Standing prominently on Ukimerioni Hill above Kutaisi, Bagrati Cathedral is formally dedicated to the Dormition of the Mother of God and is one of the city’s most recognisable landmarks. The site was occupied as early as the second millennium BC and its first known Christian church was built during the fourth century, long before the medieval cathedral appeared. The elevation makes it visible from much of Kutaisi, although it also requires visitors to walk up a very big hill, which is presumably how medieval architects ensured that nobody arrived without having made some physical commitment to proceedings. Fortunately, my hotel was near the cathedral so I didn’t have to make a special expedition to come here.
This display records the cathedral’s condition and the various attempts to preserve and reconstruct it during the twentieth century. Archaeological excavations in 1940 and 1941 helped establish the original plan, while architect Vakhtang Tsintsadze prepared a reconstruction scheme in 1952. Work continued in stages over several decades, followed by further archaeological and structural investigations around the cathedral’s thousandth anniversary in 2003.
The medieval cathedral was commissioned by King Bagrat III around the turn of the eleventh century and an inscription records that its floor was laid in 1003. Bagrat had brought most of Georgia under a single ruler, and the scale of the new episcopal church was intended to demonstrate the importance of that achievement. Representatives from across the country attended its consecration and the building subsequently became a lasting symbol of Georgian unity, which is quite a substantial burden for one collection of stonework to carry. There was a wedding taking place when I was there, so the relatively large number of tourists, as well as myself, didn’t get to see the interior.
This side entrance is one of the quieter surviving parts of the complex. Its recessed stone arches and remaining decoration give some indication of how elaborate the medieval cathedral must have appeared before its partial destruction.
The cathedral once stood within Kutaisi Fortress, parts of whose walls and foundations remain around the site. Both the fortress and cathedral were attacked by Ottoman forces in 1692, when an explosion caused the dome and roof to collapse. The ruined building deteriorated further during the nineteenth century and some of its stone was removed for use elsewhere, which was all a little sub-optimal. For more than two centuries, Bagrati therefore remained a roofless ruin rather than the complete cathedral seen today.
The separate bell tower stands alongside the cathedral and provides another vertical landmark on the hill, although this one is a little overshadowed by the cathedral. Together with the surviving walls, archaeological remains and religious buildings, it helps the site feel like an historic precinct rather than simply one very large church positioned above the city.
The cross stands near the edge of the hill and offers a suitably dramatic view across Kutaisi. The city became the capital of the unified Georgian kingdom and remained at the centre of political life until the royal capital moved to Tbilisi during the twelfth century. The view from the hill also helps explain why the site was chosen, offering visibility across the surrounding landscape and ensuring that the cathedral dominated the city both physically and symbolically. The panorama was impressive enough to justify the climb, which is not an assessment I make lightly by any means as I am absolutely not David Morgan. Incidentally, I’m making my friend David the new internationally recognised unit of willingness to climb hills. I’m at 2 out of 10 on the scale, my friend Richard is at -3 and David is at 10.
The completed cathedral is impressive, although its modern reconstruction produced an international heritage controversy. Bagrati and Gelati Monastery were jointly added to the UNESCO World Heritage List in 1994, but major rebuilding work begun in 2009 was judged to have damaged the cathedral’s historical authenticity. The property was placed on the World Heritage in Danger list in 2010 and Bagrati was ultimately removed from the designated site in 2017, while Gelati retained its status. This is therefore the unusual story of a cathedral losing its World Heritage recognition partly because it had been made substantially less ruined and I’m sure that there’s some logic in there somewhere.
Anyway, whatever the arguments about conservation, I thought that it remained a striking building and one of the most memorable sights in Kutaisi. It was all really rather lovely.