by Chris Erik Thomas // Feb. 5, 2026
Across Georgia, a series of stunning frescoes traces the country’s fractious history, from its early Christian origins to the Soviet-era socialist utopianism. It was through these murals that Nina Kintsurashvili first encountered art—traveling with her father, Lasha, as he journeyed to remote mountain regions to restore medieval murals and re-learn the art of fresco painting. Here, she discovered the importance of perspective, space and line work through the logic of Byzantine and Georgian iconography, absorbing a semiotic system she has adapted and distorted, filtering her perspective through an abstract lens.
In ‘Creature, Creatures’ at Bukia Vakhania, this perspective manifests in a sharply curated exhibition of new works that includes, for the first time, a selection of the research materials that inform her practice. These pages of ancient historical books, small sketches and other objects are displayed between two glass panels—their quiet vulnerability pairing with a series of large-scale abstract works that emerged out of “recognizing painting’s ability to transcend its own signification and operate outside linguistic limitations.” These paintings are layered and indistinct; their shapes and markings emerge dreamlike on the stretched canvas, unconstrained by fixed meaning.
The exhibition also marks the first step in bringing a Georgian contemporary art perspective to Berlin; ‘Creature, Creatures’ is both Kintsurashvili’s first solo show in the city and the inaugural exhibition of the Tbilisi-based gallery’s new Berlin outpost. In our conversation with the artist, Kintsurashvili discusses the importance of Tbilisi’s secondhand book dealers to her practice and why opening space for imagination, misreading and transformation is essential.
Nina Kintsurashvili: ‘Creature, Creatures,’ 2026, installation view at Bukia Vakhania, Berlin // Courtesy of the artist and Bukia Vakhania
Chris Erik Thomas: What prompted you to show your research materials alongside your finished works for the first time in this exhibition, and how does it feel to make such a private part of your process visible?
Nina Kintsurashvili: This installation was my attempt to bring part of my studio and my personal archive into the gallery. They aren’t meant to explain the process or individual paintings, but rather to act as an alternative archive of the moment of creation. Thus, there are physical traces of making on the images—paint smudges and hair stuck to the tape—since I didn’t bother to clean them after they left the studio. I thought it worked as a trace. A record of something that had taken place before, something that is usually hidden from the viewer. The finality of a painting as a finished object leaving the studio in a box has always bothered me. For me, painting is most alive in the studio: in the process of making and in conversation with other paintings in progress.
Another reason is time. There is always a period of “germination” when I’m working with images: a phase in which references settle, lose specificity and their essence is extracted rather than directly copied onto the canvas. This allows new images to emerge. I’m always curious to see what remains after images have settled in my mind, and how this residue influences the logic of a composition and a gesture.
Nina Kintsurashvili: ‘Creature, Creatures,’ 2026, installation view at Bukia Vakhania, Berlin // Courtesy of the artist and Bukia Vakhania
CET: How has growing up in Georgia influenced the way you approach fragmentation, erasure and reconstruction in your work?
NK: I grew up in newly independent Georgia during a period of major historical change, marked by the clash of ideologies and a collective confusion within a society in flux. We were surrounded by remnants of Soviet visual culture, decaying frescoes, politicized heritage and fragments of Western imagery arriving through second-hand capitalism, films and objects. I’ve always seen my generation as one that inherited ruins and fragmented narratives.
Fragmentation and erasure are central, both in a formal as well as a metaphorical sense. They mirror the world my generation inherited: partially preserved, partially lost and full of traces of actions. Painting becomes a space for me to reconstruct and recontextualize these fragments through abstraction without forcing wholeness. In a sense, what we inherit in its most damaged form is already complete: time and natural forces have made their final marks.
Nina Kintsurashvili: ‘Creature, Creatures,’ 2026, installation view at Bukia Vakhania, Berlin // Courtesy of the artist and Bukia Vakhania
CET: How did growing up around your father’s work in restoration and fresco preservation shape the way you learned to look, even before you developed your own artistic language?
NK: Relocating frequently as a family to different historical sites across Georgia, observing my father at work and being surrounded by irregular surfaces and partially erased images shaped my sense of scale, rhythm and perspective. When I think about a painting, I think about the experience of looking: how a viewer moves through space, and how an image is encountered physically. His work instilled in me a sensitivity to history, material and the responsibility of slow looking, which continues to inform my practice.
Another defining factor was the lack of firsthand access to Western painting while I was growing up. Travel was largely inaccessible due to visa restrictions and economic conditions, so my engagement with art came through books, printed reproductions and, later, the internet.
Nina Kintsurashvili: ‘Longitudes, Latitudes and Altitudes,’ 2025, oil on linen, 160×160 cm // Courtesy of the artist and Bukia Vakhania
CET: What role do Tbilisi’s network of bukinists—second-hand book dealers—play in shaping your research and visual vocabulary?
NK: Bukinists are usually located in underground crossings throughout Tbilisi. They source books from across the city, most often printed during the Soviet era. You can request a specific subject or title, and they begin searching, often contacting you once they’ve found something. Over time, they also suggest materials based on their understanding of your interests.
In this way, they function as living archives of the city. I often look for Soviet-era archaeological drafts of artifacts that were later lost during the war in Abkhazia, reproductions of Byzantine and Georgian frescoes and icons, children’s books illustrated by artists from the 1960s and 1970s, or Western art history books often reproduced in poor quality.
These imperfect reproductions and the experience of being denied full access to an image are essential to my process. They open up space for imagination, misreading and transformation.
Exhibition Info
Bukia Vakhania
Nina Kintsurashvili: ‘Creature, Creatures’
Exhibition: Jan. 15–Mar. 8, 2026
bukiavakhania.com
Kurfürstenstraße 156, 10785 Berlin, click here for map
