Not by myself in the Dinning Room: Rusudan Khizanishvili
Still life has long provided a hushed yet potent chamber for reflection, a place where time, self, and object share a quiet resonance. In Not by Myself in the Dining Room, Georgian painter Rusudan Khizanishvili engages with this genre to unfold an intimate dialogue between past and present, solitude and presence, intimacy and universality.
Khizanishvili’s approach transcends the mere depiction of inanimate objects. Each of her canvases holds personal history, emotion, memory, and shifting perceptions. Objects such as fruit, fabric, crockery, and flowers stand not as mute décor, but as watchful witnesses of her artistic journey. Human presence subtly lingers in these scenes—a pearl necklace lies loosely coiled, a chair remains warm as if someone had only moments ago left. One departs, yet absence does not weaken presence; rather, it distills it. Life within the room intensifies, allowing untold stories to shimmer in the stillness and hinting at narratives that continue beyond the frame.
The exhibition captures a creative process that resists linear progression or fixed sequences. Rather than completing one still life before beginning another, Khizanishvili moves fluidly between genres. For her, still life functions as a contemplative interval within a broader figurative journey, a refuge to which she consistently returns. These quiet interludes become fundamental acts of creation themselves, moments when solitude serves as both subject and medium.
Khizanishvili’s attachment to objects began far earlier than her formal artistic training, rooted deeply in childhood memories marked by longing—a dollhouse furniture set she could never possess, a small red chair she perpetually desired. These early experiences left her with an enduring awareness of the emotional weight that seemingly ordinary objects could carry. Later, encountering the Dutch still-life tradition, she was captivated by its ability to transform everyday items into something extraordinary through the interplay of light, texture, and composition. For Khizanishvili, still life is not simply the replication of objects; it is a symbolic language, a quiet poetry that expresses feelings otherwise impossible to articulate.
Through this visual language, Khizanishvili encodes her thoughts and emotions onto the canvas like a private script. The “stillness” she portrays is never static. It holds energy, quietly asserting a distinct presence. Her brushstrokes are simultaneously deliberate and intuitive, rendering the act of painting itself a profoundly physical and emotional experience.
In Not by Myself in the Dining Room, Khizanishvili invites viewers into an intimate space. Here, objects begin to speak, silences resonate, and still life is reborn not as a mere depiction of the lifeless but as a form of quiet continuity. Working alone in her studio, she captures not only images but sensations. In this room where past coexists with present, she weaves stories through colour, form, and the gentle whisper of light.
