When I started preparing the lab, I assumed I wouldn’t be creating any artwork myself. However, during the designing of the database, a form came to me — one that would perfectly embody my current sense of home.
I never thought the sense of home means so much to me before then I've lost it. I left my homeland and set out to find a new home in Tbilisi. It wasn’t a random choice; I had long dreamed of living in another post-Soviet country. But most importantly, at that time, Tbilisi was the epicenter of reaction, and I desperately needed a space where I could safely respond and express what I feel — through action, through volunteering, just being around people feel similar about things.
I was met by countless graffiti and their numbers seemed to be constantly growing. The city spoke to me sternly, sometimes roughly. I joined the conversation by taking a history course, which deepened my understanding of the message of the city. It allowed me to look deeper than anger and see pain and wish of safety.
In 2.5 years in Tbilisi, I’ve moved through eight different apartments. Each new place brought hope for a sense of safety, but sooner or later, something would always disrupt it. I had just moved to my ninth apartment when we chose the theme for the exhibition. “Home — this is something I have a lot to say about!” I thought. But in my case I had to find a way to show not Home but the Absence of it.
What I was trying to do was to depict how the city seeps into the home, daily life, routine. I tried to show the city's voice as it is. There’s also a performative layer because I’ve been working on the project for almost 2 months, living with these graffiti on my walls the entire time, hosted friends and family.
I like it when people say, "I know this graffiti," "I know where this is." It never gave me a sense of safety, but it just feels like true home of mine.
I never thought the sense of home means so much to me before then I've lost it. I left my homeland and set out to find a new home in Tbilisi. It wasn’t a random choice; I had long dreamed of living in another post-Soviet country. But most importantly, at that time, Tbilisi was the epicenter of reaction, and I desperately needed a space where I could safely respond and express what I feel — through action, through volunteering, just being around people feel similar about things.
I was met by countless graffiti and their numbers seemed to be constantly growing. The city spoke to me sternly, sometimes roughly. I joined the conversation by taking a history course, which deepened my understanding of the message of the city. It allowed me to look deeper than anger and see pain and wish of safety.
In 2.5 years in Tbilisi, I’ve moved through eight different apartments. Each new place brought hope for a sense of safety, but sooner or later, something would always disrupt it. I had just moved to my ninth apartment when we chose the theme for the exhibition. “Home — this is something I have a lot to say about!” I thought. But in my case I had to find a way to show not Home but the Absence of it.
What I was trying to do was to depict how the city seeps into the home, daily life, routine. I tried to show the city's voice as it is. There’s also a performative layer because I’ve been working on the project for almost 2 months, living with these graffiti on my walls the entire time, hosted friends and family.
I like it when people say, "I know this graffiti," "I know where this is." It never gave me a sense of safety, but it just feels like true home of mine.
Tools: IPhone 15 PRO, Lightroom Photo Editor, Adobe Photoshop 2024
