|
|
| Pleasures of the Chthonic World. The Cafe Osīriss Jānis Borgs Every self-respecting city has cafés that serve as gathering-places for intellectuals. It seems the 19th century French Impressionists made a special contribution to developing this kind of thing. In 1869, Eduard Manet discovered the delightful Café Guerbois in the off-beat Batignolles quarter of Paris, and here the followers of the new art movement gathered regularly under the leadership of their patron Emil Zola. Other intellectuals, politicians and bon vivants favoured the elegant Tavern Pousse. Since that day, thousands of similar establishments have grown up practically around the world, where people come not simply to enjoy a coffee or a drink and a snack, but first and foremost to meet their own crowd, develop thoughts and ideas, and stay up to date... Nowadays, that kind of thing has become known in Latvian as a tusiņš. | |
|
Riga, too, has had such places for a long time. In the first period of independence, there was Romas pagrabs ("The Roman Cellar") and Sukubs... in the Soviet years there was Kaza ("The Goat"), Skapis ("The Wardrobe"), Putnu dārzs ("The Bird Garden"), Dieva auss ("God's Ear") and Allegro... Each name is associated with tales and legends, and with the art world of that time. Likewise, since the restoration of Latvia's independence, cafés have appeared that provide an intellectual milieu. And it seems that the Café Osīriss in particular was the pioneer of the new wave; it has retained its popularity for more than a decade now. It all began with an idea. The brainchild of Vita Matiss, at that time Executive Director of the Soros Foundation-Latvia (SFL). A particular set of conditions led to this development. In 1992, the SFL took up residence at the corner of Krišjāņa Barona iela and Lāčplēša iela - in the so-called Daile House. Initially there were just a couple of rooms, but before long the foundation had occupied the whole of the first floor. Vita Matiss had ambitious plans to develop this place as a hub of social and cultural activity that would be renowned in Latvia, with a kind of Western aristocratic elegance. On the other hand, the proprietor was interested in having prosperous tenants. Also a very Western idea, but on a commercial plane. And he planned to rent out the ground floor, the location of the "Art Bookshop" in Soviet times, to some downmarket, loud shop, which threatened to present a plebeian kind of Westernness. Vita Matiss considered that this would contrast too starkly with the refined milieu of the SFL. And the idea emerged that the Soros Foundation would initiate commercial activity in the realm of high culture - a bookshop and café. This was the origin of the academic bookshop Aperto Libro. And of Osīriss. In accordance with the original scheme, the café was a kind of accessory to the bookshop - a friendly tandem under the wing of the SFL. But, with time, each business became a separate entity. Osīriss was invented by Vita Matiss, and financed by Soros. Commercial ventures were not actually envisaged under the foundation's charter, but in this exceptional case, approved in New York, the foundation's money was utilised as loaned starting capital. In this regard, the executive director demonstrated a noteworthy capacity for getting her own way. Directorship of the company itself was entrusted to actor Andrejs Žagars, who had already shown himself a talented manager of unother café under his ownership. It's not altogether clear what motivated the choice of the name "Osiris". Since this deity is chiefly known as the ruler of the ancient Egyptian underworld, who was reborn after being killed in this world, but only to live in the underworld, where he tested the souls of the dead, to see whether they should live forever or be condemned to hell. Does this mean the café was a kind of testing-place? In one sense, it certainly was. Or did it refer to some sort of memento mori - rejoice, but remember death? Or as a reminder of human life with its failings and frailties? It might be this, too. Or does it refer to the deity Osiris' rebirth (even if it is in the world beyond the grave) as an allusion to the rebirth of Latvia? Leaving alone entirely the question of where the country's been reborn. Various interpretations are possible, which, although they have nothing to do with cafés, are nevertheless intellectually philosophical. As befits this establishment. However, no Latvian or non-Latvian intellectual has ever been observed to tremble in terror here from feeling the cold breath of the forces above. So, I'm somewhat suspicious that perhaps only one in every ten or even one in every hundred visitors to Osīriss, like casual Western tourists in Egypt, realise what a serious place he or she has entered. But the all-seeing eye of Osiris, just like Big Brother, is watching us all vigilantly day and night... above the entrance to this pleasant café. It should be added that Riga has seen much more radical developments of this nature. Under the Soviets, some time in the 1970s, when the Great Cemetery was closed, the municipal leaders entertained the idea of establishing mini-bars and cafés in the tombs, in order to save them from destruction. This gave rise to ironic remarks about the "Skeleton Bar" and the "Jolly Cadaver Café"... The people did not appreciate this idea, and so the tombs were left to be gnawed by time. Still on the subject of the name, it should be mentioned that the ever-vigilant Language Inspectorate caused quite an amusing tumult. Initially, the new establishment was to be known as Café Osiris. Very foreign-sounding indeed. But this idea was blocked with national and nationalist vigour by the full force of the law, under which all are supposed to be equal. It was strictly instructed that the establishment should be called only by the Latvianised version of the name - Café Osīriss. By a comic paradox, but one so characteristic of Latvia, the law "under which all are equal" completely ignored the presence of the Café Cinema, located diagonally on the other side of the cross-roads. And there's no need to start reciting the blindness and inconsistency of this law, manifested at all other corners and street fronts. But the Osirians were utterly routed by the force of the law. The design of Osīriss was the work of artists Varis Dzērve and Dace Zeltiņa. The green stone tabletops and bar stood out as dominant features in this very reserved interior. An angular, glassed fireplace was planned as the central element. But it's rarely been used. Occasionally, the flames have even triggered the fire alarm. I'm happy to say that the guests were not subjected to a sudden downpour of water or foam from fire extinguishers. As once happened during the filming of a New Year's Eve broadcast at Latvian TV. The rather expensive design work did, however, produce a lasting result, and the café has so far not altered its appearance significantly. In these changing times, when so many things around us tend to pop like soap bubbles, this kind of conservatism gives a very pleasant feeling of stability and even a belief that some things, at least, are lasting. In any case, on May 1994 Osīriss opened with a banquet, honoured by the presence of the foundation's big boss, George Soros himself. This was an indirect reference to the intended standard of the café, or, to put it formally, the clientele it was intended for - people having some connection with culture. In a sense, this place also developed as a new standard of Western service and café culture, as a contrast to all that was Soviet and to the vulgarity of the time of the cooperatives. This was the first establishment in Riga, and at that time virtually the only one, where café-goers could talk and hear each other, without being drowned out by the boom of loud, throbbing music. This was the first and only place in Riga where the music played in the café was always specially chosen and pre-programmed - and it was mainly classical. Good music turned out to be the main feature of Osīriss' image. It was carefully monitored every day by Vita Matiss personally. Of course, some of the staff would certainly have liked to hear something like Boney M, rather than Mozart, from time to time. So Osīriss served as the first reminder in Riga that the staff is there to serve the customers, rather than their own whims. And, of course, there was the style of service. And a European approach to preparing and serving meals. And the ever-changing mini-exhibitions of Latvian art. Initially, the prints of Ilmārs Blumbergs, especially popular with the foundation, were most frequently seen. At that time, all this was something new and unseen. Only later did a string of followers appear, cafés with a similar outlook... For many years, right up to the move to Alberta iela, Osīriss was the venue for practically all the main local level and international level SFL events, as well as Christmas banquets, celebrations and birthdays. The leader Soros himself came on more than one occasion. In fact, virtually all the cream of Latvian society has been seen here. And not only on special occasions. The unusual character of Osīriss soon came to public notice, and for many years the place became trendy. In the first place, foreigners living in Riga started to come regularly, as did Latvians who had returned from abroad. And, of course, all kinds of home-grown intellectuals. In this regard, the café quickly attained its aim. But in the 90s, it was a sadly the case that any new, pleasant establishment was soon beset by yobs, semi-criminal black economy "businessmen" and plain ordinary bandits. So, in order to avert such a course of events, a certain tactic of "climatic expulsion" was developed at Osīriss. The milieu cultivated at the café made them feel out of place. And, once again, the main barrier that the skinheads could not over-come turned out to be music. The sound of Vivaldi soon brought their patience to an end. And the jingle-jangle they requested was simply unavailable here. Attempts to swallow up Osīriss culminated in an incident that's now the stuff of legend. One day in the mid-90s, two boxer-types in black leather jackets walked into the café. They said they wanted to talk about protection - "a roof". The foundation's manager Brigita Borga came to talk: "No," she said, "We don't actually require your services, because the roof of this house was repaired quite recently." To this they replied that it wasn't roof repairs they were talking about. The "naive" Borga: "Ah, you want to submit a project? In which programme? I can give you some application forms straight away... " The skinheads: "No, no, we want to discuss the matter of your protection..." Borga: "Oh that! No, we're not worried about that. If we have any problems, we call out the marines from the US Embassy..." Now they get really mad: "No, you really don't understand. Who's the real owner here?" Borga: "George Soros." The skinheads: "Well, get him quick!" Borga: "But he's in New York now." The skinheads: "And when's he going to be in Riga?" Borga: "Well, he tends to visit Riga about once a year..." The skinheads: "Who is he? What does he do?" Borga: "But how can you not know Soros! Go and read about him in a library..." The skinheads: "OK then, we have to go and consider the matter... And then we'll be back..." And so they went, and they haven't come back to this very day. And poor old Osīriss has been left "roofless" all this time. Osīriss gradually passed completely into the hands of Andrejs Žagars. Two more excellent restaurants in the Bergs Bazaar appeared in the constellation of his fine establishments. And Žagars became Riga's most outstanding restaurateur. When he left in order to head the National Opera, leaving behind him this well-run business, there was some concern about the fate of his cherished establishments. Happily, however, Osīriss survived and still preserves the whole of its charm after the departure of both its former owners, the SFL and Andrejs Žagars. It's customary by now to regard the clientele of this café as belonging to the world of art and intellect. This has been so often discussed as to have become a kind of pathetic banality. So it seems that in possible future research, the establishment might be considered from other points of view, looking at a different cross-section of society. Let's say, assuming that Riga is not just a city of art and hockey, but also a web of international espionage and an arena for conflicting special service interests, Osīriss might be viewed, for example, as a place for spies to meet. After all, this, too, is an intellectual matter, and so it would be odd for these people to sound each other out somewhere in the sticks. Or, Osīriss as a zone free of Latvian homophobia. People from the sexual minorities are characterised by a particularly developed aestheticism, so they, too, have come to appreciate Osīriss. For well-known reasons, discussion of this social group from the point of view of cultural achievement has so far been avoided in Latvia. The range of visitors to the world of Osiris is actually much more diverse and colourful than might seem at the first instant: it can be turned like a Rubik Cube, always finding some new angle. And the real stories about Osīriss haven't even been written down yet. So we're left with an ephemeral experience of pleasure. | |
| go back | |
