'Given Time'/ Tamar Gedevanishvili's Solo Exhibition

​I've always cherished looking at the artworks in an empty space, as if the characters found in the works are talking to you and telling you their stories, how they were formed at a given time, what stages they went through, what they saw and where they are going, what emotions they will arouse in whom, and how they will convey their message.

In 'Given Time', Georgian contemporary artist Tamar Gedevanishvili navigates between the visible and the invisible, the tangible world and its virtual copies. The exhibition gathers together large-scale acrylic paintings, intimate works on paper, and a series of drawings on café napkins; materials that together form a meditation on the uncertain nature of time and the fluidity of lived experience.

The exhibition raises a question both simple and profoundly elusive: What is the time given to us? The artist approaches this exploration as a witness, someone tracing the places where time folds, slips, and rearranges itself. Her large-scale canvases pulse with scenes in motion: waves breaking, bodies falling, winds overtaking, the urgent desire for shelter. Works such as 'Someone Fell Somewhere', 'Flood', 'It’s Windy Now', and 'Overtaking' suspend the viewer in moments of transition, where events feel both approaching and distant. These artworks seem to emerge from a world perpetually on the edge; geographically, emotionally, and temporally.

The paintings speak in the language of thresholds. A wave rises but never quite breaks; a figure falls but remains suspended in the painted field; a shelter is sought but not fully found. Tamar renders these states of in-between with a raw directness, pushing the canvas to hold what reality itself often cannot: a moment before its own collapse or completion. In this way, her large-scale works extend the exhibition’s central proposition, that time may be less a linear path and more a conducting medium through which we drift, collide, and transform.

Contrasting with the large-scale canvases are the smaller paintings and works on paper, which are like fragments of internal monologue. Pieces such as 'You Are Spread Out in Me', 'My Home Is Everywhere', and 'There Can Be A Peace For A While' shift the narrative inward, revealing a psychological space made of fleeting thoughts, quiet uncertainties, and private intuitions. Here, the intimacy of scale underscores the vulnerability of the themes. Time becomes not an external force but a series of emotional weather patterns; momentary, unpredictable, and deeply felt.

Perhaps the most touching element of the exhibition is the series of drawings on paper napkins, created in cafés and collected over time. These fragile papers bear spontaneous marks, observations, gestures, and impulses caught between conversations, pauses, and waiting. Their disposability makes them powerful: they are records of time not officially kept but quietly lived. In their informality, they become the truest expression of the exhibition’s core idea: that meaning often emerges in the intervals and interstices of daily existence.

Across all media, Tamar’s work suggests that time is less “given” than exchanged between people, between spaces, between states of being. The visible and invisible trade places, the virtual mirrors the real, and the familiar becomes strange just as the distant becomes immediate. Her images hold this instability with tenderness and acuity, inviting viewers to consider how their own timelines intersect with those of others, and what forces determine these crossings in given time.

'Given Time' ultimately proposes that reality is not fixed but continually rewritten by perception, memory, and imagination. What we believe to be present may already be disappearing; what we assume is far away may in fact be pressing against us. Through her layered works, the artist reveals the beauty and fragility of these dislocations, offering not answers but an atmosphere, a space in which to sit with the shifting nature of the time we inhabit.