Artistic Statement
In my practice, I explore the condition of modern humans in a state of constant information overload. I am interested in what happens to perception when a person is surrounded by an endless stream of signals, images, and messages. In this state, feeling is gradually lost and replaced by a system of signs, signals, and superficial reactions.
While observing this process, I am also preoccupied with finding a way out of it — an attempt to return attention to presence, bodily sensation, and the vivid experience of reality.
I let this state pass through me, observing it both from within and from the outside. The tension arising from information overload becomes an impulse for creating works. In painting, I capture this state of oversaturation, allowing visual noise, images, signs, and phrases to fill the space of the canvas. In textile works, on the contrary, there is an attempt to slow down—an invitation to attentive and bodily experience.
In this system, a person is both the creator and the hostage of the environment they shape. When the surrounding noise becomes uncontrollable, a person quickly becomes oversaturated and seems to freeze, turning into a motionless figure. However, when transitioning to a state of observation and feeling, it becomes possible to escape this state. Then a person reconnects with nature and becomes the creator of their own space — a space that can turn any place into a source of strength and inspiration.
In my practice, painting and textiles function as two different states of perception.
Painted surfaces resemble the urban environment: peeling walls, gasoline stains on asphalt, bright shop windows, garish graffiti, monotonous advertisements, and dry navigation signs. These elements create visual noise and a feeling of pressure, which is intensified by the constant presence of smartphone screens.
Textile objects, on the contrary, draw on natural states. They bring attention back to materiality and the physical sensation of presence. Bright colors and textures focus the viewer's gaze on the object, inviting them to pause and experience the moment of contact with the material.
The contrast between these media creates a space of tension and, at the same time, an opportunity for a new perceptual experience.
My method is based on a process of accumulation and release. First, there is a slowdown—attentive observation and listening to the surrounding space, gathering sensations and states. Parallel images, phrases, and meanings gradually fill the pictorial space.
When this state reaches its limit, it is physically released through the monotonous rhythm of the tufting process. The repetitive movement becomes a way to translate the accumulated tension into a material form.
For the viewer, my works require physical presence. A digital image cannot convey the texture, density, and materiality of an art object. To feel the tension of the work's space, the viewer needs to be close to it—to look at it, move around it, sometimes touch its surface. Through this experience, it becomes possible to slow down and return attention to one's own sensations.
My practice is also shaped by my distance from the accelerated pace of city life. I live in a Georgian village, which allows me to be away from the constant noise of information and focus on the immediate experience of the moment.
Physical practices—yoga and meditation—help me work with attention, breathing, and a sense of rhythm. These states become part of my artistic method and influence how my work emerges and develops.
In my practice, I explore the condition of modern humans in a state of constant information overload. I am interested in what happens to perception when a person is surrounded by an endless stream of signals, images, and messages. In this state, feeling is gradually lost and replaced by a system of signs, signals, and superficial reactions.
While observing this process, I am also preoccupied with finding a way out of it — an attempt to return attention to presence, bodily sensation, and the vivid experience of reality.
I let this state pass through me, observing it both from within and from the outside. The tension arising from information overload becomes an impulse for creating works. In painting, I capture this state of oversaturation, allowing visual noise, images, signs, and phrases to fill the space of the canvas. In textile works, on the contrary, there is an attempt to slow down—an invitation to attentive and bodily experience.
In this system, a person is both the creator and the hostage of the environment they shape. When the surrounding noise becomes uncontrollable, a person quickly becomes oversaturated and seems to freeze, turning into a motionless figure. However, when transitioning to a state of observation and feeling, it becomes possible to escape this state. Then a person reconnects with nature and becomes the creator of their own space — a space that can turn any place into a source of strength and inspiration.
In my practice, painting and textiles function as two different states of perception.
Painted surfaces resemble the urban environment: peeling walls, gasoline stains on asphalt, bright shop windows, garish graffiti, monotonous advertisements, and dry navigation signs. These elements create visual noise and a feeling of pressure, which is intensified by the constant presence of smartphone screens.
Textile objects, on the contrary, draw on natural states. They bring attention back to materiality and the physical sensation of presence. Bright colors and textures focus the viewer's gaze on the object, inviting them to pause and experience the moment of contact with the material.
The contrast between these media creates a space of tension and, at the same time, an opportunity for a new perceptual experience.
My method is based on a process of accumulation and release. First, there is a slowdown—attentive observation and listening to the surrounding space, gathering sensations and states. Parallel images, phrases, and meanings gradually fill the pictorial space.
When this state reaches its limit, it is physically released through the monotonous rhythm of the tufting process. The repetitive movement becomes a way to translate the accumulated tension into a material form.
For the viewer, my works require physical presence. A digital image cannot convey the texture, density, and materiality of an art object. To feel the tension of the work's space, the viewer needs to be close to it—to look at it, move around it, sometimes touch its surface. Through this experience, it becomes possible to slow down and return attention to one's own sensations.
My practice is also shaped by my distance from the accelerated pace of city life. I live in a Georgian village, which allows me to be away from the constant noise of information and focus on the immediate experience of the moment.
Physical practices—yoga and meditation—help me work with attention, breathing, and a sense of rhythm. These states become part of my artistic method and influence how my work emerges and develops.
