DarbaZi is the central metaphor of the installation – both a hall and a pillar, a traditional element holding the roof of a Georgian house. It symbolizes resilience and adaptability, a vertical axis between past and present, earth and sky. Each side shows mythological imagery, painted in liquid acrylic on raw canvas. Light passes through, making the images flicker, dissolve, and reappear.

I turn to myth as a language beyond history — something that slips through explanation but remains deeply felt. Like dreams, myths don’t reveal meaning directly; they leave echoes. What we meet is not the myth, but its Shadow.

This work is not a story or a moral — it’s a form of nearness. I believe we already live within a myth no one has fully told. It's there in weather, speech, ritual, joy and sorrow. Even without knowing the legends, we feel their archetypes: Mother, Hero, Death, Exile. This is an invitation to enter in a symbolic home among unfamiliar things perhaps, but unmistakably human.

I call myself an artist without any convictions. I’m an architect working in urban planning. I paint, do poetry and constantly shift mediums. After moving to Tbilisi, I launched a project creating a temporary event space and artist community, exploring curating and organizing.

My practice is shaped by context – art for me is less about statements, more about reflection. It’s a way of touching something inner: intimate, sensory, intuitive. When faced with uncertainty, I turn to symbolic expression — letting feelings surface as images, forms, or gestures. It’s how I make sense of both myself and the world.

I don’t expect my art to be universal, but I believe in a kind of new sincerity — beyond sacred knowledge, heavy theory, or fixed truths. If I manage to be honest in my art, it finds its place. I think that’s part of our time’s sensibility. At least, it’s what I value and seek in others.