The stage as a lifelong sanctuary, costume as a vessel of emotion, and music as the most sincere dialogue with the world — Nani Bregvadze’s artistic journey transcends the notion of a celebrated career. It is the story of an artist who, even amid the shortages and rigid conventions of the Soviet era, succeeded in creating a world entirely her own, governed not by trends, but by taste, depth, and an unwavering sense of freedom. In this exclusive interview for Nargis Georgia, Nani Bregvadze speaks with remarkable candor not only about style and fashion, but also about the inner code that has guided her life and artistry for decades.
Today, as Nani Bregvadze celebrates her 90th birthday, this conversation takes on an even deeper significance. It becomes an opportunity to explore the inner strength, elegance, and artistic vision that established her as the undisputed queen of the Georgian stage. Against the backdrop of this milestone anniversary, she opens the door to some of the most intimate chapters of her life and career, reflecting on love, the lessons inherited from her mother, and the spiritual path that has shaped her journey.
Speaking with Nani Bregvadze was, for me, a profoundly inspiring experience. Every word carried the wisdom of a life devoted to music and enriched by decades spent under the spotlight. Our conversation became more than an interview; it felt like a masterclass in grace, dignity, and the art of preserving lightness of spirit at every stage of life. What Nani shared was not merely experience, but a philosophy of living. She reminded me that true artistry is never defined solely by technique, but by the sincerity that breathes life into every performance. It is a quality that still resonates in each of her gestures and every song she sings. That authenticity remains her greatest gift—and a powerful reminder to approach my own work with the same devotion, passion, and love that have defined her extraordinary legacy.
Nani, do you remember your first appearance on stage?
My first performance with an orchestra was as part of the amateur ensemble of the Georgian Polytechnic Institute. One memory stands out in particular: in 1957, we travelled to Moscow to participate in the World Festival. Our ensemble had been specially selected for the competition, and we were immensely proud of that. We won first place across the Soviet Union and third place internationally. Remarkably, I do not remember feeling especially nervous. On the contrary, it was a tremendously exciting experience, particularly because it gave us the opportunity to meet outstanding musicians from around the world. On that stage, I performed the song “I Extinguished the Candle”.
What an extraordinary coincidence. That song still holds a special place in my playlist and remains one of the pieces I return to most often. You were also among the first Soviet singers to perform at the Olympia in Paris and to experience the Western world firsthand…
The concerts I gave abroad were never simply career milestones; they were opportunities to introduce foreign audiences to my culture and heritage. We frequently performed Georgian songs, and I always considered that an important part of my mission.
When you encounter another world for the first time—especially a metropolis like Paris—something within you inevitably changes. The atmosphere is different, the sense of freedom is different, and so is the attitude towards art, individuality, and self-expression. For me, as an artist, it was an immensely powerful experience. At the same time, I always tried not to become blinded by admiration. I was constantly learning—from people, the stage, culture, the way others carried themselves. What fascinated me most was understanding what gave Western artists that sense of inner freedom, the kind that was visible even in their performances. Returning to the Soviet system was, of course, not easy. There were boundaries then—unspoken yet ever-present limitations that one was always expected to recognise and navigate.
You have witnessed nearly an entire century unfold before your eyes—with its tragedies, the collapse of empires, the restoration of Georgia’s independence, and the challenges of a new era. When you look at the world today, what gives you the greatest hope?
There have been difficult times, losses, and disappointments, but there have also been moments of joy, solidarity, and shared strength. States have changed, political systems have come and gone, and even the rhythm of life itself has transformed. Yet the emotions that define us as human beings have remained remarkably constant: love, longing, dignity. Those feelings are just as powerful today as they have always been. What gives me the greatest hope? Young people. I see tremendous energy in them.
I am also encouraged by the fact that Georgian culture remains vibrantly alive. We have feared that something precious was being lost, only to witness the emergence of new generations of gifted individuals—in music, literature, cinema, and the arts. Georgia may be a small country, but it possesses an extraordinarily strong cultural memory. That, I believe, is what will always sustain us.
The Georgian public has long regarded you as the Queen of the Stage. Today, you are admired and loved with equal warmth by both older and younger generations. How have you managed to maintain such a rare and enduring connection with your audience?
Eka often asks me, “Have you still not gotten used to fame?” To be honest, I do not think I ever truly will. Throughout my life, I have received an extraordinary amount of affection and attention from people, and I have never taken it for granted. There was always one thing I asked of God: Please do not let fame go to my head. Allow me to remain the person I truly am. That was a genuine fear of mine. I have seen many people lose themselves in popularity. I have watched talented individuals become consumed by unhealthy ambitions, sacrificing what mattered most in pursuit of recognition.
At times, I find myself wondering what people see in me. If only I could look at myself through their eyes for a moment, perhaps I would understand what it is they value so deeply. After all, there are people far better than me. The difference is that many of them have chosen a life away from the spotlight, preferring the shadows to the stage, and so they remain unseen. In the end, I always come back to the same conclusion: what people remember most is sincerity. When you are not performing a version of yourself, when you are not trying to manufacture an image, but simply remain true to who you are, you find your way into people’s hearts without even meaning to.
How would you assess today’s standards of musical professionalism and, more broadly, the contemporary creative landscape?
Behind true professionalism, there has always been an immense amount of hard work—and that has never changed. Nor will it ever. Genuine excellence is built on dedication, discipline, and a sense of responsibility. Today, anyone can sing, record a song, and share it with the world. On one hand, that is a wonderful kind of freedom. On the other, it has weakened some of the filters that once helped maintain artistic standards and quality. At times, it feels as though depth and professional rigor have become less important than they once were. Yet for me, the most important thing is that sincerity in art is never lost. Technology may evolve, styles may change, and new forms of expression may emerge, but without substance and emotional truth, a work of art loses its meaning.
Do you still sing when you are alone?
Every day. I find myself humming melodies almost constantly, throughout the day. By evening, it feels only natural to sing them aloud—as though the emotions that have quietly gathered within me are asking to be set free.
Interview: Tako Chkheidze
Text: Tatuli Gvinianidze
Read the full interview in the latest issue of N13.
The magazine is available at:
-Biblusi stores in Tbilisi and Batumi
-Museum of Fine Arts Bookstore – 7 Rustaveli Ave.
-Stamba Books Store – 14 Merab Kostava St.
-They Said Books – 10 Giorgi Akhvlediani St.
