine, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Turkey, and Turkmenistan (with an Italian viola player thrown in the mix), the group was shepherded by Italian maestro Gianandrea Noseda — one of the world’s leading conductors, who also serves as the festival’s music director. Accompanied by Russian pianist Nikolai Lugansky, they opened with Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 4 in G Major, a work that balanced introspection with soaring grandeur, before moving into Brahms’ Symphony No. 3 in F Major, a sweeping composition that evoked a sense of unity and unadulterated joy.
One of the festival’s most monumental moments came when the PCYO took on Mahler’s Symphony No. 1, one of classical music’s most formidable works, under the baton of Scandinavian conductor Daniel Blendulf (who was himself conducting the nearly hour-long composition for the first time). For such a young ensemble, it felt like a declaration of intent: to tackle a score that is at once macabre, unsettling, and profoundly hopeful, and to make it their own.
An air of excitement hung over the amphitheatre long after the PCYO played their final chord, the musicians giddy with a sense of shared triumph.
“At some point, I forgot that I was physically on the stage — I felt I was somewhere in space, sharing these great emotions with people that I really love and respect, and can now call friends,” remarks cellist Amina Davilbekova, a first-timer in the PCYO from Turkmenistan, when we catch up just moments after the final performance. “So many people from different countries are coming every year,” adds Grigori Ambartsumian, a Ukrainian violinist who has been part of the PCYO since 2019. “It’s difficult between all these countries, but still, we found a common language. We use our music to express our love.”
In the notes and silences between performances, the festival tries to make its most profound statement: that art can bridge even the deepest divides.
“When you bring people from societies fighting each other together, it’s not easy,” says George Ramishvili, explaining the vision behind the festival. “Many of these countries face threats of war or ongoing conflict, so it was important for this region [to have a model like this]. It was difficult to bring youngsters from all these countries, put them together, and make them make music. But from the first year, we saw that they played together, created together, and when they do this, it shows peace can exist in society.”
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