Smooth areas of accessories

The project explores the phenomenon of belonging and the illusion of what a person is used to thinking of as his own. We live in constant transitions: the house collapses, the city changes, and nature resists. Anything that seems sustainable eventually loses shape. The exhibition combines sculptures, paintings, and graphics and is designed as a path from the outside to the inside. Physical objects are gradually becoming barriers through which the viewer does not immediately see the central work. It’s part of the plan: to go through layers of fragile, unreliable spaces before approaching the stable space of love. At the center of the exhibition is a work of love. In my artistic purpose, love creates a special space independent of the fragility of the material world. I do not define it literally or assert it as the truth — it is important for me only to imagine that what we have experienced in love does not disappear without trace, but is gathered in another inner space that is not subject to destruction and time.

My childhood was divided between two cities, Sukhumi and Tkuarchal. It was in Tkuarchael, under the roof and in the corners of the house, that the swallows used their nests. They were part of this place — his air, his sounds, and his morning motion.

When I was moving between cities, it felt particularly acutely that these swallows were mine, but it was impossible to take them with me. This was the first clear understanding: there are things to which we are attached with all our hearts, but the physical world does not allow them to be held.

In the sculpture, the lace sits on fragments of a abandoned house — destroyed columns, arches, and debris of an architecture that has lost resilience. These elements are gradually growing up in lyanas, as if nature was returning to itself the space that man once called his own. The sculpture is partially painted and partly white as a trace of slipping memory.

One of the hardest experiments I’ve ever had was not being able to take my cat with me. While I was in another country, he died. I couldn’t be around, and I couldn’t even live through this moment of loss, and that distance made the loss even more tangible.

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