Bloody Echoes of Memory

Interview with Tedo Rekhviashvili

In this in-depth interview, contemporary Georgian artist and New York Academy of Art alum reflects on the evolution of his expressive language—from classical training to politically charged, symbol-rich works rooted in identity and memory. As a David Lynch storyboard artist and a voice from the post-Soviet art scene, he shares how personal narratives and socio-political realities intertwine in his creative process. His work offers a compelling perspective on the power of political art in shaping cultural dialogues.

You have pursued an in-depth course of study. How has this education contributed to bringing out your artistic identity and shaping your expressive language?

My education has developed in layers. The first stage was rooted in classical academic training—precise anatomy, composition, and earth-tone palettes. Then came a long period of exploration, abstraction, and self-discovery, where I distanced myself from structure and started developing my own language. The final, and perhaps most transformative chapter, was at the New York Academy of Art. There, I combined classical foundations with a more vibrant palette and contemporary concepts. Color became louder, symbols more charged, and compositions more theatrical. In New York, I also realised how different the subject matter is between post-Soviet artists and those from Western contexts. That confrontation helped me refine what I truly wanted to talk about—issues of memory, conflict, and identity. My current work feels more alive, more breathing, and emotionally raw. I no longer just paint well—I paint with purpose.

Your works reveal stories, experiences, and elements with a strong philosophical foundation. When you create, do you feel like a spokesperson for a community that needs to tell its story, or are your works more intimate reflections and fragments of personal life?

I’d say both. I’m an emotional and deeply sensitive person. A lot of my work is autobiographical, drawn from my own dramas, memories, and emotional responses. But I’m also very aware of what’s happening around me—politically, socially. So my work often functions as a kind of visual diary of a citizen-artist living in a turbulent region. Sometimes, my paintings act like a documentary of a specific time and place, charged with socio-political urgency. Other times, they’re more intimate—poetic reflections, surreal symbols, personal mythologies. But even in those quieter moments, I believe the personal and the political are always intertwined.

“My current work feels more alive, more breathing, and emotionally raw. I no longer just paint well—I paint with purpose”

In your solo exhibition ‘Memory, Power & Temptations’ you expressed yourself not only as an artist but also as a figure with a political and social role. How did you experience this dimension, and what impact did it have on your artistic and stylistic identity?

That exhibition was deeply personal and, at the same time, a form of political testimony. I’ve been active in protests and political movements in Georgia, so it felt natural—necessary even—to bring that urgency into the gallery space. The show dealt with key moments from Georgia’s history—from the Soviet regime to the post-war trauma we still carry today. Topics like occupation, censorship, propaganda, and repression weren’t abstract to me—they were inherited realities. Stylistically, this experience pushed me into more expressive territory: intense color clashes, chaotic line work, layered symbolism. I also began incorporating large-scale installations because sometimes a canvas isn’t enough to contain the emotion. The exhibition marked a shift toward more hybrid forms—combining painting, installation, text, and object. It was cathartic, chaotic, and strangely beautiful.

The recent passing of David Lynch prompts us to reflect on his immense artistic legacy and the influence he has had on many creatives. You had the opportunity to contribute your art as a storyboard artist for The Other Me, a film he produced. Looking at your experience, what did engaging with his visual and narrative universe leave you with? How did your artistic vision intertwine with his cinematic philosophy?

Working on The Other Me, a Lynch-produced film, was like stepping into a dream where silence speaks louder than sound. His universe is built on tension, suggestion, and psychological texture—and that had a huge impact on me. I created over 900 storyboard panels for the film, and through that, my sense of perspective, timing, and image rhythm completely changed. After that project, my paintings became more theatrical, almost like film stills. I began using more contrast—black and red took over my palette—and my compositions gained a kind of frozen, cinematic tension. I also became more comfortable with mysticism, ambiguity, and cosmic symbolism. Lynch’s legacy is not only about darkness—it’s about looking beyond the veil, and I’ve carried that into my work ever since.

“That’s how I keep the work alive—by letting it breathe beyond rules”

Your style is highly distinctive, yet at the same time, it is characterised by a fusion of techniques and materials. How do you balance tradition and innovation in your work? How are these choices reflected in your colour palette and the techniques you use?

I see tradition as a foundation—not a limitation. Sometimes, I start with classical composition and anatomy but distort them with comic-like exaggerations or surreal, even grotesque symbols. Other times, I disrupt the harmony of a traditional image through unexpected color choices or erratic graphic strokes. I love contrasts—soft flesh painted in sickly greens, calm faces placed in violent environments, cartoonish gestures mixed with deep emotional gravity. My work thrives in this friction between the old and the new, the controlled and the chaotic. That’s how I keep the work alive—by letting it breathe beyond rules.

The political and social situation influences and shapes a country’s cultural and artistic landscape, as well as the role of the artist. Throughout your career, have you noticed significant disparities, limitations, or differences in the art market based on geographical location?

Absolutely. The differences are vast—and often misunderstood. When I moved to New York, I quickly realised that what I considered urgent and expressive—topics like war, oppression, LGBTQ rights, or occupation—were not immediately “sellable” or even relatable to many viewers there. The Western art market often leans toward softer palettes, introspective realism, or politically correct narratives. In contrast, I come from a place where history has scars, where emotion is raw, and where symbolism is not a choice but a survival mechanism. That creates a gap in reception. In less democratic or more conservative countries, you see fewer installations or performance art being collected—paintings are still the dominant medium. But in America, there’s a fast-paced hunger for innovation and experimentation. It’s both inspiring and disorienting. Understanding these disparities helped me find my own lane—neither conforming to one context nor rejecting the other, but building a bridge between them.

What are you working on at the moment? Can you give us a preview of your upcoming projects?

Right now, I’m returning to more personal and introspective themes. I’m working on a series where fantasy plays a big role—imaginary landscapes, childhood memories, surreal portraits of family members and animals. These works are more poetic, less political. But the tension, the contrasts in color and composition, still remain. One ongoing series is called Cupid Scupids—a playful, almost absurd take on love, desire, and the mythology of romance. Another is Georgian Motives, where I’m reinterpreting ancient Georgian sculptures and ornaments through a contemporary lens—bringing past and present together in visual storytelling. It’s about reclaiming history through imagination.

Bloody Echoes of Memory

Credits:

Artist: Tedo Rekhviashvili / @tedo_rekhviashvili
Gallery: Kera Gallery / @kera.gallery
Interview: Annalisa Fabbrucci / @annalisa_fabbrucci
Editor: Maria Abramenko  / @mariabramenko

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