Wavering Spaces of Belonging

The project explores the phenomenon of belonging and the illusion of what a person has become accustomed to considering «theirs.» We live in constant transitions: houses crumble, cities change, and nature reclaims its space. Everything that seems stable eventually loses its form.

The exhibition features sculpture, relief, and painting. The project is rooted in personal memories of objects, places, animals, and people who, at different points in life, became unavailable or were lost. These images serve as a starting point for reflecting on why certain things begin to feel like a part of ourselves and what happens when that connection is severed.

I am interested not just in the loss itself, but also in the feeling of belonging that precedes it. The project does not offer answers, nor does it attempt to recover what has been lost. Instead, it addresses the fragility of the connections through which a person constructs their understanding of home, memory, and their place in the world.

My childhood was split between two cities—Sukhumi and Tkuarchal. It was in Tkuarchal, under the roof and in the corners of the house, that swifts built their nests. They were part of this place—its air, its sounds, its morning movement.

When I traveled between cities, it was particularly poignant to feel that these swallows belonged to me, yet I couldn’t take them with me. That was my first clear understanding: there are things to which we are attached with all our hearts, but the physical world does not allow us to hold onto them.

The sculpture, titled «Swallow,» depicts a swallow perched on fragments of a derelict house—crumbling columns, arches, and structural debris that have lost their integrity. These elements are gradually being overgrown by vines, as if nature is reclaiming the space that humanity once claimed as its own. Part of the sculpture retains its original painted coloration, while other sections remain white—much like the trace of a fading memory.

One of the hardest experiences for me was not being able to bring my cat with me. While I was in another country, he died. I couldn’t be there to fully experience that moment of loss, and that distance made the loss even more profound.

I created a sculpture of a cat sitting on a dresser. It looks calm, almost steadfast, but the dresser itself is heavily damaged—it has through holes and cracks.

The dresser is not as significant as the cat itself, but it becomes important as a vessel of fragility. The decay begins at the base, and in that there is a sense of inevitability: even what seems closest and «ours» remains a physical object, and therefore—subject to time and loss.

The next object I found left behind during the move was a vase of flowers. It’s not one specific flower, but an abstraction of many flowers I had to leave behind. Through this image, I try to convey the very situation of parting with them.