The art of diplomacy

Two inconspicuous initials beside the doorbell identify the entrance to the cream, neoclassical block containing the Berlin home of Gabriela von Habsburg. Or to rehearse her full style: Her Excellency Gabriela von Habsburg-Lothringen, Archduchess of Austria and Georgian ambassador to Germany. Born in 1956, Habsburg is the fourth daughter of the Archduke Otto and a grand-daughter of Karl I, the last emperor of Austria. She never uses her hereditary title, she is quick to assure me: “I do not like my family titles. Whatever you inherit, you haven’t done anything for, so it’s nothing that you can really feel proud of. I only like the titles that I earn myself.”

Fortunately, she is not short of these either. In 2001, long before she rose to the rank of ambassador, she was appointed professor at the Art Academy of Tbilisi. This followed numerous awards for her work as a sculptor, producing abstract pieces from stainless steel. Some of her creations are monumental in scale. One example, a 10-metre-high stake with barbs extending on all sides, bestrides the Austrian-Hungarian border – the lands her ancestors once governed, the line along which the Iron Curtain ran and now, thanks to the Schengen Agreement, an open frontier again. Its enigmatic title, “In necessariis unitas, In dubiis libertas”, alludes to this turbulent past.

Her sweeping apartment in Berlin’s historic Mitte district is studded with smaller examples of her work. All of them conjure a similar sense of disjuncture: a fractured coffee bean; two triangles locked in combat; a pyramid sliced into segments. With its whitewashed walls, bright lights and hardwood floors, the place could pass for one of the numerous art galleries in Berlin. Furniture is sparse, although carefully co-ordinated: in the lobby a crimson divan and two cerise armchairs sit on top of a richly woven rug. Even the rose bouquet on the table – a present from the Association of German Businesswomen – matches the colour scheme.

Despite this flourish, Habsburg apologises that her apartment looks barer than usual. “Normally, I have my sculptures on pedestals but we have an exhibition of children’s art at the embassy, so I’ve sent them there for the time being,” she explains, turning effortlessly from artist into patron.

We move into the sitting room – a symphony of browns and beiges. Lithograph studies gaze down from one wall and an upright piano leans against another, a Bach score resting on the stand. At the far side of the room, a bookcase bristles with works on German history and Georgian crafts. On one of the shelves, a photograph of the Georgian president Mikheil Saakashvili sits slightly incongruously alongside a portrait of Habsburg’s mother, dressed in an evening gown.

On the balcony outside, the contorted limbs of a steel installation protrude above the parapet. Its name, Habsburg says, is “Rock Rose”. Although I hazard an interpretation, she won’t be drawn as to its meaning: “A name is just a name. It is not there to give you a key to what you should think when you see the work. I choose names that could not mean anything to anyone except me. I want people to use their imaginations when they see my work, to make their own meanings.”

We sit down and a bottle of Mtsvane, Georgian white wine, appears. As she pours, she summarises the country’s 8,000-year history of viticulture. “Georgia was the first country where wine was made,” she says. “This was something that was important for the culture of Europe. Today every good Georgian makes his own wine. Even I have my own vineyard – about five hectares in size. Obviously, it produces more than I can drink alone.”

It soon becomes clear that Habsburg’s enthusiasm for Georgia encompasses far more than the effects of its wine. “When I came to Georgia for the first time, I had the feeling that I had come to the roots of Europe,” she explains. “Georgia is for me its cradle. It is the oldest country to have Christianity as a state religion, beginning in the fourth century. So the values of Georgia are the values of Europe.”

For this reason, Habsburg had no trouble adopting the country as her own. “I was born in Luxembourg and grew up mostly in Bavaria with an Austrian passport, although, back then, I was not allowed to enter Austria because of the so-called Habsburg law [which effectively barred Habsburgs from returning to Austria from 1919 to the 1990s]. So I always had a strong feeling that I was European. I did not develop feelings for one single country.”

But the Georgia where she settled in 2001 was far from offering European comforts. “When I first came there, it was a very difficult situation for the people. The water was cut off every day. The power was interrupted. They had a very high rate of unemployment. This whole system was very corrupt. There were not even any toilet facilities in the Art Academy.” And yet, she says, her students were the “most wonderful, creative and happy people I ever met”.

It was students such as these who were at the forefront of the Rose Revolution of 2003, which toppled the regime of Eduard Shevardnadze and ushered in a more liberal government under Saakashvili. Habsburg is an unabashed champion of his reforms. “The people wanted to have a change and a future where they could live in total freedom – a free market and a free system. That was something that came from inside the country. And now the country is being transformed.”

In recognition of her efforts at the Art Academy, Habsburg was awarded Georgian citizenship. In November 2009, the Georgian parliament elected her ambassador, and she took up her position in Berlin the following March. Was it fate that she, an artist, should end up here, a city of artists? “Let’s just say it was a good coincidence,” she laughs.

Habsburg sees no conflict between her work as an artist and diplomat. “My family were involved in politics for many hundreds of years,” she says, “so I grew up in a family where we never spoke about anything at mealtimes except politics. And of course, that is reflected in my sculpture.”

The last statues of Stalin, once ubiquitous in Georgia, have now been removed to museums – “where they belong”, she insists. Habsburg has pioneered efforts to replace them with works embodying a new, democratic spirit. Her “Monument to the Three Powers in the State” – a paean to Montesquieu – stands outside the presidential office in Tbilisi.

Before I leave, Habsburg takes me into the dining room. On a sideboard, a collection of antique swords glistens – a reminder of a time when the metalworker’s skills were put to less benign purposes. Outside the window, communist-era tenements jostle with new glass and steel constructions – symbols of a reunited Europe. It inspires her belief that Georgia will one day rejoin the European family. “This,” she says, “is the place where Georgia belongs – in Europe, in the European Union. I, we, are all working for it.”

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My favourite things: Georgian carpets

Habsburg’s set of Georgian carpets lends her apartment a dash of eastern relish. “I love them,” she says. “Georgians don’t generally make big carpets but I have got three. I enjoy them every time I come home.”

The three carpets, one a modern abstract design mixing pastels and tans, the other two combining more traditional motifs in carmine and blue, provide the inspiration for the decoration of the lobby, the sitting room and the dining room.

“They have such beautiful colours,” she enthuses, “and because I’m an artist I love to match them with the furniture.” Although less famous than the carpets of some neighbouring countries, Habsburg has no doubt which are her favourite:

“In the Caucasus, there are many great carpets – carpets from Azerbaijan, carpets from Armenia and so on. But I think the ones from Georgia are the most beautiful.”