This is an excerpt from a bigger series that is about my trip to an abandoned town called Anakria at the Georgian border with occupied Abkhazia. It is one of those lands that are seemingly dead. Desolate lands. Where the soil is barren and the winds are dry. But it is lands like this that are most alive. Because there is nothing left to exploit, and they are finally left alone. In this work, I speak about my experience finding a refuge in the serenity of the place. A temporary home in which there was nobody besides myself in my exile. It is about how this place helped me make sense of all that has happened over the past years. Before I was forced out of my homeland and after. And about the reflection of this personal experience in the collective one. Anakria and I both are: outsiders.
about the artist
Oppressors have taken away my home, irreversibly ruined my health, and killed someone I loved. In my exile, my art has become integral to my struggle. I use it to confront what I consider evil.
