Medea Imerlishvili


“I started painting 30 years later, this fall. And it felt like everything returned to its right place  as I had loved it so much, as if I had returned to myself. In a sense, whatever I paint, and mostly I paint the walls, different textures, the shadows on the walls, lines, geometric figures, left from these shadows, the contrast of light and dark, windows from which no one looks, dusty and silent houses – sometimes I think that all of these is my self-portrait, the place of silence where you don’t need words, the picture says it all – this is the corner of my silence.

Beyond this corner, there is another one – the one of words, when  I write. I do not know whether my poems and pictures look like each other. I do not know whether anyone, unaware of the author, could realize that both the poems and the drawings were written and painted by me. I published two collections of poems – “Farewell to Winter” (2012) and “The Whisper of Stones” (2018).

Before I started painting, I knitted rugs for many years, more than twenty years. For others these rugs were about beautiful colors, but for me it was about communicating with colors at least in this way; at the same time I love touching the rough surface of a knitted rug. Again, I do not know what else to say – I have three children and a husband. It’s good that they understand all my endeavors – to fill the common space with books, knitting threads, frames, stones that I love, plants and now canvases, paints and works.”




“The Man on whose Chest the Bird Made a Nest”, 30x40 cm, acrylic on canvas, 2021