Josko Gravner embodies the winemaker as artist. Every experimentation, every shift in style (from stainless steel fermentation and temperature control to barrel-aging to clay amphorae) seems inspired by the need to regain something that has either slipped away or been compromised by the status quo. He is an independent, a radical freethinker, and a catalyst whose turn at revolution has come for the third time in 30 years.
This third turn finds Gravner driven by a very different canon—one far more philosophical in nature, one that feels more suited to a man in the sunset of his winemaking life. It is driven by the quest to shed the control he spent a lifetime perfecting, a quest to find something natural and enduring.
We can’t help but acknowledge the striking parallel of Gravner’s own artistic movement to that of Neoclassicism, specifically during the waning years of the French Revolution. Take, for example, Jacques Louis David--as a painter, intellectual, and one of the great voices of the Revolution, he felt a longing for the virtues and themes present in the art of antiquity (patriotism, stoicism, heroism) and sought to inspire his fellow revolutionaries with his output. Similarly, Gravner is responsible for fostering his own enlightenment among a school of followers (Radikon, Damijan), but he also draws heavily on the lessons and sensibilities of antiquity in order to produce wines that are more thoughtful and challenging than his previous output.
Since 2001, all of Gravner’s wines have been vinified ancient Roman style: he lines huge terra-cotta pots with beeswax, then buries them in the earth. There is no temperature control, obscenely lengthy macerations, minimal sulphur, no filtration, etc. And it shows. From the second that the dark orange liquid hits the glass, it is apparent what kind of artistic risk Gravner has taken. A great many would take one look at the color and send the wine straight back to where it came from. Those slightly more adventurous might at least take a sip before sending it back. And then there are the rest of us.
So, what’s it like?
It’s like listening to Dan Deacon’s “Paddling Ghost” from the Bromst record. For those seeking an easily discernible melody, harmony, and accessibility, Deacon’s music—like Gravner’s wines—will pose a significant challenge. There is in both, an inclination to resist, and the resistance is all a product of dashed expectations. Gravner’s Ribolla smells like cider and has the tannic structure of a red wine. It’s dominated by smells of wax, honey, cream, and earth. It often prompts the drinker to halt in confusion, to question, snarl, curse, and then revert back to confusion. Likewise, the intricate composition of Deacon’s “Paddling Ghost” is covered in a blanket of fuzzy twists and turns; holding on to the melody requires some work. It’s like searching for a tiny radio playing a precious tune in a raucous crowd. You are elbowed by dissonance, nearly suffocated, then released within the span of 4 minutes.
What these two entities have in common is that they require surrender; one must surrender to their weirdness in order to appreciate their singularity. Gravner is not trying to make Grand Cru Burgundy or New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc—he isn’t even trying to make wine that sells. Instead, what he has made is wine that is risky and divisive, but true to his vision and ideal. That is not to say that the wine should be considered good simply because it is bold. It has nothing to do with good or bad, but rather everything to do with learning to give works of art a fair chance to compete for your affection.
Pair With:
Jacques Louis David “The Lictors Bring to Brutus the Bodies of His Sons” 1789
Why: This work exhibits an abrasive realism that sits in stark contrast to the majority of Jacques Louis David’s previous output. He was a true intellectual and forward thinker, but he often expressed a romanticized and idealized vision of the world. Among the many themes in this work, there seems to be a moral confusion about the sacrifice of one’s family for the good of the state, a theme that the artist sentimentalized in earlier works (see: Oath of the Horatii). Similarly, Gravner’s 2002 Ribolla captures a drastic change in ideal and worldview, showcasing a heavy dose of grit and verity.
Dan Deacon “Paddling Ghost” from Bromst
Why: Because it sounds like Gravner. Simply put: you’ll either have a nervous breakdown or fall in love, and that goes for both of them.
