Mirrors function not as passive surfaces for static representation, but as active instruments of art-based research. Returning to this medium across different phases of practice, the works bypass the superficial trap of instant self-recognition ("here and now"), shifting focus toward the fluid dynamics of personal and collective transformation.
Interrogating the boundary between the observer and the environment, these reflective artifacts do not isolate the viewer in a void of self-contemplation. Instead, they force an inescapable alignment with the surrounding space, embedding the individual back into the broader cultural, physical, and social landscape. The mirror ceases to be an object of display; it becomes an optical apparatus for investigating how self-awareness adapts to, refracts, and dissolves within an ever-shifting context.
Part of a body of work examining Georgia’s cultural matrix, the project reinterprets Niko Pirosmani through the lens of Promethean myth. The frame—carved from a mountain oak struck by lightning—embeds the physical charge of an elemental rupture into the object's structure.
Pirosmani is positioned on the relief as a figure liberated from historical chains, tending a newly lit hearth beneath golden stars crowning the upper frame. Using an original method of solvent erosion on the mirror’s backing, ghost-like red flames emerge directly from within the glass. Created near Kutaisi—the mythological site of Prometheus’s bondage—the work merges regional lore with Pirosmani’s tragic autonomy, turning a functional object into an optical vessel of memory and fire.
An homage to Niko Pirosmani’s iconic giraffe, the work transposes the solitary animal into a narrative of impossible intimacy. Separated by impassable mountains and sea, two figures bridge an earthly divide through celestial reach—finding connection in the sky accessible only to their towering stature.
Using reverse silvering erosion, atmospheric forms bleed through the glass to meet the carved wooden relief. The mirror transforms a tale of physical isolation into an optical space where distance is collapsed, framing longing not as tragic separation, but as a shared elevation beyond geographic barriers.
The work addresses the experience of displacement and forced adaptation. Hand-carved poppy motifs on the frame merge with translucent forms etched directly into the reverse side of the glass. By projecting the viewer's reflection through these layered, fragile botanical structures, the mirror links personal memory with the slow process of taking root in a new environment.
Referencing Pablo Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, the work reinterprets cubist deconstruction through a localized lens in Kutaisi. Deconstructed female forms are carved into the wooden frame, while eyes emerge from behind the glass via reverse solvent erosion. The mirror turns the gazer into both observer and observed, placing human perception at the core of the piece.
The work explores the poetic and cultural symbiosis of Kutaisi and its river. A relief-carved woman at a spinning wheel weaves a continuous thread that transforms into the white-stone currents of the Rioni River, etching its path through the reverse side of the glass. The mirror captures both the landscape's natural beauty and the quiet labor of Kutaisi's women, framing the relationship between the city and its river as a harmonious balance of masculine and feminine energies.
The piece recreates a mirror preserved in a domestic space split open by an airstrike. A thick layer of cement dust from the explosion covers the glass, onto which the message "Valya in the basement" is traced by hand. Functioning as a direct message for relatives searching the ruins, the inscription transforms a record of destruction into a declaration of life: Valya survived and is in the shelter. The work reflects both the tragedy of lost home and the instinct to preserve connection amid catastrophe.
Conceived during the night from a dream and realized on the artist’s own domestic mirror, this minimal installation served as the origin point for a broader conceptual project—first evolving into an interactive AR filter and a performance. A printed sheet taped to the glass reads: "You are never the same 299,792,458 m/s".
The work anchors itself in a physical fact: because light travels at a finite speed, a reflection is always an image of the past. The viewer can never observe themselves in the present moment. Confronting human perception with the exact speed of light.